#THIS WAS 23 PAGES LONG IN GOOGLE DOCS BY THE WAY
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ttwt episode 7
“Last time, on Total Takes World Tour: our thirteen remaining players were let loose in the Dandenong Ranges in southern Australia with no supplies, no maps- nothing but each other! Even though Team Mojo hit a rough patch while Team Yaoi pulled themselves together for Julia’s sake, it was Albert’s environmental expertise that pulled the Mojos to the finish line, and landed Team Yaoi back in economy. Will they continue to stick together to defend their fellow castmates against Patrick? Will Team Mojo ever stop getting lost in every location we drop them in? Find out now, on Total Takes World Tour!”
Early morning light sifts through the open windows of the first class cabin, awakening everyone bright and early. At this altitude, there are no clouds to filter out the sunshine, let alone trees and houses, so it’s up and at it for Team Mojo.
Michela yawns and helps herself to the breakfast buffet set up across from the mocktail bar. Chris’ off-limits hot tub bubbles in the background, and the faint sounds of the flat-screen television in his private quarters makes its way through the silence in first class.
Albert shifts up next to her, taking up a paper plate and sorting through the assorted vegan options (which, albeit, aren’t very impressive).
“I honestly don’t get how you can just not eat like that,” Michela smiles, helping herself to a large heaping of bacon. “I’d probably starve to death.”
Albert chuckles. “It’s an acquired taste, I suppose. But it’s for the greater good,”
“Does that stuff really make a difference? I mean… no offense, but you’re just one guy,”
“We were taught that no change is too small,” he shrugs, pouring himself some hot water for tea. “I try to live by that.”
Patrick peers over the back of his plush seat from the seating area, eyes narrowed. After a few moments, he plops back down and leans over to Sha-Mod. “Those two are awfully chummy, aren’t they?”
Sha-Mod adjusts the paper napkin tied over his face. “What? I mean, I guess, but they’re just friends, right?”
“‘Friend’ is just a longer way of saying ‘ally’,”
Sha-Mod takes a moment to count on his fingers. “Oh, yeah. Guess that’s right,”
Patrick puts an arm around Sha-Mod and roughly pulls him closer. “Listen, buddy, you get it. We’re two lone wolves, standing apart from the pack!”
“Um… I guess,”
“I always thought you were the best of the Takes Three,”
“Huh… really? Cause we always agreed McLovin carried. He’s the best at Guitar Hero,”
Patrick grits his teeth and then forces a smile. “Yes. You could go solo if you wanted, they’re holding you back if anything,”
“Really? Cause-”
“That’s not the point! I’m trying to say that you and I should krck them before they krck us,” he says, slashing across his throat with his finger. “The chick will definitely make merge, but the guy’s vulnerable.”
“But Albert is nice,”
“B-but Albert is nice,” Patrick mocks. “That’s what you sound like. You’re the most vulnerable player on the team, since you’re not in an alliance.”
“But you aren’t either!”
“Please,” he says, slicking his hair back. “I’m unexpendable.”
---
PATRICK: “Talking to him is like trying to teach a can of sardines to sing opera,”
---
Mal snaps a quick picture of Bonnie and Max as they sleep beside each other and quickly giggles to herself as she uploads it to her blog.
“Bonmax is so trending on Twitter right now,” she squeals maniacally. “People are having discourse over whether it’s moral or not to ship them, since they’re so mlm/wlw solidarity-coded.”
Ass massages their temples. “I don’t know what any of those words mean. Stop talking to me,”
“Isn’t it weird to ship them since they’re both in relationships?” Courtney asks, yawning. "I mean, rpf is-"
“As if. It’s called fanon interpretation,” Mal crosses her arms. “My mutual is a total Maxulia shipper and he’s got like 1.3k followers.”
“A WHAT?” Julia shouts from down the bench.
Across the cabin, Staci stretches and turns to the rest of the team, who are still fast asleep.
---
STACI: “Okay, so, a part of my undergrad program is about leadership- I was hoping to take the hit points by really overcompensating on my participation and my exams, but... maybe this show would be good practice,”
---
“Up, up, rise and shine!” she shouts, pacing up and down the bench and clapping their hands. “Let’s load up on breakfast and then hit the books for strategy!”
“Hm?” Kelly mumbles, half-awake.
“What books?” Max asks, rubbing his eyes. “The Art of War?”
“That’s an excellent suggestion,” Staci says, bouncing a pointing stick in their hand.
---
STACI: “So, in most groups, everyone will assume the role of a communication maintainer- but since our team is so divided, I’m just going to try to do all of them before everyone gets on board. First up: Social-Emotional,”
---
“Does anyone have any more ideas? I’m all ears!”
“Ooh, me! I do! I have lots of ideas!” Phillip says, picking up his notebook and rushing over. “Do you want to hear a poem?”
“I would love to!” Staci smiles, watching as Phillip leafs through several crude crayon gore drawings to get to the poems.
“Who died and made her queen?” Max grumbles. Bonnie elbows him and he rolls his eyes.
---
MAX: “Okay, admittedly, I haven’t exactly been picking up the slack here. But who could blame me? This team is hopeless! Besides, I have… other things to worry about,”
---
“Good morning, passengers! We’ll be landing in about twenty minutes, so buckle in and hold on tight!” Chris shouts.
Everyone who’s up scrambles back to their seats and straps in as the plane begins nose-diving, much to everyone’s horror. Bonnie and Max hold onto each other as they head straight down, and Mal makes sure to get and upload and picture before returning to screaming with the rest of the cast.
At the last second, Chef pulls up and the plane lands smoothly on the tarmac and the doors open with a hiss.
The morning is crisp, cloudy, and chilled as everyone steps down the rickety stairs and onto the pavement.
“No amount of first class perks will ever make up for these landings,” Sha-Mod says, rubbing his back.
Patrick follows him out, cracking his neck and grinding his teeth.
“Welcome one, welcome all, to Wales!” Chris says, gesturing to the rolling green hill behind him.
Mal looks from side-to-side. “Where?”
“Here, you idiot,” Ass snaps, putting their hands on their hips.
“No, where are the whales?”
Courtney sighs and pinches the bridge of their nose. Julia just rolls her eyes.
“Nice team you’ve got there, sweetheart!” Patrick yells from across the tarmac. She grits her teeth.
---
PATRICK: “Now that Julia and I are back to sworn enemies, we make quite the pair of rivals. I mean- she’s her team’s leader, I’m my team’s leader, she’s cunning, I’m brilliant, she’s decent, I’m gorgeous… like a match made in Hell,”
---
“Wales?! We’re only an hour from my grandma's house!” Sha-Mod says merrily, jumping with joy.
Michela raises an eyebrow. “You’re from Wales?”
“No, England is right over… there, somewhere,” he gestures vaguely off into the distance. Michela shrugs.
“Your first stop is Cardiff. To make things a little more fun- for me- we decided to make it a little scavenger hunt,” Chris says, pulling out three slips of paper. “These will have the clue to your next location.”
“Um,” Courtney says, reading Team Yaoi’s slip. “Are these-?”
“These are in WELSH!” Ass says. “None of us can read this!”
“Too bad,” Chris shrugs. “Shoulda thought of that before you came to Wales, huh?”
“YOU BROUGHT US HERE!”
“Beautiful language, isn’t it? I love the use of W's. Well, see you at your next stop!” the host says, waving goodbye and walking into the plane. Ass groans.
Julia sighs and ropes in the team. “Okay, so Mal can run Google Translate on her phone. That’ll give us a head start, but we gotta stick together, okay?”
Courtney looks up to Mal, who’s happily typing away. “Where did Mal get a phone? I thought I trashed hers back in Chicago?”
“I think she steals them, but that’s not important. Let’s just avoid fighting. That’s all I ask of you,”
Staci watches the scuffle from afar and shakes her head, grinning.
---
STACI: “Authoritarian much? Everyone knows you catch more flies with honey than vinegar,”
---
“Okay, team, let’s all go around in a circle and brainstorm. I wanna hear ideas from everyone,” Staci says sweetly. “Kelly, why don’t you start?”
“Maybe it’s a code. Ooh, does anyone here speak hieroglyphs?”
“That’s a great point, Kelly. Does anyone here speak hieroglyphs?”
Max grits his teeth.
“No one? Okay, Bonnie?”
“I can get back in the plane and grab my tablet. If I can connect to the internet, we can-”
A loud whoosh and a strong current of air blows past the group as the plane takes off. Bonnie sighs. “Okay. I’m out,”
“Max?”
“Murder-suicide,”
“Okay, well, I’m not sure that’s very helpful, but thank you for sharing,” Staci says. “Phillip?”
“I actually had a dream about this once, except I was in an airport that was also a petting zoo, and it was in China but everyone was speaking in Arabic, and I had to get to the pretzel stand but no one could hear me because I was invisible,” he pauses once he notices everyone’s blank expressions. “I have prophetic dreams, by the way.”
---
PHILLIP: “They all hate me,”
---
“And then I was suddenly in my grandma’s house, but the dishwasher was in the bedroom, and my buddy Eric's Uncle Dale was there, and then-”
“Okay, ENOUGH,” Max says. “Let’s just find someone and ask.”
“Now there’s an idea! I knew this would work eventually,” Staci claps. Max glares at her.
---
MAX: "Staci's always been a little high on her own fumes. Which is to say, completely and utterly detached from anything that resembles reality,"
---
Team Mojo trudges through Cardiff, Michela leading the rest of the group behind her like a mother duck and a line of ducklings. She holds up their slip of paper to street signs, restaurant names, and any Welsh she can find.
“Anything yet?” Patrick says. “I didn’t do my 4k gold face mask last night and I’m feeling puffy.”
“Calm down, your royal highness,” Michela snaps. “Unless you have a better idea?”
Sha-Mod scratches his chin, looking around the city. A strong breeze blows past them, pulling off Sha-Mod’s face napkin. He screams in terror and runs after it.
“We lost him again,” Albert says, turning as Sha-Mod runs off.
“He’ll find his way back. He’s like a pigeon,” Michela murmurs, walking ahead.
---
SHA-MOD: “Two seasons ago, I said that I would never show my face on TV- and I meant it! I have withstood lakes, small, vicious animals- Scary included- explosions, and hurricanes- I guess the stress of being alone this season was just too sha-much for Lightning,”
---
Sha-Mod walks back in frame with a bag of chips tied around his face. Patrick rolls his eyes.
“Hey, guys! We found a match!” Michela says, bringing the group back towards her. She holds up the paper under a sign off in the distance. “National Museum Cardiff, up ahead!”
---
“I think I’m doing pretty well,” Staci says, leading the group behind her as they walk through the city. Kelly nods. “You’re doing great!”
“We’ll have this team put back together in no time!” she says confidently. “Just a little Social-Emotional nurturing, and I’ll bring together a safe and welcoming environment. That’s the first step- I learned it in communications class.”
“Wow, impressive! College must be fun,”
“It is, I’m learning a lot. Honors is tough, but I’m tougher, right?” they grin. “That’s what my mom says.”
Kelly nods. Max rolls his eyes from behind them.
---
KELLY: “Watching our little friend group grow has been a real treat- I know not everyone gets to do that. Austin is in a relationship, Staci is in university, and I’m… well, I’m here!”
---
“Miserable,” Max mutters, kicking a rock along the road. He sighs loudly. Bonnie tries to ignore him. Then, he sighs again. Louder. Bonnie grits their teeth. He sighs again, groaning a little this time, and they finally give in.
“Okay, fine. What’s up?”
“It’s about… well, you-know-who,”
“Figures,” they mutter. “What now?”
Max fidgets with his tie and looks at the ground. “I was given an… anonymous tip… to watch out for them. For him, I mean,”
“An ‘anonymous’ tip, huh?”
He shrugs them off. “Unimportant. I just don’t get why she’s being so distant about it,”
“You trust her?”
“Yes, yes, of course, but… at the same time, do I?” Max thinks aloud. “I want to. It just feels like she’s keeping something from me. I can’t stand being lied to.”
Bonnie grumbles to themselves and then sighs. “I’m… sorry, I guess. What’s your damage? I mean, what’s your deal? I mean… you get what I mean,”
He shifts slightly. “Michela isn’t the first person I’ve been with,”
“Huh. You don’t say,” Bonnie scans him over, raising an eyebrow. “Well… I’m all ears and no lips. The only person I’d tell is stuck in a studio in Toronto.”
“I went to a pretty religious private school. My family isn’t Christian, but it was top in the province, so… well, you know,” he says, looking at his feet. “Before I… um, looked like this, there was a girl I used to see. She couldn’t tell anyone, obviously,” he rolls his eyes. “But it was like she couldn’t tell me anything, either. I guess it was embarrassment, or something, but it was always distance and secrets with her. I could never figure out if she was upset and lying, or being honest, or implying something, and no matter what I did it was always the wrong thing… I’m not an oblivious person,” he insists, pointing sharply. “But I’m not always good at this romance thing. I guess it just makes me paranoid now.”
“Well, damn,” Bonnie says. “So, you don’t think Michela is lying but your train of thought is-”
“Working overtime to convince me she is,” he sighs. “I know it’s irrational but it doesn’t make me sleep any easier.”
“Couldn’t you just talk to her about it?”
Max raises an eyebrow. “Don’t make me pull out the Caesar card again,”
“Okay, but in my defense- not talking about it just forced him and I to spill the beans on live international TV in front of all our friends and peers,” Bonnie says. “Would you rather it be that?”
“I get the point,” he sighs. “I just can’t get this feeling out of my stomach.”
Bonnie lightly punches his shoulder. “We’ll get you there somehow,”
---
“This is the place,” Courtney says, walking up the steps of the National Museum.
The rest of the team hovers behind them, watching cautiously as they approach the large double doors. They reach out a hand and grab the handle. The door doesn’t budge.
Courtney pulls at it again, then turns around. “It’s locked,”
“Try harder,” Ass cups their mouth and shouts.
“How will trying harder unlock a door!”
Julia sighs and steps between the two. “Shut up! Both of you! Chris might be somewhere around here, or this is some kind of… I don’t know, puzzle. But arguing about it just wastes time and destroys my brain cells!”
The team grumbles to themselves as Julia scans the exterior. Ass storms past Courtney and tries the door again.
“You’re not going to open it,” they say, watching with an unamused expression.
Ass struggles, pushing against the floor and leaning back as far as their body will allow them. “It’s just stuck,”
“That’s a funny way to say locked!”
“Not everyone has a weak grip like you, princess!”
Ass roughly yanks the door, shaking it slightly while they and Courtney bicker. After several minutes of scuffling, they release the handle and shout in frustration, kicking the base.
A slip of paper unlodges itself from the crack between the wall and the door and floats to the ground. Ass grins, swiping it off the stone. “There. See?”
“See what? You didn’t open the door!”
Mal types rapidly on her phone and smacks her gum loudly from the base of the stairs. “Ohhhh, yeah. Forgot to mention, Google says the museum is closed on Mondays,”
Courtney and Ass glare. “That information would’ve been helpful BEFORE WE GOT HERE!”
“Whatever,” Julia says, swiping the next clue from Ass’ hands. "Where to next?"
---
“Sheep?” Max asks as the slightly-annoyed local walks off. “We have to-”
“I know, it’s not my favorite either, but it’s what the clue says,” Staci says. “I’m positive you’re gonna do great, Max!”
He blinks.
---
STACI: “The next role is the supporter, which is basically just what it sounds like. Let’s get motivated!”
---
Team Friendship rushes to the ends of the city, meeting a large road leading out into the country. Off to the side, sure enough, are three herds of sheep.
“This is ridiculous,” Bonnie sighs.
“Sheep farming is an important economy, so I’d watch your tone,” Chris says, dropping in on a jetpack and startling the sheep away. “Glad to see you’ve made it this far- you’re just a few hours away from your final destination. While it’s currently in England, many scholars argue that it was first built right here in Wales- you’re going to Stonehenge!
“Thank you for explaining that, Chris,” Staci says sweetly. Her team unanimously gives her odd looks.
“You’re welcome,” the host grins. “Now, I’d get to rounding up your herd and setting off- I hear Team Yaoi is hot on your trail.”
---
“Okay, edge of the city- let’s go!” Michela says, pointing ahead. She and Albert run while Patrick walks casually behind them, picking at his cuticles.
Sha-Mod lingers behind, looking from side to side before hurrying to catch up with the group.
---
SHA-MOD: “Who am I without Lightning? Without Takes Three?! Am I anyone? AM I STILL SHA-FABULOUS?”
---
Team Yaoi arrives just as Team Friendship sets off, leading two other herds of sheep behind them. The four look between each other nervously.
“Okay, it’s just some sheep. We can do this,” Courtney says, picking up a stick off the ground and waving it around. “Get! Get! Come on!”
“That is so not how you do that,” Ass crosses their arms. Julia shakes her head and sighs. “We need a herding dog, or something,”
The two stop and turn to Mal behind them.
---
“Yeah, I don’t know if this is really for me,” Patrick says, chuckling to himself as he watches Michela try to get their sheep's attention. “I’m more of a wolf, not much of a dog, if you know what I mean.”
Michela snorts. “You’re more like an inbred cat with IBS, but sure! Now, move it!”
Albert tries using a stick to guide them, but the sheep graze on, unbothered. He shrugs to her, and she groans.
“I don’t get it. I’m trying everything I learned about,” he says, tossing the stick behind him. A few sheep bleat nervously and walk away. “What! What am I doing wrong?! Animals like me!”
“Maybe these sheep are just neurotic?” Michela mutters. Patrick smirks.
Seconds later, Sha-Mod comes tumbling out of the city behind them, landing chips-first on the ground. When he stands, the plastic bag is deflated and partially open, and crispy potato wedges are falling from the top.
Sha-Mod sits up, groaning, and sees the entire herd surrounding him. He shrieks.
“No! No, it’s okay! They want the food!” Albert says cautiously while he and Michela watch with wide eyes. “Get up very, very slowly, and walk towards us.”
Patrick chuckles. “You’ve got to be kidding. These dumb animals won’t hurt you! If anything, you need to assert your dominance as the more intelligent species through fear! Watch,” he storms over to an ewe, shaking his fist at them. “Listen here, lesser species. I have the upper hand, and I-”
The sheep bleats and walks over to him, nuzzling against his pant leg. A few join afterwards, going in circles around his legs and playfully nipping at him. He screams in terror. “GET THEM OFF ME!”
“No! They like you!” Michela palms her forehead and then whisper-shouts. “Don’t scare them! Walk over here, slowly!”
Patrick whimpers in fear and edges forward, shuffling his feet towards Michela. Albert watches in horror.
---
ALBERT: “All those hours studying, camping with wildlife, volunteering at free-range farms- and it’s Patrick who’s the better shepherd. This is… what’s happening to me?”
---
Patrick finally reaches Michela and throws himself in her arms, crying. She rolls her eyes and pats his back. “There, there. They’re not going to hurt you,”
“Do they bite?” he asks shakily.
“No,” Albert says from afar. He turns to Sha-Mod, who’s still surrounded by the rest of the herd. “Let’s go.”
---
Team Yaoi walks alongside each other, panting as the day wears on.
“Wish we could ride these useless things,” Ass mutters. “What are they even good for?”
A sheep angrily bleats at them and they back off. Courtney rolls their eyes and leans in to pet one. “I dunno, I think they’re kinda sweet,”
“Whatever,” they murmur in response, earning another eye roll from Courtney.
Julia hangs at the back of the group, watching the two up front. Mal darts into frame for a moment, running around her ankles and barking before circling the group once again.
The sound of laughter and sheep appears from behind the team and Julia turns a bit to catch a glimpse of Team Mojo following them up the crest, sheep in line and following Sha-Mod and Patrick in the front.
The latter grins and waves as they pass by. “See you at the finish line, sweetie!”
Julia grimaces, but waits til the team disappears up ahead to make comment.
“I hate that guy,”
“What’s your deal with him, anyway?” Courtney asks. Mal pops up out of nowhere, covered in grass and dirt, and states matter-of-factly: “Exes. Messy breakup, but even messier relationship,” and then she ducks back to the ground to run around the herd again.
Julia rolls her eyes. “Yes, thank you, Mal,”
“Ooh, fun. Any juicy gossip to share?” Ass asks, crossing their arms and grinning.
“Well, I-”
The familiar ringing of the song bell sounds and she grits her teeth. “No way am I going to-”
“It’s sing or lose!” Chris says, popping into frame on his jetpack. “And from the looks of it, your team can’t risk losing you. So get singing! Oh, and for the challenge, why don’t we throw some Welsh in there?”
Julia palms her forehead and sighs. “I love Wales in the springtime, rwy’n caru Wales in the fall,”
“Good job, Jules, keep it up!” Courtney cheers on.
“It’s the country of love in the summer, but now it’s just a bummer! Cause-”
Far up ahead, Patrick clears his throat. “Julia broke my heart and chewed it up and spit it out and then stepped on it and threw it down a sewer and called it names and then laughed!”
Michela rolls her eyes.
“Oes, my friends, you must never trust a girl!”
Julia goes on front behind. “Oes, my friends, he’ll make you wanna hurl!”
“Oes, my friends, she will,” Patrick pauses to take a deep breath. “Break your heart and chew it up and spit it out and step on it and throw it down a sewer and call it names, and then laugh!”
“Oh, brother,” Michela mutters. Albert nods in agreement.
Far ahead of them, Team Friendship picks up with Staci: “Oes, my friends! We are gonna make it through!”
Max grits his teeth as their sheep run off again. “Um, no, my “friend”, we just lost another ewe,”
Back to Julia: “Oes, my friends, I’m telling it to you,”
“Oes, my friends, now I’m telling you the truth,” Patrick says up ahead.
Julia takes a deep breath. “If you date a boy you met on TV and then break up with him, and then break up with him again, and then finally actually break up with him, even though you were nothing but nice, you will still-”
Patrick picks up as the tempo changes. “We end up on TV! She won’t even see me! And the girl won’t even admit I dumped her FIRRRRST!”
“Is it over?” Michela asks, holding her head. Albert nudges her. “We lost Sha-Mod again.”
She grabs his arm weakly. “Can you please. I feel sick,”
Albert looks around her to where Patrick is humming to himself and leading the herd. “I don’t know if I’d feel good about myself leaving you with him,”
“I’ll be fine. Just go deal with Sha-Mod,”
He sighs, but walks off anyway.
---
Team Friendship arrive first at Stonehenge, despite their sheep going AWOL around them. As soon as they reach the finish line, Max collapses in the fetal position on the floor.
“YAYYYY, we did it!” Staci pumps her fist. “Go, team!”
Kelly squeals and claps their hands. Phillip watches as Bonnie sits down next to Max’s lifeless body and pokes him with a stick until he moves.
“Do we win something,” the goth asks, balancing their head in the palms.
Chris, sitting in a plush chair and enjoying a cup of tea, shrugs. They grumble to themselves. Team Yaoi arrives next, looking around.
“I guess we lost them,” Julia says with barely-restrained joy.
---
JULIA: “Would Patrick being gone solve all my problems? No. But it’d be sooooo satisfying, wouldn’t it?”
---
“I guess you did, but we can’t do the next part of your challenge without all teams available, sooooo…” Chris says. “Time to wait!”
The teens groan.
---
“Sha-Mod!” Albert yells, wandering the rolling green plains. “Sha-Mod? God, how can anyone get lost out here? There’s nothing!”
He takes a step forward and hears a loud crunch. He winces. “Please don’t be a snail,”
“Nah, just me,”
Albert looks down and sighs in relief. He lifts his shoe off the bag of chips and steps off of Sha-Mod, who’s buried in the dirt below him. “Dude. You have to get up and come back to the team,”
“Why should I? I’m no one,”
“You- okay, you have to get up. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,”
Sha-Mod rises from his shallow grave and sighs. The bag of chips slips off his face and is carried off in the breeze, and he shrieks. “My crisps!”
“Here,” Albert says, taking off his windbreaker and tossing it over Sha-Mod’s head. “Now let’s go.”
Sha-Mod crosses his arms and turns his head, the windbreaker swaying. “No,”
“Why not?”
“I’m no one. No one needs me,”
Albert takes a long, deep breath. “Okay. Fine. What’s wrong?”
“I lost my Lightning,” he sniffles. “I’m no one under that picture.”
“That’s not true. You have a face,” he pauses. “You… you do have a face, don’t you?”
“A dumb one,” he cries.
Albert shakes his head and sits down next to him. “I guess I know how you feel. I’ve been feeling like a failure lately, too. A nobody,”
“Did you also go on a reality TV show for three seasons without showing your face and then realize no one really knows you?”
“Um… no. I just meant more in a symbolic sense,” Albert says, raising an eyebrow. “I just lost my job, my whole life. I don’t really know who I am without it.”
“Oh, I see. I guess I get it. Lightning was my job,”
“Your job was… Lightning?”
Sha-Mod nods. “Now who am I? A sweaty windbreaker?”
“It’s not… never mind,” he mutters. “So, you don’t want to show your face, but you also don't-don’t want to show your face?”
He nods.
“Okay. Makes sense,” Albert murmurs. “What’re you afraid of?”
“Well, originally I did it because I didn’t want my likeness to be on international TV in front of millions of people, but eventually I just couldn’t take it off! It was like a part of me… now, who am I without it?”
“You’re Sha-Mod. I mean, whatever your real name is,” Albert says. “You’re not a piece of paper.”
---
ALBERT: “There are a lot of things I’ve said today that I’d never imagined myself saying before. And yet, they make perfect sense. What is wrong with this show,”
---
Sha-Mod sniffles. “Or a windbreaker?”
“Or a windbreaker,” Albert says reassuringly. “Maybe it’s time to face the world, Sha-Mod. Show us the real you.”
“Um… I don’t know. I think I’m just going to keep this on. I like it,” he says, standing. “Let’s get back to the team.”
Albert sighs, but stands and follows anyway.
---
Team Mojo arrives at Stonehenge last, trudging themselves and their sheep behind them.
“FINALLY!” Ass snaps. “We thought you got eaten by… whatever lives out here!”
“British people,” Kelly whispers. Staci nods.
“Welcome one, welcome all to the final round of your Great British Race-Off!” Chris says, then leans into Chef to whisper. “We’re allowed to use that, right?” Hatchet shrugs.
“Your final task is simple- a delicious, traditional British feast in front of the scenic Stonehenge,” the host goes on as Chef disappears and comes back pushing a table with a few covered dishes. “Each team will select the player with the strongest stomach- last man standing, wins.”
“It’s British food,” Ass puts their hands on their hips. “How bad could it be?”
“Your first dish: Jellied eels!” Chef shouts harshly. “Now eat up!”
Silence. Ass blinks. “I volunteer Mal,”
“I second that!” Courtney says. Julia shrugs.
“Um, so… who’s gonna…” Kelly asks slowly. “Cause I’m on a vegetarian diet this week!”
Max rolls his eyes. “Convenient. I say we make the prince of darkness over there do it,” he jabs his thumb backwards to where Phillip is cowering in fear from the rays of sunlight coming out from between the clouds.
“I wouldn’t mind that,” Bonnie crosses their arms. Phillip shouts Hey! Before scampering behind Chef for shade.
“C’mon, guys! We can reach a solution that makes everyone happy if we work together!” Staci says. The team glares between each other.
---
STACI: “Role number three: Harmonizer. Preventing and mediating conflict. I can do that, no problem… right?”
---
“Okay, if no one else wants to… I’ll do it,”
No one on Team Friendship argues, much to Staci’s horror. Across the lawn, Team Mojo isn’t faring much better.
“It can’t be me. I’m vegan!” Albert says, raising his hands defensively.
Patrick grumbles. “I have a fragile palette,”
“I’m British intolerant,” Michela says.
As the three bicker, a hero emerges from the fog. “I’ll do it,”
Everyone turns. Patrick holds back a laugh. “You’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it! It won’t phase me!” Sha-Mod insists. “I’m immune! And thanks to my new best friend, Albert-” Michela turns to Albert with a raised eyebrow. He shrugs and mouths talk later. “-I know I can do anything I set my mind to, with or WITHOUT my sha-swag!”
Team Mojo stares for a few moments before Patrick shrugs. “Better him than me. Go get ‘em, tiger!”
---
Sha-Mod, Staci, and Mal sit side-by-side at the long table, staring at their uncovered platter of gelatin and eels.
“Mmmm, eel-icious!” Chris chuckles. “You’ll get five whole courses of delicious, top-tier British dining. The last man standing- or alive- wins first class and immunity for his-or-her-or-their team. Ready?”
Sha-Mod nods confidently. Mal scrolls through her phone. Staci is pale.
“Dig in!”
Sha-Mod starts off courageously, shoveling in forkfuls of eel. Mal chews casually, typing something with her free hand.
Staci pokes at the meal with her fork.
“Come on, we don’t have all day!” Max shouts. Kelly elbows him.
“You’ve got this, girl!”
Staci smiles nervously, and then takes a very slow, very cautious bite. She immediately gags and coughs. Albert winces from nearby. “I don’t know if I can watch this,”
After a grueling ten minutes (most of which was waiting for Staci to finish) Chef rolls out the next course. “Black pudding, a staple of the classic English breakfast,”
Staci sighs with relief. “You know, pudding actually sounds good,”
“Oh… noooo…” Sha-Mod mutters. Their smile drops.
Chef pulls off the silver covers on their dishes, revealing black hockey-puck like pellets. “Pig’s blood and fat, a la mode,”
Albert goes pale and turns around.
---
ALBERT: “I don’t have a problem with other people eating meat. When it’s, you know, not condensed into a black disk and made of blood,”
---
Sha-Mod tears into his pudding like a wild animal. Staci squirms and looks back and forth between their plate and their team behind them. Kelly gives them a thumbs up. Max rolls his eyes.
By the time Sha-Mod and Mal finish, Staci takes her first bite.
“Course number three: dressed tripe! While its popularity has wavered since the Victorian era, some places still enjoy this yummy meal of boiled and bleached stomach lining,”
Sha-Mod is beginning to cough and wheeze as he barrels through each platter. Staci is gagging between each bite. Max rolls his eyes.
---
MAX: “Better her than me, but at the same time: I’m glad to see little miss perfect isn’t such a genius, after all. Her little dream of leading the team is cute, but come on- she’s the human equivalent of a marshmallow,”
---
Mal slurps up each bite with ease, popping in a pair of earbuds to watch YouTube while she eats. Team Yaoi watches, bewildered.
---
MAL: “I’m used to eating whatever I can find. For the last six days of my fifth annual One Piece binge, I survived on canned tuna from the Cold War era and rainwater,”
---
“Next up, pork pies!”
“Oh, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Staci says, looking to Sha-Mod. He shrugs. Chef rolls out a thick pie, full of pink meat and she whimpers. “I-I don’t know if I can…”
“Don’t you dare lose!” Max shouts. “You need to set a good example for the team!”
She frowns and takes a cautious bite. Albert, now a sickly shade of green, leans on Patrick’s shoulder for support. He quickly swats him off and Max grins as Albert lands in the grass. “How’s it taste, Staci!”
“Bad!” she shouts back. “It’s too much meat!”
Albert groans.
---
“Well, well, well. I’m impressed!” Chris says, pacing between the three. “Not a single chicken yet. Since you’re all still here, we’re making this a race to the end!”
Chef brings out the final platters, setting them before each player. “First player to finish wins! Welcome to your final round- stargazey pie!”
“Aww, that’s so cute! Are they shaped like little stars?” Kelly asks.
The host grins widely. “Not… exactly,”
Chef pulls off the silver covers and reveals three perfectly normal pies- but each is full of fish heads gazing towards the sky. Staci goes pale.
“Ready? Set? Eat!”
Mal twirls her fork around her fingers and takes a deep bite without looking away from her blog. Staci swallows deeply and begins cutting up the meal while Sha-Mod peers down at it from under the windbreaker.
“Sh-Sha-Mod!” Albert says from the ground. “My coat! Please don’t get anything on… my coat…” and then he faints again.
Sha-Mod pauses and thinks for a moment. Then, he stands.
“You’re right, I don’t need this anymore!” he says.
Patrick holds up a finger. “I don’t think that’s what he meant,”
Sha-Mod ignores him. “It’s time to stop hiding. I don’t need to be anyone but myself!”
He tears off the windbreaker, tossing it to the side. Everyone gasps as Sha-Mod reveals himself to be… a perfectly average white boy.
“Are you kidding me!” Ass shouts.
Sha-Mod takes a deep breath. “It feels good to breathe. And I can finally see you guys!”
Michela massages her temples. Patrick shakes his head sadly.
“All this time, I’ve been hiding- initially, I was afraid of being seen humiliating myself- but I think I was just afraid of being myself. Well, I’m not afraid anymore. I’m Sha-Mod, and I’m going to win this thing!”
A loud ding rings out and the camera pans over to Mal, who’s just finished her meal. She pushes the plate back and posts a Tweet.
“And Team Yaoi has won… again!” Chris says. “Since Sha-Mod’s plate is untouched, we’ll be seeing Team Mojo at the elimination ceremony.”
Team Yaoi cheers. Once the fanfare has died down, Julia grins and waves goodbye to Patrick.
---
JULIA: “Now, all I have to do is convince the team that Patrick has got to go. Not that it’d be hard. I mean… look at him,”
---
Julia peers around the corner of first class, looking both ways before creeping down the hall. She stops outside the bathroom confessional and waits for a moment before Albert walks out.
She grabs him by the windbreaker and quickly covers his mouth, looking around for witnesses again before pulling him away. “We’ve gotta talk,”
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” he whispers sharply.
“Shut up. Listen, I think we can all agree that Patrick is doing nothing but being a big baby drama queen, as per usual,” she says. “I want him gone. You want him gone. Your little girlfriend wants him gone. This is a no-brainer.”
Albert raises an eyebrow. “What do you get out of this?”
“Satisfaction,” she scoffs. “I know Patrick. If you don’t get him first, he’ll get you.”
Julia releases him and walks off quickly.
From around the corner, Patrick glares.
---
“Team Mojo- not looking too great, huh?”
The four remaining players look between each other. Chris continues. “Michela, you’re safe. Albert, you too,”
“Patrick- you’re not exactly a fan favorite here. And Sha-Mod, your revelation cost your team the win,” he goes on. Patrick smirks and crosses his arms tightly. Sha-Mod looks nervous, his expression visible for the first time. “Patrick….
You’re safe. Sorry, Sha-Mod.”
“What?” Michela asks, standing. “That’s impossible, we all voted for Patrick!”
Chris shrugs. “Hey, I just count the votes. Don't shoot the messenger,”
Albert guides Michela back down to her seat. Patrick looks back. “Some team, huh?”
“Why are you surprised! We hate you!” Albert hisses. Patrick glares.
“Well… I had fun,” Sha-Mod says, strapping on the chute. “Thank you, Albert. My boyfriend and I’ll write a song about you!”
Albert forces a smile and a double thumbs-up. Sha-Mod walks to the plane door, salutes, and jumps out backwards. “Don’t forget to pre-order our Christmas albuuuuuuum,”
“What an exit,” Chris says. “Well, off to the hot tub!” and with that, he leaves the contestants in the cabin. Patrick stands shortly after, making glaring eye contact with both Albert and Michela, and then disappears.
Albert glares back.
---
ALBERT: “I had a sort of... revelation today. Sha-Mod is right- everyone’s hiding behind some kind of mask. While his was… well, literal, mine was my job. And now that it’s gone, all I’m left with is me,” a long pause follows, and he smiles widely. “I guess what I’m saying is that no one is prepared for what’s coming.”
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When was the last time I did this? Oh well, welcome to Season 2, Episode 4 of Waku Puyo Translations.
(Have you seen this animal? This DWEEB?)
Heya guys, I'm finally back doing this funny nonsense since school has finally ended, or basically ended depending on when I post this. I have much more time to do stuff, and I'm hoping for a good summer.
I like doing these mock translations, and yeah, I figured out the word for the thing I do. They're not professional, but they're just a mock-up, a way to get the general information in for the people. And it only took me a whole...year to figure it out.
I'm a tad foolish.
For people who dunno, I just kinda do this stuff on my spare time. I do plan on making a big Google Doc about it sometime, revisions and all, but that'll be months and months of work. Since I got a new laptop, I can type these things a whole lot more quickly, at the cost of trying to figure out what the hell what PC Tumblr looks like. I'll learn within due time.
Well, in that case, here's the video in question:
youtube
Timestamps:
Door: (0:07)
Merchant Nonsense: (0:25)
MORE Merchant Nonsense: (1:40)
EVEN MORE Merchant Nonsense: (2:03)
Rulue Encounter 1: (3:05)
Schezo Encounter 1: (3:50)
Info Booth: (4:38)
Sasori Man Encounter: (8:00)
Schezo Encounter 2: (9:23)
Rulue Encounter 2: (9:58)
Cockatrice Midboss: (12:20)
Skeleton-T Encounter: (13:50)
Owlbear Boss: (13:50)
Info Booth 2: (19:04)
Lets see how this goes. Hope you enjoy.
And on a serious note, I'm so, so sorry this took so long. Life got super busy, and still sorta is, I even got myself a summer job. I'll try to continue these, I promise. I'll post more informational stuff too, I think people are getting really tired of my super casual posting, so I'll begin to balance them more. And I'm also going to stop putting the timestamp on the translations, since they're...already at the top.
Door:
Arle:
Huh? What does it say here...?
Door:
They who has 6 orbs, raise them.
Arle:
...6 of them?
I mean, I have a few, but not six of them.
Carbuncle:
Gugu?
------
Merchant Nonsense:
Fufufu:
Welcome.
Arle:
Oh, heya there.
Fufufu:
Fufufu, you're here to buy something?
Arle:
So you're a merchant as well, I assume?
Fufufu:
Fufufu, well, I got a lot of interesting stuff for you.
[This opens up a menu for the shop, and I'll just go by page number rather than what the player here does. Some of the names might be wrong, my apologies.
Page 1:
Rugged Stone
Life Stone
Soul Stone
Ruby
Sapphire
Emerald
Useless Wand (Could also just say Worthless. Either or.)
Transforming Wand (I'd assume it does, since the text says it'd transform something, so it's what I'll be going with.
Page 2:
Golden Wand
Multi-trap Scroll
Monster Scroll
Cursed Scroll
Super Cursed Scroll (It's basically still a Cursed Scroll, so I'll just call it this.)
Forgetfulness Scroll
Slowness Scroll
Rotten Soup (Part of Medicine.)
Page 3:
Poison
Illusion Medicine
Blindness Medicine
Dizziness Medicine
Sealing Medicine
Sleep Medicine
Forgetfulness Medicine
Slowness Medicine
Page 4:
Rotten Herbs
Hunger Herbs
Falling Herb (I asked like three people and we all pointed to this)
Drain Herb
Rotten Apple
Poisoned Apple
Explosive Apple
Page 5:
Rotten Curry
Plain Curry
Rugged Book
Heavy Book
Difficult Book
And that'd be all the items here. These are easily the hardest things to do.]
Fufufu:
Fufufu, I see you haven't learned to fuse yet. (In-game, it's sorta called Synthesize, but the gameplay mechanic is virtually fusion. So for clarity's sake, I'll call it Fusion.)
Arle:
Fuse? I mean, you're not wrong.
Fufufu:
Please bring me a Flame Ring (1) then.
Arle:
So if I bring it, you'll teach me?
Fufufu:
Fufufu, indeed.
-----
MORE Shop Nonsense:
Momomo:
Welcome to the shop.
[...More Menus. Yay. So it says:
Rings <-
Amulets
Scrolls
Books
Medicine
Herbs
Food
Accessories
Page 1 of Rings:
Plain Ring
Rugged Ring
Flame Ring (1)
Ice Ring (1)
Lightning Ring (1)
Thunder Ring (2)
Supernatural Ring
Rock-Punch Ring (1) (I'd assume this is from Rulue's Story.)
Page 2:
Flame-Strike Ring (2)
Ice-Strike Ring (2)
Player buys a Flame Ring (1) and leaves.]
Momomo:
Thank you for shopping with us.
-----
EVEN MORE Shop Nonsense:
Fufufu:
Fufufu, welcome.
Did you get the Flame Ring (1)?
[Menu pops up saying "Do you want to give him the ring?" We say Yes.]
Arle:
Yeah, here ya go.
Fufufu:
Now watch carefully, because something interesting is going to happen.
Arle:
What're you gonna do?
Fufufu
So, look at this Flame Ring (1) and Ice Ring (1).
We combine the two, and...
Arle:
Huh?
Fufufu:
Look. Now we have the Thunder Ring.
Arle:
What!? How'd you do that?
Fufufu:
Fufufu, you really want to know?
Arle:
I wanna know, yeah! Can you tell me?
Fufufu:
Fufufu, you sure ask for quite a good bit.
[Arle has learned the Fusion skill.
Now, you can Fuse your Rings and Amulets.]
Arle:
Wow, thanks!
Fufufu:
Fufufu, good luck on your journey.
-----
Rulue Encounter 1:
Rulue:
Oh-hohoho!
Arle:
...What's up with you today?
Rulue:
You don't have a VIP Ticket, huh?
Arle:
Ticket? Hmm, so Rulue got one as well...
Rulue:
Wait a second, you said "As well".
Arle, where did you get a VIP Ticket?
Arle:
Oh, from Sasori Man.
I could ask you the same question, how did you get yours?
Rulue:
Well, how I got it is not important at all!
Arle:
Alright...But it's not fair for you to ask about my ticket, but not vise versa.
Rulue:
Oh, can it! I don't need to be hearing this from you!
Arle:
I didn't even do anything wrong! ...C'mon Carby!
Carbuncle:
Gu...
-----
Schezo Encounter 1
Arle:
Heya Schezo.
Schezo:
What is it?
Arle:
Did you know that there's more than 5 floors in the PuyoPuyo Dungeon?
Schezo:
Oh, of course I did. That lady I spoke to wasn't my enemy, after all.
Arle:
Lady? I dunno any girls who you're exactly close with.
Oh right, I remember! You're here to pick up girls!
Schezo:
No, I'm not!
...Wait, you didn't meet that perverted woman?
Arle:
Pervert? But aren't you the pervert?
Schezo:
That's enough from you...Just don't say another word.
Arle:
And he's gone...Odd.
Carbuncle:
Gu?
-----
Info Booth:
[I've done these so many times...
Menu appears saying:
Listen <-
Rank
Bulletin
Back
Kiki says "What do you want to hear?"
More Menus appear:
About Completed Attractions
About Rare Items <-
Black Market Tales
When in Trouble
Back]
Kikimora:
There's quite the number of items in these attractions.
And with these items, there's also rare ones that can't be found in stores.
These items change depending on which attraction you are at, so if you want anything specific, let us know.
Think about the attractions you're entering before trying to find items.
As well, at the store, when you sell the item, they'll always be in stock, so you can sell anything you want without much worry.
Arle.
Huh. Neat.
[The player then goes into the Bulletin, where it says:
Horror House
Wonder Jungle
Merchant Fufufu
Recommendations For Bottling
Fusion Manual <-]
Incubus:
Hello!
Arle:
Hey, just teach me about Fusion.
Incubus:
Of course!
It's quite a long story, so listen carefully, alright honey?
Arle:
Who's Honey...?
Incubus:
Fusing is combing items in order to make new ones.
It can only be things like rings with rings and amulets with amulets, so no mixing.
Okay so far?
Arle:
Mhm.
Incubus:
Lets continue then. Fusing also drains some MP.
Arle:
D-drains?
Incubus:
Imagine it like using a spell, it'll also cost MP to use it.
But once you do it, you gain EXP.
Of course though, gaining EXP through other means also levels up your fusing ability.
Arle:
Well, what'll happen if I level up?
Incubus:
More MP is needed to fuse stronger and rarer items.
But if you level up, you can fuse with less MP drain as well.
If you're a low level, you'll just fail at fusing a lot.
And even if you fail, you'll still lose that MP.
Arle:
This all sounds really complicated...
Incubus:
Come on, it's actually pretty easy.
Higher leveled items are much more difficult to fuse than lower leveled ones.
But the higher the level of the item, the stronger the combined fusion will become.
Arle:
Ahhhha...
Incubus:
Once an item is at its max potential, it'll say (EX) right next to it.
It just means that it's at its strongest.
Well, that just explains most of Fusion.
Arle:
Woah...
Incubus:
Ha! It's not EVERYTHING, I'll explain more when we meet again.
Arle:
Wha!? There's more?
Incubus:
The road to mastering Fusion is a very long and difficult road, you know.
But see ya later! Buh-Bye~!
Arle:
Err...
-----
Sasori Man Encounter:
Sasori Man:
Hey hey.
Arle:
Hmm? What's up?
Sasori Man:
I got one thing to tell you before you enter this place.
Arle:
And what's that?
Sasori Man:
It's about the big boss of Wonder Jungle.
Arle:
And this guy...well, is he strong?
Sasori Man:
What he lacks in power, he for sure makes up in technique.
Here's the real kicker; Apparently he can read minds.
Arle:
Wait...what?
Sasori Man:
Yeah, he can read the minds of the opponent he faces and avoid the attacks they throw.
Swords, magic, anything!
It doesn't matter how strong your attacks are if they just miss.
He's a real doozy. Be careful out there.
Arle:
I'm not sure I can just be careful...
I mean, if they just avoid my attacks, then it'd be impossible for me to win.
Sasori Man:
Well, you're right on that.
Arle:
Uhh...
Sasori:
Sorry that I can't exactly help any further.
Arle:
Nah, it's not that.
If I just went in without a care in the world, I would've been beaten in a heartbeat.
There just HAS to be some sorta way to beat him. I'll have to really think about it, though.
Sasori Man:
Huh, I see. You got this, good luck.
Arle:
I sure do. Thanks.
-----
Schezo Encounter 2:
Arle:
Oh, Schezo!
Schezo:
Arle! ...By any chance, are you planning to enter this attraction?
Arle:
Mhm, you're right on the mark.
Schezo:
...Then I'll enter first!
Arle:
I mean, aren't you familiar with the phrase "Ladies First"?
Schezo:
Ladies first? Never heard that one before.
And besides, I'd never do that thing to begin with, I'll never give up my own turn!
Arle:
Isn't he a persistent one...
Carbuncle:
Gu?
-----
Rulue Encounter 2:
Arle:
We should go in soon.
Carbuncle:
Gu!
Arle:
...Hm? What's this?
Minotauros:
Lady Rulue, please wait...
Rulue:
Hey, Minotauros! Move faster, will ya!?
Arle:
It's hard to believe that this lady only two years older than me...
Rulue:
And who's this "old lady" you're talking about!?
Arle:
Oh, you heard that?
...And I didn't exactly call you an old lady, either...
Rulue:
No excuses! I swear, I can't handle you sometimes.
A girl like you can be unbearable to be around! (Not exactly what it says, but I'm deciding to just try and make it more cohesive.)
Arle:
...Growing up is a interesting thing.
I wonder if I'll turn into a selfish, self-conscious meathead!
...That was just my Rulue impression, heh!
Rulue:
I beg your pardon!?
And WHO is this selfish and self-conscious person!?
Oh, I'm just some idiot because I can't use magic, I see how it is! I'll remember that! (Rulue will remember that.)
Arle:
...Carby, I didn't say all of THAT, though!
Carbuncle:
Gugu!
-----
Cockatrice Midboss + Defeat:
Cockatrice:
Ca-CAW!
Arle:
Huh? Is this chicken mad at me or something?
Cockatrice:
CA-CAW! (You're nothing but a fool!) [The parenthesis is what they're actually saying this time, so heads up for that.]
Arle:
...Do I really need to fight a chicken, of all things?
Cockatrice:
Ca-CAAAW! (Oh, you're SUCH a goner!) [Believe me, that's...basically all they say.]
[Blah blah, Cockatrice gets beaten, this is the most amount of attention they've gotten in months]
Cockatrice:
Ca-caaaw...
Arle:
...Huh. What an odd animal.
-----
Skeleton-T Encounter:
Arle:
Oh, it's you!
Skeleton-T:
Ochaaaa!
Arle:
... ... (Yeah same here Arle.)
Skeleton-T:
Sorry, I'm all out of tea this time.
Arle:
Eh?
Skeleton-T:
I apologize for the inconvenience, I wish I could give you a cup of tea.
Arle:
Errrr...
You don't need to sound so...professional.
Skeleton-T:
As an apology, I'll give you this instead.
Arle:
And what's this for?
Skeleton-T:
Well, what it's for is in the chest.
[He leaves]
Arle:
Wonder what the thing exactly is.
(In the chest was just a book.)
-----
Owlbear Boss + Defeat:
Owlbear:
Stop right there! You got some guts challenging me to a fight.
Arle:
Huh?
Owlbear:
And with that, I also want you OUT of here!
Arle:
Hey, wait a second...
Owlbear:
I WON'T wait! I don't have time to waste!
[He promptly gets his ass kicked.]
Owlbear:
Forgive me...
Arle:
Huh...That was a tough battle.
[During this time, Arle finds a chest.]
Arle:
Oh, there's an orb in here! It seems to be the green one. Now I only need two more!
Carbuncle:
Gugu!
-----
Info Booth 2:
[We're back at the booth, and this is the final stuff, THANK GOD. The player clicks on rankings, and clicks the "To the person who has a grimoire" bulletin.]
Bulletin:
I've found I grimoire myself, and I got news for you.
If you read the spell inside of the grimoire, you'll quickly see that it's stronger than most spells you might have.
So I wonder if you'll return this grimoire I've oh-so-lost, since I'm the only one who can use the Meteor Spell. Oh-hohoho!
From: A Talented Witch.
[And finally, the player clicks the "Don't just throw it away" bulletin.]
Bulletin:
A blank scroll or plain water can often be seen as useless.
As such, people tend to throw them away, and it's such a waste!
You might as well use a different item, change the item itself. Or even just Fuse it. (I assume that's what this conversation was going for since it's a little vague.)
From Sasori, Behind the Scenes.
-----
And for the first time in months, we finally finished an entire episode. Once again, I'm so sorry for the delay, life got the best of me and free time DOES exist, but I REALLY have to manage it well now. But still, thank you so much for reading this. I plan to make a Waku Puyo Extras about maybe cut content or even a game I probably haven't covered just yet, so who knows?
But that'll be all from me.
Adios.
#Youtube#Puyo Puyo#waku waku puyo puyo dungeon#arle nadja#puyoposting#Schezo wegey#Rulue Puyo Puyo#PP/MM#kikimora puyo puyo#incubus puyo puyo#It's so much better to type these on laptop. My GOD it feels so much faster now#And hey it's good to be back like this. Sorta.
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Masterlist + Requests
(Last updated: 10:45pm - 6/23/24)
Heeeeeellloooo everyone! Curse here, I thought I'd make a masterlist for my fics so they would be easier to find seeing how I plan to make many more fics In the future :3
ALSO! I have an AO3 account if it's easier to read my writing on there. I'm TheCursedAnon on ao3 as well :3
LETS JUST JUMP RIGHT INTO IT--
~REQUESTS ARE NOW OPEN! :3~
I'm operating with 2 fic request slots for now so I can get a feel for them, I can't guarantee they'll be super long because as I've stated previously my muse is a fickle bitch. I'm also not sure how fast I'll be able to get them out because I'm working on my own original non t-word series right now, but I'll do my best! <3
My HC requests are also OPEN, there's no limit on hc's, request as many as you want. :3 also feel free to send me your hc ideas! I love reading them! <3
Guidelines for requests:
I don't write NSFW. I've got nothing against it, It's just not for me lmao.
I don't write other people's OC's. Listen... Y'all, I love OC's, I'll be the first to admit I have a whole like 20 page google doc of OC's from various different fandoms-- but something I've learned over the years is It's really hard to write someone else's OC well, with official characters there's enough content for me to consume to get a feel for them... OC's not so much. :( I'm sorry.
Also, as I'm consuming JJK content, I'm forming a mental list of characters I will not write for... So far there's only a few on the list;
Meimei - I feel like most people will get where I'm coming from with this one. I don't mind writing a few lines of dialogue for her If it's necessary to the plot, but I'm certainly not comfortable making her a lee! or ler!
Toji - Sorry. I actually can't stand this deadbeat father LOL.
Mahito - Seriously, screw this ahole for what he did in Shibuya, I like his design but that's literally IT 😭
I debated putting Kenjaku on the list... but I feel like there are certain scenarios I could make work with him... but just know I don't like him, and he's SORTA on my list lol... depends on the prompt Ig.
Request slot 1: Lee!Yuji, Lers!Nanami, Gojo, Yuta, Choso, Megumi & Todo. (Whoooo boy, Yuji gonna have a busy day XD)
Request slot 2: Empty
~Upcoming Fics~
Lee!Nanami + Ler!Haibara fic - (TW: Mentions of Abuse) Haibara is concerned about Nanami, he's acting really out of character and now he's isolating himself... Haibara makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what's bothering his best friend. (85%)
Lee!Yuji + Lers!Nanami, Gojo, Yuta, Choso, Megumi, Nobara & Todo ~RQ~ - It's Yuji's birthday, what better way to celebrate than by getting the snot tickled out of him by his friends? (Not started)
Amusement park shenanigans pt 3 - Gojo is now raining down hell on EVERYONE. Everyone be catching these wiggling fingers now. (Not started)
Name TBD - The beginning of an AU... :) (2%)
(I'm just now realizing how much comfort I write... LOL)
~Fanfic Masterlist~
1. Amusement Park Shenanigans (Lee!Nanami, Switch!Yuji, Ler!Gojo) - Summary: Gojo decides to take the students to the amusement park, and drags a very unwilling Nanami along with them... after trying to failing to convince Gojo to let him leave, and one too many grumpy remarks from Nanami, Gojo decides to do what Gojo does best... cause absolute chaos. Upload Date: 3/12/24
2. Amusement Park Aftermath (Lee!Gojo, Ler!Nanami, Ler!Megumi) - Summary: Did Gojo seriously think Nanami wasn't gonna get revenge for that little stunt he pulled the other day? Upload Date: 4/5/24
3. Rainy Day (Lee!Yuji, Ler!Nanami) - Summary: Yuji Is super down today, that and he's not been sleeping well due to the nightmares he's been having. His friends, concerned about him go to Nanami with their concerns, and the stoic teacher takes it upon himself to cheer Itadori up. Upload Date: 4/11/24. 🔮NEW🔮
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Phantoms of the Past: Vergil x Male Reader
SUMMARY:
Vergil has always had nightmares and night terrors for as long as he can remember; however, when he met you, those began to subside more and more. Over the years, he had begun to forget what it was like to wake up in a cold sweat and terrified; that is until a few months ago. Once more, his mind has been plagued by these agonizingly real dreams.
BEGINNING NOTES:
HAH! YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE WRITING SAD FLUFF WITH VERGIL; WELL THINK AGAIN (He really is my comfort character--I swear).
There are 12,886 words in this… This beats my last one so now this is the longest chapter I’ve written--It’s like 23 pages in google docs lmao.
⚔️🛡️⚔️
▪️I couldn’t find an exact answer to this so I will put this here: a grin refers to the lil’ smirky smile Vergil gives Dante in DMC5 while a smile is closer to like showing your teeth. I hope that helps clear things up a bit lmao
▫️I use an in-game combo term (DMC 5)--just a head’s up.
▪️When I reference triggering unless I say specifically “Sin Trigger” I am referring to Vergil’s regular trigger (the pre-DMC 5 form; however, I use the concept art for DMC5 as my visual reference… I know that’s kinda complicated. Just look at his fandom page and then the gallery; you’ll see the concept art for DMC5.)
▫️I’ve never personally had a concussion before so I did some online research; forgive me if it is a bad representation of having
🛡️⚔️🛡️
💠Vergil x Male reader; I tried to write G/N but it got confusing, sorry.
🔹Pre-established relationship--married and living together.
💠Fluff… well more angst; I got kind of carried away.
🔹Minor accusations of physical abuse; THE KEYWORD IS ACCUSATIONS. (trigger warning)
💠Minor blood warning; from both of you.
⚔️🛡️⚔️
READER RELATED
🔹The reader uses: Beowulf and Revenant
🔹Reader is overly chill about things; I am a rather passive person so it ended up being that way with this story, sorry.
🔹It is mentioned that you are younger than Vergil--and closer to Nero’s age.
🔹Reader does throw up; only mentioned it isn’t like graphic or anything--still figured I should warn just in case.
🛡️⚔️🛡️
VERGIL RELATED
💠Vergil has PTSD-related nightmares/actions.
💠Self-harm? Vergil skins himself accidentally; so I am not sure if that is self-harm per se. Plus it’s only in one part so it’s not that big of a talking point.
🛡️⚔️🛡️
Slight spoiler, don't read if you don't want to have things spoiled:
To add some explanation to Vergil’s bit where he swore and freaked out: I figure that when Vergil lost his autonomy for so long as Nelo Angelo, he ended up becoming hyper-aware of what he is doing at all times. So when he does something that he either can’t remember doing or didn’t want to do that it would send him into a panic; fearing that he is going to lose his freedom again.
==
INSPIRED BY: And when thy heart ceased to beat--By: Craig
Please give this a read. It is what originally inspired me to write this, plus it is just a really good story and takes a pretty realistic look at what Vergil’s life could/would be like after everything that’s happened.
==
A cold wind swept through the arena as all movement stilled.
At the edges were the two remaining contenders; circling one another. One, a male human equipped with Beowulf, was out of breath and exhausted: the other, the olive-armored Nelo Angelo, had barely warmed up and diligently awaited the human's next move.
Seeing how the man defeated the slew of lesser demons that Nelo had sent prior, he decided to take things into his own hands. The devilish swordsman was confident that he’d win this fight; even if this particular human has been more of a challenge than anticipated--as the pair has been going at it for nearly an hour now.
With gritted teeth, the man sprinted at Nelo, cracking the ground in their wake. He was going to try and grapple with the large knight. Right before he was able, Nelo swung his greatsword. The silver blade was suddenly halted as it hit the Beowulf gauntlets. Even though the man was unharmed, the momentum of the attack was enough to fling the human far across the field.
Using the claws of the gauntlets, the man shredded the arena’s floor and stopped himself. Nelo turned to face him and waited for the incompetent warrior to stand back up. Noticing that the knight stood still, the man began to grow frustrated; knowing that the devil was taunting him to try again.
With a pounding heart and exhaustion only worsening, the man stood up with a grunt. He rolled his shoulders, cracking them loudly, and took a deep breath. Once more he sprinted at Nelo. When the man was close enough, he decided to jump off one of the nearby walls. Springing himself above the Black Knight and performed Starfall.
Nelo dodged but wasn't quite fast enough and was nicked along one side; which only further irritated the Black Knight. The second the man's feet landed, Nelo kicked the underside of their knees--bringing them to a kneel.
Not wasting any time, Nelo raised his sword to strike, only to be blocked once more by the Beowulf gauntlets. The pair locked in a bind; Nelo’s sword heavily pushing downwards onto the forearms of Beowulf, which were painfully held above the man’s head.
No matter what way you put it, a devil's strength is insurmountable to a human’s, even if the human is wearing the armor of a former devil. Nelo knew this and drove his weapon harder into the demonic protection as it began to falter.
Knowing it was only a matter of time before the gauntlets shattered, the man moved into a position where he could dig his feet into the ground. This allowed him to stand ever so slightly. Not having any better ideas, he used this small amount of space and attempted to jump. This, in turn, used the demonic energy of the boots to push the gauntlets up harder into the greatsword; allowing the man to stand up further. Without wasting any time, he jumped once more and noticed small cracks that began to spider on their forearm guards. However, he had enough room to break away from Nelo; making the knight slam his blade into the ground.
The man grumbled as they looked down at his gauntlets, seeing that they would shatter if hit by the sword again.
Nelo pulled his sword back up and huffed. Now it was his turn.
Nelo sprinted at his opponent and lunged with the broadsword; catching the man off guard; as he only barely dodged the sharp edge, rolling into a stand. Before the man had a moment to think, Nelo attacked once more. A large sweeping motion from the broadsword hit the gauntlets and blue sparks flew off the sword from the impact; sending the human flying into a wall of the arena.
Standing back on his feet, the man looked at his forearms; Beowulf had fractured all the way through. Seeing Nelo begin to move in again, he quickly shed the broken armor and dodged. Using Beowulf’s boots, he jumped onto Nelo’s shoulders and used him as a surface to bounce off.
The devil turned to face the man and heard him say something unintelligible; and yet, something so familiar. Nelo ignored it with a small dismissive shake of his head and continued the fight. Once more he moved to attack. The man attempted to dodge in the same way again, not knowing what else to do. However, Nelo wasn’t created yesterday. He was quick enough to grab the man's leg in a flash.
Nelo used the human’s limb as a handle to swing the attached body into the ground. The floor cracked from the extreme force as the man's flesh made contact; followed by an ear-piercing scream and the sound of an unimaginable amount of breaking bones.
A strange feeling ghosted at the recesses of Nelo’s mind, a feeling of terror--a deep underlying urge to stop what he was doing. However, the knight had to finish what he started. The demonic swordsman grabbed the man by his neck; making him scream once more.
Despite their wounds, the human still attempted to fight. He grasped at Nelo’s face and horns, pulling on them; all the while, the man was saying something Nelo was still unable to understand.
It didn’t matter, the struggle was pointless.
Like a hot knife through butter, Nelo plunged his broadsword through the man’s torso. Nelo felt the human’s body go limp and their hands released the tight grasp on his face. The dead man’s blood trickled down the silver blade and onto Nelo Angelo’s olive-armored fingers. Before the knight could enjoy his victory, he decided to get a better look at his opponent.
A loud clatter emanated from his sword as he dropped it and the fresh corpse. The Black Knight’s hands shook as he looked at the blood that was dripping from them, horrified at what he’d done.
Vergil shot upwards with a loud terrified scream.
He frantically turned his head around to get his bearings. He was sitting at home, in bed, with you. Vergil’s heart was racing and his skin was clammy. With short panicked breaths, Vergil gripped his face tightly, unknowingly tearing at his skin with his claws, as he replayed everything in his mind.
“Vergil? Is everything alright?” a confused and very concerned voice called from the space beside him.
The blue devil nearly jumped out of his skin upon hearing you speak. You sat upwards upon noticing his terrified state.
“Hey,” you whispered and gently touched his bicep, making him flinch.
Vergil turned his head to you and just stared. You noticed that his arms were partially triggered, his eyes were glowing dully, and there were small pin-prick-sized bleeding marks caused by his claws on his face. His stare was blank with his brow ever-so-slightly creased. He looked afraid… almost as if he were lost.
“Another nightmare?” you softly kneaded against his arm, hoping to bring him back from whatever terrified thoughts he was in, “It’s okay, Vergil. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you.”
His stare moved down to your chest and he slowly reached outwards. Confused, you let go of his arm--allowing him to fully pivot to see you. Barely-there scaled charcoal-black fingers ghost down your midline. You noticed a slight tremble in his lips and his stare had softened a bit.
Slowly you grabbed his arm, making sure he could see what you were doing (and to be cautious of his forearm’s blades), “I’m right here, Vergil. You’re safe and at home. Everything’s okay.”
He opened his mouth but no words came out, just a weak crack of his voice. The both of you just sat for a few minutes; his palm resting firmly over your stomach while you rubbed his forearm. You continued to try and ground him back in reality with your words, hoping to keep things from escalating.
When Vergil’s trigger began to subside, he cleared his throat and spoke in a barely audible voice, “I didn’t…” his voice trailed off once more.
“It’s okay Vergil,” you noticed his expression had shifted and he seemed to be more present, “You’re safe. I’m safe. We’re alright.”
Vergil nodded slowly, his free hand moved to yours that you had on his forearm. You let go of him and watched as he removed his palm from your skin. He placed your hand in between both of his. With trembling fingers, Vergil ran his digits over your hand and arm while staring down at the interaction.
Another few minutes passed, Vergil’s trigger had fully subsided and a few stray tears fell from his eyes. It pained you to see him like this; to see him so scared and not know how to help him. A small pang of hurt tugged at your heart; you had a feeling that whatever the nightmare was, it involved you as (you presumed) most have. However, tonight was different; Vergil didn’t attack you.
Over the past few months, Vergil’s nightmares and terrors had been getting steadily worse. Just two weeks ago he woke you up by almost dislocating your shoulder. A week ago? Vergil triggered in his sleep and gouged the crap out of your back--enough that you had to get new bedding because of bloodstains.
Tonight, you finally managed to get him to sleep for the first time in a week and he had another agonizing nightmare. It was also the first time he had tried to speak to you afterwards; rather than sit in silence.
A stuttering breath caught your attention. You looked into Vergil’s eyes as he spoke, his voice still laced with a terror you’d never heard from him before, “I couldn’t… You...” the blue devil’s jaw quivered, not being able to bring himself to finish his thought.
“You’re okay. I’m okay. Everything’s okay,” you moved to get closer to him, “I promise.”
He pulled you into his lap and buried his face into your neck and continued to mumble, “I’m sorry,” over and over as he shook against you.
You gently wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back, “It’s not your fault, you don’t have to be sorry.”
The two of you remained this way until you both fell asleep. Vergil, thankfully, did not have another nightmare; however, his sleep was far from restful.
==
A ringing phone woke you from your sleep and you moved to grab it, only to be stopped by a strong set of arms. Vergil had wrapped himself entirely around you--legs and all.
“Vergil,” you whispered, “I need to get up.”
He grumbled in response and loosened his grip just enough for you to slip out of bed. You grabbed your phone and went to the bathroom. While in there, you saw that Dante had tried to call you and text you:
“You coming in today?”
“Hello?”
“I am going to keep spamming you till you respond,” and that he did.
It looked like Dante had been doing this for the past 30 minutes.
After you finished up in the bathroom, you called Dante.
It rang once before the red devil picked up, “Mornin’ beautiful.”
You rolled your eyes as you made your way back to the bedroom, “Do not call me that; Vergil will kill you.”
“Be one hell of a way to die--make sure to put it on my grave, yeah?”
The both of you laughed, “So, what’s up? The shop finally burn down or something?”
“Honestly… I don’t think the fires of Hell could burn this place down��” you could hear Dante’s chair creak as he leaned forwards, “You both forgot about that job this morning, huh?”
Your face went pale, “What--”
The younger twin laughed, “Verge and you had a contract for today. It’s nearly noon and you both are still at home?”
“Son of a bitch!” you yelled, forgetting that Vergil was still sleeping, “We’ll be right there.”
“See you soon,” you could practically hear Dante reveling in the fact Vergil messed up.
“Mhm, yep,” with that, you hung up the phone.
“Dante?” Vergil grumbled from the bed, making you jump slightly.
The bed creaked as you sat on it, swinging one leg on it, “Yeah… We are late to work…”
Vergil moved to set his head on your lap and sighed, “I will undoubtedly never hear the end of this mistake.”
“Mhm,” you gently ran your fingers through his naturally down hair, “knowing Dante.”
“Brillant,” Vergil looked up at you and had a strange pained look.
“Something on your mind?”
His lips parted slightly as he took a hand and reached up to your face, not saying anything.
You kissed his palm, “I’m right here, Vergil.”
He closed his eyes and nodded with a sputtering exhale. This had also become a regular occurrence in the last few months; even before the terrors began. You had noticed that Vergil would often stare at you with this sad and distant look on his face. One night, he finally acknowledged that he did so and admitted why; that he was afraid you aren't real.
After a few moments, Vergil removed his hand and sat upright. An air of remorse emanated from the twin as he whispered, “I did not harm you last night, did I?”
You shook your head, “No,” you set a hand on his bicep, “You did talk to me a bit, though.”
His brow furrowed as he tried to remember and looked over his shoulder at you.
“You kept… apologizing, telling me that you didn’t know..? I won’t pry, but…” you locked eyes with the blue devil, “I am here if you ever want or need to talk about it, okay?”
He turned to you, “Thank you for your offer… But I assure you that I am fine.”
“Vergil,” you placed a hand on his and spoke softly, “You don’t have to be fine all the time; it’s okay to be upset, to have problems.”
A weak grin was all he gave you in return, squeezing your hand tightly.
The eldest twin knew exactly what had set off this spiral of increasingly terrified thoughts; however, he was ashamed to admit it, even to you.
==
It had been a job just like any other; clear out demons here and destroy a nest there--a piece of cake really. However, the weather was far from amiable; being overcast and heavily raining.
“Fuck me!” you growled as you violently yanked the Beowulf boot from the mud.
The demonic hardware is rather heavy, at least for your human legs, so it is not ideal for muddy rainy weather--often getting stuck. Vergil noticed your grumbling and scrunched-up expression from the corner of his eye as he stifled a laugh.
“Don’t even--” you insincerely growled at him, “I swear I will throw them at you.”
Vergil smirked slightly and huffed a laugh through his nose, “Perhaps you’d prefer me to leave you here?”
Playfully you shoved his shoulder, “You wouldn’t dare.”
His eyes narrowed, "I wouldn't?"
You raised a brow, "You'll sleep on the couch for a week if you do, mister,” your voice was heavily layered with sarcasm and playfulness.
Without responding, Vergil grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you over one of his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.
“Hey--!” you squirmed in his grasp.
“Stop struggling,” his grip tightened as his fingers dug into your skin, “Or I will drop you.”
With a shake of your head and a smile, you laughed, “What a romantic husband I have.”
“Tch,” Vergil was scowling, but you knew it was disingenuous.
The two of you walked like this for some time, enjoying the comfortable silence (which if you listened very closely, you could hear Vergil purring). A part of you had almost forgotten that the both of you were on a job; that is until Vergil yanked you from his shoulder and plopped you on your feet.
He placed a stiff hand on your shoulder, “Stay,” with that, Vergil dashed off behind you.
Confused, you turned around and watched Vergil zip around a group of miscellaneous demons. You lovingly wolf-whistled at the silver-haired hunter.
Similar to a peacock showing its feathers, Vergil did these solo fights to show off--to flirt with you. You knew that this was the case because he would always finish the fight with a fancy move; be it an over-the-top judgment cut or using his doppelgänger in a combo. Today he opted for the second type.
You smirked widely as you watched Vergil return the Yamato to its scabbard and dismiss Doppel.
Lovingly, you cooed at the devilish swordsman, “I love watching you work, you know that?”
His face was emotionless, holding intense eye contact with you. His lips were slightly parted as he seemingly tried to come up with a response.
Under your breath, you laughed quietly and approached him, “my Dark Slayer,” you winked and gave him a large grin.
He closed his lips and looked down with a tiny smirk, a trace amount of bashfulness ghosted his features. As you got within reach of him, a loud noise made both of you snap to attention. The two of you moved closer together, back to back; as per typical routine. The source of the noise sprung from the nearby buildings. It was a group of four Scudo Angelos and two Proto Angelos.
Vergil’s lip twitched as he huffed in irritation. He would always take care of these two types in particular, alone. Right now, however, it is impossible to get you away to a safe distance without a high risk of hurting you.
“So, you got a plan?” you calmly asked over your shoulder to Vergil.
With a small click of his tongue, Vergil spoke, “You take care of the Scudos; I will take the Protos.”
“Sounds good,” you nodded and the two of you broke apart.
Using Beowulf, you made quick work of the smaller demons’ shields. The talon heels of the boots are always a great tool for crushing the demons’ thick skulls. It didn’t take long for you to have them all but bloodied remains beneath your heels. You turned to address Vergil, figuring that he had finished his fight alongside you; however, he was still in combat.
You raised a brow as you watched him take on both of the knights. Confusion pricked at the edges of your mind, it was unusual for Vergil to take longer than you. The closer you watched the more off he seemed; his movements were overly stiff and his technique was sloppy. Deciding to help him, you moved in on one of the Proto Angelos. It didn’t take long for the demon to notice you. It charged at you and, just as it swung its broadsword, you parried the attack using your gauntlets. Taking advantage of the small gap of time that it took for the demon to pull its blade upwards, you hit it square in the chest.
The Proto Angelo stumbled back a bit but was relatively unphased by the uncharged punch. Now circling each other, you waited for the demon to attack. Once it did, you jumped upwards and were able to perform Starfall upon the knight. Grinding your taloned heels into the flattened olive-armored demon, you did a fancy flip off of it; deciding to have some fun. Which was a major mistake.
You hadn’t noticed that the second Proto Angelo also had its attention on you as it had knocked Vergil into a far-off wall. Hearing movement, you spun around to defend yourself but it was too late.
A searing pain shot through you as the demon’s broadsword slashed horizontally along your torso. With a loud shout, your knees buckled a bit as you stumbled backwards. You placed your arm along the slash, feeling it with your fingers--as to not break eye contact with the demon. The wound was bleeding profusely and was much deeper than you anticipated.
“Shit,” you grimaced and noticed the first Proto Angelo stand up. Thinking quickly, you sprinted at the second one and jumped off its shoulders. With another loud shout in pain, you landed using a shoulder roll. Your head was spinning as you slowly moved to kneel with your back to the demons.
A bright blue flash caught your eye and you felt a gush of wind pass you by. Once you managed to stand, the pair of Proto Angelos had been desolated into nothing but specs of dust in the wind. Where the demons once stood was Vergil in his sin trigger. Instantly, he was in front of you, making you jump a little.
With a huff and a weak smile, you jested, “Kinda sad I missed that,” you winced a bit as you felt your gut twitch in pain.
A large grey-scaled hand gently touched your wound. Despite the heavy distortion of his sinful voice, you could tell he was worried, “You are hurt?”
You did your best to play it off as you set a hand atop his, “I’ll be fine; it’s just a scratch.”
He huffed loudly and pulled his hand from your body, looking at his palm that was covered in your blood, “I am sending you home--”
“What-!” you shook your head, “Vergil, you can’t be-”
The blue devil snarled lightly, “This is not up for discussion,” he sighed with a shake of his head returning to his human form, “It is not worth the risk to keep you here.”
With parted lips, you did your best to formulate a sentence despite your anger, “I’m not just going to leave you,” you shifted your jaw to the side, “We’re partners, remember?”
“As if I could forget,” Vergil’s eyes met yours as he mumbled, “That is why I am doing this.”
==
“Vergil?” your voice pulled him from his thoughts, “You okay? You’ve been zoned out for a few minutes.”
“Forgive me,” he removed his hand from yours, “I was lost in thought.”
You looked at him curiously.
Vergil shifted to the other edge of the bed, “We should get ready,” with that Vergil left the room.
You pursed your lips and sighed through your nose as you stood up; admittedly, you had hoped he might indulge you on what he was thinking about.
After a few minutes, Vergil returned to the room. You already had the majority of your gear on and were in the middle of tying your boots when the ringing of your cell phone caught your attention.
Before you could answer it, Vergil snatched it off the bedside table, “What do you want, Dante? "
Although you couldn’t hear the younger twin, you could tell that he was poking fun at Vergil for being late.
“Have you called only to pester? Or is there a reason for this conversation?” Vergil’s lip twitched as he huffed through his nose.
A small smirk tugged at your lips at Vergil’s feigned irritation at his baby brother.
“I see,” Vergil slowly looked over to you and eyed you up and down, “My partner and I will discuss it and let you know,” he turned his gaze from you, “Goodbye,” he hung up the phone and placed it gently down on the bedside table as it was before.
Vergil moved to the closet and grabbed a dress shirt, his jaw moving slowly around as he mindlessly buttoned the black fabric. Your boots hit the floor with a soft thud. Humming a soft tune as you moved to the dresser to grab Revenant off of it, sliding it into the horizontal holster on the small of your back. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Vergil standing behind you.
“Oops, shit-- sorry,” you shuffled out of the way.
“Do not apologize, I am in no rush,” he opened one of the drawers and grabbed a pair of pants and his belt.
A bright smile adorned your face as you resumed your humming. You grabbed your coat and his off the nearby wall hooks and walked over to him.
Vergil had moved back to the closet and slid on one of his vests.
“Allow me?”
The blue devil turned to you, “I can button my own clothing.”
“I thought you weren’t in a rush?” you teased gently.
You handed Vergil his coat to hold and slowly began to button the slate-blue apparel. Out of the top of your vision, you could see that Vergil was staring down at you with a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
“So what did Dante want?” you reached over to the closet behind him and grabbed one of his ties.
“He wanted to know if you wished to trade places with him for today.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you made sure the tie was semi-loose--as he prefers--and tucked it beneath his vest.
“That he would accompany me on the job and you would work with the women--taking Dante’s place."
“Well,” you rested your hands on his shoulders and sighed quietly, “I guess that makes the most sense since we are so late today…”
“Are you sure you are alright with it?” his eyes flicked to your hands then back to you, “I know you prefer to work with me,” he tossed his coat over on the bed and placed his hands on your waist.
You laughed as you felt him pull you closer, “It’ll be fine, dear,” you leaned your head on his chest, “just promise me you’ll stay safe and keep in touch?”
“Of course,” his voice was barely over a whisper as he kissed the top of your head, “Same goes for you.”
“I will,” a grin spread across your face as you leaned back to look at him. Lovingly, Vergil pressed further into you and moved one of his hands to the side of your face, rubbing his thumb on your cheek. The two of you kissed gently. His other hand kneaded into your hips as you moved your hands down the front of his chest, grabbing his vest.
Gradually, you two split from the kiss. The blue devil stayed touching your forehead. You shivered slightly feeling his hot breath against your lips, wanting to taste more of him.
“Perhaps we should save this for later?”
“Just a little more… please?” you pouted slightly.
The blue devil chuckled softly, “With a face like that,” he brushed his lips against yours, “how could I say no?”
The two of you intertwined yourselves once more. He moved both his hands to your sides, slowly and strongly kneading down them. With kisses as sweet as molasses, he made sure to show you how much he relishes in your affections. One of your hands moved to his hair and slowly ran your fingers through slicked back pomaded locks. A small distant purring could be heard as he pulled you even tighter to his body. Vergil’s lips left yours and ran down your jawline and neck.
“I love you,” you murmured, “so very much…”
He removed his lips from your skin and looked you in the eyes; his way of expressing the same affection. Despite his silence, you knew he felt the same.
A ghost of a smile hinted at Vergil's face as he reluctantly let go of your body, returning to his regular volume, “We should get going; otherwise I may change my mind about saving things for later.”
Your face turned a slight red at the flat-out way Vergil said that he wanted you. The blue devil had walked over to the bed and slid on his coat. He then grabbed Yamato from its resting place next to the bed and your phone.
With your phone outstretched in his hand, he raised a brow at your expression, “Ready?”
You shook the ever-encroaching ideas from your head as you meekly grabbed your phone, “Yeah.”
“Good,” his hand was still outstretched, “Shall we?”
A large smile decorated your face as you grabbed his hand, “Lead the way, dear.”
==
The instant you left Nico’s van after work, you went inside to bathe. It had been another rainy day and you were not only coated in demon blood but also mud--lots of mud. You pulled off Beowulf before entering your shared home and set them on the rubber mat near the door; leaving them to clean later.
Slowly, you undressed as you made your way to the bathroom when you heard something odd.
“--to do,” it was Vergil. You peered through the door of the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed facing away from you and was talking to himself, “Perhaps it would be best--” he stopped and turned his head slightly to the right.
You bit your lip and knocked gently, “Hey, sorry to intrude… Didn’t know you were home.”
Vergil pushed up on his knees, standing to turn and face you, “Do not apologize, I wasn’t doing anything important…” he looked worn out.
The door creaked as you fully opened it and stepped into the room, halfway undressed, “You look tired, babe.”
The blue devil shook his head, “Dealing with my brother is exhausting.”
“Well, then after I shower,” you set Revenant down on the dresser, “maybe we should take a nap together?”
“I-” Vergil’s expression hardened, “I don’t know if that is a good idea.”
Your lips parted slightly as you looked with a soft crease of your brow, “I know it’s been rough but… you need some sleep, Vergil…”
He looked as if he were going to say something, but moved his gaze to the floor and nodded in agreement.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” you moved back towards the door, “I’ll join you when I get back, okay?”
The eldest twin nodded as he watched you leave the room.
He had already removed most of his clothing, only having his pants and his, untucked, dress shirt on. Slowly, Vergil stood and went to get a more casual shirt; removing the rest of his work clothes.
Now dressed in a loose-fitting black tank top and navy boxer briefs, he moved back to the bed. Apprehensive didn’t even describe how he felt right now; no, the eldest son of Sparda was petrified over the thought of sleep. However, you were right, he was beyond beat and wanted nothing more than to rest. With a heavy sigh, he climbed into the bed and closed his eyes, praying for just a moment of pleasant sleep.
You came back into the room about an hour later. With a warm smirk, you tip-toed around the room to avoid waking the sleeping devil. Once you re-dressed yourself, you turned back to look at Vergil when you noticed something was wrong.
His face was contorted into a rather violent grimace and, as per the night before, was partially triggered. Vergil was also breathing heavily and growling in his sleep. In his arms, he had taken one of the pillows--and some of the duvet--into a death grip, ripping them.
Biting your lip in thought you sighed, “Shit…” although you knew that this could only end badly, you decided to wake him up from his nightmare.
Cautiously, you moved to the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Vergil..?”
Nothing.
Your gut twisted with fear as you shook him harder, “Vergil?”
Still nothing.
With a heavy sigh, you shook him harder, “Wake up…”
Instantly, you were pinned to the floor by a set of charcoal-black scaled hands around your throat. You had never been scared of Vergil before but tonight? You were terrified. His face was somewhere between emotionless and furious. A loud rumbling growl emanated from the back of his throat as he continued to squeeze ever-tighter.
“Verg-” your voice sputtered as you grabbed his arms, gasping for air.
Blood had begun to trickle down your palms as you accidentally sliced them on his forearm blades in your panic. Becoming steadily aware of your need for air, you grabbed at his face and neck; anything to get him off of you.
Tears sprung from your eyes as you felt his claws pierce the sides of your neck as his grip tightened even further. You knew that if he pressed down his thumbs, Vergil would stab right into your windpipe and kill you.
Lightheadedness began to sink in as you croaked out another beseeching plea to your lover, “Vergil--!”
With nothing left to do, you clawed harder against him and roughly cut into his cheek with your nails. This seemingly pulled him from his delusion as his grip loosened.
A new look replaced the hardened glare from before, a look of complete and utter horror.
Vergil’s voice trembled as he realized what was going on, “What--?”
You took a loud deep breath and pulled his arms away from you and spoke as best you could with the growing pain in your throat, “Move,” you pushed against his body and did your best to speak normally, “please.”
Without hesitation, Vergil removed himself completely and stood staring down at you. He looked at his, still-triggered, hands and saw your blood dripping from his claws. The blue devil’s blood ran cold.
“Vergil-” you groaned as you sat upwards, watching him bolt out of the room, “Wait-” with a strained grunt, you gradually stood upright and did your best to stabilize your wobbly legs.
The blue devil slammed the bathroom door close, quickly locking it behind him. His hands had de-triggered and shook violently as he tried to wash the blood from his skin. He had turned the faucet as hot as possible and had begun to inadvertently scorch his skin. While he was brutalizing his own hands, he felt something drip down his jawline and to the tip of his chin. Vergil looked at himself in the fogged-up glass in front of him.
Upon each side of his face and neck were dark smears of your blood from you pushing him away. Three large scratches decorated one of his cheeks and were slowly bleeding; now dripping off of his chin and to the sink below. Vergil took one of his hands and slowly ghosted over the markings on his face. A deep all-encompassing pit formed in his gut as he replayed the nightmare from just the night prior. The feeling of you desperately tearing at Nelo’s face, trying to escape him.
A tremble found its way to Vergil’s lips and body. Pressing as hard as he could, the eldest twin began to desperately scrub his blood-stained face with the sink's boiling water; grimacing from the feeling of peeling the top layers off of his flesh. You were the only person in the world he wouldn’t dare fight, wouldn’t dare harm; yet, only mere moments ago, he had his hands around your neck. A wicked thought echoed in his mind, how it would have only taken just a few more seconds or just a little more pressure for him to have killed the only person he has ever loved. Vergil bared his teeth as he let out a muffled whimper, tears forming at the edges of his eyes.
The knob of the door jiggled, “Vergil?” the Dark Slayer flinched at the sound of your voice, even though it was soft and calm, “Vergil, are you okay?”
He couldn’t come up with what to say in response, only whimpering again with a sad twitch of his lip.
Using an even softer tone, you set your head on the door, “Vergil… Let me in, please?”
Despite his effort to come up with something, all he could muster was a loud voice crack as gripped the countertop.
“Vergil,” you sighed quietly, “I want to see you. Please open the door,” an overwhelming amount of fear had consumed your mind; not for yourself, but over how Vergil might punish himself over this, “Please, Vergil…”
“I-” he took a harsh breath trying to calm himself--and failing miserably, “What if I--” a crack began to form in the laminate countertop as his raw skinned fingers gripped harder and harder in growing frustration.
“You won't; I promise.”
After what seemed like an eternity, Vergil shut off the faucet and unlocked the door. You opened the door slowly and felt your heart sink at seeing your blue devil.
At the furthest point from the door, he was sitting on the floor, trembling heavily. Scalding red marks adorned his pale skin where he had been scrubbing and his fingers were no better.
“Vergil…” you approached him and saw his body stiffen, “Can I sit next to you?”
All he gave you was a small nod. Slowly, you moved next to him and sat beside him.
Neither of you spoke for nearly a half hour. At one point, you managed to get a hold of one of his hands and intertwined your fingers; thumbing over the fading red marks. Internally, you were fighting the urge to hold him as close and as tight to you as possible.
Vergil’s voice was nearly silent when he finally spoke, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay--”
“No,” he pulled his hand from yours and turned to stare at you, “No, it’s not okay,” with each word he got louder and held more frustration, “I could have--” he clenched his jaw as he scrunched his face, holding back his overwhelming storm of emotions, “I could have killed you!”
“Vergil…” you decided to follow his idea and pivoted to face him fully, “I face death every day with work so it--”
The blue devil snarled loudly, “I am not some mindless fucking demon,” he gripped his face with his hands, “I should be able to control myself!” tears began to slide down his face as he grimaced intensely, bearing his teeth in frustration.
You were taken aback, you have never heard Vergil swear before, let alone sound so distraught, “I--” your lips pursed as you carefully chose your words, “I didn’t mean it like that, Vergil,” you gently set a hand on his knee, “I just meant that I’m used to that kind of thing, as morbid as that sounds.”
A tremble reappeared through his lips, “You shouldn’t have to deal with that from me; it goes against everything I…” his mouth opened as if he were going to continue but no words came out.
You were trying your hardest to stay calm despite wanting to join his crying upon seeing him this way. Tenderly, you thumbed over his leg, “When we got married,” you made sure to keep your voice slow and soft, “I signed up for whatever hardships may happen, to or from either of us--that we would figure things out together,” you noticed that Vergil’s stare had finally reconnected to yours, “no matter what the what happens."
Vergil pursed his lips before taking a slow deep breath through his nose. His brow furrowed as he closed his eyes, slowly stopping his weeping, and removed his hands from his face.
A part of Vergil wanted to argue with you; to tell you that you're insane, delusional, that you shouldn't bear the punishment of his inner demons. The feeling of you grabbing his hands and holding them pulled him from his bitter thoughts.
Bringing one of his hands up to your lips, you kissed his knuckles, whispering against them, “I love you,” you brought the other hand up and repeated your action, “more than anything in the world, Vergil.”
His grip tightened on your hands, “You are a fool," Vergil did his best to sound normal but only managed to give a small whispering whimper of a response.
“If loving you is foolish then I will happily play the court jester, my love,” a small smile tugged at your lips, hoping to make him feel a little better.
After a brief moment of silence, Vergil released your hands and scooched closer to you, “May I see…” he meekly gestured at your neck.
You nodded slightly and exposed your neck to the blue devil. The skin of your neck had already begun to darken and had small red petechiae marks. It was easy to tell that Vergil had used his hands on you because of the long slender lines of bruising; which ended in much darker spots where he had been pressing the hardest (except his thumbs). At the end of each dark spot were small needle-like marks that had dried blood on and around them.
Although you tried your best, you flinched at the feeling of his fingers ghosting your neckline. Vergil’s expression became increasingly distressed the longer he looked at you. Seeing this, you grabbed his other hand and held it tightly; hoping to provide some solace to him.
“It’s alright, Vergil, it’ll heal,” you whispered as he pulled his hand back from your neck.
A small tremble found its way to his lips as he whispered back, “I am sorry.”
“You do not have to apologize,” you grabbed his other hand and held it, “It is not your fault.”
He paused for a moment before speaking, “We,” his voice cracked as he avoided your eyes, “We should get you cleaned up.”
With a comforting grin and soft voice you thumbed over his fingers, “You sure you are okay to do that?”
Vergil nodded, “I’ll be okay,” he pulled one of your hands to his lips and kissed it very gently.
==
It wasn’t long before morning rolled around. Reluctantly, you had agreed to let Vergil stay in the living room for the night and you sleep in the bedroom, alone.
You woke up freezing as you had grown accustomed to the broiling body heat of your lover. With a loud groaning yawn, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. As you walked to the bathroom, you felt a sudden sharp headache form.
Upon reaching the desired location, you noticed that the laminate countertop was cracked badly by Vergil gripping it.
“Shit,” you grumbled.
Your thoughts were cut off as you began feeling very off balance, leaning on the broken surface for support, before suddenly lurching forward into a kneel and throwing up in the toilet. During all your years of hunting, you knew what concussions felt like and this was definitely one of the worst ones you've ever had.
“Fu-uck,” you sighed with a scowl slowly emerging on your features.
Finishing up what you had originally gone in there to do--and making sure to brush and rinse the fuck out of your mouth--you left the room with a few painkillers in hand.
The house was uncharacteristically silent as you wobbly meandered your way to the kitchen. Once at the sink, you poured yourself a glass of water and took the pills. With your hands resting on the edge of the sink, you slowly drank the rest of the water; doing your best to stay upright. The lukewarm water only helped to highlight the growing pain in your throat.
“Are you alright?” a voice called from your right.
“Gah--!” you jumped slightly and dropped the cup in the sink--which was thankfully plastic. Then turned to see that it was Vergil, “You scared me, Vergil--" you took a deep breath trying to calm your heart, "I am fine, just a little sore is all.”
His face softened as he cautiously pulled you into a close hug, “I’m sorry--is there anything I can do to help?”
“This is exactly what I needed,” you leaned further into him and heard him purring quietly, “How are you doing, dear?”
Vergil had a small smile as he whispered, “Much better now that I am with you.”
The two of you held each other--swaying slightly--for what seemed like only mere seconds; when, in reality, it had been nearly a half hour.
Vergil nuzzled his cheek into the top of your head and spoke very quietly, “I hate to ruin the moment; however,” he pulled back from the hug enough to see you, “Dante requested us to come in early today.”
You raised a brow, “Why?”
“Morrison brought in a big contract; Dante requested that all of us be there for the briefing…” Vergil placed a hand on your face, not wanting to let you go.
“Mmn, suppose I need to get ready,” you leaned into his palm and closed your eyes, and sighed, leaning out of the hug, “Best not to be late again."
==
Both of you stood at the front door, debating on how you were getting to the DMC. Since you had a concussion, traveling with the Yamato was out of the question--last time you had traveled under the same circumstances, you almost threw up inside the portal and then proceeded to pass out once on the other side.
“You sure you’re alright with this? I can just call an Uber or something,” you folded your arms and raised a brow.
Vergil nodded, “I am fine with it; however if you aren’t then--”
“No- no, it's fine just,” you tried not to laugh, “never thought 'flying via devil' would be something I’d do.”
He grinned, “Perhaps we should travel this way more then.”
“And here I thought you only used your trigger for emergencies,” you playfully teased.
“This is an acceptable outlier,” Vergil laughed quietly.
With a bright flash of cornflower blue light, Vergil stood before you in his devil trigger.
A warm smile adorned your face as you approached the black and blue devil, "I never knew the devil was so handsome,” your voice was laced with sarcasm as you placed a hand on his cheek.
“Chivalry will get you nowhere, human, ” Vergil gently jested back, holding back a small laugh, “I will devour you whole.”
“Oh no, whatever shall I do?” you dramatized your words; placing the back of your hand on your forehead and leaning back slightly, “Someone save me,” you did your best to stifle your laughter.
He wrapped his wings around you and looked downwards at your expression, “No one will take you from me, pet. ”
“I-” your lips were slightly agape as you tried to formulate a response--Vergil had never called you that before.
However, he spoke before you could come up with anything, “What? Devil got your tongue?” he leaned in close, breath washing over your lips.
“Mmn, no,” you moved your lips even closer to his, “I wish he did though.”
Vergil cautiously connected with your lips. You moved your hands to the dark reddish-brown underside of the leathery appendages and slowly ran your fingers along the grooves. This elicited a moan from your blue devil and made him push himself against you harder. His fingers were trembling as he ghosted them along your sides, catching your attention.
Breaking off the kiss but not moving away, you whispered against his lips, “You can touch me, Vergil. You won’t hurt me,” you used your hands to push his palms to your sides.
His pupils dilated slightly, “Are you--”
You cut him off with an aggressive kiss, placing your hand on his chest and kneading into him. Not wasting any more time, Vergil came back at you with an even more intense fervor. He pushed his tongue within the confines of your mouth. A muffled moan came from your lips as Vergil used his oral mastery inside your cavern; touching everything he could and playing with your tongue.
After a minute or two, you both broke apart from the kiss. You smiled widely at him and placed a long sweet smooch on the tip of his nose; making him scrunch a bit in confusion. The two of you stood holding one another for a few minutes before you broke the serene silence.
“We should probably get going,” you sighed, “otherwise we won’t be making it to work…”
The eldest son of Sparda sighed as well, “I suppose you are right…” he picked you up bridal style as you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, “Shall we?”
You nodded as he opened the door. A sudden cold wind shot right through you as you leaned in closer to the hot-blooded devil. It was raining quite heavily so Vergil shifted you to face him completely; sheltering you the best he could from the elements, holding you underneath your thighs. With a small grunt from the devil, you two were off into the air.
==
The flight wasn’t very long, you were at the DMC within a half hour; however, the rain had steadily gotten worse and made it a less-than-optimal flight. Vergil decided to land on the roof rather than risk being seen on the street and quickly ushered you indoors; fearing you would fall ill.
You took off your sopping wet coat and shook your head a bit, trying to dry off. Vergil had de-triggered and, because of how hot his devil trigger is, he was bone dry as he raised a brow at your “dog-like” actions.
“What?” you looked up at him, giving him a curious smile.
“Nothing,” he gave you a smirk in return.
The two of you came downstairs, Vergil went first as you followed. Upon entering the foyer, you noticed that Vergil wasn’t kidding when Dante said “everyone”. Said red devil, Nero, Trish, Lady, and even Nico were inside the Devil May Cry; all chatting amongst themselves.
The younger twin noticed you both on the stairs and flashed a wide grin, “Glad you both could make it! Thought maybe you were going to sleep in-- Ah,” a small dagger from Vergil jabbed Dante in the arm.
You pursed your lips and stifled your laughter, quietly speaking to Vergil, “Give me your coat? I’ll go hang it.”
He stared at you from the corner of his eye for a moment before doing as you asked; delicately handing you the dark navy clothing. Vergil moved towards the bar counter to converse with Nero as everyone else resumed their conversations. With a small spring to your step, you waltzed over to the hooks near the front door and hung both your jackets. Pivoting on your heels, you went to move back into the room when you were stopped by Dante.
The red devil stood in front of you and used his forefinger and thumb to turn your head upwards; revealing the bruising on your neck. An aggressive furrow appeared on his brow as he frowned intensely.
“Dante,” you whispered so that only he could hear you, “It’s not what you think--” his turquoise eyes locked with yours before he let go of your chin. It was too late.
He turned around, “Alright,” Dante’s voice was between serious and pissed-off, a tone that was highly unlike the high-spirited brother, “What the fuck.”
Vergil tilted his head ever-so-slightly and parted his lips in confusion, squinting at his twin.
Dante made his way across the room, you followed him and tried to get him to stop, but were unable as he spoke even louder than before, “What is wrong with you?!”
The blue devil’s face only became more confused as his eyes flicked between his brother and you.
The red devil shoved Vergil, “Answer me, Vergil!”
Fearing that the two would escalate into a larger fight, you grabbed one of Dante’s arms and tugged him away, straining your sore voice, “Dante you don’t understand-”
Dante turned to you, “I think I know strangle marks when I see them,” his eyes went back to Vergil, “I'm tired of not saying anything.”
With a slight sharpness, Vergil closed his eyes and scrunched his face, “What are you talking about?”
“Don't play stupid,” Dante raised his voice even louder with a slight growl, “You think that I didn’t notice? Everyone here has noticed--fuck,” he flung his arm out, gesturing at nothing in particular, “even Morrison asked me about it!”
“What does--”
Dante's voice was unbearably loud as he yelled at his older brother, "You're fucking beating your husband, Vergil!”
The shop went silent. At this point, Nero had moved toward the couch the three ladies were sitting on, awaiting Vergil’s response.
Your eyes widened at Dante and the absurd notion he had brought forth. Knowing Dante as you do, you had figured he was going to jab at Vergil for "being too rough in bed" or something stupid--not domestic abuse. With a slightly furrowed brow, you turned to the group next to you, then back to the brothers, and noticed Vergil’s pale stare.
Vergil huffed quietly through his nose as he looked downwards, pursing his lips in thought. After a moment, he looked back up at Dante with a cold glare, "Do you really think that lowly of me, Dante?"
Dante cocked his head to the side, his voice still laced with a growl, "You know, after what you've done? Sorry, but I wouldn't put it past you."
Vergil’s face was barren of any emotion--to everyone else besides you, that is. You’ve been in a relationship long enough with the stone-faced slayer that it was painfully obvious how much Dante’s accusation hurt him. Unable to think of what to say, he just stood there and glared at his twin.
"I ain't letting this go, Vergil. I'll stand here all fuckin--" a loud crack of thunder cut Dante off as the power went out in the shop.
You weren't sure what happened, but the next thing you knew, you were on the floor and a sin-triggered Vergil was encompassing your surroundings. It was overwhelmingly hot as you felt his wings and arms tighten around you, pushing you further into his chest. The blue-grey devil shook wildly as a continuous thunderous growl emanated from deep within his chest. At any other point, it would have been a nice feeling; however, the loud sounds, sweltering heat, and the bright blue light from his chest made your headache turn from bad to agonizing.
Through the loud rumbling, you could vaguely make out Dante speaking; something about Vergil overreacting. Then you felt Vergil shift slightly and heard a loud yelp from the younger twin. There was a loud shuffling of hasty movement from the couch beside the two of you which made Vergil snarl even louder.
Lady could be heard telling Dante to “back off” of (presumably) Vergil. You then a loud creak of the garage door being opened and more shuffling feet. The last thing you heard from the rest of the crew was Nero saying something unintelligible and shutting the door. Leaving Vergil and you alone in the foyer.
This was the first time Vergil had done something like this and you were unsure how to calm him down; so you just slowly wriggled your hand free and kneaded into the bright blue lines of your lover’s chest, “Hey,” you whispered in hopes of catching his attention, “It’s alright, Vergil.”
His growling quieted a bit, however, his grip tightened into an almost painfully tight vice.
A small grunting groan left your lips as you spoke again, “Vergil, we are okay. I’m okay,” you heard his growling subside further, “It’s okay, darling. We are safe, inside the Devil May Cry,” you leaned your head into his chest and kneaded harder against him, “It was just thunder. It’s okay--we are okay.”
You continued to intermittently tell the blue devil various forms of grounding statements as he slowly calmed down; loosening his grip and quieting his thundering growl. Although he doesn’t have to breathe when in this form, you heard soft whistling as he took small short breaths in through his sharpened teeth. His shaking had subsided as well; only moving with the reverberations of his small breaths.
A grin tugged at your lips as you heard a small distant start of a purr from your kneading, “It’s alright, my love. Nothing is going to harm us…”
Finally, he pulled back from your body. He placed his palms flat on the floor next to you and kept his wings around you, just much looser now. His pupil-less luminescent eyes just stared at you, leaving you to assume he was looking over your body for any sign of injury.
Very carefully, you moved your hands to the sides of his face and gently thumbed over the leathery denim-colored skin, “Hey…”
He leaned forward placing his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, showing you that he was coming back around. You placed a long tender kiss against his fangs and heard him purr louder.
As quiet as he could manage with his distorted voice, Vergil whispered to you, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you smiled and gently jested, “head’s killin’ me though and the floors kinda cold” you laughed and moved your hands to the gap of skin between his shoulder pauldrons and neck, kneading with your fingers, “Are you alright, Vergil?”
Vergil nodded slightly, “Yes,” feeling the soft touch of your fingers against him, he allowed himself to de-trigger; slowly switching to his regular trigger and then his human form. All the while, you continued to massage his shoulders and tried your best to ignore the throbbing in your skull; wanting nothing more than to rip your head off.
The blue devil’s breath was ragged and he avoided looking you in the eyes. When he went to sit upwards, you grabbed his forearms, gaining his attention, “Vergil,” your voice was barely audible.
After waiting a moment, Vergil cocked his head slightly, “What is it?”
“Could,” you pursed your lips with embarrassment, “Could you help me up?”
Vergil nodded, “Of course.”
The eldest twin stood up and then leaned forwards to help you upright. You stumbled into him as you felt nauseously lightheaded.
Noticing this, Vergil held one of your arms, “Steady…”
You used your other hand to grab his shoulder and did your best to adjust to standing. He looked over to the couch and then back to you; before slowly picking you up and setting you on the pleather surface. Not wanting him to leave you, you grabbed his tie and tugged it slightly.
“I will be right back,” he grabbed the hand from the tan fabric and kissed it gently; which surprised you because of his distaste for out-of-house affections.
It was then that you noticed how quiet the shop was and how dark it was; the power had gone out completely. A loud creak from the garage door made you scrunch your face in slight pain. Vergil stood in the doorway and said nothing before moving back to stand near Dante’s desk.
You noticed a large cut through Dante’s shirt and realized that Vergil had used his tail to defend you from the red twin. Thankfully, Dante could heal quickly otherwise it might have been a trip to the ER from how large the incision seemed to be.
“So care to explain what the fuck that was?” Dante’s voice was loud, as normal; however, it felt like he was shouting right beside you.
Vergil noticed your discomfort and addressed his brother, “Quiet, you are being much too loud,” he flicked his gaze to you, “and no; I don’t.”
The younger twin’s face scrunched in irritation. Before he could speak, Lady cut him off by roughly slamming her hand atop his shoulder, “Maybe the two of you should go home for the day? Dante can text you the information later on.”
“Are you sure?” Vergil raised a brow at the sudden personable suggestion, “Or would Dante rather yell more absurd accusations at me?”
The red devil growled, forgetting to keep quiet, “You son of--”
“Watch your tongue. Mother is right here,” he flicked his eyes to the photo on Dante’s desk.
“I fuckin--”
You scrunched your face harshly and hoarsely snapped, “Oh my g-god,” you groaned, “Vergil isn’t beating me and I have a fuckin major headache. I thank you for your concern Dante, but it is misplaced… so can you please just drop it?”
The younger twin shook his head, “You expect me to--”
“It is a result of my night terrors and we are dealing with it ourselves,” Vergil said curtly, despite not wanting to talk about it. Then turned to address Lady, “I think we will take you up on that suggestion and leave,” the blue devil moved to grab your coats from the wall “Keep us informed..?"
No one responded as Vergil handed you your coat and you put it on as best you could while sitting. You wobbled a bit as you went to stand, but, a set of strong arms picked you up. A small blush found its way to your face as you realized Vergil was carrying you from underneath your thighs in front of everyone else.
Nero was the only one to address either of you as you headed up to the stairs, “Fly safe; winds pretty bad out there.”
Vergil nodded in thanks to his son as the two of you disappeared from view, heading to the roof. You nestled your face into the crook of Vergil’s neck, taking a deep calming breath. It didn’t take long for you to sleep--or rather pass out--in the blue devil’s arms and it stayed that way till you got home.
==
When you opened your eyes next, you were laying underneath the duvet of your shared bed. Slowly blinking awake, you mumbled, “Vergil?” and felt around to see if he was nearby. Nothing.
A hissing groan left your lips as you sat up and looked at the alarm clock. It had been several hours since you left the shop. You stretched upwards and immediately regretted it.
“Fuck,” you groaned as you grabbed your head with one hand, the headache from earlier surged back into existence.
In hopes to remedy this, you decided to try taking a hot bath. The moment you stood up, however, you fell forwards and just barely caught yourself with your forearms. A small laugh of disbelief escaped through your painful groan, it was really just not your day.
The sound of a familiar sharp voice calling your name pulled you from your thoughts. You slowly moved your head upwards and saw Vergil standing above you with a wide-eyed confused stare. He was wearing a space-blue sleeveless turtleneck with black yoga pants.
Admittedly, you weren’t exactly in a normal headspace when you cooed at the blue devil, “Ooh! You’re even prettier at this angle, Vergil.”
The blue devil crouched in front of you and rested his forearms on his legs, “I leave you for five minutes and you end up on the floor?”
With parted lips and raised brows, you eyed him up and down, “Was my plan all along since, from here, I get a really good view of your--”
Vergil put up a hand telling you to stop, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh, “Would you like help up?”
“Nah,” you jested and rolled over to face the ceiling, “I like being stuck on the floor,” a sly smirk tugged at your lips as you tilted your head back, “especially when we’re--”
“Enough,” Vergil sighed and moved to help you upright into a soft embrace.
You sighed and leaned into him, “You know I love you, right Vergil?”
“Perhaps I should take you to the hospital, you are acting in a very concerning manner…”
“No way in hell am I going to the doctor,” you pulled back and had a small pout on your lips, “I just need you beside me and I feel much better…”
“That seems rather counter-intuitive, don’t you think?” his voice had an outlying tinge of sadness as he looked down at you.
“Not in the slightest. In fact,” you moved your hands to his chest, “I already am starting to feel better in your arms.”
He avoided your eyes and had a small sad frown. A deep sharp pang of sadness stabbed at your heart at seeing him look so dejected.
You used a hand to cup the cheek facing away from you and gently turned him back to face you, “Vergil, care to join me for a bath?” you knew that he was still beating himself up over things and wanted to distract him for a while.
A soft huffed laugh came from his nose as he closed his eyes in slight confusion, “What..?”
“Come on, you need a break… to relax,” you cocked your head to the side, “Please?” you gave him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.
Which seemed to do the trick as he sighed with a smirk “If that is what you want then I will accompany you.”
You pulled his face down to yours and gave him a small peck on the cheek, “Thank you, Vergil.”
Although the blue devil was hesitant to let you go, you eventually wander off with a very wobbly saunter. Slowly, you moved to the dresser and began to grab some clothing when you heard Vergil murmur, “I’ll go draw it up and I’ll be back for you; please try and stay upright,” then he left the room.
Your headache had subsided for the most part and was just a dull throbbing now. However, you still wanted to lay with him for a while, knowing that he needed it as much as you did. A warm smile crept its way to your face as you moved toward the edge of the bed to sit until he came back. You decided to lean over to the side table and grab your phone, checking it for any messages. Surprisingly, Dante and Nero had texted you.
The younger twin had sent a rather all-over-the-place paragraph explaining that he was sorry for the outburst in the shop and that he was just worried that something was going on. You sent Dante a text explaining that it was nice of him to worry but that, before he goes off, he needs to listen better.
Nero was making sure that both of you were alright and that if either of you needed anything to let him know.
Before you were able to respond, Vergil walked back into the room, “Are you ready?” his voice was very quiet and meek; catching you off guard.
“Yeah just gimme one second, just gotta send this…” Vergil looked at you with a slightly curious head tilt, you smiled at him, “Nero was just making sure everything was okay.”
“I see,” Vergil gave a weak grin.
“Nero’s worried about you,” you set the phone back down on the table and grabbed one of Vergil’s hands, “He’s a good kid, ya know? You’re one lucky dad.”
With a small shake of his head, Vergil pulled you off the bed, “Need I remind you that he is technically your son, too?”
You laughed and pursed your lips, “Sometimes I forget that part if I’m honest,” the two of you slowly made your way to the bathroom, “Especially since we are like the same age--you cougar,” with a playful wink you let go of Vergil’s hand to get undressed.
Vergil’s face scrunched, “You make it sound as if I am too old for you.”
Playfully, you shoved his shoulder, “Bah- you don’t look a day over 30; besides,” you paused a moment as you watched Vergil remove his shirt, “I like older men~”
“Those two statements contradict each other,” he noticed your gaze as he slid his pants off, “However, I appreciate the sentiment.”
Once you both were fully stripped, Vergil helped you into the tub; fearing you would fall, “Hey, Vergil..?” he looked at you, “Can you sit in, like,” with pursed lips, you tried to figure out how to explain what you wanted, “in my lap? Like with your back to me?”
“I-” he raised a brow and turned his lips to a thin line, “May I ask why?”
A smile ghosted your face as you cooed, “I want to be able to play with your hair.”
The blue devil was a little apprehensive at allowing such an action, but he did as you requested; positioning himself in front of you. His shoulders tensed up at the sudden feeling of vulnerability and being so exposed to you--even if the two of you have been together for a long time now. Noticing this, you gently wrapped your arms around his middle and leaned him back into you while you leaned back yourself; ending up in a semi-lying position.
Tenderly, you ran your fingers through his neatly slicked back locks, “You alright, Vergil?”
With a small stuttering inhale, Vergil rested further against you, “Yes…”
A faint purring came from the blue devil as he relaxed against your touch. The two of you just sat in the warm soapy water for nearly fifteen minutes, laying against each other.
Vergil shifted a bit to lay the side of his head on your chest before meekly whispering, “I love you,” typically, this would have made you ecstatic hearing him say such a thing; but there was an underlying sullen tone to the phrase.
You moved one of your hands to grab his while keeping up your ministrations through his hair, “I love you too, Vergil--more than anything.”
“May I ask you something? And I want you to answer me honestly,” his eyes were glued to your fingers that were intertwined with his own.
“Sure,” you removed your fingers from his hair and set that hand on his shoulder.
“Are,” with each word his voice became quieter, “Are you afraid of me?”
“No,” you answered without skipping a beat, “I will never be afraid of you, no matter what...”
Another bout of silence fell as you felt him lean harder into you while taking slow deep breaths.
“May--,” the Dark Slayer closed his eyes and spoke in a hushed voice, “May I confide in you for a moment?”
“Of course, my love,” you leaned and kissed the top of his head attempting to reassure the man.
He sighed and turned further into your chest, hiding his face, “N-Nothing scares me more than causing you pain,” you felt his brow furrow, “These past few months, have been spurred on by a combination of that fear and,” he had a lump begin to form in his throat, “and my time spent under Mundus’s…” he swallowed audibly in an attempt to deter his emotions.
You squeezed his hand tightly and you moved your other hand back to his hair, hoping to console him a bit.
Which worked, he took a shuddering breath and continued, “In my dreams--” he pursed his lips and unintentionally pushed himself as hard as he could into you, “I’m always back as- and I can’t,” he paused once more, realizing that this is much harder than he had anticipated, “control myself and I-I don’t know that it’s-- until it’s too late,” his voice cracked into silence as he gripped your hand in a vice hold.
That was enough for you to put together what he meant as your eyes widened. You whispered and moved your hand from his hair to his shoulder, holding him close, “Vergil…” you didn’t know what to do--how to help him.
All you could think to do was to hold him close and comfort him as he cried into your chest. You knew that he had nightmares about his time of being enslaved to Mundus and the other atrocities that have happened to the poor blue devil. Throughout your time together, Vergil had told you about that time and has even sought comfort in you when he was upset.
A meek whisper pulled you from your thoughts, “I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily, “I know this is substandard behavior.”
“Vergil,” you kneaded his bicep, “This is normal behavior, you don’t have to be strong all the time,” placing a soft kiss on the top of his head, you murmured, “You’re human--you have emotions; both good and bad.”
“I feel as if I have disappointed you,” despite his sad tone, a light purring could be heard from him--indicating he was at least comfortable.
“You could never disappoint me, Vergil--especially over something like this. Things take time to heal and even then they still leave scars; you aren’t to blame for what has happened, my love.”
“I do not understand how after what I have done in my lifetime,” his voice cracked with a tinge of frustration as he sat upright. His front side was facing out of the tub toward the innards of the room, leaving you to see his side profile, “Why you still believe me to be a good person…”
“Vergil,” you moved to sit up as well, no longer resting your back on the tub, “I don’t believe that you are a good person; I know you are a good person,” you watched his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed his emotions again, “I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t.”
A thin pained grin adorned his features as he turned his face from you; hiding the fact he had begun to cry once more.
“People do bad things,” you shrugged your shoulders a bit in thought, “that doesn’t make them a bad person. Traumatic experiences make people do things that otherwise might not have.” you paused and thought for a moment, “Vergil, you have been punished ten-fold by everyone your entire life, even for things that you had no control over. Which is total shit. You deserve to be treated well and like a living breathing person. I know you are a good person because you have shown me that many times over; you are worthy of love, Vergil.”
Vergil let out a loud shuttering exhale and turned his head to look at you with pursed lips. He wanted to say something, anything, but all he could muster was a small whimper of acknowledgment.
Moving to your knees, you spoke softly, “Is there anything that I can do to help you with these nightmares?”
“I,” after a small pause in thought, he turned to come face to face with you and grabbed your hands in his, “Could you promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“If we get into any altercations with,” he avoided your eyes with an increasing embarrassment eating the edges of his mind, “Angelo-type demons, please, leave them to me; please..?”
Your brow twitched in confusion as you cocked your head to the side; that’s when things clicked and you remembered what happened shortly before these terrors began, “Sure, if that is what brings you solace then I will,” you smiled, trying to make him feel a little better.
“Thank you,” his eyes re-connected with yours and he gave a small smirk.
The two of you sat for a brief moment before you pursed your lips and smiled semi-awkwardly, “I hate to ruin the moment, but could we get out of the water? I’m kinda cold…”
Vergil straightened his posture and nodded, “Of course, wanderer,” he moved to get out of the water and held his hands out for yours.
You grabbed them and wobbly got up, “Oh? I haven’t heard you use that in a long time.”
A small huffed laugh came from the blue devil as he handed you a towel, “It was the first nickname I gave you. I thought it appropriate for the moment…”
“It was wasn’t it?” you shook your head, “That feels like a lifetime ago…”
“In a sense, it was quite literally,” he leaned over and drained the tub.
With a small laugh and nod, you finished drying off. While the two of you got dressed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your lover.
“Is something wrong?” Vergil noticed your stare.
Pursing your lips you thought for a moment and decided to indulge in his love for Blake’s poems, “ 'Joy & Woe are woven fine,/A Clothing for the Soul divine;/Under every grief & pine,/Runs a joy with silken twine.' "
An amused look adorned his face as he stood with parted lips thinking for a moment, “Auguries of Innocence?” the Dark Slayer cupped the side of your face, “We never did finish that poem; you’d always fall asleep.”
“Not my fault you have such a soothing voice,” you placed your hands on his chest and leaned into his palm, “Want to try again?”
He leaned against your forehead, “If it is alright with you, I think I’d rather sleep…”
“Only if you stay beside me,” you looked into his icy eyes; enamored with the thousands of different blue-grey hues, “please..?”
“Are you sure-- Mnm,” he was cut off by a sudden connection of your lips.
It was a slow and passionate kiss as you poured all the love you could into that one moment. Once satisfied, you left the kiss and whispered against his lips, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Vergil.”
Without another word, he picked you up and took you into the bedroom. Carefully, he set you down and crawled into bed with you. A small lingering sense of dread crept in from the edges of his mind; however, those were pushed away when you laid atop his chest. You curled into him and he tangled his limbs with yours.
As the two of you drifted off to sleep, Vergil had a very small content grin as he allowed himself to sleep; knowing that, at least for tonight, his terrors will be kept at bay.
==
Ending Notes:
Sorry that was lowkey all over the place, I just went with the flow of my brain. It kind of just ended up being a long fluff fic.
Also to add some explanation to Vergil’s bit where he swore and freaked out: I figure that when Vergil lost his autonomy for so long as Nelo Angelo, he ended up becoming hyper-aware of what he is doing at all times. So when he does something that he either can’t remember doing or didn’t want to do that it would send him into a panic; fearing that he is going to lose his freedom again.
🛡️⚔️🛡️
Poem quoted:
Auguries of Innocence: William Blake
==
Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)
MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR
#Devil may cry 5#devil may cry 3#dmc#vergil devil may cry#vergil#dante#dante devil may cry#vergil x reader#vergil x male reader#male reader#fan fiction#reposted from AO3#angst#comfort#fluff#I swear Vergil is my comfort character#I just like making him sad#idk why#sad vergil#Nelo angelo#vergil has nightmares#reader is married to vergil
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I've been experimenting with Firefox as a browser on the side (after using Chrome for many years), and while I'm going to try to keep using it because I know everyone says it's a better browser and that switching is easy, I want to make a few notes:
- Only 7 of my 23+ extensions had a Firefox parallel, so it's a learning curve to get used to things I no longer have. So far, I haven't found a working Xkit extension, making the Tumblr experience worse, but I'll keep trying. I miss my slider extension for adjusting screen brightness, which I have on Chrome. However, I'm grateful my password manager carried over.
- There's no Google Docs Offline extension. This isn't going to work for me, who does a ton of my work offline due to long carpooling trips, so even if I switch to using Firefox at home, I'd have to keep Chrome for this
-> Moving things between Word and Docs isn't super convenient for what I do, and I don't have Word on my laptop. Options such as wordcounter.com are an option in an emergency (I often open one such tab before a long car trip), but that's only useful for words, not working on formatting.
- I like Firefox's browser themes. One of them is an animated Spirited Away header that I really like because the URL bar is black and the top of the screen is dark. One of the problems I often have with Chrome is that I edit docs while in the dark, but extensions don't change the URL bar, which is blaringly white and distracting. I haven't tested Firefox in the dark, but I think I would like the dark bar.
-> Unfortunately, one common place I'm in the dark is on long carpool trips... and since there's no Edit Offline option, that's not as helpful as it could be. It may be helpful if I'm on a laptop in bed at night, but I haven't tested this yet.
- Was quite surprised that when I checked Firefox settings, all the "We track your data" toggles were flipped on? I thought that was the one thing Firefox was supposed to not do? (Or I'm not phrasing this properly since it may have been "We let websites use targeted ads by tracking data," or something like that).
And that's fine, I'm glad I could turn it off, but very surprising to me since all the Tumblr posts I've seen encouraging people to switch to Firefox talk about how it's so easy to move your extensions over, it does everything Chrome can do but better, and they never track your data, and so far my experience has been the opposite of this.
- I'm grateful I have a Google Doc bookmarked. All my bookmarks were easy and instant to migrate to Firefox, but because it's separate from Google (obviously), there's no easy way to access my files without having something like a bookmark.
So, instead of opening a new tab and clicking on the Google Apps menu (where I usually go to access docs or sheets), I instead access them by having one doc or sheet bookmarked, then clicking on the icon that takes you to those home pages.
I don't mind doing this because it's the same amount of clicks for me- I'm very used to having a doc, sheet, and gmail in my bookmarks bar and I recently added my calendar to bookmarks. However, if I hadn't bookmarked these before opening Firefox, I don't see any easy way to find them. I'm glad I'm tech-savvy enough to get there, but if I were not tech-savvy, I think this would be stressful for me.
- I'm not 100% sure what the point of a private Firefox browser is when people say that Firefox doesn't track your stuff. It looks like it's for cookies and history. One small (avoidable in the future) problem I had was thinking I was in the private browser when I was still in the regular browser because the colors are the same- there's just a small logo informing you if you're in the private browser.
So, if you're sharing a computer with housemates and trying to use Firefox's private browser, be careful not to get them mixed up. I think I made this mistake because the keyboard shortcut to open a new tab in Firefox is not the same as it is in Chrome, so I thought I'd opened the tab, glanced over at my second monitor, and missed the fact that it hadn't gone through.
- After I told Firefox to stop asking to be my default browser, the next time I opened it, it asked if I wanted Firefox to open my tabs for me. There wasn't a description of what this meant, such as if I'm in Chrome and right click a link to open it in a new tab, if it would open an entire Firefox browser instead of a new tab in my Chrome window.
I did not commit to this option due to me not understanding what it meant, but if that's what it would do, that would be super annoying right now. Also, that's really weird of it to basically ask to be default browser in different words (if that's what it was asking).
So, here's the main reason I wanted to make this post:
- I downloaded a new word counter because Word Counter Plus was not one of the extensions that had a Firefox parallel. I picked the 2nd most popular one (didn't see there was a more popular one 'til now).
Let me tell ya, there is nothing more horrifying than opening the draft you've been revising for weeks, highlighting, checking the word count, and seeing the number 2,940 when you're expecting 17k+ and you're in the AO3 editor box, so there's no way to recover history if I actually had deleted 14k words.
Image of my word counter extension on Firefox vs. my definitely more correct one from Google Chrome- same document, and I checked to confirm all the words were highlighted in Firefox.
Luckily, all my 17k words are still there. I'm just doing final revisions and will be done soon - trying to get from 17k words down to 15k - but I will definitely be doing this in my usual Chrome because Firefox is not up to this task.
... Okay, I just switched to using the more popular Word Count extension, and even though I followed the steps in the extension, nothing happened. I didn't get a pop-up.
-> After testing, it doesn't work correctly. I was able to open a new AO3 chapter and select a small section of text. However, it doesn't even try giving me a pop-up when I test it on the chapter with 17k words. Not a good sign that the only two word counter extensions with more than 1,000 people are unable to do this, even though the extension's page says "works for any length of text."
So far, I haven't had adblocker or captcha conflicts, though I do have to go through the usual annoyances of setting a new browser to my settings.
I also read somewhere that Firefox doesn't let you copy-paste / cut-paste because it protects your data by not saving things in your clipboard. So far, I have not encountered this problem. However, if I did, that would also be a deal-breaker because I need to highlight and move data between docs (and within my doc) on the regular.
I'm going to keep testing Firefox sometimes because I'd like to use it since people keep saying it's the best and that Google is changing stuff in June, so now's the time to switch.
Since I've only seen posts that enthuse about Firefox being easy and the best on my dash, I at least wanted to mention some of my struggles so my followers can go into Firefox with appropriate expectations if they're also hoping to do things like have an accurate word count or use Google Docs offline (especially if they're holding out to switch until June and might be caught off guard if the learning curve is harsher than expected).
So, imo:
- Chrome is still the best option for me as someone who keeps track of thousands of separate Google Docs and Sheets and likes them to be easily accessible
- My research suggests there is no possible way to edit Docs offline if using Firefox (Bad news for my multi-hour carpool life and a definite deal-breaker to switching permanently)
- The two most popular word counters were not able to handle the length of an average document (less than 60 pages in Google Docs)
-> I can continue using the Google Docs app on my phone to edit offline and then access those docs on Firefox when I'm back in Internet connection, but I'd rather use a laptop keyboard than a phone keyboard if I'm in a vehicle for 6 hours (which is a common experience in my life right now)
- I recommend testing extensions thoroughly in a practice setting before you try to use them for actual important work. I would have been SO embarrassed (and potentially fired) if I was checking a ton of articles for a client and some of them were off by 15,000 words, but I waved them through because I'd only tested the extension with small sections of words (where it seems accurate) and not long sections.
I also would have been embarrassed if I'd searched something I thought was private and then I wasn't in the private browser and it came up in my recent history.
So, I would say Firefox may not be the right browser for a writer unless they've found different tools that get around these problems, and if you want to use Firefox, take the time to get familiar with it before you do anything "serious" with it. If you have important documents to review for work, don't jump in assuming your tools will work correctly.
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This comic is discontinued.
I think everyone's seen this coming now. >.>"
Sorry for trying to draw it out so long. I did try, and I wasn't pretending to salvage this comic... but let's say I've done a LOT of missteps that ruined the experience for me.
I'll put the longer stuff under read more, but the basic is: I'm sorry that it had to come to this. You may shoot some asks if you wanna know the rest of the story, or what my thoughts are, or anything else, really! And if you're disappointed, I understand. I am, too. But I think it's best to put the pencil down for this project.
Thank you to those who were waiting. ;o;
The story I planned for this comic was pretty big, and it was my pride for a long, long time. I even had a whole google docs at 23 pages worldbuilding for this comic! But it seems like despite all I try, it still didn't work out for me.
The basics are these:
I am not a person who can focus on a huge project for too long. It feels like a chore eventually and my motivation for it dies. I needed a handbook to hold onto, and I didn't have it! Because I didn't plan the story through!! So if you're like me who keeps jumping projects, maybe limiting yourself to a shorter, simpler story and writing everything down in text format BEFORE turning it into a comic will work wonders.
I discussed it with too many people... Now, having friends isn't bad, and sharing work with your friends isn't bad, either! The problem is, as I said above, I DIDN'T have a strong grip on the story and kept asking people to 'help figure things out with me'. This really muddies my story and overtime, I forget my true intent for it... which pushed me away from the story altogether.
I. STARTED. TOO. BIG. Despite my weaknesses, I chomped down on it because I thought I could do it. I got way too eager, way too greedy, and without pacing myself properly I just shot myself at the foot and lost steam early in the race.
Please note that this only works for me. I am someone with massive focus issues, a full-time job, and other real-life stresses, and I cannot hold the weight of this story over time. So don't be discouraged if you are planning on making your own comic. Just be prepared and try things out before you jump into it.
Pilot comics are always good. Yes. Please do that.
Thank you! Really. For still waiting all this time. I appreciate all of you, and I'm sorry for all of this. I hope the comic was fun while it lasted. As I said, if you have questions or need advice, please ask away! (I won't answer complaints because, sadly, it bogs me down. I'm also unhappy with my own decision! ; ;)
(The good news is I am using this energy to make another comic, but you will see that in +6 years once I ACTUALLY finalize and plan the story down.)
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Progress update 12\11\23
Yo!! Ive been randomly gone for like 20 days so heres a progress update finally! Im going to post the rest of a3 eventually, tbh i just couldnt be bothered because uploading pages is super tedious, it takes about 2 minutes per page, which doesnt sound that bad but when i have to upload almost 100 pages in one session that means it takes over 3 hours to upload! and it is a super tedious process too. So i kinda just kept putting it off because of that. Eventually i would like to make a new website where i can just bulk upload all of the pages super quickly. But you cant do that with blogger and i cant code lmao.
But while ive been putting off uploading the pages ive been kinda thinking about the problems with the comic as it stands. A3 did not need to be 300+ pages long, it couldve been a third of that, but i kept putting a single line onto each individual page, which resulted in the page count being way too high. But that is a simple problem to fix, just put more lines onto each page in the future. So im gonna do that with a4 and beyond.
But there is also a problem that has been kinda cropping up as ive been turning my plan in the google doc that i plan the comic in into actual comics, and i could go on a long rant about this for thousands of words but i wont do that because that would be super annoying. There would also be loads of spoilers. So instead im just gonna say that there was a major problem with the structure and progression of the story which was rooted at the foundation of the entire plot, and i have been thinking about how to fix it for all of these (around) 20 days. But now today i finally figured it out, so im gonna post the rest of the pages soon-ish whenever i get around to it and then i will work to restructure the rest of the story A LOT. The structure will be COMPLETELY CHANGED. The actual story itself wont be changed tho. But yeah anyway thats the update. Sorry about being a bit vague but i couldnt go into more detail without spoilers.
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Kiss Me Once...Kiss Me Twice (18! Five x Fem!Reader)
Requested: Yes! I’ve been away for so long and college has got me in chokehold so I really hope you all forgive me as I get around to your request! The two of you are 18 in this fic, just to specify)
Plot: Hi! Me again, so soon I know. Hope you won't get annoyed by my requests but its the end of semester and I kinda take anything I can get to keep me sane around this time.I am very partial to Cinderella AUs. I read them, i write them. They're just my favorite thing ever especially with different types of characters that are very different to the Canon.So I was wondering, could you maybe write one with Five and Reader? It doesn't have to be exactly to the movies plot and the characterization would obviously be loyal to the shows. It could be a modern "fits with Canon verse" AU where Five and Reader fall in love and Reader loses something and Five gets it back to her. Or it could be historical/fantasy AU (i would lowkey prefer if you did this one) like the movie where the Hargreeves are royals and Five is a prince who meets Reader and then they fall in love but he has to find her somehow after the ball. I'm not picky at all whichever version you choose as long as it's a general Cinderella AU (with a dash of nosy Hargreeves chaos) and I'm sure you'll do it justice.I may or may not have a couple more requests but I'll only send them in if you're feeling up to them. For now just this is enough and feel free to take your time.Thank you so much in advance! 😊❤️ @oceanspray5
Word Count: 10,234, I uhhhh went a little crazy, this took up 23 pages in my google docs!
Heads turned in awe, in awe of the beauty, for the crowd had never seen a more handsome couple. Two masks covered their identities, but anyone could look into their eyes and see; see the love they shared for one another. Hands laying over each other as they whisked each other gracefully to the dance floor, their smiles illuminated the room as they danced.
Everyone always talked about that night, talked about how in love they were; your parents. You knew they were in love in a less glamorous way, a less fairytale way. Your father would be walking by the garden, stopping to steal a glance at your mother, as she tended to the garden. You noticed how your mother, even in the worst of moods, always smiled around your father. Their relationship taught you to love and how to be kind, but it also taught you sorrow.
Around age ten is when tragedy struck, your mother had fallen ill one day. She laid in bed for weeks, chills passing through her constantly, her body growing weaker and weaker with every passing day. At first, your mother didn’t want you to see her condition, she wanted her only daughter to be filled with happiness, but in the end, she let you see her.
Tears distorted your vision as you looked down at her pale figure, missing the glow it had meer months ago. She showed you her best smile, head swimming with things to say, she couldn’t exactly choose her last words for you. Your mother grabbed your hand, pulling you closer. “Darling,” her voice was weak, but still so full of love. “Can you remember something for me?”
Your head nodded instantly, tears shaking loose from your eyes quickly. She gave you another weak smile, finding the energy to let out a laugh. “Good,” her hand slipped for a second, “I want you to remember the golden rules.”
“The golden rules,” you repeated, you knew what they were, there were three.
“Can you tell me the golden rules?”
“Yes,” you held her hand tighter as it slipped down further. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, have courage, and be kind.” you finished, watching a pained smile grow on your mother’s face. She let out a tiny gasp, trying to breathe through her pain, her hand squeezing yours.
“Good,” she gasped, relaxing a little in the bed. “I want you to remember those rules, even if I’m not here to remind you.”
You felt her grip weaken, your father pulled you away from her as you sobbed, pushing you out of the room quickly as your mother slowly died.
It had been eight years since then, and thankfully your sorrow was replaced with the bittersweet feeling of acceptance. You remembered the rules, you remembered your mother, and you created new memories with your father and the cottage.
The sun was shining brightly onto the cottage, rising above the peaks of the roof carefully, dew dripping off of the grass slowly. It was summer and the world was saying a beautiful ‘hello’. Staring out the narrow stone window, you spotted him, your father. Excitement became you as you moved off of your bed, running around the cottage till you got out the front door, running out to meet him.
Your father halted the horse he was riding, sliding off the seat with a small grunt, a smile decorating his face at the sight of you. You were a young woman, beautiful like your mother, and if he was being honest, it was terrifying to see so much of her in you.
“Father,” laughter escaped you as he wrapped his arms around you “You’re home early.”
He pulled away, walking over to his saddlebag “Since when is this a problem?” he joked kindly, earning a shrug from you. “I have some news for you,” he pulled an item from his bag and then ushered you inside quickly “My dear, I’ve fallen in love.”
“In love?”
“Yes, she’s a lovely woman, with two lovely daughters and I’m going to marry her.”
“Oh,” you let the initial shock settle over you as you stared up at him “I’m so happy for you, Papa!”
You could see the way his eyes lit up upon hearing your acceptance and yet you felt a tugging sensation in your gut, you were sure it was nerves. They had to be since your father-- the trustworthy man he is-- said that these women were lovely, you were sure that they were just that, lovely.
They were not. Elinor was the youngest and the kinder of the three. She never did anything vile, but she also never did anything to stop their torment. Jane was the eldest daughter, beautiful and deadly-- similar to a belladonna flower-- if looks could kill, you would drop dead. Then there was the Baroness, Constance of Blodwell, a cruel woman. They say that the dearly departed Baron died of natural causes, but you wouldn’t be surprised if she was lying.
When they first arrived Father kissed her hand, bought the sisters imported silks and threw uncharacteristically loud parties. He seemed so happy, so who were you to judge his happiness? If he wanted to buy silks, let him buy silks. If he wanted to throw loud parties, then he shall throw loud parties, and you? You would bite your tongue and smile at him. You could tell him to be safe and that you loved him.
During the day the Baroness would watch you read on the windowsill as she played with her needlepoint, setting it down to say “A young lady shouldn’t read so much, it will fill her head with silly nonsense, confuse her.”
You told her you agreed but found needlework wasn’t your strong suit and she would let out a huff, and that is where the conversation would end for the hour.
It started as small things. The Baroness found your boyish antics disgusting, so you were taught to be more ladylike. Jane would blame you for messing with the piano as she hit broken keys over and over again. Elinor would stare, smile at you, and drink her tea. Your father was away, working harder than ever to provide for his suddenly large family of young women.
~~
It was no secret to the royal family that they were strange. Five was a little convinced every family had some deep-rooted issues. As is tradition, the mages ruled over the kingdom; protecting the people and possessing incredible powers of all kinds.
His siblings, mostly married off to other obscenely powerful families, all possessed powers. Vanya was a late-bloomer, but the musicians helped her powers reach their full potential. He could go down the list, but thinking about the others was somewhat exhausting, but it did let his mind escape elsewhere as he sat in another council meeting with his father.
He was listening, hearing talk of peace and plans for the upcoming fall harvest and other important things. He could feel his father’s eyes on him, on the crown prince, how becoming. Five turned his head, raising an eyebrow at his father as he was greeted with the usual frown, great so he didn’t miss anything.
As men and women bid their farewells, Five was left alone with the servants and King Reginald Hargreeves. “You weren’t listening during today’s meeting,”
“Yes, I was,”
“Don’t lie to me,”
“I was only thinking of the dear siblings and their wellbeing, all good things.”
His father’s frown somehow deepened before he shook his head “Five, you’re crown prince because I made you crown prince, do you know why?”
“It’s fun to make me miserable?”
“It’s because you know how hard it is to have responsibilities, I expect you to be better than them.” And with that, he walks out of the room. Better than them? All of them? It seemed a little bit much for an eighteen-year-old, but he guessed that being a crown prince was all about having the burden of trying to outshine the stars.
~~
It was just before dawn, the sky was turning a beautiful indigo, sleep evading you as you waited outside the cottage. Your father was away once more and was due yesterday, but he never showed. Horrible knots twisted against the walls of your stomach, ruining your appetite. You had a horrible feeling that he wasn’t coming home. That he wasn’t going to come back from London. The knots gave way as you heard the sound of hooves beating against the gravel. You peer through the early morning catching his eyes in a moment of pure bliss. He was okay and you could breathe again.
He was paler than usual, the sick shade of exhaustion mixed with the summer heat. In the sitting room, Jane was fretting over one of her newer dresses that had a gold appliqué on the trim and Elinor was nodding along wordlessly. Father was holding Constance’s hand and her eyes seemed tender for the first time in months.
You were sitting there, watching them with a smile. Constance was no mother to you, nor was she a friend but she seemed to love your father, or at least care about him deeply.
He spent the next week recovering, to which he seemed well enough by the end of the week and then he was off again. The whole family stood outside in the early morning, Constance whispering something in your father’s ear, earning her a smile before he turned to you with open arms. “You shouldn’t be working, you’re still sick.” You muttered into his shoulder with a frown.
“I know, but this job is big and I can’t afford to pass it by,”
“Will I see you next week?”
“Yes,”
“Okay,” you said, pulling away reluctantly from his embrace. You watched as he straddled his saddle and smiled up at him as he started to make his way out. Your eyes didn’t leave him, and maybe that’s why you were the first to scream when you saw him fall off. “Papa!”
Your legs moved on their own, running out to him, being followed closely behind by Constance as she screamed his name in sobs, and just like that he was gone. You watched as they lowered his body into the ground, dressed in black from head to toe in the middle of a July afternoon.
~~
Five didn’t enjoy getting in trouble, because if he could just stop himself from getting caught he wouldn’t be in trouble. Sure, with a flash of blue he could be out of the room or out of the palace, but eventually, he would come back. He was the crown prince after all and with no money on the run, where would he go? He would be recognized immediately and in the end, it would all be useless. So here he was, getting yelled at by his father again.
After an hour-long lecture from his father he was left alone once again and against his better judgment, as soon as he was left alone, he left the palace again. Blue flashes lit up the woods for a second and then they were gone and Five was standing in the middle of a quiet forest. He didn’t like to leave the palace to visit brothels or to go into town to see how the commonwealth lived, he just wanted some time alone.
From the moment he woke up it was Five this or Five that, meetings, classes, or lectures. He just needed a break from it all, he needed a break from the responsibilities, no matter the repercussions.
Five drew in a deep breath, smiling as the smell of fresh pine and earth filled his senses. The sounds of a nearby creek drew his attention, his feet following the sound till he stood at the bank. The child in him was eager to jump in and splash about, most likely getting his clothes absolutely soaked in the process, but the adult inside of him screamed that it was a bad idea. Instead, he simply sat on the loose gravel near the bank and watched as the water rushed by at a slow pace.
~~
It had been a little over a month since your father passed, and what a hard month it had been. The baroness had you change rooms, moving you into the cold, dusty, damp, dark attic. When it rained little drops of water would splash on your brows and leave you awake for hours on end.
A humble voice deep inside whispered ‘you should be grateful’ and the fire that raged right next to it roared to fight back, so you simply did nothing. You were obedient, calm in every scenario. If she wanted you to scrub the floors, you scrubbed. There wasn’t a day that went by where she wasn’t asking you to do something.
So you couldn’t comprehend why you were sneaking out like this, in a clean dress and basket filled to the brim with cheese, bread, and fruits. You were supposed to be good, good for your mother, and good for your father. Well, that woman wasn’t your mother anyway so what was the point?
Your pace slowed as you thought about the consequences. Would she throw you out? She was the lady of the house, she had all the power. You were of age, but with no marriage, no prospects, and no money, what good would being homeless do? You turned your head back towards the cottage for a second before you set off towards the creek. This was just a short break after all.
You didn’t initially see him until your feet were already in the water, and the hem of the dress was considerably soaked. His eyes grew wide at the sight of you, his mouth moving in a thousand different shapes before he finally got some words out from those pretty lips, “Who are you?”
“I’m,” you paused, you didn’t know this man, was it smart to give him your name? “I’m Ella!” You practically shouted back in response, earning a small wince from the boy in front of you.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed, his eyes glancing down at your feet before quickly darting back up to meet yours.
“Do you own the river?”
“Well,” he trailed off, chewing on his bottom lip with worry.
“Well?”
“Well, no.”
“Perfect, then I am soaking my feet.”
“Why?”
You laughed gently and kicked up some water at him, “Because it’s fun.” you replied softly, stepping away from him quickly. “Why are you here?”
“Why are you asking?” he challenged, jumping as a few drops of water hit his pants.
“You asked me.”
“Oh, right,” he said, eyeing the basket in your hands, feeling his mouth water as a small slice of cheese peaked through the cloth atop of the basket. “Well, I suppose I’m just here for fun. The same as you.”
“Right,” you replied with a gentle chuckle as you stepped out of the creek, a pleasant breeze moved through your hair as you looked back over towards the boy. “The thing is, you don’t look like you’re having a lot of fun.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise before coming together in a judgemental glare, “And how would you know if I’m having fun?”
You eyed him up and down with a playful smirk at your lips, “You have the face of someone who lights up when they’re truly enjoying themselves.”
His face relaxed at that and a small smile stretched across his face gracefully, small butterflies ate away at your insides when you saw that smile. You should’ve known then. “So,” you quickly interrupted the moment “Do you have a name, or are you a nameless spirit?”
“I have a name!”
“Wonderful, mind if I learn it?”
His eyes searched the waters, earning a smile from you as you realized he was probably going to do the same thing as you did. “It’s Phillip,” he lied lamely, his body betrayed him, almost yelling at him for telling the lie, but you still accepted it.
“Lovely, are you hungry?”
Five was playing with the ends of the blanket beneath him, wondering silently how he ended up here, sitting next to a pretty girl as you talked about what you liked most about the Summertime. He smiled hearing your laugh, a sweet melody that made the world just a little brighter.
He watched you as you pulled a small piece of bread off of the loaf, finding himself watching as you popped it into your mouth, eyes catching on your lips for a second before he ripped them away.
Five felt his knees go weak at a romantic thought, he wasn’t supposed to have romantic thoughts, he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Well, he never thought romance could be on the table, not like this. He knew that he was setting himself up for failure by having feelings for you, and he wouldn’t dare call them that, he was just feeling… infatuation, yes!
It was infatuation, of course! The kind of thing that makes princes fall to commoner and the thing that made kings go to war, but Five wasn’t going to be a tragic tale. However, what was the harm in indulging in a small little crush?
“Phillip?” The fake name made his head turn.
“Yes, Ella?”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“I, uh, no.”
“I was saying that we should be friends,” you explained with a nervous smile, Five couldn’t stop the smile growing on his face.
“Friends?”
“I mean if you don’t want to, I understand!”
“No,” he all but yelled, clearing his throat quickly as he shook his head, “No, I would love to be your friend.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he said, placing a hand over yours, trying to ignore the electricity that was tingling at his fingertips.
“Oh,” you looked at your hands and let out another nervous laugh, a lump rising into your throat as you let out a strangled “Lovely.”
“Yes, lovely,” he repeated as your eyes met his for a moment. Five didn’t feel like himself for a moment, it was as if he was watching the scene unfold from across the creek. Your eyes were wide and were glued to his as you opened your mouth quickly to speak, to say anything.
Against his will, he slowly moved his hand away from yours, missing the heat instantly as he stood up slowly, brushing himself off. “I should be getting back,” he muttered.
You heard yourself say something along the lines of ‘yes’ and ‘of course’ as he walked away, throwing a small smile over his shoulder before he disappeared into the bush.
~~
Five’s heart was racing when he blimped back into his room, the teleportation never took a toll on him, he was fine, so why was he finding it so hard to breathe? It was a terrible feeling of restlessness that consumed him as soon as he calmed down.
He wanted to go out. He wanted to walk by the creek. He wanted to see you again, god he burned to see you again. He flexed his hand gently, trying to ignore the sensation that lingered against his palm.
He was pacing now, thinking, muttering, and sighing heavily. He was apathetic, for the most part snarky, but overall very solid. He didn’t need people prying into how he was feeling and he didn’t want to explain his feelings to people, but today might be the first day that his hard exterior is experiencing a little crack.
He jumped hearing a knock on his door, “His Majesty wishes to see you,” there was a pause “Now.”
Right, right, right, his father would never approve of anything as frivolous as his feelings. “Be right there,” he called back to the servant at the door as he stole a look in the mirror, looking for evidence that would place him in the woods. Evidence that would point to you. Once he was clear he set out for the throne room.
“Five,” his father said, a foreign smile making an appearance, “I have something to tell you.”
Five stepped forward, the giddiness that he had in his room leaving him as he got closer. He didn’t like that face, that smile on his twisted father’s face. It never meant anything good, all signs pointed to doom. “You’re going to get married.”
“Pardon me?”
“Well, you’re not getting married right now, but there is going to be a masquerade ball. You’ll be able to choose your bride, of course. She’ll need to be special to be able to handle you, of course.”
“Of course, and how am I going to find her? Dance with every maiden in the kingdom?”
“How wonderful, you already have a plan! We shall send invitations out to every maiden in the kingdom!”
With that he left the room, leaving Five buzzing with questions and anxiety as he stared at the throne silently. He was trained to be king, he did well in all of his classes, he was well educated, but the thought of having a queen was terrifying. It all seemed to be moving too fast.
The only silver lining was the hope that you would be there in the ballroom, A friend, an ally, maybe? Then a small voice seemed to whisper, to hope, a queen.
~~
Your feet were sore, horribly sore. Yesterday, the baroness noticed your absence and has since then forced you to clean the kitchen, spilling lentils and flour purposefully as she came by to check up on your progress. Eventually, it was done, but now you hurt. Elinor offered you biscuits in the morning but you felt too nauseated to stomach anything.
The only things on your mind were your pain and Phillip, or rather your mystery man by the creek. You caught yourself zoning out, thinking about him, wishing to see him, to visit him. You wondered if he was waiting for you by the creek. You hoped he would come back despite your absence, you hoped he would touch your hand again and you hoped his eyes would linger on your lips for a minute too long.
Hoping was the only thing that was draining out Constance’s shirl voice as she yelled at some of the servants, going on about how there was dust on a frame somewhere and how unseemly dirt was. The first thing she told you when you had come back from the creek was that you were dirty, then she proceeded to lecture you on how cleanliness was close to godliness. A proper lady must never be dirty.
You jumped in surprise hearing a distinct rapping against the front door, for a second you hoped it was Phillip as you went to answer it. “Invitations to the ladies of the house, The Baroness Constance of Blodwell and her three daughters, Jane, Elinor, and…”
“I just have two daughters, sir.” The baroness cut him off as he handed her the four invitations, with a shocked look on his face. You looked over at her, wondering when she had paused her lecture to greet the gentleman at the door. You watched as she read the invitations with hungry eyes, gasping sharply as she pulled a hand over her chest. “Oh, oh,”
“What is it? What are the invitations for?” Jane demanded quickly, bouncing on the soles of her feet like a child next to her mother, an act she would be reprimanded for later.
“It’s for a royal ball, for the crown prince. He’s choosing a bride!” Constance said with glee, handing two invitations to her daughter, your’s still residing in her hand as she shut the door on the messenger boy.
“A bride!” Jane parroted the word with a squeal, while you disliked her it was wonderful to see her so overjoyed. A sudden thought entered your brain, Phillip could be at the ball, it was for the whole kingdom, maybe he had a sister or he would be invited!
“Does Y/N have an invitation too, mother?” Elinor asked, looking up from her’s with an endearing smile. You wished she hadn’t asked, you could tell what was coming next. Constance frowned as she looked at your invitation, your name is written in the same ink that her daughters were written in. She considered it for a moment before tearing the invitation to shreds.
A quiet scream caught in your throat as you reached out to stop her, “Don’t touch me, girl!” she screamed at you as the paper fell to the ground. “You’re barely my daughter, after all, you get along better with the servants, so you will be treated like one!”
“But, I…”
“Did I say you could speak about the matter? No, now we need to make preparations for the ball tonight!” she burst at the seams with a variety of emotions, settling on hope. Hoping that one of her daughters would win the Prince’s heart and become queen.
You were still her daughter, she was all you had. You knew that she would never be your mother nor would she be your father, but she was something. She was the last thing you had, the last connection. “How can you be so cruel?” you felt the words spill out as she turned to look down at you.
“I’m not cruel, I’m saving you from rejection, my dear,” she said, reaching out her hand to graze your cheek. “Clean.” she looked down at the parchment on the ground with a smile before she was walking away.
Jane had a purple dress decorated with gold appliqué, muttering about how she was going as a masked royal because she was sure she would soon be one anyway, while Elinor had a pale blue dress with white appliqué, and Constance was wearing red, and you were wearing rags. They had come and gone, leaving you to cry with the shredded parchment in the attic.
A soft knocking forced you to dry your eyes quickly, “Come in,” you stood up from your bed when the head maid, Elizabeth, entered.
“Hello,”
“Hello,”
“I, well, we have something for you,” she said, a giddy smile from her made your heart squeeze with joy. She motioned behind her and up came more maids, holding a white and gold gown, the material looked soft to touch and elegant. Another maid produced a matching gold and cream mask, the more you looked at it you realized it was a swan, or rather it was a mask for a swan. It looked eerily familiar, but you couldn’t place your finger on it.
“Oh, oh my,” you cried as you reached out to touch the hem, “It’s beautiful,” you whispered as they looked at you. You could see a pair of shoes in one of their hands, you turned to Elizabeth quickly. “I won’t make it there in time!”
“My dear, do you think we would make you walk? I asked Henry, my husband, to bring a carriage. You need not worry, we have everything for you.”
You felt small tears of joy prick at your eyes “Thank you, thank you.” you repeated quickly as the women surrounded you and helped you get ready for the ball.
~~
Five was staring at himself in the mirror with a frown on his face, the cream color of his coat didn’t suit him, and this collar, disgustingly baby blue was choking him slowly. The bottom of his coat had a small trim of blue as well, and at a closer glance, he could see that his coat had a light gold detail, the royal insignia, and other symbols decorating it beautifully. It just wasn’t for him. In all honesty, it fit him quite well, the occasion just wasn’t to his liking. He didn’t like the idea of walking around with a bunch of masked strangers who were either trying to marry him or trying to make him marry their child.
Nonetheless, at this point fighting with his father would be useless. The damage had been done, people were arriving and he was expected to smile and dance. Five burned his gaze into the mirror, moving a hand up to his hair and messed with its carefully styled beauty before he turned on his heel and headed out towards the ballroom.
~~
With the help of the maids, you were quickly dressed and adorned with white jewels on your neck and ears. The mirror looked like a mirage as you stared yourself down, nothing seemed real. It was already a splendid dream and as you stepped into the carriage the dream began to blend with reality.
Having arrived only a quarter late to the ball, slipping in was easy, it was the stares that made it difficult to calm down. Every step, every sound you made, caused people’s heads to turn as if they were waiting for you. You were excited to be at the ball, but now it was a matter of finding a purpose. Did you only want to come to be included? It had to be because with all these eyes staring you down you wanted nothing more than to turn around and go home.
You took in a gentle breath and closed your eyes, thinking about how Elizabeth told you to have fun and how she whispered how beautiful you looked. Finding solace in the memory, you joined the outer circle of the dance floor, watching as a woman dressed as a peacock spun about the dance floor.
A smile crept its way onto your lips as you watched them, something about the way she laughed as she twirled made you giddy. It was as if the atmosphere had completely changed because of the woman's dazzling smile, a smile that made the world smile back at her.
The man, however, had a strange sense of familiarity to him. Something about the broadness of his shoulders, the brunette color of his hair, and the way his smile never seemed to stay too long on his face all seemed familiar to you. ‘That must be the crown prince’ you thought with a tiny nod, it had to be because this was his ball after all and he was looking for a bride.
The violins soon disappeared, followed by the horns, till the only sound to be heard was the sounds of people clapping as the two split apart. You moved to find a drink, or perhaps a corner in which you could cling to and avoid getting seen. Your feet had other ideas as you stepped on the long hem of your dress, flying towards the ground.
You squeezed your eyes tight waiting for the floor to make contact, but with a muted flash of blue, you felt arms hold you up instead. You peeked one eye open, opening both in surprise to see the golden mask of the crown prince inches from your face. “I’m so sorry, sir.” You gasped as you used his shoulders to stabilize yourself quickly, having the intention to get as far away from him as possible, as soon as he let you go.
His lips opened for a moment before he closed them and swallowed hard. If you didn’t know any better you would say that he seemed just as surprised as you were. Which was a ridiculous idea to even venture, so you pushed it to the back of your mind as fast as possible. “Sir,” you stuttered softly, “Your royal highness, sir, you’re still holding my waist.”
“Oh,” he muttered gently, grip not releasing for a moment before he let out a gasp and exclaimed another “Oh!” as he let go of your waist quickly. You smiled at him, reaching up to adjust your mask swiftly before the prince was holding a hand towards you. You looked at his hand for a second too long, about to question him before he asked “Will you dance with me?”
“Oh,” you whispered as you laid your hand on top of his “I’m not that good, sir.”
“That’s fine,” he said as he led you to the middle of the floor “I’ll lead, all you have to do is follow.”
“Right, follow,” you repeated as the violins began to play a sweet and delicate melody. Your head turned down to watch the Prince’s feet, dreading the idea of stepping on the foot of the future monarch. You heard a laugh as you danced with your head down and before you knew it a gentle hand was moving your chin up.
“You’re supposed to look up,” he laughed again and you could feel your cheeks flush beneath your mask. He stole a glance at the other couples joining the two of you on the dance floor, surrounded the two of you pleasantly, and then he looked into your eyes again. “Spin for me,” he told you and you followed his orders quickly.
When the two of you were face to face again, you gasped quickly as he dipped you with the rest of the crowd of dancers, your hands holding onto his shoulders tight as you felt your loose hair graze the floor. “Relax,” he laughed as the two of you danced “What’s your name?”
You peeked at the floor, looking for his shoes for a second before he cleared his throat gently to give you the silent message to look up. “Well, I’m not supposed to be here,” you let out a nervous chuckle “So, I’m not sure I should tell you my name.”
“You’re not supposed to be here? My father sent you an invitation, didn't he? Isn't that enough to prove that you deserve to be here tonight?”
“I suppose, sir, but my family wished for me to stay at home.”
“So why did you come?”
You faltered for a moment, letting out a slow sigh “I came because I wanted to be included, I suppose. I wanted to experience something for once,” you looked up at him with a sad smile “I just wanted to have fun.”
The prince let out a pleasant hum, reminding you of someone that you had yet to spot amongst the crowd. You gasped as you tapped on his shoulder with excitement “I’m looking for a friend,” you chattered about quickly “His name is Philip, do you know him by any chance?”
The prince’s eyes became wide for a second, staring at you with a shocked expression. You didn’t know if you said something offensive or crude, but his dancing pace slowed as his breathing became quick. “Your majesty, are you alright?” you asked as the two of you slowed to a stop as couples danced around the two of you.
“Ella?” he whispered, his hand squeezing yours tight. Hearing him say that name made everything click for you and then the dance floor began to spin. You struggled to release your hand from his. Philip was the crown prince, and you were dancing with him and you had been so casual with him, that was worth some kind of punishment. You inhaled sharply as his grip became tighter around your waist, stopping all your struggling before you stared up into his eyes, waiting for him to speak.
But, he said nothing. He just stared down at you, staring into your eyes as you stayed in his arms breathless. “Philip, dance,” you said quickly as some of the other couple’s started to stop and stare at the two of you and with that, he started moving again.
Your senses were heightened now, your anxiety playing a role in the dance as you felt his hand squeeze your side nervously and how his fingers itched to be intertwined with yours. He swallowed nervously as the two of you danced to the swelling violins, “Please don’t call me Philip,” he whispered in a meek tone “It’s Five,”
You bit back a snarky comment and nodded slowly “Right,”
“Ella, listen,”
“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I lied too, that, and you look at your feet when you’re lying.”
Five smiled at that before letting out a strained breath, “I can’t trust that, liar.” he teased as he let go of your hand to move a strand of hair out from your face. The violins were slowing down now, but you weren’t ready yet, you found a new purpose and you didn’t want to leave him just yet. Just a little longer, a voice inside of you screamed, you just needed more time.
“Is there any way we can go somewhere else?” you asked in a hushed voice as you bowed into a curtsey.
“Meet me in the garden,”
“How are you going to find a way out?”
“By causing a scene, of course,” he grinned as you took a few steps back before turning around and heading for the garden.
Cause a scene he did, he walked over to his father, spilled red wine down the front of his shirt before knocking over a candelabra in the process, almost setting a tablecloth on fire. Earning just enough commotion to cause a crowd that would swarm his father, and then he was on his way out.
You were sitting on the edge of a fountain, the lavish lights from inside illuminated the water, vines gripped its base and crept up the sides, and having seen you sitting on its edge, Five swore that you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
When you heard his footsteps get closer, your head snapped away from the shining waters and towards him. You hesitated for a second before you graced him with a kind smile, reaching up slowly to pull down your mask. He knew what you looked like, and no one was around to tell your stepmother that you were here.
Five started a second too long before he started to scramble to take off his mask, laughter built up in your throat and released at a pleasant volume. The two of you stared at each other in comfortable silence for a few seconds before Five cleared his throat. “You look lovely this evening,”
“Well, I did want to look nice for a prince.” you teased in a tone that made Five’s insides turn into honey. You covered your mouth in a poor attempt to hide your growing grin as you watched his eyes grow wide and cheeks turn a light shade of pink.
“Right,” he stuttered out as he sat a safe distance from you on the cement edge of the fountain. He suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say. Did he say that he’s been thinking about you since yesterday? Did he tell you that this feeling was new to him? Did that sound like a confession? That most definitely sounded like a confession.
“You look,” you paused, tilting your head to the side to get a better look at him “Stressed,”
“What? No, no, no,” his eyes looked towards the night sky, his head falling back as he let out a sigh “When I was told that I would be choosing a bride tonight I never thought I would be able to see you again, and yet, here you are,” his head fell back down to earth to look at you “And you just look so lovely and I just think I’m a little overwhelmed.”
You felt your cheeks heat up, knees going weak as you crossed your legs silently. Sure, he had already complimented you once, but when it sounded so sincere, and when he was looking at you like that how could you not blush? “You look rather dashing yourself,” you beamed at him, taking pride in the fact that he was smiling over at you.
“Why thank you, now may I tell you a secret?” Five whispered as he leaned towards you. Your heartbeat raced as you leaned towards him, nodding ‘yes’ quickly. “I just had the most horrid dance partner,” he whispered out with a grin.
You gasped quickly, swatting at his arm as you laughed, “I was not horrid,” you laughed, swaying gently with your laughter, getting dangerously close to falling into the fountain as you giggled. Five reached up to steady you as he laughed with you, his hands on your shoulders sliding down to meet yours and then he let them stay there as the laughter died down.
“Can I ask something of you?” he whispered as he leaned forward.
Your heart leapt dangerously in your chest, knowing how dangerous saying a simple ‘yes’ could be, but you still nodded slowly and said “Yes,”
“I know that we just met and this is completely irrational, but I just light on fire when I’m near you,” he gasped out, hands gripping yours tighter with anxiety. You gave his hands a tiny squeeze and gave him a sinfully gorgeous smile. “I wanted to know if I could,” he trailed off, thumbs tapping against yours nervously.
“Yes?” you urged him gently, fighting back a giddy giggle as he tapped his thumbs against yours, it was nice to see him so nervous, or rather, it was endearing to see him like this.
“I was wondering if it would be okay if I kissed you?”
You felt yourself falter, all alarms in your head screaming something important but they were quickly muffled by something more intense, a giddy haze washing over you. You knew that it would be disastrous to kiss him, if someone saw you two in the middle of the garden they would have a fit, they would exclaim that the prince had found a princess. It wasn’t a good idea, kissing him, but everything in your body burned to kiss him. “You can kiss me,” you replied in a rather confident voice that you didn’t seem to recognize.
He leaned in, a mere inches away from your face, a shaking hand reached up to hold the left side of your cheek as the other held your hand tight. “Are you sure?”
“You’re leaning in aren’t you?”
“Right, well, if you don’t want to,”
“Five,”
“Yes?”
“Kiss me, please,”
“Okay,” he squeaked as he closed his eyes and closed the gap between the two of you, a gentle kiss hitting your lips. You kissed back slowly, eyes fluttering closed as you reached up your free hand to grab hold of the wrist that was cradling your face. You felt the gentleness of the kiss transform into something deeper, lips pushing against yours with a sudden fire.
You were about to kiss him back with the same burning passion as he pulled away, almost as if he surprised himself. “I’m sorry,”
“It’s okay,”
“I just got a little carried away,” he muttered sweetly, whenever he spoke his lips would brush against yours in an intoxicating way. So intoxicating it made your mind fuzzy. You smiled sweetly, a sudden feeling of peace washing over you as the two of you stayed this way for a minute or two.
After many soft caresses against your face and small jokes made inches apart, the two of you pulled away from each other with wide smiles.
“You did get quite carried away,” a voice echoed into the garden. Five jumped away from you at an alarming speed, standing up at the sound of his father’s voice from across the garden. “You’re just lucky that no one can see this little display,”
He seemed surprisingly at ease with this, he didn’t look mad, or disappointed, just slightly amused. “I’m glad you at least found a bride,”
“Bride?” you croaked back, anxiety settling in as you stared up at Five.
“Father, we haven’t discussed that,”
“Well, I sure hope you do, in the meantime I shall go inside and announce the news.” Reginald turned on his heel and headed back towards the ballroom. Five felt his feet stutter, he wanted to run after his father but the sound of your voice made him stop to look over at you.
“I can’t be queen,”
“Ella,” he rushed to your side in a panic. You looked up at him with sharp eyes, chest heaving up and down at a rapid pace as you tried your hardest to calm down.
“My name isn’t even Ella!” you yelled in response to the name, standing up to pace in front of him, absentmindedly chewing on your fingernails as you tried to think. Think about how anyone could view you as capable of being queen. It was impossible, that just wasn’t reality.
“Just calm down, we can talk about this,” Five grabbed your hands, pulling them down from your face and holding them in his own.
You shuddered at his touch and if you weren’t panicking you were sure you’d be relishing in the way his hands felt so soft. Five’s hands moved to cup your face, those soft hands brushed sweet circles on your cheeks. Those sweet movements made your legs turn to jelly, forcing you to let out a slow breath. “Five, I can’t, in good conscience, be queen.”
“Why not?” Five questioned, surprising himself at his words. He didn’t even think about it before he said it. He felt stupid all of a sudden, the silence only confirming his fears, his heart dropped into his stomach as he stared into your eyes. He didn’t know how to read you.
You felt your bottom lip quiver, you didn’t want to cry in front of him. “Five, you don’t even know my real name.”
“Then tell me it, tell me everything about you, I’ve never felt like this before.” He was speaking from the heart for once in his life and he didn’t want to stop. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that his father had been there to ruin their romantic evening, but all he knew was that if he could feel like this for the rest of his life, he would be happy. It was a foreign concept for someone like him and his siblings, oh his siblings would love you, god he wanted you to be with him so bad it hurt.
You shook your head slowly as you pulled his hands away from your face and let them drop sadly. “I can’t, it’s not right.”
Not right? Five let those words roll around in his brain, staring dumbly at you as tears glistened in your eyes. Why were you crying? Then you turned and ran from him, it took him a second to follow you, still recovering from your words. He didn’t have time to wonder or time to pity himself, he had to catch up to you. He had to find you, but by the time he made it to the steps of the palace you were getting into a carriage and he knew he wouldn’t be able to catch you in time.
“You know you could just teleport,” Reginald said from the top of the steps.
“What’s the use if she doesn’t want me?”
“I know I’m not the most affectionate,” he paused, eyes landing on a shoe near the bottom of the steps “In fact, I’m not a very loving father at all, but I know what love is. I loved your mother and I love you and your siblings. I know you can’t see it but I do, so trust me when I tell you this,” He placed a hand on Five’s shoulder slowly, “Don’t let her go.”
~~
You were busy stuffing the dress, mask, and a single shoe into a chest. You had cried on the carriage ride home and only stopped when you finally felt a little numb. That numb feeling was replaced by fear as soon as you heard the booming voices of your step-siblings enter the house. Sleep, you could pretend to be asleep, it was as easy as that!
Elinor knocked on the open attic door the next morning, a sad look on her face as you stirred. She always did look a little sad, but today it seemed more prominent. A tiny part of you wished that she won Five’s heart instead of you. You groaned at the memory, holding back tears as you stared at her. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s worse than usual today,” was all she said before she was walking down the staircase with a frown.
You got dressed into your regular simple, stained covered dress and you felt calmer. This is where you belonged, you weren’t trained for petticoats and embroidered gowns, you were living as a maid. You didn’t want to imagine the stress of being a queen, and yet a part of you yearned for Five. Not for his status or the riches, just for him and his smile, his laugh.
The baroness frowned at you as you entered the sitting room, Elinor and Jane, at her side with their needle-points in hand. “The girls had a horrid night,”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Baroness.”
“I’m sure you are,” she snapped, earning a small jump from you. She held up the swan mask with a vicious glare “You did ruin it didn’t you?”
Panic was an emotion you were getting used to as you stared at the mask, there were two options. You could lie, say it isn’t yours, say it was a simple coincidence, or just tell her the truth. “I don’t regret it,” you smiled back, confidence wavering as she stood. If you could earn a proposal from a prince you could handle your stepmother, it was arrogant but it felt right.
“You will, I’ll make sure of it,” she promised as she stood in front of you, her hand raised in an almost dramatic way, flying down to deliver a blow to your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the strike to hit, but it never came. Your eyes opened to take a peek at your savior, Elinor, standing in front of you with her mother’s hand inches away from her face.
“My night wasn’t ruined,” she said softly as she looked up at her mother. She swatted her mother’s hand away quickly, speaking in a bold tone suddenly. “Believe it or not, people don’t care for you. They care for your regality, but once they know you, they stop caring.”
Constance felt her eyes widen, mouth opening as her youngest daughter shushed her sharply, “The crown prince is going to come looking for her, you know that, Jane knows that, and I know that. So let him come and marry her.” she finished, pushing past her mother to sit back down next to Jane with a smile. You fought back tears of gratitude as you looked over at her before you turned back to Constance.
“I don’t understand how marrying the prince would be a bad thing. He asked me to and I said no because of you, because of how you made me feel, but,” you swallowed, looking down at your dirty clothes “He chose me.”
“Maybe he just wants another maid, but I will let you see him when he comes, and if he still wants you then be grateful.”
~~
His father had written to his siblings and so they were here. All of them. He loved his siblings, truly, they were just annoying, very, very annoying. Vanya was secretly his favorite, although he’d never tell her that. Klaus was discussing his husband, Dave, with a very annoyed Ben who just kept nodding and going ‘uh-huh’ and Allison was talking to Luther about her daughter. This is how it usually was, they all seemed to ignore the reason they were brought here and just went off into their own worlds. Five only had the attention of Diego and Vanya thus far, funnily enough, they were polar opposites and yet they both seemed so annoyed. “Hey!” Diego spoke up, snapping his head in the direction of his siblings “Can we all focus?”
“Focus on Five having a hard-on for a commoner?”
“Luther, I have a hard-on for a commoner.”
“Klaus, please stop talking about Dave,”
“Can we not call it that, please?” Five whimpered, stuffing his face into his hands, trying to rub away his on-coming headache.
“Dad said he caught the two of you kissing in the garden,” Klaus said, talking as if it was the most scandalous piece of news he had heard all week. “The ghosts of the palace say it was pretty steamy, three cheers for Five!”
“Please, focus.” Five begged his siblings as they laughed. “I just need you all to focus,”
Five waited for all eyes to be on him again before he continued “I propose and she ran off,”
“With your attitude, I would run away too,” Diego joked, playing with a small dagger.
“That’s not the point!” Five snipped, rubbing his temples harder before he let his hands drop with a defeated sigh. “I need to find her, I need to ask her again.”
“Why don’t you just ask someone else?” Luther questioned.
“Luther,” Allison said sharply “If someone told you to find a new wife, would you just simply ask someone else?”
“Well, no, but they kissed. It’s not like Five’s in love with her, right?” He turned his head towards Five, whose cheeks were turning a teasable color of pink.
“Well, I…” he trailed off, clearing his throat quickly to cover up for his embarrassment.
“Oh, he’s falling in love with her,” Klaus said, clapping his hands together with excitement. He mustered up his best, posh accent and said “Charles, let’s have a royal wedding, for the youngest please.” That’s when everyone started talking at once. Five heard some sentences like, ‘oh, I bet she’s beautiful’ or ‘do you think she can handle Five’ and so on.
He cleared his throat again, getting his siblings attention “I need us to split up,” and thus a plan was put into place; Vanya would be searching the inner city with Allison, Luther and Diego would be searching the farmlands, and Ben, Klaus and himself would be searching the grounds near the creek. He assumed you lived near there, but he wasn’t going to take any chances so there wasn’t going to be any stoned left unturned till he found you.
~~
Elinor, Jane, and Constance have long since gone to different parts of the cottage, but you stayed in the sitting room. You had changed to your best dress, one that was crisp and free of anything unseemly and shined the pretty shade of pink, but after that, you were glued to the sitting room. You had tried to read, but your mind was far too cluttered for any books at the moment, so you sat and thought about your mother and father. You thought about love and how they loved each other, trying your best to remember every beautiful detail possible.
Elizabeth broke your concentration when she came running into the sitting room. “Miss Y/N! The crown prince, he’s coming! Oh dear, he’s coming to you with his brothers! Oh, miss, I’m so happy for you.”
“He’s coming here, now.” you gasped, standing up quickly.
“Do you not want him to come, miss?”
“No! No, I do, I’m just,” you paused, hands shaking “Well, I’m scared.”
“He’ll love you, dear,” She beamed, moving to wrap you into a tight hug as a knock was sounded at the door. Elizabeth was off of you within seconds and scurried to the door with a laugh, she looked back at you for a second, waiting for you to give her the okay. You nodded quickly as you flattened out your dress, trying your best to look presentable.
You stood in the sitting room, staring at the door. You felt strange for not opening the door yourself and you felt guilty that you ran away. You should have said yes, you should have agreed to be with him last night. You felt your fingers twitch as panicked thoughts ran through your head at a thrilling speed. Elizabeth opened the door to let them in.
He was dressed differently now, he looked similar to how he looked when the two of you first met, and yet, he looked so different. He was still wearing a formal-looking suit, blues and gold decorated him handsomely and you could feel your heartbeat pounding inside your chest. His eyes were soft, seeming more desperate and vulnerable than ever. As soon as he spotted you his feet stopped.
Two men followed him in, standing behind him with smiles. One was rather tall with long hair, fashionably dressed, and had the wider smile of the two. The other seemed just as happy but calmer, dressed in more formal attire. The sitting room was filled with silence before the taller man’s voice cut through, “So, you’re the little lady who danced about the ballroom with Five.”
“Klaus,” the other man said in a disappointed tone, his smile dropping as he stared at him. Then the silence continued. Five was looking for something to say, he wanted to say so many things before, but now he couldn’t get the words out. “Maybe we should go outside,” Ben muttered as he took note of the silence, pushing his brother out the door quickly, leaving you and Five alone.
“The suns going down,” Five blurted out quickly as his chest squeezed with anxiety.
“It took you all day to find me,” you joked as you took a step towards him.
Five smiled at you before turning his head down to look at his hands, fidgeting quietly. “I was waiting for my siblings,”
“They’re lovely,”
“Only you would say that.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Because you’re good,” he paused, lifting his head to meet your surprised gaze. “You’re good for me and you’re kind and unbearably naive. I mean who forgets her shoe on the steps of the palace. How childish, truly,” he laughed as he watched your face flush red.
“I would rather you call me something sweet instead of teasing me,”
“I would rather call you by your name.”
“It’s Y/N,” you responded sheepishly, giving Five an unsure smile as he echoed your name back to feel it on his lips. You watched as he blossomed into a large smile and nodded a little. You tilted your head to the side, laughing as you watched him mutter to himself with fascination, “What?”
“I think my last name fits perfectly at the end of that, what do you think?” He was teasing you, surely, he wasn’t doing this here, now? You felt your mouth go dry, butterflies hitting the walls on your stomach as you reached down to hold onto something. Five’s demeanor changed quickly upon seeing you sway, “No, wait, wait, I’m sorry!”
He was hovering over you nervously as you sat on the edge of a chair, his hands nervously finding your face. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles on them as you stared up at him. “You can’t joke like that, not if you don’t mean it.”
“If I don’t mean it?”
You stuttered for a short minute, mouth opening and closing like the mouth of a fish as he looked down at you. You swallowed sharply, stood up, and looked over at Five, “Then do it right, if you mean it, that is to say, propose to me properly.”
“Properly? You know I’m a prince, I was born to be proper.” He was joking at a time like this, earning a gentle frown from you before he was taking your hands in his in one swift movement. “Properly,” he repeated one last time, earning a nervous nod from you in the process.
“Growing up I never really had much optimism in my life, I was born with extraordinary abilities and yet my life was seemingly boring. I always felt as if I was missing something important, missing something that made life meaningful. I had books, royal duties, and standards. I had the makings of a good prince, indeed, but I think I was missing you. You have shown me colors I can’t see with anyone else. I can’t promise to be the best for you or to be the most earnest, or to be the most amiable, but I can promise to love you. So if you’ll have me, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” He finished his speech, moving to the ground to be on one knee, trying to catch his breath. He felt you squeeze his hands tight before pulling him up into a tight hug, kissing his cheek quickly.
“Of course, I will,” you whispered in his ear sweetly, pulling back from him with a smile. Five stood there, panting lightly as you were inches from his face before he let out an excruciating long sigh.
“Oh, thank god.” he released before he leaned in to kiss you firmly on the lips. You tripped over yourself to kiss him back with the same passion, smiling against his lips as you held onto him. Five was beaming, kissing you all over your face as he laughed. You felt laughter spill out of you quickly, swatting him away playfully and then you knew that as long as you had him next to you, you would be fine and the two of you would live happily ever after indeed.
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Hello everyone. Today I bring you the long-awaited warning post about the groomer in wyngro. A short disclaimer that I really need you to read, first. Please do not use this information to attack this individual. What they have done is wrong, but attacking will do nothing except make me more hesitant to do any of these in the future. What’s done has been done.
What can you do with this post?
-block the user. First and foremost. Especially if you are a minor.
-share it with friends. Get the word out, protect each other.
The Groomer
Their username is Atlas-s .
https://www.deviantart.com/atlas-s
Atlas is 23. Atlas has had other allegations including tracing and stealing designs, but some of these allegations are very old and also irrelevant for this post. We will not be discussing them here.
The victim
I am in contact with the victim. They are 14 now and 13 at the time. They have allowed me to post this and they have granted me permission to use the screenshots I’ve provided.
What Occurred
Atlas engaged in inappropriate conversations with a minor over a period of at least 5 months. This primarily was through NSFW roleplays with each other’s wyngro. Atlas would also draw their characters together in a sexual manner on one occasion, and on another occasion Atlas showed the minor a NSFW drawing of Atlas’s character. Atlas knew that the minor was 13 and continued to engage in NSFW roleplays for months.
Proof
I know this is what everyone wants to see, but my mods and I have concluded that the safest way to not expose minors to this is to keep most of it behind my DMs. If you DM me and you’re over the age of 18, I’ll send you a google doc containing all the screenshots I have. I know this is disappointing, but we feel it’s the safest way to do this. Additionally, it’s the only way we know to be in compliance with Tumblr’s nsfw policy.
We will be revealing two screenshots here on this blog. The first, a censored NSFW image that Atlas shared with this minor.
The second screenshot is proof of Atlas knowing the victim’s age. You’ll note the date is *after* Atlas shared the NSFW image in the above screenshot. However, NSFW roleplays occurred after Atlas was made aware of the victims age. I just cannot show them here due to the graphic content. If you’re above the age of 18 you may DM me for these.
Aftermath
After Atlas’s behavior was discovered, Atlas changed their discord account name to “got hacked” and created another discord account. This is puzzling because the behavior with the minor occurred over months. If you were hacked one would assume you would notice the strange DMs your account is receiving and sending. Most or all friends who questioned Atlas never received a response. Atlas blocked those who found out. Atlas spent a few days on their new account in the wyngro discord server as if nothing were wrong, but then left and has not returned. However, you can see that Atlas is still in the group by viewing their DeviantArt page. They have not been removed from wyngro.
Wyngro response
Wyngro was made aware of Atlas’s behavior at least once, but likely more than once. For the one I can confirm, the user provided screenshot evidence. The evidence was turned away by the owner of wyngro due to the fact that it was screenshots, and the owner does not accept screenshot evidence. Atlas went unpunished and was allowed to remain in wyngro.
Conclusion
The behavior Atlas engaged in is not okay. Atlas knowingly spoke with a minor about NSFW topics several times, even after knowing the minor’s age. Atlas drew an image of their character and the victim’s character together in a sexual nature. This all is not okay.
If you or someone you know is or has been a victim of this, please reach out to an adult in your life.
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For the ship game: prime numbers for Lupin x Jigen!
HERE YOU GO GHOST, THIS WAS FIVE PAGES IN A GOOGLE DOC AND TOOK ME SEVERAL HOURS
Under a cut, allegedly, though mobile has been known to just IGNORE THAT. Sorry in advance if this gets goofed for anyone.
2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, in any place?
Lupin, obviously (and canonically). Just the horniest man you ever did see. Jigen knows what he wants and when he wants it, but he has difficulty keeping up with Don Juan Triumphant over there. Lupin is also far less picky about locations and times than Jigen is. Jigen still has a FEW standards, thank you, and also a stronger sense of self-preservation. Lupin sometimes tries to start shit in public or during a heist and Jigen is like “I REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATE THE SENTIMENT BUT CAN WE NOT.” The closest to public anything Jigen will put up with is bar bathroom/back-alley hookups, and he doesn’t really tend to do that with Lupin or Goemon since they have secondary locations far more suited to such activity (or at least the damn Fiat, if nothing else). That said, Jigen is a spiteful bastard and gets a huge kick out of riling Lupin up over the walkie-talkie during jobs. He is more than happy to get jumped by his boss after they make it out and secure the loot.
3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?
Honestly, while I can totally see Lupin and Jigen doing this with their other partners, I have a harder time imagining the two of them doing this together and I’m not sure why. I feel like these two on their own both like the privacy bathing gives them, whether it’s to clean wounds or decompress from a job.
On the occasions when they do bathe together, I feel like it’s an unspoken kind of thing, where the other person quietly slips in the tub/shower with them and they just don’t bother protesting. I think Lupin is more likely to join Jigen in his bathing, but if Jigen is sleepy enough or lonely enough he might do the same. There is a lot of mutual appreciation of scars. They’ve definitely smoked in the tub before (Intricate Rituals™). Lupin is probably more likely to get handsy, because Lupin, but two can play that game if Jigen is feeling it, and also Jigen gives Lupin a run for his money in the staring department. No hat to hide behind now.
Lupin has also 100% done the whole “Hey Jigen, do you know if—stop screaming, it’s me—do you know if we have any more instant dashi? Goemon’s gonna slice up the sofa if I ruin soba night again.”
5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?
Jigen, but to be fair, he canonically sleeps on the couch most nights (possibly to keep an eye on the door, possibly because he knows that place, at least, is always “acceptable” for him to occupy). It’s an odd night if you don’t see Jigen out there with a glass and a bottle of scotch and an old movie on TV. The main difference is that if he and Lupin have been fighting, he won’t bother with the formality of a glass and the TV will be playing far louder or not at all.
7) [A] Who said “I love you” first? And [B] who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?
I hate to take the coward’s way out here, but I think the answers are A) either one - depends on the headcanon/fic/version of the characters I’m feeling that day, and B) both.
For A, they’re both the sort of people to show their love—true love/affection, not just flirtation/infatuation, LUPIN—in action, not words. Lupin is a man of many words to a fault, generous with his verbal and physical affection, so Lupin has to find a way to make sure Jigen knows he means it and how he means it. He may rightly fear that Jigen won’t believe him (or else believe him but take it platonically) if he says “I love you” to his face, so first he’ll show him through every little action he can. Jigen is a man of few words to a fault, so saying personal stuff like that out loud is both a last resort and the point of no return. Getting him to say it at all, unambiguously, and while sober is like pulling teeth. Once one of them finally spits it out, though, I think the other is quick to reciprocate (again, if they manage to say it clearly and under good circumstances and not ambiguously/while drunk or wounded/etc. They’re both idiots and selective cowards so this is a big if). The mutual relief is palpable and immediately followed by sex, because they’re both (horny) idiots and selective cowards who do not want to talk about Emotions and Personal Things any more than strictly necessary.
For B, ohhhh man, if it isn’t that same emotional avoidance coming to bite them in the asses! Looks like talking about deep emotions is strictly necessary after all! You know it’s a Big Important Argument for them if this is what it comes to. This is going to tie in somewhat to the answers for 11, 17, and 23, so stay tuned. “Because I love you” coming from either of them should give the other pause, but if they are angry enough, they’re both quite likely to storm off after that declaration anyway. They’ll come back and have a real discussion later, but the shock or frustration of that arresting declaration dropped in the middle of an argument is something neither of them are great at dealing with. Hearing that from Jigen might be enough to stop Lupin in his tracks, but Lupin might also be so dead-set on something that he’ll steamroll right over it even if he knows he’ll regret it later. Hearing that from Lupin probably only makes Jigen angrier because of his awful self-esteem (see answers 11 and 23), and even if he’s been working on that, his instinct will be to snarl “Yeah, right” and storm out the door. I like to think that one day they are able to get to the heart of the argument sooner (because this is almost always it) and work on the behaviors that worry the other so much, but alas, they are a mess.
11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?
Once again, either of them depending on the day.
As you mentioned in your JiGoe post, Jigen says it partly because he thinks it’s funny (“You have a crush on me, Boss? Fuckin’ embarrassing”) but also because he’s fishing for validation. His self-esteem/confidence in anything outside his shooting skills is shit and he still can’t quite believe that Lupin isn’t lying/he hasn’t conned Lupin into something. This is rather overestimating his conning skills and underestimating his many good qualities, but, well, genuine, lasting affection is kinda new for him. Much to Jigen’s annoyance, Lupin figures out exactly what Jigen’s up to after the first few times and answers him seriously (and positively) instead of continuing the “joke”. Lupin loses patience for this particular tactic over time but I like to think that Jigen finally begins believing in the affection, too, so it comes up less and less and one day Jigen might actually play the quip straight without the self-deprecation. Ideally he would just take the damn compliment, but it’s LupJig and banter is one of their love languages.
When Lupin says it, he typically is playing the quip straight and fondly giving Jigen shit for showing an Emotion and motherFUCKER I just realized Jigen could probably be considered a tsundere. I hate this. ANYWAY. Jigen then immediately snarks back that yes, Lupin, considering we’ve been travelling the world together and actively fucking for X years, it’d be damn awkward if I didn’t by now.
13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?
Lupin absolutely initiates duets, or rather, he tries to; whether or not Jigen actually chimes in is another matter entirely. Lupin is also the better singer by far (when he’s sober). He loves singing along to pop and rock in the car (“This is the reason God invented America!”).
Much as it would please me personally to give Jigen a smooth operatic baritone, there’s no way in hell he sounds good after smoking a pack a day for twenty-something years. I think Jigen can carry a tune and he’s a decent hummer and whistler, but his singing voice isn’t spectacular.
Lupin occasionally succeeds in getting Jigen to join him in car karaoke, though as in all things, Lupin is much louder and more impassioned. Jigen frequently hums along under his breath, though, and Lupin loves hearing Jigen’s a cappella renditions of classical music (complete with hand motions).
When Queen starts becoming popular, car singalongs become much more involved because it’s MY silly headcanon and You Are Not Immune To Queen. Jigen cried the first time he heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” and he will kill Lupin if he ever tells Goemon or, God forbid, Fujiko. When the four of them are in the car it’s a full-on Wayne’s World headbanging party. (Pops is the drunk guy they pick up along the way. Also, seeing Payless Shoe Source in this clip dealt me psychic damage.)
Lupin and Jigen (and Goemon) are the living embodiment of the drunk friends singing “Sweet Caroline” post, and Jigen is specifically this version of “Sweet Caroline”.
17) Who is more protective?
THAT IS THE QUESTION, HUH, GHOST? Jigen’s job and, to a certain degree, raison d’être is protecting Lupin, but (to cheat slightly and quote your own DM to me), if you think Lupin won’t raze everything to the ground to keep Jigen (and the others) safe, you don’t know him at all. They are this meme to the deepest of faults. They are both so desperately afraid of losing what they have (and in Lupin’s case, this is tinged with a bonus, even more concerning “what is his”) that they will go full self-sacrificing, scorched-earth policy. This is, in fact, my favorite reason for Lupin to do the worst thing he does: fake his own death to protect his partners. Lupin never stops to think that maybe, JUST MAYBE, he should trust his partners to fake grief and keep the secret long enough for whoever’s on their tail to give up or let their guard slip. Lupin is willing to hurt them in an effort to protect them, so in that way, I suppose Lupin is the “most” “protective”. Jigen’s self-abasement to the point of unhesitating and perhaps even hasty sacrifice is painful, too, but Jigen would never dare go to the same level of deception (except in Goodbye, Partner, apparently? But 1) I haven’t watched it yet and 2) while awful, I still feel like fake betrayal pales in comparison to very convincingly (AND MAYBE REPEATEDLY) faked death).
19) Who drives and who has the window seat?
They split driving duties, but Lupin genuinely loves driving and Jigen is more than happy to prop his feet on the Fiat’s dashboard and smoke or sleep the hours away.
23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the other’s love? and who’s more afraid of losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?
HERE WE GO AGAIN!!! I think the answer to all of these is ultimately Jigen, but that’s not to say Lupin doesn’t share the exact same worries.
Jigen has a very difficult time believing that his partners’ love is genuine, and since Lupin is the one he knew first, that’s where it first manifests. Jigen has had very, very few good romantic connections in his life (if any). He doesn’t know what Lupin could possibly see in an older, prickly hired killer with a drinking problem and a head full of demons. He’s willing to believe that Lupin keeps him around for his skills, for protection, and for sex, sure, but anything past that? Doubtful. This ties into the other two parts of the question: Jigen is afraid that if he fails in his sharpshooting or his protection, he will be cut out of the gang, or worse, Lupin will end up dead because Jigen slipped up. As mentioned in question 17, Jigen cannot bear to lose Lupin and he would never forgive himself if he believed it was somehow his fault. Accordingly, Jigen takes “failure” that exceeds his usual margin of error very seriously in the early days. Later, he is better about this, but the worst-case scenario still stands.
Lupin, on the other hand, has had plenty of romantic connections, some good, some bad, though it is perhaps telling that Fujiko is his longest romantic relationship other than Jigen. He is afraid that if he doesn’t put on the world’s greatest show at all times, no one will give a rat’s ass about some scrawny grandson of an old French thief (or the perhaps unwanted/disliked son of a ruthless crime lord, because I love that fanon for Lupin the Second). He must live up to and indeed surpass the previous Lupins, he must shower his partners in money and adventure, he must always, always come out on top no matter how south the plan goes, or else what is the point of him? It takes time for him to turn his persona off for more than a few seconds, to let the quieter, sometimes contemplative side that slips through the cracks come to rest out in the open. Years down the road, Jigen finally gets up the courage and the words to tell Lupin that he would love him no matter what he did or where he went, even if that was nothing and nowhere. And again, see question 17 re: losing Jigen.
29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires?
Lupin is by far the most guilty of this. He’s constantly pulling dumb shit, whether that be for World-Renowned Gentleman Thief reasons or just He May Be Stupid reasons. Case in point: the tunnel scene in The First, after which Jigen was duly impressed. Fortunately for Lupin, Lady Luck must be head over heels for him because the bastard keeps surviving, but sometimes even she can’t save him from medical consequences. Jigen bulk-ordered “Stupid Hurts” band-aids specifically for Lupin. Jigen’s bad choices are more likely to literally backfire on him, but Goemon more than makes up for Jigen’s slack in the Crazy Stunt department.
#I CARE THEY#hope this is comprehensible bc i honestly cannot tell#i have many thoughts on these two human disasters#lupin iii#jigen#asks#the-golden-ghost#long post#meta#I GUESS#can you believe i wrote five pages of meta about 1970s comedy anime characters? fucking hell. i love this fandom.#ship meme
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French Road, East || Spencer Reid
Request: YES/NO: Hi! Do you take requests?? If you do, can I please request a Spencer x Reader (Including the BAU), where they are dating and the reader is a year or so younger than spencer, but just as smart and very loved by the team, and one day she has to save the team from an unsub and gets really hurt and after everyone is safe they are all really worried about her?? Idk if that made sense at all. Love you work!
A/N: OKAY SO, myself and a few other tumblr accounts got sent this exact same request from the same requester. I have spoken with all of the accounts i know of that have gotten the request and we have all mutually agreed that we will continue with our own fics in our own way on the basis/sense of ‘every writer is different and it's cool to see how others interpret the same request’, please go check out their fics too but please also dont message any of us about this little thing thats happened or saying one was better than the other because that's not what we’re doing here.
We write because we love writing and we love making worlds and being creative, this is a mutual agreement, yes we’re not too pleased with this happening but we are fine with going ahead with both of our fics.
Thank you.
A/N: I also got a little carried away with this little thing and kind of forgot about the ‘they get hurt’ part and instead left the end open for angst purposes; possibly a second part if requested? I don't know. This is also 10 full pages on Google Docs.
Words: 5727
Gender: they/them, none.
Warnings: descripton of people being beaten, kidnapping, mention and use of drugs, previous trauma of the BAU team brought to light, mentions of sexual abuse and assualt, mentions of possible rape.
Description: when 6/8 of the BAU team gets kidnapped, it's up to you and Garcia to find them before it's too late, but what happens when an old nightmare may consume someone's life again?
PART 2: https://snitchthewitch.tumblr.com/post/626602019637149696/french-road-east-apartment-23-spencer-reid
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Spencer had slept over at Dereks after they had both consulted over their paperwork while you had gone to yours and Spencer's apartment alone, normally you two would arrive at work together with coffee ready for the day but today it just felt...off. Coffee in hand you entered the elevator and checked your work phone for any missed messages.
Derek Morgan phone (4)
Derek Morgan imessage (6)
Spencer Reid phone (2)
Spencer Reid imessage (4)
Okay, that was a bit weird. They normally called once, maybe twice, had your phone shut down last night? As you entered onto level 6 you stepped off to the side of the opening on the hallway, out of people's way, as you opened your phone for the messages, Derek first.
‘Going out with Spence and Pen’
‘Spencer misses you’
‘Pen says she wants to hug you’
‘We’re fucjlkeddd’
‘I don't think somethings okay’
‘Pick up’
Fuck, okay, maybe they just encountered a mugger? Spencer next.
‘mISS YOUUU’
‘Derek ssaysys he doeessdnt frrl ojay’
‘Someoned follow us’
‘French road, east’
What the fuck? So apparently they got followed? And then? What the hell is french road east? Was it an actual road to the east? Maybe the voice messages would help.
“HEY (Y/N/N)!” its Derek, “WE’RE HAVING OUR BEST TIME! WISH YOU WERE HERE!” the music was as loud as Derek was shouting in your ear, you couldn't help but smile.
“(Y/N)!” Spencer, “I MISS YOUUU!” you laughed at his drunk talking, “SHOTS!” and it finished.
“Hey (Y/n), we’re uh,” a laugh, it's Derek, “we’re walking back to my place now, with Pen and Pretty Boy over here,” you heard a faint shout of your name before laughter and the call ended. There was one voice message left, “someones following us. Under six foot, black clothes and looks disarmed but I can't tell from where we are and it's dark. I'll update you later (Y/n), i'll keep Pretty Ricky safe. I promise” and that was it. You brought your phone away from your ear and looked at it skeptically, Derek's story was backed up by Spencer because they both said they were being followed, Garcia hasn't messaged you though, she probably got cut off from her phone before anything happened, probably in Derek's pants pocket. Maybe they were playing a prank? No they wouldn't, Derek’s voice was too certain to be a prank. You shook your head from the thoughts before walking into the Bullpen and dumping your bag at your desk and looking around, Anderson, Mike, Daffey, even Esmerelda was at work today and yet you couldn't spot a single one of your teammates.
Okay, maybe they all slept in? You walked up to Hotch's office and knocked before putting your head through the door; looks the same as it was left. Funny. Hotch was always the first one in, if he ever left at all. You walked to Rossi's office and yet this was the same as Hotch’s; untouched and unmoved. Okay, this was a little scary, you made your way to the conference room with quick feet as the creek of the door being opened sent a shiver down your spine as no one was waiting for a case or even grabbing coffee, but you did notice the one folder that sat alone in the middle of the table. Cautiously, you made your way over to the file, picked it up and opened it, the photos inside the folder almost made you throw up.
Hotch, Emily, Derek, Spencer, JJ and Rossi were all sitting against a wall, beaten, bruised and dirty, arms positioned behind their backs. Underneath the photo was a piece of paper with bold red writing, almost blood like.
YOU WERE WRONG.
Your throat constricted as your breathing increased, you started hyperventilating as you heard the click clack of a certain pair of heels.
“(Y/N)!” Garcia yelled, she was running as quickly as she could with her platform, a file and laptop in her arms, “the-the team they've” she took a breath, “they've been taken, captured, abducted!” it took Garcia a few seconds to realise that you were close to fainting. Garcia put her things down on the table as she directed you to sit in a chair, got you a cup of water and started the breathing exercises that she remembered Spencer teaching her, he taught everyone tricks to help those when having a panic or anxiety attack as its something they would definitely encounter during their time with both agents, victims and unsubs, a few minutes passed and you finally calmed down.
“T-they, they tried to contact me” you said quietly as you looked at Garcia who was red eyed.
“And i was there (Y/n), they dropped me off home and where going back to Dereks, i didn't know if they made it or not because i had already past out by the time my head hit the pillow” Garcia reminded you, it took you a moment to realise but you where both in the same situation, and you nodded as the plan started coming together in your mind.
“Okay,” you stood up as Garcia opened her laptop, “when did you find out?” you asked, you needed to determine how long each of you knew the team was missing.
“I unlocked the batcave and I had the same file on my desk, when I saw the photos I ran up here and then to you,” you nodded as Garcia spoke.
“Okay, I want cameras of every place each of our team members have been, bars, apartments, anything and everything. See if there are any recurring cars or bikes or vans that drive past the streets, do facial recognition on anyone following them like with Reid and Morgan, see if it's happened to all of them.” you took a breath as you called in someone from the bullpen and handed them both the files you and Garcia had been given, “Get this to the lab for fingerprints, this is top priority; we have a team missing” you'd told them, they nodded slightly scared and confused before walking off as Garcia started talking.
“I've got the filters on and they're searching but it's going to take some time,” Garcia said sadly.
“Look up previous cases the BAU has had including the words ‘you were wrong’, ‘French Road’ and ‘East’, possibly other words like ‘it was wrong’, ‘they are/were wrong’ that type of thing, date it back to Rossi's days,” you ordered Garcia.
“(Y/n), a lot of those files are physical if you go back to Rossi,” the tech analyst reminded you.
“I know but still, set filters for that and go as far back as you're able, tell me if you get any hits, i'm going to go down to the file room and i'm going to go back as far as Rossi's days for the physical copies until he started going digital,” you told Garcia, she looked reluctant to let you go so you moved to where she was sitting and you gave her a large hug, “we’ll find them Pen, i promise” you mumbled into her cherry scented hair.
“What about Spencer?” she asked softly as the two of you let go of each other.
“He sent me a message saying ‘french road east’, that has to mean something,” you smiled, “i'm going to try and find that road through all of DC and if there's a hit i'm going to go there and see what's up with it, it might be where they were taken or a street Spencer noted as an important thing for us to know” Garcia nodded and quickly sat back down and started typing on her laptop as you left.
God only knows what your teammates are going through right now.
-----
“YOU SON OF A BITCH” Derek yelled as J.J. was dragged to the middle of the floor and repeatedly beaten.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT” Hotch yelled as J.J. started to whimper, the people stopped at Hotch's comment and left J.J. on the floor, Emily and Spencer scrambling with their hands bound to get to their teammate, making sure she was okay.
“What do we want? We want you guys on our side!” one of the people said, he was happy, how could this make anyone happy?
“FBI agents in our group? We’d rule the world!” another one exclaimed as the rest of the group laughed.
“It obviously took a lot of time and planning didn't it? To capture all of us” Hotch said cooly, though on the inside he was boiling.
“Six months,” someone said, it was a new voice that came from the entrance of...the sewers? Poor Spencer was probably having an attack with all these germs.
“Hey boss! We got ‘em” another one said, god there was too many to remember.
“I can see, you missed two though” the Boss said as he looked at the team, a few of his men dragged Emily, Spencer and J.J. back to the wall they all sat at, “genius's lover, and the black guy's girlfriend” the man noted as his men became eerily quiet.
“The blonde girl was with that skinny guy,” a man pointed to Spencer, “And that one,” he pointed to Derek, “but they kept going to crowded places and bumping into people that we couldn't get them, and the other...one”
“The sexy one?” the boss's voice rang out with a grin.
“YOU LEAVE (Y/N) OUT OF THIS YOU BAS-” Spencer yelled before one of the men kicked him in the stomach, causing him to cough harshly.
“Shut it druggie” the Boss said, the looks on the teams faces gave him all the pleasure, “oh yeah, we know all about you guys; how Hotchner lost his wife, Rossi has had 3 divorces, Morgan was sexually abused, Prentiss has had an abortion at 15 and J.J., sweet little J.J. had a miscarrige” snickers from the men could be heard as the team looked away, embarrassment? No, just confused as to how these people knew such intimate things about them.
“And that little lover of yours, genius?” another voice questioned, the voice came toward Spencer, gripped the poor boy's hair and ripped his head up to look up at him as a pained expression came over the doctor, “they’re in for it big!” he cackled, “gonna have a lot of fun with them when we get them later,” and with that he threw Spencer against the wall, Spencer groaned as a few of his teammates called his name but he didn't register it, only the pounding in his ears and the feeling of blood rushing down his head. And with that, the men and their boss left, the door to the sewer room shut and the click of a lock echoed around the room, the silence the team heard afterwards was loud, deafening.
------
“What’ve we got Garcia?” you asked the analyst as you walked back into the room, placing 3 files on the table in front of her.
“Okay, very few cases including those words you gave me, a lot of the cases were only one unsub or two and I highly doubt there were only two unsubs so I crossed them off and? I got nothing,” the girl sighed as she got rid of the tabs to continue working, “the facial recognition software and car registration is still going, i've got hits for all of our friends being in the places that they mentioned, all of them had unfortunately been walking at the time but they go from one camera to another and then suddenly they're gone,”
“So our unsubs are sophisticated, this definitely took time to plan and get the right things for,” you mumbled as you looked at the victim board Garcia had hastily made up on the clear plastic, each member of your team's faces were up there along with a few other colour pieces of paper for the unsubs, and that's it.
“I haven't gotten any hits on the cars either” Garcia mentioned softly, you nodded.
“Okay well, i've got three cases here that all mention those words from before. First one is a group of five unsubs from Rossis and Gideons days but a lot of them are in jail if not all of them, the second is a cult group from Missouri and the last one is a gang of over thirty people; and not all of those thirty people had been found, prosecuted, jailed, killed and etcetera you get it” you fanned out the files and opened each of them.
“Which one do we think it is?” Garcia asked, we had no leads of which one it really is, so you took a breath and read over the files.
“Okay well, the five unsubs are all in jail and only two have been let out of prison in the last six months and it wouldn't be them because they only have two people in their gang, they’re loyal so they wouldn't start a new group without the originals” you closed the file and pushed it away and moved onto the other one, “the cult is rather big but they’re based in Missouri and i don't think they’d travel all the way over here to kidnap agents. This isn't religious or anything and they are so, definitely not them” you closed the file and landed on the last one, “okay, this one,” you looked over the file as Garcia started typing away, “fifteen have gotten out of jail in the past 2 years, five where never found and the rest are still in jail” you looked to Garcia, “this could be it”
“AH HA!” Garcia exclaimed, “i have a hit on three of those people who are in the system and they are following our lovely friends” Garcia typed another second as multiple video cameras came up showing your friends walking (or stumbling depending on who it was) along with one of three people following behind them a few feet.
“It has to be them then,” you said, “i'll go back down and find the rest of the files, Garcia i want you to find every bit of land, buildings, warehouses and houses they have ever bought, i want to know what they ate for breakfast on the third of january last year, i want to know what plumbing system they used in 2016; i wante everything” you said, albeit forcefully, as you walked out of the room and towards the file room again as Anderson walked back into the conference room and handed Garcia a few papers.
“Thank you Anderson,” Garcia mumbled as he looked over the paper, and sure enough there was fingerprints that matched one of the people who followed your teammates, Garcia then pulled up the video surveillance of the BAU and the facial recognition was quick to find the man enter the room, place the folder down with glove-less hands before walking out, he had a visitors pass.
-------
The scraping of metal against the floor awoke each member of the team slowly as a few people walked into the room, placed food trays on the ground in front of each team member, uncuffed the team and then walked out. The team looked to each other as a voice floated through a P.A. system above them.
“It isn't poisoned, and if you don't eat it then that's up to you but you will starve,” and the system shut off with a harsh beep.
“Hotch?” Derek asked.
“Eat unless you want to die,” was all their unit chief said before he moved forward and started eating the sandwich he had. Emily followed suit and gave a throaty moan as she drank the water from the goblet on the tray, the others soon followed.
-------
“There's nothing,” Garcia said as you entered the room again, “they don't have any land or anything,”
“Well find something then,” you said harshly, Garcia jumped slightly at your harsh tone but started typing again as you pinned up photos of each of the members out of the prison, “have you done a deep search on each person that's out of prison and that wasn't found?” you asked Garcia.
“Yes! Yes, five of the fifteen have alibis from the night our friends got taken and i can't find the rest nor can i find those other five that were never found, they really are off the grid (Y/n)” Garcia said as her fingers flew fast against the keyboard, you looked at the clock on the other side of the room.
“Ten hours,” you muttered, “god only knows what they’re going through,” you rubbed your hand over your face and paced slightly, “we have 15 persons of interest and we can't find them, do the ones with alibis have addresses?”
“They all do, three have work and home and the other two dont work and are stay-at-home-dads, all of their names and addresses have been sent to your phone” Garcia told you as a ping from your phone sounded.
“Okay, i'm going to go and check out that place Spencer gave me before he got taken, i'm gonna grab a few other people to go to other addresses because it'll save time and then regroup back here,” you said as you pulled your phone to your ear and started calling a few people.
~
You parked the car and made your way to French Road which was, as Spencer did say, to the east of the FBI headquarters. It looked like any other little street, a few cafes and a few empty blocks, it wasn't in the city but it wasn't in the suburbs; it wasn't deserted but it wasn't crowded, you noted this. Spencer and Derek weren't taken from here because they were in the middle of the city at the time of abduction, so there has to be something here that Spencer saw to make you come here. You looked in every alleyway on both sides of the street, doing a shallow dig in the dumpsters, opening a few cafe doors and asking a few questions but ending up with nothing. You let out a huff as you looked up and down the street again, until you realised something.
This was a dead end street. The end was a large circle so cars could do a U-turn and go the opposite way, stationed at the end of the street is a path to some sort of forest/secluded jogging track, this had to be a lead, it has to be. The leaves and sticks crunched as you walked along the track, your gun positioned next to you in your hand, ready for action whenever needed, that's when your phone made a large shrill and scared you half to death.
“What is it Mike?” you asked into the receiver after realising it was the other team who was out asking questions.
“We have a lead for the group from one of the stay-at-home-dads; they’ve been planning this for awhile but haven't put effort into it except for the past six months. We couldn't get a name because the guy was too loyal and was convinced they’d come after him but he did tell us that they tried to get in contact with him to regroup, he obviously refused but they left him alone after that, one phone call and nothing else,” Mike said, you could hear the slam of a car door as he got into one of the SUVs with his partner.
“Okay, that's good Mike, get that to Garcia and see if she can try and trace that call and what tower it's pinged from,” and with that you hung up as you heard Mike say ‘got it’ before the line went dead. You looked as far down the path as you could from where you stood but didn't go any further, if this was a lead then you would need backup and probable cause as to why you're there.
~
“All five of those men checked out with the same story, they each got a call asking them to rejoin the team and they refused, the caller disconnected right after that but they haven't gotten any threats since then. Unfortunately i couldn't find a tower it was pinging from and the number was from five different burner phones too,” Garcia said as you looked over the victim board.
“Background searches with those ten we had earlier?” you asked, “found anything else?”
“Um one, he's only 26 and but its a loose thread,” the picture came onto the screen, the man looked like he could pass as 16, “James Micheal, 26, the only thing i could find was that his credit card has weird transactions over the past six months so it fits our timeline however, i can't find the account it's going to so it must be a bugged one or fake or something similar” Garcia said as she brought up the transactions.
“Found him on the streets?” you asked, Garcia grinned and brought up a video feed, and upon further inspection, plus audio, you now had a profile.
-------
“Right-o,” a voice said, the metal door screeched open causing the team to wince as he and 2 other men stepped in, “who wants to go first?” he questioned, the sickening grin could be heard through his speech as the sewer was way too dark to see 3 feet in front of them.
“Grab the kid, he had the addiction,” another voice muttered before the men moved forward.
“HEY FUCK OFF,” Spencer yelled as two of the men tried to pin him down, Derek started scrambling towards Spencer to help but after a nasty blow to the jaw he backed away with guilt.
“Get the needle,” one of them said, this caused Spencer to tense, fuckfuckfuckfuck, this can't be happening, no way are they gonna inject him again.
“Look nerd, it's your old friend!” the first man said as he shook a small clear bottle in the slim stream of light from the roof, and sure enough there was a label with the one word that caused Spencer's fight or flight to make its appearance, Dilaudid.
“NO, DON'T YOU D-” a punch to the jaw caused Spencer to splutter and breath heavily as his arm was grabbed roughly, tied and the needle entered into his skin and vein, he sobbed. The team heard Spencer whimper as he felt the liquid inject into his veins and bloodstream, the telltale shortness of breath was quick to take its mark along with the immediate drowsiness as the men walked out without saying another word.
“SPENCE” J.J. exclaimed as the man in question fell into a slumber and the team crowded around the twitching boy, it was just like last time.
“Protect him,” Hotch said, “don't let them take him in this state, fight, bite, kick, i dont give a single shit,” the team looked at Hotch and nodded as they all took a silent oath to protect their friend.
------
“Our unsubs are up to ten people, possibly fifteen or more if they have recruited new people,” you started the profile with Garcia standing next to you, “we have one person of interest as of right now, James Micheal, we have video evidence and audio evidence of him speaking to each member of the BAU team trying to proposition them, as you all know a few of our team members would have ignored him, and a few would have talked or said a simple no; those who didn't say anything he continued to walk next to and annoy until that team member said something,” you took a breath, “we have evidence of James stalking the BAU team for the past 4 months from their work, to their home, to where they go for dinner on a special night or the bar; this includes both myself and Garcia in this stalking pile, we have added extra security to our own homes.”
“James has been making up to five thousand dollar transactions to some bugged account for the past six months and another two thousand dollars to a seperate account 2 months prior to those first six months,” Garcia was now delivering the digital trail, “this means he has been with this team for at least eight months, possibly more, he is most likely new, shy and unsure of what he is doing. James is being used and he knows he is but he has no way out as our unsubs keep saying things like ‘ill kill your family’, ‘you're nothing without us’, stuff like that,” Garcia used her hands to talk as she also pointed to the victim board to the photo of James’ driver's license.
“This team on unsubs are highly dangerous and we must proceed with caution around and with them, they all have gotten out of jail in the past 2 years and they obviously have a vengeance plan, please remember this. We also have a lead to where this team of unsubs could possibly be hiding but until we have James we cannot infiltrate the area. There is a fake missing person report out for James so we can hopefully get him into questioning, thank you,” and with that the people around you filtered away back to where they were meant to be going. You turned to Garcia.
“Do you think that was enough? What if we don't get to them wh-”
“Garcia stop, we cant think like that, we are the best of the best even without the team, okay?” you held Garcia enough to ground her as she nodded and wiped her tears.
“SSA (L/n)?” a new voice asked, you looked to the glass doors and sure enough, James Micheal was waiting there.
“James,” you said as you walked towards him.
“I saw the flyers and I just have one proposition,” James said, his voice was deep and definitely didn't match his face.
“What is it?” you asked as you walked to the interrogation room and allowed James to sit down in front of you with your back to the mirror, Garcia and Anderson were already standing in the small room before the interrogation room.
“I want protection until those guys are back in prison, i don't want them anywhere near me and i don't want them to find me,” James said, his voice was ridden with anxiety, you nodded.
“We can do that James, it's alright,” you reassured the man in front of you, “can you tell us who is in this group? Where are they staying?” you asked, James nodded.
“There's ten in the group, they're off the beaten track down some street in the east-”
“French Road?” you questioned, James nodded.
“Yeah, yeah that one,” he agreed, that was everything you needed from the previous encounter, “they don't have a lot of security but they’re pretty sophisticated with what they have on hand. They know everything about all of that team though,” Jack mentioned, “Emily got an abortion and that Red dude?”
“Reid” you corrected.
“Reid, they know of his Dilaudid thing and Hotch and his wife - they know everything,” Jack was shaking now, “they-they said they were going to use that against the team, the addiction, the trauma all of that”
“They’re going to dose Reid?” you asked with your shaken voice, that wasn't a good thing. Jack nodded as he looked to the clock.
“Most likely have already,” he whispered, you looked to the clock, 12 hours since the disappearance. Fuck. You nodded.
“You’ll be taken by another agent to a safe house and let out when this team is apprehended,” was all you said before walking out of the room and letting the door shut behind you. Your throat tightened and you couldn't breath as you sunk to your knees, Garcia and Anderson rushing to you.
“Breath (Y/n), breath” Garcia reminded you, “breath with me my sweetness” she said, Garcia made more effort to show her breathing as you tried to copy her, a few minutes passed before you had finally calmed down, tears streaked your eyes as you bumbled your words.
“I-its French road, Spencer was onto something,” you mumbled softly, “th-they know everything, from Reid's addi-addiction to Emily, and Hotch's wife,” you took a deep breath, “I-I want S.W.A.T. stationed with me, w-we’re going to infiltrate that place with the hel-lp of Jack and his direction-ns, possibly a map,” you looked to Anderson who nodded and walked out while taking out his phone to call for S.W.A.T., “Garcia i dont want you there,” you said, looking at the girl, she nodded in understanding as you stood up and started walking towards the way of the S.W.A.T. team.
------
J.J, Derek, Emily, Hotch and Rossi all whimpered as each member got kicked, punched, pulled, twisted and everything in between, Spencer was only just coming to from the drugs.
“N-no, dont,” Spencer whimpered, he was weak and could barely open his eyes but soon slipped back into a slumber.
“Y-you won't get away with this,” Emily whispered as one of the men gripped her jaw, her voice hoarse and scratchy.
“Oh darling, we will,” the man grinned as he threw the girl to the floor as the others piled the team on top of the others, all groaning and silently crying.
In retrospect, (Y/n) was rather glad that all members of the team were in the room when the door was busted open.
“FBI, PUT YOUR HANDS UP,” you yelled, the words echoing around the room, the men snickered as S.W.A.T. trained their guns on the men.
“It’s alright boys,” the boss said, your eyes trained towards the voice.
“Let. My team. Go,” you said calmly, gun now cocked, the man laughed.
“Go on boys,” the men moved out of the room but the boss stayed standing.
“Grab the team,” you said to S.W.A.T. behind you, the men walked in slowly and trusted you with your trained gun as they started carrying or walking out your team members, one having to cradle Spencer bridal style, “ambulance,” you said into the mic on your vest, “we need an ambulance for a poentional OD, Dilaudid was used, possibly a cocktail of other drugs but its unknown. Dont use other narcotics and if i find out you do i will be going to jail due to murder of doctors and nurses,” the sirens wailed in the distance.
“You’ve got tendencies too,” the boss said in front of you, “murder, killing, everything” you scoffed.
“Everyone does, its whether we have the empathy and understanding of ‘that's wrong’, which is why we don't do it unlike you people,” you seethed through your teeth, “hands up, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and torture of six FBI agents,” the man stayed silent for a moment.
“(Y/n) (L/n),” the man said, “pathetically in love with Agent Spencer Re-”
“It’s Doctor,” a voice said behind you, the cock of a gun could be heard before the tell-tale sound of a bullet being fired next to you, your natural reflexes made you dive to the right (as the bullet came from the left) as the boss was hit in the forehead and fell to the floor. You looked to the gun carrier.
Spencer Reid.
Gun held out straight, no tremble and a stern look.
Spencer looked to you and tears immediately spilled from his eyes as you stayed stone against the floor, “i see you got my message,” Spencer said softly with a smile before he collapsed to the floor in a heap of limbs, the gun clattering to the floor as paramedics rush to Spencers aid.
It seemed to go in slow motion, everything whizzed past you as other paramedics helped you to your feet, your eyes glassy and vision blurred as you got brought to the back of an ambulance. Around you each member of your team was being attended to, brought to a stretcher and taken in another ambulance, eight ambulance’s in total.
It was okay, you got all of the men, all of your team was safe.
Except.
“HES FLATLINING”
“We need to get him to the hospital NOW!”
“HE'S GOING TO O.D.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#derek morgan#jj#penelopie garcia#aaron hotchner#hotch#hotchner#david rossi#emily prentiss#spencer reid x reader#reid x reader#spencer x reader#criminal minds x reader
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why you shouldn’t support squigglegigs (hannah/fork)
this post is long overdue, but incredibly necessary. fork (squigglegigs) has been active on tumblr since 2011. she’s gone on and on about how she’s been a responsible adult in the many child/teen-targeted fandoms she’s in, but while she’s been befriending minors as young as 14, she’s also been consuming NSFW works of children just as young. below is a detailed account of how she’s been doing this since 2013 and still does it today. a google doc will also be listed if that’s easier to read.
tw for: pedophilia, incest, and gore
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1vE0wydzLSA5ek08Y0spuIQSSptL-6Wav2eX8gSm3Fkg/edit?usp=sharing
Since tumblr is a terrible website, images are not present in this post, but are available in the google doc. Honestly you should just read that instead because the NSFW evidence is available there as well.
ENJOYS/SUPPORTS NSFW ART OF MINORS (SECTION 1)
This first section will talk about events occurring between 2013 and 2016. It is important to note that Fork (squigglegigs) was 20-23 during this time. Her friend Limey (who plays a large role) was 22-25.
Fork drew NSFW Weinerham art in 2013, a ship from RC9GN between two 14 year olds. Fork would have been 20 at the time.
Fork read NSFW fic of SheZow in 2013. The main characters in SheZow are
12 and 14.
On Fork’s deviantart page, lostflame41, she has ship art between Mabel Pines
(12/13)
and Wendy Corduroy
(15),
posted in March 2014. Although not sexually explicit, a comment on the art talked about a NSFW fic between the two minors. Her replies to the comments heavily implies that she was interested in reading about sex between the two.
Fork has maintained a friendship with a person named Limey since 2013. Limey has used many usernames (
limey404, doublepines, bleventeen, gan-man, etc.)
; these usernames will be mentioned but Limey will still be referred to by name.From
2013-2016
, Limey operated under the tumblr blog ‘doublepines’, which primarily created
NSFW incestuous ship art
between the characters Dipper and Mabel Pines, who are both
12/13
in canon.
Although Limey drew all NSFW of them aged up, they are presented as teenagers and any time these aged-up versions are given a clear age, Limey says they are
17
(meaning they are still minors). NSFW art of anyone under 18, including fictional characters, qualifies as child pornography according to PROTECT Act of 2003/ 18 U. S. C. § 1466A.
Fork clearly knew about and supported this blog. She reblogged non-NSFW on her main blog (because it wasn’t “that pinecesty so it can go here”, implying that she had a secondary blog on which she did reblog the pinecest art) and mentioned doublepines several times in other posts. These posts confirm that Limey was the person who operated doublepines, such as a post reblogged from the doublepines account where Fork calls DP Limey in the tags.Here is Fork liking a
pinecest comic
, and here is her liking a
NSFW pinecest comic
(no NSFW images are directly shown in the video). Fork answered several questions about Limey following the deletion of the doublepines account, further confirming that they were friends at the time.Fork also had a series called “Cartoon Rompus”, a Danganronpa parody featuring modern cartoon characters. Fork once drew the Cartoon Rompus version of Dipper Pines
(still 12/13)
kissing the corpse of another child. Limey also drew detailed gore art for Fork’s series on her account bleventeen/limey404. The art in question has Mabel Pines brutally murdered, with her stomach ripped open and her legs torn off (image in NSFW section). Fork liked and reblogged the piece.This is not the only artist who creates/created NSFW art that Fork has liked. She has several pieces of Randy Cunningham Ninth Grade Ninja art reblogged on her main account that depict a 14 year old character in risque positions/outfits. The artist who drew this piece is hyperdolk, and Fork has several other pieces of their art reblogged. A simple google search will find that this artist was infamous for drawing NSFW between Randy and another minor.
Fork herself has liked their NSFW pieces, such as a drawing featuring two 14 year olds in their underwear
(video evidence provided in NSFW section of the google doc).
ENJOYS/SUPPORTS NSFW ART OF MINORS (SECTION 2)
This section spans from 2018 to today.
In 2018, Fork liked porn of the ship Montacroix, two OCs from her Suh Sire Project, one of which belongs to Fork. Her character who is in this art, Merl, is at least 15 and, at most, 17. The other character is listed as being 17 on the Official Suh Sire page. Fork would have been 25 at the time. (video evidence of her liking FOUR pieces is in the NSFW section of the google doc).
Limey creating pedophilic NSFW art which Fork then enjoys is something that continues to this day.
Limey currently runs a tumblr account called gan-man in which she posts NSFW art of April and Donatello from the 2012 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon series. April is canonically 16, and Donatello is canonically 15.
Limey posted a page of NSFW doodles of the two minors having sex in August 2020. Fork liked this post from her main blog, squigglegigs. Fork is 27, Limey is 29. They are both almost twice the age of these characters. (video, image evidence is provided in the NSFW section of the google doc)
FRIENDSHIP WITH SEVERAL MINORS
Fork has maintained several friendships with actual minors from at least 2017 continuing to today. For safety and privacy, no minors will be named in this document, regardless of whether they are now 18+ or not. However, even with anonymity it is obvious who several of these minors are due to their popularity and association with Fork. We ask that you do not attempt to discover their identities or harass these people in any way over these allegations.
Fork has been friends with two tumblr users beginning in 2017. At this time, Fork was 24 years old. These two users were 14 and 17. Fork had a private chat with these two minors and glamorized the relationship to outsiders. The group had its own name, received fanart, etc.
Fork is friends with several other minors as well. Several collaborators on her Suh Sire project would have been minors when she included them in her project and had them design characters for her to use.
Her guyslikeus discord had members as young as twelve. Askguyslikeus was a BMC ask blog which has some NSFW-ish content. Fork was at least 24 at the time of its creation.
In response to a question asked about the chat, she: acknowledges that there are 12 year olds present, acknowledges the NSFW content, does not attempt to discourage other 12 year olds from joining, and basically says that anyone above the age of 10 is welcome to join.
In her invite-only Discord group chats upwards of half of the members were minors, some being as young as 14. Unfortunately only first-hand accounts of this are available, as these group chats are now deleted.
Fork continues to involve herself in fandoms targeted at children/teens and mostly populated by minors, such as: Gravity Falls, Be More Chill, Trolls, TMNT, SheZow, etc. While nothing is inherently wrong with being an adult in these fandoms, Fork befriends minors in these fandoms, then turns around and consumes porn of characters around the same age.
The NSFW evidence for this is present in the google doc. I recommend you either save a copy of it or this post in the off chance that Fork is able to remove it somehow.
TD;LR: Fork is a grown woman who continuously participates in fandoms targeted at children and teens, befriends several minors through those fandoms, and then turns around and consumes porn of child/teen characters the same ages as her young friends. The way she uses her platform to befriend minors while consuming NSFW porn of minors secretly is deeply concerning and, frankly, should not be tolerated.
#squigglegigs#askguyslikeus#suh sire#hattie cabrera#merl montgomery#bmc#be more chill#tmnt2012#doctor who#infinity train
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Playing It Cool
This is for Sami’s @evansweaters 2K writing challenge! This was due forever ago but life unfortunately got in the way. However!!! I still wanted to finish it and share it, so I’m sorry it took me so long. I stole the title of this story from the Chris Evans movie of the same title, but the plot lines are not the same. Here’s 23 Google Doc pages of I don’t know what.
Prompt: fake dating AU + “cool girl” by Tove Lo
Shawn calls the only person he feels he can pull reasonable advice out of, and he picks up on the first ring.
“Hey mate! What’s going on?”
“Hey Niall. Just chillin’.” Shawn says. “I need your advice.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
Shawn talks about the upcoming gala. The one Andrew told him about months ago but is only thinking about now, when it’s two weeks away because if anything Shawn’s still a procrastinator at heart. Niall knows all about it since he was invited too, but he lets Shawn vent, knowing it’s clearly bothering him.
The Gala is heavily populated with who’s who and is supposed to help him with “the good kind of publicity.” It’s as messy and cringeworthy as all PR related events are, even if everyone who’s supposed to be there is invited on the premise of emptying their heavy pockets and helping charities.
“Half Blood Prince” plays in the background, calming his nerves as he speaks. Shawn focuses on the scene, watching Harry and Hermione weave through the isles of the library as they discuss Slughorn’s party. He tunes out the dialogue to listen to what Niall’s saying.
“What’s wrong with going stag?” Niall quips.
“Because apparently it’d be better for album promo if I went with a date.”
Niall hums in understanding. “Ah I get it. I’d offer to help you find someone but we run in the same circles so I’m not sure how well that would turn out.”
“It’s okay. Do you think I should have my team pick who I go with? Or do you think I should go alone?”
Niall makes a disapproving noise. “No dude. Find someone to go with yourself. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He pauses, then laughs. “Sorry, I probably wasn’t much help.”
“No it’s alright.” Shawn says. He gives Niall his thanks before the two hang up, and he leans his head back on the couch, sighing deeply.
On his TV screen, something captures Shawn’s attention. “I’ll go with someone I like,” Harry says to Hermione. “Someone cool.”
And then, as if an answered to his unspoken prayer, his phone rings, your name and picture flashing on the screen.
-
“Sure.” You say simply.
Shawn blinks, nearly spills the sip of tea he was about to take all over his lap. “What?”
You shrug. “I don’t mind being your date to the party.”
“Gala,” Shawn corrects, mainly because he can’t help himself.
You roll your eyes at him in playful annoyance, taking a sip from your own steaming mug. That playful annoyance showed him a glimmer of that “cool girl persona” he knows you save for the public. It wasn’t cocky or rude, just your best defense mechanism to make sure nothing phased you. Shawn envied it.
Leaning forward on your elbows, you peer at him from across his kitchen island and Shawn feels thoroughly exposed under your gaze. “Gala. Fine. I’ll be your fake girlfriend for a couple weeks and your arm candy to whatever little glitzy shindig you want me to be at.”
He visibly winces. “It’s not like that.”
The hearty laugh that comes from your lips only calms him slightly. “Relax, Shawn. I’m just kidding.” He still doesn’t look convinced, so you reach across the counter and take his hand, squeezing it once. His skin tingles under your touch. “Honestly, it sounds like it’ll be fun.”
“It’s boring.” Shawn says. And he doesn’t know why he’s still talking because you’ve already agreed, but for some reason he feels like he needs to warn you about the type of environment these events can usually create.
“Dating you is boring? Or going to the Gala?”
“The Gala,” he says, fake wounded. “Dating me is not boring.”
You shrug. “Wouldn’t know, I’ve never dated you.”
“I’m not boring!”
You raise your brow at him in suspicion. “Why are you trying to talk me out of this when I already said yes like a minute ago?”
“Because I’m trying to give you fair warning.” Which isn’t completely a lie. Mostly he’s still shocked you said yes so easily. He had so many bribes up his sleeve.
“Shawn, you do realize we’re in the same line of business, right?” He nods. “And you do realize I was also invited to this ‘gala’ of yours.”
His eyes bulge out of his head. “You were? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I got the invite two months ago and I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go, so I just left it with my manager. However, since you asked me to be your date so nicely…” You put your mug down and pull your phone out, Shawn assumes to text your manager so you can let them know you’ll be going as Shawn’s plus one. On instinct, Shawn gets his phone out to tell Andrew the same.
When he pockets his phone, you take a photo of Shawn with your own, smiling at his disgruntled puppy expression.
“What was that for?”
“Gotta play up the fake dating, don’t we?”
He blinks at you. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “Shawn. Do you know how fake dating works? Have you watched movies?”
Shawn shrugs. “I mean kind of.”
“Okay, your homework tonight is to watch all the fake dating movies from the nineties. And maybe ‘To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before’ because you desperately need it.”
“Is that the one with the Noah kid?”
You sigh again. “We have a lot of work to do. But first, what are the rules here?”
“Rules?”
“Yeah. Like are you planning on making out with me in public? Or are we keeping things PG?”
Shawn feels like he might faint.
-
He tries to keep his eyes on you, ignoring the many stares he gets as the two of you sit down at a booth, waiting for your friends. You have on your cool girl persona, the one he envies you for having, not paying any mind to the prying eyes all around.
He scoots in next to you, not paying attention when he almost sits on top of you. He apologizes, but his eyes are still on the crowd, and you know he’s in his head. His knee is vibrating and he’s antsy if the drumming of his fingers on your thigh are anything to go by.
“Hey.” You call.
Shawn’s eyes snap to you, and he gives you a small smile. You frown, seeing right through it and him. You grab his hand, stopping the drumming in your leg, lacing your fingers through his and giving it a squeeze. “It’s just you and me. Right? Nothing’s changed. Who gives a shit what anyone else sees or what they think? They don’t know.”
“Right.”
“And it’s only been two days.” You say, offering a small smile. “You gonna dump me already?”
“No.” He says with a small frown, squeezing your hand. “No way.”
“Good.” You say, nudging him a little. You give him a quick kiss just to be sure, in case he doesn’t already know. In case he can’t tell.
It distracts him enough, leaving him a bit speechless. At first you think you’ve overstepped your boundaries, but then he says “Is it bad if I want alcohol right now?”
You laugh. “I mean we are at a club, so realistically no.” You flag down a passing bottle girl and grab two shot glasses from the tray. You hand him one, and move to toast.
“To the glitzy shindig.”
Shawn laughs, clinking your glasses together before downing the liquid. He feels himself relax a little as he sets the glass down, and he smiles at you.
“Feel like doing body shots later?”
You smirk. “That’s my boy.”
-
It’s well into the night and Shawn is thoroughly liquored up - taking all the shots his friends offer and more to ease his nerves.
There were no body shots - thankfully - but Shawn got awfully handsy and close to it a few times.
He needed to calm his nerves and you knew letting loose would probably help him best, especially with everyone around. And it wasn’t like either of you had said anything anyway. Though the two of you arrived together, no one was around, and when your friends did arrive, no one suspected anything, and it wasn’t like it was odd for you to hang out with everyone either.
You’re out on the dance floor with everyone, illuminated by the flashing blue and pink lights, and Shawn watches you closely.
He’s lucky to have you.
As a friend, a fake girlfriend, all of it. He’s lucky you fit right into his life like this and lucky you agreed to be paired up with a guy like him.
Dark and grey in comparison to how bright and energetic you are, but he can feel your brightness wrapping its way around him as this arrangement progresses minute by minute.
He doesn’t realize he’s heading to you until he’s a few feet away, and you catch his eye, beckoning him to you.
When he’s in front of you, you place your hands on his biceps, giggling a little when he gets into your space, bodies pressed together.
Shawn bends his head down so you can hear him.
“What if I kissed you for real?” He says.
You shake your head with a laugh. “Shawn all of our kisses are real.”
“No, not when they’re in public.” He reasons. He’s drunk. You both know he’s drunk but the words just come out of him, and he knows you won’t stop him. “When you kiss me in public it’s not real.”
“Shawn, yes they are.” You try to convince him, but he shakes his head with a smile.
“No, it’s only real when it’s just us. Like when we got here. That was real. Would you let me kiss you for real at home?”
“When have I ever said no to you?”
His smile grows ten times wider and you smile in return. “I liked it when you kissed me earlier.”
“I think you’re a little drunk, Shawn.”
He wants to say he isn’t, but then the song changes and the bass gets stronger, and he stumbles a little. You and a few of the guys help haul him to the bathroom, just to be sure.
-
Niall soon becomes the only one outside of you and Shawn who knows. Mostly because it’s one of those rare occasions where you’re all in the same city for once and you invite him to join you and Shawn for brunch, and when you kiss Shawn on the lips absentmindedly, finally getting Shawn comfortable with the concept of PDA after what he called his “embarrassing stunt at the club,” Niall almost spits out his bloody mary.
And Shawn should have told him the minute you agreed, he just got so caught up in spending time with you that he forgot. Too wrapped up in your company and affection (albeit 50% of it for show) to remember to tell Niall to expect this for a little while.
“What the fuck was tha’?” He demands, pointing an accusatory finger at you both.
“The Gala.” You say. “Remember?” At Niall’s blank expression, you bat your eyelashes and put on your best innocent look, which you know Niall would never buy. “Shawnie here asked me to go steady, and I was so smitten I said yes!”
Niall gags. “So you’re fake dating?”
You kick Niall under the table, speaking quietly. “Ixnay on the ake-fae, alright?”
“It won’t work. Fake dating never works.”
“Because you’re an expert in fake dates, aren’t you Ni?”
“Why did you even agree?” Niall wonders, leaning forward. Shawn watches you and Niall share a look that Shawn can’t read. “You said you weren’t even going to the gala.”
“Well Shawn asked me to be his date, so I changed my mind.”
“Yeah, you can agree to be his date but why’d you agree to be his fake girlfriend? That part isn’t necessary, is it?”
You pout, leaning back in your chair. “I have my reasons,” you say mysteriously, before pulling the menu up to cover your face.
Shawn’s still sitting in his seat, stomach swarmed with butterflies at the tingling feeling in his lips, lingering from your kiss.
Why did you agree?
-
Shawn’s been to the SiriusXM studios a bunch of times, but he’s never accompanied anyone else, usually he just goes for his own stuff.
Today though he’s here with you playing the “supportive boyfriend” role.
Usually these things are pretty standard - an interview, a live performance with your song, and then a cover if you feel like it.
The first two have already gone by, and Shawn felt a lot of guilt at the fact that a majority of the interview was full of questions about him. You took it in stride, cool girl persona on full force for things like this, refusing to let trivial and pointless things get to you.
But still. He didn’t want your “relationship” to be the focus, especially when you had your own stuff to promote. He’d been waiting in another room with your manager and publicist, trying to do his best to hide away and give you the spotlight.
They had asked at one point, “how long have you and Shawn been together?”
And when you held steadfast, replying calmly and cooly that “We haven’t put a label on it. We’re just keeping it fun,” they accused you of lying, of being in a relationship with Shawn for much longer and just not wanting anyone to know.
You kept up your cool girl persona though, ice cold when you replied to them “This isn’t a nineties movie, we’ve never been in a secret relationship. Besides, what would I gain from lying about having feelings for my best friend?”
“Publicity?” They replied. “Stirring up the rumor mill.”
“Promotion?” Someone else had said.
“If I wanted publicity I’d do it on my own.” You said, an ice cold tone turning sickly sweet. “And neither of us need promotion. Shawn does fine on his own, and I’ve got nothing going on right now to promote anyway that I haven’t already talked about in the last six months.”
And realistically, Shawn knew it didn’t matter what they said, because you weren’t dating anyway, but still, they had no right.
“Relax,” your publicist had told him. “She can handle herself.”
Shawn knew that. He knew you could. But still. He wanted to run in there and shut the whole interview down.
“Besides,” your publicist said, “You’re not actually dating anyway. Once the gala’s over it all goes away.”
And Shawn didn’t like that thought either, even though he knew that as well.
He would probably need to address this with you at some point. Shawn didn’t want this to be some sort of transaction. He didn’t want you to feel like he only needed you for this and then it would be done. You were his friend before this and he still wanted you to be his friend after.
Going back to being “just friends” though was starting to seem more and more difficult.
The more he saw, the more he learned about you, the more he wasn’t sure if he was completely okay with this being fake.
He shakes the thought from his head and focuses on you.
You’re sitting at a piano, doing a cover of your favorite Sam Smith song, and Shawn tries his best to just focus on you. Besides, after you were out of this building, you’d both go back to the hotel to get ready for the Rangers game against the Leafs at Madison Square Garden.
Just what he needed to relax.
He watches as your fingers dance across the keys, eyes closed as you lose yourself in the music.
“This moment has caused a reaction
Resulting in a reattachment
Will you take me to nirvana?
I don't think this will last
But you're here in my arms”
-
Shawn realizes he’s always been intimidated by you, and maybe that’s why he’s been struggling with why you agreed to all of this in the first place.
Not that you’re an intimidating person, it’s just that you’ve always been confident in a way that he wishes he could be, and you’ve always been so calm and smooth, and he is not.
You’ve mastered your cool girl persona - from the casual eye rolls and ice cold tone all the way down to the “kill them with kindness and silence” vibes you give off to everyone who doesn’t know you. You’re a force to be reckoned with, a beautiful hurricane and Shawn can only bunker down and take everything you give him.
And really, he’s not your boyfriend, but sometimes he feels a little inadequate next to you. Like if you were really dating you’d be so far out of his league.
The whole thing is starting to confuse him. How easily you slip into the roll of being his girlfriend, how he loves how larger than life you are, and how natural it feels when you kiss him, like it’s right.
The gala was on the horizon, and he wasn’t sure if he was prepared for it to come and then pass, because then that meant not being on the receiving end of your hugs and kisses anymore.
Kissing you had quickly become his favorite. It took you awhile to convince him that it was okay - that you didn’t feel forced to do it and that you genuinely wanted to and didn’t mind kissing him. You also had to assure him that the little stunt he pulled at the club earlier was totally fine, and that every time you kissed him, whether in public or the little reassuring ones in private, they were all real and you meant them. And once you did convince him, he was all for it.
Although, he didn’t understand why you still did it when the two of you were in private, but he chalked it up to you just committing yourself to the deal. Maybe even just absentmindedly doing it because you forgot there was no one else around.
Of course, he didn’t mind it. You kissed him sweetly and it always made him feel warm inside. He liked holding your hand when you got up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, liked when you tilted your head up to ask him for a kiss and smiled widely at him when he gave you one.
Liked that when he was with you, your cool girl persona went away, that you stored it in a box and put it on a shelf and that all that was left was just you. Kind, sweet, adorable you.
It was...domestic? He thinks that’s the word Niall used. And he liked it. Liked you.
But, the part of you that intimidated him, the simple and matter of fact you, still scared him a little. Through the haze of all of your affection, he still didn’t get what was in this for you.
But he would eventually find out.
He has to fly out to Bali really quickly for a friend’s birthday, which meant your publicity stunt slash fake dating agreement would have been put on pause, but instead you just offered to tag along.
“I know I’m not your actual girlfriend, but I don’t mind buying Matt a gift and partying along.” You say. At Shawn’s blank expression, you frown. “Unless it’s a boy's only thing, then that I can definitely do without.”
“You genuinely want to come?”
You stare at him in that “cool girl” way, a way that makes him feel like he asked a stupid question. “What is it with you lately? Making sure I want to do things with you, like you think I’m just going to back out on you.”
It comes out harsher than you intended. Shawn knows because he can see the need to rephrase in your eyes. He wants to be honest and say “because I don’t know why you’re here even though I asked you to be and it’s scaring me,” but instead he asks “Why did you agree to be my fake girlfriend?”
You blink. For a second Shawn sees the calm and cool demeanor fade from your face, but then you frown, and Shawn doesn’t like the twisting feeling he gets in his gut.
“Because you’re my friend and you asked me to.” You say. “That, and because we don’t really see each other a lot anymore, so I figured this would be a good way to hang out more.”
“You want to hang out with me?”
“Of course I do. Fake dating or not Shawn I actually like spending time with you.”
He sighs, letting his head hang and his curls flop in front of his face. “I just...I guess I keep asking you because I didn’t know what was in this for you. If you were getting something out of this too.”
Or if you were starting to like kissing me as much as I like kissing you.
“I get you, Shawn. And you get me.”
As if that’s not ominous enough.
-
““Because you’re my friend and you asked me to.” You said. “That, and because we don’t really see each other a lot anymore, so I figured this would be a good way to hang out more.”
That part is true. You missed him being around. Missed when he lived with you in Malibu when recording his last album. You’d become close then. And lately, not hanging out a lot made you miss his company even more.
“You want to hang out with me?”
“Of course I do. Fake dating or not Shawn I actually like spending time with you.”
Again, true. He’d been your friend for years. Why wouldn’t you like spending time with him?
“I just...I guess I keep asking you because I didn’t know what was in this for you. If you were getting something out of this too.”
Your heart aches - how could he think you’d be using him? How does he not realize how great he is to be around? Does he not see it? Does he not see you wouldn’t do this for anyone else?
Does he not see that it’s him?
“I get you, Shawn. And you get me.”
That was true.
Partially.
You’d get him as a friend, and he would get you and whatever he needed or wanted you to be.
When you agreed to this, you meant it that you’d do it for him. That you intended to do this to help him save face, get the promo he needs. You put on your cool girl persona to help him get the job done, but also to spend time with him.
You didn’t think those nineties movies would backfire on you.
And you definitely didn’t think resurfacing and strengthening you once buried feelings for Shawn would become part of the deal.
-
Bali went by quickly.
It was full of sun, swimming, hiking, zip lining, and sunset dinners on the patio of the villa you’d all rented out to celebrate Matt’s birthday.
Shawn was pleasantly surprised when everyone was so excited that you came along, loving spending time with you after not seeing you for a while. It wasn’t clear to your friends what you and Shawn were - you shared a room in the villa and they often caught you sneaking kisses with him sometimes, even blatantly kissing him a couple of times - but to them it didn’t really matter. As long as Shawn was happy they didn’t care.
One of the last nights you were there, you were absolutely tired after a day of swimming at the beach and hiking one of the nearby trails with some of the girls. Shawn had showered after you and had come back into the bedroom to find you fast asleep.
He crawled in beside you like he’d done the past few nights, expecting you to turn over and keep a polite distance like you’d tried to since you got there. But instead, when Shawn got in bed you moved closer, hand resting on his chest and nuzzling his arm.
Too scared to wake you, he lifted his arm and pulled you into his side, feeling a tingle up his spine when you intertwined your legs together.
He fell asleep like that, the warm weight of you against his side.
When he wakes in the morning alone, he almost feels empty, but then you come into the room with two warm mugs of tea and a small smile on your lips. “Hi there, sleep well?”
He nods, sitting up to accept the mug as you sit by his side. “Sorry if I hogged your space last night.” He knows you’re only saying so to make sure he wasn’t upset, but he was the farthest thing from upset.
Shawn shakes his head. “I didn’t mind it.”
You reach out and rest your leg on his thigh, smiling over the rim of your mug, the Bali sun casting shadows behind you and Shawn thinks he might be in trouble.
-
Shawn comes back to his apartment one day fully expecting to be alone. You two had hung out earlier in the day, watching movies together on his couch, then you made grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch before he had to head to the studio for a writing session. You were napping on his couch when he left, and he woke you for a brief moment, just to tell you he’d be back later and give you a kiss on the forehead. You told him that you probably weren’t going to be there when he got back.
But you were.
The minute he walks through the door he smells a million delicious things all at once, and while he can’t figure out what you’re making, he knows it’ll probably taste divine.
He shuts the door behind him, the sound alerting you to his return, and you call out, “Oh my darling husband, is that you?”
Shawn laughs, turning into his kitchen and holding his arms out in a flourish. “Yes honey, I’m home!”
“Well come here and give your wife a kiss hello!”
He approaches you and eyes the pots on the stove, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “What are you making?”
“Well I figured I’d put my fake girlfriend skills to use and make you dinner. Plus your couch was comfy and Whole Foods delivers now so it was the obvious decision.”
“And on tonight’s menu is?”
“Turkey chili with brown rice and sweet jalapeno cornbread.” You answer, lifting the lid on one of the pots to stir the rice. “The cornbread is almost done. And I made chocolate covered strawberries for dessert.”
Shawn gapes a little. “All this and I didn’t get you anything.”
You laugh, leaning up and kissing his chin. “I told you Shawn. I get you, and you get me.”
He still doesn’t know what you mean by that, but he thinks he’s starting to figure it out.
-
You’re both back in LA for the Gala. It’s days away at this point, and Tiffany insisted that the two of you do a joint fitting.
“If you’re going to pull this off you both need to look like royalty.”
She handpicked a simple silk gown, the color a deep royal blue. It fits you in the ways you prefer and makes you feel exactly like Tiffany intended - like royalty.
“All you need is a set of pearls maybe.” Tiffany says. “Or a simple chain. Gold. Maybe a signet ring.”
You both look at Shawn for his input, but the rosiness in his cheeks and smile on his lips says enough. You smile back, turning back into the dressing room quickly to calm the heat in your own skin.
When you emerge back out in your jeans and tee shirt, Shawn’s already in his own dressing room. Tiffany pats the seat beside her and you sit, talking about the upcoming gala and your thoughts on what color heels you should wear.
Your conversation halts when Shawn opens the door to his dressing room, stepping out with that shy look on his face.
“My little James Dean.” Tiffany praises, standing immediately to fuss with the fabric and make necessary adjustments.
Shawn looks…
Well, he looks like he always does - handsome, princely, sweet and kind and gentle and charming. But to you, he looks like the Shawn you’ve always known him to be.
The dictionary definition of divinity. A man with the kind of boy next door charm that could decimate the hearts of millions with one quirk of his lips. Aphrodite’s long lost son. The holiest creation you think you’ve ever seen.
Everything he wants to be, but already is.
The royal blue fits nicely on his recently suntanned skin - a good sign that having Matt’s birthday party in Bali was the right choice.
All he needs are shoes and he’s practically ready for the runway now.
“What do you think?”
Shawn’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you look up from his suit to find him and Tiffany looking at you expectantly.
Tiffany’s smirking at you, but Shawn just smiles, a little bashful under all the scrutiny. “Think I can hang with you in this outfit?”
You school your expression and put on your cool girl persona for a brief moment.
“I think you’re a little out of my league on this one Shawn.” Your admission brings his rosy cheeks back full force, and he bites his lip to keep from smiling. “You look handsome.”
“My little James Dean.” Tiffany repeats.
Shawn’s eyes meet yours and you both smile. You want to reach out and hold his hand, want to go up and kiss him and tell him how gorgeous he looks like this.
But instead, you take out your phone and snap a couple of pictures. Not to post, like you say you’ve been doing lately. No. These ones are just for you.
They’ve all mostly been just for you. Other than the one you took on that first day in his kitchen, and one you took of you, him, and Niall on that lunch date.
They’re for you because you want something to remember this by. Something to have when the gala is over, the agreement ends, and the dust settles.
Something to have when it all goes back to normal and he’s not yours anymore.
When you remember he was never yours.
-
The Gala is everything he expected it to be and more.
Held at the most expensive hotel in the city, it was nothing short of expensive and exclusive. There’s a red carpet, a paparazzi walk, a few interviews, the standard - but the noise he’s used to isn’t the noise he gets. He forgot your little fake dating stunt was causing national headlines, sparking all sorts of gossip and attention.
The minute you two stepped out of your limo you were met with deafening screams, people shouting at you both for pictures and autographs and statements. You both took time for pictures with fans and then went through the motions before being led inside and to your tables.
The first part of the gala was in a ballroom set up to look like an award show. There was a fancy dinner, a few speeches and awards, and Shawn was shocked to find out he was receiving an award for the Shawn Mendes Foundation. He didn’t even know he was nominated, and definitely didn’t realize that that’s why they invited him in the first place.
When they called him up to accept his award, he stood up to acknowledge his team as per usual, but then he turned to you and felt his heart stop.
Your cool girl persona you put on for the red carpet was long gone and stored away, and you were looking at him with the biggest smile on your face, like you were going to burst with joy. It made him smile too, and he took you by surprise by putting his hands on your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss.
He’d never been the one to initiate a kiss. It had always been you. But this one, just this once, he needed to do it.
Call it a thank you. Call it a selfish, stolen kiss. Call it him finally drinking in some of your confidence and boldness he always hoped to have.
Call it love, maybe. Appreciation.
But it nearly made you both buckle at the knees.
His acceptance speech was short and brief, and he made sure to acknowledge the people who helped and inspired him to be part of change - including you, who challenged him to be bolder and confident and to speak up.
“You’re confident in a way I desire to be, and hope to be, and you teach me just how to do that every day that I’m with you. I am incredibly thankful to have you in my life.”
It made sense to thank you. To say what he did.
Because he meant it and because it was the truth. Because maybe asking you to be his fake girlfriend was the best thing he ever did. He always felt like finding that person would make him a better person. And it’s true, because he realized he found it with you.
But as you watched him, as you listened and heard what he had to say, you couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t true. Like you didn’t do anything to help him or deserve the credit.
You agreed to this selfishly. Maybe you didn’t see it before, but you did now. You didn’t challenge Shawn to be bolder or more confident. You didn’t help him speak up. He did that all on his own.
You didn’t deserve thanks for a damn thing.
You started to feel like a fraud. Like you didn’t belong. Like you shouldn’t have agreed to any of this. Now you felt like you were taking advantage of Shawn, and you swore to yourself you’d never be that person.
Everyone clapped and cheered and so did you, keeping the same smile on your face. But when Shawn left the stage and his team got up to go and greet him backstage, you found yourself stuck to your seat.
Andrew came around the table and pulled you up. “C’mon, we have to go grab him.”
“Andrew I don’t think-”
But he wouldn’t hear it - he whisked you away and you were suddenly very aware of all of the eyes in the room.
-
Once the formal portion of the gala was over, a reception was being held in another ballroom next door.
Mostly just cocktails, more food, but also the chance to mingle and rub elbows, secure donations to charities.
Shawn was shocked when several executives came up and offered him extremely generous donations to his charity, and thanked them profusely for it.
It was all becoming overwhelming, and he needed to find you to calm down.
You’d gotten separated at the beginning of the reception, Shawn being whisked away by various people, and you’d perched yourself at one of the high top tables in the room so that he could find you easily later on.
But that was almost an hour ago and he lost sight of you.
He starts weaving through the crowd and back towards the doors of the ballroom, knowing your table was in that general vicinity.
Shawn finally spots the blue of your dress and sighs with relief, kindly moving past people to get to where he sees you talking with someone. He’s just a few feet away when someone cuts in front of him, obscuring his view of you.
A blonde woman stands before him, chest pushed out in her strapless gown and a demure smile on her lips.
“So you’re the fabulous Shawn Mendes my daughters always tell me about.”
He laughs nervously, his eyes flicking up to you to make sure you haven’t moved. He calls to you in his mind, begging you to look over and see him. “I suppose I am.”
“Well it’s fabulous to meet you, handsome.” She says. He’s sure she introduces herself, but Shawn misses it because you finally glance in his direction, but you still don’t see him.
“I’d love to make a donation.”
At that, Shawn tries to go into business mode, putting on a polite smile and trying his best to give this woman his attention, but it falters when she says “Maybe we could discuss the amount over champagne? Even dinner, perhaps? I have a room tonight, if you’re interested in negotiating.”
He immediately tenses, an itchy feeling crawling up his spine. He backs away from the woman with a tight lipped smile and a curt “No thank you,” finally crossing the few feet to get to you.
Shawn wraps an arm around your waist when he reaches you, pulling you to him. You excuse yourself from your conversation with Tiffany, raising a curious brow at him. “You okay?” You ask lowly.
He nods, “I wasn’t flirting with her.”
Confusion. “What?”
“That woman over there.” He points to where he left the woman, and you spot her immediately.
Mostly because she’s staring daggers at the both of you.
You turn back to Shawn, laughing a little. “Oh, well that’s good to know.”
Shawn’s brows furrow. “You’re not...mad?”
The smile that graces your features is dazzling. Shawn doesn’t know whether to swoon or be scared. “Why would I be mad Shawn? You can flirt with who you’d like. We’re not actually dating.”
Oh. “Right, well,” he falters, not really liking your response, “No one else knows that though. You’re still here as my date and my girlfriend.”
“That I am.”
“So I don’t want to be rude.”
You laugh again, leaning into his side a little more. “I’m sure that’s not possible Shawn. You don’t have a rude bone in your body.”
“But we-”
“It’s fine, Shawn.” You insist. “We don’t have a label. It’s just for fun.”
“We haven’t put a label on it. We’re just keeping it fun”
He feels like he’s been punched in the gut, his body yanking him back to that interview, to the guilty feeling he had the whole day for dragging you into this. Did you feel that way too? Have you felt this way all along?
Was he really so blind and caught up in your affection he thought you were being genuine? That he didn’t realize all of this was fake?
Did you put on your cool girl persona for him too?
Niall saunters up then, cutting off Shawn’s lack of a response.
“There are my two lovebirds!” Niall says, pulling you both in for a hug. “Congratulations Shawnie boy.”
“Thanks man.” Shawn replies, still looking at you. But you’re looking at Niall now, expression unreadable.
“Bet you two are happy this is all over with.” Niall says.
“Yeah.” Shawn murmurs. “Happy.”
“The night is still young though gentlemen.” You say, grabbing your champagne flute. “There’s still more elbows to rub, pockets to drain and such.”
You stand then, patting them both on the back. “And noses to powder.” It’s a joke, they both know, just you making fun of the snotty rich people in the room. You dismiss yourself to the bathroom, and Niall takes your seat.
“You alright Shawn?” He asks. “You’re looking a little pale there.”
“I think I made a mistake, Niall. A big mistake.”
-
Radio silence.
It’s been weeks since the gala ended, and after you both left that night, you kissed Shawn goodbye at his place, one final goodbye on the lips. You thanked him for asking you to do this, thanked him for a great night, then told him you’d text him and that you’d see him soon.
Except you didn’t. He waited for a sign from you for days. He texted you himself and asked if you were still in town. Asked if you wanted to hang out.
He sent you a picture of the dress and accessories you wore, asking if you wanted Tiffany to send them to you. He even sent you a picture he’d taken of you in the limo, bright eyed and dazzling, saying you could post it if you wanted.
Nothing.
Not a single word.
And it was making Shawn angry.
He caught wind that you were back in Los Angeles from Niall, who was working as a double agent. Allowing you to confide in him and allowing Shawn to be privy to some information.
Shawn told Niall that night at the Gala that he had feelings for you. That this whole fake dating thing didn’t work and wasn’t working because it wasn’t fake to Shawn anymore, and he didn’t want it to be fake to you either. Niall told Shawn then to man up and say something, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.
He didn’t know where to start. And then you disappeared on him.
So after nearly a month of not hearing from you, he flies to LA and drives straight to Niall’s place. Niall’s already got beer waiting and he also took the liberty of making Shawn dinner, trying to calm his friend’s nerves.
Shawn spills his heart out about everything. About how you were the one who got him through the whole scenario, about how you went above and beyond even though you didn’t have to.
About how not hearing from you has been driving him insane but how it’s also been breaking his heart before he even had the chance to give it to you
Niall said “So tell her. What’s so wrong with that?”
“Because I don’t think she feels the same. She said something just now...something she said in an interview. That we’re just having fun, and-”
“Well you were.”
Shawn shook his head. “No. You know how she is with the public? That persona she puts on?”
“Shawn are you drunk?”
“I’m serious! When she acts like she’s cool, when she puts on that confidence, that like, uncaring air about her...” He trailed off, trying to explain it but Niall remained unconvinced.
“Shawn...I’m going to say this because you’re my friend, but honest to God I don't know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t see it?”
“No. I don’t. I know when she deals with the public and media and stuff she puts them in their place if they deserve it. Like tonight - she’ll act all blase but that’s because of where she is. I mean look around! This place is full of snobs. But that’s warranted stuff. I’ve never seen her put on an act or change her personality for anyone or anything.”
Shawn went quiet.
“You think she was being that way with you? Like it wasn’t real?” Shawn nodded, and Niall sighed deeply. “You know she would never do that. She wouldn’t have agreed to help you if that’s how she was going to be.”
“Then why hasn’t she talked to me.”
Niall leveled him with a look. “Because it wasn’t fake to her either. She might have played it cool, but I guarantee you she feels the way you do.”
Shawn sighs, staring at his phone and wishing for your name to show up on the screen. “So what am I supposed to do?”
“You know. One of the boys asked me this once and I hit him over the head with a bag of chips. But because I like you differently I’m not gonna do that.” Instead, Niall pulls out his phone, typing off a quick text.
He panics, staring at Niall, who’s still typing. “What did you do?”
“I told her you’re coming over and that you’ll be at her place within an hour. And I just texted you,” Shawn’s phone vibrates in his pocket, “her address. Which gives you enough time to stop off at a store for candy or flowers or chocolate or whatever apology thing you want to give her, and then still get to her house on time.”
“What am I even going to say?”
“That fake dating is dumb, Niall is right, and you think you might be falling for her.”
Shawn narrows his eyes at his friend. “You’d better not write a song about this and put it on your next album.”
“I won’t.” Niall promises, “You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re gonna do it yourself.”
-
Shawn’s pacing in the driveway of the house you’re staying at for your time in LA. He’s got a bouquet filled with purple tulips, baby’s breath, lavender and eucalyptus in one hand, and he’s gesticulating with another, going over what he has to say in his head. He’s so distracted and panicked that he doesn’t notice you open the front door and lean against the frame, watching him with amusement.
You take pity on him after a few more minutes of watching him pace, calling out “Why’d you thank me in your speech?”
He stops in his tracks, nearly jumping out of his skin. “Holy shit!”
“You didn’t have to thank me. I didn’t do anything.”
Shawn frowns. “You did a lot. You did more than I ever asked you to do.”
“But I didn’t deserve to be thanked. I didn’t help you or your charity.”
“I didn’t even know my charity was part of it!”
“Well I didn’t help you either.”
“But you did.” He says, taking a couple of tentative steps closer.
“All I agreed to was to be your arm candy.”
“Then if you were only arm candy why’d you kiss me? Why’d you make me dinner and come to Bali with me?”
“You’re lucky you’re cute, Shawn.”
“Don’t patronize me. Don’t play it cool like this isn’t exactly what you and I think it is.”
You narrow your eyes, crossing the distance and throwing your arms out. “And what exactly do you think this is?”
Shawn drops the flowers and grabs your face, pulling you in for a searing kiss. He feels your arms wind around his waist and pull him closer, and his lips part a little, giving you the option to take control.
You don’t though, which takes him by surprise. You open up beneath him and suddenly he’s very aware you’re both in the driveway of a family neighborhood, and he backs off.
“This isn’t fake.” You admit, hanging your head a little. “It’s never been fake.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He does everything he can not to whine about it, placing his finger under your chin, begging you to look at him, to see him.
“Because I didn’t think that you’d-”
“But I do. I do.”
You look at him then, and you see him, and you smile. “I do, too.”
“Then will you go steady with me? Make a donation to the heart of Shawn Mendes?”
“Depends.” You say, a small playful smirk on your lips. “What do I get in return?”
“I get you.” Shawn says. “And you get me.”
#shawn mendes#shawn mendes x reader#shawn peter raul mendes#shawn mendes writing#shawn mendes imagine
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fanfic year in review - 2020
hey laddies i was tagged by both @miabrown007 and @strangerahne to do this, so without further ado here we go!
1) List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:
Bone Tea (march) // All These Selfish Feelings (march) // Doomed from the Start (may) // Wouldn’t it be Nice (may) // my favorite set of stairs is the one up to your room (may) // screw the classics, and screw you for believing in them (june) // Friendship Bracelets (june) // Those Benevolent Stars (june) // the dark and the stained glass watchers (july) // Bloodsucker (july) // Messy Advances (july) // Happy Endings, the Sun, and Other Steps to Madness (july) // Guessing Game (august) // Passion Fruit Sunset [zine piece, currently unavailable] (september) // Home Coming [zine piece, currently unavailable] (november) // here (november) // bread and oranges (november) // clarity (november) // burgundy, near black (december) // About Emma Martin (december) // cherries (december) // falling, flying (december) // aloe-infused fuzzy socks (december)
23 fics??? okay well looking at it like this just makes me feel ridiculous
2) Number of words written:
219,184 words (which includes my unfinished fics on ao3 and the wips i haven’t posted)
again looking at it like this just makes me feel ridiculous
3) Your most popular fic:
friendship bracelets - the first in the series of my homoerotic college au zukka fics. honestly? i can’t even say im surprised
4) Your personal fav:
MAN this is hard. okay it’s gotta be a four-way tie between bone tea, those benevolent stars, home coming, and screw the classics and screw you for believing in them but really i could be lying because i wrote so much this year (i guess now last year?) that i was really really proud of
5) Your fav scene:
okay i have a lot of favorites but for right now i’ll say: the scene in chapter 3 of those benevolent stars when adrien and marinette are sitting on the banks of the seine and they talk about their favorite colors and adrien’s soulmate - it’s such a quiet and gentle moment, and because you know that their favorite colors are based off each other’s eyes but only marinette knows that and because you know adrien is talking about his soulmate to his soulmate and she knows it but he doesn’t. it’s full of such beautiful, tragic dramatic irony that i just love so so much
6) A fic or scene that challenged you:
hm okay the last few chapters of bone tea were definitely challenging not only because of, like, the big fight scenes (which, im not really comfortable writing fight scenes) but also because i had take all of the mess of emotions in bt and wrap it all up into a conclusion that needed to be satisfying. the same could be said about happy endings, the sun, and other steps to madness (minus the fight scene part)
writing impure - my changeling jim au fic - has also been a fun challenge because i basically watch trollhunters episodes as i write, examining each line of dialogue and each character interaction and seeing how that scene or relationship would be changed by the fact that jim is a changeling. it was also a little challenging to keep everything fresh and new - especially at the times when the dialogue from the show stayed the same in the fic, but so far, im really really happy with the way the fic is going
7) A line of writing you’re proud of:
off the top of my head are these two lines, both from screw the classics:
It was the ‘Daisy, Daisy, Daisy’s, over and over. Like her name conveyed some sort of deeper meaning that she expected Daisy to be able to understand. Like if she repeated it enough, it would become a sort of prayer that God would listen to, that He would enact to make Daisy put her fists away for once in her pitiful life. It was just “Daisy, Daisy, Daisy” over and over until her name stopped sounding like a name, like a word, and it was just a sound to fill the silence so that neither of them would have to talk about the way Basira’s touch lingered each time she wiped blood away or the way Daisy would always sit so that her knees touched Basira’s even though they were on the floor and there was more than enough room for them to breathe different air.
and
But sometimes Jon was easier than Basira. He didn’t have any of Basira’s softness - he was all edges and sharp lines. His elbows were basically knives, and his hips were edged with broken glass.
the first paragraph i really love because there’s almost a rhythm to it - like poetry - and i love the sound of it and all that it means in the context of the fic.
the second little bit i just love because every so often i think about it and i love the imagery and metaphor and the way it fits jon - in canon and in this fic. in this fic, they’re all in high school so jon is gangly and skinny and bony and in general, he’s just abrasive and a little rude. this description of him i just love (and the way i described him from martin’s pov in doomed from the start; “Jonathan Sims looked, even from a distance, as if he was perpetually smelling something awful. His features, just left of handsome, were marred by furrowed eyebrows and a distasteful frown.”)
8) A comment that touched you:
LITERALLY SO MANY????? the comments on the final chapter of bone tea, telling me that the story was something that they loved and found comfort in, the long comments on any of my fics detailing their exact favorite parts, the comments that were just short jokes that made me laugh out loud - literally i can’t pinpoint one. im just so thankful to have written things that people respond to with such kindness and love
9) Something that inspired your writing:
music!!!!!! i found myself making playlists for a few of my fics this year or listening to specific old playlists of mine for the right mood for a fic, and it’s really inspired me to write
also, as always, my own personal experiences. i thought and felt a lot this year, and i think in every single one of the fics i posted this year, you can probably find a central thought or feeling driving it that no doubt comes from my personal life
10) Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):
finishing bone tea and tying the title to the fic!!!!!!!! finishing happy endings and also tying that title to the fic!!!!!! getting accepted into two different zines and working with two different amazing artists and completing those fics!!!!!!!! literally writing anything at all!!!!!!!!!
11) Do you have any writing goals for the next year?
i think mainly i just want to write, you know? i want to stop putting so much pressure on myself, because this past year i put so much pressure on myself that i was constantly feeling like i was underperforming (which was, like, super untrue, but you know how it goes) so when i wasn’t writing i felt like i was wasting time. i mean, don’t get me wrong, i had so much fun writing and creating all of these things that im so so proud of, it’s just the space in between writing sessions that i want to let myself breathe in. i don’t want to dread thinking about writing for fun anymore because that’s not fun
besides that, i think my other goals are to just continue forward with my unfinished projects - impure, the new wave, the bone tea extras - and to officially start the other two long fic ideas i have for mlb that ive been really excited about for a long while. this past year i wrote a lot of one shots (like. so many. oh my god) so maybe this year i might focus on long projects. who knows though definitely not me it’ll be a surprise for all of us
=
anyway that’s all!! thanks mia and strangerahne for tagging me!! ive been needing a lot of reminders lately that i have, in fact, written this year, and having to, like, do math and scroll through my ao3 page and all my google docs has been really enlightening so thanks so much for this
i tag: @lnc2, @chatnoirinette, @deinde-prandium, and @rosekasa! y’all don’t have to do this, but i’d love to see how y’all felt about your works this year and also to see y’all love yourselves very much because you deserve it. also literally anyone can do this you can just say i tagged you i don’t mind it’ll be our secret - i highly encourage it because it’s very sweet and very fun to look back on all you’ve accomplished this year
<3<3<3<3
#tag game#GOOD LORD.THIS TOOK ME LIKE TWO HOURS KJFBGLKDFJHLSDIHG:SD#i will admit. most of those two hours was spent trying to figure out my word count akjfghlk#also scrolling through my ao3 and linking all my fics that also took a while#BUT REALLY while i was adding up my word count i just kept on staring at the growing number like ????jfc???????#i know ive been posting about it a lot lately but the fact that i have had the audacity to keep on getting antsy over not writing???#literally im ridiculous. OVER 200k WORDS. LITERALLY SHUT UP THAT'S RIDICULOUS.#and the fact that i wrote so much of those words during a pandemic and going through perhaps one of the worst years of my life???#struggling with personal issues and mental issues and school issues and like. SO MANY ISSUES????? HOW#idk this was just so so validating. also terrifying. god#im scared of myself tbh. i have no idea how i did any of this. i feel like i just. blacked out and now im here and FUCK I JUST FUCKJFHLGJSR#IT JUST SUNK IN THAT IT'S 2021 NOW???????? H O W#like logically i knew 2020 would have to end at some point but like most days felt like fucking decades so ??#god. it's a whole new year now. that's fuckng wild bro#im feeling emotional. it doesn't help that im listening to my favorite band (armors) now and it's the song that always brings me to myknees#EMPTY AND WORN YOU CARRY ME HOME NOW YOU'RE LETTING GO OF ME BROKEN AND TORN YOU CARRY ME HOME NOW YOU'RE LETTING GO OF ME#tell me that doesn't send you into a State. you can't. fuck.#(the song is comatose by armors btw)#SPEAKING of armors when i was typing out the fics i had written this year i realized that two fics in a row were named after armors songs#all these selfish feelings (chlonette; lyric from portland by armors) and doomed from the start (jonmartin; lyric from name by armors)#im literally so lame. and that's fine#also i scrolled up just now to check and i realized that i have FOUR FICS IN A ROW NAMED AFTER SONGS???#man i really wasn't kidding when i said i was inspired by music huh sldjfhgsjfh#also in case you're wondering they're all these selfish feelings and doomed from the start and ALSO#wouldn't it be nice (jonmartin; lyrics from wouldn't it be nice by the beach boys)#and my favorite set of stairs is the one up to your room (adrinette; 11:11 by waterparks)#ANYWAY i should be done with this post now sorry for anyone who is still reading for having to deal with my rambling#and goodnight sweet dreams happy new year ily
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i’ve been meaning to ask: where do you write aftermath? do you do it on google docs, word, or just straight up onto ao3? if you write it on docs or word how many pages is the story now if you know? big fan so this is super interesting to me
Hello there!
AO3 is wayyyyy too finicky for me to write directly into and it always, somehow, messes with the HTML tags I code in and, in general, its editor stresses me out.
But, lemme tell you something, the entire Google Suite is a lifesaver. Google Docs, Keep, and Tasks are the best thing to ever grace this planet and I rely on every single one of them to get Aftermath out on time.
I use Keep to make notes throughout the day, cuz inspiration strikes at really weird times and I have the memory of a goldfish with amnesia so I write down literally anything and everything from plot points to dialogue inspo
I use Tasks to make a rough outline // checklist for my chapters before moving into Docs.
Also, if it's a dialogue-heavy chapter // scene, I move over to a site called Celtx that's primarily used for screenwriting. It helps me whip out dialogue without losing my train of thought with 'he said this while doing this...'
But, to answer your question, I use Google Docs.
I make a new document for every chapter, default spacing, size 11 font in Avenir.
I tried once to combine all the chapters together and I crashed the googles ...
sooooo ... I'm not sure how long it is page wise. I know I shoot for between 5,000 to 10,000 words per chapter and that's usually around 20 to 30 pages. United We Stand was ~7500 words and 23 pages. Shadow Boxing was ~12,000 words and 38 pages.
I do plan on compiling everything together once I'm done and I would love to get it printed and bound for my bookshelf. But we're still a long way off from that.
Sorry for the long post, I get excited when people ask me this kind of thing and I get overly detailed 🤷🏼♀️ but, hopefully, it answers your question
🖤 Darke 😘
#talk to me goose#anonymous avengers#anonymous avengers ask away#ask me things#ask me literally anything#darke's rambles
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behind the taylor swift gundam was in fact another, smaller gundam: a brief inquiry into the events of june 2020
so back in june this year june and i got together and we made this motherfucker of a story with this motherfucker of a thread to keep track of it all. but you already know that! and i’ve already got one foot and three elbows in my grave, so i’ll spare you the long-winded stuff. you wanna know how i wrote 93,035 words in 4 weeks? i’ll tell you how i wrote 93,035 words in 4 weeks-
-by linking you guys to copies of my planning documents because i feel like those words speak louder than any words i can offer in the present day. these are long documents. but they are also historical artifacts. very interesting. very weird. very, uh, full of cussing. so anyway, here’s
BIG DADDY: THE ORIGINAL PLANNING DOCUMENT
for those, like me, who have no motivation left in life to do anything and rely on summaries from others to acquire new knowledge, it all started with a single line.
prince of a fallen kingdom atsumu tries to kill hinata but falls in love with him instead
june, april something, 2020
with that in mind i tested the concept out with a few paragraphs of text, which you can find at the bottom of the Big Daddy document in the graveyard segment, accidentally sold my soul to the image of hinata with epaulettes, and then worked backwards, structuring an entire plot around two images:
a) hinata getting the shit beat out of him, with snark
b) hinata and atsumu dancing in an empty ballroom under the stars
if you want a betrayal, you have to have something worth losing. if you want to fall in love with someone you don’t know, you have to meet them. if you have to meet them, there has to be a reason for that meeting, and so somewhere in between atsumu became a sword instructor and hinata the prince with daddy issues. june and i used this method of glancing anxiously over your shoulder to see what you’d missed to fill out the blanks in the story, after which i tacked up a bunch of post-its, typed out the plot, consulted june, typed out the plot again, and then broke the characters down into a bunch of questions, like ‘what do they want?’ and ‘what do they have?’ and ‘what are they afraid of?’
with the plot more or less ironed out, i decided it was time to start writing, and then i decided that i was actually too scared to start writing after all, so instead i set a couple of timers using classroomtimers.com (15-20 minutes long) and i sat down and i wrote about the world that hinata and atsumu inhabited.
each warm-up was 300-500 words long, and for the first few days, i’d write one before getting into writing the story proper. later these evolved into simply picking a scene from the story and launching straight into it, which became useful for opening those scenes later when i got to them organically.
then i got lazy! so i stopped. but these shitty little exercises were really useful for me because, unfettered by plot, convention, or any kind of tradition hovering over my shoulder, i was able to fuck around loosely enough to realize what i wanted this story to be. it was a very contrived kind of trial-and-error, an exploration of the characters, the story, but most importantly, the tone.
RESEARCH, PLANNING, AND VICTORIAN BOUGIE FASHION
this is a loose map of the castle and Important Locations within it, which i drew up at the start so i could keep track of where everything was and how i could get my characters from point A to point B. i wanted the story to have Some kind of internal logic, you know, even if that logic amounted to ‘a compass would function normally in this world whereas kageyama tobio would not’.
99% of my planning and organizing within those five weeks took place in this lovely dotted cat journal which my sister gave me for my birthday and i repurposed into a metaphorical Diary of Suffering while working on juno. i used it for everything from keeping track of narrative threads to clothing consistency checks, but the main purpose was this: each day at about 10 pm i’d crack open the cat book to a fresh page, stamp the date and the day of suffering at the top, and then write down a list of things i wanted to write, address, or fix today. then i’d sit at my laptop and write like a madman until about 7 in the morning. with breaks, of course, for sitting in the bathroom and staring at the wall and sitting in the kitchen and staring at the wall, but mostly i was writing. and complaining about writing. you were there, you probably remember that.
anyway, here are some pages from the cat book.
aside from the fact that my handwriting is complete shit, you can see that i made zero effort for any of this to be presentable. it was mainly a way for me to keep track of my thoughts because i have the attention span of an ikea wardrobe and tend to forget things as soon as i think of them. the lack of structure also mirrored the way that i went about writing juno. while i did proceed, for the most part, in chronological order, i had a lot of weird and useless revelations during lunch, which by this point was happening around 2 am, and in the 5 minutes before the exhaustion finally hit and carried me down to hell. i changed A Lot. again, to understand exactly how much the story evolved from day one onwards, please consult the big daddy document.
in the meantime, here’s something else.
once june sent over hinata and atsumu’s character designs i sat down like the fucking fool i am and spent 2 hours poring over a document about victorian and other fashion movements of the past so i could assign a noun, adjective, and verb to each element of their outfits. i don’t know why i did this. i certainly could have not, but i attempted to make sense of their ‘fits from a logistical perspective and that went into the cat book too. everything went into the cat book. the cat book is a relic of the past now, stuffed with artifacts such as the birth of oikawa tooru, and also his demise.
MEDIUM DADDY: EDITING, PROOFREADING, AND CREEPY MURDER CATS
i finished writing on june 26th, 2020, approximately a month after i’d first started planning, somewhere around may 27th or 28th. at that point i had about 90,000 words’ worth of story and no sanity left whatsoever, so i took a day-long break to stare at a wall and listen to taylor swift’s enchanted on loop.
and then i made a new document, which you can look at using the link above, and i laid out everything i had to do. i’d discovered a fuck ton of plot inconsistencies and general errors while writing and lying awake in bed at 9 a.m., sleepless in seattle, and now that i was free of the demon egging me towards the first finish line, it was time to Deal with them. i speed-scrolled through the draft, which was 200+ pages compressed into one google doc, because i like to tempt god’s wrath, and fixed up all the plot issues over the course of a few days. this was the fun part.
the actual, hard editing was the extremely un-fun part. i reread the entire thing, paragraph by paragraph, line by damn line, from start to finish, paying especially close attention to awkward phrasing, incomplete dialogue, and moments which had fallen flat in my haste to get on to the next one. this was really fucking terrible. i spent more time lying facedown on the floor than actually editing anything, but after a long time (about a week), that, too was done.
SMALL DADDY: TITLES, SUMMARIES, AND GOOD FUCKING BYES
i spent a good eighty days thinking about the title, though hilariously enough we ended up with something that was a blend of our names. june + elmo = juno, which is, all things considered, pretty perfect, but the process of picking the title was Hell, and i Did Not Come Up With The Title until about 2 hours before posting. you can take a look at the haphazard clusterfuck of my title-selecting process in small daddy, which is linked above.
so the title was a last-minute choice. so was the summary. and the chapter divisions. and actually all the songs in the playlist for juno. the day we dropped juno onto planet earth like a newborn baby pitched out of the sky, i spent an hour hunched over my laptop, cutting my 213 page google doc into chapters based on nothing more than a Vibe. two days before that, i also attempted to voice-act the entirety of juno, an affair which ended at the 20,000 word mark with a sore throat and the kind of exhaustion one typically wants to sleep in a coffin for 23 years to get rid of. so in all honesty, i did very little editing, which is why there are definitely minor typos and/or mistakes hanging out somewhere on that chunky ao3 webpage. but whatever.
my attitude by july 5th (was it july 5th? or 4th? somewhere around there) was basically whatever. anything so i could get finish this damn thing, chuck it out of the window, and never see another google doc until the next century. i’ve been asked a few times how exactly i wrote at a rate of roughly 2000-3000 words per day for four weeks straight, and my answer has always been this: i died. what died, you ask? my soul. my spirit. my Will To Live. i’m a creature of fixations, and juno was my fixation for june. will i ever be able to do this again? would i recommend this experience to anyone? is god real? the answer to all of the above is probably no. juno was a fever dream, and so is my cat book. and so are all the lattes i had. and so was my 9 am to 4 pm sleep schedule.
but what we made is real. the research, oikawa tooru, the 4 am conversations in which i was like ‘how the fuck do i end this’ and june was like ‘jade proposal’ (the proposal was her idea. all rise for twitter user atsuhinas. she is the mastermind behind all of the Inch Resting moments in this story; i just flapped a korok leaf in her direction and made sure the air circulation was working properly) are real as fuck, and looking back, there’s a lot i’d change, but i’m lazy. and college is starting. and anyway, i did write 93,035 words in just under five weeks, four if you don’t count the week of Editing Hell, so i think that’s pretty cool.
thank you for reading this to the end, and for following us on our journey through the enigmatic taylor swift gundam fic which quite literally consumed my entire twitter account for the five weeks i spent working on it. retrospectively speaking i really was butt-obsessed so i am frankly incredibly impressed with everyone around me for putting up with a Husk of a Man for a month. thank you for doing that. thank you for indulging my vague tweeting, and our butterfly dns, and for reading 93 thousand words of gay fanfiction set in a high fantasy world with epaulettes and galettes. on behalf of june, once again, we are incredibly grateful for all your support.
if you have any questions about specific aspects of the writing process, or anything you’d like to know in general with reference to JUNO, feel free to drop me an ask through my tumblr inbox, or through my curiouscat over here. i’m aware i didn’t cover everything, but there’s frankly too much to put in a tumblr post without passing away somewhere around the 56% mark, so let me know what’s on your mind, and i’ll try to answer that to the best of my abilities. but anyway, before i go, here are some
TAKEAWAYS
one: don’t try to write 93,000 words in five weeks. seriously don’t fucking do it you will end up jittery and sleep-deprived and you will leave all your friends on read for a month. pace yourself. set realistic goals. you wrote 2k this week? that’s fantastic. you wrote 4k in a day? you absolute motherfucker. i hope you’re taking a long fucking break tomorrow. your story will not run away from you, but if you run too fast, you will get tired, and then you will pass away.
two: you don’t have to know everything about your story before you start writing. in fact if you have a single camera shot of two characters holding hands under a rose garden awning, i think that’s fucking wonderful. if you look at big daddy, you’ll realize that my initial plot draft, and all the ones following that, are not perfectly aligned with the final version of juno. i improvised over half of the scenes in this motherfucker, and to be completely honest, some of the improvised scenes were the best. fucking oikawa tooru was improvised out of nowhere. he only got written in way later, around chapter 8 or something, because i realized i needed a plot device and a source of information to keep the playing table from toppling over. i Sat Down one day and was like ‘okay, it’s time to write oikawa into the introduction. because he matters now. he didn’t matter last week but now he does, and soon he’s going to be the fulcrum of the entire story, because it’s like that with oikawa tooru’. it’s okay to change your mind halfway. it’s okay to go back and rewrite entire scenes or segments. it’s okay to highlight 4 pages of fresh, sentimental writing, and hit delete. writing is a fluid process, and you Will make discoveries as you progress through your story alongside your characters. be understanding of that iterative process. be kind to yourself.
three: You Are That Motherfucker. you, me, your dog, your dog’s friend, your dog’s enemy, all of us are that motherfucker. i never thought i’d be able to write anything longer than the great big map, which was a much simpler, linear story in which the other main character did not appear in the current timeline until like the eighth chapter. juno was different. juno was the motherfucker, and i was scared shitless of it, and to cope with that fear joked constantly while writing that it’d never see the light of day.
but it did. it was a rocky process, and i was awake for 48 hours after posting it because of the sheer adrenalin stuck in my skull, but i got through it. and i wouldn’t have been able to do it without june, who stepped in when i flopped over facedown on the floor and dragged me to my feet like the badass friend she is, and without everyone else in my life, who put up with me talking about The Thing that i couldn’t really talk about, but juno’s up there now. forever, or until the internet collapses and civilization goes extinct. and if the nineteen year old clown with the attention span of an ikea armchair and an a level certificate from hell wrote the 93,000 word long thing, so can you. i mean this completely unironically and with every ounce of genuine emotion i can summon from the cracked asshole of my heart.
writing is hard. writing is scary. writing is an investigation of the world around you and therefore, by extension, yourself, and that kind of honesty is freaky. it’s like going skinny-dipping next to the president’s mansion. who’s going to see you? what if they take a photo? what if you lose your spot at university?
but don’t think about that. our world is overrun with stories the way cereal bowls are full of cereal, but it’s those stories that keep us all sane in the disgusting day-to-day muck of reality, so think about your story. what’s haunting you today? what message do you want to leave printed in font size 666 comic sans across the southern hemisphere of the planet? what will you be tomorrow?
a writer. you’re going to be a motherfucking writer.
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