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artdolliewishes · 4 months ago

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Neytiri’s Fatal Flaw and Her Future Arc.

I was watching the deleted/original cut of the scene with Neytiri holding Spider hostage which — first off, incredible scene by the way like holy shit — but it made me think about how perfectly it served for Neytiri’s character.

Someone might’ve already talked about this already, but what I don’t think a lot of people realize is that this scene serves as the payoff for earlier Neytiri-related scenes as well as a starting point for her arc going forward.

If you haven’t watched the scene, here, it’s a far more impactful version of an already hard hitting scene and I’m going to treat it as what “really” happened in the story for the sake of analysis.

The first moment I’m focusing on is this one where Neytiri goes to pick up her bow after killing a few RDA grunts, only to find that the bow is now broken and unusable.

There’s a running theme in these two movies that I’ve seen people point out and that’s how Neytiri keeps losing things that are precious to her, whether they be people, places, or objects.

In the first movie, she loses a lot including but not limited to the Hometree, the Tree of Voices, her older sister, Tsu’tey, her Ikran, and her father. When her father dies, he grants her the Ceremonial Bow and that’s what she ends up using to fight in all subsequent battles.

In the second movie, she thankfully doesn’t lose as much, but she’s still forced to leave her home and her first born son is killed in the heat of battle, rough times all around.

You’ll note that I didn’t include losing her precious bow on the list of things she lost and that’s because she didn’t lose the bow, she broke it.

All the other losses I’ve described are caused by the RDA, but this one isn’t. Instead of her bow being broken by another grunt in the heat of the battle, she’s the one who breaks it by swinging it haphazardly at her enemies.

I may not know all that much about archery or making weapons, but I’m almost certain that bows aren’t designed to be used like that, which is why her bow broke the way that it did.

And it cannot be understated how important this bow must be to Neytiri. I mentioned before that it was given to her by her late father, making it an important connection to her family already, but it’s also made from the wood of Hometree. So not only is it a connection to her family, it’s a connection to her people and the home that was stolen from them.

All that and she still broke it, not because she didn’t cherish the bow, but because she just couldn’t control her anger enough to handle it properly.

And that’s what I feel Neytiri’s fatal flaw is, as well as what her arc will be primarily focusing on in the upcoming movies — Neytiri’s anger and hatred leads to blind rage, and she becomes liable to hurt those she cares about.

For the record, I am not making the claim that Neytiri’s flaw is that she gets angry. Being outraged by death and destruction, hating those who bring about injustice, these aren’t flaws and aren’t things she should be vilified for. What is a flaw is how she uses her anger, or rather how it uses her.

Jake spells it out pretty cleanly in a scene that happened a while ago. When Tonowari told Jake and Neytiri about the destruction the RDA was causing to the nearby villages, they immediately connect it back to Quaritch. Neytiri describes how they have to finish off Quaritch — “we have to hunt this demon, trap him, kill him” — and this is what Jake says in response to that idea:

“We gotta be smart…”

He’s not dismissing the idea of doing something, he’s just cautioning her on how they go about doing it. That’s the crux of Neytiri’s most prevalent flaw, it isn’t her becoming angered at the injustice she and her people face, it’s her not being smart about how she acts on it.

The last two moments I’d like to draw attention to are the one where one of Quartich’s lackey calls Neytiri a “wild animal” and the one where she actually acts like one.

For the record, Lyle and Quaritch are in the wrong for likening Neytiri to an animal and dehumanizing her in the process, especially when the reason they insulted her was because she was acting violent in the video where she was protecting her husband. However, it’s undeniable that during the fight on the Sea Dragon, Neytiri is the most violent and rage filled we’ve ever seen her.

It’s particularly noticeable right before she realizes she broke her bow, which is definitely not a coincidence I’ll tell you that much.

She screams in the guys face and stabs him over and over and over again, after which she gets up and starts growling, searching for anything else that moves. It’s not a stretch to say that, in this moment, she’s acting almost like a bloodthirsty animal hungry for vengeance, not too dissimilar from the wild animal the recoms painted her as.

And all of this, her accidentally breaking her father’s bow, being asked to be smart about it all, acting like a wild animal, it all comes to a head in the moment where she uses Spider’s life as leverage to save Kiri’s. It starts off good when she makes Quaritch let Kiri go, but when Kiri is freed from Quaritch’s grasp and she can turn her attention to the man himself…

…she puts the blade back against Spider’s neck and utters those infamous lines:

“A son for a son.”

I’ve seen a lot of people comment on how “powerful” of a scene this is, and while I agree that it’s a powerful storytelling moment and extremely important to Neytiri’s character, I think a lot of people miss the fact that this isn’t an admirable moment of a mother’s rage, but a scary and dark moment where Neytiri is about to fall to Quaritch’s lows.

Because if Neytiri had actually gone through with this decision, then she would’ve done the same thing to her family that she did with her bow — destroy it. What’s important to note about Neytiri’s hatred towards Spider is that; while it’s understandable considering all the trauma she went through at the hands of his father and the RDA, she’s the only one in her family that feels this way towards him.

For one thing, Spider is both Lo’ak and Kiri’s best friend and they know how much Spider hates being Quaritch’s son, there’s no way that they’d just accept Neytiri after she killed their best friend. We don’t get much development on Spider’s relationship with Tuk or Neteyam, but we see Spider protect Tuk, tease Neteyam, and cry during Neteyam’s death, so they must be friends on some level.

And finally Jake. Admittedly, Jake is pretty lukewarm towards Spider throughout the entire movie, but I’d argue that’s him keeping a respectful distance because of him wanting to side with his wife and not any malice Jake genuinely holds towards Spider himself. We even see him checking over Spider at the end of the movie like he does with Lo’ak and Neteyam.

As much as Jake unconditionally loves Neytiri, I cannot see a world where he’s able to look at her the same way if she killed an innocent child.

And I do mean innocent, because at this point in time Spider’s only “crimes” are being human(not his choice) and being Quaritch’s son(also not his choice). Even if Neytiri’s feelings towards him are understandable and valid, her actions at this point are not justifiable and Jake knows it.

That’s not even mentioning how she hisses at Kiri during this scene, she’s not acting with her family’s best interest in mind, she’s acting on pure rage.

If she had gone through with it and killed Spider, Kiri and Lo’ak would hate her, Tuk wouldn’t be able to look at her the same way again, and Jake probably would’ve left her. She truly did come a hair’s width away from destroying something precious to her once again.

Now let’s talk about Spider for a minute because he’s crucial to all of this, as Neytiri’s hatred for humans extends to her hatred of him.

We already know that, to the Na’vi, “I see you” is considered a respectful greeting, but it’s also a show of great understanding between two people; it’s why Jake’s two pivotal emotional moments at the end of the movies are him telling a loved one “I see you,” it’s because he’s come to understand them as a person beyond what he initially thought.

In contrast, Neytiri does not see Spider, her eyes are shut. Instead of seeing Spider as a person, all she sees is just another human who ought to be with his own kind, a demon. And this is honestly fine, Neytiri isn’t Spider’s mother or caretaker so she’s not obligated to try and understand him as anything deeper than her enemies child and her own children’s best friend.

However, because Neytiri refuses to see Spider as anything other than another human, she lets this hatred for him and his heritage fester until she feels comfortable to threaten his life and see him as a means to an end. And that, no matter how much one may argue it’s understandable from her perspective, leads to dire consequences.

Namely, Spider’s choice to save Quaritch.

Now, before anyone yells at me let me clarify — I am not saying that Neytiri is responsible for Spider’s choice, nor is she responsible for any harm Quaritch will cause in the upcoming movies. However, it’s undeniable that her actions influenced Spider’s decision, whether directly or indirectly.

When Neytiri threatened Spider’s life, Quaritch initially plays off the fact that he’s technically not his son, citing that they aren’t even the same species. But when Neytiri pushes even further, he breaks and shows that he does actually care about Spider, willing to let go of his hostage in order to protect him.

This is big for Spider as his only major desire is to have a family, specifically a parental figure who genuinely cared about him as he is. I’d even go as far as to say that this moment probably proved to Spider that Quaritch cares about him as more than just a mean’s to an end. He’d already helped Quaritch bond with an Ikran and find the Sully family(against his will), he had nothing else to offer but Quaritch still wanted him alive.

This, along with the months they spent together, are what pushed Spider to make his decision at the end of the movie, a decision he was explicitly conflicted about.

And this came about from Neytiri’s decision. I know a lot of people would argue that Neytiri had to do this because it was the only way to save her daughter, and I’ll agree that there weren’t many options for her. But this wasn’t a tactical move she was making, she wasn’t bluffing or putting on a show to force Quaritch’s hand, she was explicitly going to kill Spider just to make Quaritch hurt in the same way she was hurting.

Also, if we want to nitpick we could also say that the months Quaritch and Spider spent together also came about as a result of her actions. When they’re running away from the Recoms, Spider is the only one who falls to the ground and Neytiri doesn’t even think to try and go get him.

“B-But there’s no way Neytiri would’ve been able to save him and get away! She has her own children to worry about!” I hear you typing in the notes of this post, and to that I say you’ve got a point.

However, the fact that Neytiri doesn’t even consider going down to rescue him, doesn’t look over the branch and hesitate before making the difficult decision to prioritize Kiri and feel bad about it later shows that her reasoning is solidly NOT rooted in him being one of her kids or not.

She doesn’t even try, and because of that Quaritch and Spider end up forming the basis for a solid bond.

TLDR; Neytiri’s fatal flaw is that she allows her anger and hatred to cloud her better judgment and control her, leading to a destructive attitude that can ultimately hurt the people she loves and make things worse for her.

Now, what does this have to do with her arc going forward?

At this point, I’m pretty sure everyone has heard at least a little bit about the next movie, Avatar Fire and Ash. I’ve seen people theorizing that the fire tribe will be joining forces with the RDA, that they don’t believe in Eywa, and that Neytiri will have to infiltrate the tribe in order to rescue her children.

I’m not certain whether any of this is true, but what I am certain of is that — if these concept arts hold water by the time the movie is released — then the fire tribe we’ll be encountering in the third movie is going to be an extremely violent community, likely one that puts emphasis on anger and hatred.

And if the rumors are true and Neytiri really is going to be infiltrating them, then Neytiri’s flaws might be able to inform what narrative role the Ash People and Varaang in particular will have in the third movie.

I’ve already explained how in depth how her flaw is how she allows her anger to take control of her and close her vision; she’s volatile like lava and burns hot like fire, becoming liable to burn everything and everyone around her.

From that perspective, she seems more suited to be a fire Na’vi rather than a forest or reef one, no? The choice to take us to a volcanic, fire steeped region isn’t just James Cameron checking off the boxes like “oh we did forest and water, fire next!” its him taking us to a we might find uncomfortably befitting of our worst traits.

And that’s basically what I think Neytiri will have to face upon encountering the Ash People — they are the embodiment of all her flaws put on display.

Varaang specifically may work as her narrative foil, a literal funhouse version of her at her worst(from my perspective the concept art of Varaang actually looks a lot like Neytiri, so that’s interesting).

I also think it’s important to note that Neytiri is absolutely going to find out that Spider saved Quaritch in the third movie, or at least it’s incredibly likely if the Ash People really will be working with Quaritch. That means that her hatred for him and her need for revenge will come back into play, this isn’t over.

But this time things will be different, because in between Neytiri learning of Spider’s betrayal she will also get especially close to the Ash People and find that she is uncomfortably similar to them at her worst. Before she does something she might regret, Neytiri will be forced to ask herself some important questions:

Is revenge really worth it? Is this the kind of person she wants to be? If Jake wasn’t there that night, would she have the blood of a child on her hands? Will she hurt other people she loves because of her anger?

These questions are ones she likely never wanted to ask herself, but they’re necessary because she’s starting right in the face of people who didn’t.

Hopefully, she finds that the answer is no.

#avatar #avatar(james cameron)#avatar the way of water #atwaw #avatar (2009)#avatar analysis #neytiri #spider socorro #miles quaritch #analysis #avatar fire and ash #avatar 3 #gif

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pizzabox-box · 1 month ago

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Dead Man Walking:

Not meant for him...

Peppi-no dove headfirst through the exit. Behind him, the tower let out one final, deafening groan before collapsing entirely, sending a massive plume of smoke and dust into the sky. The others following closely behind barely made it out a split second before the wreckage came crashing down.

Peppi-no landed on the grass outside, coughing and wheezing. He’d lost so much time trying to find Noisette that they had barely escaped in time. He’d never run so fast—or for so long—in his life.

Collapsing onto the soft grass, he struggled to catch his breath and to keep his form stable. The warmth of the sun on his skin, the gentle breeze flowing through his hair, and Gustavo’s reassuring pat on his back grounded him. ...comforting sensations not meant for him...

His gaze shifted to the group that had followed him out of the collapsing tower. Some stood in shock, frozen by the sight of its destruction, some reveled in it, some entirely oblivious to the gravity of what had just occurred. Like it was nothing unusual.

Then, he looked past them, his eyes landing on Peppino's Pizzeria in the distance, completely intact. A strange wave of relief washed over him. He’d done it! He’d saved the restaurant from total obliteration by the laser!

Well... not his restaurant, but still, the point stood: he’d saved Peppino's Pizzeria. ...it was the least he could do for him...

Peppi-no's happy moment was cut short as a thought crept into his mind:

"[You still have to tell the truth.]"

With the tower gone, there was no longer a need for Peppi-no to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Or... was there? Telling them the truth would break their hearts—it would destroy them. No, no, not now. He couldn’t ruin this. Not yet.

Peppi-no shook the thought away and decided not to give it any more attention—at least for now. There were bigger problems to deal with, like the angry mob that wasn’t particularly thrilled about their home being reduced to rubble. Their accusatory glares and muttered threats were enough to send Peppi-no scrambling in the opposite direction.

...

Later on, after Peppi-no managed to shake the hostlie mob off, he finally made his way to Peppino's Pizzeria.

It was late, the restaurant was eerily quiet. The chairs were haphazardly tucked under the tables as if someone had left in a hurry, and the ovens sat cold and unused. Outside, the sun had long since set, only moon was casting a faint glow through the front windows, barely cutting through the gloom.

Peppi-no stepped inside, his soft footsteps echoing against the tiled floor. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating. The atmosphere seemed foreign, uncomfortable but also familiar.. like this is where is meant to be.

"[You shouldn’t be here. This place doesn’t belong to you.]"

The thought came sharp, like a biting reprimand. Peppi-no gripped the counter, his fingers pressing into the wood as if to steady himself. “No,” he muttered, barely audible. “It’s fine. I saved it. I saved Peppino’s Pizzeria.”

He wouldn't have to save it if he didn't kill Peppino. The thought reminded him.

Peppi-no froze, his breath catching in his throat. The words felt like a punch in the gut. He could still feel the crushing moment—the sickening snap of Peppino’s neck, the way his head had come clean off when Peppi-no bit into it. The metalic taste of blood covering the inside of his mouth.

Peppi-no staggered back, his body trembling. “I didn’t realize what I was doing back then” he whimpered, but the words felt hollow, nothing more than empty excuses. He had wanted it. He had wanted to be like him—wanted to have what Peppino had.

“I… I’m sorry,” he muttered.

But the words were futile. Peppi-no had done what he had done, and no apology could ever bring back the life he had stolen. The best he could do is to say the truth, come clear and face the consequenses.

...

Peppi-no stood frozen, his mind overwhelmed by the swirling guilt and regret. For what felt like minutes, he was locked in place, his body unmoving as the weight of his actions held him still. The quiet of the restaurant seemed deafening in the stillness.

But as the silence pressed in, something inside Peppi-no snapped. He looked around the restaurant, the familiar surroundings now foreign, in Peppino's absence dust had collected everywhere

Peppi-no’s mind raced as he looked around the room. Without Peppino this restaurant was doomed to fall apart. No..he worked so hard to build this place. He couldn’t let this restaurant, Peppino’s pride and joy, fall into complete ruin...

"Nobody has to find out:" Peppi-no muttered to himself. "Nobody will find out . I can fix this."

And so with no time to waste, Peppi-no pushed the unpleasant thoughts into the back into his mind once again and got to work.

"The truth would ruin them anyway..."

(The first DMW comic takes place about almost two months into Peppi-no act. There is so much that happened before that. I wanted to write something like this for quite some time. I am not much of a writer but I did my best :D)

#pizza tower #dead man walking au #fake peppino #peppi-no

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secretmellowblog · 2 years ago

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One thing I feel people almost always overlook about Javert is that:

The book’s narrator is usually harsh/sarcastic towards Javert, and that harshness is why his character has pathos. Javert is able to be sympathetic because Victor Hugo has basically no respect for his beliefs. Javert is so pitiable because Hugo mocks and drags him on basically every page he appears.

I’ve mentioned before that the message of Les Mis is (paraphrasing) that ACAB— Javert is the best police officer it is possible to be, and he is terrible, because the laws he enforces are terrible. His law & order ideology is terrible. Everything he believes is fundamentally wrong, and so deeply wrong that it deserves no respect.

Yes, Hugo acknowledges that Javert occasionally has a misguided kind of nobility— the nobility of holding yourself honestly to a set of bad rules, the nobility of following a terrible moral code even when it hurts you. But Hugo has no respect for Javert’s bigotry, or his bootlicking, or his deranged obsessive worship of law and order. Hugo portrays the way that Javert martyrs himself for his ideology as strangely honorable— but the ideology itself is mocked and condemned. Hugo thinks martyrdom is cool, but that Javert is martyring himself for a terrible cause.

In his most sympathetic moments, Javert’s worldview is portrayed as pitiable…. not a worldview that’s worthy of true total genuine respect, but a worldview that’s deeply pathetic in its wrongness.

Without himself suspecting the fact, Javert in his formidable happiness was to be pitied, as is every ignorant man who triumphs.

This is part of why those old 2012-era les mis fanfics always threw me off, if anyone remembers the fandom trends at the time. XD People used to write Valjean and pre-barricades Javert having political debates, as if the two of them could make arguments about law that were equally valid and worthy of respect, and pre-barricades Javert had a worthwhile set of beliefs that Valjean could learn from. But to me it’s personally kinda like, no XD. Nah. The whole thing about pre-barricades Javert is that he does not have any valid points to make. He has nothing resembling a point. He is “ignorant” and determined to stay that way because he literally believes that thinking is evil. He is a violent authoritarian whose worldview is just “mindless self-destructive bootlicking and bigotry.” I joked about it in a previous post but if we want a character who offers a genuinely meaningful counterpoint to Valjean’s philosophy, who could debate him on politics, and who could represent justice while Valjean represents mercy— that character is Enjolras, not Javert.

Valjean has a fascinating complicated relationship with law and politics and violence, but Javert is just a deeply pitiable brainwashed creature who martyrs himself for Wrong things.

Hugo pities Javert, but he does not treat Javert’s worldview --‘authority is always right, rigid social hierarchies must always be enforced, human life has no intrinsic value, the police must violently suppress any kind of crime or rebellion’— as something that deserves to be genuinely respected. It is not something that’s even worthy of debate. It is wrong, it is nonsense, it is an incoherent cruel self-contradicting ideology, and Javert only believes it because (to quote Hugo’s sarcastic narration) “thought was something to which he was unused.” (Or to be more charitable, Javert believes these terrible things because he was born inside a prison and has been brainwashed from birth into internalizing a cruel carceral view of the world.)

And I think Hugo generally does a good job of walking that tightrope — having pity for Javert without portraying Javert’s ideology as something worthy of genuine admiration. He sympathizes with how rigidly Javert holds himself to his own moral code, while condemning the moral code itself for being idiotic. He has empathy with Javert’s sincere self-destructive dedication to what he believes in, while pointing out the things he believes in are all stupid. He pities Javert’s martyrdom, while condemning the nonsense that Javert martyrs himself for.

One of my Top Ten Favorite Pathetic Javert Moments is this one, when Javert recognizes Marius’s body after the barricades:

A spy of the first quality, who had observed everything, listened to everything, and taken in everything, even when he thought that he was to die; who had played the spy even in his agony, and who, with his elbows leaning on the first step of the sepulchre, had taken notes.

Because Javert martyrs himself so earnestly for this terrible cause! He “takes notes” even when he believes he’s going to die and the notes cannot possibly be of any use to anyone, simply because taking notes is the thing he has been ordered to do. He’s so self-destructively dedicated to performing these useless pointless tasks because he believes there is real ~dignity~ to his mindless bootlicking— when there isn’t.

That’s why Javert’s emotional breakdown and suicide hit so hard for me, in a way that it wouldn’t if the narration was forgiving towards his stupid belief system. The contrast between Javert’s sheer pathetic terror and the often harsh/sarcastic narration is just….wild. It makes Javert sympathetic without making his awful ideology seem good, reasonable, or valuable. (And while this is only adjacent to the point I’m making- the harsh narration in Derailed also emphasizes the way Javert has been trained to view his own thoughts/emotions with contempt.) Javert is deeply pitiable/sympathetic without his ideology being framed as correct. And the whole tragedy of his character comes from the fact that he is utterly entirely wrong.

If I were to summarize the pathos of Javert, I wouldn’t say “he’s sympathetic because he’s a noble anti-hero with good strong morals who makes some valuable points about the importance of law” or w/e. I’d say that you can feel sorry for him because he’s a wretched brainwashed creature who’s never done anything right even though he wants to, and is deeply ridiculously pathetic without ever realizing it.

As Hugo puts it: “without himself suspecting the fact, Javert (…) was to be pitied.”

#send an ask if you want to know my other top ten favorite pathetic javert moments!#les mis #XD #it’s javert death day so I decided to make an overlong tumblr post for him #a very Vintage Mellow thing to do #but yeah #people always say I hate javert because I mock and drag him all the time #but like!!!#the reason javert is sympathetic is because Hugo’s always mocking and dragging him #I love it #that’s my take anyway #he’s just a horrible Creature #my complicated emotional relationship with javert #but yeee idk if this is coherent XD

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sharpth1ng · 7 months ago

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Is Billy gonna break down and cry? I feel like he severely needs someone (Stu) to hold him while he cries

So yeah, Billy will cry and I’d say he’s already having a breakdown lmao. The crying isnt going to be super obvious though, it’s just going to be him saying his face is wet or something. He’s ashamed to be crying so it’s not something he’d likely admit (Toxic masculinity is a hell of a drug /neg)

He was crying at the end of debaser incase you didn’t catch it:

Honestly I think the ability to cry is something people take for granted at times. It’s actually a really good way to relieve tension and move on from an emotional experience, it causes endorphin release that can literally help reduce physical pain let alone mental stress.

But when you can’t cry you just feel blocked up, like a pot of boiling water with the lid welded on. You have to release it in other more destructive ways so you’re irritable, you explode at people and you take it out on yourself or you numb and distract yourself because there’s no other way to move on from the feeling.

And none of that stuff even really moves you past it, it’s all just a bandaid on a gaping wound but the bandaid was dipped in lemon juice because all of those desperate coping mechanisms have their own fallout and shame attached. So it’s a cycle.

But then when it breaks through enough that you do actually cry? It almost shocks you. Your body is so unused to the feeling that you can’t breathe and you feel like a mess and you don’t want anyone to see you even if you knew they wouldn’t judge you because you can’t stand the way people look at you when they’re worried about you.

So you only cry when you’re alone and you barely acknowledge it to yourself. And you probably belittle yourself for it too, like “Was that really worth the tears?” As if those tears are the product of whatever cued them and not the overspill of months or years worth of hurt that you never acknowledged. And then you don’t even know what you’re hurting about because it’s all just pilling up on itself, merging into this sprawling mess of carnage inside you.

So yeah Billy definitely needs Stu to hold him when he cries but he’s not going to let him, not for years at least. He’s going to keep being surprised that his face is wet.

#sorry lmao #progress is slow #it’s baby steps #nope not projecting #debaser fanfic #debaser spoilers #sort of #tw mental health #ask

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smolghostbot · 19 days ago

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Patchwork Melody - Fall

Chapter 3 of 4! Things are finally taking a turn towards the blushy! As always, dashes usually denote a POV change, though their perspectives are slowly becoming more aligned...

Start here if you haven't read Spring and Summer first.

Word Count: don't... don't worry about it... (8k) (I'm sorry)

CWs: Part 4 has alcohol/drunkenness played for drama, though nothing bad happens. Part 5 has some minor transphobia.

Tag List: @gt-daboss, @reborrowing, @spikyspinachstreet (Hope that's not a presumptuous @)

=====

Part 1

About two months had passed since Patch had officially “moved in” with Melody. The little sprite had taken residence behind an unused electrical outlet on the kitchen counter, converting the space behind it into a small dwelling. Various ropes and ladders had sprang up around the apartment, giving Patch access to various places like the kitchen counter, the tables, and the bathroom sink.

Although the two had become closer, Melody soon came to realize that there was also a more destructive side to her new roommate, as he seemed to have very different ideas about the meaning of “personal property”. Melody would often come home from work to find missing buttons in her clothes, and missing office supplies from her desk, which Patch had put to use in constructing his little mechanisms. For the most part, Melody tried to let it go, as their little roommate at least had to courtesy to not take anything Mel actively used, but they couldn’t help but slightly resent his kleptomania. On several occasions, they had asked Patch if they could just buy him supplies, but he seemed almost offended at the suggestion.

Despite her desire to avoid conflict with Patch, Melody finally hit her breaking point after a long day of work, when she came home to discover one of her beloved plants was missing most of its leaves.

“Patch!” She found herself raising her voice as Patch looked at her, fear in his eyes. “You… did you seriously tear Benjamin’s leaves off?! What could have possibly made you think it was okay to tear apart my plants?! Ugh, you’re impossible sometimes!”

Patch cowered as Melody began to yell. Truly, the sprite had gotten hungry due to Melody not being around, and the “Benjamin” on the table was far easier to reach than trying to open the cupboard where Melody kept her food. However… it didn’t take a genius to realize that Patch had clearly made a mistake here. He knew Melody would never hurt him, they had sworn, right? Yet as their voice raised and they stared daggers at him, he couldn’t help but tear up, an involuntary panic reaction.

“And now you’re crying…” Melody put her hand against her temple before continuing, “Gods, Patch, just because I let you stay here didn’t mean I said, ‘Hey little buddy, feel free to ruin my things and kill my plants! And then make me feel like the bad guy for being upset about it!’”

Patch didn’t know what to do… apologize? How? He couldn’t exactly put the plant back right now… but Mel was clearly furious. As she continued to berate them, and Patch continued to panic, the sprite did the only thing they could think to do: they ran, leaping off of the table and hiding under the couch.

“Hey, hey! I wasn’t done! We’re not done here!”

Melody shouted in frustration, but knew better than to chase Patch down. Instead, she put on her shoes and shouted to Patch again, “I’m going for a walk, and when I come back, we’re continuing this! And if any of my plants are so much as touched again then… Augh!”

Once she was outside in the cool fall air, Melody began to decompress a little bit, but was still furious. Her plants were the closest thing she had to a family anymore, and she had raised all of them from sprouts. To see one torn apart by Patch, for seemingly no reason, had made her freak out, possibly too much, by her own admission. As the chilly air bit at their nose and ears, they tried to think rationally about the situation. Although Patch could understand her, he was decidedly not human, which was easy to forget aside from his tiny size. He was… a something, they had been using the word fae, but he was something non-human, something that probably sees the world through completely different eyes. Sighing, Melody decided to try to talk to him again to get to the bottom of this.

Patch sat anxiously on the table next to the “Benjamin”, wondering how to apologize. Clearly, this plant was important to Melody, but they couldn’t understand why. She had so many plants around, and what else would they be for? Although, they supposed they had never seen Melody actually eat any of them, except for one plant that she kept in the kitchen area. Did this one have sentimental value? Patch struggled to think of why somebody would keep food around for sentimental value, but maybe humans are just different like that. Patch’s thoughts were interrupted as the front door opened, and Melody walked back inside, heading over to the table after seeing Patch was there. After a moment, she spoke, her voice almost a whisper.

“Okay, I’m sorry for yelling, I’m not going to yell anymore. Can we please talk about this?”

Patch nodded, and the human sat down on the couch and began to speak. “Listen, the reason… the reason I was so upset is that all of these plants,” she motioned to the variety of plants around the apartment, “These plants… before you came around, they were like… my family. And then you hurt one of them.”

Family… Patch thought. Oh. Oh no. He didn’t know that humans and plants could be friends… how did that even work? Could humans speak to plants? Immediately, he began to tear up, wondering what Melody must have heard from the “Benjamin” he had hurt.

“I just… why would you tear apart my plants like that? What possibly possessed you to do that?”

Patch bashfully put a hand to his stomach, hoping the gesture would be understood. It clearly was, as Melody’s red eyes lit up with recognition.

“You took the leaves because you were hungry, weren’t you? I know I was gone until late… you probably didn’t have anything around to eat, huh?”

Patch sheepishly nodded as Melody sighed. “That’s… my fault. I should probably leave the cupboard open for you, it’s not right that you have to wait around for me. But listen, clearly there’s some… conflict here. This is your house just as much as it is mine, but that doesn’t mean you can just… tear up my stuff, okay? It makes me feel like you’re taking advantage of me. Just… can you ask first before taking stuff from now on?”

Patch nodded again, starting to understand where Melody’s anger came from. He put a hand over his heart, hoping that the gesture would convey a promise to no longer borrow from her. Tomorrow, he would have to look for entrances to the other apartments nearby… and work to fix what he had done to the “Benjamin”.

Part 2

Things had calmed down over the next few days, with Patch adjusting to borrowing from Mel’s neighbors instead of her. However, there was one reminder of their conflict, that being the struggling plant on the coffee table, which Melody had apparently named “Benjamin”. While Patch had tried to trust Melody with most of their secrets, there was one little “party trick” that could help, one that humans were absolutely not allowed to know about…

Patch clambered up the plant’s pot and walked over to the stem of the plant, sitting down near it, as they had done for the past few days. They closed their eyes and began to focus on the apartment as a whole, the memories contained in it, the feeling of security brought on by the shelter and the inhabitants within. Patch absorbed the feelings of safety and comfort, and prepared to channel that energy as they felt it flow to their hands. As they grabbed onto the stem of the plant, they felt heat radiating to their palm as the energy began to transfer into the plant. This would hopefully be enough life force to keep it from dying, at least.

As they began the energy transfer, their throat began to try to vibrate, an involuntary action which caused Patch to flinch in pain as a droning, scratching sound echoed out from their damaged vocal chords. Normally, this would produce a healing song, but ever since their injury, they were unable to use their power without hurting themself. However, they had to make things right and try. After a few moments, they let go of the plant, not wanting to hurt themself further. The plant still seemed to struggle, but it was the most energy Patch could afford… although they may have given a bit too much today.

Exhausted, Patch made their way back down the plant and onto the coffee table, where they decided a quick nap to recharge sounded… perfect.

When Melody came home, there were two things she noticed. The first was Patch, asleep on the coffee table. She really needed to figure out a way for him to get onto the couch if he was just going to nap on the table like he had been for the last few days.

The second thing she noticed only after getting close to the table, as she saw that Ben had already started to sprout a new leaf from one of the torn-off spots. Was… he growing so soon after losing his last leaves? She was absolutely not going to object to the plant recovering from Patch’s little attack, at the least.

Patch began to stir as Melody walked in, and she quickly greeted her little roommate. “Hey Patch! Guess you decided to… whoa, are you okay, dude? You look super pale right now.”

Patch seemed confused and slow to respond, as if he was lost in thought. After a long moment of staring at each other, Mel took this as a sign as they continued speaking, “Okay, permission to check your temperature?”

When Patch still didn’t respond, Mel held out one finger and slowly approached him. She put the finger to her forehead, as if to demonstrate, before slowly moving it towards her tiny roommate, who seemed uncharacteristically calm. Usually, Patch would involuntarily recoil from their hands. The fact that he didn’t made Mel even more concerned. They gently pressed the back of their finger to the sleepy fae’s head, before quickly pulling it away and beginning to speak in a panic.

“Oh shit, dude, you’re freezing! What happened? Uh, oh no, I have no idea what to do… is this like a flu? Shit, I don’t know what to do… can you give me any advice here? How do I help?”

Patch, shocked awake by Melody’s finger, weakly held up his hands in a gesture to get Mel to calm down, before miming writing something down.

“Right, right, notepad. Got it,” the human replied as they gathered the notepad and gently brought over Patch’s tiny backpack. Patch slowly dug through it for his pencil lead and began to draw after thinking for a moment.

How to explain… there isn’t much a human could help with… thought the sprite. Truthfully, energy drain could only be cured by somebody else giving up some of their energy, which as far as he was aware… humans couldn’t do. They would also heal over time just by resting in an inhabited home for a while, but Patch had to draw something. Thinking on what they had seen from TV as a reference, they decided that they could at least address the searing pain in their throat from the attempted healing.

After finishing the drawing, Melody practically ran over to inspect the drawing, and looked over it with an urgency the sprite had rarely seen before from the human.

“Okay… warm soup, lots of rest, fluids… this is just like a flu! Okay, don’t you worry Patch, I’ll get you back to health, you can trust me. I’m gonna run to the store to buy some soup ingredients, can I move you to the couch?”

Patch nodded, and Melody carefully lifted him and placed him on the couch before she started getting ready to head out in a clear panic. Before leaving, she turned to Patch and spoke again with an urgent tone, “I’ll help you, Patch, mark my words.”

After a short trip, Melody returned and immediately went to prepare a soup. She was hardly what anybody would call a chef, but throwing a bunch of vegetables and stock into a pot was doable, especially if it would help Patch. Truly, they were just nervous because of the mystery of it all. How long had he been sick? Sure, he had been sleepy lately, but Mel had thought nothing of it. Was he okay? Was this because of the plant? As far as she was aware, Benjamin wasn’t poisonous to anything, but she didn’t know what Patch was. Would he… no, she couldn’t think about that. All she could do was give her friend the help he asked for.

As she handed Patch a measuring cup full of soup, making sure to include a piece of broccoli and squash alongside the broth, she was already thinking of next steps. “Okay, so have some soup and rest for a while. I’ll call and see if Grant can cover my shift tomorrow so I can stay home and take care of you, okay?”

Patch shook his head no, but Melody wasn’t hearing any of it. “Nope, it’s happening, little buddy, I’m not leaving your side until you’re better.”

Patch could only sigh, accepting the human’s offer, not that they had a choice. Mel stood up, bringing Patch more soup, some water, and some tissues, though they didn’t know if he would need them.

“I don’t think I would be able to catch anything that you might have, but I’ll be careful. Do you need anything else?” she asked. When Patch once again shook his head, and curled up to fall asleep, Melody was quick to cover his little body with one of the tissues.

“Okay… I’ll let you sleep, but let me know if you need anything.”

And with that, Patch fell into a deep sleep.

The next few days were interesting for Patch, to say the least. As they drifted in and out of consciousness, their body trying to absorb as much energy from the environment as possible, their dreams were vivid and wild.

They were back there, still living in that cage. They were in the present, living in their little shelter in the wall. They were in the past, living in their hometown.

Their dreams were filled with faces they had once seen, faces they’d rather forget, faces they wish they could remember. But one face kept reappearing despite it all, the face of the human who had made it her duty to care for the sick sprite.

Right now, they were outside, like when they had first had their meetings. She was looking off in the distance, humming to herself, a sprite song used to reach out to others. Even though she wasn’t looking at them, Patch could tell she was acutely aware of where they were, and was waiting for them to join. Almost instinctively, the sprite tried to harmonize with her humming, but the pain surged through their body.

Melody turned to look at him, confusion on their face. “Patch, you okay?”

They were on the couch, covered by a tissue. Right. A dream. They looked at Mel, who repeated their question.

“You were… I dunno, it almost sounded like a creaking noise? I actually think it’s the first time you’ve ever made any sound. Are you okay?”

Patch just nodded. Melody said something, but they couldn’t make out the words.

They were in the alleyway they had lived in after escaping. But they weren’t alone. There was another sprite there, one with Mel’s face. Patch felt drawn to her, to wrap her in the biggest hug he could manage. Why? He didn’t know. The other sprite reciprocated the hug, filling them both with a radiant warmth. Warmth…

They awoke to a meal, soup broth poured into a bottle cap. Right. Dreaming again.

They dutifully sipped the broth, before sitting up and stretching.

“Good morning! Well, it’s actually like 5pm, but you know, good morning anyways!” Melody said, watching Patch with a cheerful yet worried expression.

“How are you feeling, buddy?”

Patch nodded, they were indeed feeling a little better, but the thought of standing up made them feel exhausted still.

“Good! You look a little better too, I think.”

As Melody smiled down at Patch, the sprite felt a warm feeling inside, one that was more than just the soup they had consumed.

Part 3

Once Patch’s energy had recovered to a point where they could at least wander the apartment, they began to focus on something new to get their mind off of their weakened state. One thing that had been bothering them since they moved in with Melody was their outfit. The tattered tunic was sufficient for preserving their dignity, but it reminded them too much of… the past. They used some paper scraps from their notebook to sketch some ideas for a few new clothes to wear. Luckily, they had learned to sew clothes at least enough to get a simple outfit together.

“Do I… even want to know where you got that stuff?” Melody asked, looking over Patch’s new outfit as he stood outside of his little room on the countertop.

The outfit was a simple orange tunic, much more form-fitting than his old one, with a small belt around the midsection held together by a small black button. The gray pants were somewhere between tights and actual pants, as they covered Patch’s legs as well as his feet. Of course, the green scarf remained, loosely wrapped around the little one’s neck just enough to cover his scars. The outfit wasn’t very fancy, but was unmistakably an upgrade over his old outfit.

Patch simply waved his hand dismissively at the question. As promised, he had stopped borrowing from Melody, aside from a few trips through her trash that he decided to keep a secret from her. Specifically, this fabric had come from Melody’s upstairs neighbor, apparently an avid fan of sewing, who surely wouldn’t miss a single fabric swatch… or the few others the sprite had borrowed for previous attempts at making a new outfit.

“Well, okay… Either way, it looks nice! And you look much more confident wearing it!” Exclaimed the human. Patch briefly posed like he was modeling, which he had learned from watching one too many TV shows, causing Melody to laugh at just how cute her little roommate was. “Yeah, work it, Patch!”

After the moment passed, Mel spoke again, “Actually… that does remind me, I wanted to ask you something.”

Patch looked inquisitively at Mel, tilting his head curiously.

“Yeah, so turns out Tara said we’re allowed to dress up for Halloween this year,” Mel began. Patch had no idea what a “Halloween” was, but he had put together previously that Tara was another human at Melody’s job. He nodded his head as she continued speaking.

“And, well, basically I found this really cute costume that I thought I could wear, but I wanted to get your opinion on it,” she finished, and Patch nodded with recognition. “Okay, stay right there, I’ll be right back.”

Melody walked into her room, and after a few minutes, came back out, fiddling with something around her ears that Patch couldn’t quite make out. Her outfit was a green dress that looked as if it was made of giant leaves, with some clearly fake butterfly wings on the back of the dress. On her forearms and ankles were some green bands, and the ensemble was completed with a flower crown on her head.

“Wow, these do not do a good job of staying on… but what do you think of the rest of it? I figured it would be cute to dress up as somebody small like you, you know?”

As the realization set in for Patch, he couldn’t help but silently start to silently laugh. An outfit made of leaves? How ridiculous! It would decay in weeks, would probably be incredibly scratchy once the leaves started to dry, and it would hardly keep somebody warm.

“Hey… don’t laugh! Geez, I didn’t think you’d be a tough crowd. Let me guess, you think it looks silly.”

Patch calmed down, and waved his hands apologetically before shaking his head no and giving the outfit a thumbs up, a gesture he learned from Melody.

“Okay, so it’s maybe not the most accurate… although I think it’s still cute!” She said, posing, which got a nod of agreement from Patch.

“I just… have to get the ears to fit… One second…” She mumbled, before turning around and walking towards the bathroom, causing confusion from Patch. Ears?

The question was answered a moment later, as an “Ah ha!” came from the bathroom, and Melody emerged with two clearly fake pointed ears worn on top of her normal ears. Patch couldn’t help but stare. One thing about humans was their off-putting rounded ears, looking more like a rat’s than a sprite’s, but with these fake ears… Patch looked at Melody in a new, slightly awkward light. Did… did her eyes always glimmer like that? Was her face always so… nice? They found themself blushing a bit as they stared at their human roommate, only to be interrupted by her speaking again.

“... Hello? Are you even listening? Ground control to Major Patch? Why are you staring like that? Do they… do they look bad? Shit, is this like appropriation or something?” she mused, quickly turning anxious.

Melody was relieved as Patch shook his head “no”, waving his hands to make the point explicit. As soon as she saw Patch turn red like that, she was worried she had offended him somehow.

“Well, okay, if it’s not like… offensive or anything, I can keep them. We can be pointed ear buddies!” They said, as Patch nodded his head, face still a bit red.

“Well, not right now. The party’s not until this Friday, after all.” Melody said, before turning and walking back into her bedroom to take off the outfit, leaving Patch alone with their thoughts.

Stupid, Patch thought to themself as soon as they were alone. She’s a human! You can’t make things weird just because she’s nice to you and wore some… some costume!

They tried to take a few deep breaths to think things through.

Don’t worry… she’ll take them off and you’ll probably go back to feeling how you did before. Yep. Just like before, where she was just… a friend. I just… she’s nice. She’s nice to me. That’s all. You’re not used to somebody being nice to you. She’s just a friend.

Patch walked back into their little room and looked around to try and ground themself, until their eyes settled on a drawing they had done a few weeks back, of Melody. For reasons they couldn’t explain before right now, just the picture alone was a source of comfort for them. Patch put their head in their hands as they silently continued thinking to themself.

Okay… maybe… she makes me happy. Like… more than a friend. Maybe… I have… some feelings for her. Not that anything will happen, though. I mean, she’s… she’s a human!

Patch flopped down onto their bed, as they heard Melody walk back into the main room of the apartment. They needed time alone to think.

Part 4

“Okay, it’s almost time for me to go,” Melody said, as Patch nodded his head. “I’ll leave some leftover salad out for you, remember that I said I’ll be a little bit late tonight, we’re going out for a Halloween dinner after work. It’s a team-building thing Tara wants to do.”

Their little roommate continued to nod his head. Mel noticed that he was staring at her, as he did the other day when she first put on the costume, but she couldn’t figure out why. He said it wasn’t offensive, but then why would he be so flustered whenever she wore it?

“Okay… I’ll see you later then, Patch. Bye!”

And with that, Patch decided to make their way to the TV remote, to hopefully distract themself from thinking about their feelings for Melody, about how she dropped everything to care for them when he was sick, how she was so considerate of his needs despite being, well, a human.

Hours later, far later than Melody was usually out and about, Patch heard the door start to open. As the door opened, they instantly hid behind one of the flowerpots on the table when they realized the person walking in was not Melody. An intruder? No, there she was… being helped inside by this other human… What happened? His question was soon answered as the strange human spoke.

“God, Melody, you are impossible. We said ‘let’s get a drink as a team’, not ‘let’s get blitzed at the Applebee’s and start doing improv karaoke’”, the clearly-frustrated human said.

“H-hey, hey, shut up, Clay, they were just… just jealous of my singing. They couldn’t handle me at my best…”, Melody said, although there was something off about her voice… something familiar and off.

“Melody, I swear I don’t think you have a best. Now, go sit on the couch or something so I can go home, I only brought you back here as a favor for Tara, I’m not about to play babysitter for your drunk ass.”

“Ugh… fiiiine, you’re no fun. Thank you so much for, y’know, for bringing me home at least. I love youuuu”, Melody slurred, as they were ‘gently’ pushed onto the couch by the other human, apparently named Clay.

“Don’t mention it. Literally. Ever.”

And with that, the other human shut the door, leaving Melody on the couch. Patch cautiously peeked out from behind the pot as Melody began to look around the apartment from the couch. “Heyyy, hey Patch, he’s gone… you can come out! Sorry, I maybe haddd… like, one drink more than I planned…”

Patch recognized that tone. It was the tone they used, when they became even less predictable than usual. They knew about alcohol, and the effects it had on humans, but they had never seen Melody under its influence. Fearfully, they ducked back behind the plant as she spoke again.

“Paaaatch, I know you’re around, it’s late. Come onnn, where are youuuu? Clay’s gone… I promise…”

Where are you…? The words, spoken with that tone, activated something in Patch’s memory. Memories of them, stumbling around the room, trying to find where Patch had hidden. Wanting to stay in control of the situation, Patch decided to make their presence known, though it didn’t take long for Melody to locate them as they rounded the flowerpot.

“Heyyy! I was worried for a second. I promise, I… I promise that Clay’s a nice guy, he just… he doesn’t like me, but I’m sure he’d love you… if he met you… after all, you’re the most lovable little guy of all!”

Patch immediately regretted their decision to come closer as Melody reached for them. “Come here, I missed youuuu”, she cooed, as Patch backed away, shaking their head “no”, and praying she would listen. “No, no… please, not you too… don’t just walk away Patch, I need youuu…. Come on, let’s just… let’s hang out, just us… like friends do…”

Patch wasn’t sure what to do. This entire situation was too familiar… Do they run? Do they stay? Nervous about defying Mel while she was in this state, they nervously walked over the edge of the table and held their arms up. Melody’s face lit up in almost childlike wonder, and she wasted no time quickly, and somewhat roughly, grabbing Patch. She began to coo as she held Patch in her hands, luckily not holding onto them too roughly. “Oh Patch, you’re the… the absolute best… I just… I feel like you get me, you know?”

Patch absolutely did not “get” anything about this situation, especially as the human began to cry just moments after sounding so jovial. “I just… I love you so much, you’re… you’re one of my only friends… I thought I could impress my coworkers but I totally… I totally failed… I just made a fool of myself… What am I doing wrong, Patch?”

Patch was getting increasingly unnerved by how much this conversation was familiar… they would often drunkenly ask Patch for advice on how to fix their life… but get upset when the mute sprite couldn’t give any answers. Nervously, they patted the human’s hand with theirs, hoping maybe it would calm her down. They were instantly caught off-guard as Melody brought her hands close to her chest in what was probably meant to be an embrace. If Patch wasn’t so terrified right now, they might have blushed at the awkward position they were in, especially as Melody was still wearing the low-cut outfit from earlier, sans the wings, which must have fallen off at some point. As they strained their head to look at her face, Patch was hit with a realization that put his brief moment of attraction on ice. Even if she looked like a sprite with those fake ears, this was a human he was dealing with, and humans are unpredictable. And dangerous.

“You’re… you’re my best friend, Patch. Is that… is that weird? I feel like I’ve only known you for a few months, but, but, you’re just… you get me…”

Melody continued to cry for a bit, constantly repeating how much she loved Patch, with Patch awkwardly stuck in her grip until she eventually drifted to sleep, Patch in hand.

“Oh, gods, my head…” Mel said, as she woke up the next morning on the couch. “Wait… the couch… where’s… Patch!” Melody shouted, shocking her little roommate awake as he lay in her hands. “Oh geez, I’m so sorry! Are you… are you okay? Did I go overboard last night? I, uh… honestly don’t remember much…”

Patch tugged at his scarf, which Melody knew by now was a nervous tic. “Oh no… I didn’t hurt you, did I? Please tell me I didn’t hurt you, I… get huggy sometimes…”

Melody sighed with relief as Patch shook his head no. Before continuing, she gently placed Patch on the other side of the couch as she scooted away from him. “Thank the gods… Ugh, I feel terrible! And not just because of this headache… I should have warned you that I can sometimes get a bit… much after drinking with Tara… she has, uh, a much higher tolerance than I do.”

Patch just listened as Melody went on, unsure what to do in this situation.

“I promise, I’ll make it up to you, really! Um, what if I got strawberries for you? I know those are your favorite. Or, you get dibs on what’s on the TV for like, a week! Two weeks!” Melody said, clearly anxious.

Patch waved his hand dismissively… before stopping and pantomiming the shape of a strawberry, which actually sounded delicious right about now. If she was offering one as an apology anyways…

“Heh, I knew I could win you over,” Mel said, though there was an undeniable nervousness in her tone. “Let me get changed and I’ll go to the store and get you some treats to apologize. And I promise that won’t happen again, promise!”

At the store, Mel stocked up their cart with almost every treat they had seen Patch eat. Berries of several kinds, some candies that they knew he could eat, chocolate… Truthfully, Mel felt that simply buying food couldn’t properly apologize for how they treated their roommate, but they didn’t know what else to do.

After getting home, she prepared a giant plate with the treats, and gently called for Patch to come out of his little room, where he had apparently spent the whole time she was gone. Patch walked outside, rubbing his eyes sleepily, before they went wide at his roommate’s apology gift.

“Here, I hope this is enough… I’m really, really sorry. Please forgive me?” asked Mel, nervousness in their tone. Patch couldn’t help but smile and nod as he walked over to a tower of food taller than he was, and started picking at the food. This wouldn’t immediately resolve things, but the offering was definitely appreciated.

The next few days were awkward, with Melody apologizing and trying to make amends at every turn. Patch could hardly be in her presence without being asked if they needed or wanted anything, or being drowned in gifts. Patch had repeated many times that it was fine, but admittedly they were experiencing many conflicting feelings about their human roommate right now. They had spent most of the time in their little room, away from Melody, but decided after much consideration to spend a day with her, to try to prove that they weren’t mad at her.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Mel once again asked Patch. As he had done the last time she asked, twenty minutes ago or so, he shook his head “no”.

“Oh, okay, well if you do, just let me know, okay?” Mel said, to an expected “yes” nod.

Melody knew Patch would respond that way, but couldn’t help but ask. She didn’t know how else to make him know she was sorry. She had already said the words a million times.

“So… what are you drawing?” she asked, trying to change the subject. To her surprise, Patch jumped a bit, quickly covering the tiny drawing with another piece of paper, before looking around nervously and pointing to the TV. Melody was watching a cartoon, which she knew Patch normally didn’t pay much attention to. She immediately could tell that he was lying, but decided to play it off.

“Okay. Well, um, if you want me to pause or anything to practice, just let me know, okay?” She asked, and Patch nodded affirmatively.

Stupid, stupid!, Patch swore to themself as they covered the drawing. It was a silly little thought experiment, just a drawing of a human… who looked remarkably like them. If they were human… what would that be like? How would their relationship with Melody change? Would they be brave enough to actually…

Frustrated with the direction their thoughts kept going, the sprite ripped up the drawing, getting a confused look from the human they were having these feelings for. Melody clearly noticed Patch’s frustration and held her hands up as she spoke.

“It’s fine, I know how it goes sometimes… I mean I haven’t drawn in ages, but sometimes you just can’t make it look right, I get it. I’m sure you’ll nail it next time!”

Patch took a deep breath before nodding and beginning to draw something else, leaving their little thought experiment behind.

Part 5

Something was off with Melody. Despite the human claiming things were fine, Patch could tell from the energy in the apartment that Melody was feeling upset. At first, Patch assumed it was the cold weather, as the first snowfall of the year was a few days ago, but that probably wasn’t it, as her mood had actually gone up on that morning. Granted, it was mostly because she could call out of work, but still, the human seemed to enjoy the snow.

It was an ordinary afternoon, with Patch sitting on the couch watching TV, and Melody sitting on the other end of the couch reading a book, when suddenly Mel’s phone began to vibrate. She only looked at the phone before a look of disgust showed on her face, and she looked back at the book. After a moment, the phone went quiet, only to begin to vibrate again a moment later.

“Ugh!” cried Mel, as she reached over and pressed a button, causing the phone to stop. She looked over at Patch, who was watching the entire thing with confusion.

“Sorry… that was, uh… a number I didn’t want to answer,” said Melody.

Patch continued his staring, tilting his head again to make it clear that he wanted to ask a follow-up question.

“I said it was nobody!” snapped Mel, before she continued reading, as the phone vibrated again. Patch was a bit taken aback, Melody almost never snapped like that, especially not without something big happening.

Patch had to get to the bottom of this. With a determined look, they pointed to the phone again, as it began to vibrate once more. Melody sighed in frustration, and finally grabbed the phone.

“Fine, she gets one chance,” was all Mel said as she pressed on the screen, and a voice came out. Patch couldn’t help but eavesdrop, and heard a name that was decidedly not Melody’s before the human hung up just as quickly as she had answered.

“Aaaand that was her chance.”

Patch was still curious, and mimicked holding a phone to their ear.

Melody put her head in her hands before speaking. “Ugh, fine. That was… my mother.”

Her mother? Patch was instantly curious, but more than that, a bit envious. The human has a chance to speak to her mother, no matter where they are, and she chooses to ignore them? Patch couldn’t help but look at Melody with a scolding glare, hands on his hips.

“What’s with the face?” asked Mel, but she knew the answer. “I know, I know what you’re thinking. Mel, why would you ignore your mom? Well, it’s complicated. She, uh, doesn’t really like me. To say the least.”

This only confused Patch further. Why would she be so insistent on reaching out, then? Patch pointed at the phone, and mimed picking it up again, before pointing at Mel, which seemed to frustrate her.

“I’m not answering the phone to a woman who won’t even use my name!” snapped Melody. “She does this every year around the holidays, calling and begging and pleading for her son to come back to them and be a family again, but it’ll never happen! I’m on my own now, and I’m happier this way, and I don’t need anybody else!”

Despite how confident she sounded, tears were forming on her face. Patch realized they may have misunderstood the situation, and walked over, placing a gentle hand on the side of Mel’s thigh. The human sighed, before speaking again in a calmer voice, “Well, that’s not true. I have my cool little roommate, and I definitely don’t know what I’d do without you. At least you like me for who I am… I think.”

Patch nodded affirmatively, and Mel smiled. “Thanks, dude. Maybe… maybe at some point I’ll tell you the whole story, but you don’t need to worry about it… or me. I’m okay, I promise.”

At that, Patch simply nodded.

“You know, I guess I never asked about your parents. I mean, I guess I’m assuming you have them?” Melody asked, suddenly curious.

It didn’t take long for her to notice Patch’s uncomfortable expression, though.

“Oh shit, are they, uh…” the human said, her voice trailing off.

Patch simply shrugged.

“Oh… I’m sorry I brought it up. I, uh, guess that explains why you were so adamant about me answering the phone. I… I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silent tension between the two, which was finally broken by the phone vibrating again.

“Yep, it’s her.”

Patch walked over to the phone and kicked it, getting a small giggle from Mel.

“Thanks, buddy. That’ll show her.”

Part 6

The holidays were always tough for Melody, ever since she had left her family. Normally, she would just spend them like any other day, maybe taking up shifts at the library when they were open. But this year, something was different, she had a roommate.

“So… I guess it’s a weird question to ask, but do you have any, like, winter holidays?” Melody asked one day, after seeing the first holiday commercial of the season (Several weeks before December, of course).

Patch seemed to light up, and nodded his head yes. One of the few holidays that sprites celebrated was on the winter solstice, when the night was the longest.

“Oh, that’s so cool! I’d love to learn more about it… maybe we could celebrate together! When is it? What do you do?” Melody asked, instantly excited by the prospect of learning about a different culture’s customs, especially a non-human one.

Patch nodded, and motioned a sign that Mel had come to understand as “Let me try to draw it”.

“Okay! Got it, let me go get your notepad.” Patch went to work trying to draw what he was able to express. On the Solstice, inspired by the humans’ celebrations around that time, sprites would exchange gifts and try to watch the stars when they could, which were believed to be the ancestors of the sprites watching them from the heavens. They would use that time to huddle for warmth and share stories of their ancestors, to keep traditions alive.

Of course, all of that was a bit complicated to draw without using a single word. Patch had slowly been introducing Melody to their written language, drawing objects and what their names looked like, but Melody still wasn’t able to read much.

“Okay, okay, let me try to figure this out…” they said, looking over the drawings once Patch had finished.

“Okay, we have… a drawing of day and night… then a shorter day and longer night… then a moon… oh, that word means moon, right! Longer night, moon… the longest night of the year?” She deduced, and Patch nodded approvingly.

“So, the winter solstice… that would make sense, a lot of cultures have holidays around then… Okay, more drawings… somebody giving something to somebody else… that makes sense, like Christmas. Then we have… one of your kind watching the stars… that’s a really good drawing, actually.” Mel continued, as Patch blushed at the compliment.

“So, gift giving, stargazing… I don’t know what this one means, though,” said Melody as she looked at the final part of the drawing, being a triangle of stylized faces with Patch’s distinct pointy ears.

Patch thought for a minute, before beginning to pantomime speaking.

“Talking… speaking… telling a story? Yes! Telling stories about… each other?” Patch shook their head. Struggling to think of how to clarify, they thought back to the conversation a few days ago, and pointed to Melody’s phone. After a moment of thinking, she seemed to get the message.

“... Mom. Telling stories about family, huh?”

Patch noticed Mel’s mood turned downwards, but nodded.

“Okay… I think I’m getting the picture now. It’s a time for family, just like our holidays, huh?”

Patch nodded again, and Melody seemed thoughtful.

“Well… obviously I’m not talking to my family… and you said you don’t know where your parents are… I guess we can celebrate together, though. I can teach you about our holidays, and we can celebrate yours, ooh, this is exciting actually! I could be the first human to celebrate your holiday! Isn’t that a cool thought?”

Before long, the night was upon them. Melody had set up a countdown to both holidays, the winter solstice and Christmas day. At Patch’s instruction, Melody prepared a nice meal, although the meal was far more lavish than anything Patch’s kind would have been able to prepare.

After sharing a meal while watching a holiday special (Since there was nothing else on this close to Christmas), Melody began to prepare for the exciting part, to her.

“Gift time!” They announced, and Patch seemed to light up as well. Melody brought Patch back to his room, where he disappeared behind the fabric door.

When he emerged, there was a small box in front of the door that Mel had wrapped in a ribbon.

“I know normally you turn down gifts, but I figured this was my chance to help you out,” Mel said, as they gently pushed the box a little closer to Patch.

Meanwhile, Patch stood there with something hidden behind his hands. He placed the object, a small piece of wood about the size of a coin, down on the counter, face down, before gently pushing it towards the human.

“Oh?” said Mel in confusion. Truthfully, they weren’t sure what to expect as a gift from Patch, but they excitedly flipped the small wooden object over to reveal a tiny painting of Melody.

“A… Patch, how did you even get… Nevermind that, this is wonderful!” They exclaimed, as Patch blushed slightly. Truthfully, the detail was incredible for such a small piece. The colors were slightly odd, but Mel was more surprised that Patch was able to find any kind of dyes to work with at his small size.

“Well, yours was super from the heart, and mine was just from the store… I hope you like it anyways,” Mel said, suddenly feeling a bit inadequate. Patch opened the box, and Mel saw his eyes light up and ears perk at the box of paper clips they had prepared as a gift.

“I know you use them a lot for your little rope ladders and stuff… I figured it would be a useful gift…”

Patch smiled wide at Melody before pushing the box into his room, and she knew that the gift was appreciated.

After receiving the generous gift from Melody, Patch pointed to the window. It was time to watch for stars.

“Right, right. Luckily, my window has a pretty nice view of the sky, and it looks clear enough, we might see a few stars!”

After holding her palm up, she gently lifted Patch and moved herself and her little roommate over to the windowsill. Mel placed Patch down as she leaned her elbows on the other side, watching Patch look up at the sky. He seemed lost in thought.

“... I wish I could hear your stories… I’m sure you have lots to share,” Melody mused. “I only know a few words of your language, though… not nearly enough. Maybe by next year…”

Silence filled the room for a moment as both parties watched the sky.

“Oh, is that- No, sorry, that’s a plane…”

More silence filled the room.

Breaking the silence in the best way they could, Patch gently tapped on Mel’s arm, before pointing at her and then the sky, with one or two stars breaking through the city’s lights.

“Me? Oh… my stories, yeah.” Melody said, but her attitude seemed withdrawn.

“Um… I don’t really know what to say about my family. They’re kind of… not in my life anymore. There’s my mom and my brother, Archie, but… like I said, there isn’t much to talk about.”

Patch nodded, taking in the new information. They knew Melody has a mother, but the sibling was new information.

“Do you have any siblings?” Melody asked.

Patch shook their head, before holding up one tiny finger.

“Ah… okay.”

Once more, awkward silence draped over the two of them, though Patch seemed content to watch the sky.

“You know, there’s so much I want to know about you, buddy. Your past, your family… your name. I feel like I should know more about you by now.” Melody mused.

“Do your people have anything like New Year’s Resolutions?” she asked.

Patch looked at her in confusion, so she began to elaborate.

“It’s basically when you’re really determined to do something in the next year. I don’t usually do them, but I think… I think my goal is to learn your language, really focus on it… maybe even teach you mine while I’m at it. That way, I can finally learn more about you.”

Patch smiled and nodded, a determined look on his face. If he was going to live with Melody, they needed to be able to communicate better.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I’m warning you, I’m far from the best teacher, but I’m sure I could find some library books that could help…” Melody trailed off, already lost in thought planning how to start the lessons. She was interrupted by a small feeling on her arm. Looking down, she saw that Patch was sitting on the windowsill, leaning up against her arm as he watched the sky.

Learning could wait. Tonight, they were watching the stars.

#nope third time is still just as anxiety inducing #i swear the final chapter won't take another year to post. prommy.#hopefully this isn't too much of a tonal shift away from the whumpiness but it was never going to be that way forever #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t ocs #oc tag: patch #oc tag: mel

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ganxiously · 1 month ago

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I sat down to write after a week of exams and I'm sorry to tell you this but either this fic is making out of here or I am because why the fuck am I simulating a fictional character's breakup this hard? Like I am this 🤏 close to trying to bake my feelings away.

The three little paragraphs that are making me want to order flour and butter, for your reference —

From the moment he steps into the station, it is clear that Eddie has warned everyone off because there is a too deliberate sense of normalcy around. As he climbs into the loft, Chimney doesn’t even look up from where he’s riffling through the fridge. Hen’s voice as she wishes him good morning is calm and casual and Bobby just smiles at him and asks him to lay the table. On any other day, there would be questions as to why he is late especially since he has been early for nearly six months now, Tommy dropping him off on the way to Harbour more often than not. He lets it be, a little thankful that they at least seem to be leaving him alone for the time being and when the first alarm rings, he lets himself be pulled in by the familiar adrenaline rush. He rappels down a cliffside, fights back an angry dog that considers them a threat to its unconscious owner and gets to use the jaws to cut off a car door. It’s a good shift, all things considered, but shifts only last for so long. He gets home, doesn’t even think about much, exhausted as he is, switches on the light and gets absolutely blindsided by the deluge of memories that threaten to drag him under. It’s like a warzone, except not. Except the destruction is only in his head and his heart. His kitchen and dining area look pristine and untouched — warm under the yellow lights and you wouldn’t believe what went down here the other night, how spectacularly Buck’s life fucking imploded on itself if it weren’t for the skewed barstools at the kitchen islands. They stand there, pulled out to accommodate their bodies and angled towards each other, damning evidence of a conversation cut short. He can almost see him and Tommy there and he has to wonder if that’s all he’s ever going to see when he looks, morbid little nuclear shadows imprinted into his home by the strength of his grief. He can’t stand his kitchen right now but he also doesn’t want to move away into the living room. It’s where everything ended yes, but a foot from it is where it all began, two fingers under his chin, chapped lips on his and Buck was never the same again. He got rewritten line by line in the confines of this space, a morning here and an evening there — laughing together at the dining table or Tommy perched on a stool while Buck cooked, fiddling with and misplacing his spices and vegetables until he handed him an unused ladle with an exasperated huff. Maybe it’s fate then that Tommy broke his heart here as well, a full circle just a little off.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #kinsey scale fic

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acim-ed-ortsac · 2 years ago

Text

Ruler of the End

TWST x Male Reader

Ender Dragon Male Reader

This blasted hunter-!

The ruler of the end roared at the green hunter and his friends before firing a row of hot fire of violet. With a pump of his wings, he ascended to the void-less sky, the pillars of obsidian that held the ender crystals, their beams of light healing him at every attack that was shot at him. The dragon glared as one of the hunters shot an arrow at him, missing him by an inch as he flew past.

How idiotic.

He swooped down, sky diving before barrel rolling against his adversaries, battering them with his sudden attack before he was up in the skies again. He had heard the screams of frantic panic and fear as two of them were nudged off the island and into the void. The Ender Dragon had smirked at the development, How delightful-

A sudden pain shot itself from his spine before attacking the rest of his nerves, making him wince. A wither potion, he had realized as his wings falter in their flight, inevitably slowing him down.

This gave the hunter and his remaining friends to fire their shots, arrow after arrow, doused in any potion that’ll damage him. The ruler checked his health bar to see his health right in the middle, dwindling at every attack and every wince he makes at the wither potion’s effect.

A frightening realization made itself clear, My ender crystals-!

After taking a look at the obsidian pillar, the dragon saw towers made from different materials, built to climb the pillar that now held nothing in their cages. WHEN-

CHINK

A pain not so miniscule made itself known in the ruler’s body, lurching at the feeling. His eyes went down to see a scale slipping off before it followed by another as more arrows hit his body. He glanced at his dwindling health bar, his time is almost up.

But that doesn’t mean that those hunters will live.

The fire in his heart blazened so bright with rage as his resolve hardened itself like an iron fortress. Those hunters took his parent before he was born, and the endermen under his rule took care of him in his growing years yet they suffered under the provocation and mistreatment of the hunters from the Overworld. The dragon remembers how he witnessed one of his guards being slaughtered by one of them just to become an ingredient to be used.

That guard was also the endermen who would play hide and seek with him. . .

His heart now riddled with anger and sorrow, the dragon swooped down one last time for the grand battle.

If I burn, they burn with me.

A row of flames, a batting with his tail, claw marks scratched on broken netherite armor and bleeding torsos. In exchange, a shot from a bow, a parry from a sword, the sound of vials being broken before the effect of the potion does its magic on your body.

It wasn’t until a good amount of his scales were chinked off, blood from open wounds dipped down, and a broken wing that he looked at the dead corpses of the friends of the smiley mask hunter, their faces contorted into fear. The ruler of the End let the signs of smug smirk show.

All that’s left was the green man himself.

He stood surrounded by your purple flames, casting shadows to his haggard form. His sword broken, his armor of the strongest metal cracking - on the verge of being destroyed. But amidst the destruction and the trail of corpses in front of him, his posture wasn’t one of fear. His hand gripped the handle of his unusable sword tightly before he switched it with an axe, his shoulders tensed, and if the dragon strained his ears, he would be able to hear rough and angry breathing.

Behind that painted smile was a man of vengeance.

And so was the Ender Dragon.

The dragon curled his lips into a cruel smile as he readied to meet the angry hunter, “Come and face me, Dream!”

Dream let out a battle cry, for his friends or out of anger, the ruler wasn’t sure. But all he knew was when he started running towards the hunter of green, his axe raised high as the dragon bared his teeth before the two clashed.

*-*

When the Ender Dragon was meeting his final moments, he managed to get a good look at the mangled corpse of the green hunter with the mask before he fell to the ground of end stone, closed his eyes, and died.

Hoping his citizens will take care of his kin.

How strange.

His paradise of rest was only for 30 seconds at best before he found himself thinking again. Is death supposed to make you sleep? Make your consciousness numb from all senses so you can float in a sea of nothingness?

If so, why was his death so short!?

Surprisingly, the dragon felt his hand twitched from the lack of movement before it hit something hard-

HE’S STILL IN HIS BODY!?

The Ender Dragon shot his eyes open to see himself surrounded by red velvety cushions, but behind them was something akin to wood. He wasn’t a foreigner to materials grown in the Overworld, his endermen tutors have brought him there to learn of the different realms and biomes. Though, he couldn’t discern what type; Oak, Dark Oak, Birch, he doesn’t know. He was in an enclosed space. . . An enclosed space! A dragon does not belong in something as small as this box! He deserves to be in the open air!

He tried to move when something soft and silky restricted his movements, strands of hair curtaining his face. Hair? He must be in his hybrid form then, that’s how he was able to fit in this small enclosure. But. . .Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?

The realization had his heart lurched up to his throat. The new and unfamiliar surroundings clogged up his throat, his head felt woozy as his ears started ringing. The space closed around him, making him feel smaller than he was before. His heart lurched again at this, confusion, anxiety, this claustrophobia was too maddening. He couldn’t breathe-

He needed to get out.

Resisting the restriction of this fabric, he clawed against the cushioned wood in front of him, desperate to get out. Questions flooded his brain as his circuits were going haywire with anxiety and fear, from the unknown or the lack of understanding how he is here, he’s not sure.

What he does know is that he has to get out! What happened to him!? Where is he!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? -

Click

That sound alone was able to quiet his thoughts and stop his actions, a creak sounded as the door of the enclosure opened slightly, letting in a ray of light to filter through the small gap. His heart bursted with hope, relief, and desperation.

An out!

As fast as he ever went, he pushed himself out of the enclosure, and spread his wings, (ignoring the sound of ripping and tearing), before flinging himself into the air with a gust of wind from his wings. His tail, now not suffocated, wriggled with joy as the feeling of freedom settled in his bone.

It wasn’t until his senses became acute and started working, his eyes taking in the dark room with floating coffins, an array of eerie green lights, a three layered fountain in the middle, and a giant mirror with a pale mask. Inside the room was an ocean of creatures that wore the same black and purple clothing, exempting the one tall man with a bird’s mask and a hat and a strange creature that resembled a cat. His ears twitched at the sea of voices that gasped or screamed in shock and fear, all ranging from high to low, gruff to soft, from loud to a whisper.

And his nose. . .

The scents he’s inhaling are familiar yet not quite. It’s as if animals and humans were mixed into one, and there’s a scent of something inhuman yet not beastly. Something entirely new.

It was this that had his previous joy of freedom sink to his foot and let dread, confusion, and another load of anxiety wash in.

This was not his world.

Of course not, he was supposed to be dead.

The two facts alone were enough to make his inner primal instincts take over. Stressed, he roared at the creatures in the room, eyes turning to aggressive slits. Screams shot through the air as the dragon dove among the sea of creatures, making them avert into a path before the said dragon swooped up back into the air. Of course, this was for show. What the former ruler of the end was doing was trying to find a way out.

These are different from my world. I need to be careful, they’re capabilities are possibilities. Where’s the out? Where’s the ou- My Ender, I’m such a zombie head.

Amidst his panic and confusion, he did not notice the giant double doors with grand designs at the back of the room. No one needs to take a guess that that’s the exit. His heart was filled with relief before something tied his wings together, resulting in him diving head first to the ground. The loss of his wings was restricting as he squirmed around to reach his back to undo the binds when a deep voice of a man stopped him,

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, lizard.”

Anger flared in his chest, how dare he call him, the Ender Dragon, a lizard!? He’s nothing like his distant cousins, who crawls around and licks their eyeballs- how disgusting!

He snarled at the culprit, who turned out to be one of the hooded creatures. Underneath the hood was an exceptionally handsome man with tanned skin and dark brown hair, a scar over one of the two sharp forest green eyes that seemed to glare down at his being.

The ruler of the end snarled in return, still insulted at his remark, but nonetheless asked him, “ Where am I!?”

At this point, a crowd started to form around them. A tall and beautiful blond human with amethyst purple eyes came beside the brunette man and remarked, “Ah, so the lion decided to catch bigger prey. Now, I see how lion beastmen are.”

“Shut your mouth, Schoenheit.” snapped the brunette.

Came up as a short human, under the hood were strands of rose red hair and large eyes of blue that completed his doll-like face, which only twisted into an unpleasant angry scowl, “How dare you not only disturb the entrance ceremony but also delay the schedule!?” With a wave of his small stick, he shouted “Off with your Head!” before something clasped and locked around the dragon’s neck. It was suffocating and more annoying than his wings getting tied.

Well, this is nothing but what annoys him the most is that none of them are listening! He spoke in the same language as them, which he figured was Common, but they not only ignored him but that small human had the audacity to collar him!?

The disgrace!

A voice shouted amongst the sea of hooded creatures before they made a path for the man with a bird mask and a top hat, clocks and keys hung from his dark and elegant clothing, clacking as they hit each other. Was this a new species?

The man looked down at the captured Ender Dragon, “How surprising, not only do we have a magicless call from the Dark Mirror, but also a dragon fae! Oh, this day keeps on surprising me.” Said the bird man.

An adult! The dragon thought, finally someone mature and reasonable! “Excuse me, where am I!?”

But, much to his dismay and anger, the bird man ignores him as he starts berating the dragon, “ What you did was utterly impatient and reckless! Do you know how much damage you could’ve caused!? Ah, I could tell this one will. Be a handful.”

“Don’t start complaining, headmage.” The beautiful blond human deadpanned.

The chatter around the dragon was starting to make his head hurt, his ears ringing, and his anger elevated. He needs answers, he needs them now or else he’ll go crazy! What is this place, who are these creatures, what are they!?

He was back to square one, when he was trapped in that coffin, wondering how he was alive and breathing and how he was here. His chest hurt from breathing to harshly, heat boiled from his throat as smoke huffed out of his nose, his eyes shaking from stress.

The lights, although the room was dim, were hurting his eyes, and he wanted nothing but to pull at his dark strands that were in his face. A storm of emotions, uncontrollable and untameable at the moment, boiled and rose to his throat when he noticed the bird man asking him something,

“My, are you okay?”

That was when he let out an ear-splitting, deafening roar that made every creature in the room cover their ears. But within this roar, was an order in the form of the Enderian language mixed; it asks for the help of his people.

And in response, a scream shot into the room before a thwack followed.

The familiar static-like popping of enderman teleportation followed by a glitchy inhuman scream had the dragon ruler almost crying. The room was thrown into confusion again as they were faced with the endermen, creatures that the ruler now knows the creatures here are not aware of existing. And they all made the mistake of looking at their eyes, the key to provoking them.

The Ender Dragon watched as the creatures in hoods tried to fend off the teleporting creatures of the end, shooting beams of energy, only to miss when his citizens teleported away before appearing behind them and attacking.

The dragon then felt hands working on removing his binds, followed by a reassuring voice speaking in Ender, “My lord, it is a relief to see you alive.”

Nanny, the dragon shouted in happiness, internally.

“ Nanny, it’s so great to see you again. But I’m lost.”

“I as well. We all saw you die from the wounds of that human hunter, but to see you alive in another realm. . . How peculiar yet strange.”

The snap of the binds had the former ruler stretch his wings quickly, turning to his nanny for a thanks. The female enderman only bowed her head before disappearing once more. With new strength, the dragon took hold of the collar around his neck before snapping it off in half, as if it was made of a fragile material.

Alarmed screams were ignored as the ruler of the End shot to the air and rushed towards the double doors, slamming them open before flying through the corridors. They were elegant in design, pillars to hold the structure of the building, dark cobbled stone as wall, and torches alight with flames of green.

Hurried footsteps were behind him, but he never faltered in his flight for the open skies; and what a discovery to find an open courtyard. The sight of trees, its greenery, and a stone well had the dragon’s heart soar as he shot up into the dark sky above, laughing as he spun in the air before hovering over the building he just came out from. Violet eyes scoured the land he was on; the building he came out of was one of the many buildings from this vast land area.

Small buildings are scattered amongst the green forest, some with pathways of dirt or stone. Some buildings were bigger than the others, a coliseum at one side, and a wooden cottage - wait it’s bigger than a cottage - amongst the trees, with a dirt path leading the way.

And in the center of the attention was a giant castle with multiple layered floors, its towers pointed and the aesthetic gothic and wicked. But this. just confirms the dragon's suspicions; this was not his world.

Confusion filled his head again when the beating of wings stopped him from thinking again, “ My, this is a surprise.”

A voice, deep and enchanting, spoke, making the dragon turn and his breath hitched. The stranger was an ethereal man with dark strands that fell over his shoulders, lime-green irises that seemed to glow in the night time, encompassed in his sharp eyes. His skin of pale white was a good contrast to his dark locks, his facial structure probably sculpted by the hands of the gods themselves.

But the most striking thing about him was the horns and wings he had, horns curved a bit back colored black, his wings’ skeletal structure was a light shade of black while the flaps were a leathery obsidian color.

A dragon, just like him.

Stunned, he was struck speechless.

The stranger did not seem bothered by his lack of response as he began circling the Ender Dragon, intrigued as his eyes analyzed him. The dragon licked his lips from how dry it was, watching as the dragonling finished his analysis before meeting his eyes, “ I’ve never met another dragon fae until now, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.” he said.

Dragon fae? The former ruler of the End scrunched his brows together as he finally spoke, “Fae? I am no fae, I am the Ender Dragon.”

The supposed dragon fae widened his eyes, “An actual dragon then,”

The said dragon nodded, “Yes, I am.” he then tilted his head, “Do you have a name? I would like to know the first person who managed to have a proper conversation with me.”

The beautiful stranger hummed, cupping his face in thought, “You do not know who I am?”

Furrowing his brow, the ender dragon shook his head, “No, I am from another world - much different from this one - and have no knowledge of this place or who you are.”

The stranger widened his eyes at the revelation, “How amazing, a dragon from another world,” then with an alluring smile, “Very well, my name is Malleus Draconia, a student of Night Raven College.”

After the introduction, the ruler then explained his situation, earning the dragon fae - now named Malleus’s understanding. The fae then led him back to the room he was in before, which was called the Mirror Chamber.

When they arrived, the endermen were still attacking, the hooded creatures were now behind a barrier shield conjured by some of the hooded creatures he met. Ah, I forgot about them, the dragon eyed his reptile companion, who looked at the scene in shock.

“Was the Entrance Ceremony today?” asked Malleus, who then pouted, “And I was not invited again.”

“Mr. Draconia!” The brid man, who the dragon thinks is the ‘headmage’ of the school, shouted while fending off the endermen with his stick and power. “I apologize for this, but we are in dire need of assistance!”

A yelp from one of the shorter creatures was heard followed by another one cursing in disdain before a shot of light was seen, violet eyes looking to see a short hooded creature behind a slightly taller creature who protected the former.

Malleus eyed the Ender Dragon curiously, to which the dragon smiled sheepishly before having his chest before letting out a roar, grabbing the attention of the ender people.

You may now leave, thank you. he said in ender.

His people bowed towards him before teleporting away.

A cacophony of relieved sighs were heard as the barriers were removed, some of them slumped to the ground in relief.

The headmage wiped sweat from his brow before looking at him, “You! What spell did you use to summon those creatures!? And why did you fly out of the mirror chamber!? Did the teleportation magic leave you confused with amnesia or-“

“Headmaster,” Malleus interrupted, “I believe there has been a mistake. The dragon here is not of this world and is supposed to be dead.”

The headmaster choked on his saliva.

Chapter 2 3 4 5

#x male reader #ender dragon reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #minecraft #ender dragon

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bogleech · 2 years ago

Note

So you said a while ago that Harmburger had originated from a superhero concept, but you never got into it, so just have a bunch of unused villains and no good guys. Could you kindly show or tell us who these other ones were?

I think I basically just wanted to come up with a selection of whimsical-but-cool cartoon villains along the lines of those in the Powerpuff Girls. -So Harmburger was exactly as he is now, a mysterious entity in the form of a food mascot and otherworldly meat company that tries to encroach into our reality. -The "main" villain would have been the obligatory robot-building evil scientist, except his real body was only a broken skull.

-There was a crooked con artist or businessman type guy who could bend people to his will by showing them something (never seen) in his briefcase.

-A cartoon animal duo that causes real mass destruction with their tom & jerry routine but are completely unkillable.

-A villain with both a candy and bee queen motif on account of bees and wasps liking sugar. I also thought of her being a cavity-causing dentistry villain which would follow from the candy and from stinging but that still felt like one theme too many. -A goofy caterpillar guy but once he eats enough he can metamorphose into a totally new and different rampaging kaiju every time, maybe affected by exactly what it is he eats? Maybe too similar to Mr. Mind but I'd have tried to personify him a lot different, more like a friendly doofus who doesn't mean anything personal by what he's driven to do but still can't be talked out of it.

They almost all wound up feeling more like I came up with a bunch of creepypasta characters rather than superhero ones anyway though.

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odditycollector · 8 months ago

Note

gamdave for the ask meme! and or, erijake??

Dave/Gamzee

1. I am not sure there is another pair of people in homestuck who have quite so skewed a ratio of "resounding & negative impact on each others' lives" and "fucks given about that".

Like, okay, I am p sure Dave does not understand that Gamzee manifested Lil Cal as a physical object, and I am p sure that Gamzee does not regret his awakening as a murderous shitlord, but you see what I am saying here.

2. Serendipity meets Final Destination

Gamzee and Dave are two random strangers who share a minor act of assholery between each other. So minor. Like, maybe they are both at the convenience store at 3am for doritos, and there is only one bag of chips left. And Gamzee snipes the chips out of Dave's almost closed fingers, and in response to his smug sneer Dave crunches the bag, making the chips not be triangles anymore.

And neither really remembers this moment the next day because it is so petty and let's be real they were both probably stoned. But somehow the fateful repercussions from this event are rippling out into the world like a terrible Rube Goldberg avalanche, starting with minor misfortunes and building quickly into mass destruction and death.

Meanwhile Dave and Gamzee are going about their lives with an occasional bemused glance at a wackily awful newscast.

Anyway, it seems like things are dominoing into some kind of worldwide calamity, BUT ACTUALLY everything has been lining up to get Gamzee and Dave onto the same stage so they can have the greatest rap off of all time and also just SUPER hit it off.

As things fade to credits we hear them being all, hey you look kinda familiar youre sure this is the first time we met right? yeah, think id all remember a motherfucker….

(and then the last camera shot is something is knocked off a counter in their wake and that hits a spray bottle which rolls across the hallway… and a creepy noise plays because that is the rule on how to end a movie like this)

Eridan/Jake

1. I am not sure if I have thoughts on Eridan/Jake, but the possibility of Grandpa seducing ancient Beforus Eridan (in homestuck + its game Old Man Jake has so many portals why NOT to Beforus) is both logistically defensible and very funny.

2. Jake is sad and lonely and really misses his good buddy Erisolsprite and decides to track down Erisol's component pieces in the dreambubbles. Sollux, wisely, continues to desire no part of the situation. But Eridan, on finding a guy who WANTS him around, gets really clingy about it (do not believe his posturing otherwise)

He offers to mentor Jake in the Way Of Hope and despite Jake being a god tier achiever and Eridan being a mortal ghost Jake is like, yes sure that makes sense, maybe if i knew more stuff about my powers i wouldn't be a miserable wreck right now, teach me up.

So Jake learns cool shit about weaponizing Hope, but mostly (through Eridan's whiny self pity) he learns that he is not the worst person ever at interpersonal relationships. It puts his friendship errors in perspective, and he even offers Eridan some advice in that department! Which makes Jake feel mature and wise but otherwise does not do shit 'cause ghosts can't change.

Is there a more poignant moirallegiance tragedy in all troll literature? i doubt it.

But then in the end there is an empty green sprite kernel from an unused timeline and Jake invites Eridan to return to being his prescribed guide in the sort-of-living world, and Eridan accepts.

(This is a very weird basis for a relationship from a human POV but neither notices.)

#gamzee makara #dave strider #jake english #eridan ampora

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mama-qwerty · 2 years ago

Text

Drained Chaos

Based on an idea @mcfanely and I chatted about.

It’s short and another of my “no real idea what the bigger plot is, but this scene popped into the ol’ noggin and wouldn’t leave” dealies.

~~~~~

The fight was going well.

Sonic and crew had been chasing a gang of weasels around the city, after getting a tip they were stealing technology for Eggman. Why Eggman needed other technology when he could just as easily create his own was a question they’d yet to answer, but that was something for another time. They’d cornered the weasels in a warehouse, half-empty with crates of unused goods.

They’d split up, and each focused on one of the Eggman lackeys. Knuckles could hear the whirring of Sonic’s spindashes, and the hard poundings of Amy’s hammer. Tails was overhead, using his altitude to rain destruction down. The kid loved to dish out some well-deserved justice.

Knuckles himself dealt with a particularly brawny weasel, and the two seemed well matched. The echidna did not pull from his chaos reserves, what would have given him access to his full power for his blows, instead electing to keep his strength closer to his opponent’s. He hadn’t had a fight this satisfying in a while.

As the two sparred, trading blows and over-confident quips, something began to pull at Knuckles’ mind. A warning. Something was wrong.

It suddenly occurred to him that his opponent didn’t seem to be trying all that hard to overpower him. In fact, he seemed to be . . . almost herding him to the far end of the warehouse. Away from his friends. Where there were more crates stacked, the perfect place for--

Two more weasels stepped from the shadows, one holding a thick metal collar in his hands.

An ambush.

Knuckles cursed his lax in focus, and dug deep to pull chaos energy to the surface. But before he could get more than his fist raised, his large opponent got a solid blow in on the echidna’s nose. There was pain, and stars flooded his vision, right before something cold and hard and heavy clamped around his neck.

Uttering a strangled cry, Knuckles reached up to rip the collar off, when it activated. He froze, his stomach dropping, his heart racing. The world swam as he felt a strong pull, and the chaos energy he’d always felt inside—that warm, comforting feeling that swirled within him since he hatched, giving him strength and focus—suddenly drained away. He gasped, nearly choking on the way his body lurched forward.

He couldn’t focus. Couldn’t concentrate. The world around him felt fuzzy and dull and unreal.

He felt like he was underwater, but his lungs still pulled in air. His body still moved, although slower and without conviction. He was vaguely aware of movement around him, someone talking. The sounds floated over him, never finding purchase.

Was he still here? Everything felt so far away. Disconnected. He blinked, his normally deep violet eyes faded to a light lilac. He fell to his knees, suddenly too weak to stand on his own.

Knuckles the Echidna was being drained of every last bit of chaos energy he possessed.

“Knux!”

The cry floated over him, and he blinked up to see Sonic hurl himself at the remaining weasels. Tails and Amy were hot on his heels, and the three quickly formed a protective ring around the downed echidna.

“Get that thing off him!” Sonic called to Tails, his face pulled in an angry snarl. “Ames and I will take care of these bozos.”

“I’m on it!”

As Sonic and Amy tussled with the weasels, the little fox spun and pulled a screwdriver from the pouch on his belt to fiddle with the collar around Knuckles’ neck. The second his tool touched the metal, however, sharp spines shot out of the inside of the collar, piercing the echidna’s neck. Knuckles cried out in pain, the sound loud and sharp.

Tails backed off immediately, holding his hands up and away from the device. After a few more seconds, the spines retreated back into the collar, leaving Knuckles panting on the ground.

“I can’t touch it!” the fox called, voice full of frustration. “It’ll hurt Knuckles!”

“Great,” Sonic grumbled, before grabbing on of the nearest weasels by the jacket. “Get that off him, NOW!”

The weasel sneered, uttering a little chuckle. “No can do. The only one who can remove it is Dr. Eggman. He’s got plans for that musclehead.”

Before Sonic could say anything else, the weasel in his fists pulled a detonator from his pocket and pushed the button. The entire back half of the warehouse exploded outward, giving Eggman’s henchmen a chance to escape. The hedgehog zipped next to Knuckles to be sure they wouldn’t take him with them, and shielded the echidna with his body to protect him from falling debris.

The four friends stumbled out of the destroyed warehouse, coughing and hacking at the smoke in the air. Amy and Sonic supported Knuckles as they escaped to the fresh air of the outside, and Tails hovered before the echidna with a worried expression.

“We need to get him to my workshop,” he said, his hands curled to his chest. “I don’t know what that collar’s doing to him, but he’s looking really bad.”

Knuckles was in no shape to argue. His limbs felt simultaneously heavy and numb, his mind a fog. He couldn’t stand. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t comprehend the words said around him. It was as if his entire being, everything that made him him, was gone.

The echidna hung between his friends, as they hurried toward Tails’ workshop.

~X~X~X~

An hour later, Tails looked between the monitor and his Miles Electric. He’d run every test he felt safe enough to do so, and the results weren’t promising.

“So what’s going on?” Sonic asked. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “What is that thing and can you remove it?”

Tails shook his head. “I don’t know, and I don’t think so. Everytime I tried to touch it, even to just examine it, it exhibited some sort of ‘deterrent’ by hurting Knuckles. I don’t dare even get near it at this point.”

They looked to the echidna, lying on the table in the middle of the room. His breathing was short and shallow, and his fur looked as though it had paled. He’d fallen unconscious on the way over, and now lay limp and motionless.

“What’s it doing to him?” Amy asked, her voice soft. She reached toward Knuckles, gently brushing her hand over his.

Tails sighed, flicking through a few screens on his Miles Electric. “Near as I can tell, it’s acting as some sort of capacitor. It’s draining the chaos energy stored in him. Storing it away. There’s a faint radio signal coming from it, which I assume is Eggman keeping tabs on him. But as for why?” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Eggman’s always trying to find the chaos emeralds to use as power sources,” Sonic said, his muzzle wrinkled in disgust. “Why not go after them? Why do this to Knux?”

The fox kit rubbed his chin. “Knuckles has a special connection to the Master Emerald. And I’ve taken readings on him in the past that show he possesses more chaos energy than anyone, except when you go Super, Sonic. Maybe . . . maybe Eggman is using him as a conduit? Kind of a living battery.”

They all turned to look at Knuckles then, and an unspoken thought passed between them.

He didn’t look like the ‘living’ part of that description was going to apply much longer.

“So what do we do?” Sonic asked, moving closer and planting his hands on his hips. “How do we get that thing off him? It’s gonna bleed him dry and then . . .” He turned away hands curled into fists. “What do we do, Tails?”

“Maybe we should take him back to Angel Island?” Amy suggested, her hands clasped before her chest. “Maybe his connection to the Master Emerald will help.”

Tails shook his head. “His connection to the Master Emerald is exactly why we can’t take him near it.”

She furrowed her brow. “Why? What do you mean?”

The fox kit held up a finger before reaching to the unlock the lead-shielded cabinet against the far wall. Then he pulled out a black gem. Holding it up, he nodded toward it. “Because this is what he did to a red chaos emerald.”

Amy and Sonic stood and stared at the gem in Tails’ hand. The only time an emerald turned black is when every bit of chaos energy was sucked out of it.

“Knuckles did that?” Sonic asked, moving closer to take the gem into his own hands. It felt heavier without its energy. “How?”

“When I discovered his chaos energy was being drained, I thought introducing more might help stabilize him. But the moment I brought this close, he just kinda . . . pulled the emerald’s energy to him, and it went straight into the collar.” He took the dead emerald back. “I think taking him close to the Master Emerald would be a very bad idea.”

Silence settled over the workspace then, and all three looked at the failing echidna on the table.

~X~X~X~

Knuckles’ consciousness floated. Adrift in the swirling currents of chaos.

He felt the pull of chaos, that constant, ever-present flow he’d felt since he hatched. But there was another pull, one that felt unnatural, as if trying to redirect the current of a river. It tugged at him, pulling that warm, comfortable chaos away.

Floating. Pushed and pulled without direction. He couldn’t understand what was happening. He wanted to call out, to reach for the Master Emerald, to ask it to help him get himself back under control.

But the more he reached for it, the more it pulled away. It was afraid of him. Afraid for him. And a part of him, some small part that still understood, pulled himself back, too. If they connected now, disaster would befall all of Mobius.

And so Knuckles faded. The unnatural pull continuing its thievery of his chaos energy, his very life force. And he allowed it to happen, severing his connection to the Master Emerald in a last act of his duty as its guardian. He vowed to keep it safe. And that included safe from him.

~~~

Like this? Check out my other snippets. Reblogs are appreciated!

#knuckles the echidna #sonic the hedgehog #tails the fox #amy rose #my writing #sonic fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog fanfiction #knuckles angst

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bluepillednormfag · 1 year ago

Text

This post was inspired by @zerodaytime, who made a great analysis of this poem back in april. I've really based my own thoughts on his point that the main theme of the poem was power. (I've chopped up the poem a bit just for ease of explanation: the full poem is here and zerodaytime's analysis of it can be found here)

"The gun may be the perfect weapon," he said,

standing between a rock and a hard place

"But a gun is nothing without a bullet," I replied

As zerodaytime put it, someone is suggesting to the speaker that the gun is the ultimate source of power. But the gun's dependance on the bullet makes the gun nothing: powerless. Allegorically, this implies that to experience true power a killer must be completely independent and in control.

Furthermore, I think it's important that the gun is a very impersonal weapon: it is not actually the gun kills someone, it is the bullet. The speaker is suggesting that that the power experienced in killing is not felt through any tool used to bring you there, but through the final and tactile act itself, and thus that any truly perfect weapon/murder cannot have even the illusion of separation from that act, as a long-range gun does.

I am my bullet.

The speaker, who is almost certainly Cal, views himself as the final piece to a perfect weapon. By being a bullet, he implies that his only purpose is to hurt. If Cal is bullet, there is a sense of inevitability about Zero Day: a bullet can either harm people or go unused and wasted- in a way, this is the "rock and a hard place" mentioned before: the choice between a wasted life or completing Zero Day. This sentiment is also seen in the final line of the poem.

Additionally, by being his own metaphorical bullet, he is in a way owning himself: being dependant on nothing and no-one, having complete control/power in the act of killing: All of which make it seem that he views his murders as an experience of perfect and ultimate power.

I live my life along the parabolic arch of purpose, meaning

Describing the path of his life as parabolic connotes that his actions are simultaneously natural and mathematical: predicable and unchanging in their destination- Cal feels Zero Day is inevitable and meticulously planned/executed.

I really like what zerodaytime pointed out about this line: a life lived in an "arch" suggests that Cal is in a continuous upward motion, implying striving for a higher purpose. However: an arch has both a rise and a fall: the fall being Cals planned suicide and the uselessness of any life beyond the culmination of Zero Day? Perhaps I am reading too much into it here.

And then there was that time when you stepped on a landmine

And I never forgave you

And you could feel the entire rise and fall of the Third Reich at your feet.

Here I am less confident about what the poem means. I do think it is interesting that the person who the speaker addresses has been the victim of some event (compared to a landmine and the Third Reich under their feet) and this victimhood, being at the losing end of some massive destructive power, is what angers the speaker. This could suggest what what most repulses Cal is the idea of victimhood and powerlessness in life.

Also the tense of "I never forgave you" stands out to me: the fact that it is in past tense implies that Cals ability to forgive the person is gone- because he himself is too consumed by the anger that motivates Zero Day? or because the person he is speaking to died as a result of their victimhood? Either way, its interesting.

It's a wasted life.

zerodaytime suggested that the life that Cal is speaking of is that of the person who stepped on a landmine, conveying that a life spent as a helpless victim is a useless one.

Alternatively, he could be speaking about life more generally, or his own life, as reflected his earlier implications that continuing his life without Zero Day would be pointless or perhaps impossible.

I love this poem so much and I really hope that you guys like my analysis :)))

#zero day 2003 #cal gabriel #zero day #tccblr

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thehollowwriter · 10 months ago

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Trying to pick one I've not seen answered in some way or other so far has been a fun little challenge so here we go~

🐺 what relationship does your oc have with Jack?

🍎 what relationship does your oc have with Epel?

🏹 what relationship does your oc have with Rook?

Ohhh boy, this one's gonna be interesting. Thanks for the ask, Cyan!

At first? Finn is neutral to Jack. He doesn't know this fluffy first year at all, and he's quiet enough so that's fine. He gets some amusement out of it when Jack is roped into Chapter 3's chaos, but that is quick to fade after the destruction of Azul's contracts.

He's pissed. He's so so pissed and the neutrality towards Jack is absolutely shattered, and he has it out for this guy almost as much as Leona, Yuu, Grim Ace, and Deuce.(Finn is not very mentally stable atp so..)The only reason he isn't as angry with Jack is cause Jack was kinda just swept up in things most of the time, and he's not malicious. If there's any possible opportunity to make Jack suffer, even if it's just an inconvenience, Finn is going to take it.

Jack finds Finn creepy and untrustworthy and dislikes him almost just as much as the Octavinelle trio. When Finn used Ace's voice to lure him and the others right to the tweels, it was almost like something out of a thriller. The way Finn honest to Seven tried to blast them after Azul's overblot did not help matters.

Unfortunately, neither of them like each other at all. It is unfortunate because if it weren't for Azul's OB, they would've had a chance of getting along.

He finds Epel kinda funny, to be honest. He's not sure what is specifically, but he finds Epel really entertaining. He does appreciate Epel's ambitions, even of he may or may not think it's... odd. He talks about Epel with Vil a number of times, and can understand the potential Vil sees in him. Finn is curious to see what this little potato will grow into.

Epel, meanwhile, is cheering to the rooftops because, oh, Great Seven, there's finally someone shorter than him around! He doesn't mock Finn for his height, but he has a habit of pointing out Finn's shortness when other people are around, as some kind of way to 'prove' he's not the smallest.

Other than that, the creepy vibes he gets from Finn does freak him out, and he wonders if Finn is secretly some kind of fae to give off those vibes. He attempts to challenge the other first years to "poke" Finn, although that never went anywhere.

Finn is neutral to Epel apart from some mirth at his antics, and Epel is really freaked out by him.

Oh. Oh, Finn does not like Rook. No no no nope nope, please, for the love of god, get this creepy human away from him. Rook calling him 'beauté silencieuse' was something that threw him off once he figured out what it meant, as he's unused to being referred to in a positive light, nevermind being called beautiful, by strangers, especially humans.

He found Rook's antics entertaining when he first came to NRC, and even interesting since he learned a few things, but when Rook started stalking Jade, Floyd and Azul, Finn was protective and weary, and honestly considering eating him.

When the stalking extended to him, it was really awful because the feeling of eyes on him/being watched triggered a panic attack. He despises Rook and frequently implies to Vil that he should be stripped of his position as vice dorm leader.

Rook, in true Rook fashion, finds Finn utterly fascinating. A quiet, unconfrontational (is that a word?) student, a walking mystery. Yes, he feels that sense of dread just like everyone else, but all it does is fuel his curiosity and need to know more about Finn. Finn, so we'll behaved an poised, with a restrained violent and sadistic side that made Rook's skin tingle.

And when he discovered Finn was an incredibly rare species of shark mer: a cookie cutter shark? Ohhh, he doubled his efforts to learn. He was delightfully surprised to discover that Finn was romantically involved with those three Octavinelle students. Why, love is such a beautiful thing, is it not? He is excited to observe the four of them and their unique ways of showing love further.

Finn is considering turning himself into sushi (this is a joke), and Rook is endlessly fascinated and curious. Send help. Please.

Tagging: @distant-velleity @krenenbaker @theleechyskrunkly @skrimpyskimpy @officialdaydreamer00 @the-banana-0verlord @minteasketches @whspermy-name @oya-oya-okay @cynthinesia @kitwasnothere @boopshoops

#quinn quips #quinn answers #finn clearcove #octavinelle #jack howl #savanaclaw #rook hunt #epel felmier #pomefiore #twisted wonderland #twst oc #oc x canon #ask game #oc ask game #quinn's friends #cyan

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blackberrywars · 2 years ago

Note

Hah + H

Alright!! Thank you so much for playing! I'll answer in reverse order, because H is pretty much one sentence and Hah is an outline.

H: Lambert sews Ciri's support corset.

This is one of my few male Lambert fics, but it's inspired by that whole debacle in the books where the wolves have no idea how to raise a girl and forget periods are a thing. Well. Lambert knows a thing or two about growing up with his needs completely ignored, and no way is that shit happening again, so you can bet your ass he is learning all about female development, a la American Girl "The Care and Keeping of You" book. Ciri needs pads? Lambert has them stockpiled. Ciri would very much like some privacy at night? Lambert noise-proofs her room. And Ciri needs some bust support that is both fashionable and functional for a fight? Lambert is making her that leather corset. Best big brother ever.

Hah: After the pogroms, Erland calls for a reunion.

After all the pogroms and destruction, Erland, having escaped with the few remaining Griffins to Kaer Morhen (thanks to Coen’s liaisons) decides to call for the schools to reunite. They may not have the means to make any more witchers, but they can put aside their differences to make sure their kind lasts as long as possible.

Slowly but surely, the schools trickle in.

The Vipers arrive all together, under Letho, armed to the teeth but tentatively trusting the new alliance. They’ve needed a new home for a long time now, and they won’t let this chance slip through their fingers.

The Cats show up one-by-one or in pairs, as if they were trying to sneak inside before anyone could stop them. Vesemir grumbles, but with Guxart rounding out the clowder and Aiden making Lambert happy, he lets it go.

The Cranes portal in as a flock. Not all of them, for they would never abandon their ships, but pretty soon they have a rotation set up. They come and go as they please, but they’re happy enough to reunite with their long-lost kin.

The Manticores march up as a soldier’s unit. Two scouts first, then a force of five, and their leader bringing up the rear. They’re unused to the cold and wind of the Blue Mountains, but none shiver where the others can see them. They adore Lambert’s laboratory.

The Bears come last. Almost all of them arrive by themselves and weeks apart, spotted halfway down the Killer by size alone. They say little, looking hesitant, and it’s fitting. The first to leave are the last to return, but Erland holds no ill will for them. Except for one.

Arnaghad never appears.

He’s alive, as far as the Bears know, when Erland gets desperate enough to ask. But the years go by, and Arnaghad never appears, and Erland is forced to accept that he never will.

The knowledge burns like a coal in his belly, but he still has a job to do. The schools may be in one keep, but even if Kaer Morhen is the most intact keep barring Haern Caduch, it takes constant work to stop the walls from crumbling. He and the other grandmasters, no matter how mocking the term feels with their tiny schools, devise a system to keep themselves afloat —a cadre of witchers on the Path, working in pairs, and the rest at home, growing enough food to supplant their missing income. It takes a while, but every single witcher that has lasted this long has done so for a reason, and together, they manage to create something stable, almost happy at times. Laughter and drink fill their halls. Grain fills their larder. Modest coin fills their coffer, and every year, Erland pinches just a few to send a raven, with a letter that returns unopened.

On the tenth year since he made the first call, their keep burns.

The humans come with pitchforks and torches, for the work the witchers have done and the work that they haven’t. Two mages come with them, and all Erland can feel in Kaer Seren collapsing down around his ears. They beat them back, and they don’t lose a single witcher, but as he is laid in bed, bandages wrapped around his missing leg, he can feel his eyes burn with grief.

He doesn’t expect the raven at his window, letter on its back.

Arnaghad.

#berry's games #berry's fics #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #lambert #ciri #erland #arnaghad #bear and bird

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mylambandmartyr · 6 months ago

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@annoyingcloudtidalwave I think we are engaging with these shows in fundamentally different ways, but I’ll bite.

I was initially talking about a pattern I’ve noticed of people flattening both characters just because they want a cute, fluffy romance. That’s fine, people can do whatever they want, but I’m an annoying media analyst at heart, so I like it when characters are allowed to be meaty and complicated in fanworks and It’s always a little disappointing when people don’t take chances to explore that and instead decide to just completely change their characterization.

With humongous properties like Marvel, there’s a lot of writing cowardice within the original works themselves. They pussyfoot around things for maximum palatability, so their stories have mass-market appeal and aren’t too challenging. I think that’s partially why my brain latched onto Punisher and Daredevil, because the characterization that we’re given has a surprising amount of potential and a lot of it goes unused. What I’m interested in dissecting and reassembling is what I see as unused potential, so I definitely am inserting and exacerbating ideas because I find them fun to play around with.

Back to Karen and Frank.

As far as instability goes, we see that both of them at the very least are drawn to it, consciously or not. It’s a self-destructive impulse, but neither of them have ever really been allowed to have stability; children weaned on poison consider harm a comfort etc, etc...

Textually, Frank thrives in danger, that’s the main reason he joined the military. You’re right that he thinks he will never find peace, and it’s likely he never will. He recognizes that his work is Sisyphean, that’s what makes him an interesting character.

Karen is an investigative journalist with an addictive personality and a thing for volatile men. She doesn’t strike me as someone who likes it when things are calm, and I think it’s part of why she likes Frank. He’s dangerous, unpredictable, but also obviously respects and trusts her, something she’s never really gotten a lot of from other people in her life. It’s interesting to see that juxtaposed with the almost paternalistic way Matt and Foggy seem to see Karen. She entered their lives as a victim and she holds that position throughout Daredevil, it’s why they try to shelter her, lie to her, and exclude her from important conversations she should be involved with. All she wants is someone to tell her the truth, to cut the bullshit, and to treat her like an equal.

Although Frank saves her on multiple occasions and seems to also feel some level of paternalistic protectiveness, (their slight age gap lends itself to this) he sees her as a full person capable of taking care of herself. He sees her as a Complete person, really, someone who not only doesn’t need him, but also needs to be Away from him.

I did phrase the beginning of my ramble in the tags strangely so I’ll elaborate. It’s hard to tell what exactly Frank truly wants in a hypothetical relationship with Karen (Part of that is intentional obfuscation by the writers so they can maintain the “will they?/won’t they?” thing with Karen and Frank/Karen and Matt so they can keep doing fan service stuff,) but it seems like they want different things. Frank doesn’t want a capital R “Relationship”. He loves her, yeah, but he doesn’t want Karen the way she wants him. Karen wants to hold him until he softens, wants to dig her nails into him and keep him. Frank wants someone to punish him, someone who will love and leave and let him keep an empty place in his heart.

To me, Karen and Frank’s relationship is ultimately a tragedy, which makes them more interesting to write about. That said, You don’t have to think about them like that, that’s the best part of media analysis!

Sitting alone with my controversial Frank Castle and Karen Page opinions

#yippee #!!!!#excuse to talk about the characters I’m currently fixated on #talking to the wall #⚖️

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fbfh · 2 years ago

Text

rocks at your window pt. 7 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18+!! ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year

additionally, we're working towards a ricky x therapy plot so he's going to start expressing some symptoms of mental illness and bpd but he does get therapy eventually and has a good support system but he gets worse before he gets better yk. Obviously I'm not a professional and this is for entertainment so while I have done my research pls take this with a grain of salt!! or several!! /lh

!! contains some spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts, and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 4.5k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: post school theater burning down, ricky is spiraling, one "look at me" but it's necessary and works, more of reader comforting ricky, ricky has a lil dissociation moment, op being gratuitously horny for the inherant beauty of theaters and rehearsal spaces, descriptions of a panic attack/some ptsd/mild trauma, square breathing to come down from said panic attack, brief trauma sharing, reader's dad was abiguosuly "scary when mad, reader's dad didn't show up to important events, ricky comforts reader, disgusting cursed backstage couches, fingering, protected vaginal sex, yet another mid fuck near love confession bc duh it's ricky, almost getting caught, I think that's it

summary: After a tragic incident renders the school theater unusable, you find a beautiful theater to perform the show. You're getting really excited about it, and Ricky is too. When tech rehearsals begin with a more than rough start, Ricky gets the opportunity to comfort you, to be there for you like you've been there for him.

song recs: 27 - fall out boy, I can't handle change - roar, at the ballet - a chorus line, bop to the top (kourtney's version) - dara renee

a/n: been reading my immortal again and in chapter 34 there's a line where Enoby tries to describe a dress that professor sinister was wearing as "kinda lik da one Amy Lee wears in this pic" followed by the http/ of a link and nothing else then she just continues on and I almost wept about that in public and I love it so dearly so fangz 2 Cici for proof reading, u rok, mcr rox. fuk off prepz.

tags @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @hopefullhearts @pikzel @demirunner @brinaslittlefreak @girlfriendwhoseawitch @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa @n-slayaaaaa @stormi-ames @rainforest-daisies @sunshineangel-reads

It’s a bad dream. It’s another bad dream that Ricky can’t wake up from. Soggy ash carpets the formerly scuffed floors, as serious looking adults clad in reflective yellow and khaki drag hoses around and talk to Miss Jenn. Everything is ruined. It’s all destroyed. This is worse than anything, any flooded basement or mildewy props, this is the worst thing that could happen. There’s not one thing in this goddamn theater that hasn’t been tainted by destruction, there’s nothing left to salvage. He feels sick. He pulls out of this horrible spiral of thoughts when he feels your hand tug his arm gently, guiding him into the hall. You can tell by the look on his face how bad this is before he even starts.

“We’re gonna figure it out.” you start. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes still stuck on the ruins just through the doorway.

“H-how can-”

“Ricky, look at me.” you place your hand on his jaw, getting his attention back on you. His teary brown eyes are locked on yours, desperate for something to grab onto. You take a steadying breath, and he follows with a shaky one. “We are going to figure this out.”

Your touch, your gaze, the unwavering confidence in your voice grounds him. He takes another breath, this one slightly deeper.

“If a flooded basement didn’t stop Matilda, some scorch marks sure as hell can’t stop the Wildcats.”

He nods absentmindedly at your words.

“Okay?” You ask. He nods again.

“Yeah,” he breathes. He grabs tight onto your hand and you both head back into the smoky theater with everyone else, where Miss Jenn quickly gets everyone’s attention.

“Hug your neighbor, take a moment,” she directs, still holding the deflated, scorched basketball in her hands, “let’s reconvene in the cafeteria after school to talk about options.” She addresses Nini and Ricky, then, when her eyes linger on the way Ricky is holding onto your hand with both of his, you as well.

“Spread the word.”

“Got it.” Nina says quietly.

“Of course,” you acknowledge with a small nod.

He’s trying to breathe, trying to think, trying to do something, but he can’t. He’s trying to listen to Miss Jenn, but he can feel himself spacing out. His eyes are fixated on a soggy, burnt piece of neon tape that had peeled off of the floor, and his chest rises and falls automatically in shallow breaths. It’s not supposed to be there. It’s supposed to be downstage left, it’s supposed to be where he stands for Get’cha Head in the Game. That’s why it’s orange, because that’s where Miss Jenn said he’ll fly up in a harness and dunk a basketball in slow motion. She made it sound so easy, but they haven’t even done the choreography for that number yet. How the hell is he supposed to know where to stand if his strike tape isn’t in the right place. Strike tape? Or is it spike tape. Maybe-

“Ricky?” Miss Jenn calls, and he snaps out of it.

“Uh,” he sputters, “yeah.” He hopes he didn’t miss too much in the few seconds he had totally spaced out. You don’t let go of his hand until you get to your next class.

“We just have to get through today, okay?” He nods, agreeing carefully. You just have to get through today. Then everyone will be together in the cafeteria and Miss Jenn will know what to do. That will fix everything, and it will all be okay again.

As soon as Miss Jenn proposes looking at other venues to host the show, you’re already pulling out your phone. You’d been thinking the same thing, and spent every free moment between classes not texting your castmates or helping console them googling neary (or nearby-ish) theaters and potential venues. You’re no stranger to this; when you were in Fun Home, the whole production had to change theaters twice. You were a kid and it was years ago, so you don’t remember what the reasons were exactly, but you all adapted and the run got extended by two months, so it all worked out.

You skip past the ones you ruled out earlier, the first option on your list is the El Rey. It’s pretty close, and business has been slow, so it shouldn’t be too expensive to rent.

“What about the El Rey?” Seb asks.

“I think that could work,” you say, “it’s not too far from here, and it doesn’t look like they have any shows or events going on right now.” You tilt your phone so Ricky and your other friends sitting nearby can look at pictures while Seb does the same. “It shouldn’t be too hard to rent out.”

“Well-” Miss Jenn starts, seeming a little hesitant.

“My uncle Reuben’s the listing agent,” Carlos says, pulling out his phone to call him. One short excited conversation in Spanish later, you get the green light for the El Rey.

Once Ricky’s beetle is stuffed as full as you can get it with salvaged costumes, props, and anything else you could fit, you start the drive over to your new theater. You have their website pulled up on your phone, and you start reading him some of the past events, shows, and concerts they’ve hosted. He’s not sure why he’s so excited if he hasn’t even been there yet, but you’re making it sound… magical.

“Oh my god,” you turn to him, shocked. “This is the same theater where the touring cast of Into the Woods performed in 1989.”

“Really?” he smiles at how excited you are.

“Yeah! Oh my god…” you chuckle in disbelief, then look at him again. “This is going to be really, really great.”

He smiles. He thinks you’re right. If anyone would know what makes a great theater, it would be you. A few minutes later, he pulls into the parking lot, recognizing the other few cars there, and seeing Nini and Kourtney help Miss Jenn unload the props and costumes from her car. You get out of the car, and Ricky watches you jog over to Miss Jenn, asking where she wants you to put stuff, while Carlos talks to his uncle, who’s unlocking the door. You head back over, grabbing a few boxes and walking toward the door.

“She said to put them backstage and we’ll organize it all once we know what we’re working with.”

A few of your friends are right behind you, arms filled with boxes. Carlos opens the back door, and Miss Jenn passes around some flashlights before guiding you all into the building. You pass through the backstage area, past the dressing rooms, and into the wings, finally stepping onto the stage. Even in the dark, with miscellaneous old props and storage boxes, it’s breathtaking. The dust floats down gently in your flashlight beams, reminding you of the first snow of the season.

Next to you, his flashlight beam sweeping over the dusty couches and empty chairs sitting on the tables, Ricky’s breath is gone from his lungs. A huge wave of emotion overcomes him, and he sees it. The inherent beauty in all theaters you had been telling him about. Next to him, Miss Jenn rests her hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze.

“Welcome home.”

He feels it, he feels that he’s finally home. A little while later, everything has been brought in and stacked somewhat neatly. As they’ve been bringing in boxes, moving props, and sweeping up, there’s a tangible sense of togetherness growing between the cast and crew, one Ricky notices. Miss Jenn now has her cast on stage while her crew tries to make sense of the lights, soundboards, and other backstage areas.

The lights are finally up, you’ve cleared off the stage for the most part, and Miss Jenn gets ready for her welcome to tech rehearsal speech. No one has been able to get a hold of Gina, and Natalie is still recovering from getting her wisdom teeth out. She’d sent a selfie of her with her cheeks all swollen, accompanied by the caption, I lived bitches. Her sister texted on her phone a few minutes later letting the cast group chat know she’s totally knocked out, and will be asleep for a while, so you all sent her nice messages for when she wakes up.

Miss Jenn gets everyone’s attention to introduce tech rehearsals, expectations for the cast and crew, and some words of inspiration, and the excitement is palpable. Before she can, a large sandbag falls suddenly, crashing less than a foot away from you. You scream, hands flying to your ears as you jump back, and Ricky pulls you close to him reflexively, one arm over your head, the other around your waist.

Every muscle in your body is tense, and he can feel you shaking in his grasp while the shocked frightened noises from your castmates die down. He suddenly hates this theater. He looks up at the catwalk with a venomous glare, a warning not to scare you like that again.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly. You don’t answer. You’re staring into space, hand clutched over your mouth and shaking like a leaf, breaths fast and shallow. Miss Jenn takes one look at you, eyes widening in realization.

“Okay, Ricky, why don’t you two go backstage and run some lines while we… sort this out.” she gestures vaguely above you. He agrees, guiding you into the wings, while Miss Jenn gets everyone’s attention back on her.

Ricky ushers you through the wings, past the dressing room, and into a secluded storage room. In the back behind the piano and table stacked with boxes, sits a couch, that like everything else in the building, is covered in a thin layer of dust. You sit down next to him, shaking and trying not to cry. A binder slips out of one of the boxes and falls to the ground, loose paper fluttering down, and you jump like a terrified alley cat. You cling onto him, and he rubs your back, hoping that will help. You haven’t said a word yet, and he’s starting to get worried.

“Are you okay?” he asks again. You’re clearly not, and he’s struggling for words, for something that will help you feel better. He doesn’t notice you pulling out your phone and typing until his dings with a text from you, the familiar text tone he set just for you resonating in the quiet room. He checks the text you sent him. It’s a diagram for breathing exercises for panic attacks. That’s what’s going on, he realizes, you’re having a panic attack. He freezes for a second, mind racing. He realizes after a moment that freaking out isn’t going to help you at all. He takes a shaky breath, then looks at the diagram.

“Okay,” he says, “you ready?” You nod.

He inhales, holds his breath, lets it out, and holds it again in four second intervals, counting you through it as you breathe together. He repeats the steps again and again, feeling your grip on his arm gradually loosen. He notices the changes, slow and gradual, as the breathing exercises start to work. The relief you both feel as he witnesses you progressively come down from this is unlike anything else he’s ever felt. A little while later, you think you’ve calmed down enough to talk about it.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice soft and tender.

“Yeah.” you say. He’s never been more relieved to hear your voice. You take in a shaky breath, fumbling for the words you’re looking for.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, dude.” he says, nudging you gently. You pause, then let out a breathy, weepy laugh, remembering the first time you said that to him. It gets quiet again. You can tell him, you think. You’ve mentioned that your dad was an asshole in the past, so you’re sure it won’t be too much of a shock. Your therapist has said it’s good to talk about this stuff in places where you feel safe enough to. You don’t think you’ve ever felt safer than in a theater, than with Ricky right next to you. You take in a steadying breath.

“My dad, before he left,” you start. Your voice is so small, he’s never heard you speak so quietly, “he got… scary… when he was mad sometimes. Loud noises still make me kind of jumpy, you know?”

He understands what you’re saying. More than he hates this theater for putting you in danger, he hates that someone ever made you afraid like that - especially someone who was supposed to take care of you. He’s never met him, and he’s sure you wouldn’t want him to, but Ricky really hates your dad now.

“Yeah,” he says softly, still rubbing your back. You fidget with your fingers. It’s quiet again.

“He never came to any of my shows.”

There’s a retroactive, humorless laugh towards the end.

“I started giving my comp tickets to friends cause I knew he wouldn’t come.”

Ricky somehow hates this guy even more. You look up, eyes moving around, taking in the details of the room.

“I guess that’s why theaters have always felt like more of a home, you know?” you chuckle, remembering how much normal stuff you missed out on to be at rehearsals so much. “Even when things were bad, they were still good. Plus, it was the one place he was guaranteed not to be, so…”

At some point, you curled up against him, and your head now rests on his warm chest. His hoodie is soft under your cheek, and you feel close to him. It’s a nice feeling.

“So, why did you stop?”

“Stop what?” you ask, snapping out of your train of thought circling around how nice he feels against you.

“If theatre’s your home, why did you stop?” Maybe he shouldn’t ask, but you’ve told him so many times how glad you were to start acting again when you started at East High. You let out a dry laugh, a cynical tinge of hindsight present in your reply.

“I thought it would be easier.” you state. It sounds so stupid to say out loud now, but it did make sense at the time. “Going from such a face paced, high pressure environment to normal life in a suburban town… I thought I could be normal. I thought I would feel more fulfilled if I really committed to letting myself be a normal teenager for a while, but…” You laugh again, this one warmer.

“I couldn’t stop.” you confess. “I did one summer completely free of any and all performing arts - I even quit dance - and I practically lost my mind. It was terrible. In a profession like this, it either drives you totally crazy or keeps you sane. I guess I need theatre to keep me sane.” You laugh again. “God, listen to me. I sound like such an actor…” you chuckle, hoping he doesn’t think you sound too pretentious.

He understands. There’s a certain peace he’s noticed he only finds in rehearsal spaces. He wonders if that makes him an actor too. He hopes it does. He can sense how comfortable around him you are, and it makes his heart feel full, that you trust him when you’re so vulnerable. You trace your hand across his chest, then idly through his hair, and he feels like his heart is going to burst. It gets quiet again, the only noises are your soft breaths mixing together and his pulse racing under your fingertips.

“Thanks for this…” you begin, but the words dry up in your throat as you look over at him, realizing how close you are, how alone the two of you are. It hits you how close you’re pressed against each other, how badly you want to touch him. Based on the way he’s looking at you, he’s thinking the same thing.

You can’t hold back from kissing him any longer. Besides, why should you? Life is short, who are you to deprive yourselves of the pleasure of kissing someone you’re really into? Especially in such an intimate moment like this, all cozy and tucked away together. You start to lay back, letting him pin you against the cushions of the couch, but a cloud of dust rises up on impact, followed by the noise of something that you swear was a rat scrabbling away. You clap your hand over your mouth, you and Ricky staring at each other in shock.

“Nope.” you say.

“Nope.” he agrees, standing up.

“Nope.” you echo, both moving quickly away from the couch. Before you can take a look around for another convenient place to make out for a little while, Ricky picks you up in one swift motion, setting you on the table full of boxes stacked nearly as high as your head that he can just see over. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you back in for another kiss.

“Ricky…” you giggle when he bites your neck, moving his hand into your pants.

He’s never felt closer to you than he does now, holding you tight in his arms while his fingers plunge in and out of your dripping heat as you sigh against his skin. No matter how many times you feel them stretching your tight walls and rubbing that spot that makes your eyes roll back, it never fails to amaze you how good his fingers feel inside you like this. They reach places yours could never, and maybe it’s the years of playing guitar, but they always seem to know just what to do to make you throb and squeeze around them.

Soon you’re ready for more, you need more, and he can feel that. You watch in anticipation, breath bated, as he undoes his jeans enough to pull out his cock, hard and leaking for you, pulsing in his hand. He quickly rolls a condom up his shaft, just as needy to be inside you as you are for him, and lines himself up with your entrance. He works his way in, gently, slowly burying his cock inside you. He peppers your face with kisses until he’s all the way in, his pelvis nudging against your twitching clit.

He starts to thrust slowly, settling into a rhythm and squeezing your hips in his hands. You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to push your tongue into his mouth. He makes you feel good, so good, and he’s barely gotten started. He ruts his hips into yours, giving you everything you need, fucking all the residual stress and sadness out of your sweet, pretty head. He’s careful not to go too crazy, toeing the line between comforting pleasure and overstimulation.

You cling onto him so tightly, so vulnerable in his arms, batting your pretty eyes up at him and god, it makes his stomach twist. Your breath fans warm across his face with every little pant, every moan he draws out of you, and it feels better than the warmest shower on the coldest day. He’s dizzy with pleasure, burying his face into your neck to get high off the sweet scent of the perfume you’re wearing today - this one smelling like book pages and fruit.

In spite of the way you cling to him and clench around him and moan his name, he doesn’t know how you feel, what you are. He wishes he had an answer, because he can feel it building up. You’re so tight and wet, squeezing him so pretty than any strength he would have had not to say it so soon is gone.

“I-”

“Ricky?”

You both freeze at the sound of Nina’s voice making her way through the crowded room. Ricky sees the instant your eyes get wide and you bite your lip, eyes locked with yours, and he has to try not to cum on the spot from how goddamn cute you look and how quick you clench and squeeze around him. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling your head down to his chest, below the line of the boxes as Nini finally walks past the piano and sees him obscured by boxes. Tucked into his chest, you’re out of her line of sight. You can feel yourself squeeze around him, pulsing, a breath away from cumming. You’re surprised at how turned on the protective gesture makes you, the feeling of his hand on the back of your head keeping you tucked away. He lets out a low hiss of air only you hear.

“Um, Miss Jenn wants to know where you guys went.” she says. If Ricky hadn’t been so focused on looking relaxed and casual instead of like he wasn’t balls deep in the tightest wettest warmest cunt he could ever dream of, he would have noticed the shape her mouth made. He would have recognized it as the same tell she’s had since they were little and asked why she was lying, what she really wanted. Nini tries to look around the room for you, but Ricky jumps in before she can.

“I think she went to the bathroom,” he gestures toward the doorway, “I’ll go find her and we’ll be there in a couple minutes. You can head back, and tell Miss Jenn.” He takes slow, shallow breaths, trying to keep a poker face, trying not to let her realize anything is going on. She looks around the room a little more.

“...Okay.” she sighs. “Hurry up.” She looks back at him once before leaving. You both wait with bated breath until you’re sure she’s gone.

“That was such a close call,” you breath, ethereal and glowing lighting his skin on fire wherever you touch and he feels it build up in a rush again.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, hoping the wrong words don’t slip out instead, “It was.” He’s teetering on the precipice, the words about to spill out, practically edging himself by staying still when you throb and squeeze and pulse around him like that, so he does what anyone would do - he presses hot, wet, open mouthed kisses against your soft pretty lips, and bends over to fuck you within an inch of your life. He moves down your neck as his hips piston into yours, knocking all the air from your lungs.

“Ricky!” You giggle, overwhelmed with the pace he’s set and the playful kisses he’s smothering you with.

“Shh, peach, we don’t want someone to find us in here again, right?” he mutters into your skin, that sensitive spot below your ear, and you let out a shuddering sigh. You’re trying so hard to stifle your noises but the best you can do is dampen them. Everything he does feels so good, and he’s so… excited to touch you like this, to make you giggle, that it makes you light headed from all the attention. He pants, resting his head on your shoulder and nuzzled into your neck, overwhelmed by you. He squeezes his eyes closed and scrunches his nose when he smiles in disbelief that someone can make him feel so good, that he love someone this much, and god, he loves you so much.

The nerve builds again, and he can feel himself getting dangerously close. It’s not the first time by any means, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. So fuck it, he thinks, throwing caution to the wind. What’s the worst that could happen? You don’t do stuff like this in a dusty storage room full of cobwebs and props unless you really like someone, right? And really liking someone is close to loving them. Maybe he should take a leap of faith. He takes in a breath.

“I love-”

The words and air alike are knocked out of his lungs as you clench hard around him, cumming hard. You hide your face in his shoulder in an adorable attempt to muffle the sounds you're making, nails lightly scratching his back as you hold onto him for dear life. The breath he was going to use to tell you that leaves his mouth as a moan instead. You catch your soft, pretty lips with his, and shove your tongue down his throat to quiet both of you, and it’s enough to send him over the edge. He cums hard, drowning in that pleasure that only you can give him.

“Fuck,” he moans into your mouth, panting against your skin as his hips rut and spasm against your sensitive walls, your throbbing clit. You gradually come down from your high, and manage to run into the bathroom to get cleaned up before walking back together, trying to be inconspicuous. Miss Jenn gestures for Ricky to come over to her so she can ask if you’re okay. During his brief absence, Nina shows up next to you.

“You were gone for a while,” she starts quietly, trying to see if your story lines up with Ricky’s. You look over at her smiling, mouth agape, and point to Kourtney, who’s belting her heart on stage.

“Oh my god!” you breathe, excited and trying not to interrupt, “Did you know she could sing like that?”

“Yeah, of course,” Nina starts. She’s Kourtney’s best friend, of course she knows she can sing.

“She’s amazing…” you smile, wondering why she didn’t audition initially. You hope she will in the future, you’re sure Miss Jenn could use someone like her in the cast as well as the crew. Before Nina can wrap back around to her initial question, you’re slipping away to get your water bottle from your bag. Miss Jenn catches your eye, silently and sincerely asking if you’re okay. You flash her a smile and thumbs up. You are now. She nods, then continues typing something on her laptop.

On your way back, you catch a glimpse of her screen. It’s a total accident, but you don’t like what you see. She’s emailing Principal Gutierrez about using the school gym for the show instead of the El Rey. Your brow furrows. Why wouldn’t she want to use the El Rey? It’s beautiful, affordable, and available, it’s the perfect fit. The school gym? How would that even work? You pull out your phone to text your mom, determined not to let Ricky perform his first show in a gym when a beautiful theater is ready and waiting for you.

One quick text to your mom - who’s just as confused about that as you are - and she tells you she’s on top of it. You thank her, glad to have someone that great in your corner. You look over at Ricky, who’s currently sword fighting EJ with a wrapping paper tube. You smile. He’s so sweet, and he’s been through so much, the least you can do is make sure he has the best experience with theatre you possibly can - and that means performing right here on opening night.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts x reader #hsmtmts smut #ricky bowen #ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen smut #rocks at your window #I think when I die I want to be a theatre ghost #also there's an actual el ray theater in I think california which is what I'm imagining in terms of imagry

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