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lucky-clover-gazette · 2 years ago

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the inviolable truth

two-part vidow hurt/comfort/angst extravaganza fic is complete! read it on ao3 or under the cut:

Shadow doesn’t want to admit it, but something is wrong.

Not with him, for once—actually, he’s doing great—but with Vio. Stupid, confusing Vio, who brought Shadow back to life and defied the Goddesses themselves to preserve his corporeal form. Vio, who’s been living in the same cottage as Shadow for months on the edges of Hyrule Castle Town, close enough to his colorful counterparts to perform his heroic duties but far enough to blow them off.

It had been, quite literally, a rude awakening. Shadow was nothing, just floating in the endless void—and then he was something again, staring up at Vio’s pale tear-stained face. His entire body shook as blood dripped from his hands (whose blood, Shadow still isn’t sure) and appeared to be kneeling in some kind of homemade summoning circle. The floor beneath Shadow was cold, because it wasn’t the floor at all—it was the very same dark mirror that he had once destroyed, somehow repaired.

Vio said he was sorry, but couldn’t elaborate what for. He told Shadow he could stay with him and Shadow could barely even speak. So he followed Vio home like a lost dog, and hasn’t found a good enough reason to move out since.

They have separate rooms, of course, but a cozy little den and eat-in kitchen, where Shadow is still in the process of learning how to cook. In his previous forms he never needed food or drinks, only consuming them for the vibes—now, not so much. It’s humbling to try different kinds of food, which Vio explains ad nauseum (if Shadow hears the ‘fun fact’ that tomatoes are actually fruits one more time…) as he samples each.

Honestly, the more Shadow learns about agriculture and sustainability, the guiltier he is about destroying all those homesteads during his villain era. The more he learns about the light world in general, the guiltier he feels for almost ending it. He initially took to calling his time of evil servitude his ‘villain era’ as an attempt at ironic detachment, but it’s getting easier every day to take real accountability. Shadow doesn’t enjoy spending excessive time with the public, but working in the community garden brings him genuine joy. And it helps to feed the people of Castle Town as the surrounding farms rebuild. To think that Shadow once planned to destroy them as well, it’s… a place he tries not to let his brain go excessively.

Vio’s internal life, by comparison, seems less peaceful these days. It’s something Shadow started picking up on a week or two ago and it hasn’t improved since. Of course it’s reasonable for Vio, or anyone, to have times of unhappiness, but it’s hard for Shadow to live in the same house as the guy and turn a blind eye. Especially not when he cares very much for his friend, which is all Vio is. All he’s ever been. Months into their arrangement, and Shadow can’t justify believing anything else.

But, still. Friends can still care about each other. They can challenge each other. So despite his hesitation, Shadow does what he’s wanted to do for weeks. He starts the kettle for tea, which they’ve taken to drinking in order to preserve their remaining supply of stolen evil root beer, and enters the den where Vio sits and reads. In this moment he could be mistaken as peaceful, staring at the leather-bound volume as the fireplace crackles beside him. But Shadow knows better.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s going on?”

Vio looks up and raises an eyebrow, as if he knew the question was going to come up eventually. “Why do you think something’s going?”

“You’re not turning pages.”

Vio rolls his eyes. “You’ve only been standing there for a minute.”

“So you did notice.”

The blonde sighs, putting down the book and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m fine. It’s really nothing. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Pretty sure if it was nothing, you’d be over it by now.”

“You don’t know me that well, Shadow.”

Well, goddamn.

Vio groans and puts his head in his hands. “Hylia, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Shadow puts his hands on his hips. “You definitely sound like someone who’s totally fine.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ooooookay, well, I’m not going to force you. Guess I’ll go hang out with Zelda or something.”

Vio looks up as Shadow moves to leave, grimacing. “Don’t go. I’ll tell you.”

Shadow grins. “Knew I’d break you down eventually. Tea’s on the kettle, be right back.”

“Oh. Thanks. Just… hurry back, okay?”

Shadow nods, amused by the sudden change of attitude. This boy has layers. “Spill tea everywhere and break the mugs, got it.”

Vio shakes his heads as Shadow retreats to the kitchen, but it’s with the slightest smile.

━━

Shadow likes making tea—feeling warmth through the sides of the mug, funneling fragrant dried leaves into the infuser, and watching as the water slowly bleeds a robust amber. It’s a multi-sensory experience he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy in his previous form, at least not in the way he does now. He forgets, sometimes, that his resurrection wasn’t merely a restoration of his original dark state, but a transformation to Hylian normalcy.

He misses his magic, often, but it’s not like he was going to ever use it in the void. Shadow still isn’t sure what he wanted, or expected, to happen after he shattered the dark mirror. Good things, for the others, who were so unlike him in merit and identity. Bad things, to Ganon, who used him as a pawn and convinced him he could only live in the dark. How ironic it was, then, that Shadow ended up there regardless. If Vio hadn’t brought him back, he’d still be there today.

But he’s not. He’s here, with Vio, and Zelda, and the others. And tea.

He carries both mugs into the den, where Vio doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s reading.

“Back,” Shadow greets him, trying to keep things somewhat light. “Guess which one I poisoned?”

“You wouldn’t serve me poison.”

“Fair enough,” Shadow says, passing Vio a mug and sitting down at a respectful distance (not that either of them seemed to care about personal space when The Throne was involved. Hylia, Shadow misses that thing). “I’m sensing that humor isn’t helpful right now. Talk to me.”

Vio takes a sip of his tea and gives Shadow a smile. “You’re really good at this. Thank you.”

“I am, but flattery’s not getting you out of this conversation.”

“It’s just… I’ve been thinking about what we did. What we didn’t do. What that means.”

Shadow blinks. “Okay.”

Vio grows more agitated—not at Shadow, but seemingly at himself. “I know the others are doing great, and don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy, too. It’s just… are we meant to be this way? Separate? I’m just one piece of a whole person. I’m fundamentally incomplete, by definition. And, by not going back, we basically killed the original Hero. He doesn’t exist anymore. Everyone who loved him, lost him. We were selfish.”

“Why are you thinking about this now? Months later?”

Vio rubs the back of his neck, his hair currently tied up in a purple scrunchie. Shadow thinks it’s adorable, but this is not the time for… all of that. “Green told me that he visited the Hero’s father again,” Vio blurts, and Shadow knows immediately this is what’s been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. “He sees nothing wrong with it, but isn’t he just rubbing salt in the wound? Reminding him of the son who no longer exists?”

“Did Green say that the Hero’s father was upset?”

Vio shakes his head, his voice ragged. “No. He likes spending time with him, and the others. But I just can’t wrap my head around going myself. I feel like when they do it, it’s out of kindness, because they’re all the good parts of the Hero. But if I went, it would just feel manipulative. It would be to ease my own guilt. And that’s what I mean about being incomplete—I am, at my core, the sum of the Hero’s least heroic attributes. My very existence is a paradox, and given the opportunity to resolve that paradox, I chose along with the others to do the opposite.”

“Do you regret it, then?” Shadow asks, his fingers tightening around his mug. “Do you regret staying?”

Vio considers it like a scientific question. “I think that re-forming the Hero was, ethically, the correct thing to do… and certainly the most heroic. But we didn’t. And I know, I just know, that if I hadn’t raised an alternative plan, the others would have been perfectly happy to go ahead. I’m the one who voiced my doubt, gave them the idea to stay; it’s almost like I manipulated them into the decision. Because that’s me, the manipulative one! The worst of the hero’s parts, convincing the best of him to be unfathomably selfish.”

“So if you could change it, right now, you would. You’d leave.”

“Being here instead of the hero, it hurts so many people. And what kind of replacement am I, given all of the good he did for the world? All the literature indicates that I’m fundamentally not meant to be an entire person for a prolonged amount of time. My existence was meant to be temporary. And my actions have demonstrated time and time again that I’m not a consistently good person at all. Sure, I wasn’t ever going to serve Vaati or Ganon, but when I met you, when we started, uh, working together, I had fun. And I wanted to know more. About the Dark World, the mirror, all of it. I never lost sight of doing the right thing, like I said, y’know, when you were about to execute me—”

“Yeah, I was there.”

“—and that was the truth, really! Well, kind of. If I’m being honest, it’s just… a little more complicated than that. The others wouldn’t understand. There was good and evil, but there was also… just, another thing. Made it messy. Still can’t quite put my finger on what.”

“Ah.”

“So I just have been thinking, a lot, and I keep circling back to the inviolable truth that what we did was the wrong choice. And it’s all my fault.”

Shadow grits his teeth and places his mug on the coffee table. “Then why did you have the idea in the first place,” he asks Vio, his voice colder than intended. “Why did you voice the idea in the first place.”

“I had the idea because it seemed wrong to create four people from one, and then force them into nonexistence. Just as wrong as it was to rob Hyrule of its hero through our creation in the first place.”

“That’s all?”

Vio cocks his head. It’s not cute right now. “You sound hurt. You know it wouldn’t have affected you either way. You weren’t a part of him prior to the split. You came from another world. And if we had reformed, you would still have lived on as the Hero’s shadow. We’d just be… gone.”

“Well thank you for considering me.”

Vio scowls and places down his own mug, forcefully displacing some of its contents. “What’s your problem? You asked me to talk, and now you’re mad?”

“Because, Vio, you made this choice months ago, we’ve been basically living together since, and I guess I wrongly assumed that even a miniscule aspect of your decision to stay might have had something to do with… you know what, never mind. I’m not saying it.”

Shadow stands up and stares into the fire, refusing to meet Vio’s gaze.

“Saying what?”

“Don’t make me feel like more of an idiot than I already do,” Shadow says, mortified by the blush spreading on his cheeks. “Not again.”

Vio flounders. “I…”

“I gotta take a walk,” Shadow says, already halfway to the cottage’s front door when he feels Vio’s hand on his shoulder.

“Shadow, stop, you don’t—”

Shadow shrugs him off. “I am telling you, I need to take a walk. Please give me some space before I say something I’ll regret.”

He can’t see Vio’s stupid face but he can guess what it looks like. Hurt, confused, like a kicked puppy. “You… okay. I’m sorry. Go ahead. Thanks for making the tea. And for not, uh, poisoning it.”

Shadow doesn’t laugh. And then he’s gone.

━━

Vio wants to convince himself that there’s a monster in the cellar. He can take a monster any day of the week, and actually, they’re pretty common in these woods. No wonder the cottage’s former owners abandoned it.

What truly terrifies Vio is the other, much more likely possibility: that it’s Shadow down there, waiting for their inevitable confrontation. He’s been puzzling over their argument for hours, feeling so stupid for someone who claims to be smart. He wasn’t lying, for a second, but he knows he must have gone too far, ignored some conversational landmine and pushed Shadow too far. He wishes Red was here, or Zelda. Anyone with an ounce of emotional intelligence compared to his obvious deficit, honestly.

The sun has gone down. Their tea has gone cold. There is no monster in the cellar.

But still, Vio has to try.

━━

The cellar is dark, damp, and used primarily to store barrels of evil root beer. Vio isn’t surprised that Shadow hasn’t touched them. He’s been really into tea lately, and seems to have a strong sense of sentimentality towards their stockpile. Vio feels that way too, of course, but it’s easier pointing out these patterns when someone like Shadow demonstrates them. Much can be said to criticize the way Shadow has historically managed his emotions, but there is something admirable about a person so boldly wearing his heart on his sleeve. Maybe it’s even more noticeable to Vio, who has trouble admitting even the simplest internal truths, like the fact that he’s not a fan of green tea or that he doesn’t like the color yellow or that he might probably definitely absolutely have non-platonic feelings for Shadow.

No, Shadow’s exactly where Vio knew he would be: standing in front of that damn mirror.

“Why did you bring me back?” Shadow asks, his eyes on Vio’s approaching reflection.

“What do you mean?”

Shadow turns his head now, eyes drilling into Vio like he wants to see him in pieces—not out of anger, profound, aching confusion. Vio… can understand that.

“You chose to stay separate from the others, meaning I wouldn’t have the Hero to attach myself to. I was just… floating, in the abyss. Until I wasn’t. What in the world possessed you to repair this thing, especially since it poses such a threat to Hyrule? Why—why did the others allow you to repair it?”

“I already told you why,” Vio says, and it almost sounds like a plea. “They wanted to give you the chance to be a person too. A whole one, like we got to be. It was only fair.”

“No. They pitied me.”

“They welcomed you. They like you. They might not understand you, but they harbor no ill will towards you. Well, maybe Blue does, but he would harbor ill will towards a garden gnome.”

“Stop being clever, I’m upset with you.”

Vio sighs, his posture wilting. He feels small. “Can you give me a hint? I know I’m smart, but I’m having trouble here.”

Shadow scowls, hand going to his hair. “I’m not trying to confuse you. I want to listen and be a good friend. But I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t hurt. The fact that, if given the option, you’d undo the decision that got us where we are now.”

“Like I said, it wouldn’t have hurt you either way—”

“But that’s what you’re not getting!” Shadow exclaims, balling up both fists at his sides. Vio takes a few steps back, not afraid for his safety but nervous nonetheless.

“I ended my life so you and the others could save the world and yourselves. But I also knew, the way things were going, that it was my own best possible option. I mean, in a way, I would have still ended up with… never mind.”

Vio’s scowling now, too, because none of this makes sense in the way it should. “So you agree? I shouldn’t have voiced my idea, or repaired the mirror to bring you back?”

“No, idiot! I’m saying that—I can’t believe you’re making me say this—I treasure every single stupid day I get to spend with you, Vio. Not like I would with the Hero, not how I do with the others. You. I like you. I’d fight Vaati, Ganon, Hylia herself, just to be with you. I’d put up with living in the Hero’s shadow just to feel any hint of you that’s left behind. And maybe it’s stupid, and I’ve made this exact mistake before, but after everything happened I thought that maybe… maybe you felt the same way. Maybe I was one of your reasons to stick around. You did bring me back, after all. And we’ve been doing… this… for months now. And I’m happy! Like really happy! The happiest I’ve ever been, which isn’t a high bar to clear, but still!”

“Shadow, hey—”

“But at the same time, I don’t fully trust you, and we’ve hurt each other so much, and none of this should be working as well as it does. But you don’t seem to want to leave, you don’t seem to be here out of pity, and fuck, Vio, it makes me crazy trying to figure out what’s going on in your head!”

Shadow breathes heavily, his chest visibly rising and falling. Vio wants to reach out, hold him, admit every single secret hope he’s been so determined to ignore for so long… but he can’t. It’s too late.

“I did it again.” Vio says, his voice thin.

“Did what?”

“Let you down. I… I appear to be very adept at that.”

Shadow rolls his eyes, and it’s not because he’s endeared. “Stop it with the fancy words, there’s no one here you have to impress.”

“Shadow. I care what you think. I care about you, of course I do! I didn’t even think that was a question!”

“Really?” Shadow shakes his head. “Because the last time I said something stupid about trusting you, that you were my first and only friend, you betrayed me like it meant nothing.”

Vio must look so stupid, the way he just stands there and lets the words sting. Slowly, he speaks, unsure of each word as it passes his lips. “What I did was for the good of the entire world. I didn’t want to hurt you, but if I hadn’t turned on you when I did, we wouldn’t be where we are now. I’d be dead, or worse. You’d be the servant to some evil god. We both know it’s better this way.”

“I do know that,” Shadow says, tears in his eyes. “You’re the one who’s saying he’d un-make a pivotal choice that got us here. I would choose to be betrayed by you over and over again if it meant we’d eventually end up together.”

“If I recall correctly, you seemed pretty excited by the aspect of world domination, and you said yourself that you only saw me as a pawn.”

“For like five seconds! Vio, I’m not subtle about anything. Never have been, never will be. By that night we had drinks and talked on the balcony, I was just excited that I was standing there with you. So excited that I ignored the obvious red flags leading to your betrayal. I was stupid. I’m being stupid again now, admitting all that.”

Shadow steps towards the barrels of evil root beer but Vio stands in his way. “Stop saying you’re stupid. I’m just an asshole.”

“For fuck’s sake, Vio, don’t weaponize this against yourself. Neither of us are upstanding citizens, but at least we’re trying. You can’t try if you don’t exist. We can talk more in the morning, or not. Good night.”

So he was heading for the stairs. Vio sheepishly lets him go by.

“We just… should not have conversations around this mirror, huh,” he says, turning to face his own reflection.

“Whatever. Good night.”

Vio hears footsteps, a door close, and then… silence.

Maybe there is a monster in the cellar, after all.

━━

There is blood on Vio’s hands.

He recalls a previous instance of blood on his hands—not much, but enough to prove to the others that he was real, that his betrayal had been truly his own. A punishment for his deception, even though his intention was never to become a true creature of the darkness.

In every ethical conundrum, Vio has learned, one must consider the practical and the interpersonal. Practically, Vio hadn’t deserved the minor wound, but interpersonally… well, it was fair enough for what he had put the others through.

Tonight the mirror bleeds—but, by Hylia, Vio still feels it.

He kneels, the image of reverence, in the center of a chalk-drawn circle. The cellar is quiet as death, and if he closes his eyes and inhales the sickly air he can easily imagine himself buried alive. For everything he’s done, that may be justice—but not just yet. Not when there’s a chance, however small, that this ritual could work.

After weeks of research and very little sleep, he’s managed to intuit the correct sequence of dark runes to spell victory. The strange language glows on the ground, illuminating the arc surrounding him. He glances down at his journal, spotted with ink and stained by tea, and scrutinizes the instructions he’s left for himself. Then he looks at the mirror—not the mirror, but a mirror all the same—and gasps at the sight of his own reflection.

He looks haunted, there’s no better word for it than that. His pale face, disheveled hair, and dark under-eye circles… and, of course, the blood on his hands. Not red, like his own, but jet-black, oozing from the corners of the ornate mirror Vio had taken from Hyrule Castle.

He still can’t believe Zelda and the others are allowing him to attempt this, especially since he’d never meant for them to find out. Unfortunately Zelda is more observant than Vio gave her credit for, noticing the mirror’s absence immediately, and put the pieces together from there. But still, even after a confrontation, she and others told Vio they wouldn’t stop him. He still doesn’t know why, but suspects it was out of pity.

To be fair, Vio is pitiful. What he did… what he didn’t do… it’s a weight he can’t bear. Maybe if Vio had considered the guilt he’d feel for the rest of his life, he would have happily reformed the Hero. At least then he wouldn’t have to carry it alone.

But that’s wrong, too. The others aren’t responsible for what happened. He knows damn well he made the decisions leading him here alone.

The practical, and the interpersonal—those are what haunt him. He would have never guessed a heart could ache the way his does almost every minute. He can’t even explain why, besides abstract concepts of right and wrong and guilt and grief, rotating in his head until he’s dizzy from it.

Vio doesn’t deserve to be here if he can’t undo this mistake. Maintaining the split, condemning the Hero to the memories of those who loved him, is an act of liberation for Red, Green, and Blue. Vio does truly believe that.

But for him… it’s penance. From the second the idea struck him, that’s all it’s been. His work will not be done until he makes this right. Maybe afterwards, he’ll finally be able to embrace the life he’s forged for himself. Maybe he’ll move from this abandoned cottage into the castle, or even just Castle Town. Maybe he’ll make more friends. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe not.

Vio pictures the life awaiting him and recognizes it for what it is: empty. He hasn’t formed strong bonds, found places of belonging, or even left the house very often since the split. He… feels incomplete. Which makes a world of sense, given the very way Vio came to be.

He knows he’s stalling. The ritual is working and he has no time to waste. With one last glance into the bleeding mirror, he raises the ceremonial ocarina from its velvet pillow and brings it to his lips. He’s written the command in a simple notation, easy enough for a child to use. The Song of Healing, it’s called, left behind by ancient Heroes who traveled through time, transformed into wild beasts, and saved the world from certain doom. True Heroes—how ashamed they’d be, learning how Vio uses their arcane secrets now.

The void bleeds from the mirror’s edges, seeping into its frame. Vio plays the song with shaky breath, breaking into a cold sweat as the notes carry through the cellar. Once finished, he replaces the ocarina and slams both hands onto the glass, feeling it rumble beneath him.

Please, Hylia, he begs the same Goddess he betrayed only weeks ago. I’m sorry I took your Hero. But please, you can’t punish someone else for my misdeeds.

Tears fall from his closed eyes, landing on the glass as it quakes. This isn’t part of the ritual but feels important all the same.

He knows what will happen next—the mirror will crack, allowing darkness to bleed through every jagged crevice into the world of the light. It’s not much of a gateway compared to the original, but wide enough for a single wandering soul to pass through.

Please.

He sits there for what feels like hours, eyes shut tight as he waits for the glass to shatter beneath his hands. But it doesn’t, and eventually it ceases to pulse at all.

Vio knows that he has failed. He knows the runes have gone dark, that the inky blood has dried on his fingertips, and that the Goddess has refused his desperate plea. The Hero is gone for nothing, or at least for one-fourth of it, and Vio’s life will forever be empty and haunted.

“No,” Vio whimpers, and it’s the most pathetic thing he’s ever heard. “Please, no.”

And every emotion is crushing, but the worst is the least expected: loss. Sinking, devastating loss. Like part of his heart has been removed, but not enough to stop it completely—he is afforded no small mercy by the onslaught.

Shadow is really gone.

And it’s all Vio’s fault.

He lowers his head and opens his eyes. In the inky darkness of the mirror, he can make out a form vaguely like his own… but as the tears clear from his eyes, Vio knows that some magic must still be in the air. Hylia herself taunts him from the heavens, denying him even the dignity of his own reflection.

Vio stares into the mirror, but the left-handed Hero stares back.

And then he wakes up.

━━

“Shadow.”

It’s the first thing to leave Vio’s lips as he wakes, already slamming his bare feet onto the wooden floor. His own frantic breaths echo through head as he runs down the hall, glancing into Shadow’s room as he had done so many months before. Unlike last time, however, Shadow is gone.

Shadow is gone.

“Nonononononono,” Vio mutters to himself as he holds his head in his hands. The ritual had worked, he remembers it so clearly! Their life together, in their cottage, is real! Hylia showed him mercy!

He sees a few of Shadow’s possessions on the nightstand, but this provides the opposite of relief. If everything is real but Shadow’s still gone, it’s because of their argument yesterday—in other words, where Vio succeeded with the ancient and arcane, he failed terrifically with the interpersonal. Again.

Or maybe he’s been living in a state of delusion this whole time, maybe the ritual really had failed. Maybe Shadow got caught off-guard by a monster after their argument, maybe he’s gone straight to a Castle Town real estate agent, maybe Vio died months ago and he’s been imagining everything since. Maybe he’s just a part of the Hero now, maybe the four reconverged in the end, and this reality is just a shred of Vio’s consciousness clinging to strange inexplicable dreams of what could have been if he had only given Shadow the chance to redeem himself. If he had only been honest about the way he felt. If every time he’d wanted to take Shadow into his arms and hold him tight and never let go, he’d gotten over his own bullshit and just. fucking. gone for it, because maybe, maybe, maybe that’s what Vio has always wanted, behind his absurd mask of intellectual objectivity, and it’s not the sum of his desires for life but it’s Shadow and it’s home and life without him would be achingly incomplete.

But it doesn’t matter. None of this matters, because Shadow is gone. Shadow is gone, and once again, it’s all Vio’s fault.

And there’s something going on in the kitchen.

Through the doorway Vio can see him, leaning over the counter as he waits for the kettle to whistle. He hums a song and Vio knows exactly which one. After all, hadn’t he just played it?

“Seems like neither of us can sleep,” Shadow says without turning his head. “Want some tea?”

Vio’s mouth is drier than the desert and he just now realizes how faint he feels. Shadow is there immediately as his body slackens, holding him in his arms.

“Vio, you look terrible,” Shadow remarks with genuine concern, holding a warm hand to the blonde’s forehead. For once Vio is running colder, and he would quip about it if he wasn’t on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Are you real?” Vio hears himself ask, like an idiot.

“Last time I checked, sure.”

“Are you mad at me?”

Shadow sighs. “Yeah, a little, or at least I was earlier. But that doesn’t mean I’d just, like, disappear. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Don’t ever let me get rid of you,” Vio says, reaching up to cup Shadow’s face. “Never again.”

Shadow blinks, his expression unreadable. “Vio, I...”

“Never,” Vio repeats, gripping Shadow tighter. At least he’s getting his strength back.

“You’re acting super weird. You know you’re acting super weird, right?”

It stings, but he’s not wrong. Vio never expresses himself like this, so pathetic and unrestrained. He can’t blame Shadow for being uncomfortable, for pulling away—

“I think it’s good,” Shadow continues, brushing Vio’s hair off his sweaty forehead. He bonks Vio’s head with his own, and it’s closer than they usually get to each other, but so achingly welcome. “I think… whatever’s going on, it’s something you’ve needed for a while. Thank you for letting me help you.”

Oh.

The kettle starts to whistle and Shadow gives Vio an apologetic look. “So as comfy as the kitchen floor is, maybe we move this to the couch?”

Vio nods and stands on shaky legs, watching hypnotized as Shadow prepares their tea. He really is good at it, far better than Vio during his weeks of caffeine-fueled arcane research. Then again, for Vio it had only been about fuel—for Shadow it seems to be therapy, and art, and a way to show how much he cares.

“What?” Shadow asks, turning his head as the tea seeps. “Not how you want it?”

Vio shakes his head vehemently.

“No. This is exactly how I want it.”

━━

It was Shadow’s idea to invite the Hero’s father to their cottage. As they sat on the couch and sipped their tea and said so many of the things they should have said months ago, they agreed it would be daunting but good for everyone involved.

And it has been good, so far—a little awkward at first, mostly between Shadow and the Captain (warranted, given their last significant interaction)—but good overall.

Shadow has taken the backseat for the majority of the afternoon, busying himself in the kitchen and eavesdropping while Vio shows the Captain various legends about previous iterations of the Hero. That part was Vio’s idea, and Shadow can’t imagine anything more fitting. While Vio is not and will never be the son the Captain knew, it doesn’t seem that the Captain resents him in the slightest (Shadow could have guessed that, but it’s great for Vio to see). In fact, Vio’s information dumping seems to bring the Captain closer to the Hero’s memory in an unexpectedly poignant way.

They seem to be wrapping up, though, which makes sense since dusk is beginning to fall. The Captain will want to be on his way soon, as the woods surrounding their cottage tend to get a little hairy at night.

Shadow takes a deep breath as he prepares to step out of the kitchen. While today is mostly for Vio, he has his own discomforts with the Captain. But he’s no hypocrite, and certainly no coward—after all, there’s some Hero in him too.

“Thank you for the tea,” the Captain says to Shadow, who stays in the kitchen door frame with his arms crossed. “It was excellent.”

“Thanks,” Shadow says, looking at Vio as he rises from the couch.

“And thank you, Vio,” the Captain tells the blonde, resting a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “I would really like to learn more sometime. I bet the others would, too. They miss you.”

Vio rubs the back of his neck in a way Shadow has always found so unfairly adorable. The guy can be a criminal mastermind when he wants to be, but in moments like these he could fool just about anyone. Which, to be fair, he probably has..

“Tell them we say hello,” Shadow says, crossing the room to Vio’s side. He wants so badly to take his hand—like, so badly—but that was not something they got around to discussing last night.

It’s okay. If Vio doesn’t care for Shadow in that way, it won’t be the end of their friendship or cohabitation... but Shadow’s pretty sure he does. Call it a hunch. Whether Vio knows how he feels, however, is yet to be seen.

The Captain looks from Vio to Shadow and then back again. It’s clear he wants to ask them something but quickly decides against it. “You’ve made a nice home for yourselves out here,” he says instead. “I’m glad you found each other again. Neither of you deserves to be lonely.”

And for once, both Shadow and Vio are equally stunned into silence.

“Anyway, I’ll be off,” the Captain says, shrugging on his cloak and heading for the door. “You two have a good night.”

“Walk safe,” Shadow and Vio say at the exact same time. Their faces sour. What has become of them, saying something like ‘walk safe’ with complete sincerity?

The Captain leaves and it’s just Shadow and Vio again, as it should be, inside their house that’s also their home.

━━

“One more cup before bed?” Shadow asks as he returns to the kitchen, grabbing the dirty mugs from the coffee table as he passes.

“Sure,” Vio says, because even though he just had tea with the Captain he knows it’ll make Shadow happy and he likes seeing Shadow happy and he can totally admit that to himself without cringing or needing to hide in a dark room with no windows.

Shadow turns his back to Vio as he places the dirty dishes in the sink and pours water into the kettle. He’s humming, again, and Vio smiles. “Where did you learn that song?”

Shadow shrugs as he crosses over to the stove, firing it up and placing down the kettle. “Dunno. Kinda just thought I made it up. Why do you ask?”

“It’s, uh… it’s a good song, is all.”

Shadow faces Vio as the water begins to boil, wearing the infectious grin Vio has never been able to resist. Both young men lean against opposite counters, and the kitchen feels more cramped than it ever has before.

“You think it went okay, with the Captain?” Shadow asks, seemingly unaware of the tension between them.

“Oh, uh. Yes. I think so.”

“I’m glad. I was scared it was a bad idea, or that it would go wrong… I’m really proud of you for following through with it. I’m really proud of us both, actually. Sometimes I act like I know what I’m doing, with the therapy-talk and everything, but all of this terrifies me too. Sometimes I miss the good old days of arson and evil root beer, you know?”

Vio nods dumbly and Shadow cocks his head. “Uh, you good?”

And after all the time and all the tension, all the hurt and all the healing, the inviolable truth finally comes out.

“Shadow I really like you, like not just a friend-like you, and I have for a long time, pretty much ever since we met in the woods and you were hitting on me, like you were definitely hitting on me right, I came into existence and met you and pretty much immediately was like ‘well I guess I’m into men, good to know,’ anyway we shared that throne and drank evil root beer but I was stupid and betrayed you and you died but then I brought you back and I’m so glad it worked and that I’m here and that you’re here and Hylia I want to kiss you all the time so if you’re interested in that maybe we could—”

Shadow kisses him.

The kettle whistles.

And whistles.

━━

"Whenever there is a meeting, a parting shall follow.

But that parting needs not last forever.

Whether a parting be forever or merely for a short while...

that is up to you."

#four swords #four swords manga #fs #vio x shadow #vidow #my writing

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absolutepokemontrash · 4 years ago

Text

MC is Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar

(Lessons 1-5!)

Part 1 Part 2 Lessons 5-6 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

So we obviously know that things would run a little differently with L!MC instead of a normal human MC, but just how differently do things go?

No Mammon, you are not allowed to babysit!

Unlike in canon, Mammon needs to be kept away from MC at the start. Why? He’s known this kid for less than a day, he’s gonna try and use them for scams.

Everyone else in the house? Well, they’re of... observing MC. This is a first, a half human kid just wandering around the house...

MC and Lucifer, despite their amicable meeting, were in this really awkward beginning stage where they didn’t really know what to do with each other.

“So...” MC resisted the urge to twiddle their thumbs as they followed their father through the halls of the House of Lamentation. This was their home for the next year. It was very grand... and also very creepy in some places. “Where’s my room?”

“Right here.” Lucifer stopped suddenly in front of a door in the hallway, nearly causing MC to crash into him. He opened up the door, the room was very very pink. “Asmodeus decorated, you can redecorate as you see fit.”

MC popped their head in and looked around, there were approximately a thousand pillows scattered around the bed. It was the perfect amount! The very pink colour scheme was... okay. Maybe they’d be able to switch some of it out for a nice blue.

“It’s nice! Thank you,” MC was about to say Lucifer, then father, then just shut their mouth. What were they supposed to call him? They had known each other for like... an hour. He seemed like the type to want to be called father, he was too posh to be ‘dad’ or ‘pops’, and calling their father by his first name seemed way too casual as well... Parental Figure..? Guardian? Sir..? Should they call him sir???

The fact that MC ended their sentence like they were going to continue it left the two in a very awkward silence. A+ job at conversation.

“Anyway,” Lucifer finally broke the silence. “If you need time to settle in, we can pick up the tour later.”

“N-no, it’s okay! I didn’t really bring anything so...” MC was in the middle of mentally cursing themselves out, they thought they had successfully avoided falling into the awkward middle schooler stereotype! “We can keep the tour going.”

“Alright then.” Lucifer turned and motioned for MC to follow. Wow... he was very... curt? Was that the right word to use? MC hoped this was as awkward for him as it was for them.

The next stop was the portrait staircase, Lucifer explained each one down to each minute detail, MC listened in rapt attention.

“We received that one from a painter from the sixth layer of the Devildom, it was quite a rare find.”

“How many layers are there?”

“Nine, we’re in the centre most layer. This is the most highly defended part of the Devildom.” Lucifer explained.

“Oh,” MC smiled. “Cool, so it’s like how Dante described it in the Divine Comedy?”

“Mostly, some changes have been made since that time.”

“Ah, okay.” MC nodded, a thought came to them which made them clear their throat to suppress a giggle. “May I ask a question that might bother you?”

Lucifer turned and raised an eyebrow at them. “You may ask one such question.”

“Why did Dante say you were frozen in an ice lake?”

Lucifer looked around, once he was sure that no one was listening, he turned back to MC, his voice was slightly lower when he answered. “I was ice skating with Lord Diavolo, I fell through the ice and into the lake right as Virgil and Dante arrived. Of course, Dante had to embellish or I’d smite him, if only he left out the ice part.”

To MC’s credit, they didn’t laugh, but they weren’t doing a very good job of hiding how hard it was to not burst into laughter. “Oh my... how upsetting...”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I’d tell you not to tell anyone but,” his lips quirked up into a smile. “No one would believe you if you said anything anyway.”

MC gasped, but the gasp ended up releasing the laugh they were holding in.

The half demon noticed some of the other portraits on the wall, each of the brothers had a portrait, there were two demons that MC didn’t recognize. So that was their family... they wondered if their picture might be on that wall one day...

“Who’s he?” MC pointed at the portrait between Mammon’s and Satan’s.

“That’s Leviathan, the third eldest, the Avatar of Envy, and the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy.”

‘Oooo, so he’s a military guy!’ MC thought to themselves. ‘And the third most powerful brother? Wow... he must be crazy scary...’

“What about him?” MC pointed at the seventh and final portrait.

It may have just been MC’s imagination, but they swore they saw Lucifer’s expression sour slightly.

“That’s Belphegor, the youngest and the Avatar of Sloth.” Lucifer explained. “He is currently in the human world as an exchange student.”

“Oh,” MC studied the portraits a bit more. “Cool! I hope he’s having a good time up there.”

“As do I.” Lucifer replied. “Now we should move on to the Underground-”

“LUCIFER!” Asmodeus cried. “MAMMON’S BEING STUPID AGAIN!”

Lucifer sighed and dragged a gloved hand down his face. “We’ll continue this tour later, MC. Feel free to explore some more, try not to break anything.”

“Because the things might be cursed?”

“That and the things are old and expensive.”

MC spends the rest of the day chilling in the house with Asmo, who peppers MC with ALL the questions.

They does their best to answer... but it’s clear Asmo was hoping for something a little more interesting.

“So, do you run the human world?”

“No. No I do not.”

Finally, Mammon escapes whatever punishment Lucifer’s got him caught up in and tried to get MC involved in something that’ll probably make them lose their money.

Mini HC! A demon’s wings, tail, or horns might pop out randomly if they aren’t paying attention! The demon doesn’t even need to be in their true demonic form for this to happen. It happens more often with younger demons like MC!

Mammon stops his little scheme when he notices that MC’s wings have popped out and left a few stray feathers lying about... he can hear the CHA CHING sound already.

Our favourite dummy tried to Mission Impossible his way into MC’s room but MC caught him trying to make off with some loose feathers after they came back with a dustpan to clean them up.

Eventually, it was dinner time, and Levi was still camped out in his room. Mammon got sent to get him out, and he decided to drag MC along with him.

“I don’t think we should bother him-”

“Sh! We gotta get him out of his stupid room or he’s gonna stay in there until the exchange year’s over.” Mammon snapped, stopping in front of Leviathan’s door.

“I still don’t think we should-”

Mammon rudely interrupted poor, aghast MC by slamming his fists against the door. “LEVI! GET UP! DINNER’S READY!”

The only response was someone increasing the volume on whatever show was playing behind the door. Wow, petty. MC suppressed a snort until they realized exactly what they were hearing.

Was that...

“Is that the Sailor Moon theme?” MC turned to Mammon and asked. The moment the question left their lips the pair heard someone practically bolt to the door. It swung open and hit Mammon right in the face.

“MOTHER FUCKER-”

“You!”

Ah, so this was the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. MC didn’t know that track pants and headphones were a part of the uniform.

“You like anime?!” Levi asked, MC slowly nodded.

“Y-yeah..?”

Quick as lightning, MC was pulled into the room, and Levi slammed the door shut, tragically, the door hit Mammon again.

“LEVI YOU ASS-”

Leviathan didn’t seem too interested in Mammon’s chorus of curse words and angry knocks, he was grabbing some figurines off shelves and showing some to MC.

“Do you know who this is?!”

“That’s White Blood Cell from Cells at Work. What about Mamm-”

“How about this!”

“Violet Evergarden from the show of the same name, now Levia-”

“Whose this?!”

“LEVIATHAN!” MC stomped their foot and pointed at the door. “Mammon said we need to go eat dinner.”

“Don’t interrupt me, human!” Levi hissed, MC rolled their eyes and snorted.

“Nice to meet you, by the way.” MC crossed their arms and let their wings appear and puff up behind them.

“...w-whu-WHAT?!”

“We have to go to-” MC was cut off yet again by Levi passing out. Wow... what a day...

Mammon was still pounding on the door, MC rolled their eyes and opened it.

“He passed out, can you carry him?”

Mammon was decidedly not careful with his dear little brother when he dragged him out of his room and into the dining room. When Levi finally woke up, he got an earful from Lucifer, and tried to kill Mammon.

Apparently money was owed that Mammon wasn’t about to pay.

So yeah, MC and Levi’s alliance did not stem from desperation, it stems from otaku-camaraderie.

MC and Levi planned their credit-card hostage situation over a fun evening of watching anime.

Mammon never knew what hit him...

“Okay Mammon, pay up or your credit card gets cut up.” MC playfully opened and closed the scissors before poising them to cut up the helpless credit card. Mammon let out a shriek and shook his head.

“NONONONONO- don’t do that!” Mammon put his hands up and let out a nervous laugh. “MC... wh-what’s with all the animosity..? We’re buddies, right?”

MC snorted and rolled their eyes. “Buddies don’t try and make money off each other’s feathers.”

“You heard them, Mammon.” Levi snickered. “Pay me back the money you owe me!”

“I don’t have the money right now!”

MC shook their head. “Pity... oh well, bye bye Goldie-”

“The money’s in my sock drawer- just please put the scissors down!”

They slowly lowered the scissors. “What do you think, Levi?”

“Hmmm... you have two minutes.” Levi said, Mammon took off in a sprint out of the kitchen.

“Nice job Agent L!” MC chirped, holding their hand out for a high five, Levi looked positively elated and gleefully hit his hand against MC’s.

“We did it! I’m finally going to have enough money to go to the live show! Couldn’t have done it without your help, Agent Near.”

“Wait- why am I Near?” MC asked. “You get to be L and I have to be Near?”

Levi crossed his arms and huffed. “Would you rather be Mellow?”

“No! I want to be Light! We agreed that I’d be Light!” MC hissed. Levi, literally hissed back.

Rude.

Anyway, Levi got paid, and everyone had a very entertaining breakfast. Well, Mammon didn’t have a very good time, but boo hoo he should have paid Levi back sooner.

I think MC felt legitimately bad for Mammon, all the insults and jabs being aimed at him made MC feel a little guilty...

MC took care to be extra sweet that day, and it made Mammon feel a bit better. You know what made both of them feel amazing?

Screwing with the dipshits that were talking crap about the two of them.

MC didn’t need super-hearing to notice that some of the demons at RAD found it to be peak comedy that Mammon got slapped with babysitting duty.

“...do you want to mess with them?”

“What?”

“Too late, I’m doing it with or without you.”

Mammon was totally in, obviously. A little magic to move some of the lesser demons’ things around and voila! They were all at each other’s throats and Mammon and MC got to enjoy a fun lunchtime show!

The Purgatory Hall crew got to meet MC too, of course!

“And this,” Lucifer gestured to MC. “Is the other human exchange student.”

MC popped up from behind one of the rows of desks and gave the three newcomers a toothy grin. “Nice to meet you!”

Simeon’s calm and serene expression dropped almost immediately as he quickly looked from Lucifer to MC. The latter just gave him an innocent smile and tilted their head.

“Is something the matter?” MC asked, through the corner of their eye they saw Lucifer smirk slightly.

“N...” Simeon snapped back to reality. “No, nothing’s the matter, it’s nice to meet you, MC.”

“You awful demons!” A much younger voice yapped. “You brought a human child down here?! Shame on you!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I’m overwhelmed with guilt, put me out of my misery.”

“Oh!” MC gasped. “You’re the chihuahua!”

“Wh-what?!”

“What?” MC shook their head and shrugged. “What’s the matter with me being a kid? You look like you’re ten.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m well over-”

“Am I just going to go ignored?” The third and final stranger asked, a cheeky/very suspicious looking grin on his face.

“Right, you.” Lucifer sighed. “This is Solomon, another human exchange student.”

“It’s nice to finally meet the other... human exchange student.” Solomon offered a nod.

“Likewise.” MC pretended not to notice the pause before he said human.

The first bell that meant “haul your ass to next period because if the cleaning staff finds you skipping class you will be maimed” sounded. MC slung their bag over their shoulder and brushed past their fellow students.

“Have a nice rest of your day, everyone!” MC chirped as they and Lucifer headed off to their next class.

“What do you stand to gain by pretending you aren’t my child?” Lucifer asked.

MC snickered. “It’s funny! Didn’t you see their faces?”

Lucifer half smiled and shook his head. “Perhaps.”

—————

“That kid is Lucifer’s.” Solomon said the moment Lucifer and MC were out of earshot.

“Oh thank heavens someone else saw too... I thought I was going crazy...” Simeon sighed in relief.

“Hey! We’ll be late to class if you guys don’t hurry!” Luke called from down the hall.

Solomon chuckled under his breath. “This whole year just got way more interesting...”

A lot of MC’s time got devoted to getting to know their newly found family.

Satan was proving to be very... polite? Almost weirdly so? He’d address MC like he would address a formal acquaintance, not like one would address a family member... or even a roommate.

MC tried the delicate dance of trying to respect his boundaries and trying to get him to like them...

Once the glasses incident happened everything kinda caved. MC had been quite rudely shunned by Satan and they were quite done trying to be his friend! Hmph!

...hmph :(

At least Beel was nice... despite MC being a little intimidated by his size and resting bitch face, MC soon found out that Beel was a massive cinnamon roll.

In return for all the snacks Beel shared with MC, they introduced him to at least five human world cooking shows.

“MC, why is the music so dramatic? They’re just revealing the cooking supplies.”

“It’s a reality TV thing... everything is 10 times more dramatic than it needs to be. The music’s doing its job though, I’m very impressed by that pie dish.”

Overall, MC’s first week at RAD was pretty decent! Until... well... until Friday.

MC could only hide their demonic side for so long...

“That’s them?”

MC slowed their steps and turned to look for the source of the voice.

“Yep.” A second voice confirmed. “Human kid, like I said.”

Ugh... of all the times to have needed to stay late after school... the hallway MC was in was completely empty and they had no clue where anyone they actually knew was-

“Boo.”

MC whirled around to see the two gossiping demons standing right behind them. They instinctively took a few steps back before the taller of the two demons grabbed them by the wrist and yanked them forward.

“Geez, are all humans this tiny?” The taller one asked as he slowly lifted MC off the ground. MC fixed him with the nastiest glare possible, he tried to scowl back, but ended up looking away and laughing to the shorter demon. “Look at them, barely enough for a snack, no wonder Beel hasn’t eaten them yet.”

Turning to the shorter demon, MC gave them a similar glare. “Put me down.”

“Tsk, quiet.” The taller demon snapped, he turned back to the shorter demon. “So if we just nab them now, how much do you think someone’ll take for their soul?”

“I-uh...” the shorter demon couldn’t pry their gaze away from MC’s as they tried to sputter a response. “I don’t think we should...”

“Why not? The exchange program’s still in its trial phase anyway, we kill this human and they’ll just bring in another one.”

The way he was speaking about them made MC’s skin crawl. How dare he? How dare he talk about them like they were just common trash? Who did this... person think he was?

An old familiar feeling bubbled beneath the surface. It had always been there, the intense, sometimes overwhelming desire to let the whole world know that they were better. The feeling coiled its way up MC’s spine and wormed its way into their head where it settled.

“You can’t be spoken to like that.”

Every single time this feeling had flared up, MC had done their best to suppress it. They didn’t know what would happen if they gave in, and frankly, they didn’t want to know.

“Let them know you’re not to be trifled with.”

The burning desire to crush the two demons like ants was almost impossible to ignore. MC felt their hands twitch and sparks snap between their fingertips.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” MC growled. “Put. Me. Down.”

“Human,” the taller demon turned back and cooed, his mocking tone made MC want to rip his throat out. “I said be quiet.”

His grip on MC’s wrist tightened until a sickening crack echoed through the empty hallway.

Bile immediately rose in MC’s throat as they let out an earsplitting scream. Their wrist seared in pain and their heart began to race hammer against their ribcage.

The desire to give in only grew and became harder to control, MC could feel themselves slipping. The feeling only had one simple question to ask, one that MC knew the answer to.

“Are you going to let them get away with that?”

Their face morphed into a cheek splitting grin despite the pain, their head tilted to the left as they stared down the two demons.

“No.”

Horns twisted and burst out of their skull as they dug their rapidly sharpening nails into the demon’s arm. Their teeth grew and sharpened while formerly hidden fangs burst through their upper gums. The agonizing pain of their bones growing, snapping, and shifting in and out of place as their demonic form took hold for the first time numbed as MC revelled in their new power.

Through the reflection in the taller demon’s horrified stare, MC could see their pupils stretch into almost catlike slits. He dropped them onto the floor while he and the shorter demon backed up. MC’s impossibly wide smile only grew as they watched the realization dawn upon the lesser demon as he stitched together what he had just done. The human he had decided to bother wasn’t quite so human after all.

“Oh?” MC cooed as their wings split through their back and unfurled behind them. “Where do you think you two are going? We haven’t even gotten started yet.”

—————

Lucifer was jolted from his conversation by a sharp blast of blue light and the sound of screams from a nearby hallway. He instinctively rolled his eyes.

“Lord Diavolo, pardon me but I need to go deal with a disturbance in the halls.” Lucifer said, Diavolo sighed mournfully on the other end of the call.

“Alright, if you must, but make sure to come over later! There are events that need to be scheduled.”

Lucifer knew full well that Diavolo was making half of the school events up as an excuse for basic social interaction. Oh well, it wasn’t the time to think on his prince’s social woes, he had a problem to solve.

How many times did he have to tell some of those idiotic students to take their petty squabbles outside?

Lucifer made his way over to where the fight was happening, he wasn’t walking with particular urgency, a fight on school property wasn’t too unusual, until a massive shockwave spilled through the hallways and slammed into him.

The Avatar of Pride felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up, that was his magical signature... wasn’t it? No, it was just different enough...

“Dammit.” Lucifer doubled his pace, when he reached the end of the hallway, the sight was just what he feared.

MC stood straight in the middle of the hallway with their back to him, two other demons were lying in crumpled heaps on the ground, one was next to an incredibly dented row of lockers while the other was lying next to an almost completely broken drinking fountain.

Lucifer’s own true form was out in a flash as MC turned to look at him. their eyes glowing a shining blue. Their lips curled into a snarl as they let out an otherworldly growl.

“Go away.”

“MC, calm yourself down.” Lucifer said slowly as he approached them. “Return to your normal form.”

The half demon bowed their head slightly and took a few steps back as he stepped closer. Lucifer almost patted himself on the back for such a show of authority, until MC paused and looked up defiantly. The glow in their eyes doubled as any sense of fear left them completely.

“I said, GO AWAY!”

They lunged at him, which he easily sidestepped, only for MC to quickly turn and latch their claws into his arm.

The child packed a surprising amount of force into their strikes, but he was able to block and redirect almost every single one. If this were any normal fight, Lucifer would have just swatted them away and have been done with it, but this wasn’t any ordinary opponent.

MC was his child, the exchange student, and going through their first transformation. They weren’t exactly rational or directly responsible for any of their actions at that moment.

During a first transformation the demon is almost completely relying on base instincts to function, they’ll go completely ballistic for a while, trying to tear through anything in their way until they run out of energy and pass out. Which is why during a demon’s first transformation usually happened much earlier in their lives under the watchful eyes of parents or guardians.

It was clear to anyone with even casual knowledge of demons that MC had fully given themselves over to their pride and wouldn’t stop trying to prove their superiority until they passed out.

Even though Lucifer was blocking and avoiding most of the blows, MC had managed to get in a few good scratches.

They snapped at Lucifer’s right hand, narrowly missing it and aimed their elbow at his jaw. Almost casually batting the hit away, he hissed in frustration.

“Damn it... MC, control yourself!”

MC snarled and sloppily lunged forward, only for Lucifer to use his wings to bat them to the side. They slid across the floor, their glasses falling off and skidding away from them. MC lay still for a few moments, their chest rising and falling rapidly.

Lucifer stood in place, waiting for any sudden movement. For a few moments, the hallway was quiet, save for the massive gulps of air MC was taking and the occasional groan of pain from one of the demons on the floor. MC slowly sat up and blinked a few times, then looked from side to side.

Something important dawned on Lucifer, he didn’t know just how blind MC was without their glasses.

MC’s rapid breathing began to slow as they continued to squint and search the area around them for their glasses. Lucifer almost audibly sighed in relief as the blue glow in his child’s eyes began to dull.

“MC.” Lucifer allowed his demon form to disappear as he slowly moved towards them, making sure MC could hear him approaching.

The half demon stopped scanning the area for their glasses and looked up at him, they awkwardly covered a yawn with their hand as their wings sleepily fluttered behind them. It would have been much cuter if MC wasn’t spattered with blood.

Lucifer slowly offered his hand, which MC eyed suspiciously. “Come on, let’s go.”

MC blinked a few times, then yawned again and awkwardly accepted his hand. “Mmph... m’tired...”

“That’s good,” Lucifer said quietly. “Everything’s okay.”

MC half nodded and awkwardly stumbled as they tried to find their footing. Lucifer tried to help steady them, but it proved ineffective as MC collapsed into his arms. Sighing, he picked them up and began to walk back to the House of Lamentation.

Just before leaving the school, Lucifer passed by Simeon and Solomon, who looked from MC, who had curled their wings around themselves and was sleeping soundly, to Lucifer, who had a few scratch marks on his face and whose hair was a complete mess.

“Ah, you two, one of you do me a favour.” Lucifer said as he brushed past them. “One of you go to the biology hallway and pick up MC’s glasses.”

Simeon and Solomon nodded and mumbled out an affirmation as Lucifer left the school with MC. Hmph, it seemed MC was right, their confused/shocked faces were quite funny.

MC woke up the next morning with the worst muscle pain they had ever and hopefully would ever feel. On the bright side, their wrist wasn’t broken anymore :D

They had literally built their true form. Their skeleton just stretched and rearranged itself, horns grew out from their cranium, their wings broke through their back and a new set of fangs decided to break through their gums... and then all of that new stuff was gone as MC lay in bed in their normal form like a deflated beach ball.

Not wanting to seem like a wimp, MC dragged themselves to breakfast, and everyone was all: “MC, go back to bed, you can’t do anything when you’re like this.”

“Quiet, I’m fine.”

“MC, if you’re fine, then give Beel a high five, make sure it makes the slap sound.”

“Alright then, Beel, come here.”

Beel didn’t exactly think to take MC’s shorter stature into account when holding up his hand for a high five. He’s tall, okay?

MC then proceeded to grit their teeth and try not to scream as they lifted their arm to weakly hit their hand against Beel’s.

“It made the noise..!”

“No it didn’t, I didn’t hear it.”

“Fatherrrr!”

“Couldn’t hear it, go back upstairs.”

When MC trudged upstairs, Asmo practically squealed and pointed out that MC had called Lucifer father for the first time. It’s a shame no one took a picture of happy/surprised Lucifer.

Side note: after the whole event calmed down, Lucifer was crazy proud that his kid kicked the asses of two grown demons.

Funnily enough, this incident is what kickstarted MC and Luke’s friendship! Luke heard MC got into a fight and brought over get-well cookies! Sure... Beel, Mammon and Levi stole most of the cookies but they were still good!

At school on Monday... hooooooo boy... the two demons that tried to kill MC had lived to tell the tale thanks to MC getting distracted by Lucifer, and now the entire student body knew NOT to fuck with MC.

A few weeks into the exchange year, things had settled into a somewhat normal routine... until one really shitty night in particular.

MC was curled up in bed, their new comforter and sheets were a pain to put in, but they suited MC’s taste much better than the pink that had been there previously. Sighing in contentment, MC felt themselves drifting off to sleep-

Mother fucker who was texting at the ungodly hour of 10:30 pm on a Sunday? ‘Twas the lord’s day and the lord of the house stated that everyone needed to get their asses to bed at a reasonable hour.

MC picked up their phone and put on their glasses. After being blinded by the light of the phone for a brief moment, MC read the text.

Not-Rich Uncle Pennybags 💰🕶: Oi! MC! U want a snack?

Not-Rich Uncle Pennybags💰🕶: I’m in the kitchen! Get down here!

After debating whether or not to throw Mammon to the wolves and rat him out, MC decided that they did in fact want a snack and hopped out of bed to go to the kitchen.

“Hey kiddo!” Mammon said through a mouthful of something in a container, a loose note hung limply from a piece of tape that was stuck on the Tupperware. “Next time, hurry it up, got it? Ya can’t keep me waitin’ like this!”

“Mm...” MC grumbled, rubbing their eyes and looking around the kitchen. “What are you eating?”

“Custard!” Mammon smiled brightly. “Ya gotta try this!”

Oooo, custard! MC grabbed a spoon and practically skipped over to try some. Right before they were about to try a bit of the heavenly deliciousness, MC paused and finally caught a glimpse of what the note said.

‘Property of Beelzebub, you eat it, you die.’

Uh oh-

———————

Okay, the next few bits of this WILL come out in order, I promise! Kinda... not really... eh... but it matters not! I hope you all enjoyed this! I didn’t leave you with a cliffhanger this time considering Lessons 5-6 are already out ^_^

So uh- wanna fight the demons that tried to hurt MC? I’m bringing the pitchforks, who’s driving?

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backtothestart02 · 2 years ago

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Until There Was You - 3/7 | westallen fanfiction

Westallen secret santa gift

For: @dickandcr

From: @backtothestart02

Rating: T - for some language and suggestive material

Christmas note: I hope you enjoy! Have an amazing holiday season!

Chapter 3 -

Tiffany’s had only a handful of customers when Barry and Jesse walked in later that afternoon. Jesse had never been there before, despite her insistence on knowing so much about it. She hadn’t been able to stop talking about it the whole way over – that, and the fact that her cousin who was more like a brother to her was proposing to the sweetest girl she’d ever met.

“That’s the one,” she said, within 10 minutes of being showed a variety of rings by an employee.

Barry cracked a grin and nodded.

“She’s the boss. Wrap it up.”

Jesse skipped to the register, and Barry followed, nearly bumping into a blonde stranger who presumably was also there to buy an expensive, sparkly gift.

They paid for the ring and made their way back downstairs to the exit. The elevator took longer than usual to arrive, so much so that the man he’d nearly bumped into before came to wait beside them for the elevator.

“Might as well take the stairs,” the blonde mumbled.

Barry only nodded in response. Jesse said nothing. Then just as the newcomer was about to head for the stairs, the doors opened, and they all hurried inside.

He seemed antsy, but again Barry and Jesse made no comment. They were just counting down the seconds in their head to when the doors would open once again, and they could be free to talk more about the ring and the proposal.

The elevator was equally slow reaching the lobby as it had been opening on Tiffany’s floor, but at last it reached it’s destination, and Barry and the stranger moved so quickly when the doors opened, that they crashed into each other and their bags went flying across the floor.

“Oh, God, I’m so sor-”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said, snatching the blue bag closest to him and making his way out of the lobby.

“Well, that was rude.” Jesse frowned, picking up the bag and then helping her cousin to his feet.

“I’m sure he had someplace important to be. Maybe he’s proposing too.”

Jesse rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure his speech won’t be nearly as magnificent as yours.”

Barry paled.

Oh, shit. A speech.

…

Iris spent the night at Eddie’s again. It had become a regular thing for the last three days, and she wondered if it would go on for longer. She wasn’t minding it. It was like he’d become an entirely different person. So, when she rolled over the next morning and found his bed empty, the frown that crossed her lips couldn’t be helped.

She crawled out of bed and grabbed one of his oversized t-shirts before heading into the kitchen.

“Eddie?”

No answer.

Maybe he went out to get breakfast, she thought to herself, letting her eyes wander until they settled on a couple of shopping bags on the couch that hadn’t been there the night before. Or at least, she hadn’t noticed them then.

One of them was a pretty blue and white, and was that…?

Oh, my God.

She immediately ran to her little black purse and fished out her phone, scrolling through her contacts before she landed on the most important one, almost screaming when the familiar voice picked up.

“Linda!”

“Whoa. Volume.”

“You’ve been up for an hour, shut up.”

“And this is the first thing I’m hearing, be gentle.”

Iris huffed.

“Tell me why you called,” Linda said patiently.

“Eddie got me something,” she said nervously, switching her weight between her feet as she hobbled over to the couch where the gift bag sat.

“Okay…”

“From Tiffany’s.”

Silence.

“Lin? You still there?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m here. Are you sure? The Tiffany’s?”

“Positive. I’m staring at the bag right now.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Should I open it?”

“No!”

Iris frowned.

“That was decisive.”

“What if it’s an engagement ring? You’ll steal his thunder.”

Iris gasped.

“You really think he’s planning to propose? Isn’t that…kind of soon?”

Linda rolled her eyes on the other end.

“I don’t know, Iris…you’ve only been together for half a decade.”

Iris sighed testily.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I meant so soon after we reconciled.”

“For the hundredth time.”

“My point is-”

“I know your point, bestie. But think about it. He quits his job, he makes time for you, you guys have several days of absolute bliss. You don’t think that has the possibility of leading up to something?”

“Oh, my God.”

Iris fell back into the couch.

“He’s going to propose.”

“Maybe.”

Iris frowned.

“What do you mean ‘maybe’? You just said-”

“I said it’s a possibility, and that’s why you shouldn’t open it. They do sell other sparkly things at Tiffany’s though, so don’t look too disappointed if he gets you some earrings or a bracelet maybe.”

“I would never.”

The sound of a lock turning in the door made Iris scramble off the couch and flee into the bedroom.

“He’s back. I’ll see you later. Bye.”

Click.

It took seconds before Eddie was inside and calling out to his presumably still asleep girlfriend.

“I have breakfast!”

Iris popped her head out of the open doorway leading into the bedroom.

“Breakfast, you said?”

Eddie chuckled.

“Maybe first you want to open that bag from Tiffany’s though. Was that Linda on the phone just now?”

Iris sheepishly looked down at her bare toes on the carpet, and Eddie smiled wide.

“Come on, I want to see what you think.”

She flicked her eyes back up to his and walked over with him to the couch.

“Okaaay. But only because you want me to!”

He smirked and gave her the go ahead to open it, pulling a chair over so he could watch her face when she saw the stunning gift he’d handpicked for her himself.

Barely able to breathe, Iris dipped her hand into the bag and pulled out the small box. Opening it slowly, her jaw dropped, and despite everything inside her telling her to say yes, instead, she said…

“I don’t know what to say.”

Eddie frowned and sat beside her.

His mouth fell open as well.

“Oh. Me either.”

On the soft velvet were not the sparkling diamond earrings he’d purchased but a massive engagement ring.

“Wait. You either?” she asked, looking at him confused.

And then it all came back to him in devastating flashes of memory.

The incident at Tiffany’s. The crash and scramble.

That man had his diamond earrings. And he had his diamond ring.

…

Barry decided the words would come to him after she opened the box. He’d dated Patty for five years and known her for even longer, but for some reason he couldn’t think of a single sentimental thing to put into his proposal. So, he thought he’d let the ring do the talking for him. Or maybe something would in fact come to him after she said yes. That would be fitting. And convenient.

“Go ahead. Open it up.”

He had had the decency to wrap the thing at the very least, so she didn’t jump to conclusions just by seeing the bag from Tiffany’s.

Sending him smirk after sexy smirk with a twinkle in her eyes, she unwrapped the snowflake wrapping paper and then the box itself.

A cooing smile flashed across her face, and her hand fell over her heart.

A good sign, he thought.

“Barry, you shouldn’t have.”

He looked at her strangely.

“I shouldn’t?”

“But I love them. Thank you.”

His brows furrowed.

“Them?”

She laughed, probably thinking he was drawing it out of her by acting confused. He only wished that was the case.

“Yeah.” She giggled, turning the box around so he could see. “They’re beautiful.”

He wasn’t imagining things. There were two large diamond earrings sparkling on the deep blue velvet staring back at him.

Not an engagement ring.

“Uh…”

Patty’s phone buzzed, preventing her from questioning the look on his face.

“Ugh, it’s work. They need me to come to a crime scene. I better get dressed and go.” She leaned forward and kissed the frown that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face. “We’ll take more about this later.”

About 10 minutes later, Barry was still in the same position and Patty was heading out the door.

“Love you!” she called.

“Uh-huh,” he said, and the door slammed.

Breaking himself out of the trance, he immediately called Jesse.

“Hey, how’d it go? Did you propose or do you need a peptalk?”

“Neither.”

Jesse frowned on the other end.

“Huh?”

“That guy we bumped into in the elevator, you remember?”

“Of course. He was rude as hell. He-”

“I think he accidentally took Patty’s ring.”

“What?”

“Patty just opened her box, and it wasn’t an engagement ring.”

“What was it?” she sputtered.

“Earrings. Diamond ones, but still.”

“Barry! You have to get it back! That cost you a fortune, and you have to propose!!”

“I know, I know, but you don’t think that maybe this means…”

“Barry.”

“Yeah?” He winced at her menacing tone.

“Get. The. Ring. Back.”

#westallen #westallen secret santa #westallen secret santa 2022 #backtothestart02 fanfiction #westallen fanfiction

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bentforkent · 3 years ago

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CAMP FIREFLY - chapter one

word count: 4,210

content warnings: brief joking mention of child death

read on ao3 / read on wattpad (coming soon too lazy to upload there rn lol) / previous part / next part

Emily wakes up on the first day of camp feeling like someone is sitting on her chest. It’s the same atmosphere as usual; her head rises from the same old flat pillow to the same old bunk above her. It’s the same atmosphere, sure, but today feels fundamentally different, for it’s the first time she’ll be interacting with real campers. Children. A gaggle of young folk coming to her every day for instruction or nurturing or a hand with the hot-glue stick. She’s been trained for this, of course, but what if she messes up a craft? What if she accidentally says “fuck”?

Wide awake, JJ and Penelope are up and bouncing around the cabin cheerily by the time Emily wiggles her toes and comes to from Dreamland. Emily had only awoken in the first place because the early-rising pair tuned the radio to something upbeat and relatively staticless, cranking up the volume. Emily would’ve considered that very rude had she not already slept in for an extra hour, and had she not been greeted with incredible excitement once her eyes popped open.

“She’s awake!” JJ cheered, Penelope replying with a soft good morning!. Emily took her time pulling her body from the mattress, and now sits still-groggy on the floor by her bunk, trying to do her makeup in a tiny, fogged compact mirror. Penelope is standing behind JJ, braiding bright purple ribbons into her hair.

It’s so early it’s still dark outside, so the three of them are illuminated by a sorta-eerie yellow light, an old light bulb wired smack in the center of the cabin. Penelope’s bags are packed by the door, and when Emily notices them, she feels a pang of sadness upon remembering that Penelope will be moving out to her own cabin with her own group of campers today. Emily will get to stay with JJ, which she thinks is quite nice, because the only other option was a single room all the way over by Rossi’s office all by herself. And she’s finding that she quite likes spending time with JJ and Penelope, so newfound solitude would be a drag.

The bunch have spent their past week in training--learning the lay of the land through semi-degraded VHS tapes of Rossi when he was young and sprightly still, walking through the camp and delivering very specific instructions on how to deal with very specific situations. Penelope was in charge of teaching the fun stuff---chants and traditions and how to make friendship bracelets.

On a particularly sweaty, boring training day, Emily pulled Aaron aside--away from the group who was watching an old-Rossi-video about the lake just behind the camp--and asked him if everything was always like this. Emily wasn’t entirely sure what the “this” was, whether she meant peppy or hot or musty or involved, but Aaron had nodded his head sympathetically and walked Emily back to her seat with a whispered, “You’ll get used to it.” Emily was only a tiny bit aware of Penelope’s eyes fixated on her as she slumped back down in the sticky plastic seat and focused back on Rossi-with-hair explaining the stupid history of the stupid lake.

And used to it she got. Spencer, too.

Turns out he shared the same sentiment as Emily--the, “I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, but I don’t hate it,” sentiment, as they’d so concisely dubbed it, when they sat together in the back of the big room training was taking place in, gossiping and giggling as Rossi, real Rossi --- old Rossi --- stood in front of the small group and explained yet another probably-self-explanatory camp rule.

For as much training as it feels like they participate in --- or sit through, rather --- Spencer still wakes up on the first day of Real Camp so stressed out he checks for gray hairs in the mirror.

It turns out that you can sit through a series of convoluted VHS tapes and Penelope-lessons and still not know a thing about what you’re supposed to be doing. It also turns out that while Camp Firefly is clearly very loved, it’s not the most...efficient summer camp of the area. Or the most safe. Or staffed. Or large. In fact, Spencer marvels at the fact people even send their kids here to stay. It’s not that the camp is poorly run or anything (to imply that would be to question the abilities of him and his friends, Spencer acknowledges), but there’s got to be better options, is the point.

Besides the small handful of counselors Spencer had become close with, the staff only consists of a trio of kitchen staff, one (one!) lifeguard, and a male nurse that Spencer had spoken to once and left the conversation supremely uneasy at the poor guy giving any medical advice. Spencer made a mental note to try his hardest to not have any health issues during his time here.

The kitchen staff are older---like, appear-in-the-old-training-videos older, but they entertain the rest of the newer, younger staff with stories of their youth. The nature of Camp Firefly means that they have stories about Spencer’s friends, too, as the majority of them have been going to the camp every summer since they were children, aging up into their jobs as counselors.

Spencer hears about the time an elementary-aged Derek begged to help serve food to the other campers just because, and about the time Penelope and JJ (when the story is told, they call her Jennifer) passed a petition calling for Rossi’s retirement around the whole camp, just because he cancelled the Talent Show. (The petition turned up only 4 signatures, and the Talent Show is no longer a Camp Firefly tradition).

It’s awe-inducing to Spencer that these people around him have lived whole lives in these dingy cabins. They’ve known each other for ages, built relationships and traditions and memories and stories, all because their parents chose the cheapest sleepaway camp option.

Spencer wonders how different his life would have turned out if he’d been indoctrinated into Summer Camp Culture in his youth, whether he’d even be at Camp Firefly now. Probably not. Definitely not.

Everyone is hanging out around Rossi’s office when the first bus arrives, lounging against the walls and picking at their cuticles. The sun is meandering its way over the horizon finally, but it still feels impossibly early. The group wears bright orange Camp Firefly t-shirts that are meant to be matching, but budget things mean that some of the shirts are more worn---Aaron’s has the sleeves cut off, and the logo is largely rubbed off of JJ’s---and some are brand new.

The crackling of the bus’ tires signals it’s presence before the vehicle peeks over the hill, and when it’s finally in everyone’s line of vision, it’s like a switch flips. They’re hooting and hollering, jumping and dancing in the name of welcoming this bus. Spencer has a wild grin on his face, and when he meets Emily’s eyes, they share a look of fondness and excitement.

After the first bus arrives, the day goes by as quickly as a montage--a cluster of quickly moving vignettes.

Spencer watches as a young girl stares up at Derek, eyes wide and full of wonder. He’s lifting her--and three other girls’--duffle bags with ease, muscles flexing and shiny with sweat. Same, Spencer thinks, realizing his expression is most likely the same as the girl’s. Derek flashes him a quick, hot smile, and Spencer grins in return.

Emily executes her first craft--a cluster of glitter and string and construction paper--flawlessly. Each group introduces themselves to her with a chorus of “hi Emily,” and it warms her heart more than she expected. One girl missing her front tooth hangs back as her group is leaving--Penelope’s group is leaving--just to tell Emily that she likes her “funny makeup.” It’s just eyeliner, really, it’s not that funny, but the sentiment makes Emily smile nonetheless.

Aaron has some trouble with children in his group picking beds, a small verbal scuffle breaking out between two campers vying for the last top bunk. Aaron, ever a mediator, solves it with a stern glance at the pair and a reminder that the other option out of the two is a bed near a window, another highly-sought-after spot. They fight for the window bed next, and Aaron feels a gray hair sprout on the spot.

Once all of Penelope’s campers have unpacked, she takes them on a top-secret trip down to the lake. It’s definitely not top-secret, it’s a staple of every group’s first-day tour, but Penelope has a knack for making her campers feel special, so they creep around the sandy shore on their tiptoes, whispering, while Andrea the Lifeguard looks on.

Despite the speed and relative easiness of the day, everyone finds themselves exhausted, greeting each other with pantomimes of falling asleep and loud sighs. It’s not been a bad day at all, but a long one, and in an attempt to remedy the feeling Derek graciously offers to run to the supermarket and pick up some fun snacks---a counselors only affair.

Spencer volunteers to accompany him on account of him wanting to spend obscene amounts of time with Derek, and also on the account of Rossi offering his expensive car for Derek to drive. Oh, to feel buttery leather seats and hear music and smell anything but dry leaves and B.O.

As soon as their campers are pawned off to other people and sufficiently supervised, Rossi tosses his keys to Derek, who catches them with a jingle.

“Be back soon,” Derek promises, and Spencer punctuates with a wave and a smile.

The fluorescent lights buzz in Spencer’s ear, comforting him. Bzz, bzz. Hope you like the air conditioning, they call out to him. He sure does.

Normally the energy of these 24/7 high-budget chain grocery stores freak Spencer out. It’s always too bright, too loud, too full-of-people. But tonight, there’s not a soul around except him and Derek and the high-school-aged cashier, so Spencer’s actually feeling particularly soothed. The sounds of Derek’s feet dragging on the shiny floor and the squeaky wheel are good sounds, he decides. He could still do without the candy-coated pop music wafting through the speakers.

The shopping cart remains empty for about fifteen minutes before either of them address it. Derek and Spencer spend those 15 minutes wandering aisles, relatively silent save for short, casual remarks like, “Oh, maybe we should get barbecue chips,” or, “JJ loves these Fruit by The Foot.”

Derek pauses from where he’s pushing the cart and turns to Spencer. “We should probably start shopping for real now, huh?”

Honestly, half of Spencer thought they had been shopping for real already. But apparently, if you’re not putting things in the cart, it doesn’t count, he learns. (Derek might be a misguided teacher in that lesson, though.)

“I like to take my time here, because it’s about the only time during camp I get to be alone,” Derek explains, tossing a loaf of bread into the cart absentmindedly. Bread is not on the list.

Spencer tugs at his fraying string bracelet. “Oh. Sorry, then,” he says. Three boxes of graham crackers are set delicately next to the bread.

“For what?”

“Well, you’re not really alone right now,” Spencer observes.

Derek shrugs casually. “Sure, I guess. But you don’t really count, Spence,” he says.

He means it kindly, Spencer knows. But it’s an odd thing to hear--what does that mean? Is he implying Spencer is too boring, or too quiet? Before Spencer can spiral too much, Derek notices his uncomfortable silence and continues, “Hey, no, I mean because I like spending time with you. Like, it’s easy. I don’t have to think about it.”

Spencer has a flash of a vision of Derek dipping him right there in aisle 6 and planting a nice firm kiss onto his lips. In that vision, there’s a fog machine whirring and some Chopin playing. Vision-Spencer nips at vision-Derek’s lower lip.

Instead of all that, present-moment-Spencer nudges Derek’s shoulder with his own, murmuring a happy little “likewise,” and clinging onto the sound of Derek’s chuckle.

Derek kept his hand on the center console the whole drive home, and Spencer desperately wanted to reach out and grab it, to open his palm and lay in it, letting him be engulfed like a weighted blanket. But he kept his hands to himself, squarely on his thighs.

It’s dark when they return, and the bright LED headlights of Rossi’s fancy car seem out of place when they pull back into the camp. Everything seems out of place. Spencer can’t put his finger on it --- the buildings haven’t shifted, and the camp is exactly the same as it was before he left, and yet he’s got this strange premonition that something is just...off.

Spencer’s shoe is untied, and he can feel the laces whipping his ankle as he and Derek trek to Rossi’s office to return his keys to him. He’d reach down and tie them if not for the plastic bags of groceries in his hand---god forbid he let food sit on the dirty, unpaved path, no matter how many layers of plastic packaging protect it. Besides, the air feels thicker than usual, and each time the knit of his shoelace brushes his skin, Spencer is reminded just how uncomfortable everything feels and how desperate he is to be inside.

Everyone is packed into Rossi’s office when the pair gets there, and Spencer’s stomach sinks the tiniest bit.

Penelope and Emily are lounging in those sticky plastic chairs, showered and smelling like a cocktail of cheap, fruity shampoo. Behind them are Aaron and JJ --- JJ’s standing to braid French braids into Penelope’s wet hair, and Aaron just appears to be shaking out pent-up energy. How he isn’t tired, Spencer doesn’t know. Confused, and with hesitant movements, Derek pushes away a stack of bright-white papers on Rossi’s desk to make space for the grocery bags. “What’s everyone doing in here?” he asks. “I thought we were doing Shifts tonight.”

Now that campers have arrived at the camp, it’s become a little more complicated to hang out as a group in the evenings, as they’ve all got an obligation to be in their cabins just in case. Liabilities, and all that.

The first year Aaron was old enough to become a counselor---he was the first of the bunch to age up into the job---he devised an elaborate, elaborate system that allowed the group to socialize without any sleeping campers being left alone.

It’s complete with maps and rules and a very strict set of time shifts, so in addition to Spencer and Emily’s official training, they’d been trained on the side by a very drill-sergeant-y JJ in what Aaron all those years ago so aptly dubbed “Shifts.”

Neither Spencer nor Emily have got it down yet.

“Rossi has an announcement,” Aaron says, pulling his ankle up behind him into a simple hamstring stretch.

“Yeah, I heard he’s gonna promote you to Head of Grocery Shopping, Der,” Penelope teases, peering jovially at Derek through the corner of her eye.

“Haha,” Derek deadpans, and tosses her a pack of fruit snacks that he’d picked out specifically for her. They're the good brand, the blue bag, and she accepts graciously with a kiss blown in his direction. Derek catches it, and presses it to his cheek.

Emily has noticed that Rossi always slinks into his office after his guests have arrived. He’s never there waiting, never anticipating. She has no clue where he’s coming from, although she assumes it’s from his cabin. He always makes an entrance, always sits with a weird old-guy sigh, and then launches into whatever reason he’d called the meeting in the first place.

On cue, Rossi swings the door open and lowers himself into his chair slowly. Emily anticipates it and then there it is---Rossi sighs that damn sigh, and leans forward onto his desk. Although no one else moves, the air shifts towards him as well, and it feels like the seven of them are all standing nose-to-nose.

Penelope slips Rossi a fruit snack discreetly, sliding it across the table to rest by his elbow.

“You know I love you all very much,” Rossi starts, and Emily feels like she might puke. That’s the thing about her Rossi prediction --- the important part, the part where he speaks, is the part she’ll never be able to guess.

So, she feels like she might puke. Not because she feels ill, of course, but in her experience all of that cheesy, “I love you” bullshit always prefaces the worst news, and she has absolutely no clue what is about to come out of Rossi’s mouth. Her mind leaps to the worst possible conclusion---”You’re firing all of us,” she blurts out, relieving the tension just a tad as JJ bursts into snickers behind her.

Another sigh. “No, I’m not firing you.”

“A kid died?”

“Jesus, Emily, would you let me finish?” Rossi says.

Then, after a deep breath, “Developers are coming tomorrow to look at the land. I’m planning on selling Camp as soon as this summer is finished.”

Oh, Emily thinks.

It hits them like a punch to the gut.

There’s hardly room to breathe in the cabin, let alone fall to the floor, but somehow JJ makes it work. The sound of her knees hitting the wooden floor reverberates and warps through the space.

Emily and Spencer exchange a watery glance and mirror each other, biting the inside of their cheeks at the same time. They share a small, spiritless smile at the misfortune.

Penelope is gasping short and shallow breaths as she staves off cries, reaching down and behind her for JJ, who has tucked her head into her knees, pulling off an emotional Child’s Pose on the filthy floor.

Penelope crying is awkward because Emily is sitting right there, upset as well but characteristically less overt about it. Their knees are touching --- Emily’s right to Penelope’s left --- and yet, there’s no tissue for Emily to give Penelope, no way to console her without feeling irreparably out of place. Emily sinks lower into her seat, wishing she had the confidence to place her hand on Penelope’s leg as a tender signal that she’s there and she understands.

Derek is shoved into Spencer as Aaron pushes past him and out of Rossi’s office. It’s not a malicious push, and the sad look Derek gives Spencer is one of pity both for Aaron and for himself, too. An anguished cry comes from outside, from Aaron, and everyone’s eyes widen a little at the sound.

It’s impressive to Emily just how immediately everyone started crying. Before Rossi had even finished his sentence, there were tears welling up in Penelope’s big hazel eyes. Emily almost feels jealous at the brazen displays of emotion. She wants to love something so hard that she could cry at the drop of a hat over it. Nothing has ever touched her as Camp Firefly has touched Penelope, touched JJ, touched Aaron, touched Derek.

“I feel like my world is crashing around me,” Derek admits shyly. “As stupid as that sounds.”

Spencer nods. He knows the feeling. They sit on the porch of their cabin in creaky rocking chairs, a cloud of bug spray encompassing them.

“It’s like, I grew up at this camp. This camp saved me as a kid.” Derek shakes his head.

This camp is saving me now, Spencer thinks wryly before tucking that thought away in a deep corner of his brain. “I’m really sorry, Derek,” he says sincerely.

The door to the cabin creaks open, and a teary-eyed child steps out onto the porch. His feet are light, and he closes the door behind him slowly, clearly not trying to wake any of his fellow campers. “Derek?” he asks quietly. “I can’t sleep...and I kinda miss my mom.”

“C’mere, then,” Derek says tenderly, and gestures for the boy to sit in one of the unoccupied rocking chairs. “Spencer and I were just talking about how much we miss our moms, right Spence?”

Spencer agrees with a nod and a kind smile directed at the boy, then he takes a backseat to the conversation unfolding in front of him. He watches as Derek effortlessly consoles the weeping child before him by sharing his own stories of similar plights in homesickness and offering jokingly to sing the cabin to sleep next time.

After a few minutes Spencer’s mind starts to wander, curious on how the rest of his friends are sleeping tonight after the news of Camp Firefly’s imminent closure. He hopes Emily is chatting with JJ just as he’s chatting with Derek, comforting her and providing the very few words of solace that would help in this situation. He thinks of Penelope and Aaron, all alone, and he half-considers walking over to each of their cabins just to check on them. He doesn’t, though, because it’s technically against the rules, and because Derek is standing, wrapping up his conversation and holding his hand out to help Spencer up out of his seat. The camper, who Spencer has learned is named Alex, scampers inside, tears dried.

Derek holds intense locked eye-contact with Spencer for a second. His eyes are soul-searching, making it clear that he has something he would like to say to Spencer. Maybe he wants to thank Spencer for listening to him talk, or accompanying him to the grocery store. Spencer quickly flips through a plethora of ideas of what Derek could say next like he’s flipping through a book, but he comes up short.

Derek’s mouth is open slightly, like he’d taken in a breath to speak and then lost his train of thought. The sight of him makes Spencer sweat a little, and just for a moment he feels like maybe he should break the short distance between them and kiss him.

Then Derek is tearing his eyes away, dropping Spencer’s hand, murmuring a gentle, “Sleep well, Spencer,” and retreating inside and to his bunk.

“Goodnight,” Spencer replies, but Derek’s already tucked himself in and turned his back to where Spencer stands by the open door.

Emily is always the last one to fall asleep. She knows this based solely on a feeling, an energy that settles over the camp when everyone else’s eyelashes are finally closed and their breathing patterns slowed. It takes a little longer on this night, considering the 40 new bodies in the vicinity--Welcome, Campers!--and the obviously upsetting news that’d been delivered to her and her friends, but finally Emily feels it. She’s the only one awake.

As much as Emily doesn’t like to spend time to herself, as she often finds herself in rabbit holes of self-loathing thoughts, this nightly hour-or-so of atmospheric solitude is comforting. Usually.

Tonight, she’s reeling with visions of land developers coming to the camp in fancy suits, and clipboards, and leather loafers that are far unsuited to trek through Camp Firefly’s unpaved land. And it sucks to imagine.

Emily has only spent a week or so here at the camp, so she doesn't feel like this loss hits her particularly hard. The only reason she’s even at this tiny camp in the first place is the fact that it’s on the exact opposite end of the country from where she’d spent her spring.

When summer ends, and this camp is gone, all she’ll need to do to heal is move to a new city, and make new friends. Then she’ll repeat the process once she gets hurt or bored. The collection of people who have known and loved Emily Prentiss is so impossibly large, and as a result, large is the collection of people who have lost her and haven’t thought about her since.

With regret, Emily recognizes that the group she’s met and befriended this past week will eventually forget about her, remembering her only as the charismatic figure who took over the Craft Cabin the year the camp closed.

And yet, she feels differently than usual. She thinks of pretty Penelope, who is so sweet and sheepish and shy around her, but blooms into wide smiles and rosy cheeks around others. Of JJ, who eagerly taught her how to braid and make friendship bracelets on only their second day of meeting. Derek and Aaron, the rare macho men who haven’t made her want to gouge her eyes out but instead make her laugh constantly. She thinks of Spencer, the quiet intellectual who she feels such a warmth toward, considering him her baby sibling or her protegé.

She’s not entirely sure of what this emotion is, what it means or what it will mean in the future. What she does know, though, is that she’ll take up as much space as possible until her quiet disband from the mismatched group of friends. It’s how she always goes.

It’s then that she decides fuck the developers and fuck Rossi’s plans. If she’s going down and away with this camp, she might as well make it count. As she closes her eyes, finally ready to sleep, a plan begins to formulate in her mind.

- - - - - - -

next part

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal mind fanfic #penemily #moreid #idk what to tag this as idk just reblog it if u care about me. :D #camp firefly

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bookofmirth · 4 years ago

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Question - what do you think about Mor’s comments about/to Nesta in ACOSF? Her saying she deserved to be in the court of nightmares and making snide comments about her when she didn’t know nor understand what she was going through. Genuine question because I’ve always been neutral on Mor but these unnecessary comments were the nail in her coffin for me. Really want to go back to ACOMAF times when I loved her😭!

So what she said to Nesta was really cruel, I had to stop and reread because ouch, but overall that’s not in her character. I’m getting the feeling that Mor, like Elain, is being judged for moments of cruelty because usually she is kind. Then on the other hand we have characters who’ve displayed a lifetime of cruelty and everyone is panting over them and struggling so, so hard to explain why that character is actually a Good Guy.

Mor went and got Feyre from Tamlin.

She helped Feyre realize that even friendships weren’t supposed to be manipulative or passive aggressive à la Ianthe.

She and Rhys founded the library where the survivors live.

There is a moment where Cassian thinks that she’s just as beautiful inside as out.

She helps Nesta learn to dance - despite the cruelty, despite the multiple times Nesta is overtly rude, despite what she said to Nesta earlier - and then secretly teaches Cassian too.

She does all of this while hiding a huge, vital part of herself. That’s a burden that could easily break her.

Don’t let the hard days win. She’s optimistic not only with herself, but she gives people second changes (see: Nesta)

I think this was some blatant commentary on sjm’s part, but when Nesta saw Mor in the library, she understood how differently Clotho and the other priestesses treated Mor compared to how Mor had treated her, and it really made Nesta reflect. She had a moment where she understood the impact of her constant attempts to push people away.

They found Clotho at her usual desk. She rose, greeting Mor with an embrace that left Nesta speechless.

“My old friend,” Mor said, her face lit with warmth. The face she showed everyone in this court except Nesta. And those in the Hewn City.

Shame tightened Nesta’s gut. But she said nothing as Clotho’s enchanted pen and paper wrote You look well, Mor.

To me, I see that as Nesta realizing that she had gone too far - which she had, that was the whole point of the intervention - because if even the Morrigan, whom everyone loved, had given up? In my mind, I see that as Nesta realizing that Mor is the kind of person who kept putting our her hand, and Nesta realizing what she had potentially lost in constantly refusing it.

Back to my first point though, we’re all allowed momentarily lapses in kindness because honestly, kindness takes work! Sometimes it’s hard to not react in anger. The fact that Mor has been through so much and still decides to be optimistic and give people the benefit of the doubt speaks volumes to me. And I don’t begrudge her a moment of weakness in resorting to cruelty because she always goes back to who she really is, which is kind and optimistic.

But I can also see how people would not want to forgive Mor for her comments. The most important thing is that Nesta did, and there is potential friendship there. There are way more things that we could refuse to forgive Nesta for, but it’s not a math/kindness contest.

#acosf #morrigan #ask #side note but I remember one time #I got a rude ask and called the person an asshole #and then *i* got shit #for not being my usual nice self #tf???#it's an annoying double standard #anon

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kitkatopinions · 3 years ago

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I just watched the video from twiins iink and other youtubers about toxicity in the fandom and its super cool and better late then never but its a bit late? To confront the fandom i mean. Like i remember when v5 was airing that people where actually pissed that Jaune was touching Weiss... in the healing scene and that Ruby took his hands away so he wouldnt non con touch Weiss, not to you know see what is happening to the wound. Like it was a whole thing, it wasnt one person? And now we are at v9 so i just wanted to ask your opinion if there is some hope for this fandom i guess ✌

Short answer... No, I don't really think there's hope to fix this fandom. It's gotten to the point where the fans aren't even listening to writers like Eddy Rivas and pro-RWBY youtube streamers like Murder of Birds about maybe not wanting the r/rwby subreddit mods to ban all rwby criticism posts from the subreddit.

Long answer, every fandom is toxic to some extent, but the way the RWBY fandom is, is worse than anywhere else I've seen. Every fandom has ships and characters you're expected to like and get hated on if you don't, every fandom has at least one character that people have decided it's illegal to like, every fandom has at least one character that makes mistakes but is good that gets huge and unjustified hate, every fandom has writer-worshippers who get angry at criticism or dislike or people pointing out author bias, every fandom has characters who got assigned sexualities whether or not it's canon, that results in people getting attacked for 'not adhering to it,' every fandom has an evil/bad character that has fans who will get angry at anyone who doesn't feel sympathy for said evil/bad character, and every fandom has tons of people presenting their headcanons as accepted fact. I can't think of a single one outside of the most niche/tame fandoms I've been in that doesn't have these.

But in the RWDEdom, it's considered a rite of passage to get a hate anon, it's treated as 'making it.' Even after blocking likely over a hundred people, I still see the people posting in the RWDE tag that all RWDE posters are horrible bigots. I recently have gotten several messages from someone calling me - a queer woman - a sexist homophobe for criticizing the sexism and homophobia in a man-written show, and what seems like the same person has sent similar anons to tons of other RWDE blogs.

I've openly admitted that there are bad RWBY critics and I've even gotten in arguments with and wound up blocking fellow RWDE posters. I've also disagreed with several RWDE posters who I don't block, because disagreements are just that, disagreements. I also admit that there are tons of regular RWBY fans and posters who are very nice people, who are just trying to enjoy the show, who just like the show. I don't mind, I don't have any problem with that, we just exist on different sides of this fandom and I think that's good. And you know what? Lots of them have points, because there's lots of good in RWBY. But the toxic RWBY fans will never admit that there are lots of good RWDE posters, or that some RWDE posters have a point because there's lots of bad things in RWBY, and that it's okay to disagree on some things. The toxic RWBY fans have in the past harassed and insulted even the easiest on the show, most generous towards the show RWDE blog I've ever seen. And no matter how much RWDE posters try to avoid interacting with the general RWBY fandom and especially the toxic people, people still insist that we're trying to destroy the show and force others to hate RWBY - while they themselves try to bully people into dropping their blogs and demand that they like RWBY.

Honestly, I only have a couple of working theories on why this fandom in particular has gotten so bad. Peer pressure taking over and guiding the generally accepted viewpoints is common in fandom, but I think one reason why RWBY has it worse than usual is because the fandom is smaller than other, bigger works like ATLA or Harry Potter, so while fans are just as devoted, there's less 'subfandoms,' less variety, fan theories get around easier... I don't know, it's just a theory. Another theory is that first off, the starting fandom of RWBY was already loyal to Rooster Teeth and into their content, and the people involved in RWBY have this kind of 'friendly interactive' persona with their fans that make their fans feel a deeper and more personal connection. So they feel personally criticized or feel like a friend is being personally criticized, and get offended. And it doesn't help that people involved in Rooster Teeth and the making of RWBY like writers and voice actors sometimes insult or get angry at critics themselves and make it public that they feel that way, which just encourages the toxic RWBY fans. And sometimes it feels like they put their anger at critics into the show - making Nora (portrayed as in the right) yell at Ren (portrayed as in the wrong) that Yang and Blake definitely make sense as a couple, having Yang and Blake respond to Marrow asking if they ever do missions apart with anger and coldness, having Robyn drag Clover's name through the mud after people were angry at them over queer baiting Fair Game, and turning Ironwood into a comic book level pure evil villain after some people weren't siding with Team RWBY in volume 7 - which again, just fuels the toxic RWBY fans.

Toxic RWBY fans will often say that they're fine with criticism, just not hate and bashing. Ignoring the fact that bashing is also not illegal and is fine so long as proper tags are used, and how they should just block the tags if they don't want to see it since it's their responsibility to cultivate their internet experience... The goalposts for what they consider 'allowed and good' criticism is varied, always moving, and incredibly hard to follow.

1. Criticism is fine, so long as every post with criticism also recognizes the good things about the show. 2. Criticism is fine, so long as it's completely unbiased. 3. Criticism is fine, so long as it includes no insults, no rudeness, no sarcasm, and nothing that's less than the nicest delivery - despite any actual hurt or offense the show might've caused you. 4. Criticism is fine, so long as it only is for small things and not big complaints. 5. Criticism is fine, so long as it only is for big things and doesn't include any nitpicks or personal opinions. 6. Criticism is fine, so long as it doesn't have anything to do with the moments people have generally agreed 'no longer matter.' 7. Criticism is fine, so long as it's not criticism of the main characters or other characters people 'should like' and isn't in favor of characters that we're 'not supposed to root for.' 8. Criticism is fine, so long as you criticize the actions of characters and not the writers, actors, productions, etc. 9. Criticism is fine, so long as you're only criticizing technical things and not bringing up any mistakes the writers might make on things like the portrayal of women, their people of color characters, their handling of real world issues, ableism or toxic masculinity. 10. Criticism is fine, so long as the criticism only fits the exact ideas of every RWBY fan that might get offended, and adheres to every headcanon we should have come up with and immediately accepted.

It's an impossible struggle. And I think that at this point, the toxic RWBY fans have dug in their heels so deeply that even if Miles Luna himself came to them directly and told them 'hey, stop being so irrational and just block the RWDE tag instead of bullying people,' they would say 'Miles, I'm sorry but you don't understand that these people are of the devil.'

#rwde #anti rwby #anti rooster teeth #rwby bashing #rwby hate #rwby criticism #RWDEdom #anti fndm

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cheeriecherry · 4 years ago

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Can I request bakugo, kirishima and shoji with a reader who has adhd? It's totally fine if u can't, but I love seeing hcs about stims and stuff,, thank u :) !

//raises hand// u mean me <:3c I have adhd so prepare for a lot of uhhhhh habits that I have-

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

-This guy knows fuckall about ADHD lbr

-He’s the guy who can sit down and study and stay focused, who keeps a regular sleep schedule, who sits still in class (for the most part). Sure, he’s shouty, but he’s not got a clue about what you deal with.

-Before he really gets to know you, he thinks you’re a pain in the ass ngl. Like, why can’t you study, it’s not that hard? What do you mean you didn’t go to bed until 3am because falling asleep is ‘boring’? Sorry when was the last time you showered - what do you mean you thought you already did it?!

-It’s probably frustrating to deal with his remarks. Like, he’s judging you for something that’s out of your control.

-It’s best to just lay it out flat for him; call him out for being an asshole. Not only because he’s just being rude, but because he’s being rude about things that are out of your hands.

-He’ll feel guilty about it, but he won’t say anything. Which kind of sucks, because an apology would be nice but...be patient with him also, he’s still learning.

-He would probably take it upon himself to learn what the heck adhd even is, and how it affects people. And what kinds of things you can do to help with it!

-He’d be quieter around you after that, and more lenient. He’d still help you study, but he’d be less gung-ho about shoving your face in a book. Sometimes he’ll read the paragraphs to you while you follow along or make notes, and he’ll help you make summary pages that are organised and colour coded for easy access.

-He finds a neat little fidget toy online and orders one for you, it’s like. A little cube with buttons and switches and little rolly things on each side, very good for when you’re in class and your leg is bouncing and you’re twirling your pen around while staring at the ceiling.

-He definitely can relate to the emotional side of adhd tho. Feeling Everything or Nothing, not really being able to control or get a handle on intense emotions, having outbursts sometimes. He doesn’t really know how to help you with that, because he is, in fact, a loud boi. It’s probably pretty common that you’ll yell something and he’ll yell back, but it devolves into a basic conversation at a high volume.

-Once he gets to know you and starts dating you, he’ll think your mannerisms are cute. The way you sway back and forth while you’re standing, the little wiggly thing you do with your hands when you’re excited for something.

-He also really likes watching you train, and training with you. Your brain goes fast and the rest of you follows, so it’s pretty common for you to lay waste to your opponents. When you don’t doubt yourself, your instinct shines through and you’re incredibly clever.

-It carries over to conversations sometimes, where you’ll always have some quick remark to smack somebody with when they talk shit.

-He’s seen the downsides of adhd, but he also sees the kind of pros it can have, and he sees how hard you work to get things done in spite of it. He thinks you’re pretty cool.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

-He also doesn’t know what adhd, not really.

-He’s heard of it, but only the stereotypes. The ‘can’t sit still, always talking, not very smart’ stereotypes. So he probably sees your behaviours and doesn’t connect the dots.

-He notices you staring out the window a lot in class, and not really giving much to group conversation. Plus you sometimes need people to repeat things, two or three or four times, before it clicks with you. He doesn’t think you’re dumb, not at all (he’s seen your grades and you’re definitely not dumb) but he does wonder what’s up with you.

-He’ll probably ask you one day, after seeing you watching a movie with subtitles on, despite it being in your native language. Just be honest with him and tell him that yeah, you have adhd.

-He’ll probably be the guy to say ‘but you dont act like you have adhd’ because all he has to go off of are stereotypes. It’s important to set him straight. Tell him what it’s really like, the good parts, the bad parts, the ugly parts.

-The ‘not being able to tidy anything up because the stars aren’t in alignment’ parts. The ‘everything looks horribly disorganized but you know where everything is’ parts. The ‘I haven’t brushed my teeth in three days because I lost track of time’ parts.

-He already thought pretty good of your before, but now that he knows you really have to fight to be where you are, he’s in awe. You’re such a strong person, which he really admires.

-If you do something that’s ‘weird’ he’ll ask you to explain it. He’s honestly just curious, and wants to learn more about you and what drives you, so don’t be offended by it.

-But he’ll definitely like the fidget toys you have, particularly the squishy or stretch ones. And he finds that your study tricks really help him in terms of paying attention, and he’s able to absorb the material better. You guys always make sure to create study sheets together that are laid out well and easy to access.

-He also really like the energy you have during training, and often seeks you out to partner up. Whereas sitting in a classroom isn’t your strong suit, being out on the field and moving around is. You’re got a quick wit and a smart brain, and when you’re using your body at the same time, it’s easier to keep track of your thoughts and put them into action.

-10/10 loves the shit out of you and lowkey brags to everyone about how good his S/O is.

SHOJI MEZO

-The quietest and most understanding of the bunch.

-He -like the others- probably also doesn’t know much about adhd, but he’s far more relaxed about it when you tell him. He’s kind of just like ‘oh, okay’ and it doesn’t change his opinion of you.

-But when he sees how it really affects you, that’s when he starts to think differently.

-He’s not a bad student in terms of grades. he’s pretty mediocre, both in hero training and classes, and he’s okay with it. But he sees how much you bust your ass just to be where you are, and he’s certainly not envious.

-When you tell him what other kinds of fun things you have to deal with, he probably feels a little bad for you at first. He’s already self conscious about himself, so if he had to go through the things you do, his self esteem would probably be pretty low.

-but he really respects that you’re owning your adhd, and working with it instead of trying to ignore it and make it go away.

-Plus, with cons come pros, and you have so many of them. It can be hard to get into things sometimes, but once you do? He’s seen the way you get when you hyperfocus, and the amount you can achieve when you’re in that state. He’s learned not to bother you until you’re done whatever you’re doing when you’re focused, knowing that once you lose it, it’s gone and you’ll never get it back.

-And the way you enthuse about your interests is adorable. he admire you passion and knowledge about certain subjects, and the lengths you’re willing to go to in order to learn about them.

-He doesn’t usually like being your partner during training, mostly because you kick his ass using sped and intelligence alone. Plus your stamina and unwillingness to stay knocked down is...something. Something real good.

-He definitely sees the appeal of fidget toys. After he tries yours, he’ll probably get one for himself, and keep it in his off hand while he’s working. I mean, six arms, y’know? That’s like four more arms to not be busy with when he’s working, and four more arms of sensory input. Having something to fiddle with actually helps his concentration too.

-Speaking of sensory input, this guy gives the best hugs when you’re overstimulated by something. A good squeeze calms down the sympathetic nervous system, and he’s hands down the best at hugs. He holds you tightly and blocks out whatever light and noise that he can, until you’ve calmed down and are more equipped to deal with things.

-You two mesh pretty well together, and there’s a lot he can learn from you. He respects you and cares about you!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #shoji x reader shoji mezo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #Anonymous

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bloodstainsontengensfloor · 4 years ago

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... is this just one big appreciation post for the women of Jujutsu Kaisen? Yes. It is. I go looking for some JJK content and I need more love for my powerful ladies! ⚠️SPOILERS FOR VOLUME 0 AND FOR MANGA!!! ⚠️

Kugisaki Nobara:

The girl of steel.

Her most iconic moment is the “I AM NOBARA KUGISAKI!” She is someone who has a strong sense of self and I’m honestly jealous. She knows who she is, and she’s confident in that. Nobara is funny and full of life and character. She’s comedic and in her introduction, despite being unsure on what to do with the child hostage, handled the situation in a way I didn’t expect based on what was presented by her so far.

She was introduced as confident, blunt, judgemental, and conceited. When the child was taken hostage, she, unaware that Itadori would come in throwing punches, set her stuff down. She was the one who took down the curse, it was her test after all, and I honestly love the little head pat she gives the kid after. It’s such a small gesture but it’s so sweet.

No Character is a good one without flaws and Nobara has her fair share of them. Like stated before, she’s conceited and her bluntness is sometimes just rude. She saw herself as above most people in her old town because she couldn’t understand how they could be so small minded and live simple lives when she in fact is a little small minded and naive. The first curse she faced wasn’t one she was totally ready for, but in the end conquered. She views Maki and Mai as a bad twin/good twin situation. She never met Sukuna so can only judge Itadori based on who she knows, Itadori. She understands the gender norms of the Jujutsu world and believes that she can change them as long as she just is her. She knows she’s pretty and she knows she strong so what could go wrong? (Loosing an eye).

Something I do love about her though is that she had friends and people she cared for before she came to Tokoyo. Before she uhm... gets injured, she thinks about an old friend and how she doesn’t think she will get to met up with her like she promised. Nobara is a great friend with a lot of love to give. She’s truthful but not perfect.

Random fact I love: her hair is dyed.

Zenin Maki:

The woman who will prove everyone wrong. She’s ambitious, powerful, and hardworking. She began at the very bottom of the world she lived in, and is still restricted by these boundaries even after she proved herself over and over again. But never once did she let that bring her down.

She can’t see curses without her glasses, (as someone who wears glasses most of the time, it’s hard to always keep them on your face), and has very limited cursed energy that she must rely on cursed infused objects for battle. But that isn’t the bad kind of relying on because of the fact it makes her extremely skilled and resourceful. She uses a bunch of different weapons and is ‘incredibly strong’.

She is blunt and straightforward, but can also be someone who teaches others. Personally, I’d hate to have her as a teacher because she would push me to every limit I want to avoid but should reach. Maki is the leader of the Tokoyo kids, I can’t take no argument. She will put the protagonist in his place. You don’t get to come back from the dead and act like you are in charge smh.

She admires strength. Her ‘type’ is someone who is strong, but it can be debated what kind of ‘strength’ she means. The Jujutsu world’s restricted view on strength is something that limited her for years and was still limiting her up to the current manga arc. Does she admire someone who’s strength is in their physical, mental, or emotional manifestation? She’s a great character and it gets more expanded in Volume 0. I need to re read that, and omg Maki like lost a crap ton of limbs and now she is like... roasted??

Praying she lives and that her father dies so she can work on becoming the head of the clan, like she wants. Fushigiro has the power but he cut ties with the fam and Mai has no desire. So... Maki as head of the Zenin Clan 2021... well I guess 2018?

Random fact I love: maki’s name has the kanji for “genuine” and “hope”.

Zenin Mai:

I have exhausted this topic. But I’m in love. (I wrote this whole thing and my thing glitched and deleted all my work rip)

Mai is confident and crude. She’s introduced as rude, inconsiderate and just all around your basic mean girl. She’s pretty, she’s confident and she doesn’t care if what she says hurt you.

However, one thing that seperates her from every other character in the story, is that she has no desire nor ambition to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer. As a child, she was scared of curses and it’s implied that she may still be scared of them as a teen. She was content living as a servant in her home because at least she would have a normal life. But, had she stayed in that life she would be living in a toxic household where she got no love and was viewed as lesser than. Despite not wanting to be a jujutus sorcerer, her sister’s ambitions of being one forced her to do the same and try to stay on par with her. At Kyoto, Mai develops... great friendships. She’s given kindness and love. This much can be seen in the conversation with her and Nishimya and the softness in her face when she simply says “I know” over the phone.

Personally, I don’t believe the Kyoto students are aware of Mai’s desires, due to the fact that Nishimya talked about the barriers placed against Mai/Maki as something distasteful for Mai.

Mai is someoen who puts on an act. She plays the part of your basic mean girl because what else is she supposed to do? She’s unhappy, and the only thing she knows how to do is lash out. She only knows and maybe even wants people to feel as bad as she did and does. She’s dependent and has abandonment issues due to her sister’s act of letting go of her hand.

However, what Nobara says is right. Misfortune doesn’t allow one to do what they want or to justify when they do bad things. Mai, like a lot of the Kyoto students, don’t know how to cope and deal with the bundles of emotions and conflict within them. They only know to lash out. In the story, Mai is still a minor character, but she has potential for growth, and I really hope it’s given to her.

Fun fact I love: Her first name contains the Kanji for “Geunine” and “rely on”. I love this because Mai might not even know who her genuine self is and in the recent manga chapters she’s relied on as back up from a distance.

Kasumi Miwa:

She’s the anchor of the Kyoto gang. Unlike the others, she doesn’t have major emotional baggage. She led a simple life and has a simple goal. Miwa wants to be a Jujutus Sorcerer to get enough money to help provide for her poor family.

Her story has a rag-to-riches type beat. She met a Jujutsu mentor who she trained under and learned how to wield a Katana so she wouldn’t have to burden her mother. She’s selfless, kind, and down to earth. Miwa has a fangirl heart and admires big name people like Gojo. She had major self confidence issues, despite all this. She had to work for this and has a goal in mind, but that doesn’t mean she’ll always feel useful.

Her relationship with Mechamaru is bitter sweet. She wants to know him better. Despite it being a prank, she does try to give him little gifts and make him feel included in everything they do. He protects her when his actions as the mole potentially put her endanger. It hurt watching the part of Miwa talking to his empty robot self while he did what he needed to.

And his last messages to her through the little ear pieces 😭😭.Even after knowing what he does, she’s still there to listen and is still there for them to rely on.

Miwa is just a breathe of fresh air in this story, but that doesn’t exclude her from the angst and trauma that comes with a story as dark as this.

Fun fact I love: it’s not a fact, but she wears a full on suit. I love it. I love it so much.

Momo Nishimya:

She’s a little witch 🥺. Momo Nishimya is introduced as somewhat reserved. She expressed nervousness over the abilities of the Tokoyo kids. In her fight with Nobara, she acknowledges her as strong and severely underestimated her. However, like Nobara, she’s willing to defend her friends at any chance she has.

The minute Nobara expresses distaste toward Mai, Nishimya immediate begins to defend her and starts lecturing Nobara on how women are treated unfairly in the jujutsu world. She introduced this idea that a woman must be pretty and strong, and I really hope this idea comes into play more and more later (and I think it will). Despite having a female teacher who is strong yet scarred, she expresses the idea that a scar is setback for a woman.

Her and Mai get along very well. The two of them are somewhat the troublemakers that Miwa constantly has to wrangle in (The dynamic between those three I love). Her character is pretty minor but in the reccent chapters, I loved how she got her mini moment. Itadori and her were the only two who were able to avoid Uraume’s ice and talks to Itadori passively and tries to even work with him. It’s a big step from how she begins with telling Nobara that she is a fool for being unable to distinguish a curse from a friend.

Fun fact I love about her: she’s Japanese American with an American father. Same, but I wasn’t raised Japanese whatsoever 🥲.

I’m going to do a part two with our adult ladies but that’s all for now folks!

Fun facts from the JJK Wiki page!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #mai zenin #maki zenin #nobarakugisaki #jujutsu kaisen miwa #nishimiya momo #jjk anime #anime #jjk

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under-sedationnn · 4 years ago

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eleventh: divine museum (pt. 4): "cold metal and tepid tea"

@impinehoney said to under-sedationnn: may i have a request for the eleventh doctor? maybe an adventure that leads them to an art museum, but like some more divine type because it’s on a different planet or something?? ahH THANK YOU

Word count: 2280

part 1

part 2

part 3

tag list: @gayandfairycore

if you would like to be added to the taglist, just comment on this post (or any of the other parts), send me a message or submit an ask! that way you will be notified whenever a new part is posted :) thanks and happy reading!! <3

Invisible, frigid hands seemed to pull us toward the ever growing light, leaving paint stains smeared across our bodies. It grabbed at us blindly, though the grasp was light, not as suffocating as it was before. My nose and mouth did not seem to fill with paint, though it had captured every inch of my body.

Falling through the frame of the painting, I turned to the side and saw the Doctor collapsed on the floor, smiling broadly. “Woo hoo! What a rush!” He put his arms in the air above him, and acted as though he had just gotten off of a ride.

Although I enjoyed his enthusiasm, I did not share his joy for the feeling. “Not in a good way, though,” I countered, placing a hand on my forehead, “it makes my head feel all strange.”

“Ah it’s just because you haven’t eaten dinner!” He jumped up, pulling me up with him. I teetered slightly, his arm catching me around my waist. “Yeah, sorry about that. We’ll stop somewhere nice to eat after all of this is over.”

Placing a hand on his chest, I laughed, “We are covered in paint. Honestly, if we could just have breakfast for dinner in the TARDIS after all of this, it would be lovely.”

“Just the two of us?” His eyes seemed to light up at the thought of such a small, intimate meal with me. I shared the feeling, my face heating slightly.

“As long as that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” he began, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the sides of my waist. A gesture he didn’t seem to notice, but made my heart race. “Eating with you, just you, sounds wonderful. Quiet.”

A smile creeping onto my face, I responded, “I hope it’ll be quiet, I need a peaceful night after this.”

“Mm, yes,” he said, as I wound out of his embrace. Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, at least we know how to escape the paintings now!”

“We do?” I asked.

Gazing around the room again, to find our next painting, he responded, “Yes! They admitted whatever truth they had been keeping from one another, that’s the trick! The question is, what are they hiding?”

I followed his eye, and found the painting of the mother and child we had found earlier. The mother looked pained, worried; and the infant was screaming out, clawing to get away from the woman.

I huffed out a small sigh, worried of what we would find upon entering the painting. The Doctor gave me a comforting look.

“Y/n, what’s the matter?”

“We just- When we go into these paintings and we have the people within them admit their darkest secrets, it feels… invasive.” I rubbed at my arms, chasing away a quiet chill, a creep down my spine.

“I know it feels wrong, but we are helping these people. It’s never good to keep secrets in, ever.”

Although I knew he meant those words, he seemed hesitant. His eyes a little sad, far away and deep in thought. He had lived such a long life, there were bound to be things that he hadn’t shared with me, or didn’t want to.

I asked without thinking. “Are you keeping any secrets from me, Doctor?”

He shot a look at me, his eyes going wide. Restoring a neutral expression, he simply answered, “Of course, not. There are things you don’t know about me, yet, but I have never kept anything hidden from you.”

Once again, doubt in his voice. Rule number one, the Doctor lies. He’s a terrible liar.

Stepping closer to the painting of the mother and child, he busied himself. “Are you keeping anything from me, Y/n?”

I too busied myself with observing the painting, not wanting to answer the question. “No.”

A lie.

“Good, good!” He smiled at me, though a little pained. “Well, should we go then?”

“Yeah,” was all I managed.

Our arms became increasingly enveloped in the sticky paint on the canvas, the fumes from the substance overpowering. I held down a gag, and silently thanked myself for not making time for a meal. Before I was completely within the painting, I noticed a flash of orange on the wall behind the Doctor.

The painting held bright tangerines and low hues of pumpkin. Lights flashed within the scene, and a central cylindrical mount was the focus of the setting. The console room.

The paint consumed us.

-----

A townhouse on a rainy night appeared ahead of us. The wind howled, making a river flow down the cobblestone street, icy water lapping at our ankles. Rain dribbled down our clothes, seeped in deep, and stained the water running away from us. Though, the hues were not bright blotches of green and blue and pink like the ribbons and flowers of the sunny wedding venue.

Bold gray, dull chartreuse and bright splotches of yellow instead covered our clothes. Yellow came from the single street lamp, illuminating the green copper roof and the stoop of the townhouse, where the woman and the wailing infant sat.

Despite the weather, the two sat completely still. She seemed to be rocking the baby back and forth, but to no avail. Although the two were motionless, the sound of the child echoed through the street. The longer we stood there, the screams only became louder, cutting straight through the sound of the wind and rain.

Rushing forward, the Doctor and I ducked through the rain and approached the woman, the screams of the baby growing louder and louder as we approached.

“We need to create a shock, right? To get her to talk?” I asked.

He gave me a nod. Against all my better judgement, I launched myself toward the woman, wrapped my arms tightly around the bundle, and tugged. The unnamed woman met us with wide, grief stricken eyes. Her neck snap crack snap-ped into motion, as though I had just awoken a statue, and her arms actively tightened around the baby. Her center curved back, crack crack crack, and her knees raised to her chin, cradling the baby. The mouth of the infant began to sync with the sound of its shrieks.

“No! Please don’t take her! Please!” she pleaded, shielding the child from us in an attempt to create distance. Tears rolled down her tan face, the light of the street paling her skin and giving her a particularly ghastly appearance.

“We’re not, we’re not!” I yelled, raising my hands in surrender, “We just want to help you.”

She sat silently, her arms wrapped tightly around the screaming bundle in her arms, scrutinizing our appearances.

“You’re lying.”

“We are absolutely telling you the truth,” said the Doctor, “but you’re not.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Doctor,” I warned.

He turned back to me, whispering, “She must be hiding something, and the fact that it has something to do with this child has me worried. Please, let me handle this.”

Reluctantly, I nodded my head, hoping that he would be patient with her.

“You’re lying,” he started, “about something. That’s why you’re here.”

“What do you mean I’m lying?” She yelled, and the baby only grew louder at the volume of her voice.

“Where are we right now?” I asked, attempting to defuse the situation slightly.

She squinted against the rain, looking around towards the door of the townhouse.

“This is my boss’ house! Although, I thought…”

“You were at a museum, right?” I asked, hoping to jog her memory.

“Yes!” She shouted over the storm, “I had taken Melanie out for a day trip.”

“Are you her mother?” The Doctor asked, and the woman shook her head no.

“I’m her babysitter!”

I gave the Doctor a knowing look. “What’s your name?”

“Cassandra.” She attempted to calm the baby once again, but the infant had begun to unravel its swaddle, the blankets falling onto Cassandra’s lap.

“Cassandra, I’m the Doctor and this is Y/n. You’re still at the museum to took Melanie to and you’re trapped in a painting.” Cassandra gaped at the two of us, but the Doctor trudged on. “Did you tell anybody that you were Melanie’s mother? Or even one of her family members?”

I watched as Cassandra’s face melted into realisation. “I- I did,” she admitted, “when we arrived, someone in line told me that she was a beautiful child and asked if she was mine. I said yes without thinking, but not for any malicious reason.”

Instantly, the two of them began melting into dull hues of paint, splashing down the stone steps of the building and washing down the street.

“Doctor, she wasn’t even really lying!” He stood silent, thinking. “If these ‘gods’ are trapping these people for lies, or untold truths, that means they could be trapping them for small things as well. Lies that don't even matter or lies that were mistakes!”

“For the gods of Tyoonibe, truth is incredibly black and white. There is no gray area where some lies are acceptable to tell.” He pushed his hair out of his face, soaked by the rain at this point.

“So what, we can’t stop them from doing this to people?”

“No, not unless we completely rewrite the ways in which this culture works which would be, frankly, unjustified and rude. It is not our place.”

“What can we do?” I asked, desperate to help. I crossed my arms around myself, trying desperately to trap my own body heat.

“We can help the people who are imprisoned right now, get them out, and try not to get trapped in a painting of our own.”

I thought back to the painting of the console room and shuddered. What is he hiding?

“Y/n, come along!” He motioned to the door at the top of the steps, the entrance now choked with darkness, the edges lined with ripped canvas.

Stepping through, we moved through the paint with more ease this time. The fumes still overwhelmed my senses, but in my control, I found the Doctor’s hand and grabbed on tight. We fell to the floor of the museum once again, and I shot up quickly, my eyes meeting the painting of the console room.

It was still there, unmoving, lifeless. Though, an invisible rope seemed to yank me in its direction.

I should tell him. “Doctor, there’s uh- there’s a pai-”

I was cut short by a pounding in the hallway. We ran to the double doors and ripped them open, finding Sybil nearly throwing her body against the entrance to the museum. Her grunts echoed off of the round, marble walls and high ceiling.

“Sybil, darling, please do be careful!” shrieked Villiam.

Rounding on him, Sybil barked, “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD FROM YOU, CHEATER!” Her round, red cheeks jiggled with each word, and Villiam nearly sank to the floor. From embarrassment or fear, I couldn’t be sure. They were no longer in their wedding attire, their clothes now appropriate for the anniversary they had attempted to celebrate.

Cassandra stood nearby with Melanie, the baby finally quiet and asleep. She looked up from the bundle, realizing we had entered the room amidst the chaos.

“Doctor, Y/n! You made it out too!”

“We’ve been able to freely move to whichever painting we pleased,” said the Doctor, “did you all end up here after you were freed?”

“No,” began Sybil, who spun around to face us. She spoke between deep, unsteady breaths, exhausted from her attempts to escape. “We ended up in the truth room and now we are trying to leave.”

Placing his hand on his chin and pacing around the room, the Doctor searched for what we could have missed. “We already freed everybody here, we’ve all admitted our truths, what am I missing? What am I missing?”

Growing frustrated, he let out a low grunt and slid down one of the marble walls. I stood away, looking at him expectantly. Though, I knew what the next step was. I knew why we couldn’t leave. I have to tell him, I have to tell him, I have to tell him.

“What?” he snapped, recognizing my stare. I winced at his tone, and his eyes softened. “Y/n, what?”

“Um,” I began, walking towards him slowly, “we have a painting.”

“We do?”

I shook my head slowly, and offered him my hand. Walking from the entrance hall and through the doors of limbo, I led him to the bright, frame canvas.

“It’s the TARDIS,” he said, “it has to be ours.”

“What are you hiding, Doctor?” I smiled at him slightly, asking in an almost playful way.

He returned the smile, though his voice was grave, “I should be asking you the same thing.”

With a squeeze of my hand and a deep breath in, we placed our hands on the rough canvas. The smell of paint overtook my senses once again, the slick, cold feel of it against my skin. Though this time, I could hear the hum of the TARDIS thrumming like a heartbeat, the smell of cold metal and tepid tea, long forgotten by the Doctor.

Stepping through the door of the TARDIS, the Doctor and I were no longer covered in paint, and our clothes had returned to a normal state.

He had his bowtie, suspenders, and leather shoes. I had my jeans, my sneakers, my favorite top. At least we would be comfortable for whatever was about to ensue.

“So,” hopping up to sit on the center console of the TARDIS, the Doctor watched me lovingly, amused, the orange glow of the room hitting the sharp angles of his face, “where do you want to start, Doctor?”

TO BE CONTINUED.

#eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor imagine #eleventh doctor #the doctor #doctor who imagine #doctor who #the doctor imagine

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tofumedic · 3 years ago

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Bathym general HCs + Making a Pact

(is it still hcs if its ur oc?)

general headcanons

Bathym is based off of one the 72 demons that Solomon has a pact with! His interests (precious stones and plants) is based off of his small wiki page!

He lives with a roommate, he's usually in his home office turned basically greenhouse, it's messy but he knows each and every plant by name in order despite rotating their positions regularly for optimal "sun"

His scarf isn't as much to cover his face, but his neck. It is like a comfort item, if he's not wearing it he will have something else on like a turtleneck or high collar for example.

Bathym actually uses both he/she pronouns! He and him are just more common because of his physique but has confirmed to like either.

His highest confidants are Solomon and Asmodeus, the second started as one of the demons he had to meet regularly when summoned and enjoyed.

(This is probably because Bathym doesn't understand that constantly leaning into other's warmth and bumping their shoulders is affection and that he's quite prone to this which makes him clingy though accidentally. He's working on it but Asmo completely condones it which doesn't help the progress.)

He also gets along well with Barbatos though this is more as business associates, helping Barb grow tea blends.

He probably wouldn't do too bad with the other brothers if you made him hang out with them, probably getting along more with Mammon. He likes being able to share his gem collection with him.

His demon form gives him the addition of one horn similar to one of a unicorn and a tail that splits into two ends, both in an opal or agate look.

He is very protective, Asmo will gossip that one time this lower demon was trying to make business with Solomon while they were eating lunch together and there was this red glow in Bathym's eyes from over Solomon's shoulder.

His Devilgram user is Bthyme !!!!!

His body type for height and bulk is in between Beel and Lucifer

making a pact with bathym under cut!

Getting close to Bathym, likely meant you were trying to talk to Solomon and had met him by association. Perhaps even having seen his face previously on shopping trips or photos saved to Asmo's D.D.D., but now it had a name. And a tie to someone you knew which made networking with the random demon easier and more allowed that picking him at Madame Screams out of the blue.

And Solomon liked having you know people (demons) he knew, something that kept you close as well as making ties with ones he knew were safer instead of ones that were rude in RAD hallways. So when you had asked a question, that could simply get a much deeper perspective, you had received the number of Bathym. He in turn knew you were safe because of how Solomon and the other ones living in Purgatory Hall enjoyed you, your reputation was quite higher than just "good" and the times he would see you after introductions you had never seemed shady or wrong.

A relationship that started off with a question he knew quite personally, asking him about the difference of crystal clusters of the same precious stones based off of being grown underground as in Devildom or underground of the human realm. He enjoyed answering them too, even if your interest was superficial it was nice to openly express his honed knowledge, though he did prefer to speak to you personally instead of just texting, so he would ask to join you for a study "date" in a genuine way instead of some smooth flirt. Mainly because he knew his messages about his interests were always so bulky sometimes going past the character limit if he was passionate enough.

It would be a few months, him getting comfortable pushing his scarf from his face to smile at you or just talk without the slight muffle. Him being more conscious on trying not to lean too much into your space as if he was the same foliage that brushed him any time he used his door. He would plan for Diavolo's party, and in turn your party, he was actually quite high in the hierarchy as much as he brushed aside any idea of his level. But when he saw you in the yard by the lake making a pact with Belphie, he was more resigned. Even leaving earlier once you had started your personal celebrations with the brothers. After all, he had been invited to Diavolo's. Not yours.

For some time afterwards, Bathym would be close to wilting himself, yet devoted in a way his plants had never been so full of color, when you would ask to see him again for the first time since your welcome party. Something serious that Solomon had agreed with your opinion on that involved him, so he would let you into his room. Himself settled sitting on the edge of his bed, hands resting on his thighs to keep him from slouching too much after he had lowered the volume of the music for the ferns.

You had told him and showed the message chain between you and Solomon talking about making a pact with him, of your own agenda unknowing of Bathym's own request. It was a talk between you and the sorcerer specifically due to him being Bathym's fifth pact in history, the two being quite close.

Solomon had agreed that it was a good idea, Bathym was already quite good with his manners despite his accidental PDA and was a good protector if need be. Other than that he was an easy demon to get along with, and he had seemed to enjoy your company even to the point of seeking it out himself. A rarity, really.

His room was dark, sun lamps with the timers had been turned off for their alloted time for the day letting the plants experience a solid day and night cycle and only knowing light from his small desk lamp that kept his room dim but with hard edges visible. Dark though still and mainly green like a cavern heavy not only by the weighing rocks but its lichen as well. And at the end instead of a bear hidden for annual hibernation it was Bathym, eyes glowing with some reflective from the lamp pointing in his direction.

His voice was cold, gravelly in its tiredness, lower than usual as if putting up a vocal moat in defense of advances.

"Pacts aren't as easy as your brothers or Solomon make them out to be, what do you have to offer me when you have already given away something so prized?"

> hug him.

> give back gemstone.

You would have to walk up through the messes of various green and earth, with eyes watching your every step as your legs strained to make the muscles inside power through. Quiet other than your rustling. Quiet other than your heartbeat as you pulled him towards your chest to hug him, gently and just barely wrapping your arms around the back of his head, curling and soothing at pale blue hair to receive a small sigh muffled to your front with and reaching to stay at your side as if would fall like so many he knew.

"I know, I trust that you can handle it," said softer, seeping with something so internalized that pinpointing it as a specific emotion was irrationally angering.

Pulling back slightly, his head fell farther than the rest of him at first but eventually all of him had fallen to lay back on the rest of his bed, surprisingly clean and made but now with its blankets slightly jumbled by the weight on top. The hand on your side had intented to take you down with him, targeted, yet was loose enough you could pull away. It was something he had mirrored from how Solomon shows affection, irrelevant to the fact that you two now laid side by side. His forehead pressed to yours, eyes closed to take in the scene at a correct pace for him.

You tuck the braid and other loose hair that had fallen across his face behind his ear, the sight letting you see the slight smile he allowed that had been visible from his scarf pushed down in the fall.

"I agree to your pact. MC, know not only this gives you my power and strength but I entirely, will be yours as well."

#his room mate is named murmur which is an old demon oc i used to have in case its important to anyone #basically making a pact with bathym : howls brooding arc #tofus bathym tag bby!#tofus ocs!#tofus blurbs!#obey me oc #om oc #obey me original character #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons

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