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oatmealdaydreams · 5 months ago

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Hearthfire (5/16)

Chapter IV | The Armadillo and the Dog

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Summary: Orange does his usual tending in the garden. Blinding anger, well, blinds��him as he remains bedstuck after something happens with Thomas. Virgil and Patton are arguing yet again, and there's an awful lot of indignance to be dealt with.

Warning: insecurity, burn scars, panic (animal), fire, burns, overstimulation; let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 5956

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Cyan and Purple have no fucking clue what’s going on with their fellow Sides.

Yellow hasn’t dared to be around Green for a while.

Cyan and Purple have no fucking clue what’s going on with their fellow Sides.

They weren’t there in that stupid, fucking meeting. They didn’t witness the breakdown of both Red and Indigo. They didn’t see Green defending his brother, nor do they know of Yellow’s seemingly sudden realization that he’s gone beyond a certain point in harming the Prince. They have no clue. They’re presences were still felt somewhat—as happens when Sides aren’t physically there, they don’t just disappear unless they choose to—but that doesn’t mean they know what went down.

So, a confused Purple armadillo and a deeply worried Cyan Shifter Dog.

Yet another mess that’s left for Orange, and more tending to the Flower Garden and its various flora and fauna.

Which brings the canary to shoving his gardening gloves on when the Armadillo won’t come out from its balled-up state.

He has to wear gloves when this happens because this armadillo hates it when human skin touches its shell. Orange hasn’t the faintest idea why—come on, he doesn’t know everything, he’s not omniscient—but he doesn’t need to know the ‘why’ to know how to take care of it. He crouches down on his knees once his gloves are on securely, carefully so he doesn’t crunch the grass too loudly and scare the poor thing further. The armadillo lays balled-up not too far in front of him, shaking lightly with how tight it's holding itself. Orange calmly shushes it, keeping as calm and slow-moving as he can. It makes little noises, snorting and scruffing its nose as it squeaks.

“Shh, little pup, you’re safe, you’re safe,” he does his best to soothe.

The little armadillo grunts, squeaking and squealing in its protective shell.

Orange sighs, “Yes, I know, I know. No human skin though, see? Why don’t you peek out and see?”

At that, the armadillo warily follows instructions and peeks out from its shell. It sniffs around, spotting his gloves, and its noises quiet down by the smallest bit.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he encourages, “Let’s uncurl a little, huh?”

The little pup eyes Orange before it slowly uncurls. It’s slow, hesitant, still squeaking and grunting as it stays wary. Once it’s uncurled enough from its bumpy shell, Orange places a firm, gloved hand on its back. It freezes, but then immediately relaxes as he begins to stroke his hand up and down its shell. It keeps sniffing, crawling over to Orange to get a better tell of what’s going on. It picks up on the scent of campfires and burnt wood—and something else, something underneath those scents—starting to purr lightly as it recognizes him. Orange sighs in relief. Usually, the armadillo isn’t as easily relaxed as this, but he’ll take what he can get. He scoops it up into his lap, and it leans into him as it purrs louder. A surprised smirk tugs at his lips as he thinks about why the little pup was so panicked in the first place.

The armadillo can be easily spooked, depending on what it is, but it also will just as easily go into defense and hiss at any perceived threat. So, what spooked it this time? And why has it calmed down a lot sooner than it typically does? Not that Orange is complaining, but...well, it’s interesting. Knowing who the armadillo is connected to, it would more-so try to bite and growl and hiss than let him take it into his lap and purr. Something’s changed. What makes an Anxious, Purple pup calm down faster? Is it a what or a who? Or a how? Has it just finally gotten used to Orange as its handler? No, he’s been doing this for a long, long time. The armadillo only just now started doing this. It’s the first time this has happened.

His brows furrow.

It sniffed him, so...he sniffs the air. He normally smells like fire, in its many forms, and citrus, because of course Orange would smell like citrus. There’s a strange hint in there somewhere. He closes his eyes as he concentrates on what it is, the armadillo burrowing into his stomach. Where was he last that the armadillo would favor scent from? It would be from someone else, somewhere else, that he’s visited within the last few days. A small hint of rose petals catches Orange’s nose, and it dawns on him.

Oh, he thinks, I see now.

The little pup is worried about the cardinal—to be fair, they’ve all been worried—and smelling something that vaguely reminds it of Red must’ve triggered its comforting instinct. Armadillos in the physical world, the one Rainbow lives in, may or may not purr for comfort, Orange doesn’t know, but this armadillo does. Considering who it’s connected to, it’s not really surprising. For all his grump and dark persona, Purple is a protector at his core and a damn determined one at that. Sometimes, that includes comforting the ones he cares about, especially when they’re anxious.

A yip and running, thumping paws break Orange from his thoughts as a border collie appears no more than a few feet away. It almost barrels into him and the armadillo, but he just manages to scooch out of the way as it tumbles into the grass. It immediately gets up as if unbothered and trots its excited little tail over to them. Sniffing at the little pup in Orange’s lap, it sits down next to him. The armadillo promptly hisses at it for startling the poor thing, and the dog simply barks at it.

He hasn’t seen the Shifter Dog in the form of a border collie for a long while, but at least it isn’t shifting frantically again. It’s called a ‘Shifter Dog’ due to its nature to just...shapeshift into different dog breeds depending on its connected Side’s mood. A border collie means he’s either worried or happy. Usually the latter, but with the way it’s stubbornly sticking by the armadillo, he’d say it’s both at once this time. Why would Cyan be happy and worried? Worried makes sense, considering recent events, so why happy? He hasn’t been happy for some time, not with all the everything that’s been going on since a little before the wedding, not even when he claims he is. He’ll dress up his face in a nice smile, make breakfast for the five of them—when was Green ever actually invited or welcomed to those—and say he’s happy just to see his fellow Sides. Yellow will hiss lightly under his breath, glancing at Cyan, but he doesn’t comment on the lie and neither does the father figure of the Mindscape. Happy doesn’t make sense.

Orange glances at the border collie, seeing where white fur should be is more ashy grey than anything.

Well, see, that makes a lot more sense.

He’s sad.

Sad and worried make a lot more sense.

It is a Shifter Dog after all, not every dog breed it shifts into will be completely accurate to what it’s technically supposed to look like. So, a grey and black border collie makes more sense as it wags its tail at the armadillo, who in turn clacks at the dog. Orange raises an eyebrow as the little pup crawls off his lap and to get away from the border collie. The little puppy whines after it, tail wagging slower as it steps after the armadillo. Orange decides to watch and see what happens.

The puppy whines again, barking at its friend. The little pup hisses again, rolling itself back into a ball.

Orange sighs. He knew Cyan and Purple have some sort of troubles, since sometime before they watched that Disney movie with Rainbow—the time when Red had insisted on onesies being the only acceptable attire to wear during a movie night—but it hasn’t gotten any better. He’d argue, by the looks of these critters, that it’s actually gotten a little worse.

Orange stands, tugging off his gardening gloves and pocketing them as he gazes around the Flower Garden. The little cardinal still sits in the Orange Tree, the crow watching it from a higher branch on the other side. The skunk keeps eyeing its brother bird, clicking as it talks. He doesn’t know where the bumblebee went, but there’s faint buzzing some distance far away from where all the other fauna are.

There’s a snap on the ground in front of him and an odd squish of what sounds like fruit. He glances down as he takes a step back. A branch from the Orange lies on the ground, broken, cracked, twisted, an orange squished into juicy citrus bits a few inches from it. There’s no flowers on this branch. No orange blossoms to help make up for the lack of fruit. It’s bare. It’s bare and sad and dead.

A vibrant, orange feather floats softly to lay next to the destroyed fruit remains. Something snags on the inside of Orange’s leather jacket, tugging uncomfortably against his back. He feels his wings, hidden under leather, twitch at the sight of a fallen feather. Reaching back carefully, he manages to get his jacket off before his wings try to weep more feathers. Now free, his small pair of wings stretch awkwardly, shuddering and flapping as they do. More feathers fall to the ground. Orange stares. They look like soft fires amongst the grass, setting the garden ablaze.

He grunts as he plucks the loose feather from where it had snagged against his jacket. There’s a quick prick and tug, and it’s free.

Something hurts in his chest as he holds the feather. It’s so small, he can hardly twist it around his fingers and fidget with it. A primary. A little fluffy primary that’s so tiny and small compared to how big it should be.

My wings shouldn’t be so small, amber light turns into fire on skin. I should be able to fly, I want to fly with big wings and soaring Hope. I should be a soaring Hope.

Orange winces as his hand catches the feather on fire, shriveling it into ash and dust and nothingness. He kicks the dead tree branch and stomps on the already-squashed orange. It bleeds more juice into the grass. He shouts as he almost stomps on his jacket instead of the wood, and that’s when the anger vanishes into an empty pit in his ribs. He huffs, glaring at everything and anything as he puts his jacket over his arm.

And Orange exits the Flower Garden in an indignant, empty rustle of too-small wings.

=====

Rainbow yelled at the wrong person, apparently, according to everyone’s frantic scolding of each other and the fact that Green is thriving within the chaos of it.

Orange doesn’t even need to leave his room, laying on his stomach on his bed again, his leather jacket acting as another pillow. He can just lay there because everyone’s Unfair and Angry thoughts are blinding his eyes as they bounce around from sentence to sentence to sentence. His eyes burn and sting.

They’re blaming me for this? What did I do? They didn’t even let me speak!

Orange’s eyes won’t stop glowing amber.

Of course, it’s my fault. It has to be, it can’t be anyone else’s, no, only a villain is capable of making Thomas have an outburst. It’s not like he’s responsible for his own actions or anything.

Brighter and brighter and brighter.

I don’t understand, I’m sorry that I don’t understand, but I don’t, I don’t get why we did that. Why can’t they hear me? Why don’t they see how much it hurts me? Why can’t I bear to show them what happens when the Ego is bruised?

It feels like the fires are trying to worm their way into his retinas.

After all that, and suddenly I’m the bad guy again? They never change! I shouldn’t have trusted them!

There’s an unwelcomed, boiling heat that slides down Orange’s face under the guise of tears.

‘It’s good for Thomas’, they said. ‘This is too important for you to be here’, they said. I ain’t the fuckin’ problem! They never listen, and they never will!

He can already feel the start of new burn scars that trail from the tips of his eyes down down down to meet his jaw.

Why don’t they believe me anymore? We used to be a family, it’s not fair. They don’t treat me like family anymore!

It really fucking hurts.

This is what happens when Rainbow gets overwhelmed with anger, specifically the kind that intertwines itself with Unfair. That’s Orange’s domain, of course it’s going to fucking affect him, not that any of the Others will ever see it. It’s like this because Rainbow sees all forms of anger as hurtful—the burning and stinging in his eyes worsen—and blinding—he can’t see, it’s too much, there’s too many scorched words overlapping in his vision. Orange’s breath hitches as pain erupts in his temples, a headache swiftly adding to the overwhelming mess.

Rainbow...Rainbow needs to calm down. He needs Yellow to shut his snide little maw, for Green to take care of his brother—because if he’s too occupied with caring for Red, then he won’t be messing with their centre as much—he needs for Red and Purple to take a deep breath. He needs Cyan to set his own hurt aside for a few moments and help take care of the Others. He can feel the things he needs to feel, of course, he shouldn’t repress it, but putting aside for a little bit and then coming back to it later isn’t repression. In fact, it’s a healthy thing to do when there’s other pressing matters at hand, like when your fellow Sides need your help—even though they may not want you right now. Cyan could at least help Yellow. Purple needs to go check on Indigo, or hey, maybe Red can do that because then they can sort through whatever fondness they’re feeling for each other.

Listen, it’s not that hard to notice, especially when you’re the one that watches everything from the shadows.

Indigo needs someone to listen to him. So does Green. They both do. Maybe Red can drag Green on over to Indigo and they can take turns listening to each other, and then maybe there’d be less problems to deal with if the Ego, the Unwelcomed Creative, and the Teacher could be there for one another. The Creatives already are there for each other—as much as they can be, at least–but he digresses.

Orange groans in pain, on his bed, alone, wings flapping as his own sense of annoyance wriggles itself in his veins like a mock version of purple vines. It’s not purplish vines that burn.

It’s not the fact that Rainbow is angry and indignant, that’s not what’s hurting him. It’s the fact he internalizes and represses it so vigorously because he’s so afraid of being perceived as a bad person that makes this fucking painful as all hell. Maybe if his dear centre let himself feel things without worrying about what it means in terms of Morality and Goodness, then perhaps a lot of things that he struggles with wouldn’t be as bad as they are.

But hey, where’s the fun in that?

God fucking damnit.

Orange can’t even scroll through his phone or get up to attend to matters at his desk while he’s like this. It sucks.

Something catches the tip of a feather, and the room smells like old, burning jumpers.

He frantically tries to bend his wing enough to reach where it could be on fire, because that happens, he catches on fire, thanks a lot Rainbow for being Mr. Repression, but his hands find nothing but small feathers that feel too soft to be properly matured.

Dear fucking god, let this be over so I can do my damn job, Orange thinks as his own indignation threatens to light his tears on fire as if they were practically boiling already.

They aren’t actually boiling, but they sure fucking feel like it.

And it’s going to feel like it for a while at this rate.

=====

Once the Others have calmed down enough for Orange’s eyes not to be plagued by constant and sporadic amber letters and burning sensations, it’s almost late evening.

Now that there isn’t a haze of fire fire fire and unfair unfair unfair, he can finally start thinking about what actually happened that led to that.

Yes, he’s a part of Rainbow, and thus is the ‘manifestation’—as Indigo calls it—of this specific type of indignant anger. He reflects what it looks like when Rainbow’s all righteous fury and shit. He’s set ablaze like an outraged phoenix with the wrong type of wings, and shit happens. Rainbow may huff or punch a pillow or—and you’ll appreciate the callback—yell at someone. The thing is whoever Rainbow yelled at deserved it because they did or said something Unfair, and guess what, bitch, that’s not okay. You don’t get to be Unfair to Rainbow, nope, not without consequences, motherfucker. That’s most of Orange’s entire point. When Unfair things happen, he’s the one who makes sure Rainbow—and the Others, by proxy—get some sense of Justice because no fucking way can any of them just stand there while shit goes down.

You see it in how Red in the way he plays the role of the Prince—and how he desperately tries to play the role of the Hero, though he’s not sure what that means anymore—saving distressed townsfolk and critters from whatever antagonist that decides to plague them.

You see it in the way Purple is a guardian, a protector, ready to get any of them out of potential danger at a second’s notice.

In the way that Yellow shows and guides and gently prods them to take care of themselves and for Rainbow to take care of himself, in the way he hides what Rainbow isn’t quite ready to discover about himself, not yet, not until he gives the word, in the way he lies with a lemon-tart tongue and shining scales to protect them all from the agony that is being the villain because right now, someone has to be the antagonist for things to be realized.

You see it in the way Indigo and Cyan watch over everyone like teacher and parent, a duo grouped together because of similar glasses and hues of similar colours; in the way Indigo guides and educates and does his best to support, and in the way Cyan holds and soothes and tries so hard to figure out how to better himself with Rainbow and the Others in his thoughts and his heart.

You see it in the way Green will babble on and on and on about the nastiest, most Unwelcomed things to highlight the things Rainbow isn’t because if he spits what’s Bad and horrifying, than maybe—if Rainbow listened—he could see just how Good and wonderful he really is because Green only says the things that aren’t Rainbow and how he cares cares cares for people and the world around him. In the way Green shouts and screams and screeches like a noisy skunk to distract the Others from noticing a hurting and bruising Ego, how he sinks right after Red and opening brotherly arms of comfort, of warmth, of an understanding between the Creatives that no one else could ever Hope to replicate.

Not a single one of them could ever remain a bystander to Injustice and Unfair things because they’re parts of a whole entire Rainbow, and their lovely Rainbow cannot fathom it in himself to let others suffer in such a way, especially when he knows that discriminatory suffering a little too well himself.

Orange digresses.

Who would say or do such stupid things to make Rainbow feel that indignant flare within himself? Not his friends, no, no one like Joan or Quill or Terrance or any of them would piss him off like that. That’s not to say they have arguments and disagreements from time to time, but it’s nothing so hurtful to outrage all six of the Others and blind Orange so viciously that he’s rendered bed-stuck and burning for hours on end. Perhaps a family member he doesn’t see that often decided to show face? Well—no, wait, Orange has seen Indigo’s activity calendar he keeps in the intercepting hallway, Rainbow doesn’t have any sort of scheduled dates or times to see extended family for a while. He does have a date where he plans on visiting his mom and taking her out for a day to spend time with her. It’s past Mothers’ Day, sure, but who says you can’t spend time with your loved one outside of a holiday or celebration? Point is this: she might’ve said something on a call recently, if she’s the one who fucked up. Rainbow likes to call her sometimes because he’s Rainbow and he loves his mom.

Listen, sometimes parents say hurtful things without realizing they’re hurtful and piss off their kids, and then they get all confused on why their kids are pissed off, and then they get indignant themselves because a lot of parents have this insecurity when it comes to being respected. It’s a loop that goes on and on, that creates more and more distance between parents and their kids until someone finally acts like the bigger person and fucking communicates about why they’re mad.

So, yeah, maybe Rainbow’s mom said something without realizing, and Rainbow got hurt by it and reacted due to Orange’s nature of being...well, Orange.

For as much as he watches from the shadows as a little citrus mist, Orange doesn’t always know when things happen or even what happens to cause other things to happen. Besides, Rainbow doesn’t know about him—nor do the ‘Lights’, as Red calls them—and he’s mostly hidden away by Yellow’s Denial influence and the fact that Rainbow hasn’t ‘given the word’, so to speak, for Orange to be something he’s actually open to confronting. Orange simply can’t be in certain places in certain moments because it’s these certain times that Rainbow, for as confused as he usually is, would one-hundred percent notice a vibrant orange mist watching from the stairwell behind Purple’s typical spot. Now, see, sometimes Orange can hide and watch while the Others argue and, well, ‘debate’, but that’s not an absolute guarantee.

Orange needs to stop digressing.

Point is Orange doesn’t actually know who the fuck set Rainbow off because, while his influence was definitely there, he himself wasn’t. So, Rainbow’s mom is a good candidate. Unfortunately, a less-likely-to-happen candidate because she’s been busy herself for at least three weeks, according to Cyan’s extensive memory logs in the Long-Term Memory Museum. Never let it be said that Cyan can’t be organized and responsible when he needs to be.

So, not the mom.

A stranger, maybe? A collaboration gone wrong before it could’ve started? An insensitive fan thinking they had a right to say something they had no right to?

Hm. Well.

There might be one person he can think of.

One person who was an indirect cause of further ignoring Indigo. One person that has a better chance at bruising Red much easier than most. One person who could turn away and leave if they found Sides like Green or Yellow as ‘immoral problems’. One person who has a strong influence on Rainbow because he cares too much, one that has Cyan’s attention—even if it’s somewhat hesitant attention. One person who Purple worked hard to get Rainbow to meet instead of running the other way because it was important to connect with them, especially to poor Red who needed this so desperately. One person who Orange himself has a special little appreciation for because they indirectly gave him the opportunity to help Indigo release some of his pent-up anger—without discarding Green’s role in that, of course.

See, this person has a certain thing for carrots.

The charming, sweet Nico Flores.

Of course, the lovely flower, Orange comes to a conclusion. Our sweet flower said something, didn’t he? Oh, dear Gateway, you haven’t a clue of what you lent a pathway to.

Well, Orange isn’t one to deny such a generous offer from their precious Gateway.

=====

“Well, kiddo, I just think that—”

“Patton, you—stop calling me ‘kiddo’, I thought I told you that already,” a voice grumbles as two sets of footsteps walk down the darker hallway.

Orange turns in his desk chair, listening to the Purple and Cyan as they trek down the hall. They’re getting close to where his door is hidden, in the darkest of shadows, in the back, in a Void where no light can escape and shine through to the outside. They wouldn’t be able to see or find his door.They can’t see what the Mind doesn’t want them to see, what Rainbow himself doesn’t want to confront yet, what Yellow is so determined to keep secret until their centre says ‘let me see’. Green, Purple, and Yellow know Orange, of course, but the only one who knows where his door is, is Yellow. Even then, none of the six have been in his room, or the Flower Garden. No one’s seen the critters he tends to. No one heard the painful days and nights of being engulfed in flames or tending to small wings by himself when it would be better to have help.

They don’t know Righteous Anger or Wrath. They don’t know Hope.

They don’t see yet.

But soon, they will.

They’ll all see.

“Right, sorry, kid—Virge, guess this old man forgets things from time to time,” Cyan apologizes, then jokes, and Orange can practically hear the painted grin.

A dismissive hum, “Sure, yeah, whatever you say, Patton.”

Why don’t you let me call you nicknames anymore? You dismiss me when I try your name, when I slip up and say ‘kiddo’, when I try using a different thing altogether. What do you want me to do? Why won’t you let me love you anymore?

Orange’s eyes flash amber, and he sighs.

Great, just when he started getting to work, now he’s gotta do something else, because god forbid he doesn’t watch the Others for five fucking minutes.

The starting heat of fire on his knuckles reminds him to take a deep breath and calm down. He inhales and exhales the way he’s seen Indigo show Purple. In...and out…in...and out…in…and out. The heat dissipates and cools, and Orange slumps in relief. At least he doesn’t have to do his job while on fire. He’s had to do that before, and it fucking sucks.

Orange pushes back in his chair, stands, and shifts in mist as he leaks through the door like a strange fog-like water. He wades through the Void of inky blackness that hides his door from sight in the darker hallway. It’s vast, stretching on for miles and miles. A nothingness that raises Bleak and Dreary to be their depressive selves. Almost like a never-ending sea that’s matte black, no shine or shimmer to give reflection. It’s liquid with the consistency of mercury. Viscous but not terribly so. It takes a while to find the crack in the Void that leads to the outside.

The crack is small. The liquid Void falls through it like a waterfall, only without the calming sound of rushing water. That’s another thing about this place. There’s no sound, just ringing in your ears that steadily gets louder and louder for every second you’re here. Orange hates it. It’s so fucking stupid that he’s hidden away from Rainbow, but there’s only so much he can do about it. Aside from going after Yellow, he can’t really lash out against anyone but the Mind itself.

Because Yellow doesn’t create the Voids, the Mind does.

Yellow just…‘manages’ them.

Now, yes, Orange could very well just sink out into the darker hallway and not have to deal with the Void. He could. He absolutely could’ve.

But it was important to show you, Orange glances at an unseen force that watches and reads and imagines. The Void is a special place, no? Ever had to live in a Void before, lovely firelets?

Orange slips down down down through the crack in the Void.

Inside is almost like a pocket dimension, like sinking into a mirrored pool of water that has you rise out of it to the other side. It’s pitch black in the crack, a wormhole of sorts. Perhaps it’s so dark because it’s the raw materials that the Mind is made of, and if Orange ever saw what it really looked like, he’d lose all mental coherence in the flash of a forest fire. So, yeah, it’s best he can’t see what the Mind looks like when it’s...like that.

He climbs through the other end of the crack, a small piece of the wall in the darker hallway missing. It’s right by Purple’s door—well, it’s more of a gateway, but whatever—from the time he got mad at Yellow and punched the first thing he saw. Citric mist seeps from the scar in the wall and onto the floor, pushing and shrinking itself to be among the textured floorboards. It waits and listens as Cyan’s and Purple’s footsteps thud thud thud closer. He hears a Purple-classic scoff as they near.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Purple’s shoulders are tense, hands buried into the pocket of his patchwork hoodie.

“Language.”

“I—well, it’s nothing bad…” Cyan stumbles as he fails to explain.

“That’s some of the most vague shit I’ve ever heard, and I share a hallway with Janus.”

“Oh, really, that’s the thing you’re focused on? Tch, wow, Patton.”

“No, Virge, I didn’t mean it like that—”

“You don’t mean a lot of things.”

“What? Virgil—”

“No, just forget it. I’m just gonna go to my room—Patton!”

Cyan steps in front of Purple, blocking his path from getting to his door.

Let me through, you can’t force things to happen, let me through!

Orange’s eyes glow amber in the midst of mist. No one’s noticed the odd spot on the floor that suspiciously looks like carrot juice had a baby with peach fuzz.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Purple sneers.

Cyan frowns at the use of a swear word, but he decides to let it be this time.

“I just want to talk with you, Virge. That’s it,” he explains, pushing down a nebulous feeling of—wait, what?

A huff, “Yeah, because blocking me from my room is gonna go so well for you.”

“Virgil, please. I just—I wanna talk about the meeting.”

Well, that sure shut Purple up.

Purple presses his lips into a thin line, grumbling a quiet agreement along the lines of ‘whatever, fine’ and nods at Cyan to continue. Cyan lets out a breath of relief before he speaks.

“We...I know you weren’t there either, but...do you know what’s happened with everyone else?” he asks, fiddling with the paws of the cat hoodie tied around his neck.

“No, I don’t,” Purple answers, shortly.

“Okay, that’s—okay. I think something, um...you haven’t seen Roman around, have you?”

A pause, worry slithering its way into Purple’s throat, “Uh, no, I haven’t. He’s—I thought he was just working. Just work stress an’ all that.”

Cyan nods, thinking. Purple narrows his eyes at him, suspicion joining the worry.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Cyan forces his hands still, “Well, Janus—”

“Oh, Janus told you something? And you actually believed him?”

“Wha—Virgil, now’s not the time to be rude.”

The chide is promptly ignored.

“You’re implying something’s up with Princey, and you think Janus is the Side to tell you what’s wrong when he’s the one who always fucks with him? Really?”

A scoff. Eyes burn with hurt. They both think the same thing.

Why are you doubting me when I know him better than you do?

Amber flashes and glimmers in the mist as it shifts an inch closer. Purple crosses his arms. Cyan puts his hands on his hips as he gives the resident armadillo a stern look.

Discrediting Yellow’s genuine care isn’t a good place to start. It’s been discussed before: Yellow is both Self-Care and Deception, a bumblebee capable of stinging who it wishes while still being sweet as honey when it suits it. It could sting the other critters, but the choice not to is an everyday, every minute decision. There’s some credit in that, isn’t there?

Cyan and Purple stand as opposing mirrors, blocking each other from either the path to leave or the path to rest. They reflect each other in such a way that it’s hard to determine what started in who. They believe themselves to be in the right and the other in the wrong. They think they know better when neither of them know what even happened for Red to hide away for so long. They think they know a certain Side better because he’s Accepted now...but only one of them grew up with him, and the other is the only one getting to know him in such a close way that the Others are hesitant to try.

Both the little dog and the little armadillo are stubborn, and they don’t see past what their own mirror tells about the other.

“I know Janus can be...confusing sometimes, but I trust him,” Cyan continues, pushing the tearful feeling back—though it tries to surge up and through his eyes.

Purple scoffs again—he does that a lot, doesn’t he?

Another frown, “I know you two have your differences, Virgil, but I just think that—”

“No, Patton, I don’t think you are thinking.”

“Virgil, please.”

“No! I think you’re too caught up in what you did wrong, and can’t seem to fathom a literal snake being deceptive. You’re acting so naive with—”

“I’m not naive!”

Orange eyes flare up in Cyan, blinding, glowing, bright in amber anger and defense. Purple instinctively steps back, flinching lightly as Cyan shouts at him. Cyan breathes heavily, blinking and glancing at his surroundings with furrowed brows. He spots a fearful look in Purple eyes and swallows, Regret burning hot and thick in the back of his throat. Purple’s shoulders are tensed up, hand buried in his hoodie pocket, and he looks ready to bolt away.

“I—I’m sorry, Virgil, I…” Cyan’s apology dies on his tongue, stuttering and stumbling through a cracking heart at scaring his fellow Side.

Purple’s gaze flicks to his door, and Cyan wordlessly moves aside to let him by. He does not look at the little armadillo, and the little armadillo does not look at him. Scurrying into his room, Purple slams his door. Cyan winces at the loud sound, standing there in shock of himself.

“Did I just…oh, no,” he mumbles aside.

Cyan promptly sinks out.

Orange waits until the blinding, burning sight of hurt hurt hurt dissipates enough that he can see the floorboards again.

That, that was so horribly pent-up and cold. Fire isn’t supposed to be cold. Not unless it’s so hot that it feels cold, and this wasn’t it being unbearably hot. It was only cold. Why is Cyan’s indignant icy like that?

Orange sinks back into his room, shifting into his typical form as he does so.

If the little dog’s anger is so cold, then how long has it been sitting, pressed down, to get like that? What in the fuck happened for the little armadillo to be so defensive around him?

Why does Rainbow's Heart feel so cold?

#sanders sides #orange side #orange sanders #thomas sanders #character thomas #virgil sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #chapter 4 #hearthfire

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blorbocedes · 2 years ago

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Would love to hear your thoughts on Yukierre because folks have such different ideas of their dynamics and I feel like you might have some spicy takes

hmmm my yukierre hot takes....

I know we give Charles the Catholic guilt cultural appropriation pass for being a Ferrari driver but the real trad cath guilt ridden poster boy is pierre, sexy satyr mr tumnus looking, gasly who has a Cross necklace and does the sign of the cross before a race

I have to respect the thottery 4 jesus

Pierre is also in the business of denying himself things he wants, he talked on the podcast about how he used to have croissants everyday until he was 18 cause it's his ✨Francois Culture 🥖🇫🇷 but then after the motorsport diet restrictions made him count every calorie :( Yuki has a complete opposite approach towards pleasure, which is that he indulges in it. He has a good steak, a big rice dinner, even called a croissant good for mental calories (so true bestie!!!) 🥐

However, pierre is also the one instigates the sus shit; like saying yuki has tasted everything except French girls, how he has so many girls in his dms saying yuki is so cute and he just needs the confirmation to set them up...... which is 🤨 why do u want to get ur coworker laid . and why do u want to be involved in that process of setting it up 🤔 the whole "haha let's go to the movies I don't do this with guys btw but maybe I'll make an exception for u 😳" like WHO asked Mr Gasly. But then he is haunted by not leaving room for the Holy Spirit and gets spooked 'haha don't misunderstand/don't make it weird guys haha also yuki you can't come to my house, remember last time you tried to sleep with me'

Yuki isn't suffering from fatal conditions like Catholicism and being a former Redbull driver, so he can play back easily and unphased, 'I thought you weren't gonna tell them about that' 'having boyfriend girlfriend feelings 🥰' 'I want to go to your house' while pierre is having a breakdown trying to backtrack from the gay chicken because he always breaks first (coward)...... what does it truly mean to be liked by Pierre Gasly 😔

Why are you looking at him like that!!!!! you are NEVER beating the allegations sir!!!!

this isn't relevant but yuki is one of the few on track who has thunder thighs which I'm a big fan I hope he never stops wearing schoolboy shorts

also, the way alonso goes 'yuuki :D' makes me believe yuki has that same twinkle for chaos in his eyes, and I love a bitch on the grid.

tldr: what happens when you put a repressed French Catholic and a Japanese zoomer with no fear of god or calories together

#blorbocedes ask #yukierre #yuki tsunoda #pierre gasly #yuki really fucked that french man #the homoeroticism of gay chicken #leaving enough room for Jesus (that's the only man in your heart)#anon would you believe I don't even Go there I just like to read my own thoughts 🥰 so thank you for letting me maxplain

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weenwrites · 2 years ago

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My match-up request! ^^

Tfp

I would prefer the match up to be platonic

I'm loud, I love making other people laugh seeing others smile make me happy, I'm usually the one talking thru the entire conversation being so overly energetic while doing so, I attach myself to others a little too easily, I tend to get agitated when people I don't like become overly friendly with me, if you're my friend I will care for you till you tire of me. [My mbti is enfp]

My main hobby is art I really love drawing I also really like collecting tiny figures for example, tiny cows or tiny dogs anything tiny is mine

Likes: Cold weather, the smell of fresh laundry, silence, lazing around, horror movies, meeting new people, scaring people (its especially funny when you sneakily walk up them whisper in their ear and they turn around and jump)

Dislikes: cigarette smell ( I hate it when people just straight up smoke near ur face), beer/ any type of alcohol, getting agitated by people who know I have a limit and then getting pissed at me when I burst in annoyance

Asexual (she/her)

My love language consists of play fighting, scaring you sneakily doing so (its too funny not too), bumping my head somewhere on you, writing letters or making some sort of cute craft for you, buying you things

Mix of match of both autobot and decepticon

Ps. I really love your work, thank you so much

I match you with Smokescreen and Breakdown! I'll keep it under the cut, but I hope you like it!

Smokescreen

He wouldn't mind that you're loud, and honestly he's the same, he enjoys seeing other people laugh and smile and he'd strive to make you happy too. He enjoys having enthusiastic conversations with you about anything, and with that I doubt that the two of you would never run out of things to talk about.

He is a WIMP whenever it comes to horror movies, but he would enjoy watching them with you, simply because he's curious about human culture. He'll always pretend that he isn't scared, but once the movie gets to a jump scare or something like that, he'll flinch.

It can be pretty easy at times to startle him. All you have to do is disappear out of sight—which is pretty easy (for him to lose sight of you is the human equivalent of losing sight of a fly)—and then spook him the way you scare others.

He thinks that the little gifts you give him are really neat, and he keeps them all in his habsuite. Whenever the two of you can't go outside, he'd want to help make little crafts too, maybe you could teach him, and later he could get around to making one for you in return.

Whenever you draw, Smokescreen can get a bit nosy and curious as to what you're drawing. He'd think it's really cool that you're this creative and can do stuff like make crafts and draw things.

Breakdown

The fact you're loud makes him think you've got spunk, which means he'd like you and he'd think you're neat. He'd enjoy lazing around with you whenever he'd get the chance to, and usually during those times are when he can really chat with you without anything or anyone distracting him.

It's a bit harder to spook him than Smokescreen, but just because it is doesn't mean it's impossible. There are times at which you do scare him from popping up unexpectedly, but it doesn't startle him too bad.

Speaking of startling, he hardly gets scared during horror movies, (probably because the horrors of war are nothing compared to what's on screen) but at times there are parts that do frighten him a bit. The two of you could either pull up into a drive-in theater to watch any horror movies playing, or perhaps just watch one in the private confines of his habsuite.

He does enjoy play fighting, however given the fact he's like several times your size, he can't really. But he does gently "attack" you with his hand and just playfully wrestles you to the ground.

There are times where he's too occupied with his work to talk, so those would be times where any letters you write him would come in handy to keep in touch. He does try to write back whenever he gets the chance, but he isn't much of a writer. Neither is he too good at arts and crafts, but that doesn't mean he can't appreciate what you make for him.

#match ups #[ also i wholeheartedly agree. scaring people is fun ]#weenwrites

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remingt0nleith · 3 years ago

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pretty poison ♥ requested remington leith imagine.

A/N: This imagine was requested here. I hope I made it everything you were looking for. <3 (also the photo collage covers with weheartit photos will forever be a mood) SEXUAL IMAGINE AHEAD.

Also, let me know if you guys want to see more of these characters. An imagine couple in a series maybe?

Pretty Poison was the opening act for Palaye Royale on their U.S. tour. The lead singer, Nessa had been good friends with the three brothers since they met a few years back at a record store. The late-night tours had her becoming closer with Remington. The two singers bonded over song lyrics and vocal techniques. There was a tension brewing between them that the pair couldn’t decipher, was it a friendship or something more?

Throughout all of the late nights they spent together she never told him about her past. The dark thoughts that kept her up at night, the experiences she went through with her ex, all of that stayed locked up inside of her only coming out briefly in songs that she wrote.

Currently, she was watching the brothers perform from backstage, a red solo cup in her hand filled with a liquor a little stronger than how she normally liked it.

Palaye finished their set with the hit song Nervous Breakdown, something Nessa was quite familiar with.

As the boys made their way backstage, Remington grabbed her wrist gently to pull her towards him in a hug, she instinctively ripped her arm away from him and backed up.

His eyes widened and he held his hands up,

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he mumbled, fear in his eyes from upsetting his friend.

She shook her head, black bangs falling in her eyes before speaking,

“It’s okay, Rem. You just spooked me.” A lie that fell from her lips so easily, the truth buried far below the surface.

He nodded, grabbing a drink for himself then asked her if she wanted to go work on music back at the hotel.

She agreed and they walked the short distance back to the hotel, stopping a few times for Remington to take photos with lucky fans who happened to spot him on their journey.

Once in the hotel room, they both had a buzz going on from the alcohol flowing through their veins.

Sitting cross-legged on the plush carpet, he pulled out his notebook intending to get back to work but the alcohol in his system gave him a wave of confidence.

Remington leaned forward capturing Nessa’s lips against his own in a gentle kiss one in which she returned. Taking this as a good sign he deepened the kiss, brushing his tongue against hers gently, yet once again the other singer pulled away.

“Fuck.” He scooted back, hands running through his short split-dyed hair.

“I totally read the moment wrong,” he confessed, feeling guilty and embarrassed.

Nessa sighed feeling like she needed to tell him the truth or at least as much as she could bear to. She really liked him after all.

“It’s not your fault. Sexual things are just really hard for me after my ex.” She looked down while speaking, playing with a loose thread on her fishnet tights.

Remington stayed quiet, letting her continue at her own pace.

“Basically, he fucked me up in a lot of ways and there’s a lot of sexual stuff I can’t even do, like going down on a guy. It’s just hard.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she expected him to get up and leave, it was what every guy had done when she told them. No one wanted to be with a girl that was so broken especially when it came to sex stuff.

“I’m so sorry,” Remington whispered, his heart breaking in his chest. How could any guy treat her badly was the thought racing through his head.

She looked up and met his gaze, feeling strong enough to continue.

“It’s part of the reason why I can’t be vocal during sex. I know guys usually want girls that are loud and speak up in bed, but I just can’t.” She admitted.

Remington held his arms open which she accepted and crawled into his arms, feeling safe within his hold. After a few moments, he whispered,

“You don’t need to feel like you’re not good enough. Everything about you is perfect to me. If we were together I’d never force you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with.”

Her heart filled with a mix of safety and happiness.

She pulled away enough to look up at him her bright green eyes meeting his dark ones, she leaned forward to kiss him this time being the one to deepen it.

As their tongues moved against each other passionately she crawled into his lap.

He pulled away after a moment to check on her,

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek.

She nodded, smiling as she took notice of his swollen lips.

“I think I just needed to tell you that. If we do this, I can’t talk during it. Can we come up with another way to have a safe word?”

“Of course. How about if you want to stop you grab my wrist and if you want me to keep going you pull my hair?” He asked wanting nothing more than to make her comfortable.

Her eyes lit up at the idea and lust swirled inside of her, seeing this side of Remington was so sexy.

“That sounds like a good plan to me. Now shut up and take your clothes off,” she giggled standing up from his lap.

He didn’t have to be told twice and the pair undressed quickly. Fishnet tights and skinny jeans were tossed aside before the light was clicked off.

Remington pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately before laying her on the bed.

“Remember the safe gestures?” He questioned before moving to kiss her neck.

Letting him know she did and also wanting him to keep doing that, she tugged on his short dyed hair.

He obliged licking and sucking on the soft skin leaving behind a faint pink mark.

He kissed his way down her body, moving his hand up to be close to her so she had easy access to grab his wrist if needed.

Once he made his way between her thighs, he looked up at her in the darkness.

Nessa replied by reaching down and tugging on his hair, urging him to continue.

He made himself busy by sliding his tongue across her wetness, causing her to moan out softly, sure she couldn’t talk but moaning was a different story especially when a sexy singer was doing that, she thought to herself.

She buried her fingers in the soft tendrils of his black and blonde hair, hoping he got the hint to keep going, which he did.

His tongue moved slowly across her clit, teasing the sensitivity of it.

She closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensations as his mouth and tongue worked expertly against her most tender area.

The pleasure built up and she knew she was going to come soon so she tugged at his hair once more to let him know as her moans got louder. She bit down on her lip as she came her legs quivering from the warmth and wetness of the singer’s tongue.

Remington pulled away, licking his lips as he moved back up to check on her, his eyes searching hers in the darkness.

She grinned before leaning forward to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” She whispered, before biting down on his lower lip in a teasing but intimate gesture.

He let out a rough laugh, leaning over to grab a condom, once situated he slid himself into her, both moaning out in pleasure.

Nessa once again threaded her fingers through his hair as his hips moved against hers, the sensation of his large member filling her up with every thrust.

He buried his face against her neck to lick and suck on her flesh as he picked up the pace, fucking her into the hotel mattress.

The two lovers moaned into the darkness as the pleasure blossomed within them.

Remington coming with a low growl, Nessa tightened her grip on the short locks of hair and moaned out as she came, shaking beneath the singer.

Once everything was cleaned up, the duo laid together in bed.

“I’m so happy I gave this a chance.” She whispered into the darkness.

Remington agreed, once again happy that she shared such a vulnerable part of her past with him.

“Me too and don’t think this was a one-night stand either. You’re definitely not getting rid of me now.” He admitted.

#remington leith #palaye royale #remington leith fic #remington leith imagine #remington leith smut

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lucanto-fandom · 3 years ago

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Hey guys, I'm back with my new Encanto OC!

WARNING: LONG POST AHEAD.

As you can probably tell, I saw Encanto and I LOVED it! And since I'm part of the fandom now, I have an OC that you (the fandom) might like! Especially if you love animals!

But before I continue: I mainly loved Encanto because it takes place in Colombia, a Spanish-speaking country, and after three years of taking a Spanish class... I squealed to say the least.

Without further ado... My OC is right here!

This is Oscar [Madrigal]. He MAY look like a serval, but trust me, I know about South American wildlife, and I know they have ocelots. Oscar is a slender Bengal cat with green eyes and a plumed tail.

His gift: Super Speed! I was gonna go with "Enhanced sense of smell" or "X-Ray Vision," but I figured Super Speed was more plausible. I also considered "tail elasticity, "immortality," and "Supersonic Meow."

His gift ceremony was... Different. Like Mirabel, he didn't get a door. Plus he was the only animal in La Familia Madrigal/Encanto in general who has a gift. For this reason, he doesn't feel like a Madrigal.

And now for a bit of angst:

"Puede que no sea un Madrigal... O al menos no me siento como uno... Pero al menos tengo un gran cabello." Use a translator for the angst, unless you know what it says already.

Oscar is a lightweight cat, weighing less than seven pounds. But for what he lacks in weight, he makes up for in mach speed. Visualize this: he sees a rat (that isn't one of Bruno's rats), he'll have it hunted down and killed in under ten seconds. That's how swift he is.

He gets scared easily (you can imagine him being a nervous wreck at that dinner scene). And when he does get scared, he'll curl up against the nearest person, flatten his ears, and tremble.

But when he's not having a nervous breakdown, his service to the Encanto is "pest control". Like, say there was an outbreak of mice. He'd be on the job in a jiffy.

When Oscar's not on the job, he's spending time with, in his feline eyes, the best family in the world. Don't get me wrong; he loves everybody, but he has the strongest bond with the grandchildren. Allow me to explain...

How Oscar is treated/how Oscar acts around each Madrigal.

Abuela Alma: Oscar is aware of the generational trauma she's gone through. He understands how she didn't want to lose any more loved ones. He's on his best behavior in Alma's presence, and saves his energy for later when he's playing. He didn't appreciate the pressure she gave him, though...

Pepa: Unlike most other cats, Oscar LOVES rain, and water in general. Not that he enjoys seeing her in a bad mood. Usually when Pepa's in a bad mood and Oscar shows up, her spirits are lifted almost instantly. They relish each other's company.

Félix: Oscar usually gets Félix's attention by either meowing loudly or rubbing himself against his legs, purring up a storm. Oscar is a lover-bug and enjoys playing/cuddling with Félix.

Agustín: When he goes somewhere when there might be bees, Oscar comes with him in hopes of scaring them away. Yet again, he is easily spooked, so if they DO get attacked by bees, Oscar will either run away or hiss at them, but never swats. He's gotten stung before as well, but not as frequently as Agustín. Like the rest of the family, they get along very well.

Julieta: Let's not assume that Oscar doesn't have a mischievous side, especially when there's food involved. His all-time favorite food that Julieta makes are her arepas. Whenever she makes a batch of them, Oscar has plotted to steal them on more than one occasion. Despite that, Julieta and Oscar love each other dearly. He's even helped her cook on occasion.

Bruno: was slightly afraid of Oscar when they first met, because he's known for hunting small rodents (i.e rats). But Oscar willed himself not to. And after hearing everything that Bruno went through the past ten years, he almost immediately befriended/trusted him.

Isabela: Oscar had somewhat complicated views on Isabela. He didn't like how she treated him as opposed to how she treated her youngest sister (Mirabel). But he does love the flower crowns she's willing to make for him. After "What Else Can I Do?", he almost literally cried for her, knowing that she deserved to be happy.

Dolores: He's typically quiet when he's near Dolores, respecting her enhanced hearing. The only problem he has with being quiet is that he gets paranoid that someone's planning on sneaking up on him. In return, Dolores is very gentle and sweet with Oscar.

Luisa: is also very gentle with Oscar. He just wishes she didn't get anxious whenever he wants her to pet him. When she isn't too nervous to pet him, they're soft, easy strokes from head to tail, and gentle hugs should he ask for one.

Camilo: Oscar and Camilo are basically bread and butter. In other words, BESTIES! Oscar wants to roughhouse? Camilo's willing to get a few scratches and bite marks in exchange for playing with his favorite (and only) cat. Wants to be picked up/carried? Camilo will pick up/carry him. Would you believe me if I told you that he loves Camilo so much, he WEARS A LIGHT BLUE RUANA WITH LITTLE PAWPRINTS AND LIGHTNING STRIKES TO SYMBOLIZE HIS SUPER SPEED? Believe me, because he does. Would you believe me if I told you that Mirabel made it?

Mirabel: Oscar loves Mirabel to DEATH, and vice versa. He sympathizes with her the most, seeing how she didn't get a door like the rest of her family. He also felt bad that neither of them got a door, yet Oscar got an actual gift. So she doesn't feel terribly jealous, he tries not to use his gift too much around her.

Antonio: Especially after he was given the gift to talk to animals (even though Oscar can already speak fluent English), he adored little Antonio. Heck, believe me when I tell you that Oscar was trusted to babysit a couple times.

Other

Mariano: The second he heard "he wants five babies," he disliked Mariano. When he and Dolores get together, though... He develops a "you hurt her in any way and I'll come for your kneecaps" kind of attitude. By that time, they're on good terms. He'll let Mariano pet/carry him.

(I know this is a long post. I'm sorry. Read on if you'd like.)

So yeah, Oscar loves his family very much. Easily scared, but he's a giant baby.

Other facts about Oscar you might like to know:

Where he sleeps heavily varies. He'll sleep anywhere comfortable; the courtyard, the balcony, the railings, the room of his choice... Like I said, ANYWHERE he can get comfortable.

Like a vast majority of cats, when he's happy, he purrs and/or kneads his paws. He usually kneads his paws when he finds someone laying on their stomach with their back exposed. So in addition to pest control, Oscar specializes in back massages! Just make sure you keep your shirt on, he sometimes forgets about his nails...

Oscar sometimes forgets that Casita is alive, and he's been accidentally and intentionally scared by it on more than one occasion. Countless claw marks on the ceiling...

Oscar doesn't quite enjoy Día De Los Muertos very much, since nobody particularly special to him has passed away. Honestly, he just loves being around his family. That's what it's all about, though, right?

As much as he loves being in Isabela's room, because she basically treats him like royalty, all the flowers in her room... He periodically has a sneezing fit. He has a slight pollen allergy.

He sleeps in Mirabel's room the most.

Oscar has random conversations with the donkeys (he named one of them Eduardo). As well as Antonio's animals. Neither talk much. The toucans are too noisy for him, but he LOVES the capybaras and the jaguar. He'll always love talking to Antonio the most, though.

Being the one with super speed regardless, Oscar does get tired. But not easily. Before the Casita came crashing down, he beats himself up for needing a breather when he runs for too long. For this reason, he also kins Luisa.

But Oscar is more pressured because of his fear of just about everything more than his super speed.

Depending on his mood, if he's upset about something, he goes to one of the grandkids. The possible outcomes:

A brand new flower crown from Isabela

A warm, bone-crushing hug from Luisa (or any of the grandkids in general, really)

A nice, quite conversation from Dolores or Mirabel

A good laugh from Camilo's shapeshifting.

Or a brief cuddle with one of Antonio's animals.

Oscar is so passive, he rarely gets mad, and he almost never hisses nor scratches. But when he does get angry, he becomes a livid puffball.

You know Oscar trusts you when he lays himself down around your neck, on your shoulders, like a scarf. This is seen often.

He speaks the most Spanish.

He can sing! He sings "Colombia, Mi Encanto" at the beginning and end of the movie/fanfic. The only songs he won't be taking part in are "Surface Pressure," "Dos Oruguitas," and "All Of You."

He's voiced by Wyclef Jean (after listening to Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie" on repeat for twenty minutes). I also considered: Marc Anthony, Carlos Vives, Luis Fonsi, Daddy Yankee, Sebastián Yatra, Lin-Manuel Miranda, and even Pitbull!

That's about it for now... The reason why I'm doing all of this infodumping, besides the irresistible urge to share my new OC with the fandom, is because, well...

I'M THINKING OF MAKING AN ENCANTO FIC!

So you can look back at this long-as-hell post as a reference! I'm being smart by doing all this exposition now so I don't have to when writing!

It will start off on Wattpad (under the username Icemoor47), then A03 (under the username GalileoTheWaterDog), THEN Fanfiction.net (under the username ThunderClanWarrior502)!

My only problem right now... Is thinking of a good name for it...

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dreamsmp-au-ideas · 4 years ago

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TUA AU, this time for season 2 Tommy and Sam!

So. Tommy just got yeeted into the future after having a rather fiery breakdown. That happened.

And he doesn't remember much. He doesn't know where he is, how he got there, or why he feels so alone, like there's somebody - multiple sombodies - who should be here but aren't and it's freaking him out. All he remembers is burning, everything burning, before somebody else is there, telling him everything is going to be okay. He doesn't know who they are, but he thinks it was someone he loved.

(He also remembers a man in green and a mask that makes his breath go shaky, but not exactly why.)

And then you've got Sam. Sam, who lives alone with his dog Fran, is probably driving home after work, when he sees this kid on the side of the road, no adult in sight, nothing but his clothes on his back, probably homeless or a runaway, looks about two seconds away from a panic attack, and- well, what is Sam supposed to do? Just leave him there?

So he goes up to the kid, who nearly jumps out his skin, and after about two minutes of conversation it becomes clear that oh yeah, this kid is definitely not okay. Sam manages to catch his name, before his concern skyrockets as Tommy promptly collapses into his arms because he's had a long fucking day, alright?

Well. It's good thing Sam has that guest room he never uses.

So he brings Tommy home, waits for him to wake up, asks him some questions over breakfast, like where are your parents? What happened to you? Do you have anywhere to go? It's when Tommy gives a quiet no or I don't know that Sam promptly decides "okay, you're staying with me"

It's rough going for the first few weeks. Tommy isn't about to dash out the door like he first did when he woke up, but he doesn't exactly trust Sam either. Meanwhile Sam may not know about the superpowers, or the apocalypse or time travel, but he does manage to gather that this kid must have been through some serious shit. And a lot of his reactions and comments point towards having a not-so-good caregiver in the past, so he does his best to be patient, understanding, give Tommy his space and make sure he knows he doesn't owe Sam anything.

Things slowly get better. Tommy gets acquainted with Fran, who is good at calming him down when Sam can't, especially after nightmares. As the weeks go on, more and more of Tommy's memories trickle in, and Sam helps him deal with that. Tommy tells him he thinks he did some bad things in the past, and Sam tells him he doesn't think Tommy is a bad person, and that it's what he does now that matters, not the past.

A couple of weeks turn into a couple of months, and things are good. Tommy smiles more easily, trusts more easily, is less tense and wary, and Sam will admit that it's nice to have such a vibrant presence in the previously empty house. Maybe Tommy tentatively starts to experiment with his powers in private, getting better control, learning exactly what he can do. Maybe he even remembers that he had a family, that maybe they're out there somewhere. Things are good.

Except one day, things are not so good. Tommy's walking home from doing some errands, when he gets held up by this weird cat-like guy, who keeps asking him questions and is in general getting way too close for comfort. Tommy manages to lose him, and brushes it off. Guy was probably just a conman, or high, or a really creepy salesman. Then he gets home, and Sam is worried, tells him that earlier two guys came by - white hoodie and a guy who refuses to swear - asking a bunch of questions, trying to invite themselves in, and most concerning - they were asking for Tommy specifically.

That is... unnerving, but not necessarily cause for alarm. What harm could they really do? Then next day, the guys come by again, and they're a lot more persistent, keep trying to convince Tommy to come with them, that they can help him, they can bring him to his fanily, and Sam is really not liking the vibe he gets from these guys, and long story short a scuffle breaks out. Tommy uses his powers to scare the guys off, but not before Sam gets injured. Not majorly, but still.

Sam is understandably spooked, especially as it slowly dawns on him he might have bitten off more than he can chew- but no, he's not going to leave Tommy, he promised, he can't. They go to a hotel to stay the night, just in case.

Tommy, meanwhile, is spiraling hard. Because there are people after him, who apparently know about him and what he can do, about his family, and he may not know exactly what they want but it can't be anything good. And they're coming after him, after Sam, and Sam got hurt, Sam got hurt trying to protect him, Sam got hurt because of him, just like everyone else-

Tommy refuses to let people get hurt because of him anymore.

So, quietly in the middle of the night, he writes a note, telling Sam he's sorry, he shouldn't have to deal with, with Tommy, he shouldn't have to get hurt because there are more people out there who want to use Tommy's powers, that it's not his job to protect him. He tells Sam thank you, for everything, for the past few months that have been the best his life, that he doesn't know how to repay him and he'll never forget, and he tells Sam not to look for him, to stay away, for his safety and Tommy's peace of mind. He tells Sam goodbye, then he quietly slips outside, jumps on bus or a train, and walks away from the only stable caregiver he's had in years.

Sam wakes up, reads the note, and promptly decides fuck that, Tommy is a kid, he's Sam's kid, and Sam will be damned before he lets him be alone, because he made a promise to keep Tommy safe and he is damn well going to keep it. So him and Fran jump in the car, and set off for the nearest town.

(And maybe while he's there, he meets a blonde man who also seems to be worried about his kids, so...

Sam: Hey, have you seen a tall, skittish blonde teenager? Curses a lot, about 6' 1", kind of a smart-ass?

Phil:

Phil: Tell me everything you know right now.)

Meanwhile, Tommy is walking down the street of some unknown city, oblivious to the pink-haired vigilante that does a double take when he sees him, disbelief all across his face.

It’s found family your honor. It’s Sam and Tommy bonding and becoming a family and oh god that’s giving me so many feelings and then Tommy leaves because he thinks he’s a danger to Sam and oh man. This hurts.

On the bright side though, we have everything coming together and we have the plot just slowly converge together and that’s great.

#dream smp #dream smp au #the umbrella academy au #tommyinnit #awesamdude #ask #long post #zero-gravity-zero-chill

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asphyxiateher · 4 years ago

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Only Monsters Come Out at Night

A/N: Debating on whether or not I should put this on AO3. Thoughts? Do I need to edit what I have before posting on my favorite website? Anyways, I’m really into horror and I’d like to try my hand at focusing on MC’s descent into madness while falling for her captors. Dimitrescu Sisters x OFC (Desdemona) Summary: Desdemona, her twin brother and best friend are on vacation in Romania when things go horribly wrong the moment they run out of gas. Desdemona has the misfortune of enchanting the monsters that decided to terrorize her group.

It was a cold, pitch black night in the northeastern mountainous region of Romania, a heavy fog enveloping the roads which made it nearly impossible for any source of light to pierce through the gloom. This did not bode well for Desdemona and her friends as they dared to venture through the treacherous weather in order to reach their destination. The humble village of Bran should have been a welcome sight by now although from where the unlucky travelers were currently stranded, Desdemona had her doubts. To make matters worse, her best friend, Veronica, shoved a crumpled map of Brasov, Romania into her boyfriend’s hands and demanded answers. Her hot-headed friend was teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

“Desmond, are you sure we’re headed in the right direction? None of this seems to make sense!”, Veronica exclaimed as she nervously rummaged through her shoulder bag for yet another cigarette. She struggled to light her cigarette this time, the harsh winter’s wind blowing hard against her bare hands caused them to shake violently.

Desmond sighed in exasperation and ran his fingers through his messy chestnut brown hair, pushing wild dark curls away from his eyes.

“You think the shopkeeper gave us the wrong directions to fuck with us because we’re tourists? I knew we were gonna get shit signal out here in the bum fuck middle of nowhere but come on, the old guy looked knowledgeable. Can’t blame me for trustin’ him.” Desmond casually replied with a shrug. He then took a moment to straighten the map again before folding it neatly and tucking it into his pocket.

Desdemona was of the same mind as her twin. It seemed likely that the locals would be completely burnt out from the flocks of American tourists invading their hometown just to squawk about the castle that inspired Bram Stoker’s Dracula. How exhausting it must be to constantly point out where to go to book a tour or who to call to arrange such things when the internet exists. In hindsight, Desdemona should have known better than to bug the polite yet obviously impatient shopkeeper about their vacation plans.

“Think about it, V, Desmond has a point. The guy probably gave us the run around for shits and giggles. You know, it would have been fine taking a wrong turn and then having to backtrack all the way back into town, but we should have just stayed the night at the Inn. Now we’re outta gas and it’s fucking freezing out here.” Desdemona added, now hugging herself tightly and occasionally rubbing her arms to keep warm for as much as possible.

Veronica growled but relented as she took a long drag of her cigarette, her foot resting against their rented vehicle. She took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. Snowflakes began to drift downwards, and it only fueled Veronica’s anxiety about being stranded in the middle of nowhere in the dark. “Alright, alright, we can either freeze to death in this piece of shit,” Veronica began as she kicks the van for good measure, “or we can freeze to death out there looking for shelter. I think I see a path over there that we can take to find what we need. It might lead us to people who can help us, or it might lead us to certain death. All I know is that we need to make a decision now, it’s starting to snow.” Desmond grins and wraps his arm around Veronica’s waist, pulling her close and pecking her on the cheek. “To certain death it is! Des, grab the essentials and let’s head out. According to the map, there are a few small villages in the surrounding area. Chances are we’ll stumble into one of them eventually and find shelter. We’ll get this mess sorted out.” Desmond eagerly stepped away from Veronica’s embrace and stepped towards the beaten van.

After a few moments of scrounging around for what they deemed important, Desdemona ended up with a backpack full of snacks, water, spare clothes, and the first aid kid. Veronica settled for an entire carton of cigarettes and a few spare lighters because you know, it was “absolutely essential” to her survival in a foreign land. Desmond found a flashlight and decided that going light would be preferable to him in case they ran into any trouble. They paved the way forward, following the path that strayed away from the lonely sliver of road. Turning back to get a final look at the abandoned van, Desdemona swallowed the surge of fear that was beginning to creep up on her. She had seen enough horror movies in her lifetime knowing that this probably wasn’t going to end up well for her little group. The logical side of her brain, what little rational thoughts she had left, gnawed their way through her brain begging to be voiced out and heard.

‘Turn back around, it’s safer to stay put and wait until morning! This is dangerous and you know it!’

Desdemona reluctantly glanced back at her brother walking ahead with Veronica hand in hand and the younger twin suddenly stopped in her tracks. Maybe she should stay behind just in case while her gregarious brother searched for help in these mountains; after all, he was far more easygoing and could easily charm the most stubborn of fools into helping him.

“Des, what’s wrong? I thought we all agreed that we should stick together.” Veronica called out to her, uncertainty lacing her tone as her eyes flicked back and forth between the van and a terrified looking Desdemona.

Nervously fidgeting in place, Desdemona struggles to settle the conflicted thoughts warring in her mind. She knows that staying behind and waiting for help would be the wisest course of action, but there was safety in numbers. There’s danger lurking beyond the vast expanse of mountains that surrounded them and she would be utterly defenseless if left alone. Desdemona’s instincts were begging her to go back to the van but the connection she shared with her twin demanded that she follow him through the sketchy path that would most likely lead to their demise. She couldn’t let anything happen to Desmond, she would never forgive herself if something happened to him out here.

With a shaky resolve, Desdemona straightened up and gazed back at Veronica with a small smile on her face. “I’m just nervous, you know. Desmond and I binge watched all the Wrong Turn movies last Saturday so being out here alone in the dark is uh, freaking me out a little. I’ll be fine, though, let’s just keep going.” Desdemona lied as she rushed over to her best friend who rolled her eyes at the revelation.

“No wonder you’re acting all sketch, Des. First of all, binge watching horror movies the weekend before your vacation was stupid as hell so now you’re all hyped up over nothing. Secondly, Wrong Turn sucks. Y’all should have binged Hatchet, Danielle Harris is so hot!” Veronica declared, eager to get conversation going as the three of them trekked through a rocky and narrow trail that led to who knows where.

Desmond was quick to reply in defense of his favorite horror movie franchise and Desdemona was thankful to hear them bicker back and forth. The conversation drowned out the sound of cold whispers tickling naked branches in the distance, the loud crunching of their footsteps on the snow-covered ground, and ravens crying out above them. It was so eerie and something about it all didn’t sit right with Desdemona. She hooked an arm around Veronica’s free arm and together they discussed their favorite horror movies. Veronica could tell her best friend was still a little spooked, so she pulled her closer until she was pressed against her side to provide as much comfort as she could give.

The trail continued to narrow the further they moved along but nothing they observed thus far gave the impression that that anything was out of the ordinary. When they reached a clearing, Desmond sighed with relief. His breath steaming the frigid air was nearly the only thing they could see ahead if it weren’t for the flashlight providing what little comforting light source they had. The snow fall began to pick up the pace but it wasn’t blinding, thankfully. Desmond brushed aside large shrubs and stepped further into the winding path, coming to a full stop when he realized what lay ahead of the weary travelers.

The trio stared in awe at the overpowering sight of a 15th century castle looming over a quiet village sheltering underneath a blanket of darkness, or what Desdemona assumed was its shadow. No amount of fog could hide the monstrosity that was the architectural brilliance of this castle that Desdemona saw before her very eyes.

“Desmond, honey, where the hell do you think you’re going? Don’t leave Dezzy and I behind!” Veronica suddenly shrieked as she sprinted after her overly excited boyfriend down the hill that led into the village. Desmond turned around and could only offer a sheepish smile with a shrug before eagerly running into the unknown. Desdemona tore her gaze away from the castle and spurred into action, jumping and running as fast as she could in order to catch up with her twin.

Desmond was energized by both the cool crisp air and the promising sight of civilization, but that energy was quickly drained out of him when he encountered something wholly unexpected. Veronica reached the eldest Hawthorne sibling and was about to admonish him for leaving the two frightened girls behind, but she was quickly shushed by Desmond. Desdemona quietly approached the scene, her eyes widening when she realized that this was not the village of Bran at all.

They had indeed reached a small village but it looked completely obliterated. The houses looked shattered and broken, as if something gigantic and menacing had come through and picked away at the people that once inhabited this community one by one. Desmond cautiously led the group forward, calling out for any signs of survivors. This wasn’t on the itinerary…

Veronica was on the verge of tears, her hands covering her mouth as she observed the tragic scene before her. Every now and then, she would step into a broken home and call out to somebody – anybody- only to step back out with a grim look on her face. She pulled out her cell phone and attempted to dial emergency services only to be met with disappointment.

“There’s blood.” Desmond says quietly. His eyes peer over the trail of fresh blood and fear grips him the moment the flashlight scans over the corpse of a rotting horse. “Fuck, that stench – we need to get the fuck out of here now!” Veronica cries, gagging and turning away from the horrific view.

Desdemona would have expressed an equally strong reaction had she not felt a sense of…wrongness abruptly assaulting the atmosphere. The moment they stepped foot into the village, the environment reacted to their presence and that did not sit right with Desdemona at all.

“Desmond, do you hear that?” Desdemona asked, her voice laced with terror. Desmond Hawthorne heard the fear in his sister’s quivering voice and it made him feel uneasy. “I don’t hear anything, Des.” He replies as he reaches for Veronica’s hand and squeezes it tight. The couple began to frantically look around them as they slowly backed into Desdemona. As soon as they grouped up again, both Veronica and Desmond wrapped themselves around the youngest sister. The oppressive silence sent a whole new wave of fear over the group before something insidious could be heard approaching them in the distance. Desdemona gasped when she heard maniacal giggling and it was getting louder. A fluttering of what sounds like wings -bats, ravens, perhaps- advancing towards the group sent chills down Desdemona’s spine. What the hell was coming after them?

Desmond flashed his light from side to side before it settled on the massive black ball of insects that instantly appeared before him. The insects dissipated and somehow revealed the shape of a human being wearing a dark robe and hood. The only thing he could truly make out was the color of a red pendant wrapped around dainty, pale skin and a blood smeared smirk. Desmond’s heart dropped in absolute horror and panic immediately set in.

“RUN!” He screamed, taking off with a terrified Veronica in tow. Neither of them looked back to make sure Desdemona was following. The flashlight dropped, and it briefly circled the ground. The flickering light revealed two other black masses of insects approaching the younger Hawthorne sibling who was paralyzed with fear. All she could hear in that moment was delirious laughter coming from the women that revealed themselves two seconds later, the insects dissolving into thin air right before her very eyes.

The crazed woman standing directly in front of Desdemona leaned forward and took her time sniffing her pretty prey who stared at her with petrified gray eyes. Desdemona found it alarming that despite the lunatic’s appearance, dried blood caked on her lips and unruly red hair and a wild, untamed look in her eyes, she found her quite…striking. Perhaps she was going mad. None of this made sense, how could this be happening right now?

“Mmm, sisters, look at what I found. Such a pretty young thing all for me and she smells oh so delicious.” The woman with the green pendant spoke, giggling madly at the profound effect she had on Desdemona.

“Daniela, you’re delusional, she’s mine; I’m the one who picked up on her tasty scent!” The one with the red pendant spoke after she turned her attention to the only human who didn’t run from them.

The brunette with the yellow pendant reached over and yanked on Desdemona’s hair so hard back, Desdemona thought her life was over. She bared her teeth as she skimmed her nose across the young woman’s neck. Her tongue darted out between blood smeared lips and left a wet trail, causing the smaller woman’s breath to hitch at the unwelcome contact.

“Mmm, she smells so utterly divine. Bela, by the way, it wasn’t you who found MY new pet, it was me! You ungrateful wretches always want to touch what’s mine!” The hooded figure’s grip on her hair tightened and Desdemona whined, causing all three women to delight in her torment.

What Desdemona couldn’t figure out was what they wanted to do with her exactly and why they were fighting over her like three starved wild dogs fighting over a piece of meat. She needed to get out of there fast. “LET GO OF MY SISTER, YOU UGLY CUNTS!” Desmond’s angry voice broke through in the distance and all three creatures turned their attention on the young man who dared interrupt dinner time.

Desdemona decided this was the time to take advantage of their distraction and she quickly slipped away, sprinting as fast as she could to the nearest unoccupied house. Desmond, relieved that his sister broke free from whatever those things were, spun on his heel and ran the opposite direction. He could only hope that all three of them would make it out of this godforsaken village alive.

All three women threw their heads back and laughed wildly into the air as they knew catching their prey would be much more satisfying when they caught them alone in isolated surroundings. It added to their fear and it made the blood taste that much sweeter.

“The hunt is on, sisters. Leave the pretty plaything alive, but the others, we will present to our dear mother as gifts. We’ll make the new pet watch mother undo their very lives; it’ll only make her that much more delicious when we have our fill.” The one with the yellow pendant stated as she sniffed at the air, shuddering when Desdemona’s irresistible scent filled her nostrils once more.

Desdemona found refuge in a large house a few yards away and slammed the front door shut when she ran inside. She quickly assessed what she assumed was the living room, she found a bookcase and summoned whatever strength she had and brought it down in front of the door. She heard something clawing at the door the instant she blocked the entrance, the door shaking violently and mad laughter filling her ears once more.

Desdemona shakily reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight and began to look for another way out.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, Jesus Christ! What the fuck are those things!? Where’s Desmond? Is Veronica alright? How the hell do I get out of here? I just want to go home!’ Desdemona’s mind was running through a million thoughts per second but she couldn’t for the life of her settle on anything that would give her a moment’s peace. She was sobbing uncontrollably as she explored the dark home, her hands stretched out in front of her as she searched for anything that would provide answers to her problems. When she found a door near the kitchen, she cautiously opened it and cursed the eerie creaking sound that followed. It was discovered that the door led to a cellar of some kind and Desdemona rushed down the stairs without closing the door behind her. She slowly scanned the large open space and saw that this home had been recently ransacked or rummaged through. Clothes were scattered across the floor, furniture had been broken in half and tossed carelessly to the side but Desdemona found a hallway beyond the room she was in. ‘That must be the way out. Hurry up and grab something to protect yourself with!’

Desdemona carefully tip toed around the clutter, her phone flashing from side to side but to no avail, she couldn’t find anything that would prove harmful to whatever those monsters were outside. The woman nearly tripped over and fell when her foot stepped in something thick and wet, causing her foot to slip forward. Desdemona quickly steadied herself on a cabinet but it didn’t make her feel any better when she realized her fingers were covered in a thick, red substance.

Her breathing growing heavier, Desdemona flashed her phone light over to the cabinet only to find that it was covered in blood – a lot of it, to be exact and it was still dripping on the floor as though it were fresh.

All color drained from Desdemona’s face when she heard pained howling coming from the village; it was Desmond and he was screaming for help. Her twin was in danger and here she was selfishly trying to find a way to preserve her own life.

She quickly twisted around to run towards the howling but she stopped dead in her tracks when a black mass of insects appeared before her. The cloaked figure could only be identified by the color of her green pendant and a delirious smile plastered on her face. Fresh blood dripped down her chin and Desdemona’s eyes reluctantly followed the pool of blood forming at their feet. There was a sickle in her right hand and it was covered in blood, much to Desdemona’s dismay.

Desdemona began to tremble, overpowered by the frightening sight and the implications that followed a bloodied sickle carried by a madwoman. “The sound of your heart hammering against your chest is like music to my ears, pretty thing. Do not fret, my beauty, the moment we met I knew you were special. You’re meant to be mine, we’re meant to be!” She whispers madly, her tongue wetting her lips as her eyes rake over Desdemona’s body slowly and deliberately.

Desdemona doesn’t know what she’s talking about and she doesn’t want to know. Before she could form any kind of response, she’s pinned against the bloody cabinet behind her. She gasps in surprise and that seems to trigger the creature into action.

Desdemona screams as the hooded woman lunges at her collarbone and pierces through her skin with her razor sharp teeth. Desdemona weakly clutches at the woman’s shoulders, growing lightheaded from the sudden blood loss that was occurring. Feeling the woman about to collapse in her arms, Daniela pulls back and savors the taste of her blood. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she sloppily licks the blood off her mouth and regains what little self-control she had left to preserve her pretty plaything for a little while longer.

When dazed gray eyes meet hers, Daniela’s cold, black heart skips a beat. She had never seen anything more beautiful. So she raises her sickle, causing Desdemona’s eyes to widen in panic and Daniela can’t help but giggle a little.

“Don’t worry, my beauty, I’ll be gentle with you. The hideous man-thing and his bitch aren’t going to be as lucky as you, I hope. You deserve special treatment.” Daniela whispers, her fingers caressing her prey’s tear-stained cheek before swinging the sickle with full forced into the back of Desdemona’s thigh.

Desdemona remembers a high-pitched shriek escaping her but nothing else seems to come to mind after that. She remembers her vision blurring and a creeping darkness soothing her to sleep but what happened after, nothing. She enters the haunting abyss that welcomes her with black tendrils pulling her from reality, sleep coming to her easily. With better luck, she’ll never have to wake up again.

Only fools believe in luck as the nightmare has only just begun.

#resident evil village #RE8 #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #dimitrescu daughters x ofc #lady dimitrescu daughters x ofc #Holy shit this was just chapter one #I need an editor or something but bruh #I had to get this out of my system #other people may not like it but i did it for me lol #I need more dimitrescu sisters x ofc content

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dessarious · 5 years ago

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Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt84

Sorry for the erratic updates. The heats been making it near impossible to think about anything besides ice cream and sleep. :) Stress at work isn’t helping either but hopefully things will calm down soon.

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

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As they neared the front of the bakery Damian heard shouting. He shared a look with Luka as Drake continued ahead of them. He knew that voice. He’d been on the receiving end of it a couple times at this point. He had to wonder who was the current target of Sabine Cheng’s wrath. When Drake opened the door, Damian realized she was yelling in Mandrin but it was a dialect he wasn’t familiar with so he could only make out parts of it. The word ‘ungrateful’ made an appearance more than once.

Of all the things he’d expected, Sabine yelling at Marinette while Chloe was practically crawling into the wall to stay out of it wasn’t it. Normally she’d be going into protection mode. When he opened his mouth to interrupt Chloe shook her head violently at him. Marinette had her head down but he could still see part of her expression. She didn’t look scared or worried, more resigned. Chloe motioned them over to where she was, and Sabine didn’t even acknowledge their existence.

“What’s going on?” Drake’s soft question caused Chloe’s eye to twitch.

“Mari poked a sleeping bear and is reaping the rewards. Trust me, no one wants to get in the middle. It’ll just prolong the attack and possibly get you banned from the bakery for an indeterminate amount of time.” She kept her voice quiet and moved her mouth as little as possible. It was obvious she was trying to follow her own advice. Luka just nodded and leaned against the wall to observe. Drake still seemed torn so Damian decided to distract him.

“Why don’t you check over the chair while we wait?” Damian smirked at how quickly Drake jumped on the excuse to not help Marinette. The smirk disappeared when Sabine’s gaze came too close to him. The woman was terrifying and he still had no idea why. He noticed the four new Kwami standing on the other side of the room all looking at the woman in varying forms of awe. He had to wonder if it was because they could understand her or just the fact that she was yelling at the Guardian. Either way, the fact that none of them or Tikki were interfering was a bit telling.

“So do I want to know what triggered this so I can avoid a similar fate?” Chloe rolled her eyes at him.

“Trust me you do not know that woman well enough to cause that reaction. I honestly don’t know what Mari was thinking. I think her frustration at everything is finally surfacing.” Damian frowned as he considered that. Marinette had been extremely upbeat, which wasn’t unusual for her but he hadn’t really thought about the fact that he hadn’t seen her crack. At all. He just assumed she still didn’t feel comfortable being that vulnerable around him. He’d never considered she was keeping up a front in front of everyone still.

“Has she reacted at all?” Chloe let out a deep sigh and he saw what looked like guilt in her expression.

“Not in a way that matters. She’s too busy comforting all of us to have the breakdown she needs.” That certainly sounded like Marinette.

“Not everyone has a full scale breakdown you know.” Chloe just let out a sigh and began rubbing one of her temples.

“She hasn’t cried. She hasn’t gotten angry. She hasn’t talked about how this has affected her or made her feel. She’s been so busy trying to make sure the fallout from Hawkmoth is being taken care of, dealing with the Justice League, and keeping me calm she hasn’t been able to concentrate on herself at all. Add that to the fact that she’s been repressing her emotions for the last two years because the consequences if she didn’t were possibly world ending and it’s a solid bet that when the dam bursts, it’s going to be brutal.”

Damian could only give a non committal hum. Marinette didn’t seem like the type to just have a meltdown but Chloe had known her a lot longer. For all he knew she could have been an emotional wreck before Hawkmoth entered the scene. The way she’d allowed Lila to just destroy her civilian life said that she clearly valued others over herself and given the stories he’d heard about her from before that it had nothing to do with her being Ladybug. She would take care of everyone else and neglect herself and that could easily lead to what Chloe was worried about.

“It’s not just you that she’s keeping calm you know. The only one of us that she hasn’t been careful around to a rather extreme degree is Drake. She’s even been keeping Luka at arms length and that doesn’t normally happen. She feels that we’re all her responsibility so it’s not specifically your fault that she won’t let herself grieve.” Damian saw Luka wince out of the corner of his eye. They’d talked about this but apparently he wasn’t supposed to mention it to other people. Chloe looked like she’d been slapped.

“He’s not saying you’re any less important to Mari. Just that you’re not the only one adding to her stress. You’re the one that’s doing the most to ease her transition and the one she’ll eventually open up to. You’re her center.” Luka’s words didn’t really make sense to Damian, or rather he seemed to be talking on more than one level. Chloe’s tension eased dramatically though, so it was obvious she understood what he meant.

“It just feels like she’s locking more and more away. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help.” Her voice was filled with frustration. Damian had a feeling that Marinette wasn’t the only one repressing feelings.

“Maybe if you’re honest with her she’ll be honest with you.” Drake and Luka both glared at him but Chloe was frowning to herself in thought.

“I don’t just want to become even more of a problem for her. She needs to feel safe to let go. She won’t do that if she’s worried about me.” Luka sighed and hesitated before responding.

“Damian has a point. She’ll feel safer if she knows that any outburst from her won’t be harder on you. You’re both protecting each other from yourselves but at the same time it’s causing you to lock each other out.”

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#maribat #marinette dupen chang #Damian Wayne #bffmaridami

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