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captainlevisteacup · 3 years

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All Characters, the Nicknames MC has For Them, and the Events That Follow: A Wholly Unnecessary Thread

Warnings: None, unless you count demon boys being butthurt about being called out

Enjoy my stupidity!

Lucifer👿🖤🥀☕🍷

Luci

Pridey Pants

Gordon Ramsey of Life

Mom

Loosen-up Luci

Jesus's emo brother

*cough* Daddy *cough*

The results of these nicknames....they were not pretty. MC calls him Luci? He doesn't LOVE it. Does that small scary smile that MC knows (or should know) not to push.

Pridey pants...ohhh boy. MC says it at dinner....is absolutely terrified when he doesnt do anything. After dinner, follows MC into the hallway to dole out *ahem* punishment

Beel is the only one to understand the Gordon Ramsey one. Starts booming laughter

Mom. Oho. This is the second worst. Happened when MC asked Luci to pass them a steak knife. Ended up with the knife being thrown into the table, inches from MC's hand.

Ah. The worst one. Jesus's emo brother. He doesnt even know where to begin. The brothers AND Diavolo have to SPRINT away to keep from cackling like crazed lunatics. Simeon is the only one who openly laughs. Kitchen duty for 2 months. Absolutely worth it. Would do it again without hesitation.

Mammon💛💵💰💳

Mammory Gland

Finding Nemo Seagull (Mine! Mine!)

Crow

Tan Elsa

Greedo

General Greedous

"Ehhhhh? What's a mammary gland?"

*muffled Satan laughter*

Mc has to explain the crow one, because apparently it isnt common knowledge that crows love shiny things?

Tan Elsa. Levi was crying when this one slipped out of MC's mouth. All Mammon could do was be offended. After much, MUCH coaxing, reluctantly agreed to dance to "Let it Go" in a dress.

Levi💜🐍🎮🕹

Has a thing for degradation, so you can really only insult him with anime stuff

Levi Heichou (if you get this, we can be friends)

Leviathan the lonely

Snake man

Mermaid Boy

Snekky snek

Levia-hand

He could ignore all of them.....except for

LEVIA-HAND

I mean come on!

"MC did you really have to go there? That was really-"

"Below the belt?"

"UGH MCCCCC"

*distant suggestive Asmo noises*

Satan💚💢📚

Angry bean

Grumpy kitty

Nerd

Angry librarian

Blond, angsty James Charles

Fashion disaster

There isn't a single one of these that DOESNT make Satan want to break something.

Who is James Charles? Fashion disaster?! "I happen to dress very nicely, thank you very much"

"How am I a librarian? I just read, it's very different, honestly MC"

Refuses to even acknowledge "grumpy kitty"

Asmodeus😘💋❤💅

Asmo-dick-us

Ass-mo

Momo

Polly Pocket

The kinky one

*jokingly* slutttttt

He, surprisingly, doesn't mind any of them. He thinks it's really cute that MC has nicknames for him. He always encourages you to call him them more often, and even makes a bunch of them for MC. His favorite one is Momo, because:

"Its just so cuuuuuuute!"

Beel🥺🍔💪🏻

Sexy Vacuum man

The last Weasley

Snack Buddy

Hungry Bean

Un-beel-eavable

These all make the boy SO HAPPY

MC cares enough to make nicknames for him?

*happy Beel noises*

Wait. MC thinks he's sexy?😳

What's a Weasley?

He has a snack buddy?☺☺☺

Belphie🙁💭💤🛏

Sloth man

Sleepyhead

That bastard with a choking kink

Killer grip

The emo twin

Black Sheep

"I woke up like this" master

He wants to be mad. He really does. But there's a problem: he can't argue with ANY of them. Kinda makes him smile just a LITTLE

Is glad MC has forgiven him enough to actually JOKE about the choking incident.

Spends a lot of time trying to get someone to explain what "emo" means. Levi knows what it means, and refuses to tell him because he thinks its funnily accurate

Dia👑💮🔥

Double D Dia

Big Tiddy Divvy

King of the Boobs

Díablo

Milk man

Firehead

The rich, gay uncle

There isnt a single minute he doesn't find these hysterical. He thinks it's a charming human world custom, to give someone a nickname. He also thinks it shows how comfortable with him MC is.

His favorite is easily DD Dia. Mc noticed his body? *smirk* interesting

Why are so many of them boob related? MC does realize he is a male, right?

The rich, gay uncle. Diavolo has no words. Absolutely shook.

Lucifer overheard some of these...was appalled MC was harassing the PRINCE with their ridiculous nicknames.

He was about to go off on a terrified MC, when Diavolo stepped in laughing and told Lucifer....

"Calm down, Mom."

Mc nearly choked on their own suppressed laughter

Barbatos had to quickly usher them away so MC could openly laugh and therefore breathe

Barbatos 🧐👀🐀🕓

Barbie

Simply one hell of a butler

Sebas-chan

Time warp man

Chuck E Cheese

The cake maker

Understands every single reference, is actually surprisingly cool with it, as long as MC doesn't embarrass him with it.

Diavolo catches wind of what MC is calling Barbaties, eventually starts adopting the nicknames

The only one Barbatos doesn't like is "Chuck E Cheese", because he hates rats so so much. How dare they compare him to one of those disgusting creatures?

Simeon🌙🤍🌹🌈

Boomer

Dad joke central

Beautiful man

Sinful shoulders

Angel Dad

Sin-ammon Roll

Simeon can't decide between being flattered or appalled. He's not THAT old. Nor is he a father! Well, maybe more of a father figure in regards to Luke, but still! He doesn't tell THAT many dad jokes.. right?

Blushes intensely at Beautiful man and Sinammon roll. Wonders if MC really means that or is just teasing him.

Eventually he makes the stupid decision to ask Asmo....wrong move. Asmo ends up laying out all of Simeon's desires towards MC, the week following he can't even look MC in the face. MC has no clue what happened and starts to think it was their fault.

They confront Simeon about it after a while, and Simeon full on breaks and confesses to MC

Asmo takes full credit for this happening

Solomon😑🖤💫🧙🏻‍♂️

Shady Lady

The sus one

Kinky dude

Draco malfoy

Doesn't mind MC having insulting nicknames for him....he has them too. Starts swapping them with MC to see who can make the other laugh harder.

Sometimes, the brothers will sit in and listen while they exchange them, and they'll keep score and vote on who wins

Eventually, Diavolo and Simeon get involved

Barbatos caters these events

Luke😇👶🏼🌸🧁

Baby angel

Son

Woof

Puppy

Little doggo

The poor boy has no idea which one he hates more. Gets so flustered whenever MC calls him one of these that his whole face turns red

Simeon tells him its adorable every time without fail

This makes Luke even worse. All MC has to do is call Luke one of the names and its fair game for Luke hunting

The only one he actually...kind of...likes is Son. He likes the idea of MC as a parent figure.

Which leads him to realize: what if MC and Simeon got together! Then MC WOULD be his parent

Gets Solomon and Barbatos to help bring MC and Simeon together

They end up bombarding the two with an obnoxious Valentine's day-esque cake

Did it work?

#obey me #obey me headcanons #beel obey me #leviathanobeyme #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #simeon obey me #luke obey me #solomon obey me #diavolo headcanons #obey me lord diavolo #headcanons

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inexplicifics · 3 years

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Figured I saw how you liked peeps putting their own flair into your universe so thought id actually sit down and join in, because ive had Thoughts about my own self insert in your universe already so why not share! Anyway heres a bullet list about them, Purnella of the Crane School!

first off gen. trivia—

-Was fifteen and fresh from their trials when Ciri was brought to Kaer Morhen

-Was one of the late comers to join the Warlord, since word is slow coming when you’re at sea without a sorcerer or xenovox

-Has a sketchbook filled with ink sketches of all the various creatures theyve come to know in their experience, and they use these illustrations to narrow down what a victim has seen because You have No Idea how little ‘It looked like a giant snake with pointy teeth and white eyes!’ narrows it down when it comes to sea creatures. They use the ribbon their best friend gave them as a bookmark in it.

-All cranes love gadgets. This is common knowledge. But the amount of different and unique devices Purnella uses is insane even by their standards— harpoon gun, crossbow with a grappling hook shot, pistol rounds that explode into a net when fired to easily take down and entangle targets without wounding them, and their favorite— a little wrist mounted hooking/trolley device that lets them navigate ship rigging like a zipline.

(this is just part one btw;;)

(ok heres part two)

now further plot slash backstory because im incredibly hyper-focused on character plots

-Early childhood was spent in an orphanage after being dropped off there as an infant, matron was never certain but most assumed they were born under a black sun

-Matron was always very strict when it came to chores, telling them if they dont make themselves useful , shell turn them out on the streets alone. Was probably never truly serious, but Purnella assumed she was and internalized the idea that ‘If I make myself useful, I get to stay with my friends/my school/the crew/etc’

-As a result they overworked themselves to the point of exhaustion for years, until they actually got sat down by Triss for it when the sorcerers joined them in the keep.

-Had a best friend named Shiloh, a elven girl who also lived in the orphanage (this is literally just my oc from dragon age inquisition, ive put a version of her and cole(a canon character from da:i) into quite a few diff medias because im unhealthily attached to them both. purnella is already my self insert im being self indulgent already so why not) who gifted her a little lilac ribbon the day they left after being ‘adopted’. Shiloh calls them Purnie. Shiloh also once taught them how to fold paper into shapes that look like various animals. no this isnt a joke about paper cranes what are you saying—

-Was ‘adopted’ by a noble who fancied himself a scientist and wanted to discover what makes the children of the black sun dangerous, as well as figure out if theres any distinct sign that someone was born under the black sun in general

-As a result, even before becoming a witcher they were covered in scars from multiple experiments. the main one being scars from a procedure more similar to a vivisection or autopsy than an actual surgery(they were ‘lucky’ enough that the bastard was rich enough to have proper medicine because he damn well wasnt properly trained)

-His manse laid on a seaside cliff, and when he had a Specially Important Visitor interested in his ‘findings’, Purnella was able to free themselves from their cell and launch themselves through a window, over the cliff, and into the sea

- cough cough it was stregobor the visitor was stregobor

-Purnella woke up on a ship, where theyd been pulled aboard after the crew had noticed something floating in the sea water

-This boat had a crane witcher on it, resulting in Purnella eventually being taken ‘under his wing’ as a trainee.

-Shiloh eventually shows up at Kaer Morhen to entreaty the White Wolf to help her avenge her friend, who never ended up visiting her again after being adopted by a man who has gone on to experiment and murder Several More children of the black sun since then

-Tbh Purnellas mostly just happy to see Shiloh and learn that she remembered them, and should probably be worried about the situation but is mostly just! rlly happy!!

—also side note shiloh had No Idea their friend purnie was actually Alive! and There!! so shes extremely happy. also she grew up to become someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of veterinarian medicine and animal trivia, so she ends up staying at the keep as their trusty vet along with her boyfriend cole who isnt actually human, hes a garkain, but hes shy and kind and helpful and doesnt hurt anyone and im Refusing to separate Shiloh and Cole in Any Universe i put them in, and so there

is this all an excuse to have them hunt down and go to war with/murder stregobor? yes because fuck him— and i cannot stress this enough— in the face with a chainsaw covered in pissed off hornets.

anyway im a big fan and keep coming back to this series for more so i hope you liked this slash wasnt annoyed by the ramblings;; have a good day!

Purnella sounds like a delight! I am extremely pleased to know you're having such fun in my sandbox.

(I couldn't figure in how to copy over the picrew but Purnella looks great!)

#questions answered #fic of my fic

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tossawary · 3 years

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Chapter 26 “ What You Want” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

Oh, this got so long, though. I was like, “An opportunity to wax poetic about Moshang dynamics and characterization? An opportunity to talk about why my interpretations of Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua are Like That? SIGN ME UP.”

【Beginning next mission stage.】

【Death of the Author - Part 2: The Secret Basement of Shang Qinghua.】

【Mission objective: place the Weeper’s Eye on the pedestal.】

Shang Qinghua slowly sits up on his sofa. He stares at the pop-up window for however long it takes his brain to roll over completely.

“I don’t have a fucking basement?” he says finally.

AN: I have been waiting to use “I don’t have a fucking basement?” for months. Also, it’s been years for him, so Shang Qinghua is a little oblivious, BUT I would like to point readers all the way back to some paragraphs from Chapter 2.

Excerpt from Chapter 2: “A Horseshoe Nail”:

Shang Qinghua considers the point loss. What are his excuses character motivations here? Why is his unmerciful System not completely skewering him for this?

He is the servant of a demon lord, Mobei-Jun, the future Northern King, so he has a greater investment than most cultivators in the future of the Demon Realm, so it’s not unreasonable for him to seek out any bastards of Tianlang-Jun without handing the demon baby over to a righteous sect. He’s also a Peak Lord of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, so it’s not unreasonable for him to be interested in any rumors of the whereabouts of Su Xiyan or what happened to her, for political leverage or whatever. The character of Shang Qinghua originally was and still is a spy - on top of being a shameless coward willing to cling to anyone’s thighs and then stab them in the back, in order to stay alive or advance himself.

There are plenty of magical artifacts in this world that might give a power-grubbing weakling like Shang Qinghua an insight into the future. As Peak Lord of An Ding, Shang Qinghua is, in fact, in a pretty good place to get his greedy hands on one of these magical artifacts. Isn’t that what a good spy and overall ambitious snake would do?

Especially a spy serving a demon lord extremely likely to get fed up with him and kill him at some point? While also serving a righteous cultivation sect extremely likely to execute him for eventually betraying them? Of course Shang Qinghua would obviously want to know how to save his own ass from these ticking time-bombs! And how better to save his own ass than shamelessly clinging to the golden thighs of the protagonist, who will one day conquer every other demon lord and all righteous sects?

Following Luo Binghe means being on the endgame winning team!

Shang Qinghua looks over the pop-up window’s numbers over again, in regards to the loss of points. True, how exactly he tracked down Su Xiyan’s half-demon baby when the Huan Hua Palace Master failed is a bit of a plot-hole, but the rest can be easily explained away with a bit of creativity!

Oh, the rest of the cultivation world didn’t know Su Xiyan was pregnant? Well, Shang Qinghua is a slimy, sneaky spy, who would of course guess that a female cultivator might suddenly disappear like that for months-on-end due to a secret pregnancy! And given that Su Xiyan’s reputation had been linked to a passionately self-destructive Tianlang-Jun… Okay, he can feel the anti-fan rage at that mildly sexist line of thinking, but it stands! It stands!

Now, Shang Qinghua just has to… actually decide… whether or not he wants to take the point loss, in order to save the life of his protagonist son’s adoptive mother, Luo Jiahui.

Shang Qinghua, my darling fool of an Author God, your System is listening to the things you say and think.

I have been WORKING here to foreshadow where I’m going with this story. I’m pretty sure that every single endgame plot point has shown up and is now in play in PINTWILF. Shang Qinghua, due to situational awareness, is dealing with too much in-world shit to narrow things down easily, but it’s all there! It will hopefully not seem as though I’m pulling things out of nowhere in the next and final part (Part 4) of this fic.

“This makes me look crazy, bro,” Shang Qinghua complains to the System. “It really does. I already have to be careful about talking to the secret, world-controlling system that lives in my head and this? This is not making me look any more stable! Where did this come from? Where the fuck did I even get it?! ”

Oh, things are coming together in Shang Qinghua’s head and he doesn’t know if he really likes the picture. On one hand, it’s always nice to actually have someone or something to blame for things beyond the fucking System. On the other hand, he really doesn’t know how the fuck he’s supposed to sleep at night with a full-length, polished silver mirror with an ornate golden frame under his house.

AN: Shang Qinghua, have you noticed that you’ve stopped losing points for continuity errors and plot holes? Shang Qinghua, you know that the people in your life have noticed that you know too much. They’ve just decided not to question you about it because you always look like you’re going to faint when they do, then you laugh and change the subject.

But now Shen Qingqiu is on to you and he’s not so easy to shake.

(Plus Shen Yuan! They’re terriers, SQH!)

He turns away from the mirror, only for a second System window to pop up in front of him. Only… the design of this one is different. Familiar, though! It takes Shang Qinghua a second to place it as Peerless Cucumber- as Shen Yuan’s Transmigration System.

【 Users cannot be injured, killed, or trapped inside the looking-glass! The user will not be able to touch or be touched by anything inside the looking-glass! The user will be returned from the looking-glass within thirty minutes, unharmed! A substantial point reward is attached to this bonus mission. 】

“Right,” Shang Qinghua says.

This second pop-up window then shifts colors and is ruthlessly closed before his eyes. Ah, wow, Shang Qinghua kind of feels like he just saw someone get murdered here.

“...How many points?” he asks finally, reluctantly curious.

AN: Having the Systems fight is so much fun. My setup here in PINTWILF has it so that there’s a main Worldbuilding System that does its best to maintain the world, then each transmigrator has their own personal Transmigration System managing their case.

This is so the Worldbuilding System can maintain the world without the presence of transmigrators, and so the personal Systems can potentially follow their transmigrators into another world. All the Systems interact with each other in order to try to manage things and there are... issues.

Look, the thing about simulated (or managed) realities for me is... someone coded the thing (or did some equivalent of coding the thing), and whether or not this thing in question is the world or just the System, if there are multiple entities trying to manage things, there’s going to be fuck-ups. You can’t have two cooks in the kitchen without points where the two cooks get in each other’s way at least a little bit. If there are multiple Systems, then you’re going to have friction, and that friction can be funny.

Inspired by me trying to run two heavy art programs on my computer at once and being like, “Oh, boy, please don’t burst into flames while duking it out in there. Oh, man, you two were NOT made to operate together, huh?”

He knows he’s right when he walks away from some kind of important-looking procession, stepping into the next room at the same time as someone else, who looks directly at him and doesn’t look away. Shang Qinghua freezes in the doorway and doesn’t let himself stare so much as he can’t stop himself.

“Oh, no,” Shang Qinghua thinks.

There’s a man standing in front of him, tall and broad-shouldered, with an ageless youth, but a sharp gaze and no youthful roundness to his features. His curly black hair has been cursorily held back from his face by a golden ornament, but is otherwise loose, and he wears his ornate red and black robes well and correctly, but like a man with a hundred more.

The man flicks a strong hand at the doors behind Shang Qinghua, which slam shut with a bang, like he’s done this a thousand times before.

He smiles unkindly. “Shang-Shishu,” he says, like he’s tasting the title, considering tearing it apart with his teeth. “So it's true. How curious.”

There’s no way for Shang Qinghua to count how many times he’s seen this face before, but he’s never seen it like this. The man looks like an emperor. He looks like a god. The red mark of the Heavenly Demons burns like a crown in the middle of his forehead.

Shang Qinghua takes an unwilling step back.

“What are you afraid of?” the original Luo Binghe says, still smiling. “We’re only talking.”

AN: I tried to make this meeting mirror Shang Qinghua and Luo Binghe’s first scene in Part 3 of the fic, in which we finally meet the Luo Binghe (Shang Qinghua’s nephew) who is going to interact with the PIDW plot.

Excerpt from Chapter 18: “The Inevitable Plot”:

The restaurant is closed when Shang Qinghua lets himself in. The tables in the dining room are still packed up, lit by dim light through shuttered windows, and the only sign of another person are the chopping sounds coming from the brightness of the kitchen. Shang Qinghua stops in the doorway and lets himself stare.

There’s a young teenage boy standing at the counter, thirteen going on fourteen, still not yet near his adult height (taller than Shang Qinghua, a fact he's still not prepared to face), still carrying a youthful roundness to his features. Shang Qinghua has seen him like this a hundred times before: curly black hair tied back, a kerchief covering his head to keep it out of his eyes, a slightly yellowed matching apron neatly tied just the way his mother taught him, and intent on the work in front of him. His hands are quick, the knife sharp and sure, and the movements of food preparation work slide right into each other like he’s done this a thousand times before.

When did the boy get so big? It didn’t happen all at once; it snuck up on them, hiding dastardly in plain sight! Shang Qinghua remembers when his nephew barely came up to his waist. Fuck, Shang Qinghua remembers when his nephew couldn’t walk. What is this? Who allowed time to pass like this?

Luo Binghe scrapes the chopped vegetables off the board and into the basket beside him, before putting down the knife and turning around. He smiles.

There’s no way for Shang Qinghua to count how many times he’s seen that before.

“Uncle,” the protagonist says fondly. “You’re here.”

“Let’s talk,” Luo Binghe calls out, cajoling now. “Stop running and speak to me and perhaps old hurts can be forgiven. All that condonation and betrayal is so far in the past now. This lord can be merciful, Shang Qinghua. Just speak: how many things have you been hiding...?”

AN: This is PIDW Luo Binghe, by the way.

Once I realized I was going to have a room full of fortune-telling devices, I was like... “Ooh! Bing-Ge scene! I should have a Bing-Ge scene!” Because, like, that’s the curse of SVSSS transmigrator protagonists who trip into caring about Luo Binghe, baby!

Shang Qinghua takes some deep breaths to calm his poor, weak heart, and nearly falls to the floor anyway! But he catches himself!

And then a large, cold hand wraps around his arm to steady him. It’s the cold that keeps him from lashing out and probably breaking his own hand. Instead, he looks up, heart still pounding in his ears, into the frowning face of Mobei-Jun.

“Oh, you have the worst timing,” Shang Qinghua breathes.

Mobei-Jun’s expression twitches and he lets go.

“No!” Shang Qinghua chases the hand with his own, catching it before the man can get too far. “My king, I’m so glad to see you! Thank you for finally coming! I have so much to say,” he says quickly. “I-”

Before he realizes that he’s essentially holding Mobei-Jun’s hand for no reason now - ah, now that’s something he never would have dared to do like twenty years ago - and carefully drops it. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the panic still racing through his veins. And then promptly realizes that Mobei-Jun is here. The demon lord is here in this secret basement.

AN: Moshang in this fic is... hmmm... a little weird sometimes, because a lot of it has been happening in the background. A lot of it has been unspoken until Shang Qinghua’s breakdown and until now.

Shang Qinghua isn’t actually as scared of Mobei-Jun in this fic as he is in SVSSS, and I hope that comes across. When he had his breakdown, part of it was fear, but a large part of it was also actually anger. Shang Qinghua was afraid of how the System had changed his life, but he was also angry about this loss of control. Yes, he was terrified of Mobei-Jun because he didn’t know if it was still his Mobei-Jun, which brought lots of old memories and old anger to the surface, in which Shang Qinghua was kind of like, “How dare you think you get to freely touch me after the things you did and never apologized for?”

BUT the status quo in this world, before the World Update, is one in which Mobei-Jun touches Shang Qinghua’s hip without SQH flinching. It’s one in which SQH and MBJ drink and relax together. It’s one in which SQH isn’t afraid to reach out and grab MBJ’s hand, because he misses MBJ.

They’re so close, they just need to actually talk it out.

Shang Qinghua glances at the ladder and the open hole in the floor. “Ah, my king, did you… climb down here looking for me?”

“Yes,” Mobei-Jun answers, looking around with sharp eyes. He doesn’t seem to be very impressed with what he’s seeing. “...What is this place?”

“My, ah, my basement,” Shang Qinghua answers, leaving out the part where he didn’t even know he had one until about an hour ago. The System is determined to make him look like a bit of a madman, huh? “It’s just… just some artifacts and tools. I don’t… I don’t really come down here a lot…”

Mobei-Jun finishes studying the room, then stares at him again, his gaze more piercing than ever.

“The future concerns you this much?” he says.

Shang Qinghua is totally prepared to deny everything, but the phrasing of that cuts off every story he might try to tell. He glances around the room, full of these broken, desperate, stolen things. It’s… reflecting.

“...Yes,” he admits, hoarsely. Then coughs. “I… my king, we should… talk.”

“Yes,” Mobei-Jun agrees.

“But, ah, not here? I don’t… like it here.”

“Yes.”

AN: Mobei-Jun is one of the people who has noticed that Shang Qinghua knows more than he should. And now, thanks to this secret basement, Mobei-Jun has an explanation for why Shang Qinghua knows more than he should!

If you don’t know about the System element, then this basement is actually pretty in-character for the new Shang Qinghua of PINTWILF.

He is so scared of the future. He’s invested in the story now.

Shang Qinghua isn’t surprised at all when the special item speaks again as soon as it’s back in his hand.

Why would it shut up now, after all?

“He has no name but the position he has been promised to, which he may not live to see,” the Weeper’s Eye says, which pulls Shang Qinghua’s gaze back to the demon lord waiting for him. “His father uses him as a tool. His mother is long departed. His uncle wants him dead. He has long known that these broken promises cannot be undone… but he knows new promises may yet be made.”

Mobei-Jun is frowning at the crystal eye in Shang Qinghua’s hand, looking between it and Shang Qinghua’s own eyes.

He’s not dressed-up the same way he was the last time Shang Qinghua saw him - no especially fancy robes or ornaments or jewelry. He looks like himself this time.

“If these ones are not kept, there will be nothing for the nameless man who will be king.”

Shang Qinghua doesn’t move.

AN: I mentioned exploring Mobei-Jun not having a name in the commentary on the previous chapter. I guess that’s my take on PIDW Mobei-Jun... that the man doesn’t really have anything outside of his position. He’s a king, in service to a tyrant, and he’s never going to let anyone in. He’s just... cold... the whole way through. PIDW Mobei-Jun has an icy throne and nothing else.

PINTWILF (and SVSSS) Mobei-Jun has the Airplane version of Shang Qinghua. When Airplane saved MBJ’s life, the System wasn’t making him do it, he made that choice for himself. The System was willing to let MBJ die (and, in my headcanon, be replaced by some ice demon cousin or LGJ). So, MBJ turns around and chooses Shang Qinghua for himself.

Shang Qinghua was like, “No! This character can’t be replaced! You can’t just dress someone else up as Mobei-Jun! You can’t just let the character die! It has to be this man in that role! No one else!”

When Mobei-Jun is coming to talk to Shang Qinghua in this fic, in this moment, he is making this choice for himself, the nameless man who has been promised a position he might not live to see. That’s what the Weeper’s Eye is getting at. If Shang Qinghua doesn’t want to hear the promises Mobei-Jun is will to make him, there might as well not be anything in Mobei-Jun’s future to make him an individual, more than a cold figure acting out a part.

“...Shang Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun says finally. “I will not hurt you.”

Shang Qinghua’s gaze snaps from the crystal eye in his hand, back to the demon lord standing by the exit to this secret basement.

“We will speak,” Mobei-Jun says solemnly, slowly, like someone repeating the lines of a script. “I wish to be understood by you. I have not known how. Yet I must try now… in my own words… and you must listen.”

Shang Qinghua swallows.

The anger - the frustration - breaking through at the end there sounds more like the man he knows. He’s pretty sure that’s meant to be a request, but it sounds like an order.

AN: After their last conversation, Mobei-Jun had a lot of soul-searching to do, and one of the conclusions he came to is that he can’t take anything for granted. He has to made explicitly clear, using words, which is apparently what matters with humans and with this human in particular, everything he feels. He can’t take the risk of continuing to hurt Shang Qinghua by letting the man think that he doesn’t regret hurting him or may hurt him again someday.

He puts the Weeper’s Eye down.

He’s really sick of this thing. He doesn't want to carry it around all the time.

It only tells him things he knows, anyway.

AN: We’ll get into the Weeper’s Eye in future chapters, but it’s... it’s not really a mind-reading device. It kind of is. It is a little bit. But part of the reason it’s so informative here is that Shang Qinghua is holding it and Shang Qinghua actually knows a lot about his characters and the people in his life.

Even the original characters, like Fanli, he knows well. She’s his family. He’s privy to Fanli’s problems through Jiahui and Liu Qingge if nothing else.

With Shen Yuan, he doesn’t know the kid well yet, but his fellow transmigrator isn’t that difficult to read and he’s been where Shen Yuan is.

Shang Qinghua putting the Weeper’s Eye down here is a show of trust of sorts. It’s a way of telling himself to get out of his own head, away from character roles and exaggerated panic, and put himself in the moment with someone he knows and... well... trusts and wants to trust even more.

Shang Qinghua follows Mobei-Jun out of the basement, removing the spiritual seal from the wall, which makes the creepy basement entrance disappear, then replacing the flower that covered it. He hesitantly follows the demon lord back to the main room of his Leisure House. He has no idea how to stand, suddenly, or where to stand.

Mobei-Jun looks very determined.

“So, ah, should we… sit?”

“No,” Mobei-Jun replies, then abruptly says, “Shang Qinghua, you do not have to fear me. I do not wish to cause you any pain. Now or in the future.”

Shang Qinghua stares, wide-eyed.

That’s not… something he ever expected to hear explicitly.

Good! It's good, though! Very good.

It's great, really.

“...Thank you,” he says, stunned. “I don’t want to cause you pain either?”

“You have shown as much. Many times.”

This is probably not the time for an “Yes, I did tell you so” in any form!

Instead, trying to remember all the speeches he prepared while waiting, Shang Qinghua says, “You have too! In your own way! I just… my king, last time you visited was a… it was a very bad day for me. I apologize for my behavior! I was speaking from a place of-”

“Fear,” Mobei-Jun interrupts darkly. “Well-deserved.”

“Ah, well…”

“You believed that I would hurt you, in your state,” Mobei-Jun says.

“I was… it was very a bad and confused state, my king.”

“...You do not trust me.”

Shang Qinghua’s voice dries up on him. He wouldn’t put it that way, exactly! That sounds pretty terrible when said in such a blunt way. They’ve moved past that, haven’t they? It’s more that he trusts different people with different things! He trusts Luo Jiahui to be Luo Jiahui, and Liu Qingge to be Liu Qingge, and Mobei-Jun… to be Mobei-Jun.

AN: Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun got really far without explicitly talking about things, but at some point that stopped cutting it.

“I have hurt you before,” Mobei-Jun says, looking at him directly. “From a place of fear… of anger… of… misunderstanding. I am… sorry for this. I will not do so again. I was wrong to treat you in such a way.”

Shang Qinghua takes in a deep breath… and out again.

Fuck, it feels like his eyes are burning.

“You have my respect,” Mobei-Jun says quietly, urgently, not letting up on getting all of these words out into the open. “You have my regard. You have my trust. Yet I have not shown this in a way that you have understood, so you could not share this. I have demanded your loyalty without being deserving of it.”

“My king,” Shang Qinghua protests, taking a step forward. “I was- I should have said-”

“You did. Many times. In many ways. I did not understand.”

“I wasn’t very clear either-”

“It was my responsibility to be clear. I must be clear now.”

“You’re being very clear now,” Shang Qinghua agrees quickly. If things get any clearer here, if any more of the things they’ve left unspoken get said, his heart won’t be able to take it. “Thank you, my king. It means- thank you."

Mobei-Jun nods. He looks relieved.

AN: I wanted to write a version of Moshang that felt... a little more mature? Shang Qinghua has developed a lot in this fic. He has grown as a person. And Mobei-Jun has seen this growth over the years.

Mobei-Jun has also been able to see into this Shang Qinghua in a way that wasn’t available in SVSSS canon. I think that SVSSS Shang Qinghua was locked the fuck down. I think he was almost completely inaccessible and offered very, very few openings for connection.

But in this universe, Mobei-Jun actually knows a lot more about Shang Qinghua. He knows what motivates Shang Qinghua. He knows that Shang Qinghua is a doting uncle and a doting older brother. He knows that Shang Qinghua has come to care for his sect. He knows that Shang Qinghua is intelligent and resourceful and funny. They drink together and talk politics! Mobei-Jun knows that Shang Qinghua is loyal and tired and trustworthy.

So... there was an opening here that didn’t exist in SVSSS canon.

And Mobei-Jun took it.

Shang Qinghua knows that cultural differences are a hell of a thing here, but everything being understandable in hindsight didn't make it not fucking hurt. It still hurts, even finally having the apology he never thought he'd get.

"...We’ve been pretty bad at understanding each other, huh?”

“It has often seemed as though we were not meant to meet,” the demon lord says softly.

Shang Qinghua, who can't imagine getting through his transmigration experience without meeting this man, thinks over all the unknowing irony in that statement.

"...Maybe."

“The differences are… significant.”

Shang Qinghua laughs, almost disbelieving. “That’s a word for it!”

"But not impassable."

"Ah… I… hope not."

AN: I’ll probably make a separate post for this, but I love Moshang transmigrator reveals. Bingqiu transmigrator reveals are mostly about the Abyss, which is great, because that needs clearing up. MOSHANG transmigrator reveals are like, “My weak human husband is a god???”

Also love it when MBJ is like, “Yes, this makes sense.”

“I have never known what you have wanted from me,” Mobei-Jun says next, like a confession. “Your life, you have said, time and time again. Though I am only alive by your grace. You demand none of what you deserve of me.”

“...I don’t think ‘deserve’ is a good word for this,” Shang Qinghua says, which probably isn’t the right thing to say, but he’s really too stunned to come up with anything better. He really didn’t prepare for the right conversation here. “Aha, sorry, my king. It’s just… I don’t think I like to think about it in terms of ‘owing’ anymore. Between us. At least… not like some sort of strict balance? I do something nice for you, you owe me. You do something bad to me, I get to hurt you. Not… not like that.”

Mobei-Jun thinks about it.

“Sorry, I don’t really know what I’m saying-”

“You are deserving of better than what I have given you,” Mobei-Jun insists, determinedly. “I do not understand you. I have never understood you.”

Shang Qinghua feels the same way.

“But I would like to,” Mobei-Jun says next. “I would if you would allow it.”

AN: Mobei-Jun is only alive because Shang Qinghua saved him and he knows it! And Shang Qinghua has never made the demands he should have made, having that kind of leverage over Mobei-Jun!

I’ve always wondered if this is deeply romantic by demon standards. Like, not inherently romantic. But I would bet that Mobei-Jun really likes the idea of a relationship where no one is keeping score... no one is granting favors to use like a leash of obligation... no one owes the other things they don’t want to give. I would bet that Mobei-Jun really, really likes the idea of a relationship where affection is freely given because the people in it want to give it.

He does feel as though he owes Shang Qinghua, but I think Mobei-Jun likes the idea that his favor is his to give just because he wants to give it.

Mobei-Jun lifts a hand, slowly, and holds it out.

Shang Qinghua thinks about it.

He thinks about it again.

He reaches back and puts his hand in Mobei-Jun’s own, which is as cool to the touch as always, and moves over his skin carefully. His hold is so light that Shang Qinghua could break it without any issue at all.

They stay there, like that, looking at each other.

Looking at their hands, holding without hurting, after everything. It's such a small gesture.

It feels kind of like a miracle.

AN: I am... a huge fucking sucker for Mobei-Jun holding Shang Qinghua waaaaay too lightly because he won’t risk hurting Shang Qinghua again. Like, this man is going to take it from the top. No more assumptions.

“What do you want, Shang Qinghua?” Mobei-Jun says, voice turning up at the end, in the closest thing that the man might ever come to helplessness. “What do you want from this?”

“I…” Shang Qinghua wipes at his burning eyes with his free hand. This is kind of pitiful. “Fuck.”

Mobei-Jun lifts his free hand and uses his own sleeve to wipe at Shang Qinghua’s tears, like his robes aren’t important to him at all. “Ask,” the man says, in the tone of a promise. “You do not have to fear the future. Anything I have to give is yours.”

Shang Qinghua gives up on trying to speak and just moves forward to bury his face in Mobei-Jun’s chest. Fuck it. The demon lord who was supposed to kill his character lets him do it. Mobei-Jun holds on to him, arms heavy but still so careful, the man’s chest moving in a sigh that sounds like relief.

This really was too many unspoken things to finally say aloud all at once.

AN: So, yeah! That’s what I’m been building up to with the Jiahui/Qingge marriage and the Qijiu fights and makeup, getting Shang Qinghua to think about what he wants from his relationship with Mobei-Jun. Luo Jiahui and Shen Qingqiu have basically been throwing the question at him repeatedly: “What do you want from this life, Shang Qinghua?”

Because it can’t all be plot! You’ve taken your family for yourself, but you can have more than that! You’ve made so many choices already... you can take this last step and make this choice too. Let Mobei-Jun in.

A lot of Moshang plots end up being “Shang Qinghua’s inability to communicate versus Mobei-Jun’s inability to communicate”. Which is great! That’s Moshang! And some external issue (a rival demon lord, Linguang-Jun, etc.) will end up being the secondary plot which acts as a scenario pusher for the primary plot of the Moshang relationship. Again, great stuff!

But since the romance isn’t the focus of this fic, I decided it would be fun to have a more “Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun versus the problem” take. (Which also shows up in lots of Moshang fics! Definitely not exclusive to this fic at all!) I’m looking forward to having Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun actually try and tackle problems together, as a couple, inside the main “Family of Choice” plot.

Which isn’t to say that Moshang have totally worked out their relationship here. They have only just gotten together. Mobei-Jun still has issues. Shang Qinghua still has many issues. They’ve got a lot to work out together. They’ve never been in a relationship like this before and there’s a lot of people out there who would object to their relationship! Their relationship is going to continue to grow as the fic continues. They’re going to have a few bumps in the road.

But I really like the idea of Mobei-Jun being Shang Qinghua’s rock in this fic. This man has been so stressed. He needs a hug from his ice demon boyfriend who can soothe headaches with a hand.

When Shang Qinghua feels like he has himself more under control, he draws back just far enough to say, “My king, will you kiss me?”

Mobei-Jun’s expression is already soft, at least by his standards. His gaze turns hooded before he leans down as Shang Qinghua leans up. Shang Qinghua takes the man’s face between his hands to kiss him. It feels nice, if uncertain, with the hunger of something a long time coming at the end of it. There's years worth of wanting in this.

It has been so fucking long since Shang Qinghua kissed anyone.

He breaks the kiss and has to stifle laughter, clinging to the front of Mobei-Jun’s robes, which the man never closes properly, so now Shang Qinghua is never going to be able to not thinking about touching it. It’s a very nice chest to touch. He knew it would be.

Mobei-Jun’s brow furrows slightly, his hands staying on Shang Qinghua’s hips.

“What?”

Ah, sorry! Sorry, my king! It’s just- this is such a ridiculous detail to get stuck on, but your lips are kind of cold? I’ve, ah, I’ve always kind of wondered,” Shang Qinghua confesses quietly, without really meaning to actually say it. Holy shit, he’s going to blame saying something like this after that on the fact that he’s had a very long and very weird day. “Sorry. I'm really tired. It's fine. It's good.”

Mobei-Jun snorts and kisses him again, as if to say, “Deal with it.”

AN: Cute! Mobei-Jun likes it when Shang Qinghua laughs. I stand by this.

#tossawary svsss #tossawary commentary #pride is not the word #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

One loose end

Summary: Dean ends things when he gets to know the truth about you. He didn’t realize he lost more than the omega he loves.

Pairing: Mobster! (Alpha)Dean x Ex-cop!(Omega)Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Jack Kline, Charlie Bradbury

Warnings: angst, language, abandonment, Dean being a douche, mafia business, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, suffering omega, loneliness, unplanned pregnancy, threats, nesting

Dean leans back in his chair, legs spread he lets his eyes travel down your body, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. Forgotten are your strength or past when you face your alpha, the man holding your heart and body in a tight grip.

“Do you know why I summoned you here,” he’s using his alpha voice and you wonder why your fiancé looks angrily up at you. His green eyes darker than usual he licks his lips. “Answer me, omega.”

“I don’t know, Dean,” he growls, even grits his teeth as you did not address him with his presentation, and you wonder what rubbed Dean wrong. Usually, he’s all soft around you. Most of the time he only lets the alpha out to protect you or scare other alphas off. “Benny said I shall come to your office, so here I am alpha,” you add his presentation to calm the angry mobster. He’s not in a good mood so you try to walk on eggshells and make him feel better.

“You see,” he gets up, scraping the chair over the floor, making you flinch when he suddenly stands in front of you to roughly grab your chin with his hand. Dean forces you to me his eyes and you know – something is wrong with your alpha. “I heard not so nice things about you…”

“Boss,” Benny tries to intervene but Amara holds him back, watching the alpha, her boss with angry eyes.

“Not so nice things,” you huff, patting the hand which tightens the grip on your chin. “Whatever you heard, just tell me about it. I know we came a long way, okay. Not everyone liked that I’m an ex-cop. In your kind of business, I’m the enemy. But that’s in the past…”

“Is it?” Dean furrows his brows, still not letting go of your chin. “I heard differently last week. You know, I didn’t want to believe the rumors or the pictures. I even refused to watch the footage someone sent to me but the fact that you met up with Ellen Harvelle not three hours ago proved me wrong…”

“Ellen?” you blink a few times. “Yes, I met up with her, Dean. I told you so this morning. As usual, you didn’t listen but Sam was there too. Ask your brother,” you slowly get angry. People might think you are an obedient omega, always following Dean’s order but truth to be told, you’re a stubborn bitch when someone crosses a line.

“You met up with a goddamn cop,” Dean grasps for your phone, slipping it into his pocket. “I should’ve known better. Ex-cop, investigating my family and our business is in the past my ass,” your hands start to twitch when Dean pants into your face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Dean. Ellen retired around fifteen years ago. Right after her husband got killed. It was his partner; a corrupt cop and she just couldn’t trust anyone at her department any longer. My father was a good friend of Bill and Ellen. She’s my godmother for fuck’s sake.”

“A good cover, I must admit,” Dean’s nostrils flare and you know, he’s not making a bad joke. Dean Winchester, the head of the Winchester empire is threatening you, his omega. “Did they pay you well for being undercover for that long, for spreading your legs for me?” Your hand hits Dean’s face before your brain can stop you.

“I told you about my job, Dean. It was me coming to you, telling you about my assignment. I quit my job, gave up my friends who were all cops. The only person left in my left is Ellen, I told you so before we became a thing. You knew about her past too. She’s the only family I got left,” tears well up to your eyes but you blink them away.

The vulnerable omega whines in despair but the independent woman shields her from any harsh word leaving Dean’s lips. “If not for your connection to that woman, you would be dead by now.” You gasp, stepping backward. For a moment you just look at Dean, at the alpha you believed would claim you after your wedding but now you realize, he never intended on doing so.

“It was a trick,” you slide the engagement ring down your finger, carelessly dropping it to the floor. “You tricked me. When I came to you, telling you after that drunken one-night stand who I am you took the opportunity to snake your way into my life.” Laughing bitterly, you close your eyes, calming your nerves for a moment.

“That wasn’t my intention,” Dean grunts, not missing the tremble in your voice or the way your lips quiver.

“Newsflash, Winchester,” your eyes are cold when you open them again. “I’m not undercover. I don’t have any connections to cops or feds. All I got is a retired godmother who hates her former job,” you shake your head, not believing you were foolish enough to believe you found your alpha.

“I want you gone, now. I’ll drop your shit at any place but go before I change my mind and kill you,” the gun in Dean’s hands leaves no room for arguments so you turn your back on him, forget the good news and happiness.

“I hate you, Dean. For once I believed someone didn’t try to use me to his advantage. Sadly, I was wrong all over again. If I ever see you again, you’ll regret it,” you leave the room, flee toward the exit almost bumping into Sam.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Sam gasps seeing the tears run down your cheeks. “What happened? Wait…wait up…”

“Ask your asshole of a brother. Keep that piece of shit away from me or he’s dead…” you spat, pushing the omega you let out only for Dean back into the pit of your existence.

“Two months and you found a whole lot of nothing, Dean,” Sam leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Jesus, Y/N didn’t lie. Ellen Harvelle retired fifteen years ago, got a bar called ‘the roadhouse’ and doesn’t give any cop a discount,” Benny sighs, looking at Charlie who shrugs.

“Boss, I didn’t find any trace. No bugs, manipulated e-mails, calls to unknown numbers. I got nothing either,” Charlie clears her throat, shoving a manila folder toward Dean. “Ellen Harvelle is clean, just like her daughter. Y/N didn’t contact anyone but you, Ellen, your brother, and her doctor.”

“Doctor,” cocking a brow Dean looks at the folder. “Maybe that doctor is a cop?” Sam scoffs, pushing off the wall. He looks at his brother shaking his head before he turns to leave the room.

“Unbelievable, Dean!” Sam throws his hands up in surrender. “You chased the only girl who never cared about your reputation or money away. Your omega, Dean! How could you be that stupid?”

“She’s a traitor! I just know it,” Dean yells now, not giving in. “It must be or else I would’ve…”

“Yeah, lost the only woman you ever loved. You and your hasty decisions, Dean. I wonder if she would ever take your stubborn ass back,” Sam slams the door shut behind him, not caring his brother will be mad at him.

“Five and a half month later,

Most of the days are good days. Well, not good, but you get through them without crying or your instinct telling you to crawl back to Dean.

Today is not such a day. Today you stand in the middle of a shop for synthetic scents. “How can I help you, ma’am,” a young boy asks, and you wonder if he’s old enough to work at such a place. “I know I look young, but I know my job. I’m Jack Kline and would like to help you.”

“I need a scent,” you swallow the lump in your throat, slowly opening your coat. “My alpha, he left me. I’m an abandoned omega, a pregnant one. The first months I could get by without his scent, but it gets worse.”

“We will need a blood sample of you. This way we can find a matching scent to make you feel more comfortable, ma’am,” the young man smiles, pointing toward a chair. “It won’t hurt, promised. You are not the only one coming here. Even strong and tall alphas come her to get a scent.”

“I’m not ashamed, just…,” you shrug, not knowing how to describe the loneliness or how it feels to know your child will never get to know his father. Even worse, that you were simply a pawn in Dean Winchester’s masterplan. “Just tell me what I must do.”

“Hello, I’m looking for a specific scented candle,” an alpha calls for Jack. “My mate, she’s so in love with that scent…” Sam stops in his tracks when his eyes land on Jack who wants to push a needle into your arm. “Whoa, hands-off, bastard.”

Sam aims a gun at Jack’s head, unlocking it. “Get away from Y/N or you are dead before you can hurt her. How can you be that stupid to attack Dean Winchester’s mate in the middle of a store?”

“Sam,” you scream, jumping up to shield the boy with your body. “He wanted to take a blood sample, not kill me. Are you crazy?” you pant, resting one hand onto your belly.

“Y/N?” Sam’s eyes drop to your baby bump and his features soften. “You’re expecting. Oh-fuck, no. Does Dean know?”

“Why should the great and all-knowing Dean Winchester be interested in getting to know he got me pregnant with his child before he threatened to kill me. Let me tell you this, Sam Winchester,” you get your favorite knife out of your garter, pressing the tip into Sam’s chest. “If you tell him you saw me or the pup in my belly, you are dead. Now leave me alone. I need this scent…”

“You’re suffering, Y/N,” ignoring Sam’s words and his worried look you turn your attention back toward Jack. “Let me help you.”

“There is nothing you can do, Sam. It’s done. Whatever Dean and I had, is dead and gone since he threatened to kill me. I should’ve known he used me. No alpha wants to wait until the wedding to claim his mate,” you wave your hand, sending Sam off. “I’m only a loose end to your brother. If you excuse me now…”

“Not that bad,” you sniff at the pillow before you add more of the synthetic scent onto the clothes on your nest. “It’s not your fathers but it’ll do,” you rub your belly, watching one of your dog’s lie next to the bed. “Good boy, always so protective, Morning.”

Your German shepherd whines, before slowly getting up to trot toward the door. “Star,” you call for your dog when Morning dashes out of the room to attack whoever dared to enter your apartment.

“Get off me you son of a bitch,” Dean barks, fighting your dogs. Whilst Morning circles the mobster like prey, Star already sinks her teeth into his pants, tugging at the fabric, tearing it apart. “Y/N, tell the dogs to back off.”

“Morning, Star, kill him,” voice cold you cover your body with your blanket, ignoring Dean calls your name, begs you to stop your dogs.

“I will kill them if you do not stop them,” snarling Dean gets his gun out and you click your tongue. “Morning, Star, come here, protect mommy.”

“Fucking shit, Y/N,” Dean limps into your bedroom, glaring at the dogs who flank your bed. Teeth gritted, eyes following the alpha the German shepherds protect you and your unborn child. “Good dogs. Fine dogs. I got a steak in my trunk.”

“What do you want here?” you do not turn around, rather snuggle into your pillow to inhale the synthetic scent Jack gave you. “I thought I clarified you are dead if you ever come close to me again.”

“That’s my child inside of you. Now be good and pack your things,” Dean purrs, looking at you. He believes your omega will give in, will follow his order but you chuckle at his words, clicking your tongue.

“No…no…not again!” Star pounces on Dean, pushes him to the ground with her weight. “Y/N, please tell that beast to get off me.”

“Morning, give him the rest,” Morning trots toward Dean, purring for a moment before he starts to lick Dean’s face. “Yes, lick the falseness off his ugly face.”

“Eek, that’s disgusting. Tell the furry beasts to leave me alone. I’m still your alpha,” you snicker silently when you turn around to watch Star grit her teeth to attack your former alphas crotch. “No, please…shit…take that dog off me or I’ll shoot the beast.”

“Star, kill his manhood,” you smirk, watching Dean look at you in horror. “Do it slow, baby. He likes it when you tease him a little, take him deep enough to tickle my throat.”

CHOOSE YOUR ENDING UNDER THE CUT.

Bad ending…

“Y/N, I know I hurt you but please, give me the chance to explain that I made a stupid mistake. Please, I still love you and I want to raise my child with you,” Dean pleas but you are too hurt to ever forgive Dean.

“No, Dean. I gave up everything to be with you. I never even thought about betraying you. If you would love me, you…,” your voice cracks and you need to take a deep breath before you face Dean. “No one who loves his omega forces her to leave and threatens her life. I want you to go and never come back. To me you are only a loose end from now on…”

Alternative ending…

“You had your fun, sweetheart. Now tell the dogs to get off me,” you smirk, humming to yourself. “Baby? That wasn’t the plan!”

“It wasn’t yours,” you swing your legs out of the bed to kneel next to Dean, looking at your alpha. His face covered in slobber; pants ripped apart he looks up at you. “You know, when you told me you’ve got a rat in your organization and that you need to know I’m safe, I didn’t plan on spending months hidden in a shabby apartment, Winchester.”

“I found the culprit,” Dean points toward Star, whining when she opens her mouth, revealing sharp teeth. “Baby, please…”

“I don’t know, Dean. Seeing you so helpless underneath an omega makes me feel so good,” you smirk, sliding your hand over his chest. “I had to buy a synthetic scent, Dean.”

“It was for your safety, Y/N. Now let me get up and scent my omega. I need to have you back in my arms,” one click of your tongue later your dogs relax, even lick Dean’s face again. “No…fuck, …no…eek! I’m no food…”

——-

“So…,” you rest your head onto Dean’s chest, patting his thigh, “you found the big bad guy?”

“Girl,” humming you close your eyes, inhaling Dean’s scent deeply. “Sorry, I know that I promised to come back sooner. It’s been a hell of a month. I never thought it was Amara who rats us out.”

“I’ve missed you, is all. Why didn’t you tell Sam about the rat? Why only me?” you look up at Dean who gives you a soft smile. “Dean?”

“It had to look realistic. I needed the traitor to believe you are out of the picture and that I think you are the one who told the cops about our plans,” Dean pecks your hair, thankful he finally has you back in his arms. “Sammy is mad at me, though.”

“Figures, alpha,” you yawn, relaxing in Dean’s arms. “He’s your brother and wants you to trust him unconditionally.”

“This wasn’t about trust; it was about protecting you and not involving anyone else. Sam, he would’ve insisted on keeping an eye on you or to help me. I had to play my role well, get my brother and anyone loving you mad at me.”

“In other words, you made a hasty decision and didn’t want to stop when you realized it was a dumb idea. You know, in your office I wanted to rip your head off. It felt so real my inner omega was hurt,” Dean sniffles, looking at you.

“Tomorrow, I’ll bring you home. You and the two killers you call your pets,” you nod, wanting nothing more than to finally reunite with your alpha…

Tags in reblog

#One loose end #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #angst #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #MOBSTER!AU #mobsterdean #mobster!dean x reader #mobster au #mobster!dean #mobster!dean x you #mobster!dean winchester x reader #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha!dean x reader #alpha!dean x omegareader #alpha!dean

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

Not Your Typical

Genre: college AU, hurt/comfort (kind of?)

Pairings: romantic Demus, Logicality, and Prinxiety

Content: some language, autistic character, sensory overload, mentions of losing friends in the past, anxiety, unintentional self harm, Roman is kind of a jerk but he regrets it, food mentions, unable to eat certain consistencies, beach/water/swimming, Janus being a disaster gay, ASL, selective mutism.

Word count: 6k

Comments: Like always, I don’t intend for these to be so long. Holy cow.

Janus is written based mostly on my experiences as someone with autism, and how it’s affected my childhood/relationships/daily life. No one’s experience is the same.

Janus was always alone. Alone, not lonely.

Most of the time, that is.

His whole childhood was an endless cycle of make a friend, weird them out, be alone. Find another friend, weird them out, be alone. And sometimes it hurt, yeah, but he got used to it. At home, he spent the entire day in his room, assembling structures out of legos before tearing them down and starting over. Sometimes he’d build something really cool, and that would stay up for a long time. He didn’t have any siblings, and his parents didn’t give a whoop as long as the floor was generally clear, so no one ever bothered the space ships or towers or just really long lines that stretched from one wall to the other. He liked those.

Things changed when he got to middle school. Life started getting real, people became more than just recess friends, and that unsettled him. He made a couple close friends, friends that he really opened up to only for them to leave him when he became too much. He just couldn’t help it though; he couldn’t help the way he bounced when he got so excited he couldn’t breathe, or how he couldn’t use words when he got overwhelmed by the touch and the noise, or how he couldn’t stop talking about his favorite shows or books. He was labeled as childish. It was like a label had been stuck to his chest that read “avoid at all costs”, and people did.

So he relearned how to be alone. He put a lava lamp next to his bed for when he needed something constant to look at, he got a collection of chewy necklaces and stim toys that never left his room. After a lot of research, he convinced his parents to buy him a weighted blanket for when every touch was too light, too agonizingly light, and he needed something firm to ground him. At school, or really around anyone, he learned to control his more obvious stimming and touch sensitivity by staying in oversized sweaters and jeans. He taught himself basic sign language for when he couldn’t talk, even though he knew his parents wouldn’t understand him. They took forever to learn basic signs, for ‘water’ or ‘quiet’ or ‘no’, and both eventually got frustrated and gave up. As if their frustration was anything compared to his.

It was going great, not perfect but better than before, until he graduated high school. Suddenly he realized he was about to move halfway across the country, to a new environment with new triggers and new people who didn’t understand that he wasn’t frowning because he was pissed, but because smiling when you didn’t understand the reasoning was exhausting. Why do people smile and greet you when they enter the room? Why couldn’t that be more of an… understood thing? I’m here, you’re here now, we both know that, so why bring so much attention to it? For once his parents were kind enough to help him out, taking him to the campus during the summer to get acquainted with the surroundings and learn the map by heart. He talked to the admission’s counselor, explaining his disability and why that meant he couldn’t be on the side of campus near the highway, because the constant noise and common sirens would make him explode. They were eventually able to move him to one of the other buildings, one with apartments instead of dorms, even though that was generally only for third and fourth years. It took a load off his shoulders; less noise, less people. The one thing he couldn’t do was meet his roommates before the year started.

The school got them into contact, and since he was the last to be assigned to the six person pod, they added him into their pre-established group chat. The other five already had nicknames, ranging from ‘Dad’ to ‘Rat Bastard’, and he immediately felt like an outsider. Not like that was new to him, though. Except, he didn’t stay like that. When one of the group, ‘Nerdy Mcnerd’ on the chat (he’d long forgotten their actual names), asked him what he liked and he immediately sent a list of special interests and hyperfixations, the top being snakes, it was like a door had been opened. Nerdy Mcnerd was a fan of space as well, and the two stayed up until all hours of night on their own chat discussing space and their place in the universe. Rat Bastard had an affinity for what people would categorize as “creepy animals”; octopi and squid, spiders, star-nosed moles, and most importantly, snakes. Their conversations mostly involved dopey pictures of snakes and unintelligible key smashes and emojis. Emo Disaster shared his love of darker themed TV shows, and they started a couple new ones at the same time, constantly updating each other with theories. When he mentioned his major was psychology, Dad was immediately overjoyed to be sharing the major with someone, and offered to help him study for the harder classes. He didn’t hit it off quite so well with Princey, who was put off by Janus’ so called “moodiness” and didn’t trust him.

When they finally met, it was supposed to be great. Janus knew the environment, somewhat knew his roommates, and was surprisingly excited for the new year. His joy was suddenly vanquished, however, as meeting these people face to face took a turn for the worse. Dad, Patton, immediately tried to go for the hug when he walked into the apartment for the first time, and was slightly taken aback when Janus reared back so hard he hit his head on the wall. The glee disappeared and he apologized profusely, and that’s when Nerdy Mcnerd, Logan walked in, explaining that Patton was very physical. They were over it rather quickly, but Janus shuddered as soon as the other two turned to each other. They had already claimed one of the three rooms for themselves, so Janus chose the one furthest into the apartment. He dropped his suitcases next to one of the two beds with a deep sigh. The thought of a hug… no. It unsettled him greatly, made his skin crawl. Maybe one day, but not now.

Emo Disaster and Princey, Virgil and Roman, arrived later in the day, hand in hand, bickering animatedly when they walked into the apartment. They were greeted with a huge hug from Patton and a side hug from Logan, and that’s when Janus recalled that they had all been roommates the year prior and again, felt a small tinge of pain. He was still the odd one out. Virgil gave a two finger salute to where Janus was sitting curled up on one of the bar stools, knees pulled to his chest and for the first time, Janus didn’t feel compelled to give a forced smile in greeting. It was a relief. The small nod was all that was needed. Roman however, was a different story. When they happened to make eye contact for the first time, the taller man still standing in the doorway, Janus flinched. Hard. The man’s eyes burned through him, as if scouring through his brain, eyes so full of passion that Janus had to look away. Eye contact was only an issue for him sometimes, but with Roman, it physically hurt. Which only made the theatre major more suspicious of him. As he passed him on the way to get a glass of water, the taller man blurted out, “You’re a first year, why are you in a third year building?”, earning him a gentle smack from Virgil. He answered with a lame shrug and rushed back to his room, conceding to just go to sleep, regretting leaving his drink on the counter.

No one besides Janus was surprised when the door burst open at three am and a loud voice screamed, “I’M BACK, FUCKERS!” He was frozen in place, woken with such an adrenaline rush that he couldn’t move. Outside, the other four exited their rooms with varying levels of annoyance and delight, greeting the final member of the group. Remus, as Janus heard them proclaim, was his roommate, the only two dwellers not in a relationship. The gremlin burst into the room, a deranged smile on his face, and Janus wanted to cry. Why did he have to be stuck in a room with the loud one? But Remus saw the mismatched eyes poking out from under the blanket and with no hesitation, sunk to the floor next to the bed, still smiling but a million decimals softer.

“Hey, Snakey. Sorry to scare ya. I’m Remus, but you can still call me Rat Bastard if you want. Call me whatever, I don’t really get offended. You go back to sleep, I’m gonna get settled in. We can talk in the morning.”

Janus wasn’t planning to fall asleep, not with this new person in his room, but Remus was shockingly silent as he unloaded his things (he packed a bunch of garbage bags, not even a suitcase or box), and he couldn’t help the way his eyes slipped shut.

First semester came to a close, and he was equally delighted and horrified that everyone was staying on campus for break. It had become harder and harder for him to avoid movie nights, or family dinners (as Patton called them), or days they all went into town together. In the beginning, he put it off to being tired. Then, studying for exams. Now with school halted for nearly a month, he was out of excuses. It was getting to the point where he could feel the frustration from his roommates, and he wanted to admit how much he wanted to spend time with them, until his drawer full of secret stim toys and chewy necklaces called him back. At times, he let himself spend time with them. Baked something with Patton, talked about the stars with Logan, sat with Virgil as they studied, and it was good. He never was able to escape Roman’s cynical glares that made him absolutely shudder, but he got on much better with his twin.

Remus never minded if Janus only greeted him with a raised eyebrow, and he was okay to have more one sided conversations while Janus drew, or after a few weeks, stared unapologetically. Because god, there was so much about Remus that Janus couldn’t help but watch, even if a normal person would get uncomfortable by his wide and unblinking eyes. Luckily, Remus was no ordinary person. But the younger still kept the drawer to himself, only allowing himself to nom on the plastic or squeeze the orbeez filled squishy snake with intense fascination when he was alone. So every time he was with the others and felt the need to stim or infodump or was about to have a stress induced meltdown, he would excuse himself and leave without so much of a goodbye. He couldn’t, not in front of them. Every time he left, he could hear Roman’s quiet remarks about him that stung more than he wanted to admit.

He’d had so many people leave, people he allowed himself to get close to, only for them to see the side of himself he tried to hide. In his heart, he knew that part of him wasn’t bad. It was just him. Other people didn’t understand that, though. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that no one would judge him, or laugh at him because they weren’t like that, he was scared. The effort was wearing him thin, and it came to the point where he realized he had to tell them. He had to, or he would burst, and that would be way worse.

It was just three little words: I. Am. Autistic. And he’d explain everything, tell them about his stims and limits and how he needed space sometimes and hugs others, and spill everything about himself, and they’d accept him. They’d have to, right? Only, the night he was planning to blurt out the truth, something stopped him.

They were eating dinner, one of the only ones he’d attended in a while. Patton kept glancing at him from across the table as he picked half heartedly at his lasagna, distracted from the lively conversation between the twins and Virgil. The whole thing was speckled with bite sized pieces of mushrooms and zucchini, two of the foods that he couldn’t eat to save his life. The texture made him want to recoil into himself and scream and yank at his hair, and he’d learned early in life that that wasn’t a normal response to food. He wanted to explain to Patton that it wasn’t the meal itself he was avoiding, that it wasn’t Patton’s cooking that he didn’t like, it was just the texture of those two things.

Well, maybe that was a good gateway into his big announcement, if you could even call it that. It felt almost as scary as his coming out to his parents had been. If they didn’t take this well, he might be exiled from the group. If they tried to put up with them, they’d get irritated so quickly and slowly freeze him out. He really didn’t want that. It needed to happen though, he realized. How much worse would it be if one of them walked in on him having a meltdown, holding a pillow over his mouth to block his screams, biting almost animalistically on a necklace? How unsettled would they be if they saw him hitting his blanket pile out of repulsion of the feeling of his textbook pages? Better to warn them ahead of time. It was only luck that had gotten him this far.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Logan hit the table with the heel of his hand and let out an almost guttural scream before storming into his and Patton’s room, slamming the door behind him. Janus nearly fell backwards off his chair, matching Virgil’s surprised expression. Roman went silent, wincing slightly.

“What…” It was the first word he’d said the entire meal. Patton whipped his head towards him as if he’d forgotten he was there, a sudden sympathetic look on his face. He gave a weak smile.

“Sorry about that, kiddo. Logan has autism, sometimes he can’t handle the stimulus around him. Or maybe he just had a rougher day than I thought. I’ll check on him after dinner, give him some alone time.”

Logan has autism.

Oh my god.

It was like everything clicked into place. His passionate talk about topics he was interested in that could rival Janus’ (if he would ever let himself infodump like he wanted). His mannerisms, his occasional emotional outbursts, his rigorous unbreakable schedule, it all made sense. For a brief second, Janus was elated. Someone like him, someone who understood! And if they accepted Logan, maybe they would be able to understand him, even if they presented different areas of the spectrum.

But… how would that look? Janus had hidden away his neurodivergent traits for so long, repressed them until he felt like he would literally explode… what if they thought he was faking it? It’s not like they knew him well, not with the amount of time he avoided being around them. They might think he was lying to get attention, didn’t want to be left out. Wanted to be special.

Patton seemed to be waiting for a response, he noted. He gave a curt nod, hoping it displayed that he was unbothered by Logan’s disability, before giving a stupid excuse about some reading to finish over break and darting back to his room. Remus joined him later, saying nothing about the fact that Janus was huddled under his weighted blanket, no book in sight. He sat down in front of the bed, a common habit of his now, and began to quietly talk about some new dark fantasy story he was designing, his lilting voice soothing Janus to sleep.

Time passed, winter came and went, and the end of second semester was drawing near. Janus was still careful with the way he presented to the others. They had picked up that he didn’t like physical contact, and though they never said a word about it, Patton’s lasagna recipe shifted, kept changing, until it no longer included mushrooms and zucchini. Janus refused to believe it was for his sake, though. He tried to join them for a couple movie nights, but the constant fear of stimming made his anxiety spike, therefore finding the need to stim more compelling, until he had to leave. It was getting harder, however, now that it was that pleasant in-between time where he understood how his new profs worked but it wasn’t exam season yet. His excuses were dwindling. Like always, Roman made his stupid quips that hurt him more than was probably intended, and he’d finally had enough.

Maybe that’s why he was staring out at the open lake in front of him, hands playing absentmindedly with the hem of his shirt as Patton and Remus squealed, sprinting into the water without a second thought. One of their shirts had landed on Janus’ sandaled foot, and he quickly kicked it off as the light touch began to irritate him. Logan stood to his side, watching his boyfriend with an almost imperceivable smile.

“You guys could have helped carry stuff if you were just going to stand there!” Roman’s indignant voice carried over the lawn, muffled slightly by the pile of towels he was carrying. Virgil snorted, whether in agreement or at Princey’s expense, Janus didn’t know. Either way, he dumped his handful of lawn chairs unceremoniously onto the lawn at their feet.

“You two set these up then. I’m hot, I’m going swimming.”

“Damn right, you are,” Roman grinned. Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“Damn right I’m hot, or I’m going swimming?”

“Yes.” He didn’t give any of them a second to retort, scooping up a shrieking Virgil before sprinting them both into the water.

“They didn’t even take their shirts off,” Logan commented, picking up a chair from the pile and unfolding it. Janus quickly joined in, helping him set the four chairs into a line and placing the towels down in front of them. “Did you want to go swimming?”

Admittedly, Janus hadn’t actually gone swimming, much less to the beach, since he was a kid. He was lucky to have even found a swimsuit amongst his other barely worn clothing; how it had snuck into his suitcase, he didn’t know. The water looked inviting and it was hot, but right now he was exhausted from the long ride over in Remus’ truck, having to refrain from plugging his ear when it got too loud or maintain his breathing carefully when a leg touched his.

“Maybe in a bit. I’m kind of tired.”

Logan turned to look at him, dare he say scrutinizingly? He washed the expression away quickly, asking, “Would you like me to stay with you?”

“No, it’s okay,” Janus mumbled, “You go have fun. I’ll be fine, I like the quiet.” As if to punctuate his point, a child screamed from the playground, making them both flinch.

“Are you positive?”

“Yes. Go enjoy yourself, Logan.”

He nodded curtly, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluent motion and walking towards the waves professionally, as if he were walking towards a lecture. Patton cheered from the water.

Janus didn’t concern himself with the time as it passed, instead letting his mind wander while he focused on a line of ants that were crawling up a tree next to him. It wasn’t until a fast approaching form caught his attention did he tear his eyes away, hearing him give a shout of “Be right back!”.

Remus plopped himself onto the towel next to him, still panting from the run, but grinning from ear to ear. As he ripped open a water bottle and drank greedily, Janus couldn’t help but stare. Water glistened on his skin like jewels in the afternoon sun, plastering his hair down over his jaw and eyes. His eyelashes were barely fluttering against his cheekbones as he guzzled nearly half of the bottle, his adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. The jut of his shoulder, almost touching his throat, taking his weight as he leaned back on his arm… the whole thing was fascinating. People interested Janus as a whole; the way they functioned, how they seamlessly picked up on little cues from others that Janus was still in the process of figuring out, even down to intricate biology of cells was incredibly captivating. But Remus was so much more than that. His voice when he spoke him to sleep, never mentioning it the next day, the way his dark eyes glimmered with hope when Janus agreed to eat with them, the twitch of his moustache as he covered a laugh at Patton’s corny jokes.

He was art, plain and simple.

Janus didn’t know if what he felt was romantic attraction. It sure felt like it, except it had never felt quite like this before. It wasn’t that he was asexual or anything, he was actually decently far from it. It was just how uncomfortable most physical contact made him that gave him the idea he might never have a partner in the way that he wanted. He wanted to hold hands, to cuddle, to kiss… but at the same time, he didn’t. That is, he didn’t know how he’d handle it. Sure, he’d had crushes in the past, cute boys from his classes or celebrities in the shows he hyperfixated on, and still the feeling of uncertainty had stayed. With Remus, something was different though. Never before had a crush ever felt so breath stealing, chest clenching, awe inspiring-

“Like what you see?”

Janus flinched, realizing Remus had finished drinking and was beaming at him with that stupid gorgeous gleam in his eyes. He looked at his lap immediately, feeling his face heat up.

“Sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Remus smirked, having the audacity to wink at him before standing up. “I’m going back in. Coming?” He reached out his hand, hopeful. Janus took a breath, acknowledging that this was his first time initiating contact since he’d arrived, and grabbed Remus’ hand. The surprise on the other’s face was almost enough to make him laugh. He pulled the younger to his feet, keeping a firm hold in Janus’ hand. And… that was okay.

Until it wasn’t.

The second his feet touched the sand, it was like alarm bells exploded behind his eyes. He couldn’t describe it, but it felt wrong. It gave in too much, light sprinkles of sand covered the top of his feet and instantly every nerve was on high alert. He ripped his hand from Remus’, stumbling backwards onto the grass again. The elder spun to him with concern.

“Snakey? What happened?”

“I- hmm, no. I can’t. Nope. No no no. Wrong. It… hmmmm. Can’t.” The last word dragged out as his brain seemed to disconnect from his mouth. His mind didn’t work, so focused on how every blade of grass was swiping along his soles too softly, too gentle, too much. His hands had curled into fists and he was fighting against everything inside him to scream bloody murder, because oh god the wind was brushing the hair onto the back of his neck and it tickled and make it stop make it stop!

Janus could vaguely hear someone shout, and the loudness floored him. Get away, get away, it’s too much it’s too much. The feeling of the grass was gone, and he was sitting on his beach towel, but the wind was still brushing his hair too much, so he grabbed at it uselessly, begging it to stop, stop, stop.

“What’s happening?” Roman.

“Is he okay?” Patton.

“Does he look okay?” Virgil.

“Janus, breathe. You’re safe.” Logan.

Yeah, he knew that. He knew, objectively, that the wind isn’t out to get him and grass doesn’t hurt and sand isn’t supposed to fry your nerves. That didn’t change the fact that it did for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it connected that they were seeing him have a meltdown, finally. But he couldn’t focus on that, not when someone was touching his arm why are they touching my arm LET GO!

He screamed now, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. His breaths were ragged and gaspy, hands ripping at his hair to try and stop the fluttering strands. Then there was a new sound, an engine, a boat, and with it came the deep bass of some terrible music and there were people shouting and his head was hurting, why was it hurting so bad?! New hands grabbed his wrists and he writhed, pulling back from the grip that was pulling his fists away from where they’d been hitting his skull, over and over, trying to just get his stupid brain to work. Come back to the present, ground yourself, do SOMETHING!

And then something was in his hands.

His eyes peeled open (when had he shut them?) and he saw the dark blue stress ball, almost crushed between his fingers. The hands were gone from his wrist, and he took a deep breath, relaxing his hand and watching the slime filled toy slowly return to its natural shape. It was just like one from his drawer, the first stim toy he’d ever gotten. Familiarity. He kneaded it under his fingers, enjoying the comforting texture, the color soothing to his sensitive eyes. Bit by bit he felt himself relax, still holding the toy inches from his face between stiff hands, letting his legs unfurl. Without thinking, he raised a shaking hand to his chin and did the sign for ‘water’, and immediately regretted it. It was just such a habit around his parents, the only other people who had seen him break down to this extent, how could he be so-

He flinched as a water bottle was pressed into his raised hand, the lid already taken off. The water was so good, settling his senses and grounding him, like he’d been in hyperfocus before and it was dulled now. He gave the stress ball another squeeze, captivated by the way the slime moved, not even flinching as someone snapped in front of him.

Looking up for the first time, his first instinct was to crawl into a hole and die. Logan was sitting in front of him, slowly putting the cap back on his water bottle before handing it back to Patton, who was standing just behind him. Roman and Virgil had begun packing the chairs and bags agonizingly slowly and quietly. Impressive; they were almost done and he hadn’t noticed until now. He turned to his left and his heart completely shattered. Remus was sitting statue still, a few feet away, with a look of pure fear in his eyes. He sat on the edge of his knees, like he wanted to pounce forward and hug him but was holding himself back. He appreciated that.

Logan snapped again and Janus turned back.

‘Better?’ He signed slowly.

‘You know sign?’ Janus responded weakly, confused.

‘Patton too. I go nonverbal as well. Are you okay?’

The younger nodded, returning his hands to the stim toy on his lap. ‘Yours?’

‘Yes.’

“Is he okay?” Remus whispered suddenly, drawing their attention. He looked so scared, like anything could break Janus and he was scared he would cause it. Oh. Did he think he caused this?

‘Not his fault.’

Logan looked between the two, a look of confusion settling in his face. “What?”

‘Not. His. Fault.’ He signed sharply, a frustrated hum emitting from the back of his throat. ‘Not his fault!’

“Remus, he’s saying it’s not your fault. What does that mean?”

“I- I took his hand, and then this happened…” Remus started, leaning back onto his feet ashamedly, “If that wasn’t the cause, what was?”

‘Sand.’

Logan’s eyes filled with understanding, and he responded, ‘Sand?’ as if to double check that he got the right sign. Janus nodded again, slightly thankful for the mute state he was in. He wouldn’t be able to explain this as well as Logan would.

“If I’m understanding right, then my first assumptions were correct. Janus, did you just experience a sensory overload?”

Janus could only nod, meeting his eyes shakily. This is the moment. Now is his segway. If Logan wasn’t already suspicious, he surely was now. And he’d rather not have to explain, or come up with some half assed excuse if he was confronted later on why sinking his foot into sand had made him break.

‘I’m autistic.’ He fingerspelled it, not knowing what the sign was, or if there even was one. There was a beat of silence, the twins and Virgil exchanging puzzled looks, and Janus couldn’t even bear to look at the two people who would have understood. All his fears came rushing back. Would they think he was lying, or seeking attention, or or or-

“Oh, sweetie,” Patton crooned, sitting cross legged beside Logan, “We thought maybe… well, the possibility came up in conversation before. Lo was the one who brought it up.”

“Yes. Though our experiences differ, you seemed to exhibit symptoms that are common to the ASD spectrum. I thought it feasible, but did not wish to offend or frighten you by mentioning it.”

“We thought that if you were autistic, it would be yours to tell us,” Patton smiled softly.

“Wait,” Remus interrupted, “Janus, you have autism?”

Janus’ nervous glance up must have been enough to clue the rest of the group in, because Roman sighed and ducked his head into Virgil’s shoulder while Logan messily signed something which roughly translated to ‘how dense can someone be’. Jan couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not, but he cracked a smile anyways.

“Shit. Dude, I’m so sorry,” Roman murmured into Virgil’s shirt, “All the times I made fun of you for not joining us or anything, that was way out of line. I truly apologize.”

The youngest gave him the worldwide gesture for ‘it’s okay’; not exactly ASL, but it got his point across. Everything was packed up now, and Janus realized the implications.

‘Home?’ He asked Logan, eyebrows scrunched together.

‘Yes. You need to rest.’ He was right, he was exhausted. Getting to his feet along with Patton and Logan, he reached down to grab his towel, only for it to be promptly swooped up by Roman.

“I… I got it. Don’t worry about it. Okay?”

As soon as Roman turned his back, Janus couldn’t help his heavy sigh. This was another reason he had refrained from telling anyone. He didn’t want to be seen as a burden, or worse, a child. He didn’t need help with menial tasks like grabbing a towel. Virgil and him lifted all the belongings again, with less complaining this time, and began the short trek to the truck.

‘He’s not babying you,’ Logan signed, as if reading his mind, ‘He’s just guilty. If you want my advice, get as much out of it as you can.’

“Logan!” Patton chastised, failing miserably at hiding a smirk.

“Guys?” Remus’ uncharacteristically timid voice prompted them to turn back, “Could I talk to Janus for a sec?”

“You understand he is unable to speak at the moment, correct?” Logan raised an eyebrow, probably coming off more harsh than he meant to.

“I know. Just… please?”

The other two shared a knowing look that Janus didn’t understand, before Logan turned to Janus. “Is that okay?”

The youngest nodded, watching over his shoulder as the lovebirds joined hands, leaving him and Remus alone. When he met his eyes again, he was standing much closer, eyes searching nervously.

“Maybe this will actually be easier since you can’t talk,” he laughed, before his face fell dramatically, “Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I’m such an idiot, I didn’t mean-”

Janus held up a hand quickly, as if to say ‘it’s fine, settle down’, holding back a snicker. He’d understand if someone was upset by the comment, but he’d learn to take Remus’ jokes lightly. He never meant to actually offend, sometimes he just… blurted without intending to. He rolled his finger in a ‘keep going’ motion.

“Shit. Okay,” He’d never seen Remus blush, or stumble over his words before. Not like this, at least, “Now, don’t feel obligated to say you feel the same or anything, okay? This is just, my feelings, and mine alone,” A deep breath, “I like you, Snakey. I like you a lot. More than… more than a friend.”

Oh.

Janus was ninety percent sure he died right then and there. But Remus kept going, tripping over his words in a way that was so unlike him, and yet so perfect.

“I have for a while. I never said anything because I thought, maybe you disliked me? After today though, I think… well, maybe I was misinterpreting those signals. Like I misinterpreted today. That you didn’t want to be around me, no matter how hard I tried.”

Okay, Janus took it back. He wanted to be able to talk now, but his voice came out as another low hum, and he slapped his hand over his mouth, embarrassed. Remus pressed on, unfazed.

“Snakey, I swear to you, that you having autism doesn’t change those feelings at all. It’s not a bad thing, or a flaw, it’s just you. And everything about you is amazing, and perfect, and this is just another thing I get to learn about you. Any fears you had around telling us, telling me, you don’t need to have them.”

He’d never felt this kind of feeling before. In that second, he knew for a fact that this wasn’t a crush that he had on Remus. That wasn’t possible, because a crush had never made him want to break his social barriers like this. A crush had never made him want to make an exception, to stand on his tip toes and kiss him, even if the thought of a new touch usually caused goosebumps to rise on his arms. Because he felt so safe, so blissfully numb, so comfortable with Remus, that he’d be willing to give it a try.

This wasn’t a crush. This was-

“I love you,” Remus whispered, his statement accompanied by a large shaky breath.

He couldn’t say it back, not right now. Later, he would. For sure. Maybe a hundred times. So he did what he’d never thought possible and took that step forward, breaking his bubble that he’d always thought to be unbreakable.

It’s okay. You’re okay. This is okay.

For once, he actually believed it.

Janus reached a hand up, slowly, and rested it on Remus’ face. It wasn’t light, he couldn’t do half touches. It was solid, warm, real. Not a tickling touch that made him twitch, or a brush by that stole the very breath from his lungs. The positive response affirmed his will power, and he leaned up onto his tip toes. Remus looked absolutely stunned, but he didn’t pull away, he couldn’t if he tried. His breath caught in his throat as the elder glanced down, an unmistakable look to his lips.

Had Remus always had those green flecks in his eyes?

And he kissed him. Janus surged forward, pressing their lips together harsher than he’s intended, pulling a small gasp out of Remus. There was a whoop from the vague direction of where they’d parked, followed by a loud smack, and Janus couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

Remus’ hands were clasped at his chest, unmoving, probably afraid that if he touched Janus wrong, this would all be over. He’d have to explain half touches later. For now, he took one of his hands in his free one and guided it around, pushing it into the small of his back until Remus got the message to keep that pressure. He let out a small sigh through his nose, an action that sent a new round of butterflies exploding in the younger’s stomach.

This is okay.

This is all going to be okay.

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #demus #prinxiety #logicality #autistic janus #sanders sides college au

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shimmershae · 2 years

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Season 11, Episode 13--Warlords

I didn’t set an alarm or sit up late for this one, lovelies, even with the welcome addition of my beloved, largely sidelined so far this season Lydia and I hate that because I really do adore her. But I’m still not understanding why they had her throw her hat in with Maggie when Daryl, Carol, and Negan (and recently Aaron) are the characters she actually has some kind of bond with. Like Lydia and Maggie don’t make sense to me. The location—Hilltop being where she met Henry—I can kind of see. But staying behind with Maggie of all people when Lydia has grown to care about Negan? Just what are you trying to accomplish here, Angela. Help me make sense of it.

So yeah. No Carol. No Daryl. More Maggie when we’ve already had an overabundance of her (IMHO) and there’s characters thrown together seemingly for the heck of it. All of it has me less excited for an episode featuring one of my favorites than I really want to be and I hate feeling meh about anything Lydia because we’ve only gotten crumbs so far this season. So yeah. My expectations for enjoying this episode are pretty low. Here’s hoping they can be exceeded.

Anyway. Enough of my blithering. On to the episode in 3-2-1.

Five seconds in and I’m hoping AMC/TWD pay their snake wrangler a pretty penny because those hot mess express weeds look snaky as hell. Sorry. It’s the Southerner in me.

Elijah crushing on my baby girl. Where TF did that come from? Not that Lydia doesn’t deserve a community full of admirers but still. Guess it’s like all of Kang’s “romances.” It happened offscreen.

Speaking of that, how happy am I that this current regime wasn’t in charge during Caryl’s infancy because we would have seen them share a look once if at all and next thing you know, before they even truly started, they would have been over and divorced. It’s almost like Kang can’t write characters meant to be together TOGETHER and I don’t just mean as a ship. I mean the sweet, everyday (could be couple but are really) just human moments that make all the conflict she throws at these characters actually feel like part of their journeys and not just delay tactics.

Okay. But random on his way to dead guy on horseback was kind of lowkey attractive, lol. Shallow point, I know.

When you watch the opening credits and realize some random redshirt villains du jour and also starring characters have had more screen time this season than the show’s leading lady. It’s a special kind of disgust you feel.

But hey. At least Lydia’s already clocked almost as much screen time as she’s accumulated all season in the episode’s opening scene. I overexaggerate but gd. This is a problem.

Sweet, sweet hug between Maggie and Hershel. Poor kid, though. Sounds like this happens to him a lot.

“Getting by is what I’ve been forced to do my whole life. I was told that it makes you stronger and wiser but it doesn’t. It hurts.” Excuse me while I bawl my eyes out mourning Lydia’s lost childhood and innocence.

“Asked everyone what they wanted. Instead of deciding for them.” I mean, we know Maggie is right not to trust the CW but what Lydia’s proposing or intimating isn’t unfair because Maggie has been going about this in a Maggie Knows Best kinda way that echoes Rick.

Cassady McClincy? Where your awards at, girl?

“I just want things to be the same every day.” My poor baby. She needs a hug but they’ve separated her from her Dirt Father, her Not the Mama, and her Asshole Uncle.

It’s bad enough having to cosplay Stormtroopers in real, breathing life but in death too? Poor bastards.

Aaron running down the highway gives me early ASZ era Rick vibes. Whatever has my good man gotten himself into and wherefore art thou, Gracie?

ONE WEEK AGO—fucking great. It’s the return of the time cards. No wonder the show has been something of a hot mess this season. All the time hops, skips, and jumps forwards and backwards probably have the damn storyboards looking like rope/string art.

“God has already prepared the way. He’s just preparing you.” M’kay. Father G, was that your work or?

“…decadence and wild living.” Okay, Father Savage. I see you.

I’m with Aaron, though. I was expecting more fire and brimstone too.

So. I’m confused. Is Aaron seeking temporary reprieve at the CW while ASZ is being rebuilt or is he “visiting” Father G?

Nevermind. New Immigration Initiative. Okay then, lol.

“They didn’t seem too keen on immigrants when we came in.” See now. That’s the kind of stuff we should have seen in 11A instead of all the Reaper nonsense.

Western border of Virginia—40 people.

Question? How are they traveling so easily back and forth between states, lol, because they are falling into the soap opera trap of teleportation more and more lately?

There’s the kid from the horse. Looks better bloody and I don’t know what that says about me, lol.

Aaron having a boss named Carlson. I thought they said Carlton for a hot minute and pictured him doing the little dance, LMAO.

Okay. Carlson is weird AF and Father G is side-eyeing TF outta him with his good eye. Aaron cringing hardcore has me giggling. Only that poor clueless kid is like okay this is cool.

“Yeah. I’m not doing this. Places like that usually have some old man with a shotgun just looking for an excuse to kill some dumbass who stepped on his front lawn.” Father Savage got me about peeing myself, lol. “Practically screams DO NOT DISTURB.”

“No. Because your plan is shit and I don’t want to die.” LOL.

Father G means business taking his collar off. Carlson better watch himself.

The way Aaron has cycled back into his original job as recruiter makes me cry a little bit because he was so bright eyed and optimistic about people’s inherent goodness then. Remember the applesauce? And our two hot AF soulmates casing him after he was cold clocked? Season 5 really was the good old days.

Oh wow. Look at this chick.

What’s with all these so-called religious nuts this season?

Restaurants, two movie theaters? WTF? LOL. The CW people just really don’t know, do they?

Imagine Daryl’s semi-feral Dirt Daughter trying to acclimate. She’d never but Angela really robbed us of the hilarity and poignancy of her trying. Like she could be showing us the Grimes babies experiencing these things if not Lydia to make the hard stuff hit harder but nah. She’s throwing more new groups at us every three episodes instead.

“Wanted you to see who I was before learning what I was.” Father G really getting the best lines this episode.

This dude saying there has to be hookers, gambling, drugs. Like yeah. You know the CW be trying to hide this shit but it exists.

Aaron and his bag. He gonna have pictures of CW in there like he did ASZ? That didn’t work out so well the first time.

He’s got a fucking IPhone. WTF? Maybe that’s where Rick got his? The CRM has to be connected to the CM but how?

“An audition! Well, let me get my tap dancing shoes.” Once again, I am wondering why Angela would deprive us of the Oscar-worthy performance that had to be Carol’s audition. LOL. Guess I’m gonna die mad about it.

Raiders, murderers, rapists, and a few cannibals—hmm.

I mean. This dude kind of has a point. He’s just going to bat for his people.

I don’t think I was supposed to laugh so hard at this line: “Because I got plenty of room on the shelf. Right next to Billy.”

“Wolves. Dressed as sheep. Speaking lies.” Again. Can you really fault the distrust?

“Exactly! What do you have that we would want? This place is a shithole. Why would we want it?” LMAO. Father Savage this episode’s MVP.

“Meat. You want the meat.” LOLOL. Especially at Aaron’s incredulous response. “Cannibals that come in with prepackaged MREs?” I’m howling.

“What a day.” Same, dude. Same.

Carlson! You asshole!

ONE WEEK AND ONE HOUR AGO—Okay. What’s so important about that one hour?

Lance and Carlson in cahoots.

“That other thing.” What is that other thing, hmm? So Aaron and Gabe are part of Lance’s “surgical solution”?

Carlson’s former CIA/assassin? Didn’t see that coming.

“You tired of living, Lance?” What was that weirdness on my screen? Eww, lol.

Guns and cargo for what?

You can’t turn your back on Father Savage, Toby.

TWELVE HOURS AGO—DURING THE ATTACK—So Aaron didn’t give the kid the map. That leaves who?

Negan! I’m actually happy to see you, Man.

Okay, though. Negan sending that kid off to get Maggie’s help feels an awful lot like a setup for future shenanigans, i.e. spinoff. Hahaha.

Seriously, though. Are the tides really turning that fast on Negan’s feelings about Maggie?

NOW—75% of this season has occurred via flashback or time jump so NOW is actually quite refreshing.

I like this nameless lady. I just wish the other characters we love and know weren’t absent so that we could watch her story unfold when it’s the last season. It’s like introducing OC’s in the last chapter of a fucking tome when all I want to read about is the main characters getting the soft epilogue they’ve more than earned.

I can’t believe they have Maggie, Aaron, and Elijah coming to Negan’s rescue. I understand it’s really Father G they’re trying to help but still, lol. At least Lydia will be glad to see Negan.

Wait. That was the end of the episode? Pleasantly surprised by how engrossed I was. When the preview started playing I was like what?

Speaking of the preview, it actually looks GOOD. My faves are returning.

Angela’s explanation points—here we go.

They’re using the generational divide excuse for Lydia and Maggie’s difference in opinion. I mean, I can see it but also, there’s some stubborn pride in Maggie not using all the tools available to her to keep her community afloat.

Maggie kept Hilltop’s door open after Michonne walled off ASZ? I thought that was Tara because Maggie was already off and about with Georgie but I guess we’ve just forgotten all about her.

Overall impressions?

The episode was much better than I expected. I’m not saying it was peak TWD. I think, regretfully, those days are behind us. But it was toward the top half of the Season 11 heap in that it kept my interest and it felt like it was actually building toward SOMETHING.

Lydia has my heart. I love her and want nothing but the best for her. Stop making her hurt, Angela, because in hurting her (and Carol)? You’re hurting me.

Gabriel and Aaron always surprise me with how much I enjoy them in episodes together.

I’m looking forward to the next episode. Here’s hoping it surprises me in a good way, too.

#The Walking Dead #TWD spoilers #Shae's thinky thoughts #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

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lesserfandomappreciation · 3 years

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Ariadne and why the Mycenaeans can fuck right off

Warning: Includes brief mentions of r*pe, cultural destruction, ancient patriarchy reminding us why no woman would ever time-travel more than 5 years into the past if that and a great deal of spite for male historians/public education history/mythology classes.

Possible side effects may include a sudden intense rage for an ancient society equivalent to the innate rage one has for the Romans burning the library of Alexandria, a distinct hatred for ancient men not being able to let anyone have nice things, and a sudden fascination for Minoa.

Usually, I stick to writing imagines and being happy with that. It’s fun! I love it! But every now and again, in an attempt to escape the crushing forces known as reality and responsibilities I’ll put on a few cutscenes from games I’m: A) Too lazy to play B) Too broke to play C) Too unskilled to play D) All of the above

because cutscenes are free and why torture yourself with impossible levels when its free on Youtube?* *In all seriousness please support video games and video game creators, but no shame to those of us who prefer cutscenes to gameplay. A few weeks ago I added the game Hades made by Supergiant to the list because the cutscenes were bomb and the characters are so much fun! Intricate as all hell! Hella cute too but that’s unrelated! Now my pretty little simp patootie is especially a big fan of Dionysus and his gorgeous design so the cutscenes with him are my favorite.

I’m re-watching his cutscenes a few nights ago for fun as background when he has a certain line about Theseus. Don’t quote me on this since my memory is foggy at best but roughly it was: Dionysus: Good job with Theseus. Never cared much for him- what he did to that girl was just horrible.*

*I know that’s not his exact line but this is clearly a rant post fueled by spite and ADD-hyper-focused obsessions with ancient civilizations so let’s not worry too too much about the semantics here.

Now, I like mythology! Personally, I prefer the Norse mythology due to the general lack of very very gross dynamics that several other ancient mythologies seem to include, but I’m decently familiar with Greek mythos. Enough to go - “Why does the God of Wine give a single fuck about the frat bro of Greek heroes being a dick to a woman? Grossness is embedded into the very DNA of all distant relatives of Zeus, a woman being harassed by Zeus or his bastard army is a typical Tuesday in ancient Greece.”

Wikipedia confirms that Ariadne is the only woman in the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, which I kinda knew already so unless Theseus did some f’ed up shit to some other princess of Minos, Dionysus could only be referring to her. Disregarding what I know about Wikipedia and how it can suck you down the rabbit hole of rabbit holes through sheer fury I stupidly clicked the link to Ariadne’s article.

By the time we get to the end of this shitstorm, I will have two separate plotlines for two separate stories based of Ariadne, 2k+ notes (and going) on an ancient civilization prior to a week ago I didn’t know existed and within me there will be a rage towards a different ancient civilization I vaguely recall learning about in high school.

Here’s how this shit went down.

First of all, apparently after Theseus abandoned Ariadne on an island to die (yep! He did that! To the one person who is the only reason he defeated the minotaur! Fuck this guy.) there are multiple storylines where Dionysus takes a single look at Ariadne and falls in love.

“A god falls in love?” you say, aware of how most love stories in Greek mythos can be summed up with Unfortunately, Zeus got horny and Hera is a firm believer in victim blaming. “This poor woman is about to go through hell!” I thought so too! And in one variation of the story, Dionysus does his daddy proud by being an absolute tool to Ariadne. In the majority though? He woos the fuck out of her, and ultimately marries her by consent!

Her consent!

In ancient Greece!

The party dude of the Greek pantheon knows more about consent then his father and modern day frat brothers!

Okay! That’s interesting, so I keep reading.

Ariadne getting hitched to Dionysus is a big deal in Olympus, to the point of getting a crown made of the Aurora Borealis from Aphrodite who is bro-fisting Dionysus, beyond glad she didn’t have to give him the talk about consent. The rest of the gods are pissy especially Hera who doesn’t like Dionysus much since he is the son of Zeus and Semele but they don’t do much. Ariadne ascends to godhood, becomes the goddess of Labyrinths with the snake and bull as her symbol and that’s that on that.

Colorin, colorado, este cuento se acabado. And they lived happily ever after. That’s the end of the post right?

NO! Because curiosity has made me their bitch and there’s more to this calling me.

Also, I was pissed! Still am! Why the fuck-a-doodle-do did I have to learn about the time Poseidon r*ped a priestess instead of the arguably healthiest relationship in the entirety of the pantheon? Why is Persephone and Hades’ story (which has improved since it was first written and I like more modern versions of it, no hate) the only healthy-ish Greek love story I had to learn when Dionysus and Ariadne were right there? The rage of having endured several grade levels of “Zeus got horny and Hera found out” stories in the nightmare of public education led me to keep looking into this.

There’s this wonderful Youtube channel called Overly Sarcastic Productions that I highly recommend that delves a lot into mythology, and I have seen their bombass video about Dionysus and how his godhood has changed since he was potentially first written in a language we comprehend.

Did ya’ll know this man is the heir apparent to Zeus? ‘Cause I didn’t know that!

YEA! Dionysus, man of parties, king of hangovers and inducer of madness, is set to inherit the throne of Olympus! Ariadne didn’t husband up the God of Wine, she husbanded up the Prince of Olympus and heir apparent to the throne! Holy shit! No wonder some of the gods were against her marriage to Dionysus - can you imagine the drama of an ex-mortal woman sitting on the Queen’s throne of Olympus? Hera must have been pissed.

BUT WAIT.

There’s more.

The reason we know Dionysus is a very important god and is possibly even more important than we think is because of a handy-dandy language known as Linear B, otherwise known as the language of the Mycenaeans!

For those of you fortunate enough to have normal hobbies and interests, the Mycenaeans were the beta version of the Greeks. Their written language of Linear B is one of, if not the first recorded instance of a written Indo-European language. This language, having been translated, gives us an interesting look at what the Greek gods were like back in their beta-stages before they fixed the coding and released the pantheon.

Interesting side facts of the Mycenaean Greek gods include:

Poseidon being the head god with an emphasis on his Earthquake aspect, and being much more of a cthonic god in general.

Take that Zeus, for being so gross.

The gods in general being more cthonic, as Mycenaeans were obsessed with cthonic gods (probably due to all the earthquakes and natural disasters in Greece and Crete at that time)

Several of the gods and goddesses that we know being listed, alongside some that we don’t consider as important (Dione)

The first mention of Kore, later Persephone, but no Hades because since a lot of gods were cthonic, there would be no need for one, specific cthonic god to represent the majority of death-related rituals.

That’s not what we’re focusing on though! What we’re focusing on is a specific translated portion of Linear B that we have. One of the translated portions of Linear B that for the life of me I can’t find (someone please help me find it and send the link so I can edit this post) says an interesting phrase. “Honey to the gods. Honey to the Mistress of Labyrinths.”

One more time. “Honey to the gods. Honey to the Mistress of Labyrinths.”

Mistress of Labyrinths.

Now wait a gosh darn minute. Isn’t there a goddess of labyrinths in the Greek mythos? Why yes! Yes there is! Ariadne!

Here’s a question for you. If Ariadne is but a minor god in the pantheon, a wife to a more predominant god, why is it that while all the other gods and goddesses are bunched together in a sentence of praise, the so-called ex-mortal gets a whole-ass sentence to herself singing praises?

And thus, we have arrived to Minoa!

What is Minoa, you ask? Minoa is to Rome what Rome is to us. An old-ass civilization either older than or younger by a hundred years to ancient Egypt. Egypt, that started in 3200 B.C-ish depending on who you ask. That’s old. Old as balls. They were contemporaries to their trading partner, Egypt until 1450 BC-ish. A 2000 year old civilization.

Minoa was founded on the island of Crete, and was by what artifacts we have found a merchant civilization with its central economy centered on the cultivation of saffron and the development of bronze/iron statues of bulls. Most of what we know about them comes from artifacts and frescoes found on Crete that managed to survive everything else I will mention later, but what matters is that we know a few things about them.

Obsessed with marine life for some time, given their pottery.

Had the first palaces in all of Europe, some of them ridiculously big.

Wrote in Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphs, both still untranslated languages.

Had a ritual involving jumping over a bull, for some reason.

Firm believers in “Suns out, Tits out.”

You’d think I’m kidding on the last one but no! No no no! All the women apparently rocked the tits-out look in Minoa!

^^^^One of many, many Minoan works featuring women giving their titties fresh air. ^^^^

“Wait a second Pinks! What does this have to do with Ariadne being the Mistress of labyrinths?”

Well you see dear wonderful darling, while we know very little about Minoan religion because Mycenaeans (we will get to those bastards in a second), we do know this:

All the religious figures appear to be exclusively women.

The most important figures of their religion seem to be goddesses as there are few artifacts featuring male gods.

Because of the religion, the culture may have been an equal society or even a matriarchy! Historians who are male aren’t sure.

A frankly ridiculous amount of their temples, including the ones in caves in the middle of fuck-all feature labyrinths. A lot of labyrinths!

Their head god is a goddess! Whose temples have labyrinths and whose main symbols are snakes and bulls. Who do we know is a) the mistress of labyrinths and b) is symbolized a lot by snakes and bulls?

ARI-fucking-ADNE THAT’S WHO!

Ariadne didn’t upgrade by marrying the prince of Olympus! Dionysus wifed up possibly the most important goddess in all of Crete and becoming her boy-toy!

I’m not even kidding, most Minoan depictions of the goddess’ consort features a boy/man who cycles through the stages of death. Dionysus himself in several myths goes through the same cycle - life, being crushed, death, rebirth, repeat. Cycles the consort goes through in Minoan legend depictions too!

Okay, that’s great, but what does that have to do with the Mycenaeans? Why do you want to single-handedly go back in time and strangle the beta-Greeks with the nearest belt?

Everything I just said about Ariadne being a Minoan goddess, the Mistress of Labyrinths being hella important on Minoa, is all theoretical. The Mycenaeans are partially to blame for making it theoretical.

Minoa thrived for 2000 years but it had a lot of issues, mostly caused by natural disasters. Towards the end of their civilization (1500 BC-ish), the nearby island of Thera, today known as Santorini, decided to blow up. The island was a hella-active volcano that when erupted, destroyed a lot.

How big was the eruption? Well when Pompeii was wasted by Mt. Vesuvius, the blast was heard from roughly 120 miles away, 200 km.

The blast on Thera was heard from 3000 miles away. 4800 km away.

Fuck me, the environmental effects of the explosion were felt in imperialistic CHINA.

Holy shit that would waste anybody! And it did! Minoa went from being a powerhouse in the Mediterranean to scrambling to recover from losing 40,000 citizens and who knows how many cities. Tsunamis may have followed the blast, further destroying ports which for a navy-powerhouse of an island nation is a bad thing and the theorized temperature drops caused by a cloud of ash lingering for a while would have destroyed crops for the year.

Minoa was fucked.

The Mycenaeans and all their bullshit made it worse.

Up until a few hundred years prior to Thera’s explosion, Minoan artifacts don’t depict much in terms of military power. Why would it? Crete is a natural defense post. Sheer cliffs, high mountains and a few semi-fortified areas would make it pointless to invade. It’s only when the Mycenaeans in all their bullshit decided to attack/compete that Minoa really needed any army to speak of.

Guess who decided to invade while Minoa was reeling from an incredibly shitty year? Mycenaea!

Guess who won?

Also Mycenaea!

Nobody knows how this shit went down though because wouldn’t you know it, the Mycenaeans in all their superiority-complex glory decided to destroy most written accounts about Minoa, a good junk of the temples and culturally eliminated most of Minoan beliefs.

Minoa isn’t even the real name of the civilization! It’s just the name Arthur Evans, the guy who re-motivate interest in Minoan archaeology, gave to the civilization because the writings that would have included the name of the civilization were destroyed.

“That sucks!” Fuck yes that sucks! “What does that have to do with Ariadne though?”

Oh ho ho. Strap in because you’re about to be pissed.

Those of us unfortunate enough to be aware of all the bullshit the Christians pulled on the European pagan belief system are familiar with the concept of cultural, religious destruction. There’s a special name for it I don’t know but if I did I would curse it to be absorbed by the horrendous will of fungi.

An example: Christianity was not the most popular of religions amongst the Vikings. A monotheistic religion that is heavily controlled did not strongly appeal to anyone with a pantheon as rad as the Norse one.

In order to appeal to the Vikings, what monks would do is they would write down traditionally Viking stories which up until that point were orally passed down. Beowulf, the story of the most Viking Viking to have every Vikinged, was one of these first stories.

However! Did these monks write Beowulf as closely to the original oral transcript as possible? Of course not! They took liberties! While Norse features such as trolls and dragons and all sorts of Norse magic occur, there is a lot of Christian features added in.

This happened across all Pagan religions that Christianity came into contact with in Europe. Stories would be altered when written down to be more Christian (this happened to the Greek Pantheon too btw), holidays that were Pagan magically lined up with ones the Vatican just happened to suddenly have. Even names of mythological figures were taken and added onto Christian figure names. Consequently, a lot of pagan religions they did this to got erased over time, with many of their traditions and details being lost forever, and the details we do know being tinted by Christianity.

The Mycenaeans were likely no different.

Minoa and Mycenaea were as culturally opposite as can be. Minoa is theorized to be a matriarchal or equal society*. Mycenaea and most of early Greece absolutely was not. In fact, during early stages of their religion where they believed in reincarnation, the Mycenaeans believed the worst thing to come back as was a woman.

Did you get that? With your options ranging from man to ever single animal on Earth, a woman was ranked as beneath literal animals in Mycenaean society.

Fuck the Mycenaeans.

* This is not to say Minoa was without fault, as a society that is matriarchal or equal can still have rampant issues such as privilege, classism, racism, sexism and more, but when history has a shortage of civilizations that didn’t treat women like shit, you find yourself rooting for them more.

What do you do then, when you take over a society that is very much the opposite of a nightmare of a patriarchy? You fold their beliefs into your own to bait them into yours. Going back to the Linear B line about “Mistress of Labyrinths” that line would/could have been an early tactic of incorporating Minoan belief into Mycenaean belief. Other goddesses and gods were made into aspects of Mycenaean gods. Bristomartis, the Minoan goddess of the hunt, would become Artmeis. Velchanos, a god of the sky, would become Zeus.

With more time, the religion shifted more into Mycenaean and eventually into ancient Greece as we know it. Through trade other gods and goddesses would continue to shift and change, some being straight up imported (Aphrodite for example). Dionysus himself changed a lot too, going from a God representing freedom and attracting slaves, women and those with limited power into his cult, to a God of parties for the wealthy.

Theseus and the Minotaur was a myth likely based on a Mycenaean myth based on a Minoan myth that changes Ariadne from an important, possibly the important goddess of an ancient religion and relegates her to a side character in a pantheon so vast that she would be lost within it.

All of this brings us to today. Today, where as soon as work ended I spent most of the day, as well as the past two days, looking up everything I can on Minoan civilization and added it to my notes. Spite is fueling me to write two possible different stories for two different fandoms where Minoa dunks of Mycenaea and it is giving me life. Expect an update within the next two weeks folks as I lose control of my writing life once more.

In summary: Ariadne deserves more respect, fuck the public education system for skipping over the good parts of Greek mythology instead of the r*pey as shit parts, the Mycenaeans can eat my shorts, and a world were Minoa became the predominant power instead of Greece would be an amazing world to live in.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk. Pink out.

#minoa #minoan #crete #ancient history #ariadne #mycenaea #mycenaean #I hate #HATE #HATE HATE HATE the Greeks so much #homer is a dick #So much spite and curiosity went into this #if I ever get a time machine I will travel to the first years of Mycenaea for the express purpose of burning it to the ground before #they get a chance #the opportunity #to look at Minoa wrong

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hexalianrebel-blackfeathers · 3 years

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Crossfire

Panda’s Notes: Hey, it’s a new fandom. >w< I kind of fell in love with the chaos and characters from Friday Night Funkin’, so I’ve got a few stories in mind. This one is based on this piece by @fluffymary!

Find it on AO3!

John didn’t have a side. Demons, mortals; the blood of both ran through him. All he really knew was war. The smell of the gunpowder; the ringing in his head from explosive shells; the sounds of tanks and jeeps rolling across their battlefield and the men calling—

“Sir!!” He flinched out of his inner monologue and spun around to see one of his soldiers panting softly in the doorway. “He’s back again.”

As if on cue, there was a chorus of shouts under a melody of loud gunfire. Usually, John wouldn’t bat an eye, but today, he snatched his helmet and the staff leaning beside his door.

“Get Squad 17 together; tell them it’s time.”

The soldier sprinted down the hall, and John took a brisk march in the opposite direction. As he passed the infirmary windows, he could see several soldiers already appearing in beds; and with enough frequency that they quickly began to appear on top of each other. The kid certainly wasn’t slacking this time either.

The soldiers that had recovered were quick to fall into line behind John as he made his way out of the building and onto the field, fanning out to return to where their weapons had fallen from their deaths.

The air screamed as something tore through it at supersonic speeds, and the bullets from several soldiers’ guns were redirected or ricocheted back into their own or a fellow soldier’s face. A cloud of dust suddenly appeared, swirling around the little beast that caused it with his sudden stop.

Fully clad in red and green scales, carrying a beast of an automatic rifle, and excitedly whipping a long tail was the brat they’d met all those weeks ago; and had been continuing to meet every time the bastard needed to blow off steam or something. The little dragon glanced over his shoulder, eyes glowing bright green as he smirked with sharp teeth at John.

John only huffed as the dragon disappeared in a burst of speed, and he drew a strained breath as he felt blood strike his face from a soldier that happened to pass near him. Oh, he was going to teach this kid a lesson alright…

“Sir, do you copy?” John’s radio crackled softly on his shoulder, and he glanced around warily before tipping it closer to catch his voice.

“Copy. What do you want?”

“Squad 17 is in position. On your mark, sir.”

John smirked this time, drawing his staff from its holster on his back and stepping forward. “Everyone, you know what to do.”

The soldiers mobilized quickly, scattering away from the main area and gathering up in a tight group on the target practice field. Many were less than thrilled about the position they knew they were in, and they could only clutch their riot shields and brace when the call went out.

“Here he comes!” Someone shouted, and indeed, the beast could be easily spotted perched on a lamp post and sneering down at them. The rifle in his hands glowed with his green aura before he ripped it into the pair of Uzis they were all too familiar with. The second he vanished, soldiers were dropping and vanishing left and right as bullets ripped through them.

John took his time approaching; there was nothing more that the little bastard seemed to enjoy beside playing with his prey. In the meantime, he leaned into his radio, reconfirming the position and preparation of every member in Squad 17. He could feel a surge of power swirl around him and his staff, and he couldn’t resist the smile on his lips as he finally called out to their attacker.

////////////

Pico adored the battlefield. Miles away from any cities or towns to damage or helpless people to put at risk; dozens of targets to mow through for his personal speed tests; and, most importantly, he knew he couldn’t kill any of them. Pico had known about the “Tankman’s” power long before he’d first been summoned to this place by Lilith’s own abilities. He’d always assumed it was just some kind of rumor; one if his mother’s exaggerated stories.

But here he was again, watching the same soldiers he’d shot through the head reemerge from the main building to come rushing back to the fray.

Fuck whatever Heaven’s got; this was the life.

He must have been a damn sight, tail wagging all over the place. He hadn’t razed like this since he was little, and even then, it was with his mother over his shoulder making sure he was sticking to the targets and locations she’d been assigned. Nothing like letting a fully loaded toddler do your job for you, after all.

He was smacked out of the casual memory by a bullet bouncing off of his armored hand. An attempt to disarm him, probably. Yeah, right. He lunged into a run, his aura spreading out around him. He never got tired of the way bullets hung in midair, easily redirected by a slap from his hand or tail and usually finding a new target in one of the soldiers firing at him. He paused again to catch his breath, unable to keep from laughing to himself as he rolled his shoulders and checked the stopwatch he’d mounted on his rifle.

He felt a sort of tingle as a new, powerful aura hit his senses. The half-blood; the leader; the Tankman. He glanced over his shoulder, sneering a bit fiendishly at the man before zipping off and sending a shot through the soldier that was running by him. He adored pissing him off almost more than mowing through his soldiers. Almost. Nah, no he didn’t.

He spotted a crowd growing at the far end of the training field, and he made his way to the top of a lamppost to get a good look. They were practically lined up, every other row bearing riot shields that wouldn’t stand a chance against Pico’s shots while the others were taking aim.

“Here he comes!” Someone called, and they all seemed to brace and cringe.

Oh, well, now he had to flex. He made a show of transforming his rifle into his favorite pair of Uzis before lunging down into the crowd. The sounds of his guns couldn’t even reach him with how fast he was moving, and he couldn’t resist tackling some soldiers to the ground to make room for a sweep of bullets before shooting them as well. His average time was coming up; he just knew it. He needed a good finisher. Maybe something flashy…

“Alright, you little shit!” Pico flinched at that familiar voice, looking up from his position of standing on a soldier’s chest. Oh, perfect! A high level tag. It’d be a first, for him at least, but taking Tankman down a peg in front of all his soldiers would be a fantastic note to head home on.

“This little game of yours ends now, ya goddamn salamander!” Tankman barked at him, holding a…a fuckin…glowing stick?

Pico blinked, capping the soldier he was standing on before turning to face his target. Why was it taking so long for him to catch his breath? He could have been over there by now. He scoffed as he caught sight of Tankman’s smirk; what’s a little headache if he got to punch that jaw in?

His aura spread out as he prepared to rush, and whoa, whoa, time-fucking-out!

He was dizzy; way too dizzy. He stumbled to a stop, keeping his distance from Tankman; but he was still shaking. His guns vanished, and his head cleared a bit. He could see the staff in Tankman’s hand glowing, and when he narrowed his eyes to hone his demon senses, he could see purple lines and symbols etched into the ground around him. Unfortunately, such an effort threw his head back into a spin, and he found his butt hitting the dirt as his tail and scales shifted off of him to leave him seated there in his school clothes. He pushed his red curls out of his face, panting softly as he glanced around at the soldiers surrounding his new little cage. Shit; there went his run.

“Men, I’d say Operation Coyote was a complete success.” Tankman said with a grin as he stepped forward, and the soldiers cheered and laughed around him.

Pico growled as he locked his gaze on Tankman. His face shifted suddenly as his eyes glowed, flames wisping between the gaps in his teeth as he—promptly faceplanted into the dirt from the sudden lightheadedness.

“Aw, isn’t that cute?” Tankman jeered as others chuckled, and Pico looked up to see him kneeling beside the edge of the circle, which seemed a lot smaller now than it had a minute ago. “He tried to do the scary eyes.” The man popped the visor off of his helmet, and Pico’s face fell as bright purple eyes bored into him from pitch black sclera.

Tankman sneered for a moment at Pico’s speechless staring, standing up as he reattached the visor. “Heh, and that’s how you do it, kid. You like your new playpen, brat?”

Pico blushed a bit, embarrassed, and quickly got to his feet. “It’s tacky, old man.” He growled, clenching a fist and trying a punch. He wasn’t surprised when his hand couldn’t go past the circle, but he was surprised when Tankman’s hand came through to grab him by his shirt.

“Yeah, it’s an older setup;” The man hummed, easily dangling Pico’s human form as the kid kicked against the barrier. “It’s amazing what you pick up when you’re raised by Demon Hunters, eh?”

Pico snarled softly, trying to pry those deceptively strong fingers off of his collar. “When I get out of here, I’m gonna fucking—!" He was shut up when his face was yanked against the barrier.

“You’re not gonna do a damn thing, you shitty little snake-spawn!”

Pico had winced a little at what he assumed must be the “Captain voice” he’d heard rumors about, a cheeky smirk seating itself on his lips to mask his nerves.

“We’re getting sick of your games, runt; and it’s about time you were put in—”

“What?!” Pico shouted exaggeratedly, tipping his head back and kicking the barrier again. “I-I can’t hear you; some old fuck blew my eardrums out with his bitching!”

He just knew Tankman was glaring at him through that stupid visor, and Pico couldn’t help laughing tauntingly until he was dropped on the ground. The man drew his hand back, resting it on his hip as the other tightened its grip on his staff.

“Men, next step. Get started.” He ordered shortly, stepping backwards.

Pico scrambled to his feet. Okay, he was fine as long as he didn’t use his powers; no problem. The soldiers were regrouping, and about ten of them stepped closer to the circle with staves or wands or whatever conduit they carried. Pico growled softly; he had a feeling he knew what they were doing, but dammit, he couldn’t tell which of them was going to attack first. He glanced over his shoulder, sure that they’d go for his blind spot, only for something to lash around one of his wrists.

He yelped, planting his feet and trying to lean back. He did his best to suppress the instinct to use his demon strength, and he growled angrily as he was forced into a tug-of-war with at least one full-grown man who didn’t look like he was having much of a problem keeping the magic coil still. The soldier beside him seemed to perform the same spell, another coil of magic energy zipping around his free wrist.

“Ack! F-Fuckers!” Pico barked, his sneakers dragging in the dirt for a moment before he was yanked down to the ground. He cried out as his tongue got caught between his teeth, and he struggled to find traction to pull against the magic ropes.

“Not bad, boys.” Tankman called, sauntering into the circle. He rested his boot heavily on Pico’s back, and a pair of soldiers managed to wrangle Pico’s flailing legs from outside the circle. “Well, kid, not so tough now, are ya?”

Pico growled up at him, but dammit, he couldn’t think of a response. They’d actually caught him.

“Pfft, no stupid quips either, huh?” Tankman jeered. “Damn, that’s almost sad. Stevie! Front and Center!”

Pico could hear footsteps running toward them, and another soldier made an effort to pass through his sightline and give him a wave.

“Hello, Pico.” He said almost politely, carrying a book under his arm; and Pico hated how genuine he sounded. “Ah, sir, the spell’s ready when you are.”

////////////

John couldn’t help a roll of his eyes when Steve greeted the little brat, given the position they were all in. He was a sweetheart to a fault.

“The spell’s ready when you are.” Steve said with a smile, the book floating out of his palm as his hands glowed. As the pages flipped rapidly on their own, John cracked his knuckles and grinned.

“Good to hear it.” He chuckled, removing the glove on his left hand. “Hit me, Stevie.”

Steve took a deep breath and spread his fingers, and John felt magic wrap around his arm. It coiled and tightened between his fingers, supplying his powers without the circle draining them away. His arm shifted: a dark black-purple form with sharp fingers, meant to reach and pull at souls and the essences of life itself.

“Alright, kiddo…” John hummed, curling his fingers and sneering when he caught sight of the brat looking up at him. “Time to learn ya a thing or two about messing with soldiers.”

The kid yelped when John’s hand clutched at his shoulder, and John’s eyes glowed behind his visor as he forced the brat into a partial shift. Scales quickly covered his back, and half of his head became dragonesque, glowing eye included. The soldiers restraining him had to plant their feet and pull as he got a burst of strength to fight.

“Stevie?” John huffed, setting his knee on one of the kid’s legs as his free hand gripped a handle on his belt.

Steve knelt in front of their captive, smiling in that calming way he does. “Now, Pico, I can imagine how upset you must be, but I’d suggest you keep still. All we’re going to do is a sort of test. Research purposes.”

“Fuck you…” The brat hissed, and John smacked him on the back of the head with his free hand before he could stop himself.

“Don’t fucking talk to Stevie like that, shitstain.” He growled, returning his hand to his belt to finally pull up the knife he’d been unsheathing. “Since you don’t want it sugar-coated, I’m going to scrape some scales off you so our boys can find out what kind of bullshit makes you so damn bulletproof. Knowledge is half the battle, you know.”

The kid’s glowing eye turned to him, a mouth half full of sharp teeth trying to snarl.

John just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, kid, I’m so terrified.” He flipped the knife in his hand, angling the blade against the boy’s spine.

Despite the fact that he’d spent at least an hour sharpening the damn thing that morning just for this, it simply rattled along the scales like a tire of the off-road track. John sucked his teeth, his shifted hand clutching tighter when the brat tried to kick again.

“Knock it off!” He barked, sounding closer to a whine from where John was kneeling.

John bit back a chuckle, but a smirk played his lips as he set the tip of the knife at the back of the kid’s neck. “Why should I? You haven’t quit shooting up our battlefield every other day for weeks! I’d say this is the least of what you ought to get.”

Steve was eyeing the kid curiously, and he took a seat on the ground to look a little closer. John crisscrossed the knife along the scales at the center of their prisoner’s back, growing a bit frustrated when he realized he was only dulling his blade.

“I s-said quit it!” The kid’s voice pitched to a squeak, and he tried and failed again to pull. John actually paused this time, quirking an eyebrow.

“Ah, I see!” Steve suddenly said, smiling happily as he tipped his head to try and make eye contact. “You’re a little ticklish, aren’t you, Pico?”

The kid promptly looked away from him, not even letting out a growl this time.

Steve smirked a little, crossing his arms. “Oh, you’re very ticklish; my mistake.” He corrected teasingly, purposefully raising his voice a bit and giggling at the look the kid must have given him.

John rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Takes one to know one, Stevie.” He said with a little smile of his own, attempting to curb his frustration with that cute blush on Steve’s face. Of course, after all this hassle, the damn kid’s dragon hide turned his sharpest knife into a tickle tool.

Wait a fucking second…

////////////

It probably would have been easy for Pico to just tell Tankman that his demon form was pretty blade-proof, but he couldn’t resist the chance to upset him a little for putting him through this. He quickly regretted that decision when the knife managed to catch his nerves despite not breaking through his armor.

“Knock it off!” He insisted, trying to keep any giggles from slipping into his voice. That “Stevie” guy was watching him closely, and Pico was too focused on trying to struggle to hear whatever Tankman was saying. A shiver shot up his spine when the knife made zigzags across it, and damn him, that tickled so bad!

“I s-said quit it!” He squeaked out, still unable to escape the magic coils on his limbs.

“Ah, I see~!” Stevie said playfully, watching Pico’s face as he struggled. “You’re a little ticklish, aren’t you, Pico?”

The human half of his face felt hot, and he looked away from that stupid smile. He was just trying to get Pico’s guard down; he just knew it.

“Oh… you’re very ticklish; my mistake.” Stevie taunted, raising his voice enough that a few soldiers behind him actually reacted.

Pico gasped indignantly, and Stevie just giggled. Oh, he didn’t care how nice this guy was; Pico was lighting him up next time. He heard Tankman scoff, and he realized the knife wasn’t touching him anymore.

“Takes one to know one, Stevie.” Tankman teased, but then he seemed to pause as Stevie was pouting at him. Pico blinked and shook his head as it suddenly started to shift back to fully human. He didn’t have the leverage to look over his shoulder, but he saw Stevie and a few soldiers behind him smile and snicker.

Before Pico could figure out what was going on, he found himself laughing loudly and trying to struggle again. Tankman’s fingers were digging and scribbling over his back and shoulders, occasionally giving more firm scratches right over his spine. His hands crawled up and shoved into the spaces between his shoulders to flutter along his neck, ripping a squeal out of Pico’s mouth as he tried to scrunch his shoulders up to his ears.

“Gee, Stevie, I’d say he’s definitely pretty ticklish~” Tankman taunted, wiggling his fingers against Pico’s neck where he could. “The little brat’s caught my fingers.”

Pico, indeed, was making an effort to keep Tankman’s fingers pinned where they were despite the squeaky giggles he kept pulling out of him. This was embarrassing enough as it was.

Tankman leaned slightly, and Pico heard him whistle. There was a bit of a murmur, and a few footsteps crunched on the dirt.

“Oh, quit being a bitch, he can’t hurt you. Now, come here.”

Pico tried to look back, only to squeak and squirm when Tankman so much as twitched his fingers. Another weight set itself on his left ankle, and he could feel his sneaker being worked off.

“W-Wait a minute; that’s not fa—!” He tried to protest, giggles mixing in as Tankman leaned over him.

“Oh, yeah? And why is that? Your little dragon paws tickwish too?”

“Fuck you!” Pico shot back, unable to keep from laughing when the new soldier scratched gently at the sole of his foot, seemingly tracing the snake patterns on his sock.

“You know what I think is unfair?” Tankman continued, letting his nails drag one last time as he finally pulled his hands away from Pico’s neck; Pico still hesitated to let his shoulders down. “I think it’s pretty damn unfair that you keep running in here taking pot-shots at my soldiers just for shits and giggles.”

Pico had to bite his tongue to keep from giggling as Tankman aimed a poke between his shoulders to punctuate the line.

“So, obviously, it’s only fair that they get a few pot-shots at you. And hell, if bullets aren’t going to work, we’ll stick to what does.”

Tankman’s hands burrowed into Pico’s armpits, and the poor kid shrieked and yanked his arms down. “Ohoho! There it is! That’s a tickle spot, alright!” Tankman’s left hand came to pry at Pico’s right arm, his free hand scribbling faster and digging to draw out loud squeals.

Fingers were scribbling all over his foot, and someone else was digging into the back of his knee. He let out a cackle when someone’s hand found the soft part of his side, almost catching the edge of his stomach. Stevie still sat in front of him, ruffling Pico’s hair with one hand while the other gave gentle scribbles around his ears that made him giggle even harder.

“Sir, why don’t we flip him over?” Stevie suggested. “Get the poor thing out of the dirt.”

“Heh, yeah?” Tankman asked playfully, hooking his hands under Pico’s arms. “Or do you just want to find out if his tummy is as bad as yours too?”

“John!” Stevie scolded with a chuckle, and Pico flailed a bit as he was lifted up. Two soldiers grabbed his wrists, and—Wait, when the fuck did his hands get free anyway?! Pico didn’t have a chance to think about it, since several soldiers’ hands returned to their positions of scribbling or pinching around his torso.

Pico’s voice was lost in squeals and cackles as he tried to writhe. That same bastard had ahold of his foot again, and someone else was reaching over to scratch under his toes. An arm was hooked around his leg, and fingers scribbled under his knee; a claw-shaped hand vibrated and squeezed around his stomach, catching the edge of his bellybutton every time he squirmed; knuckles dug and twisted against his ribs; and there was some feather-light tracing under his chin and down his neck.

Pico was a damn patient person. He’d have been willing to forgive all that shit.

If the fuckers weren’t teasing him!!

It was mostly the fact that they were laughing at him that irked him—no, he was not just going loopy from his own laughter, the soldiers were chuckling at his ordeal like fucking sadists—but the cooing in his ears and to each other about ‘how cute’ he was, and ‘poor thing’ and ‘Maybe we could let him go if he’s learned his lesson~”

Oh, yeah, that Stevie guy was so dead.

Tankman laughed beside him, arms crossed for a moment as he tapped his foot. “Nah, maybe a little longer. Kids like him tend to need some tutoring, y’know?”

Stevie gave him a little push, chuckling, and Pico tried his best to find some clarity.

A little headache was worth the glow that came to his eye.

////////////

John shook his head as he observed the chaos. Poor kid was kind of getting destroyed. Not that he didn’t deserve it, of course, but John certainly didn’t envy him right now.

Steve approached him with a smile, softly nudging John with his shoulder and adjusting his glasses with his thumb. “The guys are ruthless as usual.” He commented, sidestepping the poke John tried to give him.

“Yes. I’ve trained them well.” John chuckled, only to snicker and shake his head as a few of his soldiers broke off into their own little tickle fights.

“Think they should let up a little yet? I almost feel bad for poor Pico.”

John wanted to roll his eyes, but they stuck on Steve as he smiled fondly. “Yeah, no.” He snorted. “Good cop ain’t on call today, Stevie.”

“Maybe we could let him go if he’s learned his lesson~?” Steve suggested, raising his voice so the kid could hear him.

John let out a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nah, maybe a little longer just for that. Kids like him tend to need some tutoring, y’know?”

“John, you’re terrible.” Steve giggled, punching his arm lightly, and John chuckled with him until he felt something.

He looked up to see the kid glaring at him as best as he could through all that laughter, one eye glowing a bright, flickering green. He rolled his eyes and smirked.

“Yeah, kid, I’m so scared…” He huffed, stepping forward and kneeling in front of him. “But as long as this circle’s up, your powers aren’t getting you any—”

Something rattled, and John spun around for a second. It had sounded like it was right against his head, as if he was wearing a rattlesnake around his neck.

Rattlesnake…

“John?” Steve called hesitantly, looking around for a moment as well. When John’s eyes fell on him, they widened fearfully before he could catch himself. A tiny spot of green light rested perfectly still on Steve’s chest. As he was pulling his staff from over his shoulder, a hail of bullets came down fast enough to turn Steve into a fine mist and hard enough to rip deep burrows in the dirt where he once stood.

“Stevie!!” He cried out, eyes narrowing sharply as he turned around. “Men, get back; get behind me!”

The air itself seemed to rattle with gunfire as the soldiers around the bastard kid were quickly thinned out. Those who had managed to get behind John were encased in the purple shield he cast. Slashing lines were cut deep into the dusty earth, cutting through anyone in their path, and, as John was quick to realize, upsetting the ground enough to break the barrier spell they’d spent so long setting up.

The kid seemed to realize, too, since he shifted quickly into his demon form and curled up tight to protect himself. The rattling came closer until bullets were battering John’s shield. He growled to himself, and the soldiers around him attempted to aid him in boosting the shield’s power, but it seemed to chip faster with their effort.

It burst within seconds, and all of John’s soldiers were gone before he could blink. And to top it all off, John’s body was thrown to the ground by a weight attempting to cave in his ribs. A heavy boot came down on his collarbone. When he was finally able to open his eyes, he found himself staring down the barrel of a rifle, his helmet lost or broken somewhere during the chaos.

Two rattling tails swayed slowly in his peripheral. Less than he was used to; she wasn’t too mad. The gun was shoved up against his cheek as she ground the toe of her boot into his neck.

“O-Okay, easy, easy! Krotalía!” John choked out, grabbing at her ankle with one hand.

“Sergeant John Captain…” She hissed slowly, eyeing him through the sights. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten my name. Maybe got your hand shot off in a way ya finally couldn’t fix it. Would explain why ya never write me anymore.”

John could hear his soldiers’ footsteps coming from the main building, but they knew to keep their distance from this one.

Krotalía continued with a snide chuckle. “But, nah. Here I find you: still in one piece; still running the boys up and down the field; and most importantly: Picking on my goddamn kid!”

“Ma, I was fine!” The kid suddenly argued, stepping forward half shifted. “I could have handled them!”

John saw one of Krotalía’s tails split into two, and a gunshot rang out as the kid was thrown backwards with a little squeak.

“Oh, we’ll be discussing your punishment in a second, ya little hell spawn.” She snarled, but John could see her smiling over her shoulder.

“Alright, Rattlesnake, cut the shit.” John huffed, giving a small grin of his own. “Let me up. We’ll chat, yeah?”

Krotalía hissed faintly, unable to keep the smile off of her lips as she finally pulled the gun away from John’s face. “Yes, let’s…” She stepped back, turning away from him and giving her son a playful kick where he was lying.

John sat up with a wince, coughing softly and spitting some blood between his teeth. “So, who wants to talk about how your little brat has been razing through our battlefield like clockwork for the past few weeks?”

The woman chuckled, lifting her kid up by the back of his shirt and setting him down. “Yeah, I had a feeling he’d been getting some training in somewhere. He’s been getting awfully competitive with me lately.”

John glared slightly; fuck him for expecting a mischief making snake bitch to discipline her mischief making dragon brat.

She laughed at him though, resting her rifle over her shoulder. “I know that look, Johnny; you read like a bad script.” One of her tails whacked her kid to nudge him forward. “Go on, Pico. Make nice for once.”

The kid crossed his arms and looked away, thumping his tail on the dirt behind him; and when he finally looked up at John, he just stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry.

John snorted before he could catch himself. “Y’know, if you’re going to act like a four-year-old, maybe you should expect the tickle monster to get ya again next time too.”

He blushed brightly and snarled, shifting suddenly and attempting to lunge, only to be caught in one of his mother’s tails. “Dammit, Pico!” She growled while John just laughed again.

She set him on his feet again, and he shifted back to a mostly human shape before she gave him another whack on the back of his head this time. He grumbled angrily and stepped forward, extending a hand.

“…You know I’ll be back, right?” He asked, hinting a smirk.

“You gonna call your mommy to bail you out then too?” John teased, but he was quick to accept the handshake before the brat… Ugh, before Pico took it back. He even ruffled that mess of red hair as he chuckled and let go of his hand. “Krotalía, you don’t have to make him apologize. We’re all friends here, yeah?”

Pico spit out a little spark of flame and tried to pout, but he couldn’t help smiling a little. Krotalía looked between the two of them and rolled her eyes with a sigh.

“Boys…” She snickered, slipping one of her tails around Pico to guide his turn away from John and the soldiers. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go over those numbers you got.”

Pico had bounced excitedly at the idea, but he glanced back as they were walking. He drew one of his handguns from thin air and sneered right at John. “I’ll get you, old man…” He growled playfully, getting a little smack on his arm by his mother’s tail.

John chuckled, shaking his head. He’d look forward to it.

“John!” John glanced back to his troops, and the crowd parted slightly to let Steve run up. John smiled as he caught him in a hug, sighing softly over his shoulder and squeezing him tight.

“Are they already gone?” Steve asked softly, having to fix his glasses when John let him go. “That’s a shame. I wanted to speak to her.”

“You would say that after getting fucking shredded, wouldn’t you?” John chuckled, giving Steve a playful shove before addressing the soldiers that had gathered.

“Alright, men! I’d say we handled that pretty well, all things considered…”

There was a chorus of chuckles and murmurs in agreement.

“Now, I think we all know damn well this isn’t the last time we’ll be seeing Pico rushing through here. More importantly, the kid’s not gonna fall for that trick so easily again. It’s time I put you all on some heavier demon hunter training.”

He glanced back at Steve, who was already flipping through his summoned spellbook. “Game on, Stevie?”

Steve smiled fondly and shook his head. “Game on, sir.”

#a panda writes a thing #friday night funkin #friday night funkin pico #tankman #Tickling #fnf tickling

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ais-for-alex · 3 years

Text

The Scars of Our Past: Chapter 18

Welp, here is this. I hope y’all like it this is low key one of my favorite chapters 😊 as always these characters belong to the lovely @lumosinlove

For the entirety of the following week Finn felt electric and buzzy with nervous excitement. He made sure to get Leo’s key cut and move all the miscellaneous things that had collected in his spare room into the hall closet. Other than that though, he had little to do to burn off the energy that coursed through him like a current so he threw himself enthusiastically into practice. The team thought he was simply excited for the away game they had coming up on Friday but in reality, Finn just couldn’t get the sound of Leo’s words out of his head.

‘Maybe I like listening to your voice’

It played on an endless loop in that sweet southern twang whispered low and hushed into his ear.

As excited as he was to have Leo live with him, Finn couldn’t help the nerves that set in only moments after he hung up the call that night. How was he supposed to live with Leo, see him every day, learn all the little bits and pieces that made up this beautiful man. How was he supposed to wake up every morning to find a sleepy Leo in his home, and come home every night and hear his soft voice welcoming him back? The more his brain obsessed over it the more anxiety settled in Finn’s stomach, making it roil with fluttering butterflies.

In all honesty, it wasn’t the thought of living with Leo that was making him anxious. No, that part was exciting, he wanted all those things, wanted to learn and live with Leo. The anxiety came from the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that Finn had been in this exact place before, with the other man that never strayed too far from his thoughts. Finn was terrified that he would be allowed to get so very close to Leo, he would let him into his life only to be turned away yet again. Just like he had been so many times before by Logan.

Finn was petrified by the thought that history would repeat itself, that he would be left in another one sided love. But Leo wasn’t Logan, and this thing between them was new and fragile rather than the years of feelings pushed aside or bottled up.

“What’s with the face?”

Finn nearly jumped out of his skin when Logan suddenly plopped down next to him in his stall. Finn was still half dressed in his hockey gear but it looked like Logan had finished changing into his street clothes.

He huffed a laugh when he realized who had startled him, “What face? This is just my face?” Finn asked.

Logan rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder, “No, that’s your ‘I’ve been thinking in circles for hours and I’m about to punch something out of frustration,’ face.”

“Ok well first, that’s an incredibly specific face. And Second, I don’t have that face,” Finn scoffed before standing up to finish changing.

“Come on Fish, you’ve been fidgety all week and now you have The Face. Finn, you’ve been my best friend for years, I know when you’re anxious,” Logan’s voice turned serious as he spoke, making Finn turn back to look at him.

With a sigh he sat heavily back down next to Logan. “Alright you win,” Finn resigned, even after all these years he never could hide things from Logan. “I’m letting Leo move in with me.”

Logan’s eyes went wide as he turned to look at him, “Really? Why?”

Finn pulled his lip between his teeth and bit down before responding, “I don’t know Lo. I just… you saw that motel he’s living at. I just hate to think of him there and when he was talking about finding a place to live he sounded so sad and I just kinda… offered it.”

Logan chuckled softly, the warm sound washing over Finn making his heart ache. He felt Logan reach a hand up to brush through the sweat damp hair at his temple then thread through the waves at the back of his neck.

“Mmm, you care about people so much,” Logan sighed, his voice was filled with a tender sound Finn didn’t know how to interpret. His fingers pressing into the tense muscles in his neck and all Finn wanted to press back into his hand. He wanted to feel Logan’s palms against his skin, wanted to feel his gentle touch.

It’s too much.

Logan’s words came crashing over him painfully, shredding holes in his heart with each unspoken word. He was too much, too intense, too obsessive.

“I need to go shower,” Finn stood up abruptly letting Logan’s hand fall away from him. And for this first time in all the years they had been circling, dancing around each other, it was Finn's turn to walk away.

***

The days leading up to Sunday seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye. The time was lost in long grueling practices, in stupid memes and texts sent between the three of them. Then suddenly before he realized Finn was behind the wheel of his jeep heading to Leo’s motel to pick him up and bring him home. Finn sighed and squirmed in his seat thoughts racing through his mind as he drove. His anxiety had been building throughout the entire week, not even the Lions win over the Snakes at their away game had calmed the feeling of wriggling worms in his stomach.

Finn pulled up to the curb outside the motel and shuddered at the sight, it was dirty and run down, it looked like one or two of the rooms had plywood covering holes that used to be windows but the glass had long since been shattered out of the frames. Jumping out of his car Finn climbed the rusty metal stairs that creaked and groaned under his weight and finally made it to the room number Leo had texted him. Finn breathed in a deep breath, it was now or never, he thought to himself then finally knocked on the door.

The door swung open almost instantly revealing Leo his grin brighter than the summer sun, his baby blue eyes soft and happy as they looked Finn up and down then settled to gaze into Finn's very soul through his eyes. His blond curls fluffed out from under the hem of a beanie to curl around his ears, and he looked so incredibly cozy in his pullover hoodie and jeans that hugged his hips in just the right way it almost made Finns mouth water.

“Morning sugar,” Leo said with a little wink that seemed to knock the breath out of Finn's lungs, he chuckled softly and stepped to the side letting him into the room.

“Morning,” Finn said once he caught his breath. Then somehow, just like that all of Finn’s anxieties melted away like the morning frost under Leo’s warm sunlight. Finn didn’t know why, maybe it was his voice, or his eyes but somehow Leo’s presence put him completely at ease, made him feel like not only was this the right decision but it would be the best decision he ever made. Finn couldn’t help but grin back at him as he walked into the cramped motel room. Leo had a couple bags packed and ready on the bed, a fairly small suitcase, a backpack, and the same skate bag Finn had seen him lug to and from the rink.

“Is this it?” he asked, slinging the skate bag over his shoulder and snagging the handle of the suitcase.

Leo chuckled and grabbed the strap of his backpack, “yeah, like I said, my mama’s gonna send the rest once I get settled somewhere more permanent. So yep, this is it for now,” he shrugged.

“Alright then, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Finn said, making Leo laugh as he led them out of the room and back down to his car on the street.

“So how was your game?” Leo asked once they had loaded his bags and settled into the car.

“Well, we won,” Finn said, glancing over at Leo with a grin, remembering the countless celebratory snapchats sent after the game.

“I knew that , you dork,” Leo rolled his eyes.

Finn laughed and felt a bit of heat creep up the back of his neck, “Honestly, the game was good, especially against the snakes. I mean as per usual Snape was all over Cap, the bastard kept trying to get dirty hits in. But damn, that goal Lo got past Riddle was a thing of beauty.” Finn heard Leo breath in sharply and glanced over at him, “you alright?”

“Yeah, fine,” Leo replied with a little shake of his head, “just sounds like an exciting game.”

“You should come to the next one!” Finn cried as he pulled into his apartment's parking garage.

Leo laughed softly, “I don’t know Fish, it depends. I need to focus on practice, my program isn’t quite where it needs to be before I start competing this season.”

The moment he put the car in park Finn turned in his seat and stuck out his lip in a pout, he let his eyes take on that wide doe eyed look that never failed to make people give in to him.

Leo looked like he was trying to hold his resolve but Finn saw the exact moment it melted away, in the way he sighed and sagged against the seat.

“Alright, alright! You win,” Leo said exasperatedly reaching out to push Finn's face away a bit, “I’ll come. Now stop it with the Bambi eyes.”

“Ah ha! Success!” Finn shouted before hopping out of his car and grabbing Leo’s bag from the back. “And for what it’s worth, I think you skate beautifully Le.” Finn felt his chest fill with warmth as he watched a pretty pink flush dust across Leo’s cheeks at his words.

Making their way towards Finn's apartment they continued talking about the Snakes game, or rather Leo asked a question that led to Finn recounting the entire game for him. When they finally reached his door, Finn snapped his mouth shut realizing how much he was talking.

“Sorry!” he said shaking his head, “Didn’t mean to just word vomit this entire time.”

“S’ok,” Leo chuckled softly, “your excitement is kinda adorable if I’m being honest here.”

For just a moment Finn’s brain blue screened at those words, “Um… well… I,” he stuttered turning to unlock the door and hide the blush that was turning his face the same shade of red as his hair. “Welcome home,” he finally said, stepping into the apartment and letting Leo follow him inside.

Finn watched as Leo wandered in, looking around curiously. He huffed a laugh realizing it reminded him of watching a kitten exploring a new environment, all wide-eyed curiosity as he poked about.

“Alright this is just sad,” Finn heard Leo callout from the kitchen. When he got there Leo had a cabinet open his face was pained as he took in the contents, “Please, for the love of God tell me why the only ‘food’ items in this kitchen is a vat of protein powder, and a box of Wheat Thins.”

Finn laughed at the disgust written on Leo’s face, “Sorry, I’m not much of a cook. I usually just do take out or steal snacks from the players’ lounge at the rink.”

Leo just sighed and slumped against the counter in defeat, “Alright I’m going shopping tomorrow, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you live like this.”

“So what? You’re gonna cook for me?” Finn asked a bit skeptically.

“Yes, yes I am,” Leo fixed him with a look that seemed to say fight me. “Any food allergies I should know about?”

Finn laughed but accepted his fate, “walnuts, other than that I’m more or less a garbage disposal and will eat pretty much anything.”

“Walnuts, got it,” Leo said making his way across the kitchen and bumping Finn with his hip, “I’m gonna go unpack.”

“Alright,” Finn said a bit breathless from Leo’s close proximity, “let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Leo whispered, his lips pulling into that wide dimpled grin of his, his baby blue eyes seemed to trail over Finn for just a moment before he was making his way down the hall towards his room. Finn breathed in shakily, the air felt charged in Leo’s absence like he was lightning that hit ground one moment then was gone the next leaving behind scorched earth and pure energy. It felt intoxicating and Finn breathed it in like he could taste it in the air.

Well now what? He asked himself meandering out of the kitchen and flopping down on his couch. He snagged the book left sitting on the coffee table and pulled out the plastic knife he had used as a bookmark the last time he opened it. He fell into the familiar words and the familiar world of a story he had read countless times before and would read countless times again. Finn let the thoughts inside his skull dissipate like fog burning off on a summer morning until the inky words reconfigured themselves into pictures, into movies, into snapshots of a different reality with different people.

“Knock knock.”

Finn nearly jumped off the couch at the sound of Leo’s voice. Taking a deep breath to calm his heart rate he glanced up to see Leo sniggering at the entrance to the hallway.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said through his laughter.

“Nah, it's fine I startle easily,” Finn said finally relaxing back against the cushions, glancing around he realized the apartment had grown a bit dark while he was lost in his world of words, the light outside the windows had faded leaving behind the velvet blanket of night.

Leo laughed again before wandering closer, “believe me I get that. I swear I jump at the stupidest things. Do you mind? There’s more room out here,” Leo held up a thin yoga mat and nodded over at the open area next to the couch.

“Sure, feel free,” Finn replied. “So, you all settled in?” he asked as Leo laid out the mat.

“Yeah, for now,” Leo sighed, beginning to stretch. “Talked to my mama earlier, let her know she could send some of my things when she gets a chance.”

Finn hummed in acknowledgement; his book lay long forgotten in his lap as his eyes were unable to look anywhere but the man currently stretching in his living room.

Leo breathed long, deep, and even breaths as his body pulled and flexed with the motions. He twisted into impossible positions that displayed so much flexibility and strength, Finn didn’t want to even blink and miss a moment. Leo had changed out of his jeans and was instead wearing a pair of tight spandex shorts that left very little to the imagination, somehow, they made his long legs look almost endless. Finn nearly choked when he pulled one leg into the air in a perfect vertical split. He stretched methodically, carefully working the tension and tightness out of his muscles and joints until his body was warm and loose. It seemed that Leo was completely oblivious that he was being watched, or maybe he was just ignoring it, either way Finn drank in the sight gratefully.

When Leo pulled out of his final stretch and began rolling his mat back up Finn quickly glanced away from him, after all it was probably weird to just sit there and watch your roommate stretch. He quickly snagged his abandoned book and opened it to a page at random to pretend like he wasn’t watching. He heard a soft chuckle as Leo sat at the opposite end of the couch, his legs all curled up into himself.

“You know,” Leo began his voice soft, “books are usually easier to read when they’re right way up.”

Finn felt a flush rise in his face as he realized his book was in fact upside-down, “What? You mean you haven’t heard? This is how all the cool kids are doing it nowadays,” he joked in hopes of salvaging his pride.

Leo laughed, “Well if that’s what the ‘Cool kids’ are doing I’ll have to try that.”

A soft smile took over Finn's face as he closed and set the book aside, he glanced over at Leo and felt his heart melt at the sight. He had the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head and his bare legs curled up into his chest and arms wrapped around them. His head was tilted to rest against the back of the couch and his eyes were closed but the contentment on his face made Finn feel warm inside.

“Thank you for letting me be here, Fish,” Leo’s voice was soft, full of a tenderness that washed over Finn in a warm wave.

“’Course,” Finn mirroring Leo’s low tone, he swallowed hard to keep the feelings inside him from bursting free. “Hey,” he said letting his voice settle back to its normal volume, “com’ere.”

Leo blinked his eyes open to send a mildly confused look his way.

“Come on, there is no possible way those gazelle legs of yours are comfortable like that,” Finn gestured to his balled up position at the end of the couch, “you can stretch them out if you want.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, of course,” Finn laughed.

Leo hesitantly stretched his legs out until his feet were just shy of touching Finn's thigh, it left his knees still bent a bit. Finn rolled his eyes and gently wrapped his hand around Leo’s ankle and maneuvered his leg until it was extended fully letting his foot rest in his lap. Leo sighed now much more comfortable; Finn grinned watching him nuzzle a bit further into the couch. He was just about to release Leo’s ankle when Finn realized there were large cuts and blisters littered across the man’s feet, they looked so very sore and painful he hissed slightly in sympathy.

“They’re not that bad,” Leo whispered, Finn flicked his eyes over to look at him but Leo still had his eyes closed and face pressed into the couch cushion.

“Le,” Finn breathed his name so softly, “yes they are. Sweetheart your feet are torn to shreds.”

“Mmm,” Leo hummed, “it’s just been long hours of practice since I got here.”

Finn nodded in understanding, he knew what it was like when you were starting out in a new place, he knew what it felt like to think you have to work yourself to the bone just to be on an even playing field with the others around you.

“You’re working so hard,” he said trailing his fingers around Leo’s ankle, marveling at the goosebumps that rose up in their wake.

“Yeah, ‘m tryin,” Leo’s voice was breathless as he shivered under Finn's gentle touch.

“Stay here,” he whispered, squeezing his hand gently around Leo’s ankle before sliding out from under his legs. Leo just blinked up at him his eyes had taken on a sleepiness that made Finn want to wrap him up in a blanket and hold him close until he fell asleep. It took barely a minute for Finn to slip into his bathroom and snag the little box of bandages he kept in his medicine cabinet. He settled back on the couch and lightly tapped Leo’s shin with the box before pulling his feet back into his lap.

“What are you doing?” Leo asked with a little surprised huff when he saw the bandages Finn was pulling out of the box.

“I’m fixing your feet,” he said evenly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Fish, you don’t have to do that,” Leo said, beginning to pull his legs back, but Finn wrapped his hand around his ankle again and held him still.

“They have to hurt, don’t they?” Finn asked, “please, just relax let me make it a little bit better.”

Leo let out a soft laugh, “Yeah, they do,” he looked up and met Finn's eyes and smiled, “alright.”

Finn very carefully bandaged each tender cut and broken blister on Leo’s feet. Soft little sighs fell from Leo’s lips as his hands brushed against sore spots, Finn pressed his thumb into his arch massaging gently making Leo positively purr. The sound that bubbled up from his chest was just shy of a pleasured moan, Finn couldn’t help but grin at how sensitive the man was to his touch, as he shivered under even the lightest brush of Finn's fingertips.

“Alright,” Finn said with a last squeeze of his hands, “that feel better?”

Leo looked up at him with that happy sleepy look and nodded, “yeah, it really does.”

“These are waterproof,” Finn said tapping him with the box of bandages again, “and they generally stay on pretty well, you should be fine wearing them in your skates. I usually keep a box in the bathroom if you need any more.”

“Thanks,” Leo’s voice was soft and breathless but full of genuine gratitude.

“No problem, I’m gonna go put these away really quick,” he said, making his way back into the bathroom to stash the box away again and wash his hands. When Finn sat down again Leo easily let his legs extend back to rest in his lap as they both relaxed into the couch. Finn snagged his book again and let one of his hands come to rest on Leo’s calf, his fingers stroking the soft skin absentmindedly. Glancing over to the other end of the couch Finn felt warm affection rush through his veins at the sight of Leo snuggled into the cushions dozed off in a light sleep.

Man, Finn thought to himself very much aware of the effect Leo was having on him, he’s been here less than twenty-four hours and I already feel like this. I’m fucked.

Read on AO3

Chapter 17

#sweater weather #coast to coast #leo knut #logan tremblay #o'knutzy #lumosinlove #finn o’hara #writing #figure skating #the scars of our past

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reidgraygubler · 4 years

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hurry back, pretty boy (spencer reid/reader)

Title: Hurry Back, Pretty Boy Request: yes! Couple: Punk-y!Spencer Reid/Punk-y!Fem!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: swearing, mentions of sex, mentions of marijuana, mentions of a case, mentions of vomit Word Count: 2,867 Summary: Reader owns a bar and a little bit punk. She and Spencer are in a relationship. Reader learns about the BAU teams out-side of work personalities A/N: got this sweet request the other day. I took some creative liberties but followed the request closely. I did make spencer one hundred percent out of character, but he still acts like our precious innocent bean :) thanks for the love! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

Everyone has a different personality inside and outside of work. Like, me for instance. I work at a bar, the one I own. Inside work, I have to be flirtatious and funny. I have to sell, sell, sell. Because if I don’t I don’t have a house. I have an entire act I have. I’m the flirty, punky, bitch that all the fat bastards love. However, outside of work, I’m still the flirty, punky, bitch… I’m just more to myself and not as… Out there.

Same story with my amazing and loving boyfriend, one Doctor Spencer Reid. He works as a profiler for the FBI’s Behaviour Analysis Unit, aka BAU. While Spencer was at work, he was the sweet, innocent boy who doesn’t know sex or how to flirt. He was their sweet, shy, innocent Pretty Boy… Inside work. However, outside work, when he was here at the bar with me or anywhere else… He’s pretty much like me. Though, he’s not a bitch, or bastard. He’s much kinder than that. Although, he’s still a little bit of a sweetheart. I guess that’s why I love him. He was still clever and smart, there was no getting rid of that. Personally, I just think that makes him so much more lovable.

As for his colleagues, they were all different. I remember meeting them all for the first time. They all seemed high strung, professional people that didn’t seem to hang out with someone like Spencer or me. Boy, was I dead wrong.

I met Spencer 5 years back. It was late one evening and he had just gotten off work, coming to my bar for a drink. He looked exhausted, like always. But this exhaustion was a different kind. Like he was stretched thin from whatever the case was he was working on. It was before I knew his true personality and self. I was thankful that he let his true colors shine, not to quote Cyndi Lauper or anything.

I think he was more nervous talking to me at first. I mean, it’s not every day you meet an attractive girl who has her arms tattooed with sleeves, colored hair, and several facial piercings. At first, I thought I was not his type. But then he asked me out and here we are, 2.5 years later.

“Hey guys,” I smiled as the team entered the bar. It looked like they all needed a drink of some sort. I smiled brightly as Spencer entered the bar behind his friends. When his eyes landed on me, his face lit up with excitement. He impatiently pushed past the team and came to me, basically jumping over the bar. I smiled as I pulled on his tie, bringing him down to my height. I was shorter than him by nearly a foot, and I loved it

“Hey there Pretty Boy,” I smiled, bringing one hand to rest on his cheek, keeping my grip around his tie, before kissing him deeply. He hummed, snaking his arms around my waist to hold me closer. I laughed against his lips as Penelope and Morgan began to protest our affection. I pulled my hand from Spencer’s face to flip them off.

“My shift is done in 15 minutes. I have extra clothes for you in my car. I’ll get you guys some drinks and join you if you’d like, once you’re changed?” I asked bringing my hands to rest on Spencer’s chest. I smoothed out the few wrinkles on his blazer and smiled. He hummed and nodded. I pulled my car keys from the pocket on my apron and placed then in Spencer’s hand. “Hurry back, Pretty Boy,” I went on my toes to peck his lips.

Spencer looked over my shoulder and at his friends, his cheeks blushing slightly. I gently patted his shoulders to get his attention back on me. He sighed deeply before looking down at me, smiling softly before holding up the keys. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, tossing the keys in the air and catching them. I chuckled and watched as he turned to leave. I kept my eyes on him as he left. Boy, I love when he wears suits, or a blazer and slacks. He looks so… professional. I would risk anything for this man… everything about this man… I love.

“What can I get you guys?” I asked, keeping my eyes on Spencer as he left. Even when he was no longer in my sight, I kept my eyes towards his direction.

“Babygirl,” Derek, one of Spencer’s best friends, snapped in my direction and pulling my attention away from the back door and towards the group of agents. I smiled and looked at them.

“Drinks! Whaddya want?” I exhaled deeply as I placed my hands on the counter. Penelope, who I love dearly, was the first to the counter, nearly falling over herself as she pushed the others to the side. I cringed as her abdomen hit the wooden countertop, though she didn’t seem bothered by it.

“I want whatever is fruity and whatever can get me drunk,” she looked at me, throwing her purse on the counter as she leaned towards me. I laughed and nodded as I got to work on her drink.

“I take it it wasn’t a very good day?” I looked over my shoulder at Penelope, who was now sitting. Emily and Derek had joined her at the bar. The look of exhaustion on their faces told me that it probably wasn’t a good day.

“You could say that,” Emily looked up at me. Her eyes looked tired, and I’m sure she wanted to drown her sorrows in liquor and tequila. She probably wasn’t able to drink, mostly because she could still possibly be on duty. I know what she and Aaron have been doing lately, taking down some people for drugs. I’m not risking my weed because of that.

“Well, Agent Prentiss,” I looked at her with a smile as I handed Penelope her drink. “What can I get you tonight?” I grinned as I grabbed a tiny cocktail umbrella, opening it, and sticking it in Penelope’s drink. She giggled as she followed the others towards an empty corner booth. I looked towards the direction of the others and smiled.

“Anything, please, just give me anything,” she pleaded, dropping her hands onto the countertop. I smiled and nodded before making her something strong, but not strong enough to knock her out for the night.

“Do I even want to know what this case was about?” I spoke out loud, pouring some vodka into the glass. Emily groaned before placing her head on the counter. Derek laughed and shook his head. “I’ll take that as a no,” I laughed, turning to place Emily’s drink on the counter. I looked at Derek and smiled.

“I’ll just have a beer,” he shook his head. I pouted. Drunk Derek is my favorite and will always be my favorite. I nodded, grabbing a stein and filling it with the best stuff on tap. “Go over there and save me and our Pretty Boy a seat,” I flashed Derek a smile as I placed the stein on the counter.

“Yeah, I’ll save you and Pretty Boy a seat,” he teased as he stood up, grabbing his beer and leaving. I smiled and looked over at the group of agents.

“Did you have a good day?” Spencer’s voice sounded like music to my ears as he wrapped his arms around my waist. I hummed as he peppered my neck in kisses. I dropped my head to my shoulder and smiled as he continued to kiss my neck.

“Probably a better day than you and the others,” I mused, keeping my eyes on the team. They were laughing and fooling around with themselves, even though they all looked exhausted. Spencer chuckled, his breath fanning over the side of my neck, making me exhale deeply.

“My day was okay,” he laughed, his grip around my waist tightened a bit. I laughed and shook my head, resting my hands on top of his. “I had the day off, unlike Derek, Emily, Penelope, and Hotch,” he added before pressing a kiss to my jaw.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” I laughed as I turned around to face him. He wrinkled his nose before placed a kiss on my lips. I laughed as his stupid tongue piercing hit my lips. “I always fucking forget that you have that,” I pulled my head away from him and spoke. Spencer laughed before sticking his tongue out at me. A silver ball/tongue stud sat on the center of the tip of his tongue.

“I quite like it,” he pressed it to his lips before smiling at me. I laughed and shook my head. Spencer looked down at me before pressing his lips to mine again.

“How about, you go join your team? I’ll make you a drink and meet you over there?” I batted my eyelashes at him. He laughed, his laugh making me feel giggly inside, before kissing me for the third time.

“If I must,” he pouted before releasing me from his grip. He smiled at me before going to join his friends. I leaned on the counter, folding my arms over each other as I stared at Spencer’s ass. Damn, he looked good in jeans. I don’t know why he didn’t wear them more often. And, the way his plain black tee-shirt hung off his shoulders… I could do unspeakable things with it. Or, maybe he could… The few tattoos he had on his arms made me smile. God, I love this side of Pretty Boy, Doctor Spencer Reid.

I sighed deeply, shaking my head clean from the dirty thoughts I was having of my boyfriend. I was quick making a neat whiskey for Spencer, and myself a boozy drink. I grabbed a few glasses and a bottle of wine, for JJ, Aaron, and David, placing everything on a tray, before finally going to join everyone at the booth.

“And here is everything,” I placed the tray on the counter before sitting on the bench beside Spencer. He smiled as he wrapped an arm around my waist. I looked at him and placed his drink in front of him. “Wine for the mother and fathers,” I looked at JJ, Hotch, and Rossi. JJ looked eternally grateful that I brought over a bottle of wine. I wouldn’t be surprised if she would drink all of it in one shot. I’ve attended girl’s night before with JJ, Emily, and Penelope. They like to start off early, leaving me to be the designated driver before I had on sip of alcohol.

“You… Are the best,” she whispered as she grabbed for the bottle and a glass for herself. I fished for the swiss-army knife buried in my pocket and handed it over to her. She smiled as she pulled it from me and opening it to the corkscrew to open the bottle.

“I’m really guessing today wasn’t good,” I widened my eyes as I watched her pour the wine till her glass was totally full. Spencer looked over at me and shook his head.

“Best not get into it, Princess,” he whispered. I cringed before sipping my drink, shivering as the alcohol hit my tongue. The conversations went on, as usual. Talking about whatever it was they wanted to talk about. And, sure enough, Spencer always had something to say.

{***}{***}{***}

“Anyone want some weed?” A regular of the bar asked somewhere across the bar. I anxiously sipped my drink as Aaron and Emily shared a look, silently telling each other that they’d have to bust my bar. I wrinkled my nose and shifted in my seat, not liking that I’d probably lose my job and dealer over that. I’ll have to talk to him about that later when there aren’t 6 FBI agents in my presence and in my bar.

Spencer, who was a little bit drunk at this point in the night, leaned over and wrapped his arms around my body. I let out a strained laugh as he leaned his full weight on me. He pressed his lips sloppily to the side of my head.

“I luh you s’much,” he whispered, poking my nose. I grinned and looked over at him. I raised my eyebrows, my smile becoming smugger. He huffed out a breath of air as he let his body become one with mine. I inhaled the faint smell of whiskey and even fainter smell of marijuana in his breath. God, if only Hotch and Emily knew that their innocent, smart agent partook in marijuana. To be honest, he mostly does it for stress and anxiety. And, it’s done him a great deal of good. “Did you know that? That I love you?” he asked, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“I think… I think it’s time we go home, Spence,” I planted my hand on his shoulder to steady him. He made a sound in protest. I widened my eyes as I looked around the table. “You only had two drinks. How are you this drunk?” I asked, looking at the two empty glasses sitting on the table in front of him. He swallowed roughly, opening his mouth to spit out some sort of incredible fact out. Only to fail when he hiccuped instead. I laughed and nodded. “That’s what I thought,” I whispered.

“You guys can’t be serious. You can’t leave!” Penelope looked at Spencer and I. I pouted as I slid out of the booth, Spencer falling over where I was once sitting. I laughed and shook my head. “Spencer’s fine! He’s not as much of a lightweight as you think!” She added in an exclamation. She did the exact thing when David and Aaron left nearly two hours ago. But, at this point, it’s later than that… And, I’m incredibly exhausted. Spencer’s the lightest lightweight I know.

“Penelope,” I laughed and shook my head, “I know, for a fact, he’s had a busy day. Reading his little heart away. I haven’t seen him all day,” I gestured to the bar behind me. “I’ve been here all day. Please,” I looked at her and pouted. I wrinkled my nose slightly as my lip piercing hit my chin. Penelope looked at me, about ready to protest, but stopped when Derek placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s about time we go too,” he spoke to her. I looked at him and flashed him a smile, thanking him for stopping her. Derek winked at me before turning back to his drunken friend. I looked down at the Pretty Boy.

“C’mon, Spence,” I whispered, leaning over to help him up. Spencer looked at me as he threw his hand over my shoulders again. The way he looked at me made me want to melt slightly. “I’ll see you guys another day!” I struggled to wave at the other members of the team. They all bid their farewells to Spencer and I before we finally left.

“Are we going home?” Spencer asked, keeping his weight on my body. I groaned, straining as he threw his other arm over me.

“Yeah, baby, we’re going home,” I struggled to open the passenger side door. Spencer looked at me as I buckled him in, and smiled brightly. “Yes?” I smiled at him.

“I just love you so much,” he whispered, bringing a hand to rest on my cheek. I sighed deeply before kissing him. I pulled away and looked down at him. His eyes were watering slightly, making me chuckle lightly. I lifted my hand and placed it on his cheek. He hummed and leaned into my touch.

“Baby, I know,” I chuckled and smiled at him. Something flashed across his, his eyes widening as his cheeks puffed out. Fuck. He better not. “Oh no, I know that look,” I shook my head, pulling him so he’d throw up outside of my clean car instead of inside. He looked up at me, his eyes telling me that he was sorry before he threw up on the ground outside… Right, where my feet were. I groaned and held back my anger, not wanting to get mad at the mildly drunk Spencer.

“I’m so sorry,” his face twisted as he realized he had just done. I wiped my face with both my hands and looked down at him. He was still looking at me, an apologetic look on his face.

“Baby, it’s okay. Don’t worry about,” I whispered, looking down at him. He nodded and wiped his upper lip. I flashed him one last smile before pushing the door shut. I looked down at the pile of sick on the ground and looked at my feet. I sighed as I kicked my shoes off and picked them up.

“Give him grace, he doesn’t drink,” I whispered, looking at the ruined shoes. I opened the back door and placed the shoes on the seat before going around to the driver’s side. Spencer, surprisingly, was already asleep. I pouted. I loved drunk Spencer and his endless blabber of compliments.

“Oh, Pretty Boy, you’re so sweet,” I smiled as I started the car and speeding away.

if you want to be a part of a taglist or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

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hime-memes · 3 years

Text

( Requested ) This long list of starters comes from the youtube content creator: Nisipisa ! In particular, the video: ‘ Let’s Go Window Shopping 6: Crimes Against Pants with Shein ‘

Trigger Warnings: Sexual Innuendo, Alcohol & Drug Mentions and Swearing.

As always: feel free to change anything within these starters that you see fit to make it work for your muse & the receiver’s muse !

( Some sentences have been modified for length, understanding, or to give fuller context. )

“ First of all, these shorts ? I’m living for the whole outfit. I appreciate _____ finding a use for trashbags that’s not just holding trash. “

“ ... I don’t have enough brain bandwidth to actually hold enough information about it ... “

“ People deserve access to clothing in their size. 100 %. “

“ I’m already kinda impressed. “

“ This is a pretty dress & this is a pretty dress. That’s pretty ! That’s ... passable ? “

“ We had a lot of fun last time with t-shirts. “

“ Oh my god. Oh god ... Oh yes ! This is our first graphic tee of the day. “

“ It’s a crew neck in the ugliest shade of purple known to human or lobster eyes. “

“ Sorry: #Momlife. “

“ You can make sure your search engine optimization is as powerful as possible when you’re waiting in line to check out at Target™ for the fourth time this week. “

“ I didn’t mean to shame anybody that spends three days out of their week at Target™. “

“ If there wasn’t a panna cotta going on, that would be me. It’s my favorite place in the goddamn world ! “

“ It’s second only to shoe stores that sell a size twelve ! “

“ As we all know - I am not a mother and will likely biologically never be one, because God looked at me and said, ‘ If I give you a reproductive system, you’re going to be too powerful ‘ and so, he just nuked my uterus. “

“ I don’t find that this t - shirt celebrates motherhood in any meaningful way. “

“ I do think it celebrates having bad taste in a meaningful way. “

“ You know what ? For some people: That’s enough. “

“ ... We aren’t going to address why having a cutout tight might be useful ... “

“ And THIS is the sexiest shoe we could have put my girl in ?! “

“ You guys put her in this conservative nightmare heel ?! “

“ I like that ______ thinks you should wear all these graphic tees with light wash mom jeans and converse low tops. “

“ I think every website should encourage it’s patrons to dress like the main character of a Sarah Dessen novel from 2007. “

“ There’s some high schooler in a debate club that’s really into it. It’s kinda their whole personality, and they’re like: ‘ This is so ironically funny for me ‘. “

“ In the year of our Lord, 2008: I started high school and my absolute favorite shirt to wear was a shirt quite like this. “

“ It looked like I was wearing long sleeves under short sleeves when in reality, I was wearing a crime. “

“ Have you ever tried layering ? Like, actual layering ? It sucks ! “

“ You’re kidding ! A double whammy in the same row ? Oh my god ... “

“ ... We have also inexplicably made the model hit this pose. “

“ The person who needs these pants is someone who likes to go out and party - likes to go to the club - but, they are also the president of a fan club for Shar Pei dogs. “

“ You know what dogs I think are cute ? ( * Googles favorite dog * ) Just look at this guy ! “

“ Look at these pointy bastards ! “

“ This is like if you had a bat and you did a spell on it to make it a dog ! “

“ These ... Now THIS is a pair of pants ! “

“ Clinically depressed, stressed jeans. “

“ You take leopard print fabric and sew it into your distressed holes. “

“ You don’t have to frankenstein it into this type of fit ... this is kinda like how a hypebeast would dress if they were in elementary school. “

“ If you put a bow on this and a tutu: this is me and my girls rolling up to the Jojo Siwa concert. “

“ Am I saying I wouldn’t wear these shorts ? No, I’m not saying that at all - I would wear the fuck outta these shorts ! “

“ As we’ve established: my taste is awful. “

“ Do you think in 1503, when Lisa del Giocondo sat down to start being painted for this portrait - she thought in a couple hundred years some random fast fashion brand would take her likeness, photoshop a face mask on it ... and sell it on a graphic t - shirt ? “

“ The only responsibilities I had were watching Rugrats and learning object permanence. “

“ Stop living in the past. The future is fun because my videos are in it ! “

“ This little cherry top, I think I’d probably wear. I think it’s very sweet ! “

“ I’m so weak to anything with a grid print. “

“ I’m going to think about this shirt for the rest of my life ... “

“ What exactly does a lil’ house elf from Harry Potter™ have to do with this ? “

“ I do feel like this floral print will cause my brain to atrophy if I look at it too long. “

“ Rosé is not the only wine to rhyme with ‘ all day ‘. Rosé isn’t even good ! “

“ You know what ? I don’t work for _______, so it’s fine. It’s not my responsibility ! “

“ Hey guys, you having fun at mushroom college ? “

“ I saw two things: The crotch butterfly and the booty butterfly and now I’m thinking these are the only clothes anyone should ever wear. Ever. “

“ NOT THE ‘ SEX ’ EARRINGS !? YES ! “

“ This is brazenly and offensively targeting a very very very specific group of people that I went to my preppy college with and I don’t appreciate that. “

“ I’ve worn spaghetti sauce stained yoga pants to bed that are sexier than this ! “

“ I’d wear the fuck outta this. “

“ I don’t know what I can say ... the picture speaks for itself, this is awful ! “

“ I’ve been saying for the longest time there is absolutely no store online that I can find articles of clothing for my single, mid-western, art teacher from the 70s, halloween costume. Finally someone is filling that niche ! “

“ This is absolutely unprecedented, because _______ decided to take something that, not only didn’t exist, but that no one has ever asked for and make it a reality. “

“ They think to themselves: ‘ Man - I love leopard print and I love galaxy print: but, I wish there was some way I could experience them at the same time, in an orientation that looks like the very beginnings of a DMT trip, and I wish I could experience all that whilst exercising. “

“ This is so tacky that I wanna wear it. “

“ Lord - Jesus, life is so beautiful. and full ... and amazing ! “

“ Curse allttle and carra fu///ng ON. “

“ The Rocky Horror Picture Show did not die for our sins for you to make this, okay ____ ? “

“ I feel like the person that wears this is a representative from the International Coalition of Clowns that are also Sexy. “

“ I want the opposite of this: I want a pink pastel frilly one piece that just says across the front of it, in like Curlz MT font : ‘ Death ‘. “

“ Listen, I don’t know what font that is, but I would like President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris to outlaw it. I don’t think it does society any good. “

“ I heart freak city ? “

“ Uh yeah, I live on Drip Goth Punk street. “

“ Is that near Superfreak Sexy Gurl lane ? “

“ We have a big snake problem here in Boston and I’m glad _____ is finally recognizing this. “

“ Mama. “ * Cue insane cackling *

“ This shirt says ‘ heart stopper ’ ... that’s me when I’m a serial killer ! “

“ That’s so topical and current ! Thank you, _______. “

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #sentence starter meme #youtube sentence starters

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royalprinceroman · 3 years

Note

"In awe, the first time you realised it" with rivya pretty pretty pleaasee

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAXI!!! this ask is old af but I was inspired so I wrote you this rivya drabble fic thinggggg idk i hope you enjoy it!!

(These characters are our own ocs based on the Sanders Sides from this blog. This is an irl AU so enjoy!! Some Sides might show up idk why don't you read and find out hehe)

On mobile so sorry for no read more :(

---

River felt himself waking up; the stream of his consciousness pulling his thoughts to the real world around him. He slowly opened his eyes to see the glow of the early morning sun peeking through the edge of the curtain he swore he had tucked behind the bookshelf so it wouldn't get him right in the face, but alas, it had failed. River sighed, pulling their comforter over their head in denial.

Mondays sucked and River did not want to pull themselves out of bed, but within seconds of stretching their arms above their head, a shrill alarm from their phone began to sound on the side table next to their bed. River slapped around until successfully snoozing the alarm before throwing the blanket off.

There was one reason and one reason only River was getting up for class on this day. He had that one class today - economics. And that one boy was in it. The transfer student.

He had the gall to talk to River the day before, and several days before that. As well as the day the teacher had given him the seat next to River.

"Hello." The boy had said as he sat down. His hood covered most of his face but River could see his right eye and a soft smile on his face. "My name is Arya. It's nice to meet you."

River had glanced his way, their chin balanced on their palm. With the intent to simply brush him off, River had opened his mouth only to feel his words caught in his throat once he had made eye contact with the gentle boy.

"I'm River." River had managed to cough out that day. "Pleasure."

It was a dry introduction, but it didn't seem to offend Arya at all. He had smiled again and turned to his bag in front of him, pulling his notebook and pen out as River heard the teacher begin to speak.

River had been brought back to his dorm room by a jolt of him missing his pant leg while trying to get dressed. Arya had left him feeling weird that first day and every day after that, Arya had continued to say hello and be super kind to him. River didn't really understand why Arya was acting that way-- if Arya knew River at all, he would know that River didn't deserve that kind of kindness.

River zipped his jacket up and heard his cell phone begin to chime again, but this time it was a text tone. He absent-mindedly reached for the phone, unlocking it in one motion.

He bit his lip as he saw a message from his brother- his twin, Meph. Meph had chosen not to go to college but to work at a friend's laboratory. River sometimes regretted going to college but since he was there on a scholarship, it only made sense to stay. Besides, Meph had only chosen not to go to college to help River actually go for his dream: to be a marine biologist.

River loved the ocean. It was his favorite place to be and if he managed to put his past behind him and become a marine biologist, he'd never have to leave the ocean again. Meph had gotten the job with his friend to pay the bills so River could focus on school.

Meph the Grump: Hey so Nic needs me to stay late again this weekend so I won't be able to come up to visit. Maybe we can work something out for next weekend. Just let me know.

River sighed and locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket. That makes the 3rd time Meph canceled on him in the last month. River didn't really know what Nicolaus did for a living but Meph was apparently very important to the lab. It paid for the roof over his head so River ignored the pain of disappointment running through his chest.

He grabbed his bag before stopping by the mirror near the front door. Messing with his hair for only a few moments, he sighed and left the house, locking the front door behind him. His college was a mere three blocks away so walking was the simplest way of getting there.

River began the trek down the semi busy street, staring at the ground as he walked. From the corners of their sight, River watched the world go around him: People walked solo past; some girls in groups crossing the street laughing together; a single mom holding her baby while opening the door to a store.

The world kept going despite of all the troubles people had. River knew this and yet he always wondered what he looked like from that perspective. Was he intimidating? Were they interesting to the world around them or forgettable?

River adjusted his back on his shoulder as he stopped at a crosswalk. Several people lingered around him as they all waited for the traffic light to change. As he considered his plans for the weekend now that Meph wasn't coming into town anymore, he realized he was staring across the road at a familiar face.

It was Arya. However, Arya was standing against a brick building with another few men around him. River scrunched his face in curiosity and confusion. He had never seen Arya outside of class and he walked this street everyday. Wouldn't they have crossed paths before?

River heard the chime of the crosswalk allowing pedestrians to pass as suddenly one of the men grabbed Arya by the shoulder rather roughly. Arya stumbled into one of the other taller men who shoved him back towards the building. River felt his blood boil nearly instantly as he took off across the street. He was still fairly far away but he picked up the pace as the three men pulled Arya down an alleyway behind the brick building.

"I promise I'll have it to you soon. I will. I will." Arya's voice filtered through the air as River got closer. It was staggered and breathless; shaky and soft. He was clearly scared. "I know I said today, but my job hasn't paid me yet so--"

CRACK.

River dashed around the corner, hearing a bone crushing noise as they did so. It took River's eyes a few seconds while blinking to adjust to the darkness of the alley only to see Arya on the ground, unmoving.

"You bastards! What did you do to him?" River shouted as he stomped forward, leaving barely any space between himself and the strangers. His heart was racing-- Arya still hadn't moved. "Arya! Hey!" River shouted as the men laughed.

"Arya has a friend? Haha, that's the funniest thing I've heard all day," said the tallest man, turning to face River. "You should scram, kid, if you know what's good for you."

"Kid? I'm not a child, and I'm not scared of you." River said confidently, even though his hand was trembling. He was convinced it was his anger peaking. "Get away from him." River snarled through bared teeth.

The leader looked at his two friends and all three of them laughed.

"Kid, I don't think you understand the situation you're in." the Leader scoffed before suddenly darting towards River with his fist reared back.

In one step, River bent down, dodging him swiftly and flattening his right hand, shoving it perfectly timed onto the man's elbow forcing it the wrong direction. River heard the satisfying snap of the bone.

"Sonofabitch!" The leader shouted, falling to the ground, grasping towards his left arm. His partners ran to his side as he struggled to stand. "I won't forget this!" He growled as the three of them took off out of the alley.

River relaxed his stance, releasing a deep breath before spinning on his heel and dashing back to where Arya lay still unmoving. River fell to his knees, picking Arya up gently.

"Hey... hey Arya." They whispered, shaking the boy. Within a minute, Arya's eyes opened and he immediately pushed away from River, the innate fear of the other men still fresh. "No, Arya, it's okay-- it's me." River held his hands up.

Arya's breathing slowed as he realized the other three men were gone. His hand snapped to his head, his left eye closing in pain. Silence fell between the two of them. River wasn't sure what to say, and Arya... he looked like he might pass out at any moment.

"What are you doing here?" Arya broke the silence. His voice was scratchy but still the soft, kind tone River was used to hearing in class. "This doesn't concern you."

River scoffed, "The hell it doesn't! Who were those men? What did they want from you?" Arya stayed silent, choosing to look anywhere but River's face. "Fine then, I guess it doesn't matter..." he stood up to leave.

"Wait!" Arya jumped to his feet.

River turned to see Arya reaching out towards him only for the boy to be overcome by his injuries. His eyes rolled back and he fell towards the ground. River was quick enough to catch him before he made contact with the pavement. The momentum of the fall had caused Arya's hood to reveal his full face. River blinked in surprise-- the right side of Arya's face was covered with a severe burn scar. How had they never noticed it before?

Out of respect, River pulled Arya's hood back over his head and held the boy close.

"Excuse me."

A voice from behind them both caused River to whip around, holding on to Arya even tighter.

A man stood there, holding his bowler hat in front of his face. His cape like top blew in the wind of the alley and his yellow gloved hands nearly look illuminescent in the alley.

"Who are you?" River demanded.

"I am that boy's guardian, and I would appreciate you giving him to me." The man said as he put his hat on his head. It revealed his face to be similar to Arya except the left side of his was... a snake, wait what?

River stood, holding Arya in his arms. "Why should I believe you? Maybe I should take him and run away?"

"No, that's not necessary. You see... that boy is not human, my dear." The man began to walk closer. "Well, not anymore." He stopped walking. "Ah, how rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Janus."

"Okay... Janus what do you want with Arya?" River questioned, backing up a step.

"Oh no. You misunderstand. Arya came to me, you see. Alone and with nothing to lose, he made a deal. A deal with a snake." Janus explained, the snake side of his face never losing the grin it held. "Losing your entire family in a fire you caused and leaving yourself scarred for life is a rough thing to go through. He wanted to forget-- however it comes with a price."

"Yeah well... he needs medical treatment from whatever those assholes did to him so I'm taking him to the hospital. He's not going with you." River said firmly. "So I'll be leaving now."

River adjusted Arya in his arms before brushing past Janus toward the main street. River never once looked back and kept walking, avoiding the busier streets with nosey people. A regular hospital would ask too many questions. It was time to pay an old friend a visit.

After a ten minute walk, River arrived at what looked like a simple flower shop. He walked inside. A boy stood behind the main counter and turned to face them.

"Oh River! It's been awhile." He said. "Oh... is your friend hurt?"

"Yeah... can you help him Gabriel?" River asked as Gabriel held a back door open for them to walk through.

"Of course. Let's get him checked out." Gabriel assured.

River placed Arya on a rather large bed and sat down across from him and Gabriel in a plastic chair. River could feel the tension leaving his body finally and the realization of everything that happened was making his mind race as he watched Gabriel check Arya's vitals. Who were those three original men? Who was Janus? Was Janus telling the truth when he said Arya wasn't human anymore? What did that even mean? Nothing about this morning made any sense.

"River?" Gabriel's voice called them out of their stupor and River could see Arya was covered by a blanket now and his hoodie has been removed. "Are you okay? Do you need me to check you too?" Gabriel reached and felt River's head before they could lean away.

"No I'm fine." River assured.

Before Gabriel could ask again, a chime went off above their heads: a customer had walked into the flower shop. Gabriel excused himself and left the room. The room became silent other than the ticking of the clock on the far wall.

River stood up and walked to look at Arya. He looked peacefully asleep and more relaxed than before. Gabriel must've given him some medication. River pushed Arya's bangs out of his face and Arya stirred a bit, as if he was going to wake up.

"River.... wait.. please..." Arya murmured, his eyes still closed but tightened in fear. A dream. "I can explain... don't go... I need you."

River grabbed Arya's hand, intertwining their fingers. Arya seemed to relax and stopped talking. River was an idiot-- why hadn't he noticed it before? All of those feelings towards Arya... it was love. A need to protect.

"Don't worry, Arya..." River sat down on the side of the bed, brushing their fingers down the side of Arya's face. "I'm not going anywhere."

FIN.

#sanders sides #ocs #my ocs #arya sanders #river sanders #though technically they arent sanders here but idc #janus sanders #rivya #happy birthday maxi 2021 #sorry this wasnt longer ;^; work sucks

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