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#we got two trigger warnings in one post this time oop
weretheones · 11 months
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All You Got | Part 8
Part 8: Observant
Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4) 
Series Masterlist | AO3 Version
Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 7.6k (oops) Warnings: typical twd content. mentions of death. a bit suggestive wink wink. A/N: hi hi. apologies for the late posting (again). exam season is in full swing and im drowning a bit. butttt, I managed to get this little (its the longest chapter yet lol) part out for you guys <3 just cause I love u so much. ps. the gif is a hint ;)
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Every step west of that cottage distanced you further from the cold front following yesterday’s rain. The day hadn’t started exceptionally hot, but the week’s gradual dip in temperature made the sun’s increasing beat feel more eager than you’d known it as of late. The further you got, the more frequent sips you took from the lukewarm water bottle in your bag, even tying that sweater you’d been cuddling for warmth in, just yesterday, around your waist. 
Daryl seemed alright, all things considered. His arm hadn’t proved too troublesome, but the area had proved relatively deserted anyway. The two walkers you came across were tired and slow. Not much of a threat. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, either; he hadn’t shed the flannel underneath his vest yet. 
The sun was at its highest point in the sky when you met the border of the next town, a few hours later. 
“You’ve been through here before?” You asked Daryl, pointing to your spot on the map while walking side by side down the first commercial strip of the town. The stores looked like something out of a movie, quant but full of country charm. If it hadn’t been for the boarded windows and rusted cars sitting in the road, it would’ve been a lively sight. 
“When we first cleared the prison. Made our way through all the places nearby, too.” 
“Couldn’t have left a little for us?” You teased, glancing up at him. 
“There’s still some left. Shit we didn’t need.” 
“Shit we might need?” 
“Mhm. Lemme see tha’.” He grabbed the map from your hand, raising one of his own to block the sun from his eyes. He glanced over the paper, squinting at the tiny roads, then at the street sign above. 
“We can take this to Red Oak.” He tapped the street lines on the map, then continued forward. 
“What's on Red Oak?” 
He looked over his shoulder with a slight smirk. 
“Somethin’ we need.” 
It wasn’t until halfway down Red Oak Drive that you realized what that was. 
When it clicked, you smiled. 
It was an auto repair shop. Daryl had been here before, briefly as he told it, but long enough to make note of a few vehicles still in good condition. One of which was an old, dark blue hatchback that only needed a new battery and some gas to get started again. It was still sitting in the backlot, bathed in the sun’s last harsh rays of the season after the two of you made your way around the building. 
Daryl popped the hood. It was in the same condition as it was when he first found it, with a dead battery and dusty windows. 
“Do we… recharge it?” 
You didn’t know much about cars other than how to drive them. 
“Unless ya got a generator I don’t know ‘bout,” Daryl quipped, to which you softly rolled your eyes. “We need a new one.”
“Well, there’s gotta be something here.” You looked back to the building. 
“Mhm.” He nodded, closing the hood again. “Come on.” 
He kicked the back door three times. You were surprised that hadn’t been enough to bring it down; it was a flimsy thing. They must’ve not worried much about burglars in a small town like this. The brick wall was sturdy, though. Ridged edges pressed into your shoulder as you leaned against it, one leg crossed over the other while the wait began. A breeze of crisp, much more seasonally appropriate air rushed by, fluttering your few loose pieces of hair; you’d have to redo that mess of a ponytail soon. 
Daryl readjusted his hold of the crossbow, rolling his shoulders back— as well as he could, the left one was still noticeably stiff. 
You weren’t subtle about keeping an eye on him. 
“How’s the shoulder?” 
His eyes squinted under the bright sun. “Fine.”
You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 
“’S a bit sore,” he admitted.
“I tried to tell you.” The loose smile on your lips was sympathetic, rather than teasing. 
“I know.” Daryl chewed at his lip. “But, I know ya get why I couldn’t stay there, neither.”
You stood a bit straighter, and the smile slipped away. 
“I do.” 
Daryl nodded. The air was heavy, not only with the newfound heat but a lingering tension— knowing— between you. If there was anyone who could understand his urge to find what was left of his family, it was you. The night you told him about your brother was still fresh in memory. There had been a vagueness you kept about the whole thing, a tone that could have sounded like a casual acceptance of fate, but Daryl remembered that look in your eye. The tear that slipped past. He didn’t have any doubt that you’d searched as far as you could for him.
But some people were too far gone. 
The shared silence between you two had grown comfortable these last few weeks. This one was different. Stretching seconds, then a minute, it made his muscles heavy. His weight felt unbalanced, even with two feet on the ground. 
Daryl had never been good with words— unless you counted those snarky quips he made. He either didn’t think at all or thought too long. It made him snappy and surly, the type of man people would’ve avoided before this thing. Somewhere there was a list of names to prove it. And yet, he had something to say. He wanted to. 
“Thank you,” he finally mumbled. 
Your expression lifted at that. “For what?” 
“For keepin’ an eye on me. Takin’ care’a me the way ya did.” 
Still, you seemed confused. A knit of your brows and a sweet look in your eye as you tried to pick apart some deeper meaning. Of course, you helped him. That’s what you promised, back at the start. 
“Of course,” you replied. “What else was I gonna do?” 
“I didn’t think you were gonna leave or nothin’,” he said, recalling your conversation while patching him up. Loyal ran deep in you, like it did him, and he trusted that you wouldn’t just leave him to rot. “But a lot’a people would’a.” 
Maybe that’s what he meant. Thank you for not being that person. 
You blinked, readjusting your focus on his serious demeanour. He was reserved, his lips drawn in and eyes barely holding your stare. 
“Well, that’s not us,” you said plainly. 
A reminder that he’d given you that loyalty, too. You weren’t sure if there were words to express how it didn’t feel so difficult to give your attention and care to the health of the man who fought tooth and nail for you to live, even after all the harm you’d caused him. It wasn’t even that you felt you owed him, but you knew he deserved it. 
Daryl gave you a small glimpse of a smile. Soft and sweet, like he was proving to be— deep down, at least. It drew a lopsided grin from you too. Your temple rested against the cool brick wall, and under the sun’s golden glow, you looked quite pretty like that. It was a talent, how quickly you could turn the charm back on; nothing else seemed to grab his attention the same way.  
“After all, what are friends for?” 
Daryl scoffed. He hoped he didn’t sound ungrateful when he blurted, “Tha’s wha' we are now?” 
“I would say so. We keep saving each other’s lives and the conversation is half decent.” You shrugged, as if indifferent. But your smile had turned playful not long ago, about the same time he noticed a warmth at his cheeks.
He’d blame it on the heat, if you asked. 
A second or two later, a walker slammed against the door. 
Daryl’s shoulder wasn’t too restraining; he lured the lone monster out and freed his knife from its skull without breaking a sweat. You gave him a quick smile of acknowledgment before the two of you stepped inside. 
The garage was in rough condition. A sign that was probably falling apart even before the world did, cheap tile floors, and a thick smell of mildew mixed with something decomposing— you were, unfortunately, quite knowledgeable about that smell, by now. The nicest thing about the building was that big roll-down window in the front that let the storefront become soaked in sunlight. The summer must’ve been a lot more tolerable with that wide open.
When the sunlight sneaking into the abandoned building didn’t reach far enough, Daryl held a flashlight in his mouth and scanned the store with his bow. His left shoulder was still stiff, so he had to depend on his other arm to bear most of the weight. Of course, you’d already tried to get him to keep it on his back, if anything, and take the gun instead— but he refused. All but demanded you keep the gun for yourself. 
The two of you searched the aisles with quiet steps, waiting for another unfriendly face to jump out of the shadows. 
It didn’t come. 
Instead, you gathered the few supplies Daryl needed, even pocketed a pair of sunglasses that you were sure would be useless after today, and went back out to that warm autumn day. Sitting on that small bench by the side of the building, eyes protected from the sun, you watched Daryl pop the hood of the car. He was quick at work, dexterous fingers tinkering with different parts of the vehicle that you could barely label. 
Between sips of water, your sight caught on those fingers— now smeared with grease— perhaps a second too long. When he turned to wipe his hands along that red rag in his back pocket, he noticed your lingering eye and paused.
Hesitated. 
With the pair of you caught off guard, you tried to break the quickly growing tension and asked, “Were you an auto mechanic before?” 
Daryl shook his head, bangs falling in his eyes as he did. He stretched underneath the hood again but spared you a glance back. Eyes squinted under the sun, the shine of sunlight hitting the grease along his exposed skin; the scene before you was beginning to look like something out of those ridiculous male model calendars. 
“I jus’ know cars,” he rumbled, a slight smirk to match that thick accent.
It was getting absurd, really; the hot sun wasn’t the only thing making you blush. 
You swallowed another gulp of water. 
It turned out the battery issue wasn’t too complicated. Daryl recounted some of his steps to you, telling you about which wire connected to which point, and so on. It was valuable information, undoubtedly worth paying attention to. The only problem was that by that point, the sun’s beat had stripped him of his vest and hitched the sleeves of his flannel around his elbows. The fact that the top three buttons were undone, opening across that broad and bare chest of his, wasn’t lost on you, either. 
It felt like a tease. He did. 
All you could do was nod along with his rough drawl and lean against the cool brick wall while you tried to deny checking him out. But really, everything else came second place to the swell of that shirt around his biceps, and his tense, thick forearms. Muscles overworked after dealing with tight gears and heavy equipment. 
The shade of those sunglasses was dangerous, giving you the excuse to let your eyes roam free all while Daryl was none the wiser— or so you hoped. 
Thoughts you hadn’t entertained in a long time began to roam free, too. It hadn't bothered you when they left; survival was the top priority, not romance or desire. Of course, the lack of time and potential suitors was a factor, too— why would you think about that when there wasn't even a chance for it? But here you were now, staring at Daryl, and recalling that fluttering feeling of attraction in your gut all too well. 
He was kind and strong. Whatever brute strength and resilience he had was matched with that three-sizes-too-big heart of his. After all, who else would take in an injured stranger, nevertheless one that attacked you just hours beforehand? Daryl might’ve blamed it on getting even, after you helped him from the window, but you knew there was something more behind that harsh stare of his. 
Something delicate. 
For whatever reason, you’d been lucky enough to see that gold-hearted nature firsthand. It sliced through his rough exterior, sparkling like a piece of glass caught in the sun. It was fragile, but you’d seemed to weave your way inside, anyway. 
You inhaled— stop. 
It might've felt otherwise, but there was still parts of Daryl you didn't know. Sometimes you forgot he was a man you’d known less than a month, been friends (barely) with less than two weeks. Even if he proved to be a good person, and was clearly easy on the eyes, from the obvious display ahead, these thoughts were intrusive. Perhaps an outcome of an idle mind. A natural attraction after a string of moments free of tension; all those life-or-death events bonded you, for better or worse, and as the urgency and blood washed off, you were falling victim to the full extent of that tie. 
“Got tha’?” 
“Mhm,” you faintly hummed. 
He said your name— no, repeated it. Embarrassment snapped you back into focus. Here you were daydreaming and practically ogling the man, while he was trying to teach you something. Help you. 
“Asked ya to grab another jug.” He gestured to the empty distilled water in his hand. Thank God, you were able to ignore that flex of his arm— mostly— when he did. 
“Right, yeah, of course,” you stammered. He tossed you the small flashlight before you scurried back into the building. The dark, cool air was a welcome relief against your hot cheeks, and you hoped it’d bring down whatever flush had inevitably crept up your chest.
At least you had those sunglasses. 
Maybe Daryl could feel your eyes roam his bare arms, chest, neck— stop— but you still had an inch of dignity left; he couldn’t prove it past the dark tint of those glasses, now sitting at the top of your head. 
Strolling through those same aisles, you grabbed another jug and tried to shake the last of those thoughts from your mind. Like how his eyes were as blue as the pretty Georgian sky, and were quickly becoming a solace for you. 
You were starting to like the looks he gave you— like he had while waiting at the door. It wasn’t that he was easy to read, no, you’d probably be fighting for a glimpse into those thoughts of his for the rest of your life. But every time you met those eyes that were once so harsh, you remembered the forgiveness he’d shared with you. The kindness. Perhaps it was a bit selfish because when you thought about that, it made something bloom deep in your chest. Something warm and sweet and good. 
You wanted to share it with him too. 
Somehow. 
Helping him find his people was your first try. You hoped you wouldn’t need a second. 
You grabbed the second jug of distilled water and turned to head back. 
A thump came from behind. 
It was odd. Two years spent in this world and yet, in a week, you’d reverted right back to that jumpy girl at the start. The air became thin, and you had to suck in a deeper breath just to keep your head straight. Heart pounding against your ribcage.
The last time you were in a dark store alone, it ended up with three people dead and Daryl shot. 
You spun around, flashlight high. The light danced across the aisles, no walkers or living under the fluorescent glow. That wasn’t enough to soothe your anxieties, so you placed the jug on the ground next to you and grabbed your gun, instead. 
It was then that your light landed on an exit sign. You could see the frame of a door below, in the far corner of the store. You approached it carefully, previously neglected as the pair of you assumed it was just a fire exit leading to that back alley, but now, with your heart still beating fast, you suspected something more lying behind that door. 
You twisted the handle carefully, gun ready in the other hand, but it was locked. 
You checked the front desk, found a ring of keys, and tried two before you found the right one. By then, your heart had slowed a bit. An engaged lock between you and that warning was slightly comforting, but you were still on edge. Finger ready by the trigger, if needed. 
The door creaked open and you stepped inside. 
Immediately, you found the source of the thump. A lone walker. Long, thin hair that was missing chunks and skin like leather stretched across its loosely hung open jaw. Its eyes were wide, staring out to the door you’d just walked through, but other than that low moan that rasped past its throat, it barely moved. 
The walker was old and frail, decomposing in this backroom alone since, if you could guess, the start. It didn’t even try to crawl. It couldn’t, there was a heavy cast on its leg reaching up to its upper thigh. A mop lying on the floor— maybe the thump. A bottle of antifreeze sat next to it, a dried splash of something bumpy and red. 
Puke. 
She killed herself. Locked alone in a backroom, with a broken leg and no other choice. 
The various ways you found the dead often reflected their last moments. Guts hanging out and bits of muscle torn from their flesh meant the obvious. Bullet and knife wounds, too. At the start, the mourning had almost been unbearable. Suffocating. Sympathy never stopped, there were simply too many roaming the world. It became dormant after one too many tried— and almost succeeded— to kill you. Then, something you only ever thought about in silent moments like this one. 
You unsheathed your knife and stepped over the fallen mop. It was the least you could do. 
The room was untouched. It didn’t have many valuables. Not for this world, anyway. There was a stack of cash and a nice bracelet in the bottom drawer of the desk, but nothing other than a couple of mints and a screwdriver that was worth keeping. In the top drawer, you found a single key on a thick, metal ring.  
You pocketed it, just in case. 
Other than the desk and those wobbly shelves filled with client records and taxes— a whole lot of paper— there was only that lumpy grey blanket, draped over something leaning against the wall, left to check out. You peeled it off carefully, but a cloud of dust surrounded anyway. Between coughs, you recognized what was underneath. The somber tone of the room lifted quickly, then. 
From the front of the store, Daryl called your name. Apparently, you’d been taking too long and his suspicions had arisen. 
“I’m okay!” you called back, clearing your throat one last time. “Be there in a second.”  
Even though you knew even less about motorcycles than you did about cars, you smiled as you gripped the handles. You were betting Daryl knew about bikes, too. You kicked up the stand and moved the bike through the store. Twisting it around the aisles and picking up that leftover jug of distilled water as you did. 
“I found something.” You grinned as you stepped back into the sunlight. 
Daryl’s eyes widened when he saw what you were leading. 
“No way.” He said, wiping his hands across the red rag, before stuffing it back into his pocket. “Where’d ya find this?” 
“Backroom. We missed it earlier.” You pulled out the keys you found as Daryl quickly grabbed the bike.
His hands ran over the handles, then the seat. 
“And I think I found the key.”
He had a ridiculous grin plastered across his face. You hadn’t even realized he could smile like that. 
“Pass ‘em ‘ere.” 
You dropped the ring in his open palm as he straddled the bike, thighs on either side. He looked down at the beast of a vehicle between his legs like it was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. 
And then he looked back at you with that same look, and it almost made those intrusive thoughts from earlier seem a bit less insane. 
You were sure you had a goofy grin of your own. “You know how to ride one of these?” 
He raised an eyebrow. 
“Sorry. Stupid question,” you chuckled, eyes roaming over his leather vest— back on— and patchwork jeans. You never liked stereotypes, but Daryl sure was one sometimes. 
“Jus’ a bit,” he quipped. 
“You know,” you mumbled, smile growing, “I’ve never been on one.” 
“Never?” 
“Nope.” 
“Well, come on, girl.” 
You certainly didn’t need convincing. He shuffled forward, giving you the space to swing your leg over the seat behind him. At first, your hands grabbed at the spot, maneuvering your balance into a comfortable sit— but the overwhelming sight of Daryl's exceptionally broad back, draped in that black leather vest, soon had you squirming again. 
“Ya gotta hold on to me, alright?” 
“Okay,” you mumbled. You placed your shaky hands on his sturdy shoulders, like handlebars of your own. It was lucky that he was wearing that vest now—an extra layer between your skin and his— because you were pretty sure your palms were slick with sweat by that point. 
“Not there.” Daryl’s hand wrapped around the bend of your elbow, gently pulling your hands down. “Don’t need ya diggin’ a finger in my scab.” 
Then he repositioned them around his waist. 
Like it had been nothing. 
It had— you reminded yourself. Whatever bothered thoughts that kept slipping into mind today were an exception. Maybe your period was coming back. Or maybe that hot sun had melted away every bit of self-control you had left. 
“Ya might wanna hold on a bit tighter. It goes fast.” 
Your lungs constricted. Suddenly this felt wrong. Dangerous. 
“Wait— what about your shoulder? Should you be moving it—” 
“‘M movin’ it less sittin’ on this thing than off’a it.” 
“Well, shouldn’t we be wearing helmets or something?” 
The vibration of his laugh echoed through his back, which you were practically pressed up against. You might've cared more about his flippant attitude if he hadn’t reverberated a particularly soothing warmth back into you. 
“You chickenin’ out?” 
“No. I’m just remembering every motorcycle crash horror story my brother told me.” 
“He ride?” 
“God, no. He was an ER nurse.” 
“Well, we ain’t gonna crash.” Daryl rolled his shoulders back, and your grip tightened already. Nerves overcoming you. “Promise.” 
His confidence was reassuring. His firm body, even more so. 
“Alright then.” You nodded and the engine roared to life.  
Daryl’s feet lifted off the ground, landing on the rests just in front of yours. He found his balance quickly, even with you wrapped around his back. The pace was slow at first, a steady crawl that seemed overpowered by the loud rumble of that engine below. 
Then, when he finally passed the lot, he shot down the street. 
You couldn’t even guess how fast he was going. The world around you started to slip away, a lost frame of reference. The trees lining the road blurred into splatters of green and red, like a watercolour painting, and the wind rustled through those strands of hair that hadn't made it into your ponytail this morning. Racing through the breeze, that chill came back. Cold, little shards of air splintering across your face and hands.
The sudden bolt of movement made your stomach drop, that fluttering feeling of emptiness finding its spot. It reminded you of riding a rollercoaster as a kid, holding your brother’s hand tight and putting on a brave face as the big sister. It might’ve worked all those years ago, but you were pretty sure he’d be laughing at you now. You squeaked like a mouse, digging your face into the warm leather at Daryl’s back. The threading of his angel wings tickled your face alongside your wild hair, and you felt that familiar rumble in his chest again. 
“Ya alright?” He yelled back. 
You sucked in a fresh breath of air and peeked an eye open. It felt like the bravest peek in the world— the blurry, fast world. Though still huddled behind Daryl, with a vice grip around his steady waist, you were sure it didn’t appear very courageous to anyone else. 
“Fine!” You managed to reply, “I just didn’t expect that.” 
His gruff voice was harsher when he had to speak over that deafening engine. You barely made out his next sentence: “Want me to slow down?” 
You thought about it. But by the time you understood his offer, your eyes had opened completely, almost adjusted to the speed of the world around you. You even sat up properly, looking to your left as he raced past a strip of abandoned cars. That floating feeling inside your chest began to feel less dizzying, like Daryl’s waist was a tether to gravity as the bike ripped down the streets. He was always positioned firm and steady, like that beat of his heart you could feel against your cheek. You trusted him to keep you solid, even as the wind picked up. 
“No,” you practically squealed with a newfound excitement. “Keep going!” 
Much to your increasing delight, he kept that speed until you noticed a group of walkers at the end of the long-stretching road. He slowed down to turn, the joy and carefree adventure stained with reality, once again. The engine was loud. You glanced behind as Daryl bolted back through the street you’d just gone down, the blurry heads of the dead turning toward you in the distance. It’d been as good a sign as any to head back, with the gas slowly dwindling too. 
When you reached the car garage again, the bike crawled back through the lot, allowing you to finally take a deep breath and catch that fluttering feeling in your stomach. The bike paused and the engine turned off. The stark difference in noise was shocking— some time down that road you forgot just how loud the engine was, and just how quiet the rest of the Earth was nowadays. 
Daryl sat back, hands limply grasping the handlebars, head bowed to the beast of a motor below him. He seemed content from behind. Relaxed. 
You leaned around his shoulder. “End of the line?”
He seemed to snap back into focus then, glancing at you. 
“Gas is runnin’ low anyway.” 
You nodded, but added hopefully, “Maybe we can find more?” 
“We should use it for the car.” 
You sighed, “I know.”
The engine was still warm underneath your legs. Your disappointment was just as fresh. That could’ve been your first and only chance on the back of a bike, for all you knew. 
“Good first ride then?” 
“Are you kidding?” You laughed. “I get it now. Horror stories be damned.” 
He chuckled, even throwing you another glance back. But the second after your eyes met, his grin fell an inch. He turned his face away, too, and it hadn’t only taken a second longer for you to notice how close he was like this. You still wrapped around his back. 
“Ya gotta move so—” 
“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, climbing off the bike. Trying to steady yourself on the ground was harder than you anticipated; your legs felt like jelly, already missing the smooth leather beneath you.
Your eyes caught on Daryl's vest as he also got off. 
In front of you. 
The bike balanced on its stand, Daryl on one side and you on the other. Something caught his attention, just above your eyes. 
“Ya got…” He gestured with a lazy hand around the top of his head. 
Your eyes went wide, hand flying up to the wild mess of your hair. 
You patted down a patch. “There?” 
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, giving you the ghost of a smile.
You felt it again. Butterflies. 
Fuck. 
---
By the time you finished siphoning gas from the other cars, Daryl was done fixing the blue one. Throwing your few bags in the backseat, you climbed inside. You in the passenger seat, him behind the wheel. He liked to drive. It seemed to calm him, from that loose expression he wore. 
“We’ll keep drivin’ west, see wha’ we can find.” Daryl gripped the steering wheel with one hand. The other lingered by his mouth, thumb occasionally gnawed at. “Can siphon gas from the cars on the road. Hunt for food, sleep in the back.” 
“A home on wheels.” You rolled down the window as the car began to drift down the same streets you’d just sped through. The wind was softer than it had been on the bike. You already missed that terrifying, joyful freedom. 
There was another way you could chase it, you realized. You started to dig through the glove compartment. 
“Whatcha lookin’ for?” 
“CDs, hopefully.” 
His eyes flickered over you. Hair now brushed, let loose from that ponytail and tucked behind your ear as you leaned forward. The sun was still strong late into the afternoon, direct rays landing across the dashboard and reflecting onto you. It explained that glow you had. 
“God, I’d listen to anything at this point.” 
Daryl glanced over to the road, but his attention didn’t slip off you completely. 
It never seemed to, anymore. 
“Here.” You popped the cd from its case and rubbed it against the soft fabric of your sweater. “Can’t believe this is the only one. Who the hell owned this car?” 
Daryl’s lip twitched up at your soft snark. “You a music snob or somethin’?” 
“No.” You rolled your eyes. “I was just hoping for something better.” 
With one hand off the wheel, he clicked on the radio. Static rumbled from the speakers until he slid the dusty cd inside. The dark melody was slow, something that reminded him of those nights in the same run-down bar in the early nineties. A favourite of his uncle, then his brother, and while the pair of them served a stint in jail, Daryl’s. 
It was strange, feeling better off without your family by your side. But Daryl had all his life to get used to that thought. It wasn’t until he made his own family, then lost them, that he felt the opposite. He missed that group more than he could say, missed that feeling of purpose they gave him. 
Though, as the days rolled on, you were beginning to fill that ache in his chest, too. 
“Sure there’s nothin’ else in there?” 
You checked again, but it was mostly a polite gesture. There hadn’t been much in there, anyway. A pair of old gloves that you’d already stuffed in your bag, some tissue, the lone cd, and a brochure. 
“Only this.” You flickered through the pages of the sale brochure. It was for the development of a small community, units starting in the low three hundreds. The prospective opening date was off by a few years, though. You doubted they’d even broken ground before everything fell apart. 
“You really don’t like it?” 
“Ain’t exactly a fan,” he grumbled. There was a flash of disappointment across your face, caught in the corner of his eye. His frown lifted a bit. “’S fine, though. Ain’t a big deal, neither.” 
“What are you a fan of then?” You tossed the brochure back inside the box. “Now that we have a radio, next time I’m scavenging I’ll keep an eye out.” 
Daryl thought for a moment. “I dunno. Only really listened to what Merle liked.” 
You blinked, brows knitting a centimetre closer. 
“You spent a lot of time with him?” 
“When he was around.” 
Something stung in your chest. No, your heart. From the sparse details Daryl spared about his brother, Merle didn’t seem the reliable type. Every story he told was followed with stiffness. Those memories were distant and cold— the type of coolness that grew from hurt, not time. 
You knew to tread lightly. 
“What’d you guys do?” 
“Whatever.” Daryl shrugged. “Drank. Went huntin’. Nothin’ special.” 
“So you hunted even before this?” 
“Mhm.” 
“Merle taught you?” 
“My dad.”  
“Oh.” 
Daryl had never mentioned a parent before. Given the age gap, you’d assumed Merle had probably raised him a good chunk of his childhood. When he was around, anyway. 
That cold tone Daryl had for his brother extended to his father, also. A part of you wondered if that hurt had been deep, too. Maybe as deep as those scars on his back. 
It was an insensitive thought. Unfair. Daryl didn’t owe you anything, and he certainly didn’t deserve you stuffing your nose in his family’s business. 
“Do you like hunting?” 
“I liked the forest. Liked eatin’.” It was better than being home. “But I didn’t do it ‘cause I liked it. Was jus’ somethin’ I had to learn.”
With a nod, you went quiet. A softly contemplative look on your face. It piqued his interest, a flutter of nerves catching in his gut. 
“Why ya askin’?” 
“Just curious,” you answered. “You’re the only person I’ve had out here that didn’t jump at every snap of a branch.” 
“Well I got practice,” he said. “Stuck with a lotta city folk, then?” 
You turned back to him then, a sly smile hanging off your lips. “I’m city folk.” 
“Yeah, I figured.” 
You laughed, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 
“Cause you’re jumpy, too,” Daryl scoffed. “Scared’a your own damn shadow.” 
“I like the forest,” you defended with a slight pitch to your words. It made Daryl smirk, too. “I just don’t like how dark it can get. It’s freaky. I’ll never get used to it. Maybe all those bright city lights mess with your brain after all.” 
Daryl nodded, and he knew the moment had presented itself. The tone shifted a bit serious when he finally asked the question that’d be pressing him. 
“Atlanta, then?” 
“Briefly.” You nodded. “My brother and I were visiting before everything happened.” 
“Heard it was bad there.” 
It was. It’d taken a long time to stop waking up in a sweat with memories of that night. 
Still, you shrugged. “It was bad everywhere.” 
“Yeah, but they weren’t droppin’ bombs everywhere.” 
“I got out before that.” 
Good timing.
“We were only there for two weeks. If the trip had been a month later, or earlier, we wouldn’t have been anywhere close to Georgia when this thing hit.” 
Daryl felt something fester in his gut. Anxiety? That distant, non-existent what-if made him shift in his seat. He could feel it looking over your side profile— the curve of your nose and lips, the soft flutter of eyelashes— and it hit him like that bullet had. Fast. 
It was true. You’d grown on him. He cared. 
“You’re not from Georgia?” 
You shook your head. “Nope.” 
“Explains the accent.” 
“Or lack thereof,” you countered. “I like yours though. It's charming.” 
Daryl scoffed, and you gave him a look. 
“What? I’m being serious. You have a nice voice.” 
A pretty shade of light pink scattered across his cheeks. You couldn’t help that loose smile you wore. It was nice to make him nervous, for once. Of course, you weren’t about to rub it in his face. You glanced away, eyes caught in the fast shades of green, orange, and red passing by the window. 
“What about you? Where were you at the start?” 
Daryl cleared his throat. “Same place I’d always been. Hometown.” 
“You never left?” 
“Nah.” 
“Not even for college or…” 
His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he tried not to side-eye your reaction when he finally muttered, “Didn’t go.” 
Though that part of him that held all those pessimistic, self-doubts was a strong force to be reckoned with. He didn’t need to prove himself— never cared to before— but now here he was, sitting with that gnawing feeling in his gut, wanting to. 
And yet, you barely even shrugged. 
“I almost didn’t go, either,” you said nonchalantly, eyes running over the back of the CD case. “You ever wish you had, though?” 
“Nah.” 
“Fair enough. I think you could’ve been good at it, though. You’re very…” 
Daryl waited, brow hitched as you hummed. 
“Intuitive.” You’d decided. “You know, you have good instincts. Sometimes it feels like you know what’s gonna happen before it does.” 
He sat with those words a moment, then offered one of his own: “Observant.” 
“Yeah, exactly. Maybe you could’ve been a lawyer… Or a cop.” 
“Nah,” Daryl huffed. “Cops ’n I never got along well.” 
“No?” You teased. “You used to get into trouble, Dixon?” 
“Merle did. Guess I tagged along for the ride.” He shrugged. “Like I said, I was a dumbass.” 
“You being a dumbass— that’s hard to imagine.” 
“I didn’t have to,” he quipped. 
You smiled at the easy wit that always just seemed to flow from him. 
“So you didn’t leave town before this?” 
“Not really. Never even left Georgia.” 
“Seriously?” 
He shook his head. 
“Well, maybe after we pick up your friends we can go on a road trip.” 
Daryl gave you a look. It was questioning, sure, but gentle. “Plannin’ on stickin’ around then?” 
“Well, I uh…” you paused. Curiously, you hadn’t thought about it much. Since those initially tense first days together, the possibility of parting ways with Daryl, not because of a feverish worry or a herd, but because your shared journey had reached an end, hadn’t come to mind often. The two of you hadn’t been together long, but you’d already been through a lot. Patching the other up, too many close calls to count, sharing what little supplies you had… just to say ‘see ya!’ after everything felt wrong. Incomplete. 
“If you’d let me. I don’t really have anywhere else to go— anyone else.” 
“Alright.” Daryl nodded. 
It was a short acknowledgement. A single word. It still made you smile. 
Daryl wasn’t like most people. He was forgiving and insightful. He let you live when you probably deserved to die because he wasn’t like most people. All you knew about the others was that they’d earned Daryl’s loyalty at some point, and made their own way into his sentiment, too. If he trusted them, you hoped that meant you could too. 
Hoped. 
Worry crept back in. Maybe the others wouldn’t want you there. The stain of the prison could’ve been enough to taint your reputation, completely, even if Daryl vouched for you. And, if it came down to it, choosing between you and them, there was no doubt in your mind. He wouldn’t pick the girl he knew for a couple of weeks over his real family. 
It poured out faster than you meant. Words slipped, mumbled and stuttered, “You think they might— might wanna kill me? Or, I don’t know, cut me loose?” 
“Tha’ ain’t gonna happen.” Daryl watched the road. “They’re good people. Like you.” 
The weight of worry lifted off your chest again. He had a talent for that. 
You smiled. 
Good people. 
You tried to hide the flush at your cheeks and chest, glancing out the window. “How’d you find them anyway?” 
“At the start, Merle ’n I were in the middle’a huntin’. Didn’t even know ‘bout the walkers until I found one out there, ’n it tried to take a bite outta me.” 
“Shit,” you hissed. 
“Douchebag was all over me. Smelt somethin’ awful. I started yellin’, screamin’ at the thing. Punchin’ him. He jus’ kept coming, then Merle shot it.” He scoffed, “Thought I was ‘bout to serve hard time for murder, till Merle said he’d heard something on the truck’s radio ‘bout dead bastards comin’ back to life. We left for Atlanta after tha’.” 
“Refugee camps?” 
“Never made it. That was when we found the others on the road. We stayed up by a quarry for a while. It wasn’t safe, so we kept movin’, till we found the prison. ‘Bout a year ago.” 
“You stayed there a year?” 
Daryl nodded. “We lost a lot gettin’ there. Made somethin’ of it, though.” 
“I didn’t think anything like that could be real.” You shook your head. 
He met your look. It’d gone from smiling to serious in a few sentences. That slight bite at your lip, a quiver in your brow. 
“It was," he said.
“Do you think you could ever have that again?” 
Of course, he’d thought about it. Even if he tried not to, those memories of the prison and the community they built from a grey, desolate building— a prison— were overwhelming. It was the first time in maybe his whole life that he felt a purpose. People didn’t just depend on him. They accepted him. They liked him. 
He stole another look at you. That bloom of familiarity was deep in his chest, again. 
“Maybe.” 
---
Another hour passed. The sun was softer, a cold breeze shifting through that open window until you finally rolled it back up. You still stared outside, watching the trees slip by.
Daryl had traced the backroads back to the main road leaving the prison, and you’d been travelling west since. The same way he’d seen the bus go. It seemed strange that they hadn’t come up with an official rendezvous spot, just a last chance at loading on that bus together. But maybe a more detailed plan would’ve been useless anyway; places didn’t last long, nowadays. 
The car rolled to a stop. Your head lulled to face forward, finding a slight ache in your neck when you finally tore your eyes away from the window. A question sat at the tip of your tongue, about to slip when your eyes landed on the answer. 
Instead, you gasped, “Oh my God.” 
There, sitting in the road, was the bus. 
Splatters of blood painted the siding. A dozen or so bodies sprawled by the back door. Some were piled on top of each other, limbs mixed. Others lay alone. All of them had turned before they were put down for good. 
You could just tell. 
From the corner of your eye, you noticed his white-knuckle grip around the steering wheel. The veins in his hands popped out, muscle turned into stone, and there was no use in glancing up at him; you already knew that look of pain— despair— he had. Could practically feel him begin to bottle up every word, emotion, or care. 
You were the first one to exit the car. 
Goosebumps broke out on your skin as a cold breeze took hold. That chill sunk into your skin with the sound of the second door opening, and something stiff and heavy clouded behind you. 
It was coming from him. You knew that already. It made that pit of dread in your gut even heavier. 
Was it fury he was feeling? Grief? 
Even when you finally did glance back at him, lingering by the car's side, you still couldn’t say for sure. That glossy look in his eye was certainly bitter. Tense with emotion that you knew he was fighting to reign in. It left him with a dark glare as he stared at the dead faces of his people— the only ones he’d known for sure got out. He had practice keeping that type of anger silent. Not the one that made you punch some asshole at the bar, but the type that was born out of misery and regret. 
He’d been abrasive at the cabin. Then softer after the pharmacy. Even strained in the cottage, with you tending to his back. But he’d never forced himself numb before, not like this. You could tell he was holding back. A guttural scream, you thought, from the tension in his neck and that vein threatening to pop out where a swollen bump had been a few days prior. 
But his lips drew shut in a taut line, and he was quieter than the rustle of the trees. 
It made your stomach knot. Though, you were sure it was no worse than what he might have been feeling— if he'd let himself. His only lead: bloody, dead, and rotting in the middle of the road. If you’d kept driving, the tires would’ve ripped through decaying muscle and crushed bone. 
It wasn’t fair. 
The gas station. His wounds. The bus. These people, lying like trash on the road. No more significant than the withering leaves beside them. 
There wasn’t the time, nor the energy, to spend digging graves. But you dragged each limp body, one by one, to the side of the road. Right where the grass bled into the concrete, they laid. 
Sometime around the third body, Daryl began to help. He picked up the opposite limb with his good arm, then eventually his bad one too. 
Nothing but that gloss across his eye to tell you these people meant anything to him. He was retreating by the second. Crawling back into that ugly pit of animosity and cynicism that always seemed to have a spot waiting for him. Each body you moved reaffirmed it. Pushed him deeper as hollow eyes fell on the cold faces of the people he cared about. He fed. He protected. 
Or, tried to. 
It was never enough. 
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-> part 9
A/N: so much happened in this part I mean... reader finally realizing she might have a lil crush on him... the bike ride... the car conversation... THE BUS
anyway. back to our regular scheduled bad shit happening to our fav fictional characters. if u have any predictions or thoughts, lmk :p
FYI: I'm expecting to miss next weeks posting. I have too much to do with exams, sorry! after that ill be graduated so lots of free time coming up lol.
if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3
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3quinox-c0nflux · 4 months
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I.. don't like posting this kind of stuff because Im here for positivity and have fun! Drama free, rage free.... pretty much negative free blog. Im here to share my arts, my loves, and give my biggest support, if I can, to everyone!
If you don't like reading then please ignore this post. This just my two cents out and I just wanted to say something... Trust me, this gonna be a long ride when I talk something like this.... //COUGH
But take this as MY opinion, you don't have to agree with me. I am so sorry if some wordings hurt you. I do, Im very sorry. Remember this though, it's my "Opinion". I will not change my words. This isn't targeting nobody, I'm just saying out my two cents. It's tiring tbh.
I should mention trigger word or something? It's mostly cussing because... when Im upset, I cuss out like a sailor. Sorry! I will try not to cuss out too much here. :c
People need to leave others alone. FOR GOOD. Period. 
If you don't like them... DON'T be a dick and hire a hitman or someone to go and target them. Don't like them? Just block and move on???? It's SO simple to do. I bet a 3 years old kid can do better than you when it comes to blocking someone they don't like. Also, pretending to be that person you don't like and running around being that person is just a lowlife and you need to, seriously, touch some grass and get off the internet for good. You must be that boring person to play around like this. Oh trust me, keep doing it, something big coming after you and bite your ass off. You'll be sorry after that? Good! Be sorry but you'll never get apologize accepted of the action you have done and the damage you have done so far.
So, if you see someone you know acting strange and doing unusual stuff they never did before through the internet... Yeah, it's time to chat and see what's up. Talking through them on Discord will be great because it'll show they're real while the imposter on the internet don't have or have different handles; Give the real person a warning about someone pretending to be them. I've seen SO many scammers pretending to be that artist and try to steal information/money. Heh I will be watching carefully and will not fall for it. Even though they're not scammers but a hater, yeah I am watching that too.
To me, I'm a very nice person, I give others another chance but... I do have my own limit though. Something like this, you will NEVER get another chance and just straight up "Block" and I will forget about you. When it comes to blocking, don't be a crybaby and go "Boo hoo oh my gosh I got blocked Im sad now". Just accept it. Blocked? Oops okay I'll move on then. Simple and done. Trust me, I know out there I got blocked by folks who don't like me or just block me because of the content I make? Am I sad? No, I just shrug it off and move on.
Another thing I want to point out. No matter where you go, there's no "Peaceful" community/fandom out there. There'll be ONE or SOME person gotta be a dick and ruin it. I know the community I'm in... there's crazy people, not in good way, in here. I wanted to stay far from that as possible and ignore it. Also, don't jump into conclusion just yet, if I was you, I better investigate first before "I agree with you". Be smart here. I've seen so many innocent people getting accused of for no reason and seeing the fake evidence is just... really? "Oh but Jang, how you know they're innocent?" Trust me, I "Investigate" first, looking around much I can to see if it true or not. Looking back in the history and etc. I take this VERY seriously! I will TRY to talk to the victim to see their side of the story and when it come to story, I keep it to myself, I don't share it at all because it's a sensitive information unless the person don't mind me sharing their story then that's whole different scene. 
Other than that... people like this shouldn't exist at all. Never exist. Period. Can we just get along and have fun with the characters you enjoy? We all sit at the campfire and talk about our favorite characters and share headcanons and AUs. But it's life, we're all humans and there's always the bad guys out there. Also, we make mistakes and we learn from them. We're NOT robots, we cannot make things perfect. Everywhere you go, mistakes happen and you forgive yourself for making such a mistake and will not do the same mistake again! Don't pressure yourself, just relax and always know... you got people supporting you; They got your back, fam. Keep doing what you enjoy so much. Bad people come and are willing to ruin your time.
Anyways, if you make it here, good job. Thanks for reading my ramble of angry or upset. I just wanted to say it. Have a wonderful morning, day or night! 🤍🖤
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maybeimamuppet · 10 months
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the rainbow road
hello everyone!! 
happy priiiiide i actually genuinely did not plan having this be the first fic i posted in pride month but daaaaang it worked out lol
this was requested by OnlyHere4TheFandoms on wattpad. here it be yay :))
quite possibly the longest list of trigger warnings i’ve ever had haha oops 
pre-coming out misgendering/deadnaming 
trans/homophobia
child abuse
abandonment
bullying 
outing
self harm 
suicide attempt/ideation
implied ed
dslur
happy pride once again. whether you realized it like these kiddos or much later in life. whether you’re out and proud or watching from the closet. much love <33
enjoy!
—————
Janis still remembers the first time she thought something was up with her best friend. 
They were six years old. Having a play date at Janis’ house. Dana’s mom had come to pick her up, but they begged and pleaded and managed to get their mothers both to agree to another two whole hours while they had some coffee and caught up. 
They decided to play their favorite game, knights and princesses. Dana is always the knight. Janis doesn’t mind so much. She likes being the princess. Her old pink princess Halloween costume doesn’t fit so well anymore since she’s grown so much, but she can pretend it’s not so tight and itchy. It’s as easy as pretending the crown on her head isn’t plastic and standing on her dresser is as scary as being locked high away in a tower guarded by a fearsome dragon.
“Fear not, fair maiden!” Dana says, brandishing her sword against Janis’ puppy, Molly. “I will slay this foul beast and save you from your… uh… jail!” 
“Imprisonment, Dana,” Janis says with a roll of her eyes. She giggles as Molly chomps down on the foam sword and shakes her head, trying to steal the toy. 
“Hey! Molly,” Dana giggles, wiggling it gently to wrestle it back.
“You’re not supposed to eat it, Molly,” Janis laughs. Molly’s dragon hat is falling off, so she hops down and adjusts it. 
“Hey! You’re not supposed to get down! How am I supposed to save you now?” 
“I guess the princess saved herself this time,” Janis says with a shrug. She rolls on the ground to wrestle with the delighted pup and eventually rips off the dragon costume. “The beast is… vanished!” 
“Vanquished!” Dana admonishes.
“That’s it!” Janis nods. 
“We gotta read more storybooks, I think,” Dana says as she starts pulling off her foam armor. 
“I’ll ask for more for my birthday soon.” 
“Oh, yeah!” Dana nods eagerly. Janis pulls off her hot, itchy dress, but decides to leave the crown on. “Janis?”
“Yeah?” 
“D’you ever wish you could be a boy? And not just for dress up?”
“Mm… no,” Janis says. “Well, sometimes I wish that girls could kiss girls like boys get to. But I don’t think I wanna be a boy.”
Dana is quiet, running her finger over the new teeth marks in her sword. 
“Why?” 
“Nothing. You wanna play spacemans?” Dana says, dropping her sword on the floor. Janis will definitely be in trouble later if she doesn’t clean up, but that can wait. Spacemans comes first. 
“Yeah!” she says, conversation forgotten. 
—————
They were ten when they learned there was a word for everything. 
Dana had been deemed old enough to inherit her dad’s old work laptop after he got a new one. She quickly discovered the wonder of the internet. And a few of the horrors. 
Janis came over for a sleepover. They watched a few pirated PG-13 movies. Janis had to be talked into it, briefly fearing the police would find out and come to lock them up for good. Or worse, their parents. God knows what they would do. 
Dana reassured her that she had done this before and no police nor parents had ever found out. They’d be fine as long as they didn’t fess up. Janis was pinky-sworn to secrecy and let herself enjoy a few movies. 
“D’you remember when we were little and you said you wanna kiss girls?” Dana asks as the third one’s credits scroll on the fuzzy old screen. 
“What?!” Janis gasps. 
“Hey, you said it,” Dana says. 
“I did not! I don’t wanna kiss anyone!” 
“You did so!” Dana insists. 
“And besides, girls can’t kiss other girls!” Janis huffs. “It’s illegal.” 
“No it’s not,” Dana giggles. “It’s just illegal for girls and girls and boys and boys to get married. But my mom says they’re gonna change it soon.” 
“Oh,” Janis says. 
“So you can kiss girls if you want to.” 
“I don’t! Gross!” Janis groans, burying her face in her pillow. 
“Not even Regina George?” Dana teases. Janis rears up with a gasp and whacks her with a pillow. 
“You’re horrible!” 
“Ow, hey!” Dana laughs. “You’re horribler.” 
“That’s impossible,” Janis grumbles. 
“But I’m your best friend! We got the necklaces and everything!” Dana gasps. 
“They say cousins, Dana,” Janis says with a roll of her eyes. 
“My mom read the package wrong. At least they match,” Dana huffs, closing the laptop and rolling onto her back. 
“Why’d you ask me that?” Janis asks quietly, lying on her stomach next to her. 
“Ask you what?” 
“About the… kissing girls thing.” 
“Oh,” Dana says. “I found a website. I think it’s bad. But there’s a word for girls who kiss girls. Called lesbian. And another word for girls who wanna be boys.” 
“Really?” Janis asks. “We’re not the only ones?” 
“I don’t think so.” 
“Huh. What’s the word for you?”
“Transgender,” Dana recites immediately. She’s clearly done a good bit of research here. 
“Like Transformers?” Janis asks. 
“I think so. Cause they… transform.” 
“Into a boy?” 
“Yeah. But it can go the other way, too. Some boys wanna be girls,” Dana says in disbelief. “Who’d ever wanna be a girl?”
“I dunno. Girls are prettier. And they smell better,” Janis says. 
“When I’m a boy I’ll still be pretty,” Dana says. “And smell nice.” 
“You can turn into a boy?” Janis asks. 
“I’m gonna ask my mom soon. And my dad always says he wants a son. They’ll be happy,” Dana says. 
“Cool. Can I come when you transform?” Janis asks. 
“Duh!” Dana says. “You gotta make sure they’re not actually gonna turn me into a truck or something.” 
“Oh yeah,” Janis giggles. 
“Do… you think you’ll still be my friend? When I’m a boy?” Dana asks quietly. 
“Duh,” Janis retaliates, poking her best friend in the belly. “We got the necklaces, after all.” 
“Good. You wanna go watch Mulan in the basement?” Dana asks. 
“I’ll get the popcorn!” 
—————
Janis noticed how uncomfortable her friend looked being called a ‘she’ or a ‘her’ or ‘Dana’ after that day. Always a grimace or a wince. She’d fold her arms over her chest, almost like she was trying to keep down the things she knew were doomed to come. 
She never did around Janis, though. Something about their history together, Janis supposed. 
Then Dana’s dad left. 
They were eleven. 
It was November. They’d gotten home from school a few hours earlier eager for three extra days off of school for Thanksgiving break. 
Janis was playing in the backyard with her almost-five year old little sister when she heard two car doors open and close from the other side of the house and the doorbell echoing from inside. 
She continued pushing her sister on the swings, figuring it must be someone trying to sell something or convince them to find Jesus. Janis hopes that whoever this Jesus guy is, his family find him soon. Sounds like they’ve been missing him for a long time. 
“Janis, Julie, time to come in,” their father says. Janis looks up and shudders a bit at the dark look gracing his features. 
“But-” Julie begins to protest. 
“Now, girls.” 
“No fair!” Julie whines, climbing off the swing and moping inside. Janis has been bored for a while, and it’s getting dark and cold. She heads in with nowhere near as much complaint. 
She freezes when she sees her best friend crying at the end of the hallway and their mothers talking frantically in hushed voices. 
“Mama? What’s going on?” 
“Oh, Janis!” her mother gasps. “You scared me. Why don’t you go get Dana set up in your room, dear?” 
“Um… okay?” Janis says in confusion. “What’s-” 
“I’ll explain later. You two go get settled in. Dana’s spending the night tonight.” 
Janis knows the tense look in her mother’s brow means now is not the time to push. She gently tugs on Dana’s sleeve to get her to follow her upstairs. Dana sags onto Janis’ bed like a thousand pound weight is sitting on her shoulders. Janis has never seen her cry like this. 
Janis leaves her to her feelings while she gets a sleeping bag unrolled on the ground next to her bed and grabs a spare pillow. She hesitates briefly before she sits down next to her best friend. “What happened?” 
“I… I told them,” Dana chokes. 
“Told them what?” 
“That-that I want to be a boy.” 
“Oh.” Janis says quietly. “You still want to?” 
“Not anymore,” Dana growls. “Not if this is what people do.” 
“What do you mean?” Janis asks sadly. Dana turns to look at her head on, and Janis gasps when she sees the red, almost glowing, hand-shaped welt on her cheek. “Dana!” 
“Can-can you not call me that? Please?” Dana begs. 
“Okay. What-what should I call you instead?” Janis asks, pausing her concern for the briefest of moments. 
“I don’t know. Anything but that.” 
“How about… D?” Janis asks. Dana nods frantically. Or, D does. “D, who hit you?” 
“Dad,” D chokes. 
“Your dad hit you? He can’t do that!” Janis says. 
“He did anyway,” D sobs. 
“Why?” Janis asks, desperately trying to understand. 
“He-he called me a freak. He said I was confused, but I told him-him that I’ve been-been thinking about-bout this for a really-really long time. And then he… he hit me. And he left.” 
“He can’t do that!” Janis repeats. “Your mom better talk to him when he comes back.”
D looks at her sadly. She’s quiet for a minute before whispering, “He-he’s not coming back, Janis.” 
“What do you mean?” Janis asks, feeling her chest go cold. 
“He packed his stuff. He said he wasn’t gonna-gonna stick around if this is how I was gonna make-make him live. He said it wasn’t right.” 
Janis blinks in confusion. D’s dad was always a little scary. But she never would’ve thought the man who grilled them delicious cheeseburgers on nice summer days while they played in D’s backyard, the man who made them pancakes for breakfast after sleepovers, the man who sang embarrassing karaoke with them at D’s tenth birthday, the man who gave them sparklers on the Fourth of July and birthday presents and new stuffed animals… would do this. 
“I’m sorry, D,” Janis says, not knowing what else to say. “I’ll be right back.” 
D looks up in confusion as Janis says this and watches as she runs out of the room. Their moms have moved to the living room, and Janis’ stepdad is putting Julie to bed down the hall. Janis runs into the kitchen to grab an ice pack and a towel for D’s face, and some ice cream with two spoons. 
“Janis, sweetheart,” D’s mother says. “Did… did Dana tell you what happened?” 
Janis nods solemnly. “She wants to be called D now, Mrs. Leigh.” 
“D?” she questions. She nods tightly. It’s quiet for a moment before she says, “Thank you for being there for her, honey.” 
Janis just nods. She lingers for a second. Nobody says anything, so she takes a few steps back towards her room. When nobody stops her, she runs the rest of the way back. 
“Here,” Janis says when she makes it back. D jumps as the door slams open, still on edge from what happened earlier. She smiles just a little as Janis shows off the ice cream. 
They lie side by side, D holding the ice pack against her cheek and sniffling periodically as they silently enjoy their favorite chocolate chip ice cream. 
Eventually, Janis’ mom knocks quietly on the door. Janis looks to D, who nods hesitantly. “Come in.” 
Janis’ mom steps in and shuts the door behind her. “How are you doing, Dan- uh. D?” 
“I’m okay,” D says quietly. 
“Poor girl,” Janis’ mother tuts. D tenses. 
“Mama, don’t call her a girl anymore,” Janis scolds, noticing her friend’s discomfort. 
“I don’t wanna be a her either,” D mumbles softly. 
“What do you wanna be then?” Janis asks. D shrugs. 
“Do you want to be a he?” Janis’ mother asks kindly. D shakes her head frantically. 
“What else is there?” Janis asks. 
Janis’ mother mulls this over and says, “Could be a they. Somewhere sort of in between.” 
“You wanna be a they, D?” Janis asks gently. D ponders. 
“Could we try it out? Just for tonight?” they ask quietly. 
“Of course,” Janis’ mother says kindly. “Have you had dinner, D?” 
“Yeah,” D nods. 
“And we got ice cream, Mama,” Janis says. 
Janis’ mother chuckles. “Of course. Just don’t eat too much, you know it’ll make your stomachs hurt.” 
D and Janis share a look that says they’re definitely going to finish the entire thing. Janis’ mother rolls her eyes. She inhales heavily before she gently says, “D, sweetheart, I couldn’t… help but notice your hair.” 
D instinctively reaches a hand to the back of their head. Janis somehow missed the huge chunk missing of their formerly long, beautiful chestnut brown hair. 
“Do you want me to help you fix it?” Janis’ mother continues. 
D hesitates, the hand they have wrapped around the spoon shaking. They put it down and grip their thighs to stop it. “Um… maybe later?” 
“Of course. Let me know if you want, alright? You two have fun up here. Julie’s asleep, so keep the noise to a minimum, please.” 
“We will,” Janis sighs. 
“Thanks, Mrs. Ian,” D adds politely. Janis’ mother smiles before she leaves them to their ice cream, clicking the door shut behind her. 
“What happened to your hair?” Janis asks. 
“I cut it,” D says sheepishly. 
“No duh, stupid,” Janis snorts. “Why?” 
“I don’t want it long anymore. That’s how my parents found out,” D says, pushing some of the ice cream around the rapidly emptying pint before hesitantly taking another bite. 
“My mom’s good at hair. She does my stepdad’s all the time,” Janis says. “She still won’t let me dye mine, though.”
“But your hair is so pretty!” D gasps. 
“That’s what she always says,” Janis huffs. 
“Why do you want to dye it?” 
“Regina wants us to match,” Janis shrugs. “Kinda like a uniform.” 
“You’d look nice as a blonde,” D nods. “I like your hair dark, though.” 
Janis shrugs again. “It’s what Regina wants.”
“But what do you want?” 
“For her not to hit me again,” Janis chuckles. 
“She hit you?” 
“Yeah. Not hard. It’s fine,” Janis says. 
“Friends shouldn’t hit you, Janis,” D says. 
“I know that, Da- D. She didn’t mean it, it’s fine. Let it go.” 
D eyes her oddly, but doesn’t mention anything again. The handprint on their cheek fades as they huddle together under Janis’ pink duvet and watch The Little Mermaid. 
“D’you think your mom will still do my hair?” D asks softly, fiddling with a stray thread on the blanket. Janis checks the clock on the computer and sees it’s past midnight now. Her mom might be asleep. They’re definitely supposed to be. 
She shrugs. “If she’s still up, she probably will.”
They both roll out of the bed and head off to find Janis’ mom. They hear raised voices coming from the kitchen.
“Wait here,” Janis says when they reach the top of the stairs. D looks at her in confusion, but sits and watches Janis go down. Janis heads down the hallway and stands there, listening. 
“I just don’t want Janis hanging around those kinds of people, Ettie,” she hears her stepdad say. 
“And what kind of people would that be, Greg?” her mom responds. 
She can practically hear her dad’s grit teeth. “You know damn well.” 
“They’re eleven years old. Nothing is-”
“Exactly. Eleven is way too young to be exposed to that sort of lifestyle.” 
“How is a child living in a way that makes them comfortable a lifestyle?” Janis’ mother questions. 
“It just isn’t natural, Ettie!” her father insists. “What if she influences Janis to be… like that?” 
“You know damn well nobody can influence Janis into anything she doesn’t want to do,” her mother huffs around a sardonic laugh. “If Janis does come out as something, she will still be my daughter. And I’d hope she’d be yours too.” 
It’s silent after that. Janis shows her face from behind the wall and tries her best to make it seem like she didn’t hear their whole conversation. “Mama, D wants to know if you can help with their hair now.”
“Now? It’s late, don’t you two want to get some sleep?” her mother responds. She forces a smile, but Janis can still see the strain behind her eyes and the tension held in her brow. 
“Mama,” Janis huffs with a roll of her eyes. 
Her mother chuckles. “Of course not. Go get her- them set up in the bathroom, I’ll be right up.” 
“Mmkay,” Janis says. She heads back up to her best friend, trying to forget what she just heard. “D, come on.” 
D follows her to the bathroom and winces a bit as she flips on the light, having gotten adjusted to the darkness of the hallway. Janis’ mother comes up after a few minutes with a stool from the kitchen. She sets it in front of the mirror and tells D to sit down on it. 
“How short do you want to go? I can just even it out with what you cut, if you want, or I can go shorter if you want… something more masculine,” she asks as she snaps the hair cutting cape around D’s neck. 
“I think just even it out, please,” D asks sheepishly. Janis can see their hands moving under the cape and sits on the counter so they can see each other. 
“You sure?” she asks. D nods. 
“Alrighty then,” Janis’ mother says. She takes her hair cutting scissors and goes to work, occasionally turning D’s head this way and that to make sure it’s even and looks nice. Long chunks of brown hair fall to the tile around them as she continues. Eventually, D’s hair is all about even with their chin. It frames their round face, and D looks at themselves with a smile. 
“What do you think?” Janis’ mother asks as she brushes some stray hairs off the back of D’s neck. 
“I like it a lot,” D says. “Thank you, Mrs. Ian.” 
“Of course, hon.” 
“Now me!” Janis says eagerly, watching how D’s hair bounces and twirls at this new short length. 
“You?” her mother chuckles. “I don’t remember asking if you wanted a haircut.” 
“But I’m telling you I want a haircut,” Janis responds. “Pleeeeease?” 
“We have to match,” D adds, knowing they have more sway with their friend’s parents than Janis ever could. Janis’ mother rolls her eyes, but pats the stool. 
“Yes!” Janis says, eagerly plopping herself down. She panics a bit as her mom snips off the first chunk and she hears the scissors slicing through her hair. Her mother leaves her hair a little bit longer, but she does lose a good few inches. Janis’ is about even with her shoulders by the time her mother is done. 
“Matching enough for the two of you?” she asks, brushing Janis clean of stray hairs. D and Janis look to each other and nod eagerly. 
“Your hair is so curly, D,” Janis chuckles. 
“Yours is too!” D responds with a giggle. 
Janis’ mom rolls her eyes as they both reach out to tug on each other’s newly short hair and it naturally devolves into playful fighting. She tidies up and goes to grab her camera. 
Janis and D pose against the wall in the hallway, arms around each other and matching smiles on their faces. Janis’ mother snaps a few sweet photos. 
“Alright, you two, to bed with you. Just because you’re on break doesn’t mean you get to stay up all night,” she says when she’s satisfied with what she’s gotten. 
“Fine. ‘Night Mama,” Janis says. 
“Goodnight, baby girl,” her mother replies. She kisses her forehead and sends her off to her room. 
“Goodnight, Mrs. Ian,” D says sheepishly. They get a matching forehead kiss. 
“Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams, you two.” 
D curls up in the sleeping bag on the floor while Janis gets comfortable in her bed. Molly trots in and curls up at her feet, but it feels… off. Janis tosses and turns, feeling the minutes drag by and by. Sleep doesn’t come. 
Eventually, she flops onto her side to peer off the edge of the bed at her best friend. “Psst.” 
“What?” D groans exhaustedly. 
“Are you awake?” 
“No,” D grumbles. “Whayouwant.” 
“I can’t sleep,” Janis whines. 
D rolls over and squints at her in the darkness. “What do you want me to do about it?” 
“Can we still cuddle even though you’re not a girl anymore?” 
D rolls their eyes and clambers their way out of the sleeping bag. Janis winces at the icky metallic rustling noise it makes, but smiles victoriously as her friend climbs into bed with her. “Goodnight, D.”
“‘Night, Janis.” 
—————
Things are okay until seventh grade. 
Dana’s family adjusted to not having their dad around. It took time, but she and her mom were actually thriving after a few months. D’s mom went back to nursing school and took a job at the hospital, and Dana started a support group composed of kids with absent fathers to help them cope with the new change. Things were weird, but… good. Good weird. 
D flipped back and forth every day (and sometimes hour to hour) on how they wanted to be referred to. Some days are she-days and Dana days. Other days are they-days. Janis cackled the first time they referred to these as D-days. 
They had one he-day about a month ago just to try it. D was anxious. Janis didn’t mention anything, but it was the happiest she’d seen her friend in a long time. 
Regina stopped spending time with Dana. She said they dressed weird and didn’t fit with the group anymore. D actually seemed relieved to be out. Janis was still in, though, and Dana was fine with that. 
Until one brisk March morning. 
Janis is, as always, the first one at school since both her parents work early mornings. It’s cool but not too cold outside today, so she sits on the concrete steps outside the main doors and sketches out Regina’s birthday card. She’s turning thirteen next month. The party is sure to be a big one. Janis can’t tell if she’s excited or completely dreading it. 
She looks up when she hears clicking footsteps on the pavement next to her. Regina is there, surrounded by a flock of the half-popular girls who managed to get into Regina’s good books for today. 
“Janis, I just wanted to tell you that I can’t invite you to my birthday party.” 
Janis frowns in confusion and tucks her pencil behind her ear. “What? Why? I-I’m your best friend.” 
“I can’t invite you because I think you’re a lesbian,” Regina says. “It’s a pool party and there’s gonna be girls there in their bathing suits, I can’t have a lesbian at my party.” 
Fuck. Janis knew telling Regina she had a crush on Rapunzel in that new Disney movie would come back to bite her. She feels a burning behind her eyes and bites her lip to stop it trembling. Don’t be a baby. Not now. 
“I mean, are you a lesbian?” Regina titters. The girls behind her echo her like some sadistic flock of birds. “What are you?” 
Janis feels like she’s going to be sick. Something she’s never felt before is writhing and squirming in her gut. It rises, and rises, and… “I am a space alien and I have four butts!” 
Regina blinks at her for a second. Neither of them are quite sure what to make of what Janis just said in earnest. But Regina breaks first. She bursts out into that fakey pretty laugh that’s all she ever does now. Janis scrambles to grab her things and runs into the building, only letting a sob escape as the heavy metal door slams behind her. 
She debates running to the office to call home and ask to be picked up. But if she leaves, people will notice. People will ask. People will tell Regina. Regina will win. 
She can make it through today. Through this year. It’s already March, she only has about two months left. She can handle that. Even without who she thought was one of her best friends. Forever. 
Janis spends the morning hiding in a sneaky corner in the girls’ bathroom, not able to care if she gets marked absent or tardy in her classes. She doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t sketch or play games on her iPod or do anything. She just thinks. Counting off every time the bell rings. 
She can hear the rabble outside signaling lunch time. A few girls come into the bathroom to touch up their makeup or hide away from the tempting food they’re trying to avoid even though they’re already pencil thin. None of them see her, but Janis sees them. 
“Did you hear about Janis?” one of them asks. 
“Regina’s friend?” the other responds, sounding like she’s trying not to touch her lips together as she touches up some gloss. 
“Yeah.”
“No, what did she do?” 
Janis rolls her eyes. Of course those two-faces immediately assume she’s the one at fault. That she’s done something wrong here. Has she? 
“She’s a lesbian.” 
“A what?” 
“A lesbian. It means she wants to bang other girls,” the first says. 
“Gross!” the other groans. “We have to share a bathroom with her!” 
“I know! She’s probably been spying on us changing in the locker rooms all this time and we were none the wiser!” 
No, I have taste, Riley, Janis thinks to herself. And I don’t even want to bang girls anyway. Well, kiss some, maybe. But everyone wants to do that. Right? 
“Someone should tell the principal. She shouldn’t be allowed to be around other girls.”
“Right? It’s so creepy,” the other girl says. 
Janis doesn’t come out from her spot until she hears their heels clacking off down the hall and the door slamming shut after them. 
She almost doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair falls just past her shoulders. Her curls have stretched into more of a loose wave from the damage the bleaching has done to it. Being… forced straight. She looks like a clone of Regina George. 
She wants to claw her skin off beneath the pink polyester dress she’s wearing today. It feels like poison against her skin, seeping slowly into her bloodstream. It itches. It hurts. 
Does everyone know? Janis asks herself as she splashes some cold water on her face and tries to make herself look tough. Does everyone think… that? 
She jumps as someone else comes bursting in. “Janis! Oh, thank god, there you are.” 
“D? What are you doing, you’re not-”
“Have you been to your locker?” Dana asks frantically. 
“No. I’ve been in here all morning,” Janis says, holding herself protectively and looking down at her ballet flats. Despite all of Regina’s best efforts, she hasn’t gotten the hang of heels yet. Maybe she never will, now. 
D looks at her sadly. “You… you should come with me.” 
Janis eyes them suspiciously, but does grab her bag and finally leaves the bathroom for the first time that morning. “Where are we going?” 
“You’ll see,” Dana says with a grim tone. She winds through the hallways until they’re in the science hallway. Janis’ locker is here. 
She can spy it from a mile away. The normally blue metal is covered in neon sticky notes. Janis hesitantly steps closer. 
The post-its say various things. Go away, dyke and Lesbo and Pervert and Creeper. Some crude drawings scatter the mix, of things Janis doesn’t ever want to know. 
They outline something scrawled in Sharpie, directly on the metal. Space Dyke. 
Janis could recognize Regina’s handwriting anywhere. That swirly, excessive, frilly cursive. Janis always had a hard time reading it, but she understands this full well. 
This time, she can’t bring herself to be strong. The tears start to fall as she slowly picks off every little note stuck to the metal. She knew these people weren’t her friends, but for them to hate her this much… 
D stands a few feet behind and watches her, unsure what to do. She isn’t using new pronouns or a different name at school. Everyone thought she and Regina just had a falling out. They’ve never been through something like this themselves. 
Janis pulls the last note off with shaking hands and reads it. We know what you are. Leave us alone. 
She breaks down sobbing, dropping the notes at her feet and running as fast as she can towards the office. 
“Janis!” Dana calls, grabbing their things and running after her. 
The secretary looks very concerned as a crying girl comes bursting into the office at high speeds, rapidly followed by someone else. 
“I need- my mom,” Janis spits out, trying and failing to breathe through her sobs. The secretary nods and gestures to the phone on the desk for students to use to call home in emergencies. 
She passes a box of tissues across the desk as Janis picks up the receiver. Janis takes a few and tries to convey her thanks without speaking, knowing that if she tries she’ll only start crying harder. 
Her hands are shaking so hard she misses the first number of the area code. Her knuckles are white around the receiver and she bites her lip to try to force her body to cooperate with her. 
D gently takes the phone out of her hand. “Let me call. You sit down.” 
Janis wants to protest, but she knows she won’t be able to get across what she needs to in her state. She sits on the itchy seats and tries not to growl at a visitor staring at her. She wipes her eyes with the scratchy tissues. The school doesn’t even have the budget for real Kleenex. The tissues might as well be printer paper for all the good they’re doing for her skin. 
“Mrs. Ian? Uh, hi, it’s D. Um, something… something happened at school. Janis is really upset, she needs picked up.” she can almost make out Dana saying over her loud sobbing. 
Her mother says something on the other end. D absentmindedly raps their knuckles against the granite of the desktop. 
“I don’t really know the whole situation, Mrs. Ian. But it’s bad, from what I’ve seen. She really needs to go home,” Dana continues. “I’ll tell her. Bye.” They turn to see her. “Jan, your mom says she’ll be here for you in fifteen minutes.”
Janis nods and tries to breathe. It doesn’t work. She tries to distract herself from the whirling thoughts inside her head by looking around. Wooden table in the corner. Four chairs. Big windows. It’s nice outside today. That’s where Regina-
She shakes her head to snap herself out of it and looks back to the desk. She jumps when she sees D isn’t there anymore. Her stuff is, but not her. 
“Your friend asked to speak to the principal,” the secretary says, coming around the desk to restock Janis’ tissues and give her a bottle of water. 
“P-principal?” Janis chokes. 
“She said he needed to know something urgent.”
Janis puts her head in her hands. Now she really is going to get kicked out of school. Why would Dana tell on her? Did Janis really manage to lose both of her lifelong best friends in one morning?
She’s just about worked herself to the precipice of another downward spiral when Dana comes back with the principal. “Janis, may I speak to you?” 
Janis wants to say no, but she’s probably already in enough trouble. She stands and follows him back to his office. He sits at his desk and motions for her to sit as well. Janis hesitates before sitting down in the cold plastic chair. 
“Your friend told me something happened this morning. Can you help me fill in some details?” 
Janis shrugs and hugs herself, like if she does it tight enough she might just squeeze herself right out of existence. She sniffles and refuses to look him in the eye. 
“Can you tell me your version of events?” he asks. His voice is gentle, but Janis still doesn’t trust it. 
“I-I-I was sketching out-outside,” she begins shakily. He has to lean across his desk to hear her soft voice. Janis doesn’t care. “Re-Regina came… and… she said she could-couldn’t have me at-at her birthday party.” 
“And that’s why you’re so upset?” 
“Be-because she thinks I’m a lesbian.” 
She finally dares to glance up and sees the shock written across his face. “O-okay. Please continue.” 
“She said there were gonna be girls there in-in their bathing-bathing suits so if-if I’m a lesbian I can’t-can’t come. But I’m not! I-I’m not lesbian, I haven’t been-been watching the other girls! Not-not like that. I swear, please-please don’t kick me out of school!” 
“We aren’t kicking you out, Janis, I just need to know what happened so we can figure out the best course of action. This is a very tolerant school, I’m sure you know. Being a lesbian, even if you were, is not valid grounds for expulsion.” 
“O-oh,” Janis sniffs. “She… told everyone I am. I thought it was a bad thing.” 
“Some people believe it is,” the principal says. “I’m not one of them.” 
“Oh,” Janis says again. 
“Can you keep going? With what happened?” 
Janis nods shakily. “Everyone’s been-been talking about me. Saying I’m a gross lesbian a-and I’ve been peeking on other girls in-in the locker room-rooms. And that I-I want to have… um… with… with-with all of them but I don’t! And-and someone… someone wrote space dyke on my locker.” 
“Wrote what now?”
“Space dyke.” 
“Why would someone do that?” the principal asks. Janis shrugs. 
“Can I- can I go now?” 
“Of course. I’ll be speaking to Regina and some of the other girls this afternoon. Is your guardian coming to get you?” he asks. Janis nods. The principal pulls out a notepad and starts writing frantically as Janis turns and leaves. 
Her mom is waiting for her in the office with her backpack and the books she can’t fit into the little designer thing. Janis bursts into tears anew and runs in for some much needed comfort. 
“Shh, baby girl,” her mother hushes. “Let’s go home and get you calmed down. We can talk about what happened later. It’ll be okay.” 
Janis growls in the back of her throat. How can her mother say that when clearly nothing will ever be okay
ever 
again.
—————
The next couple years are a blur of traumatic experiences for the both of them. 
D finally settled on they/them pronouns and going by D all the time. No more Dana, no more girl. Janis still thinks they’d be happier as a he, but she doesn’t mention it. 
D started having panic attacks when they turned thirteen. They got their first period, and their body started changing in ways they weren’t comfortable with. Nobody knew what to do. 
Nobody but Janis. 
Janis was the only one who could talk them out of their panics. She managed to piece together that D felt like they were running out of time. Neither of them knew what they were running out of time for for a good long while. Until Janis put together that this all started along with puberty. 
D was put on hormone blockers a few months later to delay any further development in areas they weren’t ready for. Lo and behold, no more panic attacks. 
Janis didn’t have quite as easy of a time finding her solution. 
She tried getting in touch with Regina. She texted her desperately saying she wasn’t actually a lesbian and since she wasn’t actually a lesbian she could still be trusted at a pool party. 
Regina never answered. 
Janis cried the entire day leading up to Regina’s birthday. She was finally deemed old enough for social media that year, and her entire Instagram homepage as far as the eye could see was every other girl getting ready for a party Janis could never go to. 
D showed up to rescue her and took her out for ice cream and karaoke. Janis almost managed to forget the party as she begrudgingly belted out Disney songs and listened to D’s one-man performance of Fiddler on the Roof. 
But while everyone eventually forgot about the party, nobody forgot about the rumors. Everyone still gossiped about her in the hallways. In the restrooms. Locker rooms. At lunch. In class. 
Things escalated after a while. Janis knew Regina was the puppet master behind it all, playing the whole school like her sick little marionettes. 
She’d orchestrated some clever story to make herself look like the victim in Janis’ story, so she never had any repercussions for anything. She was free.
Free to tell the football team to use their strength to shove Janis into lockers and trash cans. 
Free to tell the other girls to give Janis a wide berth in the hallways and giggle at her clothes behind their hands and hold their breaths as she walked by so they wouldn’t catch anything. 
Free to tell the nerdy kids who sat behind her in class to jab her with pencils and rig her books so all the papers would fall out when she picked them up and leave cruel notes slipped through the slats of her locker. 
Free to tell anyone who could to re-write space dyke on her locker door whenever the school cleaned it off. Even when Janis got a new locker assignment. Even when she got another. Even when she had to start keeping her books in the office because her having a locker was doing too much damage to school property. They found a way. 
Janis couldn’t take it anymore. She started cutting herself over the summer leading to eighth grade. 
She knew it was bad. She knew she shouldn’t do it. She knew how it was bound to end. She knew the statistics she had learned in health class in sixth grade. 
But she couldn’t stop. 
Something about the burn of the blade being dragged through her pale flesh made the thoughts in her head less loud. For a while, all she had to focus on was the glint of the silver metal in her hand. The vibrant, almost glowing, red of her blood against her pallid skin. Watching it flow into the sink or the bathtub and slowly
slowly
stopping. 
It hurt so bad she couldn’t think about anything else. She decided the pain was worth it. 
She wore long sleeved dresses that went to her knees to hide the marks on her arms and her thighs. When too much scarred over she moved somewhere else. Her stomach, her chest, near her shoulders, her hips. 
She was fine. 
She stopped eating. 
She stopped sleeping. 
She lost weight. 
She looked tired. 
She was tired. 
So tired. 
She found a bottle of sleeping pills in her mom’s bathroom. 
She waited. 
She wrote notes.
She looked at the pills. 
She waited some more.
She took them all. 
Her mom found her. 
That scream won’t ever leave either of them. 
She spent a week in the hospital. 
She got her stomach pumped and her arms stitched up.
She stopped going to school. 
She was sent away to an inpatient intensive counseling facility. 
She hated it.
But it helped. 
When she was deemed to no longer be an active risk to herself, she was sent back home. 
The medicine cabinet was empty. The knives were locked in a cabinet she couldn’t reach. She wasn’t allowed to shave her legs anymore. Her dad’s tools were on a high shelf. The door to her bedroom didn’t lock anymore. 
Her dad looked at her with disgust in his eyes. 
Her mom looked at her with pity in her eyes. 
Her sister looked at her with betrayal in her eyes. 
Janis still needed help. She was kept out of school for eighth grade and started homeschooling with online tutors. She went to a pediatric therapist specializing in juvenile depression and self-harm. 
She discovered art. 
She really liked painting. 
Watching the paint flow across a canvas was much nicer. 
Seeing colors other than red. Other than bright, electric pink. 
She didn’t have friends anymore. 
Only D. 
D was there when she woke up in the hospital. They were there the night before Janis went to inpatient. They came to every visiting session. They cried every time they had to leave. 
They screamed at her. How could she do that to herself? Didn’t she think anyone loved her at all? What was she thinking? 
Janis cried and screamed right back. Called it healing.
D was there the day she was released to take her home. 
D was there to tell her every stupid thing Regina and everyone else got up to at school. Janis didn’t really care. D told her anyway. 
In a strange way, they held each other together. Two broken kids patching each other up bit by bit, and swapping little pieces of each other for themselves in the process. Growing together. 
And they changed, and they healed. 
—-
The real catalyst for everything came when they were thirteen. D finished eighth grade. Janis was in the crowd cheering at the top of her lungs at their graduation. They went out for ice cream with their moms and Janis’ sister on Janis’ last day of homeschool to celebrate. 
Their moms posed the idea there. 
A local Pride parade was being thrown in a couple of weeks. Their mothers thought going might be a good idea for both of them. Help them realize they aren’t alone. 
D agreed to go in a heartbeat. Janis was nervous, wary, but if D was going she just had to. They do everything together. You can’t have one without the other. 
They dressed for the heat and packed a bag of stuff they might need. D did some online research first and provided their moms a very helpful list. 
“Are you excited?” Janis’ mom asks when they’re on the way. 
“Yeah!” D says eagerly. Janis nods and wipes her sweaty hands on her pants. D wore shorts, but Janis still has things she’d prefer to keep hidden. 
It takes forever to find a parking spot, and it’s a long walk to their spots to watch the parade. D holds her hand and drags the both of them to the front so they’re close to the road and can see the whole thing. 
Janis jumps as a local school’s marching band kicks off and leads the whole thing. It’s loud, and colorful, and bright. People dance on floats and in the street. All sorts of things are thrown at them. Janis catches some things and dodges a few others. 
A person in nothing but a tutu and some sort of leather harness comes up to personally deliver them some plastic beads. D happily puts theirs on and almost chokes Janis forcing her into hers. 
Janis has never seen so many colors. So many people. People like them. It’s… amazing. 
The parade eventually comes to an end, and the crowd watching scatters to find various activities and foods and things for sale. Their moms trust them to walk around on their own, as long as D keeps their phone on. They head for a nearby field and wander aimlessly for a while. 
A couple doing the same thing catches their eye. They’re older, maybe in their early thirties. Holding hands. One isn’t wearing a shirt and has visible lines on their chest. The other has bright purple hair, a leather jacket with spikes, big black clunky boots, and heavy, dark makeup. 
They notice Janis and D staring at them after a few minutes and come to see what’s up. Purple hair greets them with a, “Hey.” and they both jump. 
“Sorry! We-we didn’t mean to stare at you!” D says frantically. They both laugh. 
“It’s okay. You get used to it looking like we do.” 
“I like your jacket,” Janis says shyly. The person wearing it chuckles. Janis sees she has a pin saying ‘she/her’ on it. 
“Thanks. You wanna touch the spikes?” she says. Janis nods eagerly, so the woman crouches down to let her gently run her fingertips over her shoulder. 
“Is this your first Pride?” her partner asks. Janis and D nod. “Fun! I was your age when I came the first time.” 
“Are you dating?” D asks. They both nod. 
“Are you?” 
“Eww, no!” D and Janis exclaim at the same time. They laugh again. 
“Friends are good too,” the woman chuckles. 
D is still looking at her partner. Specifically at their chest. They notice the looks and gently bring it up. “These are my top surgery scars.” 
“Top surgery?” D questions. 
“I’m trans. I was born female. Or, assigned female at birth, whatever. I had my breasts removed when I was in college and started my transition to help with the dysphoria.” 
D tilts their head. 
“Dysphoria is… hard to describe. But I couldn’t stand living in a female body. I got really depressed. I probably would’ve… wouldn’t have made it much longer if I hadn’t transitioned.” 
“How… how did you know? That you were all the way trans?” D asks softly. 
“That’s a good question,” they chuckle. “You can call yourself whatever you want. Being non-binary fits under the trans umbrella. But I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted my future to look like, and my past and what I wished I could change about it.
“I always kinda dreaded the idea of growing up and marrying a man, having kids and being a mom, things like that. I didn’t have any interest in being an aunt or a grandmother or… a woman. So I started thinking, and really liked the idea of marrying a woman if I got the chance, and being a father, or an uncle or grandpa. And I realized most of my memories with the most hurt from my past were moments where I felt… too feminine. Stuck, kinda. You know what I mean?” 
D nods shakily. The woman reaches out and squeezes their hand. “You have plenty of time to figure out who you want to be, hon. Take some time to explore. It’s okay to flip flop and change your mind all the time. It took this one more than twenty years to come to terms with who he was. The most important thing you can do is try your damndest to love the person you are enough to grow into the person you want to be. You’ll be just fine.” 
D nods again. Janis squeezes their hand too when she sees tears brimming behind their eyes. 
“And it seems like you’ve already got one person in your corner,” the man says. “You can’t control what the people around you do. Finding people like your friend here is really important. I lost a lot of people I really cared about, but finding people who love the real me and getting to love my body and who I am is so worth it. I promise.”
D seems too emotional to speak. Nobody asks them to. Everybody understands. Janis looks back to the woman. “How’d you get your makeup like that?” 
“Loads of practice,” she snorts. “You like it?” 
Janis nods. She’s never seen someone like her before. All the makeup she’s seen has been light and feminine. All she’s been allowed to wear has been pink and natural and dewey and glossy. The woman reaches into her pocket. 
“Here. I’ve never used this before. Consider it a… celebration gift. Something to get you started.” 
Janis opens the fingers she curled around it and sees a tube of lipstick. She untwists the lid and sees it’s the exact same dark purple color the woman is wearing. “Really?” 
“Of course. Happy first Pride, you guys,” the woman says. With a ruffle to their hairs, the couple is off. 
Both Janis and Damian are thinking the same thing. 
I wanna be them someday. 
——————-
D comes out as trans for the second time when he’s 14. They/them pronouns are no more, swapped for he/him. Janis and his mom helped him buy a whole new even more masculine wardrobe. Mostly flannels. Janis got a few too. Sue her, they’re comfy. 
He gets a haircut. Nice and short. Just long enough to still curl on the top, but buzzed everywhere else. A boy’s cut.
Janis shaves the side of her head in solidarity. Again, matching enough for them. But shaving her whole head is a bit much, she thinks. He agrees. 
He also starts experimenting with new names. He decided to stick with D as his first letter. Darius, Dante, Darcy and Darby all lasted about a week respectively. His mom suggested Darwin, which was scrapped almost immediately. 
Janis obviously only suggested the most ridiculous names she could find on baby name websites. Donatello, Delbert, Diesel, Dijon. And, of course, Dick. None of her suggestions were taken. 
It took months and probable hundreds of different names before he found the one that stuck. 
Damian. With an A, because Damien with an E just has the wrong vibes. 
He was Damian. 
Janis doesn’t think she ever saw her friend happier than when he finally got to be Damian. He smiles with his eyes again, something Janis hasn’t really seen in almost five years. He dances and sings and found a local theatre troupe to be part of in addition to all the school shows he’s in. He still gets cast as female roles, but he doesn’t seem so bothered by it anymore. Now that he knows he’s Damian, he’s just… pretending. His femininity is more like a costume he can alter to his will. 
Janis is glad for him. She still doesn’t know what the fresh hell is going on. 
She does think a lot about the woman from the Pride parade. How confident she seemed. How easy it was for her to be her. To be queer. To be happy. She said people stared at her all the time because of the way she dressed and did her hair and makeup. Janis slowly pieces together her own look. 
A jacket she found buried in the attic that belonged to her biological father. She left it hanging on her easel in her bedroom when the inspiration hit her and she started painting the jacket itself. Eyeballs, general swatches of nothing, demons and big bright handprints and even Frida Kahlo on her shoulder after one particularly interesting history class. 
Piece by piece, brushstroke by brushstroke, the jacket comes together. Becomes… hers. 
She buys t-shirts and fishnet tights from Hot Topic with cool designs and bands she’s started listening to. She distresses a few and leaves some plain. She buys denim shorts with spikes on the pockets and gems and frayed hems and puts designs on the backs and so much more. 
A hot day comes in the middle of summer. Janis can’t wear the long pants she usually does to hide the pink scars lining her thighs. She panics and putters around her room to find something she can wear to Damian’s first appointment.
She tries a few dresses, but none are long enough. Her shorts are even shorter. 
She’s about to give up and call her friend to let him know they’ll have to celebrate another time when her hand wraps around the swirly black tights with a design in lace in her underwear drawer. 
She tries them on underneath one of her pairs of shorts. She looks bitchin’. She smiles and grabs a random shirt to go with it and hopes she can make it through the day with her jacket on. Hiding her arms is a whole other monster. 
She runs outside when Damian texts her letting her know he and his mom are waiting for her outside. He’s up in the passenger seat, so Janis slides into the back and buckles herself in. 
“Hi, sweetie,” Damian’s mom greets. 
“Hi, Ms. Hubbard,” Janis says, panting a bit in the heat. 
Damian chatters eagerly the whole way about how excited he is to finally start his hormone therapies, even though it means getting frequent shots. He quite literally skips into the doctor’s office once his mom finds a parking spot. Janis doesn’t blame him. It took almost a year before they got the go-ahead to start hormone replacements. Janis did a lot of googling and found Damian was one of the lucky ones. Some people wait decades. 
Damian is bouncing in his seat in the waiting room a little bit, like a child who can’t sit still. Janis is a little more concerned about what’s about to happen to her friend, but she smiles at his antics and has to run to keep up with him once he finally gets called back. 
The nurse explains roughly what he can expect. To needlephobe Janis, a huge needle going into his poor thigh. But to Damian, it’s everything. Everything begins today. He starts the journey to become who he… is. To get his body to match what they all see him as and what he so desperately wants and needs to be. 
Damian’s entire future is contained in such a small vial. The nurse distracts him as she prepares the needle and the area it’s going into by talking about what he can expect. 
Soreness in his leg, obviously. She tells him it will take a while, but his voice will eventually start getting lower. He won’t have to force it artificially anymore. His body fat will rearrange slightly, again, over a very long period of time. He might even grow facial hair after a few months. 
Janis wonders how long it will take. How worth it this will all feel after three months, six, twelve. But Janis has also seen the hurt her friend has been through. How much he struggled and suffered as a girl. How much pain it brought him. 
She holds hand and his mom holds the other as the needle goes in. Damian’s face pinches briefly at the poke going into his leg, but he looks… relieved. After a single dose he looks like he could get hit by a bus in the parking lot and die a happy man. 
He’s patched up with a bandage and quite literally dances his way out of the establishment. Janis rolls her eyes affectionately and follows after him. His mom stays to get all the information she still needs before rushing to the parking lot after her stray children. 
“How you feeling, hon?” she asks as she slides into the driver’s seat. 
“Amazing!” Damian says. 
“That needle was huge,” Janis says, shuddering at the memory. It didn’t even go into her. 
“I didn’t look at it for a reason,” Damian replies. 
“Y’all want ice cream?” his mom asks.
Damian shouts, “Yes!” so loud Janis’ eardrums rattle. 
—————
Janis goes back to public school in ninth grade. 
It’s a new school, they’re in high school now. A new building. New faculty, some new students. Some old ones too, but she’s hoping either she’s changed or they’ve changed enough that the year will still go okay. Her goal is a month. Anything beyond that is a bonus. 
It’s a new start. 
It’s a nice feeling. 
She dons her new favorite outfit, fishnet tights underneath a dress she painted a design on yesterday to get ready for her first day. She adds her new denim jacket. She started painting it, but it’s still not as busy as she wants it to be. It just needs a little work. 
Her mom drives her since it’s her first day. They stop by to pick up Damian on the way, and he comes prancing down the driveway in all his flamboyant glory. 
His fashion sense actually hasn’t changed all that much since he started physically transitioning. He still wears lots of rainbows, theatre stars, and drag queens on his clothes, they’ve just gotten the more recent additions of flannels and jeans actually purchased from the men’s section. The drag queens are newer too. Damian made Janis watch the entire first season of RuPaul’s Drag Race at their most recent sleepover. Janis still sees all the sequins whenever she closes her eyes. 
Janis’ hands start to shake as soon as she sees the building. She’s been here for orientation and a special event just for incoming freshmen that the seniors put on, but knowing she’s here now for school… it’s different. Knowing there’ll be kids who know her there. Who knew the old Janis. 
She’d like to say she’s a whole new person now. But the truth is, under all her new makeup and the dark roots of her hair that are finally starting to show through the bleach-blonde and her huge jacket is the same petrified little girl in a pink dress that left that day in seventh grade and never came back. 
She’s literally shaking in her boots as she pauses outside the main doors. Damian squeezes her hand. 
“We’ll be okay,” he says softly. We. They’re doing it together. Janis nods and pushes her way in. 
Janis had to come one extra time to get to know the people in the guidance office after they saw her medical history and learned about the two months she spent as an inpatient. They worked some of their guidance counselor magic and got her and Damian the same schedule, and made sure she didn’t have a single class with Regina. They couldn’t do anything about lunch, but Janis isn’t worried too much about that. The cafeteria is big. She’ll find somewhere to hide. 
Damian goes to his locker first since it’s a little bit closer to the front of the school. He dumps his binders for the afternoon inside before following Janis as she tries to remember where her locker is. 
She pauses as she sees it. They haven’t even been in the building for twenty minutes and her locker already says space dyke in bold, black Sharpie. God, why couldn’t people just forget? 
It’s not Regina’s handwriting this time. Someone else did it. Maybe Regina moved on. Found someone else to torment. Maybe this is the work of someone else. 
Don’t get your hopes up. 
She sighs and shakes it off as best she can. Her books for the afternoon get shoved in unceremoniously and she follows Damian, slightly slower than they were going before, to their first period study hall. 
“You okay?” he asks gently. Janis nods and kicks a pebble someone dragged in to the side of the hallway. 
“Yeah. She doesn’t scare me anymore.” 
Damian nods too. “Tell me if anyone bothers you.” 
“You’re not my big brother, Dame, I don’t need you to protect me,” Janis sighs. 
“Oh, bitch, are you kidding? I could never, look at me,” Damian retorts. “But if you need me to tell someone. I will.” 
Janis nods, more an involuntary jerk of her head than much else. “I will.” 
Damian blessedly drops the conversation as he holds the door to their classroom and sits next to Janis at their desks. 
—-
Things don’t fall apart until lunch. 
She and Damian find part of a table in the furthest corner, blocked in by some juniors and seniors. They look at them oddly, for more than one reason, but there’s a group that seems to realize these kids need to be where they are and willingly sit close. Janis hopes everyone in their grade is that mature by the time they’re juniors too. 
They start to relax. Lose some of their hyper vigilance they haven’t noticed they’ve been holding all day. 
And then people around them start chattering. 
One by one, like they’re doing the wave at a sports event. It picks up volume, louder and louder… and then Regina is behind her. 
“Janis? Oh my god, is that you?” 
Janis bristles. Feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up like she’s just walked into a haunted house. She turns around just enough in her spot so Regina is in her line of sight, but not enough to make her vulnerable to any kind of attack. “Yeah?” 
“What are you doing over here, come sit with us. We got the good table in the middle,” Regina says. Janis… laughs. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?” 
“What?” 
“We haven’t talked in a year and a half, is what!” Janis cackles. “You ran me out of school!” 
“You totally overreacted, it was not that bad, come on,” Regina huffs. 
Janis can’t believe what she’s doing as she rolls up her jacket sleeves. Regina bristles and stares at the still bright pink marks lining up and down Janis’ forearms. That’s not even close to half of them. “Wasn’t it?” 
Regina recoils in disgust. “On second thought, stay here. Freak.” 
Janis sighs and sits back down, picking at her rubbery pizza and trying to ignore every single person in the vicinity staring at her. 
Part of her wants to stand on the table and yell. Say so what if I used to cut myself? Say you’d do the same if only you knew what she did to me. Stomp and scream and rule the school. 
Another part of her almost said yes to Regina. 
And Janis is violently thrown back in time. 
Back to seventh grade. Before her life fell apart. 
Blonde waves falling down her shoulders. Pink dresses and glittery makeup and lip gloss and too much perfume. 
Following Regina around like a lost puppy. Carrying her books. Doing her bidding. 
Falling head over heels for that blonde girl who somehow had her pinned under her heel and wrapped around her little finger at the same time. 
She can’t stomach anymore. 
Regina 
was
right. 
—————
Janis stumbles around until the end of the day when it’s time to be picked up. She tries not to stare at every girl she sees. 
She takes quick glances. Compares them to the boys in her classes. Who would she rather date? Rather kiss? Rather hug and cuddle and- well. 
She comes to a rather hasty conclusion. Boys are still gross. 
She’d thought, being the mature age of fourteen, that she would’ve gotten over not wanting to be with a boy. Apparently not. 
She consults Damian in art. 
“Do you still like boys now that you’re a boy? Or do you like girls?” 
“I dunno,” Damian shrugs. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
Janis hasn’t either. She started to, she did. Back when Regina first did everything in middle school. Janis definitely had a lot to think about. But she was hurt, and then spent all that time in therapy and decided to put it off until she was better suited to handle such thoughts. 
Nice going, dumbass, now what the hell are you?
“I think… I might actually like girls.” 
Damian nods and pokes at his lump of clay he’s trying desperately to form into an ashtray. “That’s cool.”
“It is not cool! That means Regina was right all along!” 
“So?” Damian shrugs. “She wasn’t right about everything. Like her hair color. Ew.” 
“She’s blonde, what do you mean? You know what, never mind.” 
Damian just shrugs again. “It’s not a bad thing if you are. Don’t let Regina scare you out of it if you think it’s actually who you are.” 
Janis sighs and goes back to her painting. She has a lot to think about.
—-
And think she does. The next month is spent researching and looking and comparing and testing and everything she can think to do. 
She still doesn’t want it to be true, but the more she finds, the more lesbian feels like the right label. She’s still not sure, though.
One thing is definitely true, however, and that is that she likes girls. Even the girl she hates most in the entire world seems… like she’d be a good kisser. Gross. 
Now she has to tell people. 
It’s what Damian did. He realized something, and told his family. It’s how it goes. This isn’t something she can just keep to herself. 
She sits her mom and stepdad down on the couch after dinner that night. Julie’s in her room playing before bed. She can come later. Janis still doesn’t know how to explain this in a way she’d understand. 
“What’s up, sweet pea?” her mother asks kindly. Janis fidgets with her hands and looks down. 
“I… I think… Regina might have been right,” she mumbles.
“About what?”
“I like girls,” Janis says in one quick breath, forcing herself to look up at them. She can see the shock strewn across their faces. 
“You’re a dyke?” her father asks. Janis freezes. 
“Greg!” her mother chides. “Don’t call her that!”
“What, I can’t call it like it is? We’ve raised a dyke, Ettie! Look at her,” her dad insists. Janis looks desperately at her mother. 
“We have raised a girl who likes other girls and nothing more,” her mother growls, standing and stalking over her dad. “Now you leave her alone.”
“Or what?” her father retaliates. 
“Stop it,” Janis begs around a sob. “I-I’m sorry, I-I-I won’t-”
“You’ll shut your trap is what you’ll do,” her dad growls. “And you’ll get out of my house.”
“This house is in my name, you ass,” her mother retaliates. “If anyone is leaving, it’s you. I’m not letting you speak to our child this way.” 
“I’m talking to her the way she needs to be talked to. Do you want her corrupting Julie?!” 
“She’s barely a teenager! She can’t corrupt anyone, she’s not doing anything wrong!”
“Daddy, please,” Janis begs. 
“Don’t you go calling me that now. I clearly didn’t do enough. I’m not your dad anymore.”
“Get. Out.” her mom growls furiously. 
“I’m taking Julie,” her dad insists as he stalks off to pack a few things. 
“Like hell you are!” her mom says. 
“This is your fault, you little freak,” her dad says, pointing a rough finger into Janis’ chest. Janis sobs and tries to step away. Her dad looks at her for a second. Time moves in slow motion. 
He growls, lifts a hand. Brings it down across Janis’ face with as much force as he can muster. Janis gasps as she hears the impact. The pain takes a few seconds to hit her. The hit was hard enough to numb the sensation for the briefest of moments. 
She wails when it does and steps away. She wants to run, but she can’t leave her mom alone with this man who used to call Janis his daughter. 
Her mom swings without hesitation. Evidently she can handle herself just fine. 
“Have you gone crazy, woman?!” her dad yells. “Goddamn!”
“I told you to get out,” her mom says. “You’ll get a second black eye to match that one if you stick around.” 
Her dad spits on the ground near where Janis is cowering before he stalks off without another word or any of his things and slams the front door behind him. 
“Oh, baby girl,” her mom hums desperately, rushing to pull Janis into her arms. Janis tries to be strong for her mom, who seems to have just lost her husband for good, but all she can bring herself to do is cling to her mom and cry into her shoulder like a broken child. 
Broken child. 
That’s all she is.
“Should I call Damian’s mom?”
Janis can only nod.
—————
Janis doesn’t come out to anyone else until she’s almost seventeen. 
Nearly three years spent trying to crush down and destroy any feelings she has for any girl is miserable. 
But she can’t lose anyone else. 
Damian sees the way she looks at some of their classmates. At Regina. 
He knows. Janis doesn’t tell him, but he knows. 
In the time since Janis’ latest incident, he’s come out as gay, too. He said an experience at his arts camp the summer before their sophomore year confirmed the entire thing. 
Janis consoling him after Philip cruelly rejects his Edible Arrangement just feels like par for the course for the both of them at this point. 
They both know. They don’t ask. They don’t tell. 
They can’t. 
—————-
Junior year is almost too much for the both of them. 
It starts out so strong. A few really good days without a single taunt from Regina. Enough for them to hope she’s finally given up some of her grip on the school, eased off on her reign of terror. 
And then 
comes
Cady.
Some part of Janis deep, deep down inside knows she’s going to be an issue. 
Damian knows Janis is in love as soon as he sees the little redhead in the bathroom stall and the way Janis looks at her. 
Some part of both of them knows this won’t end without heartbreak. 
They’re right.
Things start falling apart spectacularly before they even reach winter break. Janis’ plan to have a sneaky spy infiltrate the Plastics and report back has completely backfired. By spring, Cady’s totally brainwashed. Lost. Hypnotized by the pink sequins and popularity. 
Janis hasn’t cried this hard since seventh grade. Not even when her stepdad left. 
Damian holds her together with one hand and putters the Jazzy home with the other. Well, technically he drives to his house. But it’s always felt like a second home to Janis. 
His mom gives her a good squeeze and gentle advice before shooing them up to Damian’s room with the promise of milkshakes to help lift their spirits a little. 
Janis disassociates and sips at her cookies and cream milkshake all through Mulan. She’s lost track of how many times she’s done exactly this. Sat cuddled under bed covers with Damian and watched this exact movie on this ancient laptop. In all their various forms over the years. 
She cries some more when the movie ends and she doesn’t have anything to distract her from her sadistic thoughts. 
Damian holds her close. He cries a little too. They talk. Damian refuses to let her sleep in the sleeping bag on the floor in her state and aggressively spoons her until they both drift off dreaming of happier times. 
And those times do come. 
The clouds part. 
So does Regina’s spine.
It helps, but not as much as Janis thought it would. 
The biggest change is Cady. She comes storming into the gym at Spring Fling in her Mathletes uniform and Janis knows in that moment that Cady has her heart and Janis would happily break it for her. 
Janis stares as Cady wins Spring Fling Queen and holds that stupid plastic crown in her hands and gives the most beautiful speech she’s ever heard. Damian gasps behind her as she snaps the crown into as many pieces as she can and tosses them to anyone within reach. Regina, Gretchen, Karen, even Kevin. Damian gets one. 
And then Cady is in front of her. The last piece is still in her hands. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Janis says, her chest aching. Cady reaches up on her tippy toes and puts the rest of the crown on Janis’ head. Janis flashes back to ten years ago. Playing princess with Damian. 
It feels even more real now. 
Cady apologizes. They dance. They leave early and go get pancakes. They cry and apologize some more. 
And for the first time since September, Janis has hope for her future. 
—————
Janis still thinks about those moments well into her adulthood. She doesn’t know that she’ll ever stop. That the moments will ever leave her.
She doesn’t know that she wants them to. 
She and Cady get married when they’re 23. Damian finally gets his top surgery later that year, and has two of his favorite people there to support him through his recovery. 
Cady is the one who goes with him to finally get his name and gender changed on all his important documents. She throws a party when it’s all over, a sort of late ‘gender reveal’ with a blue cake and confetti and streamers. 
Aaron comes. 
He and Damian get together when they’re 24. It’s a beautifully ironic thing, that Janis and Damian wound up with who they did instead of it being the two of them like it always was and Cady and Aaron together. 
Cady and Janis become mothers when they’re 28. 
Damian is the best uncle to their twins. Janis doesn’t know that she’s seen him happier than when he’s cuddling with his boyfriend and his nieces. 
The girls are flower girls in his and Aaron’s wedding. 
Damian and Aaron adopt three children when they’re 36. 
They celebrate Pride as one huge family. The kids all love the parade and seeing other kids from queer families they can play with. Seeing other people like themselves. 
Cady takes the twins to a craft setup for younger kids. Damian’s youngest goes with them while the oldest two follow Aaron to get food. Janis and Damian are left wandering around on their own for a little while. 
Damian taps Janis and points surreptitiously at some kids staring at them. Janis smiles widely and follows him over to them. They crouch down to their height. 
“Hi,” Damian greets kindly. “What are your names?” 
Janis knows in that moment.
They made it.
—————
thank you for reading!! 
i think i would be remiss if i posted this without acknowledging that our trans and non-binary siblings are under attack in my country right now. there is no LGB without the T and if you think otherwise. piss off. if you can do anything at all, please look into how to support queer communities in your local area. 
also, while i am non-binary, i don’t ID as trans. i based this off of some of my own experiences and those of a few of my trans friends i’ve been blessed to witness over the years. and also just… what i think it was like for these two growing up. it’s my own personal headcanon. if your journey was different, that’s okay. if your destination is different, that’s okay. queer people are not a monolith. we’re all walking this rainbow road together, but we’re all our own folks. 
anyway. rambling over lol, happy pride and thank you again for reading!!
lots of love,
ezzy
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ahkaahshi · 3 years
Note
at least jogo doesn't smell like sewers you know LOL
bruh I feel like jogo just smells like dust. he’s crusty in a different way. mahito does it to himself whereas jogo has a volcano for a head and has no other choice, so I'm willing to give jogo a pass on this one, just this once. other than that, the little head-snatchin volcano troll can leave and take mister goat legs with him
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whumptober · 4 years
Text
Whumptober 2020 - Updated
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Welcome to Whumptober 2020! We’re doing things a little differently this year so please make sure to read the Event Info carefully. We are also excited to announce the addition of an AO3 Collection, which can be found here.
We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!
(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information, and FAQs are posted below the cut!)
No 1. LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging
No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  "Pick Who Dies" | Collars | Kidnapped
No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint
No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building
No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue
No 6. PLEASE.... "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, please"
No 7. I'VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker
No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation
No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD "Take Me Instead" | "Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice
No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood
No 11. PSYCH 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying
No 12. I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust
No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask
No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire
No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong
No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage
No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused
No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia
No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor's Guilt
No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval
No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection
No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU? Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal
No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation
No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation
No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears
No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD... Migraine | Concussion | Blindness
No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage
No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged
No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest
No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury
No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead
Alternate Prompt List
Alt 1. Punctured
Alt 2. Falling
Alt 3. Comfort
Alt 4. Stitches
Alt 5. Stoic Whumpees
Alt 6. Altered States
Alt 7. Found Family
Alt 8. Adverse Reactions
Alt 9. Memory Loss
Alt 10. Nightmares
Alt 11. Presumed Dead
Alt. 12. Water
Alt. 13 Accidents
Alt. 14 Shot
Alt. 15 Carry/Support
Event Info
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mx-barnes · 3 years
Text
'Til the end of the line
Stucky x Gender-neutral!Reader
Summary: One night Y/n decides to run away because Steve and Bucky have been distant and they feel as though they don't love them anymore when in fact it wasn't that at all.
Word Count:6.4k oop-
Warnings: Sexual assault (kinda but not really described in detail), Abuse (Emotional and Physical), PTSD, Panic Attack, Torture, Sad!Bucky, Sad!Steve, HYDRA, cheating (although no one actually cheats reader just thinks that they are), Implied smut (consensual), Kidnapping, Forced marriage (never actually happens), Gun Violence, Death, alcohol consumption, swearing, pet names. I think that's it lmk if there is more.
A/N: This was something I wrote on my Wattpad first. This is kind of an intense read but I really enjoyed writing it. It was something newer. Please read the warnings before reading because I encourage you not to read if any of the above are triggering to you. Know that if you have gone through any of them above my messages are always open. All writing my own. Gifs not my own.
Masterlist
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3:30 AM is when Bucky and Steve got home tonight. They didn't explain just saying that it was something to do with how HYDRA was moving in on their territory and needed to sort it out and show them whose boss.
Your boys had been getting home awfully late lately and hiding stuff from you. Sneaking around when they thought you were asleep. With them being mob bosses, you understood they had responsibilities and appearances to keep up, but they usually never stayed working later than 12. Even if they did work past, they made sure one of them was with you, whether it be Steve or Bucky.
You loved your boys you did but they had seemed distant recently. You had wondered if they had gotten bored. You weren't the first person to join this relationship. You were hoping you would be the last but maybe they didn't want that?
It carried on the same way for nearly 2 weeks so you decided it was time for you to move on. They hadn't paid you any attention for those 2 weeks. You decided you would pack up most of your things and leave.
Leaving was hard. Sam had been posted outside the door for what seemed like forever but when it came time for his shift to be up a newer man who you had never seen before his name was Dean Dagget you think took his place that was your chance to sneak out. Leaving a sticky note that read I'm sorry. You two deserve the world sorry I couldn't give it to you. I won't tell anyone your secret's safe with me. Goodbye. Love Y/n.
It may have been heartbreaking to leave but it was for the best. This way they could move on to better people without having to worry about you. Your dad lived in California, but he still had a small apartment in Brooklyn, so you had called him hoping you could rent it out while you got back on your feet. Of course, when you moved in with the boys they had allowed you to quit your job so you wouldn't have to lift a finger. Now thinking back on it it was a bad idea. Of course, back then you had thought you would never break up with Steve and Bucky so you didn't mind quitting your job to have them dote on you.
<~>
Meanwhile, when Bucky and Steve got back to an empty unguarded mansion they thought you had gone out shopping. You loved dragging Sam out to the mall for every new little sale and helping him pick out clothes for him and jewelry for his girlfriend.
Bucky was just about to pull out his phone to text you and see when you would be home that's when Steve found the note on the kitchen counter. Reading it aloud to Bucky. His eyes started to water you had left. The ring box in his pocket growing heavier as he thought of what he had done to mess this up.
Steve immediately saw his boyfriend spiraling and came to his aid. "Buck it's not your fault we have to find them."
How was it that Steve had always known what to say and when to say it? He was right though they needed to find you tell you how much you meant to the both of them.
<~>
"They left them," a rough voice speaks into the phone.
"Have you found where they are right now?" Alexander Pierce's voice questions.
"They're in the apartment building their dad owns of course they think it's just one apartment. The lucky bastard doesn't realize they're mob royalty. Wasting away with Barnes and Rogers when they would be so much better fit for me."
"Settle down Dean. We need to play this just right if we want to align our businesses."
"Come on uncle what more could we do we just have to grab them and it'll be over with."
"We are making the play tonight I am going to need you at the house."
"Yes, uncle."
"Don't worry Dean you will have them as your spouse soon enough," Pierce says as he hangs up the phone. Sighing to himself about his over-giddy nephew and how you had been so ignorant to all of your dad's illegal dealings.
<~>
"Yes, dad I'm being safe. Why are you so worried it's not like they are going to come back and kill me," you joked. Chuckling more to yourself they wouldn't kill you, would they? No, they couldn't as long as you didn't tell anyone their secret you were safe.
"I just liked it better when I knew that they would protect you. I don't like you in Brooklyn by yourself. Why won't you tell me why you guys broke up? I really thought you guys were gonna get married."
"Dad I told you they didn't want that and I'm fine. I'm my own person."
"I know, I know I just get worried," your dad finally let a chuckle slip from him.
"I know dad I love you. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Ok munchkin. Love you too," and with that, you ended the call and went to sit on the couch in your living room to watch tv.
Scrolling through the channels you found some game shows type thing and put that on not caring what was on just wanting background noise as you scrolled through your Instagram feed.
You slowly progressively become more and more tired so you retire to your room not before turning off the tv and the lights you had turned on.
You were pulled out of your sleep by something falling over. You had become a light sleeper since you left Steve and Bucky. It was something you had developed to make sure that they didn't send someone to kill you. Slowly getting out of your bed careful not to make the bed squeak you make your way to your living room. Not before stopping just before your door to get the baseball bat you had stashed by your door.
Now walking out into your kitchen with your bat raised you to check around to make sure no one can surprise you. Quietly you creep across the room to where your living room is. Also checking the surroundings you don't find anyone. There's a sharp pain in the back of your head and you fall face-first into your couch. That's the last thing you feel before complete and utter darkness.
<~>
Bucky and Steve had been working tirelessly trying to find any place you would go to seek refuge. Your father owned a bunch of apartment buildings in Brooklyn. Figuring you were probably subletting in one of those buildings. But they couldn't exactly go up to each building and ask if you lived there not without raising any red flags.
They needed to find you. Beg you to come back to them. They loved you and would do anything to make up for whatever they did wrong. You were the most important thing in their lives besides each other. They couldn't imagine their future without you. Being so far apart from you was killing them.
If anyone could find you it was Natasha. She had worked for the men for years. When she first joined they shamelessly flirted with her dropping sexual innuendos into the conversation whenever they could. That all changed when they met you.
It was a Wednesday night Bucky couldn't sleep so he had gone out for a walk to his favorite little 24-hour cafe and there you were. Sitting in the little booth drinking chai tea. He had looked like a perv just staring at you through the window that's when he walked inside. He had ordered his drink and turned to leave not before giving you one last look but instead of finding you there he found you right in front of him with his newly bought drink on your jacket.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Please let me pay for it," you stated.
"Oh don't worry about it doll. I got it. I'm Bucky by the way," he reached his hand out.
Gracefully you took it he brought it to his lips. "Y/n,'" you giggled. Oh, how he would do anything in the world to hear that sound over again.
You exchanged numbers and you were off. Not before buying him another coffee. He had rushed home to tell Steve about you. When he got home he realized the ridiculous time and decided to tell him about you in the morning.
The very next day Steve bumped into you. Although he played it off as an accident he did mean to bump into you. You and Steve had exchanged numbers. He and Bucky set dates with you. Both of them went swimmingly that's when they decided to have one of them crash the other one's date and come clean. How they were seeing each other and they wanted you to join them. You were hesitant at first scared of what people will think but soon got over it. That was 3 years ago. Now here they were cuddled up on the couch waiting for Natasha to tell them some sliver of good news.
It was good news. She had found what apartment complex you were staying in. Even the apartment number so now all they had to do was break into your place and ask you why you left.
<~>
Dean was getting impatient and when he saw how his uncle's men had hurt you he was furious. He saw red. Wanting to kill the man or woman who had caused you pain. He had never met you in real life (except for that night you slipped out of the Barnes-Rogers residents) only on a file in his uncle's office but he knew he was in love with you.
Everything about you was enchanting. Now he had you all to himself maybe having to tie up a few loose ends such as your exes. That way they didn't come sniffing around hoping to win you back. Even if they did try if he couldn't have you no one could. You were far too special to allow you out of his sight. He had the wedding already set up. Next month you would no longer be Y/n Y/l/n you would be Y/n Dagget. He loved the sound of that. Finally, you would be his.
You slowly started to regain consciousness and Dean couldn't be happier. Finally, he had the chance to explain why you were here and apologize for the rough way you were taken. He needed you to understand that he loved you. He has loved you since the first day he saw your photo.
<~>
Being extra careful not to wake the neighbor's Steve and Bucky broke into your apartment. It was quite small but it had things that just screamed you. Knickknacks lined bookcases as well as blankets and pillows galore. One thing that didn't scream you was that everything was a mess as if a struggle had occurred.
Steve's mind was going a mile a minute. You would never leave your apartment to look like this. Even after a break-up if anything you would be stressed and it'd be completely spotless. Bucky's mind was also thinking the same thing. The only way that it would be this disorganized is if something happened to you. This sent Bucky into a mild panic attack that he wasn't able to stop whoever took you. This soon bubbled over into rage. Rage that you left them.
"We have to find them, Stevie," Bucky huffed.
"We will Buck. I'll get Nat on it," Steve said steeling over his nerves this was no time to be panicking they needed to get you back safe and sound then he can panic when you are safely back in his arms.
"You don't need to get Nat on it. It's obviously Pierce. He saw when they were at their weakest and struck he knows their our weak spot," Bucky began shaking whether it was from rage or fear he didn't know.
"Fine but we still need Nat to help locate them." Steve was barely holding together. He just needed to suppress his feelings for a little while longer. He needed to know you were safe.
<~>
You awoke in a dark room or wait no you were blindfolded. If this was Bucky and Steve they would've taken the blindfold off possibly even laid you down in a comfortable bed not bound and gagged to a chair. Or would they? Honestly, you didn't know it didn't seem like their style.
You were pulled out of your thoughts by a voice. It was sort of gruff but commanding there is an edge to it, a dangerous edge. You were already scared now you are more submissive. Not wanting to feel the wrath of the man behind this false sweet personality. As the voice approached the blindfolded was removed. The lighting didn't change much, it was still dark only lit by a single lightbulb. Next, the gag was removed. While the ropes remained around your wrists searing into your skin.
"Hello darling," the voice spoke. You now had a face to put with it. Not only a face but a name. Your stomach dropped. It was Dean Dagget he was one of Bucky and Steve's men.
"Please tell Steve and Bucky I wouldn't tell their secret. I promise they don't have to kill me," you begged.
"What you think I work for them?" Dean laughed hysterically. "No honey I work for HYDRA."
You didn't think your stomach could drop any further and then it does. You knew that Steve and Bucky were bad but they never killed unless necessary where HYDRA killed for sport. If they had you they were going to use you as a message.
"Please. No, I don't want to die. I mean nothing to them anymore. I left them. They don't want anything to do with me. I prom-" you rambled.
"Honey, I know you left them I was there that day. Do you really not remember cause I sure as hell remember you." he licked his lips. Rubbing his hands together. "You aren't going to die either honey. You and I are to be wed 1 month for now."
Your jaw dropped. Was this deranged man thinking you would marry him? You didn't know the first thing about him.
"I know it's a lot to take in and I am sorry for the manner in which you were brought here. I will have the men who hurt you killed. They shouldn't have done that. If you promise not to run I can and will remove the binds. Do you promise?" You nod your head. "Good." He unties the ropes. "Come let us go to the bedroom. You looked beautiful right now but I can almost guarantee you'll look better under me."
<~>
Turns out that HYDRA has a lot of property. 150 warehouses in Brooklyn alone. Manhattan they have over 300. Houses were another story entirely 500 just in Brooklyn. They had a lot of property to out simply.
It was like searching for a needle in a haystack but having multiple haystacks and the needle being in only one.
How where they suppose to find you?
Natasha was working tirelessly but she had a life too. Sam also had begun doing recon turning up nothing. It had been at least 2 weeks since you had been taken. Bucky threw himself into his work feeling like it was all his fault. The ring box he had been carrying the day you left shoved far into the back of his desk. Steve wasn't doing too much better he as well threw himself into work. Instead of hiding the ring, he carried in his pocket in his desk he instead decided to leave it out in the open on his desk as a reminder to keep going.
Bucky and he hadn't been intimate since you left and he was ashamed to admit he was horny which only made his guilt amplify. He wanted Bucky yet he felt guilty for wanting him. He couldn't remember a time before you. How he and Bucky would have a new girl with them almost every night trying desperately to find that extra missing piece. That's when they met you. The first time they had gotten intimate was amazing everything felt whole. Nothing felt fake but now everything was crashing down around him. His entire life that he had so graciously built from the bottom was now crumbling.
"We've got something." Natasha ran into his office saying. Immediately Steve perked up. He ran to his conjoined office with Bucky pounding on the door.
"Buck Nat's got something."
Bucky slowly made his way up from his desk. Stumbling over to the door that conjoined his and Steve's offices. He made it to the door not before tripping at least 10 times. Opening the door anybody who had a sense of smell could tell that Bucky had been drinking. Steve was far past worrying for Bucky. Of course, he cared for his boyfriend but he was more worried about you. He would come later Bucky was here with him you weren't. He needed to cut Bucky off but that would end up with punches thrown.
"Buck maybe you should lay off the whisky for a bit. Sober up so we can bring Y/n home."
"What 'm fine. Don' needa worry 'bout meh," Bucky slurring his words together.
"Actually I do. When was the last time you had a glass of water?" Steve questioned completely forgetting about Natasha for a minute.
"Probably when I saw Y/n last- wait no you made me drink a glass last week."
"Ok, Buck you are cut off for now. We need you level-headed for this. So I'm gonna get one of the guys to get you some water. You are going to drink it all, then you are gonna take a nap in our bed, or I'm grounding you to the house. I can't risk you getting hurt bubbas," Steve commanded.
"It's not the same Stebe. It's not the same."
"We'll get them back I promise." and with that Steve kissed Bucky on the head and sent him back to your guys' room hoping he will be sober enough to help him. He was missing you and Steve could tell.
<~>
Life had been really hard recently there was only 1 week till the marriage. The house had been busy. Dean getting tux alterations. Your outfit thank god fit perfectly. Most days you sat in the little nook by the window just staring out into the vast nothingness. You had wanted to get married for as long as you could remember just never like this. You wanted to marry Bucky and Steve.
Dean came up beside you planting an unwanted kiss on your head, "You excited darling?"
You muster up all the fake energy you can and respond "So excited. I can't believe I ever thought about marrying Steve and Bucky."
Dean tsked and raised his hand "You know better to mention their names. I'm sorry honey but you have to learn."
Dean struck you hard across the face. Tears begin to well in your eyes. Willing yourself not to let them slip you hold back, not letting him have the satisfaction of seeing you so weak and vulnerable. Besides the quiver in your lip and the unshed tears you think you handled yourself fairly well.
You had become a shell of who you used to be. All the abuse whether it be sexual, physical, or emotional your walls were coming down. He was starting to condition you to be the obedient little spouse that was only used as a pleasure toy for the other. You hoped Bucky and Steve were looking for you but maybe they were glad to be finally rid of you. Rid of your incessant pestering to eat healthily and drink water.
That's when loud shouts were heard from the front of the house. Gunshots rattled around in your brain before you were swiftly swept away and taken to the panic room by Dean. Him drawing his gun muttering something about he should've killed those useless lugs when he had the chance. The door to the room was then safely shut.
<~>
Bucky sobered up more so after his 3-hour long nap. He wasn't at 100% but he was well enough that he could function. He wanted to be there for you after they saved you from HYDRA. He knew what it was like to be in their grips. He couldn't imagine the kind of torture you were enduring.
When he sauntered into Steve's office Steve's head was down on his desk. What sounded like muffled crying. Walking over behind the desk Bucky put his hand on his shoulder Steve looked up at him his cheeks were stained red, his eyes puffy and red also. Bucky's heart broke even more. He had been so selfish only thinking about himself. Steve had lost you too. He needed his boyfriend. Remembering that Bucky had dismissed Steve. He hadn't kissed Steve at all since you had left. He had been denying Steve affection.
Bucky lifted Steve's head to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry." That's all he said it's all he could say. He felt terrible for ignoring him. He was so consumed by his grief that he completely forgot about his boyfriend.
"It's okay Buck you were grieving just like I am," Steve professed. Even though his words said it was ok it wasn't and Bucky knew it.
"Steve. Stevie, it's not ok. I shouldn't have pushed you away. I was so lost without them. I lost track of what's right in front of me. I am so sorry. I don't deserve your forgiveness b-"
"James Buchanan Barnes. Shut the fuck up." Steve snapped. "You may feel like you don't deserve my forgiveness but you will accept it because I love you. I love you and Y/n so much it hurts. It's like a stabbing feeling in my chest when one or both of you is gone. Now can we please go get fucking Y/n so I can breathe again?"
"Yes," Bucky hung his head low. Steve had never snapped at him before. Steve was always patient but I guess everyone deals with grief differently.
The car ride to the house you were at was quiet and tension-filled. The plan was simple extract you and hope you hadn't succumbed to whatever torture HYDRA put you through.
Thankfully when the two of them and the extra men they brought got to the house it was very unguarded. There were about 3 guards in front. The two men were almost over-prepared. It was 3 to 1. So while their men dealt with HYDRA's they ran into the house in the hopes of finding you.
To both men's surprise, they couldn't find you. That's when they both felt the barrel of a gun on the back of their necks. "Make a move or sound and I'll kill you both where you stand."
It was a voice they recognized. It wasn't your much too gruff to be yours. That's when it clicked. It was Dean Dagget. A man they had recently hired to watch the house. He had defected from his old mob on the west coast. He had fed them some lie about how his mob running a sex/ human trafficking ring and hun wanting out of that life. Now Bucky and Steve although mob bosses were honest men. They didn't deal in the buying selling or trading of humans so they took him at his word.
They both knew they could overpower him but they needed you so they put up their hands. "Where is Y/n?" Bucky spoke calmly.
"No need to worry they're safe now that they're out of this little throuple. Honestly, it's disgusting. Are they that big of a whore that one man isn't enough for them?" Hearing the sound of a gun cocking.
That ticked both of them off. Nobody was to disrespect you like that. Before they could turn around the guns dropped for their heads and clattered to the floor along with a heavy thud that they assumed was a body. Turning around they were met with you. Your eyes that were once so bright dimmed and glazed over. You met their eyes and they swore they lighten just a bit.
"Y/n!" Steve exclaimed.
"Save the reunion for later come on we need to leave before he wakes up," you were cold now. The way you just brushed Steve off frightened Bucky.
So they grabbed the man and drug him out to the cars. Pushing him off in another car. Leaving Sam and Clint to deal with. "When we get back out him in the warehouse," Steve ordered.
"Yes boss," Cling stood at attention.
Sam caught sight of you. "Y/n. Hey, gorgeous how are you? Been worried about you," Sam held his arms out for you to hug him. Yet you brushed him off as well preferring to walk to the car. That scared the boys. You would never brush off Sam you loved him too much.
<~>
Your boys had come and saved you as you hoped they would but they weren't your boys not anymore. When you got into the car Steve and Bucky weren't far behind.
"Hey, doll are you ok?" Bucky asked lowering his stoic demeanor.
"Perfect, just want to go home," your response was harsh but you truly just wanted to get back to your apartment.
"Ok, Peter back to the mansion," Steve said.
You gave Steve a strange look. Of course, you still classified the house Steve Bucky and you shared once home you figured when you left they would've found someone else to share that lovely home with.
"I thought we were heading home?" You questioned.
"We are. Unless you no longer classify the mansion as home because if not we can head back to your apartment to be fair it is still trashed from when you were taken." Bucky explained looking down and began biting his bottom lip. A nervous habit he picked up.
"Well, what would the other person living there say if you brought your ex around?" You looked down scared to show your jealousy.
"What do you mean other person sweetheart?" Steve inquired.
"Well, you know the person you moved onto after me of course," still looking down you said.
"Doll there's no one else. There will never be anyone else. You and Steve are it for me," Bucky confessed.
"Same here sweetheart you and Buck are it for me. I can't imagine my life without the two of you." Steve also confessed.
"Then why were you so distant before I left- before I was kidnapped?" You asked tears filling your eyes.
"We uh-" Bucky's smooth words failing him.
"Listen sweetheart we- uh we were out looking for the perfect ring for you," Steve coming to his aid.
"What do you mean ring?" Looking up now at the men sat before you.
"We- Well you see doll before you left we were planning on proposing and I know I still am planning on it but I forgot the ring at home like an idiot," Bucky cursed himself.
"Hey, hey your not an idiot. If so then that makes two of us because I forgot mine as well." Steve countered.
"What?" You were stunned here you thought that they were stepping out on you yet they were actually getting ready to propose to you. Fuck how could you be so stupid? You let the tears slip.
"Hey no need to cry my love," Steve cooed raising a hand to wipe the tears but you flinched. "Hey what was that for?" Steve asked softly.
"S-sorry," you stuttered out waiting for the blow that came for flinching.
"He-" Steve began to say.
"I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch," Buck raised his voice making you flinch and curl in on yourself.
"Buck," Steve scolded seeing you cowering in on yourself more. "We aren't him honey," tears gathered in your eyes at the pet name. It was now ruined for you.
"Y/n, doll, you have to talk to us. What did he do to you?" Bucky spoke softly and sweetly.
"He- he would call me honey or darling say that he loved me. When he would get mad, he would hit me or call me a whore for wanting two guys. He- he would say that you only wanted me as a fuck toy. And then at night, he would- he would tie me up to the bed and do with what he pleased saying over and over that this is what a good spouse does sits there and takes what their husband gives them. And that- that I should be grateful for him. That he was the best I was ever gonna get. He broke me," you sobbed wanting to be held by the men in front of you.
That was the last straw. They went to comfort you and you allowed them. Allowed them to hold you as you shook with your tears. Both men shared a look they knew what they had to do.
<~>
When they pulled up to the mansion, you stopped crying and Dean was dragged to the warehouse outback to be dealt with by the boys later.
"I think I'm going to head to the bathroom then to the guest room. If you guys don't mind I don't want to drive back to my apartment tonight."
"If you want you can sleep in our room. Buck and I'll take the guest bedroom." Steve offered.
"No no I don't want to put you guys out I'll sleep in the guest room."
"I mean if you want we could all stay in the same room? That way no one is put out. Besides, there is more than enough room in the bed," Bucky offered up.
"Sure if you guys are fine with it." You replied.
"Why wouldn't we be doll? We love you," Bucky said earnestly.
"Thanks, I see you up there I guess?" You said as of asking a question.
"We'll be up in a little bit sweetheart we just have to deal with something first and we'll be up there in a bit just have to do something first," Steve spoke sweetly coming close to kiss your cheek then retracted thinking better of it.
"Don't be too long please." You pleaded.
"We'll be back before you know it," Bucky as well went to kiss you but retracted as well.
<~>
After watching you walk up the stairs and turn down the hallway towards the bedroom, they turned and headed for the warehouse.
Furious was the only thing that could be seen on both men's faces as they walked into the warehouse to see Dean already tied to a metal chair. With a bunch of tools laid out on the table beside him. By the looks of it, he had already regained consciousness. He had a smug smirk on his face. Bucky wanted to punch him square in the face for what he did to Y/n.
"You are a sick bastard y'know?" Bucky seethed.
"Not as sick as you," Dean spat back. That's when Bucky landed his first punch. Straight to the jaw. "That all you can do Barnes?" He teased.
"That's not even the half of it," he went to hit him again but was held back by Steve. He had a pair of needle-nosed pliers he began pulling out his finger and toenails. Dean screamed in pain. Bucky went over to the table and grabbed a pair of vice grip pliers. Once Steve was done pulling out his nails Bucky started with the teeth.
"You are pathetic. Absolutely pathetic you can't take this small amount of pain. Squealing like a pig. You will never touch another human again." Steve's eyes were cold and dead. Once Bucky was done pulling his teeth out Steve took out his gun and shot him point-blank in the head.
He cleaned most of Dean's blood off him while Bucky did the same and began walking back to the main house.
"Get this mess cleaned up and throw him in one of the landfills we own," Bucky ordered.
"Shouldn't we dump him in the river boss," one of the men questioned.
Bucky sent him a steely-eyed glare. If looks could kill he be six feet under. "He doesn't deserve a water burial for the way he treated Y/n and you will do as I say or you will end up missin'," that Bucky turned and caught up to Steve.
<~>
When the men got back to the house you were curled up under the covers. Quietly they snuck into the bedroom and went to the bathroom to shower and clean themselves up a bit before sliding into bed with you.
<~>
The next morning you awoke alone in the room. You started panicking thinking you were back in the house with Dean when Bucky and Steve walked in carrying in breakfast for you. French toast and waffles stacked on top of each other so much syrup and whipped cream you swear you'd get a cavity. Although the thought was nice it didn't stop the panic attack that was surfacing.
Bucky immediately took notice of the signs and began calming you. "Doll what are 5 things you can touch?"
"The bed, you, the pillow, the food, my clothes, and the bedside table" slowly calming down you answered.
"Good, good. Now, what are 4 things you can see?" Bucky asked again still trying to ground you.
"You, Steve, the breakfast you guys made, and the bed," your breathing hadn't gone completely back to normal but it was slowly slowing down and returning to normal.
"Good job you're doing such a great job doll. What are three things you can hear?"
"You, my own voice, and the birds outside."
"Great job. Two emotions you feel?"
"Safe and loved," you answered confidently.
"Wonderful. Now, what's one thing you can taste?"
"Is it weird if I say salt?" you joked a bit.
"Not at all. You're ok safe. He will never hurt you ever again I promise you," Bucky promised. Reaching forward to hug you. Steve also came and hugged you. At that moment nothing else mattered you were home with your boys and you were safe loved and protected.
They pulled away and handed you the plate of food. You began happily eating. Sipping on the coffee they had brought as well. "Thank you guys so much. I'm sorry I left I should've talked to you before I ran. I thought you guys didn't want me anymore. I'm sorry," you let the tears you had been holding back fall.
"Sweetheart it's ok as long as you don't run away again. Please don't I was torn apart Bucky was torn apart we both love you so much. We can't imagine life without you," Steve pleaded you could see the desperation in his eyes.
You promised you would never leave them again. For the rest of the day that pampered you. Anything you wanted they got for you. If you asked for ice cream "you got it doll," wanting to watch that new show on Diseny+ "Whatever you want sweetheart," just some good old cuddles "No problem we love giving you cuddles,". You almost felt bad by the end of the day you ended up back in the bed asking if they wanted anything in return. They had gone nearly a month without being intimate. Which shocked you thought surely they would've been intimate together but no they promised you so in return all they wanted was to feel close to you again which you gladly let them.
<~>
It had been around a month since you had gotten back they still pampered and treated you like royalty when they decided to take you out on their bikes to a little spot they found in the forest for a picnic. The boys were chasing you through the fields when they caught up to you and tackled you carefully to the ground. As you were getting up you noticed the two little black felt boxes that fell out of their pockets and picked them up.
Each box contained a ring. A circle of vibrainum engraved with a heart when put together. Both men lunged for the boxes in your hand knocking them out and spilling the rings out onto the ground.
"Shit!" Bucky quickly knelt to the ground trying to find the rings while Steve also helps look. You had also gotten down to help.
"This wasn't the way we wanted to ask you," Steve confessed furiously looking for the rings.
"Doesn't matter what way you ask my answer doesn't change. I love both of you so much," continuing to look for the rings you responded.
"I still want to ask you properly," Bucky perked up as he found them giving steve one half while he held the other. "So Y/n Y/l/n will you do us the honor and change your last name to Barnes-Rogers for the rest of your life?"
"I'll have to think about it," you pretended to think about it for maybe 20 seconds before responding. "Yes of course you idiots. Don't need to think about it you saved me. As long as you promise to love me for the rest of your lives deal?" you held out your hand to shake. Bucky just pushed it away and kissed you.
"Deal."
It was now Steve's turn to kiss you "Deal."
Then they looked to each "You marrying me as well punk?" Bucky asked.
"Of course jerk," Steve responded as they too kissed each other.
They each took a turn to put on your ring on your finger matching the heart up then pulling out another small box and put rings on each other.
You looked between them then took off running towards the picnic basket yelling over your shoulder, "Whoever catches me gets me on the ride back."
Laughing at each other they both darted towards you and at that moment they both had a pure and genuine smile across their faces. Both are happy to have you back in their arms. They would always love you no matter what. No matter how my obstacles life threw at you would be with them 'til the end of the line.
524 notes · View notes
futurequeenofravka · 3 years
Text
Good Enough - Sirius x Reader
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Summary:
After a spat with a Slytherin girl in your year, you’ve start to doubt your relationship with Sirius Black. While you are wildly in love with him, you start to question why he chose you, a “mudblood.”
Warnings: None, I don’t think? Just a little angsty!
A/N: this is my first piece! it’s a lil test of a fic I’d like to write eventually, and it was prompted by mmfd so I decided to tweak the dialogue from the show a little to make it wizarding world esque hahah. But I hope you enjoy! thank you so much for reading, this is the first time I’ve ever shared my creative writing online so please let me know what you think (also please send requests)! Also sorry if the formatting looks a lil weird, posting this from my phone made it kinda wonky.
Word count: 2.2k-ish words.
Pst. Psssst.
Sirius’s whisper grew louder until I looked over my shoulder to where he and James were sitting a few desks back from Lily and I. He tried to silently mouth a question as Professor Binns droned on about last night’s reading. James and Lily quietly laughed as they watched Sirius try to repeat himself a number of times before ultimately giving up. I shot him an apologetic look for my lip reading skills, or I guess lack thereof, as I watched him rip up a piece of parchment and scribble down a message. He waited for a spare moment in which Binns had his back turned to the class to write something on the chalkboard and then tossed the crumpled up piece of paper at me.
“What’s it say?” Lily asked as I unfolded the piece of parchment that Sirius had thrown my way.
“Blimey is he fucking annoying.” I said letting out a small laugh as I read the note.
“Well?” She leaned in closer trying to read the note from over my shoulder.
I slid the parchment across our shared desk so that she could read the message as well. Hi. I just wanted to say you look beautiful today. Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at 7? Lily sarcastically groaned as she slid the note back over to me and we pretended to go back to our class work. I turned back around to see Sirius intently waiting for my answer, I rolled my eyes at the silly gesture but smiled as I gave him a small nod to confirm our meeting later.
“You two are so sickly sweet sometimes, honestly I think I might have a toothache.” She said loud enough to provoke a laugh from James who eyed her from a few desks over.
“Beats the headache I get from watching you and Potter dodge your feelings for each other.” I retorted, quietly laughing as I tried to refocus my attention back to my textbook.
After class had ended I said bye to Lily as I made my way to the library to study for my potions exam. Sirius had already promised James that he’d come watch the Gryffindors practice for the upcoming Quidditch match so I’d have to study alone today, which I didn’t particularly mind because usually with Sirius around I hardly got any studying done. He pressed a kiss on my temple before we parted ways. When I got to the library I took a seat in the corner as usual and began to sprawl my textbooks across the table.
In the midst of studying I heard giggles from a herd of girls a few tables over. Looking over I met eyes with Ianthe, a Slytherin also in sixth year, who was sitting alongside Sirius’s cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa. Though I had never spoken more than a few words to either of them, I knew I was not favored in the Black household. If anything, they probably hated me; although Sirius would never burden me with that confirmation, I knew how his family felt about me and “my kind.”
Being muggle born was still a rarity at Hogwarts, and one that pureblood families often had strong feelings against. Lily and I became fast friends because of this. Being two of the only Muggle born students at Hogwarts made fitting in quite hard sometimes. There were often things that we didn’t understand or we lost on. We relied on Marlene, Alice, and Dorcas a lot for explanations and now as of recently on the “Marauders,” as they called themselves, as well. But it was comforting to have Lily around, to have someone who understood experiences unique to us. Someone who understood what it felt like to miss basic muggle things while away at school, like televisions or even just pens.
I rolled my eyes at the giggling girls and went back to reading the next chapter in my textbook. Several minutes passed before my studying was interrupted again, this time I looked up to see the three slender girls approaching my table, a wicked grin plastered across each of their faces as they surrounded my table.
“Can I help you?” I breathed looking up from my book.
“Yes actually. Would you mind backing off of Sirius?” Ianthe mused as she flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
“Excuse me?” I asked, Bellatrix laughed at my response, a cackle echoing across the room.
“I thought dating you would just be his latest phase but it’s been almost 6 months. I expected that he’d come crawling back to me by now but you seem to be standing in my way.” Ianthe ran her fingers over my notes and shuffled my things around as she spoke.
“In your way of what? Stealing my boyfriend?”
“Precisely.” Narcissa chimed in from behind the blonde haired girl.
“Honestly, Y/N. It’s kind of pathetic how you constantly follow Sirius around like a puppy dog. One day I’m sure he’ll bore of having a little pet mudblood and finally come back to his senses.” Bellatrix said, her tone was cold and cruel as she knocked over a few of my things and proceeded with a sarcastic oops.
“I mean our families have been practically planning our wedding since before we were even born.” Ianthe said trying to refocus my attention back on her.
“Shove off, the lot of you.” I said trying to ignore anymore of their remarks.
“Feisty today aren’t we, Y/N. I would’ve never expected such boldness from a filthy little mud blood.” Bellatrix said cackling again.
“Just leave me alone please.” My voice strained this time.
“You really do ruin all the fun, don’t you, Y/L/N? But before we go, I just have to ask, dear. Does our darling Padfoot still like to have his neck kissed? You know, just above that mole.” Ianthe tapped her finger to the side of her neck.
“You’re all sick.”
“Maybe but at least we don’t have dirty blood.”
My heart beat fast as I picked up my belongings from off the ground, desperately trying to get out of the library as quickly as possible. I ran through the corridors back toward Gryffindor tower, tears welling up in my eyes and slowly beginning to fall despite my best efforts to hold them back. I ran past the other students and back to my dormitory praying that it would actually be empty for once. It was not. Lily was sat on her bed reading a book when she looked up to see me tears running down my face while I tried to keep a cool demeanor. Her face cloaked in worry as she asked if I was okay, her words triggered a visceral reaction as I finally let myself break down in tears. She came over to me and brought me back to her bed and hugged me for a moment, stroking my back waiting until I was ready to speak.
After my sobs and sniffles had mostly come to a stop I recounted the entirety of what had happened in the library. Sharing the words exchanged between me and the three Slytherin girls and the doubt that now seeped into my mind. Lily fumed, her anger rising as she listened to me talk about what had happened.
“Y/N, you don’t actually believe that do you?” She asked, her face still cloaked with worry.
“I mean why shouldn’t I? She’s right, I’ve seen the way people look at us.”
“What does it matter what they think?”
“It’s not what they think, it’s the fact that they’re right. You know exactly how Sirius’ family is, I’m probably just another conquest to him. Girls like Ianthe were bred to marry boys like him, to protect their bloodlines. They’ve basically been betrothed since birth, Lily!”
“Sirius is his own person. He is not his family. You should know better than anyone that that boy lives to break rules. And I seriously doubt it but if he doesn’t appreciate how absolutely brilliant you are just because you were muggle born then he’s not worth your time.”
I knew Lily was right, it was rare that she wasn’t. But my mind still wandered to a dark place that echoed with Ianthe’s comments. She stayed with me for another hour or so before she got ready to go over to the Great Hall for dinner. I didn’t realize how long we had been sitting in the dorm. I looked over at the clock surprised to see it was almost 7. I promised Sirius I’d meet him in the astronomy tower soon. Surely I couldn’t face him after what had just happened but my heart hurt thinking about standing him up.
“You going to be alright?” Lily asked before heading out the door.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll see you later.” I reassured her.
“Alright, if you need anything just give a shout.”
I sighed as she closed the door and headed off. I looked down at my mascara stained sleeves and quickly changed into a clean shirt and wiped away the smeared makeup from beneath my eyes. Regardless of how I felt, I had to face Sirius.
I walked through the empty halls over to the Astronomy tower. Springtime at Hogwarts had an underrated charm to it. The weather was ideal, chill but not too cold. Tonight was no different, the air tonight was crisp, the wind blew gently through my hair as I made my way up the winding staircase. When I made it to the very top I saw Sirius gazing across the school grounds. His face looking intently over the beautifully crafted buildings and through the lush forests around us. I stayed silent for a minute just to admire him. The handsome playboy that I always thought I loathed but whom had somehow not only stolen my heart but had also become my best friend.
When he finally sensed my presence he turned around, my heart fluttered just looking at the kind, dopey smile wiped across his face as he held out his hand for me. When I grabbed it, he pulled me in close. My face buried into his chest as he held me for a minute. I looked behind him to see a blanket laid across the ground a small picnic set up for us.
“Remus helped me bribe the house elves into sneaking me some food so we could have dinner up here.” He excitedly motioned over to the set up.
“It looks lovely, Sirius.” I spoke softly as if my words could be broken with just a tap.
“What’s wrong? Oh Merlin, you hate it, don’t you?” He asked worriedly.
“No it’s not that, it really is lovely. I just, I just don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why you’re doing this for me. You’re a pureblood and I’m...I’m a mudblood.” I took a step away from him, letting go on my grasp on his hand.
“What does that have to do with anything? You know I’ve never cared about any of that.”
“You should be going out with someone like Ianthe, not someone like me. Most people when they see us must be thinking, ‘oh he must be mad going out with that.’”
“That what” he said before raising his voice to echo the question, “that what?”
“You know exactly what, Sirius. Everyone does.”
“What the fuck are you on about? What does everyone have to do with how I feel about you? You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t fancy. That’s mine and mine alone. Now are you going to stop being a git or what?”
“Stop calling me a git, you’re the git.” I said trying to shove him away but his hands grasped my wrists before I could make my move.
Before I could say another word he crashed his lips into mine. His hands now releasing his grip on my wrists and instead caressing my face. Sirius had kissed me many times before but never with such urgency, like his life depended on it. Like if he didn’t kiss me in this exact moment that he’d never get to again. My hands now pressed up against his chest pulling him in closer to me as I savored the taste of him until we were breathless.
“You’re the git.” I whispered as we pressed our foreheads together, he let out a small laugh at my comment before he spoke again.
“Those twats, they aren’t my family. You are.” His thumb caressing my cheek softly.
“Sirius, I just—“
“You are my family.” He said firmly cutting me off before I could finish my sentence.
“Okay, you say that now but I just hate the idea that you’re choosing me over them. I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret your choice and start to resent me forever. I mean they’re your family, Sirius.” I rambled as doubt still riddled my brain.
“Y/N, listen to me, I will always choose you. I choose you today, tomorrow, and I’ll choose you forever for the rest of our lives. You are the only thing in this entire world I care about.”
“Can I quote you on that?”
“Yes, just maybe not to James, Remus, and Peter. I think they might burst into tears.” He let out loud laugh as he responded to my question.
“I won’t lie, I’d like to see that.”
“I bet you would. Now can we please eat dinner, I paid off the house elves 10 galleons each just so that they would make your favorite!”
307 notes · View notes
klvbxlove · 3 years
Text
guitar (yosuke x gn! reader)
a/n: here we go, i’ve got a yosuke drabble for y’all (YOSUKE SIMPS COME GET YOUR JUICE)! well, it’s mostly dedicated to my cousin nikki, who’s deadass obsessed with him LMAO. i think this is the longest piece of writing i’ve posted here on tumblr so far (more than 2,000 words, holy shit). i guess i got a little bit carried away with writing it 😅 (fun fact: this was actually supposed to be a bit spicy, as requested by nikki, but it ended up turning into fluff OOPS). again, i apologize if yosuke might sound OOC, but i really tried my best to get his personality right. okay, enough talking, hope y’all like this! :D
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reader type: gender neutral
reader specification(s): none
genre(s): fluff, romance
trigger warning(s): none
summary: yosuke, realizing that he’s never going to get better at the guitar if he only teaches himself, decides to get some lessons from you.
word count: 2.5k words
♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε`*) ♡ ♡ ♡
key:
(e/c) = eye color (f/c) = favorite color (f/s) = favorite song (y/n) = your name
♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε`*) ♡ ♡ ♡
   “Damn it!” At the missed note, Yosuke cursed himself. He thought he had gotten better at playing (F/S) after practicing for the past couple of days. But it was just that one note that always got to him. That one damn note!
   Having been a huge music fan his entire life, Yosuke would have thought he would pick up on some musical instrument at some point. Why did he not until now? He had no idea. But at least it was better than not learning one before you had no chance at all, right? And that was why Yosuke decided to go with the guitar. 
   However, at this point, the brown-haired male realized that maybe teaching himself was not exactly the best idea. Sure, he did get the hang of the guitar a few days after starting his practice. It certainly did not feel like he was improving if he had to be honest. 
   So that was why Yosuke was currently waiting for you to pick up your phone. Usually, he would have been chill about calling about any person. But this was you we’re talking about. You are the person who manages to make his heartbeat fast without even meaning to, especially when he hears your voice. 
   You are the person who manages to cover his cheeks with a blush when you look over in his direction. 
   You are the person who makes his day even better, especially when it has not been good for him. 
   And the person that Yosuke dreams of asking to be his significant other--
   ‘WAIT, WHAT?!’
   “Hello?”
   “Gah!” Yosuke almost dropped his phone the moment you finally picked it up. If there was another thing he should work on (besides the guitar), it was learning not to be so nervous whenever he talked to you. Let alone being around you! He knew he felt this so many times up to the point where the Investigation Team could notice.
   Oh God, he could already hear Teddie, Chie, and Rise teasing him! NOOOOOOO--
   “Yosuke? You good?” Thank the heavens, your voice over the phone snapped Yosuke out of his trance. 
   “(Y/N), hey!” he smiled, trying to act like he had been acting completely normal. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry if I bothered you or anything, but I have a favor to ask you.”
   “Oh, not at all!” you reassured him. “You just woke me up from my two-hour nap. I would have slept for much longer had it not been you calling me, so thanks for that!” 
   Yosuke could only imagine a light pink background behind him and a lovestruck look on his face (What is this? A romance anime?) as he heard your laugh. No matter how many times you say your laugh is horrendous, he would beg to differ. 
   “Anyways, you said you had a favor?”
   “Oh, yeah!” Yosuke grinned. “So do you think maybe you could...give me guitar lessons? I’ve been trying to practice and, well--” he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, “--I don’t think I’m making any improvements.” 
   “Guitar lessons?” Unbeknownst to Yosuke, you had tilted your head in slight confusion. “Wait, you play guitar?”
   “Yeah, I was thinking about learning an instrument for a while and figured I could start with a guitar and go from there,” Yosuke explained. “And so far, you’re the only person I know who can play it professionally, so I thought I could ask you for some help.”
   “Professional? Ah, I dunno about that,” you said, chuckling. “I know I only played it for a few years, but would that count as being a professional?”
   “Oh, come on, (Y/N). I’ve seen you play multiple times! You’re definitely like a professional at this point!” 
   That was true. On a few occasions when the entire group got together for a hangout, you would bring your (F/C) guitar and jam out. It was usually songs you loved and knew how to play confidently (without the fear of accidentally messing up, as you would explain it), but everyone did not mind, especially Yosuke (of course). 
   “You flatter me too much, but thank you!” Yosuke felt pride in his chest for complimenting you. He even gave himself bonus points for the fact that you thanked him for it. A grin grew on his face. 
   “Anyways, when are you free?” you asked, “I don’t have much to do. So you can pick any day.” 
   “Is tomorrow fine?” Yosuke asked, crossing his fingers with his free hand.
   “Yep, I’m down for that!” you answered.
   ‘Perfect!’
   A few seconds passed of a quick discussion before the two of you said your goodbyes, and Yosuke ended the call. As his eyes lingered on the guitar sitting on his bed, he felt a sense of excitement. He was going to get lessons from you. Private lessons! It was only him that you were teaching, not anyone else! Yosuke just had to let a moment of pride fill him up. He would not let anything terrible happen tomorrow.
-
   Yosuke knew he was capable of being nervous and flustered, especially when it came to you. But at this point, the level of those emotions was running high now that you were here. 
   Good Lord, he knew he should not be out here making a big deal out of it. Why was Yosuke treating this hangout as something more than just guitar lessons? If only he knew the answer. One thing was for sure; he needed to calm his ass down before he made a complete fool of himself. And if Yosuke had to tell himself multiple times that it was you giving him (private) guitar lessons, then so be it. 
   The brown-haired male took the time to pull out the pile of songs he had attempted to play but failed miserably. To him, anyways. “Here,” Yosuke said, giving them to you as soon as you took your guitar out of your case, “I only played the ones that I figured would be much easier.” 
   “No worries! I’ll teach them in the best way I can,” you reassured Yosuke, giving him a grin (Aaaand here goes his heart beating again. When will you ever realize you are so damn cute?!). Taking the papers from him, you looked through each of the sheets. At each song that you recognized, you nodded, as if saying, “Ahh, I heard this before!”. 
   Was Yosuke even supposed to be feeling embarrassed? It was true that he could have gone for any song, especially his favorite ones. Yet here he was, deciding that the moment he bought his guitar, he would learn your favorite songs. Again, another question that he could not answer. 
   “Are these all my faves?” you chuckled, looking back up at Yosuke once you finished looking over the songs. You had to bite the insides of your cheeks to prevent turning those chuckles into laughter when he blushed. 
   “Yeah, they are,” Yosuke nodded, “I just thought it would be easier for you to teach me songs that you know. Does that sound stupid?” 
   “No, not at all!” you smiled.
   ‘Score!’
   “You can pick the one you wanna start with first,” you said, giving Yosuke the pile of papers back to him. Then you turned to grab your guitar and sat down on his bed. “Unless you want me to pick, then I can do just that,” you winked. 
   ‘Holy shit, another score!’
   ‘But you did nothing yet! How can you give yourself another score?!’
   ‘SHUT UP!’
   While you did have a pile of songs to work with for this session, you knew that it would take a long time for Yosuke to get the hang of playing at least one of them confidently. It was understandable, however. You remember not being confident in playing at least one song when you started. It did not matter how much you have improved on your notes; the confidence was just not there yet.
   So for the next few hours, you did your best to explain how to reach every note correctly, showed Yosuke how to improve on the parts he was having difficulty with, etc. You were not exactly sure if you were a good teacher, considering how you have never taught anyone the guitar before now, but luckily he seemed to be getting the hang of it. Yosuke seemed quite happy at the improvements that he made little by little.
   After a while, the both of you eventually decided to take a small break and let your hands rest.
   “Man, I feel like I improved a lot compared to before!” Yosuke stretched up his arms, having placed his guitar back on his bed. “I gotta thank you for that, (Y/N)!” he grinned brightly at you. 
   “Of course,” you nodded, “Happy to help!”
   Then all of a sudden, Yosuke felt a bolt of determination in him. He did not know how it happened or why it happened. All he knew was that eventually, he said, “Oh yeah! Listen, (Y/N), is it alright if we talk for a bit?”
   It was finally time, he thought to himself. It had been months of hiding how he felt and ignoring the advice of his friends to stop ignoring his feelings. Yosuke decided that he would confess right then and there. If he did not, then he would never get rid of the weight off his chest, and (God forbid this happen) you would eventually find someone else to love. Yosuke could not let that happen! Hell no!
   “Sure,” you answered, snapping Yosuke out of his thoughts (Oh yeah, and he also needed to work on slipping into a daydream where he could not hear anyone else).
   Oh, Jesus Christ, Yosuke could not handle your (E/C) eyes on him. Somehow, it was almost as if the determination he had seconds ago had vanished, and he was back to being nervous again. Should he back down? Just say forget it, and he will tell you next time? Or if he could, should he dash out of his room and forget he even said that in the first place?
   ‘NO! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING?!’
   Before you could get his attention again, Yosuke shook his head. “Sorry about that. Was I spacing out?”
   “You kinda were, but it’s fine,” you reassured him. 
   Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Okay, you can do this! There is no turning back! 
   “Okay, listen,” Yosuke began. “I have no idea how to bring this up without being awkward, but I might as well say it right now. I like you!”
   ‘You did it, holy shit!’
   He watched as your (E/C) eyes widened in shock. Nothing came out of your mouth just yet, but Yosuke was already getting worried about your reaction. He had to remind himself to continue, anyway. “I know it’s sudden. But I had a crush on you for a long time; I figured it was best to not tell you. And I mean, you probably used to see the looks from the others. You know, when they give me those weird looks? Argh, how do I explain them?”
   Now that you thought about it, you did remember the facial expressions on some of the Investigation Team members when they stole glances at Yosuke. Although, you had no idea how to explain them, either.
   “Yeah, never mind that. The point is, is that, well. Oh God, this might sound so cliche, but I think you’re an amazing person. I know I had crushes in the past. I guess they never made me feel like this like you did. And well? One of the only reasons why I decided to pick up the guitar is so I can get even closer to you.”
   Somehow, this felt like it was going worse than Yosuke thought it would. And he did not even give you a chance to respond just yet! Either that, or he was overreacting.
   “But I mean, honestly. (Y/N), if you decide to turn me down, that’s fine. It’s not like I was expecting you to like me back. As I said, I just wanted to get this off my chest.”
   Yosuke looked down in slight embarrassment and hurt, refusing to look you in the eyes. As much as he hated to hear it, he was ready for you to reject his confession. And then awkwardness will fill the air as you decide it is best to leave, and Yosuke will find himself alone in his room. He was not one to cry often, but he could almost feel the waterworks preparing to turn on. How was his friendship with you going to end up after this? 
   What if you decide to distance yourself from him due to the tension? 
   What if you eventually become a stranger to him and the rest of the Investigation Team--
   “What are you saying?” 
   ‘Huh?’
   Yosuke looked up to see you smiling slightly. “Do you realize how I feel right now? I honestly have no idea if anyone else in our friend group has also noticed this, but I like you too!” 
   ‘Really?’ He thought in slight disappointment, ‘Well, I figured. If you want to consider confessing to him, I guess I could help if you need--’
   ‘HOLD UP, WHAT?!’
   Then his eyes widened in shock at what you had just said. “Y-You do?!” 
   Holy shit, was this a dream? He refused to believe this was real. There was no way this was happening. If anything, Yosuke was almost planning to pinch himself as hard as he could so he could wake up.
   That was when you threw yourself onto him and engulfed him in a hug. Yosuke knew that while you were not an affectionate person towards your friends, you were more than capable of giving them a hug when you wanted to. But even still, feeling your arms around him sent butterflies in his stomach, as usual. 
   You looked up towards him. “Of course, I do!” you smiled, answering his question prior. “I just thought you liked someone else or had no interest in dating someone at all.”
   “Oh wow,” Yosuke had no idea what to say at this point. He had so many things he wanted to say but did not know how to word them. “Seems like we both had a crush on each other without knowing it. I guess these private guitar lessons were the perfect opportunity to confess, huh?” 
   “Maybe.” you snickered. 
   Yosuke smiled, wrapping his arms around yours so he could finally hug you back. The two of you remained in that position for a few seconds, embracing the warm feelings in your chests, before he pulled away. “So I guess this would also be the perfect opportunity for me to ask, will you be my (s/o)?” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. 
   “Hell yeah, of course, I will,” you said before leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek. In return, Yosuke pulled you back to his chest, your face now buried into it. There were no plans on letting you go anytime soon; he just wanted to hold you in his arms. 
   It is safe to say that those guitar lessons he asked for were worth it.
34 notes · View notes
chilling-seavey · 3 years
Text
Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 4
A/N Oops early post. I couldn’t contain myself
Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.
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The muffle of heavy footsteps outside the front door had Jonah and I halting our breaths in our chests in anticipation. We were expectedly on edge. Thankfully, it was just the mail delivery and the security sensor at the front step set off a little notification noise from the main monitor that was set up on the kitchen counter. When the metal mailbox closed and the footsteps faded back towards the street, I moved over to the main monitor and typed in the code and scrolled through the notification menu. The film footage from the studio was still gone but it was listed as having been deleted around 8pm the night before.
“Anything of interest?” Jonah asked.
“Not really.” I mumbled and turned back to face him. “I’m going to look around a little more.”
“Alright. I’ll look around here.” he looked me up and down, “Maybe change your clothes while you’re at it.”
I glanced down at my white hoodie and white jeans, both pieces of clothing stained dark red all up the back from where I had been laying all night and my bloody handprint was smeared over the chest of my hoodie. Good idea.
I returned to the master bedroom and set my laptop bag on the bed and let my computer turn on while I headed into the walk-in closet to find clean clothes. The two garment bags hanging on the far wall in front of the mirror had me stopping in place with my hand on the light switch. I hesitated as if not having expected them to be there; even if I had known they would be returned home by Jonah and my brother along with the wedding gifts two weeks ago. I shuffled over to unzip the first black garment bag, dragging my hand down the smooth white dress that had been hidden underneath. A few smudges of red were left behind from my touch and I pulled my hand back quickly and wiped my blood-stained fingers on my pants.
I forced myself to swallow back any feelings as I zipped the bag back up and focused my attention on pulling black jeans from the shelf and a black t-shirt from a hanger. I took them into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind me as if I were trying to shut out something or suddenly needed some privacy. Funny that the only invasive things in the damn house was the weird feeling of guilt and realization and utter confusion that was eating me alive.
My hands were holding myself up on the edge of the counter and I was breathing hard, staring myself in the eye through the spotless mirror. Avalon always liked things clean.
Although I had been passed out on my studio floor for God knows how long that night, I still looked like I hadn’t slept in weeks. I seemed to have a layer of drying blood all over me and it matted my dyed blonde hair down in unattractive dark clumps and stained my white clothes evilly. The dark circles under my eyes didn’t seem like they were just from the flight home and the pale complexion that stared back at me didn’t even feel like my own. I ran my hand over my face, staring at how my slightly sticky fingers tugged at my skin, drawing more attention to my eyes and dry lips…honestly, who was I? My wife was dead – her throat slit and she was left to bleed out – and I was more worried about my face in the mirror.
I could see her eyes in my mind. Those lifeless brown eyes staring at me with all the unrevealable answers to the world. And yet, only days before, she was looking up at me with those same honey brown eyes, full of love and lust, on a king size bed in Costa Rica and whispering how much she loved me.
You have to understand, dear reader, that I had no clue what I was doing or what I was feeling. So you cannot truly blame me when the only reaction to my current situation was my body sending me to my knees in front of the toilet to throw up the limited plane food in my stomach as the metallic smell of blood flooded my senses. It was all too much.
I didn’t know what we had to do next, but I knew that whatever the plan was going to be, we had to move quickly. So I stripped out of my blood-stained clothes and into the clean ones, only stopping long enough to wipe any blood from my skin with a damp cloth until I looked reasonably tame in my reflection. I wet my hair under the tap to get the worst of the blood out of it and ruffled it with a towel before saying ‘good enough’ and headed back to the bedroom.
If I was in fact a murderer, no amount of water was going to cleanse this conscious.
I sat on the edge of the bed and typed in my password to my laptop. The screen loaded and brought up the last tab that was open; the flight information home. The site had updated and stated that the plane had landed on time at LAX yesterday evening and my credit card receipt showed the taxi payment for thirty minutes later. We were home around 7:00. Other than confirming the times at which we returned home, the laptop didn’t offer much assistance.
What did I expect? The screen to read out exactly how my wife was murdered?
Jonah came into the room, “Hey. Find anything?”
I glanced up at him before looking back down at the screen, biting anxiously at my fingernail, “No. Don’t remember anything more either.”
Jonah didn’t answer, letting me have a moment to collect my thoughts. I didn’t blame him; what do you say to your best friend who possibly just murdered their wife and doesn’t remember it. I swiped my finger over the trackpad on my laptop to bring up the other window that was open; iMessage. The last conversation thread that was up was between Avalon and me. I remembered it well.
I was down at the resort bar the night before we left. Jonah had sent me a recording that he wanted my opinions on and I had a few changes I wanted to make so I took myself downstairs with my headphones and my laptop and got some work in. Cocktail in one hand and mouse in the other, I worked until the notification popped up on the bottom menu of my screen.
It would be nice if you spent our last night up here with me.
I had ignored it, huffing and rolling my eyes at her constant pestering and minimized the window again.
God…stupid me. That would have been our last night together. And she didn’t even face towards me when I finally came to bed.
“You weren’t around me!” she yelled, tapping her hand against the cup in her hand so the sound of her ring against the glass punctuated each of her words. “What person wants to spend their honeymoon alone? Of course, I wanted to go home! I was basically there by myself and I was miserable!”
“I had to get some shit done! Jonah needed me to double check a few things while we were away. It’s not the end of the world and I’m sorry if you feel that way!”
I could see her visibly tense and she turned her head so she didn’t have to look at me, jabbing under her breath, “That’s always your excuse, isn’t it? ‘Always gotta get some shit done’. Well, I’m sick and tired of coming second to your work all the time.”
I made her miserable.
“Jonah.” I breathed, turning to look at him over the top of my laptop, “What if she killed herself?”
“She didn’t seem suicidal.” Jonah said.
“Yeah.” I sighed, turning back to the screen. I let out a heavy breath and closed my laptop and tucked it back in the case. “We have to decide what to do.”
“Alright. What are you thinking?” Jonah asked.
I thought for a moment as I set my laptop bag back on top of the untouched suitcase by the wall, “I don’t know. I need time to figure out what the hell happened.”
“Do you want to head to the lodge in Utah? It will buy you a few days and maybe we can figure out what happened by then.”
I nodded, letting out a deep breath, “Yeah, okay. That probably makes the most sense.”
I walked past Jonah and out of the master bedroom, stopping shuffle through the mail that had been collected by Jonah and Christian throughout the last three weeks and placed in a decorative bowl on the front console table. I ruffled through a few bills and random mailer coupons, just to make sure I wasn’t missing anything that I might want to take with me out of state. My search stopped dry at one crisp white envelope, addressed to our house and labelled with simply Avalon with no surname. I frowned and slid my finger under the sealed flap to tear it open.
“Bro, opening other people’s mail is a federal offence.” Jonah stated as he joined me by the table.
“She’s dead, Jonah. I don’t think it really matters anymore.” I answered flatly and pulled out the folded piece of lined stationary from the envelope.
Avalon,
Things are hard right now and I get that but shutting me out isn’t going to help anyone. You can’t give up on me. I really want to see you when you get home. Please let me know when you get this. I need to make things right.
-J
My heart felt like someone was pushing it through a juicer and I frowned down at the paper as I read it a second time. The second time didn’t make it hurt any less. I rubbed my hand over my chest and then ruffled it through my damp hair.
“What the fuck is this?” I breathed. I looked at Jonah, “Who’s J? Is it you?”
“Me? Why would I write her suspicious letters when I can just text her?” Jonah replied.
“Yeah.” I sighed and looked back down at the letter. I clenched my jaw and swallowed back the hurt and strange glimmer of jealousy that was bubbling up inside my empty stomach. “Maybe there’s something on her phone.”
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Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @sexyseavey15​
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geralt-of-baevia · 4 years
Text
Happenstance
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Summary: Henry is about to go to bed one night when he suddenly gets a text from a random number he doesn’t know. What happens when you accidentally text the star actor of The Witcher? Memes apparently. Lots and lots of memes.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Lizzy Moore)
Word count: 1.3K
Warnings: None...yet! Just some fluffy flirting. Well okay and lots of mention of his crotch? 😬😘
A/N: So I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my brain for a LONG time and finally pulled the trigger and wrote it! It’s in texting format, and I hope you like it! This is my first time posting fan fiction on here so I’m nervous and excited!
Beta: Thank you to @avengeful-bunny​ for being my AMAZING beta. I don’t know what I would do without you. 💛💛💛
Tagging: I’m going to tag all those whose work has inspired me to write and post my work! Much love to ALL of you! @littlefreya @dancingwendigo @mary-ann84 @yespolkadotkitty @viking-raider @cavillhoney
Part 1: Oops.
(405:) God, girl. You will not BELIEVE the day I had. I'm pretty sure I lost a pint of blood today from how many times I stabbed myself sewing. 
(405:)
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(Henry:) You should probably get a thimble for that. 
(Henry:) Also, I do believe you have the wrong number. Considering you started the text off with 'girl' and I am quite the opposite. But even so, please spill the tea. I’m dying to know about this UNBELIEVABLE day you’ve had. 
(Henry:)
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(405:) Oh my god, MR. CAVILL I AM soooo SO SO SORRY. I must have accidentally clicked on your name and not my friend's name. 
(405:) I feel really awkward having your number when you don’t have mine. Do you want me to delete it? Just to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Also so some random crew member doesn’t have your number?
(Henry:) Oh god, please call me Henry. There’s no need for such formalities. And it’s fine, there’s no need to delete it. Since you mentioned crew and sewing, I'm assuming you work for the costuming department? 
(Henry:) Also, I have your number now, don't I? :P
(405:) By it’s fine do you mean this kind of fine?
(405:)
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(Henry:) Oh no, it’s LITERALLY fine. I promise. 
(Henry:)
(405:) But to answer your question, yes! I work for the costuming department. I’m newer, so I get to do the usual stuff. Mostly just lots of mending at the moment. And JUST TO BE CLEAR, I won't do anything to abuse this number since you're Henry Cavill.
(405:) And you’re Henry Cavill. Also you are my co-worker, my I’m assuming super rich, god tier co-worker that I’m not supposed to make eye contact with nevermind TEXT. 
(Henry:)
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(Henry:) But yes, my name is Henry. Please keep my number, we’re coworkers after all, it’s normal for coworkers to have each other’s numbers. Have we met on set before? 
(405:) We have once or twice, just in passing mostly. Once I brought you clothes to your trailer.
(Henry:) Are you the one with the brown and pink hair? 
(405:) That's me. :)
(Henry:) Don't tell me your name, I know what it is. 
(405:) Are you sure about that? You don't seem too confident :P 
(Henry:) I know it starts with an E. Is it Eloise? Eleanor? I know it was something old fashioned, too.
(405:) Man, you're so close. I mean, kind of. Think of historical dead English queens. Like, for example you were best friends with her dad. You were a fancy Duke who was good with the sword and ladies. Also, I’m sorry, aren’t you supposed to be a big nerd?  
(Henry:) ELIZABETH! 
(Henry:) And I am a HUGE nerd thank you very much. 
(Elizabeth:) Yes, that's my name haha. Also, whoa whoa, settle down there cowboy.  
(Elizabeth:) And it’s just Lizzy, with a Y. The thought of spelling it with an IE makes me cringe. 
(Lizzy:)
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 (Henry:) Pretty much everyone? Who doesn't call you Lizzy? 
(Lizzy:) My dad, my grandma, my teachers, my victims, my doctor, the one girl in high school who hated me. 
(Henry:) Haha that's quite the list there Lizzy Borden. I think it’s your turn to settle down. :P
(Henry:) Well then Lizzy with a Y, it's nice to finally talk to you, even though it's over text. 
(Henry:) So I have to ask, I take it they were cracking the whip pretty hard in wardrobe today? 
(Lizzy:) You know, I was doing what I thought was a pretty damn good job of avoiding that subject.
(Henry:) Nope, you can't slip past me. This brain is like an iron trap. 
(Lizzy:) If you MUST know...
(Henry:) I really do. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat in anticipation. 
(Henry:)
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(Lizzy:) Okay well that just sounds sarcastic. I don't HAVE to tell you... :P
(Lizzy:) I'm kidding, kidding. Well, since you MUST know, I spent at least half of my day mending clothes, particularly the crotch of multiple pairs of your pants. Also a few pairs had the butt blown out. 
(Henry:) The crotch?
(Lizzy:) Yes, the CROTCH OF YOUR PANTS HENRY. :P Honestly I'm used to it at this point though. It's not the first time, or I'm assuming the last, that I'll have to mend the crotch of your pants. It’s not your fault the studio wants you in tighter fitting clothes that can show off how muscular you are. It’s just my job to fix it. ;) 
(Henry:) I guess I never really thought about who it was having to mend them when that happens. 
(Lizzy:) And it’s not just your crotch area I mend, it’s your inseams as well. I think your thighs got a little bigger since the initial fitting. :P
(Lizzy:) And yes, us little people taking care of you famous movie stars, making sure you stay looking like the heartthrob you are. Since that is your job and all. :P
(Henry:) Hey now, I’m more than just a pretty face. You make me sound like a talentless hack. But thank you. For your sake I'll try and not blow out any more seams, especially the crotch. 
(Lizzy:) You don't need to thank me, it's literally my job. ;) 
(Lizzy:) I mean, if your muscles didn’t rip through clothing on a regular basis I’d be out of a job!  How rude.
(Henry:) Well I mean in that case I COULD make it a habit. ;) 
(Lizzy:) All I have to say is I’m SO glad we don’t have to worry about shirt buttons on you during this. I’ve seen the stress you put on buttons during press junkets. The anxiety I feel, Henry. So much anxiety.
(Lizzy:)
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(Henry:) Yeah, those shirts never seem to fit my chest right. I taught myself how to sew buttons on my shirts so I could stop asking others to help. 
(Lizzy:) Okay, the fact that you taught yourself how to sew on buttons because it’s a CONTINUING issue is both hilarious and adorable. :P
(Henry:) 
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(Henry:) So I’m curious about something, costume wise.
(Lizzy:) Yes? I’m sure I can answer, costume wise. ;)
(Henry:) How long does it take to sew together a shirt from scratch? 
(Lizzy:) Well, it all depends on the type of shirt, and what it’s for. For the sake of film, there are so many steps. Design, pattern making, grading, construction, fitting. That’s just a fraction of it. It’s a very long process.
(Lizzy:) But if I was at home making a shirt for a friend, I could do it start to finish in a couple of hours. They're not hard. I can sew them together in my sleep.
(Henry:) A few HOURS? That's amazing. 
(Lizzy:) Eh, it's what I went to school for. ;) It’s not that impressive to me. 
(Henry:) Well, to me it is at least.  ;) 
(Lizzy:) 
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(Henry:) 
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(Henry:) Unfortunately, it's time for me to go to bed. I have an early call time in the morning. 
(Lizzy:) You're going to bed at 6 in the evening? I’m assuming you have a super crazy call time? One time I had a call time of 1 am because there were things that had to be fixed by the time you and Anya got to set at 4 am. Although it does have it’s advantages. I get to have the first pick of craft services, and sunrises are always nice to watch. 
(Lizzy:) But I’m sorry, that sucks. :(
(Henry:) Some days it does, especially when I can't seem to fall asleep. But today was exhausting so I don't think I'll have any issues tonight. Plus Kal has been extra cuddly tonight so I definitely won’t have any issues. 
(Lizzy:) Well then, I guess this is where we say goodnight. I hope you sleep well. :) 
(Henry:) Thank you. I hope you do, too. Hopefully tomorrow will involve less bleeding onto garments. ;P
(Lizzy:) Haha, I mean it really doesn’t matter. If anything it makes the garment just look THAT much more legit. I hope you have a good day on set tomorrow. :) 
(Henry:) Thank you. It was really nice talking to you Lizzy. I hope we talk more again soon. :) 
(Lizzy:) It was nice talking to you, too. And I would really like that. :) 
(Lizzy:) Goodnight, Henry. :) 
(Henry:) Goodnight Lizzy. Sleep well. :)
514 notes · View notes
tokomaruweek · 3 years
Text
Tokomaru Week 2021
Disclaimer/Warning: This event/prompts may or may not contain spoilers for Danganronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls (DRAE: UDG), Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc (DR: THH), and Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope’s Peak High School anime. Please proceed with caution, ESPECIALLY if you haven’t played the games and/or watched a walkthrough.
Rules:
All Tokomaru Week artwork and fanart must be rated PG-13! Even if NSFW was used as a prompt or anytime, please be careful about posting it, especially it’s 18+ content. However, because of the new Tumblr rule took effect 2 years ago (December 2018), you must post it somewhere else! For those who want to do this and want the list of approved websites, message me!
No Tokomaru hate art at all! This week is not to post Anti-Tokomaru stuff. It is about how much we care about Toko and Komaru.
Anyone who participates in this event can do any of the chosen prompts for this year or can draw/write their own work for Tokomaru Week.
You can do the prompts at any time during the year or use/reuse them for next year.
This is optional, but you can add another Danganronpa couple if you want. Doesn’t matter if it’s canon, fanon, crack, or even OC x DR ship.
No stealing another person’s work! That includes commissions, requests, or art trades you ask for! However, you can commission or request a simple prompt day to draw/write from an artist/writer.
For artists, you can draw artwork in any type of style.
Spoiler alert! If the prompt you choose and what you draw/write contains a spoiler for a game or the anime, make sure you warn people! Especially those who are new to the Danganronpa series!
Final rule: Have fun!
Prompts:
Just like most prompt weeks from Danganronpa, this one will have three prompts to choose from. The event will run from January 10 to January 17.
January 10th: First Date/Birthdays/Memories/Warrior of Hope
First Date: This prompt means that Toko and Komaru are going on their first date as a couple.
Birthdays: This prompt means that either they are celebrating Toko’s or Komaru’s birthdays.
Memories: This prompt means that they are revealing their childhoods. However, since Toko’s past is trauma, add a trigger warning if it’s needed.
Warrior of Hope: This prompt means that Toko and Komaru are taking care of the Warrior of Hope members!
January 11th: Killing Game AU/Reality Game Shows/Talent Swap and/or AU Talents
Killing Game AU: This prompt means it’s an alternate universe where Komaru Naegi is a participant of the Killing School Life featured in Trigger Happy Havoc or both Toko and Komaru are participants of the Killing School Trip in Goodbye Despair or Killing School Semester in V3: Killing Harmony.
Reality Game Shows: This prompts means that Toko and Komaru are contestants on a reality game show, regardless if this is an AU (where the Danganronpa characters compete in reality game shows) or in the canon universe. For example, the two are a team in The Amazing Race (or in Total Drama Presents: The Ridonculous Race) or competing against each other in Survivor.
Talent Swap/AU Talents: This prompt is fun: let the girls get talent swaps and/or give Komaru a talent, doesn’t matter if the talent is used from the games/anime or a fan-made one.
January 12th: Beach/Having Pride/Sweets
Beach: This prompt means that Toko and Komaru are enjoying their day at the beach or having a summer vacation involving the beach.
Having Pride: This prompt means that the two girls are celebrating the Pride events.
Sweets: This prompt means that Toko and Komaru are enjoying sweets or desserts.
January 13th: Shopping/Reacting to COVID-19/Binge-Watching/Towa Arc
(Four prompts, with the fourth one being exclusive to artists!)
Shopping: This prompt means that Toko and Komaru are shopping. It can be grocery shopping, clothes shopping, anything.
Reacting to COVID-19: This prompts means that Toko and Komaru react to the pandemic. They can either quarantine themselves, stock up on food, spend more time outdoors or even be in the events of the Diamond Princess cruise pandemic. Or Toko and/or Komaru caught the virus and are now trying to get better.
Night Out: This prompt means that Toko and Komaru are enjoying a night out with each other.
Towa Arc: Artists can do this prompt. This prompt means to draw a moment from Towa Arc in Danganronpa 3: Distrust, which the story can be found on Archive Of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237316/chapters/66536032
January 14th: Weddings/Valentine’s Day/After Ultra Despair Girls
Weddings: This prompt means that Toko and Komaru are getting married in their own wedding ceremony or attending their friends’ weddings.
Valentine’s Day: This prompt means that Toko and Komaru are celebrating the romantic holiday, Valentine’s Day.
After Ultra Despair Girls: This prompt means that what will happen to Toko and Komaru now that the events of Ultra Despair Girls are over.
January 15th: Non-Despair AU/Crossover/Despair AU
Non-Despair AU: This prompt means that this takes place in an alternate universe where the killing game didn’t happen at all. So do anything with them!
Crossover: This prompt means that Toko and Komaru are in a crossover event. It can be anime, video games, cartoons, etc,. For example, they can be in a crossover with Pokemon.
Despair AU: This prompt means that Toko and Komaru had either fallen in despair for some reason, masterminds of the killing game or are part of the Remnants of Despair.
January 16th: Cooking/Soulmates/Insecurities
Cooking: This prompt means that Toko and Komaru are cooking either for each other, for their friends, or for a special gathering.
Soulmates: This prompt means that Toko and/or Komaru have a soulmate involving each other.
Insecurities: This prompt means that either Toko, Komaru or both of them has self-doubts, such as if Toko feels that she isn’t a good friend/lover to Komaru.
January 17th: Future Arc/Despair Arc AU/Spa Day/Free Day
Future Arc/Despair Arc AU: Final first prompt. This means that Toko and Komaru are forced to do the Final Killing Game along with the other Future Foundation members, including Makoto, Kyoko, and Hina. Or if you do Despair Arc AU, that means Toko and Komaru are part of Class-77B or even in an AU where the DR1 cast is Class-77B!
Spa Day: Final second prompt. This means that they are enjoying a day or the weekend at the spa.
Free Day: Third and final prompt. This is a free day prompt, meaning that you can do anything with this. Even add NSFW content (see Rule #1)!
If you have ANY questions, concerns, or suggestions for Tokomaru Week in the future, feel free to send asks or a message!
EDIT #1 (November 20, 2020): Two prompts (NSFW and Festivals/Events) had been replaced with Weddings and Holidays.
EDIT #2 (November 25, 2020): Two prompts (Stormy Nights and Holidays) had been replaced with Valentine’s Day and Despair AU.
EDIT #3 (November 30, 2020): Valentine’s Day got listed twice, oops. So one of them got changed to Shopping for the January 13 date. Also, added a bonus prompt for that day.
EDIT #4: (December 10, 2020): Three prompts (Animals, Cruise, and Sickness and/or Injury) had been replaced with Soulmates, Reacting to COVID-19, and Binge-Watching. A new rule has also been added!
EDIT #5 (December 20, 2020): Final update! A prompt has been added to Day 1 (Warrior of Hope) while Binge-Watching had been replaced with Night Out.
EDIT #6: Future Arc AU prompt also got a Despair Arc option as well!
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myonechicagoworld · 3 years
Text
CHICAGO FIRE – A COFFIN THAT SMALL (S01E19)
 [TRIGGER WARNING: kid trapped in laundry chute gif under the cut]
Matt Casey: Hey.
Heather Darden: I am so sorry. I completely zonked out.
Matt Casey: No worries. I didn’t want to wake you.
Heather Darden: What time is it?
Matt Casey: Uh, 7:00.
Heather Darden: Oops, I, uh, I have to pick up the boys from
                              grandma’s.
Matt Casey: Okay.
Heather Darden: Uh, the baking dish is still dirty, so I’m gonna
                              wash it.
Matt Casey: I’ll clean it.
Heather Darden: Matt.
Matt Casey: I saw this swing set fort type thing at True Value.
                      I’ve been meaning to build it for Griffin and Ben.
                      I’ll bring it and the dish by after shift. If that’s cool
                      with you.
Heather Darden: Thank you, you’re… that’s very sweet.
Matt Casey: Oh, come on.
Heather Darden: Mind if I use your bathroom?
Matt Casey: Of course.
                                    [knocks on door]
Kelly Severide: Hey.
Matt Casey: Hey.
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Kelly Severide: My dad wanted me to drop that off. His way of
                          apologising for you catching that elbow.
Matt Casey: Thanks.
Kelly Severide: All right, well, I-I’ll see you at the house.
Heather Darden: Do you have any mouthwash?
Matt Casey: Eh… it’s not what you…
                      Hey.
                      Hey! It’s not what you think!
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Kelly Severide: Yeah, I’m sure you’ve got it all figured out.
                                   [car door slams, engine starts]
                                                     cutscene
Christopher Herrmann: Hey! Any of you guys know John Pritchard,
                                         or are you all too young?
Matt Casey: He was gone before I came on, but I heard stories.
Mouch: Piece of work, that one.
Otis Zvonecek: What, he died or something?
Christopher Herrmann: Yeah! You know, Boden, Mouch and me,
                                          we all knew him back in the day. He
                                          must have been 20 years older than
                                          Boden if that tells you anything.
Otis Zvonecek: What did he die of?
Christopher Herrmann: Old man stuff. I don’t know.
Matt Casey: [chuckles]
Christopher Herrmann: Funeral is tomorrow up at Grayslake.
Otis Zvonecek: Are you guys going?
Christopher Herrmann: Yeah, I guess, you know? We should
                                         pay our respects.
Matt Casey: All right. Hydrant’s good to go.
Christopher Herrmann: [grunts]
                                         Peter Mills, you get to flush the next
                                         one.
Mouch: By the way, saikensha wa saimusha yori kioku yoshi.
Otis Zvonecek: What the hell’s that?
Mouch: You bet me I couldn’t say a sentence in Japanese. I just
              said one. You owe me 20 bucks.
Joe Cruz: [chuckles]
Otis Zvonecek: Okay. (A) I don’t remember that. And (B) how do
                           I know you’re not just speaking gibberish?
Mouch: It’s a sentence.
Otis Zvonecek: What’s it mean?
Mouch: Pay me 20 bucks, I’ll tell you.
Otis Zvonecek: Ridiculous. You tell me and…
Boy 1: Help! Help!
            He fell!
            We were playing hide and seek upstairs.
Victim 1 (Little boy): [groans]
Matt Casey: Hang on. We’re coming.
Victim 1 (Little boy): [strangled grunts]
                                                 - title -
Joe Cruz: (into radio) This is 81. I need a paramedic across from
                  our firehouse.
Dispatcher: (over radio) What’s the address?
Joe Cruz: (into radio) Look for our lights!
                  Let’s go, bro!
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Peter Mills: Hit it!
                                        [siren wailing]
Victim 1 (Little boy): [strangled grunts/breathing]
Matt Casey: His neck’s twisted. He can’t breathe.
Boy 1: I told Taye not to go in that chute. He knows better.
Matt Casey: Come with me.
                      All right, we have to get through this block.
                                             [buzzing]
Boy 1: [crying]
                                         [sirens wailing]
Matt Casey: (over radio) 61, we need you on the second floor.
                      It’s a child.
Gabby Dawson: What’s going on?
Otis Zvonecek: Kid hid in the laundry chute.
Joe Cruz: Mills, get in here.
Peter Mills: Yeah!
                                             [drilling]
Lady 1 (Mom): Dougie?
Boy 1 (Dougie): [cries] I told him infinity times not to hide in
                           there [cries]
                                 [indistinct chatter]
Matt Casey: Okay let’s peel back the front.
Lady 1 (Mom): Taye?
Chief Boden: Ma’am. Ma’am, don’t look.
Lady 1 (Mom): [gasps]
Chief Boden: We’ll get him out. Let them work.
Matt Casey: Get his head.
Lady 1 (Mom): Dougie… Honey, go upstairs.
Chief Boden: Okay.
Lady 1 (Mom): Oh God. Oh Lord.
Matt Casey: Let’s back him out.
Chief Boden: Don’t look.
Lady 1 (Mom): [cries]
Joe Cruz: [grunts]
                 Grab his legs.
Otis Zvonecek: He’s conscious but barely.
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Lady 1 (Mom): Taye! [cries]
Chief Boden: Okay, okay. Okay.
Lady 1 (Mom): [cries]
Joe Cruz: Grab his legs.
Lady 1 (Mom): Taye.
Leslie Shay: Let’s board him quickly.
Chief Boden: Hold on to me.
Lady 1 (Mom): [sobs]
Gabby Dawson: One, two, three.
                                                  [grunting]
Gabby Dawson: You the mother?
Lady 1 (Mom): Yes.
Gabby Dawson: You can ride in the back with me. Let’s go.
Chief Boden: Go on.
                                                cutscene
Gabby Dawson: I’ll be right back.
                            What have you heard?
Lady 1 (Mom): Um… the doctor says it looks bad. It’s a
                          damaged windpipe, so his brain was…
                          without oxygen.
Gabby Dawson: Well, they’ve got great surgeons here. They’ll
                             do everything they can.
Lady 1 (Mom): You know… Taye has been to your firehouse.
Gabby Dawson: Oh yeah?
Lady 1 (Mom): Yeah. His whole class went on a field trip last fall
                          when the school year started. It was all he could
                          talk about for days [chuckles] [sniffs]
                          He said he wants to be a fireman, help people.
Gabby Dawson: That’s… that’s sweet.
Lady 1 (Mom): [sniffs] Gangs are always calling, but he won’t bite.
                         He’s gonna be straight and narrow, and I believe
                         that.
Gabby Dawson: I’m sure he will.
Lady 1 (Mom): [sniffles] Thank you.
                                               cutscene
Matt Casey: You gotta be kidding me.
Mouch: I don’t know if I can handle another season like the
              last one.
Christopher Herrmann: Hope springs eternal.
Mouch: Hope never met a Sox September.
Otis Zvonecek: Yeah, well at least you guys have a series win
                           in the last century. Try being a Cubs fan.
Christopher Herrmann: There’s plenty of room on the
                                         bandwagon if you want to move to
                                         the south side.
Otis Zvonecek: Yeah. What are you, Pouch? You Cubs or Sox,
                           huh?
Christopher Herrmann: Look at her feet. She’s definitely a
                                         White Sox fan.
Joe Cruz: Guys, put a cork in it. I’m trying to listen to the
                 Hawk.
Mouch: Saikensha wa saimusha yori kioku yoshi.
Otis Zvonecek: What does that mean?
Matt Casey: Hey, if they score, come get me.
Otis Zvonecek: [muttering] Saikensha… Sai…
Chief Boden: Hey Lieutenant. I want to bring you up to speed
                       on what Kelly’s just filled me in on.
Kelly Severide: I’m gonna push to fast-track Peter Mills to
                          Squad. The youngest anyone’s every made
                          it was 23.
Matt Casey: You.
Kelly Severide: I think Mills can break the record. And I talked
                          to Chief Walker over at District, and he thinks it
                          would be great for CFD morale.
Matt Casey: Is that what you think, Chief? Great for morale?
Chief Boden: As long as he qualifies.
Matt Casey: Well, sounds like you guys have all the answers.
                                              cutscene
Peter Mills: You wanted to see me, Chief?
Chief Boden: As you’re aware, Lieutenant Severide thinks
                       that you’ll make a strong addition to Rescue
                       Squad.
                                          [door closes]
Peter Mills: Yes.
Chief Boden: I just want to hear your take on it.
Peter Mills: I’m gonna bust my ass to make it happen.
Chief Boden: Why?
Peter Mills: I’m sorry?
Chief Boden: Why’s it so important to you?
Peter Mills: ‘Cause I want to be an elite firefighter, sir.
Chief Boden: And this has got nothing to do with your
                       father?
Peter Mills: No, sir.
                    This has nothing to do with what my father did
                     or did not do with his time at the CFD. This is
                     about me
Chief Boden: Well, since you’ve been here you’ve put on ten
                        pounds. Which, from where I sit, doesn’t look
                        like a candidate willing to bust his ass.
                        [slurps]
                                             [door closes]
Gabby Dawson: Hey, how’s it going?
Peter Mills: Been better.
Gabby Dawson: You need me to take care of someone? Give
                             me a name.
Peter Mills: Not now.
                                               cutscene
Matt Casey: Heather Darden and me, we’re just friends. She
                      came over to talk and fell asleep on my couch.
Kelly Severide: Right. Got it.
Matt Casey: I don’t know what you want me to say here.
Kelly Severide: I saw what I saw, Casey. Sell your clean whistle
                          act to someone else, ‘cause I ain’t buying.
Matt Casey: You can’t imagine you might be wrong about
                      something, can you?
Kelly Severide: I can imagine a lot of things, just not the idea
                          of you rolling around with Andy’s widow.
Matt Casey: Come on.
Kelly Severide: Explain to me why Heather barely talks to me,
                          but she’ll sleep with you, even though you’re
                          the guy who put her husband through that
                          window?
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                                            [gunshots]
                                            [shouting]
                                       [glass shattering]
Firefighter: Get down!
                    Get down!
                                            [gunshots]
Christopher Herrmann: What the hell is going on in here?
                                        [tires squealing]
Chief Boden: You okay?
Kelly Severide: Yeah.
Chief Boden: Casey, are you okay?
Matt Casey: Yeah.
Chief Boden: What the hell is going on here, Detective? This
                        has always been a neighbourhood house.
Man 1 (Det. Ben Vikan): You tell me. No run-ins recently? No
                                         fires where one of your guys tried to
                                         pop off to the local…
Chief Boden: No.
Christopher Herrmann: We’re not cops. People are happy to
                                         see a firefighter show up.
Man 1 (Det. Ben Vikan): Could this be Voight related?
Matt Casey: Voight?
Man 1 (Det. Ben Vikan): When it comes to gang violence, the
                                         man has a long reach. He’s got a
                                         dismissal hearing soon.
Matt Casey: Not like Voight to stir up the nest if he’s trying to
                      free himself.
Joe Cruz: Man, why don’t you pick up one of these bangers
                  for something small and trade the bust for what
                  they know about the shooters?
Man 1 (Det. Ben Vikan): Corner boys in this neighbourhood
                                         are good. We can’t catch them with
                                         the drugs and make the bust stick.
                                         We’ll keep our ears to the ground.
                                         In the meantime, I’ll make sure we
                                         have a conspicuous police presence
                                         around the station.
Chief Boden: Meaning what?
Man 1 (Det. Ben Vikan): Put a special detail on it. Squad
                                         outside. Officer posted in the 
                                         house.
Firefighters: [muttering in disagreement]
Chief Boden: Well, that’s fine. So long as the men are safe.
Otis Zvonecek: [sighs]
Chief Boden: What?
Christopher Herrmann: Cops in the house is a bad precedent.
                                        Sends a message to the good residents
                                        around here that… we’re not a safe
                                        haven.
Mouch: You rather have one of us be killed?
Christopher Herrmann: Of course not.
Chief Boden: We will let the police handle their business, and
                        we… will handle ours.
Joe Cruz: [sighs]
                                          cutscene
                                [police radio chatter]
Otis Zvonecek: Never seen anything like this before.
Joe Cruz: So much for being the neighbourhood’s house.
                                     [engine starts]
                                   [dramatic music]
                                         cutscene
Lady 2 (Barista): Here you go.
Leslie Shay: Thanks.
Kelly Severide: Thanks.
Leslie Shay: Yeah.
Kelly Severide: Hey, any word on that kid pulled out of the
                           laundry chute?
Leslie Shay: I haven’t heard anything yet.
                      Hey, what’s going on with you and Casey? It
                      seemed like…
Kelly Severide: Oh, I don’t… I don’t want to talk about Casey.
Leslie Shay: Okay, fine. We’ll just enjoy watching you two
                      mark your territory.
Kelly Severide: Ah…
Leslie Shay: So what do you want to talk about?
Kelly Severide: So how would this work? With the, um…
                           insemination?
Leslie Shay: Well… basically, you know, I’d get a hormone
                      injection once a day for 12 days to boost
                      ovulation, then we’d go to a clinic where they
                      have rooms set aside for collection. Meaning
                      you know, they give you magazines or
                      whatever and you go in and do your business.
Kelly Severide: I mean, I get that part
                                         [chuckling]
Kelly Severide: How much does it cost?
Leslie Shay: Uh, all-in, 10 grandish.
Kelly Severide: 10 grand, are you serious?
Leslie Shay: Yeah.
Kelly Severide: You have that kind of cash?
Leslie Shay: I’m gonna stretch some card limits and cobble
                      it together.
Kelly Severide: I’m in.
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                                            [laughter]
                                            cutscene
Christopher Herrmann: What?
Mouch: You picked him up first?
Christopher Herrmann: Just get in.
Mouch: Now I gotta stare at the back of your head for an
              hour?
Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.
Mouch: Guess it’s better than getting shot at at the
              firehouse.
Boden & Herrmann: [laughs]
                                               [laughter]
Chief Boden: So I come home, try to climb in through the
                        window, but it’s shut. It’s locked.Oh, okay. I
                        thought I got a clean getaway, but no. Now
                        I gotta go around and ring on the damn
                        doorbell.
                                                [laughter]
Chief Boden: My old man, he’s just sitting in his chair.
                       Waiting for me. For hours.
Mouch: 3 o’clock in the morning.
Chief Boden: Alcohol on my breath
Mouch: Ooh! [laughs]
Chief Boden: He just stares at me, hard as nails. He says,
                       “boy, you got four choices where you’re going
                        to college… Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines…
                        pick one.”
Mouch: Wow.
Chief Boden: [scoffs]
Christopher Herrmann: At least your old man gave a damn.
Mouch: Oh, Bill Herrmann wasn’t so bad. I’m friends with
              Chris’s older brother, Larry. Your dad would throw
               the ball with us when he was home.
Christopher Herrmann: Larry did not disappoint him the way
                                         that I did.
Chief Boden: You never told me about your dad.
Christopher Herrmann: Aw, sold luggage to department
                                        stores all over the Midwest. He
                                        was on the road more than he
                                         was home.
Chief Boden: Is that right?
Christopher Herrmann: He wanted me to chase him into
                                         the business like my brother
                                         Larry did, so naturally I took the
                                         fireman’s test.
                                               [chuckling]
Christopher Herrmann: They got this whole thing…
                                         Larry and my dad.
                                         I don’t talk to him that much
                                         anymore.
Mouch: You should call him.
Christopher Herrmann: I should. It’d be that much worse
                                         when he didn’t call me back.
                                            cutscene
Gabby Dawson: [panting]
Peter Mills: What are you doing here?
Gabby Dawson: Maybe being quiet and keeping to
                            yourself is how it works in the Mills
                            family, but that’s not how the Dawsons
                             Dawsons do it.
Peter Mills: Is that so?
Gabby Dawson: Look, if you want to fly solo, you better do it
                             in bed with your eyes closed, okay? But if
                             you want to train for Squad, you better get
                             ready to talk while you run, ‘cause I’m
                             coming with you.
                             Hey. I want to be a part of whatever comes your
                             way.
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Peter Mills: Well, then you better tie your shoes first.
Gabby Dawson: Oh!
Peter Mills: [laughs]
Gabby Dawson: [laughs] Oh I’m gonna get you!
                                          cutscene
Chief Boden: This is the right time, right?
Christopher Herrmann: Paper said 3:30.
                             [organ playing in background]
Christopher Herrmann: Excuse me, is this the Pritchard
                                         funeral?
Man 2 (Mortician): Yes. Yes, we’re about to get underway.
Christopher Herrmann: Oh.
Man 2 (Mortician): Have a seat.
Mouch: Thanks.
Chief Boden: Thanks.
Christopher Herrmann: Are you kidding me with this? Didn’t
                                         he have, like, five sons?
Mouch: Yeah.
Christopher Herrmann: Where’s his family?
Man 3 (Preacher): Welcome, friends. We’re all here today not
                                to grieve but to celebrate the life of…
                                John Aaron Pritchard. Matthew 5:4 says,
                                “Blessed are they who mourn for they
                                shall be comforted.”
Mouch: Let’s get outta here.
Chief Boden: Amen.
Christopher Herrmann: So, like, I mean, that’s it? I mean
                                         what… half a dozen people, and
                                         no family, and a preacher who
                                         doesn’t even know his name
                                         without looking at the program?
                                         And where’s the truck with a half-
                                         raised ladder and salute to a fallen
                                         firefighter?
Chief Boden: Chris…
Christopher Herrmann: No, I’m serious. What’s my funeral
                                         gonna be like when I kick it? Or
                                         yours, Mouch, huh?
Mouch: Doubt I’ll care.
Christopher Herrmann: All the same, he deserved a funeral
                                         with respect for all of his service.
                                         And just because he waited a dozen
                                         years to die and moved out to the
                                         sticks doesn’t mean that he wasn’t a
                                         hero.
Chief Boden: Let’s go.
Mouch: Shotgun!
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Christopher Herrmann: This… this ain’t right! Grr!
                                               cutscene
                               [indistinct police radio chatter]
Matt Casey: Any word on the shooters?
Uniformed Cop: Nada.
Matt Casey: How was the funeral?
Christopher Herrmann: What’s worse than terrible? It
                                         was that.
Peter Mills: [groans]
Otis Zvonecek: What?
Peter Mills: Oven’s busted.
Christopher Herrmann: What? Blender is too.
                                                [buzzing]
Joe Cruz: Bad news. Remember that kid from last shift?
                  Trapped in the laundry chute?
Otis Zvonecek: Yeah?
Joe Cruz: Didn’t make it.
Gabby Dawson: He came here, this kid. He was here on a
                            class field trip.
                            He told his mom he wanted to be a fireman
                            when he got home.
Peter Mills: Wow, I recognise him. It was my first day. You
                    guys had me give the tour.
Otis Zvonecek: [exhales] Man I remember that.
Joe Cruz: Funeral’s on Friday.
Christopher Herrmann: Hey pop, it’s Christopher. Just…
                                         checking in. I know it’s been a
                                         while, and… anyway just call
                                         me back.
                                                 cutscene
Kelly Severide: You know what the worst part is?
Matt Casey: What is the worst part, Kelly?
Kelly Severide: That you don’t have enough sack to
                           admit you’re sleeping with Heather.
                           At least come clean.
Matt Casey: Keep walking. I’m done explaining myself.
Kelly Severide: You haven’t explained a damn thing!
                           That’s the point!
Matt Casey: ‘Cause you’re wrong!
                      Don’t come up on me again like this.
Kelly Severide: Really?
Chief Boden: What the hell is going on here?
                        In my office, now.
                                           [object clatters]
Chief Boden: We’ve been here before. Almost tore
                        this house apart.
Kelly Severide: This time, it’s different.
Chief Boden: Tell me about it.
Kelly Severide: Yeah, Casey, tell him about it.
Matt Casey: No offense, Chief.
                                          [door shuts]
                                            cutscene
Leslie Shay: So what do you think about the whole
                      Casey/Heather thing?
Gabby Dawson: Uh… I don’t know.
Leslie Shay: Hmm. You haven’t asked him?
Gabby Dawson: We’ve said like two sentences to each
                            other in a month.
                            Hey, what’s your name?
Man 4: Phillip.
Gabby Dawson: [laughs] All right, let’s get you up, Phillip.
                            Come on.
                            Here we go [groans]
Leslie Shay: Whoa!
Gabby Dawson: [chuckles]
Leslie Shay: Phillip, that is not the kind of full moon I was
                      expecting to see today.
Gabby Dawson: [laughs]
Leslie Shay: Come on.
Gabby Dawson: Here we go.
Leslie Shay: All right, keep your pants up.
Gabby Dawson: Whew! So Severide’s, uh, little swimmers,
                             huh?
Leslie Shay: Yeah.
Gabby Dawson: And who’s paying for this?
Leslie Shay: [sighs] I don’t know.
Gabby Dawson: You know, there’s another, cheaper alternative.
Leslie Shay: Oh, come on.
Gabby Dawson: What? I’m just saying.
Leslie Shay: Oh boy.
Gabby Dawson: Nature has already worked out a lot of these
                            details.
                            Come on. Oh!
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                                      [engine revving]
                                      [tires squealing]
                                       [horn beeping]
Leslie Shay: (into radio) I need a 10-1 to East Van Buren, now!
Dispatcher: (over radio) What’s the nature of the call?
Leslie Shay: (into radio) Someone’s stealing our ambulance!
                                       [horn beeping]
                                     [tires screeching]
Gabby Dawson: Hey!
Man 5 (Thief): What the hell?
Gabby Dawson: Pull over!
Man 5 (Thief): Shut up!
Gabby Dawson: You can’t steal an ambulance!
Man 5 (Thief): I said shut up!
Gabby Dawson: Listen to me, moron!
Man 5 (Thief): Quit talking to me!
                                     [horn honking]
Gabby Dawson: This ambulance has GPS. They can track us in
                             the city so they know where we’re at at all
                             times. When you hear the beep that means
                             that they’re about to shut down the engine!
Man 5 (Thief): What are you talking about?
Gabby Dawson: They’re gonna turn off the engine, lock up the
                             tires, and send your face flying through the
                             windshield.
                                       [sirens approaching]
Man 5 (Thief): That ain’t true!
                                      [police sirens wailing]
Gabby Dawson: Here it comes!
                                               [beeping]
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Gabby Dawson: You should buckle up!
                                       [beeping continues]
Man 5 (Thief): Damn it!
                                         [tires screeching]
Gabby Dawson: [heavy breathing]
Man 5 (Thief): [groans]
                                            [siren whoops]
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Gabby Dawson: Somebody call for an ambulance?
Leslie Shay: Come on, Philip.
                                                 cutscene
Leslie Shay: Hey.
Kelly Severide: Hey.
                                             [door closes]
Leslie Shay: [clears throat] I know this may not be the best time,
                      um, but I have a new proposal. So please don’t
                      say anything or make any funny faces.
Kelly Severide: Okay.
Leslie Shay: Okay. Uh… I can’t afford the insemination. So I’ve
                      been thinking about Plan B. And I propose…
                      when the time is right, you go into your room with
                      magazines or Skinemax or whatever you need to
                      get yourself ready. And then with the lights out,
                      you signal me by calling out my name once. You’ll
                      hear your door open, footsteps. And… and then
                      you’ll be mounted. You will finish your business
                      inside of me as quickly and efficiently as possible.
                      And then I’ll be out the door, so you can clean up
                      or whatever you need to do. At which point, I will
                      need to be alone. Most likely to cry. And we will
                      never speak of this to anyone ever [chuckles] for
                      the rest of our lives. And… I thank you for
                      listening. Just think about it.
                                         [door shuts]
                                           cutscene
Gabby Dawson: [sighs]
                                      [phone buzzing]
Gabby Dawson: Here we go. Here we go.
                            Sit. Sit.
Mouch: What the hell are you doing?
Christopher Herrmann: I’m not standing near any windows.
Mouch: Well, it ain’t exactly easy to watch the ballgame with
              you staring back at me.
              You think the shooters are going to text you before
               they open fire?
Christopher Herrmann: I broke down and called my old
                                         man. I got nothing back.
Otis Zvonecek: [sighs] Mills, what’s for lunch?
Peter Mills: Oh, um, I was bringing in some beef tips but I
                     don’t think they’re gonna taste that good raw,
                     so, uh, we can do some pimento cheese
                     sandwiches…
Joe Cruz: How about Al’s beef?
Peter Mills: Okay, all right. We’ll do Al’s beef.
Matt Casey: Call it in.
Peter Mills: I will. All right.
Mouch: Oh Otis!
Otis Zvonecek: Yeah?
Mouch: Uh, saikensha wa saimusha yori kioku yoshi.
Otis Zvonecek: Seriously, up yours, Mouch.
Mouch: [chuckles] Hey, you know who knows how to
              translate that? Andrew Jackson [laughs]
Chief Boden: Dawson, where’s Shay?
Gabby Dawson: Uh, I don’t know.
Chief Boden: This is Tara Little. She’s a candidate. She’s
                       gonna be riding along with you guys for the
                       next few shifts for evaluation.
Gabby Dawson: Cool.
Lady 3 (Tara Little): Hey, so nice to meet you. I’ve heard
                                 a lot about you.
Gabby Dawson: Oh, don’t pay any attention to what these
                            guys have to say. Especially Frick and
                            Frack over here.
Lady 3 (Tara Little): Oh, which one’s Frick?
Gabby Dawson: [chuckles] Come on.
Matt Casey: What’s that?
Peter Mills: Oh, it’s… yeah I keep the cooking club cash
                     hidden here. That-that’s cool, right?
Matt Casey: Yeah. Yeah it-it’s fine. I’ll get the food.
Peter Mills: No, I don’t mind. I’ll grab it.
Matt Casey: I got it.
                                      [car door shuts]
Matt Casey: I want to talk to whoever’s in charge.
Young Man 1 (Dealer): Nah, get back in your truck.
Matt Casey: Not a cop. Not armed.
Young Man 1 (Dealer): Nah man, get back in your truck.
Matt Casey: I just want to talk.
                                 [game sounds on TV]
Young Man 1 (Dealer): [clears throat]
                                         [door closes]
Matt Casey: You in charge?
Young Man 2 (Greshawn): Who wants to know?
Matt Casey: My name’s Casey. I’m the Lieutenant at
                      Firehouse 51 down the street.
Young Man 2 (Greshawn): So?
Matt Casey: Someone tried to pop a couple shots into our
                      house in broad daylight. Could have killed
                      someone. Someone who works to protect
                      this neighbourhood every single day. Now I
                      know why. You guys hide your drugs in the
                      hydrants, don’t you?
                      Look, we have to flush those hydrants twice
                      a year. Otherwise one of these buildings is
                      on fire… yours maybe. It burns down
                      because there’s no water in our hoses. You
                      know, I’m not stupid enough to think that
                       you’re gonna give up selling your junk
                       because I come in here, but I’m telling you,
                       you hide it in the hydrants, it’s gonna get
                       flushed.
Young Man 2 (Greshawn): You done?
Matt Casey: No. Like it or not, we all gotta coexist here,
                      right? This is our neighbourhood. You
                      don’t own it.
                                          [door closes]
                                             cutscene
Leslie Shay: Hey. Guess what?
Kelly Severide: What’s up?
Leslie Shay: Well, my dad just called. He’s gonna pay
                      for the insemination. Says he was
                      worried that he’d never be a grandpa.
Kelly Severide: That’s great.
Leslie Shay: Yeah. So you know, back to Plan A.
                                           cutscene
                                [indistinct radio chatter]
Otis Zvonecek: You know what? Fine.
Mouch: Saikensha wa saimusha yori kioku yoshi.
              Creditors have better memories than
              debtors.
                                        [train passing]
Mouch: Hey, Lieutenant, okay if we make a quick
              stop. Won’t take long, I promise.
Matt Casey: Sure.
Mouch: Cruz, take a right here.
Matt Casey: This is the right place?
Mouch: This is it.
Christopher Herrmann: Aw, come on Mouch. What
                                        is this?
Mouch: Just wait. I want you to see this.
Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.
Man 6: Randy! How are you?
Mouch: What do you say, Larry?
Man 6 (Larry Herrmann): Good to see you man. Hey.
                                           Chris.
Christopher Herrmann: Hey, Larry, how you been?
Man 6 (Larry Herrmann): You’re not getting away with
                                           a handshake. Come here,
                                           little brother.
Christopher Herrmann: Yeah, good to see you.
Man 6 (Larry Herrmann): [chuckles] All right.
                                           Hey.
Christopher Herrmann: Hey. Wow you guys have grown.
Man 6 (Larry Herrmann): Yeah. How long has it been since
                                           you’ve been here?
Christopher Herrmann: I… don’t remember. Uh, dad around?
Man 6 (Larry Herrmann): No, he’s in Boston. He’s supposed
                                           to be selling socks to Filene’s
                                           basement, but he’s probably
                                           already in line for bleacher seats at
                                           Fenway. Randy called and said you
                                           were down about dad. So come on.
                                           There’s something you should see.
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Man 6 (Larry Herrmann): You should hear him talk about his
                                           son the firefighter. I can’t get him
                                           to shut up about it.
                                                  cutscene
                                          [dishes clattering]
Chief Boden: Okay.
                        Mrs Leppert.
Lady 1 (Mom/Mrs Leppert): Chief.
                                                Hello. I’m sorry to bother you.
Chief Boden: No, not at all. We’re all very sorry about your
                       son.
Lady 1 (Mom/Mrs Leppert): Thank you. You may know he was
                                                here once. And… he wanted to
                                                be a fireman ever since. Anyway,
                                                he would have been happy to
                                                know you guys were there at the
                                                end. And he would have wanted
                                                you to have this. Thank you for
                                                what you do in this
                                                neighbourhood.
Chief Boden: Thank you.
                        We owe this kid. We owe Taye better than this.
                         We are better than this.
                                              [somber music]
Christopher Herrmann: I have an idea.
Chief Boden: Ten-hut!
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Chief Boden: Present arms!
                                               - end -
Definitions:
Saikensha wa saimusha yori kioku yoshi = Creditors have better memories than debtors
Hope springs eternal = Said when you continue to hope that something will happen, although it seems unlikely
10-1 = Fireman/firemen needs emergency help
Frick and Frack = English slang term used to refer to two people so closely associated as to be indistinguishable
Filene’s Basement = Department store company
Ten-hut = Come to attention!
14 notes · View notes
viviae · 3 years
Note
can you like. tell me a little about dragon age. seeing your posts about it has got me interested in playing but i have little to no clue what it actually is
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Boy can I explain nonny <3 This is a bit long so strap in and im sorry
Dragon Age is (currently) a three game series composed of Dragon Age: Origins (PS3, Xbox 360/Xbox One, PC), Dragon Age: II (PS3, Xbox 360/Xbox One, PC), and Dragon Age: Inquisition (PS4, Xbox One, PC) and its really unique because of its selling point that your actions impact the games as you progress. Like if you kill one character in one game they’ll stay dead through the rest of the series which makes you feel lived in the story and that your actions matter. Dragon Age is also an RPG so a roleplaying game kind of along the same lines of DnD where you get to make and play your own character. And yes there are romances and you can be gay.
The First Game of the series is Dragon Age: Origins where you choose from a selection of six unique (technically seven) origins or backgrounds for your character. You can be anywhere from a human noble or a Dalish elf, the unique elven culture in Dragon Age of nomadic clans dedicating to reclaiming their past. But eventually, from the events in your origin, you wind up a member of a secretive and elite order known as the Grey Wardens whose duty is to protect the world from the Blight.
The Blight is this spread of a horrible disease known as the Taint but is characterized by the presence of Darkspawn, a kind of zombie like creature who exists only to destroy the world. Grey Wardens take the heavy duty of protecting the world from the Blight, which have nearly wiped all of humanity multiple times, at all costs. And currently the country of Ferelden is under going a blight and due to events you wind up the only Grey Warden with your companion Alistair to save the world and reunite Ferelden which had fallen under a civil war.
Along Origins you meet many interesting characters. Alistair is your friendly co-warden who has a mysterious parentage that he hides under his happy go lucky attitude. In contrast to Alistair is the witch Morrigan who is your favorite goth swamp queen who would insult you and you thank her. In addition you meet your chaotic bi rogues Zevran and Leliana. Leliana is a nun who is on the run and hiding from a dark past and she is suspiciously good at murder. And Zevran is not at all hiding his aptitude for murder as an Assassin for hire who tried and failed to kill you but who can ignore that charming bastard?
Dragon Age II follows a much smaller story of a Ferelden refuge who had escaped from the Blight to the city of Kirkwall named Hawke. Unlike in origins where you get to pick your background 2 limits you to Hawke but fear not, Hawke is a loveable bastard and you can still customize them. Throughout DA2 you get to experience all the delights Kirkwall has to offer: Demons, crime, corrupt cops, and fighting your way to survive in this city and make a name for yourself.
Where Origins sets the stage for the world DA2 you are the actor in that play - literally the game is divided into 3 acts that take place over a span of 7 years. DA2′s main conflict is the argument of Mages vs Templars, as in DA’s lore while there are those who are born with magic they are forced to live in prisons policed by the Templar order and the church. You explore the more political arguments of; are the Templars right in their fears of magic as Kirkwall is filled to the brim with corrupt mages or do Mages deserve the chance to live and prove themselves freely from their prisons.
Your romancable companions in DA2 are all bisexuals as the true theme of DA2 is: be gay do crime. You have the foils of Anders: the runaway mage who fled from the prisons the mages are housed in and is determined to bring mages to freedom, and Fenris: the runaway escaped slave who curses magic for only inflicting pain and suffering in his life and wants his warnings to be heard about the dangers magic bring. In addition you also have Merrill, your cute but terrifying Dalish mage who would probably murder you with a cute smile and then go oops. And of course, my pirate wife Isabela, who lives a life free from commitment and is dedicated to the idea everyone should have a good time no matter the cost. Also while not romancable Hawke’s bff Varric deserves every ounce of praise he gets as never before has the energy of “two idiots sharing a braincell” ever been so well adapted.
Then finally we reach Inquisition. After the events of DA2 it triggers a full on war between the Mages and Templars that is destroying the land and causing severe damage that neither side can handle anymore. Desperate for an end to the conflict the Divine (err... fantasy pope) calls for a meeting on both sides... only for the entire thing to literally explode. Killing everyone present and causing a hole in the sky which now means demons are raining like cats and dogs you are the only one to survive. In Inquisition you can once again return to pick between unique backgrounds like in Origins but you don’t get to play through those backgrounds sadly.
You now possess something on your left hand which gives you the ability to patch up the hole in the sky that is pissing demons and due to being the only survivor everyone is incredibly confused about you. Eventually the Inquisition is formed around you, the character they are calling the Herald of Andraste (Andraste is fantasy Jesus) due to your ability to seal the holes. The mystery unfolds as over the course of the game you learn what caused the explosion, how you are connected, and what exactly the mark on your hand is.
DAI has the largest numbers of romance options so I’m gonna give a quick bullet point list for them all
Iron Bull (Pansexual, All Races): A Qunari (think Tiefling but big and beefy) mercenary who is far more clever than he lets on, as well as being the rope top dom of your dreams. Literally! Bull’s romance is a really healthy bdsm relationship if you are interested its very well done
Josephine (Bisexual, All Races): Your loveable ambassador and advisor for the inquisition. She is a workaholic noble who is a tried and true classic romance. Sweep her off her feet and duel for her hand all while navigating the nobility
Dorian (Gay, All Races): The flamboyant pariah rock star mage, he demands attention whenever he walks into the room. Although he wants to be all talk and no emotions make no mistake he is making puppy eyes at you the entire time and gets deeply offended if you say he is. Also not going to lie Dorian is the best piece of gay male rep in gaming history.
Cassandra (Male-only, all Races): Your stern warrior wife who is all serious no funny business... expect she is a bleeding heart romantic who reads horrible smut for fun. You wish to COURT HER?? I mean... if you want 👉👈 she won’t say no...
Blackwall (Female-only, All Races): Your weird dilf who wants desperately to prove himself every step of the way and help people. He is a constable for the Grey Wardens, but all the details on him seem murky... Ah well I’m sure its nothing, the Grey Wardens are a secretive order after all.
Sera (Lesbian, All Races): My wild child, monster chugging, beer guzzling, arrow shooting lesbian. Sera is here for a fun time and not a serious one, she’ll always make sure to keep you humble and ensure you aren’t getting to big for your breeches. 
Cullen (Female-Only, Human and Elf only): Cullen’s the Inquisition’s commander who oohh boy is steeped in a lot of trauma. Cullen’s actually a character you get to know through out the series and see just all the horrible nonsense he’s been through. But he is your tragic self loathing... he isn’t princely but he is your adorkable charming
Solas (Female-Only, Elf Only): The humble apostate who joins the Inquisition out of curiosity of the breech, he is an expert on what the hell is going on with that hole in the sky. However, he holds a wisdom that goes far deeper than your typical apostate. Smooth talking and refined he carries a heavy cloud over him.
I left out a lot and all the nonsense with books and what have you but this is the easiest overview of the series I can offer. It’s main selling points is the deep story and characters throughout the games. And of course who doesn’t love the ability to make and roleplay your own character as a bonus? The games are bit of a flawed gem and Origins in my ugly child but they are truly a delight if you are interested
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jonathanrook · 3 years
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legally i have to give you intern 2
em you have awoken an ungodly beast inside me so i need to warn everyone that this post is. incomprehensible. but so is mymusic so i guess we're all used to it.
How I feel about this character:
i watched mymusic as it was airing/running/coming out specifically bc i'm a jack stannie, and as a kid melvin was my second favorite character (w scene being in first, obvs) for mostly that reason. he basically hovered around this ranking until my most recent rewatch in the summer of 2020, which was actually spurred by some events in my personal life that vaguely reminded me of scene's season two arc w jeff, and i thought it'd been a funny/nostalgic way to get my mind off things.
(i want to side note here that -- i know you didn't ask, but -- i love jeff. i have since i was a kid. like, obviously not as a person but i think he's honestly the best written character in the series, w indie close in second. idk what it says about the f*nes that their most interesting and well rounded characters are the villains, but i digress. to this day i'm salty that jeff never got added to the theme song and wasn't really included in promotional merch.)
however, in said rewatch, certain things about how he was written started to really get under my skin, and certain moments in particular have really stuck out to me in a negative way. like, for the entirety of season one and a good chunk of season two he's one person, and then he leaves mymusic and we have an entirely different person, but not in a nuanced character building sort of way.
i've said a few of these points before but i'll repeat them here regardless. at the risk of sounding like i've put on a tin-foil hat, it's my sneaking suspicion that scindie was supposed to be endgame, but since fan reception to it was pretty neutral, and scenechart stans were, at the very least, more vocal, changes were made to the intended finale, which is why in the last scene he's basically just. indie. like, if everything about the show was exactly the same but indie was the one who had ended up w scene in the end that would have made so much more sense since a) scene had a crush on indie that he/everyone knew about and b) indie was kind of a dick despite the half-assed attempts at redemption, so both combined make it slightly less weird/out-of-nowhere that he kisses her w/o her consent (since, even though like. implied consent is not real at worst and a fuzzy subject at best but you could argue that scene would want indie to kiss her); and this isn't even taking into consideration that c) melvin is heavily queer-coded in both seasons, with his friendship with nerdcore being, dare i say, homoerotic at times, and his arc about leaving the company and changing his name mirroring nerdcore's almost perfectly (with nerdcore being a character who b*nny [at least] has all but confirmed is actually gay).
i've also been on the fence about melvin's behavior in that final scene making more sense for indie's character being an intentional decision as a way of shoe-horning in a theme about the lasting effects of abuse/cycles of abuse/the corruption of power but i also don't think the f*nes are smart enough for that. however, for the sake of defending my straw theory, i also point to the scene where indie comes to visit the acid factory after melvin told him to shut up, and we see melvin use reggie as a foot-stool, going as far as to say that it feels good to do so (which, in all honesty, i think is a bit that was entirely improvised, since the f*nes were "notorious for never saying cut" [paraphrased from a bts video], but work w me here). he's also given a seltzer mug that perfectly resembles indie's kombucha mug. in these moment melvin is directly emulating the behavior of his previous abuser, purposefully or not, literal moments after being promoted to an equal position of authority, which was totally just included as a joke, but could also be argued is meant to show that he's becoming indie; or, if we acknowledge that the f*nes have no fucking clue what they're doing and were just directing like chickens with their heads cut off, it at least shows that melvin's new position of power is leading him to understand where indie was coming from, which is supported by their conversation in the finale.
the following contains a couple brief mentions of irl sexual assault so if that's something you'd like to avoid skip to the next section!
HOWEVER, that alone isn't what i have a problem with, since i think melvin is completely justified in being a dick to indie (and also reggie enthusiastically consents to being used as an ottoman so good for him i guess). the issue comes completely in how he treats scene in the scenes where the f*nes clearly thought what they were writing was super romantic. like, the fact that the only thing he's got hung on his cubicle wall is a single picture of scene taken from the fucking opening credits (like. how hard would it have been to have. literally any other photo[s] esp since there's an abundance of cute bts pics of the cast in costume that could have been put there) and him scrolling through her twitter at work really creep me out (and at the risk of oversharing the weird, like, social media stalking angle really fucks w me bc that may or may not have been the exact fucking thing i was trying to escape in rewatching mymusic in the first place). also, having him sexually assault scene as a means of comforting her after she had just been sexually assaulted in the same way by someone else was... a choice (which is also, uh, personally familiar).
again, i recognize that demonizing melvin wasn't what the f*nes were trying to do here, and i perhaps seem hypocritical for opening liking jeff, but what makes jeff work is he's intentionally "the bad guy." having melvin do the same things as indie and jeff uncritically only proves further that the f*nes can't write for shit, and ruins his character which had, up until he quit mymusic, been unironically good. like, it's obviously not beneficial that the exact asshole things he does are personally triggering, but the character would still be a mess and i would still dislike him regardless.
i want to say though that jack delivers a surprisingly great performance despite how shoddily his character is constructed and how little experience he has as an actor. like, it's clear he was having a lot of fun on set and i would love to see him in something, like, good; i think he could pull off even like, guest television roles, which is a lot more than can be said for other youtubers.
-----
All the people I ship romantically with this character:
nerdchart should have been canon i'm sorry. i know that close, nonromantic male friendships are valuable, esp between queer men, but also gd wouldn't it have been baller to have a canon interracial mlm ship. like. c'mon. and they could have been such a good friends to lovers story! we already got to see how melvin was the only person nerdcore could really be himself around so it would have been so cool if melvin's self-advocacy arc/flowchart arc had revolved more around nerdcore with a little role-reversal! and then they kiss! like god intended!
also i ship him and indie bc i'm a grubby little gremlin man ohoho. enemies w weird sexual tension? sign me up. not even enemies to lovers i'm not saying this one should have been canon i just love the vibes. do you think melvin and indie ever explored each other's bod-- *gunshot*
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My non-romantic OTP for this character:
i wish him and scene had just been bros. god remember in season one when they were just bros that was the life.
alternatively, i wish we'd seen more bonding w him and metal, as a means of reconciling that. uh. moment from season one. along similar lines i would have loved to see him get closer w rayna in a similar way to how she bonded w nerdcore in season two. i think that could have also worked to show how she'd grown between the two seasons.
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My unpopular opinion about this character:
HIM. AND. SCENE. SHOULD. HAVE. JUST. BEEN. BROS. (though i think my general dislike of him is pretty unpopular, lmao).
when the show was coming out i don't think it's unfair to say that scenechart/scenetern 2 was the most popular ship (aside from potentially techstep whatever) but luckily we're all gay and have better taste now. unfortunately i totally fell into this camp and scenechart was even my otp for years (until it was arguably more unfortunately usurped by reddie in 2019) and i didn't even realise that it's a hot mess until, again, the summer of 2020.
when actually watching the show the choices the f*nes made in regards to how the ship actually became canon are so odd and out of place, too? okay, so, on one hand everyone just shipped scenechart bc it was the whitest hettiest ship in the show (esp in season two when idol left) aside from scindie (and we already discussed what's wrong w that). but, on the other hand, lainey and jack clearly also just got along? and i suspect that lainey probably also admired jack's work and was happy to be working with him bc we have so many shots throughout even the first season when the ship wasn't the intended endgame of lainey scene looking really fondly at jack melvin at times when it doesn't make much sense at all, esp since she's smitten w indie? this trend continues into the second season which arguably works but it still seems really out of place for him to be the one to ultimately make the first move on her since it's clear she was the one crushing this whole time and also he's gay! this bitch is gay what the fuck!!
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One thing I wish had happened with this character in canon:
at this point i'm struggling to think of anything i haven't covered yet. oops.
i've talked at length before about how he should have been a woman/lesbian, but the tl;dr is that it would have solved a lot of the queer-coding "problems" that just didn't get resolved in the show. if he'd been a lesbian then not only would the friendship w nerdcore still made sense, but scenechart would have as well (not even mentioning that both of scene's other relationships w men make a lot of sense as comphet anyway).
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whumptober · 4 years
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Whumtober 2020 - OBSOLETE PLEASE SEE NEW PINNED POST
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**This prompt list is incorrect.  Please see the updated event info here.**
Welcome to Whumptober 2020! We’re doing things a little differently this year so please make sure to read the Event Info carefully. We are also excited to announce the addition of an AO3 Collection, which can be found here. 
We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!
(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information, and FAQs are posted below the cut!)
No 1. LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME
Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging
No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY "Pick Who Dies" | Collars | Kidnapped
No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint
No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building
No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue
No 6. PLEASE.... "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, please"
No 7. I'VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker
No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation
No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD "Take Me Instead" | "Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice
No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood
No 11. PSYCH 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying
No 12. I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust
No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask
No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire
No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong
No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage
No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused
No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia
No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor's Guilt
No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval
No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection
No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU? Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal
No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation
No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation
No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears
No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD... Migraine | Concussion | Blindness
No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage
No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged
No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest
No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury
No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead
Event Info
WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 Official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don't have to include the exact wording into your work). Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme.  These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.
Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, and photo/video/audio edits. Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.
When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:
#whumptober2020 …..(the event tag)
#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)
#bruised, #stabbed,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)
#fandom/OC
#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)
#tw:, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags)
#nsfw, #nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)
PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober2020 blog. They must be tagged in the order above.
Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.
Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month.
Questions not addressed below can be directed to this blog as well.
Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!
Frequently Asked Questions
Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?
This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gif set or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)
Q. Do I have to do all 31 Days? Can I post early/late?
Participate as much or little as you like, and post whenever! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.11, #psych101). Combining prompts into one piece of work is okay, and posting late is as well so as long as it’s in October.
Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?
Send us an ask! We’re happy to help clarify. That said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :)
Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?
Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)
Q. Can I upload/repost my whumptober content to other social media platforms?
Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. The archive can be accessed here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)
Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).
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umbry-fic · 3 years
Text
A Palette Full of You (2)
Summary: Glimpses into Colette and Lloyd's lives as they grow up together, learn who they are, and fall in love with each other.
(Written for Colloyd Week 2021)
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Chapter: 2 of 6 Word Count: 4212 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 10/06/2021
Chapter Title: Save the Children!
Chapter Summary: Lloyd and Colette take a break from studying and decide to play a video game. Colette starts to ruminate a little on how she's different from the rest of her classmates...
(Colloyd Week Day 2: Sidequest)
Notes+Warnings: Chapter 2 of my multi-chapter Colloyd week fic! Colette and Lloyd play a bunch of Kameo: Elements of Power. Lloyd is bisexual. This chapter might have a bit of internalised acephobia so beware.
Chapter list Full fic Previous chapter Next chapter
~~~
12-years-old
"There! Over there!" Colette shouted, dropping the Xbox controller onto her lap and gesturing frantically towards a corner of the television screen. In her frantic excitement, she completely forgot that Lloyd was sitting right next to her on the sofa, her elbow banging straight into Lloyd's arm.
Lloyd, startled, pitched to the side and pushed the joystick on his Xbox controller in the same direction.
Major Ruin, who Lloyd had been controlling to charge up a Bolder Rush, executed the move at this exact moment as Lloyd let go of the right trigger.
And so Major Ruin careened right off the edge of the platform, as per the directions Lloyd had just inputted into the game. The tragic end to a glorious adventure. Kameo would never rescue her father from her sister’s evil clutches, for she had fallen to her death from a high height... by complete accident. Or maybe it would be better to class this as incompetence?
Oops.
"Oh, no," they both muttered at the same time, staring with their mouths open in horror. Colette reached out uselessly towards the TV, as if she could reach into the game and stop Major Ruin’s fall.
As if.
The armadillo look-alike Earth elemental (except a lot spikier) continued to fall while flailing their stubby limbs uselessly, eventually hitting the ground with the familiar and resonant "thud", accompanied with the dreaded snapping sound that had populated much of their playtime in the Snow-top Village. The thin and winding ice paths throughout that area had led to many a death from fall damage as they had tried to get their hands on the elemental fruits hidden away among various corners. Now that they were in the Ancient Tower, with its dark, foreboding, narrow stone corridors lit only by the sparest of torches sitting in sconces, where there was only one path forward and they were caged in by walls, Colette thought their falling episodes would be over. It was a bit claustrophobic, really.
It appeared that was not the case. Fall damage was eternal, and it would haunt them always, following them everywhere and showing its face at the most inopportune of moments.
Major Ruin morphed back into Kameo's petite, winged form, collapsing to the ground with a pained groan. Lloyd's side of the screen faded to black before he respawned at the last checkpoint, erasing a full 20 minutes of progress. The Kameo that Colette controlled was now completely alone in the chamber, performing her idle animations as Colette’s controller went untouched. Lloyd dropped his Xbox controller into his lap as well, leaning back against the sofa as he let out a groan of his own.
There was no sound apart from the whirring coming from the Xbox under the TV, the game music, and the "whup-whup" of the blades of the ancient standing fan in the corner of the living room, struggling in its job to blow "cool" air at them and combat the viciously hot weather.
Lloyd had every right to be frustrated with her; she had a tendency to kill him in-game. It wasn't murder, just manslaughter: knocking him off the cliff, setting both of them on fire, or startling him in general. It wasn't just in Kameo. Her clumsiness and butterfingers translated to every genre. No matter the game - Mario, Minecraft, Maplestory - she always found some way to cause a game over.
But he'd never directed any frustration or anger towards her. These are just silly games, he said every time. Much easier to laugh over the mirthful consequences together than get mad. Whenever they had the time to play video games together, the air was filled with nothing but laughter, a few frustrated grumbles from when they were struggling at a particular level, and the occasional rib from Lloyd’s end when she messed up. That's what made it incredibly fun. What the two of them had termed "game-time" never failed to put a smile on their faces.
And it was an effective destresser! It was a great relief to be able to channel all the stress from studying for PSLE into beating up trolls in Kameo. That appeared to be Lloyd's favourite part of the game - racking up combos with his favourite character Pummel Weed. Though she had to say her favourite part of the game so far was watching the cutscenes that played after rescuing the baby elementals from the prisons created by the nefarious shadow trolls. The wacky transformation from adorable blob to full-fledged elemental, complete with the blob sprouting arms and growing claws or shells, was… interesting to witness.
"Sorry," she sheepishly said, still feeling the need to apologise as she patted his hand. "Didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I found the last child!"
"Oh, really? Where?” Lloyd asked eagerly, attention turning back to the TV. “I couldn't see anything. It's all so dark."
"Over there." More calmly this time, Colette pointed out the child encased in a translucent ice crystal, tucked away in a corner of the platform hidden in shadow. She’d forgotten the name of this species, and could only describe them as cuttlefish that had taken human form. What were they were doing so far from the Mountain Falls? Weren't they native to that location? "We need to free them quickly! This is the last child."
“The last - you’ve been keeping count?!” Lloyd asked, voice rising in volume and shock written clearly across his face.
“Yeah! The mother said there were three, and we’ve rescued two. She must have been really worried, or she wouldn’t have begged us to save her children. I want to reunite them as soon as possible!”
"Alright. Ice, huh? It'd be similar to the other crystals we got rid of in the snow area. So just turn into Ash!" Lloyd suggested.
"Oh, you're right! Thanks for the reminder!" Colette opened the transformation wheel with a quick press of a button and proceeded to fumble with the joystick for a full minute while Lloyd slowly crawled his way back up the tower. She kept pushing too far to the right and overshooting Ash's dragon head on the wheel to land on Thermite, before overcorrecting to the left and landing on 40 Below. Frustration slowly piled up until she groaned, burying her head in her lap. This was embarrassing. She couldn't even navigate a simple menu like this, even after months of playing this game. Butterfingers, once again.
"Lloyd, can you open the main menu? I'll just pick Ash from there."
"Nah, we don't need to open Wotnot. Let's give Ortho a break for now," Lloyd replied. She knew that wasn't the real reason. Lloyd just didn’t want to hear from the eccentric wizard trapped within the paperback book that doubled as the main menu. "Here, let me help. But you need to get up first!" She straightened up, still sulking as he smiled at her, looking like he was holding back laughter at her predicament.
Lloyd stretched out his hand and placed his index finger over her thumb, gently guiding her thumb on the joystick so that the selection square landed right on Ash's head. Colette watched as Kameo hunched over and transformed into the red, clawed, scaly dragon that was the fire elemental Ash, tail slowly swaying from side-to-side as his wings flapped.
"You're so good at this..." she muttered, glancing down at her controller where Lloyd's hand was still placed over hers. They were only 12, but his hands were already slightly bigger than hers. He'd gotten his growth spurt in the earlier part of this year and shot up in height; now half a head taller than her. It was a slightly startling change after being the same height for the six years they'd known each other. He would likely only grow taller as time went on. As for herself... Maybe she'd gain another 5 centimetres by the time she was 18, if she was lucky. Given the actual state of her luck, she'd probably stagnate at her current height. Tallness was just not in the cards for her.
Not that she minded. The added height made him rather comfortable to lie on. If he gained just a few more centimetres, his shoulder would be the perfect height to rest her head on… That would make movie nights all the more comfortable.
Plus, the height change was just that. A physical change. Inside, Lloyd was still the same person - the boy who loved playing with Noishe but hated doing his homework, and would do everything in the world to avoid it. He hadn't changed. Not a single bit.
"Don’t sweat it. There are so many things you’re good at too! If it weren’t for your keen eye, I would’ve missed the kid entirely… So don’t be too bothered!” Lloyd gave her hand one squeeze before removing his hand, returning to his quest of returning to Colette's location. "Now, melt the ice!”
Colette did exactly that, leading the lumbering Ash over to the entrapped child and unleashing his fire breath. She watched with bated breath as the ice slowly melted, causing more of the child to be exposed to the air. They had previously used this exact same technique to unearth elemental fruits in the icy caverns filled with those icky bugs that exploded when defeated and obscured the screen with blue juice. It had been exciting then, to stumble upon secrets because of their penchant for exploration. But watching the child slowly be freed, watching their tentacles slowly start to move as they came into contact with warm air, was an entirely different experience, one that filled her with joy.
When was the last time the two of them completed a side objective like this, one that had direct effects on a citizen of this magical world? Casting her mind back informed her that that would be the starting town, when they returned to water the farmer’s crops with Deep Blue.
Now that the last child had been fully freed, all the children went running back to their worried mother, who proceeded to pull them into a giant group hug. Colette dropped her controller, clapping her hands together at such a sweet sight. Lloyd did laugh, then, a chuckle that she could feel rumble through her as well from where their shoulders touched. "What are you so excited about?" he asked.
"We did it! We saved all the children!" she exclaimed, watching the mother pull out one of the large elemental fruit in thanks. "Doesn't that make you happy? That we were able to help someone... That's what makes these side objectives fulfilling, right?"
"Yeah, I guess. It's just like you to get like this over a video game,” Lloyd replied, watching Kameo hoist the elemental fruit into the air, where it magically shrunk in size to fit in her bag. Colette wondered how Kameo’s bag even worked - how did it store Wotnot and dozens of elemental fruits? It was like a black hole. Just like Noishe's stomach.
“Though..." Lloyd frowned, staring up at the clock that hung on the wall, whose hands indicated that it was 2 pm. "Time’s up. We should get back to revising before Mom gets home from the vet with Noishe."
"Oh, you're right..." That was a downer. Time had flown so fast; their 20 minutes were up already!
The moment had come to return to the dining table and the assessment books that sat open on it. Studying was never fun, but it just had to be math today, and the chapter just had to be nets. Her most hated subject, combined with the topic she hated most. It was a headache all around.
But Lloyd was surprisingly good at nets, and he'd been a great help the whole day. Even if he still hated math with a passion and always got stuck on algebra questions, where it was her turn to assist him. That was why studying together was effective! They could fill in the gaps for each other, and motivate each other to keep going. Just three months left to go until it was all over! They could do this, and they would get through it. Together, just as they would every predicament that came to pass in the future.
"Um, and before you go home today, could you help me with something else?"
"What is it?" Colette asked, reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table. Lloyd was staring at the carpet, his hand absent-mindedly pulling at the hem of his singlet, separating the fabric from sweaty skin.
“Ellum’s birthday present,” Lloyd muttered, his voice getting softer with each word he spoke, until she could barely make out the words. “His birthday is in two weeks, and I…”
Ohhh.
They had a habit of telling each other almost everything, for any secret was always safe with the other. So she knew why Lloyd was clamming up. Ellum was his current crush, after all.
“Say no more. Of course I’ll help you! We can do whatever you want!” she replied with enthusiasm. She'd be happy to help.
"Thank you," Lloyd replied, meeting her gaze again with a tiny smile lighting up his face. "Now, let's get back to studying."
They made the short walk to the dining table, taking their seats across from each other. Lloyd's face was already starting to twist into a grimace, resigning himself to another few hours of torture at the hands of the twisted people who made their livelihood setting math questions.
Clearing away the Kit Kat wrappers on her assessment book, she glanced down at a question about nets she'd been working on before the break. Yet not a single word on the page was being absorbed. They were all running away from her.
The downside of Lloyd confiding in her for all of his crushes was that it was a stark reminder that she hadn't had her first one yet. And then, inevitably, her mind would drift further to all the little ways she stood out from her classmates.
It was like everyone around her had changed drastically overnight at some unknown point in time. The jokesters of the class had just started making dirty jokes one day, prompting scandalised glares from the rest of the class but also prompting snickers. She herself didn't get the joke half the time, just laughed to go along with everyone else.
Then there was the shift in daily conversation. Instead of discussing their favourite Pokémon, more often than not the other girls would now discuss in hushed voices while giggling which celebrity was the most attractive. She herself would sit quietly, trying to melt into the wall as she observed without interjecting, half fascinated and half horrified. Weren't they all too young for this?
Things got even more awkward when she was forcibly pulled into the conversation when someone directed a question at her. She had no idea what to say whenever someone showed her a picture of a celebrity and asked her to rate them. The only thing she ever managed to stutter out was that their eyes were a nice colour, and so was their hair. That... was how you judged a person on how attractive they were, right? Everyone else, though, seemed to think she was weird. But how was she supposed to be feeling? No one had ever taught her. It felt like everyone was keeping a secret from her on how these things were supposed to work, then making fun of her for not getting it.
She only got more confused every time something like that happened. All she wanted to do was go back to talking about her favourite cartoons, but that didn't seem to be an option. Lloyd wasn't in the same class as her, so she couldn't even sit with him and ignore everyone else. The only time she could meet up with him during school hours was at recess. She didn't know what Lloyd talked about with the rest of his friends. Maybe the same stuff. But she didn't really care, because, with him, she could just be herself. There was no need for tiring pretence.
All she could do when the girls were in a mood to discuss celebrities again was sit a little outside of their circle, counting down the seconds remaining for class to start while she tried to look as occupied as possible. She couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief every time the topic of conversation turned back to something a little easier to understand, like video games.
But surely, someday, she would understand.
She was waiting. For that day. For her to finally catch up to everyone else in the race she hadn’t even known she’d entered until everyone had left her in the dust, still standing with her mouth agape at the starting line. To finally be like everyone else, to be able to fit in seamlessly. But there was no use getting down about it!
She just had to meet The One. Then everything would change, everything would fix itself. That's what happened in all the stories, the shows, the movies, after all.
Because everyone, in the end, learned to feel the same way, right?
~~~
19-years-old
"Right! I think that’s enough for now.” Colette’s voice shattered the serenity of her room from where she was sitting on the bed with her laptop balanced in her lap, cutting through the sleepy fog that was starting to fill Lloyd’s head. The peaceful Ghibli tunes that had been filling the room cut off abruptly as she shut her laptop screen, reaching a hand up to undo her messy hair bun.
Lloyd yawned, rubbing his eyes and hoping that would make his eyelids feel less heavy. Pushing himself up from his belly-down position on the bed, he caught one last glance of the back of Colette's neck before her hair covered it again. Doing prep for uni was not the most exciting way to pass the afternoon, and it certainly wasn't normal fare for a date. But it had to be done, so they might as well do it together, as they did all things.
Though he'd gotten distracted and started scrolling through YouTube about an hour ago.
"Are you going to change out of pyjamas?” Lloyd asked, stretching, his shirt hiking up slightly. He’d taken the lift down the three floors that separated his apartment and hers in the old HDB block that they’d stayed in all their lives, rang the doorbell while staring at the Chinese New Year decorations that were still hung up despite the month now being April, and waited for Colette to open the door… Only to be met with the sight of Colette in her favourite doggie pyjamas, the baby blue button-up ones that covered every inch of her skin. She'd shrugged and said it was cold from the non-stop rain, but he knew the real reason was the lazy post-A-levels haze, that affected him as well. These days, sleeping in until noon was the norm. Or sleeping in until one of his parents came into his bedroom to knock him awake.
“Yeah,” she replied, grabbing a towel and a few articles of clothing from the open wardrobe and heading towards the doorway.
“Alright.”
Lloyd closed his laptop slowly, not wanting a repeat of the time in Secondary 3 he’d shattered the screen because Zelos had sneaked up on him and caught him unawares. He rolled off the bed, making the small trip of barely a few steps to the study table, passing the various objects Colette had up on the walls - the Disney posters she’d gotten ages ago, and the random stickers she’d amassed over the years from school club sales and donations - and the bay window filled to the brim with cute and huggable soft toys, a familiar Siberian Husky that showed the signs of being well-loved sitting atop the pile.
Lying on the study table was Colette’s Nintendo Switch, plugged into a socket to charge. Right next to it was a jar holding paintbrushes of all sizes, all of them as clean of paint as possible, for he knew Colette took extremely good care of her art supplies. The sketchbook no one was allowed to peek into was sticking out of the table’s drawer, half-used pads of foolscap and sheets of paper with pencils rolling in them visible within. Files that he’d nearly kicked, containing lecture notes and worksheets, were shoved into messy piles under the table, unneeded after the conclusion of examinations but having no convenient place to be stored. The tiny shelf sitting on the table still had her Junior College badge housed on one of the layers, silver in colour and reflecting the light from the windows, despite her having no use for it ever since they had graduated in November. (Perhaps she liked looking at it? She was something of a magpie sometimes.) He could spot a familiar conch shell, placed among other knick-knacks, mostly birthday presents.
Picking up the handheld (with its lime green and cyan JoyCons firmly attached), he unplugged the charger and watched the screen light up - and frowned at what it showed him.
"Hey, Colette!" he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. He hoped he could catch her before she entered the bathroom. Uncle Frank was working in the master bedroom no more than five metres away and had been nothing less than incredibly nice, as he always was, providing tons of refreshments and snacks. Lloyd would like to prevent a shouting relay if possible.
If Colette had been walking, she shouldn't have reached the bathroom yet...
The fast pitter-patter of bare feet against the floor informed him that he was right. "What is it, Lloyd?" Colette's head poked its way into the doorframe, her golden hair reaching down towards the floor, her blue eyes wide and questioning.
"You left Animal Crossing on," he answered, waving the Switch in the air.
Her eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh. You know what to do, right?"
Control the playable character and put her to sleep, then save the game. He'd done it before.
"Yeah, but, I was thinking... I haven't taken a walk on your island since last year. How about I take another tour while you're in the bathroom? If you're okay with it, of course."
"Oh, sure! I trust you." Colette smiled sweetly, turning to leave before pausing and turning back. "But remember -"
"- remember not to step on the flowers." Lloyd finished her sentence easily, stating that fact very seriously. He knew about Colette's concerns about her precious flowers, which she’d spent hours arranging around her little island until they were in just the right spot - fields of rainbows to welcome any guests and guide them around. He hadn't known that the stems of the flowers could break from being trampled multiple times when he first explored her quaint world - the fictional flowers were just as fragile as their real-life counterparts. He’d kept that in mind ever since, adding it to the many rules to follow to ensure no harm came to all the hard work Colette had put in to make her island perfect.
"Yep. Um…” Colette wrung her hands together, bowing her head so her hair formed a veil over her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a step towards her.
“No, nothing’s wrong!” Colette hurriedly replied, lifting her head again. She screwed her eyes shut, hands clenching into fists. “I - uh, just wanted to say… I love you!”
The last three words came out in a shout, so quick that he almost didn’t catch them.
Lloyd froze, trying to process what he’d just heard - and before he could reply, Colette was already gone, having fled down the corridor and out of sight.
He slowly shut his mouth, which he hadn’t even realised was open.
This was the first time she’d said those coveted three words since they'd started dating. Her voice had been dripping with uncertainty, her posture betraying her shyness, but no matter how contradictory, she’d said it with sincerity, with all her heart. And even though he didn't need to hear them from her to know she loved him, for it was actions that counted, and certainly didn't need to hear them from her for him to love her, it still made him smile, his whole soul filled with a light warmth.
They’d travelled such a long way from all the checkpoints in life that they'd passed together. They still had a long way to go, but they’d do it together. As they always had.
"I love you too, silly," he said into empty space, knowing Colette couldn't hear him but wanting to say it anyway.
Lloyd unlocked the Switch screen, staring down at Colette's intricate creation. Flowers filled the screen, black, grey, white, purple, that he found familiar but couldn't put a name to. Oh, well. He would just tour the island and check out any new changes while he walked to the living room and waited for Colette to come back. Maybe he'd visit the town centre as well.
The most vital question to be answered was... Had Colette gotten those froggy chairs that she wanted for the townspeople?
~~~
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