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soobrat · 3 years ago

Text

malice; jsc

words; 2.3k

genre; angst

warnings; mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of ringing your doorbell, sadness

preface; I’m BACK

It's the second morning in a row that I've sinned with the devil on my mind. A devil that hasn't contacted me since we kissed. Sure, I haven't contacted him either, but that's because I'm mortified. What's his excuse? No, I shouldn't worry about him contacting me. I need to stay focused on Sunday.

"What's on your mind?" Sana asks, looping her arm with mine. I look over and chuckle at her disheveled appearance. Her eyes are damn near crusted shut with the laziest attempt at a ponytail I've ever seen protruding from her scalp.

"Do you ever wish you could read minds?" I ask as I unloop our arms and trail behind her. Sana considers the ability as I re-do her ponytail.

"Yes, actually. Very recently. Have you ever wanted an answer to an awkward question without making things weird?"

"All the time, Minatozaki-San." I rake through her smokey blonde tresses with my fingers as I wait for her to elaborate.

"Well, I'd use that power to ask why the hell you were cuddled up with Sungchan in the back of your ex's car."

I stop walking with a fist full of Sana's hair, causing her to stumble backwards.

"Ow?!" She turns around in shock. "Alright I won't ask, just don't attack me again!" Sana whines like a 5 year old.

"I didn't mean to pull, I'm sorry." I reach up to rub her scalp, but she flinches dramatically. I groan at her theatrics.

"How did you know?"

"Yeri, she wouldn't let me talk about it. She told me not to say anything because you seemed neurotic but I think she forgot who I was for a second."

"Wait... Yeri knows??"

Sana turns fully to face me.

"You didn't know that she knew???"

Wooyoung was acting sketchy, Sungchan is definitely sketchy, and now I'm finding out that everyone saw Sungchan and I in the car. I mean, it was inevitable, but I convinced myself that since no one brought it up to me, that meant no one noticed.

Did he see? Is that why he wants to talk?

If I were a dog, my tail would be wagging. Doesn't mean I wouldn't be ashamed of it.

"So now the moment you've been dreading. Time to get into your groups. The first group will consist of Jung Sungchan, ___ ____,"

It seems like whatever being that watches over me was continually tasking me with trials. I can feel his eyes burning into my skull to my right. Against my better judgement I look back at him. I remember all the fantasies I had of him and look away frantically.

"And... Adachi Yuto and Kim Minjeong. Make sure to meet up aft-"

"M-Mr. Hak!"

Minjeong's hand shoots up. I look down to see Chan and Wooyoung worriedly looking at Minjeong, then me. My eyes dart around the room, trying to ignore their concern.

"I-I don't think... can I uh- can I join a different group maybe?"

"No, no, no! This happens every year. As soon as I let one of you switch then you'll all start asking. Just deal with the groups you have for christ's sake."

It's okay, This is okay. It's for school. I need to keep my personal affairs outside of the classroom, anyway. We're not in high school anymore.

Usually I'm relieved when the bell rings. This time I'm dreading it. I slowly gather my things, hoping I'll be late to our initial meeting and not be alone with either Sungchan or Minjeong. As I pretend to drop my book I hear a voice beside me.

"Hey... Mr. Hak said that we can use the lecture hall and the chromebooks to work on our project during lunch."

I slowly turn to face Sungchan and nod with pursed lips.

"I'll be there, do we all have lunch at the same time?"

"I have lunch with Minjeong and Sungchan at 1:30. What time do you eat lunch?" Yuto chimes in as he approaches the two of you.

"Ah, I eat earlier in the day. Maybe you guys can work together and then you can catch me up after school, Yuto?" This is my only chance to stop two possible disasters from happening.

"There's no need. I think we'll come up with a better quality presentation if we all work together. Plus, the sooner we can patch up this conflict, the sooner we can go back to normal."

Both Sungchan and I look at Yuto in confusion.

"Conflict?" Sungchan chuckles, clearly trying to hide the fact that something irked him.

"Yes. I know Minjeong, and I know she's a good person who just made a bad decision. I don't know about you guys, but I like our friend group. It'd be immature to split up over this." Yuto drops his bomb of a statement and leaves immediately after.

Immature...

My heart sinks, and I look to the floor.

My head shoots back up as I hear Sungchan storm out of the room. The fact that what Yuto said made even Sungchan upset made a fire burn within me.

"You know, for someone who got cheated on, you sure seem guilty."

He was absolutely right.

"H-Hey..."

I couldn't help the scowl that formed on my face as I looked up at the soft voice addressing me.

"Give it to me just like that, Hyunsuk."

"Um... about what Yuto said, please don't feel like you have to forgive me." Minjeong fidgeted with her fingers as she avoided my glare. I feel the fire grow as I look at her pathetic demeanor. Strange, she didn't seem so shy when she was screaming my boyfriend's name at the top of her lungs.

"I-I know that being in a group with me is bad enough, so I expect that you want to keep it professional... and-"

"You expected correctly."

I push past her and exit the room.

I grin proudly at my new sketch. It was more eye catching and unique. Yuto, Eunbi, and even Wooyoung could think whatever they wanted about me. And how pathetic is it for Minjeong to come up to me, twiddling her thumbs like an injured puppy. I should be the injured puppy. Whatever. This nightmare will be over in a few more days.

"Oh my, you're even farther from being done than before." The familiar click of Professor Kwon's heels was less daunting now that I have the improved design. When she reached my desk, I show her the sketch. She grabs it and lowers her glasses. The crows feet next to her eyes crinkle.

"Ah, I can see you took my advice. I'm glad you took care of whatever drama was keeping you from finishing your piece."

"I'm glad as well. You won't have to worry about me anymore, Mrs. Kwon."

The overwhelming confidence I felt didn't falter even after Sungchan insisted on walking with me to the bus stop.

"Don't you think we should talk about it?"

There may have a been a slight falter there, but I recovered soon after.

"I thought Yuto made it clear that it's more beneficial to discuss the project as a team."

"I can't believe you're giving anything he says the time of day." Sungchan stops in front of me, pure confusion written all over his face.

"I'm just doing what's right for the project, Sungchan." I don't dare look him in his eyes.

"You know exactly what I meant when I said we should talk about it."

My throat went dry at the mention of the kiss. It took all the strength I possessed to not think about his scent and soft, pillowy lips. I shake the memory away.

"There's nothing to talk about. It didn't mean anything and we're moving past it. Plus, I think I'm gonna work things out with Hyunsuk and I."

When I finally gathered to courage to look him in the eye, I could've sworn I saw the sadness fade for a moment. It resumes as Sungchan shoves his hands into his coat pockets.

"I'm happy for you. I hope it works out." Says Sungchan, dejectedly. He turns on his heels and begins to walk away. The tiny seed of guilt was promptly destroyed before it could bloom. This is for the best. It would be cruel to get his hopes up just for me to get back together with Hyunsuk anyway.

"By the way, it did mean something. To me, at least."

I stand there in silence as his footsteps become too distant to hear. Despite my efforts to destroy it a second time, the stubborn seed blooms.

"Minjeong, please take a seat already." Yuto urges. Minjeong hesitates, twiddling her thumbs again.

___: Minjeong's refusing to sit next to me now...

Yeri: What?? What's her proble,?

Yeri: probbple

Yeri: I'm somad

"Come on. I thought we agreed to work on this together. Just rip the bandaid off, let's get back to normal." Yuto's voice was gentle and encouraging.

"I know... it's just... I-I don't wanna-"

"We don't have all day."

Sungchan's tone sends shivers down my spine. His expression was even colder.

___: It wasn't in a snooty way, but she's acting like she's afraid of me or something.

Sana: Awww poor girl ;(

Yeri: Sana??

Sana: LISTEN!! What if Hyunsuk is like doing something to make her all weird?

Yeri: Like what?

Sana: I don't know;; what if he's filling her head with fables?

I look up from my phone at Minjeong who finally sits between Sungchan and I. She laces her fingers together and places them on the table. That night, he handled her like... like she was...

I force the memory to stop replaying.

___: Not sure about any of that, but Sungchan just kinda bit her head off.

Sana: What??? Jung Sungchan? He's usually so chill?

Sana: GASP! What if the reason Minjeong is acting so weird is because of Sungchan?

I look up at Minjeong again, then at Sungchan. It definitely seems a bit tense between them.

___: I dunno... it might be because of me :(

Yeri: What? Why would it be because of you?

___: It's weird, it seems like he's angry on my behalf. You should've seen how pissed he was yesterday after the thing Yuto said.

Yeri: All that because of one little chit chat in Hyunsuk's car? What did you say, a spell?

Sana: YEah, the fact that Sungchan is biting people's heads off all of a sudden is weeeird.

___: .................

___: We may have...

___: Kithed...

As my phone starts blowing up I turn it on silent and shove it deep into my bag, dreading the blowout from not telling them sooner.

"I'm sorry about that, it was important. What were we talking about?"

"Assigning tasks." Sungchan's tone was still curt, but he was showing a little restraint when talking to me. It made me worried that Sungchan was going around and speaking to people like this because of me. It might've gotten worse after I rejected him.

"Yes, I assigned you to research. Does that sound good?" Yuto asks.

"Yup, that's fine." I reply as I shift uncomfortably in my seat. This was the worst possible scenario.

"Great, so I'll put together the powerpoint, Sungchan will present, and Minjeong will help you with the research."

"Wait, what?" I blurt out.

"Yuto..." Minjeong whispered.

"I'm sorry, I just think there may be something else Minjeong can do." The rapid bouncing of my leg was causing the flimsy plastic chair to scratch against the pavement.

"No...? You'll conduct the research and report your information to Minjeong. Then she'll condense the information and give it to me." Yuto states as if it's obvious.

"I just think that's a bit convoluted, don't you think? Just a little?" I start to get impatient. The more I'm near that woman, the less I can stop myself from thinking about that night. Everytime I look at her I see her being... cradled by Hyunsuk. "I think we should stop with this "getting back to normal" thing."

"You're being a little unreasonable. I mean, is it necessary to drag it out like this?"

"Don't be so fucking dramatic, talk to me."

I feel my chest tighten. The memory gets more and more vivid the longer I'm in proximity to her. Is that... really what he said that night? No...

"Yes. I think it is."

Sungchan chuckles and I look over at him.

"So now it bothers you?"

The three of us stare at Sungchan as rain begins thudding against the umbrella sheltering the table.

Yuto hurriedly scoops up his laptop and slides it into his bag.

"Okay, well I guess we'll meet again tomorrow after our classes-"

I abruptly stand up, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I trudge into the rain. I feel the knot in my chest tighten as I exit the seating area. I grip the strap of my bag tightly as I start to cry. and quicken my pace.

He didn't say that, I made it up. I'm not in my right mind. Everything will be okay come Sunday.

"Hey!"

As I hear Sungchan's voice, I start to run towards the bus stop. He catches up anyways, grabbing my shoulder to turn me around.

"Are you crazy? It's freezing cold." He holds the umbrella over the both of us.

"Whatever, the bus stop bench is sheltered. I'm almost there, just leave me alone." I start to walk away again but he grabs my shoulder.

"You're gonna get sick." He hands me the umbrella and peels off his jacket. "Here." He drapes the jacket over my shivering frame before putting his hand on my cheek.

"Jesus, you're ice cold."

I break down again, unable to pull away from his touch.

"___..."

"Everyone is making it so hard for me. I'm already in pain." I say through sobs. Sungchan freezes, looking down at me with a troubled look. After a moment of hesitation he pulls me in for a hug.

"It hurts so much but no one cares." I hiccup, wrapping my arms around him. "It hurts so much."

"I know. I'm sorry." He strokes my wet hair as I rest my head against his shoulder.

I drag my feet to my front door and insert my keys. I twist the doorknob and push the door open.

"We broke into your house because you were avoiding our calls! Wait- Are you okay?" Yeri beelines toward me as Sana shoots up from my bed.

I sniffle as I close the door behind me, eyes puffy.

"I don't think I can be in our friend group anymore."

#sungchan #nct #nct u #angst #kpop #nct angst #nct u angst #smut #kpop angst #sungchan angst #jung sungchan angst #sungchan smut #nct smut #nct u smut #kpop smut #jung sungchan #jung sungchan smut

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lizzy-williams · 4 years ago

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𝐦𝐫. 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

((Howdy there, this is my first time writing on here, so I hope you enjoy!))

Masterlist

Summary: You accept a job as an assistant to the now world-famous Colson Baker, who shattered the charts with his album Tickets To My Downfall, and an Oscar winner for his success in the award-winning film titled Midnight in the Switchgrass, which also starred his ex, Megan Fox. But once you are accepted for the job, you seem to get closer than anticipated with Mr. Baker.

𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑫 graduated with a bachelor’s degree in business administration, you had never expected to be getting a job like this. Sure, you had heard about your employer. He had won an Oscar for christ’s sake. Not to mention a Grammy-winning album. You had to say that personally, you were a fan, which was one of the main reasons you interviewed for the job. But never in a million years did you think you would land it.

When you were employed, you were expected to start right after you had applied, which you obliged, even though his house was a thirty-minute drive away.

So now, there you were, sitting in your car, taking deep breaths. You had arrived several minutes early. You had pulled into the driveway, breathing in and out as you prepared yourself. You were excited but scared out of your mind.

“Come on, AJ, you got this, just go in there and try to not be a nuisance,” you spoke to yourself. With a deep breath, you exited the vehicle brushing yourself up, walking up the long, intimidating stairs.

You raised your hand up, taking hold of the lion-shaped knocker and knocked three times, the echos being heard even from the outside. The door was large and almost looming over you with its height. You took the waiting time to look around at the garden out front, trimmed to perfection and colorful pink roses littering the gravel. It was nothing less than stunning.

“Who’s there?” a voice asked, making you jump, your eyes shifting around.

You then realized the voice was a Ring doorbell system, and you mentally slapped yourself for not just using that. You leaned down slightly, trying to meet the camera’s eye, giving a warm smile.

“Um, I’m Adeline Williams, I’m the new assistant for Mr. Baker, I was instructed to start today,”

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.”

The voice was deeper then what you would think Mr. Baker would sound like, having seen plenty of interviews. Suddenly the door swung open, revealing a tall African-American male. He had to be at least six feet tall.

“What’s up, I’m Slim,” He held his hand out for a handshake, which you quickly took.

“Yeah, I’m Adeline, but you can just call me AJ,” you responded, “Where is Mr. Baker?”

“Yeah, he’s still asleep. His manager made you a binder for your duties and other stuff. It’s good to meet you though, just feel free to come in and grab your stuff in the kitchen.” He stated, stepping aside and motioning for you to enter.

You walked in, taking in the entryway. The walls were littered with gold record plaques for collabs he had done with other artists. Paintings of him were scattered around, some furniture almost automatically spotted that looked more expensive than your entire apartment. The ceiling was high-up, light fixtures illuminating the space, giving off a warm feel to the area.

You slipped off your flats, Slim already slipping away into the maze of the house, leaving you to find the kitchen by yourself. Your sock-clad feet patted across the hard floor, your eyes wandering around, trying to find the kitchen in the stupidly large house.

You walked down a hallway, reaching another large room, but now the walls were covered in posters and guitars, a drum set in the corner, recording systems, speakers, and even a Monster Energy Drink sponsored mini fridge which was fully stocked, drawings and art above it, the window next to it letting a fair amount of light in, the curtains drawn. You walked over to the drum set, running your hand on one of the symbols, which had sadly had a light coat of dust on it. Come to think of it, so did most of the other instruments.

“You could play them if you want,” another voice said behind you, making you jump and whip around, your eyes instantly meeting the eyes of your employer.

He was tall, six foot four according to Google, his exposed chest littered with so many tattoos, you couldn’t possibly count them all. His bleach-blond hair was long and shaggy on top of his head, meaning he had probably just woken up, grey sweatpants covering his bottom half, the hem of his boxers peeking over the waistband of the grey material, making you blush and meet his eyes again.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry, I don’t play,” you then mentally slapped yourself once again, “Sorry, what am I saying. I’m Adeline - Um, Williams, I’m here as your new assistant.”

He looked you up and down, taking in you attire, a slight sneer appearing on his face, only for a second. You guessed by his reaction that you were over-dressed.

“You look like a kindergarten teacher.” he laughed.

“Uhm, noted, do you... want me to take off my sweater or something?” you asked.

He scoffed, biting his lip and turning away, holding back from saying something that you were guessing would piss you off.

You sighed, slipping off your sweater and messing with your hands, “Would you mind showing me to your kitchen? Your friend, Slim told me that your manager had had something in there for me,”

“Yeah, follow me,” he muttered, turning on his heel and walking away, your own small feet scuttering across the floor, following him.

And of course, the kitchen was as stunning at the rest of the house, the size, making it look like a gourmet kitchen. And there on one of the granite countertops was a .5 inch pale white binder. Colson walked over to his coffee machine, starting it up and watching you walk over, opening it up.

It listed normal duties like setting up venues for tours, making appointments with the production company, merchandise shipment, and payment, normal duties for Colson himself, (Making iced coffee, booking flights, rides for Casie, his daughter, for school, etc.), and traveling with him to the recording studio for sessions, along with renting time for the studio itself.

“So, what do ya think. The list gonna scare you off?” he asked, a sly smile on his face.

“Well, seems easy enough. It just seems like a lot of booking things.” you smiled, “But it shouldn’t be a problem at all, Mr. Baker.”

He grimaced, “Yikes, just call me Colson. You make me sound like an old man. And if I’m going to be seeing you every day, we kinda need to be on a first-name basis.” he said, opening one of the hundreds of cabinets on the wall, pulling out a mug, “What’s your name again?”

“Adeline. But you can just call me AJ.” you looked back down at the papers, turning to a page to all the numbers needed for your position.

“What’s the J?”

“Huh?” you asked, not looking away from the page.

“Well, in AJ I already know what the A is, so what’s the J?” He smirked, pouring the coffee grounds into the coffee maker, pressing start.

“Oh, um, Jane.” you shrugged off.

“Adeline Jane Williams,” he repeated to himself out loud.

Your heart unintentionally fluttered. Never in a million years did you think that Colson Baker, Machine Gun Kelly, would ever say your full name.

The day went by smoothly, your brain soon catching onto the rhythm of things, you and Colson making small talk as you typed away, sending emails to the publishing companies, his agent, manager, and PR team. Colson would occasionally text you to make him a drink, which you did, always getting right back to work afterward. People came in and out, paying you no mind. The only one you honestly recognized was Rook, his drummer, who only came in to grab a beer from the fridge. Soon enough, the time reached 5 o’clock.

“So, what do you wanna eat?” he suddenly asked, walking into the kitchen area, leaning over the counter you were working at.

The sound of the TV played as you heard the laughter of a group of people in the other room.

“Oh, I honestly have no preference,” you answered honestly, looking up from your Chromebook.

“You sure? Me and the guys were gonna Postmate some stuff, but they can’t decide either.”

“Ummm, I heard there’s a really good restaurant downtown called Beau Jo's. Hear they have a mean menu of Cajun food.” you perked up,

“Alright, Beau Jo’s it is.” He responded, picking up his phone and walking away.

Even though you two had small talk, you still felt like he was so cold to you. Like he didn’t like you, or he didn’t trust you. But you really needed this job. After you finished with your work, you walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

There, you were greeted with glancing eyes of 20 or more people, who were scattered throughout the space.

A man walked up to you, looking eccentric as ever. You only knew him because you knew he dated Bella Thorne, but you would never tell him that.

“Heyyyy, you must be the new assistant. Welcome to the best years of your life!” he greeted, slinging an arm around your shoulders, a cola in his other hand. The smell of expensive cologne.

“Modern Sunshine, I presume?” I asked in a snobby British accent, making him laugh.

“Yo Kells! I like this chick!” he called out to Colson, who was across the room talking to some blond broad in short shorts and a crop top.

“Why don’t you come meet the rest of the guys.”

Well, you knew it was coming. It was the end of the night and everyone had gone home, and it was your job to order Ubers for everyone who wasn’t fit to drive. (Which was close to half the people there).

You gathered up your things, sighing as you grabbed your kindergarten teacher sweater, packing it in your bag along with your computer and everything else. Finally, you tucked the binder into the back pocket.

“You heading out?” Colson asked from behind you, his hand on your shoulder.

Your arms formed goosebumps as you looked back smiling, “Yeah, I think it’s that time.”

“Cool. Well, have a good night.” he said while you slipped on your flats, “Oh, and one more thing before you go.”

You turned your head to look into his eyes.

“Tomorrow wear something more... spicy,”

#machine gun kelly #mgk #mgk smut #mgk imagine #tickets to my downfall #hotel diablo #megan fox #rookxx #slimxx #colson #colson baker #mgk x reader #colson baker x reader #love #romance #imagine #fanfiction #alpha omega #lace up

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celawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Day 34

“So. How was yesterday’s date?” Pebble sneaks up behind me in class.

“I’m sorry?”

“You and Sun went on a date?” a couple classmates were now staring at me.

“I went to grab the tablecloths from him”

“And then?”

“And then nothing. We may be teenagers but we aren’t irresponsible”

“You guys didn’t plan another one?”

“He tried to. I was too tired to agree”

“sERIOUSLY?”

“CRESSIE HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US”

“Huh?”

“What’s going on?” Sun leans on the door frame.

“Quit trying to look like a model Sun. Your acne said no”

“What’s everyone talking about?”

“Date”

“Yesterday?”

“Yeah”

“tELL US WHAT HAPPENED PLEASE”

“tHERE MUST HAVE BEEN MORE THAN JUST TALKING. DID YOU GUYS KISS? HUG? FU-”

“No to all 3”

“Wait that’s boring”

“I mean it makes sense. The two of them are awfully vanilla in the things they want”

“Say that when you’re in a position of power” I give the classmate a lazy smile.

“Not my fault the school likes you better. You literally have the most contorted sleep schedule out of everyone here” He huffs.

“Except me”

“Gamer issues”

“Honestly”

“So nothing happened? No hand-holding, cheesy stuff, soft couple-y things?”

“We’re not even dating?”

“Wait. yOU DIDN’T ASK HER OUT YET?” Sam screeches.

“He’s not even into me??? Sam wake up this isn’t some perfect fairy tale”

“He asked you out on the date though?”

“And?”

“hE ASKED YOU OUT?” now that got the class’ attention.

“So?”

“yOU’VE BEEN PINING AFTER HIM EVER SINCE YOU CAME BACK WHAT DO YOU MEAN SO?” Pebble screeched.

“I’m being used as a rebound and I have way too much respect for myself to allow that”

“I told you. You aren’t being used as a rebound I’m just giving you a chance” Sun groans.

“And? You don’t like me when I sure as hell do and I’m not forcing you into a relationship”

“Cress I swear-”

“Tone down the volume” our homeroom teacher calls. “As much as I like the tea, tone it down before our principal gets a noise complaint”

“Sorry”

“Ok so how about we just all agree that Sun is whipped”

“I thought Cressie was the one who was whipped. I mean she literally memorized his coffee order”

“He knows mine too”

“Wait what”

“Are you two sure you guys aren’t dating?”

“Positive”

“Sus”

“Like me”

The conversation floats off to god knows where, and I find myself typing on my Chromebook again. Mint is off doing his vice president duties and honestly, it’s surprising how little time he spends with our class. My fingers click away and the conversation does as well. At some point, we get to the topic of homecoming.

“So do we all have hoco dates?”

“Yea”

“Mhm”

“I’m planning on asking”

“Good luck then”

“Cress? Homecoming date?”

“Student council is on duty. No time for a date or dancing. Trying to make sure no one’s drunk or high”

“No date?”

“Nope”

“Sun-”

“No. I’m not going”

“Sunburn it’s literally the last year you get to experience all this at least go” I scoff.

“Sunburn?”

“SUNBURN IM CRYING”

“Where did that come from?”

“A work of mine from 7th”

“You had an Oc called Sun?”

“No. The character I made based off of Mint was called Sunburn”

“So I’m just a replacement for him now?”

“Murder on my mind” I sang. “Murder on my mind”

“Someone make sure she doesn’t jump out our second-story window”

“Bet”

The day ends. Oh nice. Just kidding! It’s 3am again and I finally make my way to McDonalds after 2? Weeks? Of not going? I miss the employee not gonna lie.

“dARLING”

“DEAR”

“YOU’RE ALIVE”

“I’M BACK”

“I missed your presence”

“I missed your vibes”

“Honestly same”

“The same order as always?”

“Yeah”

“Alright then I’ll see you soon!”

“See you thursday”

“See you darling!”

Serenity made a new post!

The sunrise today is a scorching crimson. It’s the shade of red you see when you stare at a fire. The red that you only see in your dreams, when you fantasize about whatever it is for the day. When you see that passionate anger someone has for something, a harsh reminder of how cruel the people around you may be. The red you see when you fall in love with someone for the first time.

Yes I tried to write when it’s morning I can tell you this did not end up half as interesting as I had hoped it to be.

Previous : Masterlist : Next

#tHIS IS LITerALLY ALL DIALOGUE IM SORRU #I dont wanna tage everything HHH #writing #first person #uh #classmates vibing?#or more like being little shits but I mean #365 days #365 days of writing #365 days of rejection #but not as much #its more like ignoring at this point #project #quarantine project #ok im tired bye

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skvaderarts · 4 years ago

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Chapter Seventeen: Reawakening

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Sorry this was late! I’m working 100% off of a tablet now and it’s been hell!!

Chapter Seventeen: Reawakening

Notes: Wow. This had been a wild week. It’s lucky that I’m taking a two-week break after I finish this fic because my laptop decided to have issues. Again. FFS. I’m buying a Chromebook to write on after this. I use Google Docs anyway. I’m so done with this. I don’t care if they are not very powerful, I need something simple! But that’s not your issue. I don’t care if I have to finish this on my TABLET I am going to get through this. I just wanted to make everyone aware. This BS changes nothing. Now onto the story!

-~-

At this point, anything that crossed Vergil’s path was basically guaranteed a swift and painful death. They had taken no time at all to reach the castle, his brisk pace practically unrelenting, even from the moment they had stepped foot out of Nero’s house. Although it had been a while since any of them had been here, no one needed directions. Vergil knew that as long as he lived, the layout of this city (at least as it had been at the time of his original trip two decades ago) would be etched into the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t that he had spent any significant time here… it was who he had met. What few “pleasant” things he had experienced during his youth had recently returned to the forefront of his mind under the guise of trying to recall less complicated times in his life, and this was on the top end of that list. As they continued along their way, he took a moment to consider the fact that visiting this wretched place was somehow one of the highlights of his youth.

Dreadful.

He needed to take a trip at some point for the sake of simply seeing something. Perhaps his troublemaking hellspawn could come along if they… no. His brow furrowed slightly as his mind wandered to darker outcomes. The possibilities as to ways they could meet their untimely ends here were staggering, but he refused to entertain any of them. Had he ruined a great many things during his youth? Of course. Was he to blame for countless mistakes. Absolutely. But this was not going to be one of them. And there would be hell to pay if anyone thought otherwise.

The moment they dropped down into Fortuna Castle’s ice field, a loud cracking, shimmering sound reminiscent of icicles creaking in the wind could be heard approaching from the foreground. Dante laughed to himself, drawing his blade from his back. Vergil placed his hand on his blade, entertaining the possibility of simply dispatching these demonic pests with his summoned swords alone. Nothing out here was worth his time as a general rule, but right now their mere existence was insulting to him. These useless creatures were not challenging enough to even consider obstacles, only serving as a stopgap in his route to more pressing matters.

“Well, I haven’t seen these things in a while,” Dante said as a group of frost approached from a distance, flanked by just shy of a dozen hell hounds.

Although Vergil concurred with his brother’s statement, he didn’t bother vocalizing. He simply nodded, drawing his blade as one of the frosts leaped towards him. He reached over his head and slashed downward, cleaving the hapless creature in two with one swift swing of the blade. Its brethren seemed to learn nothing from their fallen compatriot’s example, as two more rushed forward to attack them. Dante held his blade behind himself, watching as the blade glowed before slashing forward, sending a concentrated beam of red energy rocketing forward towards the demon. It annihilated the surprised creature, it’s partner jumping to the side to dodge the strike, Dante easily sidestepped it, drawing his shotgun and delivering a charged round to the creature’s face in retaliation before it had a chance to strike him. It tumbled uselessly through the snow as he rushed forward, uppercutting it into the air with his flaming gauntlets before drawing his blade again and slamming it down into the ground with devastating force. The youngest of Sparda’s twin sons would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he found this exhilarating. Then again, there was always a thrill to be found in a good fight. While this didn’t quite constitute as a “good fight” it was a decent warmup at the very least and he would be remiss to not become slightly excited by the opportunity to fight a species of demon he didn’t often encounter.

The hellhounds descended upon the group as the Frosts jumped back behind them, stalking the edges of the area waiting for an ideal moment for an ambush attack. The three of them sidestepped the creatures easily, making short work of them. Magnolia rushed forward and used her barrier spell to parry a blast from one of the hellhounds, knocking it back into the creature’s vulnerable body and destroying it upon impact. She rushed forward through them, her sights set on the entrance to the castle that loomed over the long metal bridge in front of her. This was not her first fight with Vergil, and any of them were capable of taking this particular group of demons in a fight easily, so she decided to redirect her efforts towards something that could benefit from her attention. While the twins would be just fine, she could guarantee the same thing for Nero and V. Their current condition was unknown, and she sought to fix that as soon as she possibly could.

“I think it’d be best if I went inside and looked for them,” Magnolia shouted over her shoulder as she sidestepped a hound on her way,” I’ll keep them safe! You have my word!”

Vergil nodded, offhandedly cleaving another two Frosts in half with his blade. While somewhat formidable in large groups, these lesser demons possessed little in the way of an actual threat and he was unconcerned with thim. That being said, he could make the time to take some of his pent up frustration out on them. Demons of this caliber tended to stalk their prey into different areas, and he didn’t need to be flanked from behind while dealing with a more potent threat. Allowing Magnolia to go ahead of them was a good idea, even if he didn’t feel entirely comfortable sending her in alone. There was no sure fire way of knowing all the risks and nothing about this situation was ideal.

Although Dante didn’t know her, he and his twin both shared the same confidence in her statement. But he also agreed that there was also no way of knowing what she could be going up against inside the walls of the castle. It was best that they get back to her as soon as they could. They both turned their attention back to the demons at hand. As she entered the front door, there was suddenly even more of a sense of urgency than there had been before. The potential for them to be able to fend off a threat as a group of three was much higher, but it also raised the possibility of friendly casualties. As capable as she was, Magnolia was still human, and V was basically helpless given the circumstances. Capable as he may be, Nero could only do so much at once, especially by himself while guarding another person.

The twins needed to hurry.

The moment that Magnolia stepped into the castle and closed the door, another large wave of Hellhounds and Frosts rushed forward, launching an all out attack against them. The hapless hounds seemed to become increasingly frustrated every time either Dante or Vergil expertly side stepped them, charging forward only to meet their inevitable fate at the end of a smoldering shotgun round or the cold steel of a devilarm. The pair dodged and weaved through their attacks effortlessly, unfazed by the large numbers they were going up against. Their recent stint in the underworld (in relative terms, at least) and the lifetime of battles they had fought had more than prepared them for this.

For several minutes they utterly decimated their enemies, the Sons of Sparda dicing them into bite size pieces and filling them with buckshot. They stood back to back, dispatching each demon as it dared approach them. As Dante delivered a devastating uppercut to the final Frost and killed it upon impact, Vergil made quick work of the few remaining Hellhounds. He rained down a volley of Summoned Swords on the canines before cleaving the final hound in half as it made the mistake of leaping towards him. The flaming creature let out a final screech before dying and disolving into the snow. Vergil ran Yamato down the length of its scabbard before returning it to it’s sheath with a ringing click. He glanced over at Dante as his twin approached, about to suggest that they head inside the castle. But before either of them could say anything, the sound of a faint boom echoed from inside of the Castle. They both glance at one another before sprinting towards the castle door.

Something was wrong.

-~-

Magnolia’s body ached as she slid backwards, knocking the wind out of herself as she slammed back first into a pillar. She was pouring sweat and slightly banged up from the strain that came from trying to withstand such a powerful attack. While she had managed to find V and Nero with practically no effort, the three of them were now in a much more precarious situation. In the blink of an eye, the dozen or so cultists had descended upon them, half of them unleashing their summons in a savage attack that was exceedingly difficult to combat. The only saving grace was that each of them seemed to only possess a single familiar, and while slightly more adept than the men she had fought at the docks, they were clearly amateurs playing with powers they couldn’t hope to understand. At most, they were pulling an entity from the underworld to fight on their behalf, but the demons owed their summoners no loyalty. No contract had been established. It was an act of desperation and everyone was a target.

Gasping for breath, she reached into the inside of her coat and pulled out a compressed metal tube, pressing a button on it to cause it to extend. As she spun the rod in her hands to become reacquainted with its center of balance, she stole a glance at Nero. He was busy trying to keep a small cluster of Sargasso and one very irate Nobody from reaching V, and he was doing relatively well considering the circumstances. This cult seemed to have a preference for Malet Island demons, and she found that curious. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder what had transpired to lead to this moment. Everything about this just felt wrong and she needed answers once this was all over and done with.

One of the cultists approached her and she swung the rod, catching them square in the side of the jaw. They toppled to the floor, rendered thoroughly unconscious by the sudden strike. Magnolia smirked. The quickest way to deal with a summoned demon was to disable their summoner, as they could only manifest when their master was awake and able to give directions. She watched as Nero slammed downward into the Nobody, nearly cleaving it in two. V stumbled backward, dodging the monstrocitie’s attempt to take them with it as it died by detonating one of it’s own eyes. Nero then stepped forward and kicked one of the pews as hard as he could, sending it rocketing into a few of the remaining cultists. Magnolia closed the distance between them, using her free hand to blast the adjacent row (well, what was left of a row) of pews into the same cultists before knocking another upside the head and sending them crashing to the floor.

V took the moment of relative calm to rendezvous with Magnolia, more than a little aware that his presence was complicating things further and that perhaps the best place he could be at the moment was at the top of the stairs where he had a vantage point to see from. Magnolia and Nero flanked him from opposite ends of the room as he slipped along the bottom of the stairs, unable to effectively run due to his general lack of balance and his injured side. He felt thoroughly useless and he despised it, swearing to himself that he would find some way of being useful. Just as his foot touched the top stair, the pile of kicked over pews plasted into several directions, ricocheting off of the pillars and walls causing wooden shrapnel to fly in every direction. The trio ducked to avoid the large peices of flying wood, Nero not being quite as lucky. One of the larger pieces slammed into him, knocking him down as he cursed loudly from the pain.

“Are you hurt,” V asked, taking a few steps towards him, a concerned tint to his voice.

Nero clambered to his feet, hissing under his breath as he rubbed his side slightly. Nothing was broken from what he could tell, but he was sure that he’d have a nice bruise come morning. Who the hell were these crazy demon wielding bastards and what did they want with V? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “Yea, I’m fine. What about you guys?”

V and magnolia nodded, despite the fact that they were probably worse off at the moment than he was. At that moment, five of the cultists seemed to be regaining their senses, dragging themselves to their feet in an overeager bid to try and reignite the fight. Their leader stepped forward, brushing himself off. The dark haired man looked thoroughly pissed even though he was making an effort to try and seem calm and menacing.

“I’m going to give you one last chance to turn him over to us,” he said sternly as he fixed his coat, eyeing V directly to add further emphasis to his point,” Our master isn’t used to taking no for an answer.”

If the man’s intention was to intimidate the longer haired man, it failed miserably. V took a step forward, edging closer to the top of the railing. He had no intention of simply giving himself over to these mysterious people. It didn’t matter if he had to take one of these standing candle holders and impale them with it. This wasn’t going to end the way these cultists wanted it to.

“Then your master is going to have to learn to deal with disappointment, because I’m not going with you,” V said flatly, clearly unamused by anything that had transpired in the last little while. Whatever this insidious cult of summoners wanted with him, he wasn’t interested in. The fact that they were so quick to resort to violence spoke volumes in that regard. Should they have been less quick to try and harm his companions, he might have humored them for a moment. As little as he enjoyed conversation, he was not opposed to listening. But he did possess a negative disposition towards having his hand forced, especially by total strangers. He wasn’t going to take this lying down.

The man didn’t respond. Instead the air became statically charged. A ominous black mist filled the room as golden sparks rolled along the surface of the walls, wrapping themselves around the pillars before dying down to a faint but still present pulse. A supernatural breeze blew through the room, clearly not originating from inside of the structure as all the doors were currently closed. V glanced around the room tenitavely in a tense search for answers. His lack of experience with this place and it’s native demons made this veil of darkness extra unsettling to him. He stole a glance in Nero’s direction as he revved his trusty blade, clearly readying himself. He placed it back onto his back and drew his gun, charging it in preparation for something that V couldn’t identify. Magnolia glanced around the room with her weapon drawn as well, seemingly just as unsure as to what was happening as V was. The cultists had drawn back into the mist to allow their leader to handle the situation, and he already seemed to be more capable than they had been.

While V anlyzed the situation, Magnolia made the fateful decision to step towards V. As she drew near, she stopped suddenly and started in total silence into the mist before gasping and grabbing him, practically throwing him out of the way. V let out a startled breath as he managed to catch him on the top stair, turning his head towards her to enquire as to what on earth she had done that to him for. They had never met or spoken prior to this encounter, but he presumed that this was the mysterious Magnolia that Nero had mentioned so much about prior to their arrival.

“Why did-” V never got the chance to finish asking his question.

In the middle of his sentence a spectral set of ten glowing violet red claws that had to be half as long as he was extended from seemingly nowhere and shattered Magnolia’s barrier and embedded themselves into either side of her body before lifting her and tossing across the room. She cried out as she tumbled across the room and crashed into the floor, coming to a stop just a few feet from Nero. She slammed into one of the few remaining pews and took several pained breaths before closing her eyes and going totally limp, her breathing turning shallow as she passed into a semi conscious state.

Nero glanced as he leaned over to give her a gentle but anxious shake as he fired a charged round into the intangible demon’s back. Those claws belonged to a Faust, one of the last demons he expected to see here today. The large hovering demon materialized and screeched, hurling itself at him. He managed to side step at and fired several more rounds into the creature as it began to lower it’s self closer to the ground. Once it was vulnerable, he removed Red Queen from her holster and charged at it, slamming into it with a volley of flames and scalding steel. It regained its stability and launched itself into the air before disappearing entirely. Just as suddenly as it had arrived, the smoke began to dissipate. But the calm eas short lived

V had scrambled to his feet during the excitement, eager to find cover or something he could use to defend himself. The electricity that had accompanied the now dissipating smoke reappeared, this time with a ferocity and strength that it had not possessed before. V withdrew his hand from the rail and stepped towards the middle of the top of the stairs in an attempt to put some distance between himself and the high voltage. A thick streak of vibrant electrical energy darted from the corner of the room nearest to the gallery door and zigzagged from side to side, going back and forth between each of the banisters. He tried to follow it with his eyes, but couldn’t quite make out the source until it fully materialized. In the blink of an eye (or perhaps faster) a large electricity coated demon leaped at him, claws at bared and ready to strike. V barely managed to leap out of the creature’s path, but it did him very little good. The entity landed feet first against the wall and immediately redirected itself towards him, managing to take him off guard as he was attempting to regain his balance from his sudden dodge. The last thing he remembered seeing was the sight of the Blitz clocking itself in a layer of electricity before it catapulted itself into him with bone shattering force. He careened down the steps, slamming into each step as the breath left his body and he rolled to a stop against the cold stone floor. He had been unconscious long before he had made his landing.

When he opened his eyes, everything was black again. V was silent for a moment, somewhere between alarm and disbelief. He was in this dreadful place again?! There was no time for this. He moved around more frantically this time than in his prior visit, grasping for any way to make his exit but failing immediately. A hybridized version of a growl and a huff escaped his lips as he covered his hands with his face, shaking his head in frustration and anxiety. He had no idea how time passed in this place, but he knew he had already spent too much of it here.

“If you have no intention of helping me, then release me. There are pressing matters that I must attend to,” The irritation and desperation in his voice were as clear as this place was dark and hopeless.

Black tendrils erupted from the ground and wrapped themselves around his torso and arms individually, not so much holding him captive as they were holding him still. The grip was firm but not constricting, familiar to him in a way he couldn’t quite place but that bothered him from lack of recognition. The skin on his body began to tingle in a manner that was reminiscent to how he had felt when he had awakened in his bedroom this morning. Surely enough, when he glanced down the markings from his former familiars were glowing as they had that morning, aside from Nightmare’s. He obviously couldn’t see his own back, but he couldn’t feel the same sensations that he felt on his torso, chest, neck, and extremities. He closed his eyes and lowered his head slightly, thinking.

When he had first met his familiars, he had agreed to form a contract with them out of a lack of other options but had grown to enjoy their presence after a while. They had fought valiantly in their attempts to protect him, but in the end they had all been victims of circumstance; unwilling yet unwavering participants in a game far more profound than their own lives. And as he stood there encased in what had to be darkness itself, he felt understood and accepted in a way he couldn’t place words to. A wave of nostalgia and penetrating loneliness hit him as he exhaled slowly. He didn’t know how he knew, but this place was linked to his former demonic pets, and he was ready to admit that he needed them right now. Perhaps asking would facilitate the response that he was hoping for?

V sighed and adjusted his posture as much as he possibly could before looking up. Or what he assumed to be “up”. He honestly couldn’t tell and didn’t care. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it? It couldn’t hurt to try.

“I can only assume that this,” V gestured by tugging at the tendrils,” Is your doing. We’ve met before. I think that’s why I keep ending up here, isn’t it? Because you want to help me.”

The air became statically charged as if in response to his question. V nodded. He felt like he might be getting somewhere. Possibly. The tendrils loosened slightly, but he didn’t move. He remembered that he had to consent to the contract with Griffon before. Maybe they needed his permission? He found it ironic that there was a guidebook to this sort of thing in his back pocket but he couldn’t read it. It would prove invaluable in this situation. V sighed, at his limit for being here. There was no time for this. He hadn’t come all this way just to perish senselessly a second time.

“... I need your help. Again. If this is truly you, then I don’t think I need to elaborate. I have a talent for landing myself in troublesome situations, but this is different. I don’t know if I’ll survive this fight without you.”

He closed his eyes and hung his head solemnly. “... Please help me. I desperately need you.”

V jumped slightly as he felt the sensation of something akin to hot water run down the upper half of his body. It drenched him but he remained totally dry, aside from the places where the glowing marks on his body had been. The black substance clung to them, filling in like some sort of a stencil being filled in with the darkest shade of graphite imagenable. The tendrils dissolved and converted themselves into the last of the liquid before everything grew dark. He stood there breathing heavily as the result of the sudden wave of weakness that had overcome him, the burden of his former power taking a momentary toll that he hadn’t anticipated. With every monocrom of the power that returned to him, he felt more hazy, but he wouldn’t allow that to stop him.

He collected himself and closed his eyes to take in a much needed moment of silence. He was ready to leave this place. And there would be hell to pay for those who had forced his hand yet again. As soon as he figured out a way to leave this place, this cult was going to regret the day they had made the decision to attack a descendant of the Dark Knight Sparda.

-~-

Vergil had precisely no idea how things had escalated to this degree, but he wasn't pleased in the slightest by what he saw before him. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure what he felt in this moment. Snow blew in from behind him as he stood in the open doorway to Fortuna Castle, but even literal ice was warmer than the chill he felt trickle down his spine as he took in the predicament that he and his twin brother had just walked themselves into. The eldest Son of Sparda could almost literally feel parts of his body freeze solid as he took in the chaos that unfolded before him. He hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped the moment he’d seen V lying prone on the floor a few dozen yards away, clocked in the remainder of some sort of smoke that he didn’t see the source of. Dante had immediately jumped into the frey, providing Nero the backup that he sorely needed against the dozen or so different demons he was somehow holding his own against.

Even with the dissipating mist in the air making things difficult to see clearly, he could tell that V was in a bad way. He made his way across the room, not really registering any of his surroundings aside from the hapless summoner that made the mistake of trying to attack him. He drew Yamato and dispatched them quicker than they could even regester what had happened to them, and then returned his focus to what actually mattered to him in this moment. The wantin and merciless bloodshed would have been met with a less than positive response, (or at least a raised eyebrow or two) but no one noticed due to the litany of opponents that they were up against.

The second he reached V’s unconscious body, he knelt down at his side to assess his condition. He paused for a moment, his hand lingering over V’s body. Vergil found himself trapped between the overwhelming desire to know if his son was alive and the criping, all consuming worry that came from the knowledge that he very well might not be. The fact that he knew that at least one of his children was alive should’ve provided him a grim respite, but he found himself overcome by a level of anxiety he hadn’t felt in an immeasurably long time. This was a source of concern that he’d never experienced before; the concept of his inability to protect his own children resulting in their death something that he’d never given lingering thought to. It was forengn to him and utterly devastating in it’s scope. He clenched his teeth subconsciously before developing the resolve necessary to force himself to check on his son’s well being.

Vergil leaned over him and hesitantly rested the back of his hand against V’s exposed throat. The knot in his stomach loosened considerably when he realized that despite the fact he couldn’t feel his oldest son’s pulse, he noticed that he was breathing when his breath ghosted across the sleeve of his coat. While that didn’t account for his actual physical well being, he knew that he was alive at the very least, and that was reassuring to him. As he retracted his hand, he was taken by surprise by V as he coughed harshly and lurched forward, gasping harshly for breath as though he had just been plunged into freezing waters.

V rubbed his face with his hands as his breath evened out before turning to look in Vergil’s direction. Despite the fact that his eyes were closed, he could feel the presence of another person near him. When he saw Vergil he froze in place, unsure of how to react to his presence. The very last thing he expected to see was his estranged father. This day was full of surprises, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to take the vast majority of them. V closed his eyes for a moment before sighing and deciding that he would have to sort this situation out at a later date. This was not the time or the place to have any sort of discussion. He glanced over at the battle that was occurring on the other side of the room. Nero and Dante had the situation more than under control. The cult leader seemed to be edging towards the door, more than likely preparing to make a break for it since it was apparent that his compatriots were now fighting a losing battle.

He had just found his target.

There was no way that he was allowing this deranged maniac to escape.

As he clambered to his feet, he was reminded of his less than ideal state. His head throbbed, there was an unpleasant soreness in his chest, the cut on his side felt more raw and torn than ever, and he could practically feel the imprint of the stone stairs in his back from when he had tumbled down them a few minutes ago, but he was still alive and he could suppress his discomfort until his work was finished. This wouldn’t be the first time he had forced himself to swallow his pain and work against his well being in order to complete a task. Not by a long shot.

V tugged his sleeve down and sure enough, his tattoos had returned. In an action that was practically second nature by now, he expanded his consciousness and called forth his familiars. With an ear shattering roar, Shadow materialized from the floor, ready to do her master’s bidding. She paced the room eagerly as Griffon surged forward, depriving V of the remainder of his tattoos and he fluttered around the room laughing wildly. He landed on V’s shoulder a moment later, fluffing himself.

“Well, if it isn’t Shakespear! It’s about time! And just when I was about to start taking bets on how long it was going to take you to figure out how the Nightmare dimension worked. Guess I owe Nightmare a drink,” Griffon was clearly thrilled to death with himself. He wasn’t making the slightest effort to hide that. “So, who’s the unlucky schmuck who’s getting an ass full of lighting today?!”

V repressed the urge to roll his eyes, shaking his head as he chortled at the statement. He was likely never going to admit it, but he’d missed this mouthy bird. It was a welcome change to have him back. He smirked and rolled his hand playfully in the direction of the cult leader. “That guy.”

Griffon twirled off of his shoulder and launched up into the air, discharging a sphere of lighting as he leveled out. “Consider it done, beanpole,” Griffon said sarcastically as he took off towards the individual V had pointed out,” Come on Shirly, we have work to do!”

Shadow snarled and chased after Griffon as he flew off to assess their target. V stole a quick glance at Vergil that quickly converted itself into a lingering stare. He had an unreadable look in his that indicated that he wasn’t thrilled to see his familiars again, but he sighed and unsheathed Yamato nonetheless. He glanced over at V and nodded as to excuse him before turning his attention towards the cultist. They were in for a world of hurt now that his concern had subsided and been replaced by seething rage. Vergil felt a powerful need to stab something right now, and he had plenty of targets to choose from. V watched him surge forward and impale one of the cultists before turning his attention back towards his familiars. They had several unpleasant and uncomfortable conversations ahead of them. It was inevitable. But right now they needed to fight. And V was eager to see how a battle against another summoner would turn out. With Dante, Vergil, and Nero handling the remaining cultists and their summons, he had plenty of time to focus on their leader. They each had their own battles to fight.

V glanced down at the ground and found a piece of a broken standing candelabra, opting to bring it with him. There was no harm in having a physical weapon with him, even if it was just a two foot long segment of a brass rod. He wanted answers and he was going to get them, one way or another.

-~-

GAH!! I’m sorry that this chapter is several hours late! Due to the pandemic, I can’t fix my pc at the moment, so I spent a while fighting with Google Docs today. I then sat here all day and had to type this entire chapter (which was 5,800+ words!) ON MY TABLET. It was a nightmare, but I got it done and I’m starting the next chapter sharpish. A lot happened in this chapter, and I can’t wait for you guys to get to read the battle in the next entry on Friday! Thanks a ton for your ongoing support! I’m going to get this pc situation sorted out ASAP for all our sakes. I look forward to reading your comments and I loved the ones last week! Sorry for any errors that slipped through. It’s tricky to edit and type on a touch screen device. Have a wonderful day and stay safe out there! See you soon!

#Soliloquy #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #Post DMCV #Post DMC5 #V Post Devil May Cry 5 #V Post Devil May Cry V #V Post DMC5 #Dante Sparda #Vergil Sparda #Nero Sparda #V Sparda #Vitale Sparda #V #Fortuna

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windschildfanfictionwriter · 6 years ago

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Nice Things

A/N: I think I mentioned this one a while back. Here is the one shot that developed from another story I’m working on. I will post it on Fanfiction as soon as I wrestle the answers from this Chromebooks framework on just HOW to do that. But for now I thought you guys would like this.

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Lavender was probably one of the most boring conversationalists Ron had ever met. She was vapid and gave no thought to the questions he asked trying to keep things going.

Here was the thing though.

Lavender was nice.

It was like a breath of fresh air. They would be doing homework together and she’d glance over, reading one of his answers and… ‘Oh, I like the way you worded that, Ron.’ They would be walking around the lake and she’d turn and blush and go ‘I never get tired of catching your eye. Have you ever seen a moonflower? That’s what it reminds me of, the petals.’ When she traced his chest with her hand she always smiled. When they ate together she never seemed to even notice what he put on his plate or how much he ate.

She said whatever came to mind and nothing that came to mind was ever bad about him and that was… It was a relief. He felt normal around her, like just being himself was good enough.

Best of all, when Ron gave compliments, she cared. She beamed and interlaced their fingers. She smiled shyly and tugged him along. She was sweet and talkative and wanted to be around him and said nice things about him and to him.

It made him realize no one else ever said anything nice to him. Outside of Harry who was determined to increase his confidence for Quidditch. Oh, he realized their teasing was in jest. He knew the small things they sniped at him for were just that. Small things. He knew the comments had no ill intent.

But they never stopped.

He couldn’t remember the last nice thing someone had said to him was. He wracked his brain and tried and tried and tried, but… there was nothing.

“You know,” Lavender said thoughtfully, using a little too much tongue to lick her lollipop. “Your hands have been pretty cold lately.”

“Oh,” Ron said, pulling away apologetically. “Sorry.”

Lavender shook her head, smiling. She picked up a pair of blue gloves from the shelf at the shop they were looking through in Hogesmeade before going over to the register and buying them.

“You don’t have to do that!” Ron tried to stop her, his ears turning red, but she was already walking back. Lavender grabbed his hand, spreading his much larger, longer fingers against her dainty digits.

“You know, I’ve had a crush on you since we were in the DA together last year,” she admitted.

“Really?”

“You were always so excited when you got a spell right. It was infectious. You’ve just got this grin that lights up the whole room and when you laugh? Everyone stops for a second and it just… melts the tension in the room.”

Ron didn’t know what to say or how to react.

Lavender didn’t seem to mind. She pulled the blue gloves on his hands. They had a heating charm in them. His fingers instantly becoming toasty.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t just mean for the gloves.

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

Of course, Lavender craved more than her boyfriend’s attention, she craved social attention. She thrived on it. Her personality going overboard when others were around.

Won Won was solely for Hermione’s ears and Ron wasn’t sure whether to be amused or horrified. She purposefully snogged him in a relentless almost desperate fashion when they were in public and it was becoming rather humiliating.

He definitely liked the physical contact.

It was just that he’d really rather do it somewhere less on display and… less. She tended to let her hand wander and that made him feel very uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up with her though. Every time he had the conversation in his head, the words came out too harsh and mean. He never wanted to be harsh or mean to Lavender.

Worse.

He’d officially run out of every topic he could think of and if they talked about what type of clothes she planned to buy on her winter holiday one more time, he might throw himself off the astronomy tower.

He missed Hermione.

Discussing the mechanics of a Charm. Arguing about what the best approach for house elf freedom was. Going over politics and the Ministry’s moves, what was You-Know-Whose influence and what was simply bad policy. Explaining historical facts from the wizarding cultures view versus muggle. Talking transfiguration methods and knit picking at what the other cares about.

He felt as if he hadn’t had an intelligent conversation in ages. Not that Lavender wasn’t smart. She just had different priorities and that was fine. Lavender wanted to work for her Aunt’s Fashion Magazine in the French wizarding community. She spoke the language fluently and seemed pretty talented when it came to magical sewing and design.

Ron had never been able to choose his own clothes before. He’d simply accepted whatever left over, hand me down, second hand items came his way and tried not to cringe too much about it so it left discussions… lacking. Unfortunately the more Ron tried to hint that they didn’t have much in common and that they were quickly running short, the harder Lavender clung. She avoided the conversation like the plague and it all left him feeling sick with guilt.

He’d hoped she felt the same way.

She didn’t.

Any time he tried to say anything now, her lips were covering his. She was desperate for this not to happen and Ron felt sickened at the idea of doing it. So he started avoiding her.

That did not sit well with the House of Gryffindor.

The house of chivalry and courage.

Hermione was smug and Harry was weary and Ron didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. He was drawing a blank. There was a giant empty slot where the guide to ‘How to Break up With a Nice Girl Without Hurting Her Feelings,’ should have been.

“You’re a right shitbag, Weasley,” Seamus told him one morning.

And what could Ron say to that?

He felt like a shitbag.

All those nice things Lavender had to say about him didn’t feel right anymore. They felt undeserved and Ron found himself looking in the mirror wondering if there was anything at all good about him. If only one person had good things to say and Ron was hurting that one person then what did that make him?

Why could he never do anything right?

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

Ah, well, there was nothing like being poisoned and nearly dying to make everyone forgive you for being a douchebag. He supposed. So he was surprised and not surprised when Lavender showed up again on his last night in the hospital wing.

She came in looking at the ground, her lips pressed together and hair in a disarray. Ron stayed still, tense and expectant, but when Lavender looked up she smiled at him. A small thing that was too sad for such a pretty face and Ron told her that.

Her smile became more genuine.

She sighed. The noise whipping out with exasperation, though Ron didn’t think it was directed at him. She sat on the bed, directly on his legs to be more precise before reaching forward and lightly flicking him on the nose.

“We made a right mess of this, didn’t we?”

We.

Ron felt warm inside. Unused to not being blamed for everything.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, sincere.

Tears flooded her eyes, but she waved it away.

“Mother tells me I overdo things,” she admitted. “I refuse to recognize when something doesn’t fit and keep trying to shove the triangle into the circle hole because I want the triangle to fit into everything.”

She shrugged, looking up at the ceiling rather than him.

“So, I’m sorry too, I know you were trying to do it nicely and I just…”

Another sigh.

“It’s okay,” Ron was quick to assure you. “You really are amazing though. You’re going to go really far, literally, France is like a whole ‘nother world.”

He knew it was cheesy, but she laughed anyways before turning somber.

“I’m sorry people have been so nasty to you,” Lavender told the ceiling. “I was a coward and I didn’t want to admit to anyone that you had been trying to break up with me. I’ve never actually been broken up with before, you know, usually I’m the one who makes the decision.”

“Sorry,” Ron mumbled again, more for a lack of anything else to say.

Lavender laughed. It was loud and she snorted as she tried to stifle it.

“But Ron,” she finally looked at him, dark brown eyes practically glittering with mirth. “I have never seen or read anywhere, in the history of fashion magazines or romance novels someone worse at breaking up with someone. That’s the honest truth.”

Ron blushed, feeling his face and ears turning hot.

“I don’t exactly have a well of experience to pull from,” he mumbled.

Lavender’s mirth turned fond.

“Well, I’m glad I could be your first,” she kissed him then. A short, sweet kiss that was much more reminiscent of their time alone than out in public. Then she adjusted his shirt, smoothing it out for much longer than was needed. “I know you can’t help it, but when you’re all handsome and grown up and have that Auror job I know you’ll get… invest in bright blue scarves and shirts, like the gloves I got you. They bring out your eyes in the best way. Winter fashion is where you thrive. Not Fall. And for all that is good in this world, Ronald Weasley, do not let Hermoine Granger choose your clothes.”

Ron blinked.

“Why would…?”

She kissed him one last time, a bit deeper, to shut him up. His lips turned amused against her, a chuckle falling out between them. She was warm against him. Her forehead tapping against his lightly as she pulled away. Her fingers ran through his hair, her eyes fixated on it in a way he couldn’t name exactly.

“Ron?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t let them tell you that your feelings aren’t important. Okay? Don’t tell yourself that they aren’t important.”

She pulled herself away, detaching her body from his legs. He hadn’t even noticed when they’d gone numb. Ron felt himself flay a bit. He didn’t want to let her leave like that. With it being so one sided.

“You’re…” Ron swallowed, Lavender paused at the hospital door, not turning around. “I’m really glad that you were my first girlfriend and I think, if we’d had a few more things in common, that it might have turned into something more. I really mean it. You are so much more than just a pretty face.”

Because he knew she worried about that and they both knew people talked about her like that around the school. As if she wouldn’t amount to anything but some over glorified house wife and that was wrong.

“You don’t need to have perfect O.W.L.S or slave away at homework or sports to make something of yourself. Its hogwash. You’re brilliant. Wickedly brilliant. Schools just… school measures paperwork and only sees a tiny part of who a person is. It doesn’t measure how you do at life or with people or how much potential you have. You’re gonna do great.”

Her hand clenched against the door frame. She didn’t turn back to face him, but he saw her nod. Quick and sharp, her whole frame seeming to waver on the spot, and then her spine straightened and she wiped at her eyes with her sleeves and before Ron could say anything else, she marched out of the room altogether.

He sat back against the frame of the hospital bed, feeling lighter than he has in a good long time. Keeping the nice things she’d said close to his heart and repeating them as he fell asleep. If he kept them close enough, long enough, maybe they might give him the courage to ignore the small things that cluttered his heart like barbed wire.

Lavender Brown might not be his soul mate or such, but she’d taught him a lot. She would always hold a special place in his heart because of that. Harry and Hermione… he didn’t think either of them would understand. Ron wasn’t the best at explaining things and neither of them were the best at listening when he stumbled over his words and meanings.

It would be just a nice thing between Lavender and him.

And that was fine.

#ron weasley #ron weasley defense squad #fanfiction #lavender brown

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genius-with-a-j · 6 years ago

Text

Welcome to YouTube Incorporated

So I’m a big fan of @shamefulbirb and her Evil YouTube Inc. AU (if you haven’t seen anything of it, you should really check it out, she draws some amazing art and her AUs are beautiful) so I decided to write something about it. Essentially, this takes place in a universe where Google has taken over the world. This might be the first part of an ongoing story, but it could also be a standalone. I haven’t decided yet.

It's a beautiful world.

It's a technologically-advanced world, a world where no one need worry about crime, a world where everyone knows that they're protected by Those That Watch.

Across the globe, things reflect the wonderful state of things and the benevolence of Those Who Help. Perfect neighborhoods sport perfect houses, all the same except for their color. The houses follow a consistent pattern down every block, always the same no matter where you are. Blue-red-yellow-blue-green-red. It's a pattern that any good citizen is familiar with and knows means comfort and safety. Inside each of these perfect, colorful houses, is at least one resident of the world now known simply as Alphabet, an appropriate amount of Alphabet approved furniture, and Alphabet technology.

Those Who Observe are kind enough to make sure that all of its residents have access to state-of-the-art technology and because of their generosity, every household has what is known as a Google IRL: a lovely android that can answer any question that its owners may have, and that can assist with anything that they may need. Each Google IRL is also loosely in the image of a particular celebrity, known by all of his adoring fans as Merry Markimoo.

Merry Markimoo holds the status of a Chosen One, one of the highest honors that a citizen of Alphabet can achieve. As such, he gets to live outside of the colored neighborhoods and is allowed to reside in a special zone known as YouTube Village. There, he has a giant estate and access to anything he could want for filming. He produces content for YouTube on a daily basis and his videos reach an audience of billions. Many of Alphabet's residents dream of living such a lifestyle and make videos in hopes of someday reaching the heights of their YouTube idols. Many others are content just to watch and be entertained. Either way is supported by the compassionate ones who watch. They make sure that everyone has access to the devices needed to access YouTube, as well as all of the other excellently designed social networks and websites that Alphabet is kind enough to allow its residents to access. Though they are known to be highly monitored, and there is a general awareness that anything considered not suitable for the world at large is removed from the Internet in its entirety, it seems like a small price to pay for access to such wealths of information and content.

After all, it's a beautiful world. Sometimes speech has to be regulated in order for it to stay that way. The residents just aren't as knowledgeable as Those Who Observe them, and sometimes need guidance to keep the peace.This is fine.In fact, it's more than fine. It's natural. It's normal. No one questions it or tries to fight the system. Why would they? Alphabet is a good place. Google, Alphabet's wonderful technology corporation, is a force for good. Everybody knows that both Those Who watch and Google itself only want what's best for their residents.

So they consume content, the way they're supposed to. They spend hours on YouTube, watching everything that the Chosen Ones produce, happy for their entertainment. They wake up every day and log on, excited to see what their favorite creators have in store for them next.

And nobody stops to wonder what it's like to be one of those creators. They already know. It's lovely, full of riches and everything one could ever want. They even get beautiful collars to wear, complete with a shiny red YouTube Play Button. The ultimate status symbol that comes with getting a million subscribers, something that every small creator dreams of getting.

Everything is beautiful. Everything is perfect.

Everything is fine.

"Hey babe, can you come in here for a minute, please?"

The cry rang out through the large house that was courtesy of YouTube Village. There was an odd quality to it, it sounded strained somehow. Like the person crying out was trying to mask fear with a sort of cheeriness that just didn't sound natural. Worried, the woman being called for--the new Mrs. Erin Douglass--quickly set her Chromebook aside and headed towards the bathroom where her husband of one month stood in front of the mirror.

"What's wrong, Jack?" she asked, her voice hushed. She had passed their terrifying android, Google IRL, on her way into the room. It was standing in the hallway, seemingly awaiting orders.

He turned his head to look at her, a huge grin on his face. She knew immediately that it was fake; she could see the strain in his eyes. She noticed there was a small cut on his chin, and it was bleeding a little bit. "I cut myself shaving," he told her through grit teeth, “and I made the mistake of saying a certain word."

Her eyes widened as the realization dawned on her. Unable to keep herself from making a face, she glanced at the bright red collar that her spouse wore. "It shocked you," she stated, crossing her arms. She had known for a while that it was something that the infernal device did, despite the fact that he had tried to hide it from her for the first few months of having it.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, exhaling through his teeth. "And it was a doozy."

She frowned. "I hate that they do that to you."

"Censorship is important, we wouldn't want to ruin this perfect world they've created," he told her, voice dripping with sarcasm.The giant fake grin remained, and she hated it. She wished he would stop smiling at her like that.

Sighing, she walked over to the towel cabinet and took out a washcloth. She wet it in the sink, wrung it out and then held it out to her husband. "Hold this on your chin."

He nodded and did as she asked. The grin faded a little. "Sorry to bring you in here, Erin. There's nothing you can do about this." He gestured to the collar with his free hand.

"I can support you," she told him earnestly. "I can't get rid of it, but I can stand here and tell you that it's going to be okay and that they're bastards—"

"Ow!" he yelped, dropping the washcloth. He looked at her incredulously.

She looked back at him, eyes wide. "Did they shock you? For something I said?"

"Yes! Apparently I'm not even allowed to hear curse words now." He bent down and picked up the washcloth, chuckling to himself. "They're playing hardball today, apparently." He looked at her, eyes twinkling. "To me, that seems like they really want me to make a video."

She couldn't help but smile. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?"

He nodded, and she could see the gears in his head turning. He stood there for a little bit longer, holding the washcloth to his face, and she waited with him. She wasn't going to leave him alone with his little YouTube prize from hell. She knew he appreciated her staying because he flashed her a genuine smile.

"I have a couple video ideas for today," he said, a gleeful ring to his voice. "I think I could get a couple good ones filmed. Heck, they'll be posted by tonight since YouTube does all the editing now that I'm 'Chosen.'" That distant, daydreamy look in his eyes faded after a second and he refocused, coming back to the present moment. He looked at Erin and his brow furrowed. "Babe, I know you have work to do, but—"

"I'll stay in the room while you film," she promised.

He looked relieved. "Thanks."

The bleeding stopped after not too much longer. Once it had, the cut was hardly visible at all. Erin knew that even it had been visible, it wouldn't show up in the finished videos. The YouTube overlords would see to it.

The second he was out of the bathroom, Jack got to setting everything up, a huge shit-eating grin on his face. She watched him chuckle to himself as he got the camera ready and did all that other YouTube stuff that she didn't know much about. There was a method to his madness, she knew, as he grabbed his Chromebook and pulled a bunch of stuff up, but she had no idea what that was.

Finally, after what felt like way too long, he looked at Erin. "I need you to help me keep track of what they shock me for. This is going to be a trial and error, I think. If you can just help me remember what words and phrases do it, that'll help me with some scripts in the future."

"Ah... okay," she agreed, her stomach sinking. She really didn't want to see Jack get shocked again.

"It might not happen at all," he said quickly, seeing her expression. "That's possible. I've gotten pretty good at dancing around their little algorithm, so I might get out scot free. I'm just trying to cover all the bases I can."

With that, he switched on the camera and smiled widely at it. "Yesterday I asked you what I should ask Google IRL. We all have one, courtesy of our loving, compassionate overlords, so we might as well use them, right? So I'm going to be reading your best suggestions, and I'm going to throw in a few of my own too. Okay Google!" he called.

The robot came in and Erin shuddered. She hated that thing. She glared at it as it mechanically walked past her and took its place next to Jack on the couch. She crossed her arms.Glancing at the screen of his Chromebook, Jack started. "Does Canada exist?"

The robot looked at him, its eyes unfeeling and cold. "No," it answered in a monotone. "The country formerly known as Canada is now part of Alphabet."

"Okay Google, do it be like it is or how it do?"

The android continued to look at him, its gaze steely. "That is not a coherent question, I cannot answer it."

"Okay Google, who stole my meme?"

"Memes are not property of those who create them. As soon as they are posted, they belong to Google. Therefore, no one stole your meme. They borrowed content from Google."

Jack grinned cheekily. "Borrowed, of course. Because no one could steal from a beautiful and powerful company like Google! It's just not possible. How kind of Google to let lowly peasants borrow its property. What a charitable conglomerate they are." Then he paused. "Alright, my turn! Okay Google, which one of us is more free, me or you?"

Google IRL glared at him and Jack's hand flew to his neck and he winced. Quickly, he glanced at Erin, who made a mental note: not a fan of asking about freedom."Being 'free' is a social construct that we in Alphabet disregard. We have no need for that word, as we instead have protection and safety given to us by Those Who watch."Jack smirked, though his eyes showed that the shock had jarred him slightly. "Ah, of course. I forgot how you feel about four letter F-words." He turned back to the screen and Erin could see him momentarily look for another question. "Okay Google, ya like jazz?"

"I have no opinion on jazz," the machine responded.

"Okay Google, is..." he spotted a question and his eyes glittered. He glanced at Erin, smiling slightly. "Is my marriage a hoax? I don't think it's real."

"Only you and your spouse know the answer to that question," IRL answered.

"And here I thought you were all-knowing," Jack shrugged. "Alright, well, I guess that's my turn again. Okay Google, define dystopia."

"Dystopia: an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad, typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one," IRL answered immediately.

The YouTuber nodded thoughtfully, making deliberate 'eye contact' with the camera. "Imagined is an interesting word," he said, rubbing his chin. "Moving on!”

It went on for a few minutes like this, as Jack alternated between viewer nonsense and his own subtle jabs at Google. Erin just watched, making mental notes of when he got shocked. There was only one more incident, which occurred when asked Google IRL if it was “DTF.” Of course, after being shocked he remedied it with “Difficult to Figure Out” then made some joke about the “O” being silent. After he’d finally finished and turned off the camera, he asked Google IRL to go stand in another room, which it did, after a moment of unnerving blank staring.

“Was there a point to that?” Erin asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Besides just pissing them off?”

“Absolutely!” he agreed. Hurrying across the room he grabbed his Chromebook and started typing furiously.“What the hell are you doing?”

“Ow!” he complained, twitching a little with the new shock, though it didn’t seem to deter him at all. “Please, Erin, keep it family friendly.” After a second of silence, he seemed to realize she was still waiting for an answer and explained, “I had to figure out what I could and couldn’t say so I could release some merch.”

She blinked. That was not the answer she’d been expecting. “What?”

“Hey, a YouTuber’s gotta make a living,” he said, eyes twinkling mischievously. “What do you think about ‘You’re a YouTuber? Shocking!’ with a play button collar for the ‘O’ in shocking?’”

“That’s terrible and you’re going to get yourself killed.”

He shrugged. “Hey, they’re not all winners.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “How about ‘IRL: I Really Love... Google!’”

“How does that make your point at all? That’s just you being sarcastic.”

“Being sarcastic is my point!” Jack responded, chipper. “How about an acronym for Google? Hm... Great organization only gives... love...? Hm... well, I could do this as a YIAY question, I guess.”

She shook her head. “Why do you insist on poking the bear?”

“Because I live for the adrenaline rush!” After a second, however, his smile turned to a frown. “Hey Erin, I’m sorry you’re caught up in all of this. I don’t know that you knew what you were getting into when you said ‘I do.’”

“Oh, I knew,” she promised him. “And we’re in this together, Jack. As long as they don’t put one of those collars on me,” she added, teasing.

He grinned. “I mean I can help you set up a channel if you want.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I’m good on the terrifying overlords over my shoulder and around my throat all the time, thanks.”

“Alright, but you’re missing out. These are state-of-the-art, very trendy.” He angled his head to show off the gleaming red collar, not losing eye contact.

“Hmm, as tempting as it is to put a literal shock-collar on for the sake of looking stylish, I think I have to pass.”

“Suit yourself,” he told her, shrugging. “It’s only uncomfortable most of the time.”

She shook her head again and he pulled her in and kissed her.

“Thanks for staying, Erin.”

“Yeah, yeah, Douglass,” she shot back affectionately. “Really I’m just in it for the bigger house.”

He pulled back, grinning again. “It is a nice house!” he agreed. “Now, do you want to help me design some merch or not?”

She sighed, but sat down on the couch as he plopped next to her. “Alright, Jack. Let’s pi—er, tick off our all-powerful overlords.”

He smiled and without another word, the two got to work.

#tw: electrocution #jacksfilms #evil youtube inc #erin douglass #dystopia #google irl #i've been wanting to write this forever #i love this au #youtube #youtube au

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oakpodcast · 7 years ago

Text

Transmission 6 Transcript

Transmission 6 is live on Patreon. It will go live to the general public Saturday.

This is the season 1 finale. Season 2 will return later this month.

HOLLY: If you're a new listener, make sure to start at the very beginning.

MUSIC: “SOLITUDE” BY MUCIOJAD

HOLLY: Before I get started, I want to thank Jemma, Melissa, Liam, and a bunch of other new listeners for supporting me on Patreon.

HOLLY: And to everyone funding my coffee habit dollar by dollar, THANK YOU. It's a serious morale booster to know that someone is out there listening, and not only that, but cares enough to buy me a cup of coffee. So seriously, thank you so much.

HOLLY: All right, so, it's about 9 a.m., July 23rd. I'm sitting outside the Walmart with a jug of chocolate milk I got on sale around 6 a.m. when I couldn't sleep.

HOLLY: Anyway, I figured I'd reply to your email and then hopefully finish this stupid assignment, pending the armored truck getting here when I'm expecting it to.

HOLLY: And if my stupid hands cooperate. I know I'm clumsy, especially lately, but normally I'm at least good with my hands, right? No dirty jokes about that. Let's keep this PG-rated, thank you very fucking much.

HOLLY: But honestly, this is getting so annoying! I took the Chromebook apart last night and I swear I dropped the fucking screwdriver every five minutes. (Sighs) I know the fact that I haven't had a good night's sleep in a few months doesn't help anything. Whatever.

HOLLY: (Tense) Uh, so, what's going on with your email address? Why does it keep bouncing when I try to email you? Hopefully that means you've finished up and you're on your way home? Never hurts to be optimistic, I guess…

HOLLY: I mean, I know you're busy, but there are some things I'd rather talk about privately, so... yeah. Send me your new email address when you get a chance, thanks.

SOUND: NOISY PICKUP TRUCK DRIVING PAST

HOLLY: Okay, I'm going to read part of your email and then respond to it. (Deep breath) Here goes.

HOLLY AS OAK: Hey Holly, how are you feeling today?

HOLLY: I'm fine. Like I said, tired... aside from not being able to sleep, I'm okay. Well, I did pass out in the laundromat yesterday, but there's probably no reason to worry. I'm just not used to the heat affecting me like this.

HOLLY AS OAK: (Reading) I know this random, but did you turn Cosette off between when I left and when you left?

HOLLY: (Sighs) The answer to that is no. No, Cosette is probably still Roomba-ing around the apartment every day, dragging her… exploded dust tank behind her. Do you remember if she stops if the tank gets full? (More quietly and uncertainly) Roombas can't... catch on fire... right? Nnnnnnnnn.

HOLLY: Well, I texted Cami and asked her to try to shut off Cosette if she happens to go by the apartment, so... anyway...

HOLLY AS OAK: (Reading monotonously) Mission is good. Can't say much obviously, but I should be back next week.

HOLLY: Great, so that gives me at least a few days to fix any damage Cosette did before you get home.

HOLLY AS OAK: Man, Holly, I had the craziest dream last night slash this morning. There was this werewolf, and first it ate Willard, and I was like "Fuck yeah!!!" (Three exclamation marks) but then it ate you, and then it ate me, and then I looked down and I was holding a cage with Frogger—remember the rabbit I accidentally killed when I was 10?—and I was like "OH SHIT" (in all caps) and started running, but I was dead, right?

HOLLY AS OAK: (Reading monotonously) So then I remembered my legs were eaten, and that's when I dropped Frogger's cage down a storm drain. And I don't know how the entire fucking cage even fit, but it did, and it went into the storm drain and I was like "NOOOOOOOOO!!!" (With, mm, eight... nine?! O's and three exclamation marks.) But anyway yeah, then the werewolf was down there eating Frogger. I don't know what that means but I'm really fucking stressed every time I wake up from it.

HOLLY: Yeah, I don't know what that means either, sorry Oak.

HOLLY AS OAK: (Reading) I'm also having a recurring nightmare about me and you playing street hockey with the Goldsteins and their neighbors. Everyone is playing hockey really gently, and you pass the puck to me, and I'm like "YEAH" (all caps) and hit a slapshot right into Emma Rosen's goaltender mask. Except for some reason we were using an egg for a puck, so, yeah, kind of a gross and disturbing dream.

HOLLY: (Laughs) Uh, yeah, what the fuck? Are you eating pizza before bed again? You know that gives you weird dreams!

HOLLY AS OAK: Anyway, it's probably just anxiety or whatever. I sent you some vitamins and supplements. Did you get them?

HOLLY: Yes, thanks. I've been taking them every day, so stop stressing about that. I'm fine. I could be way more malnourished and sleep-deprived than I am.

HOLLY AS OAK: Are you getting enough sleep and staying hydrated?

HOLLY: Like I said, I can't sleep, but I think it's just because the shelter beds are really uncomfortable. I take naps sometimes in the park, like, under a shady tree with a cheap blanket and an inflatable bath pillow I carry around. No one bothers me during the day because I just prop a library book near me, so it looks like I just fell asleep reading.

HOLLY: As for staying hydrated... I mean, I'm trying. The water here still makes me gag, but I sneak lemon packets and get free ice water whenever I can. Like I said, I did pass out in the laundromat yesterday, but I'm just not used to being quite this overheated all the time. I'm fine now. I drank some water, and I'll try to go at night next time.

HOLLY AS OAK: So you're going with Ivy for sure? The finalists are all pretty good, so I don't think there's a right choice. You should go with your gut. I trust your judgment on this.

HOLLY: Well, thank you, and yes, I'm pretty sure I'm going with Ivy and the other one we discussed? I haven't decided for sure yet, but I have a good feeling about those two.

HOLLY AS OAK: Has Leia Janeway forgiven you yet? Don't feel bad. It could happen to anyone. You're not exactly graceful even under the best of circumstances.

HOLLY: (Sighs) I think she's forgiven me, it's just that every time she starts to trust me again I step on some new part of her body and the cycle starts all over. She acts like she understands and doesn't hold it against me, but she also acts like "WHY GOD WHY," which apparently are not mutually exclusive feelings. Hopefully she'll forgive me.

HOLLY AS OAK: I know I say this every time, but please make sure you're ready to run at a moment's notice. I promise I'm doing my best to make sure nothing happens, but it scares the ever-living shit out of me that I'm over here and you're in a godforsaken place like Alabama and no one but the U.S. government is watching out for you. Nothing is going to happen, but if anything does happen—

HOLLY: (Annoyed) Yeah, I know, I know, I need to go dark if anything happens to you. I don't understand why you won't tell me why, though! Or what could possibly be going on.

HOLLY AS OAK: I'm fucking over this assignment already and can't wait to inhale some Thai food with you the second I get back. Can you eat Thai food right now, or will you spontaneously combust? Whatever, we'll celebrate with something yummy. Maybe Mexican, since they don't have that over here.

HOLLY: I don't know, I'm, I’m pretty sure I can eat Thai food. And I know I can eat Mexican. (Hungrily) Both of those sound great, actually. (A very soft moan, as if she's imagining the food.) All right, that's the new plan: Thai or Mexican food next week, as soon as you get home. Whatever we don't eat for lunch we'll eat for dinner and... hm, yeah. I like this plan.

HOLLY AS OAK: Holy fuck, did you see this?

HOLLY: And, uh, I clicked on it, and it's a link to the BBC article about Jodie Whittaker as the new Doctor. Yeah, I saw, and... what a time to be alive! I just hope they don't change anything about River Song being her wife.

HOLLY AS OAK: I'm totally caught up on Greater Boston and Jim Robbie now. You were right—they're totally my jam. Got any other recommendations?

HOLLY: Yeah, I do. So the first one I'd recommend is a British comedy called Wooden Overcoats. It's about these siblings who work in a funeral home in the English Channel, I think, and… and anyway, this really hot guy moves in across the street and starts stealing all of their business. And the narrator is a mouse. So it's this weird mix of morbid humor and uplifting shit that, I don't know, it completely reminds me of you.

HOLLY: Another one I think you'd like is called EOS 10. It's kind of like Scrubs meets Futurama, so obviously it's right up your alley. Wooden Overcoats and EOS 10 are both pretty short, but hopefully since you're supposed to get back next week—

SOUND: PHONE VIBRATING

HOLLY: Huh, speak of the devil. I am getting a text from you right now.

HOLLY: "I'm sorry"? Oh. Goddammit, what did you do?

SOUND: PHONE VIBRATING

HOLLY: "Run and hide"— Why? Why??? What did you do?!

SOUND: PHONE VIBRATING

HOLLY: I can't run! Why the fuck would you think I can run right now?

SOUND: PHONE VIBRATING REPEATEDLY

SOUND: HELICOPTER IN DISTANCE

HOLLY: Okay, fine! Not that you can hear me, but I'm going, I'm going right now.

SOUND: HOLLY STRUGGLING TO HER FEET

SOUND: MILITARY HELICOPTER APPROACHING

SOUND: HOLLY RUNNING ON PAVEMENT

HOLLY: (Running with difficulty, muttering under her breath) Goddammit, Mica!

SOUND: INT WALMART NOISES

SOUND: HOLLY RUNNING ON TILE

HOLLY: (Panting) Excuse me, where (gasps) where are the fireworks?! ... Thank you!

SOUND: HOLLY RUNNING

HOLLY: (To Oak) Anyway, (panting) fuck you, (pant) fuck General Willard, (pant) fuck everyone who took his side, and (pant) fuck society, fuck Walmart for being so big, and f–fuck everything! I'm fucking sick to death of this goddamn fucking shit!

SOUND: A LIGHTER FLICKING

HOLLY: Okay, signing off! (softer) Fuck...

SOUND: FIREWORKS EXPLODING

MUSIC: OUTRO (“SOLITUDE” BY MUCIOJAD)

#transcript #transcripts #oakpodcast

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incaseyouart · 8 years ago

Photo

Time for another batch-answer!! Sorry if this is impersonal but I didn’t want to spam people’s dashes!!

1. Yes I like to try and avoid white backgrounds when I can! Even if it’s just a simple block of colour.

2. This is a FAQ - I use Fire Alpaca, which is amazing and free for the PC and Mac. I’m not sure if it works on a Chromebook but I assume it does? You could also try Medibang Paint which is very similar and also free!

3. Congrats!!

4. My animation professors have told me that if you’re doing it properly you actually should lose track of time - something about using the right brain. References are ESSENTIAL to creating accurate art, so yes, they are extremely helpful and I’m glad you’re using them!!! DAPGO is a treasure trove :D

5. Yes I think you should post your art!! People will give both negative AND positive feedback - I believe you have to receive constructive criticism to grow as an artist. That’s literally all that working in a studio or for clients is - creating your stuff and then getting revisions (but it has to be constructive, not just empty feedback like “that sucks” or “that’s great”). Please read these posts on self-esteem!

6. Haha I love that phanime, and I’m so grateful @arctoids let me collaborate with her for the third episode!!

7. Hello! Thanks :D There are some ideas on this art challenge list I made here: http://incaseyouart.tumblr.com/post/155100106331/31-art-challenges

8. See answer 5! And don’t focus on notes/likes/social currency so much as creating stuff for YOU and your friends - if you genuinely are happy about the stuff you share, then people will enjoy it more, seeing you’re happy.

9. Thank you!! I have had a lot of practice drawing Phil hahah~

10. My favourite thing about being an artist is creating my own content - like, not original characters because mostly I draw fanart - but seeing inspirational things (like Dan and Phil), having a vision in my head, and being able to translate that vision into something visual.

11. HAHA DID YOU JUST ASK ME FOR EDITING TIPS?! Basically just practice with timing I guess? I’ve been editing videos for like, 10 years now, with various software (Adobe Premier, iSkysoft, Windows Movie Maker, and recently iMovie which is the best ever omg) and each time I learn more about how to cut clips and time them to music, how to add in sound effects, change opacity of the clips etc.. I’ve kind of just been learning it all on my own slowly - I’m sure there are tutorials on Youtube!!

12. It’s okay to take a break! Here’s my advice about getting over art block.

13. http://incaseyouart.tumblr.com/tagged/watercolour%20tips I’ll try to make a video soon!

14. I’m glad you’re feeling better and that I could contribute to that :D Thank you! Have a good one ^_^

15. Try some of my art challenges!!

16. Can you go out to a cafe or maybe a library or some other public venue with table space?

17. Wacom Intuos Draw (Small) is what I use (see my tags about drawing tablets here)

18. Being able to critique your own work is an essentially critical skill to growing as an artist. But you have to balance self-critique with positive feedback - try to find two things good and one thing you need to work on. For example maybe the head and eyes are really well drawn, but you can work on the hands? Seeing your mistakes and then knowing how to correct them is a REALLY really good skill, NOT a bad habit. For tutorials on shading, Google has some good ones - the most important thing is figuring out your light source(s), and knowing the physics (plane changes) of whatever you’re drawing.

19. Yup pretty sure! If you scroll through all my palette challenges here you’ll see them~

20. Just drag & drop the image file directly into the software and it becomes a layer, and then lower its opacity - BUT I WOULD HIGHLY DISCOURAGE TRACING DIRECTLY FROM IMAGE. INSTEAD YOU SHOULD REALLY TRY TO REFER TO/COPY FROM AND MAKE IT YOUR OWN.

21. I would just use a mouse, personally!

22. So, with realism, it’s more difficult because there’s the expectation that all the details and proportions have to be EXACTLY accurate - as realistic as possible - and that takes a more time and patience than a caricature of a human figure/face. But, to accurate caricature something you need to be able to draw it realistically first. So in my opinion cartoon-style is both easier (you can communicate the same body language/emotions with less lines/detail) but also harder because you need to have everything be SIMPLE but also ACCURATE.

23. I often think a sketch looks better than the lineart because with a sketch you are more free as you draw - it is messy but also all the lines flow well and it just looks more organic. When you focus on making the lines perfect or cleaner you lose some of that organic flow. My suggestion would be to do an extra step in between the sketch and finished lineart - so draw your image 3 times - sketch, rough lineart, clean lineart. It might help transition your cleaned version a bit better!

24. Break down the figures into LINES OF ACTION and basic shapes before adding ANY detail at all. Check out my life drawing gestures here!

25. Aaaah sorry I hope I answered in time - regardless of medium you have to break down the face into basic shapes and guidelines before adding any details. Charcoal can blend really well to shade easily!

26. When I have time, yes!

27. Just a simple “hello” would do, I think! That way the person on the other end can greet you back, and then you’ve established a connection without the pressure of thinking of any topics of conversation - you could put the ball in their court, so to speak. Also you could just like and reblog a bunch of content you like, and leave nice comments!

28. Haha I don’t know if any of it is natural talent - it took me 14.5 years of almost constant practicing to get to where I am now!

29. Yay, more fanart!! ALL THE ART!

30. Oh my God thank you that’s so sweet (this makes me think of what people say about Phil Lester because he’s such a ray of sunshine <3)

31. It’s okay to take breaks! Step away from drawing for a while and just write a story, or read, or play outside, or do a sport, or anything else you like! Don’t force yourself to draw!

32. Watch my video on self-esteem for artists and hopefully it’ll motivate you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5AjCbYrPlk&t=95s You’ll only get better at a skill if you practice it :D

33. I would just get the better drawing tablet first if you can afford it - unless the cheaper one is a good brand like Huion or Wacom!

34. You are improving if you use references, trust me. An easy way to see improvement is looking back at your old art, and maybe redrawing it?

35. Yay! Yeah tools can be common amongst artists - it’s just the level of practice and time put in :D

36. It can take a while to gain a strong following, but keep doing what you’re doing and people will come!!! Keep creating and sharing with the world :D

Thanks for all the asks guys~

#replies #batch answer #art advice #internet support group

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