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cdroloisms · 3 years ago

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Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao)

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

#tw trauma #tw death #tw blood #tw injury #tw torture #tw abuse #tw starvation #prison arc #pandora's vault #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks

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b0rista · 4 years ago

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ahah shawty🤩do you write for floch? if so, lemme get sum hcs on dating floch😳🤪😩👹

— 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑.

WARNINGS: language.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ahhhaha ayo 🥴 okayokayokausokeu i know it says on my masterlist that i wouldn't write headcanons or drabbles for floch but i thought yk might as well HJDFK if this is ooc imsosoRry anytime floch is on the screen he's always angry and j triggering people 😭

"i broke my rules for you."

let me tell you— getting this little weasel into a relationship was not an easy task. you and floch were, dare i say, the most aggravating slow burn known to man. somehow, you managed to do the impossible. and without a doubt, it was worth it.

had you not been a soldier, floch likely wouldn't have ever fallen for you. it was both your drive and your realism that pulled him in, as well as the lovable personality that came with. silently, he looked up to you. and during his rougher moments, he wished to steal your dignity all for himself. of course, with that being impossible, he instead chose to try his absolute damnest to become inspired by it. by you.

you're basically this boy's mother. always telling him that he's being too honest, always trying to pull him out of sour situations, always putting him in his place when necessary. some days, it's exhausting. other days, you feel as if you've already grown rather used to it. as floch's girlfriend, it's simply routine.

without a doubt, it's become a thing where you place an absolute death grip on this manchild's ear, yanking him out of wherever it is he's causing trouble. every time you do it, you'll get a mouthful of his pained complaints, yet he's never stopped you. again, it's your job to put him in his place. you know it, and so does he. pull on that earlobe, queen.

whenever you're genuinely angered by something, floch is actually shaken. like, mans is scared. you're freaky when you're mad. still, even when he's sweating absolute buckets, he'll try his hardest to fix your problem and put your frustration to an end.

expect to get teased by this boy about everything and anything. you're short? ha, sucks to suck. you're tall? wow, how's the weather up there? he may view you as an upstanding figure, but teasing is his go-to flirting technique. this is all he knows, lethimloveyou.

let's be honest here,, you were probably the one to kill that pizza cutter season three haircut. it was a funny conversation between the two of you.

"so,, are you gonna look like that forever?"

"what?"

"here, let's see what the combs are up to-"

you combed that bitch OUT, and the process of training it was an absolute shitfest. literally, you had to hype him up profusely so that he wouldn't tap out.

"W h O' S TH E SEXIE S T GING E R ALivE?!"

"I AM, GO DD A M M I T-"

yeah, jean despised you two for weeks.

working out side by side! yes, floch enjoys training with you. whenever the two of you need to maintain your physique, you tend to do so together, and together only. it's strictly the two of you for only one reason: neither of you can get embarrassed. the amount of times you've both just collapsed thirty minutes into a training session is ridiculous, and it's hEavenLy that there's nobody there to judge you. when one of you quits, the other follows. it's a great dynamic, don't take it for granted.

when the time comes where floch and the jaegerists band together, he bears no shame in asking you to join him. and while he'd make sure to keep a stoic, stable expression, he'd be desperate for you to accept. if you aren't by his side, nothing feels right. he absolutely despises this power you hold over him, and how it's bound to jeopardize his mission entirely.

still, he's far too weak to let you go. while your hold on him is enough to make him want to loathe you, he can't. why? because he loves you. and to him, love is enough.

when it comes to affection, you'll have to be the one to first initiate it. while he melts at your touch, floch is a bit too closed off for his own good, and that's a bit of a struggle. however, once you set things into motion, he won't be able to ever get enough of you. the first time you lean in to kiss him? he's addicted to the taste of your lips. once you nuzzle into his neck for the first time during an embrace, he savors the feeling for days. that first time you sleep in the same bed, he can no longer succumb to sleep without the feeling of you beside him beneath the sheets.

^ basically, he's far too confident in his ability to resist you. you greatly humble this man.

at first, he was confused on whether or not he wanted to be you, or be with you. does he overwork himself to reach your level, or does he take his actual feelings into consideration and make a move on you? many questions, not enough answers. he was,, very conflicted.

never will he ever admit it, but whenever floch is sick or injured, he absolutely loves when you baby him. please don't EVER do it front of people, but behind closed doors, go nuts. please, spoil him, it makes him feel better.

due to just how highly he thinks of you, he has a bad tendency to overestimate you. mans thinks that you're capable of doing literally anything, and it shows. it's cute, but overbearing. he's accepted overly aggressive challenges for you, only to be absolutely shocked when you get your ass handed to you.

like, what? baby, what do you mean you can't bench press jean and armin's weight combined while chugging a two-liter of sweet tea? u got this, babe.

if floch ever witnesses you all dressed up, he'll be floored. one time, he walked in on you trying on a strapless burguny dress, and he face planted into the doorframe. you thought he broke his nose, and he's swoOning over you.

a lot of bickering. it's typically lighthearted, but it's a lot. it's far too much back and forth than remotely necessary, and everyone absolutely hates the two of you for arguing 70% of the time.

apologies go somewhat like this:

"sorry."

"you better be."

"biTCH-"

nobody understands how the two of you operate— nobody except you guys.

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot headcanons #aot scenarios #floch forster #floch #floch forster x reader #floch x reader #aot x reader

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slowpoke-fics · 3 years ago

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The Run | The Good Doctor pt 3

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Negan x Reader slow burn

Summary: You had a bit more responsibility than you'd expected, not to say you didn't know what you were doing

Warnings: none really, cussing, ooc Negan, slow burn, it's cute, I miss some and am not perfect, read at your own risk

A/N: This is part three to the Good Doctor Part 3! Thank you for being patient and I hope to have part four up much quicker. I liked this even though it's just some logistical stuff and insight, here is part two!

Maybe he thinks he can fix me, sucks for him, I'm broken beyond repair.

When you woke up, Negan had his hand on your shoulder, you immediately grabbed the gun under your pillow, holding it under his chin. He immediately grabbed the gun and twisted it out of your hands, your eyes now fully open and awake. You didn't realize he was eye level with you, how hot it was for him to control your gun like that, how hot he was staring into your eyes, waiting for your next move. You were frozen, you're not sure he equated it with anything but sleep, but he was captivating.

He laughed, hands up, "Damn, doll, just trying to fuckin' wake you up without fuckin' scaring you, see that was fuckin' pointless," his eyebrows raised as he shook the gun by the barrel at you, "you want it back or not?" You shook your head in disbelief as you took your gun and put it down, shocked that you held a gun to someone for just trying to wake you up. "I-I'm sorry, I guess it was just-" Negan laughed, "No worries, doll, at least I know you can take care of yourself."

You smiled, throwing the blanket off of you and swinging your legs over the couch, “So,” you stood up and began folding the blanket, “what’s the plan?” He watched you fold the blanket, not trying to hide the fact that his eyes roamed your body. Taking in the battered bluejeans that hugged your body, the scratched and slightly torn tank top, your hair shining against the sun, really popping the color out. “We’re going to drive a little longer than I’d hoped but,” he huffed, “the towns supposed to have some more supplies left than we’d originally thought, we should be back by dark.” You shrugged, “Should be fun, are we ready to leave now?”

Negan leaned against the desk, you took all of him in. He was wearing his classic leather jacket over the tattered t-shirt and blue jeans that laid over his steel toe boots. He watched as you put your hair into a pony tail, shirt playing peekaboo with the skin on your torso, “Right after breakfast doll. You ready?” You nodded at him, heading to the door with him following close behind.

Once you had sat down for breakfast Negan started shoveling food down, a full plate compared to your half rations. You didn’t really have much of an appetite, worried about everything that could happen with Negan today. He didn’t seem to notice, and by the time you’d finished your small plate, he was already done eating too. He grabbed your plate so he could return it with his own. You picked up the bags and followed suit, following him out the door and to his truck.

The truck was huge. Had to have been able to fit half of Alexanndria's storage. You’d wondered how much he was planning to come back with. It started to make a little more sense when a small portion of his crew jumped into the back, probably for protection. You climbed into the truck after Negan opened the door for you, closing it once he’d known your feet were out of the way. Then proceeding to climb in his own side.

Negan started the truck, taking you in before he started rolling. Your legs crossed, fingers interlocked at the top of your thighs, thumbs picking at each other, ankle continuously moving. You watched the trucks behind you, following close, at least three others. Did all of them have people in the back? How big was this run?

You were clearly nervous and he hated that, he wanted to make you as comfortable as possible. He tried to ignore it, but after fifteen minutes of non stop thought through his head, he had to say something. "God damn doll," Negan bellowed, "you're gonna roll the damn truck if you don't stop shaking so much," Negan lightly rubbed your forearm, a foreign thing to you, "what're ya so fuckin' nervous about anyway princess?"

You shrugged, a look of uneasiness resting on your face at his nickname for you that didn't go unnoticed, "Just don't know how to act with your group, what're your run rules? Where do I not be in the way? Will I distract you and your men? I'm used to going solo, or with one or two people. There's so-" Negan had to stop your monologue, knowing you've asked these questions twenty times since yesterday. "Don't fuckin' worry about it," Negan smiled, "I made sure this was gonna be fun for you." Your eyebrows curled, needing him to explain.

Negan blushed? No way, you thought and left it alone. "What do you mean?" He shrugged, "You'll see, won't you doll?" You huffed, "Well that just makes me more nervous." Negan let out a hearty laugh, "Damn girl, pull at this old assholes strings huh?" He shook his head, "I'm your personal companion today," he giggled at your slap to his arm. "I don't need a baby sitter!" He raised he hands very quickly to show defense, "No! But, wherever you go, I do. Whatever you fuckin' say, that's law. Everyone else goes at your direction too," he paused, looking at you, "but you don't leave my fuckin' sight," his eyes bore into you, demanding confirmation. "Yeah, okay," you smiled lightly.

"So," Negan's fingers drilled the steering wheel as he hummed at you to continue, "what's in this place?" Negan shifted, "It's a little town, the rest is a surprise." He looked genuinely excited, and you wondered how this apocalypse had changed him as a man. He couldn't have always been this heartless. "Do I get any hints?" Negan hummed again, this time searching for something to give you, "You'll fuckin' like it." You shrugged, "Maybe." He glanced to your bag where you keep your notebook, a gentle reminder of his broken trust. "Oh," you cleared your throat, "hopefully." He beamed at you, "Come on lil' fuckin' firecracker," he pressed the gas a couple more times, gently swerving the car to play with you, "be more fuckin' excited! I'm fuckin' kidding!"

The rest of the way you could believe how different Negan was being. He was intently talking to you about the grid of the town, what his crew already know about, how his crew has already been briefed that you're running it, explained the teams to you and that you're header, leading the team leaders, and he's told you that he's confident you have this ability. You were shocked about him being completely different man that with other people. You were sure that you could be with the man sitting in the truck with you, and you were sure that you couldn't be with the man who murdered someone you considered to be your brother. You were torn between seeing his good and never forgiving him for killing Glenn, how could he do something so vile? You shook your head, drawing attention back to the road and off of your thoughts.

When you arrived, Negan placed his hand on your thigh, just barely touching you. "There is one rule," he smiled, "stay here." Negan was gone for no more than two minutes. He finally came to your door, opening it and revealing his many men standing behind him, "Make sure you're safe." He reached for your hand, dropping you down to the same man who stole from you in your clinic, you glared him hiding behind Negan.

Negan stepped out of the way, the man looking guilty, "Hello, Doctor Y/n," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for stealing from an honorable woman." He handed you a gum pack, missing a few pieces, and a small pack of skittles, "I couldn't find gum to replace what I'd stolen, so I hoped that the skittles would excuse my poor manners." You smiled hatefully at him, taking what was in his hand, "Apology accepted..." you waited for him to say his name, but Negan chimed in. "Brady," and he slapped the other man on the shoulder eliciting a smile, "and Simon." You smiled, reaching your hand out to shake Simon's hand, "I've heard." Negan smiled at you, "Good we're all fuckin' aquatinted," he roughly slapped Brady's shoulder, you didn't miss the wince he tried to hide, "these two travel with us period. So, Y/n," a bright smile, "what's the fucking plan?"

With that you noticed the other men had cleared a path for you, letting you view the town. At this point you took in the town, looking at the tiny shops and small streets. Negan wasn't kidding, it's a small town, surely the four trucks you bought could fit everything. You thought for a second, and it hit you, how much work he had put into this. You smiled to yourself, knowing that he wanted to make this go smoothly for you, hence the perfect amount of trucks, a grid, briefed men.

You walked a little behind you, looking at the different streets, looking at Negan, he smiled, giving you some confidence. "You said that you'd already separated these men by trucks? With their usual teams?" You whispered to Negan, "Yes ma'am, they're with their usual team leaders and already armored, just need you to tell them where to go n what to do."

"Okay, so here's my plan-" Negan put his hand up, gesturing to the men when you realized you should be talking to them. You cleared your throat, "Okay, so here's the plan," Negan's body was just barely pressing against you, standing behind you on your left side, his hands in his pockets, watching his men intently listen to you. How hard did he work on this for you?

"If you came in Negan's truck, you're with us on main," you motioned with your hand to have them move to the side, "Truck two-or rather-team two, you're going to our left, Combs Street, when you get to the library, we're looking for education books, if we have time and space after you've gotten everything else essential on the street, comb the library taking the fun books, that's a good part of life now." Negan nodded, liking your plan for education first, noting that the houses on the street might hold value, but acknowledging that we still need distractions like 'fun books' if circumstances allowed.

"Truck three, hit the residential area, on Langley Street," you continued when the men nodded their heads, "Truck four, hit the shops to our right on second street," everyone started moving and you shouted, "wait!" You cleared your throat once again, "Team leaders, I need you and your right hand man, everyone else stay put."

You pulled out the grid as the men surrounded you, "So you've got the left and right sides on your street, split in half, half on Side A, the left, half on side B, the right, this will increase the time we can spend in the houses and avoid stepping on each others feet. Every time you clear a house you call it in, for example, team four A, you would say 'Team Four, A1 clear, moving to A2,' or 'Team Four A Trapped, requesting Four B at A3.' I need you to do this so I can designate resources and men, keep up with the lives and walkers. No need for needless death, check in." Everyone nodded, you smiled, "Anybody have questions, comments or concerns?" The men shook their heads and you turned back towards the crowd, "Alright, everyone knows what you're doing, no-one goes anywhere alone or unarmed. Take everything useful. Do not let your guard down and watch your backs. Dismissed." At that the men dissipated, going on their own assignments.

"Was that okay?" You looked to Negan, the need for approval swimming through your eyes, Negan nodded, "I think it was great, Simon what about you?" Simon chirped up, "Oh yeah, couldn't have done it better myself, I don't make them check in that much but that's okay." You smiled at Simon, wondering how he could not worry about his men that much. You watched as Team One had already started moving toward the first building, them the first check-ins started.

"Team One, heading to A1," a pause, "Team One, heading to B1," another pause, "Team Two, heading to A1." You listened to the team list off their locations, smiling as everyone checked in. "Alright, doll," Negan leaned against the truck, "Where to first?"

#twd negan #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #negan x y/n #negan angst #negan fluff #negan x you #negan imagine #negan fic #negan fanfiction #negan x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #Jdm fanfic

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featherymalignancy · 3 years ago

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Hello! I've seen your comments on how you change a few things when writing the characters, and I really think it's fascinating! I really enjoy see your version, because they are never OOC (I don't know how you do this magic).

And thinking of that, I have some questions...

Do you have your characters versions ready and figured out before you start writing your fics? How is this process of finding out how you want to write them?

And also what are your thoughts on Nessian in ACSF that you felt the need to change them a little? Did you like them? Did you like the book?

I don't think I ever saw your opinion and I really like how you articulate your answers. And I hope I'm not overstepping with all these questions 🥺

This got so long, sorry in advance!

Thank you! I know that character extrapolation isn’t for everyone, but to me it’s what writing fic is about! I like to think I am very intentional with the additions/character expansions I’ve made in my fics, often seeking to expand areas I felt were left somewhat underdeveloped in canon. (Illyrian culture, anyone??)

I also have a personal preference for setting my modern AUs in the real world, so you will never see a modern Rhysand living in skyscraper in Velaris or modern Aelin being described as a Terrasenian (?) citizen. That is not an indictment of the many incredible writers who do structure their modern AUs this way, i just find it easy to ground my modern stories in a world I can easily research if I need details (a restaurant for them to visit, a street for them to live on, etc)

As far as “editing” character personalities from canon, i think the key for me is trying to understand who the character is at their core, and altering the elements that I personally don’t feel jive with those core motivations.

I’ve talked a lot about writing canon Nesta, and how I’ve pivoted the Archeron sisters’ relationship based on my own experience as the youngest of three daughters. I just didn’t always feel their interactions rang true, particularly in ACOSF.

And since you asked…

I think enough time has passed now that I can just be honest and say I didn’t love ACOSF. I didn’t hate it, but I can’t say I would give it any more than a 5/10. To me, the story wasn’t properly paced, which made for a plot that was slow in some places and rushed in others.

Also—and I cannot believe I am saying this—but there was too much smut. There was a lot of elements that deserved to be fleshed out and wasn’t (HELLO ILLYRIAN CULTURE??) and the smut was largely all the same to me, which made it boring and repetitive. (Also calm down with the bodily fluids my GOD)

In terms of Nessian, I would say their resolution was acceptable, if not particularly satisfying. Obviously I’m biased because if you know me you know that I hate the mating bond, but it IRKED me that Cassian was foaming at the mouth to call Nesta “mate” but never said, “I love you”. I get that he does loved her, but I feel like it would have been nice to get to hear it and get Nesta’s reaction.

Speaking of OOC, I think Rhys’s characterization was a disaster and directly negated his characterization in prior books for the sake of drama. We don’t need to get into it, but Rhys would never keep a secret of that magnitude from Feyre, especially considering the implications with their bargain to die together. Rhys has sacrificed everything for the sake of his people—he would never not make a contingency plan in the event of his death. That is what I mean by rushed. The book was so busy touting itself as steamy and new adult that it forgot to actually write a compelling plot and believable character interactions.

I like the idea that Rhys and Nesta’s relationship is fraught and he is bias and unfair in his interactions with her because that’s very realistic, but it was never actually resolved by them reaching an understanding. We deserved a scene of Rhys and Nesta coming to an understanding and a place of mutual respect for one another, and we never got it.

As far as Nesta’s journey went, it as generally fine, if somewhat rushed. I think her relationship with the Inner Circle was never really hashed out meaningfully, which made their “reconciliation” at the end feel empty and forced.

I really appreciated Nesta finding her own crew and making her own life, with ONE exception (and this is personal preference, not an indictment of people who liked it) but I fucking 👏🏼 hated 👏🏼 the sleepover with Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn. Not because I didn’t love seeing them bond, but because *NO* part of Nesta’s characterization before or after suggested she was the kind of person who would have liked having what amounted to a make-believe tea party with mini ponies and cake. I would have preferred them laying around talking about books until dawn, or going together to see a dance performance. I just found the interaction so OOC that it rang false. Nesta being happy doesn’t mean that she suddenly must be silly to prove it! Gwyn and Emerie both love and accept Nesta for who she is—an introvert and with an cerebral disposition . Silly and happy are not the same thing, and one needn’t act indulge in childhood activities to prove they are unburdened and happy.

As always I’ve gone on too long, but the bottom line is that I try and consider what motivates a character, and I make sure that their actions reflect that motivation realistically. That causal relationship is the heart of good characterization, and is also the reason that I found ACoSF ‘meh’ at best.

Hopefully that answers your question, but feel free to follow up!!♥️♥️

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shadowdianne · 3 years ago

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Fic writer review [Or a fic writer tag game if you prefer]

I was tagged by @naralanis and I can already see her grin all the way from where I am xd Thank you, dear, for the tag, let’s see what are my answers, shall we.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

*bursts out laughing* Adding both pseuds I have… 535 according to the account info but by counting them all I’m reaching 541 so I’m guessing it’s counting some drafts I need to re-find.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

I seriously hated you for this one xd I was going to do it by hand by I decided one-third there that I value my mental stability a little bit more xd according to the stats page back at a03 that number would be 1257884. It may be wrong. I think there should be a few more numbers up there but the majority of my works are one-shots so *shrugs* There’s also the fact that counting my ao3 things only is shaving off like half of it Xd Anyway, can we laugh at the fact that I’m a pain in the ass and that I’ve written a lot? More than I should have, that’s for sure

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

Trick question because I haven’t crossposted everything I wrote back in ffnet and I actually erased some fics from my account back there so the numbers are a little blurry there.

When I had the entirety of my work posted both in ffnet and a03 I had written for: Twilight (Bella/Alice) Glee (Faberry and there were a couple Pezberry and I don’t fucking remember the pairing name for Santana and Quinn), Harry Potter (Hermione/Ginny, Hermione/Narcissa, Hermione/Bellatrix) OUAT (SwanQueen and several oneshots focusing on the mad hatter and the blue fairy solely back at ffnet that were written in Spanish and never translated), I actually had a veeeery old au prompt of Frozen (Elsanna in where I wrote them as non sibilings), Rizzoli and Isles (Rizzles), Dishonored 2 (Emily Kaldwin/Alexi Mayhew), Lara Croft and Wonder Woman, Supergirl (SuperCorp/Supercat) I had a 100 one -or maybe two??- (Clexa), The Shannara Chronicles (Amberle/Eretreia [Or Princess Rover], Rwby [Blake Belladona/Yang], The Worst Witch (Hecate Hardbroom and Pippa Pentangle), The Half of it, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (Madam Satan/Zelda Spellman) and… I think that’s it(?) I may be forgetting some but probably nothing important if I’m not remembering it lol.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Ah, we are going to go there, uh? Xd My works are not the kudos and comment getting type Xd So I was quite surprised when I went to check this.

1: Cracked it I wrote this one back in 2017, it was a prompt done by an anon: Lena is nerding with one of her projects at home, mumbling mostly to herself because she’s stuck and Kara casually mentions how to solve the problem like it’s nothing. I really had some fun with this. It was back when some us, SQeeners were fully doing the jump between OUAT and SuperGirl (I mean, there had already been some crossover as for fandom is related but this when the girls were actually getting their conjoined voice within the fandom)

2: Dateless I honestly needed to check what this one was about but I think I can see why this one shot has the amount of kudos it has. It’s a short and sweet idea and responds to the Teachers Au that went SO well with SQ. Everyone thinks they hate each other and try to set them up with other people whilst they, in truth, are dating. I don’t remember if I wrote them as married rather than dating but despite being from 2017 as well is one cheeky enough to be cool Xd I probably would edit some lines now *shudders*

3: After you I truly didn’t expect this one to be top 3. Makes me think of a lot of things, if I’m being honest Xd. After you was a one shot written almost feverishly as an answer to the fabulous drawings that Sejic did of both Lara Croft and Wonder Woman back at 2018 or something. It’s just Lara and Diana being himbos but not at all with each other.

4: How about… How about is one I remember perfectly, it was my answer to the ending of the Half of it film. I had SOME thoughts about it, let’s just stop there Xd I really liked the film itself but I think and I thought at the time that my response to wishing for a final scene at the very end of the credits responds to me being in a different personal moment than the characters. I really wanted to explore my feelings about it and so I wrote about them finding each other again after some time passes. It was also something I wrote after quite the hiatus so I took it as something I could write about without focusing too much on the why.

5: Come to me

Ahh, SuperCorp Xd I remember this one actually. A friend of mine and I were talking about descriptions, and she mentioned quite off-handedly how she wanted a fic in where Kara’s back was described. I complied… more or less.

Fun tidbit, despite the big volume of my work is obviously set in ouat there’s only 1 SQ fic there as you can see, the others are either SuperCorp or the random one shots I created for Wonderwoman/Lara Croft and The half of it. *sighs in deep thought* I’m also not going to look too much into how almost all of the fics were posted and written back in 2017. Nope, not at all.

*Small voice screaming you peaked in 2017 and everything else is garbage jumps back and forth*

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I tend to always respond, yup. I truly value comments. I might have gone for spells of time in where I didn’t have the mental capacity to check in old fics because I truly didn’t know what to answer but I treasure every single comment and you all who comment know that I can start to ramble in the answers xd -sorry about that- I really really REALLY love interaction.

6. A fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending:

Ok, Nara, come on, this one is a catch for me. I’ve written angst in far too many fics to remember the angstiest one :P I have the most recent one, though, that is the easy one to think about: Goodbye.Written for @delirious-comfort. I’m just going to say “Kisses with their last dying breath” as an idea of what awaits inside but I’ve written about death and loss and angst quite a lot. There were some I wrote back to SQ with Regina needing to kill Emma during the Dark Swan arc that, to this day, I still love and some others in where Regina is the one that dies, again and again, trapped by magic while Emma watches. I have the loss in mental destruction form and… I REALLY like my angst y’know xd

7. Do you write crossovers?

Not counting Lara and Wonder Woman not really! I think it comes from the fact that I loooove worldbuilding as a whole and some pairings would require all my focus into making the world perfect which in turn would make me self conscious on the OOCness of it all.

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

*snorts* I’ve received hate due to the pairing I’ve written about, how I’ve written about it, the amount I’ve written, how slow or quick I can be, the usage of some tropes, the lack of usage of those same tropes… Let’s just go with: yuuuup.

9. Do you write smut?

I’ve written smut, yeah! But I can already see the pointed looks of some so let’s elaborate Xd I write smut when asked and sometimes when not asked but there’s a part of me I like to call a terrible tease that prefers writing the beginning of a scene, taunt it, focus on what happens before the sex scene per se as I find it more enjoyable to write. The process of escalation is always the best for me to see what can I do it by using both dialogue and descriptors tbh, so I tend to tease more than show.

9. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

A few weeks ago I’d have said: Maybe(?) But trying to follow the trail of some other fics that had been stolen from some friends -I think it was me trying to find more about the page that stole something from your Nara!- I found some pages in where my fics had been reposted. In some it was stated that the person posting the fic wasn’t the author but I had never been contacted in order to see if I’d say yes to such a thing and in some others the page was locked up but I could still see someone was pretending to be the author. I did the thing and got some of those down.

Pointed note: Ask me if you want to post or translate or anything. I will look into you and answer you if you seem honest about the thing. But despite every joke and self-deprecating comment those 500 and then some fics represent MY time so very kindly I say fuck off to those who wish to steal from me and if I catch you… you don’t really want to see me angry, trust me.

10. Ever had a fic translated?

I’ve given permission to some, yeah, but never heard it back from them so I’m guessing it didn’t stick.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

I’ve written series alongside other authors as @stregaomega for example. And some others that are unpublished -looking at you @carsonnieve - I’ve also done collabs… but fics co-written in the sense of two authors same chapters I don’t have anything posted I’m afraid :P

13. All-time favourite ship?

*snorts*, I guess the obvious answer is SQ uh? And I do think they were the ones that allowed me to read and write SO much. The one I feel more strongly about, however, is Bering and Wells from Warehouse 13.

14. WIP you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

All of them counts as a valid answer? But if I only could finish one that would be Arcadia. With A forgotten Promise second and the one I did as an Assassins Creed AU third. (I don’t remember the name so there’s no link, sorry xd)

15. Writing strengths?

Uhhhh, you REALLY want me to say that? I don’t fucking know!! To me everything I write is garbage. I always try to go for the feelings so I guess. Dunno xd I’ve been told I’m good at worldbuilding and to be honest is what I enjoy the most.

16. Writing weaknesses?

Everything Xd Pacing? What I hate the most sometimes is dialogue, I would count it as a weakness but I’m always far too focused on description rather than dialogue. I don’t think it’s a bad thing per se but it’s something that I don’t do as much.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I’m conflicted. Always. Majorly because I think that having bilingual characters in fanfiction is portrayed and expected in a way that I don’t feel it’s honest with how bilingual people -us- talk. So if I go by what I know I do I think it’s not what readers hope to see when it comes to that and if I go for how canonically is hoped to be found I don’t think it’s logical. But that’s me and my overthinking Xd If I have the option I like to do it.

18. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Belice! Or Bella/Alice. Worst first fic ever but oh, well, I’m always saying that :P

19. What’s your fav fic you’ve written so far?

Uhh… Don’t make me do this XD Agh, I don’t know. I’ve always been very vocal about Metallic Ink because I let myself enjoy the process of creating a magic system almost out of zero and that was fun. Despite hating some of the writing process and that I’d do it differently now I think I’m going to stick with that answer. Or anything that had any steampunk-based undertone. To be honest I like more thinking of concepts, I had one in where Emma was a thief and it involved the robbery of a ring that was Regina’s one way ticket to freedom I then later repurposed that I adored thinking about so let’s go with…. Yeah, I love having the option of changing things up a little and focus on how characters would fit in different aesthetics for this one Xd

Annnd… these are four pages, gods. I’m just going to tag @waknatious @carsonnieve @stregaomega here and see what they do- Enjoy the questionnaire ladies :P

#taggie thingie #this was a monster

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haliyam · 4 years ago

Text

interim (i)

zeke x reader/oc (warning: slow burn with some plot)

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 2

Hi everyone! This is part of the series I mentioned on my oneshot Asset, but it's a prequel. I'd love to continue the season 4 stuff, but I want to see how the manga ends first so I can plot out Reader's part in it all. (Also edit post-139, I've completely fallen in love with Zeke who deserves so much better and while I always intended to take my time with the Asset prequels, I'm in no rush to get to the Asset sequel. I do want to update as regularly as possible though, rl willing!)

The Reader/OC will be a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, as you'll find at the end of this chapter. Reader’s default name is Lucy, just because I personally don’t like writing ‘Y/N,’ but please feel free to set the substitution for Lucy to you or your character’s First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension! So on the browser extension that would be: Lucy = Your or your character's First Name. Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.

I will say that Zeke may seem a little OOC/angsty in the beginning of this story, if only because Reader and Zeke were good friends before he became the shitstain we know and love today and Reader is fairly familiar with his true moods even when he is being annoying as hell. (And Zeke is annoying. I swear I do like this guy hahah...)

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

It’s strange how easily you fall into step with the soldier ahead of you.

You don’t march, and your eyes wander stern walls and imposing doors that have long left your dreams, but your footfalls follow only one beat that echoes throughout the hallway as he leads you through it. There’s an almost comforting order to the sound that belies the way your heart tries to hammer its way through your ears or right out of your chest.

It feels like forever and far too soon when you arrive at a familiar waiting room. Motioning to the chairs around a small round table, the soldier knocks twice on the door opposite where you entered. When no one responds, he simply stands there, and you have no recourse but to take that seat.

Voices filter in, muffled, from the other room, and you slip your hands under the desk to squeeze your fingers together. Maybe this was a terrible idea after all. You can still leave, pursue your medical degree back home…

“No,” you whisper to yourself, even if you do abruptly stand from your chair. You just need a moment to freshen up. Facing the soldier, you begin, “I would like to—”

Alarm replaces the question in his gaze when two heavy knocks cut through your words. He stares at you a little longer, a new question, and you reply with a deep exhale.

“Never mind.”

He nods. “They’re ready for you.”

You enter the conference room, which is far too large for the four people sitting at one end of the long table there: an older man with more lapel pins and crow’s feet than you remember, and three others closer to your age—the esteemed Warrior Unit and their commander, Theo Magath.

Six long years later, they all look different enough that under other circumstances, you might hesitate to recognize them. But you know this place all too well, the lighting and their seating arrangement so familiar that you can mistake them for no other than Zeke Yeager, Pieck Finger, and Porco Galliard.

It soon appears from their expressionless gazes that they can’t say the same for you. Not that you can blame them—they had no reason to expect your arrival, and it’s Commander Magath who huffs at their frigid reception. “Is that how you Eldians treat old friends?”

The three glance at one another. You venture a small smile, and the recognition and surprise that sink into Zeke’s features make Magath snort as Pieck leaps from her chair, shattering the chill in the room as surely as she crashes into you with an embrace.

“Lucy!”

The joy in her voice sweeps aside your initial fears and brings your excitement bubbling out of your throat in your own laughter. “Pieck!”

She’s talking before you even part and still holding onto the back of your blouse when you do. “You look so… old,” she grins. “That is—me-old.”

Her languid excitement makes it difficult for you to keep your composure. “I am you-old,” you say, trying not to giggle, but your toothy smile already reaches from ear to ear.

Before you can say more, Commander Magath clears his throat. “If you two are finished…”

Both of you freeze instinctively at his tone. Stealing another squeeze, Pieck steps aside as Magath rises from his chair. “Good of you to drop by, Blanchard.”

You quickly cross the distance to shake his proffered hand. “Thank you, Sir. And congratulations on your promotion.”

He shrugs, taking a seat and gesturing that you and Pieck do the same. “Still not a far cry from playing nursemaid sometimes.”

Pieck shakes her head. “Don’t say that, Sir.”

“You’re right. I’m at least a pay grade or two above nursemaid,” Magath chuckles just a little, and to his right, Zeke continues to stare at you.

“Is that really you?” he asks, mouth set in a line under his new beard.

“In the flesh.” His expression remains neutral through your nervous chuckle. Shifting in your seat, you nod away toward Porco. “It’s so nice to see everyone again. Galliard.”

Though he gave you an appreciative once-over as you entered, Porco is now as uninterested as they come. “I didn’t think you’d still know our names. Thanks for taking the time to drop by, I guess.”

“Oh, come on, Pock,” Pieck teases, ignoring the air of hostility that starts to surround you. As though Porco is only an unruly child, she says in feigned apology, “A few days with the Jaw and he’s already this cocky.”

“Ah.” You can’t bring yourself to mirror her mirth. “I heard about that. I’m sorry about Marcel. And Bertholdt—and Annie…”

Pieck glances away, and because you can’t meet Zeke’s eyes at the moment, you address the commander instead. “What about Reiner? I heard he’d returned.”

“Braun is still undergoing a debriefing.”

A debriefing, you think, when they’ve been back a fortnight already? But it dawns on you easily enough that what Reiner is undergoing is an ideology test. Reindoctrination.

“I see… but…”

“It was on my recommendation,” Zeke cuts in, daring you, a civilian, to protest. His arms are crossed now. “Otherwise he’s in danger of passing on the Armor a full six years too early.”

“I only meant to say that Reiner is the most loyal Eldian I know,” you answer levelly, eyes boring into his. Your nails dig into the cloth of your skirt on your lap as you pretend not to hear Porco’s scoff. Taking the Armor from Reiner? The operation was a massive failure, but that consequence is far too severe... however expected. “After you, of course.”

Zeke tilts his head, obscuring his gaze from your view when the light above reflects off his glasses.

“It’s a good thing, in any case,” Magath explains. “Behind enemy lines for over five years, he—”

Whatever his opinion, the commander abruptly stops himself from sharing it and clears his throat instead. You know better than to protest when an unsettling pause rests over the room—exactly what you feared would occur.

To your surprise, it’s Porco who comes to your rescue, even if his disdain is palpable. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Well,” you begin gratefully, “I’m—”

“I asked her to come,” says Magath, completely ignoring the tension. “But my meeting prior ran overlong, and I have another coming up. Can you come in tomorrow morning? Ten sharp?”

You sit up straight when he addresses you. “Of course, Sir.”

Magath smiles—still a novelty to you—and pushes himself up out of his chair. The rest of you do the same, following him to the door as he speaks. “Go ahead and catch up in the meantime. And Blanchard—it’s good to see you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The rest of you—dismissed.”

He leaves the room with the Marleyan guard at the door. The other three let out a breath of relief once it closes.

“Blanchard,” Porco enunciates, stretching his arms. “Are we really still doing that? Who are we supposed to be fooling here?”

Pieck sighs, but it’s Zeke who stays him with a light backhand to the stomach. “Settle down, Galliard.”

Porco pushes his hand away. “Seriously? Of all people, you—”

“Your first transformation was pretty brutal, Galliard,” Zeke casually announces. He winces for good measure, like he’s actually worried. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

The hostility on Porco’s face quickly shifts to embarrassment, and you feel for him. “You’ve transformed already?”

“I wanted to go check on the Warriors anyway,” he says instead, eyeing you with a curled lip. “Nice seeing you again, Blanchard.”

“You too,” you call out, but he’s already stalked out of the room.

You feel Pieck’s hand loop around your arm. “Don’t take it personally,” she says gently. “Learning about Marcel was difficult for him.”

“I can only imagine.” She gives you a small smile at your words, and you understand. Casting a more pleasant gaze around the room, you ask, “How are you two? I thought it might be nice if we could get some lunch together.” You check your watch. “...Very late lunch.”

“I would love to,” Pieck says cheerfully, leading your way out of the room— “Tomorrow. I still have so much paperwork to do.”

Zeke snickers. “The joys of working with a team.”

“Life is unfair,” Pieck declares, but smiles when her hand slips down to yours. “I’ll pick you up after your meeting with Magath tomorrow. It’s a date, right?”

You squeeze her fingers in return. “Definitely.”

Her leisurely footsteps fade down the hallway, and you soon find yourself alone with Zeke. You dust at your blouse idly, but you must eventually look at him. “I suppose it’s just you and me today, then.”

He only eyes you, scratching the side of his bearded jaw. It’s even worse than him outright declining.

“Unless,” you quickly add, detesting the dead air, “are you… training the new Warrior class?”

Zeke snorts. “No. I’ve been busy with other work, but you can check in on their progress if you’re interested. Seems like the Commander wouldn’t mind, seeing as he invited you here.”

You ignore the jab: And you accepted. “What’s kept you busy?”

“Good question.” His smile is a facetious one. “But you know that’s top secret.”

You scoff, but you were braver in front of the others. Now his indifference is too much to bear.

It’s only after you turn away that Zeke asks, “Why don’t you drop by the house? My grandparents should be happy to see you again.”

“I… actually came from there. They asked me to stay. I hope you don’t mind,” you follow, and regret the words as soon as you say it. It’s like you’re trying to piss him off. “I’ll pay for my share of everything, of course.”

He doesn’t react with anger, but you were stupid to expect him to. “Oh?” he asks instead, managing the most sarcastic one-word question in existence. His voice has gotten so much deeper in the last six years, and somehow that makes it worse. “I would have expected the distinguished Miss Blanchard to prefer better accommodations by now.”

You resist the urge to wince. “Don’t say that. The Yeager household was like home to me for several years. More than home, sometimes.”

There’s a pause where only your footsteps, still in time with one another, are all you hear as you make your way down the empty hall. The thought of Zeke’s gaze right now shames you, but it’s ahead he’s looking when he lets out a whistle. “You’re making this difficult for me,” he laughs. “How can I kick you out after such high praise?”

Your last footfall echoes as you stop, reaching for his arm. “Zeke—”

He yanks it away without even looking at you. “We should head back before the Commander decides he wants something from me after all. Come on.”

Your face burns with humiliation even though there’s no one else around to watch him walk away, his long strides too fast for you to catch up.

The Yeagers are pleased to have you over for dinner and beyond, and though you already dropped by before making your appearance at HQ, Mrs. Yeager does not run out of subjects to discuss with you, updating you on several of your neighbors’ lives. Who has married, who has passed away, and whose children have joined the Warrior program themselves, only to fail. Zeke doesn’t talk except to comment on something his grandparents say, or very rarely something you say so as not to arouse their suspicion. They have none. They are too busy doting on you after your long, long absence.

After dinner, when your stomachs are full and your chest is light with laughter, you stand up to collect the dishes and bring them to the sink. “Absolutely not,” Mrs. Yeager says, realizing your intention once she hears the light clatter of tableware. “You’re our guest, Lucy!”

“Please,” you call from the sink. “I miss doing this with all of you around.”

Dr. Yeager sighs in agreement with his wife. “Not on your first night. Zeke.”

Zeke is already on his feet, leaving only everyone’s glasses as he makes his way to the sink with the placemats. Dr. Yeager has brought out their good wine to celebrate your return. “I can do this myself,” he tells you, trying to wave you aside.

You don’t budge. “But I can help. We’ll get it all done more quickly.”

He levels a look at you—one you haven’t seen since you were very young, from before you were friends. “Sit with my grandmother, Lucy,” he murmurs so that only you hear. “Don’t make her crane her neck just to talk to you.”

Shame and something completely unfamiliar fill you at his reprimand, and you surrender with a nod. You make your way back to the table and squint at Mrs. Yeager. “Only tonight, though.”

Mrs. Yeager laughs, reaching for your hands across the table. You give them to her easily. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” she says. “Your parents must be very proud of you.” You nod with some unease, and Dr. Yeager, even as he enjoys his wine, clears his throat. Mrs. Yeager realizes her mistake. “Ah—I...I’m sorry, dear. I know they passed away several years ago. But I’m sure they would be proud of you now.”

“That’s all right,” you reassure her. “I hope it’s not too bold to say, but… you and Dr. Yeager were mother and father to me for a time as well, when they couldn’t be. I will always be grateful for that.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Mrs. Yeager smiles, her eyes quickly shining, “That isn’t bold at all. We felt the same way. We only wish you had written more!”

A scoff makes its way from the kitchen. “Grandma,” Zeke reminds her lightly, even as he scrubs the plates with renewed vigor, “you know Lucy has been busy.”

“I know that, dear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“No, it is my fault,” you agree. “I promise I’ll be better about that the next time I go.”

“Next time?” asks Dr. Yeager, suddenly sitting up straight. “Where are you going?”

You blink, turning your attention to him, and attempt to wave the confusion away with your hands. “No, no, Dr. Yeager, I’ll be staying here for a while. I only meant that for the next time I leave Lib—”

“Next time?” Dr. Yeager repeats, his hand knocking over his wine glass as he eyes your left sleeve with intent. It trembles as he grasps at his scalp. “If you’re leaving, why aren’t you wearing your armband?”

The faucet shuts off, leaving only the sound of alcohol dripping from the dinner table to the floor, and Mrs. Yeager turns to him nervously. “Dear—”

“Don’t leave without your armband again, Faye,” he pleads, looking straight at you. He rises from his seat, voice more and more frantic as he swipes at a nearby cabinet with nothing to show for it. “Where is it? Where did you put it?”

Zeke is already wiping his hands on the hem of his shirt, and Mrs. Yeager goes to take her husband’s arm. “Darling, no, this is Lucy, remember?”

But Dr. Yeager is already heaving. It’s not long before tears are streaming down his face and he cries, “Why would you do this to me again? Why did he let you remove your armband, Faye?!”

“Dr. Yeager—I’m Lucy. Lucy,” you insist, hurrying over and tucking your hair behind your ears to show him your face, smiling as you’ve done many times in an attempt to calm him. You hold his arms, trying to jog him back to reality, but by now he is screaming and weeping, digging his fingers into your arms and repeatedly calling out his daughter’s name.

“...Come on, grandpa.” Zeke pries Dr. Yeager’s hands from your sleeve with his grandmother’s help. Stunned by his sudden lapse, you can only watch—able to follow only when they are already struggling with him by the stairs.

“Zeke—”

“Stay there,” he hisses with rancor that freezes you in place. Mrs. Yeager apologizes, but of course you shake your head and return to the dining room. Your hands shake as you clean the spilled alcohol from the dinner table and the floor, going over what you could have said to set off Dr. Yeager.

This is hardly the first time you’ve seen him like this, but it used to take only very specific words to remind him of that event, and so much easier to bring him back from those memories. The memory of his weeping face seizes at your heart, tempting you to launch yourself upstairs and ask after him, but Zeke is right. You’ll only make things worse.

You’re getting started on the dishes again when you hear heavy footsteps plod down the stairs.

Zeke. You cuff the faucet off, mouth already open when he smiles, reaching over to graze your exposed ear with his thumb and his index finger. “Did growing up damage your ears? I said I’d take care of the dishes.”

The unexpected contact sends a strange rush through you, but it’s the insult you focus on ignoring. Even if you do untuck your hair. “I’m sorry about Dr. Yeager.”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugs. “It happens more often nowadays.”

“I didn’t know it had gotten so bad.”

“How could you? You’ve been away.”

You gnaw on your cheek at that. “I’m sorry, Zeke.”

For a moment, you finally see it—the recognition of the words you’ve been trying to say since you met earlier that afternoon, and the reason why. An eddy of hurt and confusion reflects in his eyes, pulling at the air around you. You want to rise above it, or else drown, or just beg for his forgiveness, but he knows you, or knew you as much as you knew him, and he cuts you off before you can speak.

“You really have grown up.” His droll chuckle makes your heart sink into your stomach. “You never used to apologize for anything.”

You make a face. “That’s not true.”

“Maybe. You were pretty damn insolent when you wanted to be.”

“I guess I could be,” you murmur. Your eyes lift to his, on a tightrope’s edge. “Remember when Marras overheard me complaining about firearm maintenance?”

Zeke snorts. “Magath had you cleaning Warrior arsenal for a week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That was awful. Only Marcel snuck out to help me at night, and that was to impress Pieck. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

You squint at him. Zeke grins, warmly now, and hope almost finds you—but your words catch up with you first, and both of you remember when you really are.

“Marcel,” you can’t help but say with regret.

“Yeah.” Coursing a hand through his hair, Zeke brushes past you to the sink. “Anyway, I’ll take care of this. You go to bed. You have a meeting with Magath tomorrow—that’s why you came back, right?”

“No, not just—”

The sudden burst of running water from the faucet and the wall of his back means the conversation is over. Again. Clenching your fist, you bite your tongue and slowly breathe out your growing frustration.

“Good night, then, Zeke.”

You’ve already gone up the stairs when Zeke swallows the lump in his throat, staring at the spoon splashing water upon his palm. He’s been washing it for the last two minutes.

“Night, Lucy.”

Zeke has already left for HQ by the time you come downstairs the next morning. Dr. Yeager is still in bed, exhausted as he gets whenever he remembers his children, but Mrs. Yeager has prepared breakfast. Try as you might, you cannot resist sitting with her and sharing a meal together. You make it to the Liberio military headquarters just in time to hear the new Warrior instructor barking out to the children jogging around the courtyard.

You wander a little closer, unable to help your curiosity—but a nearby guard spots you and quickly corrals you away, back to the offices. “They’re expecting you,” he says, looking you over as he hands you back your permit. “Don’t know what top brass wants with a civilian, much less an Eldian, but...”

“Top brass?”

The soldier almost sneers at you. As if you don’t know, Eldian, it says, and you’re starting to think you actually don’t.

He’s led you not to the same conference room as yesterday afternoon, but to an office that you distinctly remember as off-limits. When the soldiers standing guard let you inside, you understand why.

Top brass is right. More than Commander Magath, there are a number of higher-ups waiting for you inside - some faces you’ve glimpsed since you were a child, and others you have seen as recently as months ago. One in particular stands out—an intelligence officer who reports directly to your brother. Three are generals at some of the highest levels in the army.

“Blanchard,” Magath calls out. You nearly stiffen at his voice again, but relax in time, to the chuckles of the men in the room. The commander ignores them, staring straight at you. You detect the slightest hint of an apology in his hardened gaze, or maybe that’s wishful thinking to keep your growing displeasure in check. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sir, I—”

A nearby general cuts you off. List. “You can dispense with that, Magath,” he says. “We’re all in the know here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

General List turns toward you.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Tybur,” he says. There is no smile in his harsh features, but he is not unkind. Careful, maybe. “Please, sit. We have a proposition for you.”

So... yes! I admit, part of the reason I wanted to write something in the AoT/SnK series is because I loved and hated the addition of the Tyburs. So I wanted to write a little more about the family but also since I'm thirsty, write a Zeke fic and eventually a Levi one (whether AU or not). Obviously we'll eventually go into why the Tyburs would send one of their own into the Warrior program, among other things, but bear with me for now.

Also disclaimer: This is a Zeke/Reader story set in the AOT world, so it’s a romance with a guy who gleefully murdered a shit ton of innocent people and helped Marley level countries. Please don’t look to this story for a completely morally upright character/reader/OC who makes all the right choices. (Though expect that Reader will take them into consideration.)

Last thing! This is a slowburn with some plot, so while you can definitely expect romance (and smut) down the line, and while this fic does go heavily into Lucy's/Reader's relationship with Zeke, it also features interactions with other characters. I just wanted to give fair warning if you expect it to focus only on Zeke.

Thank you for reading!

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acciofanfics · 4 years ago

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Rule Breaker (Percy Weasley x Reader) SMUT

Request: Hi, I was wondering if you guys could write smut with Percy where both are Gryffindor perfect ( they are on last year in Hogwarts ) and Percy breaks the rules for the first time and they have a first time in prefect bathroom.

Pairing: Percy Weasley x FemReader

Warnings: SMUT, perhaps a bit of language? Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!) and I think that’s it??

Word Count: 1,730

A/N: I hope this isn’t too OOC! I don’t know too much about Percy, but I do hope I did him justice and you like it! Also requests are still open and I am having so much fun writing lately! Also I had a hard time finding a gif...- S

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Molly and Arthur rarely left Fred, George, Ron or Ginny alone in the burrow. The first three couldn’t be trusted to not get into some sort of trouble and they were always a little more protective over Ginny (she was the only girl). However, Percy they knew they could trust. He was definitely the responsible one, already a prefect and surely on his way to being Head Boy. No there was no reason they would ever second guess their decision to let him and (Y/N) stay at the burrow while they took Harry and his siblings to do some last minute shopping at Diagon Alley.

(Y/N) and Percy sat comfortably on the older couch. It was nice to have a little alone time, they’d been ‘dating’ since 3rd year and it was a rare occurrence. Between being young and being at Hogwarts there was little time for romance. “It’s so quiet.” Percy commented on the lack of annoyance coming from his siblings.

“It’s a little weird,” (Y/N) giggled, “We could talk or we could....”

Percy leaned across the couch and planted a kiss on her lips. It was innocent at first, as it always was. Something was a bit different this time though; perhaps it was the knowledge of no interruptions or maybe it was the fact that they’re a good deal older than when their crushes first formed. Either way what was once an innocent kiss turned heated, even more so than the kisses they’d shared occasionally in the common room when everyone else was already in bed. Hands wanders and groped and before Percy even thought about what he was doing, he helped (Y/N) lift her jumper off.

“Percy, mum wants to know if- Oh god!” Fred yelped, and tried to hide a laugh when (Y/N) pushed Percy off of her and scrambled to reapply her sweater. He turned around, “Nevermind! I’ll just tell her you’re busy trying to make her a grandchild!”

(Y/N) and Percy were sure Fred didn’t actually give them up, because Molly and Arthur didn’t seem phased at all. Of course, the two love birds were on edge until they arrived at Hogwarts; it was only then that they were sure Mr. and Mrs. Weasley weren’t plotting some elaborate punishment. Unfortunately, even then things didn’t go back to normal... it was only the first week of school and Percy had barely seen (Y/N) despite both being Gryffindor prefects.

Percy had been making an effort to keep their interactions minimal. That day, back on the couch, something had snapped. She was all he could think about, and the thoughts weren’t rarely innocent. Sure, he thought about it before; it was only natural. They’d been together for a long time and they were both practically adults. Hell, they’d even snogged before, but maybe it was the fact that they’d never been THAT close before, because those thoughts had always been somewhat fleeting or at the very least easily pushed back. Not anymore.

(Y/N) wasn’t stupid. She knew very well he was ignoring her and she had enough of it. She’d stalked right up to him while he was patrolling the corridors, “Percy, we need to talk. Meet me at the prefects bathroom tonight, 6 pm?” It came out more as a question but before Percy even had a chance to tell her that would be highly inappropriate, she had spun around and walked away from him.

Needed to talk? Once Fred and George found out they’d told him clearly he wasn’t good enough in the sack and now she was going to get rid of him. Percy didn’t feel it necessary to correct them, it would probably only result in more teasing, but alas he was worried. Maybe she would want to get rid of him.... he hadn’t exactly been a doting boyfriend as of late. His mind reeled the rest of the evening and by the time he reached the prefects’ bathroom he didn’t even think about it before he whispered the password (pine-fresh) and walked right in. “(Y/N)! I didn’t mean to...”

She was seated comfortably in the elaborate bathtub already, he hair twisted into a neat bun and everything but her bare shoulders covered by the bubbles. She chose to ignore him and get straight to the point, “Percy, I’ve been thinking. Lately you’ve been ignoring me, there’s no need to deny it we both know it’s true. Anyways, it always boils down to that afternoon at your house, when Fred interrupted. Do you regret the direction we were headed?”

“No!” Percy was thankful that (Y/N) was a pretty straight forward person (at least with him). She never made him guess what she was feeling, but that didn’t help him right now. He still had to explain what he felt. “Well, that’s not entirely true. Since that interaction... I’ve had a hard time concentrating around you and I worry that maybe we aren’t on the same page? And now we’re at school so it’s not even possible if by some miracle you did feel the same.”

(Y/N) chuckled at him, “You can be a bit thick at times. Percy... there’s no one around now.”

“But...” No there was not.... but that was probably breaking at least 20 rules all at once. Of course being in here with her then was probably grounds for expulsion now. Maybe he could be a little harsher with some younger students and indirectly deduct some house points from himself.... Percy was struggling to come up with a reason to walk away, “You have a point...”

(Y/N) could see Percy’s mind unraveling, and she felt a little guilty, but they had to deal with this. “I’m not trying to push you into anything, Perce.”

“Could you just... turn around for a moment?” It wasn’t that Percy hadn’t wanted to. He just shouldn’t, and his biggest conundrum was that usually he didn’t want to if it meant he shouldn’t. He supposed he wasn’t too conflicted because when she turned around he quickly shed his clothing, putting them in a neat pile, and slipped into the hot bath water. He settled himself close enough that she could see he was in, but not close enough he was touching her.

(Y/N) smiled softly at him. Cautiously she moved closer to him. Percy’s face was only a few shades lighter than his own hair, “You sure you’re okay, Perce?”

Merlin he hated feeling this way. He was normally quite confident in his skills and abilities. He just hadn’t had the opportunity to perfect this aspect of his life, “Yes. I just haven’t-“

She couldn’t help but laugh. Of course she quickly stopped when she saw he wasn’t amused, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean like that, really! But we’ve been together since we were kids Percy, I would surely hope not since I haven’t either.”

That was a good point. He didn’t know why that hadn’t crossed his mind. By no means was he no longer nervous, but he was definitely put more at ease, he even chuckled along with her, “You’re right! I don’t know why I didn’t-“

She cut him off by kissing him, hopefully if she caught him while he was acting normal he wouldn’t have a chance to revert to acting so odd. It worked, and Percy melted into the familiarity of her lips. Their lips and tongues moved together and for a moment he’d forgotten about their predicament, until he reached out to grab her and instead of the fabric of her school robe his palms caught her wet bare skin. They paused again for a moment, but that was only for a moment. The desire that they had suppressed since the summer was back full-fold.

(Y/N) pressed herself against Percy and he had to bite back a groan as she rubbed against him. Both of their hands roamed freely without any hinderances of clothes and it was greatly appreciated by both parties. (Y/N) slid her right hand down his chest, delving lower until she captured his hardened shaft in her hand. Any concern she may have had about being too forward disappeared when he moaned into her mouth. She began stroking him, varying the speed of palm based on the reactions it elicited from him.

Percy didn’t know if he could pinpoint exactly what it was that was had him feeling like he’d snuck firewhiskey from the cupboard. It was probably a mixture of hormones, the naked girl in front of him and perhaps Fred and George were right about breaking the rules being fun. Whatever it was had him acting instinctively, and he mimicked his girlfriend to some degree. He reached between her legs and began to tease her as well, when she began bucking her hips against his palm he gave in and dipped his finger inside of her... and then another one.

They became a mess of sloppy kisses and moans, both experimenting with different movements and methods that brought another grunt of approval from their mouths. Until Percy grabbed her hand and brought her to an abrupt stop, “I can’t handle much more of this.”

Wordless (Y/N) guided him to the shallower end of the bath, where the could both sit with the water only reaching right below their chests. Percy tried to focus on the newly exposed flesh while she slid onto him. He laid kisses across her breasts and neck as he waiting for her to adjust to the new feeling that he had to imagine would be much more uncomfortable to her.

(Y/N) gave herself a moment, the experience wasn’t nearly as bad as she has prepared for. Perhaps it was that she had more control in their positions or that she had been properly worked up before hand, but she found it more uncomfortable than anything. With Percy’s mouth and hands distracting her, she began to move her hips, and slowly the uncomfortable feeling phased into a pleasurable one.

It was probably only a few minutes before the slow pace quickened. His hips snapped up to meet hers and it wasn’t long at all before they both gave into the new and intense pleasure, coming undone in each other’s arms.

A goofy grin was on both of their lips and Percy placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, “Wow. Might have to break the rules more often if you’re involved.”

#harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter #percy weasley #percy weasley imagine #percy weasley smut #request #percy weasley x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

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yayninjabob · 3 years ago

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Hi, I loved your story “Villain.” The characterization of everyone was really great, especially for Buttercup’s transformation into Joey. You feel bad for them, but you also feel for their family.

As for episodes in the classic series that show the girls darker sides, I didn’t have a problem with “A Very Special Blossom.” She had sympathetic motivations, and everyone understood where she was coming for in the end. However, she still got a fair punishment.

“Bubblevicious” was a good episode, but Bubbles got off way too easily for her crimes, in my opinion.

I wish Buttercup’s motivations in “Moral Decay” had been a bit more sympathetic than “I want to earn money by knocking out teeth just because,” but I do understand that the writers were trying to go for the greed addiction metaphor. While a lot of us in the fandom complain about her descent into villainy feeling contrived and OOC in “Moral Decay,” I think most of us could have accepted her getting punished for her crimes by having her teeth knocked out by every villain in the city, if the writers hadn’t chosen to involve Blossom and Bubbles in the set up, had them enjoy it, then made even Professor Utonium come across as being very uncharacteristically indifferent in regards to one of his daughters being hurt as comeuppance for her crimes, and then framed that as “okay.” Are we supposed to believe he knows what Blossom and Bubbles did to Buttercup, and he’s okay with that? It’s just entirely OOC for him, even if Buttercup is the low-key black sheep of the family, and Buttercup’s a character with superpowers, living in a cartoon with over-the top physical violence that they generally endure and fully recover from very quickly 99.9% of the time.

It’s not entirely clear if Blossom and Bubbles revealed to Professor that THEY were involved in the set up of Buttercup’s downfall at the end of “Moral Decay,” but they apparently told him about what she did shortly before that beat down they lured her into from the villains because he found her stash of coins. The fact that he doesn’t seem more concerned about Buttercup’s downfall, though, and Blossom and Bubbles aren’t punished implies unfortunate things, though, none of which are within his character.

I also just find it baffling that Professor Utonium wouldn’t feel at least partially guilty for Buttercup’s crimes and ultimate downfall since she had to have been doing this for at least 7-10 days behind their backs in “Moral Decay,” and he failed to notice what was happening before it was too late and she got hurt.

If the writers of “Moral Decay” had gone for the same resolution of Buttercup getting her teeth knocked out as comeuppance for her crimes by all the villains in the city in a cruel twist of fate without involving either of her sisters in the set up, then had the two of them and Professor Utonium still being understandably angry and disappointed in her for her crimes, but also sorry that she got hurt, I think fans would have felt a lot less pissed off. I know Buttercup’s always sort of been the low-key black sheep of the family, but it had never felt like her family hated her either. At the end of “Moral Decay,” it felt like she was hated, and that’s what made most fans feel pissed off. Yeah, Buttercup’s relationships with her sisters and her dad weren’t perfect, but it had never felt like she was this horribly abused, mistreated, neglected, or unloved child by her family either. I think “Moral Decay” gave off some unfortunate implications to fans that she kind of was in that episode at least, and I can’t totally disagree with them.

Yeah, Buttercup deserved punishment for her crimes, but I don’t think it was necessary to drag the entire Utonium family’s good reputation through the mud in “Moral Decay” to do it either.

Yo, I'm gonna be honest and admit that I quite like the episode "Moral Decay" haha.

You're not wrong though and I have seen this episode criticized by lots of fans that point out what you mention, so you're definitely not alone in that opinion. I guess I am just old school and I grew up with cartoons that were often just randomly OOC, over the top and the world would magically reset after some insane episodes- but personally it isn't a negative for me. I enjoy when shows- cartoons especially- don't take themself too seriously. I appreciate the "how far can we take this" approach- and if not in cartoons then where else is it appropriate to push the boundaries? Probably a little better done in the episode Down n Dirty but I still enjoy the episode for what it is.

Lazy or bad writing is different and I just don't think MD is an episode with lazy or bad writing. It's not my most favorite episode but I definitely get my lols from it haha and there are definitely worse episodes in the series. As a kid I would yank my own teeth out the moment I felt them going lose eager to get that tooth fairy cash once I realized it was a thing and so I personally enjoy that that sorta childhood phase was shown in this episode. Personally I always like episodes that show the puffs going through kid stuff but with the fun twist of having superpowers. Is it over the top? Yeah. Totally. But that montage with Buttercup knocking Bubbles at every turn gets a laugh from me every time haha- just the visual of Buttercup's slow reach while Bubbles is coloring before slamming her head onto the table- hilarious to me. I'm sorry haha but it gets me every time. 😅

Buttercup's treatment as "the black sheep" comes up elsewhere in the series and not just this episode. All of which lend to the inspiration for my fic "Villain" for sure. I am glad to hear you enjoy the story and that you feel the sympathy equally for Buttercup/Joey and their family. It definitely is an aim of mine to avoid portraying just one side as totally good or totally bad- Well... Except of course HIM haha. He's straight up evil.

Thanks for reading! And thanks so much for the ask and for sharing your thoughts! It is definitely fun to delve a little deeper into these episodes sometimes. :D

#ppg #villainr #asks #moral decay #buttercup #thank you!

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we-always-hit-our-ass · 4 years ago

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Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder Pt. 2 (Eugene Roe x Reader)

Part 1

Requested by @wolfers-stuff: “Can you please make a part 2 for 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'?...”

Author’s Note: One last farewell fic for y’all before I disappear. I apologize if the pacing or writing is wack, I’ve been trying to revise it- I’m also sorry for makin’ you wait this long, it was not my intention to. I hope you still enjoy this 💕

Words: around 8.3k

Disclaimers/Warnings: Angst witha happy ending, mild cursing, ooc Gene(??), and longass writing

Italics means the past or a memory

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Taglist: @deldontplay, @thatsonefishyboi,@noneofurbusinez, @meteora-fc, @gutsandgloryhere, @hihosilvers, @basilonely, @floydtab, @wexhappyxfew, @sherlollydramoine, @meganthesunflower, @3milesup, @jamie506101, @sunflowerchuck, @softlieb, @k-websters, @punkgeekchic, @speirs-crazy-ass, @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant, @runtdrummer, @fromtheoldtimes, @liebegott, @tvserie-s-world

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Carentan was successfully captured but work was just beginning for Gene. Countless men were taken in and out of the building where the medics were treating them. While it was better than getting shot at, it was still a far cry from somebody’s idea of relaxing.

Eugene sat wearily as he took care of men after men, but the stream never really seemed to stop. As much as Genie cared about the boys, a break would’ve been well appreciated by the medic. Chatter and the work kept Gene busy and soon his mind was focused on nothing other than what was in front of him.

That was probably why Eugene was so spooked when he heard a few light taps on the wooden frame behind him. A familiar light chuckle reached his ears and he turned around to see you with a smug smile carved on your lips. The cramped building felt just a bit more tolerable ever since you made your way to Eugene.

The tension that built up in Eugene’s soldiers dissipated faster the longer you were near him. Your presence was a blessing, and he stood by that statement. However, Eugene couldn’t help but slightly frown as he looked at the numerous men who still had to get treated. Carentan really did do a number on them, huh?

“As much as I want you by my side at all times, apparently being in a war doesn’t allow us to. I promise I’ll make it up to you, mon ange.”

Eugene’s reply held hints of disappointment and he directed his thumb towards his supplies and the men waiting to be treated. Yet you came closer and looked around the room before pressing an inconspicuous peck on his cheek. You leaned back to take in the slight red flush on Eugene’s cheeks before quickly crossing your arms.

“That’s what I came here for, Genie, y’know I will always try to make things a little bit easier for you.”

“If you’re saying you’re gonna help me patch all these boys up, be my guest.” Eugene lightly joked, shining blue eyes lighting up as he focused on your small grin.

“I thought you were just an ordinary paratrooper.”

“Genie, y’know I am, I just came here to tell you that one of the medics in Dog Company offered to help us. You’re working yourself out, take a break. I think you of all people need one.”

Eugene couldn’t help but let out a soft, relieved sigh as he leaned back. You let out a chuckle as you helped him up from his seat and you could already see his tired and worn out eyes brightening up just ever so slightly.

The two of you maneuvered your way through the building, finally making it out to the bright day. It was no surprise to say that you two spent the day laying soft kisses on each other’s skin, holding each other comfortingly in the secure enclosure of each other’s arms.

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Eugene frustratingly ran his hands through his black hair, his brows furrowed and teeth clenched as another memory of you ran through his mind.

He hated to admit it, he really did but it was no secret that all hope was gone after the first week of you being missing. It was then that they knew that the world had lost an angel on that day. Eugene would’ve never allowed himself to think of that just a few days ago. Everyone had seemed to have moved on, everyone else except him.

No one actually knew if you were dead, yes, but the idea of you returning became more far-fetched as the hours dragged on into days. Eugene had always used to cling onto the small string of hope that you would come back to them. But now Eugene couldn’t help but let that hope slip through his fingers and fall into the never-ending loop of despair.

The Cajun man would tell himself that he would soon get over it for it was just another aspect of war. The scars never really healed properly though, and once again Gene would find himself quietly lamenting on prior events in the dead of night.

Of course, he stopped that habit and learned how to choke it back down but still... It still hurt so, so, so much.

After his little dispute with Cobb, Eugene distanced himself from the company more than ever before. Many attempts were brought to bring back the Eugene Roe they once knew. The lone and quiet medic who still kept to himself but also the one who still shared a few smiles and laughs with them.

But as soon as they saw the lost and void look of the medic, all attempts would be forgotten. Then all the men could do was offer a few words of comfort before slowly walking away to leave Eugene to his thoughts.

While he wasn’t very vocal, everyone knew what was running through his head. The young man bottled all of his emotions up, and even with a brief mentioning of your name, he felt like all of his feelings would just combust and burst out of him.

Days bled into each other and it was all but a cycle of the same thing. Eugene couldn’t be described as nothing more than a hollow shell of his former self. He could’ve been a stone statue for all that he knew. As much as he tried to steer his thoughts of your well-being, it was inevitable that maybe some thoughts would slip by.

If you were actually dead… Was it quick? Slow? Somehow peaceful? Though Eugene particularly disliked those ones, he would do anything for just a hint of closure. It was all too much to bear and it wasn’t long before his heart became so heavy that his chest would cave in.

Eugene would then quickly drift towards never ending questions if you did make it out. Hypothetical thoughts and scenarios played through his head in a loop.

If you were somehow alive, then why was it taking you so long to get back to them? If you came back, what would be the first thing you would do? Would you cry, hug the person closest to you, crack those jokes of yours, or would you take your time to look for him? Perhaps pull him into your embrace, or maybe even kiss him—

And that’s when he would stop himself. Eugene knew that if he continued to think of it, he knew it would just break him more if he ever found out that you were taken away from them.

You were a beautiful flower, the flower that he could admire and the flower that gave him happiness. Your vibrant petals and graceful stem flowing ever so gently in the wind. Yet you were plucked from the ground right before his eyes. His beautiful flower, his ange.

The love of his life reduced to nothing but a mere memory— a dream that will never come true.

Before he knew it, faint footsteps were heard as somebody approached him. Eugene didn’t look up as he continued to let thoughts swarm his head, occupying the vacant space.

He could feel someone sitting beside him and he ever so slightly scooted away. It was only until he heard a familiar voice ring out in his ear did he look up.

“Gene?” Babe’s concerned face was evident but Eugene’s cold indifference was more.

Eugene stared at the Philly man for a few more seconds before glancing back down, his back hunched over with his hands intertwined.

“Gene… How— How are you, buddy?”

“Things could be worse,” Eugene responded curtly and Babe’s eyebrows furrowed more.

He knew what Eugene was thinking about. He was also one of the very few who could talk about you to him without getting the cold shoulder.

“Everyone’s worried about you, Gene. Can’t you see that?” Eugene only offered a small glance at his friend before turning his eyes back to the snow-covered ground.

He could feel Babe scooting closer and hear his soft, exasperated sighs. Eugene lifted up his head to give him an empty stare, as if to say for him to continue. Babe leaned his head back as he fiddled with his thumbs.

“What is it—”

“We’re really trying our best, Gene. Y’know… To make you slightly okay. It ain’t much, but you have to understand that we don’t want you... We don’t want you like this anymore.” Babe continued, lightly motioning his frigid hands toward Gene’s form. Eugene stayed silent once more and the air grew stale.

No one was around, and the sounds of Babe’s words were only amplified by the empty space. Eugene couldn’t find a response for Babe, how could he? Everything was just hard, even when they shouldn’t be. For now, it was all just too much for the Cajun medic.

“I know, Heffron.” It was all he could say to him at this moment.

“Well.. I’m glad that you do. But… For now—” Babe offered Eugene a hurried glance as he leaned his head back more.

Words were stuck in his throat and he couldn’t find it in his heart to say them to Eugene. But he needed to. And so he continued.

“Genie— I think… I think it’s best if you… Just— Forget about her for now—”

“No.”

He responded immediately. Eugene looked hard into the pleading eyes of Babe, and his face hardened for just a second before it softened once more.

“But Gene—”

“No…”

It was softer this time, almost like a leaf falling to the earth below— yet however Eugene’s husky voice held intensity. Babe didn’t even know if he heard it, but it was clear that Eugene did. The medic shook his head slightly and his vacant stare was replaced by a look that could be described as longing and miserable.

Babe got the memo and slowly got up from his spot. He offered a comforting hand on Eugene’s shoulder but Eugene didn’t mind one bit. Babe stood silently beside Eugene, offering slight comfort to the Cajun man. Babe stepped back slowly and made his way back to the main building.

He offered one last look to the unmoving figure of his friend before reluctantly continuing on his path. The loud crunching of snow that once occupied the space faded away with each second. It wasn’t long before it turned silent, and Eugene was left to his thoughts once more.

Eugene remembered a time where when he still thought of you, butterflies and warmth filled his stomach and a bashful smile would replace his previous expression.

But now those butterflies were replaced by a sharp feeling of agony. No longer the warm and comforting feeling he once knew when his mind drifted towards you, but rather a deep, overwhelming feeling of despair that stayed forever in the pit of his stomach.

The thin lines of his lips would turn down every time it happened. He couldn’t even breathe at this point, taking deep breaths in hopes to recover, but it never worked. If he could, Eugene would’ve already screamed out all his worries and pain until his vocal chords were raw.

The decrepit stone buildings made him trapped and the frigid atmosphere of Haguenau didn’t help him at all. But Eugene knew that it wasn’t the weather that was the problem. More or less, it just contributed to an already hopeless morning, afternoon, evening, or night. The days were gloomy and held no life and Eugene associated most of it to your disappearance.

Eugene felt at bliss whenever he was with you, for you were his small beacon of joy during all of this. You made everything more tolerable and happy that it actually was. No matter how grim the situation, your mere presence made everyone’s days brighter.

But Eugene lost the one thing that kept him going, and he couldn’t do anything about it other than shove past it or dwell on it a bit longer. He didn’t like either options.

Eugene really had no clue as to how he’s still holding on. For someone who was realistic and almost pessimistic at times, Eugene couldn’t bear letting the thought of you returning go. As impossible as it seemed now to everybody, Eugene never let that thought falter too much. And though Eugene hated it when a memory of you ran through his head, he made an effort to not forget those either.

It was really one of the few things that you left behind.

But now only constant flashes of memories occupied where you once were. Though he loved the silence with all of his heart, it now only served as a constant reminder that you weren’t there with him. It festered in his stomach restlessly and anything and everything reminded him of your absence.

But of course Eugene still loved you, his love for you was all but forgotten. It’s just… Almost funny how the world still manages to continue. Eugene didn’t even think that was possible, how it goes on and all.

Even when you were gone. Eugene thought of Babe’s words and he told himself countless times that for once he should listen to him.

He just… He just couldn’t. But you—the person who always kept her head up during hard times— would’ve wanted him to move on.

You wouldn’t want him looking like this. Eugene could almost hear your concerned words and jokes that always cheered him up. He couldn’t help but crack a tight smile as he wondered at what could have been. Just when he’d thought this war couldn’t become worse, it did.

Eugene reminisced about the times he called you ‘mon ange’, the loving term of endearment taking another meaning.

He was too immersed that he couldn’t hear the footsteps coming towards him. Before he could delve any deeper in his speculations, Babe’s voice stops him. Eugene could see Babe’s figure just a couple steps away. The redhead’s face was still concerned and he waited idly before speaking.

“Let’s go, Gene.. Come inside, will ya?” Babe called out to him.

“Yeah.. Coming.”

Eugene sat in the same spot for just a few moments before he stood up. He looked back on what Babe said, maybe, just maybe— he’ll try to move on. Eugene couldn’t fathom the loss, as morbid as it was, he’d trade 10 men just to bring you back. God had other plans and Eugene wanted to scream at him for taking you too soon.

Why? Why? Why...?

------------------

It was one of those days where you and the company had time to rest and to say that you were overjoyed was an understatement. Settling on a spot that was private but still near, you and the Cajun man immediately loosened up. As the medic almost let his eyes close, you nudged him gently on the shoulder.

Eugene let out a questioning groan and as he slowly opened his eyes. Eugene’s eyes were met with you fumbling with the inside of your jacket. You were rummaging through it, looking for a certain something that might cheer him up.

Before Eugene knew it, you pulled out a chocolate bar, one that was surprisingly unbroken on smushed in any way. Eugene looked at you in amusement as his eyes glanced quickly between the bar and your closed eye grin.

“Look what I got, Genie! I found a candy shop nearby, thankfully no one managed to blast it— And I may or may not have snuck in and gotten a few bars.”

A mischievous glint flashed in your eyes as you offered Genie one of your many cheeky smiles.

“I gave some to the boys to share but I’m keeping the rest of it for us two. Genie— you have no idea how long it took me to find you so I could get you one of these. So you better be thankful.”

You scooted closer to him and you gently unwrapped the chocolate from its wrapper. You tenderly leaned on his shoulder and you can feel him lean his head on yours. You offered a broken piece out to him and he gladly took it.

Disbelief flashed across his face but it was washed away as soon as he once again laid eyes of your radiant face. Eugene gave you another small smile before popping the chocolate in his mouth.

After finishing the piece, the amused smile he had before slowly made its way to his face again.

“After all of this, instead of checking in on yourself, you went into a candy shop to get us chocolate?”

A light teasing tone with the tiniest hints of concern coated his words and you gave him nothing but a glance. Eugene let out a breathy chuckle that was only accented by his husky voice and familiar accent. You really couldn’t help but let out one of your own chuckles while your face heated up. You then broke off another piece and handed it over to the medic.

“I have my ways— And stop with the questions, just enjoy your chocolate, will you?” You replied, shoving more pieces of chocolate to him.

Eugene offered you one last glance and smile before looking forward and relishing in the sweet moment you two shared.

--------------

You didn’t know how long you were traveling, but it was obviously more than a couple of days. You lost a basic concept of time and all you focused on was how to get back to Easy. The snow made everything harder and you could’ve sworn you were already dead. The amount of times you almost got captured or shot were too many to count.

For now, you were just slowly relying on luck.

But you needed to get back to them, you desperately needed to. No matter how long it’ll take or how hard it’s going to be, you were determined to finally see them.

To see the boys. To see him. In times where you almost gave up, Eugene popped up into your mind. It was only then that you found the strength to keep traveling.

The crushing of the snow grew redundant and it wasn’t long before you grew sick of it. Your only support was the trees but you had already lost feeling in your limbs a long time ago.

Small fires were made during the night but they never lasted long. You got used to the biting air of the forest but of course you would do anything to get out of it.

It took a long time to get the Germans off your tail and it was even harder staying low. The instance of you falling into a hidden German foxhole still left you in disbelief and in shock. You luckily weren’t hurt and most of the injuries you sustained were minor and didn’t need any serious maintenance.

The forest was a maze; it was a wonder that you managed to make it out. But at least you’d die of hypothermia or starvation instead of a bullet wound. Either way, you still had to find Easy.

It’d felt so long since you were separated from them in Bastogne— waking up trapped in somebody else’s foxhole and only getting out to see that all of them were gone.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and you took a coat from a German you killed a few days ago. As much as it disgusted you that you were wearing one of your enemy’s clothes, it did keep you warm. So you sucked it up and put it over the coat you wore since you came into this icy hellscape.

You took shelter in the destroyed towns nearby, and you knew you’d find them soon. It’s been so long already and knowing them they were probably already done with their mission in Foy. From what you could remember, Haguenau was the next spot. Based on the map you stole a long time ago, you were pretty darn close.

If the cold wasn’t going to drive you mad then this certainly will. It wasn’t long before the sun set and night fell over the destroyed town. After finding shelter in a broken house, you immediately went to work on a small fire on the floor. The tiny pile of branches you gathered lit up into flames and a long sigh of exasperation fell from your lips.

“Holy shit— Finally…”

You brought your numb hands close to the fire and for once you actually felt warm. Maybe this time you wouldn’t have to put this fire out, maybe this time you can finally fall asleep for more than 3 hours. You continued to hold your hands close to the flames as you looked around your surroundings, flinching at every sound.

Sleep caught up to you though and you could ever so slightly feel the heavy lids of your eyes drooping, your cumbersome body slumped down against the long and your cold fingers gripped onto the fabric of your coat. You huddled closer into the little warmth that you have and your tense body relaxed.

Though where you lied was all but comfortable you couldn’t help your eyes from closing and your whole body from succumbing into sleep.

Not even a few hours later, your tired eyes open up and get used to the building around you. It wasn’t even morning, and the crack of dawn was just peeking around the corner. You let out a few grumbles into the silence and you huff, white puffs of air forming in the cold air.

The floorboards creaked as you stood up before centering yourself on the hardwood floor beneath you. The small fire was long extinguished and the burnt remains stayed on the floor. Your feet ached as if trying to get you back to settle down, even for just a few moments.

Overwhelming urges to go back to the broken down house bounced to and fro in your mind. But the strong desire to once again lay your eyes upon the company which you called family swiftly took over. A new surge of motivation flourished through you and the numbing ache you felt was soon nothing but washed out.

The cold air was just as overbearing and the chattering of your teeth was the only thing that your ears could pick up. It was slightly dark, and the sun just barely peaked over the horizon, and you longed for its rays to shine upon your frigid form. You could only long for so much though, so you chucked the thought away and carried on.

Large destroyed buildings loomed over you, and the soon to be bright sky made everything seem ominous. You brought your shivering arms to wrap around yourself, trying to take in as much warmth your cold body could offer.

Everything had a purpose in life, but you still don’t understand why life decided to fuck you up this much.

All you wanted to be back in Eugene’s arms, to hear his comforting voice, and to run your hands through his dark hair once more. You’ll do it. For him you’ll make it. Just for him to take you up in his embrace. That thought was more than enough to push you. You were so, so close. You could make it. You knew you could.

Each step was worth it and before you knew it the sun rose, the bright rays just peeking ever so slightly beyond the dead trees. This might be the only time that you’re the only one moving in the vicinity. If it weren’t for you chattering your teeth and not feeling anything in your body, this walk might’ve actually been calming.

If you planned correctly and only took a few breaks that are about 2 hours maximum, you could make it to Haguenau in the afternoon. You’ll finally see the boys and be reunited with Easy after being separated from them for more than a week. The thought filled you with warmth no coat or sun could ever give you.

But fucking damn the snow. It made everything harder than it needed to be. It was only two miles but yet the snow made it seem like 200. Hours went by and you took as little breaks as possible. Laying down on the snow with your back on a tree as you tried to reclaim your lost breath.

Things were serene almost. And by that you meant at least you weren’t getting shot at and trees weren’t exploding all around you.

Then you saw it— the ever so faint outline of what looked to be a small town. This was it, you thought. It was right there, just out of your reach. Your slow steps from before grew more frantic as you neared the grey looking town. You shrugged off your coat, you knew they would start blasting if they thought you were a German soldier.

The coat dropped limply to the snowy floor and your (E/C) picked up a few figures along the edge. It was so blurry, why was it so fucking blurry?

Shivering and huffing, you whispered words of encouragement to yourself, “Come on, come on. You’re almost there... You can make it...”

The two men you saw raised up their rifles to take aim at you, yet you couldn’t bring the strength to raise the icicles you called arms. Instead you kept shuffling forward. Your movement was sluggish and your coordination wasn’t the best at the moment, but you plowed on.

The figures held their ground and with each passing second, the cold wasn’t bothering you— it was the fear that you’ll get shot by your own friends.

Shoving the thought away, you instead focused on the town— no matter how blurry it was. Your knees and legs almost gave out beneath you, yet you somehow still found the willpower to hold yourself up. The soldiers gave each other a look as their eyes focused on your form.

Babe’s breath hitched as he recognized you. He immediately lowered down his weapon and threw his fellow paratrooper a wide-eyed look.

Your knees and legs almost gave out beneath you, yet you somehow still found the strength to hold yourself up. The soldiers gave each other a look as their eyes focused on your form.

Babe’s breath hitched as he recognized you. He immediately lowered down his weapon and threw his fellow paratrooper a wide-eyed look.

“Jesus Christ, lower your fucking gun, Lieb— It’s (Y/N)... It’s (Y/N)!” Heffron yelled vehemently into his friend’s ear.

Liebgott also dropped his gun, he squinted his eyes at you and his jaw grew slack. He was left in shock and all sorts of emotions shone throughout his face in the matter of mere seconds. A look was shared between the two men. After a brief moment of standing still to take the moment in, they broke out into a sprint.

Your body collapsed into them as they reached you, their two arms hoisting you up as you could only pick out a few words. (E/C) eyes grew weary and tired, and you simply let fatigue take over your being.

Liebgott and Babe grew increasingly worried and it wasn’t long before they panicked. They shook you hard and your chin was tilted up to meet their faces.

“She’s freezing—”

“Yeah no shit, Babe. C’mon we need to get her back into town and get her to Roe—”

Everything was fading but your chapped lips stretched into a faint grin. You could faintly see their faces, and you have never been any happier to see a person this much. Babe’s hand cradled your head as they slowly brought you up. Liebgott carried your limp body and brought one of your arms to hang over his neck.

The two men hurried so fast into the town and you couldn’t pick up anything other than fragments of sentences. Your eyes drooped and your teeth chattered unbelievably hard. Your head was pounding and everything was just a cacophony of various sounds, nothing made sense.

“She— passing out—”

“—here the— is Roe— Bring h— over here—”

Roe… You recognized that name. Genie, your Genie— Everything was such a blur, it was all chaos in your mind. But you’re here, and you’ll get to meet Eugene after how long. It was worth the wait, you’re going to finally see him.

Whatever was going on didn’t matter anymore and you tuned out the distant shouts and ruckus. Your eyes fluttered shut and your expression was nothing but content, after all, you had a certain Cajun man in your mind. The whole world went black and you inevitably passed out in the arms of Liebgott.

-------------

Everyone in Haguenau was utterly shocked when they caught wind of what happened. Others were in glee, some relieved and happy, but the majority was shrouded with a thick cloud of doubt and disbelief.

Questions were thrown left and right but no one could find a definite answer. All words that were about to escape were cut short at what was to come.

Rumors were turned into facts and all who rejected the idea could only gawk at the sight. Multiple eyes rake over the two men frantically yelling and running like their lives depended on it. But their focus was immediately averted to you— the weak soldier in the arms of Lieb.

It was hectic and no one knew what to do next, but the shouts of the fiery-headed man brought them out of their daze.

Desperate cries for the medic rang for a few moments and then after what felt like an eternity, the Cajun man arrived. It’s an understatement to say that his heart stopped as soon as his eyes ran over your unconscious form.

Caught frozen in the moment it was only when Martin practically shoved him into your direction did he start moving.

Nodding stiffly with his cerulean eyes blown wide open, almost everyone in the area rushed to the building where all of Roe’s supplies laid. The door busted upon and could’ve flown off it’s rusty hinges at that point, but everyone’s nerves were wrecked to oblivion.

The shuffling and the jagged huffs of air you released filled the air. They laid you on the wooden table in the center of the room, gingerly plopping your body on the rough surface.

Cold. You were so cold and barely hanging onto an inch of your life… Eugene felt himself grow more rushed and panicked with every move he took, yet he still proceeded each step with the precision and stability any medic wished they had.

He remembered to treat you with the utmost care and gentleness and carefully shrugged off your soddy coat. Removing his own, he dressed you his dry and warmer coat.

“Blankets,” Eugene uttered while looking into Lipton’s eyes

Lipton was too busy fretting over your being and when Eugene said the word, and he couldn’t make out a word. “Roe, what?”

“Sir, just give me blankets, please,” the medic practically keened.

The First Sergeant let out a hum of acknowledgement before rushing off to God-knows-where to get the blankets Eugene so desperately and quietly pleaded for. As soon as Lipton disappeared behind a corner, all of Eugene’s attention was on you.

Requesting hot water, Roe immediately soaked a towel in it. Removing excess moisture before letting it cool down for a few moments, he placed the warm towel on your neck. He poured out all his medical knowledge into action, he needed to keep you alive. Eugene needed to.

He couldn’t lose you again, he wouldn’t allow it.

His mind processed so many things, like how you suddenly appeared after everyone thought you… Thought you died. Appearing out of nowhere, collapsing, and in severe need of warmth. Nonetheless, you were alive and breathing. You were back and now all his answers have been answered.

With the heavy weight lifting from his chest, a new weight arrived and took its place. Right now, all he needed to do was to get blood circulating through your body and to keep you warm.

He just hopes he can deal with the emotions that would later come, and he most definitely hopes that you’ll make it out of this just alright.

“Roe. The blankets,” Lipton returned and in his arms were a heaping pile of blankets which would be more than okay.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Eugene thanked curtly as he took the heavy pile off his hands and placed them on the cold stone floor.

“Of course, Eugene,” while Lip had addressed him, his eyes were still glued at your shut eyes. The fatherly compassion in his face made Eugene feel warm for just a bit before taking a glance at your serene expression.

Eugene’s hands grabbed about four and laid them across your form, and he took two more to make a makeshift pillow. Tenderly raising up your head, he placed it under and let out a sigh in relief as he finished treating you. The soft rise of your chest reassured him that you were sleeping well, the frigid temperatures of your skin subsiding and returning to normal.

You’d be alright, you just needed to rest and wake up and Eugene couldn’t wait more for that moment to arrive. Loosely dropping the blanket he held tightly in his fist, Eugene made his way over to you. Everyone had crowded around the table but made space back when Roe told them to make room.

Everyone had crowded around the table but made space back when Roe told them to make room. They mimicked his actions, and stepped closer like before. They were all so nervous, but they all held caring and content looks in their eyes.

As time passed, more and more of the men left the building to go to their bunks. But every time they left, they made sure to spare you one last glance before retreating into the afternoon.

Soon enough it was only him, Babe, Lipton, Speirs, and Winters left in the building— the commanding officers talking amongst themselves while throwing concerned glances at you. Heffron opted to stay on the other side of the table, biting nervously at his fingernails.

“(Y/N) will wake up soon, right?” Heffron questioned, his voice quavering ever so slightly and Eugene turned his eyes to him.

Babe’s eyes were so filled with hope that Eugene couldn’t help but agree too— his own orbs begging for everything to be alright.

Everyone in the room kept watch for as long as they could, but it was only so soon that they had to attend to their own duties. Lipton definitely made sure to give words of encouragement and comfort to the shaken medic and soon he left with Winters and Speirs, the latter offering a stable nod of the head whilst leaving.

“Don’t worry Roe, (Y/N)... (Y/N) will be alright, she’s strong. (Y/N)’s stronger than anyone I know.”

“You… You think so?” The Cajun man carefully began as his dexterous hands took off his helmet to run his fingers through them.

“I know so.”

Lipton placed his glove-laden hand on Roe’s shoulder, the gesture made the tension in his body lessen by just a bit. He gave a salute which Eugene returned and he wistfully watched his company return to their prior business.

With just the two of you left in the building, Eugene let his walls go down and he collapsed on a nearby chair. Both of his hands flashed up to sink themselves deep in his ebony hair, the sniffling of his nose overtaking the silence. It’d been so long since he last cried… It’d been even longer since he saw you…

The salty tears blurred his vision but he hastily rubbed them away, the rough fabric taking them off and clearing his sight.

He dragged the wooden chair closer to you and his hands reached out hesitantly to caress your face. Eugene delicately moved stray strands of your hair away from your face and the back of his hand rested on your forehead to check your temperature.

A melancholy look was glazed over his gray-blue eyes and he slowly retracted his hand away from your forehead. Now that the dust had settled, the realization hit him, and with that came the many thoughts.

You were alive, that was obvious enough, but he couldn’t over the fact that you were. Eugene felt immensely relieved that you were, he wouldn’t be able to live if you weren’t. But seeing you limp in Liebgott’s arms left him frozen as if he was being taken back to your abrupt appearance just about two hours ago.

Eugene’s pale hand found its way on your warm cheek, with you subconsciously nuzzling yourself into the palm of his hand— the action making him weak. You had always used to do that and a tender fondness washed over his once tense features.

All in all, he was completely overjoyed that you were here— even if you weren’t conscious, you were still here. If Eugene’s mind wasn’t keeping him busy, he spent his time checking up and taking care of you.

“I just… You’re back..” Eugene drawled out, even if he knew you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Maybe it was better that way…

He had to choke back tears as he continued, emotion pouring out with every word, “I missed you— I missed you a lot actually.”

Even without anyone listening, Eugene acted like there was— with no one there to judge him, he spoke with utmost passion. It had been long subdued and held back, and in those short moments Eugene had spoken more than he ever had in the past days. His fists were aching from how hard they were clench, appearing ghostly white as he continued spouting heartfelt words from his lips.

“I love you, (Y/N). I was so scared that I lost you, I love you so much, mon ange…” Eugene held your still hand, and there you remained serenely resting.

The words hung in the air, dissipating into nothing as seconds passed by. His term of endearment used to feel heavy on his mouth whenever he had said it, but now at this time— it felt right, it fit.

Eugene’s nerves were utterly wrecked, but your presence was the best thing that has ever happened to him. Two weeks, two weeks since Eugene thought he lost you in Bastogne. But he stopped worrying because all of his prayers were answered.

With his back to the old wooden chair, he observed the light pouring out from the dusty windows— almost golden even though it was a bit too early in the afternoon for it. Eugene felt tumultuous and he tried his hardest to come to terms with today’s events. Tilting his head down he folded his hands and shut his eyelids. With a final look to your passed-out figure, he let out an affectionate smile.

It wasn’t long before Eugene too fell into unconsciousness— his mind being transported to dreamland with you in his head.

“I love you, mon ange,” he mumbled quietly, just hoping you could hear him even in your state.

The soft smile on Eugene’s face was prominent then.

----------

The early afternoon light turned dark, the light—even filled with smoke—shone its pinkish and golden hues through the grimy windows of the brick buildings. It wasn’t long until the evening colors turned into ones of navy blue and soon dark cobalt, the moon shining dimly in the sky. Eugene was still passed out, arms crossed and as still as he could be.

No one decided to bother the medic, and anyone who decided to enter the building anyway decided to do so quietly. A menagerie of people checked up on you and Eugene through the hours, but nonetheless people were sparse. With no patrols, wounded, or future assignments, Eugene could stay in that building for as long he wanted to.

His helmet rested idle next to his chair, and the room looked like a moment frozen in time.

The lantern casted a yellow glow throughout the space, shadows playing on the medic’s face and the edge of the room. And that was where you found yourself, wrapped in blankets, in an unknown rickety building. Nonetheless you were warm and you were thankful for that.

Yet you still felt fuzzy, like static was making a home in your brain. You softly let out a groan, your shoulders sore and your skin tingling.

“Shit… My head…” you brought a shaky hand to your temples and the pile of blankets fell off your torso and pooled in your lap.

The old wooden table creaked with each movement and you didn’t notice the sleeping figure sitting on the side of you. The corners of the moon could barely be seen from the angle you were in, and your tired digits clenched around the thin fabric that was splayed out in front of you.

You were in… That was right— you were in Haguenau. You made it, saw Babe and Lieb and inevitably passed out. That was all in the morning, it must be. Just how long have you been passed out? It must’ve been half the day.

Your weary (E/C) eyes glanced across the room, taking in your surroundings. With the dim lantern light bathing you, it was quite hard to make out anything. Turning your head slowly left and right you jump out of your skin when you see a body just beside you.

Your eyes widen swiftly, your mouth agape. But looking closer, it wasn’t just anybody. Bringing your palm to your chest to calm your turbulent heartbeat, you gazed at him— to assure yourself that you weren’t hallucinating.

It was Eugene— good God it was Eugene.

Gathering your thoughts, you leaned forward, slightly wincing at the slightly numb and uncomfortable feeling of your abdomen and legs. Your eyes held want and need, you never wanted someone so badly. A strong urge to just throw away the regard of your own safety and bounce into his arms was tempting, but you knew better than to do that.

You’d simply pass out again, and if you were to die right here in this moment, then so be it. One glance at the ebony locks that were lightly tousled, the same ones you loved to run your (S/C) hands through, was enough to make your heart weak.

His closed eyes just radiated like unexplored waters, and even when sleeping he held such a refined grace and elegance.

This must’ve been the longest sleep he’s had in days, and while you had gone through considerably worse these few days, your heart panged at the thought of him not getting enough rest.

“Eugene…?”

It slipped out suddenly, you didn’t even mean to utter anything. But his eyes opened before you could even register the fact that you did speak.

Ever the light sleeper or even borderline insomniac, Eugene bolted up. Stormy blue orbs revealing themselves and his whole upper body staggering up at the sudden noise. While soft, it was clearly abrupt, and so it woke him up immediately.

At first he thought it was one of the boys, maybe one of them telling him to come back to the bunks or something similar. But when his head lurched its direction at the door, no one was there.

Blinking away his grogginess, he saw you. Awake. Right in front of him.

Even though it was you who needed the most rest, you made the first move. Steadily balancing yourself on the table with your legs hanging loosely on the edge, your head tilted and your eyes glassy. Eugene Roe didn’t want to cry, he wanted his first moment with you to be happy.

But tears don’t listen to the silent pleas of broken soldiers. And so they fell on his trousers, wet droplets plopping gently on the fabric.

With a blink on an eye, the moment was cut short by your sudden movements. The flickering of the lamp illuminating your tired face as you plopped from the table with a wince. The patter of your feet as you trekked the small distance which separated you and your lover. The longing in your heart ceased, but even with Eugene there your heart seemed to crave more once again.

Chuckling dryly through his tears, Eugene took off his gloves, “Ain’t this the part where I tell you to keep resting?”

The first thing he says to you and it’s one of his stupid jokes, Gene mentally reprimanded himself but when he saw you smile he didn’t think it was such a bad idea anymore. The first laugh you had in such a long time bubbled in your dry throat, you softly coughing after the act.

Eugene stood up with a concerned look in his eyes, only stopping himself when you held your hand up.

You were the first to break, as you collapsed yourself onto Eugene’s chest as he stood up. Eugene’s tears were long gone, but yours were only starting. You sobbed silently as you clutched his uniform. You grabbed at him fervently, hoping to find leverage.

With your hands running intensely around his body— just wanting to touch any part of him. Any.

It’s been far too long and you just wanted to hug him so tight you couldn’t breathe anymore.

Two weeks may not seem like much, but in war two weeks felt like an eternity. A lot occurred in those two weeks—Eugene Roe broke and snapped and you almost succumbed to Mother Nature. But it was good now— no Germans, no missing lovers, and no more fucking snow. It was almost unbelievable, like a dream.

The absence in your heart has been filled, but you wanted to stay whole for as long as you can— so you held onto him like your life depended on it. With trembling fingers and quavering breath, you feverishly embraced him, and he too returned your hold with as much fervor. You missed him, you missed him too much.

“Welcome back, mon ange...”

“Well,” you gestured to the old building and walls enclosing you both, “This certainly doesn’t look like heaven.”

Gene only lightly smiled, his eyes focusing on your face. He took it in, desperate to keep your figure in his head. He’ll never forgive himself if he doesn’t remember the exact planes in your face for even a moment. You stood there too, dazed. You had only just woken up and yet you were already straining yourself, but for Gene it was worth it.

The comedic and light moment left as quickly as it came, getting washed away by the somber atmosphere like a powerful tidal wave. Eugene was the one who went out to hold you this time, but it was none at all like yours.

His hold was secure and controlled, although you could tell he was practically yearning to hold you intensely like you did with him.

While not the passionate hold you gave him, it held as much love and adoration. Eugene didn’t need words to express his happiness, relief, and sorrow for he was quite literally the human embodiment of ‘actions speak louder than words’.

Everything was so ephemeral, with the blink of an eye it could all vanish. But the love that you held for Eugene said otherwise. Oh you pleaded internally that someone will let this be the lifetime where you spend an eternity with him. That finally this will be the time where you won’t have to worry about no longer having Eugene by your side.

Tears sprang up from your eyes again, tumbling down slowly on your cheeks, “I thought— I thought I was never going to see you again. I… I thought I was going to die Gene, I r-really did, I was so close…”

“I thought so too, but we’re here now.” he wiped your tears away with a swipe, his cold lips pressing kisses on your forehead.

“Wha-what if I didn’t see you, or if I took a wrong turn? And the last thing I would see would just be snow and not you—”

With a soft but firm look on his features, he shook his head as if to say ‘no more’, “(Y/N)... I would walk around for miles to find you if I could.”

You clamped your mouth shut and nodded with each word from his mouth, and you buried your head deeper into his hold. The dank room seemed much brighter with you in his embrace, the whole town seemed to light up in fact.

Everyone has such expectant and hopeful faces and they were immensely glad that you were back with them. Cold as you were then, you still managed to be brighter than the sun. Eugene could honestly go on for hours listing all the beautiful adjectives he could use to describe you.

Eugene held you as if he had no intentions of ever letting you slip from his secure grasp. If there was no tomorrow, he should at least enjoy this sacred moment while it lasts— to forever savor it and reminisce about it when his time comes.

You begged anything to let this fleeting moment last, to forever be one with the one you loved most.

“Never let me go, Genie.”

“I won’t…”

“Please?”

“I love you too much to lose you again...”

With a word or with a sentence, Eugene could make you feel anything. And with that uttered statement, he made you feel at peace. A compassionate look that held a million unspoken words was bestowed upon you, for a fraction of a second you could feel him pressing the faintest of kisses on your lips.

And for the first time in this chaotic unfolding of events, you felt happy.

----------

Author’s Note: Well here it is, my last fic before I go. But thank you for making it all the way to the end of this long fic, I love y’all so much. I hope y’all will have a good day and I’ll be sendin’ some good vibes 😩💕

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #hbo war #hbo war x reader #band of brothers fanfiction

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magicstar16 · 4 years ago

Text

A cruel joke

NOTICE: This is a fanfic based on Spectralreplicas Puella magi au, I do not own the au. I also do not own the Puella magi madoka magica franchise or the Danganronpa franchise.

Summary: After a nasty fight and being kicked off of Shuichi’s team, Kokichi sets off on his own to fight a witch himself. He later discovers how disturbingly appropriate the witch and it’s labyrinth seem to be, given his situation

Third and also kinda second person narration, mostly second.

TW Character death

Also may or may not be slightly OOC but Kokichi’s going through a lot and he needs time to be an actual human being with feelies and not just a lying little shit nugget.

Kokichi ran through the labyrinth, panting heavily, knocking out familiars who got to close. The familiars were just little fuzzballs balancing on top of bouncy balls, so he could just knock them away as he would with the little balls that came with his mallet. He’d use one of the balls on his outfit, but that took magic, and with his soul gem already pretty murky, he couldn’t risk it. Besides, even if he could afford to take that risk, there weren’t many walls, the labyrinth took the form of an outdoor, cheap county carnival, so there wouldn’t be much to bounce on. In the distance he saw the witch, it was a black ball with cartoonish arms and legs, with a large, cartoony mouth for a face, riding a colorful unicycle. The witch’s cacophonous laughter echoed throughout the labyrinth. Kokichi ran towards the witch without hesitation, pushing off the familiars. The witch pedaled away, still laughing. “Stop running away, You stupid witch!” Kokichi yelled, in between breaths. “This would be so much easier if I was still on a team” he said to himself.

He stopped in his tracks

“Oh wait...” he muttered, his voice trailing off

“That’s right...”

*Flashback*

Kokichi jumped from platform to platform, knocking around his croquet balls as they bounced around as carelessly as he did, with a childlike laughter that only he could produce, while smashing the occasional familiar. The giant witch’s slow, rusty, mechanical wire-like arms kept trying to squash him, like a slow bear trying to squash an annoying little fly. “Come on, you overgrown toy! Give me your best shot!” He laughed, taunting the witch. Shuichi, Kaito, and Gonta, however, were not amused with Kokichi’s jokes at the witch.

“Stop screwing around Kokichi” Kaito yelled, trying to shoot away the rusty familiars in a nearly blind panic. Kaito’s arrows kept flying towards different directions, sometimes at the familiars, who kept getting closer and closer towards him as Kaito tried to distance himself.

Shuichi ducked the arrows and croquet balls that flew around the labyrinth. “Would Everyone stop screwing around?! PLEASE?!” Shuichi asked, desperately trying to find some sort of week point.

“Shuichi! Over here! Gonta may have found weak point!” Gonta called out to Shuichi, near the base of the witch. Near the base of the gigantic mechanical body, in a mess of wires and gears, Gonta seemed to have found a large, beating mechanical heart. Shuichi lit up! “Thanks Gonta!” Shuichi replied, Shuichi shot at the heart rapidly, the witch didn’t seem to notice, as it was busy with Kokichi.

Kokichi panted,”Is that all you got, rust bucket?” He asked, Now face to face wtih the witch. It’s glowing eyes glared right at him. It slowly opened it’s mouth, revealing what appeared to be a second mouth with a large cannon inside. Kokichi stared blankly. “Is that supposed to be a no?” he asked.

As Gonta was wailing on the witch’s heart with his butterfly net, he looked up at the witch, seeing if it had noticed him and Shuichi yet.

Good news: The witch didn’t notice them!

Bad news: It sure had noticed Kokichi.

Gonta saw the cannon emerging from it’s mouth, it started heating up, about to fire any second. In a moment of impulse, Gonta leaped away from the heart, and onto the platforms to where Kokichi was.

“Kokichiiiiiii!”

Kokichi stumbled back and looked up at Gonta, who taking the bright, fire like blast for the smaller boy. Kokichi was even more dumbfounded by larger boys action. “Why” Kokichi muttered. “Why are you doing this? You should be helping Shuichi.” Gonta grunted, trying to ground himself in place. “Because” Gonta replied, through pained grunts. “Gonta... g-gentleman. G-gentlemen... protect... others...” Gonta looked back at Kokichi and smiled, even though Gonta could feel his soul gem cracking. “Becoming... gentleman... was... G-gonta’s... wish... after... all...”

Two tortured screams echoed throughout the labyrinth, both followed by a crash and a crack as the labyrinth disappeared. It all happened so quickly. Kokichi fell onto the ground, feet first, not a perfect landing, but still a landing. Gonta was not so lucky, as he fell onto the ground limply, like a ragdoll dropped by a child.

Kokichi chuckled at the bug-lover, who had seemed to suddenly detransformed for some reason. “Klutz” He teased, trying to shove Gonta’s words in the back of his mind. Kokichi detransformed. “Come on ya big lug, we gotta meet with the others!” Gonta just laid there. “Don’t be so dramatic, I know your soul gem took a crapload of damage, but Shumai and Kaito will definitely share the grief seed if you beg enough!” Kokichi joked, trying to laugh, but all he could muster was a chuckle.

“C-come on idiot” Kokichi murmured, trying to maintain his carefree tone. “T-this isn’t funny” Kokichi kicked the body a little, with no response. “Is this payback for that time I pretended to be dead, and laughed when I saw you crying? Well, I get the point you’re trying to make now.” He said, trying to hold back a couple of tears that seemed to have pricked up. “It’s not very funny on the other end! Ya got me Gonta! You can get up and laugh at me now!” Still no response. Kokichi got on his knees, in an apologetic position “I-i-if you want an apology, I’m sorry! I really am! I understand that it’s not funny! I won’t do it again! Now Please! get! up!!” He cried as he banged his fists on the pavement. Kokichi felt some tears fall down his face, he just couldn’t hold back anymore.

Kaito and Shuichi, now back in their civilian forms, looked around for the grief seed from the witch Kaito looked under some parked cars, “Come on, stupid seed, stop screwing around. My sidekick needs you so he can clear his soul gem.” He said, frustrated. He looked under some more cars, hoping that nobody would be driving out to see four schoolboys (allegedly) screwing around in a parking lot. He REALLY wasn’t in the mood to get scolded by some stranger for playing in a parking lot in the middle of the evening, as he was already mentally preparing himself from the scolding he’d surely get from his grandparents for staying out way past dinner. That and hoping someone wouldn’t run over the seed if it was near a car wheel or something. Kaito ducked under a pickup truck and lit up as he saw a small, black glimmer. “There you are” He chuckled. He looked at the black seed with the gear-like design on it. He found it kinda cool that all grief seeds seemed to have their own symbol. He reached into the underside of the truck and grabbed it. He got up and waved to the others! “found it!” Kaito called out. Shuichi got up from looking under another car, dusting off his uniform and ran over to Kaito. “Alright, good work Kaito! Now we need to tell the others!” Shuichi and Kaito both walked to the side of the lot to avoid any cars, and the two began their search for Gonta and Kokichi.

Kokichi sobbed on his knees quietly, clutching his scarf tightly, begging Gonta to wake up. “P-please Gonta...” He whispered. “I’m sorry for tricking you, I’m sorry...” Kokichi looked up to see Shuichi and Kaito running back. “Shit they might have seen me” Kokichi thought. He turned away and wiped his tears and pulled himself together, and then leaned on a nearby car with his hands behind his head and his elbows up. Trying to look as relaxed as possible. “Took ya long enough.” Kokichi chuckled as they approached. Shuichi, being shuichi, seemed to immediately notice something was off. “What happend to Gonta?’” Shuichi asked. Kokichi, Shuichi, and Kaito looked down at Gonta, who wasn’t moving an inch. “Probably tired, he took a lot of damage after all, let’s help him up” Kaito suggested. Shuichi, and Kaito grabbed Gonta by the arms and lifted him up. Kokichi helped, uncomfortably pulling Gonta up by the feet. The trio took their green-haired teammate to a grassy area on the side of the lot. They laid Gonta on his back. Gonta’s eyes were closed, he had a pained expression stuck on his face. He was unmoving, and cold, like a statue. Shuichi checked the side of Gonta’s neck for a pulse. “H-his heart isn’t beating” Shuichi said worryingly.

Kokichi choked back some tears. This couldn’t be happening. Gonta couldn’t eb dead, and not because of him, right? Sure Kokichi may have lied, manipulated and took advantage of the gentle giant’s kindness and stupidity so he wouldn’t have to do as much work fighting witches, but Gonta always pulled through. He’d bounce back again right? This was just payback!

“It’s completely shattered” Kaito muttered.

“What is?” Shuichi asked

“Gonta’s soul gem... It’s completely destroyed!”

Those words sent a chill up Kokichi’s spine. Kaito held the light green soul gem in his hand. Pieces were scattered around in his palm.

Kaito looked down at his shaking palm. “You...” He muttered, clutching the remains of the gem. “YOU!” Katio shouted at Kokichi, as slammed his empty fist against another car, making Kokichi unknowingly flinch. “GONTA’S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! HE’S DEAD BECAUSE YOU SCREWED AROUND AND HE HAD TO SAVE YOU FROM YOUR OWN STUPIDITY! YOU! KILLED! GONTA!” Kaito screamed in between sobs, Slamming his fist against the car for emphasis on the last 3 words.

Kokichi looked down, not wanting to look up at the enraged taller boy, he’d rather die show himself in such a sorry state. Kokichi choked back tears, and he defeneded himself the only way he knew how.

“It was his fault” Kokichi lied. “He was being stupid again. All he does is waste time trying to save us indvidualy, or be selfless at all” Another lie. “We’re not friends, we’re teammates. We’re colleagues, hinting witches is our job, you don’t need to save teammates” Kokichi spewed out another lie. Kokichi looked up, with a fake smile on his face and a twisted feeling in his guts as he said the following words. “I don’t need him! I never needed him or any of you morons!” He could feel his heart shatter as he spewed out the lie. Like venom that he spit out and swallowed at the same time.

Kaito baweled with rage and punched the car, choking back sobs. “You monster” He whispered. “You lying, heartless, little monster” Kokichi maintained his smile despite that it felt like glass shards were being stabbed into his heart. “I don’t know why we ever let you on the team, all you do is make everything harder for us!” Kokichi maintained his composure, even though the words felt like knives in his chest. Kaito stormed off. Shuichi, who had been silently mourning over Gonta as the fight when down, approached Kokichi with a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry Kokichi, but Kaito’s right. You don’t corporate with are plans, aside from being a distraction to witches, you also not only take advantage of Gonta, but...” Shuichi hesitated, and choked out a sob “You’re not even grateful for his sacrifice” Shuichi wiped back his tears and looked at Kokichi, right in the eyes. “You’re kicked off the team Kokichi. We can’t be with you if you’re going to be like this” Shuichi looked away, “And, I don’t think we should speak for a while” Shuichi muttered, in a way that was clearly putting it lightly. Kokichi could tell that Shuichi meant that they didn’t want to be friends anymore. He could tell when someone was lying. That was his personal magic after all. Even then he didn’t need magic to know what Shuichi meant. This wasn’t the first that some told Kokichi that they didn’t want to be friends anymore. As Shuichi dragged Gonta’s body away, Kokichi held back his overwhelming amount of tears and yelled out one more lie, without any thought

“FINE! I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP! I DON’T NEED ANYONE’S HELP!”

Kokichi ran off, wishing that Shuichi would at least call out to him, but of course he didn’t.

Nobody would call out his name now

*End of flashback*

Kokichi aimlessly ran throughout the labyrinth as the painful memory flashed through his mind, tears blurred his vision. He could still hear the witch cackling in the labyrinth, the sound pulsed through his head, it almost hurt to listen to. “Shut up!” Kokichi yelled, as if the witch would listen. He batted away at more familiars, it almost seemed as if they were laughing too. In the distance he saw the witch, it seemed as though it was gesturing Kokichi to come towards it. Kokichi ran towards it with whatever strength he somehow had left. “GET! BACK! HERE!” Kokichi screamed, in between tired, stressed breaths. The witch kept laughing as it pedaled away, fast enough to keep away from Kokichi, but slow enough to stay in Kokichi’s sight. Kokichi chased the witch all the way into what seemed like a funhouse. Kokichi walked around the funhouse cautiously, in case the witch could have set up a surprise attack. He heard a little giggle from behind him, Kokichi turned around, to his surprise, there was nothing there. He kept walking through the funhouse, looking around at it’s seemingly endless maze of mirrors. Kokichi felt something tap on his shoulder, he turned around again, nothing.

Nothing but faint giggling

As he looked at all the mirrors in the funhouse, he could hear more giggling, trying to figure out where it was coming from. The mirrors frames seemed to be locked to wide, goofy smiles, in a similar to comedy masks, it was as if they were about to burst into laughter at any minute. He quickly walked through the halls of the the funhouse until he saw a single mirror in his way, surrounded by giggling familiars. Kokichi stopped and stared at what the mirror displayed.

It was him, crying and knocking around familiars, like he had been earlier. It was like the familiars had recorded him or something. There were even some mirrors laughing at it. (It seemed the mirrors were also familiars.) were all laughing at the “footage” (For lack of a better word) of Kokichi crying and knocking away at familiars with his mallet, like a bunch of children laughing at a funny clown on tv.

Kokichi picked a ball off of his hat and placed it on the floor. He lined up his mallet near the ball. He glared at the mirror playing the footage of him in such a sorry state. He hit the ball with all his might watching it crash into the mirror playing the footage of him, and then bounce from mirror to mirror, breaking them upon each impact. He smirked to himself as he watched the ball smash the mirrors into pieces. He left the hallway proud of himself, there wasn’t really a need to get the ball back, he could always summon more, the balls on his outfit grew back over a certain period of time.

However, as Kokichi walked away, he felt a blunt impact on the back of his head, causing him to stumble forward onto his stomach. He picked himself, back up, rubbing the back of his head. He looked down to see the ball he had hit earlier. He chuckled to himself, “At least nobody saw that”.

He realized what he said. He plopped the ball back onto his hat and walked away casually. (Sure he didn’t HAVE to retrieve his balls after hitting them, but it was still good to get them back whenever he could, every bounce made his mallet hits stronger after all). Hoping none of the mirrors recorded that. His hopes started to diminish as he went further into the funhouse, hearing more and more laughter as he got deeper. He could even see some of the mirror familiars laughing at him, writing insults on lower leveled mirrors for Kokichi to read, and even playing the footage of him getting hit by his own ball. Kokichi kept looking forward, he needed to preserve his magic to fight the witch, or any familiars that decided to gang up on him.

He trudged up to a large door with laughing mouths on it. He opened the door to see what appeared to be a circus ring, with the witch in the center, the seats were filled with familiars. They cheered as Kokichi entered, as if they were excited to see him. Kokichi glared at the witch, it bounced gleefully and gestured Kokichi to come towards it. Kokichi sprinted after the witch with his mallet. Kokichi swung with all his might, but the witch dodged. Kokichi kept trying to hit the witch, but it kept dodging. As Kokichi kept trying to hit the witch, the laughter from it and it’s familiars got louder and louder. Kokichi, stumbled around, desperately trying to hit the witch. Eventually Kokichi collapsed onto the ground, it was like he could barely be able to hear his own breathing over the laughter from the labyrinth. The witch rolled up to his pathetic form.

“Why?” Kokichi asked, more to himself to the witch. “Why would it bring me to the center of it’s own labyrinth?”

As if to answer his question, the witch opened it’s gaping mouth in a rectangular shape, like a tv screen. The familiars all went silent. Kokichi stared at the mouth in shock. It was a mirror playing footage of him, but not just any footage.

It was footage of his fight with Kaito.

It almost hurt to watch the recording, but the strange (Or worst) part was that the recording paused in between Kaito’s sentences, to give time for the familiars in the audience to laugh, like a sitcom.

“GONTA’S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!” There was Laughter from the audience “HE’S DEAD BECAUSE YOU SCREWED AROUND AND HE HAD TO SAVE YOU FROM YOUR OWN STUPIDITY!” again, there was laughter. ”YOU! KILLED! GONTA!” There was not only laughter, but cheering from the crowd, almost as if the familiars were all saying “You tell him” in response. Kokichi watched his response in the recording. Wishing he could say how he really felt. Wishing he had the courage to say the truth.

The truth was, It was Kokichi’s fault.

The truth was, Kokichi was the stupid one, in a way

The truth was, Kokichi really did see them as friends.

The truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was...

“I need you” Kokichi whispered, pleadingly, “I need you”

Kokichi kept his head down as he tried to hold back tears. The recording continued the play, with the occasional laughter from the familiars. Until the recording finally ended, with the last scene. Himself, running away while crying.

As the recording stopped and the witch’s mouth returned to normal size, there was silence. Much to Kokichi’s relief. He looked up to face the witch.

The witch began to faintly giggle, the giggle grew into a mocking laughter, and then grew into a hysterical cackle, even pointing at Kokichi. It’s voice became deeper, and gained a demented echo to it. It’s familiars began to laugh to, the fuzzy ball balancing familiars pointed their tiny arms at Kokichi, while the mirror familiars wrote insults on their reflective surfaces, the on their frames now animated with laughter. With insults such as Crybaby, fool, liar, weakling, monster, and others. Kokichi stared at the at the crowd of familiars, all while tears poured out of his eyes. It all seemed so funny to them, his struggle, his misery, his despair, it was all so funny to these sick beings. It was all so funny that...

He started laughing too.

“Oh I get it now!” He shouted. “I get the joke now!” He yelled out to the crowd, crying and laughing at the same time. He turned to the witch, as if it could understand him.

“This is all a big joke!” He said. “This is a joke and I’m the punchline!” Kokichi laughed, feeling a little dumb that he didn’t get it sooner. “You’re some kind of a clown or circus witch” He explained. “You’re entire thing is making people laugh, or more accurately, making people do things to make YOU laugh!” He gestured towards is outfit. “My costume is basically a clown costume, and clowns make people laugh. One of the most common types of humor is seeing other people get hurt, like slapstick!” Kokichi felt kinda stupid for explaining the witch’s own gimmick to itself, but the explanation was more for his own benefit, it would be impossible to hear himself think with the cacophony of laughter from the witch and it’s familiars. “It all makes sense, the cheap carnival theme, the familiars, the funhouse, the circus tent center, The witch leading me here, the familiars being excited to see me.” He let out a deranged laugh, almost on par with the witch’s laughter. “This is all an act and I’m the main event! I’m the hilarious main event! This is all slapstick to you all! To you all, I’m just a clown putting on a show!” He picked up is mallet. “And the best part is, it’s kinda true in a way. It really is kinda funny!” He picked up his mallet and pounced onto the witch, smashing his mallet right on to unicycle, making sure it couldn’t get away. “So go ahead! Laugh at me!” Kokichi smashed his mallet on the witch, who was still laughing at him. “Laugh at the funny clown!” He smashed the mallet onto the witch again, knocking a few teeth out of it’s giant face- mouth.

“Laugh at the pathetic, crybaby, lying, heartless clown who can’t hold on to a single friend!” Kokichi than rapidly mashed his hammer on the witch, his laughing now indistinguishable to his gross sobbing.

Finally, after for what seemed like eternity of laughing, crying, and smashing, the witch was finally dead. The labyrinth disappeared, revealing the empty city crosswalk where it had spawned. Kokichi detransformed and collapsed onto the sidewalk, he panted, he could barely breathe. He picked up the grief seed and crawled onto a nearby bench at an empty bus stop and sighed. He looked at the grief seed’s pattern, it was a laughing mouth, just like the one on the witch. It was like even after defeat, the witch still laughed at Kokichi. The purple haired boy could still hear the witches laughter in his mind. Kokichi took his sould gem and placed the grief seed on it, watching a the murky blackness fade away. Kokichi felt as if a giant weight that had been left on his chest for hours and had finally been lifted. Kokichi took a deep breath in relief.

But why did he still hurt? He had no injuries (At least no major ones) and his soul gem was squeaky clean. Plus, how would he get home? It was almost 9:00, he should have been home an hour ago.

Kokichi didn’t really care anymore. He figured he’d just take the next bus, it would only be arriving in about ten minutes anyway. He could just say he got lost or something, It had happened before.

Kokichi stared at his soul gem, now in ring form, feeling tears prick up in his eyes. He curled up into a ball.

And finally cried.

#danganronpa #dangaronpa v3 #kokichi ouma #tw character death #puella magi madoka magica au #puella magi au #a witch being a bitch #Kokichi isn't a crybaby here #he just thinks he's one #also he's been through a lot in this fic #fanfiction #emotionally damaged kokichi #being meguca is suffering #kokichi actually feels feelings #Ya'll better like this I accidently missed a therapy appointment to write this #Took up almost a whole school day

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tokyoghoose · 5 years ago

Text

am i more than you bargained for?

pairing: tetsuro kuroo x reader

playlist: heather - conan gray*, 4ever - clairo, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, melting - kali uchis, slow dancing in the dark - joji, using you - mars argo, she - ed sheeran, make you feel my love - adele, letter home - childish gambino, she's casual - the hunna, i love you so - the walters, notice me (acoustic) - role model, red dress - postcard boy

warnings: angst and lots of it, mentions of sex, mentions self-shaming of image, very breif mention of anxiety attacks

summary: a romantic comedy without the comedy between friends with benefits

announcements!

kuroo is definitely a little ooc in this lmao buuuut this is my first like fic fic in like two years. Im still trying to get back in the groove of things and finding how to write personality again and not be repetitive with my wording. Feedback is welcome!

requests are open! feel free to send them in! i will write for pretty much any anime ive seen and if i haven't seen it, ill watch it! the only reasons i wouldn't is if im uncomfortable or can't write the character. :)

——————

When did relationships become so difficult? The days of making friends on the playground were over and it seemed to hit everyone at the same age. Life was getting harder and people were getting older, and suddenly everything was difficult. Nothing came easy anymore and everyone had to adjust to that.

But now you were just confused.

Tetsuro kuroo stuck to you like glue since middle school. Where one of you went the other was likely to follow. The righthand man, the double trouble duo, and the bane of kenma's existence. And then things got complicated. Strangers to friends to best friends to lovers— friends with benefits. Who would've thought the boy that you played volleyball with on a whim would've become the man who you grew fond of. Sixth grade you would've kicked yourself for the feelings you're experiencing. Oh how you wished you were back in the park that started it all. You wished you could warn your youngerself what's to come.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks and it made you want to throw up at the thought.

It started in the first year of highschool when you suddenly noticed the shine in his eyes when he talked passionately about something like volleyball or the way he would furrow his brows when concentrated on his assignments. At first it was endearing, really. But the more you hung around him, the stronger the butterflies felt. It was obvious that he had grown into his lanky body. His legs were proportionate to his torso now and his once scrawny arms didn't hang limply at his sides anymore. He had muscle and height now. Gradually you started to notice little things about him that you would never have seen in other people. Like his lopsidded smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes and brought heat to your cheeks, your stomach launching into your chest when he'd bump shoulders and laugh.

You should've just smacked yourself silly then and there when you started to wonder if he noticed little things about you. Does he think of me like i think of him?

Who knew feelings could be so...perplexing. You moved on, shrugging off the crush in your second year to catch bigger and better fish in the sea. Life moved on and you dated other people, simply remaining friends with kuroo. Little did you know one heartbreak would lead you into his bed, playing in the sheets by the end of the year.

He was just so damn compelling. His laughter and his jokes. You fell for it all over again. Deja vu. Stupid kuroo.

———

The third of highschool had been the breaking point. It was a constant cycle of feeling, fucking, and falling in and out of love with the raven haired boy. It was frustrating, especially when he was so damn oblivious. The only person that seemed to catch on was kenma, but he was very little help when it came to pushing away the domestic thoughts. It would never just work out because you wanted it to because tetsuro was dumb.

It's a chilly day out, the sun nice against your skin but the wind was drastic in comparison. Shivers are sent up and down your spine, you wrap your arms around yourself in a hug. Could this boy take any longer? Foot tapping against the pavement, you heave a sigh, nostils flaring impatiently before you spot the tall athlete. With a girl. A girl?

You'd seen her around before and you vaguely remember thinking she resembled the main love interest in a 90s movie or a bratz doll. She's pretty and has a light, airy laugh. Kuroo must've told her a joke of some kind, but he definitely wasn't funny enough for her to have her hands all over his chest. He's giving her a toothy grin and soft eyes. It makes you want to gag.

Who was she anyway?

Not that it mattered because in that moment the fit of rage your body suddenly flug itself into prevented you from hearing anything. Kuroo's pulling off his pullover and drapping it over the pretty girl's shoulders. You can feel your eye twitch and fibgers tingle. He looks bashful as he waves her goodbye and tragically, you don't feel nearly as pretty as you had been feeling. Now all you wanted to do was sink into the ground below you and possibly into another dimension—or at least the other side of the world.

"She's pretty," is the first thing that comes out of your mouth when he comes over, slouching with his hands in the pockets of his shorts. He had practice this afternoon, you remember. He looks over at you with raised brows, almost like he's surprised yoy said anything or even noticed he was talking to another girl before walking towards the gym with you trailing close behind.

"Yeah she is, I guess."

She's prettier than me.

"You guess? Kuroo, you gave her your sweater."

He shrugs sheepishly, a light pink dusting his cheeks and it makes you mad of uncharacteristic the act is. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"It's just polyester. It's not a big deal."

The conversation suddenly drops as you pause, apparently very hurt that he didn't remember it was you who gave him the sweater in the first place. He turns around, a questioning look on his face.

"What? Are you jealous?" He teases.

You're fuming at his attempt to be playful. Maybe you were overreacting, but it pangs your chest to know he can brush it off so easily.

" Kuroo, that was my sweater. "

It's gritted through your teeth, eyes slotted into a glare and his face drops. Oh is all he can think as he stares at you and the hurt expression that quickly turns into that of annoyance and anger. You push past him, ultimately deciding not to walk him to the gym. His arm reaches out to catch you, but it falls short as he calls out in a whine, "I'll get it back for you, okay? Come on, y/n!"

———

You can't focus on the assignments in front of you no matter how hard you try. You are exsausted. Just wanting to crawl under the covers and sleep for maybe a thousand years, you stop tapping your oen against the paper to hyperfocus on the black dots that now littered the page. The music in the background pauses before coming back to life with the hum of a new song shuffling in. It's quiet and yet, it's overwhelming. You wish you weren't home alone now.

Hanging your head low on your desk, the carpet becoming of interest, you groan. The image of kuroo and that girl replaying in your head over and over like an endless movie. You'd have to give it a bad review if it ever ended.

You're focus is mainly on her though. Kuroo could get any girl he wants with his witt and charm. Not to mention he wasn't jusf handsome, but he's beautiful. Model material—movie character love interest type beat. He has the ability to make any heart swoon if he tries hadd enough, and that girl was no exception. She was more than pretty. She was stunning, even. It was like watching human barbie and ken flirt with one another. She seems so nice too and you can vaguely remember her helping you wish a couple answers on homework one morning. She's better than you and better for him. Is he sleeping with her too? Before you can answer your own question the doorbell rings, quickly followed by a knock at your door.

You look down at your pajamas, debating if you should pull on your robe or not, but ultimately deciding against it when the knocks come again.

"Im coming, I'm coming. What do you wan- kuroo?"

When you open the door, you immediately get the urge to shut it right in his perfect little face, and you begin to before his hand slams against it in protest to push it open wider. He juts out his lip into a pout and his eyes soften into ones pleading like a puppy dog. You huff and avoid eye contact, instead taking intrest in the bad he was carrying.

"What's that?"

"Stuff. I'd be happy to show you if you let me in."

"Sorry, tetsuro, no can do. You haven't returned my sweater. "

He scoffs and rolls his eyes before shoving something bulky into your arms. You're not sure if you should be happy he actually got it back or upset that he had to see her again to get it. Finally looking up at him, you move to the side so he can step in.

"You know, you don't have to be jealous that i gave another girl a sweater. You're my number one, y/n." He's teasing, but his words still send the butterflies in your stomach crazy. You can only hope he means it, even if just a little.

"I'm not jealous. You can sleep with whoever you want, kuroo. We're just best friends—if anything im your wingman. "

You want to hit yourself on the head. Why would you say that?

He snickers at the rebuttle, coming to loom over you. Apparently the only thing that can get you out of your head is his cologne because it somehow invaded your senses. He smells expensive, like nice leather and fire wood during the winter. It's very manly, you note. His shadow hovers over yours as he traps you between him and the counter with a playful smirk on his face. How smug could he get. He leans down, bringing your chin up between his thumb and finger. You hadn't realized how close he was until now. Since when did you get so nervous around him? Why did it make you nervous when he kissed you all of a sudden? It's unfair that he holds the advantage. Heat rises to your cheeks and the tips of your ears and you're positive he can hear the beating of your heart, which was currently trying to break out of your chest.

His lips take you to paradise, as always. Their soft against your own, yet firm. They're slightly chapped and they taste like spearmint. It makes your head fuzzy because they feel so right, even when you wish they felt wrong. You want to pull away and kick him out, and end thjs whole arrangement, but you're already very familiar with the fact it's just beginning.

———

The bed is warm. So warm, in fact, it feels like your suffocating. The sheets tangle around your limbs, strangling you as you tangle your limbs around kuroos. You almost want to cry, and if you were anywhere else— with anyone else —you probably would have. The heat is unbearable and the one sided tension makes your stomach churn and your throat tighten up. You were almost positve an anxiety attack was coming on.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you close your eyes as kuroo's nimble fingers soothe circles into your shoulder blade idly and yet somehow he manages to dodge the purple and red splotches blooming on the flesh. Suddenly you wish you didn't feel so safe and protected in his embrace. The moment almost tempts you to whisper sweet nothings into his ear, but you don't deserve to be the person who does that because you aren't his person. Best friend, maybe (next to Kenma, if anything) but, you aren't his person no matter how you long to be. You're just a friend in his bed having a good time. It isn't as fun anymore.

You swallow a lump in your throat, flattening your hand against his broad chest and willing yourself to lift up out of his grasp, his fingers falling smoothly to stop between your shoulder blades. Looking down at him, he presents you with the soft, goofy look on his face that he always adorns. God, there's nothing you wouldn't give to wake up beside him every morning and kiss that lopsided grin off his face. It hurts to think about, and another wave of tears try to force their way past your lash line. You blink them away and put on a soft, one-sided smile for the man below you, giving him a quick peck where his jaw and neck meet before shrugging his hands off and climbing out of bed.

His eyes track you, lazily hooded and watching, as you take the sheet with you to cover yourself, grabbing your shorts and whatever top you were wearing but a few hours ago before everything was strewn about. You shy away from his gaze, but it's nothing he hasn't seen before. He shifts in the bed to face your back, elbow propped up to lay his head in his hand. With an uncharacteristically soft tone, you almosf don't head him when he speaks. The words that come from him are like honey, yet raw. It's enough to make anyones knees buckle and crawl back into bed.

"Are you okay?"

There's a slight hint of concern there, just hardlg scrapping the surface of the question. You nod with a hum, throwing on the loose shirt before facing him. Kuroo's brow raises like he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn't take the question further and instead turns to get out of bed. You gnaw at your lip, taking your turn to watch him stretch out. His back has red streaks messily placed down it from his shoulders to the base, his biceps matching. His hair is messy and not like the normal bed head he sports, parts of it are spiked up from fingers constantly pushing through it, while other parts are laid flat from sweat. You can't help the thought that he's sculpted by the gods. They definitely took their time on him. Scoffing at yourself and shaking the thoughts free from your head, you head to the bathroom. As if the bed wasn't suffocating enough, just being the same room was found to be worse when he looks like that. At this point, it was preferred he stayed under the covers.

You feel stupid while looking in the mirror. Your mascara from earlier had smudged beneath your waterline, clumping together in the corner. Your nose curls at the sight, hands splashing cool water at your face, rubbing at your eyes. With a sigh you lean your elbows on the sink, pushing back hair and looking down at the water going into the drain.

This is ridiculous.

How on earth could you do this to yourself and to kuroo?

There's a knock on the bathroom door, it's light and gentle in the typical kuroo fashion because he doesn't want to spook you. You purse your lips, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes and heaving a sigh. As soon as you open the door and switch places, you're up and out of his apartment without saying goodbye.

The cool air of outside hits your face and you hadn't noticed the tears until the damp chill shook you. Brushing them away, you head home. You didn't want to be around him and you certainly didn't want to think about him. On the way back, you finally decided you weren't going to tell him anything. What would dumb tetsuro know about it anyway.

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asktheghosthost · 4 years ago

Note

I've been curious about this for a while, but what would be the reaction of Beau and Dorian finding out Eulalie has killed Dearmons and Reginald to avenge them. Like they straight up found out everything somehow. If i butchered spelling, please forgive me.

OoC: No worries! This took a while. And it’s long, so it’s under a read more. Also, warning for very brief mentions of abuse and violence.

"Father, you're... you're back," Dorian stammered. Forcing a smile, he tapped his fingertips together. "We haven't seen you since... well, since you died. What, uh, what brings you here?" He finally had to clasp his hands together to keep from his nervous fidgets.

Reginald surveyed the foyer with a disapproving scowl. "Dust and cobwebs everywhere," he muttered. "I see the help hasn't been keeping up with their work."

Beau, standing with his arms crossed, rolled his eyes. "No one cares, Reginald." He strode forward. "There is no 'the help,' there is no one you lord over anymore..." His voice grew louder, not coming just from him, but from all around the room. "And there is no one who will tolerate you berating them any longer." They were face to face now. "If you want to haunt here, you will be civil." His lips stretched into a grin. "Just like everyone else."

Reginald's face turned red. His mouth failed to form words for a moment, only sputtering in total indignation. Finally, he spat out, "How dare you! How dare you speak to me in such a manner in my own home." Over a century closed off in some alternate plane hadn't affected his movements too much, for he was still quick enough to get in one good backhanded slap across Beau's cheek.

"Father! Father, no!"

Every light dimmed. Any curtains pulled back went slack to blot out incoming moonlight. The little green fire in the hearth all but died.

There was a rumble all around them. It came from inside the walls and pipes and beams. It was an angry, guttural warning. The Mansion already didn't like Reginald Gracey. Unlike his forefathers, he took very little care of her and her inhabitants. She'd been content to have him gone. Harming the Ghost Host put him on even thinner ice with her.

Beau stared him down, floating from a few feet above the ground. His eyes were glowing with a supernatural force that was not entirely his own. He drew his arm back, and as he did so, his hatchet appeared in his grip.

"Try that again."

"Uncle!" Dorian pleaded. "Please don't! Please!" He was shaking, once more feeling like a terrified child witnessing something he couldn't stop. His chest hurt. His breath came in short gasps. Hair and skin was falling off in clumps, revealing a shivering skeleton underneath.

From upstairs, came the sound of a door opening and creaking closed. Then slow, deliberate steps, made heavier with heels. The men went silent. So quiet were they, that they could hear the soft shush of fabric as a hand lifted to take hold of the banister as its owner descended.

"You boys could never get along," Eulalie chastised. She seemed nonplussed at the sudden appearance of her husband, or at least she hid it well. "Reginald, I see you've found your way back to the estate. I trust the cremation was a fitting preview of what was to come."

He turned his furious gaze onto his former wife. "Oh, you would have liked to see me tortured, wouldn't you? You would have happily done it yourself, take everything one step further than you already did."

Dorian's timid voice broke through the glare between his parents. "What-- What does he mean by that?"

Beau moved to put comforting hands on his shoulders. "Don't worry about it, lad. Why don't you step away for a bit and calm yourself?"

Reginald turned to glance at his son. For a split second, he blanched, but was quickly back to his bluster. "Blazes boy, is this what your little fits look like now?"

"Yes," Eulalie poked Reginald's chest. "And it's your fault. You stressed him out to the point where he was afraid to confide in us about anything. He had to hide entire parts of his life because of your temper."

"My temper!? My temper never led me to murder anyone!"

Another nervous twitter from Dorian: "Father, what...?"

Beau was practically pushing his nephew out of the room now. "Let's get you some mint tea..."

Reginald scoffed. "Oh, so you never told him? It figures you'd try to paint yourself as a saint, you cold witch." Pointing at Eulalie, he shouted, "She murdered me! Planned the whole thing out with her knitting needles and marbles. She's the reason you no longer had a father!"

Eulalie took in a breath, eyes wide and glistening as she watched her son.

Rubbing his bony arms, the skeleton looked away from the group. Finally, he said, "I didn't really have much of one, anyway."

Once more red- faced, Reginald balled his hands into fists and bellowed, "What do you mean, never had much of one? Without me, you wouldn't have this house. You wouldn't have had your horses or your toys. You wouldn't have had that expensive college education. Or, need I remind you, the job at the law firm?"

"That I never wanted..."

"I could have thrown you out, especially after that mess you got yourself into at the university!"

Dorian was standing up straighter now. Righteous anger had put some needed calcium into his vertebrae. "That mess was me being assaulted! That was not my fault! And how dare you insinuate it was!" The clothes were becoming like new. Skin was regrowing on his now glowing form. "I needed you to care about me, and all you ever did was judge.” He wiped tears from his eyes before continuing.

"I don't care what mother did. I don't. And I know that's awful to say, but... we were happier with you gone. I think I knew deep down what had happened, but I never questioned it. I was fine with the illusion, even if I could see through it.”

Reginald’s mustache twitched over his curled lip. “I’ve had it with you, you ungrateful brat! Out of my house now! Out! OUT!” he screamed, pointing at the door.

“No, father.” Dorian took a shaky breath. A cold, fierce wind tore through the room, looping around them before forcing the door open. “I am Dorian Yale Gracey, lord and master of this manor, and I command you Reginald Gracey, to leave this property.”

The wind scooped Reginald up, impervious to his thrashing.

“Take your bullying, and your condescension, and your hate with you! Maybe if you can learn how to be a decent person, we’ll let you back in after another hundred and twenty years. Until then...” He waved. “Arrivederci!”

The wind whisked Reginald away, and his screams were soon muted by the slammed door.

“Wow.” Dorian looked around. “The house really does like me.”

Beau shoved his hands into his pockets, saying nothing.

“I think this deserves a good round of drinks,” Dorian said, spinning on his heel towards the direction of the liquor cabinet.

Eulalie, however, shook her head. Her lips were pressed into a stern line of worry, an occurrence so rare Beau found himself staring at her in an attempt to decipher her thoughts. She steepled her index fingers together against her chin, tapping it a couple of times before shaking her head again and setting off down the main hall.

Beau quickly caught up to her. “Where are you going? Are you all right?”

She stopped, her expression something that wasn’t quite a frown or a smile, but not insincere in its vagueness. “I’m going to talk to Leota.”

“A splendid idea. We’ll find out how he got in--”

She put a hand on his chest to stop him. “No... Eventually yes, but... I just need to talk to her. As a friend, not a mystic.” She patted him. “I’m sorry, baby brother, but you are once again locked out of the girls’ sleepover.”

That was a Eulalie he was more familiar with. Nonetheless, he watched, perplexed, as she disappeared down the dark corridor.

***

It was while working at his desk in the Ghost Relations Department, shortly after midnight, that he saw her again.

She knocked once, didn’t wait for an answer, and slipped in.

“Hey, Sissy,” he said, not looking up from the current Death Certificate in front of him. Only after he’d placed it in the OUT box did he lift his head. “How did it go with Madame Leota?”

Finding herself unable to speak yet, her focus was downwards, at a desk placard that read HEAD DUMMKOPF in serious, golden letters. She’d gotten it for him as a gift.

“Sissy?” When she didn’t answer him, he reached over to clasp her hand.

Sissy... What a silly nickname, she thought. He’d called her that ever since he first learned to speak. Nowadays, though, he never did so in mixed company, only when they were alone, so as not to embarrass her. What a sweet little brother he always was.

She finally pulled her gaze upwards. “It went well.” There was a pause as she waited for more questions. When there weren’t any, she plunged forward with her own. “Beau, you’ve always known about Reginald, haven’t you? That I killed him.”

He sat back with a shrug. “I was there when it happened.” Crossing one leg, he folded his arms behind his head, and tilted his sights ceiling-ward in reminiscence. “Granted, my memory was post-mortem mush at the time, but I knew I didn’t care for him.” Shifting once more, he leaned forward, arms on his desk, and a glint in his eye as if he were giddy to share a conspiracy. “Did you know I did little things to torment him when I first started haunting? Pushing off his paperweights... Cigars in water glasses...” He grinned. “Oddly enough, I never forgot you.”

“Why is that?”

Another shrug. “I suppose you had that much of an impact on me.”

So much of an impact, that he forgave her for her part in his mortal misery. So much of an impact that he never told her son what she had done. Although, whether that was for her or Dorian’s sake, she wasn’t sure.

Then... maybe...

“Beau...” she started slowly. “Did you know Reginald wasn’t the only one?”

“Only one what?” He wrinkled his brow. “Wasn’t the only one to come back?”

She shook her head. “No. He wasn’t the only one I killed.”

When his reply was only more confusion, she clarified, “I murdered Dearnons.”

The name sent him into such a terrified shock that he unconsciously kicked his legs, sending his chair back half a foot. “You... You killed Dr. Dearnons?” Trembling, he gripped the arm rests to keep him steady.

“Yes.” Her voice once more had its confident, sharp edge. “He came inquiring about you after your suicide, as if he had any right to do so. All it took was some poison in his tea, and then I drug him out into the backyard and buried him... alive, I should add. He was definitely still breathing.”

The world was swaying, and now Beau had to take hold of the desk’s edge, fearing he would plummet and never find his way back up. “I never would have asked you to...”

“I know, which is why I did it on your behalf.” Her expression softened. “Beauregard, you were never the same after you came back. That man was a monster.”

“But he was my monster! My monster to deal with!”

Once more, she shook her head. “What he did to you, he did to countless other children, and would have continued to do so. The way I see it, I did the world a favor. Some people simply need to be removed from the earthly equation.”

“Get out.” He could hardly hear himself over the pounding in his ears. “Get out!”

The door slammed open. Eulalie calmly stood from her seat, but a tremble in her lip betrayed her true feelings. Green skirts in her fingertips, she turned and left.

After the door closed, he stared at it, mouth agape. He didn’t know how to handle the typhoon of emotions swirling inside him right now.

“Sissy...”

#drabble #short story #fic #fan fic #rebornghostgirl #ask #Beau #Reginald #Dorian #Eulalie

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astrogone · 4 years ago

Text

ANXIOUS MUNDAY MEME

@seekesotsibteadmist: What is something you want people to know right away about yourself?

PLEASE REMEMBER I AM EXTREMELY SLOW AT EVERYTHING!!!! I swear, there is a no apologizing for quick or late replies oocly and icly policy in this household because if you message me with an apology over that, you may get my response after a few days, if not a week, and I get so embarrassed like shdjsjd please, don’t be sorry at all. I get every reason behind any pace of the responses, so do not ever feel bad or anything replying to me too late or too quickly. Hell, you can take a whole damn MONTH to reply to me oocly or icly and I’ll still act like I would only be waiting for a day and be like “Ah! My friend! I love you”... But yeah, while I am easily distracted and exhausted to do this stuff, I usually have to reply back to ten to fifteen people oocly, and I will always have many people to reach out to when we haven’t interacted yet ( which if you haven’t interact to me yet, please, this is invitation that you can slap yourself in my IMs Now ), and my social energy / motivation to interact with people? It’s erratic as Hell. Also, I usually take way too much time replying to a post / message when it shouldn’t be the case. Like? For me to reply to a one paragraph in the thread will take me at least an hour to two. If you straight just say hi to me and ask how am I doing, it’ll take me at least five minutes to ten to just answer your very simple question.

I have an intellectual disability that gives me difficulties reading the given information, understanding them, and responding to them at a pace the average amount of people can do, but I can’t. The longest time you can get from me oocly is usually six days. Icly though? Boy, am I a lost cause with that. It can be anytime as I can reply to our thread for a month later, if not longer, I will have to let that be known, lmfao... But you’re more than welcome to give me a nudge for anything anytime. It may not get a quicker response from me anyway, knowing me, but just know that my silence towards you while I’m being noisy on dash or to others or such has nothing to do with you, ever. At least with oocly, I try to prioritize replying to people who I haven’t replied to the longest over those that I have done so recently, but I’m an absolute slow and low mess at everything, so! As that’s something I can never change, unfortunately, I can only wish that everyone interacting with me would be grateful for what we have already.

@sinisteraugurey: How much anxious internal screaming goes on with you on a regular basis?

It’s a 24/7 thing, man. I would just try to distract myself with whatever is in my way to block them, but, yeah, it just really be like that with me. Last night while I was trying to sleep, I kept staring at my window in concern because it had these shadows constantly moving behind the curtains, and there’s that small part of me that KNEW it’s just the tree branches that got caught in the lights of the streetlights, but, my mind kept telling me “they’re coming” and I was just constantly like,, “who tho,,, omg,,,,” but,, think about it,,,, I live in the sixth floor of a building, so how the Hell could the shadows reach up there?¿...

@vsentis & @arsonbeast: What’s a tip you would give to people trying to get to know you?

Ask me questions from something simple like what’s my favourite colour to something over the top like how often do I get existential crisis lmfao even if it’s completely out of the blue or we don't know each other well yet, I wouldn’t ever mind answering them at all. As well if / whenever you are comfortable, talk about yourself as it will usually prompt me to do the same in return. I often don’t throw facts about myself to others because I think it would have others feel like they would be suddenly placed in a position of having to bring up information about themselves to me and I know not many people are comfortable to talk about themselves and / or their lives when they’re on this Hellsite to write and develop, which is totally understandable and I’m more than okay to be interacted with for just writing / plotting.

On a different note, I am planning to create a Carrd about my interests ( like what shows, music artists, etcetera I’m familiar with ) and slap it on my pinned post so it can give others a chance to get to know me more and bring them up to me to break down any tension from their end, so you can randomly pop into my DMs like “biTCH yOU WATCH B.UZZEED U.NSOLVED!?¡¿” and I’d be like “FUCK YE A H, I DO” and create chaos from there sndnsmd

@vsentis: Is communication important to you?

Beyond important. I personally think communication is THE most important aspect in not just roleplaying, but in general. It’s what builds a strong relationship with the parties. The more they will interact with each other with a lot of patience and understanding, the higher chance that trust and comfort can be built stronger and tighter within a connection. Now, what do I have to say with me? I love talking to people, even when I’m a slow motherfucker at it and I get extremely frustrated and sad at the fact. I love when people talk to me and I can read about their days, personal projects, characters, so forth. I want people to feel that they can trust me and be comfortable coming to me for anything from a random chat to ranting / venting. Man, just straight up slap my DMs with a random photo of a forest and I’ll just not shut up about the time I nearly got lost in the forest.

Now, it does take time for me to reach out to people first, at least usually not because of IC related like plotting calls. For me to come to you randomly and talk about anything not roleplaying related? Again, I can’t be sure if people are comfortable with talking about themselves and their lives, but the more they come to me first for random ooc conversations, the more comfortable I will be to reach out to them first for so frequently. Another thing I do want to mention that if I do or say anything wrong or it’s making you uncomfortable, please? Reach out to me? I mean, I get that people aren’t obliged to teach others and whatnot, so do what you gotta do it the block and follow buttons to avoid wasting more energy and time, but it would truly help a lot with me and anyone else who I am / will interact with in the future. Just be honest with me and share your thoughts to me— I will listen and take them in mind. I absolutely hate to make people uncomfortable without knowing and I would be extremely appreciative if I was told why so I can be more considerate in the future.

@goldenornstein: Do random asks out of the blue upset you at all?

Not at all! In fact, I encourage sending me random asks! It might take a bit for me to reply like anything else, but I LOVE random asks! Makes me go “!!!” whenever I see a number on that mail symbol thingy. So, send me random memes, random thoughts, straight up just slap the word, P.ikachu, in the ask and send it to me and I’ll be like, “me fucking too, pal” jsjdkdk

@seekesotsibteadmist: What are some things you worry about in terms of new people?

I know I apologize for rambling or taking a long time to reply, but in the end, people being impatient or easily annoyed by me or whatever are my least worries. What I should be more concerned about but am somehow not is if this person actually holds good intentions with a good mindset. Even though I had my generosity taken advantage of way too many times by way too many people who I thought were really good friends in real life and online, I still? Somehow don’t ever think about the possibility that this person is actually very shitty when I interact with them as much as I should, considering how absolutely chaotic this site is. Being cautious is highly draining for me personally as I literally just want to vibe, so…

Just know that I take anyone in who my mutuals haven’t mentioned on their rules page ( yet if I do happen to interact with your abusers or people you’re not uncomfortable with because they’re doing / saying predatory / harmful things? Lemme know and I’ll instantly get out of their hair— you don't even need to give me an explanation, just don’t hesitate to say their URL and I’ll do my shit ), but I will instantly kick them off of my household the moment I see or learn anything from them that is predatory or harmful to people. If you do / say something that I don’t like, like misgender my muses or keep godmodding my muses or whatever, I’ll let you know how I feel, but if you’re gonna be stalking people, being disrespectful / abusive to anyone based on their genders, sexualities, ethnicities, disabilities, etcetera, write / make headcanons based those disgusting things we all know what, and so forth? I will hardblock and never look back, and that’s that.

#long post cw #( because I dread that the read mores isn’t working but )#//#( really took me close to three hours to reply to all of these shdjsjd )#( thank you guys so much for sending these though! )#( this actually makes me feel better / less anxious )#( knowing that people will see what’s up with me especially with how TERRIBLE I am at replying so )#( bless y’all ;; )#( now I want to take a nap I am so hshdhJSJS @ myself )#࿐ ˚ . ‧✧̣̇‧⎛ ooc ⎠ : ❝ take me far from here . ❞

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winterdragonelle · 4 years ago

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Rising Darkness PT.1 - A Portent of Dread

October 31st, 34 A.D.P. Eleven days before the veil was sundered.

“For how long did you defend me in the glacier?”

It was done. The sweet, dewy scent of star-moss filled the room, bringing to mind long suppressed emotions of loss, and joy. Though her heart ached at the reality before her… another side of her was thrilled. Energetic. A theory proven true, and an old friend to be seen again.

She inhaled deeply, the humid smoke of the smoldering bundle entering into her lungs and filling her mind with insight, and power. A strange, warm tingling sensation causing her exposed skin to bristle and shudder.

In the mirror, a shadow. Humanoid… though, slender. Strong. No features, except the eyes of it--no… his--form. Cosmic blue and radiant. Every bit as wondrous as her very own. She had to pause for a moment, and insure it wasn’t her own reflection. But his eyes… they stared at her with hope, love, and compassion.

“Three days, five hours, four minutes.” he said. Yes, he, it was definite now. The voice was every bit as smooth and delectable as hers, but deep. Kind. Not jaded by the world as hers was. All was… right.

“Why?”

“We are bound by mind and soul. I couldn’t let a debt go unpaid, Sori.”

Sori… such a callus abbreviation of her name, but from him it was as sweet as rain. She hadn’t heard that in a long… long time. Gasping inward, she lifted her hands to the wooden mask concealing her face, and gradually pulled it down. It was him. She knew it was him. If she took her sights off of him for even a moment, she was afraid she’d lose him. But she didn’t… She set the sylvan horned mask down in her lap, and just… stared for a moment. It was him. It truly was. At long last… she was able to see him again. Something she had never thought possible before.

“Aquaragos?” her voice quivered, so overwhelmed with joy that she could hardly contain her stoic expression. Nay, she couldn’t. Not even half a second in, her face could do nothing but smile gently. Vision blurred from welling tears.

“It has been a long time, Sister.” she couldn’t see it, but the shape of his eyes and deformation of his cheeks seemed to indicate a return smile as well. “Sadly…” but it was cut short, his gaze turning from joyous, to sad in a mere instant. “I don’t have much time...”

“R-right.” She wiped tears from her eyes, sniffling inward to regain her composure. “Down to business.”

“As always, Sorvegosa.” he nodded.

She sniffled again, thinking of her first question. She only had five, and two were already gone in her trying to verify his identity. So she needed to be very, very careful. It takes a lot of power to contact the realm of the dead for even this short a time. “You’ve been trying to contact me indirectly for months now. Sense Hallow's End two years ago. Why?”

“The realm of death is in peril.” he said, a deep dread filling the melancholic cadence of his voice. “A drought consumes all, and one seeks to rise in its wake. One seeks to consume all souls.”

A drought? In the afterlife? Whatever could that mean? Emmy had to pause for a moment… thinking. So vague… Why so vague? This was her brother! Aquaragos the Spellstorm, Ice of the North Wind and- Prophet… of the Cosmos. A diviner. Had twelve years really affected her memory this much? Or was this the work of Deathwing’s Cataclysm? Damnit… she couldn’t ask this all. Vague speech was common amongst diviners. This was likely a prophecy he was tapping into. A vision he’d been receiving all this time, even in death.

She looked up abruptly, tracking her time. “One. Who? Who is this one?”

“An entity. A god, banished long ago by forces beyond comprehension. He… is beyond comprehension. Do not trust what you see, for reality is far more complex than what mortals were meant to perceive.”

Damn… vague once again. She had one left. One question. Looking up at her brother’s specter, his attention was beginning to waver, gaze growing more frantic. Wait, frantic? A chill rippled down the center of her spine as her emotions began to mimic his. A sharp, visible exhale. Visible… fog joining with the smoke filling the room. Was it cold?

Emmy’s gaze Jolted backward, the room had gotten darker without her notice. Candlelight dimming to a dull orange glow of smoldering embers. The smoke in the room began to roll in unnatural ways. As her eyes began to adjust, she noticed that they were in… shapes. Humanoid… levitating. Dark cloaks, transparent bodies. Wraiths!

Sharply she inhaled. The salt! How was the ward holding up? Her gaze ripped down, the circle. Yes, the circle was intact!

“Aquaragos! Quick! Before the spell fades!” she screamed. “What should I look out for!?”

His eyes shot back to meet hers, full of fear. “The Cunning ones.” he spoke frantically. “The Nathraz-”

“AHHHHHHHaaaAAHHhh!”

A wail, loud, sorrowful. Her eardrums were throbbing from the impact as a deep… deep cold seeped into her body. She dropped to the fetal position and covered her ears in response, but the reaction came too late. When she opened her eyes again the whole world was black, then blurry and unfocused. She couldn’t hear anything above her own heartbeat, it’s thudding irregular and overworked. Already she was shivering… c-cold. Coooooold… she had- never felt this before. Not like this. Is this what death feels like?

She pushed herself from the hard, cobblestone floors piercing into her knees and elbows, body lagging behind her legs, hanging from her waist as lazily as an unfitted pauldron. Righting herself was hard, but the adrenaline, the will to survive was stronger than anything. She had to know what was going on. This conundrum had been plaguing her for far too long!

The blurriness in her vision faded as her focus was drawn once again to the outside of the circle. The Wraith was behind her now. Her eyes darted to the side, and there was another beside it. And another… and finally, behind them… an emancipated, transparent, elven shape. A banshee! She was surrounded now. Where did all these spirits come from? She barely had time to cover her ears before the banshee wailed again!

Though the spell had no effect this time, she found herself staggering backwards, a foot touching a coarse, sharp material. One that stung fiercely as it entered the calluses of her bare feet. Uh oh…

Wasting no time, Emmy lifted a hand “Shel’arros!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, weaving a runic sigil into being with the speed and dexterity of the most delicate fly. A sharp, crystalline boom emitted as the blast impacted the first wraith’s chest. With a wail, it’s form destabilized, and began to fade away. One down… two mo- three, five. All began to beeline towards the new opening in the ward. There was no way she could do this all by herself. Not with having been taken by surprise like this! WHY WEREN’T HER TOWER’S DEFENSES WORK-

Boom. Boomboom pop!

More wraith’s fell to an aerial volley of arcane energy. Emmy’s gaze shot up, to see that all of her enchanted books were flocking their way down to defend her position! Hope at last!

“AHHHHHaaaaAAhhhh!” a second banshee wailed, though this time it’s focus did not seem to be on Sorvegosa, but the books above her. She barely had time to finish her final wail before she too was struck down by an ever-increasing arcane volley. Nevertheless, a few books tore, and fell to the ground in a mess of dislodged parchment and twine. The remnants of their arcane essence seeping out, and dusting the ground.

It was over…

Panting heavily, she shivered, turning back to the mirror. There, her brother was still standing. His eyes were wide with terror. A pure reflection of the nuances of what he just witnessed. “Sorvegosa I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Aquaragos! Why are yo-” he ran, out of sight before she could even finish her statement. “Wait! Where are you going!”

She rushed to the mirror, placing her face flat against it as if trying to peer through a window. But it was to no avail. The only thing she could sense were footsteps. Big, slow… loud… moving toward her.

Blinking, she stepped back and looked on in horror.

In the mirror, she saw a leg. Large, digitrade, hooved, adorned with plate armor ebony in color. It’s trim was sharp, forming into large spikes at the tips, only complementing the hard angled details and skulls that adorned the brutal aesthetic of the armor. Just looking at it made her feel pain. Agony… dread seeping into her mind.

Eventually, the armor was covered by a large, open, clawed hand reaching forward towards the mirror. Towards her. She needed something heavy. Something hard. Right now! Without pulling her gaze away, she reached back behind and found exactly what she needed. A large book, mostly intact.

When the mirror was shattered, all that was left of the event that transpired was an empty frame, a mess of papers, and a lingering sense of dread. One thing was certain… she had just stumbled across something far more threatening than anything, anything, she had ever faced before.

OOC Notes: Hey everyone! I am back with the very first writ for this tumblr! It is part one in a three part series I will be doing as Emmy’s prelude to the Shadowlands, and subsequent delving. Part 2 coming soon!

#wow #world of warcraft #ic #in character #short story #rp #roleplay #mage #magic #sorceress #dragon #shadowlands #fiction #dramatic #fantasy #shaking off the rust #mirror

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