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tunedtostatic · 4 years ago

Text

galaxies of my heart

Vikady, also featuring Sana and a brief Krejjh cameo

CW: injury, aftermath of torture, painkiller drugs, brief domestic violence mention (not named characters), food, discussion of medical trauma & painkiller controversies

As she speaks, one of her hands makes what could be the beginning of a motion to reach for Arkady, then folds back into her lap. Arkady wonders if Sana gave her a crash course on Not Touching Your Loved Ones Without Warning After They’ve Been Tortured Because They Might Freak Out, or if that was something she already knew from her time as a medic. Either possibility feels depressingly plausible.

I finished my first tscosi fic! In which injuries are cared for, miscommunications are miscommunicated, assumptions are countered, and kisses are kissed. Title (and lyrics referenced in the fic) are from “space girl” by Frances Forever, even though it’s kind of a fluffy song relative to some of the subject matter, but not to worry, I have a permit [unfolds a sheet of paper that reads “I was working on my Vikady fanmix in the morning the day I started this fic and got it stuck in my head big time”]

Edit: I realized 9k is a little long to be easily navigable in post form so I archived this as well. I just learned when attempting to post a credited picrew that Tumblr is still hiding posts with links, but it’s at archiveofourown dot org, /works/31851859.

Edit the second: Re-reading “adrenaline makes you do stupid things” by jaggedwolf and I'm 90% sure I accidentally stole a couple things from there rather than the general primordial soup of my brain (the line "That can't be comfortable" and maybe the general concept of Arkady making sure she gets hurt before the person she's been captured with), so adding this to give credit where due to a really great fic that you should definitely read if you haven't already.

The first time Arkady surfaces, everything around her is still coated in a haze as though she’s dreaming. The room is quiet, and when she takes a sharp breath in, all of a sudden Violet is leaning over her, her hair swinging near Arkady’s face.

“You’ve got very dynamic hair,” Arkady says, or at least tries to say, and then she’s asleep again.

The next time she wakes up, she wakes up completely, although her mind still feels a little foggy. Her body aches, and—yeah, based on that ceiling, she’s definitely in the medbay of the Iris 2. Which means that they made it back to the ship, or at least that Arkady did—

Fear surges through her, and she peers back and forth. Her eyes land on Sana, who is sitting to the right of her bed, crocheting something that sprawls across her lap in chaotic loops.

Her intention is to say Sana’s name, but she can’t even make it through the first syllable, emitting a sound that sounds more like the “Ssss” of the litter of feral kittens Brian and Krejjh found that one time. Great job, Patel, you’d make a better hissing kitten than a first mate. Krejjh is going to have to stop calling you First Mate Patel and start calling you Feral Kitten Patel—

The thought of Krejjh is enough to make Arkady’s whole mind flinch. Krejjh—

The feral kitten hiss must have been loud enough for Sana to hear, though, because she’s dropping her crocheting to her lap, looking toward Arkady.

“Kady,” she says warmly, at the same time as Arkady croaks, “Krejjh—”

“Is fine.” Sana’s hand comes up to rest on the pillow next to Arkady’s cheek, a steadying presence, though she doesn’t touch her.

“They were with me.”

“They were.” Sana nods. “But they’re here and they’re not hurt. Hanging out with Brian in the kitchen as we speak.” She glances through the medbay door before her gaze bounces back to Arkady, and it’s such a familiar Sana kind of motion that Arkady feels the remainder of her panic fade slightly. Speaking of octopuses of myth and legend, that’s Sana, one mental tendril keeping track of the approximate status of each member of her crew at any given time.

“How are you feeling?” Sana continues. “Park said you were in a lot of pain before you passed out. Violet has you on a painkiller drip, but she’s using the minimum the way you always want. If you’re in pain, we can raise the dose.”

Arkady turns her attention more fully to her body. Pain and sensation are present, but muffled, as though they are far away. Ribs: hurt. Arm: hurts significantly. Legs: hurt, but only a little.

It’s bearable. “I’ve had worse.”

“Kady—”

“I’m fine, Sana. Just feels like…what do you call them…colors, purple, ouch…bruises.” She shakes her head, then stills with a wince. “The others?”

“Everyone’s safe.” Sana pats the pillow where her hand rests next to Arkady’s cheek. “Park found you and Krejjh before anyone laid a finger on them. He got out fine, too. You’re the only one who was hurt, Kady.”

Arkady studies Sana’s face. “How…bad is it?”

“Six fractures, no serious tissue injuries.” Sana’s voice is gentle but matter-of-fact. “We’re going to pick up some skeletal accelerators next time we’re on-planet. Violet thinks that with those in the mix, the worst,” she gestures to the cast on Arkady’s right wrist, “should be mended in about two months.”

Arkady closes her eyes. One day, everything is fine, the next, a few backwater IGR assholes get the drop on them, and now she’s going to be out of commission for two months.

Still. Better her than Krejjh.

The thought is an icily familiar one, although yesterday she was limited to the grimmer Better just the two of us than the others. Krejjh was tied up on the other side of the room, and when the IGR goons got bored beating on Arkady, or kicked her in the wrong place and just killed her, they’d move on to Krejjh, and there was nothing Arkady could do about it—

Arkady’s eyes fly open, and she turns her head to nudge it clumsily into Sana’s hand. Sana cups Arkady’s cheek in her palm, thumb brushing over her cheekbone, wiping away wetness. When Arkady exhales, her breath is shaky. Stupid. They’re all safe now.

“They didn’t hurt Krejjh?” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own, unsteady and small.

“They didn’t hurt Krejjh.”

“Can I walk? Before the two months?” Her voice is still so small. Stupid.

Sana brushes Arkady’s temple with her fingertips, her calloused palm still warm against Arkady’s cheek. “Violet says she thinks you’ll be able to use a walking cast in three or four weeks. Or a little earlier, depending on how quickly the accelerators work their magic.”

Arkady keeps her eyes closed. “Those aren’t cheap.”

“That’s what rainy-day funds are for.”

“Do we even have a rainy-day fund anymore?”

“I will shake Other Violet down for loose change if I have to, Kady.” Sana’s fingers caress her temple again, and there is steel in her voice as she says, “This is my ship, and when one of my crew needs something, I find a way.”

“I know you do.” Arkady opens her eyes, though she finds that her eyelids seem to have grown heavier in the intervening minutes. She blinks sleepily at Sana. “You’re such a good octopus.”

Sana beams. “Thank you, Kady! I…have some questions,” she adds, “but they can wait until later, I think.”

Arkady’s eyelids are so heavy, but there’s one other thing she needs to ask. “Vi’?”

“Violet’s okay, too. She’s been taking care of you since yesterday, but I shooed her off to get some sleep.”

Arkady smiles. “’nks, S’na.”

Sana smiles back. “We’re all okay,” she says tenderly, “and if anyone out there tries to change that, I will demolish them.”

Arkady nods against Sana’s hand, straining to keep her eyes open.

“We’re all okay, Kady,” Sana repeats, and Arkady lets herself slip into sleep.

There are hours of restless dreams, and a dreamlike interlude where someone gently shakes her awake, holding her head up and helping her drink a medicine cap of chalky fluid, before she slips back into dreams that finally segue into deep sleep.

There is quiet music playing the next time she wakes up. She can remember where she is this time, and she lies with her eyes closed for a minute, enjoying the sound of the instrumental jazz track she recognizes from Krejjh and Brian’s Infinite Space-Themed Playlist. In the darkness behind her eyes, she doesn’t have to face the fact that she can’t walk, or run, or kick, or punch, or protect the crew, or—

Okay, maybe the space behind her closed eyelids isn’t as restful as it could be. Arkady opens her eyes.

Violet is sitting beside her bed with one leg tucked up on the chair, reading a tablet. A few strands of hair have fallen from behind her ear to brush against her cheek, and she’s biting her lower lip the way she sometimes does when she’s focused on something. Brian’s little retro radio music player is sitting on the bedside table, continuing to ooze soft jazz as Violet lifts an absentminded finger to tap to the next page, then curls her hand back into her soft sweater.

Yeah, eyes open? Definitely an improvement.

She should probably say Violet’s name, regardless of how endearing it is to watch her read. Before she has a chance to do so, though, she must breath loudly or make some kind of noise, because Violet looks up, her face crinkling into a tired smile.

“Hey,” she says softly.

Arkady smiles. “Hey, Liu. Good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” Violet’s smile quavers for a second. “Really, really good.”

Arkady tries to make her voice reassuring. “Hey, I’m okay, Violet, huh? It’s gonna be okay.”

Violet rolls her eyes, a small smile blossoming on her lips. “You’re the one in the medbay bed, Arkady. I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“It sounds like you have been taking care of me.” Arkady smiles again. “Sana said you were here with me all night until she made you get some rest.” She thinks back, trying to pin down a faint memory. “I remember seeing you, leaning over me?”

“Yeah, you woke up really briefly last night.” Violet wrinkles up her forehead in that adorable way that she does. “You said something that sounded like, um…‘You’ve have hair’?”

Arkady grins. “Well shit, Liu, you sure do have hair, don’t you?”

Violet laughs, shaking her head back and forth. Her hair bobs around as though a breeze is passing through the medbay, and Arkady laughs too, then winces as the pain in her ribs flares.

Violet stills instantly. “You have some fractured ribs—”

“Yeah, kinda put that together.” Arkady tries to breathe with the minimum possible amount of motion.

The expression on Violet’s face makes it look like she’s in pain herself. “Would you like me to up the dose on your painkiller drip?” she asks softly.

“Nah.” Along with the flaring pain in her ribs, both of Arkady’s legs and her right wrist have that same itching, burning ache. The rest of her body is just sore, like she’s covered in bruises, which she probably is. “Uh, speaking of which, though. Could I get a rundown on what’s, you know, busted? Sana said I had…six? seven?...fractures, but we didn’t get into specifics beyond the two-month limit.” She grimaces a little at the thought.

“Six,” Violet confirms immediately, before adding, with an abashed smile, “I mean, not that that makes things that much better than seven?”

Arkady resists the impulse to laugh again, confining herself to a snort. “Can’t argue that point.”

“In answer to your question,” Violet begins, slipping into her calm medic tone of voice, “you have two cracked ribs and fractures to your left foot and right ankle. They broke your right wrist pretty badly, and I’m going to need to be very careful about injecting any accelerators there, especially if we can’t find an actual doctor on-planet to do it, so it might be a little more than two months before any, uh, heavy use, but you should have the hard cast off earlier than that.”

“Right.” Arkady inhales through her nose; exhales through her mouth. “Could have been worse, right?” At least she isn’t blubbering the way she was with Sana, but her voice still drops too small and quiet on the last word.

“It could have.” Violet’s own reply is almost a whisper, and Arkady silently swears at herself for her choice of phrasing.

When she looks up, though, Violet doesn’t look weepy.

She looks furious.

“Hey, you okay there, Liu?” Arkady stares at Violet’s clenched jaw and balled fists. “You look like you’re about to blow a gasket.”

Violet laughs a little, flexing her fingers and curling her hands more loosely back against her sweater. “Did you pick that one up from Tripathi?”

“That’s not a mechanic expression. Everyone uses that expression.”

Violet gives her a skeptical look.

“Okay, yeah, I may have picked it up from the captain. It’s still a normal-person expression, though.”

Violet chuckles, and they both lapse into silence.

This is nice, Arkady tells herself. Spending time with Violet is nice. It’s nice, it’s pleasant, it’s a way to distract herself from the itching, burning ache in her limbs and the creeping dread of knowing that if the ship is boarded, Arkady can’t even run, much less protect anyone else.

“Speaking of Tripathi,” Violet says with a smile, “I should give you an update on the latest, ahem, on-ship situation. Our captain has declared that next time she has a free moment she’s going to tear out that weird shallow closet in the hall next to Park’s room and put in inset cabinets for towels and stuff so Park and RJ and I don’t have to cross the ship for them. But when RJ found out, they said…”

Arkady tries to listen to Violet’s narration of Sana and RJ’s stalemate about the cabinets, smiling at the appropriate points while keeping a lid on the sinking feeling of knowing that for not days but weeks, she’ll be able to do jack-all do protect either Sana or RJ, or Violet, who is sitting here smiling at Arkady with love and trust in her eyes as though half the universe isn’t out to get them here in their one fragile ship that Violet wouldn’t even be on if Arkady hadn’t tricked her onto it in the first place—

She shoves the thoughts away, focusing on formulating a reply to Violet’s story. “Well, if it devolves into fisticuffs, Sana could take them, but if Sana calls a vote, I’m pretty sure Brian and Krejjh will side with RJ about the sheet music, and I don’t know what or whether Park would care.” She grins. “So, even odds.”

Violet snorts. “Well, I’ll keep you apprised, assuming none of the combatants wander in here to make their case to you themselves.”

“Medbay and a show?”

“On this ship? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Arkady grins again. “I don’t know why Krejjh thinks being an outlaw is boring. The way we live, we practically produce our own shampoo.”

Violet snorts again before adding, in the kind of giggle-whisper Arkady most closely associates with grade-school gossip, “I can’t believe they got RJ into Sh'th Hremreh.”

“I know.” Arkady bites back another grin. “I mean, I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. Krejjh can be very persuasive.”

“If by ‘being persuasive’ you mean ‘talking loudly and enthusiastically about a piece of media until everyone in their general vicinity is compelled by gravitational media force to watch the thing in question,’ then yes, I guess you could refer to it that way.”

“I notice it hasn’t worked on you yet.” Arkady raises an eyebrow. “Or has it?”

“No, I have not dipped into Sh'th Hremreh.” Violet raises an eyebrow. “Yet.”

Arkady bites down on another chest-killing laugh before it can escape, glancing toward the radio on the bedside table. “Speaking of Brian and Krejjh creations. The notorious Infinite Space-Themed Playlist, huh?”

Violet smiles, gazing at Arkady tenderly. “You seemed a little restless in your sleep, and I’ve always hated total quiet when I’m sick, so I thought maybe it’d be nice to put on some background music.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Arkady pushes away an obscure flash of annoyance at the sentimentality of Violet taking the time to put on this playlist for an asleep Arkady as though something as trivial as music is a priority when Arkady is down for the count and Krejjh is doubtless drained from yesterday themself and the whole crew is going to have to figure out how to scrape by and cover piloting shifts and handle everything with no security officer and a stressed pilot and a tired medic and—

She shoves the annoyance aside, telling herself not to be an ass. There are literal studies showing that music is good for mental and physical health, right? And she sure as shit could use as much distraction as possible from the ache of her ribs and her ankle and her messed-up wrist. Having a playlist on is nice. This is nice.

Holst’s The Planets has come on, making for a somewhat grim background compared with the rest of the playlist, and Violet leans forward to jab irritably at the advance button until a benign rock song begins.

Arkady gives her an inquiring look, and Violet sighs, biting her lip again.

“I am so angry,” she says finally. “About what they did to you.”

“You and me both, trust me.”

Violet sighs, slumping in her chair. “You and me aren’t the only ones who are. Krejjh was pretty…shaken. Brian and Sana have been there for them, obviously,” she adds hastily, “and they’re doing fine. We can take care of each other. We are taking care of each other. The last thing I want to do is make you worry about us. But…” She trails off. “This isn’t just another day on the Iris. Not for any of us.”

“Well, that’s why the IGR does what they do,” Arkady mutters, closing her eyes. “Torture gets results.”

Violet sounds startled. “Every credible study in the universe has shown that torture doesn’t work. You said yourself—”

Arkady opens her eyes. “Torturing someone to interrogate them doesn’t produce reliable information. People know that. That’s not what it’s for. Torture is popular across the universe, through history, because it punishes people. Controls them. Their families. Whole societies.” She wouldn’t have to explain this to Sana. “When it’s on the table, you live your whole life under a threat. The actual torturing makes the people doing it feel powerful and good, and in the environment it creates, everyone else is easier to control. Win-win.”

Violet’s eyes have gone all huge and empathetic. “Arkady—” she whispers.

Something about that look always gets under Arkady’s skin. “Calm down,” she snaps. “I know you’re incapable of not freaking out when I talk about my childhood, but no, I’m not implying I was beaten up as a kid. The guards mostly just beat on adults; I think they knew that if they went after kids too often, enough people would’ve stood up against them regardless of losses. Or hey, maybe it was a vestige of human decency. Kinda doubt it, though.” She gestures vaguely with her good hand, careful not to pull at the IV. “I mean, of course I got beat up by other kids a few times, but just in a normal way, not in a torture way—Point is, yeah, I’ve known this stuff for a long time, but it’s not like you’re a stranger to it, right? You’ve spent your entire adult life under the IGR. You knew what was happening to some of the people who were disappearing.”

Violet is staring silently at her with that look of horrified concern, but hey, at least Violet’s overempathetic mind jumping directly to Cresswin as an explanation of Arkady’s knowledge on this subject is arguably preferable to her thinking through the percentage of Arkady’s life spent in Special Forces and then as an IGR guard herself, a train of logic that she finds herself hoping Violet doesn’t follow.

But that isn’t the right way to think about it, is it, her brain points out a moment later, the way it does whenever she considers discretely concealing the most hideous parts of herself from Violet. Violet is dating her. She deserves to know what she’s gotten herself into.

“It was never like…this,” she starts. “It was never me in a room with a helpless person, hurting them. But you know I was Special Forces during the war. You know I was a guard on Telemachus. Yes, I grew up on a prison planet and it’s all very sad but once you get over your latest shock about that—you’re a scientist, you can do the math and figure out that I don’t only know how this works from one side of it.”

Violet’s eyes are getting progressively wider, and Arkady drops her gaze to stare fixedly at her own hands. “They didn’t train us on the details of it; not…techniques. I mean, I don’t doubt they had people for that, but that would’ve been above my pay grade. But me, us, those goons who got the drop on us yesterday, we’re instructed pretty clearly in, ha, ‘maintaining control over a noncompliant population.’ Not like it’s just a few backwater goons breaking bones, either. When I was a guard—”

It isn’t even that her voice breaks, not really. It’s more of a stumble over the sudden realization that her voice should be breaking, or shaking, or anything other than steady and clear.

“When I was a guard, we all knew that some of the people we were guarding would be ferried to the more, ha, specialized options. Zone Z isn’t a secret.” Her voice, still flat, is rising. “And during the war…I can’t pretend that what I did in combat was better. I killed a lot of people, Violet. I killed a lot of people and they will never be alive again. You can’t say that that’s better than being a professional torturer. I can’t pretend that, and I can’t pretend some of my unit and some the people leading us…I can’t pretend that they didn’t do…” She stares down at her body. “This kind of thing.”

Silence. Arkady forces herself to look up.

Violet is staring at her in horror, but, for once, Arkady at least agrees that it’s justified.

She can feel herself breathing hard, and her face is wet again, which is frankly an indictment of her as much as anything else in this conversation. Crying to your girlfriend for sympathy about the horrible things you’ve done to other people isn’t exactly a good look.

“Look,” she says. “Some of this will haunt me until the day I die, and that’s good. It means I’m still human; it means…it doesn’t matter what it means. It’s what I need to do whether it means anything or not. I should be haunted. I think even Sana would agree with that.” She sighs. “I can figure out a way to live with this shit, and I do, but you signing up to…you know…see…someone who you knew was a smuggler and a killer doesn’t mean you thought through the implications of the IGR part of the equation before you asked me out.” Her voice is rising in irritation even though Violet is the last person in this medbay who deserves it. “I’m not the most mobile right now, but this is your medbay, I think you can find the door—”

“Arkady.”

Arkady looks up again. Violet is making steady eye contact with her. The horror hasn’t all gone out of her expression, but her voice is firm, not panicked. “I knew, when I started going out with you, that you had been a soldier with the IGR.”

“Okay, but you also assumed anyone who’d fought in the war was a ‘war hero,’ so you’ll forgive me if I have my doubts that you grasped what—”

“Arkady.” Violet’s voice is louder now, but still very level. “In case you need the reminder, I was fully aware of both your history and what the IGR was capable of the day I asked you out. You know, the day we were fleeing New Jupiter in a stolen IGR ship? That day?” A faint note of humor has entered Violet’s voice, though it disappears as she continues, “I’m going to leave for five minutes, to go to the bathroom and splash water on my face, not for good. I’ll have my communicator if you need anything.”

“Oh.” Arkady stares at her. “Okay?” she manages.

Violet walks out of the medbay, and Arkady stares blankly at the ceiling until her footsteps reenter. As promised, the hair around her face looks damp, but she looks calmer, more settled. She sets a glass of something on the bedside table.

“I brought you some juice, which you should be able to have now that you’re up and talking, but—” She sighs. “We should probably discuss this first.”

Arkady watches her.

“Arkady, I…” For the first time since her calm monologue before leaving the room, Violet looks uncertain, then presses on. “Like I said. I did know that you had been a guard with the IGR, and I did know more or less what that meant. And I knew—” She rubs her face with one hand. “Well, I didn’t know, it’s not like you can ever know with anyone, when I was a paramedic I saw cases of domestic violence where you never would’ve—anyway. I thought that I knew that you weren’t the kind of person who hurt people for your own satisfaction, and that felt like enough.” Her eyebrows crease together. “You make me feel safe. You always have.”

Arkady can feel her face beginning to get soaked again. All the things that she feels are careening around inside her, as though her heart is a ship in a bottle and somehow, within the glass, someone has conjured a storm.

“And it…sounds like I was right?” Violet lets out a breath that could almost be a shaky laugh. “You never…you’re saying you never did to anyone else…the kind of thing that was just done to you.”

She opens her mouth again, then hesitates, her words becoming slower and more contemplative.

“You’re right, though. I’m not sure I…that in the time after I’d realized the IGR was a lot less than less than perfect, I’m not sure I ever thought through the degree to which you, as a guard, would have been complicit in…those things. And…” She sighs again. “You’re right. I do think of people who fought in the war as heroes. I mean, I never really had a chance to—or, no, I can’t sit here and claim that I never had a chance. I never let myself think about how likely it was that some of the people fighting for us were…how did you put it. Specialized at things that make me sick even to think about. But also…”

She drops her gaze to her lap.

“I…I know that you killed Dwarnians. People. I know that a lot of soldiers killed a lot of people. I mean, that’s what war means, right?” She gives another shaken almost-laugh. “And I’m not—I’ve never been the kind of person who celebrates other people dying—”

“I know you’re not, Violet.” Violet is a biologist and a medic. Her work is the stuff of life, not death.

Violet slumps lower into her chair. “Yeah. But…because those deaths feel…felt…feel…partially justified to me, because the Dwarnians were trying to conquer us…maybe I let that make me forget a little that those deaths are still…deaths.”

She lifts her face, looking Arkady in the eye, and Arkady isn’t sure what she sees there. “Sometimes I wonder whether, irrespective of everything else about our lives—” Violet makes a swirly motion with her hand, as though to encapsulate the distances between worlds. “I wonder if you always would have been the kind of person who doesn’t lose sight of the death part.”

“Interesting theory, Violet,” Arkady says, once she can get herself to speak. “Doesn’t change that I was the one of us doing the killing.”

As she says the words, she realizes that they sum out to something snarkier than she intended, but there’s no bite to her voice, and Violet seems to register that.

“No,” she says simply. “It doesn’t.”

Arkady watches Violet in silence as she scrapes tendrils of drying hair off her forehead, straightening back up in her chair.

“Anyway. I’m not walking out that door, Arkady. You’re right, I hadn’t truly thought about what it meant that you were Special Forces. There are probably things about the war that I need to…well, I’ll probably never understand them completely, but things that I need to acknowledge.” She sighs. “But I meant what I said earlier. When I asked you out, I was asking you, not some hypothetical better you. Besides,” she adds quietly, “it’s not like I don’t have my own regrets.”

There’s a pretty big difference between ‘keeping your head down and getting a college degree’ and ‘actively killing people,’ but Arkady doesn’t feel like getting into it.

She lets herself sink back into the pillow. The room feels calmer, like the air on a planet after a storm.

No, it doesn’t, Violet said, and somehow, that feels like an anchor. Violet isn’t so horrified by the things that Arkady has done that she needs to pretend that they don’t exist.

“I. Uh. Okay.” Arkady attempts a smile, though she has a bad feeling that she’s making more of a weird grimace.

Fortunately, Violet doesn’t seem to mind, giving her a smile of her own that’s only a little shaky. “I’m glad we, uh, talked about this, but I’m guessing it isn’t doing your pain any good and I’m ready to shelve it for now if you are?”

“Shelving, uh. Sounds good.” Arkady nods vigorously. “Yeah.”

“Also, you owe me an apology for snapping at me,” Violet says calmly.

“Oh.” Arkady stares at her for a second. “I…shouldn’t have done that, should I?” Great job restating the obvious, idiot. “I…” Jesus Christ.

Violet is watching her silently. Arkady takes a breath.

“Violet, I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have snapped at you about something that had almost nothing to do with you. I mean, I shouldn’t shout at you in general, that’s broadly speaking a dick move, but in this particularly context I definitely, especially shouldn’t have—”

Shut up, shut up, shut up. What is a good apology even like? Sincere. Doesn’t make it about yourself.

“What I mean is—I’m sorry.” She bites her lip. "And, uh…thank you. For, um, not holding me to a lesser standard because I was hurt.” Or because I’m someone who has hurt other people. “Not that you should have to remind me I owe you an apology, but…” She squirms. “You had enough faith in me to know I’d. You know. Want to. So. Uh. Thanks.”

So much for not making it about herself. She coughs awkwardly. “So. Yeah. Uh. You sure there’s not anything…more that you want to talk about? Because I, uh, just freaked out and dumped a ton of my garbage right into your lap, and if there’s anything else you need to say, or ask, or whatever, I’m here. I mean, I kinda can’t go anywhere else right now, but—you know what I mean.”

“Thanks.” Violet smiles a little. Arkady nods, trying to smile back and hoping this one isn’t too grimacey.

Staring at Arkady as though deep in thought, Violet says, “I don’t think there’s anything else, right now. I still want you to talk to someone about…all this…at some point. It doesn’t need to be a civilian counselor. Just…someone. But…”

Violet bites her lip. Her pained look from when Arkady hurt herself laughing is back, if it even ever left. “You have multiple broken bones and you’re stuck in bed and in pain, and right now more than talking about anything I just want you to be able to rest.”

“Oh,” Arkady manages. Helpfully, she follows it up with, “Ah.”

Violet smiles again, then hesitates. “Though, there is—"

She is staring at Arkady very intently all of a sudden, and Arkady can practically see the gears turning inside her head. She feels her own body tensing, a runaway voice inside her warning her that reminding Violet about so much of her past all in one go might mean that this is the day Violet finally does walk out the door for good.

But when Violet speaks, it’s not about the part of the conversation that Arkady was expecting.

“So…you’ve always known that torture, um, works. Ever since you were a kid.”

“What? Yeah, I—you grow up on a place like Cresswin, you get a pretty firm grasp of what torture is used for, yeah.”

Violet is biting her lip as though in deep thought. “So…when I was on the Iris…and you’d just stopped pretending to be Kay Grisham, and I accused you of wanting me to get in the cryo chamber so you could torture me for information…you said ‘We don’t torture, it doesn’t yield reliable results,’ and then you said, ‘Also, it’s wrong.’ But you believed…you knew that torture did work.” Violet’s voice is slow, her face still screwed up as though she is working something out. “Even if not for the exact purpose I was accusing you of. So…when you said all that…the reason that you, the real you, didn’t torture, that the Rumor crew didn’t torture, is just because it’s wrong.”

“Gee, Liu, glad you’re having a warm, fuzzy realization about how heartfelt and wholesome it is that our crew doesn’t torture people.” Arkady’s pent-up dread gives way to a fervent eyeroll. “Have you met Sana? Like, held a conversation with her? At any point in time? For more than thirty seconds?”

Violet sighs in annoyance. “That isn’t what—” she fires back, then stops, her voice going gentle again. “That isn’t what I meant. Do you want to try to have some of the juice now?”

“Liu,” Arkady says, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Are you keeping a lid on the snarky repartee because I’m all injured and convalescent? Because if I can say anything I want while you nobly go easy on me, can I just comment that the way that you put cereal in your milk a little at a time ‘so it doesn’t get soggy’ is mind-blowingly—”

“You’re making me. Want. To be a lot. Less. Noble. About it.”

Arkady snickers, then smiles, holding out her bruised but less-busted left hand. Violet stops mock-glaring and reaches across Arkady’s body to take it in a careful, awkward clasp, smiling at her as though…

Well, shit, Arkady doesn’t know how to put it into words, or at least not into words that aren’t all dramatic and weird. Violet is smiling at Arkady as though Arkady is some wonder of the universe that Violet can’t believe she gets to have the privilege of seeing, like a star or a comet or…whatever it is that biologists rock their socks about, a really cool bug or something.

It’s weird and kind of overwhelming, but kind of in a good way, and Arkady just wants to sit here and hold Violet’s hand, and look at Violet, and let herself be looked at by Violet like the wonder of the universe that Arkady knows that she is not but that she could, as Violet watches at her, almost believe herself to be—

“Violet,” Arkady says, wrinkling her eyebrows. “How many painkillers do you have me dosed up on right now?” She squints at the IV bag above her, dropping Violet’s hand and trying to shove herself a little more upright against the pillows. “Also, does a convalescent gal get to sit up around here? I kinda want to try some of that juice, and maybe someday even do something horribly taxing like read an update on our ship’s computer systems.”

The corner of Violet’s mouth turns up in a smile. “I’ll raise the bed. Let me know where you want to stop.”

“Right.” Arkady lies back as the fancy Iris 2 medbay bed hums its way upright. “Okay, stop.”

Raising her head from the thin pillow, she tips her stiff neck back and forth, peering around the medbay, which looks pretty much the way it always does. Sana’s multicolored crocheting bag is slung over the back of a chair.

“Let’s see, I think there’s—” Violet leans somewhere behind her, pulling out a fresh pillow and reaching forward to tuck it gently behind Arkady’s head. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“In answer to your question,” Violet says, still in her calm, attentive medic voice as she continues to adjust the pillows, “you told me back when I was taking down medical info on the Rumor that you prefer minimal use of sedative painkillers, and even the Iris doesn’t have any of the good non-sedative intravenous stuff, so I’ve been using the minimum of the intravenous sedative painkillers and transitioning you to our standard orals. That should mean you’re less groggy, but also that we’re blocking less of the, well, pain, so let me know if you want me to adjust the dose. It’s not all-or-nothing; I can fiddle with it a little without instantaneously sending you to another dimension,” she adds, a note of warm humor in her voice as she sits back in her chair with smile.

Arkady blinks, still stuck on the first part of that. “You did?”

“Did…” Violet frowns, visibly parsing which of her words Arkady is referring to, before her face clears in understanding. “Did stick to the minimum end of the range I considered safe and reasonable?” She gives Arkady a look Arkady doesn’t quite know how to interpret, sort of alarmed and sad. “Your medical decisions are your own, Arkady. I’m not going to override your wishes just because I care about you and seeing you in pain isn’t easy for me. Or any other reason.” Violet’s eyebrows furrow. “No one should,” she adds, in that quietly defiant tone of voice that she uses when she’s declaring something and has realized that she wants the whole universe to know it’s what she believes.

“Oh.” Arkady swallows. “Yeah.”

“We’re coming up on the next dose of the orals in a quarter of an hour,” Violet says, her voice businesslike again as she checks her watch. “In the meantime, are you ready for juice?”

“I didn’t even know we had juice.” Arkady eyes the glass with interest.

“There was some concentrate in the pantry. When Tripathi and I sorted the food, we tucked some of it away in case someone got hurt and needed easy fluids.”

“That was very forward-thinking of you.”

“On this ship, not really,” Violet mutters, holding the glass to Arkady’s lips.

Drinking from the glass as Violet holds it turns out to be somewhat complicated and require both of their full attention, but once Violet sets it back down, Arkady leans back against the pillows with a smirk. “Hey, we’re dashing space rogues. A few bumps and bruises are all part of the job.”

“‘A few,’” Violet returns, but without rancor.

“It’s my job, Liu,” Arkady snarks back cheerfully. Between the juice and the strains of one of Krejjh’s actually-good Dwarnian jazz tracks and Violet’s reassuring presence next to her, Arkady is beginning to feel more like herself than she has in a while, the helplessness of yesterday starting to feel a little further away. Even the pain is…okay, the pain is still pretty painful, actually, a constant burn at the edges of her mind.

She hesitates.

“Violet?”

“Yes?”

“Could you maybe…” Arkady licks her lips. “You said you could fiddle with the painkiller drip a little, right? Because my shitty bones kinda hurt a lot and I wouldn’t mind if they, uh, didn’t.”

“I can do that.” When Violet meets Arkady’s gaze, her voice is calm and serious. “I’ll start with a small increment. It will take about thirty seconds to take effect. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

Standing, Violet adjusts something.

Arkady waits.

“Do you feel anything yet?”

The relief is noticeable, the pain in Arkady’s chest and limbs cooling down a notch. “Better. Wow. Better.” Arkady hesitates. “You, uh. Said that that was a small increment? I think I could use another small increment.”

“Okay.” Violet makes another adjustment.

This time, the relief is almost total. Arkady stares at the ceiling, feeling tears of relief prick her eyes as the burning ache eases to almost nothing.

Everything feels a little foggier, too, but she’s still here, and able to form mental sentences, and the pain is all but gone.

“That’s good.” She bites her lip as Violet sits back at her side. “That’s really, really—the pain is almost gone. Now.”

Violet swallows visibly, staring at Arkady in relief.

Arkady feels a tear coalesce and run down her cheek, and Violet reaches forward with gentle fingers to wipe it away.

“I’m glad, Arkady,” she whispers. “I’m so glad.”

Arkady lets a long breath out, looking around the room again. It’s almost like being in a new room, a room-without-pain, during a new day, a day-without-pain.

“Sana will be glad, too,” she comments wryly as her gaze lands on the crocheting bag again. “She gets all twitchy whenever she manages to have good food or meds or supplies on hand and someone doesn’t use them.” She grins. “It’s her whole octopus thing. You know, I think I called her an octopus yesterday? Krejjh won’t shut the hell up about octopi now that they’ve found out they’re, gasp, actually real, so I guess I just permanently have octopi on the brain now, and I was thinking about how Sana has her whole multitasking thing where she’s got an eye on the status of the whole ship and everyone on the crew at all times, and—damn it, I should have called her a ghost squid. She would have hated that.”

Violet is giggling helplessly. “I can’t believe you called Tripathi an octopus.”

Arkady grins lazily. “Yeah, well, now she’s gotten to enjoy living with the mystery of what the hell I was talking about. Even sedative-induced grogginess has the occasional upside, right?”

Speaking of twitchiness, Violet’s twitchy question face is back, though Arkady can tell she’s trying to hide it.

“You didn’t override what I told you, okay?” Arkady says. “You didn’t dose me up, even when I couldn’t have done anything about it, because I’d told you not to. So I figured you wouldn’t take a mile if I gave you an inch.”

“Oh.” Violet sits back in her chair, looking at Arkady with that same expression she was looking at her with earlier, sadness and something else Arkady can’t parse.

Arkady sighs. “During the war. When you got injured, they knocked you straight out. It made it easier on the medics, I guess—no panicking soldiers, just unconscious bodies to take care of until they got better or didn’t. And easier on the medics meant less medics per ship, which made it easier on the brass. I mean, I guess that was why, though I wouldn’t put it past just being a power trip for some of them—”

“I know.”

“—but it isn’t like you can easily say when it was that and when it was—” Arkady blinks. “Huh?”

Violet sighs, her eyes dropping to her lap. “That’s not just a wartime thing. When I was a medic out by O-11, some of my colleagues used too much sedative on people they thought were being a problem. Or who…might be a problem. Aggressive, scared, not ‘compliant,’ whatever. Of course, if you paid attention to who they were more likely to think was a problem…”

“I’m guessing there were patterns?” Arkady offers.

“Yeah.” Violet bites her lip. “The irony was that…this was less of a thing out in the field, but pretty often when someone was actually in the hospital, they’d be denied painkillers because the staff decided they were lying or exaggerating. It was…” Violet twists her hands in her lap. “It wasn’t just those problems, either. When you have a lot of people living in poverty, the power dynamics with whoever is in charge of access to medical treatment get…bad. It was not a good situation, and I was—you know. There. Being part of it.”

Arkady blinks, staring at Violet. Maybe the reason she didn’t know how to interpret the look in Violet’s eyes earlier was because it wasn’t actually the panicky huge-eyed way she looks at Arkady what feels like every time Arkady mentions some detail of Cresswin, but a look of recognition.

“I never thought about what it would be like to be a medic under the IGR,” she says quietly.

Violet finally looks up. “Part of it was the IGR, but a lot of my older colleagues had come up doing the same thing. It’s like you said. Republics aren’t perfect, either.”

“Oh.”

Violet licks her lips, hunching further into her chair. “It’s like you said about the war. Yes, sure, once I wasn’t a trainee and it was me and some colleagues out on a call, we were never the ones who gave those injections, used more than was needed. But that doesn’t mean that the ones I was with were always great about other things, or that others weren’t…” She sighs. “Just because I didn’t do anything especially bad myself doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have…you know, tried to do more than I did.”

Arkady stares at Violet, considering offering her her less-busted hand again, but decides against it. If she were Violet she wouldn’t want someone pawing at her trying to offer comfort about something that can’t really be comforted.

Violet’s work is the stuff of life, she thought to herself blithely only a few minutes ago, somehow not thinking about how much being a medic had to do with death and utterly traumatic shit. And-or, apparently, standing aside while your colleagues hurt and traumatized other people and then having to live with that.

“Jesus,” she says.

“Yeah.”

They sit quietly for another few minutes.

“Well, on a lighter note,” Arkady says awkwardly, “when it comes to your current cool, awesome medic job with our little band of dashing space rogues…can I, uh, have some more juice?”

The worst of the haunted look slides off Violet’s face as she smiles. “Of course.”

When the glass is empty, Arkady does reach her less-busted hand toward Violet, tugging her forward when she takes it. “Come here.”

She thinks Violet might go for a kiss on the forehead, depending on how fragile she’s thinking of Arkady as being right now, but Violet kisses her on the lips.

Their lips move together gently for a few seconds, then Violet settles back into her chair, smiling. “Your lips are sticky.”

“Excuse me, Liu, but I feel I should point out that your lips are now also sticky.”

“Touché.” Violet grins as she stands up again. “How’s your pain? We should still be transitioning you to the orals, so I’m going to get that ready now.”

“Still good.” Arkady smiles, wiggling the fingers at the end of her cast as Violet heads for the medbay sink.

“I know you and Sana are going to grump at me and Krejjh at some point for covering you and RJ instead of running,” she calls, “and then grump at me even more for making sure they hurt me before Krejjh, but if it had to be us, you are lucky you got me as a patient instead of Krejjh, trust me. They got completely freaked out when we tried to introduce them to Necco wafer candy a few years ago and still make grim remarks about ‘humans eating chalk.’ Dissolved pills would not be an easy sell.”

She’s expecting Violet to banter something back, but Violet looks downcast when she returns to Arkady’s side.

After Arkady has knocked back the chalky goo, she watches Violet carefully as she returns to the sink. That look could be about any number of things, but Arkady has the strong feeling that she’s seen it before, the first time Violet was bandaging her up after her gunshot wound on the Gay Louisa.

“Are you mad at me?” she asks, hesitantly, when Violet sits back down.

Violet’s face crinkles up in concern as she looks at Arkady. “Mad?”

Arkady grins weakly. “You know, because I went out and got myself hurt again?”

Violet’s forehead smooths out, then re-crinkles itself a second later. “I—no, Arkady, I’m not mad that other people tortured you. Or, I mean, I’m mad, I’m—furious, but at them, not at you.” She pauses. “And yes, I’m…‘mad’ isn’t the right word, but…it makes me upset that you got badly hurt to protect me and RJ, and it makes me upset that you think it’s good for it to be you who gets hurt instead of the rest of us. But you know that the times I chastise you for getting hurt, I’m not angry at you. Right?”

She smiles on the last words, in that specific abashed way that she smiles when she’s asking for reassurance about something that she thinks is just her anxiety playing up and probably not something she should actually be worried about at all.

When Arkady just stares at her, though, a look of alarm passes into her eyes. “You do know that, right?” she asks in a smaller voice. “I would never be really angry at you for getting injured.”

“Oh,” Arkady says. “Yeah. Of course I know that.” Did she?

Violet looks like she isn’t particularly fooled. “Well, now you do.” She sighs, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry. If—hypothetically speaking, I mean,” she adds, her lips twitching in the ghost of a smile. “If you’ve ever thought I was actually angry at you for being injured in a bad situation…I’m sorry.”

Arkady blinks at her, finally managing to muster a nod.

Violet smiles a little, reaching out and smoothing Arkady’s hair. “I’m not mad at you, Arkady. There’s nothing about you being hurt and in pain that I would ever be angry about.”

“Well, not nothing,” Arkady points out. “You just said that you were upset that I try to put myself between the rest of you and danger.” She can’t resist adding, “You know, my literal job?”

“Your job is being first mate.” Violet’s voice cracks slightly.

Time to see how prohibitive this wrist cast is. Arkady lifts her hand to Violet’s face, brushing a tear from the corner of her eye. “It��s a job with a lot of facets.”

Violet sniffs wetly, lifting her own hands to gently support Arkady’s wrist as she lowers it to her lips and brushes a kiss against Arkady’s fingers.

“I’m not mad at you for putting yourself between other people and danger, Arkady,” she whispers. “In fact, it’s probably one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

Arkady can feel her face getting hot as she stares, dazed, at Violet. “But…”

“I think it was a very brave and good thing that you did yesterday, and it scares me and makes me angry how okay you are with getting hurt to protect other people. I can feel both of those things at the same time.” Violet smooths Arkady’s hair again.

“Oh.” Arkady clears her throat awkwardly. “I. Oh.”

Violet chuckles, reaching up to dash a tear from her own eye. “You know what I feel, right now, more than anything? I’m just glad to have you back safe with me.”

“Oh,” Arkady says again. “I. Um. Hhh.” Get it together, Feral Kitten Patel. “I’m…glad to be back with you too. Um. Really glad.”

Violet smiles through her tears, and they gaze at each other in silence for a while.

“You know,” Arkady says wistfully, “I’m not exactly thrilled I can’t use a gun, or a knife, or punch anyone, or—” She cuts herself off. “Uh, you get the idea. But what I really can’t wait for is to be able to scoop you up, carry you to bed, and hold you in my arms all night long.”

“I.” Now Violet is the one blushing. “You…”

Arkady smirks, and Violet seems to regain the ability to form sentences, reaching out and caressing Arkady’s cheek. “Well, the scooping me up in your arms part will have to wait a little longer, but you should be able to relocate to your real bed some time in the next few days, and then there’s nothing stopping us from a whole lot of careful cuddling.”

Arkady smiles. “Sounds like a plan.”

“As for right now…I can’t exactly crawl into bed with you,” Violet says, sounding regretful, “but we could try…”

Pulling the chair with her, she moves so that she’s sitting as close as possible to Arkady’s shoulder, then carefully lowers her upper body to the bed so that her lower left shoulder rests just below Arkady’s right one, her face nestled into Arkady’s neck. Her left arm is presumably squashed under her, but her right hand comes up to rest on Arkady’s shoulder, thumb gently stroking Arkady’s shirt.

“Liu,” Arkady says, trying not to laugh, “that can’t be comfortable.”

Violet’s mutter against her neck sounds almost sleepy. “You’d be surprised.”

“Whatever you say.” Arkady tips her head to lean her temple against the top of Violet’s head. “Are you gonna fall asleep like that?”

“No,” comes the immediate response. “Or. Actually, this is more comfortable than I thought it would be, and I shouldn’t leave you alone for more than fifteen minutes while you’re still on the drip, and alarms are fallible so maybe I should…” She raises her hand to her comm. “Violet Liu to Iris Cockpit.”

“Attem—”

“Hello, Science Officer Liu!” sings Krejjh’s sunny voice. “How’s the patient?”

Arkady can feel Violet smile against her neck. “She’s doing pretty good, Krejjh. Hey, can you send someone down here in twenty minutes to poke me awake? First Mate Patel and I are at risk of engaging in some romantic tandem sleeping.”

“Iiiii sure can, Science Officer Liu!” The grin in Krejjh’s voice is audible, and Arkady feels a lingering echo of fear fading from her mind at the sound of them alive and well. “Aaand I’ll let you get right to it. Krejjh out.”

Arkady snorts. “I have no idea why you’re eager enough to cuddle with me that you’re willing to risk getting shaken awake in situ by a pilot making disgustingly enchanted faces at how ‘cute’ we supposedly are.”

“It’s a high price,” Violet says solemnly, her voice sleepy, “but it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

Arkady snorts again, trying to ignore the growing feeling of sunlit happiness in her chest. Violet’s hair is soft against Arkady’s face and her body is warm against Arkady’s side, and Arkady stares up at the ceiling, trying to comprehend how and why she has gotten ridiculously, disgustingly lucky enough to be here, now, with Violet’s hand curled around her shoulder and the steady rise and fall of Violet’s breathing against her.

In the kitchen, someone or something makes a subdued crashing noise, and someone else cackles loudly. Arkady can feel Violet’s amused sigh, and she smiles, letting her eyes drift closed.

“I hope you play this song someday,” croons the radio, “and think of Earth girl who loves space girl…”

A gentle current of air from the vents stirs a strand of Violet’s hair against Arkady’s ear, and she wriggles her head minutely to dislodge it before tucking her head back against Violet’s. As she closes her eyes again, the feeling of sunlit happiness is so strong that she wonders if she’ll be the one to stay awake even as poor tired Violet falls asleep. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it?

When Krejjh enters the medbay eighteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, they have to bounce back and forth from one foot to the other in silent agony for several seconds at the sheer adorableness of the sight of their crewmates cuddled together on the medical bed. First Mate Patel’s forehead is smoothed out in sleep, a smile on her lips, and even when Krejjh nudges Science Officer Liu awake and she disentangles herself from her girlfriend, Arkady curls her head into the indentation Violet’s cheek has left on the pillow, as though even in sleep she knows that any space that Violet takes up in the universe is a place where she will be safe and sound.

#the strange case of starship iris #vikady #arkady patel #violet liu #my writing #fic #tscosi

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wulfies-kpop-fanfics · 4 years ago

Text

One Photo → Mark Lee [7]

↳ Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳ AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳ Word count: 3,097

↳ Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | You Are Here! | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SATURDAY - 7

You awaken to a streak of morning glow shining into your bedroom through your window, the curtains slightly parted. You feel warm and comfortable, your polar bear plushie tucked neatly in your grip. When you manage to gain some semblance of morning vision, you notice that Mark wasn't with you. Before you can jump to conclusions, though, the smell of eggs and bacon wafts into your nose.

Standing and grabbing your glasses from your desk to put them on, you yawn and make your way out of your room, following the smell of breakfast.

"Here, make sure you crack it so there aren't any eggshells. The most important part is that you make sure the water is bubbling, but not boiling all the way. Then we carefully slip the egg into the water from the bowl."

Your feet idly carry you down the hallway from your room, and your eyes follow the sound of conversation and a fork scraping a plate. You meet eyes with Donghyuck, who is sitting in your makeshift dining room, freezing just as he takes a bite of scrambled eggs, his eyes wide and staring straight at you. Without a word between either of you, he chews and swallows, getting up and quickly shuffling into the kitchen.

Furrowing your eyebrows and licking your lips, you approach the arch of the kitchen and peer inside. Rhiannon is standing next to Mark, who is dipping a slotted spoon into a pot of steaming water. There's a breakfast in bed tray next to them on the kitchen counter, already topped with toast and bacon on a plate accompanied by a glass of milk.

Donghyuck comes back into your view, leaning toward Rhiannon and whispering in her ear. Her head snaps to look in your direction, elbowing Mark in the side. He nearly drops what looks like a perfectly poached egg, but still successfully manages to put it on the plate.

Mark, too, looks over at you.

"You couldn't sleep for like, five more minutes," Rhiannon is the first to speak, her words causing your cheeks to heat up. She quickly places a metal cover over the plate, shoving Mark in your direction.

Mark stumbles for a moment but quickly approaches you, taking your hands in his. He sheepishly smiles at you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek. "Go," he starts, kissing your other cheek, "back," kiss "to bed," kiss. "I wanted this to be a surprise." He's gently leading you to step backwards, down the hall and all the way back into your bed. He smooths the covers over your legs, kisses your forehead and then dashes from the room.

Your mouth hangs open with genuine surprise, your eyes glued to your bedroom door. It's not long until Mark appears again, carefully carrying the little table into the room with him.

"You really didn't have to do this for me," you remark as he gently places the table over your lap. "I should be the one cooking for you."

"You will have a million chances to cook for me in time," he said, nudging the table closer to you and lifting off the little metal cover that hid your plate. The bacon was crispy, one poached egg was on top of a piece of toast and the second piece had strawberry jam spread to the edges, just the way you like it.

"Thank you, Mark, this is too sweet, I feel bad," you laugh softly as you pick up the toast with jam to take a bite.

"Don't feel bad, I had fun cooking these, (Y/N). One second, though." Again he dashes from the room and comes back with his own plate with toast, bacon and scrambled eggs. You scooch over enough so he can fully join you again in bed, and you both share a quiet breakfast.

You begin to notice an aura in the air as you look at Mark. He seems cheerful, poking away at his meal and occasionally looking back at you, cheeks full of food and his lips decorated with crumbs from his toast. Today was the last day you would see him in person for who knows how long. You would have to let all this go- all the time you spent with him, his cheerful expressions and his touch.

You quickly peeled your eyes away from him, poking your egg with your fork and watching the yolk spill down the edge of your toast. You didn't want this week to end.

"Your exams start next week, right?" Mark's voice is soft as if he knows exactly what you're thinking about.

"Yeah," you reply, "then I have to wait for my graduation form, and then I can go to the ceremony, hopefully."

"I feel like I might have taken away any time you would have had to study," he comments dejectedly, and it makes you look at him again.

"No," you retaliate quickly, taking in a deep breath, "I've never really needed to cram like people do in the movies- I study subjects as I go. I could technically do all my exams today and be confident. Please don't feel bad, I already do."

"Ever since I met you I've been dreading today," Mark says, placing his fork and knife down on the empty plate sitting on his lap. "The day I had to leave."

You licked your lips, taking a long blink. His tone of voice made your stomach flip and your chest hurt like you were being stabbed. "Me too. I, uh, was thinking… I wanted to go to the airport with you."

Mark's eyes widened. "Really? I mean, I'm happy, but aren't you worried about all the fans and the media?"

"Yes," you nod, "but they're all going to find out eventually. I just want to spend as much time with you as I can."

"I do too," he agrees, finally wiping his mouth. "I just don't want to pull you into a world you might not be ready for."

Slowly you nodded, looking back at your nearly finished breakfast. You finish off your egg in silence, scraping up the last of the yolk with the final corner of toast. "You're a good cook," you say, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Mark laughed sheepishly, standing up. "Only because I had help. Can I take that?"

"Y-yeah. I'll get dressed. Thank you."

Mark loomed over you for a moment, gently placing his plate on top of yours and lifting the tray off your lap. "Okay. We'll leave when you're ready." With that, he was gone.

You were glad you hadn't decided to wake up early and put on makeup because if you did it would have been ruined almost as quickly as Mark left your sight. It wasn't that your mind was racing with thoughts, with what-ifs. No, it was just the idea that your life changed so quickly in one week - and now you had to go back to your normal life like nothing had happened at all.

You would be able to see him again sometime in the future, you knew this, but when he left the room, pain hit you like a wave, knowing that when he went to customs at the airport, it would really be the last time you saw him - indefinitely, until something brought you back together. So you cried, hoping to get all of it out now.

Finally dressed and looking like you had banished evidence of your tears off your face, you grabbed your backpack and looked inside. Two items were neatly secured in a cloth tote bag lined with green tissue paper - the photo frame that was neatly wrapped in bubble wrap and your most prized piece of clothing. It was the Star Wars: The Last Jedi sweater you bought on your trip to Florida with Rhiannon in the year previous, nearly three sizes too large. Smiling sadly, you ran your thumb over the fabric, then closed your backpack and secured it over your shoulders.

When you exited your room, everyone was waiting for you in the front hall. The day wasn't a happy one despite the sun bursting through the patio door, especially judging from the aura of melancholy that hit you as soon as everyone laid eyes on you.

"Ready to go?" Rhiannon was always the bravest to speak first, gently taking Donghyuck's hand. You in turn gently took Mark's hand, squeezing it ever so slightly.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

The further you went, from the dorm to the subway and from the subway to the streetcar, you felt increasingly sad. You knew that everyone was feeling the same way as you since the entire way had been completely silent. You and Rhiannon already knew the way, so the boys just followed your lead, sitting and exchanging sad smiles when any of you made eye contact.

Next stop. Next stop. Next stop. Change here for line two. Next stop. Change here for streetcar.

Once you arrive at the airport, their manager meets you. He eyes you and Rhiannon sternly until Mark speaks up, and once he is finished the manager reluctantly nods and leads you to the first-class lounge. The lounge is nearly completely empty, except for where the rest of the group is, surrounded by luggage.

There is little exchange of words when Mark and Donghyuck both take their luggage from the others. All of you gather around a flight board, watching for the Vancouver gate. You hear distant conversations, your mind almost blanking out. You took Mark's hand, causing him to look back at you with a sombre smile.

"It's not forever, you know," was the first thing Mark said to you since leaving the house. You can barely make eye contact with him, nodding and leaning into his side.

"I know, but it feels like it." You lifted your arm, looking at the scars that decorated both yours and Mark's bodies. "When I graduate I'll visit."

Mark's smile became more genuine, looking down at you with a sparkle in his eyes. "You won't just be visiting, you'll be moving."

Your eyes widened for a moment, and then you also begin to smile. "I hope so." You both settle into a mutual gaze, one that isn't exactly awkward, but it's not happy either. "Mark," you say again, after waiting far too long.

He raised his eyebrows at you, nodding questioningly. "What is it?"

You take in a deep breath, taking off your backpack and opening it up to pass Mark the tote. "As commissioned." You held it up to him, and his curious expression changed back to a genuine smile.

"Thank you," his voice was barely above a whisper, taking the tote from you and peering inside of it. "What else is here?" It sounded like he was asking that to himself as he pulled out your sweater.

"It will remind you of me," you add quietly, "and it will probably fit you better than it fits me."

"(Y/N), I can't-"

"Please?" Mark looked you in the eye as you muttered that one word, noticing that tears you had long thought you had been rid of were beginning to surface.

Mark quickly tied the sweater around his waist and gently set the tote with the photo frame to the side so Johnny could pick it up, quickly engulfing you in another hug. "Okay," he whispered, letting you dig your forehead into the crook of his neck. "Thank you."

Not long after, a small chime rang through the lounge as the next lineup of gates appeared on the large screen everyone was lurking around. It was time for the boys to head for their gate. You were reluctant to leave the tight hug Mark nearly trapped you in, and you could feel that his breathing was beginning to stutter like he was crying.

"Come on," you heard Jaehyun from beyond the grip of your soulmate, "we can't miss our flight."

You gripped your fingers into the fabric of Mark's shirt, but you knew you had to let go. As soon as you separated, Mark reached for your hand, wiping his face.

Mark and Donghyuck insisted that you and Rhiannon were allowed to walk with them until they went through security, so you decided to go with them. Your heart thumped in your chest when you remembered that fans would be waiting for them. Mark squeezed your hand gently once you tensed, hearing the sounds of camera clicks getting closer and closer. Soon enough you were bombarded by flashing cameras and stunned fans who were staring at you with varying degrees of surprise and confusion.

Mark waved toward the small crowd with his free hand, leading you past them with an experienced fervour. Once you arrive at the end of the line, still inwardly panicking, Mark turned to you, taking your other hand in his.

"I'm going to miss you," he said, smiling shyly. "Send me lots of pictures from your graduation, okay?"

"Of course," your mind was nearly taken off the crowd until Mark kissed you. Nothing like you haven't done before- sweet and loving- just like you had come to adore and sometimes crave. Only this time, so many other people were watching you. Once you separated your lips you caught him in a hug. "I love you,"

"I love you too, (Y/N)."

You took in a deep breath, standing next to Rhiannon and taking her hand as everyone began to put up their luggage and go through customs. You waved back at them, putting on the best smile you could, trying to keep from looking at the multitude of photographers behind the black ribbon barricade.

Once they were out of sight, everyone had their cameras trained on you and Rhiannon. Taking her hand, the two of you pushed back through the growing crowd and ran as fast as you could to a place where you both could lay low until the fan sites lost interest.

Once you got home, you dreaded going onto the internet, knowing you would see yourself, red-faced and melancholy, basically attached to Mark at the hip. So, you shut yourself in your room.

"Are you studying?"

Night had fallen when you woke up from your impromptu depression nap, so you had rubbed the sleep from your eyes and headed to Rhiannon's room. She looked back at you from her desk, the light from her laptop the only source of illumination in the house.

"Kinda," she sighed. She rolled her computer chair to face you, crossing one leg over the other. "I've been mostly pretending to worry about my studies and instead checking my phone every five seconds for a text."

"They're probably busy," you mumble, inviting yourself into her room and sitting on her bed. "I miss them."

"I do too. All we need to do is save up enough to move, I guess," Rhiannon said, turning back around and opening one of her textbooks.

"If only it were that easy."

She scoffed when she heard you. "Yeah, if only."

You licked your lips, laying down on top of the sheets of Rhiannon's bed, taking her stuffed turtle into your arms. "Have you been on the internet today?"

You could hear her chair moving again, her mouse clicking and her keyboard following after. "Yeah," she answered with a sigh. "It's not all bad, thank God, but people are really trying to speculate who we are."

You groan into the fabric of the turtle. "I really hope people don't feel like they have to, like, deduce who we are and start following us around."

Rhiannon didn't answer. After a minute, you put the plushie to the side and sit up, looking at her silhouette framed by the light of her computer.

"You okay?"

She perked up, shrugging. "I guess. I suppose that it's all, y'know… sinking in. This week I've just been thinking about Donghyuck and I, but now the rest of the world is going to be involved, too. Even if we have the scars to prove it, some fans will never let them go."

You looked down. "Yeah, you're right. I guess that maybe we shouldn't have gone. I just didn't want to say goodbye."

"Me neither." Rhiannon sighed audibly, and then the gentle tapping of keys on her keyboard became the primary noise in the room. You stayed sprawled out on her bed, not fond of the idea of being alone.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" As soon as you finished your question, the typing stopped. The deadly quiet made your heart thump in your chest, worried that she would say no.

"Yeah. I don't want to sleep by myself either."

Sighing with relief, you smile. "Are you going to keep studying?"

Rhiannon hummed. "For another while yet. You can sleep if you're tired, I'll keep it down."

"Okay." You quickly made a trip to your room to grab your polar bear and your phone, and then you did your best to snuggle in the sheets of Rhiannon's bed, claiming the left side as your own. You placed your phone right by your pillow, too afraid to unlock it and see your face on Soompi, Allkpop, Koreaboo and worst of all, Twitter.

You stayed awake and listened to the sounds of Rhiannon's studying, slowly dozing more and more. Once you were on the cusp of sleep, your phone buzzed. Then it buzzed again. You groaned, turning over to grab it. Running your fingers along your pop socket, you wondered if you should even look at what the notification was. That was when your screen lit up again with another faint buzz, revealing Mark's contact photo and a line of sparkling heart emojis.

You found yourself donning a tired smile as you unlock your phone to read Mark's texts.

Mark: I'm not sure if you're still awake but I thought you might want to know that I'm safe and we are all settled in Vancouver

Mark: my mom said that you are very pretty

I miss you

Mark: aaaaaa you probably really are asleep please sleep well, study hard, I love you 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

You: I love you too Mark, rest well, I miss you too

Before temptation could get the better of you, you locked your phone and quickly shoved it beneath your pillow, holding your polar bear tightly. You did your best to focus on Rhiannon's typing once more to lull you back to sleep, wishing with all of your might that the next couple of years would pass you by while you slept.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct127 #nctu #nct scenarios #nct imagines #reader insert #fanfiction #kpop fanfictions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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sanchoyo · 4 years ago

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danny phantom season 2, eps 1-5 thoughts! opening the new season with episodes like these kinda blew me away. we had multiple serious episodes INCLUDING a two parter!! also, valerie :)

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-I don't know what I expected s2 to open with. but danny portal incident in more detail was not it. (also, I hate to break it to you, sam, but danny's parent's bigass ghost hunting rv def chugs more gas than those vehicles, lmao. unless it runs on ectoplasm or something...)

-WHY WAS DESIREE IN THE SEWER? HAVING TEA WITH IT DOWN THERE?? Her making the giant cow come alive is a boss move, we've almost had all of my fav animals as ghosts now <3 I also don't like how sam was expecting danny to just, haunt the place so the cars wouldn't get sold? I KNOWWW I know she's 14 (and I had a very annoying phase like this, I think I mentioned in a previous post, I GET IT) but they're HIS powers, and messing with (1) dealership will not really put a dent in sales overall because they can just move the cars to another sales lot, and it certainly wont change the industry anyway, it's more of a minor annoyance for (1) location. Also, usually people who work at car sales places work on commission, so if they dont make a sale, they don't have money to pay bills, or eat. sam baby if u wanna be an activist you need to like, actually look into these things. with as much money as her parents have, she could be doing a lot..more useful things for causes she cares about? it's frustrating to see someone with resources who doesn't know how to use them. but shes 14 so again. cannot be really upset :/

-IS THIS A PREDATOR VS TERMINATOR VS FREDDY KRUEGER MOVIE BUT THEYRE ALL WOMEN?? you know, sam is so right to be excited about this. /I/ want to see this movie. that rules

-paulina inviting danny and friends to her quinceañera, aw! even if it is just to get phantom to show up :') and there'll be a meteor shower, and we KNOW danny wants to be an astronaut!! there's not a meteor shower every night!! the tickets are non-refundable, but..she's rich? like. gotta agree with danny, they never get invited!! I KNOW it's the principle of keeping promises, but if she was that upset, she should've said something. directly. I hated how she was like, passive aggressive about it through the episode, like you SAID IT WAS FINE, THAT YOU'D GO TO THE PARTY TOO. MOVIES SHOW FOR A FEW WEEKS IN THEATERS. IF YOU HAD A REAL PROBLEM YOU NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT. WE'VE HAD THIS PROBLEM BEFORE, SAM. YOUR FRIENDS. ARE NOT. MIND READERS.

-MR. LANCER GOING AFTER THE GHOST WITH THE FIRE EXTINGISHER LMAO

-this outfit is everything . anytime the show does an over the top cutesty pink outfit i WANT IT. it looks like shit I wear JKASDHF I HAVE a bow like that and a pink sweater. I need leg warmers </3

-SAMS GOTTA RE-HALF-KILL HIM??? thats fucked up. but also, he finally got his logo!! it took until s2!!! this episode was lowkey very fucked and I felt like it glossed over a lot. does sam have guilt about like. kinda KILLING HIM?? I know, he also agreed and walked into the portal. but. she made the choice to redo it SO quickly (even if it was because someone had to beat desiree) and danny, during their fight, brought up a lot of stuff sam's done in the past, meaning he was holding onto those memories and resentment was building. (I KEEP SAYING HE LOWKEY NEEDS THERAPY, BUT I THINK MOST EVERYONE IN THIS SHOW KINDA DOES) which...is a red flag? and then they didnt even GO to the party URGH I know she tried to make up for it, but it really felt like Sam fucked up and barely faced any consequences and got everything she wanted in the end. I KNOW it's a kids show obv they aren't going to go too in depth, and she undid the damage, kinda, but...I DUNNO how to articulate it but it rubbed me the wrong way.

-but on a note about desiree, her powers of wishes were STRONG ENOUGH TO ERASE NOT JUST THEIR MEMORIES, BUT DANNY'S POWERS?! fuck, if I was danny I'd be like, trying to make friends with her. I know they always have horrible side effects as most genie-granted wishes do, but...c'mon, I'd at least TRY to be like 'I wish no ghosts would hurt anyone in my town' or 'I wish vlad would lose his ghost powers forever no matter What and also forget about my mom' LIKE. SHIT DESIREE IS SO POWERFUL. rewriting reality powerful, basically!! appreciate her. respect her.

-aww, sam helping tucker pass the nurse's office so he wouldn't see because he's afraid of medical stuff? very sweet. I also don't like medical stuff, I've gotten a lot better at handling it tho. but seeing blood and needles still makes me feel lightheaded x_x

-FOLEY, BY TUCKER FOLEY. I want to make my own perfume, that's so cool. even if his first attempt isn't good, he's pretty consistently shown to have an inventor/entrepreneur streak in the show, so like. I can see him inventing or making something (or several somethings) that make him $$$ when he grows up :) proud of my creative son

-I know the 'creepy abandoned hospital on the edge of town' is a joke and the creepy hospital trope is so Worn Out, but in my town we actually DO have a hospital like that! my dad was born in it, but its not in use and hasn't been for, like, 20 years! it needs to be torn down but I think the city doesn't wanna pay the money. the inside is horrible, spray painted and broken glass and shit everywhere. but there's still like, rusty equipment and fucking DOLLS all over the place. the cops drive by it pretty frequently to make sure no one is like, breaking in. (because of water damage, some of the areas really aren't safe. also, asbestos, but people still go in anyway) but also, some of my town was used in a filming for a stephen king show. So it's lowkey spooky all over. just a fun personal tidbit :) to lead into saying, any hospital abandoned for any period of time is NOT safe to quarantine these kids in JKSAHDKF like I KNOW it's a ghost trying to do this, but NONE of these parents are even like, 'well, why dont we keep them in the regular, working hospital'....YIKES. this hospital looks pretty accurate to the one in town. grungy and spooky.

-fentons are tax evaders confirmed by jack's fear of being audited, lol no one is surprised

-ghost sickness via ghost bugs. horrifying concept. I actually expected it to be a new villain, not dr. spectra again! this is a very elaborate scheme. her new form rules, love the new costume. the way none of the bg kids seem to recognize her as their old school councilor. did we just forget about that completely?

-dash watching romance movies in the fucked up ghost hospital. same.

-'oh please, you're ghosts, do you have any idea what YOU smell like?' no, tucker, what DO ghosts smell like? I genuinely didn't know they would even have a smell, I actually want to know now.

-it feels like a while since we've seen jazz!! i was happy to see her again, even if she was a head in a jar for most the episode. I want another jazz-focused ep!!

-we finally see danny doing space-related stuff!! him and his friends stargazing to open ep 3 of s2. cute :) until, GHOST PIRATES!!!!! ...ghost pirate captain is a small child?? VOICED BY TAYLOR LAUTNER???

-oh, the easy listening is ember's song instrumental slowed. 'vapor drone' THEY VAPORWAVED HER!!! ember in a pirate outfit tho >>>>. and the cruise being called m.bersback JKASDHJK. ember adopting a little pirate brother is also pretty cute. concerning this teen and little kid have such bad opinions of adults, like, who hurt you?? (how did you DIE ALSO?? im always lowkey curious about that. we know desiree died at an old age, but her ghost form is young, probably mid-20s, so I wonder how that sort of thing works...its a more mental thing, isn't it?) but ghost team-ups are always cool to see, even if ember bailed after danny took her guitar. I guess she probably thinks youngblood can handle it (which, he's been owning danny this far in the ep, so...fair)

-tucker got that sponsorship from nasty burger for their radio!!! again, opportunistic money maker king, love to see it!!!

-danny taking control of the kids SO FAST. he makes a pretty great leader. no one is surprised, im pretty sure I said I think he's the most mature of the trio, once again, correct, because he's taken on so much responsibility already. all the teens suiting up in the jumpsuits to go save the adults and taking the ship over with a BLIMP. OKAY LETS GO. this feels like it should be a mid finale or straight up finale.

-...speaking of finales. why is ep 4-5 of s2 combined into a 50 minute episode? I havent even clicked play and im concerned. weird placement, like, this season JUST started and we're getting a two parter? okay...why are the episodes placed like this? why not put this at episode 10 or something, for a mid-season thing?

-this is also a cute dress. possibly my fav dress so far. can her parents give ME cute dresses, I'LL wear them.

-it turns out the castle fright knight was in is called pariah's keep and there's something worse than fright knight in there! lovely! fuck off vlad wtf are you doing <3 your hubris <3 is going to literally get you killed <3 'ring of rage' and 'crown of fire' are great names tho. ...vlad turning into a super polite guy when he was scared of mr. pariah was hilarious. and fright knight doing the same...I mean, it makes sense, he's a knight, he serves a king? happy to see fright knight again either way :) vlad telling him to call him tho, lmfao. you WISH HE WOULD. (I wish hed call me, too. 😔)

-so...jack being genuinely concerned about vlad...maddie really didn't tell him what happened at the cabin, did she. damn. if I was her id immediately come home and be like 'YOU WONT BELIEVE THIS SHITTTT THIS CREEPY GUY--' like, I feel like that stuff you need to tell your partner!!! I know she didnt want Jack to think she was an irresponsible parent putting danny in danger at that time, but STILLLL. maddie spilling boiling tea on him. get his ass. how is jack this oblivious to his wife's discomfort with vlad!! ughhh

-fenton wipe (tm). trademarked toilet paper.

-DANNY AND VALERIE BEING FRIENDS??? :D that was a cute moment. 'hey val <3' and 'if you like him like him, make a move, or someone else will ;)' at sam...damn!! I love her. valerie go for it girl!!! I hate how sam and tucker treat val also, like I GET IT YOURE PROTECTIVE AND DONT TRUST but if anything him befriending valerie will help when she finds out or he tells her like I feel like she'll be more understanding that they think! ALSO I feel like her reason for not liking ghosts is valid, like you haven't really explained the full story to her anyway! she doesn't seem to have any other friends after being booted from the a-listers so im like :( but seeing them kick butt together again was nice <3

-the ghosts all RUNNING FROM PARIAH DARK IS NOT GOOD, I thought he sent them to attack or something, but no. why doesn't someone just tell desiree 'hey i wish pariah dark would die' lol. once again I think she can solve every problem <3 but seeing all the enemies in one place, being civil and hiding together? love it.

-you just know danny's gonna have to clean up vlad's stupid mess. also, jack being willing to put on the ectoskeleton pants to help maddie, as soon as vlad heard it could kill him, he suggested jack do it instead of helping maddie himself? this is why jack got the girl, my man.

-ghost skeletons. how do you end up as a skeleton ghost in your afterlife instead of a humanoid like most the ones we've seen? lmao

-the ghosts just making new homes in various stores. I'd totally be setting up in an expensive clothing store if I was a ghost.

-valerie's dad is possibly the most useful adult so far, with that ghost shield expansion!!! and valerie saving vlad and danny, even tho shes been thru it already, shes still so good!!! this family rules.

-danny: *gently caresses valerie* :)

-*then he immediately TELLS HER DAD ON HER. and his first response is 'are you okay?' :'( such a good dad...

-*me every time fright knight breathes* youre doing SO great sweetie :)

-the fenton suit thing is so silly looking. does anyone take this thing seriously

-ALL THE GHOSTS FIGHTING WITH DANNY <3 AAAAA. and the fact that pariah isn't perma-defeated, but just locked away again. yikes. he'll probably get out again, won't he? it wasn't too clear, but if vlad DID make a pact with fright knight, I am rabid. I will beat vlad to death with the fenton bat (tm). YOU DONT DESERVE A COOL KNIGHT.

-valerie being direct with sam and challenging her? kinda love that, even tho I normally don't like 'catfight' type situations. because sam has been very passive aggressive about it which is annoying. valerie knows wtf she wants and wasn't even embarrassed to tell sam, but she did tell her, giving sam time to make her own move! and sam denied it and got embarrassed/mad! and sam did have a chance when danny was about to go off and fight, and she hesitated and didn't tell him. I feel like she's hesitating because they're friends and it might make it weird between the trio (poor tucker would be third-wheeling) but if u snooze u lose, u gotta GO after what u WANT girl. smh this is a No Tsundere Zone. 😤

#sanchoyorambles #dp thoughts #danny phantom

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justablobfish · 4 years ago

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Finding a present for that person that is impossible to find a present for

Day 13 of my Advent Calender. A new drabble or oneshot everyday until Christmas, following the Continent’s favourite found family and what they’re up to in the winter season. Based on this prompt list

Read on AO3

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

______

It's going to be Jaskier’s second time visiting Kaer Morhen.

Two years ago, Geralt had asked him only a few days before they were scheduled to separate for the winter. It had all been rather sudden and the whole season had passed in a blur of anxiety and excitement.

He hadn't even met the whole family then, Geralt's little brother Lambert hadn't made it to the keep that year. Then, the year after, Jaskier got delayed by his family until he couldn't make it to the keep anymore; the path had already snowed over.

This year though - this year Jaskier is determined to make the most of his time at Kaer Morhen and charm his way into the hearts of Geralt's family until they can't imagine winter without him anymore.

Step one is to make a good first impression after the Wolves haven't seen him in so long. And the easiest way to do that is to get the perfect welcome gift for everyone scheduled to be there.

He comes across the first gift mere weeks after the snow of the previous winter has melted. After the tedious experience with his parents he decides to spend some time in Oxenfurt to recuperate.

In his favorite dingy little bookstore he finds the perfect present for Eskel.

Yes, yes, a steamy romance novel might not necessarily be the best way to prove himself to his lover's family, but the cover of the book shows your usual handsome warrior with very revealing clothing clutching a swooning damsel in distress in his overly muscular arms. Except this protagonist is drawn with an enormous scar covering the left side of his face.

He's extremely handsome. So is Eskel, of course, but whenever Jaskier tells him as much he just dismisses the compliment. With this book though, Eskel will have to believe him that scars are seen as attractive by quite a number of people. Why else would they draw the cover like this?

His second gift he also finds in a bookstore, though this place couldn't possibly be more different than where he found the book for Eskel.

The "Ye Olde Books" in Toussaint sells only the most esteemed antiquities to rich noblemen who never intend to read them and only display them to prove their supposedly good taste and to exaggerate their riches.

Jaskier quickly determines the oldest book the store has on offer. It's still younger than the recipient of the gift, of course, but the fairy tale stories it holds should still be similar enough to the stories that must have been popular when Vesemir was a child.

After the events of the last winter Jaskier at least managed to guilt trip his parents enough that he has no trouble paying for the delicate tome.

As for Lambert, Jaskier didn't meet him the one year he spent at Kaer Morhen, but he and Geralt ran into the younger Witcher on the Path once. It was a brief encounter and Lambert didn't seem to particularly like Jaskier.

Geralt reassured him afterwards that it's nothing personal and that Lambert doesn't like anyone.

Even though they couldn't possibly be more different, Lambert somewhat reminded Jaskier of himself. Jaskier is happy with his place in the world now, but he had to carve it out for himself, which hadn't always been easy. He remembers a time when he, too, felt trapped in the life he was born into, never good enough to satisfy his parents or to become a person in his own right, not just the heir to a legacy he wanted nothing to do with.

So the bitterness Lambert carries around with him feels very familiar.

His third gift, therefore, is just as expensive as Vesemir's and on top of that requires a large amount of convincing to work out. Luckily, Jaskier has practice annoying someone enough until they agree to anything. He spent most of his life perfecting the skill with the involuntary help of his lover.

By the time winter comes around again, the specially commissioned Gwent card will have started distribution. Though of course Jaskier will carry a copy of the new Lambert hero card with him as well and present it to Geralt's younger brother. He's made sure it would be stronger than the White Wolf card that became popular in recent years.

Ciri's gift is easy enough. Jaskier simply buys the biggest, fluffiest teddy bear he can find. Ciri is going to roll her eyes at him and claim that she isn't a kid anymore, but that's exactly what makes it the perfect present. With all that destiny business, the kid forgets far too often to allow herself to be a child sometimes.

How to get this monstrous thing, which is nearly as tall as Jaskier, back to Kaer Morhen is an entirely different story, though…

The gift for Yennefer isn't hard to find either once he meets up with Geralt and travels with him again. In a run-down little general store in a village in the middle of nowhere, in the furthest corner of the shop, hidden under a fishing net and a set of gardening tools, lies the most atrocious knitted sweater Jaskier has ever seen. There's no reason to abandon old traditions, even if he and Yennefer don’t meet up at Oxenfurt anymore. And in case Yennefer doesn't attend Kaer Morhen this winter, he'll simply keep it around until the next time they meet. The knitwear is so incredibly ugly, it would be a shame to waste it.

Geralt informs him one day that Lambert will bring a plus one. Not a boyfriend or close friend or anything, just a superficial acquaintance. The fact that Lambert risked his own hide to save the man's life is - apparently - entirely coincidental and without meaning. It's just that this other Witcher of the Cat school has no other place to spend the winter. Nothing more.

Geralt calls his little brother an emotionally constipated idiot and Jaskier can't help but burst out laughing at the hypocrisy.

Jaskier isn't sure whether to get this Aiden a gift as well since he never met the man, but as so often in his life, fate takes matters into its own hands.

He's perusing his favorite clothes store in Vizima when he finds the most beautiful scarf. It's big and woolen and perfectly flashy. Every handspan or so the pattern and colours change completely. All in all it shows every colour of the rainbow.

That is not the gift for Aiden, of course. But it's going to look great on Jaskier, especially since Geralt still insists he wears that old grey winter cloak. Granted, the cloak is warm, but oh so boring looking. The scarf will be just the right accessory to add a bit of color to his winter wardrobe.

The gift for Aiden he comes across as he leaves the store. A little boy, who must be the owner's son, sits at the side of the road and busies himself with thread and needle.

Curious, Jaskier steps closer and finds that the boy is attaching pieces of felt to a simple hairband.

Once the kid is done he puts the headband on and the felt pieces stand up in such a way that it appears like the boy has kitten ears growing out of his head.

Jaskier considers for a moment but then decides that if this Aiden is voluntarily hanging out with Lambert, he must have a good sense of humor. He buys the headband off the boy and heads back to his and Geralt's inn room.

Maybe it's because he's traveling with Geralt and can't really go looking for a gift for the White Wolf, but by the time their departure for Kaer Morhen rolls around, Jaskier has a little something for everyone, except Geralt. He doesn't even have an idea what he could gift to the man. Anything practical like a new whetstone, better armor or a fancy dagger is something that Geralt is far better equipped to pick out himself. Jaskier has little knowledge about such things.

And while Jaskier has spent the last twenty years of his life convincing the big oaf that he deserves pretty things every once in a while, too, Jaskier can't think of anything that wouldn't just be in the way when they eventually set out on the Path again.

The end of autumn creeps closer and closer and Jaskier’s head stubbornly remains empty. It shouldn't be this hard to think of something that Geralt would enjoy. After all, Jaskier has known him for over two decades now. But it seems like everything he could get his favorite Witcher he has already gotten him at some point during their travels.

He still has no idea when they pass the last village on the way to the Witchers’ keep.

Or when they start making their way up the mountain path.

Maybe there's a pretty rock he can pick up?

What? No, that's a dumb idea. He's not just gonna pick up a random rock just because he's desperate. At this point he'll just have to accept the fact that he has no gift for Geralt.

They reach the keep after two days of tedious climbing - not something Jaskier missed from his last visit - and are greeted at the gates by the other Witchers. Geralt's family members each welcome Geralt with a short hug and a pat on the back, while another man, who must be Lambert's tagalong, awkwardly stands to the side. Vesemir and Eskel nod at Jaskier courtly, Lambert only grunts at him.

Jaskier makes eye contact with Aiden who rolls his eyes at him apologetically over Lambert's behaviour.

Then Geralt brings Roach to the stables and they all quickly make their way inside.

In the large dining hall they meet Yennefer and Ciri. Apparently they only came here a day earlier via portal, making Jaskier and Geralt the last to arrive.

"I have welcoming gifts!" Jaskier addresses everyone.

Eskel reacts to his present with eyes narrowed in confusion. Then they grow wide with realisation and wonder.

Lambert scoffs when Jaskier hands him his parcel. He doesn't scoff again after he unpacks it.

Aiden grins at him widely and immediately puts his gift on.

Vesemir simply hums appreciatively. It reminds Jaskier far too much of Geralt. He supposes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Ciri, as expected, reacts with a pout and the declaration that she's not a child anymore. Still, she clutches the plushy to her chest and refuses to let it go when Aiden says he'll take it if she doesn't like it.

Yennefer snarls at her sweater and quickly turns away from the group to hide it, but just like Ciri does with the teddy bear, she clutches it to her chest protectively.

Which only leaves Geralt.

"I, uh…, " Jaskier stutters and stares at his empty hands.

"Hmm," Geralt hums. "Saving the best for last?"

He grabs Jaskier by the shoulder, turns him around so that he's facing the room. He hugs Jaskier from behind and places his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder.

"Seems like you got me the best gift of all," Geralt hums. "Look!"

Confused, Jaskier glances about the room. Vesemir and Eskel are sitting in a corner, flipping through their respective books. Lambert is chasing Aiden through the room, who has stolen his Gwent card and is waving it around tauntingly. Ciri holds the teddy out to Yennefer, who's holding her sweater to the bear's chest to see if it would fit him. There's nothing out of the ordinary that Jaskier can spot.

"I don't under-" he begins.

"Everyone's here," Geralt explains. "My whole family in one place for the very first time. I couldn't possibly ask for more."

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #Jaskier #geralt of rivia #eskel #lambert #aiden #vesemir #ciri #Yennefer of Vengerberg #theblobfishwrites

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love-fireflysong · 5 years ago

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Until Dawn’s Fifth Birthday

Welp, congrats Until Dawn, you’re officially old enough to start kindergarten. You’re off to learn to read, tie your shoes, recite yous ABC’s, and learn to count to 100. Your such a big kid now, and I’m proud of you for making it this far.

I know I have done literal jack shit for the entire month, but I have been immensely enjoying the things that everyone’s been putting out for this month. So I’m gonna make this text post, not just because of it’s the five year anniversary, but because it’s actually a post I’ve been wanting to make for a while.

So here it goes:

I first learned of Until Dawn when it first came out hilariously enough. My roommate at the time had boughten it for her ps4 and I had been seeing it all over my dashboard on tumblr at the time. I didn’t play it myself though until close to a year later, when I finally had my own ps4 and I bought the game used for like $20 or something from my local game rental store. And I was hooked.

I remember jumping the first time the UD logo pulls that jump scare on the title screen. And laughing because I’m normally pretty good with jump scares, but that one managed to get me because I hadn’t been expecting one before I even started the game. (The one thing in the game that manages to make me jump every time is the mine cart you stop as Mike. For whatever reason it doesn’t matter how dark my room is when I play the game or how many times I’ve played it, I can never see the mine cart until its literally on top of Mike and the QTE is almost up and I squeak in surprise every fucking time.)

Of course I didn’t manage to save everyone during my first playthrough, I definitely lost Matt to the hook and Ash to the trapdoor (RIP darlings), and for the life of me I can’t recall how the lodge scene at the end went. I’m one of those players though that try to make choices that the characters I’m playing as would, I throw my feelings by the wayside. For example, being in the shed when the game’s making me choose Ash or Josh, and I was debating on whether or not Chris would save the girl he’s had a major crush on for a while at least, or his best friend for the last ten years. I distinctly remember wincing and sucking in air through my teeth and going “Sorry Ash, bros before hoes” and choosing Josh. And then being confused and convinced that I misunderstood the instructions? I mean I wasn’t complaining, just really, really confused. I definitely choose Ash to live at the gun one though, like there was no hesitation. I watched the whole ‘only thing I’ve ever wanted to do with my time’ scene and talk and the moment control was given back to me, the gun was under Chris’s jaw and I fired.

I’m also one of the players that didn’t know that Josh had been behind everything until the reveal either. I had gotten Sam captured so I never got any of those clues and I managed to miss the other clues that hinted at it being a set up (like the bundle of newspapers). So until the reveal I was still convinced that someone was out there killing all of them. Listen, I like mystery games but I’m not very good at connecting the dots okay.

I think I stuck around for a couple of months, gorging myself of fanfiction (all ff.net stuff by the way, I can’t remember if I knew about ao3 at that point or not) but like all interests do with me, the obsession eventually faded (helped in a large part by the rampant Ashley hate going around at the time) and I moved on.

Until February of this year. I was trying to kill time till the end of March when Persona 5: Royal released and I decided to try and see how many games I could platinum until that point. I had made it through the ps3 tomb raider games, Prince of Persia 2008, and decided on replaying the Uncharted games because the ps4 collection didn’t have multiplayer trophies. I hadn’t even thought of replaying Until Dawn. I mean, I had looked at the case and I remembered the game fondly, but that was it. There was no urge or want.

I was halfway through Among Thieves when I was bored and chilling time on Youtube. And because I had been watching a couple of videos for the treasure locations in Uncharted, one of the recommended videos for me was a game sins for the series. I decided sure why not, and watched it. And watched a few of his other ones as well, Until Dawn included.

That’s right, what got me back into the series wasn’t fond nostalgia for the characters or story. It was a fucking Game Sins video. I’m so sorry.

I was devouring UD content again. I spent like 2 or 3 weeks reading everything Chrashley (with the hyper-fixation for the game back came the ship, what can I say) based on ao3 that I could get my hands on. I was back into the tag on tumblr, going through art I remembered seeing way back when and looking at usernames that didn’t mean a thing then, but mean the world to me now. And then near the end of February, when the obsession was once again starting to flag, I decided to hell with it, and clicked on the The (Almost)s.

I’m not going to expunge all my praises for the story, everyone else has done that better then I ever could. But guys, it was so good. So so good. I was hooked back into the series once again, just as I was starting to flag. And when I saw that @queenofbaws had mentioned that she was tumblr... I didn’t do anything right away. Too scared really, figured she might find it creepy, so I didn’t do anything for like a week. And then I decided fuck it, sent a message about Chris giving Ash his sweater, and following her.

And that was it. I figured I would stick around to see the story completed and just dip. Not even make a splash, just enjoy the content from the sidelines and no one would know that I was here in the first place. Same old, same old. But that was also when I started turning around the kernel in my mind that Baby It’s Cold Outside (so hold me tight in your arms and don’t let go). I didn’t even intend to write it, it was just going to be the fanfic that lived in my mind for me to stew on before bed every night. But I couldn’t sleep one night, my brain was too on and the words just weren’t stopping, so I pulled out my computer and wrote the first part from Chris standing in the snow outside to him reaching the lodge at like 3 in the morning.

I started becoming more involved in the fandom when queenie started her wip wednesdays and asked to be tagged. Hilariously enough, those days are what started me cross-stitching again too, I hadn’t touched the pattern in months at that point. So I started posting snippets of my writing, and that one day a week was the only thing pushing me to continue writing. By that point, I had stopped hanging around the edges, now trying to push myself closer into this little fandom circle.

The day I posted the story, I was fucking terrified. It wasn’t my first story, not by a long shot, but I had always considered my writing to be shit. I thought I had good ideas, but I never felt that I was able to truly bring them to life. English and grammar had never been my best subject, I was always more of a math and physics person growing up. But then that first comment from @elliepollie came in and I almost burst into tears. I couldn’t believe that someone out there liked it so much, that they were willing to leave me a review in the first place. I’m still so blown away that she was willing to recommend it as a Chrashley story for other people to read. I think that was the point I stopped hesitantly pushing my way through, and I just kicked down the doors and just yelled ‘Hey fuckers! I’m here now and you are going to fucking deal with it!’.

That was the event that opened the floodgates for me. Suddenly I was talking to people, I had friends online with the same interests as me. I’ve written more in the last six months then I’ve done in the last ten years! I’m feeling inspired to create again. I actually went out to do the first commission I’ve ever requested (speaking of which, please please please go commisson @fudgeroach. I cannot wait until he can post and show you guys the stuff he drew for me. It was worth every fucking penny let me tell you.)

I’m going to be honest, Until Dawn isn’t my favourite game. Sure it has some of my fav lines (it had been years since I played the game, and the moment Jess started her rant outside the guest cabin I was screaming it along with her) and great characters, as horrible people as they all are, but it’s never been my favourite game and likely never will be. But Until Dawn has the best fandom I’ve ever been in and I’m so, so happy to have met and known every single person here. I seriously love every single person here so, so much. You all make my life better and I’m so happy to have all of you in it. Just to quote Chris because I can: “Every second I spend with you is all I ever wanted to do with my time.” This is how I feel. This is how I feel every goddamn day now.

So yeah, I got back into this fandom from a stupid Game Sins video. But by god if it wasn’t the best choice I’ve ever made.

(PS: for those wondering, I never did finish Uncharted 2. Maybe one day...)

#until dawn #udanniversary #<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

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spacegaywritings · 5 years ago

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Hello, we are the Neighbours - 2 (final) “Starry Night”

Summary: Virgil uses she/her and he/him. Remy uses he/him. Emile uses they/fae. Logan uses they/them Tags: a LOT of swearwords, edginess, Teenagers scare the living shit out of me, edibles, mentions of getting high, marijuana (implied), questionable living conditions, stress, insomnia/sleeplessness, crappy parents, (depression?) SOFT SIBLING MOMENT (analogical)

Tumblr: previous // ao3 : 1 / 2 . ALL // masterlist //

My KoFi - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Story under the cut:

Virgil hugged his stupid friend closer, his face buried in the mess of Remy’s pastel purple sweater.

She was basically wearing nothing but a big army jacket and boxers, herself. The pinkish scars on her chest were fainting with time but still showing after all these months.

Remy was at least in a skirt longer than usual - this one actually covered his ass completely. Instead of big boots, he had white summer slippers one. He almost looked like a ballerina with his long legs, small-ish statue and flawless skin.

The sun slowly sunk down the horizon while the two cuddled.

“You know, you are almost out of there, anyway. It does not matte. You got so far, Virgil. You will get through this too, with or without me.”

She shook her head ever so slightly, her pumpkin hair curling over his shoulder. He had recently dyed it again.

Every now and then Virgil was forced into self-care. That meant Remy would drag him over to his place, give him a little bit of wellness time such as doing face masks and painting his nails. Of course, he would also give her a dye-job when necessary or just wanted. Remy was rather good at it after all. Without him, Virgil would not take such care of himself. It was all Remy’s doing.

“Nu. I will strike. I am not gonna do shit without you. I don’ wanna.”

She mumbled silently, gently hugging Remy closer. He carefully held the feral bastard close.

“You have to. You can do it. If I don’t get in, I will find work where you live and we can move in together and I will clean for you, so you and Logan don’t die.”

The smaller one curled up, his knees pressing against his chest as he put his weight against Remy in ever-persistent patience. A little snort escaped her after all.

When he was not an anxious mess, he got to be more than just the calming friend but also the braincell of the group. He was rational and got things together. No wonder he applied for studies in mechanics.

“You would do that..?”

Virgil pulled back a bit, yet still remained in her little ball of limbs. He was barely covered with his short pants in their plaid pattern. The big jacket was so drastically oversized, Virgil was sitting on it since its length clearly exceeded his height. It was supposed to be worn by someone else so it would not cover them down to their thighs.

Remy gently brushed over his shoulder.

“I would do whatever to be with your sorry ass. If you live on your own and gotta take care of another living being, you will probably just die, like, instantly. You are so fucking oblivious and sensitive after all.”

He gently nudged her.

“Be my wife.”

Remy felt heat rise in his chest. He vehemently shook his head, his stomach fuzzy all of a sudden. Thousands of little feathers tickled him from inside and his cheeks reddened to match his heated blood.

If he did not know better, he would have said that he had done no more but choked on his spit.

“Virgil!”

The illegal little potion of bitter rage hugged him against the playful struggles and shoves from his side.

“Shut up-”, he demanded squeakily, “I am not gonna be anyone’s fucking wife, I am a qUeEN.”

His voice broke at the last word, delicately proving his point in being true royalty of great manners and high levels of taste.

Remy was a true piece of art and he was, as he often repeated, “a luxury few could afford.”

A pair of headlights glanced onto their backs, lighting up the scene when the whole sky was turning dark. Their shadows were drawn out before them, making Remy shrink in on himself and look back to check who or what was approaching them.

The running car engine they could hear made it evident that this was a person rolling around in a vehicle.

Who?

Virgil pushed Remy down onto their blanket, carefully trapping him below her.

“Hey, Em, come in and hurry, we can sacrifice him right now while he is still a virgin!”

Remy threw his hands into Virgil’s face. Ungodly screeches escaped his throat as he pushed and grabbed and tore at the untouchable bastard of humankind.

“You fucking wish! Stop projecting your assless life onto me!”

Finally, Remy pushed his knees into Virgil’s guts and pushed the idiot off his shoulders. Emile had finally gotten out of the car, basket under their arm and a blanket pressed against heir chest.

“Hey, save some dumbassery for me!”, fae complained as they plopped down between the two. Honestly, they felt like those kind of people everyone would comment on about how much they behaved like an old, married couple.

Not that they were wrong.

“I am not duuuumb!”, Remy whined.

He sat up again, shoulders quickly pressing against Emile’s who got comfortable. That bastard was really out there, fucking wearing a leather-like jacket with spikes and shit. He could see the colours on the dark material and could only assume faem to have customised the article.

They were the only one to have covered legs. Black ripped-jeans hugged their endlessly long walking sticks and their feet were covered in worn-out sneakers. Void of any big brand names or associations, of course.

Probably all of this was either made by private businesses, friends, faerself or smaller companies barely anyone knew about.

“Emile, put some sense into her! He is being a real bitch again”

Virgil blew raspberries to the complainer and immediately threw his legs over Emile’s inviting lap.

“If you got an issue with cuddles, you better go and sit on his side”, she challenged silently. Emile did not budge, much to his delight.

“Good bean.”

The newby commented with a little chuckle, gently drawing Emile in by putting one arm around him.

“I got ya two cuties some drinks on the way here. Who wants the coffee and who wants the cotton candy pink whatever capitalism-victim? You two definitely need something to suck on.”

Virgil waved his arms around, stimmy hands flapping like birds’ wings. His long sleeves smacked themselves due to them exceeding his fingers. Her heart was fluttering in sudden excitement. He was aflame like a bunch of dry grass set on fire.

“YES! Gimme gimmeee gimmeeeee!! I want the caffeine!”

She pointed at the basket and reached for it but Remy quickly smacked their sleeves away.

“You are not getting any fucking caffeine, you half-dead junkie zombie, you”, Remy cursed. In a flare of problem-solving skills, he pulled the basket closer, just out of reach from the slightly shorter idiot. He grabbed the caffeine-packed cup of ice-cold sin.

Fae blinked, unimpressed, “Just hand me the chocolate one. Pink unicorn is for our rainbow bunny, then.”

Remy’s smile grew even wider.

Did they say... bunny...?

Virgil pouted in return, her reaction less than ideal. Instead of complaining, his legs pulled them closer by their lap and rested there, snuggled up against the pal with the colourful hair. Not even a beanie this time.

“I am not a bunny”

He slurped up some of the pinkish drink from hell.

It was tasty.

Such a bitch.

How dare it be tasty when he tried to be angry with Emile for giving him free stuff and falsely calling him a bunny when he was clearly a unicorn! Like the drink!

Remy nodded sagely, sensing a bit of mood at this moment.

“Virgil thinks he is a unicorn despite looking like a bunny but that is okay. We still love him.”

His hand sneaked over to her, gently patting her shoulder and indirectly bringing himself closer to Emile in the process.

Not that anyone was complaining.

He was simply slurping his iced coffee in gratitude. It calmed down his hot face and fidgety fingers. Holding the cool cup gave his fingers something to do at least.

For a moment, Emile’s forest eyes looked into his soul. Fae blinked and nodded before turning back to Virgil.

“Virgil, do you feel like a unicorn? Do you identify as one?”

Emile looked at her, carefully brushing over her legs as they attempted to keep eye contact. Virgil looked away, face fully averted.

Fae patiently squeezed his leg.

“If you want me to call you unicorn, I will. I just liked the nickname bunny for you because you jump a lot and are very active.”

Remy smiled. He did not notice but he leaned against Emile’s patient shoulder with his own head.

Fae minded the contact with a little blink and one of faer unoccupied hands moving to take Remy’s.

The pouting smalls still looked away, stubbornly staring at the sky instead of facing the other two idiots.

“You know, I really hate littering, too.”

Virgil cleared her throat, gently hugging her flat stomach a bit. It was not exactly colder than before but maybe by now his open jacket and exposing outfit proved to be impractical for stargazing together.

“If you call me bunny and nobody else, I am okay. And if you mean it as a nice name. Remy too. Even though Remy was a butt about it because I know I am a unicorn, even with ears!”

His voice got a bit louder. Then she nodded in self-assurance to end the sentence and prove a point. He pulled a phone up with him on it, hood over his head, the bunny ears flailing around from the impact of being so harshly moved around.

The small friend snuggled up to Emile and reached out to hold Remy’s hand too.

“You are dumb but you are both okay. You two can call me bunny but I will stab anyone else who tried to do that.”

She huffed softly.

Remy squeezed their hands together and put Virgil’s and Emile’s soft hands together.

“You are our little bunny, then.”

The tallest of the three hummed in thought, their eyes slipping close.

“You guys wanna get high now or later? Because I am ready.”

Virgil shook his head.

“Can’t. I will die.”

Remy nudged Emile so much, it pushed them all against Virgil and had her nearly topple over. She hissed at Remy and angrily glared at him.

“You gotta take a chill pill. I will bring you home with me and the day after. We came in one car anyway.”

Emile looked between them.

“What is the issue? Do you have to go home later?”

Their voice was so smooth and innocent, it felt like talking to a child for just a moment. They both knew there was more than enough wit between these words to take down a whole system.

“I gotta take care of my baby sibling. They are tiny baby and need someone to look out for them.”

Remy shook his head adamantly.

“Logan is, like, 13 and would love to be home alone from your exhausted ass. If you wanna, I will babysit them with Emile. You mind that at all?”

The addressed pal stole a quick glance from Remy for just a moment before looking into the dark night sky.

“It is settled. Virgil, we are officially kidnapping your hot butt and putting you on high duty of being dummy idiotic and free of responsibilities for a few hours. We will take a look at your sibling, too. Promise.”

Virgil let out a whine.

Her hand pushed the now empty cup into the abandoned basket Emile had brought along.

He laid down all over Remy’s and Emile’s long legs in the dramatic flair of imitating death or at least heavy defeat.

“Mmm... will you give me ice cream?”

Emile nodded, gently brushing through her hair.

“I got ice cream at home but we can also buy some just for you if you don’t wanna depend on that.”

The third in their group yipped out a happy sound of agreement.

“We can ask Logan to sleep at a friend’s place or be there with us and wait until they sleep. They go to sleep super early anyway, that nerd.”

The laying swan .. bunny.. uh... unicorn? Shrugged.

“ ‘s kinda cute.. they care about school n all. They are so good. They are too good.”

It sounded like a lament rather than a praise. There was so much pain in these words.

“That sounds nice, bunny. Sounds like your sibling learned a lot of nice things from you. I am sure that must be a lot.”

She took a deep breath.

Remy gave a meaningful nod towards Emile who, in turn, licked faer lips.

“I am proud of you but it is important to rest. Will you let us give you ice cream and take care of you?”

For a moment, the only answer was the bright light coming from the moon. Pale white illuminated the meadow. The stars were shining as always but their light was so far away, it barely reached them. From them, it seemed as if they were not bright at all because the moon was reflecting the light so prettily, it overpowered them all.

“Only if you get dumb with me and we do funny things?”

Remy squeezed their hands together, his second joining the pile of fingers.

“Of course. Now, text your baby sibling.”

The smaller one pulled out his phone and sloppily pulled out a phone.

“Jus do?”

The three got together, packing up their things and obviously taking their things with them.

“What is this?”

Remy followed Emile’s finger pointing at a bag of trash. He shrugged in return.

“We collected trash because Virgil really hates littering, you know?”

The mentioned bean shook his head and shrugged.

“Fuck pollution”, she defended herself as the taller one lead her to the car they shared, “see you in a bit?”

Remy texted Logan with Virgil’s phone and sent an address to their chat with Emile.

“Yo, I sent you the place we are going to drive to. You got that?”

Fae shrugged.

“I can literally just follow you guys like the little shadow I am. Just don’t drive like speeding dicks and I will be fine.”

Remy nodded. Virgil mumbled in agreement and pushed the trashbag into the car’s trunk. It was his car after all. Remy did not have an own car yet. It was more of a shared thing.

Together, they drove over to Virgil. On the way, Logan texted them how they would stay with a friend called Patton. Since Virgil knew Patton more than enough, she did not freak out but instead shrugged it off, told Remy and agreed under the condition of driving Logan there with the others.

Logan.. did not seem to mind.

Did they know Emile would join in?

Whether they did, the three arrived.

Virgil already munched on the space brownies, happily nibbling at the dark chocolatey delight of deep, sweet-bitter taste.

It was an experience.

At least there were no nuts in this.

Well... walnuts would probably be fine..

The three got out, one by one. Virgil first and Emile last.

She patiently took faer and then his hand before leading them over to the small apartment complex with the many little doors. It was a humble little location, the flats looked like miniature versions of actual living spaces for human beings but it was just enough for the modest taste of the tired middle pal of the trio.

He nudged the others towards the building and climbed the stairs.

“The brownies are tasty, Em. You are a real baker genius or.. like, something like that.”

She blinked at the intense lights. One of the white lights was flickering every now and then and it was somewhat bothersome to the eye.

“You ate them already?”

A bit of surprise tinged Emile’s voice. Remy held back a laughter.

“Yeah, Virgil is a thirsty and hungry hoe, no wonder he did that.”

Something in his words screamed “get used to it”. Fae did not know what to feel about this but took it with the humour of a baby adult.

“Not to take advantage of that but I don’t hate that.”

Virgil giggled.

“Shhhh, wait until Logan is gooohne,, They is a really clever baby sib thing, you know.”

More chuckled filled the air and made the stairway echo in giggles and delight from the trio.

They got up eventually, settling on the 7th level where Virgil unlocked apartment C and pushed the door open.

“Yo, I am back! Don’t cook meth, the neighbours will get jealous.”

He dropped the key in a little bowl on a shelf that leaned against the wall for support. The hallway welcomed the trio with faded colours and old, creaking wood planks as ground.

Emile blinked at the floor with a frown.

“Do you want us to keep our shoes on?”

Remy shook his head, his mouth opening to answer but a sound interrupted them.

A voice, more specifically.

“Virgil, please refrain from making comments of such kind. It is highly unlikely for anyone around here to cook methane, let alone you or me.”

A composed voice, stone-faced according to Emile’s feelings, replied to Virgil’s dismissive words and lazy greeting.

The trash was still in Remy’s hands.

“Fuck, I forgot this shit. You mind?”

Logan appeared. Well, it had to be Logan unless Emile had missed about another person living with her - and Logan.

The sibling was younger than Virgil, their face more tan yet somewhat soft and void of the exhaustion the life of emerging adulthood had already put on Virgil’s dark eyes. Especially evident were how there were no bags under Logan’s eyes while Virgil seemed to have never slept in his entire life, perhaps.

Maybe she did not sleep so everyone else could sleep? Like a sandman.

Logan was dressed in something reminding Remy of a suit. It was this undershirt-kinda thing Emile identified as waist coat. It was dark and hugged their slender figure. Blue? It looked pretty much like rather dark blue. They seemed a bit taller than Virgil, around as tall as Remy, almost - not quite. Their shirt was white and looked so ironed out, Emile could not even find a single wrinkle.

They were not wearing shoes but only white socks and long black pants. The waistcoat had a single chain or metal leading to a little pocket.

“Hello Remy, a pleasure to see you again. Do not worry about the bag. I will take it with me on the way down - “

Virgil piped up.

“WE! You are not going alone! It is dark and scary and I am your big shit and am telling you that you gotta hold my hand and be driven to your friend.”

Logan rolled their eyes, dark orbs behind black frames seemingly shrinking in something like annoyance.

However, there was a fond smile on their lips despite it being small. It was still there and when Virgil approached the sibling for a good old hug, they received it and even returned it, even if it was not as passionate.

Something warm pumped through Emile’s face and chest.

Seeing the two siblings cuddle made fae feel all giddy and comfortable.

“Of course. I agreed to your conditions after all.”

Only now Emile realised Logan was wearing a tie. They adjusted it despite it being in perfect position. Nothing was wrong with it..

It..

It had a pattern like constellations on it. Yes, clearly. Fae could see Leo right under their neck.

“Hello, you must be Virgil’s new friend. I am Logan.”

The, the small baby sibling was before faem, hand stretched out and dark eyes looking into faem as if it was a challenge to look serious and convincing.

It was more than effective, to be frank.

“Yeah, I am Emile. Fae/faer, please. You use anything but they/them?” They nodded a bit, their facial features softening somewhat.

“Thank you”

The words came out like a whisper. Emile smiled.

“Virgil, I am fucking adopting this kid, you have to marry me or some shit. This is now my bastard child!”

A hysterical fit of giggles could be heard while Logan was silently rolling his eyes so hard, Remy swore they moved a bit out of his face’s centre.

Remy pouted audibly.

“Ya get rights on my sibling, I don’t make the rules. Logan, you are loved by these dummies! It is the law, we are your personal protection squad!”

Remy blew out some air but nodded.

“Yeppers, we will do the illegal shit with you to keep you safe. We are gotta fake your a voting ID so you can change the world already.”

The tallest of the pals sucked in a breath.

“I know how to fake a voting ID! I made myself one, too! Hold on!”

Logan turned towards the new person, this Emile guy. The sound of giggles was still around and surely coming closer.

“Hey, hey, make sure to have it be a good fake. Can’t have the good kiddo fuck up a great lifeeee”, she argued, “They will be super fine because they are a great and lovely person. LOGAN I LOVE YOU!”

They closed their eyes instead of rolling them. Their lips curled further into a more than evident smile and a small hint of pink tinted their pale cheeks.

“I l-love you too, Virgil. Please calm down, it is quite alright. I am just me.”

Virgil was back by now, a little box in his hands.

“Shut up, be proud of yourself. You have amazing grades, super engagement in different projects and activities and you are a bright person with great competences. You are trying and working a lot to get this far and I am proud of you. You should be, too. I barely finished school with my shitty grades. It was mostly pity”

Virgil blinked softly. Her hand gently brushed over their cheek and carefully patted its side. Emile and Remy moved out of the way to give the siblings some space. They obviously had a moment going on.

“I don’t care what you make of yourself. I just want you to be happy and proud of what you do. We all know we were not born to be perfect and yet you are here and doing this.. this fucking badassery of ace-ing all ya exams and life shit and all.”

She scooted closer.

“I know Patton likes quiche I make, so I packed some for you two to share. I put money in, too. Get snacks and order something if you two need it, alright? I love you, kiddo. I really do.”

He snuggled up to them and gave their pale cheeks a soft smooch. The elder sibling mumbled softly.

“If you complain about the money, I will bite your nose. Just take it. Financial worries are mine, not yours.”

Logan looked at Virgil, a shadow darkening their pale features. It was like a tree branch in the night, throwing a scary shadow into the room of a young and gullible child.

They abandoned the doubt and shook it off with a new sense of hardness in their eyes. It was sparkling determination.

“Have fun with your friends, please. I want you to take care of yourself, too. You and I both know that a good social life helps your mental health which, in turn, positively affects your overall well-being.”

Virgil blinked, happy beams radiating from her old orbs.

“You are the best sibling I could have ever wished for, Lo.”

She cleared her throat, wiping over her wet eyes.

“Time to fucking get ya to you friend! Ree will drive you and I will have ice-cream like a real champ!”

“REEEE, EEEEEM! Let us gOOOO!”

The middle man came back in, Emile right on his ass.

“You finished your drama? You won’t stab us if we come back in?”

Virgil giggled under the scolding look from his sibling. She shrugged dismissively.

“I am ready to go. I will wait in the car.”

They got pushed the little container into their backpack and put it over their shoulders before grabbing the trash and retrieving the keys from his sibling.

“Nuu, you are a baby and we gotta go with you. Reeeemileeey~ Come with me~”

The two got ready and joined as requested.

“DId you fuse our names?!”

There was an unusual amount of excitement in Emile’s voice. Not that they were not usually excited and happy but this was on a whole new level. There was a sense of knowledge and expectation in faer tone of voice.

It was difficult for Virgil to put her finger on it, considering she started feeling a bit more of an effect from the edibles she had consumed. Remy noted the excitement with his own piece of interest.

“I fuuuused your names and they fit together sooo well!”

As Virgil giggled, Emile’s eyes seemed to double in size, more so the black pools in the middle of these wild orbs.

Remy blinked at this change, his own curiosity swinging into the direction of excitement as well.

He wanted to know about the things that got Emile to bounce on faer feet like the most adorable danger stick in the whole history of humankind.

Something glowed in these mysterious eyes and Remy wanted to know more about it.

Well, for know it was time to take responsibility and drive them all to Patton.

He still wanted to know about it, so he took a chance when they had arrived and the three remained in the car alone, Virgil cuddled up to Emile and holding hands with glowing cheeks and a free heart.

Logan waved goodbye one last time and disappeared into the warm home of a loving family. A whole family.

“Em, what is so exciting about fusions? Do you like those kinda things?”

For a moment, his mind wandered as he tapped his foot down onto the pedals and started driving again in first gear before shifting higher.

He did not have the opportunity to glance into the rear-view mirror and see their face light up like a burning candle. Certainly, if he knew about how much he had missed, he would have cursed his own care about safe driving.

“I L-O-V-E fusions!”

A giggled followed faer sudden spray of words. The excitement pitched their voice into a higher vocal range.

Unexpected but lovely in a way it made Remy’s heart throb with just as much energy as Emile offered him. He let himself giggle a bit while Virgil was nothing but a puddle of chuckles and snickers. The half-naked pal hugged Emile close, seemingly absorbing their enthusiasm.

“Why do you like fusions so much, lovely?”

Remy licked his lips, tasting the delicious energy in the air. He relished in just a quick glance into the rear-view mirror in which he saw Virgil and Emile bonking the sides of their heads together, the latter bouncing a bit in faer seat.

His heart was blooming.

These two were the summer of his life.

“Th.-they !! Do y-you know of-of S-Steve Un-Univ-verse?”

Their hands were everywhere, Remy noticed. Virgil put himself on high-five duty whenever these hands moved places and suddenly appeared next to him or in front of his nose or behind Remy’s head.

To her, it was as if these hands appeared out of nowhere while Emile fawned his happy juices into every direction of this car.

Remy readily took in everything he could with a smile on his lips and promises in his chest. Sadly, he still had to shake his head but he prompted them.

“Enlighten us, would you?”

Fae continued, hands still moving in a somewhat erratic manner.

“S-So in - I .. I mean, y-you know”, they started, then stopped, then started again just to take a short pause.

Faer face fell into a statute-like aesthetic as fae deliberated what to say. The happy glows in their orbs were forever-persistent.

“Mw, Em.. Emiiiiile”, Virgil cooed softly, patting their hair, “You are wonderful.. your.. y... sEt.. pf.. ph-... STEVEN is your FRIEND and really wonderpoof too.”

She nodded, a sense of importance surrounding her. It gave her an expression of wisdom and some sort of... safe space. There was acceptance in his features.

Even when he mispronounced and misunderstood everything going on.

Virgil eagerly patted Emile’s poofy hair while nodding more, her happy curls jumping up and down the sides of her face like excited monkeys.

“So-sO! Steven is-is a human a-and he is part of the-the cry-c..c-crystal gems who are basically alien stones with magic. Oh, and they have weird adventures t-t-together and ev-everything is soft and ni-nice!”

Fae bounced in the back seat and Virgil enthusiastically moved along without even having a single clue of what was happening at the moment.

They clapped and she mimicked the movements with confused nods and delayed yaps.

“Magic Stpehen.. ph..phatven...”

Virgil looked at his hands, confusion spinning in their lost eyes. Maybe staring into her fingers could answer her the question of how it came that “Steven” was so difficult to pronounce.

They did not, if you wondered, too.

Emile smiled, gently brushing through his hair.

The most gentle of all smiles adorned their face as they soothed Virgil ever so patiently. The flapping piece of oversized jacket and mad boxers eventually nestled in faer lap and hugged these legs calmly. Every now and then, Emile would receive a loving pat to their skin because Virgil forgot what they felt like. Or because she was curious about what skin did when being touched and moved and shoved or patted.

They patiently stroked his hair further while Remy had a hard time keeping his gay together and himself focused.

Luckily, they arrived and got back up, Virgil insistently patting and hugging every door, pole and wall they did not pull him away from.

She was a really excited person in this state.

When they got into the apartment, Remy lead them to the couch, considering Virgil was a bit less in the position to know where anything or anyone was.

They snuggled up again, this time Virgil was in the middle and fidgeting with a magic cube.. rubrix.. thingy.. hihi, it felt funny!

“Remy, loook!”

She pushed the cube into his hands and hugged Emile close.

“Magical cube”, Virgil explained, voice mimicking the tone of a captivating conspiracy video.

“Very magical, cube”, fae agreed.

Remy nodded.

“Magical like these rad fucking shits you made. We are gonna see more than stars, we will see an entire galaxy!”

His words were purring in amusement.

Virgil lazily blinked at Remy, then slowly turned to Emile and just.. dropped their head to the side, completely overdoing the “tilting your head” business.

“Sooo.. are we.. a fusion?”

A clank could be heard and suddenly, Virgil whined and hugged the two close.

“The magical cube disappeared! I...m-..magic!”

His voice dropped into the sounds of scary camp fire horror stories once more.

“...m a g i c.”

The tallest of the three pushed another biscuit to Remy who gladly consumed the sweet, spacey treat.

“You are magic, you two fusers”, Emile purred back in reply and gently snuggled back, carefully pecking Virgil. This time, a whine arouse from Remy’s throat.

Emile shook faer head, a wild grin decorating this precious face.

Was that a little scar on their cheekbone? Oh, those cheekbones...

Remy got so lost in Emile’s pretty face, he barely noticed it coming close, Emile’s eyes closing sensually, slowly...

Then, their lips brushed against one another. Lonely mouth and alluring goal meeting and pressing together, closing around one another like embracing lovers after a long period of distancing.

“waHOOOO, G A Y!!”

Virgil cheered for them, leaving the youngest of the three to pull away from Remy, skin like cherry blossoms in the heat of spring.

Fae simply let him, innocently commenting with nothing but a whipping of faer eyelashes towards the shy one.

“Is that new for you, Virgil?”

The playful breeze of something like a rivalry returned, nestling between the moody couple of different extremes. The trio’s shortest and longest member looked at each other, a special dynamic reigning between them and drawing them closer.

“New that he gets the kisses first”, Virgil answered in unabashed honesty.

Instead of hiding behind witty remarks and sarcastic or snarky comments, she off-handedly pronounced the issue and pulled Emile in, gently pulling at the leather collar of this damn self-improved jacket.

It was surprisingly soft, compared to last time, at least.

Their lips were raspberries squeezing together ever so slightly, merely touching more than for a fleeting moment.

Virgil was the one to pull away.

It was Emile’s turn to be flustered at this moment. Fae slowly backed up, settling into faer space on the couch and taking another one of the beaked treats. They nibbled on them, hiding their face while Virgil pushed her legs onto faer lap and rested her head on Remy’s happy thighs. His skirt was rolled up a little so he got to feel his hair.

“You two taste so sweet...”

Remy shrugged, face still ablaze without his knowledge. He suspected it, though.

“Hey, Em. You going to college when the holidays are over?”

The taller one took the moment to appreciate Remy’s timing and tasteful change of topics while Virgil delightfully brushed over his exposed stomach in mild interest.

“I am just here for a summer job, I guess I told you guys”, fae mumbled softly as faer fingers moved to catch up to Virgil’s tracing fingerpads.

“After that I am going to Yban University further up the north. What about you guys?”

Virgil was chuckling and squirming when Emile started stroking his exposed skin.

He was ticklish, Remy remembered fondly.

“Virgil is gonna go up there too, but for working. So you can hang out with Logan if you want to!”

Remy winked and Emile stuck out their tongue at him.

“Don’t fuck the baby sibling.”

The small anger dwarf flailed and gasped.

“Nu, fuck me instead!”

Emile fucking starting to cough up during a weird mix of laughing and choking on his own mind and his partners’ words.

“Not na- now!”, fae gasped out, wiggling a bit but staying in place, more or less.

“Man”, Remy started, softly offering his hand for Emile to hold while his other was still carding through Virgil’s hair, “I will go up and study. It is surreal.”

He blinked.

“Holy fuckening, we are going to the same spot! I will move in with Virgil, like, fucking literally. As soon as I get my acceptance email and letter.. I .. I am.. gonna.. I will fuck your landlord.”

Emile was playing with their hair while stroking over these exposed legs.

“You two.. wanna hang out if we all end up in the same spot? That would be cool.”

Remy patted the spot close to him and gestured towards Emile, then back to the spot as he started to lay down. They got the message and followed suit.

Together, the three cuddled up, now laying and still high off their butts.

“It is perfect”, Em yawned, gently kissing the back of Remy’s hand.

Virgil nodded softly and pushed her nose against the other two pals’ noses.

“If you guys are with me, I can do all. I will get all done. I can do it.”

At least he tried saying that. His words came out as a jumble of weird sounds.

Laughter erupted and Virgil snuggled up, eyes closed and gently smooching the two before drifting off to sleep while the others whisper-screamed whatever thing seemed absolutely hilarious at the moment.

If they would stay together, she knew they would all be fine. They would all make it.

He was certain of it.

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raendown · 6 years ago

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Day 2 of @madatobiweek. Prompt: Blind Tobirama.

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2585 Chapter: 1/7 Rated: T+ Summary: An accident at work leaves Tobirama blinded while his eyes are bandaged to heal from some rather nasty burns. Too busy with his own job to play the role of caretaker, wife too pregnant to place the burden on her, Hashirama calls upon his best friend Madara to stay with them and help Tobirama out in anyway he can. Madara isn't exactly thrilled to play babysitter but he can see an opportunity when one comes along; this may be the chance he's always waited for.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Focal Point

For someone who had been largely MIA over the past few days Hashirama was disgustingly brief in his request for Madara to come over. He hadn’t even offered so much as a single excuse for his behavior beyond a few murmurs about some family emergency and needing to be home while everyone available tried to pull together and help out. What they were trying to help with Madara had no idea since his idiot best friend had talked around himself several times before asking with uncharacteristic seriousness whether he could come over or not.

Of course Madara had said yes because despite the fact that he would never lower himself to actually admitting to it he did miss his best friend, the man he had spent time with nearly every day since they were around twelve years old. When he got there, though, the first thing he was going to do was badger an explanation out of him for the sudden disappearance. Normally Hashirama was blowing up his phone with meaningless texts from the moment the sun rose over the horizon. To his shame it had actually taken until noon for Madara to realize his pocket had been suspiciously quiet all day and fire off a few texts of his own that never got replied to.

The subway obviously had to be extra crowded when he hopped on because that was just his luck. Only a few days of separation and already he forgot why it was always better to take a cab to Hashirama’s neighborhood. Madara buried his face in the neck of his sweater to block out the stench of body odor and other things he didn’t want to think about until finally he was at the stop closest to his friend’s home. The rush to disembark nearly sent him tumbling off the platform and down on to the tracks but he managed to pull himself out of harm’s way by taking a solid grip on a passing stranger’s backpack and letting himself get dragged along for the ride. Only once the crowd had moved on and he was at least semi-free of the bustling masses did he finally dare to move out on his own again, heading for the western exit.

Since Hashirama’s house was still a fifteen minute walk in to one of the nicer neighborhoods, Madara spent the whole time kicking up fall leaves and going over all of his guesses for what the idiot might have been doing in the past few days, everything from spontaneous amnesia to randomly deciding to join a drug cartel and run coke in to another country. Granted, the second one wasn’t very likely since the man was more terrified of his wife’s wrath than death itself and Mito would certainly have a few things worse than death to rain down upon her husband if he decided to get involved with those sorts of seedy activities. Of all the things Madara had ever threatened his friend with nothing would ever compare to an ominous ‘I’ll tell your wife’ and yet he’d never seen a happier couple.

He would almost be jealous if they weren’t so disgustingly schmoopy about it.

By the time he arrived at the right house on the right street there were several leaves caught in his hair and he was cursing himself for not remembering to restrain it before going out in the wind. The door was unlocked so he let himself in and deliberately kicked his boots off in a messy heap, knowing Hashirama would be the one to get in trouble for not reigning in his guest properly.

“Where are you, dipshit?” he called in to the eerily quiet house. Something thumped on the second floor so he headed that way, thinking perhaps that he might not have heard Hashirama’s response.

Al the lights were off, he noticed. Well, not all of them, but enough of them to make him wonder if Hashirama had gotten in trouble again for being unkind to the environment. It gave the whole place an eerie vibe to follow the singular trail of light from the kitchen close to the entrance all the way up the massive sweeping staircase. Really Hashirama had too much money but at least he had a wife classy enough to know how to show it off properly instead of the three tiered bouncy castle Hashirama used to dream of living in.

Once he had climbed all the way up to the second floor he paused to look left and right down the hallway, wondering which direction to try first. He used to think that a house this big was too much space for just the two people who lived here even with a baby on the way but somehow Hashirama always found a way to fill every damn room in this place – and use them all! He even had a whole room just for his stupid plants where he could be found each day watering them and chattering away like it would help them grow.

Just as Madara decided left was as good a direction to try as any Hashirama popped out of the room right in front of him and shrieked in his face with frightened surprise, probably not expecting to see him there. Startled, Madara shrieked back.

Like idiots the two of them stood there shrieking back and forth until finally Madara could think around the panic enough to clap one of his hands over Hashirama’s mouth, cutting off all sound and plunging the long hallway in to sudden silence. His friend offered him a sheepish look before clawing the hand off his mouth to grin in apology.

“I didn’t realize you were here already!”

“What do you mean ‘already’? I rode the subway, it took forever!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ve been losing track of time lately. Things have been really…difficult. But I’m glad you’re here. Would you like some coffee?” He sighed and Madara realized the other man did look incredibly tired. “I could really use some myself.”

Grumbling, Madara stepped back and waved for Hashirama to go ahead of him. They wandered back down the stairs and in to the kitchen where his host went straight for the coffee pot. Once it was set up and burbling away he slumped down in to the closest chair, running both hands through his uncharacteristically tangled locks with a harried expression. The bags under his eyes were deep enough to be suitcases and Madara found that sort of offensive; eye bags were his shtick, Hashirama had no right to pull them off so well.

“I meant it, I’m glad you’re here. With Mito as pregnant as she is I’m having trouble dealing with this situation myself and juggling work at the same time.”

“What situation? You’ve been giving me the silent treatment for days, I don’t know what’s going on!”

Hashirama wilted like a flower. “It’s Tobirama. There was an accident at his lab and he’s…” Fear gripped Madara and squeezed tight, choking his heart and closing his throat. Every second that passed without an explanation left him more and more tense until finally he exploded.

“He’s what!? Spit it out!”

“Oh he’s fine!” Hashirama said. “Mostly. He’s in one piece, at least! But the explosion–”

“Explosion!?”

“–burnt his retinas. I know a specialist who owed me a favor and she took a look. Everything should be fine but Tobi isn’t allowed to remove the bandages for a couple of weeks. So he’s effectively blind for a little while, which means he needs a bit of help. He’s staying here with us in his old room and I’ve been trying to take care of him but you know what it’s like when I’m on call. Babies are born when it’s convenient for them, not when it’s convenient for the doctor.”

Madara’s voice was faint as he murmured reflexively, “You’re the one who wanted to be an obstetrician.”

Whatever whining answer Hashirama gave went in one ear and out the other as Madara immediately disappeared inside his own head. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have his sight taken away so suddenly and so completely, the terror that would fill him as he worried over whether or not he would ever see again no matter how much the doctors reassured him. Good eyesight was almost a family tradition. He couldn’t think of a single Uchiha who had ever even had to wear glasses let alone gone blind or something. If he had to choose a sense to lose it would not be his sight. Maybe hearing. He could still read if he had his hearing and learning sign language couldn’t be too hard, he thought. Learning English had been a nightmare but he’d gotten through that well enough.

Eventually he tuned back in to the world to hear Hashirama going on still about how hard it was to be on call while also trying to care for his pregnant wife and how adding an injured sibling on top of that just made everything twice as hard to figure out. The flow of words only stopped when Madara reached out to clap a hand over his mouth again, this time with a frown.

“Get to the point already,” he snarled. Hashirama pulled his hand away and tittered.

“Sorry. I got carried away. I called because I need your help. I can’t be in two places at once and I know you have to work too but you can work from anywhere as long as you have your laptop! Could I maybe convince you to come stay here and…keep an eye on Tobi?”

Madara blinked. “You want me to what now?”

“Please!? Tobirama really needs someone to help him out with things and I already worry for Mito when I’m not around but I can’t just ignore my patients–”

“No, stop.” Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Madara demanded, “Are you asking me to come stay here so I can babysit your little brother? Have you gone insane?” Of all the stupid favors he had been asked for during their long friendship this definitely ranked among the stupidest.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad! He just needs someone to cook meals and help him get around, maybe entertain him a little bit. It’s not like it would be super hard!”

“Have you forgotten the part where he can’t stand me?”

Waving his hand dismissively, Hashirama laughed. “That’s not true at all! You just need to learn how to read him properly. Believe me, you would know if he couldn’t stand you. He’s not afraid to be vocal about that sort of thing.”

Madara shook his head doubtfully but didn’t bother arguing further. Apparently Tobirama was already here in the house somewhere and he’d always had abnormally sharp ears – useful now that he would need to rely on them a little more than usual but even blinded he was unlikely to spare any sharp words if he overheard Madara talking about him.

A cringe put a stop to that line of thought, bringing him up short and forcing him to take a hard look at the reality of what Hashirama was asking him. Friends weren’t something Hashirama lacked but people he could trust to take care of his precious sibling? After the rest of their family had all been taken by the same sickness a few years back Hashirama had seemed to cling to his last brother like a lifeline, holding tightly as though afraid that if he let go he would lose Tobirama as well. Knowing that he was among the few this man would trust with the last of his family was unsurprising, of course, but still touching.

That didn’t mean he was in any way excited to do this. In all the years they had known each other Madara have gotten no impression from Tobirama other than disdain and distaste. Younger he might be but his brain could outrun the both of them put together and he was always quick on the draw to point out when he thought Madara was doing something stupid – which was pretty much all the time. Even if he thought about it Madara couldn’t think of a single pleasant interaction between the two of them. Usually they just avoided each other as much as possible and left it at that; it was easiest.

“Don’t you have a cousin who lives in town?” he asked as a last ditch attempt to avoid the awkwardness he just knew was bound to come with agreeing to this stupidity.

“We do but she’s out of the country on a work retreat and they weren’t even allowed to bring cellphones or anything. She would come home in a heartbeat if I could reach her – probably more to get out of there than for Tobi, to be honest – but I just don’t have a way to do that.” Hashirama sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve had several coworkers covering my ass as much as possible over the past few days but they’re all just as overworked as I am and they can’t keep this up. Please? Please?” Like an inevitable tide he went for the same old move he’d been perfecting since they were twelve, the infamous puppy eyes, at which point Madara understood that he had lost. He gave a sigh of his own and prayed for patience.

“I’ll need to pack some clothes and shit. And it’ll take a while to get all my notebooks together and grab my laptop. Honestly, you could have asked me over the phone so I could do all this before coming over. Now I’ve got to pay for a cab both ways just to get back here!” Grumbling, he shoved his hands in his pockets and spun around to head for the front door.

“Wait! I can give you a ride home! I’ll just need to run upstairs and let Tobi know that I’ll be gone for a little while so he doesn’t try anything adventurous.” Hashirama paused to wrinkle his nose. “The first night I brought him home he tried to find the bathroom by himself and ended up weeing in the hall closet. I had to rewash all my linens and some of those sheets still don’t smell right when I make the bed.”

Madara blinked twice and then roared with laughter. It did make him feel better to know that his new ward had already made a fool of himself a time or two.

Not wanting to waste a good brew, the two of them sat down and enjoyed the coffee Hashirama had been making before they left. It was nice to catch up after several days apart. Trading gossip as they usually did, reestablishing the bond several people in their lives had dubbed worryingly codependent. When they were finished he took the mugs to the sink while Hashirama trotted upstairs to speak with his brother for a minute and then Madara allowed himself to be led outside and piled in to the stupidly expensive car in the driveway. On the way back to his apartment he made his friend regale him with all the silly idiot mistakes Tobirama had made so far in his adventures as a temporary blind man, laughing without shame no matter how he was scolded for it.

With those images in his mind the next couple of weeks were looking a lot more fun.

#rae writes #madatobiweek2019 #madatobi #madara #tobirama #hashirama #fanfiction #modern au

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orangeoctopi7 · 6 years ago

Text

Stanswap AU Part 34

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Part 31 Part 32 Part 33

Here it is, the last chapter! Special thanks to @digikate813 and @eregyrn-falls for consistently reading and reblogging, along with anyone else who ever reblogged this story, it’s because of you that this story has spread. Thanks to @blaiddraws and @hntrgurl13 for drawing fanart (even if I did commission hntrgurl13, still grateful) and of course thanks to @busket because even if our AUs were developed independently, I still took a lot of inspiration from them and their way awesome art.

Speaking of which, this chapter draws a lot of inspiration from these posts.

Chapter 34: Hero Complex

The house was still in one piece when the kids got back. There was no evidence whether the shield spell was still holding or not, but they were all just happy to find a familiar structure to hide out in. They were about to open the door when they all heard something inside. Dipper picked up a golf club that'd been sitting on the porch, Wendy pulled out her crossbow, Mabel readied her grappling hook, and Soos took a karate stance.

“Yaaaaah!” The four friends yelled as they kicked the door open.

“Yaaaaah!” A ragtag group of townsfolk and magical creatures from the woods led by Stan yelled, ready to defend their turf.

“Wait, Stan!?” Dipper and Mabel gasped when they realized who it was.

“Kids!?” Stan disengaged the weapons system in his prosthetic, “I can't believe it! I thought I'd lost you two!”

The three of them shared a happy reunion hug. Tears flowed more freely than at least two of them would care to admit. Wendy and Soos soon joined in the hug. Even if they didn't know Stan all that well, it was still nice to see a friend after everything that had happened.

“It's good to have you knuckleheads back.” Stan said as he finally broke away from the hug.

“Why… what's everyone doing here?” Dipper asked as he surveyed the room. There were Candy and Grenda, dressed like Mad Max cosplayers, and Pacifica, who was wearing a pillowcase or something, and the Multibear, who was wearing an eye-patch on his main head, along with some gnomes, a manotaur, and the boy band Sev’ral Timez.

“Welcome to the survivors’ club.” Stan shrugged.

“Whaaa?” The kids asked.

“Eyebat!!” A gnome cried before anyone could explain. Everyone in the house scrambled to put out all the lights and close all the shutters and curtains. Dipper and Mabel couldn't help but peek outside between some blinds. Sure enough, an eyebat was flapping around outside. The sweeping beam of its paralysing gaze was stopped by a shimmering pink shield the moment it looked towards the house.

“So the shield is still working!” Dipper observed.

“Grunkle Stan, how'd this happen?” Mabel asked once the eyebat passed.

“Well, after seein’ my brother turned to gold and thinkin’ Dipper here’d been eaten, I didn't know what else to do except come back here. That's when I ran into possum breath here” Stan jabbed a mechanical thumb towards McGucket, “leading a group of stragglers through the woods. They needed a place to stay, so I took 'em all in and made myself chief. Plan is to stay here and live off Ford's food storage long as we can. Then I vote we eat the gnomes.”

“Hey, I'm short, not deaf!!” Jeff protested.

“Grunkle Stan, we can't just hide out here, there's a town in need of saving!” Dipper protested.

“Look, kiddo, we’ve got a good deal here.” Stan explained. “It ain’t ideal, I know, but we’ve got everything we need in here. A lot of these guys may look like monsters, but they’re actually pretty nice. Bear-bear here even knows Shiatzu!”

“Yes, I’ve been taking some classes.” The multi-bear nodded.

“We can stay here where it’s safe as long as we need to.”

“Grunkle Stan, you don’t actually think if we wait it out long enough Bill will just go away!?” Mabel was scandalized.

“Yeah, what happened?” Dipper asked, “Before you were all about taking the fight to Bill and not waiting a second, and now you just wanna hole up inside as long as you can?”

“Look what trying to fight Bill got us!” Stan snapped, “I wasted my only shot, that shazbot took my know-it-all brother as a literal trophy, and until you kids showed up on the doorstep a moment ago, I thought you all were dead! At least in here we can live some sort of life, out there all that’s waiting for us is death or worse!”

“But… what about our families?” Soos asked quietly.

Stan didn’t have an answer for that. He just looked away, but as his eyes swept across the room, he saw almost everyone wore the same expression: worry for their loved ones. Not long before the kids had showed up, they’d picked up a broadcast on the TV from inside the Fearamid, where they saw most everyone in Gravity Falls frozen in stone and stacked into a throne for Bill.

“Guys, don’t you see?” Mabel encouraged them as she climbed to the top of the stairs where everyone could see her, “Our friends need us, but we can only save them if we fight back!”

“Mabel’s right!” Dipper joined her, “Bill wants us to run and hide. He wants us to think he’s invincible, but Ford told me before he was turned to gold he knows Bill’s secret weakness!”

“Yeah, and then his oh-so-special research Journals were destroyed.” Stan scoffed. “We got no leads kid. I spent twelve years tryin’ to fight against Bill, and never heard nothin’ about any ‘secret weakness’.”

“Then we’ll rescue him!” The boy exclaimed, “If Ford’s the only one who knows about Bill’s weakness then we’ll have to get it from him! If we all work together, we might be able to save Gravity Falls!”

Everyone cheered, except Stan, who still seemed skeptical. “And how d’you plan on doin’ that? This is the only place where we’re safe, and it’s not like we can carry the shield spell around with us.”

“W-whoa! Holey Hootenanny! Flapjacks an’ Tiddlywinks!” McGucket suddenly burst out, his knee bouncing up and down as he thumped his foot against the floor. “Sorry, sorry,” He said sheepishly as everyone stared at him. “Just got excited is all. But I got an idea hows about we can fight Bill an’ rescue Ford! But I’ll need all’a y’all’s help!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa people, let’s not forget who’s in charge here!” Stan snorted indignantly, “I’ve been on the run from that psycho for the better part of twelve years, and now you want me to just waltz up to the guy’s front door?”

“Grunkle Stan, I’m sure we’re not gonna just walk up to the Fearamid,” Mabel assured him, “Just hear McGucket out!”

“No! There’s no way I’m leaving this house!”

Stan was not particularly happy to hear the plan involved literally taking the house to Bill. Sure, it seemed like a good idea on paper. If the only thing protecting them from Bill was attached to the house, it made sense to bring the house with them. But turning the place into a giant fighting robot!? That was just ridiculous! Nevermind the dimension he’d visited with actual fifty-foot fighting treehouse robots. He was pretty sure that was a spectator sport, and not for actual combat. Certainly not for fighting against the all-powerful ruler of the nightmare realm.

Still, as they began cutting holes in the walls and using leftover parts from the portal to build actual working giant robot arms and legs, Stan began to think this might actually work. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.

He’d nearly lost it when people started leaving the safety of the shield spell to try and raid more stuff they needed from outside, but so far everyone who had left for the junkyard and the amber mines had come back safely.

Now the “Shacktron”, as Soos had dubbed it after a comment on the house’s state by Pacifica, was nearly complete, and everyone was enjoying a bonfire as Mabel passed out sweaters, celebrating all they’d already accomplished and what they hoped to accomplish tomorrow.

“Uhg, I go through all this trouble to keep these survivors safe, and they’re gonna risk it all; for what? The chance that Stanford might know Bill’s weakness?” Stan complained to the only person who would listen to him, an ugly gnome who didn’t say much. “It’s a load of… of…” Stan searched his considerable vocabulary of alien swears for an appropriate phrase.

“Shmebulock!” The gnome exclaimed.

“Yeah! It’s a load of Shmebulock!” the old con man agreed. But his rage quickly died into a sigh. “It’s my own fault though. We wouldn't have to go save my brother if I hadn’t talked him into confrontin’ Bill right away in the first place. ...Bill wouldn’t even be in our dimension if my brother hadn’t opened that portal for me….”

“Grunkle Stan, is something wrong?” Mabel asked as she and Dipper suddenly walked into his field of vision. Stan jumped. He was losing his touch in his old age, he hadn’t even noticed they were there.

“Wh-bu-pft-I’m not-- I’m fine!” He spluttered. “How long have you kids been standin’ there listenin’ to me mouth off?”

“We just saw you acting grumpier than usual and wanted to make sure everything’s ok.” Mabel shrugged.

“It’s this plan to save my stupid brother!” Stan harrumphed. “I’ve been working hard to keep everybody safe, and what thanks do I get? Nothin’! But maybe he knows somethin’ about stoppin’ Bill, and suddenly everybody’s ready to risk their lives to save him. No matter what I do, it’s always ‘Stan’s the screw-up, Ford’s the hero’.”

Dipper frowned. He’d heard what Stan was saying to Shmebulock before. “Grunkle Stan, you’re not a screw up. This isn’t your fault any more than it is Mabel’s. Bill tricked you, because that’s what he does! Of course you wanted to come home! Of course you wanted to try anything to stop Bill as quickly as possible! And yeah, things went wrong, but that doesn’t mean you should hide away and beat yourself up for it! We have a chance to fix things now, and yeah, it’s risky, but at least there’s a chance that we’ll be able to save the world, instead of just accepting that this is the way things are now!”

“Yeah!” Mabel agreed, “Besides, you love risk!”

Stan gave a fond sigh and hugged the two of them. “Heh, alright, you kids’ve convinced me. I’ll get on board with Project: Long Odds. Whatever you want me to do, just ask.”

“Yes!” Mabel cheered, “Trust me, guys, tomorrow's gonna be great! We’ll save Grunkle Ford, and then you won’t have to worry about him anymore!”

“What, tch, I’m… I’m not worried about him!” Stan protested, crossing his arms and looking away. “I only care about finding a way to stop Bill, and that know-it-all is our best bet.”

Mabel and Dipper rolled their eyes. “Sure, Grunkle Stan.”

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t feel anything beyond the pain jolting through him. He couldn’t see anything beyond the burning blue light blinding him. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the ragged screaming that he no longer recognized as his own. He couldn’t smell anything beyond the crackling ozone. He couldn’t taste anything beyond the metallic tang that he didn’t have the presence of mind to realize was probably his own blood. This was his world. He knew nothing else.

Then, mercifully, it stopped, and his brain started ticking again. His thoughts and feelings slowly trickled back. He was Stanford Pines, the last one standing between Bill Cipher and destroying the rest of the universe outside of Gravity Falls. He couldn’t break. He couldn’t tell Bill what he wanted to know. He couldn’t let the demon into his mind. He could feel the manacles digging into his skin. He could see Bill and his cronies standing over him like a gang of school yard bullies. He could hear his own labored breathing and the snickering of the Henchmaniacs. He still couldn’t smell much other than ozone, but at least now he knew he was tasting his own blood. It wasn’t nearly as much as he’d expected.

“READY TO TALK NOW?” Bill asked in a bored tone.

“I-I won’t…” Ford rasped. “...I won’t… let you into my mind!”

“WHADDAYA SAY, PALS, ANOTHER 500 VOLTS?” Bill asked his audience. The Henchmaniacs laughed and cheered. Bill was winding up for another blast of electricity when they all heard a thumping noise coming from outside the Fearamid. It grew louder and louder, until… crash! A theropod head burst through the wall and roared.

“WHAT!? I JUST FIXED THAT DOOR!” Bill whined.

Ford squinted to see what was outside the Fearamid. His glasses were so dirtied with soot he wondered briefly if he might see better without them. Was that… was that his house!?

“It’s the Shacktron, dudes!” he more heard than saw Soos cheer. Oh no, what was Soos doing here!? Didn’t he realize the danger? And who else had he brought with him? Ford could only imagine what Bill would do if the triangle managed to nab all his loved ones at once.

“SO THE MORTALS ARE TRYING TO FIGHT BACK, HUH? ADORABLE!” Bill gave a cruel chuckle. “HENCHMANIACS, YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO! TAKE ‘EM OUT!”

It was hard for Ford to see what was going on from his vantage point, but he couldn’t look away. The more he watched, the more anxious he became. He could see Wendy leaping onto an eyebat, he could hear Fiddleford’s distinctive voice calling out commands, and Mabel and Dipper’s cheer after punching out Paci-Fire and Kryptos. He even caught a glimpse of Stan through a window when the Shacktron came near enough to the hole in the Fearamid. But as things went on, his fear was mixed with pride. They were holding their own! Better than holding their own, they were winning! Soon enough all of Bill’s minions were sprawled across the ground, groaning in pain.

“SERIOUSLY GUYS? YOU HAD LIKE ONE JOB!” Bill groaned.

“Bravo, everyone!” Ford cheered defiantly.

Bill sneered at him. “YEAH, ENJOY YOUR LITTLE VICTORY NOW, WISE-GUY. YOU DO REALIZE I’M GONNA GO GRAB YOUR LITTLE FAMILY AND MAKE YOU WATCH ME TORTURE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM UNTIL YOU TELL ME HOW TO REVERSE THE WEIRDNESS MAGNETISM, RIGHT?”

Ford’s heart fell. “No, no you ca--” Bill re-froze him mid-sentence.

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, SIXER? I CAN DO ANYTHING!”

He didn’t know how long it had been when he was unfrozen. All he knew was suddenly half the town was there, freed from their stony prison, and Bill was still outside fighting the Shacktron. Mabel and Dipper were standing in front of him with identical hopeful grins.

“Kids!” Ford knelt down and hugged them both tightly, “I knew you could do it! That was brilliant!” He caught sight of McGucket just off to the side, apparently trying not to interrupt a family moment. “Fiddleford! Thank you, old friend, I know they couldn't have done it without you.”

“Aw shucks, I'm jus’ glad yer ok.” McGucket smiled as the two old scientists hugged.

“Yeah, nice to see you too, bro.” Stan grunted from behind them.

“Grunkle Ford,” Dipper piped up, “before, you said something about one other possible way to beat Bill. What was it?”

“Yeah, what's Bill's secret weakness?” Mabel asked.

“Oh, right!” The old researcher remembered, and reached for something in his pocket. But be paused mid-motion, looking around the room. “Back when I first learned about Bill, there was a prophecy painted on the cave wall as well.” Ford observed all the people standing around him, and suddenly the puzzle that had eluded him for years finally clicked into place. “Robbie, do you still carry spray paint around with you?”

“Uh… yeah. Why?” the teen asked.

“You'll see.” Ford assured him, grabbing the paint canister and quickly spraying a large circle on the floor.

“Uh, Bill's just outside, I don't know how long the others can hold him off.” Dippy pointed out.

“Yes, yes, good.” Ford murmured in reply, concentrating too hard on whatever he was painting on the floor to really pay attention to what the boy was saying.

“Well, he's finally lost it.” Stan said flatly.

“Like he didn't lose it forever ago?” Wendy asked.

“I'm perfectly sane.” Ford corrected. “And this is how we'll beat him.” He gestured to the finished image: a circle of ten symbols surrounding a simple sketch of Bill Cipher.

“With the world's most confusing game of hopscotch?” Pacifica asked incredulously.

“No… although it would make a pretty fun game of hopscotch.” Ford admitted. “This is what I found painted on the cave wall. Some of the symbols I recognized then, some of them I only recognize now, but the very first people to settle in Gravity Falls, long before any European immigrants, prophesied that these symbols together could generate a force powerful enough to defeat Bill and reverse his weirdnesses. Until now, I thought it was just superstition, but now that I see the ten symbols here in real life, I know that can't be a coincidence.”

“What do you mean?” Dipper asked, “You had this drawn in the Journals and it didn't do anything. Bill still destroyed them!”

Ford smiled and shook his head. “The symbols themselves aren't what's special. They represent people! Dipper: the pine tree. Mabel: the shooting star.”

Dipper's eyes widened as he stood on the corresponding symbol.

“Oh my gosh!” Mabel gasped reverently as she took her place.

“A question mark! This one's unsolvable!” Soos observed, completely forgetting the coin block on the Mario shirt he was wearing.

“And I knew I'd seen that broken heart on your hoodie somewhere before!” Ford said to Robbie.

“Dang man, you've been wearing that thing since the fourth grade!” Wendy pushed her friend forward.

“Whoa, destiny hoodie!” The teen said in awe.

“As well as the star from the Tent-o-Telepathy.” Ford pointed to Gideon, who was standing at the back of the crowd.

“Oooh, don't mind if I do!” The boy took his spot next to Mabel.

“Don't make a big deal about this.” Mabel warned him.

“O-of course not!” Gideon flushed, then chanted under his breath, “Be a person worthy of loving, be a person worthy of loving…”

“And Pacifica: the llama.” Ford pointed to her.

“... This is freaky.” The spoiled girl muttered as she looked between the sweater Mabel had lent her and the symbol on the floor.

“Ok, so some of the symbols are really obvious. But what about the ice? Or the glasses?” Dipper asked.

“They're not all litteral.” Ford explained, “The ice should be someone who's cool under pressure.” The two of them looked over at Wendy. They couldn't think of anyone else in the crowd who fit the criteria, and come to think of it, hadn't Dipped spilt bag after bag of ice around Wendy all summer?

“And the glasses should be someone wise and scholarly.”

McGucket smiled sheepishly and stepped forward. “I dunno 'bout wise…”

“And Stanley, you're the fish.. thing. Whatever that thing on the end of your staff is.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Stan rolled his eyes. “You realize this is a buncha hogwash, right? You really think a bunch of randos standin’ in a circle an’ singin’ kumbaya is gonna stop that monster!?”

“It's a mystical human energy circuit!” Ford defended.

“You said you thought it was superstition until you saw all these people together!” Stan retorted. “This isn't what you were talkin’ about before, is it?”

“...No.” Ford admitted, “But that doesn't matter now, this will work!”

“How do you know? Just 'cuz some dead guys drew it on a wall!?”

“Come on Stan! I gave your idea with the quantum destabilizer a chance, the least you can do is give this a shot!” Ford yelled indignantly.

“Don't yell at me!” Stan yelled back.

“Come on!” Wendy groaned.

“Dang it, old men, now's not the time!” Gideon exclaimed.

“Alright, fine!” Stan relented and joined the circle. “I'm not the enemy here, people!”

“Everyone else get out of here, this may be dangerous…. Now all of you hold hands!” Ford commanded.

“Oh gee, I'd love to.” Stan said sarcastically, “Except there's the little problem of I haven't got one!”

Ford gritted his teeth. “You know what I meant! Just give me your arm… stump… whatever you call it.”

“I wouldn't have it if you hadn't abandoned me, you big jerk!” Stan turned on him.

“Really!? Now of all times you bring that up!? Why do you always have to make everything more difficult than it has to be!? Why can't you ever just do as you're told!?”

“What makes you think you can tell me what to do!?”

The elder twins’ argument just devolved into fistfighting from there. Everyone watched in slack-jawed horror. Everyone except Mabel and Dipper, that is, who were desperately trying to pull their Grunkle apart. But it was too late.

“OH NO, IT'S BILL! ...THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE ALL THINKING, RIGHT?”

Bill was back.

“HAHAHAHAH! THIS IS JUST TOO GOOD! DON'T YOU BRAINIACS KNOW THE ZODIAC DOESN'T WORK IF ALL OF YOU DON'T HOLD HANDS? THANKS FOR BRINGING EVERY THREAT TO MY POWER INTO ONE EASY-TO-DESTROY PLACE THOUGH!” the demonic triangle snapped his fingers and the painting on the ground burned away, catching a few people on fire in the process. He then reached out and grabbed the elder Pines twins. “YOU GUYS WANNA SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU CAN'T GET ALONG?”

“Oh no!” Dipper cried.

“You give them back!” McGucket demanded.

“You've gone too far, Cipher!” Gideon shouted.

“Yeah, we're not scared of you!” Wendy growled, raising her ax threateningly.

“OH… BUT YOU SHOULD BE.” the triangle grew another arm and snapped his finger. Dipper and Mabel watched in horror as everyone around them floated up into the air and was turned into a tapestry, each one depicting its victim in the middle of a wide-eyed scream. “LOOKS LIKE IT'S TOO LATE FOR YOUR FRIENDS, STANFORD, BUT YOU CAN STILL SAVE YOUR FAMILY!” A glowing blue cage rose up out of the ground, trapping the kids. “LAST CHANCE: TELL ME HOW TO TAKE WEIRDMAGEDDON GLOBAL AND I'LL SPARE THE KIDS.”

“No, don't do it!” Dipper cried from inside the pyramidal cage.

“Yeah, Bill makes bad deals!” Mabel agreed.

Bill leered down at her. “DON'T YOU TOY WITH ME SHOOTING STAR! I SEE EVERYTH--”

Mabel grabbed Robbie's spray paint and sprayed him in his giant eye.

“AUGH! NOT AGAIN! WHY THE EYE!? EVERY TIME!”

“I know that hurts, because I've done it to myself!” Mabel crowed.

Dipper quickly pulled out the flashlight with the size-changing crystal attached to the top and grew the cage until they could squeeze between the bars.

“We'll distract him, you guys run for it!” The boy cried to his Grunkles.

“What!? That's a suicide mission!” Ford protested.

“Don't worry! We've beaten him once.” Dipper reassured them.

“And we'll do it again!” Mabel finished. “Hey, you pointy jerk, come and get us!”

Bill finally got the paint out of his eye. He growled and chased after the kids. Stan and Ford were about to run after them too, but a blue wall of contorted bars blocked their path.

“NOT SO FAST! YOU TWO STAY HERE. I'VE GOT SOME CHILDREN I NEED TO TURN INTO CORPSES.”

The brothers found themselves in a cage identical to the one the kids had just been in. Only they had no means of escape. All they could do was bang on the bars and yell after them to stop. But their pleas fell on deaf ears.

“I can't believe this!” Stan sunk to the ground. “The kids are gonna die, and it's all my fault! All because I wouldn't just link arms with you!”

“Don't blame yourself. I'm the one who made a deal with Bill on the first place.” Ford said sadly.

“Yeah, but I'm the one who got you captured.” Stan lamented, “Dipper went back an’ tried to help you, but I… I just ran. Ugh, dad was right about me, I'm a screw-up.”

“No.” Ford knelt down next to his brother. “That's not true. You never made a deal with Bill, not in all those years he tried to convince you. If anybody's a screw-up, it's me. If I didn't drive away everyone close to me, things would have been solved years ago. I'm sorry I always made you second priority.”

Stan barked a sound halfway between a chuckle and a sob. “How'd things get so messed up between us?”

“We used to be like Dipper and Mabel.” Ford smiled fondly. “The world's about to end, and they still work together.”

“They're working together because the world is ending. That and they're too young to know any better.” Stan observed.

Ford shifted and pulled a strange object out of his pocket. It took a second for Stan to recognize it as the memory eraser from his first day back home.

“What're you gonna do with that?” The old con man asked.

“This is the one last possibility to defeat Bill I was talking about before.” Ford said gravely.

Stan's face lit up as he began to realize his brother's plan. “You mean we could just erase him outta your head the second he goes in there!?”

“Yes… but there's more to it than that.”

Stan didn't like the look Ford was giving him. He looked like a doctor about to tell their patient they had cancer. “Ok, what's the catch?”

“Bill isn't a static memory. He won't just let himself be erased, he'll hide in some remote corner of the mindscape. Unless you were to erase everything.”

Stan's expression sobered immediately. That explained why Ford had been so desperate to try anything else to stop Bill.

“What!? Are you kidding me!? You're honestly telling me there's nothing else we can do?”

“Believe me, if there was another way, I'd do it in a second. We're out of options, Stanley! The only alternative would be to actually give myself up to Bill and hope he'll let you and the kids go.”

Stan snorted. “Like he'd make good on that deal.”

“Exactly.” Ford agreed. “So, we agree on what needs to be done?”

Stan's reply was to wrap his arms around his brother and bury his face into his shoulder. “You and your snarfin hero complex! D’Arvit Ford, I don't wanna lose you again!”

“... Neither do I.” Ford returned the hug. “Don't think of it as losing me. I'll still be around. I'll still be me. I just won't…”

“Won't remember anything about me. Or anyone. Or anything.” Stan finished.

“Y-you might be able to remind me.” Ford encouraged him, “Fiddleford has been regaining his memories after they were erased.”

Stan sniffed inelegantly, failing to hide his crying, but he nodded.

They didn't have long to recompose themselves before they heard the kids’ screams, signalling Bill's return.

“ALRIGHT FORDSY, I'M BACK, AND I'VE GOT THE KIDS! MAYBE I'LL KILL ONE OF 'EM, JUST FOR THE FUN OF IT. EENY MEENY MINEY--”

“Stop!” Ford cried. “I'll tell you! Just let the kids and my brother go, please!”

“THAT'S MORE LIKE IT.” Bill said smugly.

The cage holding them dissolved away and a glowing red arm shot out of the ground, wrapping itself tight around Stan.

“No, Grunkle Ford, don't trust him!” Dipper pleaded.

“It's the only way.” Ford smiled sadly. “I-I love you all. Always remember that.”

“CUT THE SAP, SIXER. DO WE HAVE A DEAL OR NOT?”

Ford's only response was to extend his hand. Bill grabbed it, and blue flames enshrouded them both. Bill's physical form turned to stone as his mental projection jumped straight into the old scientist's head.

“FINALLY!” Bill crowed when he found himself in Stanford’s mindscape. The mental manifestation of the old man was standing there coldly. The light was reflecting off his glasses, making it impossible to see his eyes. Which didn't make sense because there wasn't actually any light. Which meant Ford was looking like that on purpose. The drama queen. “I TOLD YOU I'D FIND YOUR WEAKNESS!”

Ford did his best to ignore the mocking. He held up a book that looked just like one of the Journals. “Here it is, Bill, everything I know about weirdness magnetism.”

“AHAHAHAHAH, FINALLY!” Bill chortled, taking the book eagerly. “YES! NOW I CAN--” the book abruptly caught fire. “WHOAH- HEY!” The triangle could only watch as blue flames rapidly ate away every last page. “WHAT DID YOU--!?”

“It's gone.” Ford said evenly, a cruel grin spreading across his face. The light reflecting off his glasses disappeared, revealing a triumphant glare. “It's all gone!”

“YOU IDIOT, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!?” Bill steamed, “I'LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR THIS!!”

“On the contrary, Bill,” The scientist said calmly as the entire mindscape around them went up in blue flames, “You're the one who's finally going to pay.”

Bill's eye grew wide as he realized the extent of what was happening.

“GRAH! THE DEAL’S OFF!” He growled, but as he tried to wave his arm and create an exit, nothing happened. If anything the flames rose higher. “WHAT THE-- NO! NO NO NO NO!

“YOU FOOL!” Bill raged, “”YOU'LL DESTROY YOUR OWN MIND TOO!”

“Gladly.” Ford said emphatically. “If it means you'll never do to another living thing what you did to me.”

“YOU'RE MAKING A MISTAKE, STANFORD!” Bill said desperately, “I-I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT! MONEY, FAME, RICHES, INFINITE POWER, YOUR OWN GALAXY! JUST--PLEASE!”

“Whatever I want?” Ford echoed fiercely. “What I want is to watch you burn to nothing!” He finally lost his cool and roughly grabbed Bill by his stupid bowtie. “You pretended to be my friend, only to use me and manipulate me!” He wound up and punched the triangle. “You got me to drive my only true friend away!” Another punch. “You took control of my body and used it as a play thing!” And another. “You blackmailed me!” And again. “You tortured me!” Another. “And even worse than what you did to me, you messed with my family!” He wound up one more time and punched Bill right in the eye, harder than he'd ever punched anything before. The demonic triangle gave one last strangled cry in a language Ford didn't recognize, and shattered into a million pieces.

“...It is done.” Stanford said with finality. But… it didn't feel right. He'd been fantasizing about defeating Bill for years now, and he'd finally done it! He was the hero! He'd killed the demon, been able to beat him down with his own hands, and yet… this victory felt hollow. Was it because he was losing his own mind in the process? No… he'd always been prepared to sacrifice himself in order to pay for his mistakes.

As everything burned blue around him, the last thing he found left was a familiar tattered photo of two boys standing proudly atop a rotting shipwreck. Ford realized he didn't regret what he was losing, but what his family would be losing. And even more, what he never was for them.

“I'm sorry.” He murmured as the flames licked at his feet.

Stanley found his brother kneeling in a clearing in the woods not long after all of Bill's Weirdmageddon crap cleared up. Ford was still completely out of it. His eyes were unfocused and his mouth hung open.

“Grunkle Ford that was amazing!” Dipper exclaimed, running up and hugging him. Ford jumped at the contact, surprised and maybe even a little uncomfortable with the boy in his personal space.

“Uh, sorry, are you talking to me?” The old man asked in confusion.

The boy's face fell as he pieced together what happened. “You… you don't remember me…”

“No. Should I?”

“Yes!” Mabel cried, “We're your family!”

Ford just looked at them all blankly.

“It's ok, kids.” Stan tried to reassure them, “W-we just gotta remind him, y’know?” he sat down in front of his brother and looked him in the eye. “I-I’m Stanley. I'm your brother.”

Ford was too fascinated with Stan's arm to pay attention to his words. “Your arm, it's metal!” He observed with an eager smile, “that's not normal, is it? What's it made of? How do you get it to move like that?”

Stan’s eyes welled up with tears. “C-c’mon, Ford, it's m-me, it's Stan… I'm remindin’ you, j-just like you told me to… please Ford, it-it’s me, it's Stan!” He finally broke down crying in to his brother's shoulder. “Why d’you always gotta be the hero!? Y-you jerk! W-we never got t-to make thing right.…”

Ford looked at the two children for help. “What did I say?”

They brought Ford back to the wrecked remains of his house, picking up Soos and filling him in on what had happened on the way. The young mechanic was devastated, and he joined with the others in trying to jog Stanford’s memory. They had many opportunities to try. It seemed every step along the way Ford had another question.

“Did you see that little man in the red hat run into the bushes? What was that?”

“It’s a gnome.” Dipper explained patiently, although there was a pained undertone in his voice, “You used to study them.”

“Why do they wear those little red hats?” Ford wondered, “Are they hiding something under them?”

“I-I don’t know.” Dipper admitted, but it didn’t seem to bother Ford. If anything he seemed more excited, and he made to run off after the gnome.

“Wait! Don’t run off without us!” Mabel grabbed his hand.

This stopped him, but only because he’d suddenly become more interested in the small hands holding his own. He looked around at everyone and an expression spread across his face like he’d just found the greatest puzzle of all time.

“Wait a second, I just noticed something!” He held up Mabel’s hand and compared it to his own. “I’ve got more fingers than all of you! Isn’t that interesting? I wonder why it’s like that?”

“You were born that way.” Stan told him.

“Yes, but why?” Ford asked again. Nobody had an answer for him, which only served to make him more curious.

Stan heaved a heavy sigh. “C’mon Ford, we gotta get home. We’re all tired, you must be too.”

“I’m not tired!” The old man insisted like he was a four-year-old, “I wanna explore!”

Stan looked like he was on the verge of losing his composure again, so Mabel stepped in. “Grunkle Ford, if you come home with us, I’ll show you my scrapbook, and we can teach you everything we learned about all the weird things in Gravity Falls this summer.

“Really?” Ford asked, like she’d just promised to watch his favorite movie with him. She nodded. “Come on, let’s go!” He pulled her ahead toward the dilapidated house.

Dipper had to knock the door in, and despite the building being surprisingly still structurally sound, the place was trashed. Ford didn’t seem to notice; he took the state of the house as normal, and only seemed curious with the books and papers strewn across the floor. Everyone else was in low spirits. For all the questions they were answering and all their attempts to remind Ford of who he was, nothing seemed to be working.

“We saved the world, but what’s the point?” Dipper wondered forlornly, “Grunkle Ford’s not himself anymore.”

“I don’t get it.” Stan sat down and held his head in his hands, “Before, he said we’d be able to remind him…. Well, he said we might be able to remind him. Ugh, I should’ve known he was just sayin’ that to make me feel better. I should’ve known better than to get my hopes up!” He punched the wall with his mechanical arm and left a sizable hole.

“No!” Mabel said emphatically, “I know my Grunkle is still in there! We can’t give up, guys!” She found her scrapbook lying under the entertainment center, and sat Ford down next to her on the old couch. “This’ll work. This has to work!” She opened up to the first page and showed him a picture of the three of them at the bus-stop, not long after they’d arrived in Gravity Falls.

“Here’s a picture of the first day we came to Gravity Falls!” Mabel narrated, “and here’s a macaroni art interpretation of my emotions!” She pointed to a macaroni collage of an unsure smile and a question mark.

“What about that time we went to the lake our first weekend here?” Dipper asked as his sister turned the page again and revealed a two-page spread of photos from their picnic. “Or all those times we’ve played Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons together?” He asked on another page.

“Uh, these are all very nice photos, but weren’t you going to teach my what you learned about the weird things in Gravity Falls?” Ford asked innocently.

“They’re photos of you, Dr. Pines!” Soos cried.

“I can see that, but I don’t remember any of this, or any of you!”

That was enough to break Stan down again. The old con man got up abruptly and retreated to the other side of the room.

Ford got up and followed him. “What’s wrong? Why do you keep on crying like that?”

Stan just shook his head and turned away, unable to speak through his sobbing.

“Is it because of me?” Ford asked worriedly, “Is it my fault?”

Stan shook his head again, but Ford seemed to know instinctively that he was lying. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what for, but…” He trailed off and his expression became thoughtful. “I’m sorry…” he repeated softly. He reached out and hugged Stan awkwardly.

Waddles entered the room, drawn by the sound of crying. The pig found two sad men standing in the corner, hugging. On of them was the source of the crying. The pig tried to comfort them the only way he knew how: snorting in between their feet.

“Waddles, do you mind, we’re having a moment here!” Ford pushed the pig away gently with his foot.

Everyone gasped and stared at the old researcher, a new hopeful glint in their eyes.

“W-what? What did I say?” Ford asked nervously, uncomfortable with all the attention.

“It’s working!” Dipper said excitedly, “keep reading!”

“Skip to my page!” Soos insisted, “He needs to remember being the greatest teacher ever!”

“I think you and Wendy are the only two who would ever call me that.” Ford chuckled.

And so they continued to look through Mabel’s scrapbook. Every few pages, Ford remembered more and more about being a teacher, a great-uncle, a researcher, and even a brother. Once they finished with the scrapbook, Stanley swept the house and found some ancient film-reels: Home videos from the elder twins’ childhood. Everyone couldn’t believe their luck. Perhaps this story could have a happy ending after all.

It was one week later, and Stanford Pines felt like a new man. His memories were more-or-less all back now. Sure, he still had some hazy moments when someone would mention something like he was supposed to know what they were talking about, and he’d have to ask for clarification, but the most important things were all back. He knew his family and his best friend and his students and all the strange, wonderful, occasionally annoying people in Gravity Falls.

Of course, with the return of his good memories came the return of the bad. Just last night he’d had another nightmare about Weirdmageddon. But it was easier to shake off these bad dreams now that he knew Bill was well and truly gone. He’d also had a heart-to-heart with Stanley about some of the darker moments in their past, but he felt so much better now that they had.

Now it was time for the kids’ birthday party, and pretty much the whole town, human and supernatural, had shown up. Mabel and Dipper were giving some short speeches after blowing out the candles.

“Y’know, on my first day here, if you’d asked me what I wanted, I would have said ‘Adventure, mystery, true friends’, but looking out at all of you, I realize that every one of those wishes came true. I’m happy with what I have.”

“If I had one wish, it would be to shrink you all down with the shrink-ray and bring you all home with me in my pocket. But since that’s impossible--” She paused and looked up at Ford, “Is that impossible?”

He shrugged and made a so-so gesture. It was technically possible but really not a good idea. People would probably get squashed or suffocate.

“--Since that’s probably impossible, my only wish is for all of you to sign my scrapbook! I’ll never forget you all!” She paused again, pulled out the memory eraser, and smashed it under her foot. Ford couldn’t believe how relieved that made him feel. “Now I’ll never forget you all!”

As the kids joked around with Wendy and her friends about technically being teens now, Stan pulled Ford away from the crowd around a corner of the house.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you in private.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Ford asked in concern.

“Nothin’, just wanted to let you know I’ve made up my mind.”

“About what?”

“About leavin’ after the kids head home. I’m probably gonna start packin’ once this party business is over.”

“What!?” Ford cried incredulously,

“Yeah, see, this I why I wanted to talk to you about it in private.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“But… but I thought…” the old researcher stammered, “We’ve been making progress Stanley! I truly believed things between us were on the mend!” He sighed heavily and regained his composure, “But… if that’s what you feel is best, I won’t try and force you to stay.”

“Uh, thanks…” Stan said awkwardly.

“...where will you go?”

Stan shrugged. “Thinkin’ about gettin’ a ship, sailin’ in search of treasure.”

“Just… just like we always dreamed about. I… I’m happy for you, Stan.” Ford said, sounding the exact opposite of happy.

“Y’know…” Stan scratched the back of his head with his good arm and gestured with his mechanical one. “If I’m gonna hit the high seas, I’m gonna need someone who knows how to take care of this robot arm along for the ride. I’m still gettin’ the hang of it.”

“Y-you mean… you want me to come!?” Ford asked hopefully.

“No I mean McGucket.” Stan said flatly, rolling his eyes again. “Of course I want you to come, genius!”

Ford gaped at his brother for a moment before shoving him playfully, “You’re the worst!”

“I’m the worst!? You’re the worst for making me feel like a rakkpod for jokin’ with you! Why d’you gotta be so sincere?”

The two brothers re-entered the party, their arms around each other’s shoulder.

“If I could have everyone’s attention!” Ford shouted. “I’d like to officially announce my retirement!” He declared once the crowd had died down, “My brother and I have some catching up to do, so we’re leaving on a voyage, and probably won’t be back for quite some time.”

“Woohoo!” One of the teens cheered, “No physics class this year!”

“B-but what about the repair shop?” Soos stammered. “What about preparing young minds to be the scientists of tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, Soos, but I only ever started teaching and running the repair shop so I would have a steady income while I was working on the portal. Now that Stan and I are together again… I don’t really have any reason to keep it up.”

Soos looked defeated.

“But school starts in two weeks and we’ll need a physics teacher!” A member of the school board complained.

Ford looked at Soos knowingly. “I think I know someone who could take my place.”

“Wh-me?” Soos asked incredulously. “I haven’t even got my degree yet!”

“You should be able to get an emergency teaching licensure.” Ford reasoned. “That’s how I got hired on full-time.”

“But-but you’ve got a doctorate.” Soos protested.

“Soos, you’re much better with people, and especially teens, than I ever was. And you know more than enough to teach high school. I think you’re the perfect man for the job.”

“We’ll see what the school district has to say about that.” The school board member called from the crowd.

A small group of friends and family gathered at the bus stop the next day in the early afternoon. Mabel and Dipper were all packed up and ready to go. Well, as ready as they’d ever be.

“Thanks for wearing my goodbye sweaters.” Mabel complimented her Grunkles. The elder twins were decked out in matching sweaters: Ford’s a deep blue, Stan’s maroon.

“Eh, it’s cold out, I had to.” Stan grunted.

“It’s over eighty degrees out here, Stanley.” Ford teased him. Stan responded by elbowing him playfully.

Dipper and Wendy said their goodbyes and switched hats just before the bus arrived, the ginger teen slipping him a letter as he walked away.

“Looks like we’ve said goodbye to everybody, except…” Mabel looked back at her pig sadly, “Waddles.” She got down on her knees and petted him sadly. “I don’t know how to explain this to you but… Mom and Dad won’t let be bring a pig home to California, so… you have to stay here!”

She got up to leave, but the pig playfully nipped at her skirt. The girl tried to push him away, tears streaming down her face.

Ford frowned. “Mabel, I think you should take him home with you.”

“But--”

“You’re parents will be surprised to find how easy a pet pig is to take care of. Pigs are actually very clean, certainly cleaner than that cat you have, and they don’t need that much space. I’m sure they’d be happy to have another pet! And if not, well, you can tell them it was my idea.”

“Are you sure?” Dipper asked warily, “Mom was pretty mad when she found out you’d offered to let us stay here without asking her first.”

“I’ll take my chances.” The old man assured them.

“Now hold on!” The bus driver protested, “Bringing unauthorized animals aboard a moving vehicle is strictly prohibited!”

Ford not so subtly pulled out his crossbow, and Stan charged up the blaster in his arm.

“Uh… but this, heh, is obviously a service animal, so it’s ok!” The driver chuckled nervously.

The kids gave one last goodbye hug to Stan, and then to Ford.

“I hope you know I’m not exaggerating when I say you two have changed my life.” The old researcher said fondly. “I… I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough…”

“We love you too, Grunkle Ford.” Mabel sniffed back a few tears.

Finally, they’d run out of ways to stall. It was time for the kids to get on that bus.

“Ready to head into the unknown?” Dipper asked.

“Nope.” Mabel said honestly. “Let’s do it anyway!”

Ford and the others ran along the road, waving goodbye until the bus rounded the corner and drove out of sight. The old researcher felt like a piece of his heart was leaving with them. It must have shown on his face, because just a second later, he felt Stan patting him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m gonna miss ‘em too.” the old con man said sincerely, “But hey, it’s not like we’re never gonna see ‘em again, right?”

Ford smiled. This pain in his heart was nothing compared to the joy of having his brother back. “You’re right.”

“Heh, somebody stop the presses.” Stan chuckled. “Now come on Sixer, we’ve got an adventure of our own to start!”

#Gravity Falls #Stanswap Au #Reverse Portal AU #Fanfiction #Take back the Falls #My Writing

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owlespresso · 7 years ago

Text

Clarity #2

Also on my ao3. Commissions are open. Info is HERE. My ko-fi is also open for donations, HERE.

Every now and then, when you close your eyes, you see faint fragments of the past. Last night, on your way home, you saw the doctors smiling at you and congratulating you when you received your diagnosis as an omega. You were eleven. Or twelve. That was seven years ago, but it’s still pretty vivid in your head.

You don’t even remember what time it was, last night. You talked to the police about the assault that happened, went through some hysterics to convince them that you were only a witness, and asked about the kid that got attacked. You can’t really remember too much of what he looked like. But that doesn’t really matter to you.

What does matter is the vending machine that’s withholding your bag of chips from you. You really hate waking up in the morning and you hate taking the subway to your college, but they’re all necessary evils. Because life is pay-to-play and in order to get a well-paying job, you need to get an education. No matter how much it makes you feel like driving a stake through your skull. You hate the smog of scents that cloud you whenever you get into one of the cars. You hate a lot of things, really. So you try to make everything worth it by treating yourself every now and then.

The vending machine, nestled next to the entrance of one of the local high schools, doesn’t seem to think you deserve the snack you paid for with your hard-earned change. The crinkled plastic package is pressed up against the glass, taunting you. You’ve tapped it twice, now. You have ten minutes to get to class and it’s a five minute walk to campus. You reckon you can figure this out in a calm, orderly fashion.

But really, why would you?

You have feet that you can use for kicking. That in itself is reason enough to kick things. Maybe it’s your anger making you irrational or your unusual lust for the destruction of public property. Your feet kick against the machine, steel-toed boots leaving scratches and marks as passerby (likely students) give you weird looks. The sound of metal against metal rings out in the nearby street as you beat the machine to the best of your ability, causing it to shake.

Fuck you! Crappy fucking ass machine!! Give it to me!

It’s a pretty good way to get your anger out before class. Usually you settle for crying in the shower, but you woke up a little too late for that.

Fucking alarm clock! Fuck! Fuck!

A hand on your shoulder jolts you out of the red haze of anger that’s overtaken you. You jump, eyes wide as you whirl around to face a young man who’s wearing a pretty shocked expression. He looks pretty silly, with his wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

You’d poke a fun at him, but it’s pretty brave of him to march up to someone so destructive and angry. People are scared of what they don’t understand or don’t know, so you don’t often get approached when you pull stunts like this. You’re taking suppressants, but the scent of your anger is so potent that passerby can likely detect it. Maybe that’s why. Though, you’re pretty sure you’ve seen this guy before…

“Oh!” The realization hits you, “You’re that little guy that was getting mugged yesterday, right?” Looking at him now, “little guy” isn’t really the correct term to use. He’s not the tallest person around, but he towers over you nonetheless. Still, he looked pretty little when he was crouched on the ground, expression painted pale with fear. “You doing alright?” From the uniform, you guess he’s a student at the school the vending machine is next to.

“Yeah…” He doesn’t seem much for conversation. Not that you can blame him. You cross your arms and regard him with a sharp stare. As much as you’d like to stick around and play nice, you really can’t afford to waste time. “Thank you… for that. I hope you’re alright.” He’s cute, though? His hair is long, worn in a messily tied bun with some strands still hanging out. His widdle sweater vest is so cute, too!

“I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve had to use some elbow grease,” You declare, leaning up against the damaged machine. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He answers, and promptly goes quiet. You two stand there and stare at each other. You wonder why he isn’t walking away. That’s usually what people do after ending a conversation, but he doesn’t seem to be the most socially apt person. Does he want something else? “What are you... doing?”

“Huh?” You raise your eyebrows, expression irritated. It sounds like he’s challenging you, even though he’s been nothing but polite this entire conversation. All it takes is for him to gesture to the machine for you to realize what he means. “My chips wouldn’t come out. I got mad.” It doesn’t really justify the damage, but you’re too tired to properly reason.

“Oh.” You’re about to tell him to screw off and stop wasting your time, but he takes a broad step towards you. That alone has you bristling, eyes wide and expression curled into a snarl. His sudden closeness combined with the way he looms over you isn’t doing him any favors, either. You’d say he means no harm, but you’ve just met this kid and know not to judge a book by its cover. The sudden change in your scent makes him recoil. You certainly don’t like being an omega, but it has its perks. Alphas and betas always get a little shaken whenever you give a strong, distressed scent. It’s useful when you need to defend yourself. “Sorry. I was going to buy something.”

Oh. Well, now you feel a little silly for jumping to conclusions. Pride damaged, you shuffle out of the way and watch him slide a crisp bill into the machine, his nimble fingers pressing the buttons… He buys the exact same chips you wanted and you want to smite him for doing it right in front of you. It feels like he’s gloating, feels really damn smug of him. You ready a scathing remark (inwardly gloating about how you’re gonna verbally eviscerate this guy) as he bends down to grab the two bags of chips. But he turns to you and holds them out, rendering you silent. You blink, dumbfounded.

Oh. Now you feel even more silly. What the fuck.

“Thank you…?” People don’t do really nice things for you often, and that shows in your reply. He nods and turns to walk off, but you reach out and grab his sleeve, prompting him to look back at you, “What’s your name? Can I see you again?”

Not the smoothest way to start off. You’re not really interested in dating, but you want to get to know the kid (who is probably only a year younger than you are) and maybe become friends. Really. How are you supposed to phrase this kind of thing? Asking for contact information is always awkward and the awkwardness is stifling. It kills your vibes. Ruins your groove.

“Hey. I thought you were just a weird kid a few seconds ago, but I’m going to need your name and your phone number. Right now.” Is what you would say if you were being completely honest. But that just doesn’t work! Not at all!

“Sure. My name is Kozume Kenma…” He sifts through his pockets until he withdraws a sleek smartphone. Relief washes over you. At least he doesn’t think I’m a fucking weirdo. You fetch your own phone and hastily introduce yourself, realizing that you’ve spent four of your ten minutes talking to him. After exchanging numbers, you say a hurried goodbye and dash down the street, only hoping that no one called the cops on you for breaking the vending machine next to Nekoma Academy.

Kenma Kozume is a third year at Nekoma Academy, you soon find out. Much to your surprise, he sends the first text. You get it as you’re on the subway ride home.

Hi.

He’s not much of a talker. You don’t mind. You spent the next half-hour having a semi-active conversation with him, learning that he likes video games and plays on the volleyball team. He learns that you attend one of the colleges close to Nekoma, but doesn’t get much else out of you. You ask him if he wants to hang out tomorrow. He agrees.

It’s a week later and you’ve learned several more things about your new friend. You’ve hung out a few times and he’s gotten more talkative. He’s a low energy guy, but that works out pretty well for you. You don’t really like really energetic people. They’re draining to deal with.

You learn that he has a friend who attends the same college as you and is on the volleyball team. Kuroo Tetsurou. The name sounds familiar but you’ve never met him. You think it over as you sit on a bench outside of a fancy restaurant, waiting for Kenma to show up. It’ll probably be another trip to the arcade, but you don’t mind that.

You busy yourself with your phone, playing Neko Atsume and checking on various social apps. It’s rare of you to make friends so easily, even though you’re not sure if you can call Kenma a friend or not. But you don’t really hang out with people outside of school. Sure, you get along alright with classmates, but you don’t have anyone close to you. It’s kind of a downer. But you’re busy and you have things to do. It’s also difficult for you to really trust betas and alphas, given the assumptions people usually make about you because of your diagnosis.

You refer to being an omega as a diagnosis, because that’s all it is to you. A disease. Something that’s always dragged you down and held you back.

“Hey.” Kenma’s quiet voice breaks you from your negative thoughts.

“Hiya!” You pop up from your seat and give him a meager smile, “Ready to go? You wanted to head to one of the arcades, right?” He nods, and your destination is set. The arcade isn’t too far away. In fact, it’s pretty close to Nekoma. The walk is short, so it’s not too bad.

“So, did you see that new trailer for Super Smash Bros?” You inquire. It’s only been a week but you’ve learned that small talk doesn’t really get you anywhere.

The short walk to the arcade is spent talking about video gaming news and brief details about Kuroo Tetsurou. It’s not too much, but Kenma mentions him in brief instances pretty often. The streets aren’t too crowded, much to your relief. Bustling, metropolitan areas kind of suck when you’re trying to get somewhere fast.

The arcade is only a block away, but it’s come to be a familiar site to you. Kenma’s eyes light up as the two of you enter, and you think it’s kind of cute. He always gets so excited when he sees something he likes, no matter how many times he’s seen it before. This type of enthusiasm is rare from him, so you don’t remark on it, knowing he might get self-conscious.

Yeah, you’re pretty good at reading people.

“Oh. I should go to the ATM,” Most of the machines have coin slots. You’ve come prepared for that, but it appears Kenma hasn’t.

“I’ll wait over here. Take your time.” You assure him, and he scampers off, leaving you to your own devices.

You sweep your gaze across the dimmed area, roaming over the fluorescent screens and listening the beeps and artificial noises that the machines make. It’s a Friday afternoon, so it’s starting to get crowded. Students from various schools often come here after classes, because it’s so close and also pretty big.

“Hey, are you here alone?” A masculine voice rings out, prompting you to look up. There’s a tall guy in front of you, and you immediately don’t like the looks of him. He wears a smile that’s bordering on smug and is much too close to you, forcing you to take in his scent and acknowledge his presence.

“No.” Is all you say in response, hoping he’ll get the clue and leave you be.

“Really? What a shame,” He drawls. “Bet I could show you a better time than anyone else you’re here with, sweetheart.” Why do guys think that calling you demeaning petnames will help convince you? Great. You called me sweetheart. I’m totally into you, now. His languid remark is enough to piss you off. Your temper is usually pretty short when it comes to things like this.

“Leave me alone.” You don’t waste any time trying to debate it with him. His eyebrows furrow in an aggravated manner. Alphas usually get pretty pissed when you tell them that you’re not obligated to pay attention to them. It’s that gross sense of entitlement that really irritates you.

“C’mon, don’t be like that. We could have a good time,” It’s not like he’s said anything directly insulting to you, but he reaches out as he says that and you find that your patience has run out. Your hand snaps onto his wrist and you slip behind him with a nimble step, twisting his hand and arm back at a ridiculously uncomfortable angle, “What the hell!? C’mon, I was just talking to you! All you omegas are so sensitive—” Your grip tightens and you pull, letting him know that you can hurt him even more, “Ow! Ow! Okay, okay!” He snaps and you let him go. He stumbles backwards, regarding you with a venomous glare.

Now, there are eyes on you. Other passerby are watching the interaction with rapt attention. Multiple people have fixed their disapproving gazes on the alpha in front of you, letting you (and him) know that there will be consequences if he takes further action. You despise the stereotyping of omegas as weak, but you know that it’s a useful tool when in situations such as these. He skulks backwards, rubbing his wrist and muttering derogatory comments about you underneath his breath.

A faint murmur of your name draws your attention and you turn around to see Kenma. His hands are in his pockets and his gaze is stuck to the floor. His posture is stiff and his shoulders are rigid. He looks uncomfortable, likely having witnessed the entire exchange.

“Sorry.” He speaks before you get the chance to. “I should have stepped in.”

He’s a sweet kid, behind all that awkwardness. You shake your head with a small smile.

“It’s alright, Kenma. I don’t mind,” You soothe and his shoulders relax. You’re glad that he believes you when you try to comfort him. He’s reserved, but emotionally open in ways that you sealed off years ago, “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” He probably has a natural urge to want to help you, one that’s wired into his DNA.

But humankind has come far from the backwards species they once were. They have a far way to go. But that doesn’t change the fact that you can handle yourself. You have pepper spray in your pockets and an iron pocket tucked into your jacket. The fact that you need to protect yourself to vigilantly is yet another sigh that mankind has a long way to go before they’re a perfect species.

Still, you’re allowed to take pride in yourself. Or the brief parts of yourself that you can actually stand.

You don’t need anyone to protect you. Or help you. You don’t need anyone.

You’ve only known Kenma for a week and you know that you’d be stricken with horrible grief if he was somehow taken away from you. (And that scares you more than anything)

But you don’t need anyone.

#Kenma Kozume #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #hq!!#hq #haikyuu #oz write #clarity #fanfiction #omegaverse #abo

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richiefuckfacetozier · 8 years ago

Note

reddie prompt: eddie gives richie the silent treatment for saying/doing something stupid and richie lowkey has real bad issues with attention since his deadbeat parents don’t give him any, so he freaks out after trying everything to get eddie to talk to him, and eddie still doesn’t. then eddie comforts him when he confesses his issues and yeah pls i need this fluff!!! 💗💗

Chapter 3: Pour Some Sugar On Me

Story: It’s Not My Fault

Note: Thank you @wilhelmina-fae this commission came out gorgeous!

Title - Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard

Located on Archive of Our Own

For other chapters - | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13| 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 |

Eddie was so mad at Richie. As in HIGHEST LEVEL on that stupid arcade game he plays all the time.

Why was he mad? Because Richie fucking forgot it was Eddie’s birthday.

Eddie was a stickler for his birthday traditions. Every year since he was little, Richie would come over first thing in the morning scream “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, EDS” and usually throw something at him. The first year he did this, Eddie almost killed him, but the annual tradition was one of his favorites.

Last year Richie got his hands on a blow horn, which promptly got him banned from Eddie’s house for a month. “I just wanted to blow your son, Mrs. K.” Richie had said innocently. Eddie remembered putting his hands in his face, red as a tomato. Somehow (And thank fuck for it), his mother did not get the joke and simply threw Richie out of the house.

That was before they even started dating, or making out, or whatever they were doing. They really had not said whether they were TOGETHER together but knew they didn’t want to be with anyone else except each other. So basically exclusive without saying the words.

Today, however, the last thing Eddie wanted to do was be around Richie. When Eddie woke up normal, without any disturbing wake-up calls, he thought he had gotten the date wrong.

So he got dressed in a yellow polo, jeans and a sweater, grabbed his backpack and fanny pack then ran downstairs. His mother had cooked all his favorite breakfast foods and there was a cake that read “Happy 16th Birthday” on it. Now he was starting to get nervous. Did something happen to Richie? Maybe he was sick. Eddie fought the urge to pick up the phone and call his house. He sat down, eating ravenously at the eggs, bacon, biscuits, and cake until he thought his stomach would explode. His mother handed him a lunch box with extra cake inside. He kissed her on the cheek and went out the door to grab his bike.

When he arrived at school, Bill was parking his bike at the rack taking out a container of coffee to drink. Bill had been drinking coffee since they were kids, so he usually had 2-3 cups day. He claims it calms his nerves. Bill saw Eddie approaching, “Happy Sweet 16, Eddie! Any chance you got a c-car so we can move on from bikes?” Bill had one of the sweetest smiles in their group. They always seemed rare that Eddie really appreciated receiving a genuine Bill Denbrough smile.

Eddie grinned back, “Thanks, Big Bill and no such luck for us!” Bill handed him a present that was poorly wrapped with a card on top. The card had a hand drawn picture of all the losers as superheroes. Eddie in front as still the shortest in the gang, his hair neat and a big E on the chest of his suit. Bill gave them all masks and capes except for Richie’s drawing, which had him without glasses on.

“If Richie truly didn’t have glasses as a superhero, he would surely get us all killed.” Eddie laughed and he wondered again if Richie was going to be in homeroom.

“Yeah, but in this world, his g-guh-glasses hide his tr-true identity,” Bill looked at his handy work.

“Sure, give the asshole of the group Superman’s thing. That won’t inflate his ego more.” Eddie said sarcastically. He stuffed the present in his backpack unceremoniously, then grabbed one of his folders and placed the card inside so it would not wrinkle as much.

Ben arrived at the rack almost crashing into Eddie, then said a quick, “Hey guys!” Out of breath from riding super fast. He took a moment to calm himself, “So Eddie, I have a gift for you but some of the 12th graders started to chase me this morning and…” Ben pulled out a slightly squashed model of the Barrens. It had tons of detail from the rocks to the plants, to the miniature scale character pieces of the Losers Club.

Eddie was so touched. Ben had really come along way with his models, “This is amazing Ben! It doesn’t even matter that it’s squished.” Eddie turned it every which way to analyze the work. He did not have the patience to make something like this, let alone the organization that must go into perfecting every detail. Eddie was far too scatterbrained for that.

“Why the barrens though?” Eddie asked.

“Because that’s where we became friends.” Ben looked a little embarrassed.

“T-technically, it was in an alleyway as Eddie p-p-patched you up before you died of aids.” They both looked at Bill, who just stared at them, daring them to prove him wrong. Then they all burst into laughter. Eddie’s sides were hurting from how much he was laughing.

The 15-minute bell rang and the boys headed inside. Eddie attempted to carefully put the model in his backpack. “Did either of you see Richie when coming in today?”

Ben shifted uncomfortably and Bill kept his eyes suspiciously away from Eddie’s face.

“Nope, didn’t see him. I was being chased.” Ben said quickly, “Oh, I think I see those 12th graders, I’m going to hustle to class.” Ben proceeded to jog awkwardly down the hall. “I should g-g-go,” Bill said unconvincingly. “Bye.”

Well, that seemed weird.

Is Richie keeping something from me? Oh god…does he want to break up? Bill and Richie are so close, he probably told Bill before telling Eddie. This would become the worst birthday if his thoughts were right.

“Eddie!” Mike came rushing down the hall, “I got you THE best gift.” Mike handed over an envelope with a sloppily written ‘Eddie is an old fart’ on the front. Before Eddie could open it, Mike burst out excitedly, “It’s a voucher to get 7 tickets to ANY movie you want at the Aladdin Theater!”

“NO WAY,” Eddie grinned at his friend, then looked at the stupid writing on the envelope, “Mike, I thought I could count on you to be the serious friend. The only one who won’t tease me.” Eddie said dramatically.

“I think Richie’s flair for the dramatics is rubbing off on you.” Mike chuckled. Eddie rolled his eyes skyward, “Oh fuck. Let’s not let that happen.”

“I’ll be your personal ‘We can only handle one Richie in the group’ check-in. Also, you know full well that I tease you one day of the year. Specifically about your age, always on your birthday. Why do I do this to you?” He gestured for Eddie to speak.

“Because I deserve the abuse at least once a year,” Eddie answered knowingly.

“Exactly!” Mike cupped Eddie on the shoulder.

Eddie’s knees buckled from the impact. Working at his family’s farm and sports was making Mike too strong. “Thank you for the incredible gift. This must have cost several weeks of allowance.”

“Not at all! Been working overtime for my pops, so he gave me extra this past month and I had some help. You just have to take us all with you of course.”

“Oh…this is awkward. I was going to take the other 6 friends I have that mean the world to me.” Eddie tried to hold a straight face but broke into a grin. Mike chuckled some more then looked at his watch.

“Homeroom is soon, we better go.” The boys continued down the hall. Mike picked up the pace and with his much longer legs, rounding the corner toward their class faster.

“And Mike, have you seen Rich -” But he was caught off just as he was about to turn the corner to catch up. He felt his arm being grabbed roughly. Eddie’s heart started pounding from the surprise. He was going to get beat up on his birthday, just great. He was pushed backward into the wall, his backpack cushioning the impact and definitely crushing Ben and Bill’s gifts more. His arm was pinned, and another hand grabbed his hip. He felt chapped lips hit his own and his eyes landed on the assailant.

Eddie relaxed into the kiss with relief, closing his eyes. Richie smelled of his usual cigarettes and candy. The candy seemed to be something fruity, which Eddie could only tell was cherry after Richie coaxed his mouth open. As they deepened the kiss, the usual butterflies swarmed in Eddie’s stomach.

It suddenly occurred to Eddie that Richie was just fine. Not sick or dying, completely normal. Eddie’s brain woke up before getting carried away and he bit Richie’s lip. “OW EDS,” Richie said drawing back, he ran his middle finger over his bottom lip, and stared at the smear of red on it for several seconds. “You bit me,” he said, sounding astonished.

Eddie crossed his arms in front of him. He glared opening his mouth about to tell Richie off for worrying him and forgetting a certain person’s birthday when he thought better of it and shut his mouth.

Richie kept looking at him confused, a flicker of a smirk coming on, “Are you mad about something?”

Eddie’s eyebrows rose incredulously, waiting for Richie to catch on. The taller boy just kept his face neutral and unblinking, trying to start a staring contest. Eddie could hit that stupid face if he was a violent person. Instead, he readjusted his backpack, combed a hand through his hair and walked away. Not speaking to Richie would be more punishment then yelling at him.

Richie would probably convince Eddie to forgive him immediately if he did speak and Eddie was not ready to be that kind. He preferred being petty sometimes.

He almost made it to class before Richie caught up with him. “You know,” He said with a teasing tone, “Not talking to me is pretty childish. Being short and the youngest of our group doesn’t mean you have to behave like a kid.”

Eddie ignored the bait and opened the door to their class just as the school bell rang.

The rest of the day…WAS HILARIOUS.

Richie, being the attention seeker he is, was constantly and incessantly trying to make Eddie talk to him.

During homeroom, he tried flirting.

“Hey Eddie, what’s that on your face?!” Richie exclaimed in a whisper. Eddie looked up from his book with a stony expression. “Oh my god! It’s just your beautiful eyes!” Richie batted his long, dark eyelashes. Eddie took his book and hid behind it.

“Don’t hide your beauty from the world!” Then a student nearby shushed them and Richie fell silent.

As they left homeroom for their next classes, Richie moved onto his classic: your mother jokes.

“Your mother’s had the clap so many times her doctor treats her for applause.” He said raising his hand up to Mike for a hive five but keeping his eyes on Eddie. Mike shook his head laughing a little and did not return the gesture. Eddie kept on walking to get to his next class.

During lunch Eddie would converse with everyone except Richie, which proved hard since he sat so close to Eddie on the bench, he might as well be on his lap. In fact, one of his legs was slung over Eddie’s but he kept ignoring him.

“Stan and I baked you a cake!” Beverly said excitedly.

“You didn't…” Eddie looked at Stan who beamed at him, handing over a carefully wrapped package with a bow tied perfectly on top.

Richie laughed at the present, “I see Stan the man took advantage of wrapping the gift, but it’s a cake. He’s just going to tear it apart and eat it all.”

“I made sure to poison it on the section you give Richie,” Stan mumbled glaring at Richie.

“Oh he’s not getting any,” Eddie replied.

“OH, MY GOD! You all heard it. He spoke to me.” Richie pointed at the group who just tried to avoid the tension.

“I don’t think that counts because he said it to Stan.” Beverly ventured with a hesitant smile. They were all trying to be cheerful but it was hard when Eddie’s enthusiasm was forced.

They all dug into the cake. Which was half chocolate and half vanilla. The icing was made from scratch, easily the tastiest thing Eddie had ever experienced. Richie watched everyone clearly hurt. He removed his leg from Eddie’s and shifted over so that they stopped touching. Eddie stiffened at this, almost venturing to speak to Richie but he could not do it. Richie STILL had not acknowledged his birthday. Eddie had no idea what the kid was playing at but it was not fun or funny.

He rose from his seat and all eyes went to him, “I think I’ll head to class early. I’ll see you all after school and we can head to the park then grab dinner.” Eddie picked up his lunch box and pushed the rest of the cake toward Richie before leaving the group.

He got to his locker, did the combination, and got smacked in the face with confetti and glitter raining down on him.

“What the fuck?!” He sputtered and spit out the confetti. He removed the confetti from his hair looking at the explosion of birthday decorations in his locker. His eyes landed on a card.

He picked up the card and the front read: To my favorite superhero, you deserve to have your face plastered on every cereal box in town.

The writing was obviously Richie’s. He opened the card and taped to the inside was a gold cereal box ring. Eddie had lost the one he used to have years ago. He took it off the card, placing the ring on his right pinky.

“Hey, Eddie. Let’s g-g-go.” Eddie turned around to see Bill.

“Bill, what’s going on?” Eddie asked confused but with a huge smile on his face.

“Oh, you know Richie. He couldn’t just throw you a simple p-p-party.” Bill grabbed Eddie by the elbow, closing the locker.

“We have class!” Eddie protested slightly.

Bill yanked harder on his arm, steering him away from the confetti-strewn ground. “Nope. Ben forged notes.”

“He did?!” This was so out of character, Eddie could not believe his rule-abiding friend would do such a thing.

“R-R-Richie promised to tutor him in math. He’s the only one with an A in the class.” Bill shrugged. Eddie let himself be taken down the hall and out of the school. They walked along for about 10 minutes before Eddie realized they were going to the Barrens.

“We haven’t been down there in forever,” Eddie whispered nervously.

“It’s ok, Eddie,” Bill squeezed his arm reassuringly. “We’ll keep each other safe like always.”

When they got to the Barrens, Ben was there with a banner that read ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY EDS!’ “Ben, how dare you hold that monstrosity. Eds is not my name!” But Eddie was smiling from ear to ear without a real care. “He’s such a dick.” Shaking his head thinking about Richie painting this.

Ben grinned, “Fits since his name IS Richie.” With Bill’s help, they folded up the banner. Then Ben took out a piece of paper.

“Richie commissioned me to write this,” Ben said importantly.

Eddie laughed at that, “What could he possibly pay you with?”

“Mostly in candy and the promise of an A in math,” Ben cleared his throat,

“I come with no wrapping or pretty pink bows.

I am who I am from my head to my toes.

I tend to get loud when speaking my mind.

Even a little crazy most of the time.

I’m certainly not perfect and don’t care to be.

You can be you and I can be me.

I try to stay strong when pain knocks me down.

And the times that I cry is when no one’s around.

To error is human or so that’s what they say.

Well, tell me who’s perfect anyway.”

Eddie stayed silent at first. His eyes looked up and blinked quickly holding back unshed tears. He managed to say a soft, “Thanks, Ben.”

“Your poetry is getting r-r-really good!” Bill said appreciatively. “Ok, next stop.”

“How long is this gift?” Eddie could not believe how much work had clearly gone into this.

“Oh, just wait,” Ben said excitedly. Eddie followed them away from the Barrens. Ben handed Eddie the poem and he placed it in his backpack.

They headed toward a park that was a usual hangout for all of them. Especially when Richie and Beverly want to smoke weed and talk about life. Eddie usually did not smoke unless he was really stressed out, those years thinking about how smoking is bad for your lungs when you have asthma does not go away. He may not actually have asthma, but he still carries around his inhaler out of habit.

In the distance, he could see Stan and Beverly running around setting up some kind of picnic. There was a blanket with an assortment of food. Beverly turned on Richie’s portable radio, while Stan meticulously set and reset all the food. As they approached, Stan looked up in alarm, he heard him say, “Abort the balloons! We are out of time.”

“What!” Shouted Mike from behind a tree, “I took the time to throw out the red ones and have been blowing up the rest as fast as I can! They are happening.”

“Ok, so where is Richie hiding?” Eddie asked laughing at his friends. Eddie felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned around, Richie was dressed in a white button-up shirt and black slacks. He had clearly tried to comb and calm his curls, but they had not stayed contained very well.

“Hey Eddie,” Richie smirked at Eddie’s reaction, which he knew must be one of utter shock.

“You look…amazing,” Eddie said quietly. “You could have at least TOLD me to dress up too! I look like crap.” He looked down at his green shorts and yellow polo shirt in dismay.

“You always look great,” Richie shrugged. “Didn’t think it mattered. Anyway, not what’s important right now. Beverly if you would.”

Beverly came over to Eddie and handed him a shirt. He unfolded it. It was a replica of the superhero shirt, Bill had drawn of him with the E on it. There were gold flecks outlining the letter. The shirt was red with a purple E, his favorite color combination. “You made this?!”

“Put it on!” She urged. He quickly took his polo off throwing it at no one in particular, then put the superhero shirt on.

“Guys, this is all amazing. Thank you so so much.” Eddie felt tears coming on and quickly wiped at his eyes. “God, I’m so fucking sappy today.”

“Don’t become soft on us!” Stan told him.

Richie clapped his hands together, “Ok! Let’s eat, it’s getting dark.” They all gathered around and ate, laughing and teasing Eddie about being old. Mike laid out balloons around the group with pride.

“So did you all come up with this big charade?” Eddie finally asked.

“Mostly Richie, he wanted you to feel like a superhero,” Ben responded.

“Cause you’re my hero every day.” Richie grinned. At that, he took out a bottle of cheap wine he probably nicked from his parents’ and poured out cups for everyone.

“Raise a glass to Eddie,” Richie gazed into Eddie’s eyes. They were bright as the sun to him and kinder than ever. “You’re my best friend and in front of all our other best friends I want to officially call you my boyfriend, unless you object, but be warned I’m a fragile being.” Eddie shoved Richie but did not object. “It’s been hard to say boyfriend mostly because, at home, things aren’t great. I don’t tell you all too much about it because I WANT to be the friend who keeps it light and happy. I think the only person with any idea is Bill who has walked in on unfortunate family drama in the past. But -“ Richie put down his drink and took both of Eddie’s hands to hold. “I want to be there for you when things get hard just as I know you will be there for me. Ben wrote his poem by me talking about how much I think I’m not good enough for you.”

“Richie -“ Eddie squeezed the other boy’s hands.

“I’m serious Eddie. I’m not. I’m selfish to take someone off the market who is as great as you. So I want to thank you for everything. Here’s to you and whatever happens next.” Eddie kissed Richie full on the mouth while the gang took a drink, whooping and hollering. Richie smiled pulling Eddie’s head in closer. They parted and took drinks from the cups of wine.

The rest of the group started to pick up their various things giving Eddie hugs and asking him how the birthday turned out, “It was perfect, you losers are all perfect.” They eventually trickled away leaving Richie and Eddie to be by themselves.

Eddie said his last goodbye and slowly walked over to Richie with a big grin on his face. Richie was lounging on the blanket with his legs stretched out, finishing off Bill’s barely drunk wine. He made a sour face, “I should have grabbed something better.” Eddie stood above him gazing down at Richie in a rare moment of sweetness, “Nah, then your parents would have noticed.” Eddie kicked Richie’s shoe, and the boy glanced up. He guessed what Eddie wanted and parted his legs. Eddie turned around and sat between Richie’s legs, leaning against his torso. Richie put down the drink and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s middle. He took Eddie’s hand with the ring and admired it for a moment, then kissed his cheek.

“Sooooooo, do I get an apology?” Richie mocked.

Eddie ran his hands over Richie’s arms softly, “And why, pray tell, would you deserve that?”

“Because you wouldn’t talk to me ALL DAY. It was excruciating.” Richie whined.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Would you like some cheese with that whine, attention whore? You acted like you forgot my birthday. As you now know, I hate that shit.”

“My good SIR! I am no whore! I am a proper lady,” Richie said in a terrible southern belle impression.

“Beep Beep Richie.” Eddie said softly.

Richie chuckled then said in his regular voice, “I was going to come surprise you, as usual, this morning, but I got held up…” Eddie waited patiently for Richie to go on. He just kept running circles along the arms that surrounded him, looking at his gold pinky ring. This seemed to help Richie relax. “My mom got really really drunk last night. When I tried to wake her this morning…she would not move. As in, I was worried she was…ya know. I finally got her out of bed and in the shower when I realized you were probably already at school. Then I just turned it into a game because it’s fun to mess with you.”

Eddie scoffed as Richie put his chin on his shoulder. Eddie leaned his own head against the side of Richie’s face, “What about your dad?”

Richie sighed heavily, “My Dad doesn’t give a shit about me or Mom. He may as well move out for all I care.” Eddie knew he was lying by the amount of sadness in his voice.

Eddie brought Richie’s hands to his mouth to kiss them. “Why have you never told me any of this?”

“Because it’s my problem, not yours.” He confessed.

“Your problems are my problems. I want them to be. Or at least, want you to tell me so I don’t assume it’s something else.” Eddie turned his head so they were looking at each other. “Things go a mile a minute in my head.”

“Tell me about it.” Richie laughed pushing back a stray hair from Eddie’s face, “I can only focus when you are around.” Eddie shook his head, “Lucky you. I’ve never been able to focus around you.”

Eddie’s eyes were glued to Richie’s golden brown ones like he had cast some kind of spell on him. For once, he didn’t want to make a move. Eddie was content to just stare into his eyes if that was all he wanted to do. Eddie raised a hand so he could run it through Richie’s hair. “You know that line in the poem about ‘the times that you cry are when you’re alone’?” Eddie played with Richie’s curls as he nodded in understanding. “Well, I don’t want you to ever feel alone, but if you do, you can cry to me. God knows I’ve cried to you.” Richie took a shuddering breath and then he was kissing Eddie.

Eddie readjusted so he was sideways on Richie’s lap. Richie drew him in closer; his mouth was open over Eddie’s, his tongue running gently along Eddie’s lips for permission. He opened his mouth under Richie’s, pressed up against him, arms wrapping around his neck. Richie tasted like salt, his face feeling wet, and Eddie realized Richie was actually crying. Eddie stopped the kiss, kept his arms around Richie and let his head fall in the crook of his neck, and let him cry. Richie’s arms tightened around Eddie’s waist. His sobs were silent but heartbreaking.

They didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but Eddie could have stayed for a lifetime and not notice.

At some point, Richie whispered, “Thanks, Birthday Boy.”

#reddie #Eddie Kaspbrak #richie tozier #beverly marsh #stanley uris #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #it 2017 #i am a loser #the losers club #theatregal fanfic #it movie #kissing #gay #cursing #It's Not My Fault #TheTheatregal Reddie Fanfiction #Shannon writes

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original-quill · 7 years ago

Note

writing prompts - 2 + jeanmarco :D

2 - “I know it’s 3 in the morning, but I can’t find my cat”

Jean hadn’t lived with a pet for a while. Since he had moved away from home, he had lost his sole connection with the one pet he had ever had, and that was with his angry little dog that his mom still found room in her heart for. He hardly ever spent time with the little gremlin. They hated each other too much for any kind of civility. One time, Jean had fed it when his mother was being held back at the office and the little beast almost bit his entire hand off. So he really didn’t have much experience in regards to pet-keeping.

But, recently, he found that he was considering getting a cat. It wasn’t exactly because he was lonely (he had Connie and Sasha to fill any pet-shaped void that might have grown in his heart), it was for a far less chivalrous reason and, if he was being completely honest with himself, this reason pretty much proved how much he didn’t deserve a pet.

Marco Bodt, who lived two doors down from him, absolutely adored cats and Jean, the mess of a bisexual that he was, absolutely adored Marco.

This led Jean to the only logical conclusion of getting his own cat so he could at least share a point of interest with Marco. He was getting desperate for interaction with the sweet man because their conversations had never really crossed the threshold of a nice, neighborly chat. And Jean was physically decomposing.

He was beginning to become absolutely rabid with a chance to speak with Marco again. He was just an angel amongst angels, and Jean felt blessed to be in his presence. Plus, he was handsome as all hell, and the dimples that poked into his cheeks when he smiled made Jean’s knees weak. He was just… absolutely perfect. And Jean was smitten.

His plots were reaching drastic measures. He never actually pulled any of them off, but he was seriously considering wandering into his kitchen and attempting to concoct whatever terrible excuse for a cake that he could. He even wondered if he should do the cliche thing and beg Marco for a pinch of salt because he had “run out.” Or, like Jean had said earlier, adopt a cat and then ask Marco for cat-caring tips.

These were all terrible plans, Jean knew but he was reaching the end of his embarrassing, flustered rope. There were only so many times he could push out “Hi” past his bloated tongue before he was going to die. He needed a plan for more conversation. Just a little.

And fortunately, before he could embarrass himself beyond repair, an opportunity presented itself one night when Jean was in a deep sleep and dreaming of himself and Marco surrounded by a thousand cats and angelic children that shared his good looks and Marco’s adorable freckles.

When the opportunity came, Jean was not in the least bit happy. He was so pissed off that, in fact, he was going to give whoever the hell was knocking at his door a piece of his mind instead of stewing angrily in his bed.

But, when he wrenched open the door as forcefully as he could to reveal his half-naked body and a scowl that would instantly evaporate whoever stood on the other side of his front door, he was more than surprised to be facing a very sheepish Marco.

He wouldn’t even make eye-contact with Jean, but Jean could still see the metaphorical anime sweat drops being flung from Marco’s blushing face. He was even fidgeting with a sweater that was just big enough to make sweater paws. Jean was seriously going to expire.

“Um,” Marco began. “I know it’s 3 in the morning, but I can’t find my cat.” Jean was about to open his mouth and say something undoubtedly stupid before Marco’s floodgates opened and saved him from himself. “She usually comes back every night, but I haven’t seen her since this morning. And her food is untouched and I’m panicking a little bit here. So I’m sorry for knocking on your door so late, but you seemed really nice and I thought if I would approach anyone at this time I had better start with you. But if you haven’t seen her then I’m sorry for waking you up.”

When Marco paused to inhale, Jean said. “Don’t worry, I was already awake.”

Marco wore his emotions on his sleeve, so his widened eyes and marginally raised eyebrows were a pretty good indicator of his surprise. And suddenly Jean felt stupid for telling a lie like that. It didn’t even matter, he should have just told Marco he didn’t mind, and that this was a serious situation that Jean was glad Marco approached him for. But he said something totally untrue, and now Marco thought he had probably interrupted Jean masturbating or crying into his pillow or, like, murdering someone, because what else did anyone do at three in the morning?

“Oh,” was all Marco said. And Jean was seriously going to die for an entirely different reason.

“That’s not important, though,” Jean said. Which made him sound even more creepy. Way to go, Jean. “I mean… don’t worry about it, waking me up or anything.” At least this was met with a smile. “Um, and no I haven’t seen your cat, I’m sorry.”

But Jean wondered if he would see that cat anyways if he had been looking. He had seen her in Marco’s arms, or rubbing against his ankles sometimes when they were standing around and saying their neighborly, “Hello! How are you”s. And, to put it lightly, she was the void incarnate. Her fur was so black, it looked like a little pocket of the universe had just been evaporated into nothingness and it just happened to resemble a fluffy Persian cat.

“Oh, well then I’m sorry to bother you again,” Marco said. He ducked his head and began retreating back to his apartment, ringing his hands together and biting his lip.

“Wait!” Jean said. “I… I can help you find her. If you want.” When Marco turned back to him, Jean threw some more nonsense into the air just so he could put off a catastrophe a little longer. “I mean, you’re really worried obviously. And it sucks to see you like that, and plus I really like her, she’s a cutie.” That wasn’t a total lie, at least. Jean did think the cat was cute and all, but really he had been so preoccupied with Marco he didn’t develop any strong feelings towards her one way or the other. He didn’t even know the cat’s name if he was being perfectly honest.

“I can’t ask that it’s so late…” Marco said.

“No, come on, man. You love her, we should find her.”

Marco’s shoulders sagged as the entire world finally sloughed off his shoulders. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to bother you can it can wait until tomorrow.”

“No, I doubt you’re going to get any sleep, as worried as you look right now.” They both chuckled in that awkward way that strangers and acquaintances do when they’re confronted with a worrying truth. “So let’s look.”

“If you’re sure…” Marco said.

“Yeah, just give me a sec to put my shoes on,” Jean said. He retreated into his apartment and tried to catch his breath. It was really happening. He was going to combust. Even though this wasn’t the most ideal circumstance, wandering around the streets at three in the morning was about as good a time as any to strike up a conversation with Marco.

He returned to the hallway at lightning speed. With his shoes hastily put on so that the heel was, annoyingly, partially tucked into the shoe, and his jacket slung over one arm and his keys nearly falling from his hands as he locked his door, he rejoined Marco.

“So,” Jean began. “What was your cat’s name? I don’t think you’d ever told me.” Jean was sure he had at one point, but, dammit, he had to admit defeat here.

Marco ducked his head and giggled nervously. “Frida Catlo.”

Marco really was after his heart, holy shit. “Like the artist?” Jean asked, trying his best not to shoot off into the sky. If Marco was really enough of an art hoe to name his cat after Frida Kahlo, then Jean really didn’t have to fear about them finding things to talk about.

“Yeah,” Marco said with a chuckle. “I really like art. Plus, Kahlo was really revolutionary, you know? I always kind of admired her for being herself. I think that’s part of what helped me come out, you know? So, I mean, the next logical step would be to name my cat after her.”

Seriously, Jean was falling hard and fast.

“I find a lot of comfort in art too,” Jean admitted. “I’m glad you found an artist that inspired you like that.”

Marco lit up. “So, you like art too?”

“I live and breathe it, I swear to god I came out of the womb with charcoal as fingers.”

Marco laughed. “That can’t have been good for your mother.”

“Oh, it definitely wasn’t good for her carpets, I can tell you that much.”

“So, I take it charcoal is your calling?”

Jean nodded. As they stepped out of the building, he dared to nudge Marco playfully and asked. “You?”

“I don’t really have a ‘calling’ exactly, but I do come back to watercolors a lot,” Marco said. He peered around the edge of the building and called softly, “Frida?” When no meows, or whatever else indicates a cat is close-by was forthcoming, Marco sighed and began walking to the other side of the building, Jean close by his side. “So, are you doing art, like, professionally?”

“I wish,” Jean said. “I don’t get commissions consistently enough, so I remain a desk bitch by day, art gremlin by night.”

Marco laughed. “Same here.”

When they reached the next alley, Jean was the one to call for Frida. But again, nothing. Marco was now chewing a hole through his lip and Jean was sort of beginning to get worried. What would they do if they found Frida dead somewhere? Marco didn’t deserve that.

“Don’t worry, Marco, we’ll find her.”

Marco gave him a wobbly smile. “Thanks, Jean.”

Conversation between them become a little more sporadic after this. Marco became more frantic with each alley they checked, and Jean didn’t want to distract from their search any more than he already had. He was also getting mildly panicked if he was being honest. No matter where they looked, Frida seemed nowhere to be found.

Marco sighed after what seemed like the thousandth alley they had checked. “Maybe I should just wait to look for her in the morning. It would be easier to see her anyways.”

Jean really didn’t know what to do. He wanted to keep searching for Frida almost as much as Marco did. But Marco was right, they weren’t exactly getting anywhere by looking for a black cat in the dead of night.

“I’m seriously okay to keep looking for her,” Jean said. He glanced at his phone and was astonished to find that the clock was steadily inching towards four. “Unless you’re tired then I get if you want to go to sleep.”

“I am tired, but I doubt that I would be able to sleep,” Marco said with a wobbly smile. “It’s late though and if we haven’t found her around the complex, who knows where she could have gone?”

Jean cast aside any feelings that might have hindered him in the moment and wrapped an arm around Marco’s shoulders. “Hey, even if we don’t find her tonight I’m sure she’ll be fine. I mean, come on, just think of her namesake. Anyone would know a cat with a name like that would kick ass.”

Marco laughed quietly. “Thanks for wandering around gross alley-ways with me for so long. And for cheering me up.”

“I would do that for you any night,” Jean said with a crooked smile he hoped didn’t twitch too much. While they slowly strolled towards their complex again, heads still swiveling back and forth, and eyes still wandering towards dark corners in an absent hope that Frida would reveal herself, Jean said, “So, tell me more about Frida. I really don’t know much about her, you know. You haven’t been kind enough to introduce us.”

Marco laughed. “Well, she’s kind of a perfect angel.”

“Must run in the family,” Jean said before he could lose his nerve.

Marco’s smile turned soft, and he nudged their shoulders together. Jean tried not to lose his mind when he realized Marco didn’t move away after like friends probably would.

“She’s also really needy. I can’t leave her alone for more than a couple hours before she comes knocking whatever it is that I’m working on out of my hands while throwing herself to the floor with dramatic wails.”

“Relatable.”

Marco laughed more brightly than he had the entire night and Jean’s ever softening heart flipped in his chest.

When he quieted, his smile turned into something softer. “I know it’s kind of the crazy cat person thing to say, but she really is my baby. I don’t know what I would do without her. I got her as a kitten and… she was so scared of everything. Me too, to be honest. But we found a lot of comfort with each other. And we’ve both grown out of our anxieties together. We really needed one another.”

Jean really tried not to cry. This man in front of him was the most deserving of happiness and he seriously deserved to see Frida again. Both that cat and this man deserved to be reunited.

So when they finally trudged up the stairs to their floor, Jean waved Marco off into his apartment, waited for an acceptable number of minutes, and then snuck into the night once more to find Frida Catlo.

He wandered farther than Marco and he had gone together, and it took actual hours. It was nearly five in the morning, and the sky was beginning to glow in the very, very beginnings of morning light when he found a beautiful black Persian sniffing at some garbage.

Jean could have shouted for joy, but as it was, he approached the cat with the utmost caution. Minutes of coercing her to come closer paid off when he scooped her up to finally get a good look at her rhinestone collar and found her name and address proudly displayed on her tag.

“I found you!” Jean said, nuzzling his face into Frida’s soft fur. “Marco’s going to be so happy to see you, trust me, girl, you really gave him a scare there.”

With his newfound treasure, Jean trotted as quickly as he could back to his apartment and frantically knocked on Marco’s door. It would definitely be a nuisance to their other neighbors, but honestly Jean didn’t even know their names and he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He cared even less about what they thought of the early-morning racket when Marco’s door swung open and revealed his beaming face, eyes nearly overflowing with tears as he realized what was cradled in Jean’s arms.

“You found her?” Marco said, gently taking her from Jean. He sniffled into her fur and smiled at Jean, with his cheek still resting against Frida’s back. It was the perfect picture. And all joking aside, Jean could seriously see himself falling in love with the man that stood in front of him.

“She was sniffing through the trash like the lady she is,” Jean reported. He smiled crookedly. “I couldn’t really leave the search in good conscience when I knew you were sitting in your apartment all alone, worried sick.”

“Thank you so, so much Jean, oh my god,” Marco breathed. “I’ll bake you a thousand cookies for this.”

Jean laughed. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Marco smiled and then moved to close his door, lavishing kisses all over Frida’s scrunched face. But just before the door closed, Marco’s eyes popped open and he inched the door open again.

“Um, if you don’t want to the cookies, there’s a second option,” Marco said. “I mean – I know this is a little forward, we hardly know each other and – and it was kind of an emotionally turbulent evening, at least for me, and I don’t know if this timing is weird or something, but then again you did just spend hours searching for my cat for me, so I’m really hoping you feel the same way but – but I mean if you don’t want the cookies, I definitely wouldn’t mind going on a date with you.”

Jean’s mouth remained open for all the flies who waited around for idiots like him to leave themselves at their mercy, and it took at least a solid minute for him to pick up his brain from where it was heaving its last breaths on the floor at his feet. But, eventually, he did actually manage to say, “Yeah – yes! A date, I would – would love that.”

“Okay,” Marco said with a grin that put the sun and whatever the hell else the universe classified as “bright” to shame. He really was so beautiful. “Okay, I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah,” Jean said. He undoubtedly had the most love-struck smile on his face, but he could hardly bring himself to care when he floated to his door and turned to see Marco still smiling at him softly from his cracked door. Jean was really, seriously, falling to his death.

#jeanmvrco #jeanmarco #snk #oneshot funshot #my writing #this one was fun holy shit #and also it's a monstrosity that i intended to be less than 1k and morphed into 3k before i could even blink

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theworstbob · 8 years ago

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the thing journal, 6.18.2017 - 6.24.2017

the things i watched or listened to last week. in this post: i’ll keep you in mind, from time to time; the bridge; henri; under your spell; the last man on earth; beautiful thugger girls; into the maelstrom; makes me sick; truth is a beautiful thing; blind; the taking of pelham one two three; big fish theory; wolves

1) I'll Keep You in Mind, from Time to Time, by Moose Blood: One day I'll remember to write down what I think about an album when I listen to it on my computer and I literally have WordPad open in another visible window. It was a great time, it's a dope emo album and I'm the sort of person that will listen to emo in 2017 and describe it as "dope," and I apologize we're starting this off with me forgetting how I reacted to something.

2) The Bridge, dir. Eric Steel: a wonderful documentary about the golden gate bridge and the people who use it! you and your family will never look at the full house credits the same way again! This is a difficult film to review because it's a difficult film to watch. There is footage of people jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge, there are interviews with people who either knew someone who jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge or, in one instance, are someone who jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge, the throughline of the film is someone pacing back and forth along the bridge, struggling with the decision, not sure what they want to do. It's a brutal watch. And it has to be, it would have been irresponsible if this film tried to romanticize suicide, if it tried to present the jumpers as heroes flying to freedom. The people being interviewed say the jumpers were trapped in the prisons of their own heads, never quite found stability in this world, but those people are also clearly affected by the choice the jumpers made, are left wondering or, worse, knowing what they could have done better.

3) Henri, dir. Yolande Moreau: gpsh this movie took forever to get where it needed to go, and then when it got there, it didn't really do anything. i dunno, i guess i just never got on its level. i never quite figured out if the dude's relationship with the butterfly was condescending or creepy or if i was meant to think it was adorable that this mess of a man kept hanging out with the poor young woman, i could never tell if the film was sympathetic to its characters or if i was meant to laugh at those pitiful souls (it's a french film, so probably "laugh at" more than “laugh with”), and it didn't seem to take any of its characters problems seriously. i dunno, it just didn't seem like a film that needed to be made, it didn't seem to be saying anything about friendship or society or whatever, it just presented some idiots and said "make of this what you will." maybe i'm missing something, but i don't think i am? (also i signed up for Mubi. this is worth mentioning, that i signed up for a service that will present me with various foreign films and documentaries, so. look out for that, i guess.)

4) Under Your Spell, by The Birthday Massacre: shout outs to everyone who listened to this band because of game grumps There are moments on this album I can only describe as nu-metally; there are instrumental breaks on "Counterpane" that sound directly lifted from mainstream rock radio in 2003, straight-up Chevelle vibes in 2017. What The Birthday Massacre understands, though, is that 2003 has a place in 2017, and that's as color to the 1980s, and they somehow use buttrock to make their Depeche Mode-y song more interesting, feel different than it had on Superstition. The Birthday Massacre know how to make great rock songs, and it's so nice to know music like this is still being made in 2017. (Words used in this review include "nice" and "interesting." I swear I'm trying.)

5) The Last Man on Earth s2, cr. Will Forte: Binging this show may be a mistake, since the main character is so misanthropic and gross and none of the characters are good people. (Except Carol, who is trying her best all the time to just be as darn nice as possible, Kristen Schaal kinda carries this show.) It's not that I'm not impressed by this show, it's a really solid show, I just question whether I'm enjoying it. Or maybe I'm just not paying attention, I dunno, we've been over how bad I am at watching things. I loved the integration of Jason Sudeikis into the group and thought he and Will Forte played well as a successful younger brother and fuck-up older brother, like the perfect use of Jason Sudeikis is as a handsome and charming foil to a Will Forte type, and I liked Todd's slow evolution into a legit jerk, it's good! I like it! I shouldn't be consuming this in one gulp.

6) Beautiful Thugger Girls, by Young Thug: The Young Thug brand of trap is my preferred brand, for two reasons. One, Young Thug has an insane voice, and I don't mean that his songs are written from the vantage point of a crazy person, I mean that Young Thug makes these fucking mouthnoises that I was unaware a human could make. Every Young Thug song is an exploration of what his vocal chords can create. Two, Young Thug doesn't just make trap. There's a strong sense of artistic identity on his records, and that lets him play around in other genres, like, there's legit country influence on this record. It's not as towering a work as Jeffery, but few things in this world are; this is Young Thug taking some time to figure out the places he can take himself, and it is a thrill to listen to him explore his abilities.

7) Into the Maelstrom, by Bigelf: There comes a time when you need to set aside ego, forget whatever goals you've set, and admit that something is beyond your ken. I stopped listening to this halfway through. It's a prog album that didn't even have an incredible opener, just an okay one, and the rest I found interminable. I thought we were compatable. Y'know? I usually like prog. I usually like albums that start with a song called "Incredible Time Machine" and follow that up with "Hypersleep." But, like, I dunno, this just wasn't fun to listen to, like, there's no acknowledgement that "Incredible Time Machine" is a silly thing to name a song. My favorite prog bands are aware of how nonsense prog is and embrace it, but this took itself a tad too seriously for my liking. Which isn't to say it wasn't good, just that I didn't want to spend more time in this space, like by the time you get to the third six+-minute-long song of the album, you realize this is time you could've spent listening to "Style" on repeat, or something.

8) Makes Me Sick, by New Found Glory: Yes hello hi welcome to The Thing Journal, where we review French cinema and New Found Glory albums like they're the same thing. For me, current New Found Glory is like finding a sweater I haven't worn in months, putting it on, feeling insanely good about how I look in that sweater, and then not wearing that sweater for another year.It's a comfortable and uncomplicated album, like hell yeah, I'm here for a song about staying indoors during the summer, you made this song just for me!

9) Truth Is a Beautiful Thing, by London Grammar: Early frontrunner for The Hotelier Award for "Album I Don't Completely Understand But Am Aware Moved Me Deeply." Like, you know that Parks & Rec episode, where Tom commissions an abstract art piece, and as he stares at $20 of art, he realizes he's deeply affected by the way the shapes interact and flow, but can't describe what he's feeling or what he's looking at? That's how I feel listening to this album. I don't know what it is about this particular brand of ethereal dream-like pop that left me floored on the bus ride home, I don't know what I actually felt as the woman crooned over the simple-but-expansive soundscapes, but here I am, trying to figure out what I listened to ("simple-but-expansive soundscapes" is the fifth draft of that phrase) and what emotion was stirred within me. This was so cool. How is it so cool? Ugh I hate that I keep complaining about how I'm bad at describing music but Criticism Santa never ever visits MY TREE'S UP, DUDE. I'M WAITING. WE CAN MAKE THIS HAPPEN AT ANY POINT.

10) Blind, by Eskil Vogt: I think I got half an hour deep into this film when I realized I wanted to see this again. The way this film plays with the reality of blindness, how it gives you the sense of the main character's read of the situation before she hears a noise and realizes there's something different entirely, it's just so fucking cool. It reminded me a lot of Charlie Kaufman, and while I can't be 100% sure it's a warranted comparison and not a comparison I'm making because I have a limited frame of reference, but just the way it explored the blind woman's mind, how the story she was writing changed as she felt worse about her blindness, how she got crueler and crueler to the blind character as she felt worse and worse about herself, the way this film dissected loneliness, it's all these things I've come to associate with Kaufman and all these things I love to see in film. It's such a quality film, legit my only gripe is that everyone talked so low and softly, I honestly couldn't tell if the film was going for a low-key vibe or if the Norwegian language is just people muttering at and somehow understading each other. So it's entirely possible my main problem with this film is the Norwegian language, which honestly sounds like a mess, what's up Norway, how come none of y'all enunciate.

11) The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, dir. Joseph Sargent: I don't usually like things about New York City because 50% of all things are set in New York City and it's really hard to use New York City in a unique way. Everything is set in New York City, y'know? I more than understand that New York City is the greatest city in the world. The other 7000 TV shows I have seen about New York City have made this abundantly clear, I don't necessarily need you to chime in on this front. This film, though, this film is awesome. This was like the thing I kept wanting Brooklyn Nine Nine to be, a thriller with incredible comedy, like this is straight-up the funniest film I've seen in weeks (Bob we know what you've been watching you haven't seen a comedy in weeks we don't think) shhhhhhhAnd the comedy is mostly derived from the way the film uses New York. At the outset, no one is as concerned about the people on the train than about how the trains aren't running on time, like it's way more important that the subway runs on schedule than it is that the train not get hijacked. Like, so many people in this film treat this like just another day of New York's bullshit, the research department taking as long as they usually do to create the list of names, traffic impeding the delivery of money to the train. I loved it so so much.

12) Big Fish Theory, by Vince Staples: Vince Staples is a rapper whose projects demand attentive listening, multiple listens to grasp everything that he's going for, so of course I listened to this once on a walk and am throwing it in between a 40-year-old movie and an okay punk album. I have no doubt that the second listen will be rewarding, that I'll unlock what's great about this album and connect to it, and it's not like I didn't enjoy my first listen, Vince Staples is great at what he does and makes music that can be enjoyed even when being skimmed through, but there's so much going on, abrasive dark production and meticulously crafted lyrics, that I know I didn't catch everything. I caught a lot -- imagine not immediately understanding like "BagBak" is going for -- but Vince Staples is on that Kendrick/Danny Brown/RTJ level where he makes work that demands its audience's full attention while still being something the audience can enjoy.

13) Wolves, by Rise Against: The album opens with "Light all the torches and wake up the King/The smoke you've ignored is a flame you can't contain," which is a predictable way for Rise Against to say "I told you so," but, as previously discussed, Rise Against has as much of a right as anyone to say "I told you so" a thousand times. The main problem I have with this album is that it doesn't feel markedly different from the rest of their catalogue. There isn't any acknowledgement that there's more of a sense of urgency in these times than there was previously -- things were still bad in the last few years, but it wasn't "let's elect a monster" bad -- but Rise Against is putting out the same album they've always put out, fire and brimstone here, glossy pop-influenced single material there, the only difference being that they'll now acknowledge that they've always been right. Like, it might have been worth exploring the space they glimpsed on "Bullshit," which is a song where they are 100% excoriating their listener base for not doing enough ("Oh no, please don't life a finger, don't get up, just sit right there/Don't worry about the thoughts inside your pretty little head"), try to analyze the current situation so that, when Rise Against says it's time to fight, there's actual strategy involved? But this is fine, standard Rise Against is usually fine. Ugh, the Trump administration isn't even leading to better punk music, THEY SAID THE MUSIC WOULD BE BETTER. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY SILVER LINING.

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acollectionofsterek · 8 years ago

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What I read the other week

Since I keep falling behind with this. But as usual some re-reads, new for me and just Sterek in general! Go read and kudos and comment on things you enjoy!

2/1/17-8/1/17

The Great Gingerbread Bake-Off by mikkimouse | Teen | Summary: This was the seventh year Derek was competing in the gingerbread house competition at the Beacon Hills Holiday Festival, and he'd taken first place for three of those years. The other three years, Stiles had won, each time with even more ridiculous rude gestures and lewd winks in Derek's direction.Derek was bound and determined to take first place this year, and put a halt to Stiles's current winning streak.

Wood and Nails by rabbitxheart | Mature | Summary: ”The five stages of grief,” Stiles nods and sighs. They've both seen it, been through it. Heard them repeated by therapist after therapist. Stiles doesn't say anything, but they both know which one Derek's slipped into by now.***When things calm down in Beacon Hills, all the things Derek hasn't dealt with come back with a vengeance. Stiles does his best to help him.

Grey Rainbow by LoveActually_rps | Mature | Summary: “Stiles?” Derek glanced at Stiles’ sleeping form. He didn’t even twitch. Derek continued. “If we…” his lips curved in a fond smile, fingers moving to smooth the creases of Stiles’ eyebrows, his voice coming as whisper. “... as in, you and me - If we get a chance someday… any day, to be together, y’know? I wouldn't mind you wooing me with flowers and all that cliched romantic shit. And you can even flirt with me. I approve.” He gazed at Stiles’ calm face for a long while before drifting off into quiet slumber with the sound of Stiles’ soft snoring in the background. [aka, after pinning for his best friend for four years, Derek learns his teenage crush is easy, but his life isn’t]

I Feel We're Close Enough by samann98 | Explicit | Summary: Derek's two friends share a look and even Boyd can’t muster up the strength to deal with his pathetic attempt at denial. “Come on now, Derek, seriously? We know about you and Stiles.”“Yeah, we know you two are fuck buddies,” Erica adds with a smirk, and Derek buries his head in his hands.“That’s not exactly the terminology I would use,” he murmurs, his whole face burning with embarrassment.“How else would you describe having sex with your best friend who has no clue you’re in love with him?” Boyd asks, actually sounding curious about his answer.Derek lifts his head, opens his mouth to reply, but only ends up making a few ridiculous noises that can’t pass for actual words. When Derek finally just throws his hands up in defeat, admitting, “Okay, fine, that’s exactly how you’d describe it,” Erica and Boyd shake their heads at him.Or the one in which Derek and Stiles are childhood friends, their freshman year of high school Derek makes the craziest suggestion ever, and four years later Stiles decides to take him up on it.

Talk Geeky to Me by stilesanderek (minxxx) | Explicit | Summary: Derek and Stiles are the most typical combo of nerd plus geek two teenage boys could be; and as stereotypical as they could ever get, they're each other's only friend. That usually doesn't bother Stiles much, Derek is the best best friend he could ever hope to have, but sometimes when he thinks about his fate of possibly not having his first kiss until college, he starts wishing he had a few more friends--or at least more people who were a bit more interested in him other than when they need to copy his notes.In a fit of curiosity about how kissing feels like, Stiles proposes Derek that they each be the other's first kiss--strictly platonic, of course. But afterwards, Stiles can't stop noticing how hot Derek is, can't stop thinking about kissing and touching him.ORThe five times Derek and Stiles "fake" kiss and one time they take things further.

Nothing But Trouble by charlesdk | Teen | Summary: Stiles and Scott, smugglers, come across an abandoned ship in the middle of nowhere. While looting the ship for goods and valuables, they find an unconscious crew member, who turns out to be a prince. With bounty hunters on their asses, they fly across the galaxy in search for the prince's lost family.

Hello it’s me by hales-republic

Just to See You Again by MellytheHun | Explicit | Summary: A sterek college!AU where writing student Stiles specializes in love letters, runs a blog about it and can be commissioned to write love letters on behalf of lovers who are at a loss for words.He makes some cash, he’s good at what he does (especially when he gets to be a little more explicit in his letters), it pays for his textbooks and that’s all he’s really looking for and life is fine. That is, until someone anonymously commissions him to write a love letter to mathematics student, Derek Hale.

Professional Werewolf Witch by reptilianraven | Gen | Summary: "Are you going to buy anything else?" Professional Eyebrows says and Stiles would like to buy him. A cup of coffee. On a date.He just ends up pointing at the crate of whatever the fuck is behind Professional Eyebrows' head and says, "Uh, a box of that stuff."P.E. turns, glances at the crate, and raises an eyebrow at Stiles. "You want a box of charmed rattlesnake tail?" God, magic is so fucking weird. "Yeah." Stiles nods because he's making an ass out of himself. The hipster vampire browsing in the corner is not so subtly laughing at him. The sooner he leaves the better.- The one where Derek Hale is a Professional Werewolf Witch who owns a magic shop and Stiles fails at being smooth on a regular basis.

You spin me right round by sterek8night

Freckles, Moles and Teacup Stalls by baeberiibungh | Gen | Summary: Stiles, Dean and Will share three adjoining stalls at the farmer’s market, where they sell their spouse made wares…

Hitman's conscience by lightsfillthesky | not rated | Summary: ‘I’m meant to kill you but I’ve been watching you for a week to work out how and you’re just too nice.’ AU

The Potential Fatality of Assuming by crossroadswrite | Gen | Summary: The hair, the buttons and the general happy and slightly tired disposition with which Derek came back from his secret exploits were as obvious as a glaring neon sign flashing the words JUST GOT LAID. A sign that Stiles ignored because he had a seven year plan god damn it. (OR: in which Stiles assumes things, gets accosted by the sister he never/always wanted, discovers he was horribly wrong, almost dies via Derek Hale with kids, can't handle all that collarbone action, uses tickling as the ultimate mode of revenge, and gets a boyfriend. In that order.)

Not So Super by charlesdk | Teen | Summary: Superman has a crush on Stiles. How does Stiles know? Well, there's the fact that he can't do his damn job without Superman swooping in and saving the day. And there's the fact that he sticks around and chats him up afterward too. Stiles is a cop and knows how to read signs, so it's not just him being full of himself.It's flattering, sure, but Superman is boring and Stiles has no interest in him. No, he much prefers the dorky reporter Derek Hale.

Tumblr fic by nevillelongbottom Summary: sterek prompt: derek/stiles sees the other in a gay bar with someone else hitting on them and derek/stiles looks uncomfortable so the other goes and pretends to be their boyfriend to save them

Like what you see? by cloudyskiesandcurlyfries | Not rated | Summary: here’s some fluff, bed sharing, fake/pretend relationships, friends to lovers, and derek’s thumbhole sweater all in 1.6k words

A Californian Werewolf in New York by dancinbutterfly, knight_tracer | Explicit | Summary: When Derek finally realizes that there's nothing left for him in Beacon Hills, he goes back to New York, gets a life, falls in love and finds his home. (A podfic/fanfic collaboration)

Love Me, Love You by littlestdeath | Explicit | Summary: Stiles is generally okay. Sometimes he hates himself, and it’s probably not healthy that he doesn’t talk about it, but what with all the nearly dying at least once a month, he figures his monthlies can take a back seat for now.And that works right up until the moment that Derek starts flirting with him.

Sugar, Spice, Everything Nice by AsagiStilinski | Teen | Summary: Three years ago Stiles Stilinski walked into Straight From Hale Bakery to get a birthday cake for his daughter Now, through a series of stupid events, he's sitting at a bake sale table next to his apparent longtime freind (who he's completely in love with) Derek Hale, trying to sell cookies to win his daughter's class a pizza party- and also to defeat the not-exactly-evil Atlanta Five Bakery that the Hales have some strange vicious rivalry with, who just so happens to be trying to win a pizza party for THEIR daughter too Also: Werewolves, levitating apple juice, and covert operations via Lydia Martin Seriously what in the hell is his life?

my bones may break by Marishna | Teen | Summary: “What are you doing here?” “What am I doing in the middle of the woods at night?” Derek shot back sarcastically. “What the hell is this, Stiles?”

Especially Derek, who still scares me by LoveActually_rps | Teen | (One of my absolute favorites!) Summary: “The Hales are dangerous, Lydia,” Jackson butted in, coming to Stiles’ rescue. “Haven't you heard the rumors about how they eat newly turned weres on the night of the full moon?” “Wha-” Stiles let out a strangled noise and Jackson patted him in fake sympathy, suppressing his usual cocky smile. “Well, haven’t you heard the rumors about how they grow horns and a pointed tail and carry a pitchfork on other nights?” Allison countered, huffing out a soft laugh. “Those rumors are ridiculous,” “Can we please stop talking about the Hales?” Stiles pleaded, shivering and tired, rubbing the towel over his flat dripping hair. “...especially Derek, who still scares me,” he swallowed hard. [aka, even though Talia Hale’s first and foremost plan on moving to Beacon Hills was to “Clean up the Hale image”, Derek looked far too contented with his “Scaring the shit out of Stiles” plan. Just - he didn’t know Stiles was already of age and maybe transforming into something pretty badass any day]

It's Not My Lovestory by LoveActually_rps | Gen | Summary: When your soulmate’s first words to you were supposed to be etched on your wrist, a blank wrist was quite intriguing and an open invitation to be teased. Derek’s wrist was missing a soulband. Every single person in his acquaintance had a soulband, God! Even Greenberg had a soulband.

I'll Love You for a Thousand More Years by LoveActually_rps | Teen | Summary: “Reject me, Alpha,” Cora muttered, her voice low and trembling. She raised her head finally to meet Stiles’ stunned, confused gaze. “…please,” she added with steady but glassy eyes. [To stop recurring invasion threats from the Argent nation a few wolf nations decided to ally. Stiles Stilinski – the Alpha and the only heir of the Stilinski nation - was supposed to mate the Hale Omega – Cora Hale. But, things didn't quite go according to the plan]

Hello, Heartbreaker by astoryaboutwar | Explicit | Summary: It’s a popular joke among Alphas: fuck an Omega, get heartbreak on your hands. Omegas are fragile little emotional things, needy and whiny. Stiles refuses to become that, or to believe that he’s anything like that. Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident. (Also - everyone's a werewolf, and everyone's alive.)

I want you (no, I mean your art) by ElisAttack | Mature | Summary: "Scott, remember that new encaustic painting I sold last week?" "Yeah, why?" "Derek Hale's fucking a twink beside it." Or the one where Stiles is an artist whose artworks keep appearing in his favourite porn star's videos.

Grown Up Hot by Inell | Teen | Summary: Derek’s college Dream Boy just happens to be the nerdy kid he bullied back in middle school. Karma sucks.

And here’s three on going stories I read:

Human is Just a Word by lady emebalia (emebalia) | Explicit | 84/85 Summary: Getting claimed by a werewolf has so not been on Stiles' agenda for the night. But at least he can choose whose human pet he's going to be. That's a plus, right?

Adult Wolf by KouriArashi | Teen | 18/? Summary: As if Sheriff Stilinski doesn't have enough to deal with, now he's been attacked by some enormous dog in the forest, and that's normal compared to what happens next...Season one re-telling with Sheriff Stilinski being bitten instead of Scott.

Bruises and Bitemarks by oblivions172 | Explicit | 15/? Summary: Biologically, Stiles is weak. When he presented as an omega, he knew that to be the truth but that never stopped him from running his mouth as a defense mechanism. However, it could only save him so many times before he ended up pissing off the wrong person. After he's attacked in the parking lot outside of school, Stiles realizes he can no longer protect himself with just pure wit and sarcasm. When the attack lands him in the hospital, his dad forces him to pick between two options, report the alphas who attacked him or join a kickboxing gym run by omega rights activist and alpha, Derek Hale, a man Stiles has been in love with for many years.

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