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noorakardemmomesaetre · 5 years ago

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The Jack-O-Gram

Or read it on AO3

Pairing: Betty x Jughead

Summary: The Jack-O-Gram has become the perfect way for Riverdale High students to express their feelings for someone special before the Halloween Banshee Bash at the end of the week.

Betty can't help but hope she receives one from the only boy who's ever captured her heart, Jughead Jones.

She’s sifting through her locker when she hears the sound that never fails to spread a warmth through her chest.

Silence.

Jughead Jones is making his way through Riverdale High’s entrance doors with the blasé attitude of someone who simply can’t be bothered. The large Serpent emblem stitched across the back of his jacket serves as a warning to those students brave enough to steal a glance in his direction.

But Betty can’t help herself and his newly established Serpent status has done nothing but intrigue her further.

He’s beautiful.

But not in the conventional way that Veronica gushes about those men from the magazines she pours over when she hangs out in Betty’s bedroom.

He’s beautiful in the way that makes Betty’s breath catch in her throat when he genuinely laughs at something his friends say.

He’s beautiful in the way that makes the tips of Betty’s ears redden when he catches her eye from across the hall, a playful smirk on his face.

And he’s beautiful now as he runs his fingers through his dark waves before tugging his worn, crown beanie on in an attempt to tame them.

She feels as though she’s in a bit of a daze, her hand still reaching absentmindedly into her locker as she takes him in.

Until his gaze suddenly shifts to meet hers.

She immediately turns, cursing herself for getting caught up in such an obvious moment of complete infatuation and begins shoving her books around in an attempt to look busy.

It’s only when chatter erupts in the hallways once again that she knows he’s gone and she takes a moment to close her locker and press her forehead against the cool metal.

“Be more obvious next time, Betty, really,” she breathes to herself as she calms her pounding heart.

“Am I interrupting something, Cooper?”

His voice has her wondering if walking into traffic would be a good enough reason for her to never show her face at Riverdale High again? In fact, perhaps she should just board a flight and leave the country.

“Of course not,” she says quickly, turning to face him while pressing her pastel pink binder tightly to her chest. “It’s just usually quiet when you get here...you’re like all anyone sees.”

He tilts his head at that, his eyes searching her face, and she nervously tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Was it really necessary for him to be standing this close to her?

“Anyways. Can I help you with something, Jones?”

He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and casually leans against her closed locker door as if the Serpent Prince talking to Betty Cooper is something that occurs all the time.

It doesn’t.

“No, actually,” he finally responds, glancing around the emptying hallway before turning back to her. “I just wanted to tell you thanks for that article you wrote for the Blue and Gold. It was written well and with an interesting perspective.”

A heat crawls up the column of her neck as she works through the fact that he’s complimenting her. About her writing. The one thing she cares about.

“Oh, no, it was my - I mean, thank you for, you know, that’s so sweet of you to say,” she’s stumbling over her words again and he looks down, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from smiling.

“Alright, well-” he stops and his eyes narrow ever so slightly and Betty prays she doesn’t have smeared lipstick across her face or something in her teeth. Why did she have to eat that spinach omelette this morning?!

He reaches out, gently pulling off a small leaf that had fallen atop her head, his face inches from hers. She feels her breath catch as his gaze lingers on her lips for more than a brief second.

But then the school bell pierces the air, signaling that they are officially late to class and Betty motions past him. “I better get to class-”

“Yeah, me too. I guess I’ll see you around?”

She smiles coyly, her ponytail swinging lightly behind her as she moves past him. Her cheeks are burning and she can only hope it looks like she overdid it with the blush today and not like she can’t even be two feet from him without needing an ice bath.

“Oh, and Cooper,” he calls out and she turns around so quickly the ends of her ponytail smack her cheek.

“Happy Halloween.”

_________________

“Betty dearest, you have not sent a Jack-O-Gram since the Reggie Mantle Fiasco of freshman year.”

“We’ve nicknamed the first and only time I’ve sent a Jack-O-Gram a ‘fiasco’ and you’re really expecting me to send another?”

Cheryl purses her cherry red lips before sharing a look with Veronica. They are standing behind the Jack-O-Gram booth Cheryl had spared no expense in having built and set up in the main hallway of Riverdale High. It costs one dollar to send a Jack-O-Gram, or a pumpkin shaped piece of paper with a king sized candy bar tied together with dark green ribbon, and all proceeds go to the prom budget, of course.

The booth had become a wild success their freshman year and Cheryl had quickly taken over management, having already been part of the prom committee though she wasn’t old enough to attend.

What had started under the guise of a friendly Halloween-themed gram had quickly become a way for one to express his or her feelings for someone before the Banshee Bash dance at the end of the week.

Betty has always received one from their other best friend, Kevin Keller, but with it being their senior year they had come to the mutual decision that they should pursue actual Banshee Bash dates.

Or, Kevin had wanted desperately to send one to Fangs Fogarty and Betty couldn’t bear to stand in his way.

Even if the only person who had ever sparked her interest wouldn’t touch a Northsider with a 10 foot pole.

“B, this is the perfect year to send one to Jughead! You even said he complimented your writing this morning!” Veronica is writing the longest Jack-O-Gram Betty has ever seen to her long-time boyfriend, Archie.

As if they aren’t already planning to attend the Bash together.

“If you don’t write one to him, I will.”

Betty’s eyes widen as Cheryl uncaps her pen and pulls the orange scrap of pumpkin shaped paper to herself.

“No, Cher, seriously-“

“‘Dear Jones’ see, this is already convincing since you two refuse to acknowledge you have first names-“

Veronica snorts into her latte and Betty frantically reaches for the pen Cheryl’s using to continue her note.

“‘If you’ve been wondering why I take extraaaa long at my locker in the morning, it’s so I can stare at your slim yet proportionately toned ass-‘“

“Cheryl, I swear, give me-“

Cheryl jumps up, twirling out of Betty’s reach as Veronica giggles. She’s tying her little green bow around her orange pumpkin cut out, clearly amused.

“Did I miss something?” Toni Topaz asks through a giggle, putting her hands up to catch Cheryl who is still currently avoiding Betty’s reach.

Cheryl immediately rights herself, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she puts down the pen and scrap of paper so she can focus her full attention on Toni.

But Betty’s eyes widen as she sees Toni lean over to read the scrap of paper, her smile widening. “Someone’s going to send Jughead a Jack-O-Gram?”

“No!”

“Yes.”

Betty shoots Veronica a glare so intense she’s surprised lasers aren’t shooting out of her eyes. Veronica flashes her an innocent smile as she reaches for Archie’s favorite candy bar.

“He did mention something about sending one this year,” she says with a shrug as if Betty isn’t suddenly hanging on to her every word.

“Are you planning to send one this year?” Cheryl asks softly, reorganizing the markers and candy bars.

“I might be.” Toni twirls one of her pastel pink waves around her finger as she watches Cheryl work.

Veronica catches Betty’s eye, arching an eyebrow suggestively and Betty can’t help but laugh quietly to herself.

“If you do decide to send one to a Banshee Bash prospect...the cost is one dollar,” Cheryl says, as if there isn’t huge signs staple gunned to the booth with that exact information.

“Sounds like a worthy expenditure,” Toni says, offering Cheryl a sweet smile before she turns on her heel and makes her way down the hallway. Cheryl remains fixated on Toni’s retreating back and Betty takes the opportunity to lean across the booth and grab the orange piece of paper she’d been writing to Jughead on.

She tears it up and tosses the pieces in the trash as Cheryl mumbles something about her need to “catch a dick.”

_______________________

On Tuesday, she remains undecided about whether or not she’d like to send Jughead the Jack-O-Gram. She could play if off. Write something simple. Or anonymous! That way, if he shows up at the dance and looks disappointed when he sees her, she can pretend she didn’t write him one at all.

Seems simple enough! And yet...

Kevin sends Fangs his gram in their AP Calculus class and Betty doesn’t miss the way Kevin’s entire face lights up when Fangs grins and nods in excitement.

Wednesday has Betty standing near the booth, still deciding on exactly what she would say to him if she sent anything at all, when Jughead appears next to her.

His fingers run along one of the pumpkin papers and Betty pretends not to notice, though she’s hyper aware of his every movement.

“Would you like to buy one, Jughead?” Veronica asks brightly, pushing one of the markers in his direction in a not so subtle hint.

Jughead taps his finger along the tabletop before he glances at Betty. “Are you buying one, Cooper?”

“Oh, um, I might.”

“What? Who’s the lucky guy, Betty?” Kevin asks excitedly, hopping up to sit on the booth table top next to Betty.

Jughead’s gaze has not left hers and the intensity of it is only making her wish she hadn’t worn such a dense sweater today.

“Are you going to send one?” she finally asks, ignoring Kevin’s disappointed sigh.

Jughead glances down at the pumpkin papers one more time before shaking his head. “I don’t know, this isn’t really my thing.”

His friends call him over in that moment and he gives Betty and Veronica a half-hearted wave before heading over to them.

Kevin and Cheryl are already chatting amongst themselves about what they’re planning to wear to the Bash and Betty excuses herself, her heart having dropped to her stomach.

Thursday morning, Veronica receives 10 Jack-O-Grams at once and she’s positively glowing as she tries to manage them all on her tiny school desk. Archie has written sweet compliments on each one and Betty couldn’t be happier for her best friend.

Couldn’t. Be. Happier. She thinks to herself as she stares down at her empty, gramless desk.

In fourth period, the grams are delivered again and Cheryl receives one that has her smiling more genuinely than Betty’s ever seen. She clutches the orange piece of paper to her chest and giggles happily in Betty’s direction.

“Toni Topaz is taking me to the Banshee Bash. Can you believe?” she whispers, channeling her inner Jonathan Van Ness, and Betty laughs because yes, she can definitely believe.

She’s heading to her locker to drop her books off before lunch when she sees him making his way down the hallway. He has his headphones on, lost in his own world, and she can’t help but admire the way the headphones rest against his worn crown beanie. As though they belong there.

His fingers brush hers as they pass each other.

Her heart slams against her chest and she turns her head, attempting to see if he’d noticed the touch as much as she had. If he’d felt that.

His hands are now shoved in his jacket pockets.

On Friday, Betty has officially decided she will not be sending anyone a Jack-O-Gram. She’d rather bury her feelings for Jughead so deeply she can’t remember they exist and attend the Banshee Bash with her friends. Who all have dates. Wonderful.

But as each class passes and as the last of the grams are handed out, she can’t pretend she isn’t a little disappointed. She knows, deep down, she had hoped he’d send her one. Even just as a friend.

Okay, maybe not as a friend.

During her last class, the gram deliverer arrives, a freshman student wearing cat ears and an excited smile. Betty sits forward, stealing a glance at Veronica who flashes her a hopeful smile.

“Reggie Mantle?”

“Another one?” he grins cockily, reaching out to accept his gram and immediately ripping open the Snickers bar.

“Ethel Muggs?”

Ethel accepts her gram, a shy smile on her face as she reads the note.

“And…” The freshman is now squinting her eyes to make out the name. “Oh...another one for Reggie.”

Reggie laughs, high fiving a few Bulldogs next to him before getting up once again to receive his gram. Betty sits back, tears pricking the corners of her eyes and she realizes she could not feel more pathetic. Veronica reaches over, squeezing her forearm in a supportive and affectionate gesture. Betty blinks rapidly before flashing her a bright, Betty Cooper smile, accepting that that was that.

She would not be receiving a Jack-O-Gram from anyone, but especially not from Jughead Jones.

Class ends and Betty couldn’t be more relieved. Forget the Banshee Bash. Forget Halloween. She’s going to head home, draw a hot bath, and binge watch Anne with an E. At least Gilbert and Anne will give her some kind of reassurance that romance isn’t completely dead.

She reassures Veronica a dozen times that she’s fine before Veronica finally leaves her to assist Cheryl with the packing up of the booth.

Opening her locker, she wipes the wetness from under her eyes and reaches into her backpack to tug out the books she won’t be needing this weekend.

It’s when she finally brings herself to look into her locker that her mouth falls open.

Inside lies a beautiful orange origami flower taped atop a dark green piece of paper. Betty’s fingers shake as she reaches inside to pull it out, her eyes wide as she looks at how intricately it was made.

“Like I said, Jack-O-Grams aren’t really my thing.”

She shakes her head, the smile on her face one of genuine happiness and awe. “It’s so beautiful, Jughead, you made this?”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but she notices the way his fingers pinch one of the tips of his worn crown beanie and she can tell he’s nervous. Nervous to be around her. Betty Cooper.

“My little sister, Jellybean, helped me make it,” he says softly, watching her gaze at the flower as though she’s never received anything so beautiful in her entire life. “She said something about me needing to make a bigger gesture than the gram since I-”

He stops short and she finally tears her gaze away from the flower to find that his cheeks are now flushed and he’s still rolling a crown tip between his fingers.

“Since you what?”

He looks at her, searching her face the same way he had earlier that week, before his hand drops to his side and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Since it’s always been you, Cooper. For me, it’s always been you.”

She doesn’t hesitate, standing on her tip-toes to throw her arms around his neck and press her lips against his. He’s surprised at first, but then she feels his hand cup her cheek as he deepens their kiss. She’s tasting the spearmint on his tongue for just a second before -

“Ah, but I didn’t send you anything, Jughead!” She immediately steps out of his arms, cursing herself for being so indecisive about the gram all week.

He chuckles, interweaving his fingers with hers before, much to her horror, he says, “Actually, I think your friend Cheryl sent me quite an explicit one on your behalf...”

____________

I hope you’ve all had a wonderful Halloween and have enjoyed this little holiday one shot!

xx B

#betty x jughead fanfiction #bughead fanfiction #bughead #betty cooper x jughead jones #riverdaleevents #bughead halloween fanfiction #happy halloween babes!#seasonal celebrations

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viktorfm · 4 years ago

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(MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL, NONBINARY) - Have you seen VIKTOR SAMUELS? VIKTOR is in HIS/THEIR SENIOR year. The VISUAL ARTS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say HE/THEY are OBSERVANT, INGENIOUS, RETICENT and DEPENDENT. Rumors say they’re a member of KINCAID. I heard from the gossip blog that THEY'RE HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH THEIR THERAPIST. (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

dont. look at me. i know. anyways if it wasnt obvs i abandoned cupid (n darrow) in order 2 bring the two ocs tht he ws inspired by n ws a combination of bt. theyre better as different ppl methinks.

DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS TW

aesthetic.

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts, graveyards and half-empty wine bottles, sitting there for hours and talking to nothing, about nothing, a god complex, gold rings adorning both hands, barbwire baseball bats, having never played baseball in your life, deep eyebags and broken mirrors, a permanent chip on one’s shoulder, yearning, longing, wishing.

basics.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - january 2nd, 1996

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: preaker, vermont

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

favorite song: disorder, joy division / it’s getting faster, moving faster / now it’s getting out of hand / on the tenth floor, down the back stairs / it’s a no man’s land / lights are flashing, cars are crashing / getting frequent now / i’ve got the spirit, lose the feeling / let it out somehow

background.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in preaker, vermont - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

was an awkward, quiet kid growing up, he didn’t interact well with others and preferred being left alone to dig up worms and draw on the walls of their childhood home. the only exception was his twin, really.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like … sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid … not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

being twins with tatiana was hard. they were near opposite besides both being quite mean-spirited. tatiana handled being in public better, left a better image behind - but viktor had talent, more than she did. they loved each other deeply - y’know, those unbreakable twin bonds as cliche as it sounds - but found each other as competition for their parents’ attention. a rivalry for affection.

in high school is when viktor really started to act out. it started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service & almost had an exorcism performed on him.

his only redeemable trait was like … just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3d art ap course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because he was the problem child, the one who deserved to be disciplined for all his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with whatever she wanted much easier. on the bright-side, for her, i guess.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to yates but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

he’s actually pretty smart but he just doesn’t apply himself. has a minor in english because he didn’t care for an extra course-load, but he’s good at writing & analyzing literature. is going to use it to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s. not for the kids, but because he likes to leave a trail of terror in whatever he does.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just … not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

if you asked him if he believed in twins having a psychic connection with each other - he’d tell you he wouldn’t know. it felt believable at times, but sometimes he had no idea what was going on inside of tatiana’as head. on the other hand - viktor had always felt oddly transparent to her, like she knew all of his moves before he did. the only person who could predict him accurately.

( tw death, grief, overdose / hospitalization beyond this point )

when tatiana disappeared, viktor knew something was up. it was a twist in his gut, pure instinct that something wasn’t right. and it wasn’t right - and when she was proclaimed missing, they couldn’t find her.

and when tatiana died - viktor knew. it felt wrong, something cut so severely in him he could pinpoint her death to the second. he didn’t know how, or why, but he knew it. knew it before anybody else had.

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

his mental health had also sunk to an all-time low, when it’d never been great to begin with. (manic & depressive episodes. once fixated on a sculpting project for six months and then knocked it off the table and destroyed it as soon as he finished it for no apparent reason.)

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was … viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to yates to finish his senior year because … for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

personality & facts.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears … that’s them!

a big horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies & probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than they should because they just … love those black & white vertical-striped pants.

can appreciate the ~urban legends~ at yates and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just … a jerk.

fashion alternates between e-boy (they would be tiktok famous if they were 17 & didn’t think that a majorly minor based app was weird.), millennial beetlejuice, and goth in a crop top & sweatpants. big fan of crop tops and a big fan of sweatpants.

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like … sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s … a lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

pansexual & nonbinary, switches between he & they pronouns often and without a pattern, but they have such a fragile grip on their identity that you could call them ‘dog-faced bitch’ and they’d turn around like. sup.

vastly impulsive … like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all their money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

they’re very super dramatic. would play the organ at church when nobody was looking after them and service was about to start. would just churn out these super haunting, creepy melodies like they were phantom of the opera. would do the same exact thing at home on their keyboard with the pipe organ setting whenever they got grounded until their parents took it away hbdsjfngkh

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe … yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

that being said they’re absolutely not over tatiana’s death & it’s to the point of obsession over it. like there’s some kind of secret that needs to be uncovered, even though there just. isn’t. tatiana was their rock and they were pretty much dependent on her. kept them grounded. could control them when nobody else could, got into their head easier than others. it’s sort of like rosa lost two siblings that day because viktor hasn’t been the same since.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

will tell you straight up what they want from you, no bullshit & no beating around the bush. just blunt. if they want to fuck, nothing else, then that’s it. if they feel deviation or developing feelings then they’ll ghost in less than a second. is awful like that but feels no shame.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time … also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not … with their body or anything because they’re a twig but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

i don’t know if there’s a good to them somewhere deep down, but they don’t see any issues with themself either. nothing really breaks through to them anymore because the only person who ever made them stop and think about their actions was tatiana, and well, y’know. :/

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like … partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

religious trauma? oh worm ;; three cheers fr <3 guilt <3 anyways uh. just people tht viktor hs known thru the church in some way even tho hes a fkn. freak now. maybe even family friends.

the horror of our love :/ ;; hmm. any romance tht cld b toxic i think this cld fit. just rly a bad fit. viktor doesnt rly know hw to love so nothing rly lasts bt. maybe they try n try n nothing works bt they keep trying. cld also just be anything unrequited.

little fkn gremlins ;; theyre all evil n mean. bt theyre all friends. <3

you are nothing ;; uuh. enemy plots. spicy enemies. rly bad enemies. rivals. they r brutal towards each other bcos nothing viktor does is ever soft.

fuck u dont pity me ;; uh. people who try to get close to viktor n he just. bites at them. he’s like no. bc he assumes ppl who r kind in response 2 his vileness r. theres smth wrong w them. n it might hv to do with pity. n he hates pity.

ugh. locals x ;; ppl who also grew up around preaker, vermont. the samuels r <3 well known folks n the uh. hm. the murder is an ongoing case. so they cld know abt it <3

dont tell anybody x ;; this is for soft plots. i dont know much about soft plots but.

maybe i am part of the problem ;; the problem is chlamydiagate. this is a hook-ups connection. fwbs n one night stands. ppl viktor hs brutally ghosted. he doesnt acknowledge their existence outside of these events, perhaps.

dont u just wna go apeshit ;; this is where viktor becomes a bad influence.

bt uh. anything. pelase

#yatesintro #death tw #grief tw #murder tw #addiction tw #drug abuse tw #hospitalization tw #overdose tw #hypersexuality mention #religion mention #zooweemama

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viktcrr · 4 years ago

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「maxence danet-fauvel & nonbinary」⇾ samuels, viktor, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he/they are a capricorn and 24 years old. he/they are studying visual arts, living in noland and can be observant, ingenious, reticent & dependent. when i see him/them i am reminded of a sculptor’s hands clay-ridden, the insistent hum of tv static, and a crying preacher inside a dusty funeral home. ⇽「james & 21 & est & they/them.」

hllo !!! i’m james n here’s one of my big idiot muses <3 he’s not actually dumb he’s :/ a bit evil. bt thts okay hes still <3 beloved <3 LKDSFHLSADLKGFSHLKD anyways!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

aesthetic.

basic info.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

inspired by: beetlejuice (beetlejuice), sid (toy story), jack sparrow (pirates of the caribbean), francis wilkerson (malcolm in the middle), azula (avatar: the last airbender), vicky (the fairly oddparents), stu macher / billy loomis (scream), marshall lee (adventure time), bojack horseman (bojack horseman), any it’s always sunny character :/

biography.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in rochester, new york - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his Thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

his only redeemable trait was like … just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3D art AP course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to radcliffe but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was … viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to radcliffe to finish his senior year because … for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, especially since the one year anniversary of tatiana’s death was this month (january) - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

UPDATE: now that summer’s come n go ... viktor hs been thru <3 a lot <3 recently. switched therapists (his :/ last one got her license revoked) & started new medications, went to a treatment center briefly ‘cos .. he wasn’t doing too well :/ bt now he’s back baybey! trying to be better n trying to be sober but ... :/

personality.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears … that’s them!

can appreciate the lore & cryptids at radcliffe and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just … a jerk.

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s … a Lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

vastly impulsive … like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all teir money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

likes to be intimidating but not … with their body or anything because they’re a TWIG but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

wanted connections.

a roommate… but it’s an absolute nightmare to live with him.

enemies… because viktor would have a lot of them…

familiar faces… people who knew tatiana or of her / were her friends. maybe even those who dated her, and who viktor would’ve tried to intimidate / scare at any given chance :/

pitiful glances… people who take pity on viktor and he hates it sooo much.

hooligan gremlin kids… just a friend group of grown ass adults who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers.

high school girlfriend… probably the one he lost his virginity to inside his family church :/

childhood acquaintances… people who knew him from his youth.

exes… good & bad terms, but mostly bad terms because viktor is an actual demon. probably cheated on them.

soft… i don’t know if he’s soft towards anyone and/or is capable of it but we can try. we can try.

unrequited… either viktor just doesn’t like them or he’s holding back because he’s :/ got issues with relationships & is self-sabotaging as one does

enemies with Tension… of the … spicy kind if you know what i mean. wink.

friends… old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. i don’t know how many he had but if your muse likes to cause a ruckus and fuck shit up then viktor’s your man.

hook-ups… current or old. friends with benefits, one night stands, anything and everything because he fucks around a lot.

ride or die… friendship but make it extreme.

bad influence… he’s just toxic to be around and brings out the worst in people :/

bad egg… he’s gotten into a few fights :/ maybe you witnessed it. maybe you were in it.

literally anything i wld love all sorts of plots.

#ruhqintro #death tw #grief tw #drug abuse tw #addiction tw #overdose tw #hospitalization tw #hypersexuality tw #religion mention

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stars-and-rose · 6 years ago

Text

On the Outside Looking In (Sander Sides Spiderverse! au)

so i started this before i got my notes for cursed kingdom and heart point back, got inspired by a random post, and i love emika and felt the need to finish this so here we are-

also i really just love @sugarglider9603 and @ask-spiderverse-virgil | @galaxy-lilies-main ‘s spiderverse au so that's that-

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Pairings: Pre-established Prinxeity and Logicality, some oc action going on too

Summary: Student Council President kinda abuses her power for the sake of local superheroes, but she does it with sass

Word Count: 6,640

Trigger Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of transphobia, descriptions of wounds, blood, there's a gun but no one gets shot (this is actually really fluffy i swear-)

Emika Waters didn't exactly know when she had figured it out. Maybe it was when Logan Quinn shouted "FALSEHOOD" in the middle of class a week or so back, and it sounded exactly like Arachne. Maybe it was when she had gotten lost coming home from her boyfriend's apartment, and Love Bite had helped her find her way and complimented her dress in the same exact words Patton Foster had earlier that day. Maybe it was after hearing another playful argument between Roman Marigold and Virgil Storm, and noting that it held the same energy as when Royal Slinger and Spidergale bantered. Maybe it was when she noticed the four of them coming to school, weary and stiff, on the days she watched a reporter describe a battle between the spidermen and a supervillain. Maybe it was a subtly noting the matching color schemes and attitudes. But the pieces of the puzzle had finally put themselves together, and Emika found herself staring at the complete puzzle in shock.

It was surreal- Emika was busy playing instrumentals on her violin and dragging her poor boyfriend to take pictures of the New York City skyline, while other kids her age were risking their lives to take out adults with villainous intent. How did they do it? Sure, she knew superpowers were involved- wait a second, how did the boys gain superpowers? No, she was not going to think about that, her brain was already fried- but how did they have the time? All four boys were actively involved in clubs, Logan was the class's valedictorian, and the others were in her AP and Honors classes as well. Where did that leave time to patrol the streets of the city and keep those streets safe?

Emika rubbed her temples, a headache starting to form. She hated not having the answers, and this whole scenario left her with absolute zero. She didn't even know what to do with the information!

Thinking about it, that was actually a good place to start. She pulled out her phone, looking up superhero comics. She wanted to see what fictional characters would do in her scenario. She opened one comic, then another and another, her stomach turning and her nose scrunched up in disgust after every comic showed the same results.

It seemed that in every comic, anyone who wasn't the superhero's best friends/partners/family who found out the hero's civilian identity was hell-bent to expose the hero.

That… didn't seem right to Emika.

Why would she try to expose the boys? They were saving lives- and as she knew them as civilians, they were generally nice people. They didn't deserve media crawling down their necks and people harassing and criticizing them. The thought of slipping into a newspaper's office and outing the boys as the spidermen, it just screamed "WRONG!"

Emika's headache was starting to get worse. The comics had only led her to become more confused, and now she was questioning the morals of various comic book characters along with her previous dilemma. Emika threw her head up, staring at the starless sky above. She honestly didn't know what to do. Any form of action seemed to have a negative consequence somewhere down the line!

So what if she did nothing? If she kept the information to herself, kept her mouth shut, there would be no consequences! The boy's secret would be safe, and her own morality and sanity would stay in one piece.

Emika was startled from her thoughts as her brother's voice cut through the night "Hey, Oiseau! You coming?" As she walked to her brother's slightly-beat up, gray car, Emika made her decision. She would keep the boy's secret to herself, and let nothing change.

At least, that was her original plan.

The first time she had helped one of the SpiderBoys (as she has dubbed them in her mind) had been an impulse.

It had been a week since she had made her decision. School had started later that day due to minor villain uprising in the early hours of the morning. Emika was sitting her English class, looking over the notes she had taken for Hamlet. The teacher had surprised the class the day before by announcing that the test on the book would be the next day. Emika had used the time in the morning to study since she had been up late planning the school's next pep rally (being student council president was a challenge, but she stopped complaining about her responsibilities after her discovery). Emika traced over a swirl in silver ink drawn in the margin of her notes, hoping she had absorbed the information she needed

She was suddenly startled by the classroom door flying open. All eyes in the room fixated on Patton Foster, cheek's flushed and gray skirt swishing around his knees. "Sorry about that," He mumbled with a soft laugh, before retreating to his seat beside Emika.

Emika tried to subtly study the boy. To anyone not looking, there seemed to be nothing wrong with their positive classmate. But Emika was looking. She noticed the eyebags covered with a faint layer of concealer, she noticed the way Patton's smile seemed slightly strained, and she noticed how he kept rubbing his arm. She guessed the actions were symptoms of his morning battle as Love Bite. Emika wondered if she asked him if he was okay if he would be suspicious of her.

Before she could ask, their teacher entered the room, with a large stack of papers in his arms. "Morning class! Are you ready for your exam? With the late start we had, I hope you found the time to study!"

Emika practically felt Patton tense up next to her. She heard the whispers escape from his mouth. "Oh no... I forgot... I can't fail this!"

In the ten seconds, it took their teacher to reach his desk, Emika made a decision. "Mr. Brooks!" She called out, standing up and drawing the room's attention to her.

"Yes, Miss Waters?"

"I just remembered I have an order of supplies coming in for the rally next week, and I need to go pick them up!" She wrinkled her nose. "It's a big load, I don't think I can do it by myself unless I want to take all day." Emika pretended to look around the room, her eyes landing on Patton. "Patton, do you think you could help me out?"

Her superhero classmate stared up at her; his confusion was written on his face, but he nodded. "Of course I'll help!"

"Oh thank goodness!" She flashed a smile at Mr. Brooks. "You wouldn't mind if I took Patton with me, right? I can ask Mx Right to confirm that we're working, I'm sure they won't mind."

Mr. Brooks nodded, as Emika suspected he would. "As long as Mx Right calls me, I wouldn't see an issue. Please hurry though, since I'll still expect you to take the test."

"Of course!" Emika subtly grabbed her notebook and gestured for Patton to follow her. As soon as the door shut behind them, Emika handed Patton her notebook. "You looked like you needed some extra study time."

Patton gave her a startled look. "Um, yeah- How did you know?"

"I'm Student Council President! I feel like it's part of my job to notice any issues a student may be having."

Patton nodded, looking down at her notebook. "Wait, did you lie to Mr. Brooks? I appreciate the help but if you lied, I'm going to have to walk back in the room. I don't lie."

Emika threw up her hand in a surrendering gesture. "No, no I didn't lie! I overexaggerated a bit- there is a load I need to pick up but I can handle it myself- you can help me by keeping company while you study and I unpack."

Patton let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank gosh, I really didn't want to go back in there and fail the test. Thank you so much, Mika."

"Again, it's my pleasure." The two of them began to walk down the hallway, reaching the front office. Emika went in and grabbed the boxes- Patton offering to carry some for her, and Emika finally relenting when she realized the stacked boxes were taller than herself. They made their way through freshman hall to Mx Right's room, Emika struggling slightly with her load, and Patton carrying his with ease.

Patton opened the door while still carrying his boxes. (It had to be the superpowers, Emika was sure of it) Emika set down her boxes and flicked on the light. Patton sat on top of a desk, swinging his legs as he read over the notes. Emika sat on the floor, opening the boxes and labeling the contents to make her life easier later on.

Emika was on her second-to-last box when her's phone went off from the desk she'd set it on. She scrambled up, then proceeded to trip over one of the boxes. Patton giggled at the blonde and picked up her phone. "It's Jay." He let out another giggle. "I guess you've really fallen for him, huh?"

After laughing at the pun, Emika accepted her phone from Patton and answered the call. She was greeted with her favorite voice in the world. "Hey, Meeks, I have study hall and ran across the street to get coffee. What do you want?"

If you asked Patton, he would have sworn up and down that the student council president's eyes had become hearts. "This is why I love you." She breathed.

"Oh? It's just because I bring you coffee?"

"Oh, shh, you know that's not it, Jay. I'll have mocha frappe, large." She looked over at her companion."Patton, do you want anything? You look tired, some coffee could help you wake up?"

"Patton? Did you kidnap Patton?" Emika's boyfriend asked.

"Yes I did, I kidnapped him and I'm forcing him to help me unload my supplies because I'm so evil." Emika deadpanned, putting her phone on speaker.

Patton laughed. "She's so horrible! She's making me study while she goes through boxes!"

"Horrific!" Jay exclaimed. "But seriously, do you want something?"

"I can pay you back, but could you get me a hot chocolate? The sugar wakes me up more than caffeine." Patton mumbled something else to himself, but Emika should only catch the words, 'Taste', 'Kiss', and 'Logan'

It was safe to say she had a pretty good idea of what the last statement was about.

"Don't worry about paying me back. Meeks said something about you being tired? I getcha, so it's on me." Jay replied.

"You two are literally the best people on the planet," Patton exclaimed.

Emika smiled to herself. "It's the least I can do."

When the two re-entered the English room, Emika with her coffee and Patton with his hot chocolate, Patton handed her notebook back. "Seriously, you are the best," he whispered.

Emika only smiled.

The second time, it hadn't occurred to Emika until the situation was over.

She was in history, working with her group for their government project. Emika had her head against her boyfriend's chest, fiddling with the striped blue, white and pink pride button her boyfriend had finally felt confident putting on his bag (Emika had a matching pin on her bag, but hers was pink, yellow and blue). She was writing her script, as she would be presenting the project. Jay was sketching his idea for the poster board on a piece of graph paper. Two twin girls- Emika was positive one was named Rose and the other Lily, and Lily was the one with the tattoo on her wrist- were searching in the textbook and on their phones for the information they needed. The last member for their group, Virgil Storm, was typing away at a laptop, headphones covering his ears, working on the powerpoint.

It was peaceful- mostly. Even since the day when she had pulled Patton out to help him study, Emika had become hyperaware of the SpiderBoys physical and mental states. She kept glancing at Virgil, checking for obvious signs that something was wrong. She couldn't tell if Virgil had eyebags, due to the boy's dark eye-shadow covering where any eyebags would be. (That was probably the point. Huh. ) Virgil's collection of oversized hoodies (Emika was convinced she had seen the dark red hoodie Virgil was currently wearing on Roman before) prevented her from seeing any bruises or bumps. Therefore, Virgil was making her job very hard for her.

Emika sighed, tugging on the sleeve of her yellow sweater when she first heard the noise. It was a low rumbling sound that Emika usually associated with her brother- the sound of someone's stomach grumbling.

Rose looked up from her book. "Was that's someone's stomach?" She asked, confirming what Emika had thought she heard.

"Is someone hungry? I have a few extra bucks on me, we can run to the library and get some snacks that the yearbook committee is selling." Emika suggested.

"We just had lunch," Lily replied, gesturing to herself and her twin.

"I've got my mum's brownies in my bag if I get hungry," Jay said.

Virgil didn't even hear- or maybe he did, and he was just ignoring the conversation. Emika let it go, going back to her notes. She had dropped her pen to stretch her fingers when the grumbling started again. She looked back up, meeting eyes with the twins. Rose glanced at Virgil, mouthing a question to Emika "Is it coming from Virgil?"

Emika tilted her head, mouthing back. "Not sure, I'll keep my ear open." She went back to her notes, but this time, when she heard the noise, she stood. She walked over to Virgil and tapped her hand to get his attention. The darker haired boy looked up at her, pulling off his headphones.

"Is something up, Emika?"

"Have you eaten something today? Because your stomach keeps rumbling." Emika asked, hoping her concern carried through her voice.

Virgil shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

"That wasn't the question." Emika crossed her arms.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Then, fine, no I haven't eaten yet. We good now?" Virgil lifted his hand to put his headphones back on, but Emika grabbed his hand and tried to pull him to his feet. "Hey, what the hell, what are you doing?"

"We're going to the library and you're eating something. That's an order as your president." Emika decided.

"You're student council president, I don't think it works that way."

"I say so, so it does. Let's go, come on, up, up let's go."

"You're causing a scene," Virgil complained. It was true; people were starting to glance at them.

Looking back at it later, Emika noted how comical the situation was. Emika was a tiny blond wearing a pastel sweater. Virgil had at least five inches on Emika, and his darker clothes made him look much more threatening than her. Plus he was Spidergale (which had slipped her mind at the time), which definitely gave him an unfair advantage. But Emika had determination and a questionable amount of caffeine on her side.

"You're dating Roman. He's much better at causing scenes than me! Oooooh, what if I go get him? I could text the theater chat- they finally added the pit kids into it!"

Virgil sighed. "If I come with you will you stop?"

"Yup."

Virgil let out a sigh, slipped off his headphones, and stood. Emika grinned at him, and started for the doorway, hoping that when she turned around, that Virgil would still be behind her. He was, to her satisfaction. They walked in silence, Virgil fidgeting with the strings of his boyfriend's hoodie.

"Why do you care so much?"

Emika turned to Virgil. "Hmmm?"

"Why did you cause a scene and force me to come with you and such?" Virgil asked, fingers still entwined with the hoodie strings.

Emika shrugged. "I feel like I gotta be helpful. There's gotta be something I can do. Even something as small as this."

The two of them fell back into silence, reaching the library. Emika walked over the desk, where a few baskets held candy and chips. She pulled out a few dollar bills and grabbed a dark chocolate bar and a box of Lemonheads. After paying, she threw the chocolate bar at the emo boy, who caught it with ease. "Huh?"

"Dark chocolate is light on your stomach, but it still gives you some energy. I live on dark chocolate during audition weeks. Jay is convinced that someone draws my blood, they'll discover that my blood has bits of dark chocolate in it. Plus, it makes you feel good and tastes great."

Virgil snorted. "Have you ever considered becoming a spokesperson for dark chocolate?"

"Oh my god! That would be the best job on the planet!" Emika popped a lemon candy in her mouth. Virgil unwrapped the chocolate bar and proceeded to stare at it as if it came from an alien planet. "You do realize you can't eat it by staring at it? You need to put it in your mouth?"

"No. I never would have guessed. Thank you so much." Virgil deadpanned, causing Emika to snort. They walked back to the classroom, and Emika reclaimed her spot next to Jay.

Later, the couple was laying on the couch of the Waters apartment when she remembered that Virgil was Spidergale and she'd managed help out another superhero. She couldn't help but let out an airy laugh at the thought.

"Is everything good?" Jay asked.

"Yup! Just thinking about something," Emika replied, laying her head in his lap.

The third time it happened, it was completely and utterly on purpose.

Emika sat in one of the music department's practice rooms, violin case at her feet, looking over the notes she'd jotted into her notebook. Yesterday, she had overheard her study hall teacher complaining to another teacher about how she was going to have to write Logan Berry up if he showed up to study hall late one more time.

That had piqued Emika's interest- and her concern. Logan Berry? The Valedictorian, obsessed with learning, Logan Berry skipping a class? That was wrong in every aspect. So Emika looked into it.

After searching through YouTube and various fan blogs, Emika learned that due to a few criminals escaping jail, the SpiderBoys and Rainbow Weaver were taking extra patrols until the crooks were caught. It seemed at Arachne (cough, cough Logan) was taking patrol at the time of their study hall.

Emika wasn't about to let Logan get in trouble for protecting the city. Nope. Nada. Not on her watch.

Emika scribbled something furiously with her pen, memorizing the bulleted list she had created. Her plan, if executed correctly, would be able to clear Logan's name and still fall in line with his boyfriend's morals.

If she messed up-

Nope. She was not going to mess up.

Someone knocked on the door. Emika looked up and saw one of the band's flutists- Alex- looking in at her. She pushed the notebook into her bag and opened the door, glancing at the blue bracelet around Ian's wrist. "Hey, Mika." He greeted. "The period is over."

"Oh, thank you for getting me. I wouldn't have noticed." Emika stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and grabbed her violin case.

"You looked really focused. Working on something important?"Alex asked as Emika put her violin in her locker.

"You could say that." Emika agreed, waving goodbye as they parted ways. Emika headed for the cafeteria, heartbeat thumping in her ears. She could give speeches in front of her entire class without any fear. She could play violin solos without batting an eye. But this? Her nerves were shot. Because now, it wasn't just her on the line. If she messed up, Logan would get in trouble.

She made to the cafeteria and set down her bag at an empty table. Taking a deep breath, Emika walked towards the table where Mrs. Nixon sat, playing with her wedding band. The student council president cleared her throat, getting the teacher's attention. "Oh, hello Miss Waters. Is there something I can help you out with?"

"There is. May I sit?" Emika asked.

"Of course." She sat down, cracking her knuckles, as the teacher looked at her. "What's wrong? Do you need anything?"

"I need to talk to you about how Logan Berry has been late to this class. I'm afraid it's kind of my fault."

The teacher tilted her head. "Pardon me? You're going to have to explain, Emika."

"You see, I've been swamped with a lot of the paperwork for student council. Our treasurer is terribly sick right now, and I don't want to put any pressure on them while they're under the weather. I tried to do it myself, but it happens to be that when you have a thousand things to do, putting together treasuer reports is much more difficult than it looks. So, since Logan is the smartest person I know, I asked him if he could complete them for me. He has lunch before this, I think, and he told me he would go to the library to work on the reports. So, it seems that because I gave him extra work, he's coming to this study hall late."

Emika was mentally screaming at herself, because goodness, her story sounded so fake, it could shatter with the simplest prod.

Mrs. Nixon bit her lip. "It's very refreshing to see teenagers holding themselves accountable for their mistakes. And I don't want to be the teacher that puts on a stain on Mr. Berry's record. As long as this doesn't continue, I think I can let it slide."

Emika almost jumped over the table to hug the teacher, but she managed to contain herself. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Nixon."

"Anytime." Emika walked back to her seat, slumping in it with relief. She pulled out her German notes- honestly, she should have taken French, she already was fluent, it would have been an easy hundred- and began to study when someone sat across from her. Emika looked up, and sure enough, Logan was sitting across from her.

"Oh, hi, Logan! What's up?" Emika said, attempting to keep her cool. She subtly looked for any injuries, but it seemed Logan was able to keep himself from getting hurt.

"It came to my attention that you covered for me in accordance with my constant tardiness to this class, and I was curious why," Logan asked, the question burning in his eyes.

Emika shrugged. "I knew you'd have a good reason. I've known you since, like seventh grade, even if we never really talked. You don't strike me as the type to be tardy without a good reason."

Logan nodded. "Yes, I had a reason, but it's a private one."

"Oh, I wasn't prying! I totally get it."

The two sat in silence for a moment, and Emika was considering going back to her German review when Logan spoke up again. "However, Patton will be rather upset if he learns lying was involved me getting out of trouble."

"Oh I know, I almost received a lying-is-bad lecture from your boyfriend." Emika laughed, brushing the hair out of her face.

"He informed me of that incident. I do have to thank you for helping him."

Emika smiled. "Student Council President is quite determined to do her job. As for the lying thing-" Emika dug into her backpack, pulling on a few pieces of paper. "-I told Mrs. Nixon you were helping me with these."

"Are these Treasurer Reports?"

"Haha, yeah. Millie is out sick and I didn't want to make her do it while she's out, I wasn't lying about that- so to null out the other lie, if you could add up the numbers for me? Then there's less lying involved."

"You thought this through, didn't you?"

Emika grinned. "I live to defy the dumb blond stereotype"

Logan managed to get the reports added up in minutes flat (A feat Emika never would have been capable of), and by the time the period was over, Emika had a smile on her face.

The fourth time had been a total accident.

The Spring Musical was just around the corner, meaning the pit orchestra would practice alongside the performers. Emika's arms were killing her, and if she had to play the same section one more time, she was going to lose her mind.

Finally, a break was called. Emika, her prayers answered, gratefully placed her violin back in its case. She was desperate for water, but it seemed she had emptied her bottle already. Emika grabbed the empty bottle, determined to fill it before the fountain was swamped. She started to power-walk from the auditorium, cursing her tiny legs when she collided with someone.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." Emika scrambled to her feet, offering her hand to whoever she had run into. It just happened to be Roman, who accepted her hand and pulled himself to his feet.

"It's okay," he answered, but there was pain tainting his voice.

"Are you okay?" Oh god, what if she hurt Roman? In turn, that would have meant she'd hurt Royal Slinger, which meant New York would be down a SpiderBoy-

"Oh no, you just hit me where I have a nasty cut, I'm perfectly fine!" Roman replied, and Emika heard him mutter something that contained the phrase "stitches getting loose'.

Oh. Oh no.

"Um, I have a first aid kit in the band room- I kept it on me because sometimes I slit my fingertips on my violin strings, and I would make me feel better if I could look over it so-"

"Hey, Mika, calm down!" Roman said, putting his hands up in a calming gesture. "It truly isn't your fault for my pain, but if I will make you feel better, you can look the wound over."

Emika let out a shaky breath. "Okay, okay yeah, follow me." Emika led Roman through the maze of chairs, stands, and cases that were scattered through the pit. A few turns and a tiny set of stairs later, the two were in the abandoned band room. Emika pointed at a chair. "Sit down, I'm going to get my kit."

Emika left the actor in the band room, headed for the storage area, where, in her locker, she found the first aid kit. Jay had bought it for her after he'd noticed her fingertips bleeding from the little cuts she often found on them. She exited the storage room and found Roman sitting, with his red jacket off, and his sleeves rolled up.

Then she saw the cut.

It was stitched up, which Emika guessed meant it was deep. The wound was a bright red around the stitching, which was definitely coming undone. She could see red under the falling-apart stitches, which Emika assumed wasn't good. The wound also seemed to be oozing with what she feared was pus. She was no medical professional, but something told her that the wound would have given the school nurse a heart attack.

Emika sat down and opened her kit. She didn't bother asking how Roman had gotten the wound. She knew that it was from his escapades as Royal Slinger, and seeing the dramatic boy injured made something churn in her stomach. It wasn't fair, the boys didn't deserve to be hurt like this.

There was nothing she could do except doing the little things to help, like making sure Roman's injury didn't get worse.

Emika pulled out a rubbing wipe. "This is going to sting."

"Don't worry, I can handle a minor sting," Roman replied, but he still winced as Emika attempted to clean the cut, moving carefully around the stitches. Just as Emika finished the cleaning, Roman's phone went off from his jacket pocket. Roman moved to get it, but Emika reached over and grabbed it for him instead.

"It's Virgil," Emika announced, and she smiled at the way Roman's eyes lit up at the mention of his boyfriend. He made grabby hands for the phone, and Emika, laughing slightly, handed it over.

"Hello, my darling emo!" Roman smiled at the image of Virgil that appeared on his screen.

"Hey, Ro. What's up?"

"Local Mother Hen is looking at that cut I got on my shoulder," Roman responded. Emika flashed a peace sign at Virgil.

"You need a leash for this one, Virgil," Emika replied, rummaging through her kit, and pulling out butterfly stitching. "Hey Roman, I'm going to put butterfly stitching over the stitches, you'll have to have someone with actual medical skills fix that, okay?"

"Aye aye, captain," Roman responded, before starting a conversation with his boyfriend about Virgil's dance practice. Emika unwrapped the stitching and began to carefully apply the bandaging to the wound. She had done this before- once, Andre had split his knee open, and Emika had fixed him up enough so her dad could take him to the ER. She made sure to keep the touches gentle, not wanting to make Roman hurt more, but said the boy was caught up talking to Virgil, she doubted he would have noticed either way. As a precaution, Emika stuck a couple large band-aids over the butterfly stitching.

"Alright! Try not to aggravate the wound or pull out the stitches more than you already have. Cut back on the dramatics for the last half of practice, perhaps."

Roman gasped as if she'd suggested kicking a puppy. "Cut back on the dramatics?" He repeated. "Virgil, do you hear this insanity?"

As Virgil snickered from the other line, Emika rolled her eyes playfully. "Maybe just try not to move that arm around so much?"

"You can handle that, Princey." Virgil agreed. "If you manage not to rip the stitches- more than you already have, I might be more inclined to watch Disney and cuddle later."

Roman vigorously nodded his head. "I shall not rip the stitches or dramatically move my arm in the name of Disney cuddles." He announced.

Emika laughed, putting away her kit. Just as she was about to slip away to let the two finish talking before the rehearsal started up again, Virgil called out, "Hey, um, Mika- people call you that, right?"

"Yeah, they do! What's up? "

"Thanks for taking care of my dork."

Emika smiled. "Of course- I'm always here to help."

And help she did.

It seemed that the SpiderBoys had discovered that she really would help with anything. Patton continued to help her during unloading days, giving him more time to study. Logan asked her for the page numbers of homework assignments he'd missed. Virgil accepted the dark chocolate she threw at him. Roman had even allowed her to help with another wound he'd gotten.

But all good things come to an end eventually.

To be fair, the night Emika accidentally opened her mouth was a night meant for disaster. The usually calm student council president was enraged. Jay ran track, and sometimes he managed to convince his girlfriend (aka Emika) to go on runs with him. She didn't mind the runs; she often brought her camera along. But Jay couldn't wear his binder while they were running, which usually wasn't a problem.

But today there was a problem. Some guy had misgendered Jay and then proceeded to go off on some transphobic tangent. Jay ignored that guy, but Emika could see how upset her boyfriend was becoming, and she'd almost beat the shit out of the guy. But, she knew that would make her boyfriend upset, so she'd instead taken him home and made him rose tea and cuddled with him. But as soon as his mom came home and Emika left the apartment, the rage entered her eyes.

Everyone on the street shifted to avoid her. It was comical- the tiny girl causing grown men to step out of her way. If she lived in a cartoon, steam would have been pouring out her ears.

Suddenly, her phone began to ring. She pulled out her phone and answered the call. "Salut, Papa."

"Salut, êtes-vous sur le chemin du retour?"

"Oui, Je prends le métro." Emika responed.

"Rester en sécurité, Emika." Her dad fretted.

"Ne t'inquiète pas, ça va aller. À bientôt."

"Je t'aime."

" Je t'aime, Papa." Emika hung up and continued her way to the subway. Speaking her father's native tongue always calmed her down- the word's always sounded so pretty, and focusing on the beauty of it was a welcome distraction.

Emika managed to get into her subway without any trouble. She was sitting against the wall, earbuds canceling the noise of the crowded car and distracting her from the anger still bubbling in her chest. Everything was fine.

Until the subway stopped.

That was strange, Emika remembered thinking. The ride was usually about fifteen minutes, she had only been riding for seven. She slipped her earbuds out, listening to the confused murmurs of the other passengers. Then the sound of cracking glass filled her eardrums, and something sharp cut across Emika's face, causing the rage in her stomach to twist into pain and fear.

Someone started screaming. Emika glanced at the window dividing the subway cars- the glass was shattered, the cracks spirling from a small hole in the center. A bullet hole. Had someone gotten shot?

No, the bullet was wedged into one of the handheld poles. Emika peered into the car before them, and saw a figure with a gun, pointing it frantically from passenger to passenger.

Something dripped down Emika's face. She raised her hand and felt something wet and sticky covering her cheek. Lowering her hand, vile raised in her throat- her hand was covered in crimson, metallic-smelling blood. Her own blood.

No one paid attention to her, the blood dripping down her cheek, the pain sharp and fierce. She heard the sounds of conflict in the other car (but no more gunshots), then the sound of the door being forced open. "Is anyone hurt?"

"There's a girl by the window, I think she got cut by the glass!" Huh, someone had noticed her. Someone knelt next to Emika; it was a figure in a pink super-suit, it was Love Bite, it was Patton.

"Hey, hey you with me?" He asked.

"Mmhmm," Emika mumbled. "It hurts like fucking hell"

"You got cut on the glass, you'll be okay, but you need to stay calm okay?" Her superhero classmate muttered, looking up into the evacuating crowd. "I need someone to clot her bleeding!"

A woman handed over a scarf- Patton thanking her, before ripping it and pressing it down over Emika's cut. She winced in pain. "Sorry." He muttered and continued to press down. Soon, he lifted the bloodstained cloth. "I think you've stopped bleeding."

"Thank you, Patton, "Emika mumbled. She felt the superhero stiffen and take it a harsh breath beside her. Why-

Oh.

Emika tensed too, her thoughts racing. She had called him Patton, while he was in costume. No one was close enough to hear her, but still, she'd let it slip.

"Emika-" Patton began, his voice slightly panicked, the eyes of his suit open so wide, it would be been comical in any other situation.

Really, Emika should have stayed and simply explained her discovery to Patton. But, instead, Emika shot to her feet, ignoring the superhero's protests, and ran from the subway, losing herself in the fleeing crowd.

Emika couldn't avoid it forever. That didn't mean she wasn't going to try.

She practically ran between classes, made sure she sat with as many people as possible at lunch and drove home with her brother every day.

But one day, she was waiting after school, leaning against the same wall she had all those weeks ago when she meant her discovery, waiting for Andre to get out of work. Her finger traced over the cut on her cheek. The doctor she'd visited told her it would probably scar. She lowered her hand, and then she felt someone lean against the wall next to her. "Hey, Mika."

Emika tensed, looking over at Patton. She was just about to move from the wall when Patton placed an arm on her shoulder. "Can we just talk about this?"

Emika's shoulders sagged. "Okay." She conceited, leaning her head against the back of the wall again, watching the traffic go by.

"How did you figure it out?"

"That you're Love Bite, your boyfriend is Arachne, your best friend is Royal Slinger and his boyfriend is Spindergale?" Emika's words were quiet, her voice barely audible over the breeze. "It was a bunch of little things."

"Was it obvious?" Patton looked over at the student council president, who's night sky eyes were still trained on the passing cars.

"No, not really. It might sound like I'm full of myself, but I consider myself pretty preceptive."

"Part of your president powers?"

Emika cracked a grin. "Hey, let me have my fake superpower."

That little joke managed to dissolve the solve the tension. Both of them started laughing, and Emika finally looked at Patton.

"You guys are crazy brave," Emika muttered, meeting the superhero's eyes. "It's insane how much you four are already have done for the world and damn. I wish I could do more, you know."

Emika's eyes gazed back out the cars, the last world even quieter than when she had whispered the secret. "You know, the little things matter too. Logan has been suspicious of you after the second week of you making sure Virgil ate. After he pointed it out, I realized how right he was. Thanks for getting me more study time, and tell Jay I ow- wait, does he know?"

"I haven't told a soul," Emika replied.

"Oh thank goodness." Patton let out a sigh of relief. "That would have made things more complicated."

"Agreed, people honestly would have thought I was crazy. I thought I was crazy for a bit." Emika laughed. Suddenly, Andre's same old gray car pulled up. Emika flashed a peace sign at Patton and started to walk away.

"Hey, Mika?"

The blonde turned around, the streetlights reflecting against her short locks. Patton's eyes looked brighter in the same light. "Thanks for taking care of us- what did Roman dub you- 'Local mother hen?'" Patton grinned. "It fits."

Emika laughed, and then suddenly, a flash of dark blue on the school roof caught her attention. "Hey, Patton?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm pretty sure your boyfriend has been watching over you this whole time. You know, in case the petite French girl was actually a supervillain."

Patton looked upwards, seeing the dark blue as well, a small, slightly lovesick grin on his face. "God I love him." He mumbled, and she couldn't help but laugh as she finally entered her brother's car.

"What was that about?" Andre asked, starting the car again.

Emika leaned against the seat, glancing out her window to see Patton vanishing into the night, probably to join his boyfriend. "Mm, just seeing things from the outside, you know?"

French Translations!

Salut, Papa- Hi, Dad

Salut, êtes-vous sur le chemin du retour?- Hi, are you on your way home?

Oui, Je prends le métro- Yes. I’m taking the subway

Rester en sécurité, Emika- Stay safe, Emika

Ne t'inquiète pas, ça va aller. À bientôt- Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. See you soon.

Je t'aime- I love you

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altviktcrr · 5 years ago

Text

『MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL ❙ NONBINARY』 ⟿ looks like VIKTOR SAMUELS is here for HIS/THEIR SENIOR year as a VISUAL ARTS student. HE/THEY are 24 years old & known to be OBSERVANT, INGENIOUS, RETICENT & DEPENDENT. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 20. EST. SHE/THEY.

hllo ,,, again ,,, this is my last child i SWEAR ,,, at least fr now ,,, hes also the most problematic one ,,, the most dramatic ,,, one of my absolute faves ,,, pleathe love him. as always if u wish to plot please like this so i can msg u !!!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

aesthetic.

basic info.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

biography.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in rochester, new york - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like ... sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid ... not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his Thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

his only redeemable trait was like ... just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3D art AP course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just ... not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was ... viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to radcliffe to finish his senior year because ... for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

personality.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears ... that’s them!

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like ... sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s ... a Lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

vastly impulsive ... like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all teir money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe ... yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time ... also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not ... with their body or anything because they’re a TWIG but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like ... partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

a roommate... but it’s an absolute nightmare to live with him.

enemies... because viktor would have a lot of them...

familiar faces... people who knew tatiana or of her / were her friends. maybe even those who dated her, and who viktor would’ve tried to intimidate / scare at any given chance :/

pitiful glances... people who take pity on viktor and he hates it sooo much.

hooligan gremlin kids... just a friend group of grown ass adults who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers.

high school girlfriend... probably the one he lost his virginity to inside his family church :/

childhood acquaintances... people who knew him from his youth.

exes... good & bad terms, but mostly bad terms because viktor is an actual demon. probably cheated on them.

soft... i don’t know if he’s soft towards anyone and/or is capable of it but we can try. we can try.

unrequited... either viktor just doesn’t like them or he’s holding back because he’s :/ got issues with relationships & is self-sabotaging as one does

enemies with Tension... of the ... spicy kind if you know what i mean. wink.

friends... old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. i don’t know how many he had but if your muse likes to cause a ruckus and fuck shit up then viktor’s your man.

hook-ups... current or old. friends with benefits, one night stands, anything and everything because he fucks around a lot.

ride or die... friendship but make it extreme.

bad influence... he’s just toxic to be around and brings out the worst in people :/

bad egg... he’s gotten into a few fights :/ maybe you witnessed it. maybe you were in it.

literally anything i wld love all sorts of plots.

#radintro #death tw #grief tw #overdose tw #addiction tw #hospitalization tw #mental illness tw #hypersexuality tw #religion mention tw

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viktcrr-alt · 5 years ago

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MAXENCE DANET FAUVAL / NONBINARY — don’t look now, but is that viktor samuels i see? the 24 year old visual arts student is in their senior year and he/they are a rochester alum. i hear they can be observant, ingenious, reticent and dependent, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he/they will make a name for themselves living in garcia row. ( james. 20. est. she/they. )

LAST INTRO WOOOO !! u know what to mf DO !!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

a e s t h e t i c s

general info !!

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′0″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: uuuhhh god … probably pan tbh

stats

biography !!

okay so … born and raised in rochester, new york to the well known samuels family. preacher father, a mother, a twin sister born 15 minutes before him - aka tatiana samuels, who died back in january.

kinda … grew up as a really awkward, quiet kid? like … just didn’t really interact with other kids super well, preferred being alone and like … digging up bugs in the dirt. only friend was like … his own sister.

grew out of this as they got older, instead sort of … becoming a bit of a dick? to compensate for years of awkwardness? will bite the hand that feeds him. was a full on nuisance by middle school. tatiana was not, at least, noticeably.

has always been a fan of darker materials, y’know - grim and creepy, morbid shit. big fan of tim burton ever since he was a kid, which isn’t … a good look for a preacher’s son, but he’s never really felt ~in~ with the rest of his family, anyway.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid probably tbh that prompted one or two or five phone calls home 2 assure everything was fine.

has always been really … good at art, in general - from drawing to painting to playing with clay, that’s always been viktor’s Thing.

aNyWaYs. being tatiana’s twin brother was kinda hard sometimes. tatiana and him were near opposites besides their same mean-spirited trait. she was better in the public than he was, but viktor was arguably more talented than tatiana. they both loved each other deeply and found each other as competition for their parents’ attention - a rivalry, of sorts.

high school is when viktor really started to act out - started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service. almost had an exorcism performed on him, probably.

the only redeemable trait was like … his sheer talent with art. was in a 3d art AP course, specialized in sculpting - could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because his parents would be focused on disciplining him for his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with stuff easier. so like, y’know, that’s on the bright-side of things.

never been particularly motivated to do much - wasn’t planning on attending lockwood but his parents kinda … did and sent in his application for him b/c they were Not on board with him Wasting Away (wanted him out of the house asap)

actually pretty smart !! just doesn’t like … want to apply himself ever. double majoring in english and visual arts because they’re like … two of his only interests :/ plus he wants to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s

he’d been experimenting since high school but college is where he really started to like … crack down on himself and figure himself out. was out as pan & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college, just … not to his family, necessarily. thinks tatiana always knew, but didn’t … really use it against him, blessedly enough

always felt like the whole twin - connection thing was … both wack and also not-wack? sometimes it felt believable but sometimes he had no idea what was going on in tatiana’s head. but he felt oddly transparent to her, always - like he was predictable to no one but her.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

but when tatiana disappeared - it was like, like viktor knew. the moment she had been kidnapped - felt something deeply wrong in his gut. and when tatiana died - viktor felt something cut so severely in him. he knew, he always knew exactly when. he couldn’t put his finger on how - but he knew. even when everybody else held out hope for her to be found - he knew.

went on a bender around the same time, had always struggled w/ drug addiction but it got worse the longer tatiana went without being found.

( also struggled heavily with his mental health, too ?? has manic and depressive episodes. will fixate on a sculpting project for six months and then purposely knock it off the table and destroy it in the matter of seconds once it’s finished for. no fucking reason. impulse spends A Lot. )

when her body was found, viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing and being hospitalized where he spent the next like … however long months … until they deemed him better.

has been back since the beginning of fall semester in an attempt to finish his senior year - mostly out of his parents’ insistence that he did, because he very much did not want to.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, which was only amplified with dean lockwood’s death - causing him to spiral and be unpredictable with his mental health. some days are good, and some days are very bad.

personality !!

the human embodiment of a gremlin, fed after midnight. a goblin, if u will. one of those cats with a narrow head and big ass ears. that’s him.

b i g horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies. probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than he should. love those vertically striped pants!

fashion alternates between e-boy (would b tik tok famous if he were like … 17), millennial beetlejuice, and like … goth in a crop top and sweatpants. big fan of crop tops. big fan of sweatpants.

he can be fucking mean. petty, aggressive, instigator. will literally spit in ur face or no reason. kind of person who’ll stick his gum into other ppl’s hair. other than that he’s like … pretty okay. he’s not always mean, he’s just a dick like … 70% of the time lmao

i mean yeah okay he’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except He Feels Like It And Believes It. it’s fine he’s fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact tht he’s probably getting into fights whenever - considers himself 2 be a lover n not a fighter but that’s just because he Fucks a lot. kind of uses it like a coping mechanism, like he’s this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ may have a problem w/ hypersexuality but it’s nothing he’s fully. aware of.

the preacher’s whore son, basically

like i said he’s pan & nb, switches between he and they pronouns but like … he has such a fragile grip on his identity that u could call him ‘dog-faced bitch’ and he’d turn like hey wassup :)

vastly impulsive, like i’ve mentioned … destroys his own creations 4 the fun of it, spends all his money on useless shit, will cheat on someone bc he feels like it. screams into the night sky frequently, like a cat in heat.

i mean he also creates useless shit for no reason too. spent six months sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of him and then took a sledgehammer to it.

dramatic fuck. used to play the organ at the church like … when no one was looking after him and service was about to start. just these creepy as melodies. would do the same thing at home on his keyboard w/ the organ setting whenever he got grounded until his parents took away his keyboard sadjfkg

won’t talk about his time away b/c it’s not rly anybody’s business but ofc nothing is sacred to the watershed app, y’know, nothing’s private.

still like - he absolutely refuses to talk about tatiana’s death and like, his mental health or his addiction (he’s fallen back into it tbh but it hasn’t gotten bad again … yet) or like … anything involving his own emotions

will literally just change the topic! abruptly, no warning, asks about the jonas brothers instead.

that being said he’s obsessed with tatiana’s death. tatiana was very much a rock for him, kinda dependent on her in a way? just … being there, y’know, kept him grounded.

so he obv became a shepherd bc he wants to know Everything there is abt the app, wants to be deep inside it, wanted to know Who Exactly Killed Tatiana and like … not saying he wants 2 commit murder but :/ yknow. he’s very upset.

emotionally unavailable while also like crying twice a day.

will tell you straight up what he wants from you, no bullshit, no beating around the bush - just blunt. if he wants to just fuck, nothing else, then that’s that. if he feels deviation he’ll ghost in like. less than a second. kinda awful like that! feels no shame.

but like … also is emotional ?? as shit ?? it’s confusing. he’ll cry on a whim and then flip u off if u try to console him or like. ask him anything. will bite you.

he goes to therapy but he generally fucks around and wastes most of the time until the therapist threatens to like … idk what therapists r allowed to threaten. to send him off to another therapist? idk.

likes being intimidating but like … not with his body or nothing ‘cos he’s a TWIG, but like … uses his love for horror n creepy shit to his advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before.

( also a big fan of sfx makeup, has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids with a chainsaw (w/o the like … chain … or w/e … so it’s not actually Dangerous) around halloween

he’s generally never doing good, both mental health wise and morally.

would probably steal candy from a baby for the fun of it.

i don’t know if there’s a good to him, deep down, and i don’t know if he sees any issues with himself either !! nothing really breaks through to him anymore, the only person who ever really made him stop and Think about his actions was tatiana.

kinda introverted, recluse type who doesn’t rly like most people or going out, but he’ll go to parties if it means he’ll be high as shit.

pretty observant. likes to analyze people even though he’s probably not … fully right.

wanted connections !!

he lives alone currently but like … ex - roommates where viktor was just. a nightmare to live with.

feel like a lot of enemies is also a possibility !! viktor’s messy.

people that like … knew tatiana. dated tatiana, even, and viktor would pretty much try to intimidate / scare them at any given chance :/

close friends of tatiana too

people who hated tatiana but liked viktor. people who hated viktor but liked tatiana

people who take pity on him and he Hates it viciously and vocally.

a band of hooligan gremlin kids who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers even though they’re all early to mid 20s.

the girl he lost his virginity 2 in high school lmao … a distant memory

fellow rochester locals, from church or school or whatever

exes from the past !! good terms and bad terms, but i love bad terms a whole lot mainly b/c viktor’s a jackass.

don’t know if he’s soft towards anybody but we can try. we can Try.

friends, old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. etc. all of it

hookups !! so many hookups. fwbs, one night stands, whatever.

uuhhhh god. i don’t know. im so sleepy rn. people in the same major or similar majors.

maybe a ride or die.

people he’s a bad influence on / an enabler towards / all around toxic for them / each other.

people he’s fought !! people who’ve seen him get into random fights and were like ‘uh wtf’

fellow shepherds !!

literally anything im not picky.

#huntingtonintro #death tw #grief tw #overdose tw #drugs tw #addiction tw #hospitalization tw #hypersexuality tw #murder tw #religion mentions #mental health tw

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viktcrr-archive · 5 years ago

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MAXENCE DANET FAUVEL / NONBINARY. — viktor samuels is really making a name for themselves as a tier 3 shepherd. i think that he/they are studying english + visual arts in their senior year at lockwood, living in peregrinis. originally from rochester, new york, viktor is known to be observant & ingenious, but can also be reticent & dependent. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

3/5 !!! once again ... little edits

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

a e s t h e t i c s

general info !!

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′0″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: uuuhhh god … probably pan tbh

stats

biography !!

drew disturbing pictures as a kid probably tbh that prompted one or two or five phone calls home 2 assure everything was fine.

has always been really … good at art, in general - from drawing to painting to playing with clay, that’s always been viktor’s Thing.

the only redeemable trait was like … his sheer talent with art. was in a 3d art AP course, specialized in sculpting - could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because his parents would be focused on disciplining him for his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with stuff easier. so like, y’know, that’s on the bright-side of things.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

went on a bender around the same time, had always struggled w/ drug addiction but it got worse the longer tatiana went without being found.

when her body was found, viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing and being hospitalized where he spent the next like … however long months … until they deemed him better.

stayed out of school until very recently b/c he just … didn’t want to go back. didn’t want to deal with it. didn’t want to be known as the dead girl’s twin. but then his mom kinda just was like ‘u go back 2 school or god so help me’ n he was like FINE.

so ya !! viktor’s back after being gone since tatiana’s body was found. that’s it, that’s him, a lil glimpse of his life.

trying to finish his senior year b/c he … obviously left before he could.

finding out that it was george who killed tatiana has ultimately ... caused viktor to spiral. his lows are some of his lowest, his highs are ... very high, but very bad. unstable & unpredictable in his actions it’s ... a whole thing :/

personality !!

the human embodiment of a gremlin, fed after midnight. a goblin, if u will. one of those cats with a narrow head and big ass ears. that’s him.

fashion alternates between e-boy (would b tik tok famous if he were like … 17), millennial beetlejuice, and like … goth in a crop top and sweatpants. big fan of crop tops. big fan of sweatpants.

i mean yeah okay he’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except He Feels Like It And Believes It. it’s fine he’s fine, we’re fine.

the preacher’s whore son, basically

i mean he also creates useless shit for no reason too. spent six months sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of him and then took a sledgehammer to it.

won’t talk about his time away b/c it’s not rly anybody’s business but ofc nothing is sacred to the watershed app, y’know, nothing’s private.

will literally just change the topic! abruptly, no warning, asks about the jonas brothers instead.

that being said he’s obsessed with tatiana’s death. tatiana was very much a rock for him, kinda dependent on her in a way? just … being there, y’know, kept him grounded.

emotionally unavailable while also like crying twice a day.

but like … also is emotional ?? as shit ?? it’s confusing. he’ll cry on a whim and then flip u off if u try to console him or like. ask him anything. will bite you.

( also a big fan of sfx makeup, has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids with a chainsaw (w/o the like … chain … or w/e … so it’s not actually Dangerous) around halloween

he’s generally never doing good, both mental health wise and morally.

would probably steal candy from a baby for the fun of it.

kinda introverted, recluse type who doesn’t rly like most people or going out, but he’ll go to parties if it means he’ll be high as shit.

pretty observant. likes to analyze people even though he’s probably not … fully right.

connections to the victims !!

tatiana samuels / his twin sister, other half - the only one able to control viktor.

george craig iii / close family friends ... they could appreciate each other, when viktor wasn’t being an outright asshole.

hana williams / ‘friends’ with benefits, their relationship was rocky at best but she was a good lay. have often fought due to their clash in personalities and viktor’s history with christoph.

christoph wainwright / an ex-hook up, an infrequent occasion whenever christoph wanted to tick off hana. viktor was often on board, never the one to consider others’ feelings.

wanted connections !!

he lives alone currently but like … ex - roommates where viktor was just. a nightmare to live with.

feel like a lot of enemies is also a possibility !! viktor’s messy.

people that like … knew tatiana. dated tatiana, even, and viktor would pretty much try to intimidate / scare them at any given chance :/

close friends of tatiana too

people who hated tatiana but liked viktor. people who hated viktor but liked tatiana

people who take pity on him and he Hates it viciously and vocally.

a band of hooligan gremlin kids who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers even though they’re all early to mid 20s.

the girl he lost his virginity 2 in high school lmao … a distant memory

fellow rochester locals, from church or school or whatever

exes from the past !! good terms and bad terms, but i love bad terms a whole lot mainly b/c viktor’s a jackass.

don’t know if he’s soft towards anybody but we can try. we can Try.

friends, old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. etc. all of it

hookups !! so many hookups. fwbs, one night stands, whatever.

uuhhhh god. i don’t know. im so sleepy rn. people in the same major or similar majors.

maybe a ride or die.

people he’s a bad influence on / an enabler towards / all around toxic for them / each other.

people he’s fought !! people who’ve seen him get into random fights and were like ‘uh wtf’

fellow shepherds !!

literally anything im not picky.

#wshintro #grief tw #death tw #overdose tw #addiction tw #hospitalization tw #hypersexuality tw #religion mention #mental illness tw

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thenamelesskitty-blog · 7 years ago

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Always Listen to Your Mother, Especially If She Might Be An Oracle (part 2/2)

I don’t know whether it was passed down or intuitive, but my grandmother’s apparent knowledge was at least life-saving. She called my grandfather, who was in the village, and told him to stick to the main road coming home. No unpaved shortcut. He didn’t understand, but trusted his wife. When he arrived home, he spent a long time standing outside, staring at the groaning shadow behind the trees.

He said nothing when he walked inside. He was pale and hugged his small family without a word.

After a relating his story until he was hoarse, Vasilhs was given a bath and put to bed. He listened to his parents speak quietly throughout the night, unable to make out the words but comforted by their existence.

The next day dawned quiet. Vas didn't need to be rousted after years of country labor and shambled hesitantly into the kitchen. It smelled amazing. His mother had put together a huge meal that included everyone's breakfast favorites.

No one had much appetite. No one spoke.

After nibbling on whatever portion of the meal they could swallow, the family rose at some unspoken signal. Vas's father moved to clean up.

His mother, solemn-faced, led her son into the bathroom. "We're going to fix this, Vasilhs," she promised. "But, you will not like this part."

Considering the sharp knife she carried, he believed her. Tears threatened once more, but he stubbornly set his lower jaw. The boy was surprised (and relieved) when she set the knife aside for a piece of paper and a marker. "Please show me EXACTLY what you carved," she instructed.

He nodded and went carefully to work, agonizing over the angle of the V and the placement of the K. His mother never once hurried him. (Her eyes were soft, he said, in retrospect. She was savoring the moments for what they were, unsure of what would come next. She touched him hair often.)

Finally, he hesitated on the K's second line, and trailed off into a thin mark. "This is where I stopped," he declared.

"Are you sure?" He hesitated, but then nodded. She returned the gesture. "Alright. Take off your shirt, Vas." The woman studied the drawing.

He started to comply, but hesitated at the knife she held once again. "Wh...what are you going to do?"

She tried to smile. The smile looked painful. "I am…so sorry, Vas. But, to make things right, I'm going to do to you precisely what you did to that tree."

As a kid, I was horrified for my dad at this part of the story. I mean, I guess I still am. But, looking back at it now, I can’t imagine how grandma felt. Dad didn’t remember his exact words, but he was sure there was pleading involved. He felt guilty, looking back, for making it harder on her.

He assures me that he screamed “like a little girl who’s not nearly as tough as you” when the cutting began, but got himself under control as his mother continued. I believe him. He was a stoic man and learned it young. Still, it’s a horrible scene to imagine.

Nonetheless, with a terrifying amount of blood soaking the old sweatshirt she’d tied around his waist, she eventually finished. It was time to go.

Dad, Vasilhs, was in a lot of pain. His father waited silently in the living room. The boy had never seen his father’s expression on anyone. The man stepped forward and hugged him, then beckoned Iro forward and hugged them both, murmuring assurances and promises they all knew he couldn’t keep.

Finally, grandfather in the lead, all three headed outside. Vas was surprised to see a large wheelbarrow of compost waiting. He was to push it, his mother explained. They would go with him, but he had to push alone.

He nodded. He’d have deafly agreed to anything, fixated as he was on the monstrous shadow still glowering from the trees.

He could see it a little, now. It was a conglomeration of dying, shocked, and occasionally vivacious plants from moss to whole trees, all contorted into the shape of a man. Vaguely. Very…very vaguely. Its “eyes” were tangle-clad rifts leading to some unwelcoming core. Its maw split horizontally and also from neck to forehead. Venus fly-trap teeth stabbed outward in every conceivable angle.

The monstrous forest guardian clearly possessed both arms and legs, but its arms had extended to the ground and taken root overnight. (It didn’t slouch like a gorilla: the arms stretched long from an upright position.) The legs were also rooted in the soil. Despite this, considering the uneasy undulations of said roots, no wise man would test the giant’s mobility.

Finally seeing his pursuer ranked near the top of Vas’s list of life traumas, second only to running from it the day before. In a moment, it would to number three.

His mother urged them all forward. He couldn’t move at first. He didn’t move at first. Despite having been raised to quickly follow directions like most children of rural laborers, he couldn’t obey. He couldn’t… until he did.

Once the wheelbarrow lumbered forward, the little family set off towards the monster together. Vas couldn’t help but notice his father’s unarmed state. A hand, one per parent, clasped each of his shoulders. Both grips were so tight they hurt. So long as they held him, he didn’t mind the pain.

As before, the giant didn’t leave the trees. Even so, the agitated acceleration of its undulating, snakelike component-plants removed any doubt that it saw them. The roots churned through packed earth like so much sand. The stench of too many rotting plants choked the humans as they approached. It glared down at them, then tore its massive arms out of the earth with two tremendous explosions. They glided upward with all the majesty of ancient trees. They should have been immovable. Instead, they were unstoppable.)

It was ready.

As the trio drew closer to the enraged and yet infinitely patient colossus, Vas’s mother squeezed his shoulder more tightly. (Her hand shook.) Then, rolling her own shoulders back, the woman strode boldly ahead of them.

She drew close. She approached despite the ability of any wooden limb to liquefy her. Despite how any writhing tendrils could thrust right through her soft, fragile body. She kept walking. She had to step over disturbed, shifting soil, stumbling when patches fell right out from under her and righting herself with outstretched arms.

She was frightened. She shook. And yet, she walked with her head high.

The giant allowed her close. The abyssal pits in its face angled almost straight down to watch the bold ape approach, both splits in its maw drifting slightly further apart. Its teeth were sharp, arm-length stakes.

Vas screamed for her to run. His father pounced, slamming a weathered hand over the boy’s mouth and pressing so hard it hurt. (The victim realized in retrospect that his elder had been crying.)

Iro, Vas eventually realized through his feral thrashing, was speaking in a loud, declarative tone. He stilled to listen. It wasn’t their language. Not quite. It was old, Hellenistic Greek. He could only pick out certain parts.

SON.

ATONE.

OFFERING.

The monstrous plant-construct didn’t react immediately. It didn’t seem to like moving fast unless riled. Finally, its four-pronged “mouth” opened to bellow a single sound in gut-twisting bass, so low as to dip below the range of the human ear and seem quieter than it was.

“COME.”

Vas’s mother turned to look back at the men. She smiled a loving, reassuring smile while the great forest entity turned around. (It didn’t physically rotate, but rather, reassembled its pieces and repositioned its “face.”) She turned to follow when its thundering steps resumed.

Vasilhs had never realized his mother was so beautiful. He’d never thought anyone could so beautiful…or so brave, or so perfect. He never thought he would see her again as she walked fearlessly through a literal wake of destruction. He had no words for the subarctic sense of loss.

He found himself following, unsure whether this had come about under his own initiative or his father’s nudge. It didn’t matter. The shirtless, frightened boy realized, as he put his back into pushing the heavy wheelbarrow, (the cuts in his chest stung and bled with renewed vigor,) that he wasn’t sure when his father had released him from the muffling bear hug, either.

Even on the unceremoniously-carved “path” left in the guardian’s wake, it was hard to push the wheelbarrow through the forest. The path, actually, was the opposite of helpful due to its speckles of debris.

Vas’s dad seemed unwilling to help push, but he did busy himself striding ahead and clearing the worst obstructions from the path. The monster and the speck of a woman behind it, for their part, stopped and waited when they got too far ahead.

It was a terrifying trip. Not in the same way it had been yesterday, when he’d merely been afraid for his life. Now that the vengeful, boy-eating colossus was in FRONT of him, immediate terror was replaced by a horrible sense of being watched.

Watched from everywhere.

Every leaf, shadow, and stone seemed to be judging him. It felt like tiny spirits or well-hidden nymphs peered at the brute who dared to bleed their sister, hating him with all their might and willing the utmost shame into his every step. Their unseen vitriol was so distracting that it took a good half hour for Vas to realized father dad was carrying a shovel.

His dad had a shovel, and his mom had a knife.

Son.

Atone.

Offering.

His trembling worsened.

It was impossible to tell whether the buzzing in his head and wheezing in his chest were from overexertion or terror. No, that wasn’t true. It was both. It was definitely both. He wanted to run away like he’d never wanted anything in his life. Turn and run. Join the circus or something.

That wasn’t true, either. He didn’t want to run away. Not like that, anyway. He just wanted to run from the monster. From this horrible myth he’d careened into for…what? Carving his initials into a tree like so many children before? He wanted to run home and hide under his blankets. Eventually, he’d wake up from this horrifying dream and smell breakfast.

His dad must be upset, too, considering how little attention he paid to their route. “Accidents aren’t accidents if they happen because you didn’t pay attention,” Vas had been told many times. The usually sure-footed man stumbled and fell frequently.

That made all this scarier. Even his protector was fallible.

As it turned out, mortal terror had an upside: it took no time at all to get from the edge of the forest to a place that immediately drained any blood Vas had left: the great oak. Apparently, the dryad’s tree. His mother waited beside it, all but hidden in the roots of her horrible guide. She stared quietly, smile slain by grief.

Vas’s dad wasn’t looking well. The man’s features had sunken during the course of the trip, skin pale and expression waxen. Still, a firm hand squeezed the child’s shoulder. “Come on, Vasilhs. Let’s take care of this as a family.”

The duo approached the figure between the giant’s feet, which was simultaneously familiar and not. She was wife and mother. She was dignified and almost priestly. She had been crying and worried. Now, she was stoic and sure. Vas felt the strange urge to kneel at her feet. He did. That earned a small, sad smile.

Then, the woman turned towards the oak tree—which towered above even the guardian-colossus—and raised both hands. (The knife remained clenched in one.) Her voice rose into some dialect of Hellenistic Greek again, tone strong and imploring.

Finally, she looked back to the child seated beside her, then turned her body to face him entirely. (Vasilhs could hear his father approaching with the shovel.) Her free hand joined the other in gripping the knife. It gleamed as it rose.

Everything had gone white and silent. Nothing was important enough for Vas to see. Nothing except his mother. He could only stare up at her face, vaguely aware of the cold tears on his cheeks. He didn’t scream. No screaming was allowed here in the white.

This was his mother. He loved her. She had been everything to him. Teacher, caretaker, disciplinarian, spiritual guide… best friend. Mother. He loved her. Would he really let her kill him? He knew, immediately, that the answer was “yes.”

Why wouldn’t he? There would be nothing left of his shattering heart if she would be willing to murder him. Going home would mean nothing at all.

She was speaking. He couldn’t hear the words.

The knife drew up for momentum. He couldn’t close his eyes.

It plunged down. It dove past him until it had embedded itself deeply into the soil before him, between his mother’s knees. “Accept this knife,” she cried in Modern Greek, “as we bury the agent and symbol of our aggression! Accept this labor and offering as a declaration of peace from your unwitting, regretful assailant!”

She leaned forward, setting a hand on the side of his hair to whisper in the opposite ear. “Take the shovel, Vas. Bury all the compost you worked so hard to bring here. It should make things right. No matter what, we’re here, and we love you.”

He was too stunned to do anything but wordlessly comply.

It was long, hard work digging deep enough (especially while paranoid of nicking any of tree roots), but Vasilhs hardly noticed. He was relieved to the point of ecstasy. He was pretty sure he knew how Isaac felt after Abraham let him off the altar.

Part of him wanted to dismiss all his prior fears as silly. Of course his mother hadn’t convinced his dad to sacrifice him to a dryad in the middle of the forest. That was stupid; it wasn’t even a good story. Dryads weren’t real. Definitely mythological. He definitely wasn’t in the middle of offering a bunch of rotted animal parts to one because he’d accidentally bled her tree, narrowly survived getting chased out of the forest by some kind of plant-monster, and because his mom said so.

Dang it.

He wondered whether he’d be allowed to swear after this. He felt as though he’d earned it.

Time passed strangely. It passed with his mother and father standing by, followed by his mother standing and his father sitting. The hole pressed deep, rich compost covered its bottom, and nutritious rot gradually filled the pit.

As the boy finished covering his offering with displaced dirt, patting the area level with the back of his shovel, he noticed something significant in the moment but couldn’t quite decide what it was. After a gauntlet of nightmare after nightmare, he couldn’t reconcile being finished.

He stared at the flattened ground, willing it to do something.

Would he wake up in his bed, now? Would his hairless chest still gleam with an unfinished “VK”? Was he –

He wasn’t.

Enormous fingers of bark-striated wood pinched him tight and plucked him from the ground like an early blossom. His mother was screaming. Vas was screaming. He was also running in the air and swinging the shovel, neither of which helped.

The colossus somehow managed to lift the squishy little biped without crushing him. With a cacophonous symphony of groaning wood and percussive cracks, its head tilted back as its prey rose directly above its face. (A small trickle ran down one of the boy’s legs.)

His mother attacked the giant for the first time, beating against its foot and pulling at thinner-looking striations, all of which were utterly ineffective. The elder Mr. Katsaros fought even harder despite his strange fatigue. He achieved just as little.

Vas had been staring into chasms that mimicked eyes. They looked uncannily like snake pits from here, with nets of writhing, undulating stems crisscrossing over abyssal gaps beneath. Then, his attention turned wholly to the maw groaning open.

Its great mouth split a thunderous crack, and then kept opening. It had to be wide before its cage of venus flytrap-teeth cleared the way. Vas stopped thrashing and curled into a mid-air fetal position, wide-eyed and all-too-aware that breaking loose would now be BAD.

It dropped him.

Every human shrieked the same keening, unholy wail.

He passed the teeth.

He slammed to a stop.

Vas stared into the flesh-grinding horror beneath him, white-knuckled and unable to comprehend his salvation. When he finally looked up and saw the shovel, which bridged the center of its mouth, his shriek turned to giddy laughter in the same octave.

After several moments of stillness, the monstrosity’s vertical mouth cracked open. Child and shovel disappeared in a blink.

Dad—Vas—doesn’t remember what happened next. Being eaten by a giant plant golem seemed like a good time to black out from sheer terror. He can’t say whether he fainted or just lost the memory. The next thing he remembers is the face.

Somehow, little Vas went from inside the colossus to being safely deposited in the great oak’s branches, face-to-face with the initials he’d carved… and eye-to-eye with something between a relief sculpture and a drawing in the bark.

He couldn’t do anything, petrified as one who had ogled Medusa. And yet, this wasn’t a monster, and he wasn’t scared. The face in the tree, which tilted through rippling bark to better observe him, was more beautiful than any person he could imagine.

Vas swallowed hard. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally, an awe-stricken voice burbled out of him, quiet and nervous. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll be respectful of this tree for as long as I live. I p… promise. I promise.”

The face—she was so beautiful, eyes so gentle—tilted in the other direction, continuing to regard the young vandal. Finally, her perfect eyes softened further. She smiled, nodding once. He fell in love with her in that moment. He’d love her for the rest of his life.

When the dryad forgave him, something else began to happen. The plant-golem, the colossal guardian of this perfect being, began to glow at its outermost edges. Leaf-like flakes of light broke free and drifted away in great, lackadaisical swarms.

The flecks twirled and fluttered in a sudden breeze, as leaves should. Some drifted to the ground. Saplings sprouted where they fell. Saplings, bushes, grasses: the destruction wrought by the guardian’s creation disappeared in a manic rush of new growth.

The flow of glowing leaves quickened continually, flying from what was left of the golem’s torso and streaming from its legs to swarm down the ruined swath of woodland. It would be years before large trees grew there, but vibrant green smoothed the hurt away.

Vasilhs didn’t know how long he watched all this. He didn’t know how long he stared at the oak afterward, willing its suddenly-absent face to reappear. At some point, he climbed down. At the bottom, he hugged both parents tightly.

All of them cried together.

Then, right at the happy ending, his father collapsed.

A startled cry of dismay accompanied Vas’s mom as she dropped with her husband, clinging to him for all she was worth and awkwardly preventing him from hitting the ground full-force. Vas helped with all his ten-year-old might.

The man was shaking his head and trying to wave off the assistance by the time he reached the dirt, reassuring his wife and generally pretending he hadn’t just dropped like a sack of flour. She, being an alarmed Greek woman, paid no attention to his bullshit claims of physical sanctity, taking his pulse and feeling his head and looking him over and generally fretting and telling him to stop saying stupid things.

Vasilhs understood that his mother, in this mood, was the boss of everyone, even his dad. Of course, everyone knew that. Finally, after a long check-up of the man’s suddenly, unbelievably hallow cheeks and drained, dark-veined countenance, the woman cringed, patted beneath the collar of his shirt, and checked both the patient’s wrists. Then, she wailed.

“Ah! Love, my stupid, stubborn love! You’re not wearing your filhata!”

Vas’s eyes widened. He glanced down at the “stupid baby charm” around his neck, the closest thing to clothing on his upper body. No way.

Iro leapt back into action, jerking the man’s shirt up and over his head, which muffled his cries of protest. “Vasilhs,” she snapped, clear and authoritarian, “go back up the tree. Ask the Dryad very nicely to take some of the blood you already drew.”

Well, that sounded like a terrible idea.

Some wide-eyed part of him thought that. Another realized that he had to save his dad. So, he hurried up by gnarl and branch by branch, terribly careful to avoid breaking anything, until he arrived, winded, in front of his carving.

The dryad’s face hadn’t returned, of course. Vas cringed, looking around. How did you summon a dryad? Did you have to? Was she listening? She just lived right in the tree, right? What part of the tree? He felt distinctly foolish when he started talking to the trunk.

“Um…hey, so I’m still sorry, and I’m REALLY, REALLY sorry, but my dad is sick all of a sudden. Or cursed? Something like that. Like, evil eye times a thousand…oh, shoot. Yeah, I could totally feel the whole forest staring at us when we were walking back here. Oh my gosh, that’s what happened.”

The epiphany left him wide-eyed and covering his mouth. Still, the boy cringed at the sudden memory of the here and now, setting his jaw and looking up as stoically as she could, fists balled and narrow shoulders squaring. “My mother requests that I, please, with your permission, take some of the blood-sap that’s already here. Sorry. Please.”

The beautiful face didn’t reappear, no matter how he longed to see it again. Nor did anyone or anything speak. Vas bit his lip, after a time, and pushed gently on the iron-strong wood. He was just about to repeat his request when something tickled his hand.

He looked down to see a fresh, bright trickle of the thin sap pooling against it.

“Oh. Oh, thank you! You’re beautiful. You’re kind. You’re kind. Thank you. Thank you. Bless you.” As he spat rapid-fire assurances of awed gratitude, Vas—realizing he had nowhere better to put it—scooped as much of it as he could get into his palm.

He climbed down the tree as fast as he could with one hand. His mother looked ready to faint with relief. (For a moment, he was afraid she would, and found himself wondering how to treat the evil eye by himself.)

She dipped two fingers carefully into the precious, powerful sap. After several returns to that inkwell, a red eye had been drawn under her husband’s collarbone while Vas looked on in rapt, fascinated horror. Then, she began to say the blessing.

Vasilhs didn’t know what all she said. Not exactly. He knew that she was imploring old Gods and saying things the Orothodox Priest wouldn’t approve of at all. He couldn’t be shocked or mad. He was too busy watching and being terrified.

After the third repetition, the bloody sigil lit up in gold-green. The man gasped. One of his wife’s hands arched over the mark, fingertips pressed lightly into his skin, as she called something else in that archaic tongue. Then, her fingers jerked down, clawing the eye-mark apart.

Its light went dull, then faded slowly to nothing.

Nothing responded except the breeze.

Finally, the patient gasped a shaking breath, filling his lungs greedily the moment he was capable of doing so. His face gained color rapidly, cheeks filling out in increments. The pain in eyes faded entirely.

There was hugging. There were kisses and blessings and appropriate wonderment expressed towards wife and mother Iro Katsaros, who would march up to a monster or take on the supernatural. For her part, grandma only doted on them both, laughing and tearfully relieved.

At least, she did for awhile. There was lots of talk about what troublemakers both men were and that this was why you listened when she said to wear your filhata and she was sick of worrying and… insert other Greek stuff here. They lived happily and loudly ever after.

That’s the story my dad told me. Unlike some others, I can’t personally vouch for it. I will say, however, that my father was a very honest man who never let me run around without a filhata. I can also confirm there’s a wide scar in the forest, starting at the edge and ending at the great oak, that’s all new growth and young trees.

And, though it was faded by time, his chest still bore the scar.

VK.

#Greek #Greece #Mythology #Oracle #Dryad #EvilEye #Charm #Magick #Filhata #scary #Creepypasta #Horror #family #feminist #shortstory #swlrp #secret world rp #xenekatsaros

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justcallmesailor · 7 years ago

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May I please I have a Reign male ship please? I am a female, about 5'10 (sadly) with sickly pale skin (kinda goes with my weak immune system) with light blue, silvery eyes, and long dark red hair. I am told I'm kind, caring, selfless, a bit too ambitious, insecure and stubborn, but I will help anyone I can. I love reading, writing, and singing (musical theatre is my passion). I often put others before myself, which can effect me negatively but I care less. Thank you so much. I adore your writing

No problem. Also, thanks. I ship you with Bash! While he loves how selfless you are, it gets on his nerves sometimes. The combination of self-sacrificing tendencies and stubbornness the both of you exhibit often ends in lengthy “arguments” that mainly consist of who gets to actually sacrifice for the other. As soon as he find out you liked to write, he would constantly come up with crazy plots for you. Even though he knew you’d never use them, he enjoyed seeing the smile that would come to your face. He often leaves little notes in all of your favorite books, most of them cliche “love notes” of course.

How you two met:

You met Bash many years ago when you both were kids. Your parents had sent you to French Court in an attempt to keep you from getting sick. Before you had officially met, you watched him from afar with a small bit of jealousy. He was always outside, whether it was running around for fun or for the purpose of learning, and you almost never were.

Eventually, one of your lessons had to be outside. That was when you had your first conversation with him. It was quite an awkward conversation, really, because both of you were trying to let the other speak first. You wish you could say it was love at first sight but, alas, it was not. The two of you were like every other child at that age, you had no interest in the opposite gender. You didn’t actually become friends until he covered for you when you wanted to go with him outside on a sunny day.

As you grew older and grew closer, the feelings started to develop. At first it was small signs that you liked each other, such as him being mesmerized while hearing you sing for the first time or you getting jealous when watching him flirt with other girls. Your interactions with each other were “saucier” when the two of you realized had any feelings. Both sides remained oblivious even though you and Bash were flirting with each other. Everyone noticed before the two of you, mostly because you two were extremely insecure when it came to romance.

You continued like this for awhile. The flirting would increase from time to time, whether it was you or Bash touching the other more in whatever way you could (pushing hair out of the face, friendly smack on the arm, poking the other, etc.), suggestive jokes, or cheesy pick up lines.

Your first date:

It was another one of those many nights in French court that was filled with drama and parties. You had withdrawn into one of the various halls, needing some quiet from the constant problems everyone seemed to have. You had found that, since arriving, you had turned into a therapist for just about every person in the court. You couldn’t bring yourself to say no when people asked if you were able to spare some time for them, though, so you were always busy hearing about everybody’s superficial drama.

That was how you found yourself on an overly luxurious couch, late at night, reading one of your various books. As you went to turn the page, another hand came into your view and turned it for you. You glanced up and found yourself lost in an aquamarine gaze.

“Bash.” You smiled. “(Y/N). Do you mind if I join you?”

You shook your head and he sat down next to you. It was a comfortable silence as you read. You could sense that Bash was looking over your shoulder, reading along with you. You chuckled and paused reading, “Should I read aloud? You’re reading with me, anyways.” He smiled and nodded. You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly as well; you began to read quietly since no one else was there.

The pages started to fade together, your voice was working on autopilot now. This was mostly due to the arm resting on your shoulder and the hand in your hair. You stole a quick peek over at him only to find that he was currently staring at you. Both of you quickly looked at away and you knew that your face had a pink tint to it now.

“Ba-” “(Y/-” At nearly the same time, you two turned to the other and were about to speak up. You laughed and gestured to him, “You first.” He sighed, knowing that if he disagreed you’d be caught in a loop again, “Fine. I was simply wondering if um…if you..” You set down the book, “Well? Get on with it..” He suddenly gained a serious expression, “I was wondering if you have any feelings for me.”

Out of all the things he could’ve said right then, that was the last thing you expected. You were now caught like a fish out of water. What do you even say in response? Well, technically, you didn’t have to say anything. Thus, you nodded meekly.

An awkward moment fell between the two of you; you watched him, tense, and it appeared that he was fixated on looking at something outside the window. You frowned, “I’m sorry if I just messed things u-” It was impossible to finish that sentence because Bash suddenly turned and pressed his lips to yours. As you were trying to figure out what just happened, he pulled away slightly and murmured, “Good. I have feelings for you, as well.”

Who ships the two of you:

Francis does, of course. Seeing his brother happy makes him happy. He makes quite a few attempts to get to know you. You weren’t very good friends with Francis as a kid, seeing as most of your attention went to Bash, but you’re closer now that you’re essentially part of the family. Being with the king’s bastard child obviously draws attention to you but Francis makes sure to distinguish any rumors before they spread too far. He really doesn’t want to see the aftermath of any drama brought to you or Bash. Without your knowledge, many of your gifts are actually Francis’ idea because Bash is slightly clueless when it comes to you.

There you have it, folks! One of the first requests for the day. I’m trying to get everything in my drafts done (I currently have three more ships). Anything that arrives in my inbox will probably be at least a couple more days because I need to get my AP Language summer reading done. After three/four days it’s my own procrastination, though. Anyways, hope you enjoy reading this, as always!

#ship #ship request #reign #sebastian de poitiers

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colormecosmic · 8 years ago

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I just finished a project for my education class that I would like to share with y’all. Our assignment is to answer who we were as our best student and who we were as our worst and what do we need to be our best student selves, and present it along with an image. I felt that my favorite passage and drawings from The Little Prince represented my thoughts best. Students who are currently finishing up high school and worried about college admissions, this one is for you!

A message from a student who understands what’s it like, to anyone who needs a little reassurance that it’s going to be okay:

My best as a student was simultaneously me being my worst as a student. In high school, I got A’s, I took AP courses, I had leadership roles and multiple extracurricular activities. I appeared to be a well-rounded student. Yet, at the same time, every day of junior and senior year of high school, I copied math homework from the back of the book, “bs-‘ed” some of my literature essays, and barely kept my club afloat as president, all on about an average of 4 hours of sleep each night. I learned more about test-taking strategies than the content of the course. I did everything I could to get by and ultimately, although sleep-deprived and barely functioning, I looked good “on paper”. I had to, after all. As an Asian-American growing up in an predominantly Asian community, the stereotypes made me believe there was only one way to make it— major in biology or mathematics to become a doctor or a scientist. Being the oldest daughter of Asian immigrant parents, there is huge pressure to succeed, to prove that your parents’ struggle was worth it, so you can only imagine how I disappointed in myself I felt when I didn’t feel competent or interested in either of those subjects. My passions led me down the liberal arts path. I struggled to call myself a psychology and human development major for the longest time. When my dad asked how to spell “psychology” so he could tell my aunt what I was majoring in, I felt ashamed and told him, “No it’s okay, you don’t have to.” I had no idea if I was going to be successful with what society called a “useless degree” and I didn’t want him to feel judged if my relatives told him the same.

In Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s famous The Little Prince, the narrator’s childhood drawing was constantly misinterpreted by adults. Whenever he tried to explain his drawing to show them what’s beneath the surface, adults told him to set it aside and get a more practical hobby. Adults only ever ask me what I’m majoring in, but they never ask why. If they asked, I would have had a chance to explain my interest in mental health and why I’m so concerned for the well-being of students. I would tell them that my closest friends have encountered depression and anxiety, and that I, too, have had my own battles with anxiety and low self-esteem. I would explain to them how some kids are so worried about disappointing their parents, they work so hard in school to the point they don’t sleep or eat or want to live. Yet, instead of asking why I would choose such a major, they just tell me how difficult it would be to find a job. Adults seem to fixate on one path to success and expect us to follow it without questioning. They lack the creativity it takes to think outside of the box and ask new questions and make new comments. Yes, they want what’s best for us, but do not realize every child is different in needs and desires. Hence, I believe educators, parents, and adults in general should let us know that we have a lifetime to be who we want to be and that there are various pathways to get there, not make us think we have to decide by the time we click “submit” on our college applications. And if we do reach higher education, we need to be told that no matter what we choose to learn, that as long as we’re learning something, we’ll be okay and enough, as us, as who we are.

So if you’re reading this, know that the education system (in America at least) often treats some subjects as more important than others, but that doesn’t mean your interests in the “less valued” subjects are less important. Defy stereotypes. Pursue what you want and love. You have time. Take some time to take care of yourself, mentally and physically. You’re enough and you’ll be just fine. Don’t learn to get by, learn to grow.

#studyblr #study tips #college admissions #university #mental health #personal #colormecosmic #studyspo #studyspiration

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slayxwolf · 8 years ago

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Stiles Stilinski Imagine- Let Me Talk

Masterlist

Request: Could you do a Stiles imagine where he keeps trying to tell the reader that he loves her but he keeps getting interrupted by school bells, friends or any distraction you can think of and he eventually he gets so frustrated that he just yells it in front of all your shared friends aka the pack? I feel like this would be really cute and pretty damn funny😂

Word Count: 1,789

Scott and Stiles stood waiting at their lockers, as they did every morning. “Every time I see her, my heart does the thing” he exclaimed. “I know” Scott nod his head. “It’s like I can feel my pulse quicken” he continued. “I hear” Scott agreed. “I think I love her-” Stiles cooed, but before Scott could reply you turned the corner. “You love who Stilinski?” you asked with a smile. “Oh erm ermm- the lunch lady” he lied terribly. “You think you love the lunch lady?” you asked with raised eyebrows. “Oh erm yeah” he said, his voice breaking half way through. Scott had to shove his head in his locker to stop himself from laughing. “Y/n thank god! Kira’s having a little girl trouble in the bathroom, I need your help ASAP!” she said in relief. “So I’ll see you later I guess” you said with a questioning look, before following Lydia down the hall. “Yeah, we have first period together, remember?” Stiles called after you. Scott finally burst out laughing, after watching his best friend’s pathetic excuse of flirting. “You knew she was coming, you complete dick” he said, punching Scott playfully in the arm. “Come on lover boy” Scott laughed, putting his arm around Stiles’ neck and pulling him down the hallway.

You walked into your English class and sat at your usual desk and Stiles soon followed, taking his next to you. You reached into your bag and began to sift through all of your notebooks to find a pen. “Y/n, Y/n!” he whispered, while the teacher was still setting up the lesson. You sat up and turned to face him. “About what I said earlier-” he began. An automatic smirk crept across your lips, at the thought of Stiles fancying the 60 year old, married lunch lady. “So you don't love the lunch lady?” you asked, as you tilted your head. “No, in fact I was talking about someone else” he began to explain, his voice getting quieter. “Can everyone turn to chapter five please” your teacher finally spoke. You did as instructed, but you still felt Stiles’ eyes on you. “We’ll talk about it later, it’s okay if you fancy older women” you brushed it off. You promised to improve your grades and attendance this year and that also included reducing your detentions and improving your behaviour in class. “I don't fancy the lunch lady” he accidently raised his voice, causing the class to laugh. “Thank you for that Stiles, but not relevant” your teacher commented. You bit back a laugh as he slowly sank into his seat.

After first period Stiles planned on telling you his true feelings, just to get it over and done with, he didn't have the time for romance. He waited for you to gather your things as he stood and waited for you. You noticed how his foot tapped at an alarming rate. “What’s the hurry?” you asked with a smile. “Come on” he said. grabbing your arm gently and pulling you out of the classroom. You gave him a weird look as he finally let go of you as you reached the bottom of the stairwell. “You’re being really odd today, are you feeling alright?” you asked, half amused half concerned. “I'm fine, there’s just something I need to tell you” he exclaimed, speaking at 40mph. “Shoot” you said casually, not thinking anything of it. He took a deep breath but before he could say a word the school bell rang loudly. Students began to pour into the hallway. Someone bumped into you, drawing your attention away from Stiles and then more people began to bump into the pair of you as you were blocking the way to the stairs. Before you knew it, you had drifted away from one another in the masses of eager freshman and large groups of students. “Tell me later!” you shouted into the air, no longer knowing where he was. “It’s kind of important” he shouted back, but you couldn't hear him, you had already travelled half way down the hall somehow. Stiles felt someone grip onto his shirt and pull him out of the crowd. “Don't say anything” Stiles huffed. “That was pathetic” Scott told, having watched the whole situation. “Maybe you should wait to tell her, maybe not at school?” Scott suggested. “It’s now or never, otherwise I’ll overthink and might never tell her” Stiles explained. “She likes you Stiles. Her feelings aren't going to change overnight, why don't you wait and make it special?” Scott asked rationally. “You're right, I guess I can wait a day” he agreed. Scott smiled and patted his best friend on the shoulder as they walked to lesson together.

“I cant wait any longer” Stiles whispered. It was break and you all decided to go to the library because it was cold and the only place with any good heating, considering not all of you had wolf heat. “It’s literally been an hour since we agreed on you doing it tomorrow” Scott sighed, putting his head in his hands. “I know, but look at her” he said in admiration, staring over at the table you were on. Lydia was helping you with your homework and you’d never looked more beautiful, you sat with a furrowed brow staring down at your paper with your hair tucked behind your ear. You glanced up and caught eye contact with Stiles, his eyes were glazed and you laughed as he snapped out of his gaze. “I'm doing it now” he stood up from his chair and began to walk over to you slowly, shaking his sweaty hands and not looking away from you as you scribbled onto your paper. He was about half way across the library when suddenly he felt something hard hit him as he fell to the ground. Books and sheets of paper flew everywhere and there was an eruption of quiet giggles and hushes. Stiles pealed the paper that was covering his eyes to see Liam lying on top of him with an awkward expression on his face. “Get. Off. Of. Me” Stiles sounded concerningly calm. Liam lifted himself up and offered his hand out to help Stiles, “I'm sorry I wasn't looking where I was going and I didn't see you walking towards me and-” he barely finished his rambling before Stiles became distracted and rushed off. “ Where’s Y/n?” he asked, half out of breath. “Oh she had to leave, she told me to ask if you were okay though” Lydia said, packing her own books away. “Great” he said with an eye roll. “Honestly you’re making this crush of yours so obvious, why are you so desperate to talk to her?” she asked with a smirk. “I'm telling her that I - Wait, you know I like her?” he asked as his mouth gaped open. “Yes Stiles, I'm surprised she hasn't figured it out herself” she shook her head with a smile. “Whatever it is you need to talk to her about you have two hours because she’s going home early after lunch” she added, before walking away to her next optional AP class. “Two hours, you can do this” he breathed.

He wasn't in your next lesson and time couldn't have gone slower. Malia watched, shaking her head as he sat there looking at the clock with a stupid expression on his face. The sound of him clicking his pen to the noise of the clock ticking echoed in her head for the whole period. As soon as the bell for lunch went he practically ran to the school cafeteria. He was the first on your usual table, Malia followed swiftly behind, confused as to why he didn't walk down with her. Kira and Scott then followed and took their seats. Liam and Mason sat on the edge of the table, he was still embarrassed by the whole falling on him thing. Finally you walked over with Lydia. You took your seat at the other end of the table, opposite Stiles. You ate your lunch while you all talked as usual, though you couldn’t help notice as Stiles stared down at the table. Hayden had also joined you all at this point. “Are you okay?” you asked, breaking away from the conversation. “I need to tell you something” he tried to say quietly. “Oh yeah, sure” you smiled. “I lo-” he began for what seemed like the 100th time that day. “Y/L/N, did you forget about your lunch detention today for skipping class you little delinquent?” Coach asked, blowing his whistle. You took a sip of your coffee and turned to look at him, “I have no idea what you’re talking about” you said innocently. “Now!” he called, but before you could reply someone interrupted. “Coach...Shut up” Stiles said sarcastically. “I have been trying to say this all day and I have been interrupted for the last time!” he said standing up. “I love you Y/n, there I said it. I am completely and utterly in love with you” he said a little too loudly, only focusing on you. Half of the students in the cafeteria where staring at you, including all of your friends; who were sitting there with huge grins and smirks on their faces. You almost spat your coffee all over him. You had a shocked expression on your face for a second, before a bright smile formed. For some strange reason you weren't embarrassed, only wrapped up in the though of the boy you had liked forever liking you back. “I love you too” you blushed, never thinking this would be the first time you’d say that to him. “Right that's enough, come on” Coach said with a disgusted look on his face. You were practically pulled out of the room but your eyes remained fixated on Stiles’.

Later on someone knocked on your front door and you knew exactly who it was. “Did you really mean it?” he asked without hesitation, walking in. “Of course I did” you smiled widely. “So what now?” he asked with a grin on his face. “People who love each other, should be together” you implied. “I guess you’re right” he agreed. After the hectic day he’d had, you thought you may as well give him a hectic end. You wrapped your arms around his neck and felt his around your waist as he leant down and pressed his lips to yours in a long awaited kiss. The passion was something you’d never change about the two of you and it was something you’d never lose. You loved him and he adored you. As much as he had hated that day, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Sorry its kind of rushed but I waned to get something out x

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findinganewshrubbery · 7 years ago

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Old Bri’we

When the prospect of sparring Xo’catl came up, Bri would have been lying if she said she had dutifully stepped up as the most durable and adaptable of contenders and offered her services. No, she had -lept- at the chance, and didn't look back. Her preparations had seemed simple, but in truth there was a bit more to them than met the eye.

The first step, had been reaching for each of those segmented sets of instincts and gathering them up, synchronising bear, bat and cat to draw from each at the same time. Empowering herself with a little bit of what was normally inaccessible outside of shapeshifting. But there was more. She was always so controlled, when it came to things that excited her, knowing that it was easy to slip. Easy to get stuck with that itch that went to her bones that could only be sated by whatever she had fixated on revealing its secrets, every last one. Knowing that once she got stuck, it would change how things would be.

She knew part of the problem was the fact that she was clumsy in ways that seemed so natural to the meatbags that surrounded her, and that much as she tried to ape their methods sometimes the mask would slip and she would step left where everyone else stepped right to leave her in the spotlight she both craved and cringed away from.

Xo’catl had proven a unique companion, in that he was one of a handful people she had ever slipped up in front of, one of three it had been deliberate for. He hadn't seemed to judge her when she had stolen his jaguar pelt and plopped it on, merely recovering it and mentioning nothing of the oddities she had let surface. and then, with the chance to spar him… It both tickled that ‘nobody else has done this’ itch and the chance to let her mask slip and actually enjoy something that wasn’t her Necromancer. It was hard, letting go of that restriction she put on herself, far harder than trying to control her temper, but the major thought that ran through her head helped.

_-Just when was the last time I let myself cut loose? He’s the Apex. He can handle it. He won’t think less of me if I enjoy it.-_

Her fur floofed out as that first tingle of excitement ran through her, and she was ready.

_-I have to be careful. I don’t have to be careful. He is Xo’catl, and he is sturdy~.-_

She stepped back, rolling her shoulders and stretching and letting the anticipation tingle across her tongue. Xo’catl had the potential to be particularly dangerous; he was strong, fast, agile, and cunning. The restraint he would have to exercise would be an unfortunate shackle, if a necessary one, but that fact hardly did anything to dampen her enthusiasm. In terms of pure, physical combat, he was the best in the area. She fought to keep the excitement out of her voice, but only out of politeness. He knew. He always knew.

“You ready?”

_-Ohh, what a challenge~!-_

The Apex gripped his axes, shifting them in his hands as if to reassure himself already.

“We are.”

It was all the confirmation she needed, putting her head down and bolting forward. The mark on her face was cold as air hit the wet streaks of blood along her fur, and the same lightness that filled her while running as a panther surged through her. A quick trajectory was plotted, and just out of arm's reach she planted the end of the staffspear and flung herself upwards, leading with her feet. He twisted on the impact to steal most of the force of the blow, and her eyes widened appreciatively at how quickly he recovered. No stagger, not even a stumble as he came back around with the back of the axe to use like a mace.

She felt the impact against her hip, and shivered as she let instinct and thought blend together while the Panther curled and coiled under her skin, leading her through the steps required without a thought. As she spun through the air, she twisted herself using each following impact against the ground to orient herself back upright, already in the process of surging forward once more as automatically a shimmer of green trailed along her hip.

_-Broken pelvic flange, spreading cracks. Again~!-_

She knew would feel that one later, as her pulse surged with the adrenaline and the cracks reknit back together with each step. The druid had almost gotten all the way past the Apex, his head following her trajectory and stance shifting in a preemptive motion to pounce before doubling over as the staffspear connected across his torso to knock the breath out of him.

_-Clever Zandalari, too clever. Let go a little~. Match me. Fight!-_

She had settled lightly after the impact, watching how the Primals eyes had started to constrict, how his torso shifted to finally suck in a proper lungful of air and how he reached up and then brought that heavy axe down. Reversed once more to prevent a possible dismembering, Bri’we noted, and felt her lips starting to twitch upwards. She wasn’t settled properly enough to bolt to the sides, couldn’t move fast enough to get out from under it, and planted herself. The axe impacted atop her shoulder with the crunch of reinforced wood breaking under the strain, leaves dislodged, and -clack- of metal across the enchanted, sturdy wood of the staffspear.

She felt the blow in her hip more than her shoulder, heightened regeneration disrupted briefly as cracks spread once more from the point of the previous break. She had diffused most of the force of the blow, fortunately, preventing anything else from being broken. It would swell later, but for now the druid lost the throb amongst the storm that had suffused her. Her pulse pounded in her ears, even as delight and war danced in her blood. She pressed upwards, smiling as she started her counter.

_-I want proof. I want one of his tusks. I will wear it and the world will know that even the Best can be Beaten~.-_

The upwards press with the staffspear angled, and then went outwards to buy her that inch of space she needed to disengage the weapon and spin to gain some momentum so that she could crack it across those jutting tusks. Neither broke, but she didn’t have much time to mourn the lost opportunity as as Xo’catl stumbled back with axes raised, hissing and bristling. He took a more deliberate step back, giving ground, giving way.

_-Trap, tricks and falsehoods! The Apex does not give ground!-_

The line of thought was proven true as the Apex sprang forward with both axes raised, blades bared as he brought them both down towards her uninjured shoulder. Two things happened, in the heartbeat before the impact came.

She felt light, lighter than she ever had as she watched both blades descend while the world about her slowed. The intricate detail on both axes caught her eye, and she appreciated their beauty even as she started to bring the staffspear upwards on an angle. There was no fear, only that razor's edge of focus, and her eyes slid past the weapons to focus on the Zandalari’s face.

_-His face. I can see his FACE.-_

His eyes were blue. The colour had never registered before, in all the times she had noted the size or shape of the pupils. It had always been simply an indicator of his state of being. They were set under prominent ridges that gave his angular features a true raptor’s cast. His jaws had opened, revealing the fanged maw that, theoretically, she had known was there but was only truly seeing for the first time.

“BREAK!”

Ridges spread out from the enchanted wood in her hands as the axes were caught along the side of the staffspear and slid to the side, sparks brightening the darkened glade as they slid along the ironwood haft. Strength surged through her arms even as the jagged, spined end of the weapon rounded and blunted itself so that as she stepped in to whump it into his torso, it wouldn’t puncture him and go through.

“But I’m Havin’ FUN!”

This. This was what she had been seeking. In all the spars amongst the clan members, she had been right in guessing that only the Apex could provide what was needed to get her into this heightened state of awareness, of existence!

_-A worthy opponent! A proper Challenger! I Will Be KING!-_

The impact lifted the much larger male from the ground by almost an inch, and he stumbled as he landed, folding in on himself. Struggling to breath, the Apex shook his head as if to clear it before rearing back with his jaws pulled open in preparation to pounce and-

And he clapped the axes against his torso as he reached the height of what would have become a lunge, stepping back and rumbling. Every physical fiber of his being was primed to continue, and yet instead of the next step to their dance, words came forth.

“Stop! Stop. Win. You win. Need Stop.”

_-WHAT!? NO!!! I-_

_-This is not a win! You still stand! You still…-_

_-If I ever want to be able to do this again, I must do this thing, even if it burns.-_

The manic grin that had spread across her face vanished as she promptly lowered herself into a submissive crouch, keeping her head down to hide the way her teeth were bared in frustration. The druid backed away slowly, carefully even as she lightly set the staffspear down. Visual cues that she was no threat, no challenger, barely hearing a word that he uttered in broken zandali to bring himself down from the edge through the thundering tempo of her pulse.

It took a long moment for the Druid to settle into a comfortable niche between readiness and relaxed, a long moment spent focusing on mending the broken piece of her pelvis.

-That will hurt for a few days.-

Bri glanced at Xo’catl from under her hood, eyes holding a faint green glow.

_-Worth it.-_

She kept her voice low when she spoke, soft and gentle, analyzing the cadence of his responses coupled with the words he chose, and felt a coil of confidence curl through her chest.They’d do this again. It was only a matter of being patient until the next opportunity arose.

The druid lowered her head once more to hide the way a manic grin split her face.

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stillinstyle · 7 years ago

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Nano Day 3

With my buddies out of the picture and no drink in my hand, I felt more out of place then ever, so I decided to do what any good, faithful friend would have done in that situation - wait an appropriate amount of time, then sneak on over to where Tart and Lark were talking, close enough to eavesdrop but not close enough to look like a creepy stalker who collected his roommate’s shed body hair in the shower. Yeah, I complained all the time about Tart’s constant fixation on Lark Clarentine, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t invested in his attempts to win the girl. Plus, I told myself, if he ever got her to agree to go out with him, we might get a three day hiatus from the mooning. It did not take me very long to realize that it was not going well. “I don’t even know why you’re wasting your time,” Lark was saying. Her tone was so bored there was no way it wasn’t affected. No one, in any situation, sounds that bored without trying. I know this for certain because I made Gentry sit through a twenty-five minute practice run through of my science fair project last year, and even he didn’t manage to sound as utterly disinterested as Lark did. “I feel like I’ve made it pretty clear, even to someone as thick-headed and, frankly, slow as you, that I am one girl you will not be adding to your little collection.” “Collection?” Tart spluttered. “Lark, it’s not like that, okay? I don’t have any kind of collection. I’ve barely dated anyone. I’m not this playboy or whatever.” Lark looked pointedly at the kisses on his cheeks. They started to turn pink. “What, this? This isn’t…we’re just playing a game. It was Gentry’s idea. You know, see which one of can get the most girls to kiss him by the end of the party.” “Fun,” Lark said dryly. “And not at all misogynistic.” “No, no, it’s not…I mean, if it’s misogynistic I didn’t realize…it was just a stupid game, it’s not like these are like, real or anything.” Tart took a deep breath. I noticed his cup trembling a little in my hand, and was struck by how nervous he was. “Can I start over, actually? I’m gonna start over.” “By all means,” Lark crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. “Thrill me.” “I’m glad you’re here tonight,” Tart said. “I watched every episode of Madam President this summer - that’s your favorite show, right? I heard you talking about it last semester and - I mean, I did other stuff this summer too, not, like, just lamely sat there and watched a show about a woman President…not that that would be lame. Or even if it is, you can think I’m lame. I don’t mind being lame if it’ll get you to talk to me or…whatever.” Tart was rambling again, which was his go-to move when he was wracked with nerves, but from the outside I noticed something Tart probably didn’t. As he went on making a fool out of himself, Lark’s brow had softened, and her arms had relaxed. She wasn’t smiling - definitely wasn’t smiling - but she wasn’t glaring anymore, either. When it came to Lark and Tart, that was a huge improvement. “You watched Madam President?” she asked. Tart nodded. “Uh, yeah, I mean…yeah, I watched it. A few times, actually. I could probably put up a pretty good show in a round of Madam President trivia.” Lark’s eyebrow cocked up. “There are twelve seasons of that show.” “Well…yeah.” “You watched twelve seasons of a show I liked for…what reason, exactly?” Tart shrugged, but his cheeks turned so red Hannah Bledsoe’s kiss faded away like a chameleon. “I was hoping to have something to talk to you about.” Lark stared. “That’s kind of pathetic.” Tart laughed. “Yeah. I’m kind of pathetic.” And then, miracle of miracles, Lark Clarentine laughed - actually laughed. At Tart. Well, not at Tart - she’d done that plenty of times - but with Tart. I pumped my fist. “All right,” Lark said. “What did you think of Madam President.” A voice honked out from the crowd behind her. “Lark, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere.” I knew that voice. I heard that voice in my nightmares. We all did. It belonged to Duncan Blank. Tart’s face darkened immediately. “Hey Duncan,” Lark said, spinning around so fast her hair whipped Tart in the face. Lark’s voice had risen an octave or two, and her ears were turning red. She looked like she’d just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I didn’t think you were coming.” Duncan scowled at her, and shot Tart a look so venomous it should have made him wither right on the spot. “Well I wasn’t going to,” Duncan said, “for obvious reasons. But I didn’t want to leave my best friend to just rot in this swamp of idiots. Stupidity is catching, you know.” Tart’s free hand was clenched in a fist, and a thin sheen of sweat was slicking across his forehead. “Guess that would make you patient zero,” he spat. “Oh, look,” Duncan said. “The king of the apes. Where are the rest of your little trained monkeys, Tart?” “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘friends’ actually,” Tart said. His voice had taken on the cold and cutting tone that only Duncan Blank could draw out of him. It fit poorly on my ordinarily kind friend. “And don’t bother pointing at Lark. I said friends, not charitable providers.” “Enough,” Lark said, and I couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that she was pointing the arrow of her anger at Tart, when Duncan had clearly started it. Duncan wasn’t going to be the one to finish it, though. I knew that for sure. Tart may have been willing to make himself look like an idiot for Lark, but he wasn’t going to let anyone else do it for him, least of all Duncan. I sighed and settled in to watch the whole scene play out, like a song I didn’t really enjoy but knew all the words to anyway. “Yeah, Tart,” Duncan said, waving his hand like he was shooing away a bug. “Go play with your little buddies. Maybe if you ask really nicely, one of them will give you a blow job.” I winced, and so did Duncan. He had made a fatal error, and he knew it. “Funny you should mention that,” Tart said, pulling out his phone. “Because I recall a certain picture making its way around the school…when was it? Oh yeah, right before the summer vacation. Let’s see if I can find it.” “Tart,” Lark warned, then turned to Duncan. “Duncan, come on, let’s go. We don’t have to talk to this idiot. Come dance with me.” But Duncan was frozen in place, his face frozen into a gray and seething mask of loathing so utterly perfect it would have made Thomas Jefferson look like Hamilton’s fairy godmother. “Oh, here it is!” Tart said, flipping his phone around and shoving it in Duncan’s face. I didn’t have to see what was on the screen. I already knew. We all did. It had been Gentry’s idea - these kind of things were always Gentry’s idea, and the more antsy, anxious, and pent up he was, the more extreme his schemes became, and the end of the year always represented the boiling point for him. Gentry’s mischief always pushed the line, but if there was ever a time he went too far, it was last year. Duncan was notoriously…awkward, and midway through last year someone noticed that they never saw him shower. Not after gym, not in the morning before class, and not in the evening before lights out, either. Most people went the obvious route when it came to weaponizing this information by making up nicknames that had to do with Body Odor, but Gentry took it a step further. Look, I don’t know why Gentry has it out so bad for Duncan. He’s a little strange, sure, and definitely not the friendliest guy, but Gentry - our Gentry, the same guy who spent a full three months last year rehabilitating a baby duckling he found sick and abandoned in the woods, who named it Goof and literally fed it from a baby bottle - just can’t leave him alone. Duncan antagonizes us his own fair share, but at this point, I don’t know which came first, the chicken or the egg, and I’m not sure I wanted to. The week leading up to the Academic Awards at the end of last year was a pretty big one, and tensions were running high. I was struggling to scrape up the last one or two tenths of a point I needed to secure my scholarship renewal for the next year (spoiler alert - I did it) and Gentry was in a neck and neck race for the top of the class in math against, you guessed it, Duncan Blanks. Gentry’s dad is pretty tough on him, especially when it comes to school stuff, but even knowing that I was surprised at how badly Gentry wanted to win this one. I’m sure it had more than a little to do with his competition. So when Mr. Oteri announced that the award would be going to Duncan, Gentry took it…not so great. Duncan didn’t help matters at all. If he was insufferable before he found out he’d be getting the award, he was downright horrible afterward. He took every opportunity to rub it in Gentry’s face, and the war went from cold to nuclear pretty fast. Gentry set up a full Carrie situation on the stage, so that right at the moment when Duncan was receiving his trophy, we tripped the wire and a full, five gallon bucket of chicken shit poured out from the rafters, all over Duncan. I still felt a little sick when I remembered Duncan’s shocked, frozen face. The rest of the school started howling instantly, but Duncan just stood there, trembling and shaking, filthy and stinking. His face was too dirty to tell if he’d started crying. He walked off the stage and disappeared out the back door, and no one saw him again for the rest of the night. That was too far, but it was only phase one of Gentry’s plan. Gentry slipped out after him and followed him to the gym, hiding in the shadows, slipping from hiding spot to hiding spot, until Duncan reached his destination. The locker room. Gentry waited outside until he heard the shower turn on, then he burst in, phone out, and snapped a dozen pictures of Duncan in the shower before he darted out, grabbing Duncan’s clothes on his way. The next day at breakfast, everyone’s phones started going off. A text from an unknown number sent a high-def photo of Duncan Blanks to every student in school, and it was both way more than anyone ever needed to see of him, and way, way less. His body looked like something a mad scientist had sewn together - bony shoulder and legs, a concave chest, and a flabby, ugly gut hanging like extra skin. But everyone’s eyes went to one body part, and it was very, very, very small. I couldn’t see it, but I knew that was the picture Tart was brandishing at him. “Oh, Tart,” I muttered, shaking my head. Duncan was a cockroach for sure, but I wished Tart didn’t always let Duncan turn him into the worst version of himself. “So you wanna talk about blow jobs now, Duncan? Cause from the looks of it, it’ll be a good long while before you find a girl - or a guy, or anyone, really - who’s willing to suck you off through a straw.” A crack rang out over the party then, timed exactly right, between two songs, so that everyone heard it, and a hundred heads whipped in our direction at once. Lark was standing in front of Tart, fists balled at her sides. The lipstick on Tart’s cheek had smeared, and a bright, angry hand mark bloomed over it. “You’re disgusting,” Lark spat, and from the look on Tart’s face, the words hurt him a lot more than the slap did. “You and your little friends can all go fuck yourselves.” Lark took Duncan’s hand and stomped out of the kitchen, Duncan stumbling behind her. Just before they walked through the door, Duncan looked back at Tart, and gave him the most hateful, victorious little smirk I’d ever seen. Tart coughed to clear his throat and pull himself together. “Well, you’re welcome,” he said, putting on that million-watt Colgate smile of his. “Don’t worry Gloriana, you had a nasty little cockroach in your party, but I got rid of him for you. I’ll just bill you for my pest control services later.” Gloriana laughed and shook her head. “Tart, you are so terrible,” she smiled, eyes shining. “Now come on, isn’t anyone going to start the music again?”

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tessatechaitea · 8 years ago

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Kamandi Challenge Special #1, Part One: “Kamandi, the Last Boy on Earth!”

A 40 page giant spectacular?! Welp, there goes my whole day.

I can't tell if Doctor Canus is a family name or a derogatory slur.

This is what happens when you edit your own material. You think scrawling "ME!" really hugely across every other page is what the readers want. The readers are not your unchecked massive ego, Jack! Assuming Doctor Canus is actually a doctor and not just a dog pretending to be a doctor like half the dogs I've ever met, what does he know about alien lifeforms? Why should Kamandi take his word for it that she shouldn't excite it? My guess is he's talking from experience. "Look at how scorched my proboscis is! This thing is dangerous! Also, for your own edification and the satiating of your curiosity, this creature does not seem to have an anus." Doctor Canus (hey! That has "anus" in it!) is a typical dog with low self-esteem so he has to pepper everything he says with multi-syllabic words.

It's called a boner, Ben Boxer.

Instead of saying he's learned to communicate with it, Doctor Canus says he "established some sort of contact with it." Christ, Doc. Do you have to molest every form of living being that lands on your pervert dog island? I assume the contact is sexual based on all the dirty talk on the previous pages about how the alien made Ben "grow" and then "reversed" the process and then, I'm assuming, took a nap.

When you edit yourself, "we" and "us" are different.

Doctor Canus might be able to talk and remove gall bladders now but he still talks like an idiot dog would probably talk. "Look! It is one thing! Now it is two things! Now it is many things! ROWF! ROWF! I'm a good boy! I scienced!" Doctor Canus concludes that living energy is the ultimate life form. I should probably accept that this dog knows what he's talking about. Jack Kirby didn't spend a few hours at his desk with a pencil in his mouth thinking, "How do I convey to the reader that this talking dog really knows what he's talking about? Oh! A high collar! And make him a doctor!" The living energy just wants to go home but it can't find it's way. Ultimate life form, my ass! I almost never forget my way home when I leave the house. I'm so much smarter than this living energy. Me the Alien throws a temper tantrum because it's upset. It's tantrum takes the form of an electrical storm and begins killing all of Prince Tuftan's adorable royal tiger guards.

Doctor Canus uses the most tried and true disciplining tactics he knows. Lucky for the living energy's tender proboscis, the future doesn't have rolled up newspapers.

Doctor Canus explains that Me the Alien trusts him because he is a scientist. I wonder how it knows he's a scientist? I know I couldn't tell a cool dog from a nerdy dog. Doctor Canus heads off with Me the Alien to examine the flying saucer it came in. That's probably a good place to start if you're looking to help it find it's way home. Prince Tuftan and Kamandi look at each other covered in sand and dog shit and share a moment where they both laugh uproariously at how stupid the other one looks. "You're a walking, talking tiger covered in sand fleas and seaweed!" "Well, you're a young topless girl in hot pants and go-go boots!" Then they laugh and laugh! Afterward, Prince Tuftan makes sure to mention how he hasn't laughed in a long time because there's nothing remotely funny about the end of the world. Except maybe the idea that a dog can do science. It turns out Prince Tuftan is also a teenager like Kamandi. It's hard to tell since he's a tiger. While the two teens hang out on the beach and smoke the reefer, gorillas attack Tuftan's ship off-shore! Fucking monkeys! You know they're on the villainous side because they're monkeys. Sentient apes and gorillas always wind up being bad guys: Grodd, Mallah, probably other ones. Unless they have the possibility to fuck a hot chick like in Angel and the Ape and then they'll generally behave. One platoon of gorillas storm the island to capture Prince Tuftan and Kamandi.

The monkey men work for the Wayne Foundation. Of course it survived the apocalypse! I bet Bruce's brain is in an ape's body now.

Chapter Two ends with the reader discovering that these are "Gorilla Commandos" and the reader falls all over themselves with laughter at the pun. How old is this comic? Is he the first to use the Gorilla/guerrilla pun? Probably! I bet it's why people hold him in such high regard. I just realized this entire series wasn't just written by Dan Didio. I guess he lost his hold on rewriting all of Jack Kirby's characters when DC flushed The New 52 down the Rebirth toilet.

I don't think I'm reaching when I say there's a whiff of subliminal sodomy in this dialogue. The lead gorilla's name is, after all, Ramjam.

The gorillas are only interested in kidnapping Prince Tuftan. They seem to think of the humans as animals. Thanks, Trump!

To be fair to the ape, he understood the regular English language as well as the language of violence.

Kamandi rushes off to fetch Doctor Canus. Usually it's the other way around, amirite?! No? Anyway, Kamandi is flipping the fuck out like anybody who was the last girl on Earth being threatened by anal sex fixated sentient apes. She's all, "Dog! Dog doctor! Doctor who is also a dog! Attack! Kill!" Doctor Canus is all, "Well, this is most unfortunate! I'm busy doing science and those damn apes are interrupting the sciencing!" And Kamandi is all, "Also they're killing tigers and kidnapping Prince Tuftan!" And Doctor Canus is all, "But I'm about to make a major science breakthrough with science! Can't those damn apes wait?!" And Kamandi is all, "They're going to sell the U.F.O. which I probably shouldn't call a U.F.O. because it's totally an alien space ship and not unexplained at all and currently not flying either." And Doctor Canus is all, "What? They're going to sell the ship?! They must be stopped!" Fucking scientists and their agendas and priorities. They don't care about human or tiger life at all. They just want to make some kind of major science breakthrough so they'll get a treat. Doctor Canus explains to Kamandi that they'll make Me the Alien fight for them. But Kamandi is all, "Is that right? Should we really exploit it in such a manner?"

Don't tell me. I don't want to know. I mean, I sort of want to know. Okay fine. I desperately want to know!

The fourth chapter is called "Satan in the Sand!" With the exclamation point which I feel I need to explain since American copy editors would insist the exclamation point go on the inside of the quotes even if I were using it to express my own excitement of the name being "Satan in the Sand!" Maybe. I don't really care what copy editors say. I edit my own writing. The Gorillas move in to take the space ship when they're confronted by Doctor Canus and Kamandi.

"I am a scientist! I am not defenseless!" "He's a witch! WITCH DOG! WIIIIIIITCH!"

Most of the gorillas, being typical post-world morons, are all, "A talking animal! It must be witchcraft! Spells! Sorcery! Fake news!" But Ramjam, being the leader which means he probably went to college and understands science and how it can be used to manipulate idiots by telling them science is full of bias and agendas, points out that anybody can teach an animal to talk. So easy! Also maybe the scientist was using ventriloquism! To keep Ramjam from Of Mice and Menning Doctor Canus, Me the Alien takes the form of a giant sand giant which attacks the gorillas. Gorillas, being a superstitious and cowardly lot, mostly run off to complain about how arrogant Doctor Canus is. But Ramjam stands his ground and throws a grenade at the beast. He also calls the grenade a "demolition dumpling" which is so poetic that I just flipped off Robert Frost for wasting so much of my time. When the Demolition Dumpling fails to defeat Me the Alien, Ramjam and the other gorillas surrender. Doctor Canus locks them in Me the Alien's spaceship. Me doesn't seem to suspect that perhaps he made a terrible deal. That's his fucking way home, not a prison for bone-headed apemen! Prince Tuftan arrives and explains how he escaped: the apes forgot to kill the tigers. At first it sounds like Jack Kirby just ran out of room and was all, "Fuck it! The apes probably lose interest in things quickly and wandered off. Day saved!" But instead, Tuftan was just pointing out that the only safe tiger is a dead tiger. So he and his fuzzy guards slaughtered the ape-men. Doctor Canus and Kamandi congratulate him but don't shake his blood soaked hand. Instead they send the prisoners off with him. Kamandi chooses to stay on the island and help Doctor Canus make a body for Me the Alien. That seems weird. It's easier to make a body for an unknown life-form than to fix its space ship? Anyway, I'm particularly glad I don't have to read the second issue based on the title.

Yuck! It must be pretty disgusting to be a bigger surprise than World War II.

That's it for Part One! Be here whenever next time is for Part Two of Kamandi Challenge #1!

#Jack Kirby #Kamandi Challenge #Kamandi #The Last Boy on Earth #DC Comics

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