#i feel like half of my vague hints about it will end up being scraps on the cutting room floor but thats ok

[godsfavoritescientist]

I finally did it. I fully outlined the first story arc for my fic

[96percentdone]

Every time my old post expressing bafflement at 'anti player theory' undertale and deltarune fans gets a note, I go through the war again. Maybe some of them are normal, but like every post from these people that I have ever seen is never content to just have a strictly in universe read of the text. They gotta assert that believing a video game has meta elements spits in the face of craft and storytelling, and no video game could ever draw attention to it being a video game as part of it's thematic identity. They have to debunk the concept of metafiction just to be right, which is hilarious because they end up overwriting the thematic craft they claim to be the only real supporters of.

Undertale is about war, and violence, and hate and how we respond to it. Most monsters don't really want to fight, half of them are just hanging out, so they're happy to be friends if you are, but the memory of the war between monsters and humans lingers. Whether they don't entirely understand the war's true essence because of their purehearted natures make them antithetical to it (Papyrus, Monster Kid), or use the narrative around it as a prop for their personal goals and are forced to contend themselves (Alphys, Mettaton), or try to teach its horrors with its methods (Toriel), or are convinced that the only way to escape the shadow of the war is to win it (Undyne) even if they don't really want to wage war at all (Asgore), the history of that war informs it all. Flowey is who he is because that violence ravaged Asriel, a small child, SO hard his grief and anger are now everyone's problems. He cannot feel love because the cycle of violence stole his ability to believe in it. Every genocide boss only fights you to stop you from carrying out your own. They know that if the entire underground is so easily destroyed, there is no reason humanity wouldn't face the same fate, and this cycle must end, even if they are powerless. The ending is determined by whether you perpetuate war. The genocide run is a grueling, unfulfilling, deliberately difficult challenge as punishment for enacting war for nebulous gain, while pacifist ending brings about the best future, where everyone including Asriel is saved, and it is the most fun to play, because is one where you commit to kindness and understanding. They both are in service to the thesis statement that "love and compassion are good and the key to rectifying all wrongs."

Hbomberguy and NezumiVA have made videos on the same lines, but Undertale's meta because it's about how we engage with video games as a medium. It's about completionism. It asks whether mining a story for every possible scrap of information is worthwhile. Chara's true name is literally a derivative of player character, you are meant to name them after yourself, and project onto them and Frisk until the game seperates them from you because you are a real human being, not a character in a video game. You only learn Frisk's name by the end of pacifist, the best possible ending that you should be satisfied with as a means of separating your ties, and you only meet Chara when you go way the fuck out of your way to get the worst possible ending because of vague hints that there is one. Undertale uses the vibe and aesthetic of old turn-based rpgs to draw you in, get you comfortable, only to use it's characters to ask why are you doing any of this? Is this why you like stories? Are video games merely arrangements of lore to be logged into a wiki until you run out of data to sort, or did you like Undertale and other video games because its characters and ideas resonated with you emotionally? The text has a lot of compassion for Alphys and her fan hobbies, and it only criticizes her when she treats the real world as a self insert fanfic, and it's meta thesis for you is similar. It's fine and good that you love your favorite games, but what are you getting out of engaging with the medium in this way? "Don't you have anything better to do?"

But Deltarune is where they really start to lose me. It is not finished, things could change with later installments, but from what little we have, it follows up on Undertale's commentary about the cycle of violence, and brings it back to suburbia. Violence here is interpersonal abuse and neglect. It is adults caught up in the myriad problems of adult life they do not notice, or fail to support, or do not care about the children suffering under those same systems. Kris is a child who lives in the shadow of their older brother. They befriend Susie, who eats garbage and doesn't seem to have parents (or at least not any that give a shit), and they have a childhood bond with Noelle, who has lost her sister, her father is in the hospital, and her mother is absent and otherwise not great. Even Berdley has a whole complex about needing to be smart thanks to his upbringing. Kris opens this portal themself, literally escaping into a fantasy land where they, children, are the most important and powerful, unbeholden to adults and their baggage. They get to be agents, not subjects, and yet the dark world still has those same anxieties. Lancer is afraid of his father, Queen is an overbearing mother, Rouxls is an opportunist most concerned with himself, King struggles in vain to liberate himself from being a subject while forcing his subjects to adhere to his agenda, Spamton wants to escape his chains and is the incarnation of a spambot, Seam gives up, and Jevil escapes into his imagination. Kris can abuse Noelle into the snowgrave route, and Susie and Berdley are bullies because kids are just as capable of hurting one another as adults are. Darkners may say shit about not wanting to fight anyway, and Ralsei might regurgitate Undertale's lesson as truth like it's his full time job, but even he re-evaluates by the end of chapter one. In the real world things cannot be as simple they were in Undertale.

Agency obviously relates back to the meta, as Kris' is literally overwritten by the red soul you are asked to give your own name in a dialogue that once again separates you from your fictional vessel, a player character, then goes even harder when they slam dunk that little guy you made into the trash because "No one can choose who they are in this world." You can't either. You can get Kris to abuse Noelle into killing people, carry out the abuses that made these kids desperate to escape in the first place, even if they don't want that, but understanding the player solely as a force that strips agency, much like understanding Undertale's player as a comment on real world morality, is incomplete.

If Undertale critiques completionism and datamining as a valuable ways to understand art, then Deltarune reuses its cast and critiques is thesis as part of a its meta to showcase the it's real value. It is a story that even in universe is about fiction. The dark world and its inhabitants are palatable reflections of Hometown. Kris and Susie keep going back because it is freeing, and allows them to grapple with the their complicated feelings about their world. They can come out more confident in themselves, with a healthier mindset, or Berdley can fucking die! Violence in the dark world comes back out of it because the dark world is a mirror. Video games aren't real, you don't actually kill monsters or darkners, but war is real, and violence is real, and abuse is real, aren't they? Isn't that why you get sad when characters you like die? How often do we use analogies and metaphors to explain our feelings, or complicated ideas? Fiction is just a tool to understand the world. What are the stories you love saying to you?

If the meta doesn't compel you, it's not what you find value in, or how you interpret the text, I don't care, even if I think it's strange. What you get out of these games belongs to you, and you deserve to have your reading as much as I or any meta proponent does. But anyone making claims about what fiction must be, just to deny the a meta angle is possible? That's anti-intellectual bullshit. It denies metafiction exists as a tool altogether. It shits on not just Undertale and Deltarune, or meta video games, but stories written across every medium that have ever used their work to comment on itself, its genre, its medium, or art as a whole. If you denigrate a whole artistic convention and the work of countless artists just to validate your hot take? You don't deserve any respect.

[shocotate]

Angsty question: based on your headcanon that Father has punished both Pride and Lust for Greed's escape since he still has Wrath within him at that point in time. How do you imagine he punished them?

Hi Anon! This is a cool ask, and I’m happy to answer it, sorta.

Pride and Lust’s punishment was awful, they got put over Father’s knee no, it was something really terrible, that they didn’t deserve at all. How could they know Greed was going to disappear after actually forming the Fourth Crest of Blood? As mentioned here, their recovery took so long that even though they found out about Greed’s betrayal in spring, it is the start of summer by the time they have gone to ‘rescue’ Envy and Gluttony.

I know what happened, but I wanted to leave it up to the imagination, though it does get brought up through hints in Summer Daze:

Lust watched one of [Pride’s] hands slither behind them and hang [his jacket] neatly in the boughs of a tree. It swayed in the welcome breeze. Thank goodness, anything less and she feared her skin might start peeling. Again. A shiver passed through her despite the heat. Grimacing, Lust crushed it down and forced it from her mind. Don’t think of that. – Summer Daze, Scene 2

Pride was going to have a moment recalling what had happened in the third scene in the fic:

The memory of Father’s punishing thought made him falter, claws loosing and dropping his hapless brother back into the waves—but of course, Pride never faltered.

But I instead decided to leave it until near the end:

“All this…this is what Father wanted of us.” She said, half trying to convince herself and half pleading, scarcely above a whisper lest her younger brothers wake. They could not see her like this. “You know it is.” Pride mumbled it purely through his container’s mouth, “You were there with me, dear sister.” His thin fingers flexed and fidgeted in his lap. He struck another match and the new filters in his container’s eyes shimmered faintly; she could still see the darkness trembling in the ruin of his face from that day, thin and weak as drizzle. Her new skin shone in the firelight, too bright against the old.“It will never happen again.” Father’s nigh divine Punishment went unsaid, but she saw its memory warring within him, too. – Summer Daze, Scene 5

Originally the aftermath of the event was going to be a fic of its own called Keep Waiting for Night to End, but I wanted to instead keep it vague. That being said, here’s a part of the scrapped fic:

The rain drips into him, and Pride feels himself spilling out, pooling like oil in his silk sheets, and over the floor. Perhaps the puddles aboveground look like this. His good eye opens, blinking slowly, once, twice, and collapses into dust. More room for his real eyes to roam. Half a groan and a shriek drips from him, shivering along and silenced as the globs splash in their own puddles. The ripples are almost soothing. He thins out, spreads. The squinted, shadowy eyes huddle in the cavern where his beautiful lilac filters should be, watching, sinking as more and more of him trickles out. Maybe it wouldn’t stop. Stay inside. Don’t die. – Keep Waiting for Night to End

The fic may be scrapped, but some of its text may have a new use. Pride and Lust’s punishment is going to be mentioned again in my upcoming fic, Last Piece of the Dark, set shortly after Greed’s death. The factor of them being punished in Greed’s stead when Father had his Wrath, and the still horrible way Greed was killed even though Father no longer has it, is going to be brought up by Lust:

“Father’s Wrath was within him then.” “Yesterday he was without. Greed bore it all the same.” – Last Piece of the Dark

This is only a tiny snippet, you'll have to wait and see for the full fic!

Though Lust is happy Greed was punished, to her it’s a good way to allude to Pride that Father is deteriorating, and that he should ‘retire’ and let his children who contain the most of his soul, she (25%) and Pride (50%), take on the burdens themselves, potential godhood included.

Thanks for the ask again, but if after all that, once the fic is published, you still wanna know in worse detail, Anon, come back, and I’ll tell you more :3

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (79) || atz

You can’t breathe.

Every inhale and exhale feels like gargantuan effort, not the movements that should come to your body as naturally as well, breathing. Mind swimming, your stomach heaves with each movement as you struggle to focus your gaze, which insists on remaining decidedly hazy.

What happened?

Groaning, you rub a hand across your eyes, fighting back the nausea. There’s an ache in every part of your body, legs burning like they’re on fire. Your head throbs like it’s trying to split itself in half.

“So, you’re awakening.”

Startled, you sit up as fast as you can and your vision swims, black spots breaking out over your vision. Retching, you turn to the side, body shaking and the taste of bile in your throat. When you look back, your heart leaps into your mouth, lips parting in shock.

A pair of liquid green eyes stare back at you, mouth curled into a sad, pained smile.

“You!”

Scrambling backwards is your first instinct, mind blank and your back hits a wall roughly. You yelp in pain and the man’s eyes widen in worry and he reaches out to steady you but you flinch away. He’s an unknown figure that has taken many forms, a young man, an elder, a young boy - who knows what his intentions are? And yet something in you feels at ease with him, the same feeling you get when you step aboard the Treasure and your body matches the rhythm of the ship’s pitch and roll like it’s your own heartbeat.

“Peace be upon you, I have not come to harm you.” The green eyed man says softly, and his voice sounds like the swaying of leaves in the spring wind. Staring up at him, you frown, and decide that he doesn’t look like he’s about to run you through with a blade any second.

What happened before this?

When you try to recall, pain surges once again and you clutch your head, gritting teeth. The memories wash over you, being separated from your master, overhearing the pirates’ plot, being chased and then...

And then running into that man with startlingly similar eyes to your very own captain, dread seeping cold into your veins. He had been dressed much like the townspeople that frequented the town, in dusty cloths and salt crusted sea boots, but that hadn’t been effective in the least in dampening to power you had felt hidden deep within him, like a roiling, pitching storm.

Instantly, you glance about in wariness, anxiety spiking through you. “That man! The one who I met earlier, I-”

When your eyes catch the sight about you, your heart falls into the pit of your stomach.

The harbor has broken down into chaos. What had once been the pier where the marketplace once stood is now a wreckage of wet timber and matchwood and shredded canvas, and shopkeepers shout in panicked voices to each other, picking their way through the rubble The wooden docks have been smashed into matchwood as well, only the bare structures left standing and wood scraps floating about in the grey water.

But the strange man is gone.

Your mouth falls open. “What on earth?”

People call to each other for help, some cursing and some crying, their voices strangely disembodied. The green eyed man lifts his shoulders gently, looking at them. “They won’t be able to see us,” is all he says in a form of explanation, vague and soft. You open your mouth then shut it, head pounding too much to try and understand what exactly is going on.

“What happened?”

“A tidal wave crashed into the shoreline a few minutes ago.” The man says, crouching next to you. His eyes are filled with melancholy, so acute that you feel it in your own chest. “Miraculously, the Treasure was not destroyed.”

“Freak storm.” You mumble under your breath. You want to ask how he can say that with so much surety, but you give up on trying to figure this man out. Something tells you that you won’t be able to. Instead, you curl up, staring at him with a hint of suspicion. “We’ve met so many times, I can’t even fool myself into thinking that this is a coincidence anymore. Who are you?”

“What am I.” He corrects you, with that same mild, unchanging smile. You blink at him, once, twice and then speak again. “Okay then. What are you?”

He smiles again. “I cannot say.”

He’s about as unhelpful as San when it comes to steering the ship, so you give up prying for answers and move onto your next question. “Why are you here?”

At that, his expression falls, green eyes nearly dimming from the spark that vanishes from his eyes. “Any other time, it would have filled my heart with joy to see you, however, the circumstances under which we meet are unfortunate. I have come bearing a warning.”

Your eyebrows pinch, fist clenching. A chill runs through you. “A warning?” You wonder aloud. “Sounds... bad.”

The green eyed man nods sagely. “You are beginning to experience agony with each step you take, are you not?”

You stare at him for a moment, before you put your head in your hands and rub your temples, as if that will rid your head of the dull ache there. Today has been a crazy enough day already, and if something else decides to happen you might walk right off the cliff of insanity and never come back. “I’m... not even going to ask how you know that. Yes, what about it?”

His green eyes don’t waver as they meet yours, and you can’t pull your own gaze away. “You should have guessed by now that your body is starting to fall apart. It will not be long before you lose all control of your legs as well.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” You mumble, running a hand through your hair. For a moment, you wonder if Yeosang would be able to create prosthetic legs for you as well. You’d be more wooden than clay at this rate. “You can’t use your voodoo powers and save me, can you.”

His smile is sad. “I cannot interfere any more than this. It is your journey that you have undertaken, and must continue to do so alone.”

“I’m not alone.” You say sharply, voice firm. For a second, you’re surprised at the unwavering tone of your own words. “I have a crew... a family.”

The man’s eyes widen a fraction, before they curve into gentle half moons, looking as content as you have ever seen them. Warmth settles in your chest. “That is something I am happy to hear. However...”

“However...?”

“You are the one who poses the biggest danger to them right now.”

You taste iron in your mouth. “The Royal Navy... other pirates won’t let us off with such a sweet bounty on my head.” The man does not reply. “Although I wonder what will kill me first, the Royal Navy or my sickness. I suppose you don’t know any way I can save myself?”

He looks at you dead in the eye. “There is a way.”

You nearly choke on air.

“What?” You sputter in shock, whirling to stare at him. “There’s a way I can stay alive? Tell me!”

His expression turns stony. “I cannot.”

Rage flares up in you. Part of you wants to throttle the man in front of you right now. “What do you mean? Perhaps you really do want me die?”

Hurt flashes in his green eyes and instantly your heart sinks. All your anger evaporates in a split second and you reach forward to take his hands in yours, suddenly desperate to retract what you’ve said. “Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I just... I know you’d never wish any harm upon me, Eorth-”

The second the word leaves your lips, you know you’ve screwed up.

“Ahh!” Your tongue burns, pain so fierce raging in your head that you almost crumple to your knees. You weren’t supposed to say it, you can’t say it. “It hurts!”

The man’s face crumples, and he quickly pulls away from you, rising to his feet. He looks like he wants nothing more than to hold you close, but does not do so. “Your time is nearing its end.” He says quietly, eyes wet with tears. “The hunter is almost upon you. You must succeed before he steals your essence as well, Chin Hae. It’s your only hope.”

“Wait!” You gasp, struggling to sit up. He pauses, and looks at you with an expression so forlorn you almost cry yourself. “You don’t want to tell me, or you can’t tell me?”

The man takes a step back, and suddenly he starts to crumble himself, right before your very eyes. Your mouth falls open in shock at the unbelievable sight. “I cannot. If I did, it would no longer be the way. But now... it is time for you to run before the predator, Chin Hae.”

“Huh?” That’s all you manage to utter, as the man vanishes into thin air, dust blown away by the wind. Distantly, you hear bells ringing frantically, but you feel as if you’re underwater. “Time to run...?”

“Be careful of him... and most of all, beware yourself, Chin Hae.”

The spell shatters, and the sound of the town bells - alarms, you realise - wreck your ears with their desperate ringing. And then you hear the screaming.

“Royal Navy! Royal Navy fast approaching!”

>>>

This day really is shaping up to being one of the craziest days of your very short life.

You tear along the wreckage that is the pier, jumping over piles of timber. The freak storm earlier had caused all of this... and you remember your reflection in the mirror when all of it had started. You wonder if the crazy storm had caused you to have weird visions, or maybe you’d just been struck by lightning and your brain had fried. All you know now is that you need to get back to the Treasure, and you need to get the hell out of here.

As you race down what’s left of the wooden piers, you see other crews scrambling to make their ships seaworthy again, howling to their men to raise the sails and make headway. The appearance of the Royal Navy bodes well for none of them, least of all yours.

Before you reach the dock housing the Treasure, however, white hot pain shoots up your legs and you stumble, nearly crumpling to your knees. You can feel cold sweat dripping from your head, although whether it is from fear or agony, you don’t know.

All of a sudden, a warm arm reaches around you and yanks you to your feet, and you cry out at the agony that tears through them. “Hells, are you okay, Chin Hae?”

You come dangerously close to Wooyoung’s face, gentle eyes brimming with  frantic concern. “Woo?”

“San came back a while back in a panic, saying he lost you and couldn’t find you. He thought you’d be back here with us, but you still hadn’t returned. And then the wave hit, and the Royal Navy... I thought-” He cuts himself off, burying his face in your neck for a second, and you can feel him trembling. “No, it’s alright. You’re safe. What happened?”

“I... I might have sprained my ankle, or something.” You lie through your teeth, guilt seizing your chest. Wooyoung looks horrified, and scoops you up easily, warm arms holding you close to his chest. His heart thuds frantically under warm skin as he turns to run towards the docks, battered planks creaking dangerously under his feet. “Thank the gods I found you. The Treasure is making preparations to set sail.”

You chew your lower lip as you tighten your hold around his neck. “What if... what if you couldn’t find me?”

Wooyoung gives you a flat look. “Captain would have refused to set sail and taken on the entire fleet on his own. And if he didn’t,” he looks straight at you, mouth pressed into a determined line. “Then I would not have left Tortuga at all. I wouldn’t leave without you, so don’t go thinking about silly questions like that, okay? Okay.”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to disagree, you think, and despite the situation you’re in, you let out a tiny laugh. Wooyoung smiles.

“Stop right there!”

Wooyoung grinds to a halt, and you look up in horror to see a man standing at the very end of the pier, between you and where the Treasure is docked. It’s the burly man from earlier, you realise, and there’s a sword in his hands.

You swallow. “Uh oh.”

“Now, boy.” The pirate holds out the massive cutlass, and the blade gleams cruelly in the storm dappled light. “Drop the woman. I don’t want to kill her on accident, when she’s worth so much.”

“I’m afraid she’s worth more than you can afford.” Wooyoung says dryly, although his hold tightens on you, unwilling to let go. “More than money can buy. So I won’t be handing her over to a thug like you. Anyways, shouldn’t you be focusing on running? The Royal Navy is coming, you know.”

Wooyoung isn’t carrying his sword, you realise in horror, and you’ve lost your satchel during the storm earlier. Frantically, you work the straps holding your prosthetic to your arm. It comes loose, buckles clinking.

“Don’t be so stupid, kid.” The pirate levels his sword at the two of you. Wooyoung grits his teeth. “Don’t you know the Royal Navy is offering pardons for anyone who turns her in alive? I’ll never have to live in fear of those bastards again. Hand her over to me peacefully, and you’ll be pardoned too.”

“Wooyoung, walk towards the man, and kick him as hard as you can when I give you the signal.” You murmur under your breath. Wooyoung squeezes your thigh lightly, signifying that he understands. Then he walks forward calmly. He’s putting his trust in you, and you refuse to let him down. “I can be pardoned as well?”

“Of course! There’s an unbelievable amount of wealth too.” He chuckles as Wooyoung draws within striking range, eyes hard. The second he does, the man’s gaze snaps, and in the blink of an eye he’s raised his sword, a triumphant cackle leaving his lips. “But I’ll be taking it all, fool!”

At that second, you hurl your prosthetic right at the man’s head. He shouts as it collides with the man’s face. “Wooyoung, now!”

“I know!” Gripping you tight, Wooyoung is already lifting his leg and kicks the man so hard in the chest that the two of you fall backwards hard, you cradled in his arms. The man, on the other hand, isn’t as lucky and doesn’t have anything to catch him. Instead, he stumbles backwards, realises there’s nothing to step on and falls into the water below with a satisfying splash.

“You’re amazing, Chin Hae.” Wooyoung laughs brightly as he lifts you up again, running down to the docks. The Treasure is within sight, the orange and black flag fluttering at the mast a friendly sight. You only groan, and bury your face in his neck.

“Yeosang is going to kill me.”

“He loves you too much.” Wooyoung replies cheekily, and before you know it, the two of you have cleared the gangplank, feet thudding onto the deck. Your heartbeat seems to sync instantly with the rhythmic pitch and roll of the ship. “Captain, I got her! Let’s go!”

The main deck is in chaos, powder monkeys and gunners rushing about hauling bags of gunpowder, cannon shot, swabbing out the artillery guns and preparing them for a sea battle. You swallow down the panic, look upwards.

“Drop the sails!” Mingi bellows, and in the masts above you see Yunho silhouetted against the sun shouting commands at the rest of the rigging monkeys as they scramble to cut the ropes. At the helm, you see your captain standing with his back straight, red fur coat around his shoulders, cutting a striking figure in the grey light of the storm.

“Crew,” he commands sharply, “Set sail!”

The winds howl, as if in response to his command, and the Treasure surges forward. It’s only then that you notice the number of ships on the wide ocean before you, and your mouth drops open in horror.

It’s an entire fleet.

[a-smol-chub]

He can’t be THAT good...

(Hinakamuegi stuffing)

Na.egi Ma.koto frowns as he lets out a sigh. His pudgy stomach surges forward, pushing the zipper of his pants down. He had tried everything, sucking in, laying down, he simply couldn’t get his work pants to button. “...Kamu.kura..?” He calls out hesitantly.

Izu.ru Kamu.kura steps into the doorway almost immediately. His face remains calm and composed, even though Na.egi is flushed red, and looking down in shame. “Uh… can- can you get me some new work clothes…? Mine aren’t fitting anymore…”

Kamu.kura nods and steps into the room, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of black work pants. “These should fit better,” he states before leaving. Na.egi swallows thickly and peels off the offending pants before pulling the other pair on. They were a little small, but at least they would button. He quickly slips a white work shirt on before grabbing his suit jacket on his way out of the apartment. “Love you!” he shouts before heading out. As soon as the door closes, Kamu.kura ties his hair up and slips an apron on. It was time to start cooking dinner.

Na.egi sighs and plops down in his office chair. He knew he had been gaining weight recently, but Kamu.kura either didn’t notice, or just hadn’t pointed it out yet. He absentmindedly runs a hand over his stomach as he hears a knock at the door. He blushes slightly. “Come in!”

A young intern walks in, holding a stack of files. “Um… Kiri.giri-san asked me to bring these to you, Na.egi-san.” 

“Oh, thanks Hin.ata-kun!” Na.egi beams up at the intern. Coincidentally, Na.egi had met his current boyfriend through this coworker, Ha.jime Hin.ata. Hinata had introduced them at a party celebrating Kamu.kura’s big promotion a few months ago. 

“Oh… she also wanted me to give you this,” Hin.ata adds, holding out a single sheet of paper. Na.egi frowns, taking it. “It’s a form for a new uniform. She said yours isn’t fitting that well anymore…”

Na.egi flushes and looks down. “It- it’s not my fault…” he mutters weakly. “It’s Kamu.kura, he’s way too good at cooking.” Hin.ata lets out a snort and rolls his eyes.

“Look, that bastard is way too good at most things, but it’s hard to believe he’d actually put that much effort into cooking for anyone. He hates cooking.”

Na.egi pouts and crosses his arms. “Then why don’t you come over some day? So you can see just how much he cooks lately.”

“He must have changed a lot for you to be telling the truth. Oh, I guess I’m mildly interested. When are you guys free?” he asks.

Na.egi pulls out a small pocket calendar from a desk drawer and flips through the pages. “Hmm… looks like we’re both good this Tuesday and Wednesday. Which works better for you?”

“Ah, I have a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday. Let’s do Wednesday,” he says. Na.egi nods excitedly and puts the pocket book back. He couldn’t wait for Hin.ata to find out just how wrong he was.

The rest of the work day is dull, Na.egi flipping through hours of mindless paperwork, signing things, and passing them up to management. He stands up from his desk and blushes as his stomach brushes past the edge of his desk. There had been free donuts and cupcakes in the employee lounge, and he had had way more than he originally thought. He swears internally and hopes that Kamu.kura didn’t have another large dinner planned for him.

----

He was wrong, of course.

After multiple large courses of mouth-watering lasagna, bowls upon bowls of creamy alfredo, and heaping plates of Italian meatballs, Na.egi lets out a quiet whimper and his arms flop to his side. “Kamu.kura… th- these dinners…. I’ve been putting on a lot of weight lately…” he whines.

Kamu.kura frowns and kneels down next to him, rubbing circles on his overfed belly. “Is it upsetting you?” he asks. As always, his face conveys no emotions, no hint of what he was thinking.

Na.egi blushes and sputters, trying to respond, but his mind feels fuzzy. Kamu.kura’s hands kneading his painfully stuffed belly made him feel weak, as he squirmed slightly. He lets out a quiet belch into his fist and looks away. “Everyone in the office just thinks… the- they think I’m doing this myself…”

“You are, are you not? I only provide food for you, but you are the one who stuffs yourself to this capacity.”

Kamu.kura’s words do not help the situation. Na.egi can’t necessarily deny that, even though he sure tries. He can’t justify it even to himself, because Kamu.kura was right and he knew it. He sighs. “Hin.ata-kun doesn’t believe that your cooking is this good… so I told him he could come over for dinner on Wednesday to prove him wrong.”

Kamu.kura pouts, pressing a finger roughly into Na.egi’s stomach. The noise Na.egi lets out makes him stutter and cover his mouth with embarrassment. “Wh- what was that for?”

“I did not give you permission to invite Hin.ata over.”

Na.egi huffs and tries to rub at his own stomach to soothe it. “He- he started talking about the weight I’d gained, and he said I needed a new uniform and I tried to explain that this only happened because of your cooking! But… he didn’t believe me…”

Kamu.kura lets out a quiet chuckle and plants a gentle kiss on Naegi’s neck. “We have been over this. This is not my doing, but yours. You need to start taking responsibility for your own gluttony,” he states monotonously. Na.egi blushes again, looking down. “I… can cancel with him if you want me to… I’m sorry, I should have asked you first.”

“He may come over, but I will need time to prepare dinner for the both of you.”

Na.egi perks up, leaning forward to kiss Kamu.kura in excitement. But his tummy weighs him down, and he flops back into the chair with a small huff. 

Kamu.kura gently wraps his arm around Na.egi’s waist and pulls him up, helping him walk down the hallway and into the bedroom. He pulls Na.egi’s work clothes off his grossly overstuffed form, tossing the basically worthless scraps on the floor. He crawls in bed next to his soft lover and pulls a blanket over them both, turning light out.

-----

The days leading up to Hin.ata’s visit were fairly uneventful. Na.egi would wake up, struggle to get dressed, go to work, snack all day, and come home to Kamu.kura’s unfairly good cooking. This continued until Tuesday evening, after work, when Hin.ata walked into Na.egi’s office at the end of his shift. “Hey Na.egi-san. You ready to head out?”

Na.egi presses the power button on his monitor and nods, standing up with a quiet ‘oof’. Damn… he had overdone it today, too. He feels his center of balance shift as he stands, and he rests a hand on his stomach. “Yeah, just let me grab my jacket.”

Hin.ata watches him, silently judging the shorter boy for eating so much at work. He had seen Na.egi sneak into the break room multiple times to bring food to eat mindlessly at his desk. He had seen Na.egi make trips to the vending machine, buying multiple sugary drinks and fattening snacks to stock pile in a drawer. He knew Na.egi was blaming his weight gain on his new partner, Kamu.kura, but seeing how Naegi acts at work, Hin.ata sincerely doubts that. 

The two brunettes make their way downstairs to the street to hail a cab together. They both climb in the back of the taxi, and Na.egi leans forward to give the address to the driver. The ride only takes around 10 minutes. Hin.ata passes a couple of dollars to his coworker, who adds his own half, and gives it to the driver. They both thank the driver and step out onto the sidewalk.

Na.egi climbs up the stairs to the apartment and unlocks the door. Hin.ata stands behind him, and is taken aback when the strong aromas of Kamu.kura’s cooking hit him square in the face. Na.egi giggles as he sees Hin.ata stumble forward, not even bothering to take his work jacket off, and sit down at the dining table. Having been subject to this before, Na.egi has enough self control to take his shoes and jacket off before sitting down and filling his plate. 

----

He had doubted every word, up until that damn door was opened.

Hin.ata had known Kamu.kura since they were both kids, and they had grown up together. Kamu.kura was apathetic, cold, and didn’t have any motivation to do anything. To hear that his old acquaintance (Hinata wasn’t sure he could call him a friend, exactly) had changed so much as to start cooking this much for Na.egi, for Na.egi to have gained this much weight…

It didn’t make any sense.

He had sincerely doubted it.

He knew he was wrong the second the door opened. 

His mouth starts drooling before he even sits down. He sits down at the dining table, grabbing a plate and piling it high with everything in reach. He vaguely registers Na.egi sitting down next to him, grabbing his own plate and filling it with whatever he can. 

Hin.ata’s mind is a complete blur. All he can process is the continual flow of food being stuffed down his throat. Tender roast that melts in his mouth, creamy potatoes that slide down his throat, freshly buttered rolls with a perfectly crispy crust. He continues shoveling everything in reach into his gullet, without regard for how quickly he’s filling up. His stomach balloons forward, pushing against the buttons on his shirt. His fork hits the bottom of his plate, and his mind clears for a moment. He lets out a quiet groan and presses a hand against his stomach, trying to comfort it. 

“K-Kamu.kura…” he whines, squirming in his seat. Na.egi continues shoving food into his mouth, not hearing Hin.ata. He was already on his third plate. Kamu.kura steps forward, a ghost of a smirk present on his face. “Is there a problem, Hin.ata?”

“It- it hurts… it’s too much…” he moans. Kamu.kura kneels down beside his chair and presses a warm hand against his flesh. Hin.ata’s face flushes and he turns away.

“Then stop,” Kamu.kura says simply. “That’s all you have to do. Don’t fill your plate again, and don’t keep going.”

Even with direct instruction not to, Hin.ata finds himself sitting forward and piling more food onto his plate. Kamu.kura watches with a smirk, continuing to rub circles on his belly. Hin.ata feels and hears his belly gurgle in protest, but he can’t stop his hands from moving. 

Na.egi slumps back, groaning, and looks over at Hin.ata and Kamu.kura with bleary eyes. “Is… he alright..?” Na.egi asks between heavy pants. Kamu.kura nods, continuing to rub Hin.ata’s bloated tummy. Hin.ata moans around a particularly large bite of pasta, and he hears a loud ping. He looks down and blushes deeply as he stomach surges forward. He had actually eaten so much that a button had popped off of his shirt.

“Do.. you see what I mean..?” Na.egi asks quietly.

Hin.ata doesn’t have the strength to give a snappy response.

[my-personality-i-guess]

I’m gonna post spoilers of WW84 under the cut, because I did not like the movie and you all need to know why

So I’m gonna start out with what I liked about it, because honestly it was kind of good. Gal Gadot? Phenomenal, gorgeous, 10/10 I rewatched the first Wonder Woman and the woman loving side of my sexuality has reawakened. Costumes? I am not a fan of the 80s, but damn could I get behind every single outfit. I don’t even need to talk about the Amazons, they were beautiful, like I said, women. The cinematography was also quite good. 

But the first Wonder Woman movie was definitely better. 

WW84 started out fantastic. I loved the opening scene with young Diana, and it set up such a great concept for the movie. Would’ve been great if they stuck to that huh. Then we meet Kristen Wiig, who honestly I’ve never really liked. Maybe I haven’t seen her in enough stuff though, because I absolutely fell in love with Barbara. Especially the obvious gay subtext between her and Diana. All starting out phenomenally. There’s great setup for Diana to fall in love with Barbara, work out her love for Steve and the trauma she got from the war. I’d even go for a love triangle with Barbara, Diana, and Max. Then everything switches.

It feels like there were two different writers for the film. One writer set up a phenomenal plot line, a budding romance, and a storyline about healing from your past and moving on. Then the second writer scrapped all that and resurrected Steve. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Chris Pine in both Wonder Woman movies, and he was pretty funny in WW84, but his whole character just seemed to be there solely to put an end to the romance between Barbara and Diana. He played a role with very little impact. Honestly, I finished WW84 literally 5 minutes ago and I forgot Steve was even in the movie. All of a sudden there’s no plot. My whole family was confused. My dad said it was “just like a stereotypical 80s movie.” Where was the brilliant storyline that had started? Why are we skipping over what could have been a revolutionary film for a literal remake of Aladdin? (literally it’s just Aladdin. That’s the whole thing. Aladdin and queerbaiting) 

If we skip over the Aladdin bits (the entire plot line yes it’s as basic as it sounds) all there is is some forced relationship between Diana and Steve to cover up the blatant queerbaiting and, I would argue, homophobia. It’s so incredibly obvious that Barbara is in love with Diana, even though she apparently falls in love “every day, all the time” (which feeds into some harmful stereotypes about bisexuality, by the way), and yet the screenwriters try to play it off like Barbara just really admires her. I was 100% sure that Barbara was going to wish that Diana fall in love with her, but she instead wanted to be like Diana? Yes, she’s insecure, that was made blazingly obvious, but she was in love with Diana, and Diana had just told her how much she enjoyed Barbara just the way she is. Generally people don’t change what others, especially those they are attracted to, like about them. And there ends the romance. Not even a hint at the date the two went on, nothing about the feelings between the two. Steve shows up, and Barbara is no longer an interesting or relevant character. In fact, she’s killed at the end of the movie. Way to dive headfirst into the pool of kill your gays (electrocute them if you want to be vague about whether or not they’re actually dead). To top it off, Steve just is gone an hour after he was resurrected. Steve just showed up to ruin Diana’s relationship and mental health, cuz I’m sure it wasn’t at all traumatizing to lose the love off your life twice, the second time pretty much directly killing him. 

Other little things I’m pissed about:

1. Lack of diversity. The first Wonder Woman movie had an incredibly diverse cast, and WW84 had the only main character as a POC be the villain. 

2. We never learned more about the Amazons. Woah, they do the Olympics and don’t like cheating, so what? Where’s the deep delve into Amazonian culture that we got in the first film? Why didn’t Diana ever go back to Themyscira?

3. The whole plot is just Aladdin if the genie was evil. That’s it. I’m sure you’ve all seen those posts of “be careful if you meet a genie, they’re evil and manipulative”

4. There was almost no mythology. Nothing. Just 30 seconds of babbling about the “language of the Gods” and the “God of lies” no explanation, no backstory, just a throwaway explanation about how the wishing could vaguely go along with the theme. We didn’t even get any resolution about that? Considering Ares apparently killed all the Gods, I wasn’t really expecting any Godly intervention from whoever that God of lies was, but there was absolutely nothing about what happened to the rock. How did it get out of Max? Did every single person in the world take back their wish, cuz that’s unrealistic. If even one person kept their wish, what happened to the rock. It probably didn’t reform? What happened to the magic???

5. That beautiful suit of armor that’s in all the promo pics, posters, the most iconic part of the trailer? That was there for literally 10 minutes and built into the plot solely for the cameo in the end credits scene. And not even well? The armor was supposedly built to withstand the world? It was torn to shred in 30 seconds, in a fight against a woman with brand new powers she doesn’t know how to work and exactly zero fighting experience. A cheetah hybrid scientist destroyed that armor in 30 seconds flat and you expect me to believe it held back the whole of mankind?

6. Where’s the fun feminism of the first movie? No talk about how women are great? Two and a half hours and the best you can do is the villain beating up the dick who was catcalling and assaulting her and framing it as an evil thing? The entire movie Diana and Barbara were being catcalled and harassed by men who thought they’re gorgeous. Absolutely they don’t have to respond to these men. They don’t have to stick up for themselves to prove that they’re worthwhile. Good for them for ignoring the jerks. But when the only instance of a woman sticking up for herself in the whole film is framed as an evil deed, it’s a bit sketch.

7. The fight scene between Barbara and Diana at the end when Barbara is a Cats movie reject was incredibly boring and not at all riveting and iconic like the fight scenes in the first movie. In fact, every fight scene in WW84 was really flat. It felt like there was a lot of effort put into dampening Diana’s powers. In the first movie Diana was a dynamic and strong individual who had friends who, while not as powerful as her, were important to ending the conflict. In WW84 Diana did everything (except for stopping the mall heist) really poorly, and relied on Steve to get her out of nearly all of her tight spots. For how bad of a character he was, you’d think he wouldn’t do a lot in the movie, but he was constantly saving Diana. Then Diana couldn’t even do anything against Max, it was all the people reversing their wishes. Considering she literally killed a God in the first movie, you’d think she could do something about a man-rock.

tl:dr, it’s an Aladdin remake with queerbaiting and bad plot

[jaquesofdragons]

Question for readers

I’ve been feeling a little down this week which has made me hypersensitive (probably irrationally) to the response to my fic In Another Life.

But I figured instead of freaking out about, I should just ask: Do people enjoy a mysterious prologue and putting the pieces together as the story progresses? Or find the lack of information off-putting? And second, are people interested in seeing everything from the exact moment the time traveler arrives? Or can they enjoy a time skip that leaves questions to be answered?

I’m aware that these questions probably get different answers for original works vs fanfiction as there’s a tendency to pick exactly what you want to read in the latter, so I’m mostly interested in the context of fanfiction. 

Despite mainly being interested in the specifics of my own fic, I’m trying to keep this fandom neutral for anyone who’s got a little free time and an opinion.

More details below.

Essentially, when I chose the start of my fic, a process of months, I jumped around a lot on where exactly was the best point to bring in the readers.

As it’s a time travel fic, having a prologue set pre-time travel makes a lot of sense. I’ve had the events leading up to the time travel event for a long time. But when it came down to it, I wasn’t sure how much of it to show. I have about 15,000 words that are all but finished, and a boat load of extra content in rough draft form.

But I was concerned about spending a lot of time setting that up, introducing the changes I made and various characterizations and the like to the reader, only to rip them away after 15k words. Many of those characters and various plot points won’t become relevant until much later in the story. 

So in it’s current form, I drastically shortened the prologue to 2.5k words, leaving it vague and mysterious with a few hints to direction.

Now I’m second guessing, wondering if it’s too obscure. Or if it feels misleading, etc.-- just doesn’t catch the readers interest in general because the premise is now too hidden.

I’ve though about scrapping the prologue entirely, tbh. Or putting the rest of the content back in and having a prologue arc of three chapters.

The followup of course is what happens right after the prologue. I did write the fic fairly chronologically and I do have unpolished content that takes place between the time travel event and my current first chapter. In fact I have a crap ton of content for it, two entire arcs.

I chose to skip those arcs because, one, it has much heavier OC content as it primarily takes place in the vague outskirts of canon. Aside from two main characters, canon characters don’t start featuring prominently (i.e. as more than mentions) until the second arc. 

And the content has a drastically different tone then the arcs after that, and has a separate plot line. As the fic is now, I started at a place where the main character has a large decision to make which sets the major plot in motion for the entirety of the fic. 

Canon characters are involved fairly quickly (in the first ten chapters), as are the hurdles to be overcome, the conflicts, various antagonizing elements, etc.

i think it makes sense to start there and refer back to, hint at the content that was developing in the prior arcs, instead of hoping the readers will gain and retain interest in two arcs of fairly low action almost unrelated to typical canon topics.

But it does leave a lot of questions that the reader may assume are plot holes, writer mistakes, etc, instead of intentional choices built on material they haven’t seen.

There is probably a middle ground somewhere. And as a new writer, writing in an older fandom, with a fairly rare main character and rare pairings, with a non-romantic centered plot, with only a few chapters out yet, there are probably more than enough factors to explain low reactions without hyper-analyzing my content. 

But these are doubts that I have and half the reason I posted this was to grow as a writer, get feedback and improve. (the other half was just to find people to share my excitement about this story, the characters, the fandom, etc. with)

So If anyone’s survived to the end of this post and has an opinion on these questions (or anything to do with the story really, or my journey as a writer, etc), please let me know!

I really really want to hear your opinions.

[secret-engima]

OH BUT as long as we've got the whole canon-meets-au thing fresh in mind, imagine Regis meeting Regina. Or Regina!Noctis casually breaking everyone's minds when he tells them his mom is Queen Regina and it's really weird seeing her counterpart as a man -

*screeches in* YOOOOOO DID NOT MEAN TO FOGRET I HADN’T ANSWERED THIS BECAUSE IT’S AN AWESOME IDEA. BUT I’M HERE NOW SO LETS RAMBLE (note that I shall refer to the canon counterparts of everyone but Regis as C!Name to differentiate from Regina’s crew):

-It’s C!Cid that encounters them first. Because of course he is. They trickled into Hammerhead after an Encounter with Solheim magic, and C!Cid gets this ... feeling of confused doom when he sees the Regalia plus like- two motorcycles trundle into Hammerhead.

-The feeling of doom multiplies when out of the Regalia climbs a lot of familiar faces, plus three not-so-familiar faces and one face that should be familiar except its FEMALE.

-Regina gets off her motorcycle (that Cor is perched on the back of btw) looks around this larger, busier Hammerhead with fascinated eyes, then turns and grins at her Sun, “Found civilization!”

-Cid and C!Cid are already staring at each other, and Cid just- SIGHS heavily at Regina’s chipper mood, “Ah blame ya for everything about this, ‘Gina.”

-Regina just laughs and C!Cid can feel a headache coming on.

-C!Cid, after hearing their jumbled story and learning why the group is both bigger and younger than it was in his timeline (TIMELINES. FRAGGIT REGGIE THIS IS YOUR FAULT SOMEHOW HE KNOWS IT), grumbles and herds them all off to Insomnia. Because this is Reggie’s problem and he’s going to deal with it. Not C!Cid thank you.

-Needless to say, this was NOT how Regis expected his afternoon to go. A servant comes to inform him that Cid Sophiar is waiting in one of the guest lounges with a sizable group of young adults and teens, Regis and C!Clarus exchanged baffled looks before rounding up C!Cor and trundling down to greet their old friend and his apparent gaggle of strange young ones.

-They walk in right as Cor tries, yet again, to best Regina in combat as per their deal for his coming along with them on this trip. Regina doesn’t even blink as she disarms the feral Bby Cloud and pins him to the floor with her boot on his neck, still casually chatting with Ardyn and Titus the entire time.

-Regis and the C!Co all stare. Because What.

-Seeing the goggle eyed king, C!Cid greets his old friends, then immediately yeets them under the bus by calling over Clarus and saying, “Clarus, this is Clarus. His Reggie did something stupid in them old Solheim ruins and now they’re here. Ah figured they’d have a better chance getting home here than in Hammerhead.”

-While C!Clarus gapes and younger Clarus eyes his older counterpart with some wariness, C!Cid takes possibly too much glee in introducing the rest of Regina’s motley cast of misfits (Cor is still struggling under Regina’s shoe, turning slightly blue in the face because of his refusal to yield). Weskham is all polite manners and mischievous smirks as he greets the C!cast and ... admittedly stares in worried fascination at Regis (a MALE Regina, that must have been an interesting change to their childhoods, he’s so ... off balance too, Regina hadn’t even blinked at the dimensional travel problem, yet this counterpart looks like he needs a good sit down and a glass of water, and is that a CANE he’s using? Whatever for? He’s not that old-).

-C!Cid, because he is a troll at heart, introduces Regina LAST. Admittedly, Regis and C!Co should have been expecting it by the time they were introduced to the counterpart of Sylva and C!Cid had pointed out the wheezing, snarling Corling on the floor, and YET-.

-Regina looks up with perfect timing from where she’d been trying to talk Cor into just yielding already before he passed out, smiles a smile that is positively Fae and introduces herself, “Regina Lucis Caelum, Crown Princess of Lucis, daughter  of King Mors and current runaway fugitive from said father.” She tilts her head as Regis makes a faint dying whale noise, her grin still in place as she muses, “Somehow I thought I’d be ... taller if I was male. But we’re about the same height actually.”

-C!Clarus manages to stay upright himself long enough to help Regis to a chair. Then they both sit down hard. Weskham calmly begins pulling a tea set out of armiger out of sympathy while Titus just- sighs and Ardyn shyly points out to Regina that she could have broken the news a little more gently and also Corling is eighty percent passed out so she might want to let him up now.

-”Not until he yields,” Regina retorts cheerfully, then looks down at the twitching Cor and comments, “You know that if you pass out, I’m going to do something embarrassing to you. So pick your poison, Murder Child, the embarrassment of yielding? Or letting me do whatever I want while you’re unconscious?”

-Glaring pure murder and hate, Corling slaps the floor three times with a hand. Regina takes her boot off his neck and lets his wheeze curses into the floor as she turns and examines the C!cast with a critical eye. She spots adult C!Cor, who has been drifting steadily closer with a feral fascination in his gaze, and smiles like the sun, “Murder Child! You grow up into such a lovely Murder Adult!”

-Cor wheezes something profane from the floor while C!Cor raises an eyebrow and Cid sighs heavily as he helps Cor up from the floor and gives him a canteen of water to help his throat.

-In the midst of watching this ... entire Thing play out, something finally clicks into place in Regis’s brain and he manages a strangled, “Runaway fugitive?”

-Regina casually flops onto the arm of the chair Regis is sitting in, kicking her legs almost like a child as she chirps, “Yep! Ran away at fourteen because Prophecies, but Daddy Dearest,” there is a definite sneer when she says that and a flash of almost murderous magic in her eyes, “didn’t believe me. So I’m a fugitive from his Crownsguard. Have been for a few years now. Murder Child over there was the latest attempt to bring me back to the Citadel, but it didn’t work and now he’s my Cloudy Murder Child.”

-”Stop calling me Murder Child!”

-”It’s that or Baby Cloud, Murder Child, take your pick.”

-Cor snarls at her while Titus snickers and Clarus looks to the heavens in exasperation. Regina continues her story to an increasingly horrified Regis, “Anyway, ran away at fourteen, was not believed that I was on a Holy Quest, or that I had good reasons for asking the Oracle Princess to come with me on my quest.”

-Sylva, from where she is loyally lurking next to Ardyn and sipping on Weskham’s tea, points out, “You broke into my room in the middle of the night and we left before dawn. I’m fairly certain the world thinks you kidnapped me, ‘Gina, my mother’s proclamations to the contrary or no.”

-”Kidnapped, asked, semantics,” retorts Regina, blatantly not caring when C!Clarus makes a garbled noise of protest at that (and HOW is Regis’s counterpart this ... blasé and insane? Seriously being a different gender should NOT make this much a difference right? RIGHT?)

-C!Cor who is the only canon member coping with this well (C!Cid is already drinking the whiskey Cid passed him in sympathy), asks, “And the Chancellor of Niflheim is with you because....?”

-Regina tilts her head at C!Cor with genuine confusion, “Who? Ardyn? He’s not Niflheim’s anything. I broke him out of Angelgard.”

-In the horrified silence that follows that proclamation, C!Cid dryly comments, “Does yer pa think yer planning a coup or something, cause it sure sounds like ya are.”

-He Regrets™ opening his mouth an instant later when Regina spaces out at the wall with a LOOK in her violet-tinted eyes. Clarus’s head snaps around from where he was holding a staring contest with C!Cor and goes very pale, “Regina no.”

-Regina curls her lips into something too inhuman and cruel to be a smile as she whines, “But my Storm-Shield....”

-Clarus stomps over to physically collar her, as if that will stop the idea from taking root, “No. We’re in enough trouble as it is.” He narrows his eyes at her and growls, “If you plot a coup against Mors so help me I am NEVER doing paperwork for you again. Ever. You’ll have to deal with every scrap of paper your mess generates from now until the end of time. Besides,” he adds with a hint of hysteria in his tone that indicates he is well and truly trying to talk Regina out of an idea (that indicates that Regina is taking C!Cid’s sarcastic comment SERIOUSLY), “Ardyn’s already lived through one royal coup, you’re not going to make him live through one again are you?”

-Regina’s expression falls into a pout as she glances at the suddenly very subdued Ardyn, “....Fine. No royal coups.”

-Cor makes a noise of vague disappointment that makes C!Cor stare at his younger self in alarm, and in the various strangled noises from the C!Cast, Weskham calmly begins passing out cups of tea to soothe the nerves. Weskham sees Regis’s wide-eyed look and smiles a little ruefully, “I would like to say, Your Majesty, that she isn’t usually like this, but I’m afraid I would be lying.” Weskham looks innocently over at C!Clarus, who looks a half-step away from having some kind of heart attack, and asks, “Your Regis wasn’t like this as a teenager?”

-The resounding, scandalized NO from C!Cid, C!Clarus, and Regis himself makes Regina cackle.

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Dear reader,

I must caution you about this next chapter. This is the chapter where we continue to explore creepy undertones pertaining to Olaf as a character. If you are not comfortable with reading about predatory behavior, comments ranging from vague to slightly explicit (on the topic of these predatory behaviors), a young girl being restrained, a young girl being threatened, physical violence against a minor, threats to a minor, or vague to slightly specific comments about pedophilia, a creepy fuck stroking a young girl's hair, cheek, and leg... I would suggest skipping specific parts of this chapter. Since this time around it's spread around the VIOLET half of the chapter (although a few vague hints could be found in Klaus and Sunny's section).

Please read with caution. If anything becomes too triggering or makes you too uncomfortable I am happy to summarize in vague details (when going over certain parts) so you are still able to follow the story. Please if you can't read this chapter in its entirely, I will be more than happy to explain the events of the chapter in a less descriptive way.

_______________________________________________________________ Friendly Reminder:

I, Susan, the author of Misery Loves Company also wants to make it abundantly clear that THE TOPICS/TRIGGERS IN THIS CHAPTER are things I frown upon entirely. I do NOT condone pedophilia at all, whatsoever. And I believe it is NOW in my fic that I will say this: if you ship the disgusting vile mess of a 'ship' that is Violaf...I would prefer if you stop interacting with my page, my story, and any of my works. Just because I put it in my story does not mean I condone it. I am using it as a element to explain why this sort of shit is WRONG.

If we are being abundantly honest, it is these segments that I have the hardest time writing and editing. It is a long, hard process and it never gets easier. No matter how vague the comment Olaf or even Esme make is, it is never easy. It makes my blood boil, my skin crawl and my stomach churn.

I don't feel right saying 'enjoy' because this is a tough pill to swallow.

So read with caution. Let me know if you feel I went too far or if you just want to comment like normal. I am not perfect. I am open to criticism. I just needed to make sure all my readers understand where I stand on the topic of Count Olaf's creepy ass infatuation to Violet.

Read with caution. Love the support you guys have given this fic.

-Susan.

____________________________________________________

                                           Chapter Fifty:

                           The One With Violet's Close Call

Klaus and Sunny paced around the small medical closet that they were currently hiding in. They had decided to be paranoid and barricade the door on their end so no one would enter their hideout. Before doing so, Klaus opened the door just a bit so he can peek around the hall and locate the security cameras. He feared that Olaf would catch them simply because he could be watching them on security cameras. After they blocked themselves in, Sunny explained to Klaus that she planned to watch the bottom of the door and she’ll notify him if she sees anyone’s shadows.

Klaus and Sunny were worrying about being recognized by anyone because of the ridiculous lies that had been written about Violet and Klaus in The Daily Punctilio, so the two Baudelaires knew that whatever they planned to do in order to save Violet they had to make sure they were undetected by not only the hospital personnel and patients but by Olaf, Esme, and the troupe who were undoubtedly lurking around the hospital in their ridiculous doctor costumes searching for the two younger orphans.

As the children paced around in silence, both siblings’ minds were racing. “We’ve got to rescue Violet and get out of this hostile hospital,” Klaus said aloud. He was talking more so to himself than Sunny, but Sunny replied anyway.

“But how?” she asked. Klaus sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Both siblings were trying their hardest to concentrate on their situation at hand. Both trying to ignore the fear that was lingering with them. Both were also focused on what Jacques Snicket had said.

Klaus ran his hand through his hair anxiously as he thought about the Snicket file that resided in his pocket next to his sister’s father’s wallet.

There’s a survivor.

Their trouble is over.

They were going to be okay.

They just had to find their mother.

Klaus sighed. He felt a bit bad when his mind focused on the possibility of his mother being the survivor, it was nothing against his father. Truth be told if his father was the survivor, he’d be equally as happy. He just...desperately wanted his mother.

He didn’t understand if there was a survivor, why weren’t they searching for their kids? He knew that his parents would be fighting tooth and nail to reunite themselves with their children. His mother and father were two kind, attentive, supportive, and loving parents. He gave a small smile as he imagined being reunited with his mother again, being able to feel her arms around him in a big bear hug as he feels her warmth and feels safe. His smile widened as he imagined his mother kicking Olaf and Esme’s ass for everything that they had put the kids through.

Sunny paced around the small room, walking in a different pattern than Klaus. She glanced around at all the supplies that were in the room, every so often glancing at the door to make sure that no one was trying to get in the room that she and her brother were hiding in. She took the small yellow ribbon out of her hair as she carefully twisted her hair into it, tying it out of her face. What would Violet do? She asked herself as she tapped her finger on her chin as she thought hard. She glanced over at her brother, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. She took the opportunity to open Violet’s locket again, she wasn’t entirely sure what this would do, but she felt like she needed to see one of her parents’ faces especially after the bombshell that Jacques Snicket had given the children during his briefing of the Snicket file.

She looked at the picture of her mother holding baby Violet and smiled. She missed her mother entirely but as she stared at the picture in her older sister’s locket, Sunny couldn’t help but frown when she thought about her father. Staring at the picture of her mother holding a baby girl in her arms reminded Sunny so much about how their mother used to hold her and sing to her whenever she was fussy. How her mother would clap enthusiastically when Sunny used a new word. She sighed as she ran her finger over the picture of her mother. All these memories made Sunny miss her mother, but they somehow made her miss her father more. She didn’t get to see any pictures of her father as often as she would prefer. The kids had two pictures of their parents stuffed away in Klaus’ pockets along with other documents and important scraps of paper the two younger orphans had been collecting ever since their unfortunate events had begun. So when Sunny gazed down at the photos in her sister’s locket, she wondered where in her world her father could be. Was he looking for them? Was it difficult for him to locate his children because they kept moving? She remembered spending afternoons with her father, who would be entertaining her with his poetry recitals. Sometimes he’d put on a show for Sunny, act out a silly poem or if he was reciting a serious think piece, he would analyze the poem with Sunny and even though she didn’t entirely understand what her father was saying all the time, she was happy. She never understood why Klaus would groan outwardly when their father would run up behind him and somehow still lift him up, ready to recite another poem of John Godfrey Saxe. She found it both entertaining and informational. She frowned when she realized that her actively thinking her father was the survivor meant that she wasn’t rooting for her mother. Like her brother, Sunny had nothing against their mother. She would be equally as happy if it were Beatrice who had survived the fire. But Sunny couldn’t shake the fun image of her father randomly showing up and kicking Olaf and Esme’s asses after putting the kids through all of this bullshit. Sunny smirked wickedly to herself when she thought about what her father might do to Olaf when she told him about what Olaf did to Klaus.

Dada…?

Mommy?

Where are you? Your babies need you.

As both siblings thought about the survivor of the fire and wondered where in the world the survivor could be, their faces turned sour simultaneously when, like clockwork, they both thought the same exact thing.

What if Lemony was the survivor?

Both siblings were blissfully unaware that they were thinking the same thing as Sunny bit her lip nervously and Klaus sighed miserably. Both too lost in thought to ask the other what was wrong.

What if Lemony was the survivor? As the two Baudelaire orphans thought about it...it made sense, didn’t it? For the survivor to be Lemony? The file was called the Snicket File, although Klaus had reasons to believe that it could have been named that simply because the star of the film was Jacques Snicket and Sunny could have guessed that maybe the makers of the film deliberately wanted to name it that just to cause this level of confusion. But again as the two orphans thought about it...their worries began to skyrocket. Jacques was Lemony’s brother, it would make sense that he’d investigate his brother’s death rather than their parents. But that wasn’t what was gnawing at the fragile minds of Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire. What was gnawing viciously at their minds was one question.

What would happen to them if Lemony was the survivor?

Obviously, if Lemony was the survivor, this meant he would be reunited with his daughter. Both siblings sighed at the same time as they came to this realization. It was the first time that the table had turned and it was the Baudelaires feeling excluded rather than Violet. Both didn’t know what would happen to them if he were the survivor. Lemony had no obligation to Klaus or Sunny. He was not their birth father and he had not raised them.

Would he go through the trouble to adopt us? Sunny pondered.

He wouldn’t leave us to fend for ourselves? Klaus wondered.

Truth was the kids just weren’t sure. Although they had met Lemony Snicket on a few occasions, they didn’t get the pleasure in actually getting to know him, seeing that every time they had seen him, he was in disguise just as Olaf was and the situation was always too tense and dangerous where there was rarely ever a moment in time where the kids could have had a decent conversation with the man who was desperately trying to help them. Klaus remembered the brief conversation he had with Lemony back when the kids lived with Josephine and Lemony was disguised as Steve Barkin, how he mentioned having a daughter and tried to convince Klaus that he was a good big brother. But other than that, Klaus didn’t know much about him.

The Baudelaires could easily assume that Lemony would be a decent human being, as he was before he had died and he would adopt the children either officially or unofficially depending on what he sought as best with his complicated circumstances. But he didn’t have any obligation to the Baudelaire children. As much as they hoped that he would take them with him and Violet, he could just as easily take Violet and abandon the two Baudelaires. The children wouldn’t be surprised, by this point in their sad story, they were used to it.

Now they both knew that if either one of their parents was the survivor that they would take in Violet immediately. No questions asked whatsoever. But they were able to come up with that conclusion very easily because they knew their parents. They knew their parents wouldn’t hesitate to gain a relationship with their estranged daughter. Violet was Beatrice’s biological daughter and had fate not intervened, she would have been raised by Bertrand, which would have made their father her father as well. They knew their father would not hesitate to have another child even if that child was not his biologically, that’s how great of a man Bertrand Baudelaire was. The two siblings also knew that if their mother had the chance to simply lay her eyes on the powerhouse force that her eldest daughter was, she would recognize Violet immediately as her child and would rush up and grab Violet and probably never let her go as she sobbed and apologized for things out of their mother’s control. Because they both knew that their mother was a decent and amazing woman.

Both siblings imagined for a second, how life would have been like had Violet never been separated from their mother and father. Klaus could imagine all the siblings' arguments and bonding moments that he and Violet would have had had she been around. He imagined how holidays would have been and how normal days would have been. Would he and Violet be closer? Would they have grown to hate each other? He pondered to himself. He slowly smiled, he had a feeling that being raised alongside Violet would have simply made him idolize her more as a big sister. He could see his younger self rushing into her room when he was scared of the loud thunderstorms outside instead of his mother and father’s room. He could see her building them a small little fort where they could pretend that the storm couldn’t get to them because Violet had built the shelter with the full purpose of making it stormproof even if the fort was made out of the most basic of materials like blankets and pillows. He could see her wanting her to sit with him during his first optometrist appointment instead of his father. He could see her beating up schoolyard bullies for him and just doing all the things big sisters do. But as he thought about it...he didn’t give the negative aspects even a thought. He knew big sisters were supposed to relentlessly tease and annoy. He knew that they were the only ones allowed to pick on their younger siblings. He knew growing up with Violet could have been different when it came to the family dynamics. He would never have had all of his parents' undivided attention, he would have had to fight Violet for it and he had a feeling he would have lost that battle a lot. He knew that if Violet had been raised alongside him that he probably would have been compared to her a lot because that’s what parents do. But he didn’t care. He wouldn’t have minded if life turned out like that.

Sunny, on the other hand, thought about how if Violet had been raised alongside her and Klaus that Violet would have been there the day that she came home from the hospital. She would have probably been like Klaus, teaching her how to talk, read, and walk. She wondered what else Violet would have tried to teach her. Sunny smiled as she imagined how family game nights would have gone with Violet’s addition. How chaotic that would have been with the five of them duking it out over Uno or Monopoly. Sunny had a feeling if Violet had been there from the start, that she would have been able to see the treehouse that she and Klaus shared more often. Klaus wasn’t entirely fond of it because it was getting too old and he felt as though it was dangerous to be in there but she knew that Violet would have made it a special project to fix it up for Sunny.

But as the children thought about this alternate timeline, they both felt bad for taking Lemony out of the picture and it brought them back to their worries that if it was so easy for them to do to him...how easy would it have been to do for him? And as they went back to pondering about whether or not Lemony would help them if he was the survivor, the children felt a mixture of emotions.

Cause with Lemony, Klaus and Sunny wouldn’t be able to entirely blame him if he were to take Violet and leave. Hell, they wouldn’t blame Violet for giving up on them and leaving with her father if she wanted to. The Baudelaires both feared that Lemony and possibly even Violet would finally see the two orphans as far too much trouble. Which as they further thought about it, it made perfect sense as to why the kids could be described as ‘too much trouble’.

No matter what Violet tried to tell them, the siblings knew that they were the reason Lemony was dead. They were the reason that Violet got sucked into this misfortune. Even if Lemony was the one who had decided to come out of hiding with the hopes of helping them survive Count Olaf. They cost him his life and if he turned out to be alive and would rather stay clear of the danger magnets that they have been proven to be. They couldn’t...and wouldn’t fault him.  They were also the reason that his brother was now dead. And there was no mistaking that on Sunny’s part.

Sunny knew Jacques was dead, she was forced to witness it with her own two eyes. Sleeping at night was difficult these days for young Sunny Baudelaire, although whenever she was able to cuddle up with one or both of her siblings, she felt safe enough that she could sleep and she found that when she was in the warm embrace of one of her older siblings it was as if a barrier is put around her and the harmful images of Olaf murdering Jacques couldn’t enter her head and torment her.

But Klaus didn’t need to witness Jacques’ murder to know he’s dead. He saw Jacques’ dead body being rowed out. Both children shuddered as they thought about the fact that Olaf had killed possibly two men in his wicked pursuit of them and now he had their fourteen-year-old sister in his clutches.

Both felt sharp pangs of guilt as a wave of sick, cruel realization poured over them when they realized that they were the reason why Violet was kidnapped and whatever Olaf was doing to her was on them. Klaus felt this pang of guilt harder than Sunny had because he knew what Olaf’s sick intentions with Violet were and he didn’t act fast enough to convince her splitting up was the worst thing the trio could have done. He hadn’t fought her hard enough to exit the mail chute and he allowed Esme and Olaf to take one of his sisters.

Klaus felt a few sharp pings of worry hit him as he thought about his doubts. The longer it took for him to come up with a plan, the more time the kids had to get caught and even if that didn’t happen it was more time that Olaf had Violet in his clutches. Klaus knew that he couldn’t let him and Sunny get caught because he refused to make Violet’s sacrifice fruitless. He also couldn’t let them get caught for obvious reasons. He knew Olaf wasn’t going to leave the hospital without all three kids. So he and Sunny merely had to avoid getting caught in their attempt to rescue Violet.

Klaus watched as Sunny did another routine check of the door. She watched for a few moments just to be extra cautious. He gave a small smile as he watched her walk-in tiny circles, tying her own hair. Klaus had a special sense of pride as he thought about how much Sunny had grown since that day on the beach when their lives first changed for the worst. Sunny was out of her infancy and was in the beginning stages of her toddlerhood and she was surely showing it. She was walking on her own and even talking in sentences for the most part, completely able to articulate her thoughts. Even going through everything she had been through, Klaus could see Sunny growing up into a chaotic mix of both of her parents. She had the best qualities of both Beatrice and Bertrand. Hell, Sunny had her moments where she reminded Klaus so much of Violet, like right now, as Sunny paced around silently, untying and retying her hair with her small yellow ribbon. The thing that surprised him the most about Sunny was that even after failing her so many times, she still believed in him so much. He didn’t understand why though.

Klaus felt tears spring to his face. You are the absolute worst brother in the world. You can’t protect them.

He turned quickly and glanced at Sunny once more. He couldn’t help but think this way. Violet was definitely the better big sibling for Sunny. She was proving it right now by being Olaf’s captive while allowing Klaus and Sunny a chance at an escape. While Klaus was hiding inside a large closet desperately trying to figure out a plan to save Violet. Sunny had definitely surprised him when she had compared him to Violet positively. That’s something he ever really did, always feeling inferior to his older sister especially when it comes to how they both were at being an older sister. ‘You are the best big brother I could ask for’ Sunny had said when she compared him positively to Violet. Then she had told Klaus that she loved in believed in them both.

Klaus’ thoughts shifted just slightly when he also remembered what Sunny now knows. His blood boiled and he felt the desire to punch a wall angrily. How dare Olaf haunt his baby sister with the gory, gruesome details of the pain he had caused her older brother after he had desperately tried to save her back when they were still in that bastard’s ‘care’. Olaf had absolutely no right and Klaus knew he only did that to try to scare Sunny and that made him even angrier. He hated the fact that Sunny now felt guilty about it even though he did not have a single reason to blame Sunny.

Klaus turned to Sunny, sighing, finally breaking the silence.

“We have to rescue Violet before it’s too late,” he explained to Sunny.

“But we don’t know where she is,” Sunny countered, although she nodded her head in agreement.

“ Violet must be somewhere in this hospital. Otherwise, Olaf and Esme would have left by now. He and Esme are probably hoping to capture us to,”

“Then we have to find her,” Sunny replied turning to her brother. “But how?”

Klaus sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Olaf is watching us through the fucking security cameras and the rest of the hospital might recognize us from the bullshit Daily Punctilio.”

Both children looked at one another depressingly. They both wondered just how long Violet had had that photo of them hidden away in secret in her locket that now rested on Sunny’s chest. They both knew that they needed to act soon because they both did not like the idea of Violet being in Olaf’s clutches. Before either one can further the conversation they could hear an approaching crowd of cheerful singers.

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders. “Hide within crowd?” Sunny suggested as Klaus picked her up quickly.

“Better than nothing.” Klaus agreed. “We’ll just have to be extra careful today,”

Sunny nodded emphatically, a word which here means ‘as if she thought being extra careful was a good plan,’ and Klaus nodded emphatically back as he quickly unbarricaded the door, listening for the crowd to be right outside the door before exiting the room. Both Baudelaire children felt less and less emphatic about what they were doing as they waited by the door. Ever since that terrible day at the beach, when Mr. Poe brought them news of the fire, both Baudelaire orphans had been extra careful all of the time. They had been extra careful when they lived with Count Olaf, and Sunny had still ended up dangling from a cage outside Olaf’s tower room. They had been extra careful when they’d worked at Lucky Smells Lumbermill, and Klaus had still ended up hypnotized by Dr. Orwell. And now the Baudelaires had been as careful as they could possibly be, but the hospital had turned out to be as hostile an environment as anywhere the two children had ever lived. And as their hearts were beating faster and faster, they heard their opportunity to exit the small room and hide within the cheerful VFD.

“ We are Volunteers  and we’re cheerful all day long! If someone said that we were sad, that person would be wrong. Tra-la-la Fiddle-dee-dee Hope you get well soon. Ho-ho-ho,” the members of VFD sang as Klaus hurriedly opened the door and forced him and his baby sister into the direct middle of the crowd.

“Could we have some balloons?” Klaus asked.

“Of course, brother!” Brandon said patting Klaus’ shoulder. He handed Sunny two balloons and gave the children a confused look. “Where’s the older sister, brother?” he asked confused.

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another. “She’s under the weather,” Sunny explained quickly.

“I’m sorry to hear that!” Brandon said cheerfully as he tied a balloon gently to Sunny’s wrist. “Give her this heart-shaped balloon! And to get well soon!” he said smiling. “Ooh, that rhymed. We should add that to the song somehow.” he addressed the other members who were all smiling and ready to partake in the singing again.

Sunny maneuvered the balloons to cover both her face and her brother’s face as Klaus carried her trying his best to sing along to the song so that the volunteers would allow him and Sunny to stay in the group. The song and the singing were too cheerful and annoying for Klaus to truly enjoy this plan. But what better place to hide than among people who believed that no news was good news, which means they don’t read the newspaper.

To the children’s relief, the volunteers paid no attention as Klaus and Sunny glanced around desperately looking for any signs of their big sister or Olaf and his group. As they followed the group from room to room, both Baudelaires concluded that this might be the best way for them to search the hospital. Maybe Olaf had disguised their sister as a patient since he was disguised as a doctor.

The children went into several rooms, watching as the Volunteers Fighting Disease ignored real ways to help the hospital’s patients and they cheerfully sang their song oblivious to exactly how useful or helpful they were being. They saw a man with both legs in casts and a woman with both arms in bandages. They watched a member tie a balloon to the woman’s cast because she wouldn’t be able to hold it.  They watched as the group ignored the patients’ request of a glass of water and for their nurse to be called so they could receive their pain killers. Klaus and Sunny wanted to help these people but they were too afraid of whether or not the patients had read The Daily Punctilio so as the VFD members ignored their requests, the Baudelaires regretfully did, too.

“If we visit each and every room of this hospital,” Klaus whispered to Sunny as the group exited the room to go to a different room. “We’re sure to find Violet,”

“Agreed. Although seeing sick people makes me sad,” Sunny replied.

“Same here, Sunshine.”

The next room contained a man that reminded them of Mr. Poe because he had a severe, nasty cough. As they watched the volunteers sing their song and hand the man a balloon, the children believed that a good humidifier would be more effective way to fight this disease than a cheerful attitude and the two were tempted to run and find a humidifier for this sick man, but they knew Violet was in much more danger than a man with a cough and again, they couldn’t risk being recognized.

On and on the volunteers marched, and Klaus and Sunny marched with them, but with every ho ho ho and he he he their hearts sank lower and lower. The two Baudelaires followed the members of VFD up and down the staircases of the hospital, and although they saw a great number of confusing maps, intercom speakers, security cameras which they made sure to avoid looking directly into, and sick people, they did not catch a glimpse of their sister. As they entered each room, nowhere, in any of the rooms that the volunteers marched into, was Violet Snicket, who Klaus and Sunny feared, was suffering more than any other patient.

“We’ve been wandering all morning, and we’re no closer to saving our sister,” Klaus whispered to Sunny, but Sunny didn’t reply. As Klaus marched with the volunteers up another flight of stairs as he carried Sunny, Sunny had focused on something that kept her eye.

“Shh,” Sunny whispered back.

“Why?” Klaus asked in a whisper.

“Bald fucker,” Sunny whispered, pointing as stealthily as she could ahead of them. Someone coming down the stairs, he was several steps above the kids and he looked to be running down the stairs in a hurry. “And Hook-Man.”

“What do we do?” Klaus whispered worriedly, realizing that if the bald man and the Hook-Handed Man were descending down the stairs, that they would have a good viewpoint advantage on the kids.

“Kiss the balloon,” Sunny whispered back as she shoved one balloon in Klaus’ face. He shifted Sunny so that he can hold the balloon in his face while she used one of the balloons to hide her face and the third one, that Brandon had intended for Violet to cover the top of her head. She hoped that if the bald man were to look over at the Volunteers Fighting Disease he would just see the top of Klaus’ head and assume he was one person rather than two, carrying three balloons.

The children’s hearts were beating fast in their chests as they continued marching in the middle of the group of volunteers.

__________________________________________________________

Violet opened her eyes and groaned in pain. Her head was throbbing from Esme slamming it into the hospital wall. She glanced around the room to find that she had been once again tied down to the gurney. She felt tape once again around her mouth. She tried desperately to kick her feet but to her surprise, Olaf and Esme must have tied her ankles to the damn gurney, too.

Nonetheless, Violet struggled as hard as she could trying to make some kind of noise in a desperate attempt to get someone to rescue her. She didn’t have much time to struggle, though because the door to the room began to open. Her heart dropped.

“I’m just saying, Boss. Your name could use a little work,” The Hook-Handed Man explained.

“What do you mean? It’s fucking brilliant,” Olaf growled, rolling his eyes.

The Hook-Handed Man looked at him incredulously, “Really?” he asked. “Dr. Medical-School?”

“Like you could’ve come up with anything better,” Olaf muttered annoyed.

“You could’ve said literally anything else. Like...House...or Howser?”

Olaf growled again. “Watch the door,” he ordered his henchman as he turned towards Violet.

Violet’s heart sank further as she watched the Hook-Handed Man’s facial expression change almost immediately. “B-but don’t you need my hooks…to tear her to shreds?” the man asked meekly. Violet gave both men an intense glare.

“Just wait outside the door,” Olaf hissed as he watched his henchman turn around unhappily and walked outside the door. Violet glanced down at the bottom of the door to make sure that the man hadn’t entirely left, thankfully for her, she could see the shadows that his feet made as he stood in front of the door, guarding it against anyone who would try to enter.

Olaf walked menacingly towards Violet. He glared down at Violet. Violet glared back at him with daggers. She refused to show him fear or weakness so she was hoping that she looked more intimidating than she felt seeing as though Olaf most definitely had the upper hand.

Olaf reached down, grabbed the edge of the tape and pulled it off Violet’s mouth as quickly and painfully as he can. “You fucking bitch!” she hissed.

“Comfy?” he asked her, smirking at the helpless girl.

“Fuck off,” Violet hissed, still glaring at him. “Klaus and Sunny will find me.”

Olaf merely shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe they will...maybe they won’t. I mean I’m counting on it. Can’t let those brats live after causing me so much trouble.”

“You fucker,”

“But you see, if I were Klaus...I’d do the sensible thing and leave this hospital with that bucktoothed brat,”

“Well, it’s a good thing Klaus isn’t a damn thing like you, then.”

“Well, what do you expect to happen, Violet?” Olaf asked as he began to pet her hair. Violet moved her head vigorously, trying to move away from his touch. “I mean...if I had the option to save my real sister or some desperate little girl who just wants to belong...I’d save my sister.”

Violet’s glare intensified. “I am their real sister, you fucking piece of shit.” she hissed as he smiled down at her. The way that he was looking at her, made the pit of fear in her stomach grow.

Olaf rolled his eyes as he grabbed the edge of the gurney harshly. Causing Violet to flinch. He smiled at her reaction. She responded just how he wanted her to. “You know, Violet, it doesn’t have to end this way…” he muses slowly walking around the gurney. Violet tried her hardest to keep her eyes glued on him, to make sure she could see him at every second. But as he circled her like a shark circling its prey, she was feeling dizzy. “I see the way you roll your eyes at the mere mention of VFD.”

Violet shifted her gaze to where he had stopped moving. He was standing behind her head, she glanced up at him, still glaring but behind her eyes, she knew that fear was starting to show. She had no idea what he had planned. “I may hate VFD. But I despise you!” she hisses.

“I’m flattered,” he says as he caresses her cheek. She shudders under his touch. She whimpers softly, violently trying to move her arms and legs, to break her restraints but as Olaf watches her struggle, his smirk widens and her heart sinks further into her chest which Violet didn’t know it was possible. “But you don’t mean that…”

“Oh, believe me, I do!”

Olaf smirk widened. “You know...it’s not just VFD that is to blame for what you’re going through…”

“I know it’s…” Violet began before Olaf interrupted her.

“Your dear father...may he rest in ashes.” Olaf snarled leaning closer to Violet’s ear. Causing the girl to shrink to the farther side of the gurney as much as her restraints would allow.

“ Fuck you!” she screeches as she continues to struggle more.

“And...Beatrice…” Olaf added, he watched as Violet’s face turned from one of unbridled anger to pure sadness. ‘You know…” he began, his voice becoming gentler but not in a comforting way. His voice became patronizing and belittling, but softer in volume. He walked over to the side of the gurney once more, kneeling down so that he no longer towered Violet but he was nearly face to face with her which made her move her head as far away from him as she could. “Beatrice hurt me, too. You’re not the only person that she hurt.”

Violet couldn’t believe her ears, was Olaf truly trying to pin her misfortune on her birth mother. Was he trying desperately to shift the blame from himself and VFD to her parents? She continued to glare at him as he sighed. He caressed Violet’s cheek again.

“Since you’re such a pretty girl…” he explained. “I’m willing to give you a chance to join me, Violet.” He watched as her expression changed to one that he couldn’t read. He couldn’t tell if she was considering it or was entirely shocked by his mere suggestion. “Together...we could destroy VFD once and for all. All you’d have to do is two simple things... for me.”

Violet’s stomach churned uncomfortably as she grimaced. She didn’t know what he meant by that last part but as they say, curiosity killed the cat. She looked up at Olaf, her glare still present but her fear was coming through so it wasn’t as intense as it had been. Olaf took that as a sign of her already considering his offer before even hearing what she’d have to do.

Olaf continued to caress her cheek as he spoke, Violet tried her damnedest to move her face from his touch but he, unfortunately, had the advantage. “Would it be so awful?” he asked. She looked at him with a face full of confusion and discomfort. “Would it be so awful to spend the rest of your life...with me? In my troupe...at my side...at my beck and call? I’ve seen your inventions, you could be very useful to my troupe, unlike those pesky Baudelaires.” He leaned in close to her. “Think about it, my pet,” he whispered into her ear as he stroked her cheek. Her skin felt like it was crawling and her blood was boiling but she was beginning to feel paralyzed under his cruel touch. “We could burn down this organization together!”

“...keep...talking…” she replied meekly, narrowing her eyes. She wasn’t sure where he was going with this. But at this point, she’d do almost anything to help her siblings escape from Olaf’s treachery.

“When you’re of age, you give me your fortune,” He began. “You see, once I have your fortune...I wouldn’t dispose of you like I would that irritating bookworm and biting brat.”

She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized he was still more interested in her stupid fucking money than what she had been expecting for him to say. Although the second part of that statement was one that she didn’t really like. She would rather an option where Olaf didn’t dispose of Klaus and Sunny. But when Violet weighed her options on the financial part of his offer, there was barely any hesitation. It was just money. Who the fuck cares? She thought. The only thing I care about right now is my siblings.  But as she opened her mouth to respond, she remembered he had said there were two things he needed her to do for him. Fear came crashing in once more as she began to expect the worst.

“And...what else?”

“You help me lure those bratty Baudelaires so I can destroy them.” He replied smiling wickedly at her.

Still surprised by his answer, since that was not where she believed he was going with this conversation. She took the time to weigh her options. She took into account everything that Olaf had said up to this point. Since the day that Violet had the absolute misfortune of meeting this vile and terrible man.

Finally, Violet smiled and in the most enthusiastic voice she could muster up she said, “Of course, I’ll join you!”

Olaf smiled at this. He placed his hand under her chin, turning her face to make her face him. “Pretty and smart,” Violet responded with another rough shudder as she tried to move her chin from his grasp. But he held her firmly. “Now...all you have to do is tell me where those brats are hiding.”

Violet nodded and he let go of her chin. “Of course, I’ll tell you where they’re hiding!” Violet replies using the same over-the-top voice. “Now, when you capture them you can’t tell them that I told you.”

“Of course. Of course.” He replied, a Grinch-like smile appearing across his face. This was too easy. He thought. She did her best to motion for him to come closer so that she could whisper her siblings' location in his ear. His smile somehow got wider and far creepier as he began to move closer to her.

“Now listen carefully,” Violet replied as Olaf could no longer contain his excitement. He was soon going to have all three orphans to torture and do whatever the fuck he wanted to and what made this even better is that Violet was going to sell out her siblings and hand them to him on a silver platter.

As he got closer to her face, Violet gave the vile man, a quick, sarcastic smile as she spits directly in his face. “ Snickets take care of their own!” she screamed in his ear as loud as she could.

Olaf growled, a loud, inhumane growl as he slapped her across the face with as much strength as he could muster. “ You little bitch!” he screamed as her head shot to the side harshly. One cheek feeling the wrath of Olaf’s anger and the other feeling the pressure of being slammed against the side of the gurney. Tears began to fall from her eyes as she winced in pain. She could feel her right cheek was on fire. Olaf wiped her saliva from his face as he grabbed Violet’s face in his hand and roughly pushed her cheeks in, applying pressure to her jaw. She groaned in pain.

“Stop…” she whimpers.

“Snickets may take care of their own...but Baudelaires are known for betraying and abandoning their own…” he said, applying even more pressure to her face. She tried to pull her head from his grasp. “And I have this feeling that the bookworm is just like his mother in that respect.”

Violet tried to spit at him again. “ Fuck you! You motherfucker!”

Olaf growled once more as he slapped her again, with the same level of strength as before even if this time she was unsuccessful when she tried to spit in his face. She started to cry. She bit her lip to suppress her sobs but the effort was almost pointless when her eyes began to water. Her cheek was definitely on fire now and she was beginning to feel her fear of her situation take over. She watched as Olaf turned and walked over to a small sink that was in the room. He picked up a tray full of medical tools and began to examine the tools.

“Out of curiosity,” Olaf asked, back turned towards a vulnerable and terrified Violet. “Has the bookworm shown you what I’m capable of?”

“You mean how you cut him, you fucking bastard!” she hissed. “Sunny told me.”

Olaf chuckled at that, as he lifted a rather scary looking knife as he examined it thoroughly. Still not even looking at her. “You see, I could do the same thing to you, my darling,” he turned to her as he carried the tray and the scary knife with him back towards her. He placed the tray of tools on top of her. “But...you’re way too pretty for that,” he explains petting her hair once more.

“I’m not your darling, you sick fuck.” she hisses through the tears, fear, and pain. “Klaus and Sunny are going to find me. We’ve outsmarted you every fucking time. We will do it again.”

Olaf grinned as he waved the big, sharp knife around, stroking his finger carefully across it, smiling wickedly at it. “I don’t think you will outsmart me...no, not this time.” he hisses menacingly as he glared down at the helpless girl. Violet glared back at him, her fear being suppressed once more as she continually reminded herself why she had to survive this. “Have you ever hunted, Violet?”

“Of course not,” she spat back.

“Well…” he said as he put down the large knife on the tray. “If you had, you’d be familiar with a particular experience. There’s a particular moment, at the end of a long hunt, ” he explained coldly as he picked up a rather scary drill. Violet, being only fourteen and never going to med-school wasn’t completely certain what this device in Olaf’s hand was but if she had to guess it was probably to drill small holes in the skull to help neurosurgeons perform their operations. As he spoke, he used a tone that sent several chills down her spine causing her to shift uncomfortably and breathe heavily. “When you have the animal cornered. And the animal looks into your eyes... deep into them, to see if there’s any mercy in there.” She looked at the device with uncertainty and fear as Olaf turned it on. The man looked from her to the drill, smiling as he imagined using it on one of the children. “And when it sees that there is not…” he turned the drill off and smiled at it happily. “... it gives up...it gives it life to you. ”

He smiled wickedly at her as he placed the drill back on the tray that still laid on top of her. She could no longer help it, she was trembling as he spoke. He stroked her now severely bruised cheek as she felt tears springing in her eyes. “Well, I have you cornered, Violet, and I have no mercy .”

Tears began to fall from Violet’s eyes as her fear took over. Is this how Klaus feels like? She wondered as she tried her best to hold it in. But this was all too much. His tone, his words, his touch. She couldn’t take it anymore.

He smiled viciously as he wiped a tear from her bruised cheek. “Don’t cry…” he cooed. “Sooner or later the Baudelaires will fall into my trap and when they do…”

Violet’s tear-filled eyes glared at the villain as he mentioned her siblings again. She shook her head defiantly, unable to speak because she was using most of her energy trying to hold back her tears. He gripped the railing to the gurney harshly as he knelt closer to her menacingly. He got in her face as close as he could get, even after she had shrunk herself down as far as her head would sink into the single pillow that held her head up. She grimaced and winced at how extremely uncomfortable she felt with Olaf that close to her face. She wanted to spit in his face again but the intense heat she could still feel from her right cheek convinced her otherwise. Instead, she stared back at Olaf with a face full of mainly fear with a splash of anger and defiance. “And when they do…” he reiterated getting even closer to her face. Violet held her breath as he spoke due to how close he was to her. She could smell his rancid breath. She tried to turn her head so she didn’t have to look at him but he caught her throat with his hand and applied pressure to keep her head in place. “I won’t be satisfied with just your fortunes. This time, I will obliterate you and the entire Baudelaire line in the cruelest ways imaginable…” he hissed into her ear as he held her down. Her breathing became rapid and her fear spiked entirely. “Now won’t that be fun?!” he asked her in a patronizing tone as he gave her an open-mouthed grin, showing off his disgustingly dirty teeth.

Violet’s breathing became heavy as she gasped for air the moment he lifted his face even an inch away from hers. By the look on Olaf’s face, Violet knew that he knew that he was terrifying her.

“...l-leave them alone!” she cried struggling as Olaf removed his hand from her throat. “You have me!” she reasoned, her voice thick with fear. “I can get you both fortunes! Just leave Klaus and Sunny alone!”

He snickered. “I do have you…” he said smiling. “And what a treat that is,”

Violet trembled and began to struggle when she felt Olaf’s hand on her lower leg. She shifted uncomfortably. He grins at her, again, his hand trailing up to her knee agonizingly slow. Violet jerked her leg again. Fear creeping slowly into her eyes, paralyzing her to her core. She felt frozen as she felt his hand stroke her knee. Her heart was beating rapidly as she started screaming for help as Olaf clapped his hand over her mouth. She desperately tried to bite his hand as she tried to break free from her restraints. She looked around the room desperately, her eyes locking on the door. She prayed that someone, anyone, would walk in here soon and stop him before he was to do anything too heinous. He seemed to revel in her fear, probably because he rarely got to see it.

Olaf smirked again when he could see her face full of fear as she unknowingly was looking at him trying to look into his eyes for an ounce of mercy or humanity just as he described in his little speech that was designed to scare her. His smirk widened when he remembered the same look on Klaus’ face back when he first traumatized the young orphan.

He kept his hand at her knee, which was a small relief to Violet but she knew it was not because he had any mercy or humanity, it was merely because he was getting a kick out of her trembling in fear that he wanted to prolong it for as long as he could to further torment the poor girl. And why wouldn’t he? He believed he had all the time in the world. He had his favorite little orphan captured and in his clutches unable to escape or save herself and he severely doubted that Klaus was going to attempt another rescue mission after his first one had ended in his own pain, misery, and blood being spilled. Olaf believed that even if Klaus was brave enough to try to rescue Violet, he would fail miserably and then he would have all three children in his clutches. His to torture in any way that he seemed fit.

He glanced up at the terrified Violet, who looked from him to his hand attentively. Only staring at one or the other for a few seconds before shifting her eyes. She closed her eyes and pushed her head against the gurney as if she were ready to give in. She sighed heavily and as she did, Olaf and even Violet, herself, could hear the tremble in her voice. “...don’t...please don’t hurt them…” she cried, tears once again flowing.

He once again reveled and rejoiced in her misery and fear as he used his free hand to wipe her tears from her eyes again. “Didn’t we talk about crying?” he asked in a tone that was softer than his threats but was far scarier. “ Pretty little orphans shouldn’t cry…”

She jerked her head once more. She felt sick to her stomach with each second that passed by. She stared at the door, pleading within her mind for someone to barge in and stop him before he went too far.

“I mean...I could just keep you...and let them live,” he mused. She groaned depressingly simply because of the way he said it. It didn’t sound like he was contemplating her idea, it sounded like he was planning to use it against her. “But...you’d have to do something for me first,” he explained as he began to lift his grip from her knee. Violet shuddered violently, understanding fully well what he had been implying.

Violet’s eyes widened. “Stop fucking touching me! ” she cried through her sobs, desperately pulling at her wrists and ankles. She needed the restraints to loosen but unfortunately for her, it didn’t seem to be happening.

Olaf smirked down at her as he lifted the large knife. Violet couldn’t tell if the knife was, yet another, scare tactic or if this was really what he was going to do. Merely cut her up. She didn’t know exactly how to feel about that. She stared at the large knife, her breathing becomes rapid.

 No. She told herself as she felt herself shake. He wouldn’t do that to you. He said it himself. You’re too pretty for that.

She involuntarily gagged at her thoughts. On second thought, I’d prefer if he cut me like he did Klaus.  

She looked at the knife fearfully when he set it on her leg, applying slight pressure to it. She froze under his touch, too afraid to continue to struggle because she didn’t want to cut herself. “Oh, Violet.. .I will touch whatever I want. ”

Violet shuddered at both the tone that he used to say that and the double meaning she knew that the statement had. He stroked the knife against her knee with one hand as he lifted his other hand, keeping it above her thigh. Violet had a feeling she knew now why Olaf had wanted her in the hospital gown. As his hand hovered over her thigh, she pulled at her wrists violently ignoring the sharp pain that was affecting her wrists.

“ No,” she cried. She glanced at the door, practically begging with her eyes for the Hook-Handed Man or anyone else to open the door now! As Violet continued to struggle against her restraints, she decided that she’d rather not see what was to happen next. She closed her eyes tight as the door swung open.

“Boss! Boss! Come quick!” The Hook-Handed Man cried urgently.

Olaf groaned loudly as he dropped the large knife on the tray filled with medical tools that still laid on top of Violet. “Can’t you see that I’m busy with my pet?” he asked stroking Violet’s hair.

Violet whimpered and tried to move her head as she watched the henchman slightly shudder.

“This better be important!” Olaf hissed, turning his body and attention towards his henchman, glaring at him. Violet took this opportunity to lift up her head and quickly scan the tray of tools looking for something sharp to cut her restraints. She glanced around at all the big tools knowing full well that she couldn’t take one of those because she needed to be conspicuous. Her eyes locked on a scalpel that was laying at the edge of the tray. She quickly glanced up at Olaf, who was still distracted by his henchman and she quietly reached for the scalpel. She looked up at the henchman to see if he was watching her, but he seemed to be focused on something else. She carefully took the scalpel from the tray and cautiously hid it under her body.

“We just found the other brats!” The Hook-Handed Man reported.

“What?!” Olaf cried excitedly, his eyes widening and shining with pure happiness.

Violet’s eyes widened for an entirely different reason. “ NO!” she screamed. Her struggling became a bit harsher as she groaned and winced from the pain that was going through her wrists. “ Please!”

“The others are in pursuit right now,” he explained. “But we need your help catching them, sir.”

Olaf groaned. “Where’s Esme?” he asked. “She caught this pretty little thing for me...why can’t she catch the other two?”

“She’s busy doing her own thing,” the henchman replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Must I do everything myself?” he asks as he glares at his henchman.

Olaf growls knowing damn well that that meant Esme was more focused on getting her damn sugar bowl than getting him the remaining two orphans. That would explain why she hadn’t followed him into Violet’s room. Olaf turned from his henchperson back to Violet. He placed a cold hand on her bruised cheek. “Maybe our fun should wait until I have those pesky Baudelaires.” he hissed as he caressed her cheek. She shudders under his touch, he could hear her whimpers.

“ Please! Leave them alone!” Violet pleads, choking on her tears. “ They’re all I have!”  She began to harshly pull at her restraints careful not to move too much where the scalpel could be seen or where she’d accidentally bump it off her gurney. She grunted and groaned in pain as she twisted her wrists and ankles this way and that.

Olaf smirked widens as he watches her. He takes the tray from where it laid on top of her and placed it back on the counter that was far from where her gurney was parked.

He turned to her and viciously hissed, “Oh, Violet. You have nothing.” he lifted up the big knife as he examined it again. He turned to his henchman. “Do you think this is sharper than your hooks?”

The man shrugged in response. “Actually, the duller the weapon the better. The more pressure that needs to be applied." Olaf muttered to himself loud enough for Violet to hear. “Hmmmm...maybe we can use this drill on the little baby,” he said lifting up the drill and turning it on once more. "What do you think, pet?"

This time the sound it produced made Violet’s ears and heart ache. She didn’t care imagining it being used on her but to be used on Sunny...she couldn’t bear it.

“ Please! You have me! You don’t need to harm them anymore!”

He walks back to her as he glances down at her. “Don’t worry, pet, I’ll allow you to see them one last time. ” The words hit Violet to her core as her heart was beating too fast. She tried to look into Olaf’s viciously shiny eyes for mercy but he was right, there was absolutely none especially when it came to her siblings. “I mean, how else could you witness their demise?”

“ Olaf! Please! No!” She cries. Her tone a mix of anger and desperation.

Olaf pats her on the head. “A fake doctor’s work is never done.” he shrugged his shoulders as he began to walk out. “Oh, and I wouldn’t bother screaming...in a hospital...screams are perfectly normal. Am I right?” He gestured around as if to tell Violet that no one had come to her rescue and the only reason he was leaving her right now was to go catch her siblings. “It seems like your self-sacrifice was for nothing. You just made them easier targets to catch.”

“ You listen to me you piece of fucking dog shit! Don’t you dare touch Klaus or Sunny!” Violet cried desperately. Her anger taking the forefront of her mindset. “ When I get out of these restraints, I will make you pay for everything you’ve done to them! And everything you try to do to them!”

He laughed at Violet’s threats as he walked back towards the door to follow his henchman, he stopped at the tray and lifted the big, sharp knife once more. “On second thought, this will be perfect for subduing those brats. They’ll both be shaking to their cores at the mere sight of this and then we’ll snatch them,” he explained cruelly to Violet. “Let’s go, Hooky.”

“ No...no...you can’t! Please!” She struggled violently. Her desperation and anger were fighting for the forefront of her mind. “ If you harm them...I will fucking kill you! You hear me! I will end you so quickly if you even dare touch even a hair on either one of their heads!”

Olaf put his hand up in the air and waved at Violet tauntingly. “ I’m so scared.” He mocked as he began to laugh maniacally. “ Don’t worry, my pretty little pet, I’ll be right back.”

Before she could respond, he closed the door behind him and his henchman.

“ No!” she shrieked. “ You don’t need them! You have me!”

But she didn’t get a response...not a single response. Her fear had her paralyzed. She had just had a really close call with Olaf and now the only reason she was relatively safer than she was just mere moments ago was that Olaf had left to chase after her siblings, who have apparently been spotted in the hospital. Violet knew she had to get to her siblings before Olaf and his troupe could. So as she reached her fingers to the scalpel that she had stolen from Olaf, she maneuvered the tool at the perfect angle and with her right hand, she began to desperately cut at her restraints. Glancing at the door, looking for anyone’s approaching shadows. She only hoped that everyone in Olaf’s troupe was focused on literally chasing down Klaus and Sunny only because she knew that if everyone was focused on them that means no one was paying her any attention whatsoever and that’s exactly the kind of distraction she needed to escape from Olaf’s clutches.

As she cut through her first restraint, Violet knew she had to find Klaus and Sunny before Olaf could.

[cybrfang]

You're Family

Hey:) can you make a fic or something where the lost boys are new kids at The readers school and they try to recruit her? Thanks :)

Requested by: Anon

Tagging: @thelostgirl-crylittlesister @excusememecouldyoupleaseleave @lionheartmadre @dead-inside-and-drunk-outside @trekmeoutgoodlooking @coffinkin @uwu-ni @any of else that I've missed

Tags: slight angst, cussing, anxiety about school, rude teachers.

Ayy!! Hopefully you like it, I've been trying to work on my writing and make it a lot better lol. I'm thinking of putting all my stories on my AO3 account lol. What do y'all think?

You weren't particularly having a good day so far. First your little brother spills his finger paints on your algebra homework, then you find out you left your Honors chemistry paper at home and now, half of your group -meaning everyone but you and Tanner- are at home sick, or ditching. So, that means you've got to do the presentation on the industrial revolution all by yourself, and let's face it, Tanner isn't going to help you one bit. To top it all off, David and his goons are here to convince you to join their merry little band of men. Well… teenage boys, one teenage girl, and a young boy. But Star stayed home with Laddie. She at least appreciated your opinion on things.

It just isn't fair! You've been doing everything right, being a good girl! You've been going to bed on time, showing up for class, and hell, you've even stopped drinking and smoking! But life still wanted to play the villain in this tale. You try and you try, but evil keeps winning. And by evil, you mean stupid pretty boy vampires who now have access to your night school somehow. Why they were here, well, you knew the answer to that. But, why they decided to actually enroll in your school was beyond you. They've been here for about 3 weeks now. As angry as you were, you had to hand it to them… they were definitely committed to this charade.

The worst part of your day so far though… AP Government. You didn't even know a single thing about American Government. Well… you knew somethings. But, only the things they forced you to learn in middle school, aka over 42 pages a night in the textbooks with annotations to prove you actually studied. You also knew the things that actually interested you, and mattered in your life. Last year's World History class was kinda fun. So, of course you did your work, and got A's and B's (with the occasion C) on your tests. But, the only problem in that was the teacher actually thought you were smart. He told you that you would do really well in AP Government, that you could handle it. And, like a fool, you took him up on his offer. Let's just say, that was probably the dumbest thing you've ever done in your life besides chill with the lost boys. Now to make matters worse, those creeping assholes were in your class. You were currently sitting at your desk, trying to finish the timeline that was due today when you felt something hit your back.

'Just ignore them (Y/N), you have work to do and Ms. Murray won't give you a deadline.’ She probably would if you were being honest with yourself. You always pushed yourself with this class to the point of a break down. Most of the papers you turned in had tear stains on them. One of the boys would find you in your room hyperventilating, curled up in a ball almost every week. That's one of their reasons for trying to ‘save’ you from this place. You had a theory that she had a quota she's gotta meet for the amount of kids she has to break. You figured enrolling in night school would make things a lot easier -you also figured that it would make you too busy to hang with the boys and sorta fuck up and drink David's blood or something- on your poor mental state after last year. But, again… you were wrong.

*Thwack*

God damnit! Can't they take a damn hint or something? You needed to do work, not joke around or skip class, or whatever they wanted you to do. Fucking boundaries people!  With this new distraction you were a little behind schedule. It was irking you to no end that they just up and decided to go put themselves in your day… well night but it didn't matter. You weren't going to take them up on this dumb offer. No way were you gonna stay in just one place for the rest of your life. Besides what if they got bor-

*Thwack*

“For fucks sake, WHAT?!” You turned around in your seat to glare daggers at an innocent looking Paul. Who it so happened, was in the process of balling up another paper to throw at you. Your little whispered outburst wasn't as quiet as you had hoped it was. You heard your teacher's chair scrap on the ground as she stood up. “If you're still working you shouldn't be talking.” You turned back around to look at her, heat creeping up on your face. She must be waiting for a response from you, or else she was just looking at you to make everyone around you know that she was calling you out. You were beyond lucky that you were a decent liar. Many months with those morons at least gave you something.

“No, I'm not done with my work. I just wanted to help Paul with his timeline. He's a bit behind and still working on American Political Ideologies and Beliefs so I wanted to give him a few tips.”

Ms. Murray smiled a bit, looking like she didn't just try to embarrass you and nodded, “Well as long as you can do your work and talk at the same time then.” She gestured down at your timeline which was in need of a bit of color. You snuck a look behind you and felt a childish urge to stick out your tongue. David and his boys were smirking at you, finally catching your attention in what seemed like forever. You guessed that they took your glare as an invitation to join your table with the false notion that you were going to help them with their work, because that's exactly what they did.

“Ugh, what do you want?” You looked up at the teacher, keeping your voice low.

“We just want your help sista.” Dwayne leaned back in his chair, pointing to his timeline, which was just a blank piece of paper with his name hastily scribbled on the bottom left hand corner. All of their papers looked like that, except for Marko's. His had a few facts on it, with a little scribble of a robot cat next to his name.

“Sure. You want my help, and I want jump in the middle of traffic.” Dwayne chuckled at your words, grabbing his paper and balling it up like the ones thrown at your back a few moments ago. He leaned forward a bit, reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear. “We've done that before.” You thought for a moment on that memory of playing chicken with all of them. But that didn't matter at the moment. “What do you really want? I'm trying to get my work done here.” Paul opened his mouth, but you cut him off.

“And if this is about you trying to abduct me into your weird undead cult, then forget about it.” You slammed your colored pencil on the table in a huff, breaking off the tip. Damnit, you needed that stupid color to get this paper over with. If you finished early, you could claim you didn't feel good and leave. Groaning, you got up with the pencil, and walked over to the sharpener. You vaguely heard someone get up and follow behind you. Stopping to stand next to you as you positioned your pencil.

“It's not a cult.”

You snorted rolling your eyes, looking at David. “Doesn't matter what it is. I'm not going to join it.” His face was blank, not letting you see the emotions behind his words, but his voice alone made you realize he was losing his patients “You’re testin’ me kid. I've been nice because of Star, but tell me why I shouldn't just give up and leave you to the wolves.” You felt your body go numb, your throat closing up a bit hearing the threat underneath the words. The threat of leaving. You shoved your pencil in the machine, letting it's loud noise fill the classroom. You looked down at it, needing to escape the piercing blue eyes still studying you. When you pulled your pencil out, you looked back at David. “You’re way too invested in me at this point, and Marko and Paul wouldn't let you hear the end of it if you did.” You took a step back, looking at him still. “Plus, I seem to remember you making a promise never to give up on me. You don't really seem like the type to break a promise, and that promise doesn't really have a loophole in it.”

You weren't going to give that thought up anytime soon. It didn't matter if he was high or you were drunk that night. He promised on his family that he would never give up on you. You even made him pinky promise. You walked back to your table and sat down before he did. Pulling your chair in for him to easily pass behind you, he leaned down by your ear; speaking so quietly it was almost like he didn't even speak at all. “I'm a vampire, not fae. I can break promises if I want… you're just lucky that your fun.” Marko snickered into his hand as David sat down, earning a glare from you. He held up his hands in surrender, a mischievous smile on his face. It wasn't just mischievous though, it was the face of someone who wanted you to laugh too, to bring you in on the joke. That helped put you at ease. You knew they all liked you, it was obvious from the way they treated you and tried to get you to join them. But, you had your reasons and you needed to stick with them.

“Why can't we just go back to hanging out without you guys pestering me all the time? I would love to chill all night and not have to watch what I'm drinking for a red color.” You chuckled a bit, not even that frustrated. “I would love to drink wine again without the constant fear of it being blo-”

Each boy seemed to jump a bit towards you, but with Paul being the closest to you it was his hand that covered your mouth. This wasn't something new to you, but it still pissed you off. But, before you could yank his hand off of your face, you heard the monotone voice of your teacher right behind you.

“Ms. (L/N) if you want to continue this conversation, don't you think it would be wise to just step out of the room?” You turned around to stare at her, the implication in her voice making a dull fire start to burn in your gut. “You obviously don't appreciate the time I'm giving you to finish your assignment, and you would rather just sit around goofing off, holding your peers back.”

The last part of that sentence seemed to pour gasoline on the flame. You pushed back in your seat to stand up, shaking the tables and missing the satisfied smiles on the boys around you. “I'm holding them back? Oh hunny you must think they're here to get an actual education. When was the last time they actually turned anything  in?” She made to cut you off, holding up her index finger as if to scold a young child. “When was the last time anyone in this fucking class actually turned in anything completed other than me?” You stepped forward a bit, your hands curling into fists. She seemed to notice as she backed up from you, her eyes darting to the phone on her desk.

“Oh just fucking…fuck it!” You grabbed your timeline and crumpled it up in a ball, turning to throw it at her. She had moved when you turned around. So instead of hitting the wall near her, you ended up hitting her in the face with a lot of extra force for a paper ball. Your skin burned again like earlier, but your scowl stayed in place. She opened her mouth, her face around it probably more red than yours, but was cut off for the second time. Around 4 more paper balls hit her in the face with a lot more force than necessary. You didn't wait to see what she had to say after that. You grabbed your things and left the room, hearing the boys laughing and following after you.

You made it down the block from the school before what you did truly hit you. “Oh god, oh fuck, oh god, oh fuc-” You felt a pair of hands grab you from behind and spin you around.

“Marko put me down!”

He laughed in response, pulling you in for a hug from behind. Dwayne hugged you from the front, barricading you in an arm prison. A car driving by honked, making you groan. Paul popped his head over Marco's shoulder looking at you while David did the same but from behind Dwayne's shoulder, almost standing next to all of you. “Why are you freaking out babe?” Marko mumbled to you. His lips brushed against the top of your ear, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. “Why? Did you just ask why dude? Cuz I'm pretty sure I just got myself kicked out of school that's why.” You slumped down defeated in the boys arms, falling between them on the ground. If you looked up at this moment it would look very wrong for all the beeping cars driving by. David pulled out a cigarette and lighter, putting the cigarette in his mouth. He pointed at Paul, and then at you while lighting the smoke.

Paul smiled and weaved his way in between both boys, scooping you up bridal style. You leaned into his chest, not expecting any warmth, but feeling comfortable nonetheless. You sniffed the air, confusion on your face. He smiled, leaning down to speak to you. “We had to take so may baths, spray so much shit on us so we didn't smell dead in our seats for long. The lengths we all went through just to get you to talk to us mama.” You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “None of you thought to call me? At least send me a text?” You smirked knowing the answer before they said it. Of course they wouldn't do that, they didn't like phone. The phones they liked needed a quarter to call someone. Dwayne shook his head, ignoring your question.

“We needed to show you that we were serious.” You were quiet when Paul placed you on the ground in the alley a few more blocks away from the school. You were out of prying eyes from the road. “I knew you guys were serious, but you're just…” You trailed off trying to find the right words. They were wrong for wanting you to join them. They were wrong and you knew it. They just didn't know it yet. Of all of the things they could've asked from you, they choose forever.

“Wrong?”

You looked up at Paul, a small frown on his face. It made your heart ache to think that he didn't truly know.

“(Y/N), the only one wrong here is you.” The ache went away, stubbornness replacing it as David crouched in front of you, turning his head to blow smoke out. “We know what we want. We want you. We know what you want. You want us.” Ugh they could be so infuriating sometimes. “You don't know what I want, if you knew what I wanted you wouldn't be trying to force any of this on to me. You haven't taken what I want in consideration at all!” You pushed yourself off the ground, looking down at David as he stayed crouched. “Then tell us what you want then.” He mumbled, slowly following after you. Looking into his eyes, you felt your own tear up at all of the confusing feelings swarming in your head. After a few moments of silence trying to get your thoughts in order, you felt the tears slip down your face.

“I don't want to be forgotten David. I don't want to be stuck in one place for the rest of my life if all of you find out I'm not what you all thought I was. I don't want Laddie or Star to figure out one day that I'm the worst thing to happen in this family.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, squeezing tightly. You felt fingers on your face, wiping away the tears streaming down it. You looked over to your right, locking eyes with Dwayne. He looked almost disappointed. You would too if you found out that someone was right about something you were blind to. You just wanted to go home, this was all too much and after tonight you might've just lost the only true friends you had.

“Why would we forget you?” You looked over at Paul, confusion on his face. “You're probably the dopest chick we know. What other human wants to try to ride a motorcycle standing on the seat? Or playing in the highway with us? What other human is willing to distract a police officer and a carni just so we can unscrew a horse on the merry go round? Who has the guts to do all of that?” You chuckled remembering all those times and more. “You would find someone like me on that front don't worry.” You tried to back up, the wall behind you making that impossible. Marko reached forward and flicked you on the nose, making a tsk tsk noise. “No we wouldn't. Do you know how afraid people are of us?” You saw Dwayne nod out of the corner of your eye. “You are probably the first human to ever walk up to us in public, and demand that we tell you we're not human.” You laughed a bit more, remembering the shocked faces that night. “Well….none of you are really discreet you know? I mean what normal human jumps off a ferris wheel?” You scoffed as they all pointed at you, “Not so I can scare people! Maybe I would if I was drunk but come on, really?”

David stepped forward, throwing his cigarette on the ground and stepping on it. “As for Star and Laddie, they think the world of you. You're all they ask about when we would get home. I'm pretty sure Star has a crush on you.” You opened your mouth to dispute that, but he placed a finger at your lips, pointing to his head. “Trust me, I know. Okay?” You nodded, but you weren't fully convinced. “Laddie sees you like a big sister. He loves you.” You felt your face heat up, one last time. God, how many times were you going to blush tonight? David reached into his trench coat, pulling out a flask and holding g in front of your face. “Be one of us (Y/N). Come home.” You stared at the flask, so many thoughts running through your head. He noticed your hesitation and nodded, “If you say no, I promise we won't ask again. Just… say yes.” It almost seemed like he had a hint of desperation in his voice. Almost like he wanted you to know that in his own way, he cared. You looked around at the other boys. Dwayne, Marko and Paul. They cared too. Why did it take you so long to really see that? To see that they all love you in their own weird ways.

They were already your family. You didn't need to drink blood to see that now, but…

You reached out, grabbing the flask and watching David's face. He gave nothing away, in case you changed your mind. You unscrewed the lid, narrowing your eyes in the dark midnight. You couldn't see anything, but you would bet from the almost iron like smell, that it was his blood in there. “Sleep all day?” The boys around you smiled, trying not to laugh. Dwayne leaned forward, “Party all night girl.” You let out a deep breath, closing your eyes. A smile tugged at your lips, feeling that you made the right choice. “It better be fun, being a vampire.” You brought the flask to your lips, downing a few swings. You heard the boys around you laugh and yell, almost sounding far away. You opened your eyes, finding yourself to be alone. The flask in your hand was empty, you drank it all. That's weird… you only remember drinking a few gulps. You heard the echoes of laughter around you, the ally way finally giving away that Dawn was approaching. You stepped out, and walked to a place where you could see the sun.

You ended up on the boardwalk, your limbs protesting and asking for sleep. But, you settled on the sand and stared out over the ocean, watching the sun rise. It felt almost sad, with you not knowing how long the sunrises would last for you. You didn't know much about being a vampire, but the main deal was no sunlight. You shook your head, getting rid of the thought. It would be something you dealt with for another time. You smiled as the sun was in the sky, the wind blowing your hair a bit. This was going to be… interesting. You stood up, and began to head home to go to sleep. You were going to have a busy night later.

[draculalive]

Jonathan Harker’s Journal

2 October, evening. — A long and trying and exciting day. By the first post I got my directed envelope with a dirty scrap of paper enclosed, on which was written with a carpenter’s pencil in a sprawling hand:—

Sam Bloxam, Korkrans, 4, Poters Cort, Bartel Street, Walworth. Arsk for the depite.

I got the letter in bed, and rose without waking Mina. She looked heavy and sleepy and pale, and far from well. I determined not to wake her, but that, when I should return from this new search, I would arrange for her going back to Exeter. I think she would be happier in our own home, with her daily tasks to interest her, than in being here amongst us and in ignorance. I only saw Dr. Seward for a moment, and told him where I was off to, promising to come back and tell the rest so soon as I should have found out anything. I drove to Walworth and found, with some difficulty, Potter’s Court. Mr. Smollet’s spelling misled me, as I asked for Poter’s Court instead of Potter’s Court. However, when I had found the court, I had no difficulty in discovering Corcoran’s lodging-house. When I asked the man who came to the door for the “depite,” he shook his head, and said: “I dunno ’im. There ain’t no such a person ’ere; I never ’eard of ’im in all my bloomin’ days. Don’t believe there ain’t nobody of that kind livin’ ere or anywheres.” I took out Smollet’s letter, and as I read it it seemed to me that the lesson of the spelling of the name of the court might guide me. “What are you?” I asked.

“I’m the depity,” he answered. I saw at once that I was on the right track; phonetic spelling had again misled me. A half-crown tip put the deputy’s knowledge at my disposal, and I learned that Mr. Bloxam, who had slept off the remains of his beer on the previous night at Corcoran’s, had left for his work at Poplar at five o’clock that morning. He could not tell me where the place of work was situated, but he had a vague idea that it was some kind of a “new-fangled ware’us”; and with this slender clue I had to start for Poplar. It was twelve o’clock before I got any satisfactory hint of such a building, and this I got at a coffee-shop, where some workmen were having their dinner. One of these suggested that there was being erected at Cross Angel Street a new “cold storage” building; and as this suited the condition of a “new-fangled ware’us,” I at once drove to it. An interview with a surly gatekeeper and a surlier foreman, both of whom were appeased with the coin of the realm, put me on the track of Bloxam; he was sent for on my suggesting that I was willing to pay his day’s wages to his foreman for the privilege of asking him a few questions on a private matter. He was a smart enough fellow, though rough of speech and bearing. When I had promised to pay for his information and given him an earnest, he told me that he had made two journeys between Carfax and a house in Piccadilly, and had taken from this house to the latter nine great boxes — “main heavy ones” — with a horse and cart hired by him for this purpose. I asked him if he could tell me the number of the house in Piccadilly, to which he replied:—

“Well, guv’nor, I forgits the number, but it was only a few doors from a big white church or somethink of the kind, not long built. It was a dusty old ’ouse, too, though nothin’ to the dustiness of the ’ouse we tooked the bloomin’ boxes from.”

“How did you get into the houses if they were both empty?”

“There was the old party what engaged me a-waitin’ in the ’ouse at Purfleet. He ’elped me to lift the boxes and put them in the dray. Curse me, but he was the strongest chap I ever struck, an’ him a old feller, with a white moustache, one that thin you would think he couldn’t throw a shadder.”

How this phrase thrilled through me!

“Why, ’e took up ’is end o’ the boxes like they was pounds of tea, and me a-puffin’ an’ a-blowin’ afore I could up-end mine anyhow — an’ I’m no chicken, neither.”

“How did you get into the house in Piccadilly?” I asked.

“He was there too. He must ’a’ started off and got there afore me, for when I rung of the bell he kem an’ opened the door ’isself an’ ’elped me to carry the boxes into the ’all.”

“The whole nine?” I asked.

“Yus; there was five in the first load an’ four in the second. It was main dry work, an’ I don’t so well remember ’ow I got ’ome.” I interrupted him:—

“Were the boxes left in the hall?”

“Yus; it was a big ’all, an’ there was nothin’ else in it.” I made one more attempt to further matters:—

“You didn’t have any key?”

“Never used no key nor nothink. The old gent, he opened the door ’isself an’ shut it again when I druv off. I don’t remember the last time — but that was the beer.”

“And you can’t remember the number of the house?”

“No, sir. But ye needn’t have no difficulty about that. It’s a ’igh ’un with a stone front with a bow on it, an’ ’igh steps up to the door. I know them steps, ’avin’ ’ad to carry the boxes up with three loafers what come round to earn a copper. The old gent give them shillin’s, an’ they seein’ they got so much, they wanted more; but ’e took one of them by the shoulder and was like to throw ’im down the steps, till the lot of them went away cussin’.” I thought that with this description I could find the house, so, having paid my friend for his information, I started off for Piccadilly. I had gained a new painful experience; the Count could, it was evident, handle the earth-boxes himself. If so, time was precious; for, now that he had achieved a certain amount of distribution, he could, by choosing his own time, complete the task unobserved. At Piccadilly Circus I discharged my cab, and walked westward; beyond the Junior Constitutional I came across the house described, and was satisfied that this was the next of the lairs arranged by Dracula. The house looked as though it had been long untenanted. The windows were encrusted with dust, and the shutters were up. All the framework was black with time, and from the iron the paint had mostly scaled away. It was evident that up to lately there had been a large notice-board in front of the balcony; it had, however, been roughly torn away, the uprights which had supported it still remaining. Behind the rails of the balcony I saw there were some loose boards, whose raw edges looked white. I would have given a good deal to have been able to see the notice-board intact, as it would, perhaps, have given some clue to the ownership of the house. I remembered my experience of the investigation and purchase of Carfax, and I could not but feel that if I could find the former owner there might be some means discovered of gaining access to the house.

There was at present nothing to be learned from the Piccadilly side, and nothing could be done; so I went round to the back to see if anything could be gathered from this quarter. The mews were active, the Piccadilly houses being mostly in occupation. I asked one or two of the grooms and helpers whom I saw around if they could tell me anything about the empty house. One of them said that he heard it had lately been taken, but he couldn’t say from whom. He told me, however, that up to very lately there had been a notice-board of “For Sale” up, and that perhaps Mitchell, Sons, & Candy, the house agents, could tell me something, as he thought he remembered seeing the name of that firm on the board. I did not wish to seem too eager, or to let my informant know or guess too much, so, thanking him in the usual manner, I strolled away. It was now growing dusk, and the autumn night was closing in, so I did not lose any time. Having learned the address of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy from a directory at the Berkeley, I was soon at their office in Sackville Street.

The gentleman who saw me was particularly suave in manner, but uncommunicative in equal proportion. Having once told me that the Piccadilly house — which throughout our interview he called a “mansion” — was sold, he considered my business as concluded. When I asked who had purchased it, he opened his eyes a thought wider, and paused a few seconds before replying:—

“It is sold, sir.”

“Pardon me,” I said, with equal politeness, “but I have a special reason for wishing to know who purchased it.”

Again he paused longer, and raised his eyebrows still more. “It is sold, sir,” was again his laconic reply.

“Surely,” I said, “you do not mind letting me know so much.”

“But I do mind,” he answered. “The affairs of their clients are absolutely safe in the hands of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy.” This was manifestly a prig of the first water, and there was no use arguing with him. I thought I had best meet him on his own ground, so I said:—

“Your clients, sir, are happy in having so resolute a guardian of their confidence. I am myself a professional man.” Here I handed him my card. “In this instance I am not prompted by curiosity; I act on the part of Lord Godalming, who wishes to know something of the property which was, he understood, lately for sale.” These words put a different complexion on affairs. He said:—

“I would like to oblige you if I could, Mr. Harker, and especially would I like to oblige his lordship. We once carried out a small matter of renting some chambers for him when he was the Honourable Arthur Holmwood. If you will let me have his lordship’s address I will consult the House on the subject, and will, in any case, communicate with his lordship by to-night’s post. It will be a pleasure if we can so far deviate from our rules as to give the required information to his lordship.”

I wanted to secure a friend, and not to make an enemy, so I thanked him, gave the address at Dr. Seward’s and came away. It was now dark, and I was tired and hungry. I got a cup of tea at the Aërated Bread Company and came down to Purfleet by the next train.

I found all the others at home. Mina was looking tired and pale, but she made a gallant effort to be bright and cheerful, it wrung my heart to think that I had had to keep anything from her and so caused her inquietude. Thank God, this will be the last night of her looking on at our conferences, and feeling the sting of our not showing our confidence. It took all my courage to hold to the wise resolution of keeping her out of our grim task. She seems somehow more reconciled; or else the very subject seems to have become repugnant to her, for when any accidental allusion is made she actually shudders. I am glad we made our resolution in time, as with such a feeling as this, our growing knowledge would be torture to her.

I could not tell the others of the day’s discovery till we were alone; so after dinner — followed by a little music to save appearances even amongst ourselves — I took Mina to her room and left her to go to bed. The dear girl was more affectionate with me than ever, and clung to me as though she would detain me; but there was much to be talked of and I came away. Thank God, the ceasing of telling things has made no difference between us.

When I came down again I found the others all gathered round the fire in the study. In the train I had written my diary so far, and simply read it off to them as the best means of letting them get abreast of my own information; when I had finished Van Helsing said:—

“This has been a great day’s work, friend Jonathan. Doubtless we are on the track of the missing boxes. If we find them all in that house, then our work is near the end. But if there be some missing, we must search until we find them. Then shall we make our final coup, and hunt the wretch to his real death.” We all sat silent awhile and all at once Mr. Morris spoke:—

“Say! how are we going to get into that house?”

“We got into the other,” answered Lord Godalming quickly.

“But, Art, this is different. We broke house at Carfax, but we had night and a walled park to protect us. It will be a mighty different thing to commit burglary in Piccadilly, either by day or night. I confess I don’t see how we are going to get in unless that agency duck can find us a key of some sort; perhaps we shall know when you get his letter in the morning.” Lord Godalming’s brows contracted, and he stood up and walked about the room. By-and-by he stopped and said, turning from one to another of us:—

“Quincey’s head is level. This burglary business is getting serious; we got off once all right; but we have now a rare job on hand — unless we can find the Count’s key basket.”

As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it would be at least advisable to wait till Lord Godalming should hear from Mitchell’s, we decided not to take any active step before breakfast time. For a good while we sat and smoked, discussing the matter in its various lights and bearings; I took the opportunity of bringing this diary right up to the moment. I am very sleepy and shall go to bed…

Just a line. Mina sleeps soundly and her breathing is regular. Her forehead is puckered up into little wrinkles, as though she thinks even in her sleep. She is still too pale, but does not look so haggard as she did this morning. To-morrow will, I hope, mend all this; she will be herself at home in Exeter. Oh, but I am sleepy!

[clericduck]

To Warm A Soul

Pairing: Indruck

Words: 1694

Warnings: Almost hypothermia, death mention (doesn’t actually happen), self deprecation 

Indrid did not anticipate getting caught in the storm, but here he is. He cannot move because of the cold, but if he doesn't move, he might die. Luckily for him, Duck shows up, and Duck is warm in more ways than one.

READ ME ON AO3!

Indrid was cold- well, he always was cold, it was his last name after all, but this was a different kind of cold. Bone and brain numbing, he couldn’t quite figure out where he was, and the visions in his head had all gone to static. Not surprising, his future vision wasn’t the most effective in the cold. All he could remember was the snowstorm hitting, and vaguely noting that he wasn't gonna make it home in time before he went in a sort of torpor. Ah. That provided a bit more context. He was curled up under a tree, snow clinging to his hair, wrapped in the thin jacket that he had thought would be enough, but had ended up being very, very wrong about. Gosh, he probably wasn't going to be able to make it back to his trailer until after it had warmed up, and he wasn't sure when that was going to be. But he was was probably gonna die out here if he didn’t at least try. Well, he was very much fucked, it seemed.

Weakly, he tried to cry out. His voice barely worked. A soft “help-- anyone?” was absorbed into the vast snowy emptiness of the Monongahela. Slowly, as every nerve in his body protested against the movement, against fully waking up, he made himself sit up, resting his head against the broad trunk of the tree he had slept under. He wished he had telepathy. But no, he had stupid future vision that didn't even work half the time. Fuck this, man. He was gonna die of hypothermia, all because he had chanced a trip to the lodge to catch up with old friends. Barclay had offered to drive him back, but of course he refused, because the chances of him freezing to death were lower were Barclay getting them both killed on some black ice. Well, they had been when he left. Stupid, stupid, stup-

“Indrid?”

He was pulled out his pre-death pity party by a familiar voice. He looked up, and through his red glasses, he saw the familiar ranger, bushy eyebrows knit together in concern.

“Indrid, what the hell are you doing? You’re covered in snow-- God above, did y’all sleep out here?” Duck approached him hurriedly as Indrid tried to offer a reassuring smile. It probably didn’t come off as reassuring as he wanted, because Duck just grew more concerned.

“Can- fuck-- can you talk? Stand? Walk?”

Indrid sighed to himself, mustering up the scraps of energy he had left to speak again.

“My- My apologies- I am-- very c-cold. I can- I can talk. Don’t know-- about the rest.”

His shoulders slumped when he finished talking, and a panicked looked flashed across Duck’s mismatched eyes.

“Right- fuck, cool. Okay. Uh. Can- fuck- can I like, pick you up? I’m gonna carry you to my truck to get you warmed up. Is that okay?”

Indrid nodded. He didn’t care how, he just needed to get out of this cold. Duck scooped him up with a surprising amount of gentleness for such a clumsy, brawny man, and Indrid could already feel Duck’s body head radiating off of him. Vaguely, he curled closer to the warmth, not caring that Duck probably thought that was weird. That was a problem for future Indrid to deal with. Duck carried him through the snowy pines, to his familiar truck.

“Hey, Indrid, I'm gonna have to set you down for a sec to open the door, that alright?”

Indred hummed an affirmative, and Duck set him down gently on the hood of the forest green pickup, and he immediately felt the lack of Duck’s body warmth, shivering a bit as Duck quickly opened the door of his truck. He picked Indrid back up before setting him down in the passenger’s seat. He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, the first thing he did once he started the car was turning up the heat to full blast.

“So uh- Do you want me to drive you back to your trailer?” Duck said, glancing over at Indrid. He hummed another affirmative as the warm air started mercifully blasting his face. Duck didn’t start driving immediately-- instead, he took off his coat, probably because it was going to get too hot for him in the car, Indrid thought-- and gently laid it over Indrid. Oh. It was warm-- and smelled like pine needles. The warmth in his face was from the heater, obviously. Yeah. Another problem for future Indrid to deal with.

“Sorry, thought it might help since I’m pretty warm-- I shoulda asked first.” Duck said sheepishly.

“No-- no. Fine. Warm.” Indrid confirmed.

Duck started driving, and Indrid realized it was much easier to concentrate now that he was starting to warm up. Every once in a while, he would catch Duck sneaking a glance at him. Probably just making sure he was okay. Yeah. That had to be it.

When they got back to the Winnebago, Duck looked back at Indrid, before getting out and walking around to the passenger side, opening the door.

“You think you can walk now?”

“Uh-” tentatively, Indrid moved his legs. They seemed to move alright, but the question was whether they could support his weight. A quick check of his future vision told him that said future vision wasn’t clear enough yet for that to be a reliable guess. Well, guess he’d have to find out the old fashioned way. He scooted to the edge of the seat, and Duck held out a hand to help support him. He took the coat that Dack had draped over him and draped it over his shoulders, trying to sap the last bits of warm from it as the heaters lost the battle with the cold air coming in through the open door, and then took ducks hand as he exited the car--

And then immediately fell forward into Duck, face burying in his chest as Duck’s other arm wrapped around him to support him.

“Okay-- guess that’s a no then?” Duck said, concern and amusement lacing the twang of his accent.

“Sorry,” Indrid mumbled into his chest. The warmth of Indrid’s cheeks was just from the body heat radiating from Duck’s chest. That was it.

“You’re fine. I’m gonna carry you into the trailer then, that okay?”

“Yeah.”

After a bit of shuffling, Duck finally scooped Indrid back up into his arms. He carried him over to the trailer and paused.

“It’s unlocked,” Indrid mumbled.

“Why?”

“Thought I was gonna be home sooner.”

Duck nudged open the door with his foot before turning and catching it with his back.

“Damn it’s hot in here. Did you leave your fucking space heaters on while you were gone?”

“Again. Didn’t think I would be gone long.”

Duck set Indrid gently down on the couch, and all Indrid could do was lutch Duck’s coat closer to him as he waited to warm up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Duck moved to the kitchenette of the Winnebago. Indrid waited quietly as he defrosted, waiting for the tv static in his head to calm itself. Duck searched through his cabinets for- something. Indrid couldn’t tell what, but, he did hear a little noise of triumph when he found it that made Indrid’s heart squeeze a little-- wait. No. Stop that, not this again. He cannot be falling for Duck. No. Duck didn’t like him like that. He’d looked, there were next to no timelines where Duck liked him back. If only he could remember which timeline that was-- no. He wasn’t gonna manipulate Duck into liking him, that would be beyond disgusting.

A soft whistling jerked him out of his thoughts. He looked over at the kitchen and-- Duck had the kettle on. Damn, Indrid forget he even had a kettle. He generally didn't really make tea. He didn’t think he even had any tea bags. He was about to tell Duck this, when the ranger pulled a small box out of of one of the pockets of his uniform. He opened it, and put a tea bag into a mug he had set onto the counter. Duck carried tea with him all the time. That was. Cute. No, it wasn’t, shut up Indrid.

“Hey, I hope you like herbal tea, all I really got,” Duck called from the kitchen.

“That’s fine. Just put some sugar in it, if you could?”

“You got it.”

Soon enough, Duck brought over the mug of hot tea, sitting on the couch after handing it to Indrid. Subconsciously, Indrid leaned into Duck. It was because he was warm, Indrid told himself as he closed his eyes for a moment. Just because he was warm.

“Just because I’m warm eh?” Duck teased, and Indrid’s eyes flew open, panic seizing his chest.

Had he said that out loud?

“Indrid?”

“I- uh. I’m so sorry. You. You probably don’t like me like that sorry I just made this really weird--” Indrid started to pull away, he immediately started missing Duck’s warmth , but Duck’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked over at Duck, and even through the red tint of the glasses, he could tell that Duck’s cheeks were definitely a darker color than the rest of his face.

Duck mumbled something that Indrid couldn't quite hear, or more accurately, couldn’t quite believe.

“I’m… sorry?”

“I said,” he watched as Duck took a deep breath, “I said I like you too, Indrid.”

The way Duck said his name made his heart do that thing again, but this time, it didn't cause him to panic. Duck liked him, and he said it without changing his story thirty times so. He couldn't have been lying. Still, Indrid searched his eyes for any hint of deceit, but found only nerves. And so he put the mug of tea that he had been clutching like a lifeline on the table in front of the couch, and closed the gap between him and Duck, catching his lips in a kiss. He found that he had never felt warmer than in that moment.

[hgfstreamchats]

Pokemon Yellow Nuzlocke: Part 1

Hello! Greetings. This website seems determined to change how it works every week or so. It's revolting. I still haven't gotten around figuring out how to archive. Assuming there is a way to do so. Soundwave's apparently worked something out, but nothing for the long term. Until they stop fiddling with the site itself, then there's no figuring out a permanent system. Eugh. Any hints as to what this is? A short film that should have won at the Oscars and didn't. And I've been incredibly surly over this. I see... Unattended children die in a clay mire? And how! hello! Hello there! Hello. what is happening here Bad decisions. good times, then In an asbestos mine -- nobody's favorite mineral to eat. Too late then. He died as he lived -- choking on lungs full of cold, wet, sucking asbestos and groundwater. how very existential A cautionary tale in not allowing children to wander. It's very Cybertronian!

Alright. Now let's see if we can get this emulator working. Flawless paragon of its kind, truly Oh, there we are! Is the sound alright for everyone? No problems? It seems to be working fine. coming through perfetly clear and 16-bit Fantastic! What to name your rival? Oh, so many possibilities. and only seven letters to do it in Let's see, who do I hate? and, if the name is too long, do you have a demeaning nickname Fair enough. True, and cutting his name short probably WOULD annoy him more Oh, immensely. The hardest part of this game is apparently thinking of names. I'm having fun so far! it's almost like it didn't stand a chance against a rodent that literally stores lightning in itself Your rat is displeased. Look at that face! We'll get along perfectly! Alright, here are the rules of the game. First pokemon encountered in any given area is the one we catch, fainting means death, and we get one Mulligan on Lambo because he's my special, darling little boy. Seems straight forward enough. Do you have to name all the monsters you catch? Every single one. So you get attached Absolutely. If we're not all crying before this project is at an end, I've failed as your master of ceremonies and you can point and laugh at me. I promise to point and laugh if you get all your monsters killed before reaching the next city. That's reasonable. Oh yes, back to the naming screen! Scrap. That was an accident. I thought you could only catch the first pidgey you encountered in this area? We're cheating a little because it's the first area. Tsk tsk. yeah, aren't we basically still in the forced tutorials bit? Game hasn't properly started yet Exactly. Hence The Rat With No Name, whom I'm sure we'll all grow to accept regardless. Unless it dies. then we'll accept it as The Rat That Lasted Less Than An Hour UI'm here! What did I miss? Hello! We watched a child drown in a mire, and now it is time for imaginary monster catching. Nuzlocke edition Ahhh I'm just seeing the rabbit loading screen If I'd known we were starting at the old time, I would have been here! Also, hang on while I reload Night human! Welcome! So, I hear the game music, but there's no video. Can anyone else see... anything? It is working for me. Same Gosh! This is exactly what I wanted to deal with. If I'd known we were starting at the old time, I would have been here! Also, hang on while I reload Night human! Welcome! So, I hear the game music, but there's no video. Can anyone else see... anything? It is working for me. Same Gosh! This is exactly what I wanted to deal with. Yeah, Rabbit's been... just stellar tonight Let me save and then try something. .............................. Son of a glitch. Well, that's why we save often. I'll try a different browser. I'd be lying if I said I din't fear for the Rat With No Name's Future. Eh. To be fair, you probably should. He's very delicate. He probably cries a lot. I think I need to reboot. brb Look at them clearing out those harmless, low level wild mice and rats. That's my team! Devastating the local ecosystem. The perfect hobby for ten year old children. pff, wait 'til we start catching the ones said to be responsible for the weather Assuming we get that far. I do not think the Rat is going to make it that far along. Don't you talk about my Rat that way. It's not his fault he's good at nothing. Time to move out of the baby field. And start playing with the rules properly? Yes nd I'm still not getting any video. Very odd... I'm using Rabbit Share. Does that make a difference? I don't know Hold on. Let me try rebooting it. After I name the new bird. If it's working for other people, then the problem is on my end yeah, best guess? Video drivers are acting up. wait! there it is! woo! Okay, so, Chrome works, Opera no longer does, I guess. So are we permanently back to starting at 6-6:30, or is this a one-time thing? A one time thing, at least until spring. I was feeling under the weather, so no newspark wrangling tonight." Ahhhh If I'd known I wouldn't have stayed late at work, and then run errands, and then gone out for takeout... Hmm, name suggestions for the bug? Or at the least, not those last two things "Twinkie" Ha. Now, who shall die Two mons enter, one mon leaves! And then you take the loser's money. ...it lets you JUMP OVER short hedges! well, yeah, I mean that's just general death match rules regarding money, right? So are they GIVING you the money or are you looting it from their dead/unconscious body? Mostly throwing it at you so you'll let them rush their monsters to medical aid Ah, so you're mugging them. Though, I guess they start out trying to mug YOU, so... You've killed their monsters. It is a bribe to avoid being slain as well. and this is a Nuzlocke, so they WILL kill you given half a chance It's a dangerous pokeworld out there I never knew bullying children could be so much fun! I find that statement highly suspect. Indeed, I am fairly certain you've enjoyed bullying children before this. Those were human children, they didn't count. These are Pokemon universe children. Very different. Aah, I see. *raises eyebrows* So... Pokemon universe children aren't human? .... According to the lore, they are also Pokemon. What, really? Ew. It is a strange universe That would explain why they all look the same, I guess. Or, uh... you know what I mean. The Nurse Joy lore is actually FASCINATINGLY weird Oh help me, that's adorable. I'd like to make it through the gym without casulties. *casualties It is going to be a challenge. Ooooo! A new one! Okay, rules be scrapped, I want her! We won't tell. In the name of gender diversity. Who needs rules, anyway? Besides, poison is pretty much the most fun type to play with Woohoo! Oh, it has horns? "Horny" No. "Spiky" Also vaguely inappropriate. Shoot, I was going for VERY inappropriate. Moonbeam. Very inappropriate would be something like Valveula'. Ooo, nice. I should have named my rival Valveula. You should have. You could do that next time. She's blue and thorny. I should have called her Arcee. /me hurriedly disguises a laugh as a cough A PURPLE one! Nice. In the interest of not cheating quite so much, I won't use him. I'll tuck him away and use him if worst comes to worst. Maybe the name should reflect that? Hmmmm. No room for "There's Been An Accident." exigency? "Whoopsie"? Ooh, I like that. 😃 Another! She's having none of it. If little Alpina/Arcee's going to survive the gym, she's got to learn to kill everything she loved. yeah, I've seen this first gym break the teeth of the unprepared LOTS of Nidorans all of a sudden Where were they when catching one wouldn't have been cheating? Hiding from you. And how did that work out for you, Nidorans? Have you caught all the pokemon you're allowed to before the gym? I have. There's mankey in the forest, but that's more cheating than I'm willing to do. Ahhhh. Well, would you look at that! Look at what? Little Twinkie's growing up. Oh! : ) Soon he'll be a full grown twink. Honestly, if I'd realized he was green and not yellow, I would have suggested, like... Bean It worked out this way. I guess it did! Maybe he's, like, an Easter twinkie That he is! My god https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/513t76TJEVL._SX355_.jpg https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/513t76TJEVL._SX355_.jpg images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com Oh, I thought it would actually show the image. Whoops Silly question, but does that... cost anything? To heal them up? not a cent Nice! Yeah! Take on Brock! Kick his ass! I'm at least going to get some experience off his little lackey trainers. Well now. That was too close a call for the Rat With No Name. You could just call him Boy. Time to face the first gym leader I just realized this is Zelda music Or nearly. Time to die. Rock hard defense. Pfffhehehehe Nice. *cheering* The cheating to get her was not in vain. See, children? Cheaters always prosper. We'll go to the moon cave, then pack up for the night. Nice. Oh no! You let that monster die. RIP Lambo. Ah, ah, remember! Lambo gets one mulligan! I remember. Just as he shall remember this death. Oh, well, that's alright then. He's seen what's beyond. He'll never be the same. You monster. On the plus side, the upcoming Gym has plenty of targets for his traumatized wrath That should stop him from murdering us all in our beds. Yes, that's right; have him murder other pokechilds instead. There's nothing behind those little eyes of his. Now that's not true. His death has placed the void of oblivion within his gaze When you gaze into the void, Lambo gazes back. He knows there's nothing watching out for us. Hmm. What to name the pig monkey? Witwicky. Ha. That's mean. I like it. I've been told I'm a mean individual. Probably by jealous people. Anakin. It's small and fat and full of life, like Lambo was until about 15 minutes ago. I love it. And it LOVES sand. : ) : D my children. I'm so proud. They're in the news! And I think that's where we'll wrap it up for now! This seems like a good point. Aww. Well, it was fun! Thank you for hosting tonight's nonsense. you survived, you got a badge, and there was only minimal cheating! It's the best scenario we could have hoped for! And for our traditional parting high note... A for effort. I'm sure it tastes fine. PFFF Why is he dying I like the cookie lodged in his head. His life is pain. I like the expression oh my god I called it. That's his dick. ... A very high note to end on. I'm glad you think so! That was great. Good night, everyone! Thank you for coming and enduring all of that level grinding! Goodnight! thank you, good night! Thanks for the stream, and goodnight!

[romanthroughthestars]

Safe Place~Chapter 1

Ok so this is my first actual fic, and it’s a hot mess. Please bear with me as I try to write this piece of hot garbage. I’ve written almost 10k over a span of two weeks without an outline and with hardly any plan for where I want it to go. It probably isn’t smart for this directionless mess to be the first thing I post, but it’s too late now. I hope it’s not too hard to manage <3

Characters: Roman Prince, Virgil Dubh

Pairings: future prinxiety, future logicality

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, vague mentions of family troubles

Sum. – Roman sees Virgil wandering down the street around midnight. He quickly catches onto what’s happening when Virgil refuses to accept a ride home, so he invites him over and does everything in his power to make him feel safe and comfortable before Virgil has to go back and face his chaotic household.

Word Count: 4,337

(edited because I’m super insecure about my writing, I’m sorry)

“Hey Virgil!” Virgil’s head snapped up to see some preppy theater kid rolling along slowly down the road in an old, beat up Honda Accord. Roman something. Roman Prince. Some guy that Virgil had never talked to aside from the short exchanges and small talk the Roman had tried to make when Virgil occasionally ordered coffee from a shop that Roman been working at since freshman year. All Virgil really knew about him was that he was the lead in almost school play. Because Virgil was in charge of a lot of the backstage aspects of plays, he never really had to talk to Roman. From the little contact they had had over the past two years, Virgil had firmly deduced that Roman was a stuck up brat.

“Need a ride?”

He was exhausted, it was forty degrees, nearly midnight, and he was six miles away from home. It’d been about half an hour since he’d thought about scrapping the idea of walking the whole way to Logan’s house, but he was too far from home now to turn back. He really did need a ride, but there’s no way he’d admit it to this guy.

“How do you know my name?” Virgil hugged his jacket closer to his body and tried at all costs to avoid looking up again at Roman.

“I know all the tech crew.” Virgil glanced up for just long enough to catch Roman’s proud smile.

“You know this isn’t how you get people to like you, right?” He dramatically rolled his eyes and stopped walking, forcing Roman to pull over if he wanted to continue the conversation.

“W-what?” Roman stopped the car abruptly out of shock before calming himself down quickly and pulling over to the side of the road.

“I know everyone likes you, and I don’t really understand why. I know you want to be friends with everyone, but I also know that I’m not one of those people. You don’t have to be nice to me and make small talk and offer me a ride just to trick me into thinking you like me.” He stared down at his feet and waited patiently for a response.

“I’m trying to help, you know.” Roman sounded slightly offended, but Virgil looked up to see a look of sympathy on his face.

“I’d really rather you didn’t, if I’m being completely honest. Quick acting like you’re going to tolerate me. Just go back to whatever you were doing before and let me walk in peace.”

“At least tell me where you’re going.”

“Why do you want to know.” Virgil snapped bitterly.

“I don’t know, I’m just curious.”

“I was going to walk to my best friend’s house,” He sighed and pulled his jacket closer again to hide his shivers. “But it got dark faster than I’d expected, and with that it ended up getting really cold. I’m not exactly prepared to be out in forty-degree weather.” He nodded down at his jacket. “But now I’m six miles from home and too far to turn back. I don’t even know if Logan will be awake by the time I get there, but yeah. I’m too far now to go back”

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home? I don’t have anywhere to be, so it’s hardly an inconvenience.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“But it’s-“

“Look, I just don’t want to go home. I want to be anywhere but there right now, okay?” He snapped. “I just… I’d rather freeze out here than go back there.” His voice died out as he spoke. If the streets hadn’t been so quiet, Roman might not have heard him. Virgil shuffled around awkwardly, and Roman leaned over and popped open the passenger side door with a sigh.

“Dude just get in.”

“I just told you that I don’t want to go-“

“You don’t have to go home. You can come hang out at my place until you want to go back.”

“What?” Virgil looked up at him in shock. This was the last thing he’d expected from this guy. He wanted him to just leave him alone and drive away. He wanted to just keep walking until he got lost and had to call Logan for a ride. He wanted to sit on his porch and wait for his brother to wake up and let him in because Logan wasn’t allowed to have friends over this late and had no choice but to take him home. He wanted a normal Friday night.

“You could be a murderer or something for all I know. I could be a murderer for all you know.” He had no reason to believe that Roman was being serious. There was no way that this conceited egotist was actually concerned.

Roman laughed and leaned back into the driver’s seat again. “Well I’m not a murderer, I can assure you of that. And if you’re a murderer then you really just gave yourself away. Now come on, I’ve got Mario Kart and bagel bites and I’m not leaving you alone until I know you’re someplace safe.”

After a moment of anxious consideration, Virgil slowly crawled into the car and closed the door. He didn’t take his eyes off of Roman the entire time. He had no idea if this guy was being genuine or not, so he had to be extra careful now that he was in a more vulnerable place.

“I’m not going to bite your head off, Virgil.” Roman said with a laugh as he started the car up again. “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Yeah, okay.” Virgil mumbled. “I still don’t like you though.”

“Well that’s certainly no way to talk to your savior.”

“That’s pretty dramatic. I could’ve gotten to Logan’s without your help.”

“Well now you’re going to Roman’s house and getting Wii Sports and Nightmare Before Christmas on Blu-Ray.” He has a bright smile on his face as he pulled back onto the road.

“You have The Nightmare Before Christmas on Blu-Ray?” Maybe going over to his house wouldn’t be that bad.

“Hell yeah!” Roman laughed. “I’ve got the biggest Disney collection you’ll ever see, but I thought that one was worth mentioning due to your whole dark façade.”

“I guess that’s fair.” Virgil eased up slightly and let himself get more comfortable in the seat. Mario Kart and a Disney collection? How dangerous could this kid really be.

“And by the way, why exactly were you walking around in the city at midnight?”

“I told you, I was walking to Logan’s house”

“Yeah, I got that part, I meant why were you walking?”

“Well I can’t drive.” Virgil mumbled. He shrugged his shoulders up closer to himself and curled back into the seat.

“You’re seventeen, right?” Virgil nodded slowly. Roman continued with a confused expression. “Do you not have your license?”

Virgil shook his head. Roman was thankful for the quiet streets that were giving him opportunities to look over at Virgil for nonverbal responses. He also couldn’t help but be happy about the street lights that cast a soft yellow glow over Virgil’s face every few seconds

“Do you mind if I ask why?” Virgil seemed to tense up at that question, but he slowly shook his head. He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke it was barely above a whisper.

“Someone really close to me got into a pretty bad accident when I was learning how to drive. I don’t know, I guess it just spooked me out of the whole idea of driving.”

Roman nodded slowly, then returned a soft response. “I’m sorry for asking.”

“Nah, it’s not your fault.” Virgil finally looked up at him and smiled. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was a harmless question.”

 Dammit Roman, you shouldn’t have asked. You probably look like a stalker. You’re going to freak him out and scare him away or something. So much for impressing him with the whole debonair physique, he probably thinks you’re a creep.

Roman racked his brain for something to say to cut the tension in the air, but nothing seemed appropriate. He switched on the radio to fill the silence, as not to make Virgil anymore anxious, and planned on keeping quiet for the rest of the drive. His plan shattered quickly, but he really couldn’t complain all that much. Virgil speaking was definitely better than whatever late night or early morning talk show he’d flipped the radio to.

“What’s your favorite Disney movie?” Virgil asked in a hushed voice. Everything about the way he said it seemed frail, almost like he was afraid to ask, but Roman picked up the soft hint of sincere curiosity.

“Oh there’s no way I could choose. I’ve never seen a Disney movie that I didn’t immediately love.”

“What about Peter Pan?”

“Wha-why wouldn’t I like Peter Pan?”

“Oh come on,” Virgil laughed “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Ok you can’t let that one scene define the entire movie!”

“I can and I will.” Virgil smiled. “I refuse to watch it just because of that scene.”

This, of course, started Roman into an entire spiel about how Virgil could just skip the racist Native American scene and how no Disney classic should be disrespected like this. As much as he hated to admit it, Virgil was actually enjoying listening to Roman complain. He spoke with passion, and something about it was enticing. That enjoyment ended the second Roman pulled his car into the driveway.

There weren’t any other cars, meaning that Roman’s parents probably weren’t home. This was good and bad for Virgil, but he couldn’t help but feel that the bad was overwhelming anything possibly good in the situation. While Virgil now wouldn’t have to have an awkward introduction to Roman’s parents, he did have to worry about whether he was intruding without their permission. Mostly though, he was worrying about being alone all night with some guy that he’d hardly even talked to until about twenty minutes ago. Roman hopped out of the car without hesitation, but waited in the driveway to see if Virgil followed.

“Are your parents home?” Virgil asked softly as he got out of the car. His voice was ringing in his ears against the silence of the night. Roman’s emitted a quick beep as he locked it, further shattering the illusion of peace in the cold air.

“Nah, they’re out of town. Don’t worry though, they don’t care if I have friends over.”

Virgil only nodded in response, as he cautiously followed Roman to the front door. Roman’s keys jingling as he unlocked the door was making Virgil’s head pound. Every little sound pushed his anxiety one step closer to crashing.

“Bienvenido a la casa de Principe.” Roman said with a dramatic swoosh of his arm as he flung the door open. Virgil’s jaw nearly dropped at the house. It wasn’t exactly a mansion, but it was definitely bigger than any house he’d been into before. In front of him was a large living room with high ceilings. The entire back wall was covered in windows that reached from the floor almost all the way up to the ceiling. To his right was a dining room with an elegant grand piano tucked into the corner. Between the living room and dining room was two staircases. One led down to the basement, and the other led up to a loft full of couches that Virgil assumed was probably Roman’s hang out space. A giant white dog came bounding through the living room and flung itself onto Roman.

“Ah yes, this is Khan,” Roman said through a laugh as he leaned down to let the dog lick his face. “He’s a Samoyed, and he’s our mighty guard dog.”

Virgil immediately jumped back out of shock. Roman noticed and grabbed Khan’s collar to keep him from hopping up to greet him.

“I can put the baby gate up to keep him upstairs so he doesn’t bother us if you want. Sorry, I didn’t even think about that you could be afraid of dogs.” Roman scratched around Khan’s ears and tried to calm him down.

Virgil cautiously held his hand out to the dog, but smiled when Khan licked it excitedly and tried to run forward again to greet him.

“I think I’ll be alright. He doesn’t seem that scary.” He patted him on the head before Khan sprinted off to jump up onto the couch.

“Alright, so what do you want to do? I’ve got a whole case of Disney movies, a Wii, the best dog in the world- Khan!” Roman kicked off his shoes and ran through the house, sliding onto the living room carpet to tackle the dog into a hug on the couch. Virgil nervously toed off his boots and followed Roman.

As he walked further into the house, he noticed an enormous kitchen to the right of the living room. He also looked up and got a better view of the loft to see a door with a sign the simply read “Princey”. He smiled at the little crown design on it before bringing his attention back to the living room.

Feeling a little more at ease now, Virgil sat down next to Roman and his dog on the couch. Roman sat up and let Khan lay his head on his lap.

“Alright. Back on track, what do you want to do?” He kept one hand on Khan’s head and with the other picked up the remote and turned on the TV. Not surprisingly, it was already on Disney. It was now nearly one in the morning. Virgil was awake and alert due to his anxiety from the new situation, but Roman, for some strange reason, was even more active than him. It led Virgil to wonder whether Roman ever actually slept at all, or if he was just one big ball of constant energy.

“Like I said earlier, I’ve got quite a few videogames and a pretty big Disney collection, or we can make some food if you’re hungry. Actually, I guess it’s like one in the morning, so I wouldn’t be offended really if you just wanted to go to sleep so you can get this over with and leave ASAP.” Roman continued to absentmindedly pet Khan, but turned his head again to gauge Virgil’s reactions to his suggestions. As much as he hated the idea, he really was getting increasingly more nervous about possibly scaring Virgil. As far as Roman knew, the only place Virgil seemed completely comfortable was in the tech booth behind the stage.

“I don’t want to be a buzzkill and say I want to go to sleep, but I’m pretty sure that if you put on a movie I’ll be out in like half an hour or less.” Virgil shrugged. Nothing really sounded like a completely safe option to him, but not too much could go wrong with watching a movie.

“If you want, we can bring a bunch of pillows and blankets down here so we can watch a movie and you can just go to sleep whenever you want.” Roman suggested.

“Yeah… that sounds good.” Virgil nodded slowly. He still wasn’t completely comfortable sleeping in this guy’s house, but he’d guessed that by now there really wasn’t much that could go wrong. Roman genuinely seemed like he was trying to help, and if he wanted to murder him he probably would’ve done it by now.

“Alright,” He hoisted himself up off of the couch. “There’s a closet full of blankets right next to my room in the loft, so we can grab pillows from my room and blankets from there.”

Roman’s room was just about everything that Virgil had expected it to be. Three walls were covered mostly by an ashy blue color. The forth, the wall closest to Roman’s bed, was an enormous mural of a scene from Tangled. It showed Flynn and Rapunzel on the water with the city behind them and lanterns lighting up the night sky around them. The mural spread onto part of the ceiling and the corner of the next wall.

The floor was littered with stacks of paper and various craft supplies. Across from the door was a slightly less cluttered desk. A MacBook sat in the center, and the wall directly behind it was covered in colorful sticky notes. Virgil assumed that this was probably Roman’s primary work space. It was all one giant mess, but it was one giant creative mess.

Roman ran over and flopped onto his unmade bed before rolling over and grabbing an armful of pillows off of the unorganized lump of blankets. Virgil looked back over at the mural, completely awed by the detail.

 “Like the mural?” Virgil nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on it. Roman took advantage of the moment and let a smile settle on his face again as he watched Virgil study the painting. A bookshelf covered part of the right side, and his bed, being only a couple feet from the wall, covered part of the left, but most of the mural was still visible.

“It was my friend Patton’s idea. You know Patton Bon?” Virgil shook his head. Roman smiled and went on to explain. “He comes to all of our plays. Cool dude, super friendly. I’m surprised he’s never tried to talk to you. I think all he cares about in life is having as many friends as possible. Well we moved all of my furniture and painted it the summer after freshman year.”

“You… you painted that?” Virgil gave him an astonished look.

“Yeah!” Roman’s smile grew again. He sat up and crossed his legs, setting the pillows aside. He gestured for Virgil to come sit with him. Virgil walked over cautiously and sat on the edge of the bed, as far away as he could get from Roman.

“Patton painted the sky, the water, the boat and a few of the lanterns.” He pointed as he explained. “He made me do everything else though. He said he wasn’t much of a detail person and was worried about messing the other parts up.”

Virgil’s eyes scanned over the mural again before looking over at Roman.

“That’s awesome. I can’t believe your parents let you do it.” He smiled as he started to relax again.

“Well, actuallyyy…” Roman trailed, glancing over to the other wall to avoid Virgil’s eyes.

“You didn’t ask your parents?!” He flung his legs up onto the bed to sit cross legged and leaned toward Roman. Screw any anxiety Virgil had had, this was too interesting for him to not ask questions.

“In all honesty, no. We knew it would take a lot of time to make, so we waited until they were out of town. Then we moved all of the furniture away from the wall and slept downstairs until it was finished. My dad was a little bit annoyed at first that I hadn’t asked first, but my mom couldn’t have cared less. She said as long as it’s good enough that we don’t have to paint over it if we move, then she doesn’t care.”

“How long did it take?”

“The background took a day, and the castle was two. The boat, lanterns, and characters were done piece by piece along the way, but we did most of the work on them on a separate day. So about four or five days.” He beamed with pride now as he gathered up the pillows and slid to the edge of the bed.

“Wait, this is a weird question, but can I take a picture of it? It’s just that that’s one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.” Virgil asked awkwardly. Roman’s response instantly made him regret asking. His mouth dropped open and he stared at Virgil in stunned silence.

“Wh- really?” He was blushing like crazy, but Virgil assumed it was nothing but embarrassment. “Or, I mean, yeah. Yeah of course! Do you want me to move the furniture so you can get the whole thing?”

Roman chill, Roman chill, Roman C H I L L. You’re fine. It’s fine. This is fine. Not intimidating. Just a picture. You’re a good artist, this shouldn’t be that surprising! Chill.

“Nah it’s fine. I doubt you really have space to move the furniture anyway” Virgil smirked and raised his eyebrows at Roman’s messy floors. He slid off the bed and pulled out his phone, snapping a quick picture before holding his hand out to help Roman up.

“That’s done, now let’s get some blankets and start this Disney marathon.” He tilted his head slightly and smiled at Roman. Roman’s face burned even redder. He grabbed the pillows and then took Virgil’s hand. Virgil quickly hefted him up off the bed. Roman, in his dazed state, nearly fell from shock as soon as his feet hit the ground. Virgil jumped back and set his hands on Roman’s shoulders to steady him. Despites his efforts to help, this only made Roman more flustered. Virgil accidently let out a laugh upon seeing his stunned expression.

He’s just being friendly. This is what friends do. Just chill out. Dammit Roman stop being so gay. This is f i n e.

“You good, Roman?” He leaned over to get at eye level with Roman, who at this point had resorted to resting his hands on his knees and staring at the floor. Virgil laughed unapologetically this time as he tapped his knuckles lightly on the top of Roman’s head. “All the lights on up there?”

Roman snapped up to attention. He shook his head before turning to pick up the pillows and rushing out the door to get the blankets.

“Just peachy! Now come on, let’s get some blankets!” He yelled nervously as he fled from his bedroom. Virgil took one last look at the mural before following him out.

That was weird. Maybe he just doesn’t get complimented on his art often or something. But that’s got to be impossible-

Virgil’s train of thought was interrupted as soon as he stepped out of the room. Roman threw a blanket at him and nearly managed to knock him over.

“Wh-hey!” Virgil stumbled back, hitting the railing and nearly falling down the stairs. “Be nice!” He laughed as he chucked the blanket back. Roman picked his pillows up off the floor and dropped them over the railing. Almost all of them landed in the middle of the sectional, much to Khan’s apparent distress.

Roman, seemingly back to his cheery self, dropped the last few blankets into the living room. He leaned over the railing and called an apology to his vexed puppy before hopping down the stairs back into the living room.

“Do you want a thicker blanket or will this do?” Roman asked as he sorted the pillows and blankets into two piles.

“I’d prefer a heavier one, if you have one down here already.” Virgil picked at his hoodie sleeves as he watched Roman organize. “If you don’t though that’s ok.”

“I don’t think I brought one down here. I usually sleep with the fan on when I’m down here, but actually I guess we can just leave it off if you’re worried about getting cold…” He looked up to see Virgil standing awkwardly by the couch.

“No it just, um… It’s ok. I don’t need one.” He shrugged, shifting his gaze down to the floor.

“I can go grab one if you need me to, it’s no big deal.”

“No, it’s um… I don’t need one…” His brows furrowed together as he glanced back up at Roman. “It just… kinda makes me less anxious.” He shrugged again and crossed his arms across his body, pulling his jacket closer to himself.

“Oh!” Roman smiled. He hopped over the back of the couch near the stairs and headed up to grab a different blanket. “That’s no big deal. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

He ran into his room and grabbed the Lion King comforter off of his bed and dropped it onto the couch with the other blankets. Virgil shuffled over and sat down on the clear section of the couch, patting the cushion next to him to encourage Khan to sit with him. Khan hopped up and laid down next to him, resting his head on Virgil’s legs.

Roman bounced down the stairs again and headed over to a large bookshelf full of movie cases. Virgil assumed that this was probably the prided Disney collection. Roman grabbed a case and turned his head to glance at Virgil and Khan as he slid a movie into the DVD player.

“I think he likes you.” He smiled.

“Really?” Virgil looked down at Khan, who already looked like he was half asleep in the boy’s lap.

“Yeah, he seems pretty comfy. How dare you steal the affection of my most loyal and trustworthy knight?” He rolled onto the blanket pile on the other half of the couch and laid his head on Khan’s flank.

“Not my choice, he just likes me better.” Virgil chuckled. He reached over Khan and pulled a blanket out from the pile under Roman, rolling him off of the couch.

“Hey, rude! Oh, wait, here’s the comforter.” He tossed the orange and red sunrise blanket at Virgil.

“Right, thanks.” Virgil took off his hoodie and dropped it on the floor next to the couch before pulling his legs up to chest and curling up in the blanket. He dropped the smaller blanket on top of his hoodie, then settled again and let Khan rest his head on his lap again.

“If my dog abandons me to sleep with you, I’m kicking you out.” Roman laughed. He pressed play, then rolled himself up in his own blanket and rested his head on Khan again. The two boys settled and fell quiet as the first chords of This is Halloween softly filled the room around them.

[365queerstories]

The Posterchildren

by Kitty Burroughs

What is it: A self-published book series about a school for training the next generation of professional superheroes, its students and staff, and the ever-shifting climate of the world’s community of superheroes.

Why it’s on this list: The Posterchildren series has some of the best representation in terms of just sheer numbers of anything I’ve ever read. There are tons of queer characters, including but not limited to a lesbian speedster, a pansexual circus boy, and (in later stories) a badass trans woman secret agent who might have the coolest superpower I’ve ever seen. Not only is it great in terms of queer rep, but also in terms of disability rep, racial and ethnic diversity, and more.

Where can you find it: You can get ebook versions of The Posterchildren: Origins (the first book in the series), as well as the short stories called Timely Tale on gumroads or smashwords. If you want a physical copy, Origins is available on Amazon. You can find out more about Kitty and the world of The Posterchildren on her tumblr at @quipquipquip.

Unofficial (kind of spoilery) powerpoint

Look, I love talking about The Posterchildren. It’s an extremely underrated gem of a series, and there’s so much about it that I adore that I always feel like I’m failing to do it justice. But I’ll do my best!

The Posterchildren is a great example of a story that is certainly a queer story, with a lot of queer characters, but with most of the romance being secondary to them as people. Which is lovely, because so often we’re told that’s not something a queer story is allowed to be. Each character is an individual, with their own story, and is treated as such regardless of their relationship status.

And when the relationships do happen, they’re varied and respectful. These kids really do feel like kids here, and the adults get to be fully fleshed out too, which is a rare occurrence. So often in YA stuff you get only cardboard cutouts of adults, or pure antagonists. We meet a lot of the main characters’ parents, and they are not perfect but they are all people, and you can see how your favourites grew up and into who they are in the story, because of - or sometimes, in spite of - these figures in their lives.

And the friendships. Oh, the friendships! Every friendship that is formed in this series - and there are so many, and they are all wonderful - is genuine and organic. The friendships are my favourite part of this book, which is high praise, because I love every element of these stories. The author juggles a large cast with such finesse, the POV shifts that wouldn’t work in most other stories feeling natural and exciting. And the short stories that come after Origins help fill in the world, its history, and make you rethink your opinions of pretty much every character you thought you had figured out.

There’s too many characters to mention them all, so I’ll highlight a few of my favourites. Zipporah Chance is a speedster who starts to have a crush on her roommate, and this leads to one of the softest, kindest beginnings of a courtship I’ve ever had the pleasure to read. Her conversation about the future and girls with one half of an amazing married lesbian couple was also a standout moment for her. Almost all of the main characters are at least hinted at being queer in the first book, and this is explored in more detail as the series goes on. You’ve got Maks, a pansexual acrobat who literally glows, and you also have someone starting to explore an identity somewhere on the ace spectrum. In later short stories, you get to see how that married couple met, you get frank conversations about gender between characters who don’t fit in the binary, and although in the newest story there is some internalized homophobia (and plain old homophobia, too) from one of the characters, it is really only a source of angst for that one character, which is really cool to see. They’re superheroes-in-training, after all. They’ve got a lot of other stuff to deal with. 

Sorry if I went a little vague here - as this is a longer series, I don’t want to spoil the various coming outs and such that do happen later on. If anyone wants a full rundown of exactly what identities are represented and by who, just message me!

So, who would I recommend this book to? Honestly, everyone and anyone. But especially to those who find themselves tired of the scraps of rep that mainstream media sometimes deigns to throw our way. The Posterchildren is unapologetically diverse, and because of that it feels so much more honest and real.

Also, come on. It’s superheroes. Everyone deserves a superhero they can relate to, that resonates with them because of some shared identity or experience. In The Posterchildren, there are so many characters I had never seen before and have never seen since.

Trigger warnings for The Posterchildren: Origins include some violence, near death experiences, and parental death. Also brief references to depression, eating disorders, and some other mental health stuff, including something that looks like self-harm. For a full list of the triggers in Origins and the Timely Tales, there is a full list here, including in what chapter what occurs. The list is, of course, not spoiler free.

Have you read The Posterchildren? What’s your favourite part of the series? If you end up reading it because of this review, you should definitely let us know what you thought! And if you’re looking for more to read, reminder that this is Day 2 of 365 days of queer reviews, one for each day of 2018. You can find all the reviews here.

[chaospenelope]

I’m Going To Come Find You

The Flowers That Grow In Darkness

The town was quiet and still, a crumpled piece of paper it’s only evidence of life. The sky was darkened by the oncoming storm clouds. One lone motorcycle roared up the vacant road leading in. The biker approached a restaurant on the outskirts of this lonely place. The tall muscular man stood up from his bike and walked over to the old diner. His face partly hidden behind a pair of dark aviator sunglasses, a black bandanna tied around his head, and a full beard. He eyed the wide neon lighted windows.

There was a sparse selection of patrons. Two men in the corner booth at the end and a woman sitting on a stool. They all paused at the sound of the door’s bell jingling but didn’t otherwise acknowledge him.

He walked up to the counter where the waitress was reading her newspaper and sat down.

“What can I help ya with hun?” The waitress had a voice that was only slightly strained with age. She held the pen in her nicely manicured hand in anticipation of his order.

“Just a black coffee, and some information.”His voice was rough and stern. Everyone now had interest in their eyes, they all glanced him over.

“Information? Sure, what do you need to know?” She asked curiously as she poured a cup. Passing the beverage over so added with bemusement. “You don’t look much like a reporter.”

“You’ve lived here a long time haven’t you? Do you remember what happened eighty years ago?” He took a sip as her face scrunched slightly.

“I, had a strange feeling you were gonna ask about that.” Her tone was a little softer.

“Ah.” He noticed the name on her tag. “Sorry, I’m sure it still hurts to think about.”

She was silent for a moment, but when she did speak she had a sorrowful smile. “So, you’ve done your research...Can I ask why you’re so interested?”

“I-My great grandfather knew two of the men that went missing...They were very close and he never stopped looking. Figured I’d pick up where he left off.”

“I,” Her eyes widened as she gave him another look. “I remember a man that looked like you!” Her face softened as the nostalgic feelings flooded in. “He was such a kind man. He and the other two used sneak me Moonlight candies from the prize counter when Grandad wasn’t looking.”

“And those little rubber figures of the mascots.” He laughed. “You tried to eat them so often we had to stop giving them to ya.” He froze but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Right, right! I thought they were gummies! Oh, such lovely memories.” She let out a laugh and a heavy sigh. “They were such good men, they were all good people. I, pray they’re all at peace now...”

“...Yeah, Uh, If you don’t want to talk about that night, I-“

“No, It’s alright. I’ve had a lot of time to come to terms with that night, but, there’s not really much I can tell you that hasn’t already been said...”

“Your Grandfather didn’t let you stay that night? It was Saturday.”

“No, it was strange. Like, something was in the air...” She paused, looking out the window, beyond the trees at something hidden away as if to peer at her own memories. “The band didn’t feel as friendly as the usually did...They said I just feel that way now but, I swear, it was like they were waiting for me to leave...”

“The animatronics?” She only nodded in response.

“Is, is it true those things talked and moved on their own?” The younger man in the booth asked.

“Yes, until that night they were free roam animatronics. Henry was a genius before his time.”

“So they were, just built that way?”

“They were, the ghost were just rumors. Even when I was little...”

“Hm.” The biker stayed quiet as he listened to them talk. He knew pretty much everything they discussed, but his mind focused on what she had said. Something he wished he had noticed that night. He should have noticed it...

After finishing his drink he thanked her for her time and left a tip along with the price of the coffee. He walked out to his bike to think about his next plan of action but before he could sit down his phone began to ring. The screen lit up with a phone number he never thought he’d see again.

“Hello?” His voice hitched ever so slightly, hoping beyond reason it would be his friend.

“Mark Williams?” The voice on the other end was raspy and metallic.

“Who is this? How did you get that number?” He demanded harshly.

“It was the only way we could reach you, and get your attention. We know who you’re looking for and we can help. But we can’t keep this line for long.” They explained carefully. “It’ll take your...Expertise.”

“So they’re on the other side then...” He said solemnly.

“No, but someone you need is.” The voice corrected. “It’s a difficult place to get to, I’m going to have to guide you there.”

“Hm, And what makes me think I can trust you?”

“I’m surprised you’re being cautious. You don’t really have anything to lose, from what I hear. Besides, you’ll be helping us too. We need you to get him out.”

“If it’s difficult to get into then we’re talking about a punishment right? Is he falsely imprisoned?”

“We’d like to give him a second chance. He’s remorseful.”

“They’re always remorseful when they get caught.”

“We’ll find out if he means it, besides, we’re trying to release the one who trapped him as well. They refuse to let go.”

“I see, how do I get there?”

“Did you notice the faded billboard next to the gravel road blocked off with a chain on the way in? Go down that road and keep going until you reach an old two story house. There will be a shed in the overgrowth behind it and a narrow path behind that. After walking that path you should feel-.” The line shot off and so did his phone, the battery completely drained after a single conversation.

He started up his motor cycle and headed back out the town, following the road as instructed. It was so cluttered with foliage and debris he wasn’t sure he could get his bike across road. He decided to leave his bike behind the billboard and take the path on foot. Trees crowded and bended in enough to block the sun completely. The gravel was barely visible now, only crunching under his boots occasionally. Birds flew high above his head, chirping and chasing each other. Bushes rustled as deer and squirrels cautiously moved about their lives.

The two story building before him could only barely be considered a home now. The walls were barely visible behind the filth, moss, and tall grass. Windows were caked with dust and the entire back half of the house had caved in. He could hear something walking and scurrying in the front of the house but he dismissed it as a family of raccoons or foxes.

The shed was in much better shape, though it was even more difficult to find. He didn’t want to get too close either since he could hear the loud buzz of a hive full of bees located somewhere in the middle of the mass of metal, wood, and what looked like synthetic fur.

Giving a wide birth to that nuisance he slowly scrapped his way through the tangling vines. Cursing himself for not bringing the machete with him this one time. Even the angry, pecking birds couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t even consider stalling for a moment.

Fortunately for him, after much struggling the dirt path was still intact. Branches grabbed at him like grasping claws so much that he didn’t notice the sound of wildlife die down as he reached the large clearing. The dirt line stopped at the beginning of a barren patch of dirt the size of a football field.

The end of the road marked a difference in step drastic enough to take notice and with a little prodding he realized there was metal hidden underneath. Swiping the earth away with his foot he unveiled a set of hidden doors. With a heavy screech they pulled open. The set of soot covered stairs led him deeper into the dark pit.

The smell was the first thing that hit him as he pulled out the flashlight. It faded but the scent of burning flesh was very distinct. The beam of light in his palm scanned the hallway that was drawing closer.

It was difficult to make out much except the heavy metal doors that were once stripped with bright yellow. Most of them were closed shut, no amount of tampering would budge them. He made a mental note to return with tools if he had to. The last door was slightly jammed, enough for him to crawl through.

The ceiling was much higher and the walls were spread further apart in this area. A square room the size of an average fast food restaurant. Several piles of charred scrap and pieces of once colorful furniture. Game cabinets were now fallen or warped, tables were unrecognizable, and the stages were empty and crumbled.

He got up and examined the area more thoroughly. Trying to decide his next plan action. He knew he was close to the right place. He could feel the powerful emotions that lingered like a thin fog.

There was a strange parting of soot that looked a lot like dragging marks leading to or from a collapsed entry. He followed that trail to a busted doorway, the frame practically blasted open by a massive force. Past that was a web of smaller openings only barely large enough for a man to crawl into. The feeling was only growing slightly more oppressive. It must have been close.

With a small sigh he realized he’ll have to feel his way through this massive facility.

“Well, if it means I’m closer to finding them... All I have is time.” He muttered, pulling himself trough the melted grate and into the vent. The smell of charred flesh was getting worse as well, making it a little easier to find his way around the sprawling passages. The end was nearly blocked off by a set of small set of security doors. They were slightly open enough to peer through. He could only see a form slumped over right across from him and a light emitting from something next to it. With some wiggling and adjusting he managed to position his feet to release a few good kicks to the doors. They relented, giving him access to the small room.

The form inside was so blackened and burned he could only make out the vague shape of a human, the hints of metal barely glinting underneath made him unsure of its identity.

Next to him was a gaming cabinet. He wondered to himself why it was there, and more importantly, how the hell was it operational?

“This, has got the be the gateway.” He reasoned.

The screen showed a light blue sky and green, grassy earth surrounding a group of different colored animal creatures portrayed in eight-bit graphics.

“Well, look like it’s time to play.”