#anyways i need people to be interested in this musical otherwise i will die alone with these thoughts about things

[themuseandantarctica]

* 𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏

sentence starters from christopher isherwood’s novel a single man. change however necessary.

tw: death, drugs, age gaps (between adults, no pedo.philia), some n.sfw text

i'm afraid of being rushed.

why? why? is it some cosmic entity, some arch-tyrant who tries to blind us to his very existence by setting us against our natural allies, the fellow victims of his tyranny?

such questions are hard to take seriously. they seem so academic.

intolerable old [name], always absolutely in the right, and crazy.

oh well, i expect it'll last our time.

the question "is this playacting or does he really hate us?" never occurs to them.

put them back, now! back! put them back!

i never hear the noise children make -- just as long as it's a happy noise.

do they know that they are afraid? no. but they are very afraid.

among many other kinds of monster, they are afraid of little me.

even when they are geniuses in spite of it, their masterpieces are invariably warped.

[name] wasn't a substitute for anything. and there is no substitute for [name], if you'll forgive my saying so, anywhere.

would you possibly be free tonight?

poor man, living there all alone. he has a kind face.

idiots -- fooled them again!

what is he up to?

these people are not amusing. they should never be dealt with amusingly. they understand only one language: brute force.

but does [name] want to be obeyed? doesn't he prefer to be defied so he can go on killing and killing -- since all these people are just vermin and the more of them that die the better?

no time to worry about that now.

it is a slander to say that they are identical.

the only ism i believe in is abstract expressionism.

is this some supersubtlety?

let's see if that old robot'll know the difference.

will any of them make it? oh, sure. one, at least. two or three at most.

you're always paying.

[name] wanted me to ask you, sir -- we were wondering if you could manage to get out to us again before too long?

won't this keep happening to him all through his life? won't he keep getting himself involved in the wrong kind of game, the kind of game he was never born to play, against an opponent who is quick and clever and merciless?

sorry, sir -- i lost you for a minute there.

they look as if they were ready at any minute to switch from studying to ditchdigging or gang fighting.

she has the look of a divorcee.

how can i impress, flatter or otherwise con this cantankerous old thing into giving me a good grade?

i must say, i don't see how anyone can pretend to be interested in a novel when he doesn't even stop to ask himself what its title means.

it's not much fun being beautiful for ever and ever, when you can't even wake up and look at yourself in a mirror.

well, what does [name] want them to say it's about? they'll say it's about anything he likes, anything at all.

wow! i don't dig that jazz.

what do we need eternity for, anyway?

the stupidest text in the bible is, 'they hated me without a cause.'

a minority is only thought of as a minority when it constitutes some kind of threat to the majority, real or imagined.

it's better if we admit to disliking and hating them than if we try to smear our feelings over with pseudo-liberal sentimentality.

why, you wouldn't recognize love if you met it! you'd suspect love!

well, after all, what else can you expect?

is this sheer idiocy or slyness?

i keep remembering that beautiful accent. it's like music.

i have to go down to the book shop.

you don't have any of those capsules left now, do you?

i bet, even if you had seen god, you wouldn't tell us.

someone has to ask you a question before you can answer it. but it's so seldom you find anyone who'll ask the right questions. most people aren't that much interested…

a place where the police are angels has to be an insane asylum.

the not-understanding, the readiness to remain at cross-purposes, is in itself a kind of intimacy.

isn't it some tiny satisfaction to be of use, instead of helping to turn out useless consumer goods?

just the same, it is a deadly bore and, to be frank, a wee bit distasteful.

want to go? we might ask him some awkward questions.

now we have with us a far more terrible fear, the fear of survival.

[name] stood me up. talk to me.

they're being cheated out of their childhood. they're being turned into junior consumers!

how can you talk such incredible nonsense?

that fills them with fury and loathing because they can never understand it.

essentially we're creatures of spirit. our life is all in the mind.

the nurses at the reception desk are pleasant, too. they don't fuss you with a lot of questions.

i am woman. i am bitch-mother nature. the church and the law and the state exist to support me.

i was screaming. they heard me clear down the hall.

it seems as if they can't bear to leave anything the way it used to be.

where's that fucking nurse?

if you'll just step outside for a moment. this won't take any time at all.

did she mean goodbye?

it will be a good christmas, the merchants predict.

i am alive, i am alive!

you old ass, who are you trying to seduce?

there is always an atmosphere of leisureliness in this place.

these things just kill me. man!

nobody is bitchy here, or ill-tempered, or inquisitive.

even up here, they are building dozens of new houses. this area is getting suburban.

the supermarket is still open; it won't close till midnight.

who says i have to be brave? who depends on me now? who cares?

look -- is it too late to change my mind? about tonight?

who can it be at this hour?

they might notice something queer about me, and you'd feel ashamed.

hey -- you can't die here! ain't this heaven?

the author gets slightly vague, so i've had to improvise a bit. i mean, he doesn't come right out and say so, but i have a suspicion that one's supposed to make it with human flesh. actually, i've used leftovers from a joint…

i've already made two new year's resolutions -- only they're effective immediately. the first is, i'm going to admit i loathe bourbon.

you know, i sometimes think, about you, whenever you do something really sweet, you're ashamed of it afterwards!

how many times, when [name] and i came to visit you -- sulking, avoiding each other's eyes, talking to each other only through you -- did you somehow bring us together again by the sheer power of your unawareness that anything was wrong?

he has made up his mind, really and truly. he wants a complete break.

i know you think he hasn't behaved well to me, [name]. i don't blame you for thinking that.

i betrayed you, [name]; i betrayed our life together.

i keep wondering just when it began to go wrong.

so here we are, just the two of us. just you and me.

i mean, until i've done that, i won't feel everything's really over. you have to do something to convince yourself.

i never wanted to live alone, [name].

how can you pretend you don't love it? and you miss it -- you wish you were back there -- you know you do.

i'm not sure how i should like that part of it.

whatever you say about it, darling, you always make it sound so marvelously romantic.

what's the harm? it's fun. it adds a new dimension to being drunk.

[name] not enjoying himself? he was having the ball of his life!

we were always making plans like that. we hardly ever told other people about them, even you. maybe that was because we knew in our hearts they were crazy.

no, [name], cross my heart, i am honestly not being bitchy!

feeling guilty's no reason for staying or going. the point is, do you want to go?

i think i shall go back, [name]. i dread it -- but i'm beginning to think i really shall.

i had to tell her at once, right after it happened. otherwise, i'd have been so afraid she'd find out for herself, in some uncanny way, and that would have been too shaming.

the past is just something that's over.

i can't stand anymore indecision. i've got to burn my boats, this time.

i should hate so to leave you, [name].

we could get drunk and earn money at the same time.

do women ever stop trying?

you are drunk. oh, you stupid old thing, how dare you get so drunk?

oh, the bloody battles and the sidewalk vomitings!

seashells are still less easy to find here than discarded rubbers.

it was nothing. only a poem.

but imagine your happening to pick on this particular bar!

do you really think i'd be such an idiot as to try to buy drinks for a minor?

you could invite him to stay the night at your place. tell him you'll drive him back in the morning.

you can talk about anything and change the subject as often as you like.

that's the trouble. i don't know what is important and what isn't.

the past doesn't really matter to most kids my age. when we talk like it does, we're just being polite.

maybe i will. maybe i'll get mad at you.

if you and i are no different, what do we have to give each other? how can we ever be friends?

whatever made me tell you all that? am i drunk or something?

i, personally, have gotten steadily sillier and sillier and sillier.

well, i'm not bluffing -- so what are we waiting for? you weren't bluffing, were you?

that's enough for now!

they ought not to let you out on your own, ever. you're liable to get into real trouble.

don't be an idiot. you'd get pneumonia.

you don't even have a cat or a dog or anything?

i believe you've discovered the secret of the perfect life!

getting married? no. that's out.

i don't believe you're that much interested whether i marry [name] or not. i think you want to ask me something different.

so now she's called the whole thing off?

you aren't exactly sober, if you don't mind my saying so.

and now get me another drink.

i suppose you've decided i'm a dirty old man?

don't you have a glimmering of how i must feel -- longing to speak?

the point is -- here am i and here are you -- and for once, there' s no one to disturb us.

it's the enormous tragedy of everything nowadays: flirtation. flirtation instead of fucking, if you'll pardon my coarseness.

thought maybe i'd better split, after all.

that was great, this evening. let's do it again, shall we? or don't you believe in repeating things?

quick -- we need a substitute!

yes, i am crazy. that is my secret; my strength. and i'm about to get much crazier.

what if [name] has been scared off? what if he doesn't come back?

this is where he found [name]. he believes he will find another [name] here. he doesn't know it, but he has started looking already.

but is all of [name] altogether present here?

how can such a variety of creatures coexist at all?

both will have to be carted away and disposed of, before too long.

[thegirlisuedtobe]

"또 다른 이름 An Other Name” is posed as a song that calls into question everything that Marie knows; her entire outlook on life--and towards her legacy as well--is completely undone because of the danger it poses to Anne’s health. Over and over she equates herself with Radium as if she herself is the very reason why Anne is in danger; in essence ending act one with a declaration that is summarised into, yes, you are Radium, I am you, and you are hurting everyone that I love.

In the subsequent act, after Marie’s betrayal as she begs Anne to come back to her, Anne only tells her that “난 항상 너였어 I have always been you.“ Thus refuting Marie’s self sacrifice of subjecting herself to the effects of Radium poisoning, that in order to do so, she’d still be hurting Anne no matter what. She recognises that they are one and the same; she shares her dreams, her mistakes and shortcomings--her discoveries--they share those burdens together. And Marie replies “난 항상 또다른 너야 I have always been an other you” and rather than radium their greatest discovery was each other.

Marie is not just a name attached to an element; she is a living breathing person. And to hear another living breathing person say that I know you because I am you--I love you because you are me--says so much more about Marie’s legacy as a complex human being than a lump of rock that glows in the dark.

[thatharringrovehoe]

Some more Mob AU stuff cuZ I love it.

- Nancy and Steve never dated, but they have had sex. Once. Nancy wanted her first time to be with someone she trusted and Steve is her BEST FRIEND. She trusts Steve more than anyone. And it's. Not great. Because look. Steve and Nancy have alot in common. To much. They each like to be in control. They're both 100% Tops with a capital T. So when they have sex, even though Nancy is nervous, it ends up being almost a fight. Constantly trying to flip the other over, lots of biting and teeth and frustration because neither of them will submit. Afterwards they put on mud masks and get high and agree that while they love each other there is no way they're ever going to be like that.

- Steve notices the way Jonathan goes all glassy eyed when Nancy walks into the room. How his breath hitches whenever she gets mean. Cuz she is. She's not a bad person, but she's definitely a spoiled brat in a different way than Steve. Because while Steve is starved of love and affection, Nancy has been drowning in it since birth. She's haughty and petulant and will not stop for anything to get what she wants. And Steve is worried at first. Jonathan is a good spymaster and an even better friend so he's reluctant to feed him to the lioness that is Nancy Wheeler.

- He doesn't worry later when he watches Nancy go absolutely gooey with affection the first time Jonathan kisses her in the hallway. How she leads him around like a lost puppy by his camera strap to do what Steve suspects is fucking filthy things to him in the photo development room. Because he knows what Nancy likes. Knows that while Steve kills with kindness Nancy Wheeler is all bite and no bark. Likes to make the pleasure sting. And judging by the way Jonathan practically drools when she rakes her manicured nails down his chest over his shirt while they make out leaning against Jonathan's car after school, he 100% is down to be destroyed by Nancy *the princess* Wheeler.

- Jonathan is still a creep. The only difference here is that he's NEVER crossed Steve. Because when the Harrington kid came up to him in 8th grade and asked if he'd heard any interesting rumors Jonathan thought it was a joke. Just another shot at that weird Byers kid. Had half a mind to tell him to go fuck himself. But right as Tommy curled the beginnings of a mean smirk, Steve shut him down without even looking at him. Just held up his hand. Down boy. And Jonathan thought "You know what? Fuck it." Because if he was lying then he was just like everyone else anyway. But if he was telling the truth. Well. He wasn't above bribery. Told Steve everything he knew. Earned himself a seat in King Steve's court. Used the shadows that always used to swallow him up as a cloak. Held himself with a little more confidence because the monarch of Hawkins may have everyone's secrets. But Jonathan spun the web.

- Billy and Jonathan actually get along really well. They get high and talk about music whenever they're not otherwise occupied getting fucking wrecked by their spoiled rich kid Tops. Billy is low key concerned for Jonathan because damn. Wheeler is fucking savage. Like they'll be passing the joint back and forth and Jonathan will start getting almost to detailed the longer they smoke. Billy did not need to know Nancy Wheeler pegs her boyfriend with a dildo that big okay?

- Carole and Tommy are actually married. Like legally. As soon as Carole turned sixteen Tommy BEGGED Steve to pull some strings. To forge some documents. Cuz Tommy LOVED Carole. She was it. And Tommy could be one nasty piece of work but he would die for this girl no hesitation. And Steve is a sucker for that romantic shit. Set them up with a trip to Italy where a lot of Steve's mother's family lives. Because his grandfather respects a man who's ready to commit to his woman like that. And Steve is his grandmother's favorite. They have a ceremony in a little Church at the heart of the village. Tommy did not fucking cry when he saw Carole in her dress okay? It was just dusty in that old church, shut up.

- Nancy and Carole HATE each other. But in a very wasp-ish kinda way. Will hang out and have 'spa days, just us girls' but would choke each other out given the slightest opportunity. Tommy thinks it's hot. He will never tell Carole this.

- Dustin is obsessed with the fact that Nancy and Steve are kind of mirrored? Just two dominant rich kids that fell in love with emotionally stunted boys that were abused by their fathers? They both have dark brunet hair and big brown eyes? Their boyfriends are blonde? Steve are you listening? Steve!

- Steve gets really bad nightmares. Like wake up mid panic attack bad. And he's usually really good at hiding it from Billy. Is careful not to sleep to deeply around him. But one night after some fucking incredible sex Steve just passes the fuck out cuddling. The next thing he knows he's being shaken awake by a terrified Billy Hargrove. Because Steve had been screamin and shakin and cryin out and Billy was ready to burn down this hick town looking for whoever hurt Steve like this. Was gunna bury them in the Hawkins woods and piss on their grave. And that's when Steve tells him everything about the upside down. Introduces him to El to prove it.

- Speaking of, El doesn't spend a year all alone in a fucking cabin. Because Steve knows everyone's secrets and he likes having people in his pocket. And as much as Hopper dislikes Steve Harrington he can't say no when the king of Hawkins offers Jim perfectly forged paperwork for his 'daughter' El. So El goes to school and spends time learning how to be an actual child while Steve Harrington yanks on the leash of the chief of police whenever he wants.

- Billy is SOFT okay? He's just never been allowed to show it. Had been painted with bruises for just existing so God forbid his father let him show a human emotion. But after a year in Hawkins with Steve he lets his shoulders drop just a little. Will twine his fingers with his boyfriend's during movie night at the Byers. Brings Steve breakfast in bed. The first time he weaves a daisy crown for him Steve almost fucking weeps he's so touched.

- Steve is fucking possessive. Like. Intensely jealous. And at first this was a problem because Billy could not understand why all the girls in Hawkins treated him with kid gloves? They didn't just disregard any playful flirting, they full on didn't acknowledge it. He didn't really get longing stares as he walked through the halls anymore. No more tittering teenage girls blushing over him when he had gym outside. And he's not interested in women but it's nice to be noticed okay? Especially when he puts in so much effort. It starts to make him self conscious. Like, is he just unattractive? Second guesses himself to the point that he stops wearing his shirts unbuttoned and starts to get a little obsessive over working out. It's when Billy starts skipping meals that Steve notices. Sees Billy's lip wobble a little when he asks Steve if he's actually attracted to him or if he's just being nice. And Steve has to explain that he just... Doesn't share well. At all. That when Andrew Brady showed up to school last month with a fat lip and a limp it was because Steve had heard him talking with his buddies behind the general store about how he wanted to bend Billy over his Camaro and make him scream.

- And Billy is just. Shook. Gets all warm and fuzzy because no one hase ever loved him this much. Never wanted Billy this much. Wanted Billy to stay. Can feel tears willing up behind his lashes because the most amazing boy he's ever met is so over the moon for Billy that he's willing to draw blood on his behalf. Kisses Steve so hard they both forget to breath. Feels safe and loved, because he belongs to Steve Harrington. However he still flirts with people on the daily though cuz he's a little shit. And hey if it means his jealous boyfriend rails him so good he forgets his own goddamn name then that's just a bonus.

[meear]

HOW is reibert still not canon (long post oops)

1. there was literally no reason for reiner to look this salty. is this how y’all look when you tease a friend about their crush???

2. we KNOW yumihisu is the one ship confirmed canon af and this whole arc they’ve been trying to protect the other what’s not clicking

3. BRUH

4. you can’t possibly think Reiner was being subtle in any way. it’s him. he’s talking about himself because he is the CEO of projecting onto others and we know that

5. projecting onto Annie again

how many times did Bertholdt rush to save Reiner from a life-or-death situation. hint : a lot

the fact that reiner both consciously and unconsciously called for him haha anyway

6. you’re all aware by now but if Ymir doesn’t like men and she’s always with Historia it doesn’t take a genius to understand how she and Reiner parallel each other

7. this line exists but go off I guess

(the look he gives her though)

he’s literally only thinking of Bertholdt. funny how he later worries about not being able to protect him against the titans when they had already lost Eren huh

8. by the way, right after Reiner says that about Ymir, Bertholdt worries about him dissociating again. 

it’s interesting how Bertholdt immediately associates Reiner’s crush on Krista with Reiner not being himself and Reiner knows it perfectly. it literally can’t be more obvious, otherwise it doesn’t make sense for Reiner to say “I’m a warrior, so I’m not interested in Krista because she’s cute”. how out of the blue is that??? people still think Reiner is bi. he isn’t.

Bertholdt really isn’t amused by Reiner’s bullshit and honestly same

9. remember the rushing in to save Reiner thing ? and how “if you lose you die, if you win you live” is a motto in this series?

mikasa swears to win for Eren’s sake

historia literally tells ymir they’re going to live for each other

“he has his own reason why he can’t lose” lmao so... Reiner is his reason to win?to live????? just say you’re in love and go

10. remember how RB’s mission would have succeeded if only Ymir hadn’t suddenly stopped everything to go back for Historia? how that gave the survey corps the time they needed, and how RB basically helped the SC??

Bertholdt stopped for Reiner and gave the SC the time they needed to get away from the explosion. if he hadn’t done that, he definitely would’ve killed them all

Bertholdt is a hypocrite lmao

11. nothing to see here just dudes and gals crying for their bros and pals

12. we know Bertholdt is a much more capable warrior than Reiner and that he mastered the colossal titan immediately. there is no way Reiner would’ve been able to fight Mikasa like Bertholdt did. Isayama said that Bertholdt “could do anything physically”. sure, Reiner ranked above Bertholdt and Annie during training, but when you look at their childhood, i think both of them could’ve surpassed Reiner if they had been 100% serious. this is just my interpretation though, it’s also possible that Bertholdt’s lack of initiative and Annie’s unability to work with others hurt their grade. i think hand-to-hand combat (Reiner’s weakness) wasn’t graded either 

at the very least Isayama’s literally saying that Bertholdt would let Reiner win if they fought

wild how reibert keeps on paralleling characters with confirmed romantic feelings

(Ymir slacked off on purpose too)

+ Bertholdt waiting for Reiner as they race

13. Ymir and Bertholdt are two tall dark-haired shifters who are both really tired of their smaller blonde partner retreating into their fake persona out of a desire to be liked what is n o t c l i c k i n g this is so specific

14. reiner’s main reason for thinking Bertholdt likes Annie is that he stares at her and I mean sure

look I’m not putting every instance of RB doing exactly that because sometimes it’s just because the other happens to be talking lmao but these?? no explanation

bruh you can HEAR the stare

this one is especially glaring since Annie is also in the picture so why didn’t he just draw Bertholdt looking at her??? guess we’ll never know

Reiner has NO excuse for staring at Bertholdt here I’m sorry literally everyone is looking at Sasha and Connie teasing Annie. Bertholdt isn’t doing anything

15. Bertholdt’s development after accepting Reiner’s possible death and deciding to end it all is SO similar to Mikasa after Eren’s death in Trost. they’re both moving in this trance-like state before repeating that the world is cruel, but it’s really interesting because the events are in reverse order for Bertholdt. so it’s more like a mirror. i’ve tried to represent it lmao i hope it’s readable

there’s the same onomatopoeia for the heartbeat, and Bertholdt and Mikasa were making similar expressions. even if isayama’s drawings weren’t as good in the first chapters, you can see that Mikasa has that same blank, wide stare when approaching Eren (it’s chapter 9)

both seem to become another person as they move, though Bertholdt is much calmer than Mikasa (which makes sense if their “normal” personality has switched I guess since Bertholdt is usually the nervous one). He sees everything around him perfectly, but Mikasa runs out of gas because she wasn’t paying attention to anything anymore

see it’s funny because Mikasa literally loves Eren

only difference is after falling, Mikasa says the world is beautiful as well, which makes the omission in Bertholdt’s case (as he rises) obvious 

anyway might as well put those too I guess, though i wouldn’t consider them direct parallels but we’ve made it this far lmao

it reminded me of Historia after losing Ymir and Reiner after coming back alone :

(btw the music when Historia cradles Ymir in her arms after she fought as a titan is also called Her heart still beating on Youtube, but I don’t know where that comes from because the actual title is AOTs2M他3... probably just a fan name, but that’s a cool coincidence)

16. this post i made the other day still not over it

17. if reibert not canon then why literal actual canon????

[cebwrites]

and everyday, i add another stone

canon x oc (Lawrin) he/they law, angst(?) word count: 0.7k

Many changes would shake the world following the events of Marineford, both big and small. One of them being the commodification of the Tone Dial, courtesy of Brook and his music along his road to stardom, but of course once they were in circulation, that wasn’t the only thing the public used it for.

Law hunched over the strange device on their workspace, inspecting it briefly but otherwise still seemed apprehensive. Their partner had assured him that it was perfectly harmless as he explained how to use it, following Law’s initial scrutinous gaze.

Kirin had laughed back then, peppered butterfly kisses across Law’s cheeks. They pushed those thoughts aside. They were having a hard time trying to focus tonight, too many thoughts filling up too little space, so a distraction was needed. Among other functions, Kirin also mentioned that he’d recorded something on this TD to serve as an example, a reading of some story off his shelf.

Switching it on, the tension in their shoulders gradually fizzled out as Law heard his partner rummaging around and fiddling through the sky island native device’s buttons. 

The reading was amateurish - being nice about it; Kirin kept getting distracted, talking about things unrelated, clearing his throat, and Law could hear ambient noises from the crew throughout, as if he hadn’t kept in one place while reading. It was good enough background noise, though, the Heart captain was back to being buried in his studies within the hour.

Kirin in the recording seemed to find his rhythm, too, managing to find a relatively quiet spot and from them on the disturbances were kept to a minimum.

If you asked him, Law probably wouldn’t be able to tell you what the actual plot of the book was. It’s genre was romance, nothing they were interested in and frankly was grateful for since if Kirin had read something he did like, Law probably wouldn’t be paying much attention to his own work.

Law leaned back in their chair to stretch, satisfied with how much he’d been able to get done that day. Glancing at the clock that adorned his wall, they noted that Penguin would be up here in a few to call them down for dinner. His gaze turned towards the Tone Dial, its use no longer needed - their attention was caught before Law could turn it off, however.

「 These words only carry a fraction of my feelings for you. They are as vast as the ocean that keeps us apart. 

I long to feel your lips on mine and caress the intricate lines on your body. 

My soul yearns for you, ekes out what solace it can find until we are joined again, whole. 

You’ve lit a fire in my chest and it consumes my flesh evermore, burning desire only tapered by the warmth I feel by your side, darling. 

My being aches in your absence.

Sweetheart, my dearest moonlight - wait for me. 」

Something hollow made itself known in their chest, a viscous sinking feeling in the depth of their stomach followed suit - how long had it been since he made the decision to cut contact? About a month ago, but there were already two messages on their snail phone that Law refused to listen to.

This was their compromise - a way to hear his partner’s voice without letting his emotions sway them. That was the plan, anyway.

The plan for what, exactly - shutting everyone out so you could die guiltlessly at Doffy’s hand?

A knock at the door breaks Law out of their stupor, blinks the pooling moisture from their eyes, too, as they tell whoever it is on the other wise that he’d be out in a minute. Stewing in his feelings, he feels like he might need a little longer but simply suppresses those inclinations like everything else up until this point.

He’d made up his mind, taking down Doflamingo came first and Law wouldn’t forgive themselves if anyone got hurt fighting his battles more people meant more liabilities. This was their past to put to rest, and theirs alone.

But if he did survive, well, he’d simply have to make sure that Kirin didn’t live down his poeticism.

[staytiny-present]

The Boyz college au

because i’m the worst and have spurts of radio silence when i want to be writing my aus but in my defense it is my last week of school for the semester and i’ve been working on getting my associate’s degree :))))))

but anyway uhhh yeah this isn’t ateez i know but i’m still thinking about the be your own king video the boyz released out of literal NOWHERE and i felt inspired today in the middle of doing homework and wanted to provide you with something i hope no one’s done this so i can be original but i wouldn’t hold me breath

Hyunjae 

he’s on the swim team and really into animation, but his major is undeclared. he’s constantly being hounded about needing to decide on a major, but he really just doesn’t care enough. yes he cares about his education (as can be seen by his top notch grades), he just doesn’t know what he wants to do and doesn’t see a problem in that. but he’s into a lot of different clubs besides his swim team, like the art club he frequents with juyeon every week. hyunjae also played a cyborg in one of kevin’s short films, and because of that he’s known as ‘the arm guy’ to a lot of people around campus. everyone else knows him as the star swimmer who’s always at the pool

Juyeon 

he’s an art major, his favorite medium being paint. he’s also really interested in modeling, so he will help out some photography and other art students if they need someone. most people go to him first though because he’s just so beautiful and fits so many different aesthetics and is overall just such a natural at this stuff like wow. he loves making messes for his art projects because it shows that messy can be good sometimes, and it shows he has fun! his social media is mostly pictures of his artwork, but the pictures of him are the most popular and always get the most comments

Q/Changmin 

dance dance dance my guy, he’s a dance major on the dance team who competes in underground dance competitions. his major deals mostly with classical training like ballet and modern dance while the dance team does a lot of hiphop and theatrical dancing, and he mostly freestyles for his competitions. and in case you’re wondering, yes he always wins. honestly though he dances everywhere because it’s what he loves to do, and he loves theatrics and putting on a show. people will find him in really random places around campus practicing or recording covers or even just freestyling because he can

Haknyeon 

he’s a theater major. he likes musical theater and all but his favorites are classic plays. he especially loves shakespeare and has starred in nearly every production of his that the university has put on. he’s just really good at portraying romance and tragedy and even the comedies and it shows. it’s partly because he just loves romance dude what a dweeb so he really puts his whole heart in those performances. he’s always trying to get kevin to make a short film about a reimagined shakespeare story but he has yet to listen to him

Kevin 

he’s a film major with a minor in creative writing. really the guy just wants to write and direct his own movie because how much fun would that be! he stars in a lot of his student short films because a lot of his friends would rather die than do that, but it’s okay because kevin still has fun!! def the type to make iconic indie films by accident when he’s through with college. his favorite genre is fantasy because he loves being transported to far off places, and if he’s able to transport other’s to a place he created? that’s the dream

Sunwoo 

majors in music despite a bunch of people telling him it’s not realistic and a bunch of “you won’t be able to get a solid job if you major in something like that” bullshit, and because of this he has to put himself through college because no one’s really helping him out. it’s hard but sunwoo works part time at a car wash place and a roller rink guess which he likes more. but he knows how to vibe and is able to make his work fun, and it’s very apparent to those around him. people are always asking for the cute one that dances while he works

Sangyeon 

everyone expects him to be the most responsible with his schooling, getting a degree in something professional like business and joining a bunch of leadership and volunteer oriented clubs. while yes he’s done all of that, he’d much rather be at the arcade playing games :( in fact he’s joined a lot of gaming competitions through the arcade, and he’s won a lot of them too! as weird as it sounds, that’s his motivation - knowing that he can win these games and the glory that comes with it, though he’s not a sore loser about things because who does that help? not that he could ever let people on campus know about what he does after school, otherwise they’d just laugh at him. right?

New/Chanhee 

mans is a fashion major and fucking rules at it. he was the kid in high school who was always dressed to the nines while everyone looked at him either like “bro chill out” or “lmao what are you wearing?” it was annoying sure, but he likes clothes and how they make him feel. a lot of people stereotype him because of this though and act like they know everything about him. it’s infuriating and hard to just brush off, but at the end of the day he knows he’s happy with himself and what he is doing. and he knows that’s all that matters

Younghoon 

he’s a lit. major with a concentration in the classics. he and haknyeon honestly bond a lot in that aspect because they’re constantly reading and rereading classic novels and plays together. he thrives in history too, and he’s constantly seen in the library so that he can learn more things. he likes cultural programs and clubs too because it means he gets to learn more about his own and get to learn about others’ as well. his ultimate dream is to write a story that will become a classic one day, even if it takes hundreds of years for it to happen. he’s patient

Jacob 

he’s another music major, but the main difference between him and sunwoo is that he’s not alone in putting himself through school. his family is supportive and helps him out with money, but they also give him a lot of freedom. he’s honestly pretty close with sunwoo despite all of this, and they’re constantly working on music together. jacob knows he can’t just rely on his family though so he works too. works part time at the local fair/amusement park which sunwoo just cannot fathom because “why would you do that to yourself? being around all those rotten kids sounds like a nightmare.” unlike sunwoo, jacob actually likes kids, and even more he likes to see people smile

Eric 

he’s actually on a sports scholarship for baseball. he doesn’t technically need the money for school, but he works in a garage fixing up cars in basically all of his spare time. it’s kinda obvious that he’s on the young side because he’s very “cars are cool :)” and there’s nothing wrong with that, it just means there’s a lot of people younghoon telling him he should join more clubs and become more involved in things going on around campus. but he takes pride in his skill at baseball and in his work with cars and the fact that he just got his driver’s license! take that younghoon

[glimmerglanger]

out of his system - jangobi fic

ALRIGHT SO, the prompt for subobi week today is one of my squicks. BUT, I still want to post something and also I have too many ideas. This particular idea is a bit of an au I’ve been plotting for a while (thanks @mocha-bear). I don’t actually have any of the rest of it written! This is set pretty early on in it, though….

Anyway, this is Jangobi (is my first written piece of Jangobi stuff that’s more than a snippet going to be pure spice? Yes, it is.) AU where things went significantly worse for Obi-Wan during/after Bandomeer and he never got back to the Jedi. Technically an AU where things went slightly BETTER for Jango and he ends up free to do what he wants earlier than in canon after Galidraan. So, he’s working as a bounty hunter and has been for a bit. He’s….around 29 in this. 

Technically, if this had a prompt to fill, it would probably be sex work? So, warnings for Obi-Wan being in a brothel (not capable of giving full consent to anything). Not safe for wizards. BJs. Spicy. This is the F+J of subobi week, in that it is eventually going to be a 60k fic, whoops.

~~~~~~~~

Jango knew well enough he had no reason to go back to Trolk VI. As far as shitty planets on the Outer Rim went, it wasn’t particularly impressive. Most of the economy seemed generated by the fighting pits or the pleasure houses surrounding them.

Jango had little interest in either of those pursuits. 

Most of the time.

He’d visited pleasure houses before, though mostly because the places seemed to draw his bounties in the same way that a wailing, dying thing drew the attentions of a starving predator. He’d bagged more than one bounty while they were in the middle of….their business. 

His visit to a pleasure house on Trolk VI had not been such a success story. He’d ducked into the building in a rush to avoid the group that had already shot him twice - someday, he’d learn to stop walking into ambushes - and he’d barged into one of the rooms for the same reason.

His plan had been to hide somewhere, or go out the window again. But his pursuers had been close and there’d been someone on the bed already, stirring around in a loose, gossamer gown, and he’d thought, ragged-edged, that the people after him had no idea what he looked like, out of his armor.

His pursuers had apologized, moments later, when they opened the door to find him on the bed, stretched - miming the act of a good, hard fuck - over it’s first occupant, one of his hands over the kid’s mouth, just in case he got any bright ideas about screaming, even as dark spots had swam all across Jango’s vision.

He’d managed to avoid passing out until after the door shut again. 

It had been a shock when he woke up again. Even more of a shock to realize that the whore had bandaged his wounds, neatly, and even applied bacta. He’d been a pretty thing, Jango had registered, but most whores were, and Jango hadn’t had the time to consider it. He’d left, dropping some extra credits on the bed, and never planned to think about Trolk VI again.

And he didn’t, really.

But he did find himself thinking about the whore, his copper-red hair and wide, surprised eyes, and the unusually thick and battered collar around his neck. His thoughts kept spiralling around to the boy - over and over - and distraction wasn’t something he could afford. Not in his line of work. Not in his life.

Obviously, he’d needed to get his fixation out of his system. And so he ended up back on Trolk VI, in the pleasure district. He walked into the house through the front door, sneering at the proprietor behind his mask, half-sure that the woman wouldn’t know who he was talking about - he hadn’t gotten the whore’s name, after all.

But they must not have had many other male humanoids with reddish hair to choose from. She tittered happily enough, told him he’d made a good choice by selecting Ben - evidently the boy’s name - and waved a hand to have him led up the stairs.

The house was well-off. HIgh-end. It didn’t stink of sweat or sex; instead some care seeemd to have been taken to ensure it was all pleasant scents, soft music, dim lights. Jango ignored the droid’s request for a tip when he was delivered to a door he remembered.

He stepped into the room quietly. Nothing had really changed, he noted. A bed predominated the room, covered in soft fabrics. There was a bench along one wall, a chair. Hooks, here and there, on the walls and ceiling. He could imagine a use for each.

And each use was connected to the only other figure in the room - the boy, Ben - sitting on the side of the bed, a container of bacta open by his hip, a gossamer robe slid off of one shoulder, revealing an array of fading marks, skin shiny from the bacta application. 

He blinked over at Jango right away, eyes stunningly blue, his hair a tangle around his jaw - like someone had been playing with it - and his mouth reddened. His drooping robe did almost nothing to hide his shoulders and chest - there were marks there, too - or the traces of a flush over his throat.

Jango looked at him and felt a kick in his gut, almost shocking.

He couldn’t recall, really, the last time he’d felt directed desire.

He’d begun to think he just wouldn’t, ever again.

Ben recovered first, which was a lurching shock, and tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing just a little. He asked, his voice all wrong for a brothel in the Outer Rim - Jango heard that accent on his clients from the Core, and nowhere else, “Should I expect armed men to burst in after you, again?”

There was something satisfying to being recognized so quickly, but, then, he was sure he’d made an impression, last time. Jango shook himself, snorting, and said, “Not this time. Disappointed?”

Ben’s mouth quirked, just a little. He wasn’t….acting in quite the way Jango expected from a whore. Certainly there was no fawning about as he dipped his fingers once more into the bacta, spread a line of it across his shoulder, and asked, “Only a little. And you recovered?”

Jango remembered, clearly, blinking his way to consciousness with his head in Ben’s lap, the boy trailing gentle fingers over his brow, murmuring some strange lullaby that had seemed familiar from somewhere and--

He shook the thoughts away, taking a step forward as the boy closed the bacta jar and stood, carrying it across the room. “I’m well enough,” he said, looking at the fading marks across the boy’s back.

There were reddened marks, fading, long and straight. He recognized lashes, when he saw them. There were other imprints, on his shoulders and arms, fingerprints, perhaps, and the shape of a mouth, here and there.

And below those marks there was scar tissue, old and ragged. Uglier than he’d have expected on a pleasure slave. Especially one so lovely as this boy, who had to be worth more undamaged. Taken with the heavy, ugly collar around his neck - something Jango hadn’t seen on any of the brothel’s other….employees - it was leaving him with multiple questions.

He crossed the room while Ben arranged the bacta, apparently unconcerned, even when Jango touched one of the marks, with just one finger. “Better than you,” he added, and the boy looked over his shoulder, robe sliding a little further down his back.

“Apologies,” he said, “sometimes the bacta takes a while to work.”

Jango frowned, shaking himself again. He hadn’t come here to chit-chat with a whore. He’d come here to - to burn away his fascination with this boy, before it distracted him any further. Considering the sight of his glove on Ben’s skin wasn’t helping with that. It didn’t matter that, for whatever reason, he didn’t like the marks.

It had been a long time since he fucked anyone at all. That was all. Years, he thought.

His body had, obviously, had enough of waiting, and his head had fixated on Ben, because he’d been warm and pliant, when Jango stretched over him, because he had a red mouth and clear eyes, and legs a parsec long. He’d fuck the boy, get it out of his system, and move on.

Decided, he took a step back, and snapped, lifting his helmet off, “Do you waste so much time with all your clients?”

“No,” Ben said, agreeably, meeting his gaze evenly. “I’m very adaptable.”

Jango wondered, sudden and dark, just how adaptable he was. He said, voice getting thicker, “Help me with this.”

“Of course.” Ben had long, clever fingers, Jango noted, removing his armor quickly and steadily, setting each piece aside carefully. He was tall, too, all stunningly long legs and with a hint of coltishness still about him, not fully grown into his shoulders. 

It felt...strange, to be out of his armor in front of someone else. But Ben had seen it all, already. He’d seen Jango bleeding out, and had decided, for whatever reason, to patch him up instead of leaving him to die and stealing the armor and the rest of Jango’s credits.

The beskar alone would have been enough to buy out whatever price the boy’s owners wanted for him, unless the boy was something really special. 

It made no kriffing sense that Ben had kept him alive. People didn’t do that, didn’t just - help, for no reason at all. Especially not when it would serve them better to do otherwise. Jango caught Ben’s wrists, when he reached for the closures at Jango’s belt, and said, roughly, “You could have killed me, before.”

Ben looked over at him, down, just a bit. He didn’t slouch, made no effort to make himself look smaller, which--Jango realized he quite liked. “Kill you?” Ben asked, tilting his head to the side. “Why would I kill you? I don’t even know your name.”

“Is that a prerequisite?” Jango asked, and realized, with another hot lurch in his gut, that he wanted to hear the boy say his name. Maybe scream it, a few times.

Ben shrugged. He said, dry, “It seems a bare minimum to know, before killing someone. Don’t you think?” 

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Jango said, and heard the appreciation in his own voice, unplanned, just...blossoming there. Alarming. He was supposed to be here to fuck this boy, to get rid of the thoughts that had plagued him. It was past time he made some progress in that direction. He released Ben’s wrists, handled his belt on his own, and said, “Maybe you should make better use of it.”

“As you wish,” Ben said. He raised an eyebrow at Jango and kept eye contact as he sank down to his knees, lovely and with that wisp of a robe still around him, half-obscuring his body before he hesitated and….shrugged it off, letting it pool around his legs.

He was lovely as Jango remembered; lovelier, perhaps, without Jango’s blood smeared across his skin. Jango bit his tongue, reached out, and fisted a hand in the boy’s hair, Ben still looking up at him, and said, “I expect to be impressed.”

Ben’s mouth curved, sharp, just for a moment as Jango jerked his slacks open with his free hand, just enough to pull his cock out and he didn’t know exactly when he’d gotten so hard. Maybe as soon as he’d stepped into the room.

“I aim to please,” Ben said, and before Jango could make a reply, the boy pulled forward just a bit against the hold in his hair, and licked across the head of Jango’s cock, and--

And it had been a long time since anything touched him but his own hand. He hadn’t even wanted to fuck his fist, for an age. He’d been….not content, really, but willing to just ignore erections until they went away.

He swore, tightening his grip and rocking his hips, sliding his cock into the hot, wet perfection of Ben’s mouth. The boy kept his eyes upturned, staring while Jango watched his cock slide past reddened lips, draw back again all wet and slick. And it was -- perfect.

Jango’s jaw clenched shut, hard, and he slid his other hand into Ben’s hair, too, the waves of it catching at his gloves - he hadn’t gotten as far as removing them - as he held the boy’s head just so, fucking into his mouth.

He could feel Ben’s tongue, rolling against the bottom of his cock, and the boy sucked, noisily, in time with each shallow thrust, loud, his mouth and cheeks getting wet, even before Jango swore and anchored him in place, pushing further.

Ben’s eyes fluttered, when Jango properly fucked into his mouth, into his throat. He felt the boy restrain a choke, watched his eyes get shiny and wet, cheeks getting blotchy with red, the color spreading each time Jango shoved forward, his breath hitching and wet, and still, he kept his eyes open, staring up and--

Jango blinked and jerked his head to the side, swearing viciously when he came, knowing, with a strange, twisting feeling, that he was never going to forget those blue eyes just watching him, the entire time. 

He ground his hips forward and then pulled on Ben’s hair, dragging him back and off.

The boy gasped for breath, audibly gulping at the air, and Jango dared a look back at him, kneeling there on the floor, mouth and jaw wet with spit, mouth brilliant red, breathing so hard his whole body shook with it, one of his hands braced on the ground, apparently for balance, even as he glanced up and asked, his voice wrecked and hoarse, “Impressed?”

“I’m getting there,” Jango rasped back, taking his fingers out of the boy’s hair. He had - at least - another hour of time. He found he very much wanted to use it. Perhaps even extend the arrangement. He’d had a few very good jobs. He could afford an entire night, easily. He exhaled, want curling down his spine, and ordered, “Go on, onto the bed. I want between your legs again. Properly, this time.”

[appledotcodotuk]

why the hive fckin suck at its job: a rant

spoilers for tgwdlm ahead!

first of all, it's important to consider what exactly the hive's job is. my answer is... who the fuck knows. literally. what is the hive's aim. what do you want Paul? more like, what do you want hive? let's find out!

it kinda evolves, as the play progresses. the intial aim of the hive, and one that does actually remain consistent is the constant burning need to grow and devour and gain more and more (insert capitalism metaphor here).

however, this is distorted by the people it possess who influence that aim, as we'll see later.

also the fact it crashes into a theatre displaying Mamma Mia gives the hive the motive it need to fit the world around it to the structure of the musical. having no originality of its own, the hive instead just picks up what is given to it. kinda like an evil baby.

it wants uniformity, that is indeed its ultimate goal and desire, no duh. it thinks it can achieve that through musical theatre, shame that the hive is dead wrong. cause the hive fucking sucks at its own job / aim / ultimate purpose / one concrete goal that motivates all its actions.

can't maintain control over its subjects

okay, so, the hive wants uniformity. it wants everyone to be dancing to the beat of its own tune. right? yeah. shame it literally can't keep its own possessed subjects in line at all. at the risk of sounding like the 10th doctor waxing lyrical abt humanity for the 50th time, humans are really difficult to control cause we're not really motivated by an altruistic allegiance to one primary good. we've got icky emotions that often move us to do stupid unpredictable stuff way more. it makes me wonder if the reason the hive wanted to use musical theatre to try and persuade ppl was cause it seems to think that is how theyll get emotive humans; through emotive songs. anyways. let's look at some examples shall weeeee?

Mr Davidson:

so, Mr Davidson. funnily enough, he's the guy whose in part acting as the hive trying to figure out what it wants through his interactions w/ Paul. every person it possess gives it just a bit more humanity and curiosity abt the world it is currently taking over. at least I think so. hence why as the musical develops u get character's like possessed!Alice wondering 'why does it hurt to love?' - the change in music and mood to something much more introspective really suggests to me that the hive is beginning to question the thoughts and emotions of its human hosts.

Mr Davidson is a family man through and through, he loves his wife Carol. she's his muse, his source of light. his feelings for her are not concrete or easy to explain and solve - hence why his sudden ahem demand of her is so hilarious and also jarring. it completely clashes with the 'I want song' which is simple, and often pushes forward a wider cause. not so with Mr Davidson, he just really loves his wife man. enough to break a frickin alien possession.

tbh I think its hilarious that (at least to me) the hive has to force him to forget and continue with the song, like, he straight up is just talking to his wife in that phone call, talking, not singing. so, no possession until he reverts back into song. ergo, the hive cannot maintain the uniformity it wants. even from the get go when theoretically its control should be stronger cause it has less ppl to co-ordinate. bad. at. its. job.

Paul:

this one hurts folks. yes, I know it's generally agreed, though somewhat debated that the state of Paul by the end of the tgwdlm is not purely possessed. I agree. once again, the hive is unable to truly enforce uniformity.

at this point, the motives of Paul and the hive are kinda just mixed, neither fully human nor fully alien. hence the constant shifts between pleeing for her to get away, to hide, to stay safe: 'what if the only choice is you have to sing to survive' and just full on old style hive nastiness 'let me puke in your mouth and just open your food bin girl' (so romantic 🥰 /j).

the hive has gone away from its original aim, and become something... different. no longer stuck to just one type of genre or style of song, it's really clever to show the developing complexity of the hive by showing how it is now juggling lots of different motifs with references to all the old songs from before recontextualised in a new way - its learning. evil baby... no longer uniform.

general miscommunication:

there are several instances of the hive not fully having uniform control over its subjects. for instance, right after not your seed with the three teens having to like... calibrate. they aren't just completely connected then?? also, this is a very small thing, but uhhhh at the end of inevitable when Paul is about to say the apotheosis is upon... the chorus interrupts him with USSSSSSS. interruptions??? not very in sync of u hive.

I think this inability to exert uniformity is also shown in the contrast between genre of musical theatre. my alien abomination cannot decide whether it wants to be the more modern edgy rock musical (join us (and die), not your seed ) or super happy go lucky old style musical theatre (lah dee dah dah day, and inevitable). it tries to do both, even while trying to encourage union, and sticking to one thing. hypocrite!!!!!

2. aims are guided by the people it possess

so, I mentioned this a bit already, but the hive isn't only mutating the humans, the humans are mutating the hive right back. this is more an interesting observation than any actual analysis but let's goooo.

greenpeace girl:

I think it's very likely that greenpeace girl is one of the first to be possessed. This is probably easily debunkable but whatever this analysis is flying by the seat or its pants anywayyyyy. why? cause where else would it pick up that whole 'this planet needs fixing' thing? it's interesting too, cause it morphs from expressing the desire to join hands and sing together, unity and peace with no actual action behind it. this then goes right to the other end, with the hive going 'fine I'll do it myself' and trying to save things by enforcing a dictatorship on the world. it develops and changes, and strays from its original means of accomplishing its aims! speaking oooooof...

3. inconsistent in means of accomplishing aims

okay, ur an evil hive mind. u think musicals are the way to win over these silly humans cause they're all weak and emotive and seem to respond to them. but, wait! schwoopsie! you haven't realised that for emotional depth and growth to mean anything, you need there to be established development and well... growth. otherwise the sentiments are as vague as the ones expressed in What Do You Want, Paul?

this show has genuine emotional moments, just not really during the musical numbers WITH EXCEPTIONS. any strife is smoothed over quickly, and so the development and change that would have to go into such growth is just gone. (see, You Tied Up My Heart) all so it can achieve its own desire to grow and grow and grow, maybe a metaphor for art being killed under late stage capitalism??

what actually matters is the impact the songs have afterwards, in causing a death - because we have a bond and care abt these characters. those short scenes between Paul and Emma are actually way more resonant than any song. except... inevitable, and also not your seed a bit. at this point the hive has learnt a thing or two, and can actually twist human emotion a little. but for it to do that, it has to reject the uniformity it prizes, and be adaptable. point towards being more human than it first thought? methinks so. and yet it's just not enough...

it's also why let it out, to me, feels really ingenuine. Paul has expressed himself in much better ways already. what they're doing is clearly paining him, and hurting the guy. he's terrified bless.

you can't force someone into being emotional vulnerable, man.

it's why all the deaths for the characters who are forced to express themselves are really violent, involving them being ripped open - literally forcing them to expose themselves from the 'inside out' as Alice reflects in Not Your Seed. you can't force genuine emotional connection, it has to be fostered, shown in the much more affecting relationship of Paul and Emma. the only reason the hive actually has power over our characters is because of these genuine emotional connections, which it tries and often fails to take advantage of, resulting in just resorting to brute violence. messy hive, very messy.

at the core, the musical's a kinda attack on that toxic positivity mindst: trying to force people to reach the sort of easy solutions by sharing feelings in a way that feels pretty invasive and deciding you are instantly fixed. the problems these characters face are jarringly not really what you'd expect a character in a musical to face, cheating, a lot of it, mid-life crisis. problems that are bland, or wayyyy too real. this is purposefully done, to reveal just how silly the hive's aim to use musical theatre to solve everyone's problem is. life is more complex than that smh.

4. a human can write a much more expressive, and genuine song than they ever could lol

u know which song I'm talking abt. what more is there to say. so much for making persuasive songs to tempt people over.

5. make me sad cause they took some perfectly nice ppl and funked them up 😭

this was a stupid point lol. basically I'm just bitter that this hive took a bunch of perfectly okay ppl and gave them hive brain. screw u hive. I swear I'm gonna watch Black Friday soon, cause I'm sure it's gonna completely destroy every thought I've had so far, but whateve,,, just take this as a look at tgwdlm like it's a stand-alone piece.

these guys are supposed to all be 'individuals' on one level, but also 'appendages of a much larger organism'. there's a little too much individualism and fracturing to be cohesive enough to do that I feel. the hive to me is not an infallible, unstoppable force, in fact, every human it takes over only brings it closer to understanding us. so that's maybe a slight positive note??? idk ?! I just have lots of thoughts and feelings abt this musical even if this doesn't make sense I'm proud i wrote it down hehe.

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Last Dragon | The Witcher & Game of Thrones

Chapter 13 | Tearful Goodbyes 

Pairing: Geralt x Targaryen!OC

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after the events of the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Word Count: 5200

Note:  Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future uploads! 

*Gasp* Could this be? Me posting another chapter after only two weeks?? Impossible! I promise this is the last chapter that is heavily filled with angst, at least for a while! I can't help it, Vis is a very sad bean who keeps all her feelings in a bottle, and then she'll die. I just-- I need the build-up man! The character development man! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think, I love reading all your comments and theories! <3

The cool air of night is a stark contrast to the heat inside of Visenya, which grew hotter as the chaos during the banquet did. But now that peace is restored, standing under the night sky lit up by glittering stars, she feels that heat simmer down until it's a comforting warmth. The northern wind is biting, but she welcomes the feeling, the cold reminding her of the North - of home. The cold that would chill her to the bone, leaving her with chattering teeth and icy hands that always seemed miserable is something she longs for; a semblance of normalcy. She inhales and then exhales, watching with child-like wonder as her breath becomes visible in the cold temperatures. So enraptured by the weather, she nearly forgets she isn't alone, and that Geralt is a few steps ahead of her now, watching her with curious eyes. Yet it's Jaskier's voice that pulls her from her stupor.

"So this is it?"

Visenya turns around, gold eyes wide with her lips set in a thin line. Jaskier is standing at the entrance of the castle, the noblewoman previously with him nowhere to be seen. He's disheveled and so unlike the normally prim and proper Jaskier she's accustomed to, his floppy brown hair windblown and sticking up in random directions. His clothes are wrinkled in odd places, ripped here and there, but overall mostly intact. His eyes are wide, as they normally are, but they're glassier than she remembers them being, the stars betraying what seems to be held back tears.

"You don't have to leave, you know, just because the Countess de Stael has agreed to be my patron. I could still use my bodyguard," Jaskier says, smiling, but it's not carefree and easygoing, brimming with his usual mirth. Instead, it's tight and harsh, not quite reaching his eyes. His hands loosely rest in front of him, fingers nervously intertwining with each other.

Visenya smiles, mustering all her strength to appear every bit the soft and docile maiden from every fairytale, looking at him like she would've Bran and Rickon. She sighs, forming and reforming the words in her mind, trying to find the perfect thing to say. But each time she comes short, a harsh reminder she'll never be a good poet.

Instead, she opts to shrug her shoulders and move closer to the entrance, closing the distance between them. She's melancholic, feeling as if another chapter of her life is coming to an end. She and Jaskier traveled together for years, how could she not feel a hint of emotion when it seems like their travels are on hiatus - if not done entirely.

"Come on Jane, you in court, scaring away all the mean people who want to kill me, we'd make the best team!" Jaskier exclaims, trying - and failing - to have his usual enthusiasm behind the words. They fall flat, sounding more desperate and sad rather than upbeat and encouraging. Visenya sighs once more, the smile on her face requiring less concentration as Jaskier continues to ramble. Finally, she closes the distance between them. "I'll never leave you to your brooding when you want!"

"Whilst that does sound interesting, I'm afraid I wouldn't do well in court," Visenya says, reaching out and taking Jaskier's hand in her own.

"I disagree, My Lady," Jaskier says, pursing his lips and looking at the ground, pausing for a brief moment, allowing the wind to whistle between them. "But I understand."

"My place is out there, where I can stab things," Visenya says, raising her brows with a small smirk on her face.

"You could do that here you know? Not to sound like I'm trying to talk you out of your decision because I respect your choices and everything," Jaskier says, his enthusiasm gaining traction with each word. Visenya laughs, a small laugh that's nothing more than a whisper, but it's music to the ears of anyone who hears it.

"I could, but that would get me in trouble with the law," she responds, shaking her head, the smirk playing on her lips morphing back into a gentle smile.

"Right, I almost forgot about that," Jaskier mutters looking up towards the sky.

"Goodbye Jaskier. Though with my luck this isn't the end, I'll run into you sooner or later," Visenya says, a mischievous glint in her normally stoic gold eyes.

"Oh, I'm afraid you won't get rid of me so easily, my fair lady!" Jaskier exclaims, perking up slightly. "Goodbye, Jane. You and Geralt watch out for each other, alright! I won't have the two scariest people I know both dying, then who'll serve as my protection at high-class events!" Jaskier proclaims, some of his natural charisma returning, his blue eyes not nearly as glossy as moments prior.

"I'll do what I can." Visenya places her hand on Jaskier's shoulder, pulling his body towards her's, wrapping her other arm around his neck as she hugs him. Shocked, Jaskier is stiff for a moment, before melting like morning dew under the hot sun and wrapping his arms around her. He breathes in and then out, as Visenya does the same until their breathing is nearly perfectly synced up. She places her face in the crook of his neck, burning the moment in her mind, unwilling to ever forget this moment in case it's their last. She inhales his scent, committing it to memory; juniper and sage, sharp and warm and earthy all at once, with a hint of sweet wine and linseed oil.

"I'm sorry," she mutters, the words muffled against his neck, but Jaskier understands her none-the-less. "I'm sorry for earlier,"

Jaskier's hand moves from her back to the top of her head, soothingly rubbing it as Lady Catelyn used to when Visenya would run to her crying about one thing or another. It's comforting and familiar, nearly bringing Visenya to tears from the simple act.

"It's okay, you're complicated, I paid extra for my bodyguard to be dark and broody," Jaskier says, a slight sarcastic quirk in his tone at the end. "But promise me you won't isolate yourself any more than you already have. Talk to Geralt, he understands broody and dark."

"I'll keep it in mind," Visenya responds, slowly opening her eyes and unraveling from Jaskier. "Maybe I'll tell you all about how complicated I am next time we meet?" Visenya gives him one last smile, slowly stepping away, but not turning her gaze away from him.

"Oh, I'll hold you to that promise, missy!" Jaskier exclaims, wagging his finger at Visenya as if she is a child. Once again she laughs, louder this time, not as restrained as it normally is.

"I'm counting on it," Visenya replies, talking one last step, turning around to face Geralt, rushing towards him, eager to escape the emotions brimming inside her. Trying desperately to not think about how odd it is that she is walking away from Jaskier, the only constant in this crazy world since the day they met.

"Goodbye, you two! Now take care of each other, in every aspect, if you know what I mean!" Jaskier calls out, disappearing into the castle before either of them could retaliate.

She meets Geralt, who says nothing, he simply raises a brow at her, silently asking 'Are you sure?'

"My place isn't in court." Is all she says. Geralt grunts, nodding his head, a stoic expression on his face. "Let's go back to the inn, I need an ale and lots of sleep."

A smirk creeps onto Geralt's face, his eyes shining with amusement, illuminated by starlight. He quietly snorts, turning to face the gate leading out to the main portion of the city.

"I can agree with that." In nearly perfect unison they walk out of the castle grounds, Visenya easily keeping up with Geralt's long strides. They're quiet, the only sound is their feet pounding against the cobblestone road and the ambient noises of guards and nobles around them.

A particularly strong gust of wind blows through the courtyard causing a piece of Visenya's hair to blow in front of her eyes. She grabs a small chunk of hair, intently inspecting the grey-brown strands. With the silver light shining from the otherwise midnight sky, she can nearly see the silvery-golden hue hidden under cheap hair dye. Or maybe it's a trick of her eyes. She lets out a puff of hair, blowing the hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears to secure it in place.

"So a child," Visenya says, no inflection in her words as she continues to stare straight ahead. Geralt's steps falter for a brief second before he quickly regains his footing. He sighs, heavily, somehow managing to put in all his frustration and annoyance in one simple noise.

"I don't want to talk about it Jane," he says. His tone is stern as if he's talking to an unruly child. It reminds her of when she, Jon, Robb, and Theon were the terrors of Winterfell, in the days before they grew up and the world became dark. She can't help the faint smile that appears on her face, her gold eyes lighting up like the sun, but not nearly as bright as the summer sun in the South. It's more like the North, where the heavy fog and thick clouds obscure most of the sunlight, muffling the harshest parts of the rays and bathing everything in dim light.

"I know, but not talking about isn't going to make this go away," she says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He's clenching his jaw, veins on his neck slightly popping out. His lips are set in a thin line with eyes like stone.

"There's nothing to run away from," he says. Visenya stops, turning to face Geralt, reaching her hand out and grabbing his shoulder, stopping him in his place and turning him to face her.

"Geralt," she says, her voice serious and stern. "This isn't a joke. This isn't making a bargain with someone in a seedy part of town and running away before they can collect their prize. This is serious."

"I didn't take you as one to think destiny is real." Geralt says, raising a single brow at Visenya.

"We all need something to cling to," she responds, not breaking from his gaze.

"And what do you believe?" Geralt asks.

"That...everything happens for a reason; that there's a purpose behind every tragedy and triumph that we experience - both great and insignificant," Visenya says, keeping her voice low enough that any nosy passers-by won't hear their exchange.

"This isn't some divine plan; this was just a princess using her magic to get her way, destiny has nothing to do with a girl who has no idea how to control her powers," Geralt says, standing firm on his stance. Strong and stubborn; he would've done well in Winterfell amongst the Northern lords.

"Oh cut the shit Geralt, do you honestly have to be so fucking pragmatic that you can't believe in something if you can't see it with your own eyes," Visenay says, keeping her voice low enough as to not attract any more attention towards them. Whilst the crowds are thinning with each moment that passes, even one person seeing their argument is too many.

"I thought you were more intelligent than this, clearly I was mistaken" Geralt responds, taking a step towards Visenya. His eyes glow bright yellow like the fire burning inside of her. Geralt's fire collides with Visenya's ice. He's egging it on, he wants a fight, she realizes. For her to get so angry she yells and screams at him. Why he is, she's not sure.

"Do you have to be such an asshole, Geralt of Rivia? You have no right to insult my intelligence by being so patronizing, I'm not a child, don't treat me as such," Visenya says, spitting the words like they are venom. She steps closer to him, close enough that she can feel his breath and hear his heartbeat.

"Well, it's either that, or you sustained a far worse injury in that fight than originally thought. How could you believe in this horseshit?" He won't stop, adding further fuel to the fire inside her; her pride rearing its ugly head and demanding she win the fight, no matter how petty and uncalled for it is.

Visenya narrows her eyes and clenches her jaw. Her hands form fists at the side of her body, her blood nearly starting to boil from her rage.

"How could I not, after everything that's happened," she says with a voice like ice, so cold that it burns. Her words are quiet, but they're sharp, stabbing into Geralt like sharpened icicles in a winter storm.

"What? What happened Jane? I'm supposed to believe in destiny just because you survived a rebellion?" Geralt asks, a mocking tone lacing his cruel and coarse words. He's not malicious in his intentions, it shines in his eyes, but the words are daggers to her heart none-the-less.

"Stop it," Visenya whispers, taking a step away from Geralt, but he just moves closer. "That's not fair and you know it."

"The gods don't care who lives or dies, why should they care about some child--" Geralt continues, but Visenya interrupts him, her quiet words silencing him.

"I died," she simply says. Geralt closes his mouth, his clenched jaw loosening. Visenya takes a sharp breath and then lets it out, watching as her breath dissipates into the cold air. Heart pounding with shaky hands, Visenya closes her eyes for a moment and then opens them before continuing.

"My family was betrayed and they killed us, butchered at a wedding like we were nothing but cattle. Next thing I know, I woke up outside of Blaviken with this-" Visenya says. Gold eyes dart around their surroundings, searching for any eavesdroppers. Luckily, the streets are nearly empty, the few people still scuttling around not paying them any mind. She holds out her hand, and focuses on...something, trying to recreate the feelings that would bubble under the surface before the fire made its presence known. Her eyes flutter shut, and within a second, a small flame flickers in the palm of her hand, the fire quickly dying out. But it's all she needs.

"Fire magic," Geralt says, breaking Visenya from her concentration. She closes her palm, hiding the arm behind her back as if to protect herself from harm. She looks up, meeting Geralt's wide gaze. "Blaviken burning... that was you,"

Visenya nods, thickly swallowing the lump in her throat, trying to push away the haunting memories of Blaviken burning.

"I lost control and just-- exploded, by the time I came to, everyone was already dead," Visenya says, shrugging her shoulders, her voice hardly above a whisper; soft, weak, and almost completely vulnerable. She purposely leaves out the part where she reveled in the destruction, feeling glee from their suffering. Geralt is silent - maddingly so, it leaves Visenya tense and uneasy. Every second passing feels like a lifetime as Geralt stands in silence and Visenya awaits his response.

But he says nothing, just simply nods his head.

"What now? Are you going to put me down like one of those monsters?" Visenya asks, and despite the self-deprecating words, her tone holds no humor to it.

"You're not a monster." Geralt says, his words like a knife cutting through the thoughts rushing through her mind. "What's done is done."

Visenya nods, taking another step away from Geralt and turning to face the road, eager now more than ever to return to the inn. The rushing wind cools her face and eases the tension in her body, not completely, but enough that she isn't afraid of exploding. Geralt's heavy footsteps pound behind her, his long legs swiftly catching up to Visenya. It's silent, but not the soothing one that leaves Visenya comfortable. Instead, it's tense and awkward, the words from their argument lingering in the air.

"I'm sorry," Geralt simply says, his tone not as firm as it normally is. Geralt is always sure of what he says - whether it's sarcasm or not, but this time he isn't. Witchers hunt monsters, not console maidens. The effort causes Visenya to smile, a small sad smile that doesn't fully reach her eyes.

"It's okay, we both have issues," she says.

"If you want to speak about it--" Geralt begins, the words sounding unsure as they leave his lips.

"I know where to find you," Visenya finishes his sentence, the smile on her face growing bigger. "But, if I did, I'd have to kill you," she responds. Geralt narrows his eyes for a moment, before a small smirk appears on his face, cracking the stone in his expression.

"Maybe you should tell Jaskier then, rid me of that bard," Geralt says, turning and continuing to walk towards the inn they're staying at for the night.

"Oh, he's not that bad. I might actually miss the guy," Visenya says, a small smile resting on her lips. "There's never a dull moment."

"That's what I'm hoping for, dull moments," Geralt says. Visenya looks at him, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Well, I'm afraid you may not get that, not with me around at least." Visenya teases, cocking her head to the side as she raises her brows slightly. Geralt looks at her, scoffing quietly.

"I'm counting on it," he replies. Visenya laughs, the sound more similar to a scoff. They continue weaving through the citizens that remain on the streets. No one pays them much mind, too busy in their worlds, but the few that do take notice of Geralt say nothing. And Visenya is grateful, she's had enough excitement for one night.

o0o0o

The tavern on the level below them is particularly rowdy that night; horrible renditions of bawdy tavern jigs being sung by drunks, cackling men and women, and the thumping of feet banging on the floor and mugs on the tables. The wall shakes and the floor does as well, disturbing the small amount of peace Visenya has. She sits on the side of the bed, her bare feet hovering over the floor, only the very tips of her toes touching the cold wood. Except for the ambiance, the room is silent, but not unbearably so. It's comforting and entirely foreign to Visenya to be able to hear her thoughts.

Jaskier hated silence, needing to fill it with nonsensical rambles and filler thoughts to break the quiet. But Geralt revels in the silence, seeing it as a prized commodity he doesn't get blessed with often. The cool metal of her silver dagger cools the heat that's always under her skin. She balances it in her right hand while staring at the blank wall ahead of her. Jaskier always said she broods too much and is never much fun to be around when this way. Geralt is on the edge of the bed across from her, diligently cleaning his blade. Any dirt and residual blood from the feast have long since been cleaned off, Geralt continues to shine it. His ashen brows are furrowed and his lips set in a thin line. There's a small line that formed on his forehead, a dead giveaway that he's lost in thought.

Visenya sighs, placing the dagger back into its small sheath and sets that on the small table near her bed. The bed squeaks as she stands up, the floor creaking as she puts more weight onto it. Geralt pauses his sword cleaning for a split second but continues as if he never stopped.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

The floor creaks with each movement and the distance separating her and Geralt quickly dwindles until it's almost nonexistent, her knees nearly touching him. Wordlessly, she sits beside him, reaching a hand up and beginning the arduous process of unweaving the intricate braids Jaskier put in them. A partially broken fingernail snags in her hair, getting knotted and tangled.

"Fuck," she says quietly under her breath, bracing herself to rip the chunk of hair out. Mentally she counts down from three, pulling with all her force on one. Rubbing her fingers together, she looks at the snaggle she pulled from her hair.

"Here," Geralt says, sheathing his blade and setting it aside. His much larger and rough hand reaches up towards her head but hovers over his head. "Can I?"

"Sure, can't be any worse than me," Visenya says, turning around to give him access to the back of her head. Without another word, Geralt's hand tangled in her hand, but instead of the recklessness Visenya tackled her hair with, he's much gentler, managing to unweave the braids twice as fast as she would've.

"Can I ask you a question Geralt?" Visenya asks after a moment of silence. Instead of answering Geralt just grunts, focusing on a particularly difficult four-strand braid.

"Are there dragons? And are they real?" she asks, putting all her energy into keeping her inflection neutral. She remembers in the Main Hall when Princess Pavetta's scream knocked everyone to the ground and filled Visenya's head with visions of a great fire giving birth to a dragon. She remembers how the clearing smelt and the longing inside of her to run her fingers over the smooth golden scales of the baby dragon.

"Yes, they're real, though they're exceedingly rare." Geralt responds.

"Really? What kinds are there, or are they all the same?" she asks, trying to turn to face him, but his other hand cups her head, keeping her in place.

"There are five: green dragons, they're the most common; red dragons less so; and black dragons are the rarest," he answers. He finally managed to find the tie keeping the four-strand braid intact and began carefully unweaving it.

"What about gold?" Visenya asks, staring at the blank wall as she remembers that dream from the woods when she stood in the Throne Room, The Red Keep in shambles around her as a gold dragon flew above her.

"They're a myth," he says, combing his finger through the undone braid before moving onto the next.

"Oh," is all she says, unsure of what else to say. Disappointment fills her mind, and for the life of her she can't figure out why. They're only silly dreams after all, right? "You say they're rare, why is that?"

"Treasure Seekers, idiots eager to steal the dragon's hoard, all the better if they could slay it and bring back a trophy of their kill," Geralt says, carefully pulling apart a knot in her hair. He's much softer than Visenya would've thought.

"Why would anyone do that?" Visenya immediately says, her brows furrowing. A quiet ow leaves her mouth as Geralt finishes working on the snarl. He mutters a quiet sorry but moves onto the next knot.

"For sport. Slaying a beast of that caliber is seen as a high accomplishment to commoners and nobles alike," Geralt says. Visenya feels heat rush to her face, brows furrowing more, causing small lines to appear on her forehead.

"They're not beasts to me. No matter how terrifying they may be to everyone else, I envy them. To be able to go anywhere you wish and do anything you'd like. It's...nice, romantic in a childhood fairytale sort of what. I'd give anything to see one," Visenya says, her tone of voice similar to a wishful child dreaming of knights and kings, vying for a happily ever after with either.

"I never said I thought they were beasts. Though I can't say I share the same sentiment as you, I prefer to stay away from fire breathing creatures," Geralt says, glancing at Visenya from the corner of his eye.

"I guess it's just in my blood."

"Is that why you have a dragon on the hilt of your blade?" Geralt asks, throwing the last small leather strip from her hair across the room. Visenya's eyes watch it soar through the sky before smacking against the wall directly across from her.

"Something like that," she answers, absent-minded and lost in thought. "It was a gift from...an old friend," she continues, glassy gaze casting to the dusty floor. She clenches her jaw in a desperate attempt to keep it from trembling.

"Was it--?" Geralt asks, removing his hands from her hair, but Visenya stays in place. She fears if she looks at him she won't be able to control the tears building in her eyes, eager to be free.

"Yes, and his name was Robb. He wasn't my brother, not by blood, but the Starks were the closest thing I had to family. He had it commissioned for me when we went to war. It - and my cloak - are all I have left of them," Visenya says. Her voice breaks with every other syllable, the words barely heard over the jeering patrons from below. The fire in the far corner of the room cracks, the noise drawing Visenya's attention to the flames. They illuminate her eyes - even more than normal due to the unshed tears, bringing out the flecks of white and orange in them.

It's still fresh in her mind, a haunting vision that she can't escape no matter how much she'd like: the sea of dead bodies around her, only to find Robb's decapitated body when managed to free herself. His direwolf coat-of-arms the only thing left that could identify it as Robb Stark. It pulls apart the stitches she meticulously applied to each and every wound that she sustained in Westeros. Months upon months, maybe even years, of work, only for it to unravel within seconds. She wants to forget. To throw herself into something - anything - as long as it frees her from these memories that linger over her like a dark cloud.

She takes a deep breath, trying to erase her rapidly beating heart, slowly thickly to get rid of the small lump in her throat. Her eyes flutter closed, refusing to open until the building tears disappear. Eventually, they do.

"You're not from here, are you?" Geralt says. His sentence is a question, but she knows he already knows the answer. He always seems to know.

"No, I'm not," Visenya mutters, feeling drained as if she just ran a marathon on little to no sleep. She's tired, and she's tired of being tired all the time.

"But I don't want to speak about that," Visenya says, sitting up straighter and moving her gaze back to Geralt.

"What then?" Geralt asks, ashen brows furrowed and eyes gleaming with interest. Visenya leans up, her face mere centimeters away from Geralt's. But she doesn't draw any closer, instead, she stays perfectly still, feeling his breath fan across her face and listening to his steady heartbeat - the pace much slower than her own. Her eyes trace his face, focusing on a faint scar that rests on his right cheekbone. The healed injury nearly glows in the candlelit room. She places both of her hands on his shoulders, using him to steady herself. She feels light as air, getting drunk off of Geralt's scent, inhaling the smell of fresh herbs and leather oil as if it's a drug she's addicted to.

"Oh I'm sure you could figure it out," she replies, a smirk on her lips. A heartbeat later, Geralt surges forward, closing the dwindling distance between them. His lips press against hers, firmer than she remembers, but just as sweet - if not more so due to the sweeter Cintran ale. She leans into him, eager to be as close as physically possible, and even then it wouldn't be enough.

Visenya pulls back, deeply inhaling in an attempt to gain her lost breath. She stares into Geralt's eyes, seeing her reflection in them. They're memorizing and captivating, full of everything Geralt doesn't say with words. The longer she stares the steadier her breathing gets, but the heavy feeling from the feast doesn't lift, and the distraction of Geralt did nothing but provide simple fortification to an already lost cause.

"Oh my god," Visenya mutters, her somber tone a stark difference to the teasing one she used moments prior. "I died," she says, disbelief lacing each word like she can't believe them even as they fall from her own lips. "I was murdered at a wedding and I died," she repeats, the tears returning, only this time with more vigor and she's unable to contend with their will. They pour from her eyes like heavy rain, clouding her sight and judgment, until all she can think about is Walder Frey betraying them over and over again.

The memories she'd buried deep inside her resurfacing. Catelyn falling to the ground, crossbow bolts stuck in her body, and Robb's dead body - head severed and replaced with a direwolf head - being paraded around on a horse.

Geralt pulls her towards his chest, his expression softer than the usual stoic mask he wears, albeit confused at her confession. Of course, her timing could not have been worse.

It's the first time she ever admitted to what happened. That her death - along with Robb and Catelyn's were real.

This is all real.

Objectively, every injury she received; whenever she's thirsty or hungry; or every time she goes to sleep and wakes up should've been proof that she's alive and her surroundings are real. But she's never admitted it, not to anyone and certainly not herself. Westeros is a topic she specifically avoids, keeping it locked away to never be seen. Subconscious denial is safer when survival is a concern.

She sniffles once more and pulls back from Geralt. She rubs her hand across her eyes, drying the dampness. The tears eventually stopped, however, her eyes remained bloodshot and puffy. Geralt carefully watches her every move, removing his hands from around her. She stands from the bed to move back to her own, eager to leave this night behind her. But Geralt grabs onto her arm, keeping her from moving away.

She looks at him with glossy gold eyes but says nothing, and neither does he. Yet he's speaking more clearly to her than anyone ever has in her life. Silently, moves back onto the bed, Geralt moving with her. He pulls back the blankets, motioning for her to enter first. The bed is as uncomfortable and itchy as hers, yet when she finally stops moving and Geralt gets beside her, she's the most comfortable she's ever been.

They continue to say nothing for the rest of the night. Visenya closes her eyes, moving onto her side, facing Geralt who stays on his back. Each time she blinks her eyes grow heavier and heavier, each breath deeper until eventually, she closes her eyes and the world turns black.

o0o0o

[cwnahyoung]

KWAK AHYOUNG’S ROYAL REPORT

who is this clover fourth tier royal? what is she about? what is she hiding? and who is she paying attention to? 

though she is not one to abide by orders and do what she is instructed to do to make her be ranked up to higher tiers, she didn’t think that filling out a report would be much of a big deal. a part of her wonders as to why the queen would want her to do this in the first place, considering she expected to do something more… verbal rather than something written. but she’d rather be writing about her experience so far as a “princess in training” in her room rather than going out and making sure she’s drinking tea the right way at a garden party. 

as she reads the prompts of which she should answer in her report, her brows furrowed. why was there so many questions? surely, she isn’t expected to answer all of them, is she? no. she is only expected to answer three at least… but perhaps she could get on their royal highnesses nerves as a way to continue with being at the fourth tier. she was comfortable here, even if she could be possibly be kicked out of this life if she continued with her fooling around any longer. she’ll give them what they want… she’ll give them way more than what they want from her. 

what would you say is your biggest fears? how would you cope if you were to face them in your life as a princess? 

what a loaded question! she already knew the answer to this question, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to let it be known to them of all people what it was. then again… perhaps if she went on about her answer, they’ll grow tired and end up not reading it all. perhaps she should do that with all of her answers from here on out! that wouldn’t be much of an issue, would it? 

she decides to save that particular question for later because obviously, she wants the least vulnerable answer to be the one the royals will be less likely to read. 

in fact, she finds herself looking through past a lot of the prompts. of course, she plans on answering all of them, but she wants to make sure she doesn’t immediately make the queen think she’s putting her heart on her sleeve. she’d rather die than let anyone be aware of that. 

TRIGGER WARNING FOR DEATH, DEPRESSION, EMOTIONAL ABUSE 

in the case you were not in your position in your kingdom right now, what else would you be doing in this moment? 

an easy question, really. she feels like she’s made it obvious to everyone about how she really didn’t want to be here. she did not wish to be living this life of luxury and power like her mother forced her to. she’s pretty sure she made some people question why she was here in the first place. even now, her heart still yearns for a certain path that grows distant from her every second she spends in the clover kingdom—or any of the kingdoms, for that matter. the most she can do is daydream… that, or have this whole competition for the throne to be over so she can go back to her normal life like she wanted to. 

she writes the following: 

“i wish to be a performer like my father. it has been my dream since i was merely a child. i have grown up loving music ever since the day i was born. had it not been for certain circumstances, i would try to pursue my music journey in another country far away from where the kingdoms are. perhaps, even farther away than where my family are. i’d like to believe my father would be happy for now, had i gone for that path rather than the current one i’m in now. as of now, his opinion doesn’t really affect my future anymore… unfortunately.” 

what would you do if your title was suddenly stripped and you were banished from the palace? 

an interesting question to consider and most definitely something the girl wouldn’t really seem to mind that much. though she’s found some company that’s made her stay at the clover kingdom, let alone the other kingdoms that surround the center of diamonds, she still would rather be anywhere else but in the position she was in right now. royal life was simply not ahyoung’s calling, no matter who or what tries to convince her otherwise. so, even though many people would consider banishment to be an awful punishment, she mainly saw it as an escape. a ticket to freedom provided by whatever action she has done. of course, she doesn’t have the balls to actually do something scandalous enough to get her banished, but if the opportunity was easier than it sounded… who was she to reject it? 

she writes down: 

“perhaps, i’d continue to live my life as it was before i arrived at the palace. even if my father is not here with me, meaning my journey to having a music career will be more difficult than it was before, i will continue to try and pursue that career path, as i believe it is my destiny. will it be even more complicated, as i’ll be known for my banishment? perhaps, but i could also use that as an opportunity to gain attention for what i wish to do in the future. the more people who will pay attention to me, the more likely i am to be successful in the music industry… right? that’s how it works, nowadays!” 

onto the next question that wasn’t anything too uncomfortable for her. 

if you could do something that would normally cost you your  title but without receiving those repercussions, what would it be?

an interesting question, as ahyoung couldn’t really see herself really breaking any rules just because she felt like it. if she wouldn’t have to get a bunch of scary punishments for it, she might’ve considered. but with how over-the-top the kingdoms were, especially the queen of clovers herself, ahyoung wouldn’t risk to do anything… however, if she were to not receive any kind of repercussions, her mind begins to delve into thoughts of what she could do. when she thinks of some ideas, she immediately writes them down on the paper so that she doesn’t forget. 

“i’d slap the queen of clovers in the face. i know that sounds very bold of me and i would never do that intentionally to hurt her majesty. but i feel like if i did that, i’d prove a point to let everyone know how much this entire process means so little to me. not only that, but if i took the opportunity to disrespect her majesty while also getting away with it, i can already imagine how my beloved mother would behave. and i love nothing more than to see her be embarrassed because it’s what she deserves for being so kind and lovely to me.” 

which other royal do you think is your biggest competition and why? would you eliminate them if given the chance? why why not? 

she wasn’t really sure if she had an answer for this. because if she had to be truthfully honest, she really didn’t care much about the throne. she was only here because her mother forced her to and she was willing to not try at all until the day she eventually finds herself kicked out of the palace for wasting the queen’s time. but of course, stubborn to make sure that the queen plans to not read through all of her answers, she decides to come up with a random answer to this question, based on how she interacts with others. 

“if i had to be honest, i think that baek dabin would be my biggest competition, considering we are both on the fourth tier in the clover kingdom. she likes to think of me as her main rival and while i don’t really see much point in the throne, i like poking fun into the rival concept every now and then because i think it’s entertaining how she thinks i’m actually trying when it comes to this whole entire ‘royalty turns to princess’ thing. and though i wouldn’t really consider him my biggest competition, i do want to be able to see if i can try and take choi jaejin down. i’m not particular fond of him. i feel like he patronizes me because of my low tier, but not in the way that han hyunsu does. while hyunsu is vocally arrogant and likes being upfront about his dislike for me, jaejin does it in a way that makes me feel uneasy rather than annoyed. really, i feel like i want the hearts prince to actually leave me alone rather than the other… who i don’t really mind much. that being said, though those are the people who i’d see as competition, i don’t think i’d try to eliminate them. i think that’s reaching a little too far, not to mention i think they have a better chance at getting the throne than me anyways. at least they want it.” 

if had had the choice to either a) gain the crown but your best friend is killed, or b) save your best friend but lose the crown, what would you do?

when she reads the word “best friend”, her mind automatically jumps to the thought of him: son junyoung. she’s known the prince since he was practically a baby and the two have been through a lot together, even spending a few years away from each other before rekindling their friendship when ahyoung arrived at the clover kingdom. he’s the person that made her feel comfortable in this new life of hers, considering he’s had more experience with it and he, being the kind hearted gentleman that he is, was willing to help her along the way. to think of a reality in which she was able to get the crown rather than him… that sounded unreal, especially given the fact that she feels he deserves it more than she does. it’s not only the fact that she saw no purpose in being official royalty, but it’s more on the fact that jun needed that crown. he needed it for the most selfless reasons, meanwhile ahyoung’s mother wanted her to get it for selfish reasons. 

besides… if she had to witness another death of a loved one that she could be able to prevent from happening, she could never forgive herself. she’s already lost her father. with the fact that she just got jjuni back in her life, she didn’t want to lose her precious friend yet again… but forever, this time. 

“i’d easily choose option b, in which i save my best friend but lose the crown. to me, the crown is not that much of a big deal. it is not the reason why i’ve decided to stay a little longer in the kingdom rather than up and quit. my friendships with everyone here is what keeps me going and what makes me try even a little at staying in the palace for longer than i want to. not to mention, i had just reunited with my best friend. to lose him all because i’ve decided to be selfish… that’d be a grave sin that i’d never ever be able to recover from.” 

what is your biggest desire? 

easily a question ahyoung could answer. she feels as if most of her answers from before were already indicating it. at the end of the day, what else could she want in life? her true dream life was answered in the first question she answered and though her path to getting to that dream career seems more impossible than it did before, kwak ahyoung still found herself holding onto a little bit of hope. 

even now, as a royal, she finds herself trying her best to surround herself with whatever she can get of that desire. she’d play the piano in one of the rooms in the palace and sing to random songs by herself so that she could be able to relieve her stress or anger or whatever upset emotion she felt in that present moment. no matter where she is, that desire always finds a way to reach out to her in the times she needs it, whether it be as solace or even as a friend. 

“music is my desire. it always has been and probably always will be. i still wish to be a musician, but i get enough joy playing the piano and singing songs to myself. i also enjoy going to opera shows in the hearts kingdom whenever i can, even if that’s not the style of singing i’m totally experienced in. in general, music is my remedy. it is my comfort. it is my love. i would die without it.”  

and it’s after this question that she returns to the question that threw her off in the first place. 

what is your biggest fear? 

“disappointing my father.” 

she wonders if it’s appropriate for her to write more. after all, she wants to ramble as much as she can so that no one would have the energy to read it… but at the same time, it’s hard to talk about. after all, it’s the reason why she’s here to begin with. her mother told her that the least she could do in honor of her dad is do the one thing he’s worked so hard to keep her from being, making it sound as if ahyoung’s wish to not be a princess was a burden to the whole family. and even if she hasn’t said it, a part of her wonders if her mom thinks the same as her. that if it hadn’t been for her, he’d still be here right now. 

it’s all ahyoung’s fault as to why she’s here. she just refuses to admit it because she wants to still find herself likeable.

she doesn’t want to believe her mother’s words, no matter how much they apply to her. 

what is your biggest secret? (when answering this question, know that this answer is confidential and only the highness of your kingdom will read it.) 

“fuck off.” 

they did not need to know about her guilt over the accident. no one needed to know that she was the one who was driving the car. that had she been more careful, this whole entire situation could’ve been avoided. sure she didn’t mean to do it. the accident was simply an accident! but even then, the girl wakes up in the middle of some nights drenched in sweat, haunted by the nightmares in which she sees the car crashing right into them, the car flipping over on its side and how she screams for her dad’s name before she sees black. 

she doesn’t trust herself to get behind the wheel. hell, she can’t even trust herself to be at the front seats. she knows it’s not her fault. she knows that it’s not her fault that the car came at her. their light was green, after all. it was the other driver’s fault. but even so, she remembers waking up in that hospital room and crying when she heard of the news. because at the end of the day, she was the one near him. she could’ve saved him at that moment. 

but she didn’t. 

what is your biggest regret? 

kwak ahyoung is a flawed human being. 

regardless if it was against her wishes, she could have complied with her mother’s pleas of getting her into the royal life earlier on. that way, she wouldn’t be as much of a burden in the family. 

she wouldn’t have burdened her father with a wish that he’d have to fight with the hopes of it coming true and seeing her smile. so that way, on the day after his funeral, she wouldn’t have been told by her mother about how she had to make it up to him for burdening him so long until the day that he died. 

that way, she wouldn’t have yelled at jun for leaving her for the royal life, seeing him doing it for his family as an “act of betrayal” because he told her a completely different reason. she wouldn’t have cursed at him and told him that she hope she’d never see him again. 

she wouldn’t be here in this palace, despite her wishes against it, because of the accident that was caused by her. because of her father’s sacrifice for her. 

with a sigh, she writes down her last answer before completing her report. 

“surviving.” 

[cloneslugs]

yayoi + shinada + saejima

saejima i did forever ago just bc ik if i answered yours firsy w all 3 this would be ill but it still got too long bc im a sicko but anyway thank you this made me smile to write (:

Lady Dojima 

Sexuality Headcanon: bisexual 

Gender Headcanon: 🙈 lady . this actually fluctuates depending on how indulgent i wanna be but usually i just go cis woman -_- just bc that's my mom who would love and support me 

A ship I have with said character: erm.. *blushes* kashiwagi >_>

A BROTP I have with said character: kashiwagi as well :) that's her best friend thats her buddy, she has a really good relationship w kiryu too but it's different it's like a different tier entirely it's more familial in a sense but it isnt but it is, i also would like to explore her relationship w nishiki (apart from kiryu) but that is just (:, her and haruka would be cute too just bc <3 extended family 

A NOTP I have with said character: sera just bc the theories around it get on my nerves, any other man people pair her w tbh besides my beloved <3

A random headcanon: shes kind of a weird girl outside of professional settings i think the blunt way she talks is kind of offputting outside of those and also she just doesnt censor herself not that shes crude but she wont stop herself from saying weird or mean things, she has a really sarcastic sense of humor she delivers everything really dryly so it's hard to tell if shes serious or not also she doesnt laugh a lot you'll probably only make her laugh if you are close w her and even then she is just ._., daigo picks up a lot of his mannerisms from her if you see them next to each other in the same situation they are very very close and similar, she likes strawberry shortcake but shes very particular about it her like former bff ran a bakery and it feels homey and nice to her so <3 fond memories but now shes particular, her favorite flower bouquets are roses + hydrangeas but she doesn't really like roses on their own, she likes cats, she doesnt like cooking but she isnt bad at it, shes very meticulous about how she presents/looks, she has a similar academic bg w daigo, shes self taught w a katana mostly + she practices w it to destress, shes not social but shes kind of chatty if you catch her at the right time but she mostly just asks a lot of questions and doesnt engage in convo well, she likes dresses/skirts but mostly dresses <3, very close w daigo i think he really was one of those kids who was like "my mommy is my best friend <3" but they're very close that's her baby shes very proud of him and they are still close now, shes otherwise not very good w kids i think kind of awkward daigo was her exception everyone else she is just kind of … … …, she likes to sing/hum (: but only when alone/doing menial tasks

General Opinion over said character: i looooove her shes my everything i just care so deeply about her i cant even call her my friend i respect her too much shes a little bit above me but <3 hi lady dojima ik ive said this before and its so embarrassing but i get like >///< *blushes irl* if i think about calling her yayoi or god forbid a milf or anything it feels too disrespectful im so >_> anyway hiii i love you 

Shinada

Sexuality Headcanon: homosexual but hes so so repressed but he loves men 

Gender Headcanon: trans guy (: 

A ship I have with said character: 😏 daigo 

A BROTP I have with said character: not including daigo um akiyama (: the whole 5 party really saejima likes to look out for him and kiryu is also there and hed be a cute big bro to haruka 

A NOTP I have with said character: mine but its almost allowed bc of how laughable and mockable and ridiculous it is also any polyam ships that involve well.  you know.. 

A random headcanon: autism (: baseball special interest that started when he was like 7 and never went dormant ever, hes bad w time and remembering things he just loses track of everything, he sleeps a lot and can sleep anywhere but if hes not sleeping he has to be doing something like anything, he likes to paint his nails mostly green but sometimes he lets daigo do black, bad at math but he likes writing a lot just in general sometimes he writes little notes/poems/thoughts/stories on his scrap paper when hes procrastinating work they're nothing special so he doesnt even really acknowledge that he likes writing he usually just scraps them or forgets about them it's just for fun, he likes to impress people if someone mentions being into something he tries to get into it too i think hes just a people pleaser, he likes to sing (: also just for fun he doesnt care about being good he'll do it when walking around or when doing literally anything he doesnt care about being loud/obnoxious in public if hes in a good/energetic mood, he cant cook mostly bc he has trouble paying attention to things for a while he gets bored and forgets about stuff, he forgets to cut his hair a lot so it gets long sometimes and he just ties it up until he actually gets around to doing something about it, very friendly he says hi to everyone and is the kind of person to not disclude people ever hes just very kind, he doesnt hold his alcohol well he gets sick pretty fast, hes very good at talking baseball/batting specifically but not very good at teaching or hes not very practical about it at least hes actually better at giving pitching tips, he has weird volume control i think its actually the opposite of daigos, hes a hugger (:, kind of really bad w social cues hes really social but can be awkward he tends to talk too much, he procrastinates a lot but hes also just a "drop everything to come and help" kind of guy maybe he doesnt prioritize well but he just cares about people like he is kind of finicky for money but hes also the type to give up his jacket if someone needs it or lend things out when he can, hes not good at picking up hobbies sometimes girls/friends get him stuff like a plant or some kind of craft kir or something and it's not like he doesnt take care of it/do anything w it he just cant hold an interest he wanted to get into music/instruments once though but it's expensive and then he eventually stopped caring/forgot, he shares his food w street animals when he can, he can either sit through movies or he can't it's either like "if im idle too long ill die" or just intense focus, he smiles a lot it's like his default face but he also smiles/laughs when hes nervous, he takes lots of pictures hes the kind of person to just message out of the blue w a pic saying it reminded him if you even if you dont make the connection and maybe it's just bc he thinks about people when walking around and he'll see something pretty/nice/cute or that just makes him smile so he needs to share it w whoever was on his mind he does it w the rgg5 crew and akiyama doesnt get it but hell send like a thumbs up or some blingee bedazzled stupid pic back + kiryu usually ignores him but deep down he thinks its sweet and maybe says "thanks." but feels too awkward to send a pic of the kids or the beach back + saejima usually sends a cat picture back or just says "okay" or ignores it + haruka always sends something back and kind of does the same thing w shinada now where she'll send him things if she thinks of him bc he started it

General Opinion over said character: he makes me so happy i love him so much hes just sweet and <3 i love you you make my heart feel <3 nice and sweet and kind i love you you mean the world to me you make me so emo i wahhhh i love you <3

[ts-unsolved]

Final Wrap-up for Chapter One

((since chapter one will be coming to a close shortly and there is still an assortment of questions left over, here is a masterpost of responses to queries that couldn’t be addressed during the story! 

[reminder: the ask box will be left open, however the characters are not available. please keep in mind that non-plot related questions will not be answered by the characters after this post.]

Anonymous said: ((Just wanted to tell you your drawings are so pretty and I love ur blog. That is all I have no braincells to ask questions))

Anonymous said: OKAY MOD I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH AND ITS SO COOL AND GOOD AND YOUR ART IS TOO!! sorry for caps I’m just excited

Thank you! Sorry I didn’t always get around to answering asks like this, but for every one that was sent in, I appreciated it with all my heart. You guys are angels 💖

Anonymous said: What is one haunted location you guys would really like to visit someday?

Poveglia is definitely the highest on the list for the notoriety alone, although they would likely never get the permission to go (the history in general is almost excessively horrible and tragic, so nothing good would come out of doing an episode there. Maybe it’d be good as a final-chapter type location? 🤔).

@anxious-fander-bean​ said: Hey Logan, have you ever tried swing dancing? It's really fun and good excersize! There's also a lot of bouncing and upbeat music, so Patton might enjoy it as well! ((I'm doing it. I need the qpp boys to be happy and have fun, bc they deserve it.))

(LOGAN: I’ll...consider it.)

You did it, you got them to go on some good ol’ platonic dates! B)

Anonymous said: I feel bad that I don't have any deep question or something along those lines, but what's your favorite thing to bake, Pat? - 💐

That’s alright! Questions don’t have to be deep to be fun/interesting. 

(PATTON: Cupcakes! You can make so many different flavors, and there are tons of fun ways to decorate them!)

@why-should-i-tell-youu2 said: Why cant anyone else see the seal?

You need to have The Sight to be able to see demon sigils. Patton has this ability naturally, and Dee has it because Elliott taught it to him. Otherwise, Virgil and Roman would be the closest in terms of gaining this ability, but a scared/skeptical part of them is holding them back. 

Anonymous said: My good dorks, is there a way to, I don’t know, get a better/more effective charm for your office? One that costs more than $10? -🍁

Anonymous said: Hey, Logan, potential naturalistic explanation for ya: depending on what the charm was made of, shifts in ambient room temperature could have caused minuscule expansions and contractions in the material that would eventually crack the charm. Do I believe my own explanation? Absolutely not. Am I grasping at straws for a non-supernatural explanation? Absolutely. And ambient room temperature doesn’t even begin to explain the red symbol around the charm

(LOGAN: Our budgeting is already a mess as it is, the last thing we need is to waste more funds on decorations. And that theory seems much more reasonable than the contrary explanation.)

Anonymous said: Is the demon that Pavreen summoned the same demon that possessed Elliott?

Anonymous said: Welp Virge SUMMONED A DEMON- (Why do I have a feeling Remy was the demon that possessed Elliot-)

Nope, they’re all different demons! The demon that Parveen summoned is notoriously difficult to contact, so a bunch of teenagers wouldn’t have been able to do it. Likewise for Remy; you can only summon him once you have his True Name, and he’s already destroyed most references to that (sorry Patton).

Anonymous said: omg omg omg what part of mythology is remy part of???

He’s not from any particular mythology, but he is partly based off of Alps from German folklore and the general mythology around sleep paralysis!

Anonymous said: Can Patton see supernatural beings like ghosts and demons and stuff? I just think it would be interesting if his scars make him able to see them :3c

Anonymous said: If both Dee and Patton can see the sigil, and Dee can see ghosts, does that mean Pat can see ghosts too? With the whole red glowing thing (forgot what its called) it seems to be connected.

Yes he can see ghosts/demons, and you’re right that the scars (or rather the deal with the demon which gave him his powers and scars) are what lead to him being able to do it. The red is just a general indicator of something supernatural/not of our Realm.

Anonymous said: Wait so if Patton and his family all have that mark could that mean Patton is not completely human 👀 -🌈

I supposed you could say that Patton’s not entirely human because he’s a witch who was born without a soul, but he’d find that pretty offensive tbh.

Anonymous said: Are Elliott and Patton maybe related, even distantly? Also, roman needs to suck it up and have Feelings for the Snake Man

There’s no relation between Elliott and Patton. Elliott is the child of a seer and a psychic, Patton is the son of witches. They’re similar, but different. (Also you’re assuming that Roman hasn’t liked the Snake Man since high school, but considered him off-limits because he’s his brother’s best friend).

Anonymous said: Does Patton know that Dee can see spirits and does Dee know that Patton is protecting them all?

Anonymous said: Dee, pat, do you know that each other can see the sigil? 

Anonymous said: is ... is patton a witch and dee a dee-mon and that's why they don't like each other.....?

Anonymous said: Pat what do you think about making deals with demons?

They’re both aware of each other’s secrets! Technically they’re both doing their best to protect everyone, but that doesn’t mean they agree with each other’s methods or bond over the shared responsibility. 

Patton is indeed a witch, and Dee is a regular human who happened to summon a demon one time. Patton thinks Dee is the occult equivalent of a satanist, which he disagrees with because dark magic is unnatural/dangerous in his eyes (making deals with demons only leads to trouble!), and would prefer Dee not endanger his friends. Dee doesn’t like Patton because of his perceived moral superiority, and finds the way he can be so secretive and two-faced creepy 

Regardless, they’re both sitting in glass houses and have more in common than they think.

Anonymous said: Patton Should Hug Dee *

Maybe. But he won’t. 8′D

Anonymous said: Since Dee has been able to see ghosts for a long time, was he an open believer in ghosts before Elliot died? Since it was mentioned that the reason he lies about his belief is because he knows that they're dangerous, he wouldn't have had a reason to hide it in the past. And if he did are any of the others aware of the belief change? Well, besides Remus. I'm guessing that one is pretty obvious.

He may have been more involved as a believer in the past, though that doesn’t mean he was ever super open about it. He was aware of how it would look like to outsiders (being genuinely skeptical at one point himself), so he wasn’t going to paint a target on his back by talking about ghosts and demons and things most people can’t see.

Of course, that didn’t stop people from stereotyping and making those sorts of assumptions about their friend group anyway, but no one besides them really knew about their secret-- not even Virgil.

Anonymous asked: What would happen if one time, the gang ended up getting something supernatural on camera?

The result of that would depend on the being. Ghosts can kinda appear on camera, although it’s very rare for them to appear as a full bodied apparition, which is why they usually only manifest in spirit orbs or light/shadows. Poltergeists are better since they’re able to interact with objects, but likewise since they can’t manifest into a physical form they can easily be brushed off. Demons and other miscellaneous creatures will straight up not appear if captured directly on film; you’ll simply get video glitches and distortions.  

So essentially, they may technically have found something already, but capturing evidence that’s also compelling is a lot more difficult than you’d think. I imagine there’s a good chance that anything legitimate wouldn’t get taken too seriously because of how easy it is to fake evidence nowadays.

Anonymous said: Okay so a little bit of a rant but not really ig but imagine the ladylike and unsolved crossover for this AU like I can see it as like Thomas' friends dressing up Roman and Dee in style and seeing a blushing mess and maybe flirting going on because of how good the clothing complements each other but this is kinda a weak idea lol

It’s not a weak idea at it, it’s really cute! (though I may just have a soft spot for the Ladylike cast and crossovers). 

The only thing to note is that I’ve chosen not to include Thomas’ friends in this AU because I personally weird about writing fiction about real people? (I was on the fence about including character!Thomas for a while too, tbh). So, apologies to anyone who’s sent similar asks or wanted to see any of Thomas’ friends; they wont be around!

Anonymous said: Did Dee and Remus ever have that talk Dee said he would try to have a while back????

They might have gotten the opportunity to chat back when Remus came back to help shoot the Room 1046 video. It wouldn’t have been a complete reconciliation by any means (dealing with years of baggage in one sitting is Hard), but now Remus is aware that Dee is open to discuss things again at some point in the future, so progress!

Anonymous said: wait wHAT?! When did he (Emile Picani) die?? Give us the deets oh wise one

Anonymous said: emile is... dead? what happened?

I see y’all, but unfortunately you’re not getting any answers from me just yet! You’ll have to wait until the next chapter~.

Anonymous said: Shit is about to go down and I am worried about the next ghost "adventure"

:) Don’t Worry About It.))

[mwolf0epsilon]

BATIM - Helping Hand

Summary: All stories have a beginning and an end. Henry’s ended with kindness, Joey’s began with cruelty.

---

     Back when he’d been trying to reintegrate into civilian life after going to war, Henry had no conceivable way of explaining his experiences in an eloquent fashion. It was very difficult to put into words the sort of visceral feelings that made his chest tighten with a mixture of white hot panic and instinctual terror. There were no feasible words to express the sensation of looking another human being in the eyes and knowing that they were just as reluctant to be there, and that one of them had to die for the other to live. War was a topic that muted him to a somewhat permanent degree. Too hard for him to talk about. But the studio? The horrifying atrocities Joey had committed in his absence? The lengths he'd gone to get what he wanted? That was the one horrific happenstance in which he could find his voice and curse out a supposed friend for their heinous crimes, especially when he found himself back on that familiar doorstep that led him into that repeating nightmare... The mockery of a long-dead dream. Yes, Henry Stein, the man of few words, would end up spewing out as many acidic profane words that he could conjure up on the spot. So foul they were that they would have had a sailor as shocked and disgusted as a blushing nun. Not that anyone could judge him for it. A man of routine could only bend so much to the insatiable will of another, before he slowly found himself pushed over the precipice of madness. It was by pure miracle he hadn't lost his senses long ago. Because, thankfully, Henry made due with what little leniency and creativity he had to keep himself entertained. Every few loops he changed things up just a little bit.

     The “Long Runs” as he called them, were a respite of sorts Henry had concocted long ago as a means to give himself a break from the main storyline Joey so vehemently forced him through, with little to no choice in the matter. They were, in a sense, somewhat of a sacred thing. His sanctuary, as Sammy would put it, and one that he'd long since forced his puppeteer not to disturb. If Joey didn't want his marionette to flop onto the ground in defiance of restarting the same old stale song and dance all over again, he'd have to allow him some time to relax and get back on his game. Otherwise Henry would simply sit down and refuse to even go near the Ink Machine, much less begin this charade. Without the hellish thing as his driving point, it’s not like Joey could find any reason to push him forward anyway.  Not without the Ink Demon being let out to take on its role of the relentless hunter. So, having learned this, Joey seemed to begrudgingly allow him to explore the studio to his heart’s content without pushing him to do anything that would immediately set him towards that final stage. That repetitive speech that made less and less sense the more Henry experienced it.

     On these breaks Henry took his time and did what he’d done back when he was a kid: He people watched. An odd hobby, but one that taught him something quite valuable about creating characters. Traits and qualities. Everyone had a way of being that was entirely unique to them. Be it the way they walked, if they spoke just with their mouth or with their hands, or how they chose to project themselves out in the world. Dress and speech patterns, certain ritualistic habits, likes and dislikes...All things tended to be readable on a person if you just stopped, watched and listened for long enought. Which is why, on every one of these breaks, Henry took the time to figure out everyone’s gimmicks. Soon after, he’d started his little gestures of kindness...

     It all started with the swollen searcher with the nice hat. Jack Fain, the once lyricist that had aided in getting the right words to Sammy’s jolly little tunes. Henry had been absentmindedly exploring the sewer tunnels near the music department when he’d noticed the searcher in a rather bad way. Overstuffed with the thick ink that Twisted Alice so coveted from his brethren. So large and nauseatingly lumpy that he couldn’t even move out of his current spot. He supposed that was his inevitable fate unless crushed with a crate, which made him feel a little less upset about dropping such a heavy object onto the poor thing. Then, much to his surprise, Sammy Lawrence himself sauntered down from one of the adjacent tunnels to find the pitiful creature blocking his path. And even more surprising, he actually seemed sad about it's sorry state.   “Oh you silly sheep… This is the 4th time this week that I’ve found you so heavy with your precious wool…” How Sammy could count the weeks, Henry wasn’t sure, since he knew for a fact the music director often forgot his own name. Come to think of it, Sammy forgot a lot of things, reminding Henry of a fellow in his platoon that was afflicted with early onset dementia. He’d been discharged due to becoming a liability, and seeing him fight the disarray of his own mind had been a honestly terrifying spectacle. Henry had felt a great pity for him, which is about the same way he felt for Sammy now. The poor guy could have been great had he not ended up in Joey Drew’s grasp and then tossed into this nightmare realm. “Not to worry...Your shepherd is here now, although you’ll have to forgive me. I have no shears.”

He’d watched in morbid fascination as Sammy dug four-fingered hands into the swollen searcher’s mass, pulling out chunks of it in a way that made Henry’s stomach twist in discomfort. If Jack felt any pain, he didn’t show it.  If anything with each clump of ink removed, he seemed almost relieved. Finally, once returned to his regular proportions, the searcher let out a much softer humming sound. One that was much nicer to the ear than the wet hiss he reserved for Henry whenever he got too close to the skittish creature.   “You’re welcome my little sheep. The others will be most pleased with the wool you’ve so generously provided…” The pile of thick ink was truly massive, and the old artist could only wonder what Sammy hoped to do with it. “Please refrain from consuming more. Excessive indulgence is a sin you know...”

From the way Sammy had addressed Jack upon arrival, this seemed to be a recurring issue. One the self-appointed prophet seemed to exclusively come down into the sewers to solve himself. It piqued Henry’s interest in such a way that he’d begun to wonder… If he helped with that, would this in any way benefit him? Couldn't do him wrong to have some thick ink at hand... And then he wondered: Would helping them benefit Jack and Sammy in any way? Only one way to find out!

     He'd left it for the next time he decided to take a break. First going through a few more loops to give himself time to figure out just how to help the prophet and the swollen searcher that lived down in the sewers. He couldn't exactly allow Sammy to sacrifice him. It would only end with the delusional ex-music director dying faster. So what could he, a humble artist, possibly do for someone who was so lost to devotion? And then there was the question of what could he do for Jack. The only thing he seemed interested in, was being left alone and keeping a hold of that dang valve. Henry hadn't personally known the man, so this was a difficult task. Luckily he found an answer in the form of an audio log Buddy had collected well before the older man had set foot in the studio. As it turned out, Jack Fain was a fan of coffee. That at least was something to look into, as he made his way all around the studio. He'd mostly only found rations of bacon soup, but surely there had been a coffee machine in the break room, right?  And if he could keep his seeing tool, maybe he could keep anything else he kept on his person until the end of another run? He'd tried it once with Wally's keys and he was pretty sure he'd kept them on the next loop, only to lose them again later (the man should have invested in a better key ring, that one was a slippery bugger!). But could it work for heftier items? That too was a theory he tested, and Joey surely must have found it quite odd when he'd begun his end of the loop speech, only to stop as he stared in confusion at the bag of coffee Henry had brought along with him.   "...I have questions..." He deadpanned as he stared at the bag of coffee with slight distrust. A bag of coffee beans. Nothing could be less threatening.   "Funny, I thought that was my job?" Henry grinned. "Asking questions, and never getting any answers?"   "Funny indeed… Whatever you're up to, don't think it'll do any good." Joey frowned. "Your path is set, and nothing can change that. Even if I’ve been rather patient with your excursions."   "We'll see." That only gave Henry more motivation to try. If just to spite Joey. Another guilty pleasure of his that he indulged in from time to time. He too needed a bit of fresh unpredictable entertainment after all…

     To not lug around a bag of coffee everywhere he went (which wasn’t very practical), Henry had decided to take another break on his next run to begin experimenting with this little idea that had been borne out of curiosity. It was easy to set a goal for it: If offering something of comfort to someone that had minimal impact in Joey’s puppeteering did anything of value not only to himself but for the person in question that he sought to offer some kindness to, then what could potentially happen if he tried the same trick with some of the "main cast"? It was, in all honesty, a rather clinical way of thinking and planning things out. He was essentially detaching himself from this reality to test those around him, having superior knowledge of what was truly going on (albeit in a limited and at times fleeting fashion) thus a sort of intellectual advantage over their situations. He was being a less harmful manipulator. Setting up events like Joey. The morality of it all came crashing down just as he’d gotten a coffee machine to work.   “Keep it together Henry.” he shook himself out of that nasty train of thought as fast as he could. “You’re not doing anything malicious...You’re just...Making coffee.”

He could maybe use a cup or two himself. If just to settle his nerves. How ironic that a stimulant could calm anyone.

  "Yeah, just a simple cup of coffee. No harm, no foul…" Except to his hand when the damn coffee maker scalded him for no particular reason. If anything, he hoped this was the best damn coffee that the swollen searcher had ever tasted in his whole life as an ink slug. There was just one tiny problem with this plan: Henry didn't have any cups. Nor any mugs. Not even those tiny little plastic cups that came with these sorts of machines. The studio was apparently in a "bring your own mug" policy just to skirt around buying a refill of those.   "Joey you damn cheapskate…" he had to improvise. Thankfully he wasn't short on containers or an appetite for bacon soup. He just hoped the taps in the bathroom would still have access to clean water...

     To Joey it must be quite a sight, watching an old man make his way down into the sewers balancing three cans of soup containing piping hot coffee in them. The stairs weren't exactly up to code and the ink coating them was slippery, so this whole journey to sate his damn curiosity might leave the old artist with second degree burns and potentially a ruined back.  Thankfully he managed his way down into the depths with no real issues, and noted the shadow of the prophet following his every move. Good, he hoped an offering would appease him. Play on the same field as Sammy in a sense, just to see what he might do. Granted treating Jack nicely might grant him the cultist's mercy if he treated him like a friend still. At the sight of him, the thing that had once been Jack Fain began to flee as usual.   "Hey, wait… I have something for you!" He watched the creature skirt around a corner, hat barely staying on. He stood there, unwilling to run, and simply held the cans of hot coffee with a slightly disappointed look on his face. And then…

...Snhiff shniff shhhhniff…

The wettest sniffing sound Henry had ever heard assaulted his ears, as the swollen searcher peeked back around the corner at him. Its mouth shut but the hollow sockets where it's eyes should be appearing to be wide as it tracked what must be an alluring aroma to it. It appeared searchers still retained a sense of smell, which begged the question of how Jack could stand to live down here.   "Smells nice doesn't it? I uh…" he waved one of the cans carefully so as not to spill its contents. "Got a coffee maker upstairs working again."   "Ksshhhff…Eeee..." he couldn't understand what it said, but Henry was pretty sure Jack was trying to say "coffee". He recognized what it was, and most importantly it looked like he desperately wanted it.   "Yes. It's coffee. Do you want it?" He outstretched his arm, trying to entice the swollen searcher with his peace offering. It looked at the can, the sloshing dark liquid inside it, then stared at Henry. It seemed to be trying to decide if it was worth risking its "hide" to get what it so desperately craved. Finally after an agonizing minute, it went for it.

     Henry nearly toppled over as the swollen ink abomination lunged for the can. He damn near spilled the other two on himself as well. Luckily he'd regained his footing and managed to keep everything nicely contained in the repurposed cans. The searcher on the other hand was less the skittish thing that ran circles around him, and more like an overexcited puppy. The slurping desperate chugging noises as it inhaled the coffee were a little gross, but that was easily overlooked by just how happy it looked.   "That good uh?"

The gurgling purr that followed got a chuckle out of him, and he couldn't help give Jack a gentle pay on the hat. He couldn't have imagined just how happy the poor fellow would get. And he wasn't the only one. That worn out Bendy mask peering from the corner gave Henry a good idea of just how impactful such a small gesture had been.   "I have an extra can if you'd also like some…" He'd brought one in the hopes that Sammy might appreciate some as well, but he wasn't sure if he liked the stuff. In the little time they'd worked together at the studio, the music director had been more of a smoker than a coffee enthusiast. Shame he wouldn't be able to get such an item for him… To Henry's surprise, rather than keep his distance and wait for his dramatical reveal, Sammy actually responded to him.   "My stomach does not react kindly to most substances besides the Lord's plentiful gift..." His words were devoid of emotion. Awfully cold but also contemplative. "I'm sure my darling sheep would be more than happy to consume my share…" The happy gurgling more than confirmed this, and Henry wasted no time to give him the extra can. Jack took it gleefully and began to drink it eagerly.   "A picky eater…" Henry felt slightly disturbed at the idea that Sammy was drinking any of the ink just laying around. "I can respect that."   "I assure you, it is not by choice." The mask cocked to the side, studying him. "Although I must admit the stomach aches have helped ensure my physique stays at the peak of perfection to ensure my tasks are well done."

Henry frowned and stared down at his own stomach. He was a little on the pudgy side nowadays, and honestly chugging cans of bacon soup probably didn't help. But he wouldn't call Sammy's proportions the peak of perfection.   "Doesn't sound too fun, getting sick unless you drink… the Lord's gift." Best not step on any toes, if Sammy still had any that is. Play it casual.   "I do not believe you've come down here to critique my practices as a devout follower of the Ink Demon." The Bendy mask turned to watch Jack devour the can of coffee. Henry felt like he must have been smiling fondly. "You have… Come down here to present us with offerings. Kind ones."   "Yes." He replied calmly, remaining just as calm when the mask turned back to him. Sammy's body language spoke for him more than his words did. He was doubtful.   "Why?" A good question.   "I had nothing better to do." He responded truthfully, albeit only partially. "And you could both use the kindness I'm sure."

They could, they honestly could. After having their minds, bodies and souls taken from them, their identities torn asunder, both Sammy and Jack could only benefit from being treated with the one thing Joey had stripped from them. Humanity. That run, for such a tiny little gesture as offering Jack some coffee, Sammy let him go without a fight. Joey's speech was much more heated than usual, but nothing really seemed to change on the next loop. At least he didn't think so until he found a can of hot coffee waiting for him in Sammy's sanctuary, as well as a bowl of extra thick ink with the valve propped in the middle of it.

-

     His second gesture couldn't have been more easy. While Sammy still tried to sacrifice him, his speech was more subdoed. Almost playful in a way that said "I know what you did and I'm grateful, even if my actions don't show it". Joey's grip on him was too strong to escape with just one kind action, but not enough that Sammy even in his state of forgetfulness could get the mental image of Henry treating Jack to some coffee out of his inky brain. The alterations to his pattern gave Henry plenty of time to figure out just what to do for his encounter with Twisted Alice. Playing slightly into Sammy's delusions had allowed him to get close, so focusing on her obsession might coax what little of Susie was left. Because he'd gotten wise and asked what it was like to become a toon to the only other person qualified to give him a proper response. Sure Buddy couldn't talk, but his reignited personality had given Henry insight on what it was to become a cartoon character. There was a power struggle at first. The original human personality and the Toon's personality clashing in an effort to remain in or take full control. A chaotic and confusing process until one came out victorious. At first Boris had won… then Buddy had slowly begun resurfacing the more loops Henry went through. Now they had a mutual agreement. They needed each other to survive, and the same turned out to be true for Alice and Susie. Alice being the more dominant and jaded of the personalities, having long since fallen from grace after witnessing the sheer cruelty and lack of hope this abominable studio had to offer. Susie ended up being the weaker of the two, guarded by her dragon like a princess in a twisted castle. She sometimes spoke up, clearly disturbed by what their shared hands had done in the past, but Alice had too much of a grip on her to ever let her go. If Henry could properly appease the angel, he might be able to get to Susie as well. Give them… What? A glimmer of hope? Better than let them stew away in their rotten despair.   "You're staying. I'm going." He pleaded with Buddy after taking the gifts left behind by Sammy and Jack. "Don't give me that look, I've told you what she does when she gets her hands on you…" A soft whine as the toon wolf pleaded for him to reconsider.   "I know you worry, but I need to reach out to them. Even if it doesn't change much, they deserve some consideration." He pauses to think back on the tapes Susie had left, and then her final speech before he was forced to confront the brute Boris inevitably became. "After Joey used them it's the least I could do." Buddy (and no doubt Boris) growled in frustration before eloquently writing just what he thought of Joey. Henry crinkled his nose at the rather uncharacteristic choice of words, but the very last sentence made him smile somberly: “You don't have to fix Joey's mistakes.”   "I wish it was that simple. I really do." It wasn't like he had a choice, not when Joey thought he could evade the responsibility himself and pin it on someone else.

     Alice was fairly easy to butter up to. He'd entered her lair and sat through her little song like the patient man he was, and then when she finished up with her usual screeching finale he did something she didn't quite expect. He applauded. She was so caught off guard that she just stood there, even as the lights turned back on. Flabbergasted at the sudden adulation.   "What a finish, truly miss Angel, you're quite a gal." He'd continued to clap, bowl of thick ink balancing precariously on top of his head. "I'd offer flowers, but sadly all I have on me is ink…"   "...Why, what a flatterer…" She sounded uncertain, a hint of Susie just barely at the surface. She must have been quite shocked as well. No one had ever reacted to Twisted Alice's presence with such a welcoming embrace. She was a creature to be feared after all.   "Flatterer? Me? My goodness miss Angel, don't tell me you don't get the occasional fan…" he removed the bowl from his head and made sure the thick black blob was quite visible to her. An enticing offering provided by Jack Fain. It's not like he needed the excess ink.   "Sadly not. If only most visitors were as well mannered as you..." She crossed her arms, Alice's suspicions breaking through. "But that's to expect from the real creator, isn't it Henry?"   "Glad to see some recognition, but honestly I can't be credited for any of this. Not when it's been… Altered to such a degree." Henry looked around with a saddened expression. "Joey really managed to taint everything he touched..."   "Only if you let him." The Angel's hiss was a terrifying thing. "But it was so easy to let him in, wasn't it...? He had a way with words…" Susie was such a meek girl. A scared chick in a world conducted by the big bad wolf. And Alice? Alice was a fox that offered her protection. But Henry could be just as cunning provided he was given the chance. Always for a good reason, rather than satisfying his selfish desires. So very unlike his childhood friend.   "Words were his weapon of choice, until that wasn't enough." Henry offered her the bowl, watching as she inspected it. Tested it's stability. She seemed pleased.   "Why are you here, Henry? Why come back to this miserable place?" Alice's gaze was piercing, but not as malicious as it often was. "And I'm sure it's not due to nostalgia, or an excuse to flatter your way up to the heavens."   "I think I knew once." He replied in truth, because you didn't lie to an angel. "But now? Now I'm not so sure… I think Joey liked that naivety on my part. It certainly worked to his advantage."   "That it did, little errand boy. You're just as trapped as the rest of us…" She dismissed him. "You may pass freely… But don't think I'll show you mercy twice. You are, after all, still a thief."   "What's a man to do but try to protect a poor pup?" He couldn't help tease as he made his way to the door. He was free to explore her lair and go on about his "day" without her tasks or her looming presence. That was good enough a reward for him, even if it didn't promise Buddy's freedom from the cruel fate that awaited him.   "Such a shame that pup wasn't meant to be." Alice responded. "A shame indeed. He was such a nice boy..."

     This particular encounter gave him a lot to think. The people he'd once assumed to be monsters weren't inherently malicious. That much he'd figured from Sammy's behaviour after he'd played nice. But while most chose to cower and cry, or lose themselves to desperation and lies, Alice was simply resigned to the hand she'd been dealt. Because, honestly, she was in a terrible position to begin with. Even if Susie clearly wanted better, for the both of them. In the end, the angel was only trying to protect her vessel even if Joey set her on a most cruel path. She was tired of grasping on to shallow hopes of ever getting out. Rather be the hunter than the prey. That run, his old friend seemed even more frustrated with him.   "Stop humanizing them. There's nothing you can do for them." Joey had grit out through his teeth, trying to keep a smile that was as insincere as his speeches.   "You're wrong. There is something I can do." He'd responded, unbothered by the anger in his captor's words.   "And what's that?"   "Treat them with decency, which is something you never did."

-

     The Projectionist was a challenge. From what he could tell, Norman Polk had essentially gone feral from years of agony and isolation. Most of the Lost Ones even considered him a dumb and very violent animal. Alice thought of him as useful. Susie felt a terrible pity for him. And Buddy? Buddy both feared and felt anguish when confronted with the Projectionist's presence. Henry had known him for a short while, so he could understand the sentiment. Norman had been a good albeit quirky man.   "He looked after us…" Susie spoke over the intercom. "He was so kind. It hurts to see him like this… A monster."

While Alice didn't let up on her list of tasks, and did indeed always take the cartoon wolf as scripted, she'd started letting Susie come forth to speak to Henry. She had a lot to say.   "If I knew how, I'd help him." He watched the Projectionist walk through the flooded maze of projectors and hearts. Each step heavy, and the clicking of the projectors somewhat deafening. Occasionally it let out a soft crackly noise from its speaker.   "You'd die." Alice interjected.   "How so?"   "Why do you think it takes hearts, Henry?" The twisted angel asked. Come to think of it, he'd never considered the why of its actions. "It's because its own was stolen long ago."   "Joey stole his heart?"   "No my dear errand boy." Alice chuckled bitterly, before Susie took hold. "Sammy did…"

     Joey was getting awfully frustrated with him, so Henry gave in and followed the plot to a t on the next three runs. He needed to think anyway.  Think of how to address the problem. Because, really, how would he convince Sammy to halt his ritual to look for something he might not even recall ever having stolen? And then there was the matter of giving it back to the Projectionist without getting brutally killed. He decided to just wing it on his next break. Starting with visiting Jack with more coffee, if just to get Sammy to talk. It worked, but the prophet seemed hesitant to talk about the resident of level 14.   "That beast is a dangerous one… Nothing but my lord can stop it's rampage."   "That beast is looking for something someone took from him." Henry explained. "Or so I've been told."   "And how am I to fix this exactly, little sheep?" The deranged cultist crossed his arms. "Surely you mustn't think of me as a miracle worker?"   "Help me find it. I've been told you might know where to look."

Truth be told Sammy had no idea what he was on about, but he was adamant to repay him for once again bringing some semblance of joy into his favourite "sheep's" life. Luckily there wasn't any need to run around in futility, searching for something that might be long gone. The prophet's memory issues resulted in Sammy placing items he considered of value in the same place. A box hidden under the floorboards beneath the cot he'd set up in his sanctuary. Unluckily, a heart was not among the objects he'd stored. At least it seemed so since it wasn't anywhere to be found in the box of trinkets.   "Damn it…" he sighed sadly. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.   "I am sorry to disappoint." The Bendy mask betrayed no real emotions, so Henry wasn't too sure if the apology was genuine. He sounded a little miffed about having his personal space invaded, but didn't act upon it. "What is it you seek, exactly?"

Looking through the box, Henry gave a nonchalant shrug. He picked up a golden locket that was coated in dry ink, turning it slowly in his hand as he tried to figure out how to surpass this bump in the road. Sammy quickly reached out and took it from him, clearly upset that he'd touch his personal belongings.   "Don't touch that." The cultist hissed.   "Sorry…" he watched him put the locket back into the box, next to what appeared to be a series of unlabeled tapes. There was also a chain with a ring on it, and a few other trinkets that seemed to hold some sentimental value. "I know you can't remember much… but… Did you ever take a heart? A literal heart?"   "A… Heart..."   "Yes. I know it sounds strange but--"   "Not at all. They're plentiful down below." Sammy shrugged "Delicious too… More so than the ink or the soup. I cannot explain how."

And Henry would rather not have him explain, because his stomach wouldn't be able to handle it. He’d killed people before as a soldier, seen horrific things, but the thought of someone describing eating a human-ish heart made him sick.   "Then, yes a heart. Maybe not an ink one." He added, trying to keep the conversation on track.  The ex-music director paused, tapping a finger to the chin of the mask, before staring down at his own chest. Much to Henry's horror, he plunged his fist into his own torso and pulled out…Well it must have been a heart at some point.  Now it looked like an amalgamation of stitched flesh and all sorts of wires and weird clicking mechanisms. A perfect fit for the quasi-mechanical monster skulking around level 14.   "Would this be the heart in question?"   "W-what were you keeping it literally on your person for?!" He couldn't help spit out, much to the annoyance of the deranged ink man.   "Where would YOU keep a heart?" He huffed "It was safer here… And it felt important."

No kidding. And important it was, to the point where Sammy didn’t want to give it back. How was Henry going to convince him to do so?  Well…   “The person it belongs to needs it back.” He pleaded. “Can’t you please hand it over so I can give it to him?”   “I cannot trust that you’d find the rightful owner.” Sammy stated. “Sheep need guidance, not to guide. And you, little sheep, are risking falling prey to the wolves.”   "I can assure you I know the owner, and so do you." At least he had, once. "The Projectionist needs it back Sammy. Please, be reasonable."   "I am being reasonable. I'm protecting this from that horrific beast!" He held the heart closer to himself, very likely glaring beneath his mask.   "It doesn't need protecting from him! It needs to go back to him!" Henry argued back. The old cartoonist was getting fed up.   "No!"

That was… not the right answer. At least not when Henry was so close to a breakthrough. Or so he thought. He regretted what he had to do to get that heart in the end. Killing an unarmed man felt like cowardice, even if it was for a good cause.

     Level 14 was always such a dreary place. Even with a newfound goal, an old veteran like Henry still felt uneasy going through such a maze. After being forced to kill Sammy that run, he wanted good results. If just to justify his actions as being for the greater good. They… weren't.  The Projectionist charged as usual upon seeing him, and Henry had to fight his instincts to flee. Instead he held out his gift, closed his eyes, and prayed. No pain came, but the scream… That gutteral and mechanical crackling of sheer agony. Like hot iron had struck flesh. The Projectionist was screaming, it's chest ripping itself open to reclaim the missing piece. And then, when the wires shot out and took back the heart, the screaming only intensified. Boris took hold of the body he shared with Buddy. The cartoon wolf howling in despair to match the screams while curling into a tight shaking ball in the elevator. The Projectionist fell on its knees as it continued to scream. Henry's mind was fraying just listening to it. Watching the pitiful beast claw at its mending chest and screech until its speaker could handle no more.  A loud pop filled the air, and suddenly there was no sound. But the clawing continued The convulsing carried on. It was screaming without a voice and it was all Henry's fault. Coward that he was, he ran to the elevator and slammed a hand against the buttons. His eyes too blurry from regretful tears to see where he'd end up. Alice and Susie remained quiet. Their silence was damning. Condemning his actions and allowing his conscience to fall heavy with guilt.

     That time, once he set foot in the quaint New York apartment, Henry shakily sat down at Joey's table and stared into nothingness. A tired hollow man that couldn't bring himself to look at the grinning devil that was positively gloating with joy.   "I told you so." A choked sob and bitter tears followed. Henry hated how careful Joey's hands were as he wiped away his tears, and as he murmured sweet words into his ear. That burning cobalt gaze aglow with the flames of victory. Fuck him. Fuck Joey Drew. This old war veteran would not give in so easily. He just had to try harder.

-

     There was no point in following the plot. He felt like he had to fix the mishaps of his last run before he even tried to offer his services to either Tom or Allison. This much was clear once he stepped foot in the sewers, because instead of being happy to see him or even feeling timid, Jack outright attacked him on sight. Gurgling and hissing in rage at him having hurt Sammy in his last run.   "I know… I'm sorry…" he kept the irate swollen searcher at bay if only just barely, hoping to appease him with his sincerest regrets. "Can you take me to Sammy? I… I want to make it up to him. What I did was wrong."

More than wrong. It was damaging. Because instead of the usual inky figure clad in overalls, boots and a Bendy mask, Henry was met with a shivering searcher with said mask.   "Oh Sammy… I'm so sorry." He was at risk of getting his throat ripped out, but he still couldn't help kneeling down to make himself look less threatening to the frightened creature. The searcher didn't try to retaliate, instead it clutched its chest and groaned pitifully.   "I know what I did was wrong. But so was keeping Norman's heart." Not that Sammy wasn't aware of this. He'd claimed it to be important, and he'd wanted to protect it, but he'd also been reluctant to give it back. People's selfishness had already done so much damage to this studio, it was only cruelly ironic that in trying to do the right thing Henry too had been quite selfish. "Is there any way I can make this less painful for you?"

Gesturing vaguely at the searcher's current state explained enough. The creature that had at one point been a prophet that had in turn been Sammy Lawrence, seemed to hum in thought before nodding slowly. It dragged itself towards the upstairs, motioning for Henry to follow. He did so, with Jack right on his tail if only to keep a suspicious eye on him. Back in the music department Sammy proceeded towards his Sanctuary, which Henry quickly got to work on unlocking for himself. He couldn't exactly do the little wall trick Sammy did to get around. Once the projector turned on and he plucked or hit every correct note, Henry strolled towards the opening shutter. Sammy greeted him with his box of trinkets.   "Is there something in there you need?" He adjusted his glasses as he asked, trying to get a better look at the contents. The searcher nodded eagerly and pointed at a vinyl record, way at the bottom of the pile. "Oh… you want me to play that for you?"

More eager nodding and a wet sounding slap on the ground. Well it wasn't much but considering Sammy refused to touch it for fear of covering it in ink, Henry thought perhaps he hadn't heard any music in far too long. Besides the "hymns" he played for his Lord.   "Willow Weep for Me? I don't think I've heard this one." With careful hands he took the vinyl from the box and began to look for a record player. The dinged up gramophone in the corner was almost beckoning him to play it. Once he'd turned it on, the melody was quite soothing. His two searcher companions seemed to think the same. Jack seemed to finally relax and practically curled up near the record player, while Sammy seemed to bob slightly to the tune. Henry simply closed his eyes and listened to the music, only opening them back up when broken words began to sing along. Sammy's form was repairing itself. Slowly, but steadily. Going from slouching and being half submerged in a puddle to looking like he was kneeling on regenerating legs.

"Willo- we'p for…" the prophet coughed "...me."

     Not too long after Sammy's recovery, Henry left the music department. He had a lot of preparations to make if he wanted to do any more actual good rather than having a repeat of the last run. Hopefully Sammy would be in higher spirits once they met back up in the harbour. As loathsome as it was to fight him, it was better to see him so full of energy than cowering in a puddle. He already knew what he could do for the duo of survivors, but he had to make a few stops along the way. Starting with giving Buddy the notebook he carried on his person, and Boris his favourite bone. It was a delight seeing the toon wolf's eyes light up as he flipped through several pages of doodles, while he happily gnawed on that suspiciously human sized bone. Then he went to Alice and requested an actual "date" with the angel. Not in the romantic sense mind you, he loved his beautiful Linda like the goddess she was. He merely wanted to sit down, have a can of coffee, and talk. Let Susie feel normal for a little while after both she and the angel witnessed what happened to the Projectionist. Afterwards, he checked up on said ink creature and noted that it wasn't roaming like usual. Instead the Projectionist was sitting on a crate, staring at the wall where one of several Bendy cartoons was playing. It even chose to ignore Henry when he approached, one hand clutching its chest in slight pain. Still adjusting to what had been restored. On his way out, Henry swore he heard a soft "thank you" under all the crackling and static of its speaker.

     The Lost Ones greeted him with their sorrowful gaze as usual and he replied not with fear or revulsion as he once did, but with a kind smile and promises that one day he'd find a way to make it better. It wasn't immediate freedom like they desired, but it was something more tangible. Something more human. The path to fighting Buddy in his brutish form was as harrowing as ever, but Henry's mind was set. He left cans of soup out for the Butcher Gang, oiled the joints of the octopus ride Bertrum Piedmont's disembodied head resided in, talked to the animatronic despite having no proof that it actually moved, and even greeted the Ink Demon from within the Little Miracle Station where it always fought the Projectionist. Henry could practically feel Joey's outrage at his nonchalant actions. His carefree actions despite the hopelessness of his situation. Of their situation. Then when he met with Tom and Allison, he promptly disarmed himself and offered them his tools,before accepting captivity without a word. Once questioned, he gave them the honest truth. Hard to believe, but Allison was not as suspicious as her canine companion. It wasn't difficult to give her the proof she needed to know he was being genuine. Pity to see her so crushed that there really was no escape in their foreseeable future. Not just yet. But still a possibility. After all, the others were remembering with each gesture of kindness he offered them.   "Joey wants us to feel less than human." He told the not-quite-angel. "It's how he keeps us in the linearity of his failed ending. He can't accept that he can't win."   "But neither can we. Otherwise we'd already be free?" Allison sighed, Tom offering her a gentle pay with his good arm as they left the Harbour.   "Maybe, but giving up hope is the last thing I'd ever do. Then I'd just be letting him win." Henry calmly replied,ready to plummet very soon as he began walking over the precarious boards. "Joey is a man who dreams big. What he never did was have any faith in said dreams… Instead he forced others to do it for him. I'm tired of being his scapegoat, and maybe we won't get out today or tomorrow, but there's only so much he can throw at me until he gives in."   "So we outlive his dreams?" Allison asked.   "No. We just outlive Joey instead." With that said, Henry walked forward and felt as light as a feather as he fell into the depths. There was one last person to show some decency to. Even the demon deserved a gesture of kindness.

-

     Joey Drew was furious. For all that he'd spoke of belief and dreams in his many speeches he knew that Henry Stein, that stubborn fool, was right. There was only so much he could throw into the plot before he grew tired. His body was already giving in to time itself, and he'd never quite perfected his methods enough that he could make himself a reliable new form. Not without risking becoming one of the abominations… Buddy Lewek's Boris had been a fluke. A lucky match. The rest? The rest were adamant to not be what he'd set them to be reborn as. Even Susie had failed to emulate the character she so loved. And Henry? Oh his blood boiled… Why couldn't Henry give in?! Joey was so close,so close to getting his perfect Bendy. If the traitor would just let the Ink Demon consume him!

     A knock on the door caused him to rip up his storyboard with the ink pen he'd been using. Cursing himself, Joey crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the trash can besides his desk. Already it was overflowing with similarly crumpled papers covered in ink stains. Looking at the clock, a few more profanities spewed from his mouth as he turned his wheelchair around. Who, for the love of God, was knocking on his door at 3AM?! Wheeling himself over, Joey practically ripped the door open.   "What?!" He didn't care if he was rude. His mood was completely sour and he hated being interrupted. To his shock and confusion, he was met with a face he thought he'd never get to see again. Nathan Arch smiled down at him with that unnerving toothy smile of his.   "Hello to you too, Mr. Drew." Joey blinked up at his old friend and rival. He hadn't heard from Arch since… Since he'd bought the studio and the Bendy IP… What could he possibly want now, when he'd already taken so much?   "Mr. Arch." He regained his composure. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"   "Oh, just dropping by to discuss something… Something very interesting." The man used his leg to gently push Joey out of his way, arms crossed behind his back as he invited himself in and began looking around. Joey glared behind his back and closed the door.   "At 3AM? Even for you, a punctual man, this is a bit much." He stated as he uneasily observed Nathan as he looked through his storyboards. "Couldn't it have waited until a more reasonable hour?"   "Since when were we reasonable men, Joey? Especially when you've been so… Cruel to me." The other turned to stare at him, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "The machine… Joey. You took the machine."   "Of course I did. It's mine." And no one else's. Not that fool Thomas Connor's, nor GENT's. The Ink Machine was his and his alone. "Yours is the studio and even my work. But the machine will never not be mine."   "Oh, that's where you're wrong. You see,the GENT contract you signed stated that it belongs to the studio… Thus, it belongs to me." Nathan stalked over, arms coming to rest on Joey's shoulder. "It's as simple as that."   "Not quite. As it is, it can't be moved…"   "Ah yes. Your little… Project." Nathan chuckled. "Show me. Show me the homunculus…"

     There was no saying no to Mr. Arch, and no actual way he’d be able to physically force him out, so Joey complied to his request. Wheeling back into his office where the machine resided, Nathan followed and watched with glee as Joey called upon the Ink Demon itself. It stood there, in all its despicably gruesome glory, staring at both men without visible eyes. It shrunk away from Joey, just as it always had.   "It's magnificent…" the awe in Nathan's voice was disturbing.   "It's a freak of nature." Joey hissed. "Imperfect and incomplete."   "In who's eyes, dear friend? Here stands defiance to God's will. Life created by the creation." The Ink Demon shivered, holding it's head in its mismatched hands. Trying to block out their words. "Why throw it away so eagerly just because it didn't correctly follow the template?"   "Because it's not enough! It needs to be perfect! It needs to be all we've ever dreamed of!"   "We? Oh Joey darling… did you really think creating a living toon would ever bring back your beloved Henry? Did you think he'd ever want you? When he had such a lovely girl that could give him what you never could?" Nathan laughed cruelly. "Henry Stein left you, because you were a selfish boar. And then you were so hung up on trying to win him back with extravagance that you couldn't stop and see what you already had! God above Joey, you were so desperate you hired a mere child that reminded you of Henry, only to torture him the same way you tortured your employees…"

The Ink Demon looked to them again, flinching when Nathan stalked forward and grabbed it by the chin.   "This, Joey, is not a failure! It's the doorway to immortality. A vessel of timelessness. A godly power that you rejected vehemently." Nathan's eyes were becoming crazed, that dangerous spark devolving into an inescapable madness and anger. "For what end exactly? To give it away to some shmuck that could never truly appreciate it?! Well… that won't do. That won't do at all!"

And without warning Nathan Arch did something Joey couldn't believe he'd ever dare. He plunged a fist into the Ink Demon itself, and tore out it's heart.   "NO!"   "If you won't accept this gift, then I shall!"

There was nothing to be done. The ink demon shrieked and soon the machine began its work. Ink flowed out of the nozzle, mixing with the distorting melting figure of the demon and pulling both it, and both men inside. As the world around them passed by, Joey could only watch as the ink began to claim both his form and the form of the one who dared intrude in his project. They both fell with a wet splat, a large puddle, before taking two very distinct newly reborn and remade forms. One a towering grinning demon with disturbingly human teeth. The other a little devil in a suit. The studio was without a narrator. This was the end.

[cryinginthebackseat]

ɪ ʙᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇꜰʟᴏᴏʀ

Fandom: It Lives In The Woods 

Pairing: MC x Noah, MC x Connor

Words: 3.134

Summary: She rolled her eyes. "You heard me the first time, Marshall. Pretty please? Come on, consider this as our way to celebrate Redfield's defeat!"

Jesus, since when did he celebrate something in general? And now to dance? Amongst the crowd and with her no less? Noah's head said hard no, he already had a myriad of thoughts in his mind right now, he couldn't afford getting distracted and when there were feelings in the way, he feared if he couldn't trust himself to keep his emotion in check.

Yet his heart said otherwise. This was Zoey, Noah could never deny her. He would never deny her anything, especially when this could be their last moment on good terms together.

Warnings: nothing much, just swearing and some sexual tension

Author’s note: this headcanon is purely the brainchild of the amazing @noahmrshall where she requested me to write it down for her. after 84 years and a pandemic later, finally, frickking finally I manage to finish it LMAO I’M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG, GIRL. 

Anyway, make sure you tune in to feel real by deptford goth while reading, cause this is the song these are dancing to. And for those who haven’t read my first Noah x MC story, you can find it here on my main blog. Finally you know the drill, if you’re digging it or simply detest it, let me know, yeah? thanks!

Mamihlapinatapei (n.)   the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start

Prom was a montage of lipstick stains on paper cups, rap music with devastating bass drops, multicolored balloons at everyone’s feet, and the strobe lights that flickered above, turning the entirety of the gym into a one flashy, neon show.

And then there was Noah, the reluctant cinematographer of this pandemonium of pubescents making rounds on the dancefloor, buzzing in excitement while he resided in the corner, sulking, contemplating, a punch in his hand-- spiked, courtesy of King Kang himself in which he’d passed the cup at Noah earlier.

Noah didn't have any idea just how many types of liquor he'd mixed into the beverage, nor did he have the capacity to ask. He simply drank in the corner, restless, alone, hand fidgeting with his jacket and beanie. He thought with the alcohol in his system, it would be enough to make him feel better, lighter. Made him forget, god forgive him, for the atrocities he was about to commit to the ones he called friends.

Friends who'd abandoned him in his time of needs, friends who barely recognised him, friends who made him laugh at one of their antics, friends who gave him an apron for his 18th birthda--

Wait. Noah shook his head, conflicted, internally berating himself. No, no, no, there should be no room for pity for them. Jane was his number one priority here, not… Not them. 

And especially not Zoey.

His internal conflict somehow was aggravated when he saw a speck of galaxy's dust of hair on the dancefloor, twirling, cavorting, in the arms of another.  Zoey. Her face painfully close to his, lips hovering over Connor's cupid's bow, not quite kissing him, but enough for Noah to look the other way. Suddenly, the bottom of the half-emptied cup seemed a lot more interesting.

He had no right to feel what he felt. He knew that. Especially considering how he was about to turn her whole life upside down. But feelings are feelings, it could creep up to anyone at any time, any place. It was beyond anyone's control. 

And seeing her with Connor like this, laughing and dancing and kissing like fools in love they were, made his insides twist. Jealousy contributed a lot for the matter, obviously, but what hurt the most was because he knew that in all of his jadedness, hopelessness, miserable at the age of eighteen he could never give all of those to her. Zoey deserved someone who’d sit and sing to her about the stars, whom she could turn to when the chips were down, she deserved the world. 

And the world was something he was about to take from her.

Jesus, could things just be fucking simple for once? 

Zoey and Connor only parted once the song was finished. He kissed her cheek, a privilege that he was lucky enough to obtain and made a beeline out of the gym for a call. Leaving her alone, silver-haired amidst the sea of browns and blondes.

She craned her head to the side, her gaze finding Noah's across the room and smiled that smile of hers that lit up her entire face.  

When Zoey made her way towards his position, Noah immediately straightened his posture, feigning nonchalance as if he hadn't been spending the last minutes yearning for her lips, her touch, her attention and his betrayal to her simultaneously.

“Enjoying the party, Kelmeckis?” Zoey sidled up to him, snatched the cup from his hand and sipped. Which floored Noah at how casually she handled her alcohol. 

“No.” Noah eyed her confusedly then. “And Kelmeckis?”

“You know, Charlie Kelmeckis?” Noah gave her a look as if “who the fuck???” to which she simply groaned. “From the Perks of Being A Wallflower?” 

“Jesus, Uttley, only you would throw a pop culture reference at someone as a greeting.”

“And only  you  would be the only one who don’t get it,” she countered, and then she laughed, matching his own. 

He regarded her for what if felt like the first time tonight and thought to himself how lucky Connor was to have her.

"You, uh..." You look beautiful, it hurts my feelings. "You clean up nice, by the way."

Zoey looked at him oddly. "Damn, Marshall, did this come from?"

He shrugged. "I'd say the punch, but I guess 'cause I've never seen you in a dress since we were eight, so, yeah…" Tell her the truth, said the alcohol. Stop this fucking nonsense now, said the better parts of his head. "Yeah…" 

He thought he saw her cheeks blushed, but wasn't sure given to the lighting. "Thanks, Noah."

His eyes found hers, hers found his. For a long moment, it was as if they were going to initiate something. Anything.

She was the first to look away and blinked, as if she had just looked at the sun for too long and now she was seeing double vision. Noah also tore his gaze from her, finding himself, unsurprisingly, unfortunately, disappointed. 

“I thought you'd left. Or worse, on your sixteenth cigarette of the hour or something," she broke the silence first, eyes still not meeting his.

Noah squinted at her, mouth crooked. "So smoking is worse than leaving, huh?"

"Hell yeah. I don't want you to get lung cancer by 40-"

"Live fast, die young, Z," he interrupted, a sarcastic, lazy drawl to his voice that made Zoey shoot him a withering look.

"Not on my watch, Marshall. And I absolutely won't let those cancer sticks turn your mouth into," Zoey gesticulated, shrugging altogether. "An oral ashtray or something."

Noah chuckled, again-- God, it was so easy to laugh when she was around-- mid-eye-roll, his hand rifling through his blazer pocket for a pack of mint. Took one out and raised it to his mouth. 

"That's what these mints are for."

With a small shake of her head, Zoey muttered, "Bastard." Though not without a great deal of kindness. 

Ah, shit, he was going to miss this, bantering with her, laughing along with her-- just being around her in general. The thought rendered a profound pang in his heart, and he hadn’t got the chance to say he l--

No, his head said, internally berating himself. The moment had passed now. Zoey had Connor, someone who loved her unconditionally. His prime focus should be on what other scenarios should he reside so that his friends would follow him to the ruins? Or what should he do once Andy realized his phone was missing? So many things he should be ruminating, yet  Zoey  was where his head begged him to refer to.

Noah didn’t realize the smile on his face dropped into a frown until it was too late, until Zoey’s own also disappeared.

"Hey?" her voice so soft it could have been a caress for all he knew, taking a step closer. "You okay?" She asked, concern etched in that ocean eyes of hers. 

“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Was his answer, but he tore his gaze away from her, the red balloon near his foot seemed like the only haven that could ward her off from delving into his soul.

Zoey cocked her head to the side, as if unconvinced. “You sure? Noah, you know you can tell me anything.”

I know. But not this.

“I know. I’m… I guess I'm still kinda tired from what happened. That’s all,” he lied, and it felt like he was slowly slicing his own heart. 

“Hey.” Zoey stepped closer, craning her neck to see him due to their heights. Her hands on his arms, comforting. “It's over now, Noah. We defeated him and kicked his ghostly ass back where he came from. We did that.  You  did that- against all odds. I know it's bound to leave some scars, but I want you to remember that from now on, you don’t have to shoulder all of the world by yourself anymore. Do you hear me?” she asked again, more insistent this time. "I'm  not  going anywhere. The others aren't going anywhere either. We're all here for you, for better or worse."

Noah sighed, and made the mistake of looking into her eyes. All the while holding onto whatever strength he had to not to crumble completely before her and cry as he scrambled for a response.

I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it.

“I...” he stuttered, his voice tight.

God, I can’t hurt her. Not her.

“Zoey, there's something I-"

But the DJ suddenly began to play a different tune, interrupting him whereas her whole face lit up.

"Oh my god, I love this song!"

Noah frowned, whatever he wanted to say to her, forgotten. "Never heard of it."

"That's because you never care to broaden your taste, doofus! You're missing out a lot." Zoey laughed. She offered her hands to him. "Dance with me?" She asked, her eyes glowed hopeful.

Noah looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "You heard me the first time, Marshall. Pretty please? Come on, consider this as our way to celebrate Redfield's defeat!" 

Jesus, since when did he celebrate something in general? And now to dance? Amongst the crowd and with her no less? Noah's head said hard no, he already had a myriad of thoughts in his mind right now, he couldn't afford getting distracted and when there were feelings in the way, he feared if he couldn't trust himself to keep his emotion in check. 

Yet his heart said otherwise. This was Zoey, Noah could never deny her. He would never deny her anything, especially when this could be their last moment on good terms together.

He accepted her hand. She grinned, like a molten California's sunset and tugged on his hand, soft against his callousness, dragging him towards the dancefloor.

Surreptitiously, Noah stole a glance at his phone when she was not looking.  9:47 pm. 13 minutes to 10. 13 minutes before Jane came barging in. 13 minutes before the final showdown. 

13 minutes left to bask in her presence.

The dance floor was jammed packed with some of his classmates, mind lost in the music. And Noah was nervous. 

As if she could tell, Zoey stepped toward him. On the dance floor, her gown shimmered like a glittering, silver moon and held his hands, giving them a comforting squeeze.

I'm here.

He squeezed back, I know. And felt his nervousness simmered.

Noah, tongue-tied, feet still rooted the ground, simply swallowed as he watched her before him, magnetising. He gulped, his cheeks flared when Zoey began to sway her hips lightly to the music. Her movements were innocent, but there was something in her eyes that commanded his attention. That girl had a flair in everything she did, alright, dancing being no exception.

"You sure you don't want to wait for Connor for this?" He asked over the music, making sure, eyes darting back and forth just in case Connor came back. 

"Nah. He probably won't come back for the next 10 minutes and I'm not going to miss this song just to wait for him," she exclaimed back, flashed her widest set of a smirk. "Come on, bust out some moves, man!"

"I'd embarrassed you," he pointed out. "I'll look worse than Shepard from Mass Effect, I'm telling you."

"I wouldn't laugh." But she was smiling when she said that. "I promise! And do you think anyone would notice even if you move like a feral ghoul? And in this crowd?"

That made Noah laugh, reconsidering.

"Don't think about them," she said in his ear as she could still sense his hesitation. "But most of all, don't think when you dance, Noah. Just let the music flow through you."

"I don't think I know how."

"Let me show you," she told him, sing-song. 

Feel real Now Forever meant nothing when we had nothing

As the music picked up its beat, so did Zoey's moves. Guiding them to the rhythm of the music, prompting him to mirror her, to let loose. He followed his instincts and began to actually dance, albeit still stiffly, but making sure to move in time with her. His pulse was racing, being so close to her for the first time. Sweat began to form on his forehead from heat, both from the crowd and their proximity.

The way she moved her hips, the way the music pulsing through his veins blurred everything; what was wrong and right, what was his and what's not as he gradually began to give in to the music, to the feeling. In hindsight, he'd like to think it had been the alcohol that drove him but he knew it wasn't true. He just needed an excuse for all of this.

As if moving in autopilot, Noah twirled her around. Earning her a laugh as she did so, the edges of her silver hair fluttering like a halo. She then pressed her back against his chest. His arms immediately snaked their way around her waist before he could stop himself. Pulling her closer until there was no distance between them. She leaned back into him, her head on his shoulder. 

Noah met her eyes. She met his back. 

Everything felt electric. Everything felt so wrong, yet the alarms were actually blaring like crazy sounded dim in his head, so he kept going.

The next thing he knew, Zoey spun around again to face him. Two hands reached up to wring her arms around his neck. Noah placed his hands on her waist, feeling the curve of her body for the very first time and he couldn't exactly make out what to feel right now.

A lover come back, I wanna dance like her, Like nobody's watching

The upswing of her warm breath against his cheek, her gaze kept on flickering between his eyes and lips, licking her lower lip. Noah's breath nearly stopped. Nearly toppled over at how intense they were; all-consuming, once again he felt her ocean eyes pulling him in, threatening to drown him. The muscle in his jaw clenched. 

The moment stretched. Zoey inched closer until their foreheads nearly touched, the tip of his nose brushed against hers. Noah searched her eyes, his calloused thumb dragging down Zoey's cheek, torn between closing the distance between them, to finally taste her lips after all these years- improprieties being the last damned thing on his mind- or to push her away and wonder if she felt the same. 

All too soon, the song ended. And all too soon, the spell broke.

As if someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on his face, Noah shook himself back to reality. Realizing what they had done and almost done and took a wide step back from her like he had stabbed her or something, looking into her flushed face. Her eyes widened by a fraction, her mouth slightly ajar.

They only stared at each other, speechless, even as the DJ played a different tune. An unspeakable terror passed between them and a single question that circled around their heads like a vulture:

What in the sweet fuck just happened?

"Hey babe, sorry for making you wait." The two craned their heads to the side to see Connor approaching them, placing his phone back in his breast pocket and kissed her cheek. 

"The manager called, saying there's going to be new items coming in next week and he wants me to make the draft for the inventory list."

Once he realized she wasn't responding to his advance, he regarded her then Noah, wondering what on earth the two were doing that left the tension in the room.

"Is… everything okay?" Connor asked, creases appearing in his brows.

"Yeah." Zoey managed to say, shaking off of her trance and feigned a smile. But Connor didn’t seem convinced. "Yeah. We were just playing around-- I mean, we were playing-"

"Staring contest. On the dance floor" Noah nearly winced at how stupid it sounded. "It was her idea."

"Yeah, I saw a bunch of people do it on my IG feed and thought, why not? Though now that we did it, it does seem stupid, isn't it?"

"Yeah, probably, uh, shouldn't do that again." And bunched his pants between his fingers and wondered if Zoey caught the double meaning.  

"Took the words right off my mouth," she concurred with a chuckle, but it sounded forced. She even avoided his gaze when Noah tried to look at her, focusing her attention on the floor instead.

He wondered if Connor could pick up on that? Could sense there was more than between the eyes, but he chuckled instead, shaking his head kindly at his girlfriend's antics and kissed her cheek. Again.

Noah looked the other way, feeling his cheeks pink either from what had transpired or jealousy or embarrassment for god knows what or the combination of the three until he remembered the time. He checked his phone again. 5 minutes until 10. 

It was time.

He rubbed at the back of his neck and cleared his throat, noncommittal. "Yeah, I'm going to get out and smoke. Catch you guys later."

Noah pivoted around, shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn't smile, didn't even spare her a final glance. He felt her eyes on her, expectant, but how could one look at her again after what they'd almost done? How could he look at her again without thinking of her lips, her touch and knowing that not only he wouldn't be able to feel them, but she would never want to see him ever again? It was too much.

 "Noah?"

Noah turned at the sound of her voice. His heart broke a little seeing her, just within reach but a million light years away at the same time.

"Yeah?" And nearly winced at how hoarse he sounded. 

She was silent for a moment, conflict rose in her face. "See you later."

All too soon, Zoey and Connor made their way deeper into the belly of the dance floor. He stood there, his limbs felt heavy, as if there was a chain holding him down. 

Suddenly, he felt a nudge on his ribs. It was Ava. 

"So when are you going to tell her about it, loverboy?" She asked, an eyebrow migrated to her hairline. He should have known that even amid the crowd, someone must have noticed him and Zoey on the dance floor. 

Noah took a deep breath, his heart felt jagged. "Someday." 

Someday. But even he knew that was just another lie he told.

[besebee]

Alright so I decided I was gonna talk a little about Heroes Rising since I just saw it in theaters. I actually debated going because I don’t like certain directions the manga is taking, but that’s besides the point. Spoilers under the cut.

I want to start off by saying I absolutely adored certain parts of this movie. The fight scenes? Awe inspiring. The camaraderie between all the members of class 1-A? Fantastic.

The premise? Eh... Here’s where my disbelief started to poke through. The idea that UA would send an entire class out onto an island- yes, even one with little to no crime- alone and without any sort of hero supervision is ridiculous. Perhaps with another class in a previous year I could get behind it but this is the class that has had multiple attempts made on their lives. UA is already in hot water with how they’ve handled certain things in the past and whether or not you think they should be, I doubt that the school would want to risk another PR nightmare.

I mean, on top of that the people who work in and run the school obviously want what’s best for the kids and they never want to see them get hurt so why the hell wouldn’t they send at least Aizawa, their homeroom teacher, along with them? Provisional License or not, you have a bunch of students, literal children, on a remote island alone to deal with whatever happens while they’re there.

Alright, so that was a bit jarring but I could ignore it because well, it’s a movie! This is how plot progresses! And to be fair the premise was perfectly fine, I just didn’t find it very believable. It didn’t hurt my immersion in the theater and I was totally enthralled when they got to the island and started doing small heroic tasks like helping people get to the doctor, fixing things, etc. All of these little tasks that showed how well they worked together and how far along they’ve come.

I loved that part. I was grinning the whole time.

Before I get to the villains arriving at the island I want to go over what I thought of them real quick, and I’ll make it fast because we haven’t even gotten to the part I want to rant about yet.

Nine - A watered down AFO. I didn’t mind him, and I actually kind of pitied him? I feel like his character was done well but I wish we knew more about his backstory. There has to be a reason he wants to remake society the way he does. On top of that it is painfully obvious (more so for those up to date on the manga) that he is being taken advantage of. I have no doubt that he was never meant to succeed in his goals and that the Doctor was basically experimenting on him to see what would happen.

Mummy - I loved the music that played in the background whenever he fought. His quirk was super cool and I just found him refreshing since most quirks in this series are physical things? I wish he could’ve stuck around longer like the others but...

Chimera - HIS DESIGN. I LOVED HIS DESIGN. A lot of people from what I’m seeing claim that he is over-powered but honestly given his name I think they did him really well. A being made up of various animals that can breathe fire is what a chimera is, and naturally that means he will be very strong. I will say that they dragged it on a bit long, to the point where him growing in size bordered on ridiculous, but again I loved it. It’s a world full of quirks, some are going to be OP. I can also fully see where he’s coming from with his motivations and I like how he believes in his little group.

Slice - The quirk was something we’ve basically seen before but I love how it was implemented. Her design was top notch and her personality was fun to watch as she handled certain situations. I also love how protective she specifically was over Nine, and I wonder if they have more of a relationship than the movie explored given that they seemed closer to one another than the others.

So moving on to when the villains actually make it to the island. I appreciated that the class split up into teams to deal with each of the villains and I thought the fights were great. I like that we were shown that they were clearly on the defensive as they moved the civilians out of harms way and stood their ground to keep them safe during the evacuation.

The fight with Mummy, however... I didn’t like it. Bakugou seemed to have some kind of plot armor that prevented Kaminari and Kirishima from being able to save him from basically being held hostage and used against them. How? Yeah I’m not sure. Mummy’s quirk works on inanimate objects, and if he wraps his bandages around them he can control them as if they were living beings. Controlling Bakugou’s armor and clothing in order to encase him in this type of ‘minion being’ was a clever idea even if it’s something we kind of saw with the Sludge Monster at the start of the series. One could argue it is with his growth that he was able to escape this similar situation, but I argue that’s completely different. I’m not even sure how he managed to escape Mummy’s hold. I think he might have activated one of his gauntlets but it wasn’t really clear. At least to me.

Lightning Round:

- Mahoro using her quirk to draw attention to their location and the fact that Midoriya needed help was wonderful and honestly the giant Deku was adorable.

- These kids should be dead. I get why they’re not but the amount of damage that they all take throughout the entirety of this movie is ridiculous! If that’s the amount of damage that a teenager can take and still survive, how do heroes end up dying in the field? (I’m just being picky ignore me, I get why they did it and I loved all of the fighting. They all have come so far and it really showcases that.)

- The amount of times someone tells Mahoro and Katsuma to run only for them to stand frozen is... Something else. They are scared kids, yes, but these teenagers are literally almost dying to give you a chance to run so please move!

- Katsuma’s quirk is unique and very interesting so I’m glad it got the spotlight! We haven’t seen many healing quirks!

- Midoriya’s plan was brilliant and I’m glad he got the chance to show off his ability to think things through. His intelligence is certainly something I love about his character and it makes him very formidable as an opponent.

- Todoroki. Killed. Chimera. I know, I know, we have him showing up at the end being led off the island in chains with the others, and Todoroki says “hibernate for awhile” to apply he is asleep, but no. He killed him. There is no way that Chimera could be speared internally with ice while also being frozen over and not die.

- All Might parachuting into what could still potentially be a dangerous situation to make sure his son was okay gave me so many FEELINGS. I actually cried when he cradled Midoriya and they talked.

RANT TIME. I preface this bit by saying: ship whatever you want, like whoever you want in the manga or anime, these are my personal opinions regarding things.

What the absolute fuck was the whole transferring of OFA thing? The minute I saw what Midoriya was about to do my enjoyment of the movie took a sharp nose-dive. Anyone else. Anyone else being given OFA in that situation would’ve been better then Bakugou. I know that Horikoshi has been trying to shoehorn in a bond between the two of them in the manga but in my opinion the whole thing has been poorly handled and feels completely fake and forced.

Bakugou has bullied Midoriya physically and mentally from the get-go. We know it’s been happening since Midoriya was at least five years old and though it can now be very loosely classified as ‘teasing’ for people who really squint, he still does it. He told him to jump off a roof. During their first training exercise in UA, Bakugou severely injures Midoriya despite being explicitly told not to carry through with his attack because it might kill him but he carries through with it anyway because it wouldn’t kill him if he didn’t hit him dead on. That’s quite the gamble to take with someone’s life, especially considering you’re supposedly trying to become a hero.

This is the type of person that Bakugou has been, and the type of person that Midoriya has been dealing with. Midoriya finally, finally, begins to get real friends and realize that he doesn’t have to keep chasing after this one person from his past in an attempt to make things work that will only end up hurting him.

Likewise Bakugou finally began to grow and see his past mistakes and learn from them. He also got friends who he cares about and treats relatively well, and they are so happy to be his friend too.

Both parties became involved in relationships that weren’t toxic and subsequently began to grow and change in ways that made them better people.

...And then Kamino Ward happened. ...And then Midoriya told Bakugou about OFA.

And now they are involved again.

I get that it’s fiction, really, I do, but I don’t think it’s right to have someone who was abused for so long simply... Forgive and forget regarding their abuser. It’s just something that rubs me the wrong way because so many people who have suffered at someone else’s hands are often told they have to forgive to move on which is utter bullshit. These characters were doing just fine as people who recognized their shared past and were learning to deal with each other in situations where they had to be together but would otherwise seek out healthier relationships, and I was all for that! Growth! Growth is good! But for some reason they’re friends again? What?

I wanted to explain my personal beliefs regarding their relationship in order to explain why I think that anyone else getting OFA in Bakugou’s place would’ve been better. For the narrative, for the characters, for everything. Because what you had in the movie was a kid who had been horribly bullied by Bakugou for being quirkless willingly handing his quirk over to him without any regard for himself once again, and then you had that former bully be able to use it instantly.

Showing the audience, showing Midoriya, that everything he has been through in his efforts to cultivate this power, all the things he’s learned and done, have been pointless. If Bakugou can take OFA and wield it at 100% immediately with only his arms breaking with no training whatsoever, what does that mean for Midoriya? That he’s weak? What about his story? And now we have Midoriya seeing his childhood bully take his quirk and use it so much better then he was able to at first and he finds himself back at the question that has haunted him from the very beginning, but even more so after what happened with Sir and Mirio.

Is he a worthy successor?

I didn’t like it. I couldn’t enjoy it. The fight was a beautiful piece of animation, but what had happened just took me out of it. And... I don’t think Bakugou was going to give OFA back. It wasn’t mentioned at all and both of them acted like it was a final thing. Even though the Vestiges said“fuck this” and forced OFA back into Midoriya after the fight (how? magic? who knows) it doesn’t change what happened.

The others are shown to be receiving medical attention and care as reinforcements have finally arrived and we get to see Endeavor hugging a very over it Shoto Todoroki.

...Why? Just why? Like we didn’t need that. It’s just a reminder of another relationship that is being forced into this forgive and forget mold and it just honestly makes me feel sick because of all the things Endeavor has done to his family. I fully believe that he hasn’t changed at all. Instead he looked around once he hit the height of his career, said “oh, I’m alone and everyone hates me and I’m lonely now that I have nothing to work toward” and decided to try and fix things (and I use that term loosely) for his own selfish benefit.

Overall the movie was great. I would totally watch it again, but certain things in the movie just rubbed me the wrong way. Again, this is all my personal opinion, I don’t care if you love Bakugou or BakuDeku or Endeavor, or whatever, you do you, but I just don’t. Oh and to make it clear, if you like any of those characters or things and you support Endeavor trying to get back in his family’s good graces, that’s perfectly fine! I’m not trying to call anyone out or call someone an abuse apologist or some shit, it’s all fiction, I’m just stating my own views.

[sparrow-flies-south]

Remus’s Guide To Mending Friendships (For Fun And Profit) [2/?]

Fandom: Sanders Sides Rating: Teen Pairings: Deceit & Virgil, Deceit & Virgil & Remus, Remus & Roman Warnings: Disturbing imagery (it’s Remus’s POV), imagined character death, kidnapping Summary: When he realises that Deceit misses Virgil, Remus decides that the best way to cheer him up is to persuade Virgil to come back to the dark side. Too bad Virgil hasn’t wanted anything to do with them since he left.

Part One  Part Three  Part Four  AO3

Step Two: Invite Them To Spend Time With You

Remus popped into Virgil’s room near midnight.

Before, Virgil’s room had been one of Remus’ favourite places; the sense of dread really got his blood pumping, and it helped give him so many wonderful ideas. It hadn’t changed much since then, it was still dark and covered with cobwebs, but one of the walls was painted purple now, and Virgil had stuck glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.

Virgil himself hadn’t noticed Remus yet; he was still sat on his bed, looking at his laptop with his head phones on. His fingers tapped against his bed sheets along to the music he was listening to. Remus had never seen him look so relaxed.

Usually, this kind of scene would make Remus want to throw something, or smash something, or just start screaming so that there would be something happening. Now, though, Remus felt oddly transfixed watching Virgil.

Then Virgil looked up, saw Remus, screamed, and threw his laptop.

Remus dodged the laptop, and it shattered on the ground behind him. “Is that how you greet people now?” he asked. “Should I throw something back?”  

As he spoke, Virgil shot off his bed so that he was standing on the other side of it to Remus. He glared. “What the hell do you want?”

It was a relief to see that Virgil was still acting normal.

“I just want to talk!” Remus said brightly. “You know, catch up. It’s been forever!”

Virgil stared. “We saw each other last week.”

Remus frowned. “That’s what I said.”

Virgil crossed his arms over his chest. “We have nothing to talk about,” he said coldly.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Remus said. “What about old times?”

That, it turned out, was the wrong thing to say.

“Old times?” Virgil snapped. “You mean how you terrorised me for years? Or how you kicked me out for finding people who cared about me? Or, hey, how about when you made me tell Thomas about how I used to be one of you?”

Remus stared at Virgil. His chest suddenly felt tight, like a tentacle was wrapping around it, threatening to crush him until he asphyxiated.  He wanted to say something, to protest that he hadn’t terrorised Virgil; that they didn’t kick him out, they’d just given Virgil a choice and Virgil had chosen to leave.

But Remus couldn’t seem to do anything. It was as if Virgil was a gorgon and Remus was turned to stone.

Virgil was still glaring. “Well? What exactly do you want us to talk about?”

“Come back,” Remus blurted.

Virgil faltered. “What?”

“Come back,” Remus repeated. “Come live with me and Dee again. He misses you.”

Virgil shook his head. He seemed to be having trouble processing what Remus had said, which was a fairly normal reaction to Remus, come to think of it.

“Deceit doesn’t miss me,” he said at last. “He just misses having someone to control.”

“That’s not true,” Remus protested.

Virgil glared. “Deceit never cared about me. Neither of you did.” He seemed to be growing more sure of himself now. “The light sides- they care about me. They help me. I don’t need you anymore.”

Remus frowned. He took a step forward, and Virgil took a step back.

“I’m not going back,” Virgil snarled.

Remus halted. Virgil’s breathing had turned heavy and fast, and he was glaring at Remus. Remus swallowed. Then, he fixed a smile on to his face.

“Fine!” he said. “Not like you’re any fun now, anyway.”

He didn’t quite leave Virgil’s room fast enough to miss the look of relief on Virgil’s face.

Back in his own room, Remus sank to the floor. That had gone terrible. Like a train wreck, except train wrecks were fun, with lots of fire and smoke and dead bodies. So not so much like a train wreck then.

Maybe he should just leave Virgil alone to his perfect life with his perfect friends. But, no, Remus had decided he was going to get Virgil back, and Remus didn’t give up when he’d decided something. That would just be admitting that his idea was unrealistic.

If Virgil didn’t want to remember how good things had been with them, then Remus would just have to find a way to make him remember.

 ***

Which was how Remus ended up in the light sides’ living room with duct tape, a bundle of rope, and a fool proof plan.

The sides – all four of them - were in the kitchen, which meant all Remus had to do was wait until Virgil and then follow him out and surprise him.

It wouldn’t be long. Virgil always left group activities first.

Laughter and voices drifted from the kitchen, his brother’s voice carrying above the rest, though Remus couldn’t hear what he was saying. They were doing something together – baking maybe? Whatever. Remus didn’t care.

Time passed. Virgil didn’t come out when Remus expected him to. That was strange. Virgil was always anxious and ready to leave when around other people, but Remus could hear his quiet laughter.

As he waited, Remus let his imagination wander. What would happen if he walked into the kitchen? The others would probably yell at him, and try to make him leave. It’d be fun enough in the moment, sure, but he’d get bored fast. What about if he grabbed one of the knives and started stabbing someone – not Roman, he’d just fight back. Not Virgil, either, he’d probably see it coming. Logan or Patton then. Stabbing Logan would be satisfying, except it probably wouldn’t have much of an effect. Nothing he tried to do to Logan would.

Maybe it would have an effect on Patton – Patton did get very upset about all of Remus’s ideas. Maybe Remus would be able to make Patton bleed. Maybe Patton would die. Now that would be interesting.

Roman would probably cry – he was dramatic like that. Yeah, Roman would cry and hold Patton to his chest and swear revenge against Remus. Then he’d probably run Remus through with his sword, and wouldn’t even have to feel guilty about it later.

Logan – Logan was harder to predict. He kept going on about not feeling things, so Remus wasn’t sure if he’d cry. He’d probably help Roman get revenge, though.

Virgil would definitely cry. And get revenge – maybe he’d even get there before Roman did, and kill Remus while Roman was still holding Patton.

Virgil would hate him, and never want to see him again.

Which wasn’t that different from now, actually.

Thinking about that wasn’t so fun anymore.

Logan left the kitchen then, and Remus had to scramble to hide behind the television in time. Okay, so maybe he should have been paying more attention to his surroundings.

For a moment, Remus panicked – had Virgil already left? He had to get to Virgil before he reached his room, otherwise Virgil would be too powerful. But no, he could definitely hear Virgil’s voice from back in the kitchen.

Logan didn’t linger in the living room, instead crossing straight through it without bothering to look to closely, and heading upstairs. A few moments later, Patton and Roman followed him.

Which made Virgil the last one to leave.

Well, that worked in Remus’ favour. He summoned his tentacles and moved into the kitchen.

Virgil hadn’t seen him; he was looking in the opposite direction, a small smile on his face.

Remus darted out a tentacle and wrapped it around Virgil. Virgil cried out and started struggling, but Remus just pulled Virgil to him. Virgil’s eyes widened when he saw Remus.

“Ro-“ Virgil began to shout, but Remus quickly slapped another tentacle over Virgil’s mouth, muffling his cries.

Remus pushed Virgil to the ground and quickly tied his hands and feet, then tied his arms to his sides, so that he couldn’t flail them around. Virgil glared up at him, still trying to speak around the tentacle.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Virgie,” Remus said, and patted him on the cheek.

Virgil somehow managed to glare harder.

With a shrug, Remus transported them both back to the dark side, and only once they were both there did he remove the tentacle from Virgil’s mouth, letting it disappear with the others he’d conjured.

“What the fuck,” Virgil spat as soon as he was able. He pushed himself back, away from Remus, until his back hit the sofa.

Remus looked around to see where Deceit was, but he must have been in his room. Virgil struggled against his bonds.

“Let me go,” Virgil was snarling. “The others are going to notice I’m gone- they’ll come looking.”

“Dee!” Remus called, ignoring Virgil. “I have a present for you.”

In the corner of his eye, Virgil stopped struggling and fell silent.

Upstairs, a door closed, and footsteps sounded towards the stairs.

“I truly hope it’s another body part,” Deceit called, a mix of amused and exasperated.

Remus glanced contemplatively at Virgil, who had drawn his legs up close to his chest, eyes wide and fixed on the staircase. “I mean, technically it contains body parts.”

Deceit descended halfway down the stairs then froze, eyes fixed on Virgil.

“Remus,” he said calmly. “What is Virgil doing here?”

Remus grinned and threw his arms out wide. “Surprise! I got you Virgil.”

“I can see that,” Deceit said, walking slowly to the bottom of the stairs. “Why have you decided to kidnap Virgil?”

“Because you miss him.” Really, shouldn’t it be obvious? Deceit was supposed to be the smart one. “And when I asked him to come back he said no. But then I figured we could just keep him locked up one of the spare rooms. It’ll be just like old times!”

“Fuck that,” Virgil spat, struggling again. “You are not keeping me here.”

Deceit glanced at Remus. “I certainly have the same memories of old times as you do,” he said, then shifted his focus to Virgil. “Are you hurt?”

Virgil went still. He gaped at Deceit. “What?”

“Are you hurt?” he repeated. “Remus can certainly be… gentle without meaning to.”

“Hey!” Remus protested, more at the gentle thing than at what Deceit actually meant.

Virgil was silent for a long time, watching Deceit in confusion, while Deceit watched him back, expression unreadable.

“No,” Virgil muttered at last, looking away.

“Well then,” Deceit said, and strode towards Virgil.

Virgil pushed himself into the sofa as much as he could, hissing. “Don’t touch me.”

Deceit stopped in front of Virgil and crouched down, so that they were eye to eye. “I am about to commit some nefarious action, of course,” he said. “You should definitely be afraid.”

Virgil eyed Deceit warily but didn’t move.

Deceit summoned two extra pairs of hands. One pair reached round to untie his hands, another his feet, and the final pair untied the rope wrapped around his arms and torso. Once they were done, Deceit withdrew, standing up and taking a few steps back.

Virgil watched Deceit suspiciously, rubbing at his wrists.

Remus gaped. “What are you doing? He’s going to escape.”

“Really?” Deceit said. “I hadn’t thought about that. Thank god you are here, Remus, or I don’t know what I would do.” He sounded pissed.

“You’re the one who wanted Virgil back,” Remus protested.

Deceit glanced at Virgil, who looked as confused as Remus. His jaw twitched. “Not like this,” he said, quietly, and then looked at Remus and continued, in his normal tone. “We don’t have the time for one of us to constantly guard him. And if we leave him unsupervised, you know he’ll escape.”

Virgil smirked.

“And do you really want to face the light sides?” Deceit asked. “Or give them more ammunition to use to turn against Thomas.”

“But-“

Virgil stood up, and Remus fell silent. His eyes darted between Remus and Deceit. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but then he just closed it and disappeared.

Remus turned his attention back to Deceit, who was still looking at the spot where Virgil had stood, jaw tight.

“You were lying,” Remus realised.

Deceit jumped slightly, as if he’d forgotten Remus was there. “I’m always lying,” he said. “Do you disagree with what I said?”

Remus shrugged. “You’re smart enough to figure out a way to get around all that. If you wanted to keep him, you would have.”

“Trying to keep him didn’t work last time,” Deceit said. “And you should leave him alone.”

Remus scowled. “But you’re upset. Why would you do something that makes you upset?”

Deceit shook his head. “Despite what your brother likes to think, not everything has a happy ending. Why fight for something that is never going to happen?”

Remus wanted to keep arguing with him, but the look Deceit sent told him not to. Instead, he did nothing as Deceit left the room in silence.

Well, he thought, standing alone in the living room.This is going to be harder than I thought.