#;neon tinted perspectives;; thoughts

[fazeruined]

@curseofbreadbear @animatronicabundance @faztastiic @fazerrific @glamurso @staystillgregory @cultbunny

[fazeruined]

@astraljams literally the dca

without arts & crafts we are in hell

[lafayette-paw-arts]

We are gathered here today to discuss my thoughts on Valentino's eyesight

I think it's a product of lots of factors.

I believe he does in fact have bad eyesight and need prescription glasses, but because he's a moth he got red tinted glasses to try and mitigate his moth tendencies so he's not getting distracted and blankly starting at every damn light.

But that causes a different problem, red glasses are so hard to see with and really change your perspective of things around you.

My partner helped me test this out, they wore red tinted glasses for the whole day while I drove us around and we went about our errands. There were so many things they just couldn't see. While it definitely helped with any bright lights around, they couldn't really see several things, including details on things like money, especially depending on the lighting in the room.

Which would mean the famous, "He had like three bills, and it took him like 30 minutes to count it, his eyes are so shit." from Angel might not be just about his eyes but also a byproduct of his glasses he needs to function in hell as a moth with all those bright lights around, especially with all the neon lights.

Also the pink lighting of that limo would have made it impossible for Val to see almost anything in there with his glasses on, but his eye sight might also be bad enough he doesn't want to take off his glasses because then everything would be blurry and he could get a headache. (speaking as someone with quite a strong prescription on my glasses)

In short I think that yes Val has bad eyesight and needs the glasses he wears, but because of being a moth he needs to have tinted glasses which really fuck with the rest of his vision. So he's been doubly fucked over in the vision department.

[rotworld]

With Cold Immortal Hands

i’m still a little occupied with family stuff but certain enthusiastic zivian enjoyers (cough @craniumcrush cough) inspired this. i know it’ll be a while before i get to him, so here’s a brief scene from third time’s a charm from zivian’s perspective.

->zivian/reader. brief explicit mention; contains predatory intention towards the reader.

.

.

.

He doesn’t expect you to show up. He doesn’t expect anything, really. Eirian and Morgan do that plenty—expect things. They’ve got their own superstitions. Lately, his teeth have been aching in his gums, throbbing with predatory need. “That means our lamb is thinking about you,” Morgan would say. But Zivian doesn’t go looking for signs and omens. You’ll come when you feel like it. He’ll be there when you do. No reason to make it more complicated than that.

Aspect memory is rose-tinted and foggy like something that happened a lifetime ago, but it feels fresh. Really seems like it was him at Immaculata the other night and not Eirian. He can remember the stench of cheap booze and human lust, the warmth of stage light, the flickering glow of the neon EXIT sign where you slipped away. It feels like he was there, cornering you in the alley out back, watching you writhe under the weight of directionless Enthrallment. He can almost taste you—but not quite. That’s how he knows he wasn’t there. And that’s a strange thing, too, that he thinks of it in those terms. Him. Not him. Self. Other. Personhood has always been abstract, too messy to worry about. Everything was plural until you came. 

“Your turn, Ziv.” The sentiment comes from Eirian, a late night pillow thought that passes between them. He’s got a funny way of seeing things; turns and order and schedules. Bureaucracy. Eirian’s the closest to their point of origin that way, the most concerned with formality and ritual. There are proper and improper ways to do things, exceptions, constraints, deadlines. Of course—they’re contract demons. But Morgan is a persistence hunter and Eirian prefers to chase. Zivian is the only one content to sit perfectly still.

So there’s no rush. No agitation, no need to hunt you. He works his usual shift at the usual place. Concealed, like always, just in case you drop by, covered neck to toe. His coworkers don’t get it and he’s tight-lipped when it comes to you—Morgan and Eirian gossip more than enough—so rumors are rampant. They think he’s in mourning, or under scrutiny from interplanar authorities. Correcting them would necessitate giving a shit, so there’s a new story every week. The ones who know keep it to themselves.

And then—

Then you show up. 

He feels the others in his head, the threads of aspect memory pulled taut. Half a city away, Eirian has dropped everything to micromanage the encounter, coaching Zivian, telling him exactly what to do and say, and Zivian ignores every word. Morgan watches wordlessly and Zivian gets a rush of second-hand excitement and lust. He lets out a long sigh. It’s almost embarrassing, the way the others act. Everything’s so frantic, so deadly serious. “Don’t fuck this up,” Eirian is warning him. “I’m serious, Ziv. Morgan and I got them all frazzled for you, you’ve got the perfect opportunity right now and if you waste it, so help me—”

You march right up to him and—yeah, there it is. That determination. That headstrong overconfidence. It’s hard to stop himself from smiling. They’ve all got their own favorite things about you, their preferred ways to have you, but this? This is it for him. He loves how scrappy you are. Always hissing and cursing, always weaseling your way out of the frying pan and right into the fucking fire.

You come to him all tense, hackles raised, and if he had even a shred less self-control, you’d be taking his cock right here in front of everyone. You have no fucking idea what you do to him when you’re this mouthy, like the smallest, yappiest dog trying to gnaw at his ankle. Zivian almost wishes he was smaller so you’d underestimate him more. The only thing he likes more than your defiance is watching it all drain away.

You wanna talk? Zivian’s happy to talk. Eirian is yelling at him and Morgan is waiting with bated breath and they’re both going to be disappointed because it’s not gonna be tonight. Tonight is slow and steady. Tonight is patience, a bit more of the groundwork laid. Morgan and Eirian would have played their whole hand already, would have lunged at you, broken you a little more. Zivian doesn’t. You’re here, with him, so he’s going to do things his way.

No running down the prey so it’s weak and panting and miserable. No. He'll wait, and he'll sit back, and he won't expect anything. You'll come to him, and he'll be there. And when it's time, when you're relaxed, when you've let your guard down and let him in so close without even realizing it because he's just not the type to do what the others do—then he'll strike.

He announces, “I’m taking my smoke break,” and you go with him. Nervous, maybe, but unsuspecting. His fangs throb and he licks his lips, telling himself not tonight. Not yet.

[fazeruined]

@curseofbreadbear @horrifichaunts @fazerblaster

"Cassie, please, that wasn't me!"

[citiesalight-writes]

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Characters: 31 (Original Male Character/Danny Phantom Clone), Guys In White

Rating: G

Tags & Warnings: Science Experiments, Cloning

Summary: Waking up suspended in green is not something he felt should be happening, but it was all he'd known. Everything he'd known came to him from nowhere, the ether, given meaning through an unknown source. But even this mysterious well of knowledge left some questions unanswered.

Based on @13thcat​‘s Danny Phantom 31 AU

---

His first taste of consciousness was brief. Weightless, harsh light bleeding through his eyelids, sounds he couldn’t yet understand.

“Sir, we’re detecting an increase in brain activity in the cerebral cortex and thalamus.”

“Subject’s heart rate has also increased. We believe it m…”

His mind faded back into darkness.

-

The second and third times were much the same; his consciousness barely able to cling to awareness for more than a few seconds. Hearing the same muttering voices as before, he felt his mind stir briefly before slipping back under.

-

However, the fourth time things began to change. His mind managed to shake off the deep fog, and awoke to the same weightlessness he’d come to recognize, the same bright lights, the same distorted noises; all things that he couldn’t quite comprehend. Summoning his limited energy, his heavy eyelids fluttered open and he took his first look at the world.

It was blurry; tinted green.

His brow furrowed. What was green?

He didn’t understand where this knowledge came from; mind producing the word without a clear point of origin.

Movement caught his attention, pulling him out of his mind. Shadows— people, his mind supplied—rushed around; the warped sounds increasing as they scrambled.

“Sir! The subject appears to be awake!”

“Status?”

“Oxygen levels and blood pressure stable.”

“No signs of cellular decay.”

“The ectoplasmic to fluid ratio appears to have zero negative effect.”

One of the figures walked forward, a blur of white and brown. It bent down, eyes meeting his own, but still too blurry to be clear.

“Hope this one can hold itself together then.”

His eyes darted around, new instincts screaming at him to not allow a single shadow out of his sight. The noise levels rose as more and more of the white blurs scattered around. It was so much—too much; his mind trying to keep up with the unfamiliar and oh so new sensory inputs bombarding him.

“Subject’s heart rate is spiking! Sir! Destabilization risk rapidly increased to 37%.”

“Sedate it, agent! If all we have to show for our effort is another puddle of slime the Commander will have our heads!”

“Yes sir, injecting sedative.”

He felt fuzzy as the green surrounding him pulsed brightly—turning a vivid neon before he faded back into the darkness.

-

“The subject appears to be conscious again, sir...”

He wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious, but the thing that roused him made his face scrunch up in confusion…or was it disgust? He could taste something...bitter? The word came from nowhere, but it felt right, somehow. Something was bitter, but not unbearably so. The new sensory input probably had way more to do with waking him than the taste itself had.

He tried to open his eyes once again, but the next words stopped him cold. A sense of...something rushing up his body like a chill.

“Put it back under, we don’t want to risk any complications at this late of a stage.”

He understood. Somehow his brain linked the sounds to words with meanings, slotting them into his mind like a puzzle he didn’t know he had the answers to.

He understood, but his mind was still slow to grasp what they meant. Any attempt to try and string the meanings together into something that made sense was brought to a halt by a pulse of light before he was yet again pulled back under the haze of unconsciousness. But for the first time, he was looking forward to waking up again.

-

The cycle repeated. Drift into consciousness, listen to what the figures were saying, maybe even discover some new sense or word before he was sedated and the process began anew.

Although the green tint still persisted, his vision had cleared somewhat. Eyes now able to see, every person that crossed his field of view was unique yet similar. Each wore long light green coats, those with longer hair had it tied up and out of the way, and many wore glasses. They all had one thing in common though; dark bruising shadows under their eyes.

Strange…

The (shadow?....no that was a person...) person that caught his eye most was the one referred to as Sir. Their lab coat was rumpled, long brown hair wrapped in a messy bun. Their most noticeable feature was the muddy brown squares always seeming to slide down their nose that did nothing to hide the dark circles bruising their eyes.

He’d figured this was probably the person in charge. He also thought they should probably be the one sleeping instead of him. He didn’t understand why he thought these things.

During his stretches of awareness in the cyclical dance of sleeping and waking, he realized a few things. One; his word comprehension had improved leaps and bounds, mind no longer lagging behind as he listened in on the chatter around him. Two, he had more knowledge about the world than he knew to do with, words and tastes and concepts he couldn’t place an origin to flitted about in his mind. It was strange to him, but he didn’t understand why. 

According to the scientists whose bags were almost as deep as Sir’s, he should be ready for the “final check” within the week, “so long as no more complications arise”. He didn’t know what that meant, but he’d overheard them talking about a procedure. He was to be kept awake for longer and longer durations as they monitored his vitals, all to ensure there would be no issues.

Even with this knowledge, waking up to the green tint—the light and color that always surrounded him (ectoplasmic fluid he’d heard someone say)—being drained from the world around him was jarring. It made him feel a slight twist in his chest, and he didn’t know why.

He blinked, once...twice, and then the feeling of weightlessness left him.

He fell.

The instant his feet touched the ground, his arms shot out to try and steady himself. He collided with a clear barrier—glass? He was in a tube—doing nothing as his legs gave out from under him. Thick liquid bubbled up his throat, his body thrown into a coughing fit as lungs worked to expel the bitter green goo from his airways. After a few tense moments of wheezing, he finally was able to take in greedy lungfuls of air. He was still adjusting to the shift in perspective, and had to close his eyes when a warm clear liquid—water, perhaps?—started spraying him from above. He heard his breathing rattle his chest as he felt the shower wash away the last of the green solution he’d been submerged in.

In, out. He wondered why he hadn’t needed to breathe before. In. Out. The water surrounded him in a strange sort of comfort, the ectoplasm in his...room? was all he’d ever known. After what felt like hours the water shut off. He opened his eyes, blinking away any lingering droplets out of his lashes. He saw the strange people standing before him.

The coats weren’t green, they were white .

Everything, it seemed, was white. From the spotless floors and walls to the shiny tables and chairs and even the computers. Everything was a blinding white. He thought it strange, but didn’t know why. He missed green. The only specks of colors were the people themselves—the scientists, his mind told him.

The sound of hissing shocked him from his thoughts, the mechanical clicking louder than anything he could ever remember hearing. A chill breeze ghosted over his skin from behind as he snapped his head to look over his shoulder, and his mind registered what had once been a room constantly enveloped in shadows was currently as bright as the lab in front of him.

But that wasn’t what caught his attention most. No. Along the wall of the room there were several more pods exactly like the one he was in. Most were empty but a few seemed to be filled with the same green he’d been held in. He blinked a few more times. Those containers... he looked carefully and could just barely make out vague humanoid shapes of varying sizes submerged within.

He didn’t have any time to think before two people in white hazmat suits stood tall before him, their forms blocking the other pods from his line of sight. With stiff movements, they lifted him up and out, gently carrying him to the singular piece of furniture in the room: a tall white bench. They set him down carefully, as if he might shatter with the slightest breeze, quick to place small white squares on his forehead. They repeated this with his wrists, chest—most everywhere on his thin body. He wanted to lean into the contact, but before he could even comprehend what was happening, they pulled away. A large holographic screen appeared beside them, filled with so many numbers and symbols and lines that it made his head swim.

“Vital signs seem stable. Heart rate is holding steady.”

He looked at them, blinking in the bright light of the room, still trying to decipher the information. He startled for a moment as one of the hazmats carefully gripped his chin, tilting it up towards their faces. They produced a strange metal tube and swept a blinding light across his eyes. He tried to pull away, blinking rapidly, but the grip held strong.

“Photopupillary reflex is good.” A snapping sound by his ear made him try to jerk his head, unable to break the strong grip. “As is its response to auditory stimulation,” they said with a sigh, finally letting go of his chin with a glare towards the other hazmat.

He turned his head quickly to try and keep both of them in his field of vision, wary of what they would do if he took his eyes off of them for a moment. His worry was broken after what seemed minutes when one of the hazmats finally spoke again.

“Alright, I need you to nod twice if you can understand me,” said the one who snapped by his ear earlier. There was a moment of hesitation before he complied, turning most of his attention towards them. He couldn’t see the figure’s smile, but their eyes—warm and brown—crinkled in happiness, crows feet more pronounced than before. 

Next to them, the other hazmat—he thought they had hazel eyes—seemed to be taking notes.

“That’s wonderful. Now, we’ve got a few questions for you as well as some sensory and motor control tests we need you to do for us. Think you can do that?” He nodded hesitantly. “Perfect,” the person responded with a smile in their voice.

-

He was directed to lean back until he was laying flat on the bench, his exhausted body still not used to the continuous movement, let alone being awake for so long. He grimaced after he’d collapsed not three steps into a walk around the room; a test to gauge balance and fine motor skills. He felt a tugging, squeezing sensation in his chest, not wanting to disappoint, but Brown-eyes just laughed and told him it was fine, setting him back down on the bench.

They instructed him to follow a finger left to right, another test of holding his arms up and outstretched for a count of ten. That one was harder than he’d thought, arms shaking after only a moment. Deep breathing was another thing they wanted to test, and his heartbeat. He thought he had one at least? He followed the instructions and felt himself tiring further, a small yawn slipping out of his mouth.

“Well, aside from suboptimal muscle mass, low stamina, and some minor dexterity issues, your test results were good—Great even! Miles better than we expected, in all honesty.” Hazel-eyes removed the white patches from his body while Brown-eyes talked to him, praise in their voice. He saw as the lines of the strange screen went flat and the numbers dropped to zero. Brown-eyes continued, “Now I’m sure you’re tired so w-”

There was the click as the door unlocked, followed by an airy woosh. Both hazmats stood up, ramrod straight, looking to the entrance. He felt cold, a shiver finding its way down his slight frame. Brown-eyes was the one to respond first. “Sir, we were just finishing up the testing.” 

He followed their gazes, his eyes widening as Sir walked into the room with an air of authority and a heavy step. Their coat was also pure white, no longer stained with a green tinge from the ectoplasm. Their bun had more fly-aways than usual, but what really caught his attention was their glasses—no longer were they a muddy brown but rather a bright, bold, fire engine red. Their dark circles seemed more pronounced too. They looked tired. 

“You can leave then,” Sir called with a wave of his hand. Instantly the two were rushing out the door, leaving him alone with Sir. He watched as they circled around him, their icy blue eyes sending a rush of...something through him. He felt like he was being analyzed, a calculating glare hungrily staring at all the data he could provide...

He liked Brown-eyes better, he decided.

“Its muscle tone is minimal, suggesting inadequate strength, with a minor twitch in the left hand, but that is not unusual… Some cosmetic defects present, but that can be overlooked for now...” They spoke aloud but he understood the words weren’t directed towards him. Sir circled around him like a predator with its prey for a moment longer before speaking with a slight grin. “Overall, acceptable.” Coming to a stop in front of him, Sir held their arms behind their back, standing tall and proud. “Usually we’d wait before testing vocal patterns and supernatural abilities, but I already have the commander breathing down my neck, so we need to hurry things along.” Another grin. Their eyes didn’t match their smile like Brown-eyes’ did.

A nod to indicate he was listening, signalling Sir to continue. “Now, ask me any questions you’d like and I will do my utmost best to answer.” The light reflected dangerously off their glasses.

Any questions? Any at all? So many flooded his mind. Who are you? Where am I? Why are there more tanks filled with green stuff? How long have I been asleep? The questions kept rolling, overlapping, and turning into a jumbled mess of chaos, but one stood out among the rest. One he figured needed answered before all others.

A question he felt like he’d choke on if he didn’t ask it.

“Who,” he cleared his throat, voice soft as he spoke his first words, “who am I?”

Sir scoffed, blue eyes sharp as they looked down on him. “Not a who, a what .” Pinned by their gaze, his mind absorbed the new information. “Experiment number 31. Classification: Clone.” A wide smile stretched their lips.

He gave a weak nod as the meaning sank in. A what. Not a person, but a clone, a copy. Inhuman, a thing, a tool. A part of him fought against those words, but it was small and easily quieted. 

Sir canted his head up with a single finger, their glasses reflecting 31’s wide green eyes. “Now don’t disappoint me.”

[flying-nightwing]

Double Cross (Jason Todd)

Hi people! So this is my little project I was talking about. A sudden blurb of inspiration led me to this and uh. Here it is! Once again, this is super experimental so yeah idk about its potential. You’ll be the judge of that I guess

This time I worked on time jumps back and forth and perspectives, so let me know how it turned out!

Masterlist in bio/pinned!

Pairing: Jason Todd x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 6937

Warnings: swearing, uhhh idk it’s dc so you know what you’re into 

-- 36 hours ago --

Your heart was beating hard against your ribcage as you flew down Washington DC's streets. Your motorcycle was burning under you, and you had a feeling you were on the clock to get off of this ticking time bomb before it exploded and brought you down with it. The bullet holes broke the black paint, decorating your bike in a way that flagged unwanted attention. About six blocks ago, unmarked cars had joined your fast paced parade across the city.

A terrible mistake, all of this was. That was certain. 

You took a sharp right, your knee scraping on the asphalt on the way. An infernal noise came out of your bike, but you still willed it to accelerate on the straight alley. You shot back on the main roads like a bullet, swerving around the black police car that had tried to cut you off. But soon enough, you saw the blockade on the street in front of you. You could never jump it with your bike so in disarray, and there were no viable alleys to sneak into. You shut your eyes tight for a moment, then exhaled.

"I'm sorry Jason" You muttered to yourself. "But you left me no choice"

With a firm grip, you pressed the brakes and came to a stop a fair distance from the blockade. You turned off your bike and kicked the foot to hold it up, slowly getting off and pulling your hands up. Shouts erupted around you as the police mobilised themselves in tight formations, guns up and ready to shoot. With one hand up, you undid your tinted black helmet and let it fall to the ground. 

"On your knees!" An officer shouted as he approached. "Keep your hands where I can see them"

You complied.

-- Now --

The white of the neons glaring down on you made your already tired eyes hurt, saturating your vision with a harsh and constant flash of light. You were left alone with a room temperature glass of water on your left and your own reflection on your right. You couldn’t hear them, but you knew they were there, observing you. Instead, all you could see was the dark bags under your eyes and your messy greasy hair. 

You perked up when two men in suits came in by the door in front of you, thin files in their hands and calculating glances. They were nicely dressed, one with a gray suit and the other, black. Both suits were obviously tailored to them. They sat down in front of you and observed you before the one in the gray suit spoke. Dark hair, blue eyes, taller than the other, maybe around six feet.

“Good morning, Agent”

You only nodded, looking down to the table. 

“My name is Agent Baker,” He said. “My colleague here is Agent Tanev. We will proceed to your debriefing”

“Sure” You nodded again.

Agent Baker set a recording device on the desk and turned it on. “Please tell us again why you are here today”

“I am--” You paused, clearing your throat. “I am here today to deliver crucial information on a wanted criminal in exchange for a pardon” 

“Which wanted criminal should that be?”

“The Red Hood” You said, meeting his eyes. “I have names of associates, safe houses locations, frequent territories of operation as well as his specific m.o.”

“How come you know all of this?” He asked, his voice neutral. “No seasoned agent has ever managed to get this close to him, let alone a rookie. We want to know how you gained his trust, start from the beginning, spare no details. Leave nothing out”

“I met the Red Hood during operation 7381 in northern Lithuania” You began as Agent Tanev started to take notes. “I was in the back up team for the extraction of General Kradiev from a local opposant group. I wasn’t supposed to even see action, as it should have been simple enough against an untrained mob, but when is it ever…”

They had known you were coming. A whole grab and go operation had been compromised by the feeling of invincibility of the CIA, that looked down so much on whoever they went against that they never stopped to think that maybe--maybe--they were prepared.

So when the Alpha team stormed the country house where the General was supposed to be kept and found it empty, all action plans were thrown out the window. The Beta team was mobilised to close off all the roads surrounding the area and to search for the hostage. You were ordered to search a single decaying house in between two pine trees because the structure was so old, so  nobody could have ever been hiding in its debris. However, as you were leaving, you heard whimpers coming from the cellar a few feet away from the foundations. Carefully, you made your way to the wooden doors on the ground, and after making sure your magazine was full and the safe of your semi automatic off, you kicked the doors open and raced down the stairs.

“Don’t move or I’ll blow your head off” You yelled, pointing your gun at the first person you saw. It was clearly a man, wearing a bright red helmet that shone under the single lightbulb hanging down from the ceiling. He slowly held up his hands, but he didn’t seem so bothered. Your eyes found another man next, tied to a chair and wearing a bag on his head. The military uniform was a dead giveaway of his identity, so you returned your full attention to the red helmet guy. “You’re going to back up and face the wall now”

“Or what?” He challenged. “You’ll ‘blow my head off’?”

“Shut up!” You barked, taking a step forward. Your firearm was ready to shoot. “Do as I fucking say”

“You’re CIA uh?” He changed the subject, looking down at your marked bulletproof vest and not listening to you. In fact, he didn’t seem worried at all by the situation he was in. “Should have known. You guys have never cared who lived or died. What fucking difference does it make, as long as they’re good pals with the good ol’ US of A right?”

“God would you just fucking shut up and back up” You were getting impatient, but also nervous. You were alone without backup, with a guy in a red helmet who was clearly taunting you, and you had never shot anyone before. It was your first oversea mission, and already it was fucking catastrophic.

“See, that’s the thing” He held a finger up. “You’re pointing a gun at me like I’m the bad guy, while you are trying to rescue the scum of humanity. You’re going to extract him, give him a nice long life on Florida’s golf courses with the taxpayers' money and wipe out from History the mass graves in the woods two miles away”

You remained silent.

“Oh, did you not know about the mass graves?” He asked rhetorically in a mocking tone. “Your friend here decided he wanted to test the new shipment of automatic weapons, because their bullets per minute capacity had been expanded. And what better targets than the group of students that opposed the american military presence in the country? The youngest was 16 and her name was Vera Beliskava. Isn’t that right, Kradiev?”

He pulled the hood from the general to reveal his bloodied and bruised face. He had been gagged and beaten, that was obvious. He looked at you, pleading. 

“You’re the only one who saw” The man in red said, softer this time. “You don’t have to save that piece of trash. Just say your search came up empty and I’ll make him disappear from the Earth's face permanently without leaving so much as a trace. Nobody else will know, and you will go to sleep knowing you made the world a better place”

You took a breath, a million thoughts running into your head. Who was that guy? Why was he here? Why did he not attack you, while he clearly had a handgun strapped on his thigh? Could he be right about Kradiev? You knew he didn’t have the cleanest record concerning human rights, but mass graves? 

“Beta team, report”

You both froze as your comm broke the silence. He gave you a challenging look as you were still debating. You wanted to do good, that’s why you went into the secret services. Being complicit in mass murder wasn’t something you signed up on. 

“Nothing to report on the north road”

“Clear in the valley”

“Farmer’s house empty”

“No traffic on the south road”

You knew it was your turn now. Slowly, you reached for your comm, not breaking eye contact.

“Pinetree house’s clear” You spoke in a flat line, decided and direct as you lowered your gun. You shut down your comm and glanced at Kradiev, whose relief morphed into fear once again as your decision registered. You averted your eyes. 

“You made the right choice”

“I hope so, or I’m dead” You mumbled. “I’m going back now. Don’t make me regret my decision”

“You won’t”

“So just to be clear,” Agent Baker frowned. “You just… Believed him? And you let General Kradiev in his hands?”

“When I left, I went to check, and the graves were there. Kradiev was guilty”

“That was not your decision to make” He pointed out.

“I know” You sighed. “That was my first mistake. I-- I lost it for a moment. He mentioned the graves and the victims and there were so many people the same age as them I could think about and I decided with my feelings rather than my judgement. And I’m paying the price today”

“Alright” He mumbled, passing a hand on his face like he was already done with this debriefing. “When did you cross paths with him again?”

“We were back in America” You continued. “By that time, I was no longer on training wheels. It was a little more than a year later, in Newport Oregon during operation 9004. We were busting a trans pacific drug dealer on the docks when we got unexpected company…”

You were running as well as you could through the maze of freight containers on the docks, trying to push back the pain of the bullet in your leg. You had drawn the fire of the hired gang so your colleagues could proceed, but things went down the drain when you were met with heavier fire than the briefing stated. Outnumbered and outran, you stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You wouldn’t go out as a coward, that was certain. If you went down, you’d take as many of them as you could with you. 

You reopened your eyes and checked the magazine of your gun, letting it drop on the ground and pushing a full one in. You loaded and clicked the safe off, flexing your fingers on the handle as footsteps surrounded you. You spun around and pulled the trigger, but before the bullet even reached your target, two men dropped on his side. 

You weren’t the only shooter. 

Thinking it was backup from your team, you allowed yourself to back up against a container, trying to stop the bleeding. You were starting to feel light headed, but you still had a bit more fight in you. Soon enough, all hostiles were down, and you were in for a surprise. Instead of the black uniform of your colleagues, you looked up to a red bat, a leather jacket and a familiar red helmet. You squinted your eyes and let out a chuckle of disbelief.

“Do I even wanna know?” You asked.

“I owed you one” He shrugged. “You okay?”

You looked down to your leg, your pants soaked in blood that was already cooling, then back up again. “Peachy” You gave him a thumbs up. “You were right about Kradiev. He was a fucking trash bag”

“It’s often the case” He said as he rested his hands on his hips. 

“You here for Hiko?”

“Yep” He nodded, then snorted derisively. “Any tips?”

Ever since Kradiev, you have developed a habit of researching your target better. Most of the time, it was a capture or an execution on site, so it didn’t matter the extent of their crimes. But there were moments when you were extracting the package without knowing what came next, and those times usually meant they’ll make them disappear under a new identity, without giving them any repercussion for their actions. This one, Hiko, was the later case, without any plan revealed for when you get him back. He was a known drug trafficker, but he was also rumored to smuggle people back and forth between Asia and North America through the docks he owned. The Red Hood’s appearance was well timed, to say the least. 

“Sneak past the squad through the east” You panted. “If you can move on top of the containers without being seen or heard, you’ll cut them off with about two minutes to spare. Make sure you’re gone with Hiko when they bust through the door, or neither of us will ever find him again”

He paused, studying you. “Thanks…” He trailed off. “Why are you telling me this again?”

“Well, you said it yourself” You managed to smirk. “If I can go to sleep knowing I made the world a better place”

He didn’t answer with anything else but a quick nod before he climbed the containers and disappeared from your field of vision. You sighed, then reached for your comm. “Alpha 003 to central, I’m down and need medical attention, Northwest entry of the docks”

“So if I understand correctly, not only you let him go again,” Baker exhaled, looking bewildered. “But you told him how to get there first? You realize those are becoming serious crimes right?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” You snapped, before recomposing yourself. Both agents had backed away just a little at your outburst. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Sorry. I’m just tired, it’s been a crazy last two days” 

“Did he offer you any medical help then?” Baker returned on topic. 

“No, I called the medics and I was extracted with the chopper” You replied. “I knew he was there for Hiko, not for me. It was a coincidence we crossed paths, and at that point I thought it was the last time I’d see him. I mean, what are the chances, right? But you see, that here was my second mistake”

“How so?”

“The CIA goes after threats to national security, but so does he, in his own way” You said, locking eyes with Baker. “The guy’s everywhere, even where we don’t go. And he’s at least three steps ahead of us at any turn. He has good funds, good intel and exceptional skills. You don’t find him, he finds you. And that’s what he did”

“He contacted you after the affair on the docks?” He raised an eyebrow.

“We could say that...”

You finished washing your tea cup when you heard a thud coming in from your living room. Slowly, you grabbed the gun hidden in your cupboard and held it up, quietly making your way to the next room. You rounded the corner and pointed your gun to the man standing with his back to you, registering his identity as he turned around. You must have been a sight in your baby pink pajama shorts and mismatching turquoise tank top, pointing your handgun to a man in a shiny red helmet. 

You scoffed and lowered your gun, clicking the safe back on and putting the firearm on the lamp table. “Breaking and entering, really?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst crime I’ve committed” He shrugged, and you could just imagine him rolling his eyes, whoever he was under that helmet. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, crossing your arms against your chest. “How did you find me?”

“Like I find anyone” He answered like it was the simplest of evidence. You waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have no intention to reveal his methods. This time, you rolled your eyes. “And I’m here because I wanted to check on your leg”

“No you’re not” You snorted. He would have come months ago if it was about that, and even then, the little you knew about him told you he was not the kind to just check upon people who didn’t mean anything to him. “But I’m doing fine, thanks”

“You’re welcome” He nodded. “And you’re right. I need something from you”

“Well, go ahead, since you’re already in” You gestured at him to go on.

“Wait wait wait” Baker held his hand up. “He broke into your house and you just let him? You put your gun down and didn’t call anyone?”

“Yeah, that’s what I just said” You replied slowly. 

“And it never occured to you that he was dangerous?”

You paused, thinking your answer over. “No, it didn’t. I mean, if he wanted to get rid of me, he would have done it on the docks where I was an easy target”

“Fair point” Tanev muttered under his breath, earning him a glare from Baker. 

“Now do you want to know what happened or not?” You said, annoyed at the interruption.

“Please, go ahead”

He reached inside his jacket and handed you a file. You took it and opened it, staring at the picture and the description beside it. “This is Ian Markstrom, he has been suspected to kidnap young women, mostly tourists, to sell them on the sex trafficking market” He began. “Not only is he friends with your big bosses, but those who were brave enough to try and get him locked up never got anything to stick, and that was the best case scenario. The others either disappeared or ended up dead, so I’m assuming someone in this government does not want Markstrom to stop”

You nodded. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s a secret auction strictly reserved for the elite, Markstrom will sell his best teenagers there” He explained, a hint of disgust in his voice. “The CIA chief of operation received an invitation. I want to know what it says on the card”

“I’m not sure I’m good enough to reach anywhere near it” You mumbled. “But sure, I’ll try”

“No, I believe in you” He said, and he seemed pretty sure of himself. You raised an eyebrow to hide your surprise at his compliment. “What I’m wondering though, is why you’re not asking questions”

“Well, you are two in two so far about targeting the bad guy” You said after a moment. “You seem qualified to spot ‘em, and you’d be real twisted to to make up that scenario for a petty revenge, so I’m guessing you’re on the mark again”

“Huh. You might just be the only smart CIA agent I’ve ever met”

You snorted. “Well, the more it goes the more I’m questioning the integrity of my employer”

“You keep impressing me” 

“With what I saw, I believe the bar was pretty low to start with”

“Keep talking like this and I might need a cold shower”

“You’re an ass, you know that?” 

He let out a short bark of laughter. “If only you knew”

“I’ll do my best for the invitation” You brought him back on topic, closing the file and putting it beside your handgun. “How can I contact you if I get it?”

He paused, then took a step forward and grabbed your wrist. He fetched a pen from his jacket and wrote a number. “This is a burner phone, which I will destroy after this whole deal. Don’t try and trace me with that, it won’t end well for you”

“Yeah yeah” You rolled your eyes, pulling back your arm when he was done. You cleared your throat, trying to ignore his overwhelming proximity. “I gave you two fast passes just to trick you into seeking my help to finally bag you, I’m busted”

“Hey, listen” He backed up, holding his hand in surrender. “I make that threat to everyone. It’s only a disclosure thing, I didn’t doubt your motivation”

“To each their own I guess” You shrugged. “Alright. If this is all, please get out of my apartment”

“Oop, sure”

Baker blinked slowly. “And did you? Communicate him the details?”

“Yeah” You nodded. “I managed to get into the chief of operation’s office, break into his safe, memorize the date, time and place of the auction and communicate it to Red”

“Red?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Short for Red Hood” Tanev clarified, and judging by yet another glare from Baker, he wouldn’t speak anytime soon.  

“He kept it on the quiet, but after that the chief of operation did seem a changed man” You smirked, before dropping it instantly. “And I didn’t hear anything from Markstrom, it was like he disappeared for good, which he most likely did. So I guess the Red Hood succeeded in taking him down”

“Jesus Christ” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Why do I have the feeling it wasn’t the last law you broke?”

“Because it wasn’t”

“Are you going to make a habit out of dropping out of nowhere to ask me for favors?”

This time, you knew who had broken into your property without even looking. You put the keys into your car and turned the engine on, trying to warm yourself. The Red Hood pulled himself upright from your backseat, shaking his head.

“Your car is very comfortable,” He declared. “You have good taste”

“So that means yes”

“Back at it again with your superior deduction skills” 

“What do you want?” You went straight to the point, but you were just a little amused. You could have a worst stalker. 

“I’ve been thinking this through,” He began, moved his legs so he was properly seated on the backseat. “You are skilled and you’ve got balls of steel. I could use your help more often. A partnership, if you might”

“Why do I have the feeling it took a lot to admit that and reach out?” 

“Because I don’t just trust people” He said plainly. “They disappoint me, among other things”

“So why me?”

“Like I said, skills and balls of steel” He repeated. “You went against the fucking CIA not once, not twice but thrice to do the right thing. That’s enough of a test of will for me. And besides, your job would be an advantage that is hard to turn away”

“Makes sense” You mumbled as you put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. He buckled his belt like it was a reflex. “Will this partnership imply me shooting bad guys?”

“If that’s what you wish for” He shrugged, leaning forward in the space between the two front seats. “I won’t be the one to limit you”

“Okay, yeah” You nodded. “Where do we start?”

Baker was looking into nothing, processing your words. He shook his head slowly in disbelief before he met your glance. “I shouldn’t be surprised” He spoke after a moment. “But this is Everest high levels of stupid”

“At that time it did seem like a good idea” 

“Yeah, might as well jump off of a bridge…” He trailed off, eying you suspiciously. “Did you do that too?”

“Well, if we consider the time when--”

“You know what, don’t tell me” He cut you off. “Please go on”

“Alright” You held your hands up in surrender. “So, where was I?”

You and the Red Hood operated on the field like a well oiled machine. Your expertise and contacts with the CIA helped him get into places way more easily than alone, and your somewhat reckless ways were compatible with his mode of operation. You knew who he was as well, you found out after he nonchalantly took off his helmet after a stakeout. You had not been prepared for what you saw then, when you were faced with what you could qualify with the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

“Hey, you okay?” He waved a hand in your face, making you snap out your daze. You blinked a few times, shaking it off.

“Yeah” You replied. “I just wasn’t expecting this”

“Expecting what?”

“I mean, the helmet did give disfiguration vibes… Obviously I was wrong” 

“So you think I’m hot then?” He snorted derisively.

“I do” 

His head did a whiplash. “Huh?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” You backed away. “Sometimes my filter doesn’t work”

“No it’s--” He tried to find his words, then sighed. “I’m just not used to that, I guess”

“What’s the point of this?” Baker groaned, his head in his hands. 

“It’s a turning point that brought me here today” You explained, turning your palm up briefly. “You asked for details, I’m giving you details”

“I kinda wanna know what went down, to be honest” Tanev added sheepishly.

“Tanev, I’m going to drive you through the mirror if you do not shut up”

“Jeez sorry” He mumbled.

“As I was saying”

That day was the moment things changed in your relationship. There was this tension that hadn’t been there before, the little brushes of hands when you were side by side, the staring at the other while they weren’t looking, the unspoken invitations to stay a moment longer after a mission for a cigarette and a good conversation. He was one of a kind, you had to give that to him. He was passionate, driven, smart in a way that told you he never really had it easy but always made it work somehow; the way he always thought of the less obvious way to do things, how even his messes seemed calculated. 

It was raining in Chicago and the air was crisp. Your muscles ached from the fight in that warehouse against drug lords that enrolled kids in their schemes, that and from the unforgiving cold of January. You had one too many whiskeys back in that little studio flat he rented under a false name, and it led you straight to his bed. Trying to find warmth, trying to find a connection, it didn’t matter why, as long as you were as close as humanly possible to him. 

And it didn’t stop there. The night after, and the night after that, always in his company past the business hours. Your chemistry translated way beyond the field, for you found him in a partner in more ways than one. You grew quickly to feel love for him, more than you had ever felt for anyone. The number of times you woke up naked and tangled with him--

“Okay I don’t need to know this-- I do NOT need to know this” Baker yelled. If he could have flipped shit from the table, you’re sure he would have. 

“You told me to spare no details!” You argued. “This is a detail. I’m being as thorough as I can”

“You know what-- Forget it” He brushed his hand in the air aggressively. “Just get to the part we have interest in, for God’s sake please just skip to that”

“Okay, okay” You muttered, rolled your eyes. “It went well for the first months or so, it was great. Nothing to say on that front, I was happy and fulfilled in this new englobing partnership we had going on. That was my third mistake, to get into that kind of involvement with him. Because then, like all good things must come to an end, mine slowly began crumbling down in my hands”

“Okay” He sighed, half in relief. “Tell me more about that”

“Well, he started to show his true colors” You admitted, pulling your hands under the table. “Sometimes, he became something else. Something dark. And sometimes became most of the time, but I was too in love to see it. He became manipulative, controlling. He was everywhere, in everything I did. It’s like I didn’t even have control on my life anymore…”

“Where do you wanna eat?”

You looked away from the car window, your feet comfortably up on the dash. You took a deep breath and shrugged. “Dunno, where do you wanna eat?”

“Don’t really care” He shrugged too. “You decide”

“What about chipotle?”

“Sure” He nodded. “Chipotle sounds good”

Tanev shook his head sympathetically. “He wouldn’t even let you choose a restaurant?”

“Never” You looked down, sadness weighing your voice. 

“I’m so sorry you had to live through that”

“Thank you” 

“Alright, moving on” Baker broke the moment. “What happened next?”

“Next? Next came what comes every time in screwed up relationships” You answered, returning your hands on the table and crossing your fingers. “We burned like a meteorite as it tears through the atmosphere, falling to our demise to high velocity and taking everything in our wake”

“That was poetic” He pointed out sarcastically. “What the fuck does it mean?”

You raised an eyebrow. “We got dangerous for real, Agent Baker” You paused to take a reserved sip of the water. “If you thought I was reckless before, you’ll need to reevaluate your scale. I was in for real. I was his battle horse, his wildcard, his whatever that he needed to succeed. And I was good at it. The worst was, I didn’t even realize he used me as a smoke screen. He put me more and more often in fucked up situations that were way more dangerous for me than him, and I was naive enough to think it was love”

“No. This is not up for discussion”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You said you would let me choose--”

“I said I would let you choose, not let yourself get killed” He interrupted, slightly raising his voice. “This plan of yours is stupid dangerous. If it backfires, you are almost guaranteed of not making it out free, or alive for that matter. I’m not allowing you to take that risk. Not for me.”

“Again, ‘if’ being the keyword” You insisted, following him as he stomped out of the storage room. “I am capable of executing it flawlessly. I know I am, you’ve always told me I am”

He halted his steps, hesitantly turning to face you. His eyes softened as he sighed, taking your hand. “I know you can, it’s not about that” His voice was back down, even lower than his usual volume. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you for something I dragged you into in the first place, I would never forgive myself”

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead on his. “Okay” You finally said, nodding lightly. “We’ll find another way. Another plan. But we’re hitting that ball out of the park either way, I won’t let Preston get away with it”

He smiled. “Oh no, we won't indeed” He kissed the top of your head. “We’ll get him one way or another, I promise”

“I almost feel sorry for you now, Agent” Baker gulped. “I cannot begin to imagine what terrible things the Red Hood forced you to do under his manipulation. We however must continue this debriefing”

“Of course” You nodded quickly, breathing deeply. “So we planned our next move, but he wouldn’t tell me the final target. I found it weird, he always told me the targets. I don’t know, maybe he sensed I was trying to find a way out”

“And that plan was…”

“Yes” You didn’t have to let him finish his trailing thoughts, you knew what he was getting at. “So this brings us to 36 hours ago”

“Be as thorough as you can” 

“So the Red Hood gave me those instructions to follow” You began. “I was to draw the attention of the authorities to me in a city wide chase. Now, I am rather good with a bike, that I won’t hide, but outrunning police and secret services? That was impossible. I still don’t know how they got there, but it saved me. He would have never dared to come into the melee to get me back, and risk getting caught”

“Was he not afraid you’d talk to us?” Baker asked. “That was a pretty big gamble”

“He thought I wouldn’t talk I guess, probably for the same reasons I stayed with him for all this time” You said, biting the inside of your cheek until it bled. You hated to think about these words. “Because I believed I loved him”

“I guess that wouldn’t be too far fetched” He hummed. “Wouldn’t be the first time we saw it happen”

You nodded, remaining silent. Baker made eye contact with Tanev, then looked into the reflecting glass. He took a deep breath and returned his attention to you. 

“We are going to get you back to the holding cell while we process this information” He said. “But once we do that, you’ll be free, and with a new identity if you wish, as your agreement states”

“Thank you” 

“Just one more thing before we wrap this debriefing” He leaned forward. “You must know his name"

“Of course” 

“Then what is it?” He asked. “What is the Red Hood’s name?”

You looked down, taking a deep breath, then back again, locking eyes with Baker. Then, you spoke. 

-- 36 hours later --

The sunset over the valley was gorgeous. The mixes of pink and orange on the yellowed sky was straight out of a fantasy world, and Jason couldn’t help but appreciate the scenery. It was soothing, like it could swallow up his anxiety at least for a minute or two. He leaned on the wooden ramp, the sightseeing roadside station seeming not so cheesy at the moment.

He only tore his eyes from the burning sun when he heard a motorcycle approach from behind. He pushed himself off the ramp and faced the sleek black bike--the lack of use on it showing him it was brand new--then, the driver with a black tinted visor. 

You took off your helmet and smiled at Jason’s stern expression, whose eyes showed relief anyway. You turned off your bike and parked it, then got off and walked to him. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” 

You walked past him and leaned on the ramp he had been on moments ago, and he joined you. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered you one. He lit up both with his lighter, and you took a long draft before speaking. 

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice” You smirked, bumping your shoulder to his. “I did save your sweet ass, after all”

“I thought we agreed not to do that” He glanced at you sideways. His annoyance was also mixed with playful disbelief, like he both wanted to throw you off the cliff you were admiring the view from and do celebratory shots with you. 

“We did” You nodded, chuckling. “But circumstances changed. You weren’t out by the time I reached the monument, so I had to draw them away from you, or we would not be having this conversation. ”

“Still” He tilted his head to the side, before his head snapped in your direction. “Wait, did you call the secret services after yourself?”

You shrugged half heartedly. “Mayhaps” Your lips curved upward, while he shook his head. “I mean, it kinda was my fault too. I misplaced the bomb and it barely detonated. I had to flip to plan B, then they shot my bike. They had me surrounded, and my it was running low on life, so I skipped directly to plan fuck this”

“So you gave yourself up”

"Played the victim, pretended I wanted to exchange information on you for my freedom” You sighed, taking a drag of your cigarette. “None of which was relevant enough for them to even get close to you, worry not”

“They must have asked for a name” He hummed, now turning his full body toward you. “What did you tell them?”

“My grandpa’s name” You snorted. “He died two decades ago. Let me tell you, when they found out the last update on him was in the necrology of the 2001 Sunday paper, they were not happy campers”

“Then how did you get out?” He squinted his eyes.

“Oh, do not underestimate me, sweetheart” You grinned. “I’ve spent my whole career getting to know the buildings and the procedures for people like me. It was a piece of cake”

You were escorted out the interrogation room and into the small, yet cozy holding cell. You were on the clock, because the lies you’ve slipped into your story would unravel pretty quickly once they discovered that the name you gave them was a farce. Then, you wouldn’t be put in a minimal security room, but probably somewhere way less fun. 

“Hey wait” You called after the guard before he could close the cell door behind you. He paused his actions, waiting for you to speak up. “This wasn’t there last time”

He frowned and took a few steps into the cell, trying to spot over your shoulder whatever you were talking about. When he didn’t see it, he got closer and closer until he was all the way into the cell. “What wasn’t there before?” He asked, annoyed. 

You smiled. “You” 

With a quick jab of your elbow behind his head, he fell down unconscious on the floor. You grabbed his keycard and exited the cell, locking the guard in. You winked at the camera on the upper left corner of the hallway and made your way down to the garages as the alarms blared through the whole building. That meant it entered lockdown, closing all the escape routes. But you had your own fool proof plan.

Agent Baker began swearing when the hallway was plunged into the red glow of the lockdown alert. It hadn’t taken long for him to figure out you had led them in circles, and he had appeared a fool in front of his colleagues when he proudly revealed the name of a long deceased old man instead of anything tangible. He had been on his way to your cell when he realized the depth of this foolery, understanding you had been stalling them for this opportunity. 

“Sir, we are reporting engine noises in the garages”

“Fuck” Baker shouted, pushing the other man aside. Tanev was a step behind, his weapon drawn. They had stored your bike there, you must have gone back for it. “All units report to the garage, we’re having a break out. I repeat, all units to the garages”

They all flocked to the lower levels, ready to enforce the barrages at the doors and trap you with no exit. It was an excellent execution of emergency measures, but they definitely weren’t prepared for what came next. As they kicked the storage unit of your motorcycle, they came face to face with the bullet ridden bike with no driver in sight. Baker lowered his gun, squinting his eyes. Then, they widened comically as the dark smoke coming out of it and the strong smell of gasoline registered in his brain.

“Motherfucker” He spat. “Everybody out!” 

Seconds later, it exploded.

“You’re unbelievable” Jason scoffed, shaking his head. However, he now had a full blown grin to match yours. “I gotta give it to you though, blowing up your bike as a distraction was smart. Balls of fucking steel”

“Of course it was!” You replied, then reached in your pocket for your phone. “And it’s not even the best part, look”

You unlocked your phone and passed it to him, showing him your most recent picture of the CIA’s chief of operation dead with a letter opener through his neck. His eyes widened. “You got Preston?”

You turned around from your position, now leaning back on the ramp with your elbows resting on it. “The bike opened a window big enough for me to get the target” You said, finishing your cigarette and disposing of it in the ash bin on your right. “And with all those idiots guarding an empty garage, t’was easy enough”

“After all this time, you’re still impressing me” He nodded, holding up his fist. “Good fucking job”

You bumped your fist sideway with his, laughing at his baffled expression. The sky was getting darker and darker by the minute, but the air was still warm. You could hear the crickets in the high grass, and the silence was a peaceful one. You could admit that you had cut it close this time, that this gamble could have very well turned to shit, so you just took a moment to let the pressure slip away from your muscles, at least for now. You had the time to smoke another cigarette before you spoke.

“So now what?” You hummed, looking up to the bright stars above your head. “Markstrom’s ring is no more, and I’m pretty sure I not only lost my job by pulling that stunt, but also bought myself a ticket on at least three intelligence services’ most wanted list”

“Well, that’s nothing a good ol’ fake death can’t fix” He shrugged. “But until we find the right moment for your tragic public demise, I’m sure we can manage to find on our own some domestic assholes to beat up. What do you say?”

You met eyes with him, then raised your eyebrows. “I say let’s get to it”

[fazeruined]

@curseofbreadbear @horrifichaunts @staystillgregory

[rynhaswritersblock]

moonlight tears (blurb) - part two | p.p.

a/n:  for this part (thank u spideybparker for the idea and working with me on this) i'm integrating an au in which you don't see color at its full capacity until you're truly happy. i'm very sorry if this throws off the continuity coming from the last part, but 1) we literally just brainstormed the idea for this part and 2) i felt as though going back and changing the first part would get rid of the authenticity of this book (those of you who've been reading for a while now that i'm all about keeping things real in terms of the writing process and making mistakes!)

summary: part two to moonlight tears! y/n begins to get her color back and peter parker is the sweetest boy in the world

warnings: a bit angsty, a bit fluffy tho too, also i literally wrote over a thousand words but i'm still calling it a blurb cause the first part was a blurb lol. also kinda sloppy writing IM SORRY

+ + +

it was coming back.

maybe it was something about the way you could count on peter being there with you every night, holding you tightly until life's obligations forced him to let go. or maybe, it was the way he'd surprise you with your favorite things, dropping off candy and ice cream and sweatshirts and anything you could think of, filling these items with bundles of his love.

all you knew was, it was peter.

the boy slips in through your window, the sight one that was engraved into the back of your brain from the countless times he snuck in. he pulls off his mask, the same way he always did, shaking out his hair, the same way he always did; everything was the same, every night.

you blink for a second.

tonight wasn't the same.

peter makes a face at your expression, setting his mask on the desk and furrowing his brows. "is there something on my f-"

"holy shit," you whisper, crawling out of your bed and practically stumbling over to him, hands falling onto his shoulders and dragging down his chest, eyes glued to the material of his suit.

"y/n?"

"it's red and blue," you mutter.

the air catches in peter's throat. he croaks. "you can- hold on, you can see it?"

"just a tiny bit."

tears well up in the boy's eyes, as well as yours, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. peter had longed for you to regain your color for so long, a deep ache in his heart at the mere thought of your pain. it wasn't your fault, it was the chemicals in your brain that put this burden on you. despite his lack of depression, peter didn't have his full color. he knew he wouldn't unless you did. a sigh falls from your lips and you close your eyes, nestling against the boy.

it was a step. a small one, but a step nonetheless.

that small twinge, just a mere tint of color, was all the fuel peter needed to almost entirely dedicate himself to you. as much as he hated himself for it, the endless nights holding you with no improvement were beginning to make him feel useless, hopeless.

but now that you saw just a bit of color? pure motivation.

peter was your sun; you revolved around him. he was your person. as much as you hated yourself for being dependent, peter parker made you smile when no one else could. the boy began spewing out ideas and activities to make you happy, even going as far as forcing you to do things you didn't want to, all because he knew it would help in the long run.

alongside the treats and materialistic items, he'd help with your schoolwork, take you on adventures, and, of course, give countless hugs and forehead kisses.

"come on," he whines, pulling at your arm.

"peter," you fight, trying to get your arm back and dive deeper into the covers. "i don't want to."

"and i don't care."

ouch.

what happened to the gentle whateveryouwanttodoi'lldotheworldisyours peter parker?

"it's almost midnight," you mutter, sounds muffled by the covers. go away.

"best time of day!" he chirps. "or, night, whatever- just get up."

"i can't."

right.

there'd be days where that light twinge of color wouldn't be there. they hurt. it was two steps forward, one step back, and to you, a kick in the gut. that's when it'd be worst. energy drained even more than usual, no motivation to do anything whatsoever, despite the taunting love from peter parker.

"guess i'll be carrying you then," peter shrugs, kneeling on the bed and scooping you up in his arms.

"peter," you halfheartedly protest, scrunching your eyes tightly. put me back put me back put me back.

his heart cracks a little at your voice, the limpness of your body and tiredness of your voice daring him to just lay you back in bed and hold you like all the times before. the boy shakes his head as he climbs out onto the fire escape, carefully guiding you through the window with him. you feel numb as he carries you up the stairs.

"open your eyes."

"pete."

"y/n, just do it," he sighs. his broken tone catches you off guard.

you'd been so stuck in your own mind to fully realize how hard peter was trying to help you. it wasn't entirely your fault; you were struggling enough, and having perspective with other people was difficult as hell when you were already fighting with your own head. still, you didn't cut yourself any slack, immediately feeling horrible.

peter did everything in his power to make you feel better, yet here you lay. a dead weight in his arms as he tries to make you smile.

so you open your eyes.

blankets, pillows, and fairy lights lay out on the corner of the rooftop, with a perfect view of the city's lights. a box of pizza and large bottle of your favorite drink lay on the blanket.

a breath falls from your lips and you gently slide out of the boy's arms, walking over to get a better view of the set up.

"like it?"

you turn and practically fall into peter's hold, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck. "thank you."

remembering these moments was what kept you holding on. a lot of the time you weren't living for yourself; you were living for peter.

and that was okay.

but slowly, gradually, color began gaining more vibrancy. the green of the plants in central park, how the leaves changed to bright hues of red and orange as it turned autumn. the deep chocolate color of peter's eyes, the pink of his lips, the redness of his cheeks every time you'd pull back from a hug.

holding on got easier. it was easier to push away your harmful thoughts, to get up in the morning, to get ready and not feel the urge to shove everything away. to not want to bury yourself beneath the warm covers of your bed.

peter gave his heart and a half to you, and you were finally able to give it in return.

as your color came back, peter started wearing more vibrant things. he felt stupid, often donned in pink or yellow, but he didn't care. it was you, and he wanted your life to be as bright as possible in order to make up for lost time.

the sound of him knocking at your door makes your jump from your bed, excited to tell him the news. you couldn't wipe the smile from your face even if you tried. you swing open the door, words itching to leave your lungs, but they're pushed away by a gasp.

"it's so bright!"

peter is silent, mouth fallen slightly agape with wonder and bewilderment. just a few days ago you'd had a setback, and as far as he'd known, it hadn't gotten better.

"gosh, i haven't been able to see neon pink in forever," you breathe.

the boy blinks, gulping as his shirt becomes far more noticeable to him. he looks down, squinting at how it suddenly seems a bit brighter than it did this morning.

"peter?"

his lips tasted the way color felt.

that was the only way you could describe them in order to give justice to the way he wrapped his hand around your neck and pulled you to him, resting his lips on yours oh-so-lovingly, his lips saying the words he was to afraid to speak. i love you more than anything.

you pull apart from him, gasping slightly, taking a step back and putting a hand to your head.

"shit," he breathes, "did i overstep?"

"no, not at all, it's just, uh, sensory overload," you laugh.

your laugh sounded the way color felt.

+ + +

kinda cringe ending MY BAD

HABHSJDSAKJDF that kiss paragraph i literally. just got in a trance and did that thing where you're just like FUCK IT WRITE and i read it back and i was like.... holy Shit what did i just....

ALSO::::::::::: idk if i portrayed the whole getting better part accurately. i've been at that point but i just. do not remember????? so idk I TRIED

[fazeruined]

tag dump 1/?

[mrnicholas]

I’m going to fangirl for a minute.

So I’ve been hype for a remake of FF7 for pretty much forever. I was 14 when it came out and it was my absolutely favorite game for years (Until I played ME and DA). I’ve played it probably at least every other year since 1997 (give or take a few years missing in between), hell I even wrote Valenwind fanfiction way back when,  so when the Remake was announced I pretty much lost my shit, but I knew it was going to be a loooong wait. As the years went by I grew more skeptical of it, worrying that they’d change it too much to suit modern gamers and leave old fans like me in the dust. I was in the ‘purist’ camp for a long time and believed not one thing should be changed because in my head everything was already amazing, but... I was wrong.

I read the spoilers for the remake before my copy shipped. Spoilers never ruin anything for me so I read the ending. I pretty much hated it in text, but it wasn’t going to ruin the game for me. Regardless I knew it was going to be a fun game, even if it changed things and that it was a chance to spend time with characters I already loved. That’s how I went into it.

So I was shocked when I played and kept thinking “This is the same as xxxx part. Even the lighting is similar.” Of course I noticed most of even the smallest deviations, like the inexplicably strange neon “Texas” sign in Seventh Heaven being absent. But so what? None of that stuff mattered. I was surprised at just how faithful it was to the original in most parts. Other parts I completely understood why they were changed. Name changes of materia threw me off. (I kept reading ‘Assess’ as ‘Asses’.) But again, not important. Honestly I was shocked by how little of any of it bothered me. There were things they made waaaaaaay better, and things that I think the original handled better atmospherically (The Shinra building/Trail of Blood part) but I made it to the end expecting to be completely disappointed by it. And...honestly? I’m not. I mean yeah it was unnecessary and yeah -maybe it could cause problems in the future. But that’s maybe and it doesn’t exist yet so it feels weird to be annoyed by what ifs.

Of course I was though. It changed so much at the end that I was infuriated in the moment like most OG fans, but after I beat it I decided to play the original again and I’m glad I did, because even if I remembered SO much of it there were things I had forgotten because there wasn’t anything better to compare it to. I know ‘better’ is subjective, but...listen. Playing it again I realized how fast everything was. Important parts. Important bits of dialogue. All reduced to a few lines. Everything is TOO fast and too clipped and I can see why they expanded it. It just made sense. If they had made it exact it would’ve felt strange, rushed and awful. Playing the original put that into perspective quickly, it put its awful transliteration into perspective and it’s barely there interactions with certain characters. It made me understand why they had to split it into parts.

Originally I thought ‘cash grab’ like most people, but listen...SO much happens in that game even before Disc 2. I mean disc 2 starts after THAT scene...so many things come before it. SO many places are just 2 minutes stop overs. Gongaga, Costa del Sol, Corel, Rocket Town, Icicle Inn, Bone Village you just go in and out in a matter of minutes, buy things and that’s that. I didn’t remember any of it being THAT short. But it is. And if any of those places or those scenes are going to exist they have to be expanded to make them any more than rest areas. I forgot that the flashback in Kalm takes almost an hour to get through and it’s rushed. And that’s likely where the second game will open. With that amazing flashback. It’s the perfect place to start. I get it. And I realize that some of the things i look back on fondly will just seem ridiculous in an updated/realistic setting. As much as I want to see Cloud ride a dolphin I will 100% understand if they find us another way to get into Junon. Or a random snowboard mini game in the middle of chasing Sephiroth? All the choices they made I understand now (all except the whispers...>_>) and I’m SO glad I took off my rose tinted super-fan glasses and played the OG directly after while the remake was still fresh in my mind.

Also that battle system... I see so many purists complaining that it’s too different, but honestly? It’s the exact same system. It’s still nearly 100% ATB based. The only difference is you can move around, dodge, attack and block now without wasting your gauges. I was so nervous for an active system but playing them back to back...it’s the same system. It’s fake active and I adore it. Honestly at the end of the day I’m so impressed with what they did. I’m so grateful for all the people that worked on this. I never thought I’d live to see the day. I love everyone waaaay more than I did in the og and that’s saying something. And you actually made me kind of indifferent to Aerith which I thought was impossible because I hated her in the original. I know it’s going to take a million years before I see my favorite character (Cid) but I’m willing to wait, and I’m honestly so excited. There’s so much I want to see and there’s so much I can’t wait for the new fans to see. If they loved Midgar they’re in for a wild ride.

I’m just so fucking grateful you made this. I can’t even express it properly.

[fazeruined]

@curseofbreadbear @fazerblaster @staystillgregory @horrifichaunts

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

@thecorteztwins

So, I wound up writing another piece of that “Fabian and Maximus kidnap Luna” scenario, this time from Luna’s perspective.  This is kind of turning into a fan-fic, but feel free to tell me to stop, or tell me to do specific things in the story, since I am using your ideas here.  If I manage to keep this up, I think the next scene will be Fabian’s perspective at the mall, pretending to be Luna’s two dads. 

(Also, I’m pretty sure that Fabian didn’t actually kidnap Luna to “teach Quicksilver a lesson,” but I figure that’s how he’d explain it to her.  Maximus and Fabian are both entirely full of bullshit most of the time.)

           Luna was used to being alone.  Inhuman parents didn’t hover over their children constantly the way human parents seemed to, and royal Inhuman parents even less so.  Her mother was constantly away on some kind of official business, like long, boring meetings or fancy dinners, or dealing with yet another crisis that threatened to destroy the entire city.  Other children took lessons together, but as a princess, Luna was given private tutors.  She’d outgrown nannies, so she was usually on her own when lessons were over. At least when Ahura was around they could play together, when he wasn’t moody and moping.  

           Being alone at the Avengers compound was nothing new, either.  Her father had dashed away to deal with the Wrecking Crew destroying buildings in downtown New York.  At least they were living up to their names.  According to her father, they usually stole things and robbed banks, which seemed weird, since they didn’t call themselves the Bank Robbing Crew.  Luna knew she shouldn’t mind, it was her father’s job to fight bad guys and save people, but he’d promised her that they’d go out for ice cream that afternoon.  And there were so many Avengers, did he really have to go?  He could fight bad guys any time, but Luna would only be staying with him another month before heading back to Attilan (assuming her mother didn’t forget because the Kree attacked or Attilan fell into a time portal or whatever).  

           So Luna was sitting on the couch watching Steven Universe, and feeling very sorry for herself, because this was supposed to be Luna and Dad time, and she was alone again.  The cartoon cheered her up a little bit.  The show was about magic sentient space gems, which was a really neat idea, and they had cool designs, and sometimes there were songs.  But mostly, Luna could totally relate to the main character being a half-human, half-alien hybrid, struggling to fit into either world.

           Absorbed in the show, Luna didn’t look up when the door opened.  Two of the gems had fused into some kind of giant woman, and were fighting weird bird monsters.  It wasn’t until someone picked up the remote and switched the TV off that Luna looked up.

           One man she didn’t recognize.  He was kind of handsome, except for the haughty expression on his face.  He was wearing coveralls and a hat, but she could see wisps of red hair peeking out around his face, and a long ponytail down his back.  His emotions were much uglier.  Luna could see golden pride running through his psyche, polished to an arrogant gaudiness.  The too-bright gold color was twined with sharp neon green malice, a rich, luxurious royal purple of greed, and tightly coiled spirals of orange anxiety.  This wasn’t a good sign.  

           The other man was Uncle Maximus, which was an even worse sign.  He was wearing the same coveralls and cap, reminding Luna of the work clothing that he often wore in the Chamber of Devices.  The anxiety inside him was tinted white, closer to excitement, lying in tangled knots across the same garish pride Luna saw in the other man.  Uncle Max’s emotions were far less orderly, though. His psyche was a polychrome nightmare, constantly shifting like a stained glass window come to life, colors clashing as they shot jagged spikes across his torso.   The only constant was the black.  It wasn’t like the cool pools of blue-black calm inside Uncle Black Bolt, it was a writhing darkness that reached out to stain any color that came into contact with it.   It twisted through her uncle’s body, coiling into his brain, wrapped around his heart. Or maybe it was coming out of his heart? It was hard to tell.  

           “Oh, hi Uncle Max!”  Luna said, not quite sure yet whether she should be worried. Somewhere in the rainbow mess, she could see a faint pink of affection.  “Are you bad again?”

           “I’m never bad, dear child,” Maximus cooed, in a tone more oily than honeyed.  “Others label me so because they don’t have the mental capacity to understand my actions.”

           “Oh.  That sounds like you’re bad again.”      

Luna was never really clear on whether she should be afraid of her uncle.  She had first heard of Maximus as a kind of boogeyman, someone that her tutors spoke of in fearful whispers.  He’d seemed to fit that description when Medusa dragged her down to his dark cell, a soft-spoken monster hiding behind a smiling mask.  Despite his kind behavior (he even explained things to her like she was a grown-up!), talking with him felt a little like cuddling up to a tiger. He seemed to change every time Luna saw him – one day cold and sly, the next day practically jumping up and down with excitement while explaining one of his machines.  He certainly didn’t remain soft-spoken, he got very shouty when his emotions boiled over inside him in an eruption of colors.

Even the adults couldn’t seem to decide how to treat him – he was locked away in a dark dungeon forever, he was ruling Attilan, he was the family’s trusted scientific expert, he was trying to kill everyone, he was building machines for Black Bolt, he was a prince to be respected, he was a reviled lunatic.  No one trusted him, but Crystal had left Luna in his care when she and the rest of the family went to rescue Uncle Black Bolt and Ahura from the Skrulls.  (He hadn’t hurt her then, only talked to her for hours in a way that sounded very much like he was talking to himself.) Was Uncle Maximus good or bad or brilliant or crazy or all of those things?  He certainly wasn’t the nightmare under the bed any more.  Lately, Luna had started to think of him as a badly-behaved child, hiding behind a grown-up mask.

           “What does ‘bad’ even mean, really?”  Maximus asked, taking her by the arm.  “A word to keep people in their place.  It’s a word for the peasants, Luna, not for us. Royalty is beyond good and bad.”

           “I really don’t think that’s true Uncle Max,” Luna said, letting herself be pulled up away from the TV.  She’d seen this episode, anyway.

           “You’ve obviously been spending too much time with these humans, you’re starting to absorb their mindset.  You need to be back with your own people.”

           “Is that where you’re taking me?  Back to Mom and Aunt Medusa?”  Maximus grinned broadly at her.

           “Yes, child, exactly!”  Bright flashes of sickly pale blue inside him screamed insincerity.

           “Really?”

           “Well, we’ll go back to Attilan eventually, but first you can spend some fun time with your Uncle Max and my….associate here. I’ll teach you all sorts of interesting things.  Your education has been far too neglected.”

           “I don’t wanna learn.”  Luna wrinkled her nose as she paused, not letting herself be pulled any further.  Maximus paused with her, apparently unwilling to yank her along.  “I’m supposed to be on vacation from school.  Can’t we do something fun?”

           “Yes, poppet, we’ll do all sorts of fun things,” Maximus promised, and the blue blended with a forest green that suggested he was at least partially telling the truth.

           “For God’s sake, Maximus, just grab the kid,” interrupted the man with the ponytail, annoyance flashing a jagged red.  “We need to get out of here before anyone else walks in.”

           “Watch your tongue, Cortez!” Maximus snapped. “Luna is a princess of Attilan and she will be treated with respect.  Even if she’s part mutant, poor thing.”  He patted Luna on the head at that last comment.  Luna was used to this kind of talk.  Most citizens of Attilan approached her half-breed status with something between barely disguised contempt, or, at best, horrified fascination and pity.  She didn’t see why it was such a bad thing.  Her father had powers just like Inhumans, better powers than most of them!

           “That’s her better half, anyway,” the man grumbled. “Mutants will inherit this world.” Uncle Max waved his hand dismissively.

           “Can I say good-bye to Mr. Jarvis before we go? And I should leave a note for my Dad -” Maximus’ grip on her arm tightened. Luna was suddenly completely certain that she was being kidnapped.  It was hardly the first time.

           “Let’s not bother Mr. Jarvis right now, he’s very busy,” Maximus said quickly.  “Don’t worry, we’ve already told Quicksilver that we’re coming to pick you up.” Luna’s father would never in a million years agree for Maximus to take Luna back to Attilan.  He was the only grown-up who’d always been consistent in his opinion of Uncle Max – namely that they should lock him up and throw away the key.

           “Wait, let me get my clothes!  And my toothbrush!  I can’t go without my toothbrush, can I?”  If Uncle Max let her go to her room, Luna could leave a note for her father.  Or even make a run for it.  Maybe she could hide in one of the many spare rooms until the Avengers came back.

           “You don’t need all that, poppet.  We’ll buy you some new clothes.  We’ll have a shopping spree, won’t that be nice?”  Now Maximus was pulling her towards the door again, so that Luna had to stumble along to keep up.  Luna made a frustrated sound, not quite a growl or scream, just a long “Rrgggghhhh….”

           “Quiet!”  ordered the pony-tailed man.

           “Uncle Max, if you’re gonna kidnap me, can’t I at least take my clothes along?  And my DS? It gets really boring being kidnapped!”

           “What does ‘kidnap’ even mean, really?  Just another silly word,” Maximus said cheerfully. Luna rolled her eyes and thought about screaming at the top of her lungs.  That would at least bring Mr. Jarvis from the kitchen.  But Mr. Jarvis didn’t have any powers, and he’d try to stop them.  Luna was fairly sure that Uncle Maximus would not hurt her.  But he would probably hurt Mr. Jarvis.  Screaming was out.    

           “It means you’re taking me someplace I don’t wanna go!” Luna snapped, as they went through the main doors towards the stairs.

           “But you do want to go with us,” Maximus insisted.  “We’re family.  Family members can’t kidnap each other, right?  We’re going to buy you some lovely new things, and have a really fun time together!”

            “That’s right!” agreed the pony-tailed man, smiling as if it hurt him to do so. “We’re great fun!”

           Luna fumed quietly as they went down the stairs. She didn’t think she could use her powers on both of them at once.  It was really hard to use her powers on Uncle Max, anyway, like trying to run underwater. If she tried he would fight, and then the other man, “Cortez,” would probably do something nasty to her.  It would be easier to take over Cortez, but then Uncle Max would use his own powers to stop him.  She wished desperately for her mother to appear and light both men on fire (not like, completely on fire, just enough to hurt them a little.  Maybe just their toes.)  She wanted her father to zip up the stairs and whisk her away, safe in his arms.  But neither of them did, because they were busy.

           They were always busy.  For a moment Luna hated her entire stupid family.  This wouldn’t be happening if either of her parents had been there, like parents were supposed to be.  Maybe they’d finally learn their lesson when her father came back and found her gone.  She smiled a little to herself, imagining her father dropping to his knees and weeping.

           “Oh Luna, how could I have left you all alone? We should have gone out for ice cream like you wanted!”  He would wail.  “How could I have ever considered anything more important than my precious daughter?” Crystal would join him, and they would cry into each other’s arms.  “Our daughter is gone forever because we were such bad parents!  By Randac, I swear if Luna comes back safe I’ll never make her do boring algebra worksheets ever again!”

           Luna was so caught up in fantasy that she barely noticed as they exited the building and climbed into a van.  She realized as the doors shut that she should have gotten a look at the license plate, but it probably didn’t matter.  If this was a kidnapping (and it totally was!), Uncle Max would announce himself to the family soon enough and make a big showy spectacle out of it.  He was “extra,” a human word that Luna had learned from She-Hulk.  And maybe it wouldn’t hurt that her parents would worry about her for a little while – maybe they should.

           Maximus was strapping her into the backseat while Cortez got into the driver’s seat.

           “Where did you get this Uncle Max?  You didn’t do something bad to someone, did?”  

           “Nooooo, of course not,” Maximus tried to assure her as he settled into the front passenger seat.  “A nice man gave it to me.”

           “Oh.”  Luna mentally supplied quotes to the word “gave,” just hoping that her uncle hadn’t hurt the man.  “Are you Uncle Max’s friend?”  She asked Cortez, who was driving them towards the gate.

           “We are…associates.  Partners, you could say,” Cortez said, glancing back at her. “Listen child, I know we have had our differences in the past, but if you behave yourself and cooperate, I promise not to harm you.”

           “What differences?”

           Cortez abruptly stepped on the brake, Uncle Maximus letting out a startled yelp as he jerked forward into the dashboard.

           “I wasn’t even belted in yet, Cortez!  Can you not even drive through a parking lot without some display of incompetence – “   He went on in that vein, but Cortez was not listening, only looking back at Luna, bright yellow surprise flaring up, then smoldering down into a dull, dark red anger.

           “Do you really not remember?  I once kidnapped you to teach your dreadful father a lesson!  How can you forget someone like me?!”

           “Maybe I was a baby?  People don’t remember things from when they were babies,” Luna suggested, trying to be helpful, and maybe calm his anger a bit.  

           “You were old enough!  You were – no, never mind.  I am the great Fabian Cortez, Spanish royalty, leader of the Acolytes, true successor to the legacy of Magneto, the very pinnacle of the race of homo-superior.”

           “That means mutant,” Maximus supplied.  “Now will you drive the van, or must I lower myself to the task, Cortez?”

           “Nice to meet you, Mr. Cortez,” Luna said. “Don’t feel bad if I don’t remember. I get kidnapped a lot.  It’s hard to remember every time.”

           “Fine.  Fine. I forgive you forgetting.  You are only a child, and children can be forgiven these things,” Cortez conceded, anger visibly cooling.  “But more importantly, Maximus, how will we get her past the guard?  I assume you’ll….”  Cortez glanced at Luna, then back at Maximus, and tapped his forehead in a way that meant to be secret.  Obviously he wanted Uncle Max to use his mind control powers.  Luna wondered if they’d keep using charades around her if she pretended not to understand.

           “Why don’t we do this the easy way?” Maximus said, turning to Luna.  “Luna, we’re going to play a fun hide-and-seek game where you lay under this tarp.”  

           “That doesn’t look very clean.  I don’t think I want to play that game.”  And Uncle Max couldn’t force her.  He couldn’t use his powers on her, that was the one advantage she could play.  That, and the cell-phone in her dress pocket that neither man had noticed yet, but she’d have to pull it out when they weren’t watching her.

           “Oh, but you must!  It’s one of the many delightful games we’ll be playing today,” Maximus insisted.

           “Can we also go to store and buy me some new clothing?  Like you said?  I’ll play the game if we can go to the mall.”  Luna knew they could overpower her if they really wanted to.  But Maximus probably didn’t want to do something like that, and he probably didn’t want to deal with her crying or screaming. Buying her presents would be the path of least resistance.  And it seemed only fair, since they were kidnapping her and everything.

           “That’s really not-“ Cortez started, but was cut off by Maximus.

           “Yes, of course, princess!  Just like I said!  I promise!”  The colors seemed to indicate sincerity, although Uncle Max could change his mind on a dime.  But then, resisting might mean that they hurt the poor security guard, and Luna didn’t want that.

           “Okay, it’s a deal.  You promised!” Luna lay flat against the seat and pulled the tarp over herself.  If she played her cards right, maybe she could get her uncle to buy her a new DS.  

[effxrvescentrose-blog]

ℝ𝕀ℂℍ𝔼ℝ 𝕋ℍ𝔸ℕ 𝔻𝕀𝔸𝕄𝕆ℕ𝔻𝕊 𝕆ℝ 𝕁𝕌𝕊𝕋 𝔸 𝕃𝕀𝕋𝕋𝕃𝔼 ℂℍ𝔼𝔸ℙ𝔼ℝ 𝕋ℍ𝔸ℕ 𝕊ℙ𝕀𝕋 ? 𝕒 𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕒 𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕟𝕫𝕒 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

i humbly entitle this aesthetic ‘ laziness ‘. i dislike making graphics, and am exhausted,  and therefore mashed together images in my photo folder. anyway, i did put a lot of work in the playlist though, which is below, which hopefully makes up for shoddy graphics. 

ℕ𝕆 𝕆ℕ𝔼 𝔼𝕃𝕊𝔼- 𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕒, 𝕡𝕚𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕖, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟-𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖

i have selected ‘ no one else ‘ for the reason as to how excellent it suits the softer & romantic side of rosana. it is undeniable to say that there is a fire and spark within rosana, lips flirtatious naturally, and hardly minding of the rules that correlate to her status- but despite that, rosana truly holds a softer romantic side within her. she wants something real in her life, she wants love, the sort that angels sing of, and that make her feel so blissfully happy. she’s currently undertaking an affair, but even in that, she earnestly views there to be something deeper within. it isn’t to anyone specific, this song, but it proves more as a lyrical representation of the hopes and dreams within rosana, and how she visualises love to truly be. also, i would be speaking false if i didn’t say i was injecting Some natasha rostova into rosana. the great comet / war and peace ? loves of my life !

𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℂ𝕆𝕌ℕ𝕋𝔼𝕊𝕊 𝔸ℕ𝔻 𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℂ𝕆𝕄𝕄𝕆ℕ 𝕄𝔸ℕ- 𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕚𝕒

another musical song ! because that is all this glorious disaster shall be. anyway, i chose this one, for the fact it pertains to a specific relationship in the life of rosana. she is currently engaged in an affair with the count of orem, and considering this song speaks on an affair...yeah ! rosana however, viewed in the position of how lily is in this song. the most exquisite rose! it’s rosana, all!  rosana is complicated in terms of how she is torn between viewing herself with a high self worth, and a low self worth, but this speaks to her higher self worth. i feel this song sums up a royal affair well enough, even if it isn’t including someone of a common level. 

𝔻𝕆ℕ'𝕋 𝔻𝕆 𝕊𝔸𝔻ℕ𝔼𝕊𝕊/𝔹𝕃𝕌𝔼 𝕎𝕀ℕ𝔻- 𝕤𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘

i was torn upon including this song, but upon analysing the genius lyrics analysis, i settled upon it as rather fitting. this song speaks to the sadder side of rosana. she tries to make her skin steel, but there is a waterfall threatening to break from her, and there is a true sadness brewing beneath her, a volatile mess of a girl. she wants to be a force ignorant to sadness, a cool summer wind, light and free, without any of the burdens she inwardly carries within. she cannot handle her pain, and she tries to say that she does not do sadness, that she does not experience, but everything burns at her from the inside. life...it has better days, the summer and spring that intertwine with the blues, and she’s thankful to see them, and act that way, but it doesn’t hide the sadness she tries to not do.

ℍ𝔸𝕌𝕊 𝕆𝔽 ℍ𝕆𝕃𝔹𝔼𝕀ℕ- 𝕤𝕚𝕩

c’mon, i had to have a six song on here! now, whilst haus of holbein speaks on surface level as being a humorous, maddening, neon ruff german rave, there is more to it if you look onto a deeper level. i mean, the standards aren’t good. what they put themselves through to look perfect. and rosana highly places a value on her looks, and her outward appearance, taking a pride in that, believing it to be a crowning glory of hers. politics? not her thing. and she isn’t the heir. so she views some high value on how she looks, even if she must push herself through pressures to get there. alongside that, the very nature of haus of holbein is tudor tinder. she knows she needs to make a good match, maybe these qualities will aid her.  

𝕃𝔸ℕ𝔻 𝕆𝔽 𝕐𝔼𝕊𝕋𝔼ℝ𝔻𝔸𝕐- 𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕚𝕒

wow, i told myself, i wouldn’t put more than one song from any musical on here, otherwise this playlist would be entitled ‘natasha, pierre, and the great comet of eighteen-twelve’, but honestly? we’re getting another anastasia song on here! if this song doesn’t speak to the more hedonistic side of rosana, i don’t know what does. she dares to live, and she lives as the royalty she is, an indulgent and vivacious sort. life is hers for the taking, and hers to live. 

𝕎ℍ𝔸𝕋 𝕀𝕊 𝕋ℍ𝕀𝕊 𝔽𝔼𝔼𝕃𝕀ℕ𝔾- 𝕨𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕕

this song speaks to the relationship that rosana feels towards her sister. loathing, unadulterated loathing! alright, some parts of her truly care for her sister, but at the same time, they are so contrasting, and rosana cannot help but want to battle against her, naturally feeling a distance between them, grudging the slight age difference between them. she certainly feels a martyr for putting up with her, for accepting the second place. she tries to make herself more different, and the more lighter and partying side of glinda compared to the serious, yet fiery nature of elphaba, suits the dynamic well. 

𝕐𝕆𝕌 ℂ𝕆𝕌𝕃𝔻 𝔻ℝ𝕀𝕍𝔼 𝔸 ℙ𝔼ℝ𝕊𝕆ℕ ℂℝ𝔸ℤ𝕐- 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟

okay, so, i’m specifically going for the gorgeously wonderful london revival of this song, because london company revival is the company i like. rosana for sure views herself as someone who could drive a person crazy, driving a person frantic, making them feel all romantic. but she’s elusive, an enigma, and there is a battle between her cynical and hopeful nature. she’s ready, ready for love, ready for marriage, or so she views herself, but at the same time, she is cynical, and she is scared, and she runs away, finding it easier to put on a flirtatious mirth and merriment, than truly give herself away, even if she naively loves the idea of love. dirty flirt! elusive you! she’s a truly troubled person. 

ℕ𝕆 ℝ𝔼𝔸𝕊𝕆ℕ- 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕛𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕖

i feel that the simplest way to explain this is to say that rosana holds the viewpoints of both delia, and lydia in this. this is her inner dichotomy, which is something i try to explore well as a core part of rosana. she tries to be a light in the world, and tries to act positive, though she will never be spiritual or godly, she tries to believe the universe holds a beautiful path for her, and that she can live and wait for it to come. but at the same time? she is a cynical girl. despite her rose-tinted glasses, she holds somewhat a cynical nature. good people die. there is famine and war. life isn’t all unicorns and rainbows, and she cannot just try and hide away negative thinking with a brightness. 

𝔸𝕃𝕃 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊𝕆ℕ𝔾𝕊, 𝔹𝔸𝕊𝕀ℂ𝔸𝕃𝕃𝕐- 𝕓𝕒𝕥 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕝

i’m literally putting All the Songs because this is one of those cast recordings that speaks so vividly in so many different ways! i feel it holds the whole spectrum of emotions within it, speaking to her sadness, speaking to her passion, and there is so much. so damn much within it, that i physically could not choose one or two singular songs to place upon here. 

𝕊𝕋𝕀𝕃𝕃- 𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕓𝕪 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥

once more, i feel that in a way, this speaks to rosana from both perspectives being sung. she goes too fast, she blitzes through life, without pausing for a breath, she wants to further the story, as time chases her, not knowing how long she has, she is a star that is about to burn out too fast, so she wants to make the most of life she can. however, in that respect, in a way, she is also singing from the perspective of alice, along with that of alfred. she uses the world and the act she puts on, to immersive herself away from the darker thoughts, akin to how alice uses escaping into the book of wonderland, to escape from the darker truth on the outside. in some ways, she wants to pause her story also, and live in the rosy afternoons, rather than going to confront the darker world, wanting to confront things through rose-tinted glasses. stop the world! why can things not be still for a moment?

𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝℂℍ𝕀𝕃𝔻- 𝕘𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕥

i am infected with disbelief and blasphemy. i will never have a holy land. i am a ghost in the eyes of my god. oh, such a rosana mood! a part of her is exploring her own views on religion, and though she outwardly keeps up the needed pretence, due to her country being catholic, she views herself with some lack of religion, she finds herself becoming so infected with disbelief. so, yes, i feel this part of the song speaks so beautifully to her, as she explores her growing lack of faith. and then the rest of this song. i will vomit this loser out of me! it’s time to get out of bed, and be the starchild i can be. as i’ve mentioned before. rosana does hold a fair lack of self-worth, but she tries to combat that. she is going to burn brighter than any man, even if starlight burns away, a ghost. it is dead when we see it, even though it seems so effervescent still. 

[loststarphounix]

Pretend to be Tonight - Chapter 2/16

Pretending to be Tonight - chapter 2/16

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham, Soda Kazuichi/Hinata Hajime (speculated)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Cannon Divergence, No Game Spoilers, Slow Burn, Angst, Miscommunication, Pinning, Hooking Up Via Dreams

Summary: Island Time. Gundham wins the Key of Love from the Monomono and begins to have dreams involving Kazuichi. Slow burn.

Read on Ao3

Chapter Summary: Gundham enters the Kumasutra. Spoiler: It's sad boy hours.

Warning(s): Angst, Panic Attack (told from the perspective of one who gets anxiety attacks and knows the difference between the two)

Please be mindful of tags and warnings as they pop up! Enjoy!

The air evaporated in his lungs.

This shouldn’t be possible. It shouldn’t . He should be waking up now, in his room and feeling smug satisfaction at the thrill of proving the cursed Monokuma wrong.

But he wasn’t.

Instead, he was here - in a strange room, on a strange bed. 

Alone. With Kazuichi Soda. And with the way the other looked at him-

Suddenly he regretted his vain fueled plan.

“I can’t believe you came!” He beamed, eyes bright as he looked at the breeder with a warm glance. “I was so nervous! Like seriously -! I thought - but you’re actually here!”

The bed dipped underneath him as Kazuichi crawled closer towards him. The other was like an excitable child, making the bed move as he did little bounces on the plush surface. He was more of a bundle of energy than usual. Gundham could only watch him close the distance between them. 

The upper half of his neon colored jumpsuit is tied around his waist, revealing slightly toned arms and a chest hidden by a tight white tank. Heterochromatic eyes snapped back up as Kazuichi let out a breathy chuckle.

“I guess I shouldn’t have been worried. You can’t keep your eyes off me!”

Kazuichi’s eyes were wide, tone teasing as a small smirk tilted his lips. And the brief flicker from his eyes down his body did not help his current state. His throat became dry at the implications. It made the feelings swirl around the breeder’s stomach like a tornado, distracting him. 

They were so close now, just a few measly inches gave the illusion of space and the realization made the goth feel dizzy. He could feel the disturbance of the other’s breath as he tried to force his mind to focus.

Gundham’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and somehow he found the strength to use his voice. “What...trickery is this? What are you doing here, Tamer of Automations?”

The mechanic tilted his head as he leaned back, eyes darkening with scrutiny.

“W-what?” Kazuichi stuttered, his smirk dropping as he sat up straight. “N-no! No tricks! I swear! A-and you should know why I’m here! How about telling me what you're doing here?!” He huffed as he crossed his arms and looked away shuffling in discomfort. “I invited you, after all.”

The last part was barely coherent underneath the petulant whisper, but the words made the breeder blink.

He ...invited me ? Impossible.

As well as they got along now, Kazuichi did not actively seek him for company. Usually, it was Gundham who sought him out, or the two encountered each other on a walk before deciding to join the other as they’re going the same way. However, no matter how many times they interacted, the mechanic never sought him out first and the thought of him actively doing so made something tug in Gundham’s lower stomach.

In front of him, Kazuichi huffed as he slanted a rose colored eye back to him. Whatever emotion was in it seemed to disappear and it became softer. The mechanic turned towards him and Gundham felt himself tense slightly.

“Guess I can’t blame ya for assuming something was up. Given our past and all. But I promise it isn’t anything bad!” He held his arms up and crossed them to make an ‘x’ before dropping them to his lap.”In fact, I hope...I hope that...w-w-well-”

It seemed that the other was tripping over his words, face tinted pink and lips pulled into a small, hesitant smile. 

“I was hoping...to tell you how I really feel.” He whispered, a sharp canine peeking out as he bit his lip. 

The taller man’s mind stuttered, before spiraling. Gundham felt his heart race and his breathing begin to shallow. All Kazuichi’s words did was confuse him.

“I...do not understand..” He hesitated, unsure of his position here. “You-you should plainly speak mortal, for your words make no sense-!”

Next to him, the mechanic scoffed before looking away shyly.

“It should be obvious - everyone else knows how I feel! Feel about you !”

This cannot be , Gundham thought in dismay as he took in the others' sudden change of mood, the pink orbs peeking under thick lashes. 

It couldn’t be what his mind was concotting - it was simply impossible . Any moment now, the other was moving away and laughing at his naivety for falling for something so juvenile. But the seconds ticked by and the mechanic still gazed up at him with such a beesching look that it made the dizzying sensation from earlier rear its ugly head. The air left his lungs and he could only stare wide-eyed at Kazuichi who began to squirm under his gaze.

“C-come on, man! At least say something!” Kazuichi begged, only falling silent when he raised a hand.

Gundham turned away, fearing his own countenance, giving him away as he moved to push his scarf up his face, only to then notice that it was missing. This was becoming too much… This couldn’t be what he was thinking - 

He covered his mouth with his hand as he panted slightly, desperately trying to get his bearings. His breath came out in a stuttering gasp. 

There was no way that this was a love confession -

“Hey,” 

The word was so low, so soft and beseeching that it seemed to cast a spell on him. Despite his better judgment, Gundham hesitated before looking back towards Kazuichi, freezing at the sweet, adoring look that was aimed towards him. 

All for him. It was all for him.

Not for Sonia, or his many machines.

This...is all for me .

And didn’t that make his lungs swell and his heart beat widely. Such a heady, forbidden fruit presented to him, to be the focal point of such a gaze. It’s perfume was a siren to his senses. He was starting to become overwhelmed at the prospect of having it directed at him everyday.

But it wasn’t real .

The elation he began to feel quickly evaporated and he once again found it hard to breathe. A sound broke through his thoughts. Blinking, he noticed how close Kazuichi’s hand was to him and scrambled to put space between them. 

His sporadic movement made the mechanic frown. Worry and something like fear marred his rose colored gaze and it made the feeling in his stomach twitch in sympathy, but he ignored it in favor of collecting himself. Gundham shakily took in a breath.

He had to assess the situation at hand. It would do no good to panic and lash out. He knew how he got here, what this realm supposedly was - an illusion of the dreamscape his mind must've concocted to ease and preserve his sanity. 

But why was Kazuichi here? And what was the purpose of this room? The near touching and the warm looks? The genuine concern for his well being?

Suddenly, like a demon that crawls up the recess of his mind with sharp claws, he remember’s Monokuma’s words. The reason he even put the key under his pillows in the first place.

“It can unlock the deepest, darkest thoughts and desires of whoever you think of! Or something like that. Whoever you want will be transported in your dreams like a prime day deal!”

Dual colored eyes widen with realization. Now the bear’s words made sense. This wasn’t just a simple dreamscape.

This was Gundham’s deepest desire. And his deepest desire was -

“Gunham?” Kazuichi called, though he made no move to come closer.

Pink eyes darken with concern as he reaches out for the breeder again. He stops short of actually touching him and it tears Gundham apart at the mixed feelings of relief and desperation for his touch. 

The panic that he was keeping at bay, crawled up his throat and his breathing quickened. His chest tightened as though it was being restricted by an invisible band. Gundham hated it. Hated this . 

He hated the urge for more - the revelation and insight being something more cruel. A joke. Some kind of trick of Monokuma’s. 

This couldn’t be dreamwalking. This - this was something much darker.

Spots formed at the edges of Gundham’s vision and he let out a strangled sound. It was getting harder to breathe.

All of a sudden, something warm gripped the sides of his face and he was slowly, yet firmly turned to face the source. Eyes, the color of roses and rare diamonds encompassed his eyesight and mesmerized Gundham, grounding him in place.

“You need to breathe,” Kazuichi whispered, voice soft and oh so sweet that it made tears prickle the corners of his eyes. “Do you hear me, babe? Slow, gentle breaths. Can you do that?”

It might’ve been the term of endearment, the gentle touches, or the soft, understanding tone of his voice, but the breeder found the constriction on his chest fading away. Minutes ticked by, the sound of ragged breathing filling the air as Kazuichi gently coaxed through his panic attack.  In the back of his mind, Gundham marveled at the others seemingly expert knowledge, before remembering that he probably did these same techniques when he was overcomed by his own emotions.

Exhaustion rushed through his body as he finally settled, his mind foggy. Tears still flowed and rough, callous thumbs gently brushed them away as fast as they appeared and though he shouldn’t feel it, Gundham hangs his head in shame all the same as he lets Kazuichi tend to him. 

He really shouldn’t feel this way - after all this was a dream. A false reality conjured by a dark object and the demented mind of a mechanical bear. But he did, and he took solace in the fact that while this reality was not real, then this Kazuichi would not judge him too harshly for his moment of weakness. 

As if he wouldn’t judge you now. His mind unhelpfully supplies, but for now he ignores it as his shoulder slump as he grows more and more tired.

They were quiet for some time, the sounds of the breeder’s raspy breathing unbearably loud in the room. Finally, he looks up and Kazuichi’s concerned face breaks into a gentle look.

“You ok now, Honey?” He whispers and oh, if that didn’t sound perfect. 

Honey. Babe. 

This was indeed fate's cruel hand.

More tears pricked at his eyes as he gave the other a uncharastically meek nod. His eyes fluttered closed as fingers danced over his eyes and his head was bent down. A pair of lips gently pressed against forehead, barely a brush of chapped skin, before he was slowly released. 

Blinking up, he caught Kazuichi’s gaze as he gave him a self-deprecating smile. The pink haired man huffed, eyes a bit watery as he looked at him.

“Should’ve known. Ya don’t feel the same about me. How could you? You’re just so perfect - . Too perfect for someone like me-” A wet sniffle broke his tangent and Gundham felt his heart twist.

He went to reach out, to touch the mechanic’s face, only for Kazuichi to pull away from him, smile shaky but still sweet. It hurt to see him like this, to know that he caused it even in an abstract way. Even if it wasn’t real. The urge to comfort and reassure surge through his tired body, but he could barely move as Kazuichi took a deep breath before clasping his hands together.

“You must be exhausted, huh? I usually am after a bad attack like that.”

Gundham wanted to refuse such a claim, as a lord of darkness was not so weak as to let something like that affect him. He wanted to do something about the others' words and have him be happy and confident again.

But he was silent as the other maneuvered him to lay on the bed. Suddenly he was so tired and rest sounded heavenly. He let Kazuichi lay him on his side, seeming to have an internal debate before finally shaking his head.

“Hopefully you won’t get cold,” he muttered as he moved to stand.

Thinking that the other would leave him as soon as he left the island of the bed, Gundham used the last of his strength to reach up and grab Kazuichi’s wrist before pulling him down. A squawk left the mechanic’s mouth as the breeder pulled him down back on the bed to sprawl next to him.

Kazuichi froze, rose quartz blown wide as he stared at the breeder in wonder before a large grin spread across his face. Almost as though it was a race, he quickly situated himself so that he was on his side, back facing the other. Soon, a strong arm circled around his middle, making him giggle.

“Throwing me onto the bed, Gundy? Guess I was right about not being worried!”

Pink tinted pale cheeks as Gundham hastily looked away. Beside him, Kazuichi laughed and it was such a different sound compared to his own experience. It was loud and genuine - warm, and completely different from the mocking, bullying one that was rapidly fading from memory. 

Even outside this realm, the mechanic didn’t laugh quite like this - at least, not in his company. He was still awkward and clumsy in their interactions. He always sounded unsure, as though he was still uncertain on where they stood.

But here? Here, it was so open and warm.

He sounded so free. So happy .

And it was directed towards him. All for him.

Gundham kept his eyes firmly away, blush darkening his pale skin as he pulled the other closer. The sound made his heart flutter and his stomach warm from the sound of it, as it vibrated through his chest.

After a while, the laughter faded away and all that was left was the sound of the breeder’s own heart beating in his ears. Kazuichi let out a loud sigh as he pressed himself even closer to Gundham. The breeder felt his face grow warm and he watched mesmerized as the smaller man’s neck began to flush red.

“Is...is this really ok?” Kazuichi whispered. He stared straight ahead, voice low and hesitant as he continued. “I mean - I wanted this for so long - How could you even want to touch me?”

If possible, the goth brought Kazuichi even closer to him until he thought they could meld into one being. He buried his face in the crook of his shoulder, eyes tightly shut as he breathed in the scent of motor oil and musk and something sweet and uniquely Kazuichi.

His heart twinged at the others' sudden shyness, the confidence from earlier a dearly missed thing. Although this might be just a dream, he couldn’t stop himself from having this one thing. This one little thing and nothing else. It would have to be enough. He felt the other melt into his embrace and tilt his head to give him more room to nuzzle into the neck underneath.

“Cease such foolish thoughts and let Morpheus descend upon us.” He rasped, voice thick.

Fingers wrapped around his wrist, squeezing before lowering to clasp their hands together. A dreamy sigh left the mechanic and it made him tighten his hold.

“Okay, okay.” Light chuckling morphed into a yawn as Kazuichi snuggled deeper into the mattress. He brought their joint hands together and the breeder shivered as he felt rough lips brush against his hand. “Night, Gundham.”

“Pleasant slumber,” he breathed, heavy eyelids staying shut against his command as he felt another kiss pressed against his hand.

He wanted to stay, to enjoy this moment. The cursed key had given him his darkest desire and he could not help but yearn for more. However, his already weak body, coupled with the sounds of soft breathing and gentle murmuring of the warm body in his arms lulled him and Gundham finally let the darkness embrace him into sweet oblivion.

The sound of squeaks brings him to an alertness that only years of careful pet and fostering experience can ingrain. Surging up, Gundham gasped as he sat up on his bed. His eyes darted around the room, trying to find the source of the disturbance, only to look down as something small tugged against his shirt.

In his lap, the Devas’ stared up at their master, black eyes shining in the darkness. San-D, the more maternal of her siblings, tried to crawl up his shirt, her squeaks high pitch. More out of instinct than thought, he carefully cupped his hands underneath her. Bringing her up to his chest, he watched as his Deva shuffled in his cupped palms before setting to work vigorously grooming his fingers.

Gundham watched, mind blank as he ran a finger that the tan and white hamster wasn’t washing down the length of her back. Suddenly, memories from the dream flashed across his vision and he let out a gruttled groan as he bent in half. San-D squeaked, jumping out his hold to land on his thigh as the other Devas’ clustered together to join her. 

“Why…” He croaked, voice breaking as he remembered soft touches and warm lips on his skin.

His vision blurred as he sat back up and fished the key from under his pillows. Clutched in his hand, he angrily threw it across the room where it hit a wall before dropping to the wooden floors with a soft clang.

Energy zapped, he could only sit there, bringing his legs up in a submissive pose as he clutched them with bone white fingers. The sound of concerned chattering filtered his hearing as the Devas’ climbed and settled on various parts of his body in a show of comfort.

If a few tears escaped from him, no one was around to see.

[rpbetter]

hey! ive got a question! is it acceptable or problematic to rp a biracial character with a face of which you don't know if theyre actually biracial/partially white? like, I'd like to play an Indo Dutch character faced by marcel fritz, an indonesian model with an assumably german name origin, but with no noted relationship to any european ethnicity..

Hey there, thank you for your question!

I want to say, before anything else, that much of this advice is opinion based. It’s my opinion, formed by my experiences. The basis of what we consider acceptable or problematic is often thus influenced, even when there is an underlying hard yes/no possible. Furthermore, that you’ve both taken the time to consider this matter and reach out to someone tells me that you’re already infinitely more on the side of acceptable here than most people. A hell of a lot of RPers (and published authors, screenwriters, etc.) don’t bother to worry about these things, so thank you for being concerned!

As to your initial question, “is it acceptable or problematic to rp a biracial character with a face of which you don't know if theyre actually biracial/partially white?” I feel like this isn’t inherently problematic. Before anyone kills me, I say that because it’s reality-reflective. Human genetics are weird as hell. It’s often difficult to tell someone’s detailed ethnicity with full accuracy just by looking at them, especially if their genetic heritage isn’t one that presents in a way that is widely recognized, thus obvious. A person can be biracial and present as entirely white, as the race of their non-white parent, or in myriad combinations in between.

So, on a very basic level? There’s nothing problematic about the way this character looks.

What can make it problematic is the handling of the situation, which you explain in more detail, “I'd like to play an Indo Dutch character faced by marcel fritz, an indonesian model with an assumably german name origin, but with no noted relationship to any european ethnicity..”

In order to answer this better, I looked up the model, Marcel Fritz, and also double checked the surname origin. I wanted to see Marcel because where we get into potentially problematic areas with casting muses who are diverse in race is pretty apparent immediately in whitewashing. While there isn’t a load of information anywhere about him, he does legitimately fit your desired parameters without being whitewashed. He doesn’t look like a white European dude with some cliché “exotic” features as a selling point, is what I’m saying. That’s good, that’s very acceptable!

Now, as I said, I also couldn’t find much on his actual history. Marcel is most often a French name, and you’re right that Fritz is German in origin. The Dutch language isn’t one of my strong points, but it does seem to have a lot similarity, use, and transferable word instance with both German and French. (Reasonably.) I think it’s very likely, given the Dutch history with what is now Indonesia, that the model has some Dutch ancestry. Regardless, he doesn’t show any extreme reflections of any manner of what we’d think of as white European appearance. I don’t think it’s going to matter much if, three years from now, you find out that the model is, let’s say, German...it’s believable, both visually and in real-life history, that your muse isn’t.

So, again, you have thought about this, you have done some research, and you haven’t grossly physically whitewashed the muse for the sake of giving them some kind of sex-appeal while remaining, you know, white. You’re doing great so far!

What you need to do to keep doing great is to make sure you’re being respectful and realistic about the muse’s culture, experiences, and so on. Refraining from whitewashing them culturally where you’re already not doing so in appearance.

I, obviously, don’t know if you created this muse because you are from the same background, or one similar, but if you’re not, this is extremely important. It’s one thing for me to point out adherent stereotypes that have points of accuracy with my own race while portraying a character, it’s a whole other, legitimately problematic as fuck, thing to do it with a character who isn’t my race. Even if there are similarities to my racial or cultural experience, it’s important to responsibly portray the things outside of my viewpoint and to be aware of them. You feel what I’m saying?

I also don’t know what sort of muse you’re making, and that’s definitely important. A muse that is never going to set foot in our reality is going to have different experiences. It’s still important to be aware of potential stereotyping in your plots, language, and overall representation.

I call this “don’t make all your villains black, even if the characters are all cyborgs in space” when trying to explain it. It means that while a totally fantastical setting may never have generated the same stereotypes and racism  and so on as it did in real-life history, we’re interacting with the content as people with those realities. So, you’ve created a fantasy world set in a fictional space saga, you set it up where there’s representation of different races of humans, but didn’t set up as though they have a real problem with racism between humans. That’s great and viable. But...if you, the creator, are still making every one of your villains black men, that’s bad shit.

No matter how unreal the circumstances, be mindful of the reality of the people you’ll interact with and how your muse presents to them. Fantasy, supernatural, post-apocalyptic, whatever narratives and their muses may be lacking our identical experiences with racism, but that doesn’t mean your audience (in this case, the RPC and your writing partners) isn’t going to see it like an offensive neon sign. Make sure you’re not doing that!

And if this muse is going to be played in our reality, or a close derivative thereof, it’s your responsibility to be accurate and respectful. Bad representation is worse than no representation.

To avoid that, keep researching, and don’t stop at just dry history and info; check out real people’s perspectives on blogs and platforms like tiktok, instagram, and youtube. It’s important to have a range of real-life experiences from real-life people similar to your muse. I know it may be tempting, especially if you are white, to engage only with cultural tragedy and negative experiences as a point of realism. Those things are important, but fixating on them erases positive culture and history from the experience.

For example, you say you want the muse to be Indonesian and Dutch. You can ask yourself questions and build on them, like: did he grow up in Indonesia, and if so, what real aspects of this heritage did he experience/learn? From whom? What was a visit to his Dutch-heritage grandma’s house like vs a visit to his Indonesian grandma’s house? Can you list three things that are not well-known outside of Indonesia that are of significance to your muse? If he came to another country, what were the biggest cultural shifts he experienced that had nothing to do with his physical appearance?

By answering these kinds of questions, and those that will naturally come after them, you’re developing a more genuine portrayal. It’s a good way to stay fully in the lane of “acceptable” instead of becoming problematic, including giving others a cliché, offensive, hollow “representation muse.”

It’s always tricky, as I said in the first paragraph, these things can be seen as problematic if someone really wants them to be, as beyond the foundation of legit problems we have different viewpoints, emotions, and experiences. There are people in the RPC who, at the same time they demand more diversity, are hostile to anyone writing a muse who isn’t identical to their own culture, race, or gender experience. You are likely to run into them, it’s an unfortunate part of writing diverse muses. So long as you are approaching it with the genuine desire to not be offensive, doing the research, remaining mindful of how you’re using your muse in different writing situations, and keep being willing to learn more, ask more, listen more...you’re alright.

Hang in there, be respectful and accurate, and thank you for choosing a different muse-type and being interested in doing the right thing, you’re awesome for that!

As a last note here, I know I said “respectful” several times, but I think people may get something...less intense, maybe, out of that. This is a sensitive issue, there are so many things to be respectful of.

I mean things like, be mindful that in many cultures there are unspoken “rules.” Outsiders are not to speak certain languages or words, know some mythology, customs, or interact with other aspects of the culture. Please, be respectful of these things! This isn’t finding cool inside knowledge for your muse, you need to leave things like that alone when you encounter them. It’s fine to research and know they exist by way of that and stop there, it’s fine to allude to the fact that your muse isn’t going to share some knowledge with anyone, but it’s not at all fine for you to expose and use it.

These things often seem ridiculous to outside parties, people who are looking into the window of a culture that’s tinted by being raised in an industrialized, wealthy, or science-oriented culture. That’s inappropriate, and yes, problematic! If you start to feel like this, remind yourself of how things like the varied brutalities of colonialism were justified for so long; that these people were all ignorant savages. Don’t be like that.

Furthermore, if you are of the same ethnicity, if this is your experience, you really do have slightly different rules. Using the above example, let’s say that in a mun and muse shared ethnic experience, the muse has an aunt who is Very Superstitious. That’s difficult for the muse, who had a vastly different cultural experience as a Millennial or Gen Z person, but also loves their aunt. It’s alright to approach the reality of the muse viewing the things she speaks of as stories, where she views it as hard truth. However, this easily falls into an offensive category of tropes when written by someone white who is just going for...well, those tropes of generational disparity represented through Cool Weird Religious Beliefs.

That sort of shit is what you need to be mindful of avoiding when being genuinely respectful. Not everything is open and usable to everyone, and it is someone’s actual life experience and heritage you’re using.