#also my reaction time on the keyboard is piss poor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them.

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out.

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

~ ~ ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse

318 notes · View notes

everafterkeiji · 4 years ago

Text

Song: Cheater by The Vamps

Summary: Kuroo's skills in reading a game has been expanded when he meets your boyfriend.

Pairings: Tetsuro Kuroo x fem! reader

Word count: 3.3k

Content, tags: mentions of cheating, a few cuss words, childhood friends to lovers!

A/N: this was such an impulsive moment🧍 Kuroo has been consuming my brain so here ya go fellow simps

“Am I obligated to?”

“It was his request, Tetsu.”

Kuroo groans while you stare at him wondering what’s so wrong about meeting with your boyfriend. He sees your clueless reaction but he sets it aside knowing you wanted this to happen in the first place. Although you didn’t push him, your boyfriend insisted. It was a sweet gesture because he took the time to understand that Tetsuro to you is just a friend and nothing else. Disregarding his jealousy of the intimidating volleyball player, he initiated the hang out.

Meanwhile, the proud captain was loathing the hours before he could even step into your boyfriend's house.

If you could pick one of the words to describe Kuroo, obviously one of them is self-aware.

Which is the antonym of what you have under your own dictionary.

Kuroo always puts his best during a match and he wasn’t looked upon for no reason. Of course, he’s observant out of the court too. So, when that boyfriend of yours came in to the picture—he wasn’t exactly keen on befriending him. All he can do is accept whatever that decision was because he did catch multiple glances where you were smiling and maybe seeing that put him at ease making him less worried with your relationship.

But his intuition is stronger than the actual belief that your boyfriend is all too good.

Besides, as a best friend, it was technically his job to be suspicious of the boy.

“I’ll go over there after practice.” You smile at his words before linking your arm with his as you both walk to your class.

“Hey, by Saturday can we play again?” You asked him while he looks down on you with a chuckle, loving that you had to ask even when you didn’t need to do.

“Why’d you ask anyway? Of course.”

It was admirable that your path of being with each other actually started with volleyball. At the age of 9 after a ball fled into your yard from the Kozume residence, Kuroo had knocked politely on the wall asking if he could get the ball back. Seeing that the wall felt like a building to you, you took the ball out of curiosity before going over to the place next door and handing him the ball.

Wherein Kuroo had to pause when he saw you.

Ever since then, you played volleyball with the two. You three joined Nekoma’s volleyball teams, even practicing together. You were thankful to have them not only they were tremendous at play but also, they were your most trusted friends and their judgement is always important. So, when you got into a relationship—it was a mix of everything.

Kenma was subtly supportive. He knew you were capable of picking what you deserve and if that boy doesn’t cause any trouble, then the setter is all for it. Kuroo, on the other hand, was hesitant.

If only he wasn’t in love with you—then maybe he could’ve given the poor boy some sign of approval.

After years of falling, his chances were already taken the moment you said your feelings were growing for a certain boy from your class. Though you were classmates with Kuroo, he eyed every boy that could be the suspect. At first, he was just curious because he hasn’t seen you interact with them before but then the second time was more on the worried side when he wondered what could’ve been missing from him that he had to find in another guy for answers.

Kenma had to assure him at some point. The blonde noticed Kuroo’s feelings ever since he saw the older boy teach you volleyball without him. He could evidently see the blush on his friends face whenever you’d land a compliment to Tetsuro. It even surprised Kenma when he knew Kuroo was still attached to his feelings after years of knowing you. He at least needed to say something before it takes a toll on him.

“You’re actually going, it’s funny.” The setter mocks though the blocker knew what he meant. How can he agree this easily anyway? He knew it’d make you happy but making room for someone after a practice instead of resting isn’t really a good circumstance.

“I know, I know. I’d be home in the next five minutes.” Kuroo jokes but when the practice finally ends, he kept his attention to his phone when he received the message for his location. He sighs tiredly while Kenma stifles a laugh.

“Don’t go then.”

“As if that wasn’t my plan beforehand.” Kenma rolls his eyes but bids goodbye to Kuroo knowing they’re not able to walk home together.

God, he was irritated.

It was rather a small thing to be pissed off about. Who knows? It could end well with the two of them but that stupid intuition is what’s dragging his feet. How could he ignore it anyway? Murmurs were like rumors that spread like wildfire when gossip has never been this good so when he heard a tiny conversation of a certain girl meeting with your boyfriend—he doesn’t know what held him back from throwing a punch to him right then and there but perhaps it was because you can’t judge too quickly. Rumors were rumors. If he believed it right away then it meant he was feeding off of the possibility that you’d be single again but he doesn’t think like that. His main reason was that he couldn’t bear to see you cry over a guy who simply didn’t deserve an ounce of sympathy—especially from you.

And right at the front of his door, a pair of a cheerleader's shoes were there.

You being a volleyball player and the shoes didn’t exactly connect.

“I’ll see you next time then?”

“Saturday?”

“I can’t. My— Y/N is making me play with her and that captain Kuroo.”

“You said you broke up with her!”

“Look- I will just wait will ya?”

And he’s heard enough.

Go inside, Tetsuro.

Defend Y/N.

Beat him.

But I can’t act on my own.

Gritting his teeth with a tight grip on the sling of his bag, he makes a forced decision.

Kuroo doesn’t even hesitate to walk away now. His pace is way heavier and faster compared to his slow ones before. He wished he carried a volleyball so he could directly throw it to his conniving face. He would’ve hit it like Oikawa during a power serve and scream incoherent profanities as he lands a punch or two. Without Kenma, the possibilities were endless when he couldn’t be held back.

The moment he enters his room, he immediately reaches for his phone and calls for Kenma since the rage was getting out of hand and he can’t focus on anything else apart from beating the heck out of your cheater of a boyfriend- well soon to be ex considering that he could never let you stay with him for another second. He walks around his room wondering which one was the best options to let you know as the setter has yet to answer his call.

“Fuck.” He mutters at the exact same time that Kenma finally picks up.

“What-”

“He’s cheating on Y/N.”

“Well shit.”

Kenma pauses his game once the words ring in his ears. He too feels the anger bubble inside him but soon it was replaced by worry when he realizes how unfortunate it was for Kuroo to be the one to witness it and actually be the person to face you with such a heavy topic.

“How are you gonna tell her?” He asks but Kuroo bites his lip at the question he’s been wanting to avoid. It was inescapable though. You were closer to him—too close that you two relied on each other to no end and would be each other's comfort at needed times. It was difficult for the both of you.

“He’s planning to break up with her on Saturday and she- fuck I don’t know what to do.” The troubled boy admits while Kenma sighs not finding a win in both situations or any of the options he and Kuroo thought of.

“Y/N will believe you. You just have to give her time when she denies it at first, I guess.” Kenma suggests while Kuroo runs a hand to his hair.

“God, I fucking hate him.”

“Who is it?”

“A fucking cheerleader— how low.” Tetsuro couldn’t sit straight. Every inch of his body was telling him to find your boyfriend and show him what a waste of energy he was. It had been three months since you introduced him and how does he gain that much of a confidence to cheat at such an early stage of your relationship? Was three months a normal pace to be bored? Too bored that he chose a cheerleader to make up for that ‘blandness'. God, if Kuroo was in that relationship—cheating could never be an option. How could he? He loved you too much that having a chance wasted like that is too big to risk or experience.

“Talk to him tomorrow.” Kenma says while Kuroo held his breath when he realizes how the tension would reek between him and your boyfriend.

“Yeah but-“

The notification sound on his phone echoed through the room and when he slides up to see whose it from, he sighs when it was from you.

Least annoying: how’d it go???

“Y/N messaged me.” He updates the blonde as his fingers hovered the keyboard wondering what lie was the most believable even if he felt guilty to do so but after deleting multiple answers, he just couldn’t t do it.

“We just have to talk to her tomorrow. I feel like she needs us more now—fucking prick of a boyfriend.” Kenma comments with spite in his voice. It wasn’t the first time where he cared too much that he too wanted to join Kuroo in a fit of rage to beat your boyfriend but Kenma is cautious of your emotions and thinks that when he does join in on the fight, it’d only bring you more stress.

But he can’t lie and say throwing a punch to the lying boy wasn’t going to bring him satisfaction.

“Okay. I have to go and think this through.” He bids goodbye to Kenma before hanging up and lying down on his bed with his mind racing nonstop—forgetting to text you in the midst of panic and rage. You didn’t mind the lack of reply, you knew he wasn’t really interested in going in the first place and he must’ve been exhausted from practice as well so you took a nap early.

Meanwhile, your best friend faced a sleepless night.

Kuroo and Kenma were caught off guard when first period ended and you were yet to arrive.

Does she know?

The break came in and there still wasn’t a sign from you but as they ate, a certain hand falls on Kuroo’s shoulder making the anger between him and Kenma ignite once they see your boyfriend.

“Hey, you didn’t stop by yesterday.” Your boyfriend informs him while Yaku and the rest of the team wonder what’s got their captain looking like he radiated flames around him. Kuroo then removes the hand from his shoulder while Kenma nudges the tense boy from losing control out in the cafeteria.

“I was tired,” he pauses to find words that wouldn’t just expose him right then and there, “I couldn’t make it.”

Your boyfriend nods, a sign that he was thankful that Kuroo didn’t come to destroy the time he shared with the cheerleader.

“Well, we got Saturday to catch up. I’ll see you then!” He leaves with a sigh of relief while Kuroo stands up from his table, unable to contain it anymore but two hands held him back. He turns to see Yaku and Kenma holding his arm as he hesitates to follow what they want him to do. He then takes a deep breath and sits down while the two sighed that Kuroo managed to stop.

“I don’t know what’s happening but you can’t just do it here.” Yaku says making Kuroo remain silent. Kenma agrees but he too felt the urge to follow his furious friend.

“Sorry.” Kuroo whispers and Yaku nods not pushing the topic any further but he’s got a clue on what could’ve happened. Seeing their captain in this state certainly was more than a duel between him and your boyfriend. Of course, they knew about his feelings for you so connecting a few dots, Yaku realizes how bad it was.

Classes went on and still no sign of you making the worry rise more between the two. By the time practice came on, the two expresses their frustration through volleyball and the rest of their teammates wonder why their play that night felt like they were in a serious match.

But they were playing a difficult role of being honest with you.

When Saturday rolled in, Kuroo was already at the place you told him to meet. Beforehand, he warns Kenma not to come knowing it’s more on his responsibility and the blonde obeyed him because he too wasn’t ready to face a confrontation like that but Kenma is more than ready to comfort you once the terrible news was given to you.

“Hey!” You greeted him with a smile while he stands up from his sit and hugs you immediately catching you by surprise. With a laugh, you hugged him back wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer hesitant to let your smile fall.

Then he notices how you were unaccompanied making him pull away seeing the opportunity to tell you while he wasn’t there but he still wasn’t ready.

“Y/N-”

“Hey babe, didn’t know you were already here but let’s play some volleyball!” He shouts with a façade of excitement. You smile at Kuroo before staying by his side instead of teaming up with your own boyfriend.

“One versus two huh?” Your boyfriend taunts while you serve the ball as he receives, initiating the start of the game. Every spike or receive had Kuroo send knives to his way with his sharp and accusing eyes. The lonesome of a player envied the way Kuroo caught the ball effortlessly and because you chose to be with the opposing team making the rally last longer due to Kuroo’s rage and your boyfriends' jealousy.

Once you managed to spike a ball strong enough to make your boyfriend fall from the failed attempt of receiving it, you cheered.

But with the course of happiness, you pulled Kuroo in from the collar of his shirt before taking your lips in his while your boyfriend remains frozen as the boy who was stupidly in love only made the rightful choice which was to kiss back and cherish the way he’s waited for this to happen. Getting a little too lost in the kiss, he cups your cheek bringing you closer and tucking your hair behind your ear with his free hand snaking around your waist, gripping it lightly to make sure it was actually happening.

You pull away softly, flushed cheeks and a smile on your face.

“What the hell Y/N!” Your boyfriend shouts but then he couldn’t exactly move because of how Tetsuro would react once he actually takes a step forward. Kuroo had his arms crossed in front of his chest staring at the boy up and down while desperately trying to act like his knees weren’t just about to give out after what happened.

“What’s wrong? If you need some kisses babe, why don’t you call that cheerleader of yours?”

Kuroo’s jaw drops to the floor—almost in sync with your boyfriend's similar reaction. The sweat rolls down his forehead, obviously intimidated by the two of you catching him in the act while Tetsuro protectively wraps his arm around you once again and as he watches for your features to fall, he was stunned.

You were smiling.

You leaned on Kuroo’s side while he registers how you knew with questions multiplying with every second.

“I want you to leave me the fuck alone and if you even try to deny it—I'll let Tetsu do the talking for me.” He smirks while your boy- ex boyfriend- scoffs making the two of you raise an eyebrow at his reaction.

You removed your position from Kuroo, taking a few steps to be in front of the cheater with a smile as you land a deserving and powerful punch to his cheek, making him stumble at the impact while the other boy was left speechless but nonetheless his heart races with the scene replaying in his mind. You shake your hand as Kuroo crouches down to meet your boyfriend with a smirk mocking the pain he was in.

“Have fun with her— she's a bore anyway.” You look at Tetsuro who let out a laugh as he pats the head of the fallen loser.

“No problem then. I’ll enjoy her as much as I can.” He then walks away, which turned down your expectations of Kuroo landing a punch as well. As the frustrated boy slowly stands up, Tetsuro pulls you against him with a finger to your chin raising it to meet your lip with his as your eyes remained on him while the boy had his eyes do the taunting who were fixated on your ex.

“After all, she’s always been mine.”

With the end of his sentence, he shifts his attention back to you before taking your lips again as the two of you smile. Your ex then walks away with a scowl as he throws his phone in frustration that he lost to Kuroo.

“Mind telling me how you knew, kitten?” He asks when he pulled away with his voice low, taking your heart by a storm.

“I got sick yesterday and when I came to school to get all the work I missed— I overheard you and Kenma talking about it.” He frowns when he realizes how bitter that must’ve been but he continues to ask, though you really couldn’t concentrate when his hand was caressing your waist.

“So, you knew all along?”

“I knew about it a few weeks ago when I read the messages on his phone. When he asked you to hang out, I figured you’d find out about it too.” Kuroo sighs of disappointment before speaking.

“I’m sorry you had to meet an asshole like that,” He says while you shook your head before he continues, “Why him though?” which made you blush.

“I couldn’t get over a certain boy and simply thought it would work but you obviously saw the outcome.” With your previous statement, he lets a smirk fall on his lips now that you couldn’t even look at him straight.

“And that certain boy is?” He edged on, his heart pushing him to confirm if it was actually him— that all the years he spent loving you might actually have you reciprocating those feelings.

“It’s you.” You confessed while your heart sets on fire that you finally admitted it. It was an awful attempt to cover your feelings in the first place. In all honesty, it was your fault. If you could’ve just admitted it right away then you’d end up with him instead of the asshole of a man you wasted time on but then again—the kiss was worth it to ever change your decisions.

“No no I wanna hear the full name.” He teases more making you roll your eyes. He then plants a kiss on the crown of your head with a satisfied smile as he internally cheers to not embarrass himself with the overwhelming glee. You also mirror the same state that he was in. Hearing Kuroo at the gym say how much he loves you was enough of an evidence that you should’ve picked him in the first place.

“Well then, should I make my previous statement official now?” You blushed but muttered a yes making Kuroo smile and take your hand, landing a peck on it as he intertwines them with his.

“All yours, Tetsu.”

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #hq kuroo #kuroo testuro #tetsuro kuroo #haikyuu kenma #kenma kozume

158 notes · View notes

sugargliderowl · 5 years ago

Text

Thoughts About Remus' Playlist

So as usual, this is my first reaction/rant/analysis about the playlist! This time, it’s Remus’ Playlist. I think it’s going to be cursed. But a... good cursed, if that’s a thing. As usual, feel free to add on to this! It’s good to share thoughts and talk about meanings, even making predictions about the future!

General Overview Before Listening: I love Yugen_sama ‘s artwork; her style makes me happy! Also, Remus doing that? TOTALLY HIM. Just looking at the choice of songs does mirror Roman’s playlist in a way with their own anthems, Tenacious D, maybe an etc. We’ll have to see on that. His explanation with all the emojis is definitely him, and I think that’s all I can say. Just look at it.

Reminder: Before we go on, a little reminder for your safety. The songs can be quite... a handful. If you know about Remus’ personality and interests but still wanna read the overall analysis, go to the TL:DR at the way bottom without reading the specific song analysis. If you remember the TW from the video, that really applies here. Stay safe.

Song Analysis:

This Devil’s Workday: Genius told me that this is about a criminal going mad. Yeah. The blazing trumpets and the really radio-like voice in the song is kinda creepy, but that goes with Remus as intrusive thoughts! He’s very obtrusive, and he’s everywhere without any filter. It’s a good intro to his character. The poor sack of puppies in this song goes back to his theme’s lyric, “your pet dog stuffed into a sausage” Also, the repetition of “All the people that you know / Floating on the river are logs” is like what he does to Thomas (repetitively reminding him about the bad things). The “Oh I am my own da[ng] God” goes along with all the biblical references he makes in his theme (and just the dark sides in general). All in all, this song/introduction just is him screeching, “HI, I’M YOUR INTRUSIVE THOUGHT WITHOUT THE UGH.”

Forbidden Fruit (the Duke’s Theme): If you are a Fander, you definitely are singing/screaming this on top of your lungs as you listen to this. I did that, and I love that. This song itself has a lot of good analysis online, so check them out! It was the intro song of the Duke with all his motives, thoughts, and everything beyond that, so it’s definitely on here. Also, it mirrors A Gay Disney Prince from Roman’s playlist by both being their own “I want” songs as well as their character role songs. The Creativitwins strike here once.

Double Team: Tenacious D! The Creativitwins strike here again! Wonderboy was on Roman’s playlist, which is also a Tenacious D song, so you can definitely say there are some mirroring going on here (also! YES the artist choice seems like a definite factor in choosing these songs). So this song is about having sex. Okay. And having a threesome. Okay, Remus. This song, even though it’s from the same artist as Roman, has a really different theme. If the Tenacious D selection is about the twins, would this mean that Roman wants them to be a really good team who, even though are opposites, can get along, while Remus wants them both to lose the filter and have fun? Overall, it could mean that the twins both want to get along, just in different ways which contradict one another. I’m not going into the lyric details because oof.

Man: I just noticed that Yeah Yeah Yeahs was on Patton’s and Virgil’s playlists. On Remus? I didn’t really expect that, but that’s a pleasant surprise. This song is really interesting because it’s not like the other two. This song, for me, is about someone who is obsessed with a man who would make her do anything, and she’s just hooking up with him or something. Also, the whole, “You're all gonna burn in hell / I said we're all gonna burn in hell” goes back to the biblical references that the Dark Sides make as well as the lyric of “Cause your head's not in the gutter, pal / It's in Hell.” Who is the man? Thomas, probably. This probably directs back to Remus convincing Thomas to drop the filter.

Freeee: “When man becomes possessor of the knowledge of himself, he becomes the master of his environment“ in the beginning of the song is Remus telling Thomas to learn about himself by possibly accepting Remus. The lyrics “One day they hate you / Next day they love you / I'm still yellin' "F[*]ck 'em" / I could never trust—” show how Remus doesn’t trust the society like Janus, and that’s just one of the main core of the dark sides. They don’t trust people that much. This does include Virgil since he is anxiety, so he can’t trust everything immediately. They all have different ways of showing the distrust. For Remus, it’s the layback, “frick it” attitude. “I don’t feel pain anymore” and “nothin’ hurts me anymore” seems to be a potential for Remus angst of being rejected from all the sides and being the “Evil Twin”. Does he care or not care? No one knows yet.

In The Room Where You Sleep: Sleep from the shorts and Virgil will both react really strongly to this song. Why? “There's something in the shadows / In the corner of your room / A dark heart is beating / And waiting for you” (Telltale Heart reference-). Yeah. Remus listening to this would go back to that end card of Remus being creepy (and eating deodorant). Also, it possibly demonstrates Virgil and Remus’ relationship; Remus scared Virgil because of his thoughts and conjectures. The repetition of “You better run / You better hide” would also contribute to this thought, definitely. But then again, that melancholy keyboard... Why that montage at the end?

No Reason Boner: The song is very catchy and funny. But ASDKLFAJSD. This is definitely Remus’ type of song. That means that the sexual information is given control to Remus, and he probably uses the information for his jokes and intrusive thoughts. This song is what Remus' personality is: goofy yet NSFW. This intrusive thought without the ugh is probably lovable in this fandom because of that. Also, I don’t know why, but he can have that naivete even though he’s the one in charge of stuff like that. A nice juxtaposition right there.

I Told You I Was Freaky: This playlist is a RIDE. VERY MUCH A RIDE. Just all the sexual references in this song are just 1000% Remus. The song itself is quite whispery, and I guess that goes with Remus because he whispers the dirty stuff into Thomas’ ears. Well, whisper is very much an understatement. But I have to admit, if you listen to the lyrics, there are some very creative ways that people don’t think of. It’s usually a bed, a car, or in a club or party, but the lyrics are more than that. Then, we can assume how capable and skilled Remus is as the Dark Creativity; he’s as good as Roman, just in a different category.

Queef: If you don’t know what a queef is, I didn’t too. I just looked it up while I was typing this. Wait, isn’t Awkwafina in like a movie? This, like that last song, is basically him going off on his creativity and wordplay. In future episodes, I would love to see how Remus can go off with his wordplay because if Roman’s good at all the nicknames, and if Remus is basically him but darker, that means he’s good. Like really good. This song is also very, very catchy, and I kinda jammed through it because of the beat.

Manners: According to genius, this song is a "sexually-charged bad b[*]tch anthem on which Ashnikko displays her “IDGAF”-attitude.” Basically, the vine, “I’M A BAD B*TCH YOU CAN’T KILL ME” would equate to Remus as well as the meme, “Aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you want to go APESH*T-.” This might connect with his facade in a way because he seems to be naive and goofy at times (although NSFW), but when he drops it, he drops it fast, and he drops it hard. For example, his facade drops when he threatened Logan in DWIT, and his facade can be picked back up quickly, too. This song also has the element of “Frick this world” attitude, which Remus showed in the previous songs, and I stan him. As the fandom did an edit once, he would definitely wear acrylic nails if he wants to. A thing that I did notice though is the lyric “Fight or flight, I’m fighting for my life.” HI VIRGIL!

Ben Bernanke: I don’t know who Spencer is, but a big OOF for him. This song’s structure is really unique because I have no clue where it’s going, and it’s going with Remus’ personality of just randomness and intrusivity (is that a word?). ALSO, the continuing snakes in these songs. So is Spencer Janus in our context? If so, Remus is quite mad at Janus. I do see why though, after that last video implying that he’s the Evil Twin. “Do you think you can mock me, Spencer? / Do you think you can capture my essence / And throw it back at me with / Humor and rhetorical devices?” Gosh, Janus and Remus could have beef with one another. Also, that “Avada Kedavra” and “I’m... a furious magician” could definitely foreshadow something in the future. Additionally, “You're the architect of my dreams, Spencer / You plan them, and build them on blue paper / And hand them to me / And then I dream them, Spencer.”

Worldwide Torture: “I never come second place / Always been a big disgrace Smell the fear, I know you see / High achiever (Yeah, that's me!)” Welcome to Remus’ angst that we do not know much about yet. It’s great. It’s just like Roman, but in a more “I’m a disappointment” way! However, what’s quite different is that Remus is pissed. Beyond pissed about it, so he acts up unlike Roman who tries to mask it. Because he knows that he’s not regarded nicely with any of the sides, he wants to molest them and destroy the world, shown by the lyrics “A pure violation of God's great creation / It’s an infestation, it’s world domination.” I think this issue might pop up more frequently as more episodes come out, but for now, this is my assumption. Out of context, “The highest score” goes with that last episode, since Remus was present as the 80085.

Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na): I DIDN’T EXPECT THIS TO BE HERE, BUT I LOVE IT. THANK YOU. WOOOOOO YASSSS. This is actually one of the “pump me up” songs. First, “Eight legs to the wall, hit the gas, kill them all” is, obviously, a spider in the song, but in our context, we can also call it an octopus because Remus’ animal is an octopus, which has 8 tentacles (6 legs and 2 arms). Second, Remus is PISSED. He definitely has a punk aesthetic, shown by all the songs about flipping the world. The lyrics “I’d rather to to Hell / Than be in purgatory” definitely shows his determination of doing so since he’s saying that he won’t sit back. Somehow, for me it’s a growth from the beginning of “I don’t care” to “I actually care, and I’m fighting for that sh*t”. Pissed off Remus is scary Remus.

Trash People: Trash rat boiiiii. But this song is more than that. It’s showing that trash people aren’t really... trash people. “ Art is love and love is sloppy / Nothing is all pure / Nothing is all dirty” really shows the whole duality aspect in the entire series. Everything is gray. And that’s what Roman and Remus need to work on since they were divided by the black and white mentality. If Remus is okay with the gray morality, then who would be the one that he’s directing this song to? Roman. “Wearing a smile and a heart on my sleeve” though. I don’t get this lyric, but then again, tell me what you guys think! Does this mean that Remus is actually trying to be like this, or is he mocking Roman... The “no time to start over” also sounds really ominous.

Tranz: Gorillaz! Same album as Roma-OKAY THIS IS GETTING REAL. The last one with this artist had the lyrics, “I’m the lonely twin, the left hand... I don’t want this isolation.” People were screaming about this because, of course, this refers to Remus, but who knew that this was going to pop up again! That’s why I loved the artist connections during these analysis. Anyways, this goes back to the twin duality, but more of an angry tune. Take a look at this: “Do you look like me? Do you feel like me? / Do you turn into your effigy? / Do you dance like this forever?” Remember Roman’s whole monologue about Remus as someone he sees in the mirror with all the things he doesn’t want to be? This song is Remus asking Roman about that statement. Keep in mind that effigy is a sculpture that is usually used to mock or burn and is used as a negative connotation (thank you my English teacher). Remus doesn’t like that comparison at all, and I’m more concerned for him now than I was ever before after Janus saying that too.

Death as a Fetish: Wow, this is sad. “And I will never be good enough, quietly / And you will never be good enough, just like me.” If the twins have the time to reconcile, this is probably the first thing they need to help out on each other. Remus knows more about his twin than we all thought, and he knows that both of them have problems about that. On the other hand, this song, when I looked at some of the annotations on genius, has a sad connotation. Life is so short, and it ends, and you know for sure that death is there at all times with that repetition of “death as a fetish” after everything we find positive. For Remus, I guess he knows about this. He’s a deeper character than we credit him as.

Don’t Stop Me Now: TONIIIIGHT IM GONNA HAVE MYSEEEELF A GOOD TIIME- okay. This song is something I scream my lyrics to. I also didn’t expect this, but in a calmer manner (because I wasn’t calm when this was on), yes please. Basically, DON’T STOP ME NOWWW! I don’t know how to explain this in a deeper way. Yeah. I LOVE THIS SONG THOUGH!

Things I Don’t Remember: “Things I don't remember / How the hell'd we get here? / How the hell did we get here?” This can be interpreted in a lot of ways. It could either be how all the sides came to be, how Roman and Remus came to be by both having the role of creativity, or just where Thomas is mentally since they are all Thomas. I think that’s depending on how you want to go about it. The last point is the strongest for me because of this one phrase of “There were endless conversations / No one's mouths were really moving” maybe referring to the sides’ conversations around Thomas’ dilemmas. They sometimes only make it worse until someone has to kick in to change the viewpoint around, and that’s the reason why it feels like nobody’s mouths were really moving. Also, dressed up alligators? Okay, Remus.

F*ck It!: (Censored by yours truly with her notecard of “note your language”) The album name of taxidermy... fitting. Back to the song. “Why abstain? Why jump in line?” and “They say don't take the risk you're sure to fail... But what's the worst that could happen, end up in a coffin? / Isn't that where we're all headed anyway?” really highlights Remus’ spontaneity, which is a big factor in intrusive thoughts. This is back to the “frick this”, but more a “frick it I’m doing that sh*t, and I don’t care about the consequences” (going back to Na Na Na on that). Also, “'Cause it's easier to lie to yourself than to face reality” reminded me of Janus, but does this also apply to Remus in a way? Or does this apply to all the sides who are lying to themselves, especially Roman? Anyways, Remus’ spontaneity is something to kinda look up to at times. Not... not all the time.

fReAkY 4 Life: Dorian Electra... the one behind Flamboyant from ROMAN’S PLAYLIST! The Creativitwins music solidarity number I-forgot-to-count. To the lyrics! “They just don't understand me / I'm not like them, I'm freaky” does go to all the other sides and Thomas because Remus really stands out from all the other sides. Silly yet NSFW, weird, and very new. Also, he seems to want some attention from all the sides with “ I like to be in the spotlight / Step on the scene ’cause it feels right / I freakin' scream, baby, all night / I do it, I do it, do it all the time,” but is it a distraction or legitimate attention? I love how this song is the finale because this song is the fireworks that says Remus. All the lyrics really match him, and especially with the “I hear what they call me / I hear what they say / I'm not very cool, yeah / But I'll never change,” it cements how Remus thinks.

TL:DR:

Remus is a character deeper than we already know him as. There are a lot of him that hasn’t been introduced to us since he’s pretty new. He has been on for about 2-3 episodes (only 1 with his full participation), and he never really interacted with Roman nor Janus, both who has a history with our little gremlin. Yes, Remus is the Duke of Dark Creativity and intrusive thoughts; there are so many references that are R-rated in this playlist, but in the end, he is another side. He more than the trash boi who gleefully talks about sensitive topics.

He still has a connection with Roman with all the overlaps in their insecurities and artists, and he’s probably the one who’s more knowledgeable about their relationship as a twin. He could even want to reconcile with his twin, but in a way that Roman would not approve. That doesn’t mean that Remus is kinda mad at Roman. A fun house mirror.

Next, He doesn’t want to change himself in the sake of others although he knows that the others hate him for being him, and he’s actively going against it, not caring about the consequences. That’s what drives him to be really good at his job. He’s as good as Roman on doing his job. Along with that, he wants Thomas to embrace him as one of the sides and come over to the dark side of creativity. It’s one of Remus’ biggest dreams: acceptance. I want to see how this plays out with him and especially him.

Finally, he’s pissed. Very pissed. After all the berating at his back from all the other sides, including Janus, he’s PISSED. He’s ready to throw hands and wreck the world. I’m starting to be worried for how his character would develop. If he goes apesh*t, I’m getting popcorn and coke. Maybe drink every time we see him go feral. Eat a popcorn every time someone is disgusted by Remus.

Overall, I love him more than I ever did because of this playlist since music is the window to the soul. It’s like knowing a person and learning about them. Also, by doing this, it really develops the character and lets the people look inside the character’s deepest thoughts and desires. I don’t know if there will be any additions to these, but if not, I really want to thank the entire group who made this happen! I found some songs that I really love now, and it’s such a good way for the fanders to have fun! (also, the content inspired from this is going to be very interesting)(the ANGST)

Thanks for reading if you came til here, and feel free to add on to this! I would love to see how you guys think about this playlist!

#sanders sides #thoughts #rambles #thomas sanders #side tracks #remus sanders #analysis #dukey #song analysis #songs #there are some bops here #and i love doing these analysis #lyric analysis #lyrics #sanders sides analysis #roman sanders #creativitwins #janus sanders

277 notes · View notes

smartguyreviewed · 5 years ago

Text

1x5 - Don’t Do That Thing You Do

Original air date: April 16, 1997

Alright, Disney. We need to have a little talk.

I take a lot of shit from you in the name of nostalgia. You repay me by selling all of your DCOMs on iTunes but since they are DRM protected, you then make me have to buy third party software to remove said DRM just so I can watch these movies for my own personal viewing. If you’re worried about me selling and distributing copies of your movies to people who also wanna relive them good ‘ole days, stop. People will find a way to pirate your shit regardless and actually have more than what you release. Really, just stop.

You then removed all of the Smart Guy episodes from YouTube so that the only dregs of the show left are sped up, slowed down, or only take up a third of the video player due to copyright shit. You gave me considerable hope when I saw you’d be putting all the original shows and movies (minus In a Heartbeat. Minus The Jersey. Minus The Famous Jett Jackson. Minus Model Behavior. Minus My Date With the President’s Daughter.) on this shiny new channel of yours.

I know you have a problem with misordering episodes, making certain episodes season finales when they shouldn’t be and just not having any general sense of continuity. I am still baffled as to why this episode, episode number 5 is not included in the first season, which is already hella short at just 8 episodes. Disney, do you enjoy making me wonder why I even fuck with you? Once I get a .mp4 file of Johnny Tsunami and maaaaybe Can of Worms, I’m through with you forever.

This one is gonna be long because TJ really pissed me off in this episode. But if you actually read the above, I love you because I’m literally just whining.

In this episode, I will actually feel bad for Marcus. Yes, Marcus, teenage horndog, sexist Marcus will tug on my heartstrings and make me relate to him. I know I give him a lot of shit, but at the end of the day, he’s still a teenage boy. A dark-skinned teenage boy in a family full of gifted and/or capable light skinned people, at that. In this family, guess who is the odd one out, the black sheep? Marcus. Coincidence? I just couldn’t help but notice some things Yvette does (like pursue dance at one point) are encouraged while Marcus’s hobby (music, another art) is constantly shit on by Floyd who wants Marcus to be more book smart. Or how Yvette didn’t get into any trouble for not trying to stop TJ’s party just because Marcus, who is younger than her, was in charge? Just two examples, but you get the point.

We begin the episode with TJ bothering the big kids while they’re trying to rehearse for the upcoming Battle of the Bands gig. The gang needs cash to continue banding, especially since Mo’s strings are caca. Marcus is certain they will win and as soon as he manifests positivity about his future, something bad happens. Their guitarist breaks his finger.

Marcus is whining to pops about this little roadbloack when we see Yvette has invited Gabrielle Union back to her place to study in the kitchen. None of that learning crap will be happening right now though, because Floyd has made Gabs wet. She tells Yvette who delivers the most visceral reaction. But Yvette...your dad is hot. And it’s perfectly normal for friends to have crushes on your parents. And you also date older men! Yvette has her moments where I hate her and this is one of them. Instead of just dropping it and continuing to study, she actually throws her friend out! You would have thought Yvette was Floyd’s damn girlfriend, the way she was acting.

Because every show needs a montage here and there, we are now jettisoned to the garage, where Marcus is auditioning for a new piano player. Spoiler alert: they all reek, except for one guy who clearly must have been on some type of psychedelic drug to audition for a high school R&B band during a federal pursuit. The others were straight duds, including the most aggressive polka musician ever who thought his accordion counted as a keyboard.

Marcus is fucked. His goose is cooked. His dream is deferred. How the hell is he going to pull a new piano player out of his ass in time for BotB? He suddenly hears someone tickling the ivories and is beyond impressed...and then disappointed once he sees its TJ. Turns out the little guy knows all their songs and then proceeds to explain music in math terms and I pretty much feel the way Marcus does here.

I mean, really, it’s annoying to know that your freakishly intelligent brother is pretty much good at everything, including the thing that you love more than anything. You share a room with this person, you see this person every day at school and you now have to let him in your band because of circumstances. I do like that Marcus includes the rest of the group in his decision making, even though they really don’t seem to care about its direction as long as they can have sex with all the groupies.

So now its Mackadocious +TJ and Marcus is doling out the “kicks” to everyone except TJ. But TJ, homie, you just entered the band and your role is to just play the piano, since nobody else is around. This is not the time for you to be trying to get your Regina Spektor on. Play your part! TJ gets upset at this, but once Marcus threatens violence, he immediately goes back to his role.

B plot land is just Yvette pissed off that her friend finds her father attractive. They go to the BotB thing and she even cuts in front of them. Jeez Yvette, chill.

When her bestie leaves a voicemail directed more towards Floyd, although flattered, he has to let her down gently. Yadda yadda, Floyd is about to have that uncomfortable conversation but it’s fine because Gabby met some dude in a black trench coat and needs Yvette to style her hair like Halle Berry’s in the last month’s Essence. Yvette is happy that things are back to normal, at the expense of her lonely father who most likely reveled in that small amount of validation as quickly as it was snatched away from him. Poor Flody.

Anyways, back to the main arc of the episode. It’s time for the BotB and TJ is still vying for that piano solo but Marcus isn’t budging. This will end well. Once they get far enough into the song, Marcus is about to do his solo. He’s probably thinking that finally, the spotlight will be on him for a change and he can feel like he’s doing something worthy of praise. But this is TJ we’re talking about, and he is a petty little asshole, so he immediately hijacks the show and begins with his piano solo. Marcus looks straight dumb trying to hop back into his own set. So now instead of being a dick and doing the solo he wasn’t supposed to do, he has now embarassed Marcus. His feelings about the situation can best be summed up here.

The next day at school, we see that TJ is still hogging all of the band’s attention. Marcus’s insane level of togetherness right now is commendable, seeing as TJ clearly has no remorse for what he’s done and is now rubbing it in their faces. Just Marcus, though. TJ is a little babe magnet and is now basically getting girls for Mo and Goose to have sex with. Everyone is getting what they want right now. Except Marcus.

During a rehearsal, TJ moves on to insulting Marcus’s compositions and telling the band that they need something “else.” Marcus has had it and decides it’s time for TJ to go. TJ tries to save his ass by apologizing for something he’s clearly not sorry for after the fact, but the damage is done. Now we all know that TJ is totally one to accept defeat and move on so I’m sure nothing else will come of a rather amicable split.

Later, Kid from Kid n’ Play shows up and offers Mackadocious some moolah if they play again, but with TJ, seeing as Mackadocious has been unwillingly changed to The Band With the Cute Little Kid. Marcus, putting his dream over his desire to teach his little narcissist brother a lesson (just kidding, he wants the money) asks TJ back, but he’s strangely okay with staying out of it. Marcus then grabs TJ and threatens him, calling him a little twerp. This is still funny to me.

Floyd comes in and breaks up the fight and forces the siblings to hash out their differences in a healthy way. TJ says he wishes he could sing like Marcus. Marcus hates that TJ is good at everything. They both apologize to each other and Marcus even asks if TJ wants to rejoin the band and TJ is about to ruin this totally fine moment between them by revealing his evil plan.

After being kicked out of the band, TJ wanted to get even. Instead of just taking the L and moving on, he reached out to Kid and offered some tax code write offs in exchange for promising Mackadocious a lot of money to perform a bogus gig where nobody would show up. Yes, you read that right. TJ wanted to destroy Marcus’s life and possibly crush his spirit to the point where he’d never want to pursue music at all. All because he did something shitty and got punished accordingly. TJ is a petty little asshole. Floyd hears this and allows the beating to continue. Did I mention how much I love Floyd?

Stuff I noticed:

- TJ’s shirt. Where can I find this shirt? Seriously, it’s amazing.

- Oh hi, Christina Milian.

- When TJ is mentioning the name of the band’s fan site, he just says it’s ww.cutekid.com which makes no sense because that’s too general to refer to a band and also sounds like pedo bait.

#smart guy #tj henderson #marcus henderson #90s #nineties #tahj mowry #christina milian #christopher reid #kid n play #yvette henderson #essence atkins #jason weaver #john marshall jones #mo tibbs #omar gooding

6 notes · View notes

alexs-ummers · 6 years ago

Text

Four out of Five

Pairing: Colin Ritman x Reader

Words: 1,137

Note: not my best work, but i plan on writing some smut for colin!! still taking requests for him, so send them in.

Inspired by @everlasting-wolf, thanks for the idea!

"Nohzdyve made by Colin Ritman has some ups, but it also has many downs. There's quite a learning curve when it comes to actually playing the game. You die so many times, having to start over that eventually you kind of just... quit. I'd give it two stars out of five. Definitely doesn't meet the exceptions of his other games." The television played your review of his game, Colin didn't usually pay attention to such trivial things, but your opinion mattered to him. Despite only meeting you a few times, you were a trusted reviewer of Tuckersoft games. You've never had a problem with something he's made before. He finds himself getting angry, wanting to dive back into his projects, prove you wrong. What did a stupid review matter anyway?

It's been a week or so since you've reviewed Colin's game, Nohzdyve. Many people disagreed with your opinion on it, but you were only doing your job. You had to stop over at Tuckersoft today to test out some of the games before they were released, taking the elevator up to meet with Mr. Thakur. He called you after you gave Nohzdyve such a poor rating, but you always publicized all their other games in a good light. You sigh, fixing your bag over your shoulder. On one hand, you wanted to see Colin Ritman again, but after giving his new game such a poor review; you were scared to confront him.

As soon as the elevator doors open, you're greeted by Mr. Thakur as he already starts spewing out what new games their working on and his ideas for the company. "So, what am I testing out today?" You question, looking around at the new fancy building that Tuckersoft resided in.

"Oh, about that..." He trails off, guiding you over to a desk in the middle of the room. "You'll be working with Colin."

You can feel your cheeks heating up, but catch yourself. He's a professional, surely there's no hard feelings over your review. You give Colin a small smile, hoping he doesn't bring up the review.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it. Hopefully you like these games more than the last one." Thakur laughs, walking away into his office.

You avoid Colin's eyes, setting your bag down next to your feet when you take the seat beside him. "So, what did you have to show me?"

He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray, turning towards the computer as he presses the run button, the game coming to life. He shows you a few of the controls before letting you try it, but eventually you die, the screen turning black. He nudges your hand away from the keyboard, already starting to fix his mistake. "Pretty cool." You tell him, leaning back in the chair to watch him work.

"Better than Nohzdyve, then?" Colin has never been afraid to confront someone, you're no exception, even if the review got under his skin.

Again, you feel the heat creep up your neck from embarrassment, raising a hand to scratch the back of your neck as a nervous laugh comes out. "I'm sorry about that. It wasn't terrible." You try to soothe over the situation, not wanting to sit here all day with Colin mad at you.

Colin turns his chair to you, eyebrows raising as he folds his hands together. "I'd say two out of five stars is pretty piss poor." He can't help the way the words come out, drenched in annoyance.

Your eyes narrow at him, crossing your arms as you begin to speak. "You're lucky I even gave you that."

He scoffs, turning back to look at his computer as he continues to code. "What do you even know about coding, anyway?" He's pressing the buttons forcefully, you can feel the irritation radiating off of him.

Now it's your turn to scoff, standing up from the chair and walking away from him to cool off. You gave him one bad review and he can't get over himself! You can't stand how the entitlement rolls off of him. You groan, stopping in the hallway to relax. Sure, you didn't know much about his job, but you knew how to do yours. You run your hands over your face, ready to leave and give up on testing their new releases.

He gives you a minute to cool down, watching you walk away. Maybe his words were harsh, but so was your review. He's not sure why he's letting the review get to him, he's had plenty of bad reviews of his games before. But it's you, he's always respected your opinion. He gets up from his chair, trailing behind you. You stop in the hallway, stress evident on your face.

"Hey." He tells you, leaning against the wall beside you. He feels awkward, he knows he's hurt your feelings, but he's never been good at fixing simple things like this. "I'm uh..." He trails off before clearing his throat. "Sorry about what I said." You shrug, still not looking at him, still not responding. "It's just, I've always respected your opinion. Guess it just kind of hurt to be on the bad end of it."

"I get it." You finally respond, tilting your head up to look up at him. He's looking back down at you and your heart catches in your chest. The look in his eyes makes your knees weak, you almost look away.

He's deep in thought, staring at your face. He's got to admit, you're attractive, he just hasn't been so close to you before. "Can I kiss you?" He asks, catching you off guard. The question cuts through the silence. You never thought he'd ask you that, not after the review, but despite yourself you still nod your head yes.

A hand comes to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him as his head leans down. His lips connect with yours, while you never expected this to happen, it's definitely not a bad thing. Eventually he pulls away, gauging for your reaction. There's a smile playing on your lips that he can't help but return. "I'd give it four out of five stars."

He lets out a laugh, raising his eyebrows at your words. "Four out of five?" He questions, leaning down to capture your lips with his again. He grips your hip just a little bit harder, his body trapping you against the wall. He pulls away from the kiss, leaving you breathless. "Any better?"

You nod, not trusting the words to come out right. He's definitely beat your expectations.

He realizes you're not gonna respond, stepping away from your figure. He's never been scared of taking a chance so the words come out easy, "Do you wanna go out some time?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'd love to."

#colin ritman x reader #colin ritman imagines #bandersnatch x reader #colin ritman #bandersnatch imagines #black mirror #bandersnatch #my writing

268 notes · View notes

bts5sosempire · 6 years ago

Text

BTS Reaction: s/o is not afraid of anything

A/n: me since I am an ambivert, but a true introvert at heart.

Kim Seokjin:

You and Jin were walking around the amusement park and it was themed Hell Fest. It was getting dark and fake fogs were covering the pathway as many others were either going home or staying longer. Jin clutches onto your hand tightly.

He hates this in his very humble and honest opinion, this is just like their zombie run episode and he was scared senseless while filming the episode.

“(Name) walk faster,” he ushers you to quicken your pace. The garbage can let out a bang as Jin lets go of your hand and scream in fright while you laugh at his terror.

The next thing he saw coming out of the fog and he sees the shape outline of a supposed zombie-- because of the walking style, and he literally went behind you for protection. You wave a ‘hi’ to the zombie with a big smile before tugging Jin along who was very close to you.

“How are you not scared?”

“Jin there's a difference between fake and real-” your sentence was cut off short as a hand went to grab Jin's arm and he let out a shriek next to your ear.

Seems like you're going to have to console him on the way home and at home too.

Min Yoongi:

You and Yoongi were walking home late in the dark as the streetlights were the only sources that provide you both a path to home.

“Yoongi you had been working hard lately, I'll come by tomorrow to give you food okay?” The man nodded at you as he held your hand tighter.

While walking you both stop your steps, that was rummaging sounds from the garbage can. Yoongi pulls you behind him as his eyes peers through the dark where there was no light showing who or what it is there. The sound got louder until a cat jumps out of the dark and Yoongi got scared as he went behind you this time, with a loud scream.

You only laugh at him as the cat came near you and purr at your leg. You bend down to pet the Siamese cat and Yoongi was catching his breath behind you. You were trying to slow your breathing and laughs.

“Ahhhhh! I thought it was someone but it was just a cat!” He wheezes behind you and you look back at him. Yoongi crumpled onto the asphalt ground as his soul left his body. Another cat jump out and attack the Siamese cat and Yoongi scream again.

Once again you were trying to stifle your laughter but failed as you were dying from your silent laughter as no sound came out from your mouth this time.

Poor Yoongi.

Jung Hoseok:

“(Name)!”

A loud scream was heard from the kitchen. You rush in and found Hoseok on the dining table with one slipper about ready to throw.

“What is it?” You asked him with dishelved appearances as you were rudely woke up from your nap.

“There is a spider over there!” He shouts at you in panic while pointing to a corner and there was a pair of slipper thrown there. You went over there and kick his sandal aside and step on the spider. Hoseok got off the table so fast and he cheers a "woohoo!" loudly, as he hugs the life out of you. “You're my hero!”

You push Hoseok off of you and mumble out, “I'm still tired, I'm going back to sleep...” Walking away from him, Hoseok trail after you like a puppy with an imaginary tail swishing behind him.

“Let me cuddle with you!” He practically screams and glomps you on the couch as soon as you sit. Hoseok throws one of his legs over yours, and bring you tightly to his chest.

Kim Namjoon:

Namjoon watches you play a violent and horror game that was recommended by the fans, while doing a live stream with him. You were so focused that even jump scares don't scare you. He was sitting beside you as you were mashing the letters of the keyboard with your fingers and pressing down so hard that he felt bad for the poor thing.

“Ah! Why isn't this monster dying?!” You shouted at the screen frustratedly while pushing the monster off of your character. Taking a deep gruntle sigh, you manage to take off the monster and kill it. Or you think so.

The screen went all dark of a sudden like it was shut off, and a game cutscene was shown.

Your character was breathing hard and Namjoon leans closer to you and the screen. “What happened?"

The monster pop out and toss your character to the other with a screech and Namjoon jumps back a bit and he was surprised, and you were still the same but with a pissed off face.

“Ah! I didn't waste six health potions on my character for this stupid loser here to come back at me again!” You scream.

Park Jimin:

Jimin and you were inside a dark room and was forced to stay in there and watch a 15-minute clip of pop-ups. Jimin ends up clinging onto you as he would scream and whine into your arm. He clings onto you tightly.

“Tell me when its over! I don't want to look at it!" Just as he says that he peeks and scream. There was a big scary face on the big screen and it digitalizes out. The face was laughing as its voice went from a baby to a deeper voice until a scream blare through the speakers.

You can hear Taehyung and Jungkook laughs loudly through the door on the other side.

“Jimin,” you try to make him look at you and he refuses too. With a slight sigh, you hug him and cover him from the screen as more creepy stuff appears on the screen. “Those are not real, and just hug me tightly if that'll make you feel better.” That made Jimin look up at you with tears in his eyes.

“You guys still got 10 more minutes left!” Taehyung shouted.

Kim Taehyung:

Taehyung had planned a scary event for you as he had you blindfolded and put your hands in the box. He also invited the boys over too.

“I know this texture anywhere. Is this my bearded lizard, Rice?” You nonchalantly ask Taehyung who made an unbelievable cutesy voice at your correctness.

“Can you pretend not to know?”

He puts another thing in there and your hands wander around it. There was wetness around it, as it moves away. “Really? Is this one of my turtle? This is Donatello, isn't it? I also know this shell is kind of dent.”

“Taehyung it looks like its going to take more than that to scare her.” Yoongi comment at the flabbergasted boy.

“Can you let out a fake scream for the sake of my reputation?”

“No can do,” you smile at him and take out your hands from the box and took off the blindfold. “But I got something,” there was a devious smile as you whipped out as you bring out a toy that shoots out cool whip.

“I ain't a part of this,” Yoongi walks away from the group as they all start to scamper away from you.

“You all owned me a whopping!”

Jeon Jungkook:

Jungkook had been trying to scare you all weeks as he was failing to do so. So he prints out the grudge face and bought an inflatable body while he also bought a wig too. He was determined to get you scared.

He puts them inside the snack closet since you often go there just to eat whenever you can.

Jungkook sits next to you on the couch and grins widely with his teeth shining and you gave him a weird look. He never smiles that wide in his life.

“(Name) can you go get me a pack of chips?” He asks you and you only shrugged and stood up to get snacks since you're going to get yourself some too.

Jungkook look to see if you're gone, and he quickly jumps out of the couch and whips out his phone and gets ready to record. He giggles.

He saw you open the door and the inflatable of the grudge fell out and you only suck in a breath as you pick it up and turn towards him. Giving him a death stare you ask him, “Really? You do know that you're going to have to try harder than that.” Throwing the grudge monster at him, you see his face that still smiles.

“But did you get scared?”

“No.”

163 notes · View notes

fortheloveofbangtan · 7 years ago

Note

Could you do bts reacting to you saying about them to any family member " He is my family , I found it all on my own , it's little , but still good " ! thank you , I just found this saying on one post and I got so into it 😢😍

HYUNG LINE (will do maknae later)

Kim Seokjin / Jin

Having your sister in town was stressful enough, but you didn’t think sitting through one dinner with her would be this unbearable. Her opinion of your life wasn’t ideal, to say the least. You had your part-time retail job that barely helped pay for the small apartment you shared with your boyfriend, who was gone for months at a time. Throughout dinner, you could tell Jin was trying his best with his charisma and jokes to lighten the mood, but your sister just wasn’t having it. In an attempt to escape the tension, Jin started to clear the table and bring his dishes to the kitchen. The frustration billowing in your chest became too much and you looked your sister deep in the eyes. She beat you to the punch, unleashing her thoughts that apparently Jin shouldn’t even hear.

“I honestly expected more from you, y/n. Come on, it’s like a closet in here and the neighborhood is so crowded and dirty. With that degree and brain of yours, we were all so surprised to see you be folding clothes all day and then come home to this.”You tried to contain your anger because you didn‘t want to cause a scene. You knew Jin really wanted to make a good impression on your sister, and after all the trouble he went through cleaning up and cooking a wonderful dinner, you didn’t want to ruin it.

“Listen, ever since you got here, all you’ve been doing is shitting on everything I’ve tried to build for myself. Sure, this apartment is a little cramped and my job is less than exciting, but none of that matters to me. This life is something Jin and I made together. That’s more than enough for me and I couldn’t care less about what you or anyone else back home thinks about it.”

From the kitchen, Jin had heard everything. As intense as he normally is, he couldn’t find a way to articulate all the emotions he was feeling. There were times Jin felt inadequate as your boyfriend because he really does want to give you the life you’ve dreamed of. So hearing this from you touched him in a meaningful way. When he came back to the table, he couldn’t help the loving, eye crinkling smile from spreading across his face at the sight of you.

Min Yoongi / Suga

Today was the big day! You and Yoongi were finally moving into your first apartment together. The two of you spent the day unloading and reloading boxes via countless trips up and down the stairs. You could never remember Yoongi’s dorm having a working elevator and your new place didn’t even have one. By the end of the day, all you wanted to do was take a hot shower and get a good night’s rest. Yoongi was far ahead of you, having already crashed on your bed. Before joining him, you turned your attention to your ringing phone on the nightstand. Jumping over multiple boxes, you rushed over to pick it up before the ringtone woke Yoongi. Picking it up and turning back to him, he thankfully looked undisturbed. Your father greeted you and began to ask about your new place. Walking over to the doorway and in a hushed voice, you questioned him on why he called. Today made you far too tired to entertain his weak attempt at small talk. He sighed before confessing his reason for calling.

“It’s about the flat pictures you sent. You know, I expected you to be in a small place, being just out of college and all, but being with that boy and his money-”

His tone became less disappointed and more sarcastic at the mention of Yoongi. Now, you never cut your father off, but you couldn’t just let him talk that way about him. Forgetting to lower your voice, you let out what you’ve been meaning to tell your family, and everyone who’s questioned your relationship and choices.

“It’s funny, Dad. You always encouraged me to live for myself and be independent, right? How would I be doing that if I let Yoongi buy me everything? Yeah, I know my apartment isn’t much, but it’s mine. Everything is split equally between the two of us and doing this together makes me so happy. Oh, and you might not believe it, but Yoongi actually agrees with you. If it were up to him, he’d spoil me rotten, but that’s not how you raised me. Everything I have here,” you looked over at your sleeping boyfriend, “is the best I could ask for.”

Your father was speechless so you ended the call for him by saying how tired you were from the day’s events. After hanging up and letting your hands drop to your sides, you heard a low chuckle coming from behind you. Turning around, you were met with a sweaty Yoongi, still lying on his side, but with one arm raised and a smile on his face. You looked down with a small smirk before walking over to the bed. Of course he heard everything. Laying down, you snuggled into his embrace. Expecting some kind of sarcastic remark, you were greeted instead with that raised arm wrapping around you, pulling you closer. You realized that Yoongi didn’t need to say anything, just him actually cuddling you on a sweltering day like this said more than enough.

Jung Hoseok / J-Hope

Hoseok would be landing within the hour, the WINGS tour finally over and you’d spent the whole day preparing for his arrival. Now you’re not one to plan parties or surprises, and your boyfriend knows this, which will make his reaction to what you’ve done that much more priceless. His favorite take-out should be here soon and you’ve picked up the place a little bit. It’s nowhere near spotless, however this just adds to the surprise. Since you’ve gotten your degree, you haven’t really had a use for your “office” anymore. So, as a surprise, you and Hoseok’s sister totally transformed the study into a home studio. He has ample equipment to continue work on the Hixtape, though the decorations were the best part. Photos of Bangtan throughout the years, cool dance screenshots of some of his performances and a couple family portraits were spread across the walls. There was one of you in a small frame on his desk. You hated the picture of you passed out on the couch, laptop on your chest with an empty ramen container on the keyboard. However, Hoseok found it to be the funniest and most adorable thing he’d ever seen, so you put it in the frame. Feeling satisfied with your work, you flop onto the couch.

A buzz comes from your pocket and you take it out to see Hoseok’s sister calling you. She tells you how she got a text from one of their managers saying the plane would be arriving late. You can’t help, but feel a little disappointed. You couldn’t begin to explain how much you had missed your boyfriend. Everyone sees him as this infinite ball of sunshine, and while he is a very bright person, you missed the actual Hoseok. The passionate and dedicated worker. The patient and understanding friend. The self-conscious and paranoid perfectionist. Everything that made Hoseok himself, were all small things that you missed. You hadn’t realized that you were actually pouring these thoughts out loud to his sister.

“Is it silly that he means this much to me? I mean, we don’t have all that much here so I hope the room is enough. That it will show how I feel because I’m awful at trying to express myself when he’s there. I just want him to see how much he means to me-”

“I think he already knows.” You hear her say with a small giggle before hanging up on you.

Your brows furrow in confusion and you slowly turn around to see Hoseok standing in the doorway, bags in hand and that signature bright smile on his face. Your eyes widen and you jump up from the couch to run into his arms.

“We meant to catch you off guard, y/n, but I wasn’t expecting that.” He laughs, dropping his bags to wrap his arms around you. Ignoring the trick, you almost became distracted by the familiar warmth you’ve been missing. You abruptly pull away from him and grab his hands.

“Before anything else, I have something to show you!” You yank him towards the hallway to show him his new studio, Hoseok chuckling at your excitement and also thankful that you weren’t pissed at the prank.

Kim Namjoon / Rap Monster

You couldn’t fly out to see your family for your nephew’s sixth birthday this year so the best you could do was a measly skype call. Little Ethan could melt anyone’s heart with his gapped tooth smile and you were no exception. Through conversations with him, there are times where he even teaches you things. He’ll just go on and on about whatever if you let him, and you can see in his eyes how passionate he is. You sit at your kitchen table, open up the skype app on your tablet and try contacting your older brother. Ethan’s birthday party hopefully ended by now so he’d have time to talk to you. The poor guy is probably tired out, but you hoped he’d have enough energy for one more conversation. Waiting for your brother to pick up, you could hear the shower turn on from the bathroom. Now that you think about it, Ethan reminds you way too much of Namjoon, which leads to even weirder thoughts. Can you even imagine a little Namjoon running around? Your eyes widen and you shake your head profusely. You both were way too young to think about kids yet! You’re brought out of your thoughts by the low and high voices of your brother and Ethan. Ethan looked adorable with a tie dye birthday boy hat and a little press-on lion tattoo on his cheek. His black hair was barely visible under the hat and his eyes were bright and excited.

“Hi, Aunt y/n! There was so much cake at my party!” He pats his belly before burping.

You laugh at his cute mannerisms and ask him if he liked his presents. In response, he jumped out of his dad’s lap and into the other room to show you what he received. He flipped the camera around to show a toy piano with a pair of batman headphones attached. ‘Of course he was into music,’ you thought to yourself.“This one’s my favorite! My friend Dani got it for me,” his voice trailed off towards the end and he looked away from the camera. The corners of your mouth perk up, you were so going to be that aunt right now.

“Is there something special about this Dani?“ You said with a sweet tone. He turned back to you, rosy cheeks and nervous expression present.

“I, I don’t know,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, “Aunt y/n, how do you know when you like someone? Like you and Uncle Namjoon?”

Though hearing it made you feel a certain way, you decided not to comment on the ‘uncle’ part, and actually answer his question. It’s important for children to be exposed to the concept of relationships correctly and you didn’t want to give him any false information. You really had to think for a second about the things that attracted you to Namjoon, but also explain them in a way a six year old could understand. You chuckled as your mind went to other places for a moment.

“Well, it’s hard to explain, Ethan. They kind of make you feel, like,” this is a lot harder than you thought. You look away from Ethan and at the picture on the wall of you and Namjoon posing in front of your first apartment the day you moved in. The memories of that day flooded your heart with emotion. Beginning something with Namjoon, something that you could call your own was something you wouldn’t give up for the world. You wouldn’t have any trouble telling Ethan how you felt now. Turning back to him, you let everything loose.

“When you really like someone, everything just feels easy. You don’t have to act around them. They make you feel good and when you’re with them, you feel like you’re the only two people in the room. You trust them, feel safe with them and care so deeply that you know you’d do anything for them.” Ethan’s mouth dropped in shock.

“Isn’t that scary though?” This boy was pure adorableness, but his question is extremely valid.

“At first it is, but you soon realize that that fear is just the door to real love which is worth everything.” You try to keep it simple, hoping he’d understand. Before he could reply, you hear your sister-in-law yell that it was past his bedtime. Ethan looks down from the screen, his shoulders slumped.

“Hey, it’s okay. We can talk more tomorrow, alright buddy?” You try to cheer him up and it worked because he perked back up to tell you that he could show you all his toys tomorrow.

“That sounds like a plan, goodnight Ethan,” you hang up with a wave and then place the tablet on the table.

“Uncle Namjoon, huh?” A voice smugly calls from across the room. You look over to see Namjoon in a soft navy bathrobe. Rolling your eyes at him, you attempt to act like you’re not embarrassed.

You stand as he walks over to you, but you still avoid eye contact. He stands directly in front of you and interlocks the fingers of his left hand with yours. He uses the other hand to lightly turn your chin to face him. He looks into your eyes deeply. You see genuine compassion and it makes your heart swell. Sometimes it can be hard to tell what Namjoon is feeling, but it’s moments like this that make it all crystal clear. You close your eyes and lean closer, your lips meeting his in a soft and sweet kiss.“’Uncle’ is starting to grow on me.” He pulls away before going back in to kiss you again, each one becoming less soft.

(I’m sorry, how could you not think dirty while kissing Joon in a bathrobe lol)

~Bunny🐰

153 notes · View notes

kawaiipsycho101 · 8 years ago

Text

Righteous Side of Hell--Ch.2

2. Something There

Nearly three hours passed before a small group of men left the hideout and gathered at the trunk of my tree.

“Hey! Hey, shinigami!”

‘Bout time.

I let myself slip off the branch and floated down towards them.

“Yes?”

“Mello wants to talk to you,” a man with dreadlocks said nervously. “If you would please come with us.”

I could tell that they were still apprehensive of me, for their eyes held the same fear from before, and they made sure to keep their distance. I silently chuckled at the poor bastards.

“Very well.” I followed them inside, where Mello was waiting, seated on a plush leather chair, munching on another chocolate bar. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot earlier.”

“Agreed.”

“I’d like to ask again for your assistance.”

“You didn’t exactly ‘ask’ the first time.”

“Well, I’m asking now.” He leaned forward and eyed me intently. “A, we would deeply appreciate it if you would keep watch outside and let us know if you see anything or anyone out of the ordinary. We’d be willing to give you a bar of chocolate for every other hour of your service.”

Again, I felt the uncomfortable sensation in the pit of my stomach as my mouth started to dry up.

Damn it, cut that shit out!

“What kind of chocolate?” Mello blinked, surprised that I hadn’t accepted the offer right away, and perhaps slightly confused at my question. “I mean, is it good chocolate?”

“Oh, yes,” he nodded. “It’s very good. Here, let me show you.” He motioned to one of his men, who presented me with a moderately-sized bar of Godiva. “One of those, every other hour.”

“Um-hmm…” I paused, as if considering, when in reality, I’d already made up my mind. The thought of having chocolate again, especially exquisite chocolate such as Godiva, was far too tempting.

“So, what do you think?” Mello asked.

“Deal.”

“Great. Now, before you start, would you mind if we asked you some more questions about the Death Note?”

“Not at all.” I sat cross-legged in the air to get myself comfortable. “Fire away.”

And so it went, for the next few weeks. Whenever I wasn’t keeping watch outside, I was in the hideout, munching on my reward while answering Mello’s many questions. (“If you give up ownership of the Death Note, you will lose all memory of it and the shinigami possessing you, which would be me.” “No, you can’t make someone kill a large group of people without writing all of their names down too.” “You can’t kill anyone under seven-hundred-and-eighty days of age, that is, a little under two-and-a-half years old, and why would you, ya sick fuck?” etc. etc.) As time passed, my calls inside became less and less frequent, going from nearly every couple of hours, to once or twice a day, then maybe once every few days, then none at all, until I would just pop in to eat my chocolate and go back to what I was doing with barely even a word spoken between me and the others; not that I really minded. I didn’t care about them anyway. They were just worthless, mindless, disgusting human beings. I had no sympathy for what fate would most likely befall them, and I wished it would come soon. The sooner those assholes died, the sooner I could get my notebook back.

While I kept guard outside, I would pass the time the way I did back in the Shinigami Realm: I sang. Using a variety of different voices, I would sing to myself, sometimes softly, sometimes loud enough that a mobster or two taking a smoke break might hear me, but no one ever spoke up about it. I figured that they were probably too scared.

Often times I would fly around the perimeter of the hideout, doing various spins and loop-de-loops. There were few things that were desirable about being a shinigami, but in my opinion, the invulnerability and the eyes had nothing on the ability of flight. It was the only thing aside from my voice trick that made me genuinely glad to be what I was. Every time I flew, it felt like the first time. There would be this sense of wonder and excitement blossoming in my chest, and I’d always think, “Holy fucking shit, I can’t believe I’m actually flying!” It never got old.

But when I wasn’t singing, or flying, or fantasizing about slowly and brutally killing the pigs I worked for, I would sit and meditate. I’d think about Mello.

Mello was a fascinating creature. I would often watch him out of the corner of my eye when I took my chocolate-breaks. He was just as I’d imagined he’d be, but also the exact opposite of what I’d pictured. He was bold, confident, tough, and didn’t take shit from anybody, as to be expected; but he was also ruthless, sadistic, cocky, and vain.

Simply put, he was an asshole, albeit a very smart asshole, but an asshole nonetheless.

Although to be fair, he seemed to hate his cohorts just as much as I did. I could tell by the way he interacted with them, the way he’d look at them; they were nothing more than pawns to him, and while normally I hated that kind of mentality (and I still do), I couldn’t blame him that much. I’d use those schmucks as pawns too.

I began to wonder if I should tell Mello what I knew, or if he even deserved to know. Would my information do any harm? I knew it would provide nothing useful to his Kira investigation, but it would definitely be interesting to see his reaction. And, as much as I hated to admit it, I really wanted a chance to talk to him alone, without any of the other thugs listening. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part, or perhaps it was a genuine feeling, but I had a hunch that there was more to him than just the ingenious douchebag he appeared to be.

Eh, what the Hell. What’s the worst that could happen?

So, on a night shortly after the beginning of the fourth week, I waited until most of the mobsters had gone to sleep, and positioned myself on the roof of the base over what I hoped to be Mello’s room. I already knew the layout of the outside of the building by heart, but I hadn’t seen much of the inside aside from the main room. I’d taken little peeks here and there during my last few chocolate-breaks, but I didn’t want to raise any suspicion.

Here goes nothin’.

I sunk through the ceilings and floors before landing in a medium-sized bedroom. There was a bed with black silk sheets and a comforter with a zebra striped pattern, a desk and wall covered with computer monitors, a door leading into a large closet filled with many different styles of clothing (mostly leather), and another door that opened into a rather nice washroom. My eyes found a rosary dangling from the doorknob and I knew I was in the right place.

I sat in a corner of the room, facing the door, and waited.

It took him a while, nearly an hour or so, but Mello finally showed up.

“Hey.”

“What the-!?” His eyes widened in obvious surprise, and I knew that very soon that surprise would quickly turn into anger, which it did. Before he was able to cuss me out at the top of his lungs, I pressed a finger to my lips and shook my head slightly.

Not a good idea.

Getting the message, he lowered his voice to a menacing hiss.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering if I could have a word with you in private.” I nodded to the door behind him, and after a slight hesitation, he closed it. “Are there any bugs or cameras in here? If so, I’d like you to turn them off. I want this conversation to remain strictly between us.”

“Very well, but I’m only doing this because I too have some questions for you that I don’t want the others to hear.” He went to the desk of computers and sat in the leather rolling chair. I stood up and watched him closely as his fingers danced across the keyboard. Once he was done, he spun around and faced me. “There. We’re completely alone. Now, could you please tell me what’s so damn important?”

I gently nibbled on my lower lip. Even though I’d rehearsed what I was going to say a thousand times over in my head, I was still a little nervous, a fact which detested me to no end.

“Before I do, let me ask you something.” His eyes narrowed slightly, but he motioned for me to continue. “Do you believe that human beings have souls?”

He thought about it for a second.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I figured you did since, unless that rosary is for show, you appear to be Catholic.”

“I am.”

“So, you believe that after people die, their souls pass on into another place, like Heaven or Hell?”

“Yes. And before you ask, yes, I know where I’m going, and I’ve made peace with that.”

“I wasn’t going to, although from what I hear, people who use a Death Note cannot go to Heaven or Hell.”

“Really?” He opened a desk-drawer, revealing many chocolate bars. He grabbed one and began to open it. “Then where do they go?”

“No idea. Perhaps nowhere. Maybe humans aren’t meant to go anywhere after they die; they’re just supposed to rot. There’s no way to know.” As I began to stare off into space, I noticed the impatience growing on Mello’s features and quickly brought myself back to reality. “Sorry, I got off-topic. Anyway, in the Shinigami Realm, where I’m from, there is said to be a special breed of shinigami, one radically different from the rest of shinigami kind. One so rare that some believe it to be a myth; these are shinigami supposedly created from the soul of a deceased human. They don’t usually live very long, whether because they don’t write enough names in their Death Notes, or they do something to piss off the King.”

“The King?”

“The Shinigami King. He rules over the Shinigami Realm, makes and enforces the laws, and punishes those that break them. His power is greater than that of any other shinigami and then some. I believe your religion would call him ‘The Devil’.”

I watched Mello’s expression very carefully. His eyes widened a bit and he stopped chewing the chocolate in his mouth.

“You’re serious.” His voice was the softest I’d heard.

“Yes. Supposedly, every human’s soul has a chance of transforming into a shinigami upon death. It’s an extremely slim chance though, say, one in a million, no, one in a billion shot, maybe more.”

“A shinigami king…shinigami born from dead humans…” Mello leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “Incredible…Absolutely incredible…”

“They don’t appear very often, these human-shinigami hybrids,” I continued as he processed the information. “Up until recently, there hadn’t been one for over a thousand years, and the last couple before that were spread out over several centuries.”

“How many are there now?”

“Two, as far as I know, one of whom I’ve met. He claimed to have grown up in a place that specialized in mass-producing geniuses, in the hopes of creating a successor to a very well-regarded human known as L. The institute was an orphanage, he said, named after its founder, called Wammy’s Hou-oh shit, you okay?”

Mello had inhaled his chocolate and was currently coughing it back up. He threw up a hand when I went over to help him.

“I-I’m fine.” The morsel of cocoa soon melted in his throat and he swallowed it. “There’s no way…it’s impossible…” He stood up and faced me, trying to take control of the situation. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Why would I lie? It’s not like I have anything to gain from this, other than the look on your face, which I’ll admit is pretty priceless,” I smirked.

“I still can’t be sure. You’ll have to tell me something else, something only people from Wammy’s House would know.”

“Isn’t the fact that I know of the House’s existence and its purpose proof enough?”

“Almost, but not quite.” He crossed his arms, quirking a hairless brow. “Did this ‘human-shinigami hybrid’ give you his name?”

I think you already know, Pretty Boy.

“Yes, he did. When I first met him, he said it was Rue Ryuzaki, but eventually he told me to call him Beyond-”

“Birthday.” Mello looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“You knew him?”

“No…no, I was just a kid when he left. I don’t think we ever had a one-on-one conversation, we were just aware of the other’s existence. But I heard about him, years later. Only the people who had been at Wammy’s long enough even knew he existed, and even fewer knew just who exactly he was and what he did.” He clutched his rosary tightly and slumped back into his chair. “Holy shit…holy shit, son of a bitch…”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yes!” he snapped, getting a hold of himself rather quickly. “Did Beyond really tell you this?”

“Again, why would I lie?”

“Then that settles it. I had a feeling from the start, but I just had to be sure…” He looked up at me with triumphant eyes and spoke without a trace of doubt. “You’re the other hybrid.”

There was silence for a few seconds, then I smiled.

“You really are as good as he said.” I went over to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall casually. “Out of curiosity, what gave me away?”

“It wasn’t that hard. The first clue was that you knew there were different kinds and brands of chocolate, plus the fact that you knew what it was without me telling you. How would you know the name of a substance that probably doesn’t exist in the Shinigami Realm? And the more I thought about it, the way you ate that first chocolate bar back then, there was a look on your face; that was the face of someone eating a treat they hadn’t had in a long time.”

“Yes,” I sighed, remembering that first bite. “I’d forgotten how wonderful chocolate was. It was…amazing. Thank you for that, by the way. Really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” For the first time since I’d met him, Mello sounded genuinely sincere. I appreciated that.

“What else was there?”

“The Beyond I’ve heard about would never give away personal information like that unless it was for an important reason, or if whomever he was telling was important to him…He would have wanted to share his story with another human.”

“Serial killers get lonely too, Pretty Boy. Since we’re the only shinigami to truly understand humans, it was only natural for us to become…acquaintances.”

“So he told you everything?”

“Just the basics; Wammy’s, L, the murders, his suicide, you and the others-”

“What do you mean, ‘others’?”

“Oh, he’s been watching over the children of Wammy’s ever since he died, especially L’s new successors. He once told me about a pale kid who was really good with puzzles and wasn’t much of a talker…”

“Near.” Mello said the name as if it were a curse-word that befouled his tongue.

“Right, Near. Then there was this hot-headed boy with a serious chocolate addiction, which was you, and a computer genius that was able to hack into a Swiss bank account when he was only ten years old.”

“Matt.”

“Yes. He said you two were thick as thieves. I’m actually a little surprised that he’s not here.”

“I don’t really need him for this, so I figured it’d be better not to get him involved.”

“Ah.” I could tell that he wasn’t telling the whole truth, and was at least a little bit uncomfortable discussing the matter, so I let it drop. “But anyway, you said you had a feeling from the beginning?”

“Yeah. At first, I had this wild notion that you might be the A, but it didn’t take me long to figure out that you weren’t.”

“Heh, my memory of human life may be pretty hazy, but I think I’d remember growing up in a place like Wammy’s House. Nah, it’s just coincidence that A and I share the same first initial.”

“‘Hazy’?”

“Some of the hybrids, like Beyond, can remember with absolute clarity what they were like as a human; how they lived, how they died. While some hybrids, like me…” I sighed. “Have a little trouble with it.”

“Oh…” For just a split-second, I could have sworn I saw a little bit of sympathy in his eyes. I was surprised at the gratitude I felt then.

“Anyway, you said you had some questions for me?” I really wanted to change the subject.

“Well, I was going to ask if you were once human, but seeing as you already confirmed my theory, there’s no need to. Although, there is one thing I’m curious about…”

“What?”

“Why are you telling me this? You said so yourself, you have nothing to gain from it. So, why?”

“Honestly,” I shrugged. “I’m not quite sure. Part of it was just so I could see your reaction, and I guess I thought you deserved to know. But looking back on it, I don’t know…I thought…maybe…” I struggled for the right words. “It might make you…feel better?”

“Feel better?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I think there��s more to you than meets the eye. It’s like I can sense it.”

“Okay…” There was an awkward silence and I inwardly smacked myself for saying something so incredibly stupid. Then a small smirk slowly crawled onto Mello’s face.

“What?”

“Ever since it occurred to me that you might be human, I’ve been trying to figure out what your age and gender might have been when you died.”

“Oh? What was I?” I was secretly glad that he’d been thinking about me.

Fuck, I may be seriously starting to like him. If that’s the case, then he must never know. Ever.

“The age was pretty easy. At first I thought you might have been a guy in his early to mid-twenties, but after your immature teasing and name-calling, I became almost certain that you were a teenager, possibly in your mid-to-late teens. But then again, you seemed very okay with murdering a bunch of innocent people, something I wouldn’t think a young person would be very comfortable with.”

“Shinigami can only survive by taking the remaining years off a human’s lifespan and adding them to their own; it was either them or me. And for what little it’s worth, I made sure their deaths were quick and relatively painless. Besides, I’ve been doing this a long time, Pretty Boy,” I smirked as he glowered at the nickname. “You get used to it. And you’re one to talk; you’re only what, eighteen?”

“Nineteen,” he corrected.

“Exactly, and they say you‘ve been with the mob for a year and a half.”

“Good point.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, thinking. “Still, for your age, I’d be willing to bet that you were anywhere between your late teens to early twenties when you died.”

“Alright,” I nodded, urging him to continue.

“The gender on the other hand…It’s hard to tell. I constantly switch back and forth between boy or girl, seeing as you don’t seem to have any distinguishable male or female traits. Then there’s your voice; it’s very androgynous. It sounds too high to be a male’s voice, but too low to be female. Was it like that back when you were alive?”

“No. I lost my original voice when I turned, so the King gave me a new one, along with the power to mimic any other voice I hear.”

“Interesting.” He pondered for a second. “Then there was all that talk about my feelings…something only a woman would bring up.”

“I guess…but men can be sentimental too, ya know.”

“True. But there is one other thing…”

“What?”

“You seem to have taken a liking for me.”

Shit!

“Beg pardon?” For a second, I thought I could feel heat rise in my cheeks, but there was no way; shinigami are physically incapable of blushing.

“They say that when someone picks on someone else, it means that they like them. And you act differently around me than with the others. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on me.” He watched me carefully as he spoke, hoping to gauge my reaction.

“I see.” I tried to look as calm and collected as possible. He wasn’t entirely right, but he wasn’t entirely wrong either. “I’ll admit that you are a very attractive person, Mello, and your intelligence is a trait that most people would find desirable. But mostly, you’re just fun to watch.” I slowly started to grin, a mischievous thought entering my mind. “And I can’t help but wonder, the way you mentioned that other successor, Near; I think it’s safe to say that you don’t like him very much.”

“Yes.” His voice dripped with the same venom he’d used when mentioning the name before.

“Back when I was alive, I always thought that when someone held a strong dislike for someone else, it sometimes meant that that person was in denial, because they didn’t want to admit they had feelings for-”

“Oh, Hell no!” He stood up, disgusted by what I was implying. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“See? Fun to watch.” This only served to make him angrier, and for a second I thought he was going to throw me out and/or shoot me. But then he quickly simmered down and smirked with triumph.

“I was right, wasn’t I? You were just trying to distract me so you wouldn’t have to admit it.”

Damn it!

“You little shit.” I clenched my hands into fists as an alarming amount of anger surged through me. But as quickly as it came, it was gone, and I was left feeling worn and depressed, slumping against the wall in defeat. “What does it matter if you can figure out my age and gender anyways? It’s not important.”

“No, it probably isn’t.” He sounded a little surprised at my sudden changes in mood. “It was just something to get my mind off of Kira.”

“Ah.” I straightened up and stretched, even though I hadn’t been still for that long. “Anyway, I’ve said what I wanted to say. Goodnight.”

“Wait.” Mello stood up. “You didn’t confirm whether or not I was right about your age and gender.” I stared at him in puzzlement. I didn’t know if he really cared, or if he just had an issue with closure.

“What was your guess again?”

“Teenaged girl, somewhere between sixteen and nineteen.”

He’s figured me out. The son of a bitch figured me out.

After a brief silence, I sighed and muttered,

“I prefer the term ‘young woman’ rather than ‘teenaged girl’. And sadly, I cannot remember exactly how old I was when I died, but I’m pretty sure I was somewhere between eighteen or twenty, maybe older.”

I suddenly felt a deep wave of sadness seep into my heart.

Wow…Saying it out loud…I never knew how much it hurt.

I turned to go, my wings slowly unfurling.

“A.” I glanced back and what I saw shocked me to my core. Mello looked at me with eyes filled with empathy, as if I was seeing my own despair reflected back at me. I hadn’t thought that he was capable of seeing me or anyone else as more than just a tool in his master plan, but there it was, staring into me; pain, understanding, and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit of care. “I’m sorry.”

It took me a minute, and after a few stuttered attempts, I was able to reply.

“Alixandria. You may call me Alixandria. Goodnight, Mello.”

“Goodnight.”

As I returned to my regular branch, it occurred to me that even after being warped and twisted into something I barely even recognized, some people could still read me like an open book. It almost made me smile.

The next night, everything changed.

Alternative Title for this chapter: Shameless Godiva Plug/Exposition Dump

#death note #fanfiction #my work #righteous side of hell

1 note · View note

second-chance-stray · 4 years ago

Photo

(Split Ends) RP Log: Cravs has a favor to ask.

1 day prior... Cravs has left a folded note taped to Rising’s door.

I hate to admit it, but I need your help. Maybe Riylli's too, but I don't know where she lives? Can you pass this message along to her? There's someone in Limsa Lominsa that I promised to help, but I can't find them. It's...complicated. I'll tell you more about it the day of.

Cravs herself is nowhere to be found. She's been spending more and more time out of Heartwood's HQ.

- - - - - - - - - -

Cravendy Hound - As detailed in Crav’s earlier note, Rising and Riylli were instructed to wait outside the city on the fringes of the Zephyr gate. Any sort of explanation for why was lacking. From behind, a stranger dressed in red approaches...a stranger, that is, until she takes off her hat. Despite the fashion whiplash, there’s no doubt about it. It’s Cravs?!

Cravendy Hound: "Uh.....hey."

Rising Lotus was busy kicking rocks when the stranger approached them. She cocked her head as they approached, looking a bit confused until it was revealed to be Cravs. "...what's with the outfit? You goin' for a new look?" she snickered a tad, biting her lower lip to stifle any more giggles while she had a big grin on her face.

Riylli Aliapoh blinked, staring quite openly at the fancily-dressed Roegadyn pirate. "...Cravs..? The hells happened to you? Why are you all..." Riylli paused to gesture vaguely towards her, looking offended on Cravs' behalf. "...That!"

Cravendy Hound frowns...hard! It’s clear that she’s no fan of having to dress like this either. But when asked why, she fidgets for a moment as she tries to come up with a convincing reason. “It was in the closet, and, er....I was doin’ the laundry?” Cravs lets out a frustrated breath.

Cravendy Hound: “Okay, when we go into the city, don’t call me ‘Cravs’ alright? No ‘Cravs,’ no ‘Cravendy,’ no nothin’. The reason I’m dressed up is cause I may or may not still ‘ave a bounty on my ‘ead. And that, in fact, is also why I need yer ‘elp.”

Riylli Aliapoh puts her hands on her hips, but does stop to consider it. "Well... I suppose that makes sense... No one'd recognize you when you're dressed up like that for sure." She nods, then pauses. "Wait, you got a bounty on your head? What'd'ya do?"

Rising Lotus nodded, everything becoming much more clear now. "Well that makes much more sense at least, you clean up nice though I'll give ya that!" she couldn't help but snicker some more. "Also how high of a bounty? Jus' uh... curious. And yeah what did you do? Pirate stuff?"

Cravendy Hound gives Riylli a look of relief at her reaction - that’s a good sign. But her lips clamp shut when they ask why. She waves a hand dismissively. “When ye pirate, ye piss people off. And although a majority of folk in Limsa ‘ave a similar background...the people I’ve stepped on’ll probably ‘old a grudge against me till I die.”

Cravendy Hound: “I don’t give a flyin’ shite about clearin’ my name, but I don’t want to get thrown into gaol afore I can do what I came do to.”

Rising Lotus "How long ago was it, I mean..." she paused, choosing her next words carefully "Given the whole...you suddenly bein' back, would they even still be lookin' for ya? An' what's so important to be riskin' this for anyway?"

Riylli Aliapoh: "Shoulda worn a mask." She said with a suspiciously playful grin. "That's what the bandit folk do out in the shroud!" Her playfulness faded when Rising managed to remind her of Cravs' past, suddenly looking a bit concerned and waiting on her to continue

Cravendy Hound: “Maybe right when I came back the coppers didn’t know better, but now...well, let’s say I’ve gotten some interestin’ visitors even way out in the Shroud. So trust me when I say I’m sure someone’ll be keepin’ an eye ‘ere.”

Cravendy Hound gestures to the hat-and-mask combo that she’s currently holding. “If it works for bandits, it’ll work for me...hopefully.”

Rising Lotus "Well the explains that, but you still ought to tell why we're doin' it, since we're takin' the risk an' all." she crossed her arms. "You're my friend an' all, but I'd like to stay outa a cell jus' as much as you, so what are we riskin' it for?"

Riylli Aliapoh nodded thoughtfully. "So were the fancy lady's bodyguards then? I can work with that!" She flashed Cravs a teasing grin, though she was clearly a bit excited to play the muscle regardless.

Cravendy Hound: “Don’t worry, ye won’t be doin’ anything illegal. I owe someone a favor, and this someone ‘as a kid. A ‘ighlander lad no older than fourteen summers.” Cravs looks to her left and right, double checking for any eavesdroppers. “...Now, poor kid doesn’t ‘ave a father to look over ‘im anymore, so I want to check up on ‘im. Make sure ‘e’s doin’ okay.”

Cravendy Hound: “The problem? One, the kid is ‘ard to find. Two, the kid’s sensitive and unlikely to accept ‘elp from us directly. So I figure we can start by figurin’ out ‘is schedule, and then see if ‘e could use a little ‘elp. Like we could be...guardian angels from the shadows, or somethin’.”

Rising Lotus rubbed her chin. "Hmm alright, sounds like it'll be easy enough at least, jus' find some kid an' sorta...helpfully stalk him?" perhaps Cravs worded it better. "Sounds like a plan then! What should we call you though instead of Cravs?"

Riylli Aliapoh blinked. She had clearly not been expecting such a kindhearted cause from the Roegadyn. She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, "...Huh. Thats... Well, if that's what you need help with then I'll give it, I suppose."

Rising Lotus: "You sure don't like kids that much huh?"

Cravendy Hound glances to Rising. “Why don’t ye come up with somethin’? The less it fits me normally, the better.”

Riylli Aliapoh: "I-I never said that! Kids are... fine. Quit pryin' dammit!" Riylli crossed her arms and turned away, acting way too defensive. "If it's gotta be a Seawolf name then I think you'd be the only person to even know the words."

(Cravendy Hound) seawolf name = keyboard smash lmao )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Theyre basically just hellsguard names but in the seawolf language! (Rising Lotus) we used to play a game in the roe linkshell I'm in)) (Rising Lotus) bot or seawolf)) (Rising Lotus) also riylli you can finish her name!))

Rising Lotus grinned, clapping her hands together as the gears in her head started turning. Her eyes squinted as she studied her friend in the fancy garb. "Hmmm...We'll give ya a hellsguard name, make ya seem more like you ain't around here. Hmm.. Singing..." she looked like she was having trouble finding the second part.

Cravendy Hound raises a brow at Riylli’s curious reaction, both amused and surprised. “Hah, maybe I chose the wrong person to stalk...ahem. I mean, ‘watch over’ the kid!”

Riylli Aliapoh wasn't really thinking about it up until a particular bird's cry broke the silence. She pointed upwards. "...Gull?"

Cravendy Hound: "Singing....Gull. Huh." Cravs shrugs. "Well, slap 'lady' afore it and it'll sound plenty fancy."

Riylli Aliapoh was silent for a while, appearing to have something she was considering bringing up yet clearly hesitant

Rising Lotus: "Alright then /Lady Singing Gull/, Where are we going to start out search then? Well, Limsa, but WHERE in there?" she glanced over to the city. "If you ain't got a lead the markets would be a good place to start askin' 'round." she looked back to the two, awaiting their input. "..Not gettin' cold feet now are ya?" she raised an eyebrow at Riylii.

Cravendy Hound: “The boy’s name is Baldur Thorne by the way, for when we need to ask around. Ye two will do the talkin’ for me...cause I’m worried that if I open my mouth, someone clever might connect the dots.” Cravs lets out a tired sigh as she shoves her hat back on. Time to march straight into the nest of vipers. “I was thinkin’ of starting our search at the Hawker’s Alley.”

Riylli Aliapoh shook her head. "N-No, nevermind, Im fine. Should I make myself ready for fightin'? Not a lotta earth aether to manipulate once we get in there after all"

(Rising Lotus) riylli walking in with a bag of dirt xD)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (gonna fight exclusively with pocket sand (Rising Lotus) shshshaw!)) (Cravendy Hound) sand attack!! ))

Cravendy Hound kneels down to grab a fistful of dirt, which she hands to Riylli. “Don’t use it if ye don’t ‘ave to.”

Riylli Aliapoh stared and glared. "I was thinkin' more... Whatever, nevermind" She huffed, turning away and letting Cravs stand there with her dirt. "I'll figure somethin' out"

(Cravendy Hound) NOOO TAKE MY DIRT ))

Rising Lotus nodded. "Alright then if you say so, let's head on in then." she cracked her knuckles. "Alright, make you stay close to Cra- Err, Singing Gull here. Gotta look the part if we're playin' bodyguards."

(Riylli Aliapoh) (YOU DISRESPECT THE UNLIMITED POTENTIAL OF EARTH MAGIC

Cravendy Hound is offended at such blatant dirt rejection! She lets it fall between her fingers and stomps into the city.

(Cravendy Hound) she just has no clue how Riylli do that earth magic xD )) (Cravendy Hound) also once in Limsa we can switch to party for RP cause there are waaay too many people in there )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (She would totally talk someone's ear off if asked (Cravendy Hound) cravs thinks riylli can turn dirt into like, a deadly dirt dagger )) (Rising Lotus) I feel like regular dirt would be more for like whipping attacks with how malleable it is)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (She totally could if given enough time! Im gonna figure out a way for her to go off at the next tavern night lmao

(Cravendy Hound) As usual, Limsa Lominsa is buzzing with activity. Cravs steps confidently through the white stone pathways, though internally, she’s sweating bullets. She doesn’t stop walking until she finds a place that’s a little less crowded, and then turns to face Riylli and Rising. How does one mime to ask them to ask around? Cravs waves her hands around.

(Rising Lotus) Gave Cravs a single finger pistol, looking to the various venders, then back to Riylli. "You can take this side I'll ask across the way, keep an eye on Gull though since you're closer." she walked across the way and started talking to merchant in front of the double doors.

(Riylli Aliapoh) Riylli stared at Cravs for quite a while, trying to figure out what the heck that means. "Maybe we shoulda planned a little more before coming in here..." she said with a sigh, deciding to just do as Rising asked and approach the nearest vendor to ask if they'd ever heard of this rebellious highlander

(Cravendy Hound) The vendor closest to Rising is busy mending an adventurer’s gear. He looks up at the woman with a curious look. “You need anything repaired?”

(Cravendy Hound) Cravs steps back, out of the way of foot traffic, and scans the crowd. She’s searching for anyone resembling the kid. Meanwhile, the battlecraft supplier picks up a deadly looking axe and showcases it on top of his stand. “Welcome, welcome! Can I interest you in any of my fine wares? An axe, perhaps? Or, or maybe a staff, if you’re magically inclined!”

(Rising Lotus) "Well yes but it can't be fixed." she glanced back to her bomb of a spear she had with in a very public place. "Mainly here to ask ya if you know this lad, name's Baldur Thorne? Ever hear of him or seen him round these parts?"

(Riylli Aliapoh) "Hmm... Maybe you could, though I was more in the mood for some info if you'd be able to sell us some? You ever see a highlander boy 'round these parts? Name of Baldur Thorne? The lady over that way was a friend of her dads, and'd be willin' to pay some good coin if you can help us find him"

(Cravendy Hound) [For Rising] “Baldur? Thorne’s kid? Mm, he’s a hard one to find. Always working, doing odd jobs to make ends meet.” The mender sighs and hangs his head low. “It’s a sad situation.”

(Rising Lotus) "Workin' 'round eh, hmm, any idea what he was doin' last? And uh." she glanced over her shoulder "What happened to him if you're willin' to share. Person tryin' to find him didn't tell me much 'side from his name."

(Cravendy Hound) [For Riylli] “Maybe if you buy something, I’ll be put in a good, chatty mood...” The vendor looked expectantly at Riylli, and then to Cravs, who turned her head slightly. She steps up, opens her coin purse, and motions for Riylli to choose some random knick knack to buy. Hopefully, not something too expensive.

(Riylli Aliapoh) Riylli glanced up to Cravs before shrugging. Seemed a bit expensive, but it was her gil to throw away, and so she picked out a small dagger she'd be able to carry in her belt. Might come in handy anyroad. "There. You better not be wastin' my time."

(Cravendy Hound) [For Rising] “It’s old news. Kid lost his father, and ever since it’s been hard times for him and his mother. Some of us try to help him, out of respect of his father’s legacy, but there’s someone who holds a grudge against his family to this day. Powerful folk that we can’t do much against.”

(Cravendy Hound) [For Riylli] Cravs frowns slightly, but pays anyway. She had to look the part of a rich noblewoman with gil to burn, after all! The vendor accepts the gil happily and hands the dagger to Riylli. “Great choice! Now, you were asking about Baldur? Not my place to pry why, I suppose.”

(Cravendy Hound) [For Riylli] As he counts each coin, the vendor continues speaking. “The kid recently signed up with the marauder’s guild. Practically begged them to let him join. He might be out in the field, killing rats or whatever they send greenhorns out to do.”

(Rising Lotus) "I see, know how that can be." she gave ther merchant a nod. " 'Preciate the information, seems like you're all right good folk to be lookin' out for the lad." she gave him another nod before returning across the way next to Cravs, there to relay what information she had.

(Riylli Aliapoh) "Hmm... I'll check it out I suppose." She looked up to Cravs. "You happy with that, 'Lady Gull'?"

(Cravendy Hound) Cravs nods to Riylli. With the three of them back together, she gave a nod of thanks to the vendor and pulled away from the man. It felt a good time to share what they had found out and plan next moves...somewhere more private.

(Cravendy Hound) Cravs speaks in a low voice just in case. “Piss n’ wind Riylli, I won’t be able to drink anythin’ good for awhile after buyin’ that dagger! But I guess we did find somethin’ out. Baldur’s become a marauder, and probably out in the field right now.”

(Rising Lotus) "Wow you had to buy somethin', the repair guy told me what he knew like that." she snapped her fingers. "Asked a bit about this boy's story, seems like he's workin' to help out his ma. If we knew where she lived we could wait nearby or ask someone who lives near them."

(Riylli Aliapoh) "H-He was a weapon seller! I thought a dagger'd be the smallest thing he had!" She defended herself, crossing her arms and pouting like a scolded child.

(Rising Lotus) "Wait she don't get to keep that do she? Damn, I shoulda talked to the weapon guy, I'm the one that actually needs a new weapon.."

(Cravendy Hound) “Ye chose a fancy one though.” Cravs chuckles to herself. “Oi, as long as ye use it, think of it as payment for ‘elpin’ me out.”

(Cravendy Hound) “Good thing ye talked to the mender. If ye chose somethin’ I couldn’t afford, that’d be a bad look.” She smirks at Rising.

(Riylli Aliapoh) Riylli glanced down towards it. "...I guess I can find a use or two for it... Anyroad, should we go head out to the field now? Or maybe wait at the guild 'till he gets back? I wouldn't mind seein' some axe fightin'..."

(Rising Lotus) "Pffft. I guess I'll jus' keep this damn thing then." she thumbed back at her spear "It's on your head now if I blow up though.." she jabbed her finger at Cravs with a smirk. "Any how, either might be a good place to go, though lookin' for him out of town might take a while."

(Riylli Aliapoh) "Why'd you even bring that thing if it's so dangerous..." She muttered, taking a cautious step away from her.

(Cravendy Hound) “I’d like to go out and look for ‘im. It sounds like ‘e joined the marauders recently, so ‘e might not know ‘ow to use an axe properly. What was ‘e ‘untin’ again...rats?” Cravs ponders for a second. “Should be able to find some in central La Noscea.”

(Riylli Aliapoh) "You're the native, lead the way! Do we really need to protect him against rats though..?"

(Rising Lotus) "I misplaced that axe I was usin' the other night. That thing was cheap anyway. Plus Mayumi said it'd only blow if it was on, and even then I'd be able to tell when it was gonna blow." she looked out over the water for a moment. "Maybe as long as I'm here I ought to go see if my backup spear is still on that island..err, after all this anyway." she nodded "To the rats!"

Cravendy Hound - Back to the battlefield! Cravs follows the dirt path, a woman on a mission. She stops suddenly and listens. Nothing out of the ordinary can be heard, but Cravs trusts the feeling in her gut and pulls Riylli and Rising behind a rock.

Cravendy Hound - And, several beats later, a highlander lad with warm brown skin and short dark dreads steps out from the long grass. (B) He’s armed with a rusty axe and his gear looks quite ratty and worn. There’s a single rat under his belt, and he’s on the lookout for more.

Riylli Aliapoh: "So... Back where we- ack!" Riylli is suddenly yanked backwards into the bush just before the highlander can spot them. She gave Cravs a glare regardless, before continuing in whisper. "He looks like he's doin' fine... You sure he needs our help?"

Rising Lotus regained her footing, watching the boy look out for his next target. "His axe does look like it's seen better days I'll give ya that...but you don't need anything too special for jus' huntin' those things." she was hunched over Riylli as she peeked around the boulder.

Cravendy Hound - The boy hefts the axe over his shoulder and dashes after another rat. He swings clumsily at it, missing it by a long shot, and the rat squeaks in fright as it disappears into the thrush.

Cravendy Hound stares longer at Baldur, and finally lets out a breath of relief. Riylli was right. He was hunting /rats/ of all things! She was crazy to have worried so much. “Aye...Maybe I could give ‘im some gil to buy better gear, but otherwise...”

Rising Lotus shook her head. "Don't think he'll accept it, the repair guy was sayin' lots of them were tryin' to help him out but he wouldn't take it. I mean if he knows them an' won't take it I don't think he'd let a strange give him a sack of gil."

Riylli Aliapoh sighed and brought her hand to her face, watching the boy's overexcited charge bringing back some painful memories for her.

Cravendy Hound: “If that’s the case, then I can find his ma and leave it while they aren’t lookin’. No one to return it to, no problem, right?”

Rising Lotus "Worth a shot I 'spose? Less he jus' uses it for food an' such, even still it's not like that's a bad thing."

Cravendy Hound - The relative calm is interrupted by a strange sound. Like a thousand somethings being shot out from a straw, followed by leaves being crushed. From so far, it’s hard to see what’s going on. For a second, you see Baldur struggle to get up from the bush he fell in, and then the boy goes charging after the unseen sound’s source in the distance.

Riylli Aliapoh 's ears twitch and she looks back up. "The hells was that..?" She asked, looking up to Cravs as she was the only one familiar with the wildlife here

Cravendy Hound is just as confused. “I...I don’t know. Never ‘eard anythin’ like that round these parts.” She gets up slightly, concerned.

Rising Lotus winced at the ruckus, hand keeping her steady on the rock. "Somethin' big for sure, there are goobue's round here right? Maybe one is havin' a fit?" she brought her hand over her eyes, trying to see if they could spot the source of the commotion from their hiding spot.

Rising Lotus looks around.

Riylli Aliapoh glances back towards the sound. "What do we do? Should we try to move up to get a better look?"

Cravendy Hound decides to risk getting closer. The boy was probably yalms away after whatever the thing was. Cravs kneels down near the bush Baldur fell in earlier and picks up one of many needles that are littered nearby. The corner of her mouth twitches down.

Cravendy Hound: "It's a needle." She looks over at Riylli and Rising. "There's nothin' here that'd leave this behind."

Rising Lotus cocked her head, looking at the tiny piece of metal in her hand. "You sayin' someone's tryin' to stick him with somethin'?" she squints and looks at the ground, seeing a few more laying on the ground.

Riylli Aliapoh scratched her head. "A needle? You got porcupine out here maybe? That's not... THAT dangerous." She offers, doing her best not to make Cravs worry

Cravendy Hound: “Do porcupines shoot their spines out like this?” Cravs asks Riylli. She nibbles the bottom of her lip - something didn’t feel right. “I’m not exactly dressed to fight...could you two go out and see what’s up? I’ll catch up later once I’m done changing.”

Riylli Aliapoh nods, motioning Rising to crouch down as she begins to silently creep through the brush. It wasn't exactly the same as hunting in the shroud with all its trees for cover, but she would do her best.

Rising Lotus followed Riylli, being a lot less subtle. "Eh he don't know us, no need to sneak up on him right? We're jus' too adventurer's passin' through an' checkin' out that big rumble."

Riylli Aliapoh: "Well... If it's nothin', we don't wanna get in the way of his fight do we?"

Riylli Aliapoh: "Kid seems like he's the type to chase glory. Not... That I would know."

Cravendy Hound - The closer you two get to the sounds of struggle, the more needles are littered all over the place. There’s a kind of sproingy sound, as something green jumps up in the air, just slightly above the tall grass. It’s a green, tubular, man-shaped plant. It’s...a cactuar! And it’s hopping triumphantly on top of Baldur, who lies thoroughly needled and face down on the ground.

Rising Lotus "Suppose I could see that. More glory means more jobs an' money." she blinked as at the sudden bouncing seedkin before them. "...Now what's that doin' all the way out here?" she furrowed her brow. "Cactuars don't live on these islands." she drew her spear, it humming to life as she moved to take care of the threat.

Riylli Aliapoh 's eyes go wide. "Oh what in the seventh hell is that?" She asked, looking up to Rising for a moment before following her lead and drawing her staff. "Whatever it's doing, let's not let it!"

Cravendy Hound - This particular cactuar has a little flower growing atop its head and looks tougher than the normal variety. It does a triple spin in the air in a single hop and moves strangely, its limbs stiff yet bouncy. Suddenly, it freezes, and then twists towards Rising.

Rising Lotus looked unphased even when spotting the flower sprout. She let it get a bit close before doing a low wide sweep at the seedkin, aiming at its midsection between all its limbs.

(Rising Lotus) Random! 875 (Riylli Aliapoh) (Do I have to attack or can I do other stuff?) (Cravendy Hound) you can do whatever you want haha )) (Cravendy Hound) heal, defend, run, talk, dance, whatever! :D )) (Rising Lotus) entice it with dancing Riylli. You know you want to))

Riylli Aliapoh suddenly grinned. "Oh, this is the perfect opportunity for some practice!" She said, clearly not taking the silly bouncing cactus man seriously. She begins to channel her spell, pulling aether up from the earth and gathering it in the crystal at the top, before unleashing it onto Rising. The Roegadyn warrior would feel a bit strange, though it would be difficult to place the change just yet.

Cravendy Hound - Rising’s hit lands squarely on the cactuar’s center of mass, causing it to go flying from the impact. It squeaks out a weirdly hollow sound when it lands, and then bounces back up, looking back with soulless eyes that make it hard to gauge whether it can feel pain.

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Stoneskin! Making her tougher in preparation for her to get blasted by needles (Riylli Aliapoh) (I kept trying to write the effects of stoneskin down but couldnt figure out how to without it feeling weird, so sorry for the long post time >x>)

Cravendy Hound - And it does, in fact, try to blast Rising with needles. A thousand, to be exact! They fly out in all directions from the cactuar’s body.

(Cravendy Hound) Random! 938 (Cravendy Hound) uohh )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (938 needles) Random! Rising Lotus rolls a 387.

Cravendy Hound - It’s a devastating attack, one that could cause serious (needle) injury. Thankfully, Riylli’s stoneskin helps defend against the worst of it, though the attack would still have moderate impact on Rising.

Rising Lotus smirked as the cactus was flung into the distance. "Jus' like when we use to hit 'em with sticks when I was a kid!" Lucky her for her, she knew the telltale signs of it about to attack and quickly brought her forearm up to cover her eyes. The first bit of the barrage didn't seem to harm her, though before she could wonder why the stoneskin wore off. She grit her teeth as this was just like when she was a girl too, her armor protecting the most of her but her exposed skin had some needles >

Rising Lotus protruding from it now. "Ngh... always hated that part." her right forearm had the most sticking out of it, her hand shaking a bit as she clenched it a few times to ensure she could still move it. She took a defensive stance for now, brushing her armored hand over her right arm to rid herself of some of the needles.

Riylli Aliapoh: "Ha! Everyone always looks at me funny when I say earth magic is more versatile than you'd think, but WHO'S LAUGHING NOW!" She plants her hands on her hips proudly, still not taking this seriously at all. "Feel free to praise me as much as you like~" She sung, ripping a chunk of earth from the ground and casually yeeting it towards the funny cactus man, thinking she could simply end it with one good hit

Cravendy Hound - Riylli’s rock is, certainly, yeeted over, smashing the cactuar back a couple of yalms. It’s tough exterior is starting to bruise in dark, green splotches. It hesitates, as if understanding that these two were on a whole other level than the kid it had downed moments prior. This pause grants you an additional opportunity to give it a good beating!

(Cravendy Hound) it is, in fact, just a cactuar so I don't think the battle should be a grueling thing :P )) (Cravendy Hound) Baldur is just a lvl 2 noob that got owned by, like, a lvl 18 cactuar or something lmao ))

Rising Lotus enough of the needles removed from her arm now, she pressed their opportunity and dashed forward, trying to impale the thing on her spear. Malfunctioning as her spear may be, it was still plenty honed to shred through the seedkin's thick fiber!

Riylli Aliapoh grins and plants her feet into the earth, bringing her staff up above her head as she begins to channel magic. She was clearly enjoying the chance to show off, as she suddenly jams the tip of her staff down into the soil and injects the very earth with her gathered aether. Nothing happens for just a moment, before the ground beneath the cacti's feet suddenly explodes and launches it into the air

Cravendy Hound - Two things happen, in a very specific order. First, Rising stabs the cactuar with her spear, the thing dangling from the weapon’s sharp end like a weird kebab. Second, Riylli’s magic launches both Rising and the shisk-cactuar into the air!

Riylli Aliapoh blinks as she watches Rising fly into the air, having charge in during the brief moment of pause before her spell had gone off. "H-Hey! Don't just rush in like that dammit! Y'know I'm throwing rocks back here right!?" She calls out, not even apologizing because that would mean she had made a mistake, and she would never do that.

Rising Lotus grinned as her attack hit her mark, the cactuar firmly on her spear. Her celebration as short lived however as she was blown in the air with little warning, lucky dropping her spear and their foe in the process. Wasn't so luck was when she tumbled to the ground, the needs still stuck in her getting drove deeping into her body. She let out a pained shriek, grasping at the sections sections of exposed skin for the needles digging into her, but her gloved hand not precise enough to pick them >

Rising Lotus out, leaving her to writhe on the ground.

(Cravendy Hound) ohhh ouch D: )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Oww)

Cravendy Hound - The flowered cactuar has been dispatched, but one wonders...what was it doing way out here? Such a question would have to go unanswered for the time being, given that both Baldur and Rising were dealing with a rather sharp situation.

Riylli Aliapoh hesitates, looking back and forth between both collapsed pincushions and having no idea what to do. "...H... Hey... Uh, you... you guys alright..?"

Cravendy Hound - The kid groans. Up close, it’s apparent that his shoddy armor did him no favors against the seedkin’s assault. Through bleary eyes, he looks at both Riylli and Rising and mouths ‘thank you’ before falling unconscious.

Rising Lotus was still letting out pained grunts as she was able to sit up in a way that she wouldn't be putting anymore pressure on the needles now deep in her skin. She could take a beating, but this was a very acute pain across various parts of her form. Her right hand was shaking worse than before as she clumsily undid her gauntlet, paying no mind to Riylli, and pulled her left hand out, trying again to pull the stuck needles out of her arm.

Cravendy Hound finally, FINALLY walks in. Very late. Suspiciously so. And still in disguise. But she’s here now. She carefully props the unconscious boy up and winces. It’d be best for a healer to look at him right away. When Rising gets up, she nods in the other Roegadyn’s direction. “Knew it’d take more than a ‘andful of needles to bring ye down, but still, that looks bad.”

Riylli Aliapoh shifted her feet nervously but remained silent, not even taking the chance to brag for once as she knew it would likely just lead to her getting yelled at.

Cravendy Hound: “Come on, lets get both of ye to town. There’re good ‘ealers there that should be able to patch ye up, right as rain.” Cravs slings Baldur over her shoulder, and it’s a funny sight seeing a ‘noblewoman’ hefting a peasant boy around.

Rising Lotus continued to tune out the others out as she gripped the first needle between her index finger and thumb, teeth grit hard as she pulled it out in a process that was not only pain to do, but probably painful to watch as well! Hands clenching until her knuckles were white, finally barked something at Riylli "My spear.. an' glove.." she was working on getting to her feet and couldn't be concerned about such things right now.

Riylli Aliapoh puts her staff away and nods, rushing over to grab what Rising had dropped. She briefly hesitated to pick up the spear before turning back to Rising, awkwardly holding the oversized thing in both arms. "Alright, lets go." She said, very obviously avoiding looking at the gross needle pulling going on

Cravendy Hound - The party would return to Limsa and entrust the boy to the healers of the Arcanist’s guild. There were many questions hanging in the air in the silence between them, some that Cravs had to answer for, and others that would have to be found out another day. Perhaps something to discuss a cup of tea back at Heartwood...but today, the mood was wrong. It was simply time to rest.

#ff14 rp logs #Split Ends #...is what I'll call this little collection of quests #Cravs coming up with her disguise: Look at all these nice dresses in the closet!!!#me: single tear rolling down ;o)#Cravendy Hound #Rising Lotus #riylli aliapoh

2 notes · View notes

nihilistsundays-blog · 7 years ago

Text

the minds of martyrs.

Ethan Schroeder has a special gift. Ethan Schroeder is also a sociopath and a capitalist, the difference between the two remaining blurry at best.

CONTENT WARNING FOR: extreme gore, cult themes, religious imagery, character death, cannibalism and animal cruelty.

One of the first questions people would ask Ethan, upon meeting him in person for the first time, was, “when did you first realize what you can do?” He had never offered a straight answer in response, because the truth was that he didn’t have one. He had no way of knowing how long the martyr gene had lain dormant in him, he had no way of knowing if it even was a gene at all. Magic, perhaps, physics, mystics - sorcery was only science that had yet to be understood, after all. Maybe a genetic mutation, maybe a blessing from some bored god. The important thing was that he was rich as fuck now.

His ten AM had a brain tumor. It was smallish, about the size of an apricot according to the scan she brought to him on glossy x-ray paper. Normally he didn’t take tumors, but the only problem with this one was that she didn’t have the money to cover the co-pay for her necessary surgery, which, thanks to her history of defaulting on medical bills, her insurance was insisting be paid in full and in advance. Otherwise, it was in a fairly “good” spot for a tumor, easily removed, and by now Ethan had enough money to pay for the best goddamn neurosurgeons in the world. He’d begun to consider tumors on a case-by-case basis, as a result. Ten AM was crying, hard, before he even offered her tea. It was always hard for him to determine whether or not their tears were born of sincere fear and pain, or a ploy to try and convince him to take on their ailments and wounds. He watched her, waited.

“They want nearly fifty thousand dollars!” burst from her in a rising wail. She was clutching a kleenex to her chest with one hand, ignoring the steaming cup of delicate green tea his maid had set down for her on the elegant oak desk between them. “And that’s after my insurance covers the ten percent they were willing to take care of, do they think I just have fifty grand lying around? What I have is three kids and no husband! What I fucking have is an overdue light bill and a fucking brain tumor!”

“Yeah, so, I’m Ethan,” he said with the subtlest touch of dry derision in his tone, a subconscious response to what he perceived as her hysterics. “Why don’t you take a deep breath, okay?” This was routine for him now, dealing with these desperate, hurting people. Occasionally one would inspire a kind of distant sympathy that stirred in him like a summer storm’s rumbling threat in the air before it erupted into a downpour of dangerous empathy, drowning him. Too much compassion would invite a corrosive guilt, he knew. A guilt that would encourage him to stop taking their money for his services, to save them for free, and that was unacceptable as far as Ethan was concerned. He’d been a scientist, once, or a student at least, his mind moved in a linear and pragmatic way. He could be a good person, or he could be rich. Wealth won.

“I’m sorry. I’m Dana,” she said. She was quite beautiful, something he hadn’t really bothered to notice until now. She sat before him with the easy grace and long, elegant neck of a dancer, her skin a warm, buttery brown and her hair a careless array of short chocolate curls. Freckles were splashed across a button nose and round cheeks, left exposed by her lack of makeup. Vaguely, he considered offering her a cut if she slept with him, but that was just far left enough of sleazy that he rejected the idea upon impact. He glanced down at her paperwork on his desk, going silent for a moment as he reviewed it.

“And you’re...twenty-eight, it says here?”

“Yes.”

“Suncare Health for your insurance?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay Dana, I think I can help you.” This set off more tears, which Ethan ignored as he went on. “I don’t normally take tumors, but yours is a case I may be able to accommodate. I’m going to have my lawyer contact your insurance company to hammer out the details, but in the meantime I’m going to make an appointment for you to come see me two weeks from now, if that works for you. Provided everything goes smoothly with Suncare, I’ll be ready to take care of this for you before Christmas.” Like a scientist, he’d streamlined the process of martyring for people to a fine-tuned formula. He quickly added her information to his secure online database, slender fingers flying over his keyboard as she sat and cried at his desk. It took him all of five minutes, and then he was handing her a business card, as crisp and cream-colored as a doctor’s. “I’ll call you if there are any issues.”

She rose to her feet, tears dripping down freckled cheeks, and he handed her another tissue. “Thank you, thank you so much,” she babbled. “I honestly can’t believe this is really happening, when I heard about martyrs a while back I figured it was some nonsense, like tarot card readers or something. I wonder why more of you guys don’t do what you do, turn it into a business.”

“Well, there aren’t a lot of American martyrs, otherwise we probably would,” Ethan replied, only half-joking, as she left his office, guided by his firm but gentle hand at the small of her back. Dana had subsequently consumed his tumor schedule for at least another six months - there was being a martyr, and there was being reckless. Ethan, his scientific career long since aborted in favor of full-time martyrdom - was still very much a calculating thinker, a logical mind. Poor Sasha, that had been her end, he’d heard. His ex had died, presumably via suicide, because the weight of her well-disguised but deeply disordered thinking had eaten her alive in the end. Ethan had no such plans to fall prey to such a humiliatingly human crack in his own mental armor, and so he spent every day studying, thinking, sharpening, tightening, preparing.

When he’d been nine, he’d picked up a dead bird on the ground. Some childhood cruelty had burst its tiny belly with the impact of a bloody BB pellet that he’d fished out with his index finger hooked knuckle-deep in warm, slick starling innards. It was a dear little thing, and to this day he remembered gazing down at it, gripped with the senselessness of its end, much as the way he’d felt seventeen years later upon attending Sasha’s funeral as his eyes had settled on her mercifully closed casket. It was a cornflower-blue that she would have hated, chosen by her father in one final act of control over her life – death – whatever, one last disregard for his daughter’s feelings that had inspired in Ethan a kind of dawning understanding when it came to her. The bird though, it hadn’t been too late for Ethan to save her.

He hadn’t known then, of course, as he held the tiny, dying thing in his chubby little hand what would happen. Martyrs had to activate their gift neurologically, he’d reasoned with others online, triggering some dormant chemical reaction that somehow absorbed the wounds and illnesses of others into their own bodies – more than one of them had died on the experimentation table of some scientist, squirming and struggling through a sticky mess of magic to find the mathematics of it all, the biology and sense. None had succeeded thus far, but Ethan had left dying stars and dying hearts behind in college. He was independently wealthy now, and capitalism made enough sense to him to erase the craving for any more answers. The bird had twitched in his hand, a tiny beak opening on a tiny chirp, and the stabbing pain had punctured his soft baby-belly almost immediately.

He'd watched the flesh and feathers close around the bloody wound in the bird, he'd watched it flutter away in less than a minute, and then he'd yanked up his t-shirt to examine the BB-sized hole just left of his navel. Martyrdom couldn't replicate the actual foreign material, but the wound was exactly the same, albeit embedded in his own soft internal tissues as opposed to a starling's. His own did not heal, but it was a simple thing to go home and patch himself up with hydrogen peroxide and several band-aids crisscrossed over the puncture. He was not squeamish, little boys weren't raised to be, and he didn't say anything about it to his parents, who weren't interested enough to notice their son wincing every time he rose from the dinner table that night.

At twelve, he'd tried again.

"I can't," his best friend Joaquin had explained wearily over the phone one October night. "I'm sick, Mom says I can't go over to anyone's house or I'll infect the whole block and everyone will be pissed at her."

"Come over anyway, I promise it will be okay," he'd said quietly, rounding the corner of the kitchen and living room adjoining wall so that his mother, washing dishes, didn't eavesdrop. "I have a secret, but I can only show you."

Joaquin was a stocky, golden-skinned boy, his ink-black curls and warm, laughing dark eyes a stark contrast to Ethan's lanky blondness, the hawkishly masculine features that were already starting to emerge inh is face. Joaquin still had baby-soft cheeks and a dimpled, boyish grin. He looked sallow when he arrived at the back porch entrance that night though, a little flushed and stuffy. He was coughing, hard and wet, into a tattered napkin when Ethan let him in. He'd been practicing on large bugs and small animals all afternoon, taking the cat into his father's tool shed to mask its yowls every time he'd stabbed it in the side with a sharpened pencil before resting his hand against the tiny wound to take onto himself. His torso was littered with tiny stab marks now, bright little beads of blood that had washed away in a stinging rush like hail in the shower.

"What's such a big deal that I had to come over now?" Joaquin wanted to know, but Ethan only smiled like a knife and took his hand into his own. It was cool, clammy and damp. Joaquin followed him out to the oak tree on the perimeter of their backyard, behind the house and facing away from the street. It was the beginning to a moderate sprawl of woods between their house and the Suarez family's, and they'd often go camping there where their parents knew they were safe.

"Sit down," he said. "I haven't done this with a sickness yet, only injuries. I think it'll work though."

"Dude, what the hell are you even talking about right now?"

They settled, cross-legged in the cool grass and facing each other, Joaquin sniffling and rubbing his nose. "I've been thinking about it," Ethan went on, giddy now with the rush of this potential new discovery about what he could do. "A cold is an infection, a viral infection like they taught us in school, right? And we learned that being coughed on or sneezed on by someone with a cold will spread it. I think all I need to do is to let you spread your cold to me, and do my thing when you do it, and then yours will go away."

"Are you like...did you sneak some of your dad's JD again?" Joaquin demanded, impatient now with the way Ethan was mostly talking to himself out loud and leaving him fumbling in the dark. "Are you saying you want me to sneeze on you? Why?"

"No dude, don't be gross. That's disgusting. I'm going to kiss you."

"What?"

"Kissing passes cold viruses too, remember?"

"And that wouldn't be disgusting? I'm not kissing you!"

"Dude! Don't be like...homerphonic or whatever they said in school. Besides, this isn't a gay thing. This is an experiment."

"Yeah, it sure sounds like an experiment to me. Sounds like you want to do a lot of experimenting here, Ethan. Save it for high school, would you? We'll be there next year."

"Bro? Seriously right now? Shut up. We're doing this." Ethan's resolve won out over Joaquin's reluctance - something about the intensity of his burning, hungry gaze overwhelmed the other boy. He felt caught up in it, washed away on the wave of Ethan's zealousness.

"I mean like...you really think my cold will go away if I give it to you?"

"I know it will."

"No you don't, that's why this is an experiment, remember?" Ethan didn't give him a chance to argue any further, heaving forward to slam his mouth into Joaquin's in one breathless surge. It wasn't any kind of kiss to make the movies - in his eagerness, he nearly split Joaquin's lower lip, bruising their mouths with the impact, but he held it, tilting his head to one side and then the other to make sure it worked, moving their mouths together until he was satisfied that if it was going to succeed, what they'd done would be enough to get them there.

Things were quiet, then. Ethan pulled back, Joaquin touched his sore lower lip. Crickets chirped and a car whispered by on the street far north of the backyard. "That was my first kiss," Joaquin finally said, dazed. "If it like, counts with a guy."

"Don't be gay, man." Ethan rose to his feet, wiping his hands off on his jeans. "We should know by tomorrow if it worked."

Joaquin called Ethan early the next morning, and his mother woke him up to take the phone upon Joaquin's insistence. "Dude! It worked, it bitch ass damn hell worked!" Joaquin erupted once Ethan was on, using every curse word he knew to emphasize his point. "I woke up this morning, no fever, no stuffed up nose, no cough, no nothing! I feel great right now, I could run for miles!"

Ethan, by contrast, felt like bitch ass damn hell. His head was throbbing, he could only breathe from one nostril, and despite shivering in his bed, he was flushed and overheated all over. He laughed despite it all, sitting up in bed. "Oh, god," he mumbled, more to himself than his friend. "Oh, god. This is...oh, god."

"You were right, how the hell did you DO that? I can't even deal right now, I'm losing my shit! Shit, man!" It was like Joaquin had suddenly remembered another curse word that he'd forgotten to use at first. "You're sick now, right? That's what it is, like a trade-off? I owe you so big, man."

"Oh, god," Ethan said again, an awareness blooming, unfurling like a flower or a tentacle inside of him, some wet and gripping thing curling around his organs. "What the hell am I?"

"You're a damn miracle, is what you are. Father Quinta says people are like that sometimes, angels on earth or whatever. Can you do this all the time? Can you take on any sickness or injury?"

"I don't know."

"You've gotta find out."

He spent the next seven years finding out. He stabbed more cats, several dogs, excessive birds. He snuck into hospitals dressed as concerned relatives, he did his own research in the interest of avoiding the inevitable questions from doctors, but came no closer than any of the others within America’s handful of known martyrs to finding an answer to what they could do. There was a doctor in London who claimed to have an idea, but refused to share it with the public. His empirical evidence was, Ethan suspected, ostensible at best.

In 2015, on a blustery early December day, he found himself driving past a recent car wreck off the side of I-95, and slowed to assess the situation. A woman hung halfway out of her driver’s side door, crooked and precarious as a loose tooth and probably a lot more painful considering the blood dripping down her face to the point that even Ethan noticed it. The problem however, lay in the fact that said car was a 2001 Pontia Aztek at best, and Ethan hit the gas. The Kidneythieves on his shuffler drowned out her moans, which had permeated his closed car windows just a moment ago, though not loudly enough to bolster his sympathy beyond his pragmatism.

He was the first to water the notion of charging for his services as a martyr - or at least the first to actually act upon them, to be as “callous, capitalist, and cruel” as one needed to be to so much as consider such a thing, according to one magazine that printed an unflattering portrait of him shortly after he announced his intentions to the world via a press conference in Boston. They called him an opportunist, they called him sadistic, they called him cold. And then they started calling him for help. He didn’t bother wasting his time with the lingering flus or the sprained ankles that the wealthy didn’t want to have to wait out, he considered chronic migraines on a case by case basis. The broken bones before proms and the minor lung infections eventually netted enough to pay for a lavish loft in Cambridge, then a sleek black Volvo, truffled cheeses in his fridge and women who never managed to be that crazy bitch Sasha in his bed every night. She still crossed his mind, sometimes.

It was the first man he slept with, a stocky and swarthy man named Chris - short for Christiano, he’d explained, not Christopher - who suggested his divinity. He’d been a touch tipsy on Grey Goose and crans when he’d been approached at the bar that night, and Chris had been wearing a gray silk vest and tie over a crisp black Oxford that had struck him as very elegant drinking attire. His sardonic but largely inoffensive sense of humor had charmed Ethan, and a few more drinks had him mentally shrugging. Why not? See if we like it.

His body was thick and powerful, muscle coiled like steel spring under sleek brown skin, his curly, graying hair more salt than pepper, and while the sex hadn’t really done anything for Ethan, he laid awake smoking afterward with a sense of distinct satisfaction. Exploring their sexuality was something normal young people like him were supposed to do, after all. Discoveries were always worth it, a scientific sort of dogma, and tonight he’d learned that he wasn’t super into having sex with men. Chris did look beautiful though, dozing on his back and bathed in moonlight through his bedroom window, and Ethan considered that he was attracted to specific men occasionally in a solely aesthetic way. Paintings in museums were beautiful and enthralling, but he didn’t want to fuck them, and that was about where he stood when it came to the Kinsey scale.

He had some interesting ideas. “I know you think all this shit that you do is medical,” he began after he woke up, the two of them sitting up in bed together and sharing a cigarette. “But you ever think it’s God? You read about the demigods and shit, children of the divine. Maybe you’re some kind of angel.”

Ethan snorted derisively before he could stop himself. “Friend, I am no angel,” he assured him. The idea was germinating though, and Chris was gazing at him with a new reverence.

“I bet you are. Who you are Ethan, what you can do...it’s a miracle, you’re a miracle. There’s no way around it, no matter what religion you subscribe to. It’s something you should think about, people like you aren’t given these gifts for no reason. You have a purpose in life.”

“I do. It’s to make tons of money and die laughing when I’m a hundred years old,” Ethan agreed placidly, stubbing out their cigarette. Chris only sighed, shaking his head but allowing the kiss to his temple that Ethan offered before sliding out of bed. “I’m gonna take a shower, order us some food.” Their relationship never progressed beyond very occasional and even more casual sex whenever he felt the itch for something different, but about six months after their first encounter Chris called him and asked him to come to his apartment.

It was early evening by the time he made it there, later than he’d anticipated, but a woman who needed the bruises that her abusive husband had left splashed across her face absorbed before she left for work that night had demanded his attention. The group waiting in Chris’ apartment was smallish, about ten people including the two of them, but there was an intensity radiating from their surface that gave Ethan pause in the archway leading into Chris’ living room. Some were holding cups of coffee, others bibles. They could have been alcoholics, or Republicans. “Ethan,” Chris said, rolling his name with the bone-quivering resonation of a church bell. “Thank you for coming.” He rose to his feet for some reason, and then, as if on some silent cue, so did the rest of the group.

Ethan arched a blond eyebrow. There were six women and four men including Chris - one of whom he recognized immediately. Joaquin, his old childhood best friend. He was taller now, thicker and more muscular, but his laughing dark eyes remained. There was a blonde woman who wore a soft, fuzzy white sweater over skinny jeans and had braided her thick hair over one shoulder, who introduced herself as Julie. She seemed highly alert, a touch less convinced than the rest of the crowd, but she flashed him a pair of dimples that had Ethan filing her name away for future reference. Dana was there as well - ten o’clock, he remembered. There was an older woman with a sensible and steely-gray pixie cut, fine lines etched into her face as deliberately as veined marble. Her name was Ella. One by one they introduced themselves, and explained why they were there.

“When I first heard about the martyrs on TV, I didn’t know what to think,” Ella said. “I’ve never been a religious sort, but it’s more for lack of convincing source material than any lack of faith. I’ve been a part-time Buddhist, a lip service Catholic, but nothing felt proper divine to me until you folks started popping up everywhere. Even that though, couldn’t be trusted - remember that one on TV, who was all proud about the way she gets her little thrills by letting people tie her up and force her to absorb their wounds?” Ella shivered slightly. “It occurred to me that there could be some very dark implications of what you people do, but then you came along. Offering to use your gift to help others, like a saint.”

“Let’s not shit ourselves here, babe,” Ethan cautioned. “I’m no saint, no matter what Chris has told you. I get paid for what I do.”

“Well of course you do,” she argued, gazing adoringly at him. “This isn’t ancient Israel, and shit’s expensive. No one can possibly blame you for that, What you do is offer a foolproof alternative to western medicine - we all know that half of the time, surgeries and medications don’t work, or only work halfway, but you offer a proven solution that works one hundred percent of the time, and you do it for less than what the insurance companies ask for! That’s worth a lot, Ethan. You’re worth a lot, more than you know it seems.” The group murmured its approval of her declaration, and she smiled with a tender triumph. “You are a miracle, Ethan Schroeder. You’re a hero and you’re an angel. You’re the only martyr in existence who bothered trying to apply your gift to help the suffering, and there’s a reason for that.”

“Yes, the reason is that all of the other martyrs who figured out what they could do were too scared to come forward. Do you have any idea how much personal security I have to hire so that someone with stage four brain cancer or whatever doesn’t lunge out at me with a gun on the way home, demanding that I take on his deadly illness for free in some back alley somewhere? It took a lot of planning and precaution on my part to set all of this up, to get to a place where it would be safe for me to tell the world what I can do.”

“I’m sure all of that is true,” Ella said with a glassy-eyed serenity. “But the real reason you came forward to help others is because it was inevitable, because you are a vessel for a higher presence. I don’t know if that’s God, or Shiva, or Apollo or whoever. But there is literally no question that you have been sent here for a grand and holy purpose, and we’re here to tell you that we want to help you in any and every way that we can. We’ve been talking about this for nearly a year now you know, trying to figure out how to approach you - do you think it was a coincidence that Chris found you in that bar six months ago?”

Ethan blinked, an awareness dawning in him that settled heavy in his stomach somewhere between impressed and vaguely horrified. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Why would you send Chris? Before that night, I’d never had sex with a guy before. I’d never even considered it.”

“Oh, that was a happy accident, honestly,” Chris interjected, his eyes glazed over with the same devout zeal that was mirrored in Ella’s gaze. “I only ever intended to talk to you, to get a feel for where you were spiritually and how receptive you’d be to our ideas. But then you blessed me, Ethan. You gave me something so precious, you let me touch something divine for the first time in my entire life.”

“Dude? We got drunk and fucked in a mediocre room at the Ritz,” Ethan pointed out, his mind spinning as he finally sat down. “No need to write a fucking Harlequin romance about it.”

“You’ll understand soon,” Dana tried. “Give us time, let us convince you. We’ve all been waiting for you Ethan, for so long. Our whole lives, some of us. Now we’ve found you, and we’re here to help you in any way that you need. We’ll do anything Ethan, we’re in your hands. Our lives are yours.” She was crying now, as she seemed prone to, and a tall, olive-skinned man with neat dark hair and thick brows and stubble draped an arm around her comfortingly. “We love you Ethan, we all love you so much. You’ve given our lives meaning again, we’ll do anything for you. Just tell us what you need.”

“What I need is for all of you to calm your asses down and leave me alone,” Ethan began, but then Joaquin was approaching him where he sat, dropping to his knees in front of him and reaching up to take Ethan’s hand in his own.

“I was so foolish, on that day back when we were kids,” he all but whispered. “I didn’t see what you were, I didn’t understand it. But my life has felt so empty since we drifted apart Ethan, and now I know why. It’s because God dropped you into my life as a gift early on, and I walked away from it out of sheer ignorance. Never again, I’m with you now until the end of all things.”

“Until the end of all things,” the entire room murmured softly, and Ethan shot to his feet, his eyes a little wide.

“Right, so. I’m going to go, you people have fun being fucking insane or whatever,” he said, backing slowly out of the living room just in case. Chris though, smiled patiently and handed him a business card.

“We had a feeling this would be a lot to take in all at once,” he said gently. “Call me when you’re ready.”

He wasn’t ready for a solid two weeks. He didn’t expect that he’d ever be ready, in fact. But the memory of their dazed murmuring and their damp, glassy eyes lingered. Their total vulnerability, the sight of Joaquin on his knees, the soft amber light of Chris’s living room that permeated his mind’s eye for weeks. Then, one chilly October morning, Ethan awoke to a slanting, icy needle-rain pummeling his bedroom window, and he sat up in bed and smiled a faint smile.

He called Chris on the same day, and the entire group, twelve strong now - Chris had started an invitation-only website - arrived at his apartment despite the roiling gray sky that had seeped into a dreary day. “We knew it wouldn’t take long,” Chris said as they all filed in. “Tell us what to do for you, Ethan.”

The time had come to put this to the test, to determine just how far these freaks were willing to go, and Ethan silently thanked that crazy bitch Sasha for the inspiration as he handed Chris a pair of brand-new gardening shears, freshly sharpened by some asshole at Lowe’s who had insisted on calling him “bud” until he’d nearly punched him in the face. “Take off your shoe, and cut off your little toe,” he instructed him, fully expecting to be asked for an explanation as to why this was necessary. But instead, Chris didn’t hesitate, dropping to one knee like an NFL protester and yanking off his Nike.

“Do you mind if I get some paper towels from the kitchen?” Dana asked. “I’d hate to see him bleed all over your floor. Beautiful hardwood.”

Ethan stared at her for a brief, flabbergasted second, and then shook his head. “Knock yourself out?”

“Thank you.” She rose to her feet and kissed his cheek in passing as she went, gathering a thick pad of Bountys that she brought back into his living room, carefully laying them down for Chris to brace his foot against. Ethan watched, completely transfixed and increasingly amused, as Chris met his eyes with the most loving smile anyone had ever directed his way just before snapping the shears shut around his little toe. It popped free, tumbling forward an inch or so and rolling to a stop at the edge of the paper towels, toenail still attached. A minor welling of blood bubbled up from the exposed, tiny mess of bloody muscle tissue and the remaining tiny bone stump jutting out from the whole affair, and Chris struggled to swallow his moan of pain.

Slowly, Ethan’s smile widened. “Nice,” he said, softly.

Julie was standing, watching, leaning against the far right wall with her arms crossed over her chest. It was hard to tell under the mood lighting of Ethan’s living room, but she looked slightly ill. Which, he supposed, was understandable. Chris curled up on his side, clutching his stomach for some reason, and Ethan looked him over with a scientific sort of curiosity. Dana went about cleaning and bandaging his new stump, a serene calm having settled over her like a fresh snow. She was entirely different from the woman he’d met in his office several weeks ago, a new purpose having lit her from the inside out now. It flickered behind her dark eyes, a seeping madness, a delusion of focused tranquility. It was a malleable thing in his hands, Ethan knew, and he could use it.

He started small. First, he sent Joaquin and Julie out to do his grocery shopping and laundry. A limping Chris cleaned his entire penthouse loft one frigid December day while he took some minor model to the movies. She wasn’t cute or interesting enough for him to save her number, but fucking her on the tacky cherry-red sofa in her apartment killed enough time for him to come home to a gleaming and polished space. Chris’ nostrils flared when he arrived back home though, picking up the heady scent of overpoweringly floral perfume. “Someone had a fun day out,” was all he said, the struggle to keep his tone light and careless pathetically evident in his voice.

“Getting jealous over me is even more ill-advised than deciding that I’m your neo-messiah, frankly,” Ethan said mildly, flipping through some junk mail. Mostly handwritten letters, which people seemed to consider more personal than simple emails that were way easier to delete, begging him to help their children at a discount because they couldn’t even afford his fees. His own recycling bin was stuffed to bursting with them. “I never promised any of you weirdos a goddamn thing, but shit. If you want to clean my apartment and do my chores for free, then have at it.”

Chris sidled up behind him, running a hand up the small of his back. “You’re so eager to make all of us believe that you’re devoid of empathy, that you don’t see what we see,” he said with a tender patience. “We understand, Ethan, we’ve talked about this amongst ourselves. You’re testing us, testing our faith in you. You want to see which of us is weak, which of us gives up on you when you pretend you don’t care or understand your own mission.”

“Sure, why not? You’ve gotta go now though, I’m beat.” He kicked off his shoes and fell belly-up onto his sofa, using his phone to turn on the 80-inch flatscreen mounted to the far wall of his living room. A light, glittering snow had begun to fall outside, and he briefly considered letting Chris stay until he was done with him, but decided in the end that he really was too exhausted. He fell asleep there, with some Joaquin Phoenix movie lulling him off.

In the morning, he sent Ella and Dana to do his bank run, to pick up his dry cleaning, and when they returned with his receipts and cheerful smiles, he let them wash his car. His agent had left him two voicemails about an invite to do the Dr.Phil show, the topic of which was “Ethan Schroeder and the Martyrs: Opportunistic Sociopaths or Savior Angels?” Of the seven known martyrs in the U.S, Ethan was by far the youngest, and most attractive and charismatic of the group, so the bulk of the media attention had been focused on him, which suited him perfectly. One of his followers - “the healed” they’d begun calling themselves - called his agent for him to solidify the plans, while Ethan took a spa day and let two scrawny and dubiously legal girls knead the knots from his back while slathering his face with a mint-green clay that tingled pleasantly.

“I mean, it’s my body,” he told Dr. Phil two weeks later. “I really don’t have to use my gift at all if I don’t want to, right? Isn’t that my right? Can anyone really blame me for asking for a small reimbursement in return for taking on their sicknesses? I’m offering them a one hundred percent accurate and empirically proven cure for whatever is wrong, at maybe a quarter of what the health insurance companies offer patients for treatments that may not even work in the end. Honestly, I think what I do is very reasonable, I’ve got to eat too you know? I’m the one who’s sick so much of the time, it’s not like we martyrs can heal ourselves. I need the best doctors in the world to ensure that I can continue providing the service that I do for people. In the end, all I care about is helping the helpless.”

He had a soft, steady voice and very light blue eyes like a husky dog’s, and his loose waves of still-long lemon-blond hair fell around his shoulders like a girl’s, and the crowd sighed with a kind of reverent approval all at once. Ethan smiled warmly at them, mimicking his memory of Chris’ gentle smile and soft-eyed gaze. He had a habit of doing that, of very subtly adjusting his mannerisms and tone to match those of the people around him, of mimicking emotions he’d witnessed from others in the past when they seemed appropriate for any given situation. It was a skill that had served him well and taught him much over the years, as his own capacity for empathy had withered to a dry ash long ago.

These people - all people - were fucking disgusting, he’d decided at some point shortly after a wailing father had thrown himself at his feet when Ethan had rejected his plea to take on his son’s epilepsy. Some more than others, like the difference between cats and dogs. Dog-humans were drooling, slobbering, shitting freely all over everything with no sense of dignity, wildly humping anything they came across, only ever concerned with their own base needs. Cat-humans were a little better, cooler and more poised, walking softly on padded feet and turning up their noses at anything lesser than they, but they were just as deluded as the dogs in the end. In the end, they were all just mindless animals.

Snot had oozed from the man’s nostrils, a wet splat of it hitting his beautiful office floor as he’d wept, one hand clutching the top of Ethan’s leather Oxford. “Please,” he’d whispered, his voice cracking. “The doctors say that with every seizure he has, his brain is a little more damaged. He’ll die soon and there’s nothing we can do. I know we don’t have the money up front, but I swear to the lord Christ that I will pay you. I’m begging you, please don’t let my baby die.”

“You know, I’m so sick of you people saying shit like that to me,” Ethan had replied, complete with an eye-roll. “Don’t let this happen, don’t let that happen. It’s not up to me, Papa. You think I wanted your kid to be a fucking epileptic? What makes you think I care? So don’t try to put that shit on me, I’m not the one who gave your kid a brain disorder. Maybe that lord Christ of yours wants him back, ever think of that? Isn’t that what you people believe in, divine will and shit? Now get the hell off my floor, fuck.” He nudged the man’s cheek with the tip of his shoe, watching him sprawl backward onto his back with his arms and legs flailing like an upended turtle. “I have made it very clear that I don’t do chronic illnesses unless it’s a matter of not having the cash for an available cure,” he pointed out. “You’re the one who thought you could manipulate me into putting myself into a potentially lethal situation by appealing to my sense of empathy. Luckily for me, my sense of self-preservation reigns supreme. Is any of this my fault? Why are you crying to me?”

The man snorted and sniffled, scrabbling to his feet with red-rimmed eyes. “You’re a monster,” he said softly.

“No, I’m a realist and you’re just flinging blame out of desperation now because you couldn’t goad or guilt me into giving you what you wanted,” Ethan shot back. “Nice try, asshole. Now get out of my office.”

The boy had died several months later, a clipping of his obituary appearing in Ethan’s mail shortly after. He’d held it in his hands for some time, standing in the kitchen and bathed in the amber light of a dying afternoon flooding in through the long, narrow windows by his sink. He’d read it five times, six, struggling for something, rooting around in his own mind for a spark, a softness, an ache, a pang, contact. Instead, the words registered only as ink on newsprint, a dying medium proclaiming a fitting end for a dying boy whose prolonged suffering was now over, and with that thought Ethan reached a little further into himself. A relief, a bittersweet taste in his mouth, a give. Nothing. Nothing at all, and he smiled faintly to himself because like the boy, he too was finally free.

This realization had bloomed in him about a month before he’d met Chris, and it felt like his life was coming together all at once once he became aware of the benefits of having a cult at his beck and call. He watched videos of the greats - Jim Jones, Billy Graham, Fred Phelps, David Miscavige, and good old Charlie Manson. He pieced apart the reason and brilliance tucked in between their rambling gibberish, becoming increasingly receptive to the potential a cult leader who was actually sane could hold in their hands. He became a surgeon of human emotions, peeling away and cutting into the excess and manipulating what was useful. He told Ella and Dana and Chris and Joaquin and Julie and Tyler and Hanna and Kellan and Liam and Audrey and Sara and Caleb that he loved them, deeply. They had twice-weekly group meetings where they sat and prayed to the “healers,” the “beings of light and love and redemption and remedy” that Chris had told them existed. Ethan listened to their stories, he held them in their arms when they cried. He took on their migraines and stomach aches, their minor injuries and bad days, he fucked at least half of them. They called these private times “renewals.”

“Maybe God and angels, maybe all of the healers, maybe it’s space,” he’d suggested idly to Ella one day as she’d stirred dough to make fresh bread for him while he’d lounged on the floor, reading. “Maybe it’s all just outer space, maybe all of these divine beings actually exist on some planet somewhere are just waiting for humanity to understand the truth of things so they can come and take us home. Maybe they gave we martyrs our abilities to test us, to see what we did with them.”

Ella dropped her spoon. The thirteen of them had bought an enormous house outside the city now, tucked right in the center of a sprawling expanse of unchecked forest. Ethan had thought he’d hate it at first, but he’d come to appreciate the quiet out there, not to mention how much harder it made it for people to waste his damn time when they came begging for healing. The truly poor usually couldn’t afford to come that far out, as having a car or truck that could handle the terrain could have been sold off to pay for whatever they didn’t want to suffer with anymore. “That’s beautiful, Ethan,” she whispered, coming to kneel before him and taking both of his hands into her own. “Thank you so much for sharing this insight with me, unworthy as I am. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Ella,” Ethan said, glancing over her shoulder. “You’re not going to put that spoon back in the dough, are you?”

The group met without him, whenever he went into the city for an unfamiliar fuck or to blow some cash at the Burberry store. Sara and Dana had been asking him about impregnating them lately, offering up their wombs in the hopes of birthing a blessed martyr like him. He’d said yes of course, considering that he’d had a vasectomy in secret years ago. Thinking they were his favorites, the chosen holy mothers of his blessed babies, it made them happy. Happy cultists were obedient cultists, he’d learned, which had been the great mistake so many before him had made. They’d grown greedy, impatient, demanding, hateful and controlling. Ethan though, he was kind and gentle and caring and it was common knowledge in the manor that no one was ever obligated to stay if they no longer felt it to be the right path for them. He’d never once asked any of them to cut off their friends or families, to stop pursuing their personal interests. He fully intended on winning this game.

They’d been living in the house for over a year when he was woken up in the middle of the night. The sky was endless, starless, through his bedroom window, an icy moon hanging heavy and unobscured by clouds. His twelve were standing in a circle around his bed, holding candles in their hands, their flickering illumination creating a dream scene. He sat bolt upright in bed despite his sleep haze, blinking at them. “Hey, guys,” he said, his voice hoarse with sleep. “What’s going on?”

“I have wonderful news,” Dana said adoringly. “I’m pregnant, Ethan.”

“Bullshit?” spilled out of him before he caught himself, and he winced.

“No, it’s true. I’m a week late on my period, and I can feel it. I can feel what we created together, stirring inside of me. I feel holy Ethan, I feel new. All because of you.” She used her free hand to reach down and stroked his hair.

“Maybe we should take you to a doctor and see if they can feel what we created together too,” he said cautiously. “Just to be sure.” Because there was literally no fucking way this stupid bitch was pregnant.

“I’ve already made an appointment,” she assured him, threading her fingers through his hair. “But I don’t want you to worry about any of that now, tonight we’re focusing on you.” Normally Ethan was a major fan of people focusing on him, but her words sent a shiver down his spine. He blinked up at her, but she only smiled down at him, her face a shadowed echo of everyone else’s. “You made my life worth living,” she said to him, trailing her fingertips down his cheek. “All of our lives. We owe you everything, and despite it all you continue to give and give and give.”

“I mean, sure, I guess. Is there...something you guys need, then?” he tried, yawning.

“Yes. And since you won’t be able to communicate with us anymore soon, we want you to know how grateful we are. We love you, Ethan.”

“We love you, Ethan,” the group echoed in a dazed unison, their eyes glassy by candlelight.

“I won’t be able to what now?”

“Get his legs,” Joaquin instructed, and Tyler and Chris each grabbed an ankle.

“What the fuck--?”

Sara and Julie got his wrists, Julie’s eyes glittering in the dim as if she was finding a personal satisfaction in this that eluded the others. Her fingers felt sharp and bony, curled around his wrist like steel clamps. She leaned down low, under the guise of kissing his lips, but instead she whispered something to him.

“Sasha Fallon says hello,” she whispered, pain and anger slicing through her quiet hiss. “You think you’re the only one who can manipulate people, you piece of shit? It was so easy to make them see what they had to do to truly become holy.”

Ethan’s eyes went huge, and he flailed in their grip. “Stop it!” he tried, adding a weight to his tone that he hoped was authoritative as they hauled him off of the bed. “Fucking stop it!” But they didn’t stop, and instead they carried him down into the house’s basement, where rows and rows of wooden shelves had once housed root vegetables and mason jars of preserves and bottles of wine. They’d been repurposed into a crude cross, mounted to the filthy, gritty wall, and Julie helped the others yank and tear at his clothes until he stood naked and shivering and surrounded by all of them, twelve to one. “Okay, what the hell is going on?” he demanded, trying to remain incredulous, but the cold dread was seeping in. He knew exactly what Julie had planted in their minds, what she’d suggested was their only honest path to divinity. It rang as clear as a bell in her cold stare.

Joaquin knelt, wrapping both arms around his knees, hefting him up and carrying him over to the dirt-caked cross. He struggled, but Joaquin was thick and muscular and he only smiled up at him. Ethan almost considered himself lucky that he was so strong, because it only took one slam of the hammer a moment later, to drive the thick industrial nail through the center of his palm. One bleeding hand was now pinned to the left arm of the cross, and Ethan stared through wet, disbelieving eyes. The pain felt far away, somehow. It was possible that he was going into shock, he considered, but the relief of it was obliterated a second later, when Ella needed three bangs of the hammer for his other hand. His fingers twitched, and Sara wrapped a rough rope around his waist and the middle beam of the cross to support his weight.

Blood dripped into two old glass jars that Ella positioned precisely under his hands on the floor, collecting in dark puddles at their bottoms as the men went to work on his feet. The thinnest place to nail into was the webbing between his biggest and middle toes, and his head thunked back against the cross with a deep moan of agony as they finished their work. “He’s so beautiful,” Hanna said, sniffling a little as she gazed up at him. “Cut out his tongue.”

They only had serrated kitchen knives from upstairs, and so it took Joaquin several minutes of sawing through wet, fleshy muscle to sever Ethan’s tongue as his entire body shuddered on the cross. It came free with a faint tearing sound, the last centimeter of sinew unraveling as Joaquin used a pair of gardening pliers to pull it free. He was rewarded for his hard work with the first taste of Ethan, though he was kind enough to saw the quivering hunk of muscle tissue into several pieces for everyone to share. He chewed with a relish, smacking his lips to show his appreciation. Blood poured from Ethan’s mouth and down over his chin, neck and chest, painting a thick red streak across his body. His eyes rolled wildly in their sockets as he tried to silently plead with one of them to please stop this madness, but a wretched magic had taken hold of everyone in that basement.

They took his toes, then his feet, working their way up. Ethan was still alive when Chris finished slicing through the thick, tough meat of his hip until his steak knife tapped bloody bone and he was able to reach in with his fingers and used them to pop it out of his hip socket. From there, it was only skin and sinew holding his leg in place, and they were easy to cut through. They feasted on him while he watched, dying somewhere between their finishing his leg and beaming up at him through blood-smeared faces and bloody teeth, their throats working down the raw, rubbery chunks of him. His head fell forward, flopping loosely against his chest, and Julie, who had only nibbled on one of his fingers before letting the rest of the group gorge themselves, smiled up at the ceiling and said, “Amen.”

End.

#original fiction #horror #writing #horror fiction #body horror

0 notes