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angelicmichael · 3 years ago

Text

renegade

Andy Dolan x reader

Summary: After another night where Hedwig abandons Andy; reader is left with no other choice but to try and help console him the best she can.

Words: 3.6k+

Warnings: vague mentions of drugs and being intoxicated, some jealous! reader, lotsss of angst, brief fluff, mainly hurt/comfort fic tbh hehe, major Hedwig slander oops, maybe a bit of unhealthy relationships (??), slowburn, some conflict/arguing

A\N: hey y’all, hope u enjoy this hehe. I was mostly going for a angst and fluff vibe when I wrote this but it just turned into hurt/comfort so.. hopefully it’s still enjoyable !! :) this takes place sometime in episode three probably lol. ALSO fic is named after the song Taylor swift has recently been featured in 👉🏻👈🏻

The town, Eden; regardless of its beauty was a force to be reckoned with.

Being practically forced to live in a town that was so.. particular was never something you envisioned for your future in the past, but now you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else; even given the choice.

After all how could you exactly complain?

If you were to ask any person- (or any sane person that didn’t know of Eden that well) they would say that living here would sound like complete fucking heaven. A small coastal town, a tight knit community that was overly abundant with beautiful people and drugs seemed beyond euphoric.. and it was. Atleast for the first week or two.

Looking back; you were purely fucking naïve, and far too much of a optimist to assume shit wouldn’t crash or burn eventually.

Your first red flag was Hedwig.

She was one of the first people you met, and you two quickly hit it off and became close but.. things never exactly felt right with her, per say. Maybe it was because of how guarded she was, or because of the drugs she dealt.. it was hard to tell. However; Hedwig was completely fucking harmless compared to the man she introduced you too.

Andy Dolan.

Just like everyone in Eden; he was drop dead gorgeous but.. oddly hostile. At first you only saw him at parties, ones that you tried your best to avoid him at since you knew he had a notorious temper but, Hedwig being the great friend she is introduced you to him.. and that’s all it took.

You two quickly hit it off after that night (mostly because you were tired of Hedwig being your only friend and branching out never hurt anyone.. right?). Your attraction towards each other at first was strictly platonic, that was clear in how he treated you and how careful you were around him. It was almost stupid to try and not think about how pretty he was but letting your gaze linger on him for even more than two seconds felt erroneous.

You saw almost daily (or atleast every other day) how quick he was to anger and how cold he was to nearly everyone he met.. The only exception at this point was you and Hedwig but your sure if you were to even show a sign that you had romantic interest in him, he would drop you without a second thought. That thought alone was beyond fucking torturous but it wasn’t enough to stop you from daydreaming about how soft his hair or lips probably were. Ones that you doubt you would ever get the pleasure of touching but- atleast it was a nice distraction from how fucking weird Eden truly was.

Sure, it was beyond beautiful and the weather was fairly nice most days but that didn’t make up for peoples attitudes; and you weren’t referring to Andy’s. It wasn’t hard to tell that people were strangely secretive and cliquey, which only really left you with Hedwig and Andy for your friends. No matter how pretty she was, Hedwig was really only surface level friendly so you never particularly trusted her. That only left Andy (which wasn’t exactly any better when it came to being friendly but you knew he cherished your company, which was way more you could say about Hedwig).

However; it didn’t take too long for you and Andy to form a routine. Every weekend he would throw a party and you would stay with him after. The first time it happened, it was purely because you were far too fucked up to go anywhere else (which perhaps is also why Andy finally started being nice to you..) but after that, it was a question you never had the heart to say no too.

How could you? It’s not like he exactly had anyone else which made the possibility of saying no, close to impossible. Just because everyone else who lived in Eden were assholes didn’t mean you were going to be one, which is what lead you to your current predicament.

Five calls you had made that had all been unanswered is what currently lit up your phone screen, as well as your room. It was far past midnight and instead of sleeping like any other sane person would be doing - you were calling Andy or trying too anyway but he wasn’t fucking answering.. naturally.

You weren’t calling for any particular reason, but that wasn’t the point anymore. The fact that Andy wasn’t answering was a huge warning that something was wrong, after all it was a weekday and you knew he wasn’t sleeping or exactly busy.

Unless.. He was with Hedwig?

The thought automatically made your blood run hot under your skin. The feeling seething and utterly consuming until you quickly found yourself going out to your car. Doing the only thing that you knew would make your sudden paranoia go away.

As you drove through the roads that were completely vacant of any other cars and drove past houses and neighborhoods that also looked vacant of any life - you couldn’t help but to think why you even cared.

Andy never really showed interest in you, so what if Hedwig and Andy were actually doing anything?? Unless you caught them in the act, it’s not like either of them would admit to doing shit anyway but that didn’t stop you from still feeling irrationally angry and a bit betrayed.

You didn’t realize how tight you were gripping the steering wheel until you stopped the car and had to let go of it. Your fingers unnecessarily clenched and stiff to the point where they physically ached. Not to mention, you were shaking with the possibility that you could really find them here together, but now that you were actually here- you quickly realized that there was no other car here.

Odd.

You quickly (and quietly) stepped out of the car and paced up to Andy’s house. Not bothering to knock as you let yourself in, knowing that Andy wouldn’t necessarily mind that you did so.. well, you knew if he wasn’t with Hedwig anyway.

The only thing you heard were your footsteps as you took a few steps into the house. Looking cautiously for any signs of life.. any sounds or anything that could indicate anyone was in the house at all but you found nothing.

It took your eyes a minute to adjust to the near pitch darkness that omitted from the large windows that sat on the vast majority of the living room walls. The only light came dimly from the kitchen but even that was too sparse to truly allow you to see anything.

You slid your shoes off and left them by the door, not wanting your steps to allude to your presence before you could see him first and say something. Your steps far more quiet and easier to control now that you only had socks covering your feet.

You made it about halfway up the stairs, originally trying to make a beeline to Andy’s room but quickly freezing once you heard something.

It was shallow and soft but, with the contrast of pure stark silence it was nearly fucking deafening. It was a whimper at first, and it was coming from downstairs on the couch.

Your heart sank once you realized what exactly you were listening too. The first sniffle you heard nearly making you jump from how off guard you suddenly felt; that was the last thing you were expecting to hear..

You looked down from the staircase at the couch; making out a very dim outline of someone slumped over and sitting on the edge with their head in their hands. Their chest and back heaving from how deep they were crying..

You stood idle for a moment, not knowing whether to continue standing or to leave silently but you felt as if you didn’t exactly have a option. Even without asking or being able to necessarily see; you knew who it was but even knowing this- you knew getting him to talk was a good first step.

“Andy?”

Your voice automatically cut off his sobs - almost stopping instantaneously.

You saw his hands move down from his face and drop down to his lap, his head turning up to look at you. Your eyes finally adjusting to the near pitch black atmosphere.

The silence only permeated the room for about three seconds but that was nearly far too long to withstand. Knowing how unpredictable Andy was, you didn’t know if the words that were going to come out of his mouth were going to be kind or purely vile.

You started to speak fast without a second thought, the silence driving you to immediately apologize and try to fix the damage before Andy completely went off on you.

“I’m really sorry. I just got worried because you weren’t answering my calls and I wanted to make sure you were okay, but.. obviously your not,” You said. Swallowing harshly after realizing that Andy was still diligently listening and not cutting you off or telling you to leave.. That had to be a good sign, right? “What happened?” You pressed on.

“What do you think happened?” Andy answered quickly. His voice rough and rugged from sobbing, as well as probably from previously yelling.

You slowly walked down the stairs, choosing to not shy away from his sudden outburst of anger. You weren’t exactly certain which direction you would go in once you were finished descending.. but atleast you knew Andy wasn’t fucking Hedwig. Not right now at the very least.

“Was it Hedwig?” you blindly guessed. Wanting to affirm what you were so desperately hoping wasn’t true and that you could finally relax a bit. That’s if Andy wasn’t mad that you practically broke into his house.. but he didn’t seem to be. Not right now anyway.

You heard him softly laugh in response which made you smile for a second. You could tell by how he was previously crying and in the tone of his voice that he was still hurt. His laugh wasn’t genuine in the slightest; but it showed that he was done crying for the moment which was worth a smile.

“Why does it matter to you if it was her?”

“So it was,” you affirmed.

Your feet stepped off of the final step, and you found yourself approaching Andy. The choice came naturally. The closer you got to him the more apparent it was how broken he truly looked. He stopped crying but his eyes and cheeks were still glossy and wet with tears. His lips red and trembling; among looking entirely and utterly broken there was a hint of agitation present as well. You started to wonder if Hedwig truly did something or if Andy once again was blowing things out of proportion.

“Will you tell me what happened?” You asked cautiously. Your voice was soft, not wanting to unintentionally come off as too strong or hostile.

He studied you hesitantly and with a gleam of uncertainty in his eye - but nonetheless he patted the seat next to him on the couch he was sitting on. Silently urging you to sit next to him and letting you know that he would probably tell you what happened.

At first he remained quiet. Awkwardly avoiding what he knew you wanted to talk about but he still remained silent.. but his voice suddenly broke through. Making you jump at the unexpected sound that suddenly sounded so loud, even though in reality his voice was still low in tone.

“She left me.”

You stared at him numbly for a second, not feeling necessarily surprised at his words (After all, since when was Hedwig not a flight risk?) but instead feeling weirdly a bit frustrated and sad for Andy.

You knew exactly how he felt; it wasn’t like this was the first time this ever happened but hopefully it would be the last. Seeing Andy this sad and broken over someone who in reality, didn’t give two fucks about him was beyond heartbreaking. It hurt even worse for you to keep witnessing him coming back to her though.

Just when you finally opened your mouth to speak he cut you off.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s my fault and I’m such a fucking idiot-“

“Andy, stop!” You said a bit too loudly. You tried your best to hold eye contact with him when he finally turned to meet your gaze as he reluctantly looked at you. You fought the impulse to apologize for raising your voice but there was no need because you didn’t truly feel sorry. He needed to hear you out. “You need to stop blaming yourself. Hedwig’s actions aren’t your fault.. she’s like that with everyone, Andy. She’s always been-“

“I don’t give a fuck what she’s like with other people y/n! She should’ve acted differently with me, she was supposed to care about me and stay..” his words cut off with a deep inhale.

He was trying not to sob and failing miserably.

Andy quickly left the couch, taking a few steps away from you with his back turned. Trying to compose himself as you sat and.. felt entirely guilty.

Even though he had practically blown up at you; you weren’t leaving but you knew approaching him wasn’t the answer either, so you stayed seated at the couch. Hoping he would atleast sit back down next to you.

“I can’t control Hedwig or what she does, Andy but I know solely saying that I’m sorry isn’t enough either,” you started and then paused. The words you wanted to say next.. words that you knew were true but barely had the courage to say were heavy on your tongue. You knew this wasn’t exactly the time to even be thinking about how you truly felt for Andy but you couldn’t help it.

You wanted nothing more than for it to stop. His tears, his words and pleading with Hedwig, your feelings.. it wasn’t enough to just submit to it anymore and to be a witness to how you truly felt. If anything, it was slowly but surely driving you mad and you knew unless you atleast hinted at the fact that it was making you upset; Andy wouldn’t change his behavior.

You knew he payed for sex from Hedwig, it was the one thing that always kept her coming back no matter how he acted and well.. Even if his time was being bought, he liked the attention. He craved it.

It felt weird to admit to yourself that he was taking you for granted.. because he wasn’t really but, compared to how he treated Hedwig - you were definitely on the back burner. You didn’t blame him; why would he ever notice you when he could have someone like Hedwig?

You slowly looked back at Andy, noticing he was staring at you once again with glossy blue eyes which appeared dark in the lighting. A dark, almost midnight blue that would surely match the ocean waves that you could faintly hear from inside the house since the back door was open. He looked a bit annoyed but mostly intrigued. He was waiting for you to continue.

“But you deserve better, Andrew. You shouldn’t allow her to repeatedly do this to you because I know she knows how upset it makes you. She doesn’t care-“

“How do you know how Hedwig feels about me y/n?! You need to keep her name out of your fucking mouth. You don’t know her like I do,” Andy spoke roughly.

You stared at him blankly for a moment. Purely appalled that he was saying this to you in total seriousness; but you knew in reality that it was foolish to be surprised.. to not expect that he would talk to you like this eventually. After all; he blew up at everyone else, why wouldn’t he do the same to you?

You knew nothing made you inherently different and well.. this was just proving that assumption. Andy never viewed you differently from anyone else; that was now crystal clear.

Your hands started to gently tremble in your lap; and it didn’t take long for the rest of your body to follow suit. The sadness and self pity quickly washed away in what was quicker and more rapid than waves. Anger surged through your veins, forcing you to stand up suddenly. You could barely stand to make eye contact as you spoke, barely able to bear to witness how your words made him feel.

“Don’t talk to me like that. You don’t get to talk to me like that. If I didn’t randomly decide to come and check on you because I guess I’m the only one who actually gives a fuck about you, then you would’ve been alone again with no one to yell at. And maybe that would’ve been for the best,” You turned around on your heels. Walking fast and headed for the door, trying to quickly slip your shoes on before you heard Andy’s voice solemnly.

“Y/n wait.”

You stood still at first, weirdly feeling numb and waiting for the metaphorical shoe to drop. Andy’s voice was soft this time as he spoke, the roughness that was present earlier was long gone but.. you didn’t trust it.

You waited for him to catch his breath and to raise his voice and just say more words he would apologize for later; your throat tightened as you felt your body react almost instinctively. You slipped the other shoe you previously put on back off. Turning around just enough so that you could make eye contact, or attempt too with the horribly dim lighting.

“Yeah? Wait for what?”

Andy swallowed in response to your words. Almost bashfully looking down briefly to avoid saying anything or having to look at you any longer. You could see tears staining his cheeks, continuing to run down and nearly slid down his neck. He looked pathetic; and it would’ve almost been funny to see a grown man fully sob in front of you with no shame if it wasn’t your best friend and well.. the person you loved.

“Never mind. You were right; it’s probably best if you just go,” Andy’s voice cracked.

You wanted to believe that the best option for you was to turn around and leave but your judgment felt entirely skewed. Was it really the right thing to turn around and leave when he needed you? Probably not.

You knew if the roles were changed and you were the one who was upset that Andy would probably stay.. but that also depended on other circumstances as well, of course.

Stepping away from your shoes and the entrance of Andy’s house; you approached him. You tried to do so as quickly as possible before he could try to stop you or protest, but by the time he looked up you were barely a foot away.

You reached up, and with a shaky hand (that you hoped desperately he didn’t notice or wouldn’t swat away) you gently placed your fingertips on his cheek. Your thumb softly pressing against his skin, dragging your finger up as to wipe away his tears as the rest of your fingers lie under his jaw.

You tried to ignore how unsettled he looked at you doing this, and how he almost looked uncomfortable or as if he was on the brink of telling you off.. but he didn’t. He watched you diligently as you continued to brush away his tears.

“I’m sorry.. But I couldn’t stand to see you like that,” you said. Trying to give some rational explanation for your behavior even though, Andy didn’t look like he particularly cared why you were doing it. It was the fact you were doing it at all that seemed to have his interest piqued.

You tried to pull your hand back since his cheeks were dry, but he stopped you. His hand softly grabbed your wrist before his hand slid into yours.. your fingers slowly lacing together before you turned your gaze from your laced hands up to his eyes.

“Will you stay?” He asked. His voice was still rough and gravelly but this time, it was starting to sound a bit genuine.

You studied him for a second longer - your mouth dry but you knew the answer before you even spoke.

“Yeah. I’m not going to leave you Andy. I’m not Hedwig,” you spoke as if it were more of a promise rather than a statement.

You felt your stomach churn for a split second as you remembered how he scolded you earlier for talking down on Hedwig, but you smiled instead. The laughter you heard quickly subsiding your previous emotions.

“Okay,” He spoke almost uncertainly.

You could see the outline of him walking away before you felt him gently pull on your hand; making you follow him into the dark hallway which would eventually lead too, you could only guess, what would be his room.

Holding his hand like this almost felt weird but you couldn’t deny how almost.. right it felt too. Even perfect, you would dare say.

There was no way to guess what the rest of the night would entail but you didn’t exactly mind guessing; after all, how could you complain if you were to spend it with Andy?

You couldn’t. There was no way you could.

Whether it was platonic or not, spending the rest of the night right next to Andy, most likely in his clothes since you didn’t bother to bring any more of your own, sounded like heaven.

And since when did you ever complain about spending a night with someone that you had craved so bad?

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @king-with-no-crovvn @melodylangdon @littledemondani @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @ritualmichael @twilightzone24

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#Andy Dolan x reader #Andy x reader #Andy Dolan fanfic #andy dolan fanfiction #Andy Dolan #my fic #will crosspost to ao3 shortly #not 100% happy w this but oh well lol

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twistedsin · 4 years ago

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Hi, is it possible to request for a nsfw crewel x student! Reader? ;_; the reader is being a tease and tries to flirt with him during class. Then both of them end of doing it after school in his classroom?Thank you for your time! >.<

ABSOLUTELY!! I really like this request, I am sincerely sorry it took me so long to finish it. I’m glad I finally got to write pet-play professor.

For the context of this fic, we’re going to say Night Raven is a newly co-ed school. Male students still outnumber females, but it is no longer gender exclusive.

Disclaimer: Teacher x student. Don’t fuck your teachers for extra credit in real life, that is not how you succeed.

“Now, what is the element with the hottest melting point?” Crewel pointed his baton your way, as your fingers perked up.

“Tungin” You answered, a small smirk on your lips. The rest of the class started laughing, but your professor was smarter than that.

“Tungsten,” Crewel corrected as the class quieted down, “It is quite a robust element. Incredibly hard.” His eyes connected with yours. “Only in its purest form can you make it putty in your hands.” Crewel turned away and returned to his lecture...

“Now for today’s mini-lab, you and your partner need to list the 15 elements in order of weight. Once you have them all correct you may leave.”

You paired up with the person next to you and tried to cooperate with them. There was much more you looking over at Crewel than actually helping with the worksheet.

Eventually you 'accidentally' tossed your pen from your hand in the direction of his desk. It hit the floor and rolled to one of the legs, the placement couldn't have been more perfect. "Oops... I'll be right back." You told your partner, who didn't seem to care since you weren't helping anyway.

Concealing your bright smile with a mischievous, you walked over to the professor’s desk, his attention turning to you. "Did you have a question?" He rose a brow looking you over.

"Nope, just needed to get my pencil. It rolled over here." You explain as you drop to your knees in front of him, taking your time to turn onto all fours, your ass up and wiggling as you felt around for your pencil. Divus shifted in his chair, seeming to be looking back at the papers rather than the curve of your ass barely covered by the short uniform skirt. If he leaned back a little, he'd probably be able to see your panties, or if you were wearing any.

Unfortunately, he did not, and gave you a disinterested response, "If you can't find it. I'll loan you a new one. You should get back to your assignment." A small pout formed on your face before you grabbed your pencil and stood. "Wait," He called out when you were a few steps away. You eagerly turned, "Yes, sir?"

"In class, it's Professor, not sir." Divus held out a paper to you, your last test with the results in red at the top. A 69/100, not great. "Your grades seem to be slipping and this attitude of yours, I think you may need a reminder of who's in charge. See me after school."

"Yes, professor." You squeaked out trying not to smile too much. Sure you were in trouble but seeing him after school meant that the two of you would be alone together. And that part about teaching you who was in charge, it was way too easy to find a hidden meaning in that. Now it was even harder to focus on the work at hand. Even through the rest of your classes, all you could think about what Divus was going to teach you later.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Professor?" You called out, entering the classroom before waiting for a response, "You wanted to see me?”

"What is the point of knocking, if you're not going to wait for an answer?" Divus sighed from behind his desk. "You may come in. Be sure to lock the door. I hate when students just think they can barge in." He watched, making sure you did what you were told. Once you had locked the door you obediently went over and stood in front of his desk.

"I made it a goal to be sure none of my pups had red marks this semester." He removed his glasses and moved the stack of paperwork into a drawer. "You are at risk of me breaking this promise, and I won't have it." He stood, and walked around the desk to stand in front of you. "You need more discipline."

"You think scolding me is going to make work harder?" I mean it might, depending on the type of punishment. "Maybe I want red marks." You wanted them more on your body than your report card though.

He was unamused at your response. "I've trained plenty of other litters, my methods have yet to fail. I've dealt with your type too. So, what is this new issue of yours that has you so distracted in class?" He took a step closer, leaving him right in front of you, "Or should I guess."

“Well... It’s just hard for me to focus on chemical reactions when my body always has such a strong reaction to you. It’s easy for my mind to wander to more reactive activities.”

A smirk crossed his lips, as he leaned in, “Like my tongue inside you?”

You shivered from his warm breath on your ear. You felt your lower regions pulse, thoughts of your little fantasy popping up in your mind. You needed a moment to regain your composure. “Tongue just happened to work with the element, I’m not opposed to any other part of you being in me either~”

“Quite a bold little puppy you are.” Crewel took a step back looking you over. “Since that's the issue let's try and see if you can focus on one of those activities,” He pointed the baton at his desk, “Sit.” You eagerly obey, taking a seat on the side edge of his desk.

He took off his coat and placed it on the coat stand before moving back to his desk. “If you still can't focus, or misbehave then this stops." He started sifting through the bottom left drawer. “Hold this.” He shut the drawer and stood holding a wrapped condom to your lips. You softly took the corner of the package in your mouth. “Don’t drop it.”

The order was a bit harder to follow than you thought as he almost teasingly slowly removed his tie and undid a few buttons on his shirt. He ran a hand through his hair before undoing his pants and pulling out his dick. You would have licked your lips if you could.

“You look hungry pet.” You spread your legs as his gloved hand ran up your thigh. He stepped closer, slowly grinding his erection against your wet panties. You let out a needy whine shifting your hips as a way to encourage him. Your core tightened just from the grinding, it just made you want him more. “You’re so excited, aren’t you? I wonder, how often have you masturbated to the idea of me fucking you in this classroom?”

You gave him a lustful look as he finally took the condom from your mouth. “Enough to have some expectations” You gave a coy smile but he simply responded with a smirk.

“I doubt those will hold up to the real thing.” Once the condom was on his hands trailed up your thighs. Your breathing grew heavy with lust at his teasing touch. The way he took his time was driving you crazy.

You narrowed your eyes at him, wanting to scold him to hurry it up, but he simply stared back a small upward curve at the corner of his mouth. His threat of stopping if you misbehaved floating through your head. There was no way you were going to risk this ending not when you were so close. His fingers finally caught the edges of your panties and pulled them off, a strand of your juices dragging out.

Crewel licked his lips, finally grabbing your hips and tugging you against him. “Let’s see if you meet my expectations.” He rubbed against you a few times before slowly pushing in, leaving you time to adjust. He wasn’t sure how experienced you were and didn’t want to push you too much. While the feeling was tight, and a bit painful with how active your insides had been it wasn’t too bad to adjust to. “Ah~ Y-you’re finally inside, Professor Crewel!" You gasped between your shaky moans. A smile formed on your face from looking down at how he stretched you. There was still so much left to fill you with and you couldn't wait.

His hand gripped your chin to look back up at him. "Wrong. It's Master or Master Crewel now. Do you understand pet?"

"Yes Master Crewel." It was easy enough to remember the name as you referred to him as such in most of your fantasies anyway.

His hand slid up your cheek to push some of your hair away from your face, "Good girl. I won't hesitate to drill the idea into you if you forget."

Now that you had had time to adjust and names were sorted, it was time to set things in motion. His thrusts were smooth and slow at first. Even with such little stimulation, your walls were pulsing around him, squeezing as if trying to pull him deeper. It made him want to go wild, but he of course had control and would wait patiently until you let him do so.

Your head tilted back, calling out his name. "Good pet. Just like that. I can tell you're enjoying yourself." He smirks, "Is it all your imagined? Or did you want it rougher?" He'd be happy to oblige his student's needs since they waited so long. It would be easier for them to focus if he fulfilled the fantasy correctly.

"More." Your voice was merely a whisper at first, rising as you knew mewling wasn't a satisfying answer for him. "I want to take all of you. I want you to move faster. Please, Master! Fuck me! I can take it, I need your cock!" You begged, feeling needy. You had let your thoughts of him been wandering for too long to not indulge yourself. You wanted him to fuck you so that you never needed another fantasy of him, just memories of this moment.

"Such a needy pet." His hips stilled, "Lay down." His hand rested on your back to ease you into laying down across the length of his desk. He pushed your legs up and open. One of his hand resting on one of your knees, the other on the table so he could lean over you, "Let's test how much you can take."

With this new positioning, he had more leverage, and now that he wasn't holding himself back as much anymore it was almost a whole different experience from when he first ented you. His whole cock was sliding in and out of you.

His thrusts are almost wild, nothing like the slow pace he had kept before. If he hadn't laid you back beforehand you would have fallen back on your own. His entire cock being pushed inside you now, it filled you up so nicely. With these deeper thrusts, his shaft brushed against your sweet spot from time to time. Your body clenched tightly around him each time, never wanting him to pull out yet wanting him to thrust even faster and deeper. He carefully watched your expressions as the pleasure overcame you. The way your eyes became hazy and that small smile as you gasped and groaned. Some words slipping out occasionally, mostly master, yes, and more.

"Such a good pet. You're already surpassing my expectations." Divus cooed, "Is this everything you thought about?"

"Y-yes!" You cried out between gasps. "It feels so good. So much better than a fantasy."

"Good. Then there is no reason to keep daydreaming in class then."

"Yes. No... I-" You couldn't focus on his questions right now, or what the right answer was. You just wanted to cum and enjoy the feeling of him thrusting into you. "I'm going to cum. Master please~"

You suddenly felt a sharp sting on your thigh as his gloved hand slapped your skin. "Answer me first pet. Are you going to focus in class?" His thrusts slowed to your dismay.

"Yes! I'll focus in class! I'll raise my grade I promise!" You called out a bit panicked and desperate for him to continue.

Divus chuckled a bit, enjoying your desperation. "I'm expecting good results then." His hips regained their rapid pace from before, "Now you can cum, pet." Now given permission and his thorough pace returned it didn't take long for your body to reach its peak and your orgasm to course through you. The way your body clenched and spasmed around him had him cumming soon after you. He rode out the pleasure high before finally stopping his thrusts and pulling out of you.

A pout accompanied by a small whine formed at the loss of his cock so soon, but you couldn't stay upset. He just looked way too sexy running his hand through his hair, leaning over you catching his breath. Divus gave a small smile as his eyes caught yours. "Good girl. You performed well."

He helped you to sit up on his desk then discarded the condom and began fixing his pants. "If you do well on the next test, I'll reward you just like this." Once he was situated, he let you rest your head against his chest while he fixed up your uniform. "If not then I'll have to find other ways to get you to behave."

You knew it was meant as a warning but it just excited you. "Yes, Master Crewel. I'll do my best."

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queerfictionwriter · 3 years ago

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On Standard Writing Advice

I might’ve ranted about this before, but this is my blog and I’ll be unhinged as much as I like. So much of the writing advice I see comes from a blatantly abled and ableist perspective that I roll my eyes and scroll past it while gnashing my teeth and, sometimes, resisting the urge to scream. It’s not applicable to me, or people like me, so I won’t reblog it and increase its’ reach. But having to see it all the time is infuriating and

Because advice like “write every day!” or “set a routine and stick to it!” ignores the realities of having unpredictable health. You can’t write four days a week when, at any moment, your body might pull rank and leave you bedridden in a flare, or insensate with pain, brain fog, or a migraine, or when all of your plans for the week are thrown into disarray by a sudden doctor’s appointment, or an emergency trip to the hospital or your pain management provider. You do the best you can, obviously, but when that’s your reality, it’s frighteningly easy for goals and targets to become weapons of self-flagellation for factors beyond your control.

The valorizing of routine and steady progress also ignores the unpredictability of minds that cope with mental illness and other forms of neurodivergency. There are days where, no matter what was on the to do list, fuck all is getting done because you’re out of spoons or didn’t sleep, because you’re dealing with a dissociation or med change/adjustment, because all available mental energy has been diverted to basic self-care or Not Spiralling or coping with a trigger. Sometimes there are just Bad Days.

And that’s not even mentioning the fact that basically every disability and chronic condition comes with “chronic fatigue” as a symptom, and creative work is, in fact, work and requires energy no matter how important or rewarding it is to us. and it would be easy and defeatist and ableist to just shrug and assume that disabled people should give up, that it’s too hard, that it’s not worth it. Or to assume that we don’t have anything to say, nothing worth listening to, that our art and writing doesn’t matter, that we should let go of our dreams and goals because it would be “easier”, somehow. and of course this attitude contributes to the whole “i could never live that way” nonsense that gets thrown at disabled people all the time, but that’s a rant for another day

In these situations, you have to be a particular mix of ambitious and relaxed, determined and forgiving, because you have to want to be creative enough to persist, despite the obstacles, and practise enough self-kindness that you don’t overextend yourself because you pushed too hard, or crucify yourself for failing to meet the target you set for yourself. And that is why the advice that I give to all writers, but that I especially the ones with health challenges is:

1) Learn to trust yourself. This one is maybe the hardest thing to do as a creative, but it’s so, so important, because so much of your creative work gets easier once you trust yourself--to tell the story, to know your limits, to finish eventually even if it feels like it’s taking forever.

2) Learn to listen to yourself. What are your instincts telling you--about this scene, this character, this story, this trope? What is your gut feeling about where you’re at and what you’re capable of today? Is today a day to try, to rest, or to push?

3) Don’t be afraid to suck. We all start somewhere, and there’s no shame in being bad at things, especially things that you were never taught--we’re never done growing and learning and experiencing new things. The important bit about the sucking phase is not giving up--because you can push through it until you’re out the other side with new skills and greater mastery over your craft.

4) Cultivate a healthy relationship with feedback. Not everything you create is going to be for every single person. It’s okay to have a target audience in mind. And, when that happens? You have to let the negative opinions of people who aren’t in that target audience roll off your back, because you will never make everyone happy. One story--or even the collective work of one person--can never be all things to all people. Representation is a team sport. That said, though? It’s worthwhile to cultivate feedback from people that you trust--to understand your intentions, and to be honest with you. We all have blind spots about our own work, because we’re all human. Having someone you trust to point out those blind spots is incredibly valuable, but it’s also okay to be picky about who you choose to take that feedback from.

5) Write for yourself. Do it because you love it--because you love to write, because you love the topic or the characters, because this is your niche interest. Write with love and it will bring your words to life for your readers, in addition to making the overall process more enjoyable for you. (It also helps in letting the haters’ opinions roll, because if you love it, everyone else’s opinion matters a little less.) If you’re just writing it--whatever “it” is, a story or trope or particular plot or character interpretation--because of some notion of “should” or “tradition”, rules or social pressure, that half-heartedness will translate for readers. The words will feel lacklustre.

#K speaks #long post #writing #advice #ableism #writing community #writing is hard #be kind to each other #be kind to yourselves #be kind to writers #disabled people #disabled life #invisible disabilities are still real disabilities #disability politics

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geminimoonbeamx · 5 years ago

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Moon lit Serenades

A/N: Dedicated to the reader, may you find happiness. I am so nervous for TROS, I saw a rumor that Poe dies and lost it. That plus the fact that there is literally no Plus Sized ReaderxPoe community? I had to remedy that. This is porn.

Warnings: This is porn. Serious smut from pretty much start to finish. Please enjoy.

Summary: Poe seeks comfort after a particularly hard mission in the only way he knows how. A Poe x Plus Sized Reader story

I am a moth, who just wants to share your light.

I’m just an insect, trying to get out of the night.

I only stick with you, because there are no other’s.

You we’re all I need.

I’m in the middle of your picture.

Lying in the reeds- Radiohead

War had finally caught up with Poe Dameron.

Had finally taken it’s toll, and far more then it’s chunk of flesh. Battle wary and blaster shocked, it was hard to think of the resistance these days as just that- a resistance. No, this was more of a bloodbath.

War.

He’d never thought of it like that before, always held his head high, a defiant flame in his eyes. This was fuck the system- fuck the First Order. Fuck anyone who tried to tell him what to do. He was willed, motivated by the sheer rage that anyone would have to live their life in oppression. Under the thumb of Snoke or Phasma, dead and gone now- Hux and Ren hopefully to follow sooner rather than later.

And that fire to see them fall was still there...but it was dimmed.

Had been stomped on, choked out.

Watching people you love die for you, because of you on a daily basis...it wasnt something he’d wish upon anyone. Friends, family. Allies, brothers and sisters in arms. His fleet which had once flourished with dozens of pilot’s was down to a mere handful of lucky ones.

He was willing to breathe and bleed for the cause. It was in his blood- the sticky substance that matted his dark hair to his head as he climbed out of his X-wing. His parents had been the same.

Was he willing to keep watching others die for it though?

He couldn't stop form pondering the question as he and his unit arrive back to the makeshift base, in the middle of nowhere on a planet in the outer rim- the name of it he could barely pronounce. The shabby hut like quarters made the memory of D’quar and its green covered everything throb longingly in his gut.

That seemed so long ago, now.

No matter. No time for getting attached. They’d be on the move again within a fortnight, never staying any one place longer than a month at a time. Rey usually kept them one step ahead, connected to Ren through the force in a way that made Poe’s stomach churn, but that came in handy with them not getting caught.

Thinking about Kylo Ren always made him sour from the inside out. Muscles clenched in memory of the torture he’d endured at the hands of what used to be Leia’s son, but was now just a shell with his dead fathers nose and the mark of his dead uncles betrayal on his black soul.

Poe would kill him in an instant if he got the chance. He prays to fuck that one day he does.

Clenching his fingers into fists is painful right now- the small mission had gone awry and they’d had to punch their way out of it. Literally. He’s feeling the aftermath of it all over, aching and sore.

He doesn't have it in him to attend the debrief. Can't muster the will, not right now. Maybe after a hot shower, maybe after he gets some food in his stomach and allot’s himself a moment to wallow. He forces himself to stand straight, spine elongated in a way that has his bones and muscle screaming.

Poe tries not to limp, as he scurries away to lick his wounds. He fails.

“Poe, you need to see a medic!” Finn insists, somewhere behind him. Always worried, always caring. Poe has nightmares about the night that he eventually loses him, too.

“Don't worry, I will” Finn wonders how someone who looks like they’re going to keel over at any moment- can manage to sound so cheeky.

Rey, who stands beside Finn, bruised bleeding herself wonders if he realizes that Poe is on the verge of tears. The pilot rippling and vibrating so hard she could feel it, taste it on the air.

Neither of them say anything though. The just watch him disappear into the stormy, starless night.

----

Sleep isn't something that comes easy to you as of late.

Not only did you spend your days(and most hours of your nights, too) in the Med Bay, you had never been the kind of person that could handle big changes, sharp adjustments. This hop forts every couple of weeks trend was killing you.

Your mind couldn't relax, R.E.M. State was always just out of reach.

Especially when he was gone...which also seems to be a trend these days. The missions just kept getting longer and longer- the time that he was on base shorter and farther between.

But it was raining tonight- the soft rhythmic pitter patter of it on the roof of the hut reminding you of your home planet, you could almost pretend you were there; the smell of petrichor tricking your brain. Making it easier to curl up on the bed that was really more of a cot and cozy into the Resistance standard blanket.

For the first time in two weeks- you sleep. Hard. Like a rock. The exhaustion finally overtaking your body, and putting you out of commission. General Organa was right to send you back to your bunk, physically removing you from your post.

You feel kind of, extremely, guilty for the attitude you’d thrown at her -

“I’m fine, if I don't do my job, who’s going to?”-

aimed her way even though she didn't deserve it. She was right, of course. She tended to be most of the time. Why anyone ever doubted her, why you ever doubted her, you didn't know.

The sleep is dreamless, just the way you prefer it...you hadn't always, but nothing was better then the nightmares. Nothing is far from peace, but close to quiet. A middle ground that could be called purgatory, depending how you looked at it.

So when there's a knock at your door, the wooden one that gave you more privacy then you’d had in months, that wakes you from your much needed slumber, you can't help but feel the irritation surge through you. Your hypothetical feathers bristled as you huff and puff and pull yourself out of bed, yanking a pair of breezy sleep pants up your chubby legs and a robe over your shoulders- not wanting to answer whoever it was in the near nude.

When you pull open the door- well, it was the one person who wouldn't have minded if you had greeted him in your panties.

“Poe?” You question, because your eyes still haven't adjusted, your mind still three fourths asleep and one fourth confused.

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart” And oh? Sweetheart? In that gravelly voice, tired and worn and fragile...you're instantly aware of what kind of state he’s in.

When you pull him inside, flipping on the light orb, and are able to see him. Clearly now; all bloody and bruised, you inhale sharply. His eye is blackened on the same side of his face that seems to be saturated in crusted crimson.

“Stars, Poe” You whisper as you crowd him, urging him to sit on the cot that’s still warm from your body heat. Poe frowns, pretty lips pulled down as he takes it, and you in. Your hair rumpled, your robe falling off your shoulder as you gather medical supplies from what seems like all over your small “room”

The first thing you do is take out a small capsule full of neon blue liquid from a jar and hand it to him. He takes it gratefully, tossing it down the hatch before you can even offer him water. Painkillers aren't the easiest to come by since they’ve been on the move.

“I woke you up, didn't I?” He inquires, after he swallows.

“Obviously” You answer as you step back into his orbit, close enough that he can smell your skin. That his eyes can trace each of the freckles that dot across your nose, your cheeks. You put your finger under his chin and tilt his head up, and fuck, isn't that a pretty view?

“I’m sorry” He whispers, hissing between his teeth as you, gently but deftly, begin to clean his head.

“Mmm, it’s fine. I’m awake now, Kriff Poe, you look like warmed over shit. This gash in your hairline is going to need stitches” You’re focused, wiping and dabbing as you speak.

He didn't realize, until that moment, just how much he missed your voice.

“Your bedside manner is spectacular as ever” He grins as he says it, even though it hurts to do so. His busted lip is next on your itinerary.

“Well when you show up at my bedside and not the other way around, I’m pretty sure that changes up the rules”

“Didn't you miss me...at your bedside, that is?” He pushes on, he wants you soft and sweet for him but he knows from experience it takes a bit to get there. Especially since he’s been gone so long.

“Stop distracting me” You mutter. You're only half pretending to be completely focused on the task at hand, at this point you could probably stitch a wound with your eyes closed.

“M’sorry” He’s not. It’s selfish, but he really isn't. He’s not sorry for barging in on you and waking you up, or for sitting in your bed reeking of blood and days worth of dirt. How can he be, when this feels so good? Your soft little hands working at him, healing with every touch. There’s no hurt when he’s around you- only good.

The painkiller makes the edges fuzzy, makes the fact that your repeatedly pulling a needle through his skin seem mild. It’s not like it’s his first time getting sewn up, and he highly doubts it’ll be his last.

Poe can't stop staring at you, dark eyes hooded. Hungry in a way that he doesn't care to hide. Drinking you in, gulping. It’d been almost a month and he was dying to get his fill. Your round body, nothing but curves and dips that he was itching to touch, is mostly covered, but the robe is still hanging off your shoulder. Satin skin exposed, so pretty and pristine.

It’s almost out of his control when his hand skims up our arm, skin seeking out skin. His palm sears as it settles on your upper arm. The plush flesh so soft under his calloused hands that he’s almost worried that it would give if e pressed down too hard.

In the back of his mind he knows better, though. Recalls just how much you can take.

“Poe” You warn tightly, lashes fluttering as you shoot him a look. One that makes him chuckle, because you're not fooling him.

He’ll play, mostly because he wants to, but he knows you missed him as much as he missed you.

You wonder if he can feel the way that you're trembling, already shaking for him. It’s stupid, you feel stupid, and yet you cant stop it. You have healers hands, medic’s hands- and at least you can get them to stay still as you finish with his head, then his lip.

Going insane from the simplest touch, from the way that he rubs his thumb in circles over and over on your upper arm. You remember when that would have made you uncomfortable, big arms that you wanted covered at all times used to be a big no-no.

But with Poe it was different. He wasn't there to judge. He just wanted to feel.

You don't want to pull away, but you have to. Your brain is torn, but ultimately resorts back to it’s resting state: health driven. Medically inclined.

“You need to go take a shower, wash the rest of the blood out of your hair. The hot water will help to start to bring down the swelling” you instruct, and it would be how you talked to any patient. Except for the way you cradle the side of his face, your voice breathy as you touch is thick locks that are greasy. A bit tangled.

Poe nods, he knows your right. Knows he should have done that before he even came here…

“Can I come back?” It’s hopeful, he spits it quick- desperate.

It feels like someone yanked, hard, on a loose thread inside your chest.

“Always. You know that”

While he showers, forced to go a few huts over to the community bathrooms, you’re a flurry of anxious thoughts and movement. Tidying up the small space and yourself the best you can. You’d showered earlier in the evening, using the last of the last of the Obsidian Lily oil that you’d carried with you. You still smelled good, pretty.

Your hair was wild, but not untamable and you end up brushing it smooth. You hadn't shaved since before he had left and curse yourself for not doing so earlier. How were you supposed to know that he was coming back tonight? Growing up on your home planet, there was a moss based soap that everyone used that minimized body hair. But still…

You wished, like you had more than once, that you could be better for him.

You're trying to swallow that horrid ugly little thought back down when your door opens, Poe not bothering to knock this time. Barges in, and he seems a bit more like himself in that moment.

His hair has gone back to his natural curls, thick and bouncing, dripping and the navy, loose materialed sleep clothes hang on him. Dont cling to him with dirt and sweat...all and all, he looks so much better.

Or so you think. Until you see him in the right light, his top falling open and revealing his chest.

“Poe!” You exclaim and his thick brows furrow, he had been drying his hair with one of your spare towels.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt” You demand and one side of his lips pull up- a smirk that doesn't meet his eyes.

“You know if you ask me nicely, sweetheart, I’ll give you whatever you want” It’s a purr, a ploy. Many a person- male, female and Wookiee had fallen for that charm of his. Your own name thrown in that pot.

But he was hurt, had to be in pain, and that thought cut through the others that that coy tone had stirred up.

“I’m serious, that bruising looks deep- why didn't you show me this earlier? You could have internal bleeding! Something could be broken”

Poe would never let it be known, would deny it to the ends of the galaxy...but he loves the way you fret over him. It makes him feel warm.

“Okay- Okay!” He sighs as you start to reach for him demandingly, knowing that you'd pull it off yourself if he didn't. There's a handful of winces as he tugs the fabric up and over his shoulders. You’re silent the whole time, and then for a long moment after.

“Oh...baby”

It’s the first time you've called him that tonight. In weeks. The first time an affectionate name has slipped from your mouth.

You can't help it, can't help the overwhelming feeling of...horror. Of shock and worry. His tanned chest and abdomen are hard, dusted with ebony hair that matches that of which grows from his scalp...and covered in bruises.

Four huge patches of yellow, and black and purple and blue...he looks like a fucking water color painting. You’d seen him in some pretty bad states over the years, and this was up there with some of the worst. The worst? Well you didn't like to think about that particular bloody day.

You reach out, fingertips tracing the purple bloom on his left ribs.

“It’s not so bad” And that’s Poe in a nutshell. Always trying to convince not only the people around him, but himself, that things were going to be okay.

“That one’s a deep tissue bruise” You point out to him, fingers gently probing, trying to detect if anything is broken “It has to hurt like a bitch, it’s going to get worse before it feels better”

“Not so bad” He loves the way you're touching him, and his hand, that big paw, goes to our waist. Holding you. Urging you to keep going “Those painkillers are something else”

You snort through your nose. He’s something else- you tell him of that fact, often.

Poe can only be so patient, can only allow you to touch him, feather light, for so long. Eventually, his impulses win out. Just like the always do.

You’re almost done, checking his bones, when he grabs your hand, envelopes it in his large one. It’s still for a moment- the air sparkling with energy. His eyes are mahogany, dark wood. Deep forests as they stare down at you.

The want in them is raw, unbridled.

“I missed you, so fucking much. Every day. Have I told you that yet?” His words, mixed with the timbre- vehement. Honest. It makes you want to squirm.

“No- you haven't” You wish your voice at that moment wasn't so anxious, weak and almost a whisper. Something about Poe had always brought this out in you. He was so bright, beaming. Everyone around him flocked to him, in hopes of just being able to taste a fraction of his light.

Sometimes, you still couldn't believe that he let you fill your cup, that he sought you out, parted the crowd for you.

You had never been a weak woman; had never let your weight or your too loud opinions or your tendencies to be overly emotional make you feel small, or less then...but being with Poe-- the level of intimacy was suffocating.

You felt burned up. Icarus who flew too close to the sun, who willing allowed himself to be burned up just to feel its warmth for a moment...you could relate.

“I did” Poe continues “I missed the way you feel, the way you taste-”

You close your eyes at that, images of the last time you’d gotten a moment alone with him, of a head of dark curls between your legs, assaulting you. Smacking you right in the face.

“-You taste so good, Y/N. Should've bent you over when you came to say goodbye. You would've let me, huh? Let me get one more taste- you have no idea how bad I want to stick my tongue inside of you. All the time. No one else gets to taste, right?”

Poe is well on his way to being rock hard, already. It had taken all of him to not jerk off in the showers.

“No one, Poe. You know that” you’d meant to tell him to fuck off, that you didn't belong to him. That he couldn't just have you whenever he wanted you. That came out instead.

“I need you” He tells you, roughly “feel how bad I need you, Y/N, fuck” he still has your hand in his grasp, againts his chest. When he begins to slide it downward, you know where its destination will be.

That doesn't stop the thrill, the flip flop of our tummy that comes with Poe pressing your hand to his crotch, hard and hot. The thin pants the only layer between your palm and his erection.

“You’re the only one who gets me like this, I need you to make it better, Y/N”

The switch is flipped then. Hard.

You’re surging forward, and he's meeting you halfway, your mouths slotting together. Lips and tongue, so much tongue. He talks all about how you taste, but stars, the way he tastes is intoxicating. Want to suck the taste of him off his tongue, off his cock.

Its blurry and ferocious. Hands everywhere. Touching, grabbing. While you are gentle with him and his tattered body, he doesn't extend that same sentiment. He’s groping, fingertips bidding into flesh. Groaning into your mouth as he clutches your thick, dimpled thighs. Reaches around to squeeze our ample ass.

Best ass in the galaxy, he'd write fucking sonnets about it, if he was good at anything but flying.

Clothes are shed, way too fast you worn Poe who doesn't listen. Because he never does- and he ends up hissing in pain, and relenting, sitting on the cot and letting you take off his pants. Slowly. You make it up to him by standing over him, grabbing his hands and guiding them to strip you. Slow drags of fabric over supple skin.

You’re so fucking sexy, and he tells you so as he urges you into his lap, you stay on your shins to mind his middle. Poe worships with his words. His fingers and lips do their fair share of praying next.

“Fuck I missed these the most” your breasts are large, heavy globes. Puffy sweet nipples are pebbled and just begging to be sucked on. He licks them messy, wet before he does just that; sucks them into the hot cavern of his mouth.

“Oh, oh, ugh” Your hands are twined in his hair, dripping down onto his thighs already, when Poe feels the wetness drip on him, his fingers go searching, hand pressed in between your thighs. Fingers slipping through sopping, heated flesh. You grasp, a high sound as he presses up and circles your clit, firm and pointed.

It’s so good, pleasure shoots down your legs, all the way to the tips of your toes.

It’s not enough. For either of you.

“Poe, fuck. Please” He’s injured, and you know it hurts him to do, and you should scold him for it, but when he manhandles you, flips you easily onto your back to that he can climb on top and situates himself between your thighs-

It’s just as hot as it always is. You know you have to be dripping down onto the cot, can feel your slick covering your thighs, slipping down your crack.

Kiss, Kiss and Kiss and Kiss and Kiss and…

You get lost in it, caught up in the way his stubble burns. His fingers slide back inside you and he watches your face as he crooks them, pumps them fast. Finger fucks you until you’re sobbing, letting out animal sounds.

“Do you still have the implant” he pants, head swimming. He gets like this when you let him make you feel good- wants to go down on you, but wants to be inside you even more.

“No, I took it out in the last few weeks” You’re cheeky, even with his fingers burried inside you. He loves that about you, “Of course I do, Poe”

You’d be damned before you ever brought a child into this world.

Poe holds your thighs wide, staring between them, your pussy wet and clenching around nothing. You’re so vulnerable for him, it makes you dizzy. He lines himself up, clock head dipping into your slit, resting against your hole, when thrusts inside of you it’s in one fluid movement.

You mewl, so full it’s hard to breathe and Poe makes a punched out sound. Like he’d been shot by a blaster in the chest and his hips start undulating, needing to be deeper. It feels so right inside of you. Feels safe. He wants to tear into your softness, rip you open and nestle inside. Settle himself in your bones.

You let him take what he needs, how ever he needs it. On your back, on your hands and knees. You bounce on his cock when he gets to achy,letting him run his hands all over your tummy, sides, breasts.

He can have it all.

After, the two of you lay spent, cuddled tight to one and other in the small cot. Standard issue thrown over your naked bodies, the sound of the rain starting up again mixed with Poes breathing is a lullaby you hadn't known you needed.

This...thing between you might have started as a way for both of you to numb the pain. To seek support. But it was more now. You were so in love with him that it made your eyes sting if you thought about it for too long.

“You’ll always come back to me, right?” Its so, so timid that he almost doesn't catch it and you almost hope he’d miss it.

Poe does what he always does; tries to convince you both that it’s going to be okay.

“Always”

You let yourself believe him.

Well I wasn't expecting this to turn into pure porn, but here we are lmfao. I loved writing for Poe and there will definitely be more of him coming soon! If you are able- listening to All I Need by Radiohead and the Hot Like Fire cover by the XX really sets the tone for this. I actually dropped a line from hot like fire in this- who can point it out?lol

As usual, I'm going to ask that if you can please give me some feedback. I truly love interacting with my readers and would love to hear your thoughts and opinions.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x plus size reader #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x reader #star wars #oscar issac

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ratcarney · 4 years ago

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wordless

on top of his normal wakachi duties, raikou struggles to find a way to communicate with gau without the use of his voice. gau takes on more responsibility. yukimi is playfully homophobic, but not to a worrying extent.

based on this post and my newfound obsession with the wakachi monologue.

———

“you’ve heard me do it a million times, gau.” raikou whispered. “you’ve got this.”

“stop talking.” gau murmured as he paced back and forth, repeating raikou’s infamous wakachi speech to himself in his head.

raikou sighed and adjusted his scarf. “i can do it if you’re too nervous.”

gau looked pointedly at him. “no way. and i said stop talking.” he stopped pacing to take a breath, then turned his attention back to raikou. “drink some tea.”

raikou rolled his eyes, but obeyed the order. he sipped from one of gau’s teacups and winced as he swallowed.

if he was being honest with himself, while losing his voice was probably the least of his problems, it was the problem that frustrated him the most. so much of wakachi work depended on him being able to communicate with gau. they needed to be on the same page if they had a chance at succeeding in their field. success meant trust from hattori, and trust from hattori meant everything.

“i hate that we have to go out when you’re feeling like this.” gau fretted. “you’re sure you can’t ask the boss to reschedule?”

raikou shook his head. “i won’t make excuses for myself, especially not now when we’ve made it this far.” he held his teacup with both hands, savoring the warmth of the porcelain. gau frowned and walked over to where raikou was sitting. gently, he touched the palm of his hand to raikou’s forehead.

“do you feel warm?” gau asked, the pitch of his voice rising the way it did when he was anxious.

“not at all.” raikou exhaled. “stop worrying, gau, i’m fine.” he set his teacup down and crossed his arms over his chest. outside, the sun was setting, sending orange-tinted light spilling from the windows.

gau took his hand back. “stop talking.” his tone was firm, but raikou heard the concern in it.

raikou nodded and let his head tilt back slightly so it rested against the wall. he closed his eyes, trying to stave off a brewing headache by sheer force of will alone. the stubborn brightness of the setting sun certainly wasn’t doing his head any favors. asking gau for a painkiller would have been easier, but now, talking also seemed like a lot of work. the only appealing option was to fall asleep until they needed to go out and find a traitor, but raikou wasn’t in the habit of falling asleep before at least midnight.

—

“raikou.” gau whispered, touching his shoulder. “wake up. it’s time.”

raikou blinked in surprise. looking out the window, he saw the sun had disappeared, leaving a cloudy darkness in its wake. he opened his mouth, but a withering look from gau made him close it again.

“please don’t talk.” gau stepped back and shrugged his coat on. he carefully handed shirogamon over to raikou. “how do you feel?”

raikou tried to smile, but judging by the look on gau’s face, it probably looked more like a grimace.

“we’ll make it quick. yukimi’s driving us.”

raikou raised an eyebrow.

“i asked him about ten thousand times and he finally agreed.” gau smiled. “but he made it clear that he was doing it for you, not for me.”

they walked in silence down to the elevator and rode it to the basement level. yukimi was waiting for them, leaning up against his car and jotting something down in a notebook.

“it’s about time.” he growled, but upon making eye contact with raikou, he softened. “damn, look at you.” yukimi looked him up and down with something a shade darker than pity. before raikou could enter the car, he rolled up his sleeve and touched the inside of his wrist to raikou’s forehead.

raikou tried to dodge it, but yukimi stopped him by gripping his shoulder. unable to say anything, he opted to roll his eyes in lieu of a defiant comment. concern from gau was one thing, but pity from yukimi made him want to scream.

“not too bad.” yukimi sighed and loosened his grip on raikou’s shoulder. “you shouldn’t be out for too long, though. and don’t try anything fancy, just get in and out, you hear?”

raikou nodded, trying valiantly to make a face that accurately communicated the phrase “shut up, yukimi” with equal parts annoyance and begrudging affection.

“i’m serious, raikou. no showing off.” yukimi narrowed his eyes. “save the flashy shit for when you can talk.” then his glare fell upon gau. “get him back in one piece. then we’ll have kazuho take a look at him.”

“yes, sir.”

“alright.” yukimi moved so that raikou could get in the front seat. “you’re goin’ downtown, yeah?” gau rattled off the address, and yukimi pulled out of the parking lot and into the street.

raikou sighed and tightened his scarf. yukimi glanced at him and snickered. clearly he was amused.

“you’ve got a goddamn accessory for everything.” yukimi snickered, trying in vain to suppress his schadenfreude. “fucking ridiculous.”

unable to do anything else, raikou glared at him. he was thinking quite a few choice words, but after reminding himself that yukimi was doing him a favor, he let his sullen thoughts fade away. he would get yukimi back later. raikou contented himself with silently scheming for the rest of the car ride.

“this is it.” gau said from the backseat, and raikou snapped back to reality. yukimi parked the car and stared into raikou’s eyes.

“look at me. keep it simple.” he growled. “and come right back.”

raikou nodded and signed “yes,” which was more or less the extent of his japanese sign language knowledge. he knew yukimi knew more than he did. he had been trying to find ways to talk with the kira technique kid who was holed up in his apartment all the time.

yukimi chuckled, a rare moment of genuine amusement without a trace of sadism. “go, kid.”

raikou stepped out of the car to join gau on the sidewalk. he kept a cautious hand on shirogamon as they walked through a back alley.

finally, after about ten minutes, raikou heard faint footsteps around the corner, the trained kind that could only belong to an iga ninja.

he felt gau tense up next to him, and touched his shoulder to put him at ease. gau looked at him expectantly.

the wordless tilt of raikou’s chin said “well, go on.”

gau nodded and stepped out from around the corner. raikou casually followed, knowing that his presence was a lot more threatening than gau’s, and it was better to be fashionably late than directly on gau’s heels.

the traitor, a tall, grizzled man, eventually said the words raikou and gau knew to be inevitable: “who the hell are you?”

to raikou’s surprise, gau smiled.

“we are the wakachi.” he said coolly.

they raised their right hands to show their identical bracelets at an angle that perfectly caught the light of the moon. the metal shone, sinister in the dim light of late evening.

“treason control officers of the kairoshu. meanwhile…”

raikou stopped listening to the words he knew by heart and observed gau from the corner of his eye. he was standing tall and confident in a way that he had never stood before. the infamous wakachi speech was comprised of words he had heard a million times before, but it was evident that the words didn’t control him. he controlled them.

in the light of the moon, gau’s eyes glittered with a certain delight. he was taking pleasure in having power, raikou realized with pride. gau deserved this power, and until now, raikou hadn’t seen it from him. raikou took some more pride in hearing gau emphasize the same words and syllables as he did when he did the speech himself, mirroring his own cadence and tone, but making the speech uniquely his nonetheless. the change in his attitude was mesmerizing, and raikou almost missed his cue.

“...you are to be severely punished.” gau stepped back of his own accord, not needing raikou to remind him.

raikou narrowed his eyes and ran towards the traitor, keeping his head low in case he had a weapon. sure enough, raikou heard the familiar click of a gun before thrusting shirogamon into the traitor’s chest. he removed his blade quickly before looking back to see the man hit the ground. his gun clattered against the pavement and slid a few feet away.

the traitor was suitably punished, having paid for his disloyalty with his life, and raikou raised shirogamon a final time. he hesitated, and yukimi’s words echoed in his head.

don’t try anything fancy, just get in and out, you hear?

keep it simple.

raikou sighed and sheathed shirogamon, feeling exhaustion setting into his body. the adrenaline of the kill was draining away.

gau knelt and cut a lock of dark hair from the body. he sealed it in a plastic bag and pocketed it before approaching raikou.

“your scarf.” he tilted his head, a worried expression on his face replacing the confident one he had worn a few minutes earlier.

raikou looked down. blood had spattered onto it and dark red stains bloomed on the fabric. gau inspected it closely.

“i can probably get those out.” he mused, looking up at raikou. he swiped at raikou’s cheek, attempting to remove some blood from his face. “you’re usually more careful. we should get you home.”

raikou dipped his head in agreement. gau stepped over the body and looked back to wait for raikou, who had walked around it. they made their way back to the main street side by side. after a minute, gau looked up at raikou.

“did i do okay?” he asked. “with talking, i mean…”

i’m proud beyond belief, raikou wanted to say. you impressed me. you did amazingly, and i am so lucky to have you by my side, gau.

but he couldn’t.

gau looked at him with bated breath.

raikou stopped and did the only thing he could think to do.

he hugged gau.

physical affection wasn’t usually his ideal avenue for expressing his feelings, but taking gau in his arms was easy, like he belonged there.

gau had tensed up at the contact, but relaxed after the shock wore off. he hugged raikou back, his chin resting on raikou’s shoulder.

raikou felt gau’s hands on his back. they were still a little shaky from doing the wakachi speech by himself. his adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet.

slowly, gently, raikou reached up and cupped the back of gau’s head with his hand, bringing him even closer. he swallowed hard. “you did so well.” the words were barely audible, but the weight they held made up for the lack of volume. in that moment, hattori didn’t matter. the traitor didn’t matter. earning trust and advancing the ranks of the kairoshu didn’t matter. what mattered was how tight gau was holding him, like raikou would fade away if he wasn’t careful. communication didn’t have to be through words, raikou realized, suddenly hyper-aware of gau’s arms wrapped around him. through his touch, gau conveyed the honor, the gratefulness, and all the pride he felt not only to have done the wakachi speech correctly, but to have done it by raikou’s side.

gau pulled away and raikou noticed with concern that his eyes were shining with tears. before he could apologize, gau smiled brightly and wiped them away. “you don’t know how much that means to me, raikou.” he said softly. “and please stop talking.”

raikou nodded. he tousled gau’s hair, hoping that the little gesture conveyed his pride the way gau’s touch had. by the look on gau’s face, he knew that it did.

“are you done?”

gau and raikou’s heads whipped toward the opening of the alley. yukimi stood there, leaning against the wall and pointedly checking his watch.

gau jumped back from raikou, his cheeks reddening. “sorry, yukimi.” he squeaked.

“gayass.” yukimi muttered, just loud enough for raikou to register that he was addressing both of them.

raikou looked up at yukimi, adjusting his scarf and daring yukimi to say something about it. to his confusion, yukimi’s eyes widened.

“raikou…”

before raikou could do anything, gau piped up. “it’s not his.” he assured yukimi. raikou looked down and saw the traitor’s blood stained on his scarf, vest, and sleeves.

yukimi sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. “scared the hell out of me, kid. get in the car, i’m sure you’re tired.” as raikou walked to the car, yukimi’s eyes narrowed. “you’re usually more careful.”

“that’s what i said.” gau said, already sitting in the backseat.

“pipe down.” yukimi rolled his eyes. “get in, raikou.”

raikou nodded and walked around the car to get in the passenger seat. he sank into the seat, only then realizing how tired he was. yukimi noticed.

“just hang on ‘til we get to your place.”

raikou’s eyelashes fluttered, his eyes threatening to close completely, but before they could do so, he felt gau’s hand on his shoulder. he didn’t have the energy to turn his head, but he could tell that gau was smiling. his touch conveyed affection beyond the likes of what could be said aloud.

raikou’s pride for gau and his wakachi performance was still coursing through the air between the two of them, speaking volumes in its electric silence. they had created a form of communication that was all their own. raikou exhaled and let himself get lost in gau’s gentle touch.

there were no words needed.

#I HAVE CAST SPELL OF SHUT THE FUCK UP ONTO RAIKOU #I HAVE STOLEN HIS VOICE LIKE FUCKING URSULA #I AM GOING TO TORTURE A CHARACTER IN A WAY THAT IS SO METAPHORICAL #communication is KEY raikou #talk to your loved ones!#real talk actually he and gau are so cute. i don’t mean in like a romantic way i just mean in a love that transcends definition kind of way #jo.posts #jo.fic #nabari no ou #nno #nno fic #raikou shimizu #gau meguro #yukimi kazuhiko

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years ago

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Being Human - Chapter 07

<= Chapter 06

Summary : Snatcher gets a boo boo ! Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/62121352

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New chapter ! I hope you'll like it ! I had a lot of fun writing this one ! Thank you so much for your likes, comments and reblogs everyone !!! I READ YOUR TAGS AND I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM !! Thank you so so so much !! Your comments and reblogs/likes are the best thing there is to keep me writing, you're all so amazing !!

The "Oh The Humanity" AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 7 - “Well, isn’t that fantastic!”

Snatcher knew very well the kids were aliens. After all, from their attitude, their written language being very different to what he knew, their magical hats and hourglasses… It would be stupid to think those little girls were perfectly human. A mere human wouldn’t have been able to fight him like they did. The ghost knew all of that. However, when he had been brought into the children’s spaceship, it still shocked him quite a bit, whether it was psychologically or, well, physically.

The bow-wearing kid had suggested they all teleported back there, so they would have access to a whole range of equipment. Moonjumper had been tasked to stay in the Forest, guarding the village and its undead inhabitants. Snatcher hadn’t told his minions about it yet, but if he had to be honest, he didn’t want to face any of them again at the moment.

The situation was already more than humiliating as it was.

Snatcher was used to teleportation or, well, he thought he was. But teleporting using magic and teleporting using science were very much different. When the ghost’s body materialized in the little girls’ spaceship, he felt like his insides were being. The very instant his feet touched the floor again, he fell down forward, losing all sense of balance. He barely noticed it as the nausea that attacked his stomach was simply overwhelming, preventing him to feel anything else but that. He almost closed his eyes, only for them to reopen quickly when his body hit the pink carpet violently. His teeth chattered loudly as his chin collided with the floor, crushing his tongue at the same time. A cry left his lips as pain spread into every part of this useless body, his nausea only intensifying with that.

Why did he feel so sick?! He used to teleport all the time! This wasn’t fair, he thought furiously while he clenched his teeth from pain and irritation. Soon enough, he was surrounded by the two kids, who immediately put the Time Piece down and came to help him:

-“Snatcher!” exclaimed the hatted brat, kneeling near his head, putting her hand on his shoulder to shake him a little bit. The ghost didn’t want this, he hated to be touched, the sensation was unbearable, even more now that he was feeling so bad… At the simple thought of it, his revulsion only worsened.

-“Are you okay?” asked the bow-wearing kid, in a tone that was more than worried. The shade would have laughed in her face if he could: of course he was not okay! How could she even ask him that? Was she blind? At least, she knew better than to touch him… However, no coherent words left his mouth as his chin and tongue hurt too much for him to say anything. He mindlessly brought his hand to his face, clenching the lower part of his face while letting out a high pitched sound.

Being human again was the worst.

He felt a soothing sensation on his shoulders: the hatted kid was rubbing him gently, as a way to comfort him. But it did the complete opposite: he didn’t need comfort! He was a murderous ghost, who had stolen hundreds of souls, who had lived for centuries! And now this brat was petting his shoulders?

This could only be a joke.

Ignoring the pain in his limbs, he tried to push the other away, though pathetically. He wanted to tell her how stupid she was to try to calm him down like a baby, how disrespectful it was, how much he didn’t want to be touched at all… But he couldn’t. It hurt too much.

-“Oh my pecking God, Snatcher, drop the soon-deh-ray act!” grunted the older child, probably rolling her eyes as she spoke. The shade couldn’t quite see her face from the way he was lying on the ground. He wanted to reply that it had absolutely nothing to do with whatever she was saying, even if he had no idea what it meant. Yet, the younger brat beat him to it:

-“I don’t think he wants to be touched, Hat,” she hinted, her voice full of concerns. It seemed to be more than enough for the other to realize her mistake though. The latter quickly took her hand back:

-“Oh, right…!” she said, apologizing immediately after that, guilt audible in her intonation: “Sorry…” At her answer, the ghost let out a groan, not linking the idea of being this vulnerable, but… Well, at least, no one was touching him anymore. He tried to lift his head, only to feel more pain on his chin and in his mouth. He felt blood filling up his mouth and he coughed some on the carpet. It was probably because of how his teeth had bitten his tongue on accident. The sight made the little girls pale up instantly, their breath caught in their throat as they stared at him with clear fear and worry in their eyes. The little hatted brat straightened up and ran to the kitchen, telling her friend that she was going to fetch the first-aid kit. The latter remained at the ghost’s sides while he was trying to pull himself together. He managed to roll to his sides, still very much disorientated by his sudden fall. The younger child made a sympathetic face, smiling at him sadly as she tried to comfort him again:

-“Don’t worry,” she assured him: “Teleportation does that to everyone at first.”

The shade eyed her with suspicions and irritation. He opened his mouth and attempted to speak, though his words were barely understandable, considering how he couldn’t move his tongue very well anymore:

-“What do you mean?” he asked, wincing at the pain.

It took the kid a few seconds to understand him but, when she did, she tilted her head on the side, staring into space as she tried to explain:

-“Well… It takes a while for someone to adjust. Hat and I had to be trained for that a few years back and, yeah…” she giggled a bit, a look of nostalgia appearing on her features: “Let’s say that those were not enjoyable times!”

The recent revelations made Snatcher suddenly very intrigued regarding the past of the little girls. To be completely honest, he never really cared about the past of anyone, since any person entering his domain was fated to die. Why would he care about the story of someone he was going to eat the soul of? However, now that he had crossed the path of those two children… He couldn’t deny that he had been quite curious about some things, even though he didn’t really show it.

Well, who wouldn’t be after meeting two alien brats who had their very own spaceship without any adult supervision? With those same kids having powerful artefacts and being trusted with them? This obviously brought a lot of questions.

-“Trained?” he couldn’t help but repeat the word, too intrigued to ignore what she had just said.

-“Yeah!” she answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: “What, did you think they gave spaceship to anyone where we’re from?” she questioned, almost laughing at him for his confusion. The ghost felt his cheeks reddening from the embarrassment and he turned away, feeling his mood worsening even more. He should have known better than to ask questions… Cluttering sounds could be heard in the distance as the other kid was trying to find the first-aid kit. The younger one apologized when she realized she had offended him:

-“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to make fun of you,” she confessed, an expression of guilt taking place on her face. Snatcher grunted in response, wanting nothing more than to continue sulking as they were waiting for the hatted brat to come back. Though, eventually, his curiosity got the best of him and he turned back to her:

-“So you need to have some kind of… Licence? To drive this thing?” It made sense, with hindsight. Who in their right mind would give such a thing to young inexperienced children?

The shade tried to sit, though it was easier said than done. He managed to swallow the blood accumulating in his mouth and rubbed his chin slightly, only to cringe at how much it stung. Yep, he was not touching that again. Next to him, the bow-wearing child winced but quickly tried to hide it as she answered his question:

-“Yep!” she confirmed, doing her best to sound cheerful despite all the bad things currently happening: “Well, to be fair, Hat is the pilot expert,” she admitted, tilting her head on the side: “I can fly a ship, but I’m not as good as her at it. She’s in charge of piloting the ship most of the time while I check on the engine and the machine room. But sometimes, we switch!”

The ghost nodded mindlessly, slowly processing what had been said to him. This was definitely a lot, especially with everything that was happening at the same time. Snatcher felt almost relieved when he heard the kitchen door opening again, violently slamming into the next wall as the hatted brat joined them back, running quickly with the kit in her tiny hands. She proudly put it on the ground next to the shade, trying to catch her breath as she announced, beaming:

-“Found it!” She quickly opened it, revealing many healing items, along some the ghost couldn’t quite recognize as they looked extremely weird to him. Perhaps it was because they were aliens and, thus probably had very different healing processes. However, there was still basic stuff in there, such as bandages, disinfectant, a thermometer, scissors… At least, he wouldn’t end up with some alien thing on his injuries. Well, he would probably end up with a bandage on his chin, but for his tongue… He wasn’t sure how this would heal. It wasn’t like he could put a bandage over his tongue and call it a day…

The two little girls proceeded to look into the kit, throwing anything they didn’t need behind them, forming a pile of items next to them. Soon enough, the bow-wearing kid brandished a particular bandage with a proud “ah-ha!”. It was a pink bandage with a black kitten on it.

-“You can’t be serious,” said Snatcher with a deadpan expression. There was no way, absolutely no way the ghost was going to wear that thing, especially on his face. He might have turned into a disgusting human, yes, but he still had some dignity left!

His reaction offended the younger child more than he first thought. She opened her mouth and her eyes wide, staring at him as if he had insulted her entire family:

-“What?!” she exclaimed, pulling back from the shock: “What’s wrong with my bandages?!” She approached said bandages to her chest, as if she was trying to protect them from Snatcher’s words.

-“What’s wrong?!” he repeated, unable to believe how she couldn’t see the problem with it: “They’re kids’ bandages! I’m not going to wear those!” he answered, outraged and staring at the items with disgust. Who did she think he was? He wasn’t a child!

Silence fell in the room as Snatcher’s eyes were fixed on the children’s. It was like time had stopped, no one was moving. The only thing echoing in the room at this particular instant was the constant whirring of the ship and the trio’s breathing. And, after what felt hours to the ghost, the silence was violently interrupted as the kids burst into laughter, a loud and hysterical laugh. They rolled on their sides, clenching their stomach as they couldn’t help but laugh at him. Snatcher, on the other hand, was surprised by their reaction, though his astonishment was soon replaced by another powerful wave of embarrassment hitting him. His face reddened again: how dared they mock him?!

-“Shut up!” he yelled, though he sounded extremely ridiculous with the way he was talking, since he still couldn’t move his tongue very well yet. The girls’ laugh intensified even more, so much that the little vacuum cleaner, who had stayed away at first, finally approached them. It slightly bumped into the hatted brat with a short high pitched sound, as if it was asking for what was happening. But said girl ignored it, unable to focus on anything else as she was still laughing on the floor.

-“Stop it!” barked the former shade, his voice full of anger and shame. But, then again, his words were deformed by his difficulties to speak.

It took the brats a little while to finally calm themselves down, not helped by Snatcher’s furious demands. The bow-wearing kid had tears on her cheeks, having laughed too much.

-“Oh my God, Snatcher,” breathed the hatted kid as her laughter was dying down: “They’re just bandages! You’re not going to throw a tantrum for some pecking pink bandages, are you?”

Snatcher’s rage and embarrassment intensified at her words:

-“Throw a- Of course not!” he countered, his voice loud.

The younger kid giggled and handed him one of the bandages, which was big enough to fit the injury on his chin:

-“Well, if there’s no problem… Put it on!” she insisted.

The ghost glared at the kids: they were mocking him. He squinted, hating how weak he was at the moment, how he was unable to chase them or hurt them in this fleshy body. If only he still had some of his powers… But there was nothing inside of him, no powers left, no souls either. It was all just gone.

He groaned and sighed, taking the item from her quickly, making them giggle even more.

“Keep laughing,” he thought to himself: “I swear I’m going to get my revenge on you two as soon as I get my old body back…” It was a promise. Without losing any more time, he rapidly untied the item and stuck it on his chin, wincing at the contact. God, it just stung so much.

More snickers could be heard from the children, earning them a dirty look from the spirit.

-“There, it’s on my face! Happy?!” he fumed, attempting to cross his arms, only to stop when he noticed how many sensations it brought him. He resigned himself to keep his arms on his knees instead.

-“Oh, very,” assured the hatted brat with a smug smile on her insufferable face.

The shade gave them another murderous look, before glancing around him, feeling the nausea slowly fading. Well, at least the younger child hadn’t lied: it was disappearing just like she had told him. He put his hands on the ground, trying to push himself back up, only to stumble in the process. The movement made his head spin and he would have fallen again if it wasn’t for the two kids, who reacted quickly enough to catch him.

-“Hey, hey, stay with us,” said his older ex-contractor, any trace of smugness gone from her face: “Here, lean on me,” she told him, putting his hand on her small and yet strong shoulder. She was quickly imitated by her younger friend, who held the ghost by his hips so he wouldn’t fall backwards.

-“I don’t need you,” hissed the ghost, utterly humiliated by how weak he was. He couldn’t believe he needed the help of two children just to stand up!

-“Yeah, sure,” replied the hatted girl, rolling her eyes: “Keep telling yourself that,”

The ghost wanted to retort something, but he was cut short by the bow-wearing kid, who spoke up with concern in her intonation:

-“Maybe you should rest a little? We’ll take you to our bedroom.” she suggested, lifting her head to meet his dizzy eyes: “Hat and I can look for a solution while you take a nap,” she paused, hesitating, before whispering to her friend: “To be honest, I think he really needs to sleep a little, don’t you?”

-“I can hear you,” he reminded aloud, irritated: “And I don’t need to sleep! What I need is my body, now.”

However, he could feel the little girls taking him to the bedroom, leading the way to the purple door as the hat-wearing brat interjected:

-“Well, I think you could use a rest too. I mean, have you even seen your face?” she asked, raising an eyebrow: “You kinda look like a ghost. In a bad way, I mean.”

-“Well, isn’t that fantastic!” he answered, his voice full of sarcasm. Yet, he still continued walking, very well aware of how he would fall down again without the kids to hold him up. The door opened quickly, its sound resonating in the room as they walked forward. It led to a hallway, in which there was a long window. The spirit could see space through it, a vision that made him grow dizzier: it was a lot to take in, after all. He then muttered to himself, remembering the little girl’s words: “Plus… I don’t really want to see my face, right now.”

The kids exchanged a concerned glance, as they guided him to the bedroom, the other door opening as swiftly as the one before. Snatcher felt his limbs becoming heavier and heavier with each step. Who knew walking again after hundreds of years could be that hard? He could feel an increasing pain in his muscles, making his teeth clench. Everything hurt so much.

He tried to resist when the kids brought him to what looked like a huge pillow pool so he would lie down. Eventually, the hatted child pushed his back forward, making him fall on the soft and colourful cushions. His body hit the smooth pillows as he felt the air leaving his lungs from the shock. The latter woke up more pain in his body and he couldn’t help but cringe at all those new awful sensations coming back to haunt him.

-“Hat!” gasped the younger child, looking at her friend with a reproachful expression.

-“What?” replied the brat with a shrug: “He’s on the pillows now, isn’t that what you wanted?”

The shade slowly turned his head towards her, gritting his teeth:

-“You…” he hissed darkly, looking daggers at her. But it didn’t scare his ex-contractor in the least. Instead, she just smiled smugly at him again and made a few steps back:

-“Take a little nap, now, we’ll be back later!” she sang to him, gesturing to her younger friend to follow her. The latter glanced at them with hesitation, wondering if she should stay with the spirit or not. Eventually, she approached the other brat, maybe guessing the ghost would be better alone.

She wasn’t wrong, in a way. But the ghost couldn’t stay here and do nothing! What if Vanessa decided to attack the village while he was gone? Sure, he had recruited Moonjumper for help, but that didn’t mean he trusted him completely. No, it was more like a last resort, in the worst-case scenario…

-“Wait!” Snatcher tried to stand up again, only to fall down into the pillows again. He tried to turn back again, only to see the kids walking out of the room.

-“See you later, BFF!” exclaimed the hatted girl with a smug face. The other child gave him a small smile and waved at him.

-“Sleep well,” she wished him: “We’ll be back soon, promise. Rest a bit in the meantime!” And then, they were out of the room, the door closing behind them.

Snatcher stared into space as he was trying to process everything that had just happened. It took him a few moments and he used that time to recover his breath a little bit. He glanced around him and eyed the pillows with distaste. There was no way he was going to sleep when his ex could be freezing back his part of the forest! Ah, as if he couldn’t resist the urge to sleep! Snatcher was above all that, he was dead! He didn’t need sleep! His eyes closing more and more as his body slowly sank in the pillows meant absolutely nothing! It was just his body playing tricks on him, nothing more!

And then, the former soul-stealing ghost fell asleep. -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hum, I sure wonder what's going to happen in the next chapter :) Probably something full of fluff !!!! ...... Or not, who knows :)c

=> Chapter 08

#A Hat In Time #ahit #oth #oh the humanity au #snatcher #bow kid #bk #hat kid #hk #fanfiction #my art #doodledrawsthings

32 notes · View notes

hazel-writes · 4 years ago

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Summary: You begin your first official day of work and meet your new coworkers, who turn out to be full of surprises.

Word Count: 2,300

Notes: This chapter is a bit slow, but I'm excited to introduce you to some new characters! If you want to see Picrew face-claims for these characters, look here. Otherwise, imagine them to look however you want!

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

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I'm trying hard to hide

Keep the sun out of my eyes

Close them tight

And now I'm waiting for the moon to rise

Belle and Sebastian ~ Waiting for the Moon

You walked through the door, nervously wringing your hands, despite your best efforts not to. Your eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on a large, grey reception desk. Sitting behind the desk was none other than Ms. Stoney, the uptight woman who had “welcomed” you onto the ship the day before.

You took a deep breath before walking over to her, waiting patiently for her to look up and address you — but she didn’t. You tried subtly clearing your throat, shifting your feet from side to side, and moving into her line of sight, but nothing seemed to grab her attention. Eventually you forced out a meek, “Hi, there!” to which she responded with an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Oh, it’s you again,” she grumbled with a mix of tiredness and disappointment.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” you smiled back, which you could tell bothered her. “I’m looking for the artist workspace? I know it’s somewhere within this department, but I wasn’t sure where exactly…”

“Artist?” she questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah! Ya know, an individual who… does art?” Your attempt at an explanation was met by silence. “Umm… they’re usually covered in some sort of paint or clay, might dress a little funny, are often a little angsty, possibly tormented by some aspect of their past?” More silence. You give a strained smile; you really shouldn’t keep trying to talk over awkward silences. “Not ringing a bell, huh?”

Through clenched teeth she replied,“I believe the people you are looking for are through those doors on the left.”

She said the word people like it left a bad taste in her mouth. She obviously didn’t think too kindly of them.

“Great, thanks,” you replied, heading to the door she indicated.

You opened it, and to your surprise you saw no canvases, paint splatters, tin cans, or haphazard brushes littering the room. The walls and floors were a spotless white. A large, circular table was positioned in the center of the room, surrounded by sleek modern chairs and data pads on tripods. This didn’t look like your dad’s studio back home; a place where the remnants of unfinished projects were put on display for everyone to see and learn from. Here, you could already tell: making mistakes wasn’t an option. There was no room for error.

You returned your attention to what was in front of you, only to have three pairs of eyes meet yours.

The first pair belonged to a girl of medium height. She had long, slightly frazzled, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that contrasted her pale skin. She jumped when you walked in, her face immediately lighting up when she saw you. The second pair belonged to a taller girl. She had warm, chestnut eyes that complemented her dark, sepia skin. Her hair framed her face in a fan of tight curls. She seemed to examine you carefully, squinting slightly, before turning back to her work. The final pair belonged to a boy of medium height. He had shaggy light brown hair and a tanned, terracotta complexion. He looked at you with curious hazel eyes, smirking ever so slightly.

The three of them looked to be about your age, somewhere in their 20's.

The blonde-haired girl ran over to you, pulling you away from your observations. “You must be the new girl!” she exclaimed. “I’m Rilea, your new best friend.”

You were taken aback by her enthusiastic and cheerful attitude; it wasn’t something you encountered very often on the Finalizer. You laughed nervously. “Oh, uhh… cool?”

The boy with the disheveled hair spoke up from the back of the room. “Don’t mind her, she has a new best friend each week.” He smirked at Rilea and she threw a box of tissues at him playfully.

“While that may be true,” she continued, turning to face you, “I can tell that you are going to be my favorite best friend.”

“That’s literally what you say to every single new person you meet,” the boy piped up again.

“For star's sake, Takoda, why do you have to be such a mudcrutch?!” Rilea shouted at him, frustrated.

You continued to observe in silence, still adjusting to the rapid shift of atmosphere in this room compared to the rest of the Finalizer.

You moved to go sit, finding an open seat next to the quiet, curly-haired girl. You gave her a small smile when you sat down, and she returned the favor, scooting her chair over to give you more room. Rilea, and the boy whose name apparently was Takoda, continued to argue like a couple of four year olds.

“Are they always like this?” you asked the girl seated next to you.

“Yup, pretty much,” she replied. “That is, of course, in between the times when they aren’t getting any work done… and the times when they still aren’t getting any work done.”

You laughed. “Well, at least one person here seems to have a level-head.”

“Make that two,” she said, giving you a smile. “My name is Akilah. What’s yours?”

You told her your full name before giving her your nickname, Wren, as well.

“Wren…” she pondered. “Not as in Kylo Ren, right?”

“No, no, no, stars, no,” you emphasized. “It’s the name of a- ” You paused, reconsidering. “I actually don’t know where it comes from, my friends just started calling me by it one day...”

Akilah stared at you intently for a few moments before Takoda shouted over at the two of you.

“Hey, you two aren’t gossiping about us now, are ya?”

You sighed, “Nope, just getting to know Akilah here.”

Rilea poked her head out from behind Takoda, “She's my best friend too!”

You mentally face-palmed and turned to fully face the group.

“So, this is the artist workspace?” you questioned, skeptically.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I wouldn’t go that far as to say we are artists,” said Takoda.

You were confused. “But I thought-”

“You thought wrong. Here, you just follow the rules and instructions laid out for you. We are given colors, words, and images, and it’s simply our job to assemble it all into a neat poster or flyer for distribution.”

“Oh…” you replied, disappointed.

“I’m not even an artist,” he continued. “They just stuck me here after I was medically discharged from the trooper program. For the most part, everyone in this sector just got placed here because there was nothing else they could do”

“So why did they bother hiring me then?” you questioned. “If I’m gonna be honest, I’m used to a little more creative freedom back home. They could’ve chosen anyone for this job.”

“I don’t know,” Takoda replied. “Maybe they want their propaganda to look good for a change.” He smirked.

“Where did you say you were from again, bestie?” Rilea asked.

“Oh, I didn’t,” you replied. “I’m from Lothal.”

Immediately, each member of the team looked at each other, worried.

“Lothal…” Rilea repeated. “That’s one of the Order's targeted planets right now. I have a feeling that pretty soon we'll be distributing posters there. Maybe Hux thinks you can help reason with the people there?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Akilah added. “First Order propaganda would be a lot easier to accept coming from a fellow citizen.”

You pondered their words. What they were saying was probably true: you were simply a tool to be used by the First Order. They didn’t care about your talent or passion; they just needed your image.

“Well, I don't know how helpful I'd be on that front,” you sighed, pausing. “So what is the project you are working on now?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” said Takoda. “Our fourth member should be returning soon with our new assignment.”

“Fourth member?” you questioned.

At that moment, the door swung open with a dramatic bang, revealing a tall, lanky boy with jet black hair and evergreen eyes. He was pale with light freckles speckling his face and arms. His eyes narrowed when they met yours, scrutinizing your presence.

“Look, here he is, ‘fun-sized Kylo’ himself,” Takoda quipped.

Rilea leaned towards you. “He claims that he adopted the whole ‘tormented soul, dramatic hair’ look before Ren even thought of it,” she snickered.

You were confused, but luckily Akilah came to your rescue.

“This is Soren,” she explained. “Our fourth member… Well, fifth, now.”

“Oh!” you replied, stretching out your hand for him to shake. “It’s nice to meet you I’m -”

“Irrelevant,” he interrupted bluntly, briskly brushing past you to sit at the back of the room.

You stood there, hand still outstretched, looking to the others for guidance.

Takoda spoke first, turning to face Soren. “Hey, laser brain, why don’t ya try being a little nicer to our newest member.”

“This is our newest member?” he responded, disapprovingly. “She doesn’t look like the First Order’s finest.”

“That’s because I’m not,” you interjected, defensive. “I’m from Lothal originally. Today is technically my first day with the Order.”

At the mention of your home planet, Soren visibly tensed, his fingers curling into tight fists. The other three looked nervously at each other; they knew something you didn’t.

Akilah, again, interrupted the tense silence. “We should probably get to work… What’s the new assignment Sor?”

Hearing her voice, he seemed to relax a little, pulling out a few papers with various sketches and color swatches.

“They want us to design posters directed at the people of Dantooine. The First Order is currently working to establish a blockade on the planet. It is our job to convince the natives to submit, while also showing them that they have the ability to contribute their own assets to our cause.”

You frowned, unsure of a few posters' ability to do such a thing. You were familiar with Dantooine; its history was deeply rooted in rebel allegiance. You doubted that a few pieces of paper could somehow shift the ingrained attitudes of thousands of people. But then again, you were an artist. And as an artist, it was your job to put blind faith into your work, simply hoping that others could see what you saw in it.

“How successful has this First Order propaganda been in the past?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Takoda laughed. “Not very. Usually, it just makes the citizens more angry. But that kind of works in favor of the Order: as soon as the rebels and their sympathizers become violent, whatever happens to them at the hands of the Order is then justified, so to speak.”

“What would happen if we tried to mix things up a bit? Like attempting a different style, color scheme, or whatever it may be, to make the posters more effective?” you suggested.

Suddenly serious, Takoda spoke. “No. We don’t do anything without the Order’s permission. Never. That’s our number one rule. We can mess around and make jokes all we want in here, but whatever finished product leaves this room has to be exactly what was requested of us.”

Something in Takoda’s voice made it seem like there was history behind this rule — history that didn't conclude with a happy ending. Looking around the room, you knew you were right. Everyone, except for Soren, was avoiding your gaze, choosing to stare at their shoes or the floor. Soren continued to bore into you with a death-glare, but your instincts told you he was like this with everyone and not to take it too personally.

“Yeah, I get it,” you responded. Soren looked at you sceptically. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I’m on my last warning with General Hux — another mistake will pretty much guarantee my head a new home in the trash compactor.”

“Speaking of Hux, we are to report to him tomorrow with drafts,” Soren finally spoke up.

“Tomorrow?!” Rilea exclaimed.

“Yup,” Soren replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course he would pull something like this, giving us less than 24 hours notice...” Rilea muttered, irritated.

“Stars, I swear that man is 90% petulant child, 7% attempted scariness, and 3% toupee,” you responded.

This earned a chuckle from the group. Even Soren managed a smirk.

“Yeah, well, sadly, that petulant child has a big red button sitting under his bony finger that can destroy entire planets in the blink of an eye,” said Akilah, quietly. “So, we should probably get to work.”

“She’s right,” you say, desperate to end any talk of Hux. “Let’s start.”

And with that, the five of you began work on what was your first official project on the Finalizer. Akilah showed you how to accurately read the diagrams that the Order had provided. Rilea and Takoda attempted to work for a few minutes before devolving into yet another tissue paper fight. Soren sat quietly in the corner, working on the new project, glancing up every now and then at you and Akilah.

Despite the hectic menagerie of personalities that surrounded you, you were glad that you weren't stuck working with cold, robotic First Order employees like Ms. Stoney. You desperately wanted to ask your new friends about their backstories and how they came to be “artists” on the Finalizer, but Takoda and Rilea were busy stuffing tissues in each other’s ears, and Akilah and Soren seemed like the ‘work in silence’ types. You decided to settle with your own thoughts for now; it wasn’t as if you were lacking them.

It occurred to you that tomorrow you would have to face Hux again, the memory of what he sneered at you in the hallway this morning still fresh in your mind: Strike two.

You didn’t know what strike three would involve, but you definitely didn’t want to find out.

Unfortunately, you didn't get that lucky.

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

Previous || Masterlist || Next

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shootingcookielover · 5 years ago

Text

Part 2 of this little fic~

Here is part 1, in case you’re curious:

https://shootingcookielover.tumblr.com/post/617196072625995776/summarydescriptionwhatever-its-called

Summary/description/whatever it’s called of part 1:

Virgil’s primary function as the protector of the mindscape almost renders him unable to help, Roman didn’t take the newest episode too well and Remus… well, Remus doesn’t exactly know what’s wrong, but there is definitely something wrong with him. He doesn’t like it. At all.

@infinitesimalpancakes

@glitchybina

You wanted to be tagged! Hope you enjoy!

Warnings

Blood, non-graphic (I think??) torture, disturbing thoughts, gore, this is all I can think of, right now, if there’s more, feel free to point it out

No ships

Janus hadn’t expected to be abducted by Roman today, but, well. Not much he could change about it now.

He wanted to reach up and adjust his hat, out of habit mostly, but quickly remembered why he couldn’t.

The chains around all his six wrists, binding him to the floor, loudly clinked against one another. Sighing, he simply shuffled into a vaguely more comfortable stance. More clinks sounded out from the other chains. The ones around his ankles.

In Janus’ opinion the amount of restrictions was overkill. In Roman’s, it was necessary.

Speaking of the newly-black-clad side, he was standing not too far from Janus, looking out of a window.

“So.”, the lying side began, causing the creative one to turn, narrowed eyes set on Janus, “Totally not confused by the wardrobe and attitude change. Care to elaborate?”

Roman scoffed as he approached Janus. They were so close their noses were almost touching.

Janus could see the green flecks in Roman’s red eyes.

“Oh, please, Deceit. Don’t pretend not to know.”, he said, a smirk stretching across his features. “You’re the one who brought it to my attention!”

Now there was a hand under Janus’ chin, tilting his face sideways, making his scales easier to see. His snake-eye would have narrowed, if it had eyelids. It did not, however, so all he could do was glare.

A finger softly stroked over his left cheek and Janus swiftly decided that consent wasn’t important at all when it came to touching. He jerked his head out of Roman’s grasp, watching as an upset scowl overtook the prince’s face.

The creative side growled and stepped back.

And then there was the sword in his hand again.

“Ah, hey, Roman, wait-”, Janus began, trying fruitlessly to back off a bit.

The sword was raised and the grin was back on Roman’s face, his expression reminded Janus of Remus and oh. This wasn’t good at all, was it?

A hysteric giggle tore free from Roman’s mouth. The blade of his sword gleamed dangerously, as it was swung.

Janus screwed his eyes shut and waited for the all-too-familiar pain.

At least Remus had asked permission.

The shard in Virgil’s chest, that had grown big enough to envelop his entire torso, was apparently an ever-present pain now. One that Virgil had to deal with.

Luckily the pain had receded enough for his mind to clear and his strength to restore. As the protector of the mindscape, he had insisted on checking Roman’s room himself, since he was able to now.

Patton had asked to accompany him, but Logan had intercepted. The logical side had reminded them that there was one other side closely related to creativity. Deceit.

Therefore, Patton had taken it upon himself to go check on the lying side.

The thought of the fatherly side, alone with Deceit, made Virgil’s skin crawl. Which was one of the biggest reasons for the hurry in his step, second only to the overwhelming worry for Roman.

The anxious side turned around the corner leading to the hallway with all their rooms. Well, except for Remus’ and Deceit’s.

His blood ran cold. Not in the painful way his heart was iced, but in fear and shock.

The bright white of Roman’s double-door had turned black.

Remus’ outfit had turned white.

Virgil had a real bad feeling about this. His feet moved almost on their own as they resumed his path, quicker now than before.

He didn’t bother knocking, simply pushing the door open.

Except, it didn’t work.

“Roman!”, Virgil yelled, pounding his fists against the black, red and gold wood. “Roman, are you in there?!”

Remus had migrated to the couch by now, feeling weirdly comfortable on the cushions. Usually he preferred sitting behind the couch, perhaps even on the backrest, but the front of the couch was way too soft.

Except now it wasn’t. It was nice which made it so much worse.

He scratched his neck, right where the too small collar hugged his throat.

Logan was quick to pull his hand away.

“Would you prefer something to draw?”, Logan questioned, pulling a sketchbook and pencil out of thin air. He handed it to Remus who took it gratefully.

“Why thank you, dork!”

The words felt bitter in his mouth.

Actually, no, they didn’t.

Remus ignored that, for now, instead opening the sketchbook. He waited for his instincts to kick in, to make him want to… do something with the pencil.

He couldn’t even remember what that was anymore now.

After a few seconds he realized that the instinct wouldn’t kick in. He shuddered lightly.

Then he started sketching. This was familiar. This he did a lot; he was actually quite proud of his drawing skills. Janus had pinned some of his better pieces to the dark sides’ fridge.

He felt Logan’s eyes on him. Knew the logical side noticed how he kept moving across the couch. The fabric of his new clothes was rubbing against his skin uncomfortably and not in a fun way.

Logan sat down next to Remus eventually, a book in his hands now.

The creative side started humming to himself, distraught when he recognized “A whole new world” from Aladdin. He cut himself off and decided to hum a different song.

Maybe he could compromise with his… condition. He started quietly singing “Hellfire” under his breath and it worked!

The smile on his face fell the moment he realized just what he was drawing.

His hand started shaking.

The sketchbook fell to the ground, Remus scrambled onto the back of the couch. It was uncomfortable and the hardness of the backrest pressed against his chest in a way that made breathing harder.

Yet it provided comfort all the same, brought him some form of normalcy.

“Is there a problem with the sketchbook?”, Logan asked, worried. He bent down to pick the discarded object up.

Remus shook. “No.”, he felt awful again, felt his self slip away, his core splinter and break. “No, the book is perfect!”

And that just made everything worse, didn’t it? It wasn’t the sketchbook. The paper was perfect, somehow the exact type he preferred to draw on. It wasn’t the sketchbook.

It was him. It was him.

Again.

It made him feel horrible and jittery and now he was trembling and, boy, he was a fricking mess, wasn’t he? He couldn’t even stand to look at something he’d made he was pathetic, he was a failure-

“Remus.”

The hand pulled him from his thoughts so suddenly that the creative side fell from the couch to the ground. The pain pain radiated from his side, making him suck in a sharp breath.

His sword dropped with a loud clatter. The deep red of blood had spread across the ground.

Before him stood Deceit. Well, hanging was more accurate. He doubted the liar still had enough energy to keep himself upright without the chains holding him up.

A quiet groan of pain slipped past Deceit’s lips and, god, it made Roman feel almost euphoric. He leaned in close, nose nearly touching the snake’s.

He didn’t remember why he’d once disliked the scales on his face so much. They were fucking hot.

Roman wanted to tear them off and frame them, hang them on his wall to admire. He wanted to sink his teeth into the bloody mess that would be the skin underneath and-

“Roman!”, someone pounded on the door. “Are you in there?!”

The side’s attention snapped from Deceit to the sound.

“Virgil…”, he mumbled under his breath.

“Virgil.”, he repeated, grin splitting his face in two.

With a spring in his step, the creative side approached the door. He pulled it open with a wide gesture.

“Virgil!”, he excitedly greeted.

The anxious side stumbled back from him. His arm was wrapped around his chest.

“What’s up with your chest?”, Roman asked, his teeth felt sharp and dangerous, “Did your lungs get squished? Did your heart stop? Did you swallow some glass?”, he gasped, joyously, “Did Patton finally break your ribs with a hug?”

Virgil seemed confused as he shook his head slowly. “No…”, while he rubbed his chest, right where his heart should be, underneath flesh and bone.

Roman tilted his head sideways. “Do you want me to rip your heart out?”

The anxious side shook his head again. “No! What’s going on with you, Roman?”

“Going on with me?”, Roman repeated, feeling the words on his tongue. They felt off, somehow. His head tilted farther and a fun little pang of pain shot up his neck as his spine cracked. “There’s nothing going on with me!”

“Roman, no, something’s… why are you acting like… like this?”, Virgil’s eyeshadow was growing.

The creative side idly wondered if it would continue doing that, should he cut off the skin under his eyes. “I’ve finally become myself!”, he responded, twirling, showing off his new outfit. His skirt flared outwards.

When he looked back at the anxious side, he noted that Virgil wasn’t looking at him. He was looking past him.

Roman turned to see what Virgil’s eyes were locked on.

His grin widened. Could it widen enough to tear the edges of his mouth? “I see you’ve found my guest!”

“Your guest?! Roman, what did you do to him?!”, Virgil pushed past Roman.

He seemed irate. Roman pouted. That wasn’t the reaction he’d been looking for.

The anxious side stopped next to Deceit, gripping his hoodie tighter. He turned back around to glare at Roman. “Why did you do this?!”

Roman giggled. He sauntered up to Virgil, throwing his arm around the anxious side’s shoulders.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Virgil shook off Roman, backing away a few steps. This… this couldn’t be happening.

How did Roman not see how wrong this was?! Deceit was limply hanging in a network of chains, his clothes were ripped and blood dripped from his body.

It wasn’t healing. Virgil knew that wounds in the imagination only healed as fast as Roman or Remus wanted them to.

The anxious side shook his head and bared his teeth at Roman. “Roman, whatever you think you’re doing, this is wrong!”, he snapped his fingers to disappear the chains.

It didn’t work. Virgil furrowed his eyebrows. He snapped his fingers again. Nothing.

Roman laughed, but it wasn’t Roman’s laugh. It was Remus’.

Virgil narrowed his eyes at the creative side. The cold in his chest chose this moment to spike.

“I sure hope it is!”, Roman answered, walking up to Deceit. “That is who I am, after all!”, he announced, fingers softly stroking the scales smeared with blood. His eyes glimmered with joy as he moved them from Deceit back to Virgil. “The bad twin!”

Virgil let out a shout and charged at Roman. “Back away from him!”, his tempest tongue broke through.

However wrong Deceit handled things, he didn’t deserve this!

Suddenly there was a sword, ripping through the air, slashing open Virgil’s arm. The anxious side hissed, backing away. Blood fell, mixing with Deceit’s.

For the first time since the shard had lodged itself into Virgil’s heart, he let go of his chest, to wrap his free hand around the injury.

Roman’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. His sword cut the air again.

Virgil jumped back. As much as he wanted to save Deceit, he didn’t stand a chance, not in the imagination.

The second part of fight-or-flight kicked in and Virgil sank out.

He stumbled as he reappeared in the living room. Now that he was out of the imagination, he could simply heal his arm.

“Virgil? What happened, kiddo? Where’s Roman?”, Patton jumped up from the couch, concern lacing his every movement.

Virgil shook his head. “He’s in his room, in the imagination. With… with Deceit.”, he pushed some stray hair out of his face. “He chained Deceit up and…”

“...is torturing him?”, Remus ended his sentence.

Virgil’s eyes snapped over to where the creative side was standing. Seeing him in clean, white clothes was still off-putting.

The anxious side nodded, eyes narrowed. “How did you know?”

“I think I know what’s going on.”, Remus sounded unsure of himself. His eyes glanced around a lot. It irritated Virgil quite a bit; Remus had never been unsure of himself.

“Well, Remus, feel free to share your theories.”, Logan interjected, adjusting his tie.

“Ah!”, the creative side jumped a bit. “Yeah, of course. Uhm. I think I and Roman, uh..”, his voice trailed off as his face morphed into an upset frown, “No, it’s Roman and I. I’m so stupid.”, the last part was mumbled, obviously not meant to be heard. Virgil and Patton exchanged glances. Before they could interrupt Remus, he continued.

“I think Roman and I swapped creativities.”

Janus’ head spun as he suddenly snapped back into consciousness. He blinked his eyes open, expecting pain to spike through his body. It didn’t.

Confused he looked around. Chains loudly clinked as he stood up from hanging limply in the chains.

“Finally!”

Roman stood barely a step away from Janus. Drops of blood decorated the tan cheeks of the creative side.

His hot breath stank.

“You’re awake again!”

“No.”, Janus replied, doing his best to lean away from Roman. “I’m still unconscious.”

“How sad.”, Roman said, pouting. “Buuuut I can’t wait anymore! Guess there won’t be any screams.”

“You swapped creativities?”, Virgil asked with disbelief.

Remus ducked his head, but nodded. Watching him be so… unconfident was odd.

“It would explain a lot.”, Logan agreed. Virgil only now noticed the sketchbook the logical side held. He flipped it open and showed off an adorable sketch of a dog.

Remus shuddered and looked away from it, scratching his arms through the fabric of his clothes.

“Did… did you draw this, kiddo?”, Patton asked the creative side, who winced, but nodded.

“Yeah. Roman said something similar.”, Virgil voiced his thoughts as Logan closed the sketchbook again. “He said he was the ‘bad’ twin.”

“Oh, this is bad.”, Remus mumbled. He grabbed his head, curling into himself. “This is really bad!”

“Remus.”, Logan interjected. “Breathe with me.”

Remus slapped Logan’s hand away. “No! That’s not it! This is about Roman! Roman doesn’t have a filter!”

“And you did?”, Virgil questioned, eyebrow raised skeptically. He absentmindedly rubbed his chest as the cold decided to peek.

“Yes!”, Remus replied. “You think I acted on every thought I ever had?”

“...I... did…”, Patton remarked, glancing between Logan and Virgil.

Remus groaned. “If I’d done that, none of you would listen to me right now! Dee would have kicked me out a long time ago!”

His gestures were big and wide, there was a deep-seated fear inside his eyes. Virgil shifted uncomfortably.

“I’d have faded in the subconscious. Thomas would be damaged dramatically.”, Remus voice quieted down. His gestures became smaller.

Patton rubbed his arms. “So what do we do? If it’s really that bad we should save Janus soon, right?”

Remus shrugged, uncertainly glancing from one side to another.

Logan gave a curt nod. “Quite correct. However, we should formulate a plan. While Roman resides in the imagination it will be rather difficult to affect anything. Only Remus would be able to resist Roman, and I don’t think Remus is up to it at the moment.”

The creative side shuffled his feet. He scratched his neck. His eyes nervously skittered across the room.

“Yeah, probably not.”, Virgil agreed.

Remus jumped. He sunk back a little. “I’m useless.”, he whispered. Again, it was most likely not meant to be heard.

Patton walked up to Remus who watched him with big, confused eyes.

The fatherly side put his hand on the creative one’s shoulder. “Remus, kiddo, you aren’t useless.”

Remus gave an exhausted sigh as his shoulders dropped. “I know that!”, he said, throwing his arms up in frustration. “But these thoughts keep annoying me and I don’t know how to get rid of them! I’ve never had them before!”

“What?”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “I believe not only did you ‘swap creativities’, but also more of your core functions. The ego, for example.”

Remus blinked. “This is how Roman thinks?”, the creative side made a grimace. “Bleh.”

Patton fiddled with the sleeves of his cat hoodie. “That can’t be good.”

Virgil rubbed his forehead. “I knew Thomas had low self-esteem, but…”, he glanced at Logan. “I didn’t think it was this bad.”

Logan sighed. “It is bad, however, we are getting off-track. We still need to formulate a plan to-”

He was cut off by a scream.

Remus stiffened, eyes widening in panic. “Janus!”, he yelled as he pushed past the other sides.

Virgil scrambled after the creative side.

“No, wait, we should first-”, Logan began.

“Talk later, save Janus now!”, Patton interrupted.

Virgil could hear their steps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Patton dragging Logan along.

Remus slammed into Roman’s door. It opened with a loud crack.

Roman whirled around, away from Deceit whose mouth he was holding closed. Small drops of blood squeezed past his fingers, slowly running down his hands.

Remus screamed, morning star in hand.

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 6 years ago

Text

A Different Time pt4

Warning: Scientific Nerdy Ninja, strong language

MasterList

---

Chapter 4 – More than rice

My voice escaped me before I clamped my hand over my own mouth, such a rookie error honestly. The room was a pretty empty space, in any other building it would be a spare room or storage. Here however there was heavy metal links on the walls and rope. Lots and lots of rope. At the end of each link there was at least one body. From the looks of them, females ranging in ages from early teens to mid-twenties.

The gagged faces looking at me, were all pleading and terrified. Where the hands were bound the skin was broken and bleeding, their ankles had suffered the same treatment. I feel sick. It’s not like I’ve never seen a movie where this happens or even read a manga with it, but something about first hand experience of it has my stomach in knots.

Whatever I had thought might be the reason to leave the window open to this room this certainly was not top of my list of reasons. I did a quick head count, there seemed to be at least ten girls in here. I can’t even cut them free with the guards around, they will just be rounded up in a matter of minutes and tied back up again. I need a plan ...

– Rattle, Click –

The shutter for the window moved and a delicate hand appeared followed by the rest of the female time traveller. She stood there blinking for a few seconds, taking in the room before approaching me.

“What the actual…” She managed to keep her voice lower than mine when I first saw the room but her face showing both shock and anger.

“My sentiments exactly.” My grip on the lamp got a little tighter as I battled with my own mind to avoid being sick.

“Damn I knew the guy was a jerk and sleezy, but what is with this?” Her eyes roamed over the room as mine had done before coming back to mine. The deep caramel brown colour of her eyes looked nearly black in the dim light. Beautiful. What? No, FOCUS!

“Well in this era it is documented that slave trade was prolific. Toyotomi Hideyoshi banned it later on. The new Portuguese traders that have been coming here from overseas used to buy or trade for Japanese to use in the slave trade. That isn’t to say it was supported by the more elite members of society, in fact they frowned upon it and…” Trying to recover from my wandering thoughts I reverted back to what I knew. What I could understand. I knew History of this time I was thankful for having such enthusiastic history buffs for parents.

“Mmm… I apricate the bitesize history lesson but I don’t think now is the time. What do you think will happen to the girls?” She was right of course although it was a relevant insight into the situation my impromptu lecture was badly timed.

“Slave trade typically I suppose what you are thinking as worst case scenario for them is likely to be correct.” I managed to keep my voice as calm and level as my face. Although I didn’t feel that way. I was looking at the eyes of women who were to be dragged away to suffer. I hated the idea of war, fighting, anyone suffering. Being in this time had provided me with the ability to not only protect myself but others too and I will be forever grateful for that. But something like this on this scale was not something I could handle alone and the feeling of being inadequate and helpless swirled inside me.

“Traded for use in the pleasure districts?” She had lowered he voice into barely a whisper. I don’t know if it was because she thought the women in the room might be more upset with that idea or if she was just talking aloud to herself trying to process it all. But there was no stopping my mouth from continuing with my previous lecture.

“More than likely either private or public but overseas so they will be looking at removing them from here to take them to transport soon.” Oh, in the name of… Sasuke shut up. My fellow time traveller looked into my face after I finished speaking.

Her eyes were searching me and I felt a little pin prick of pain over my skin as I realised there was a hurt and questioning look in those beautiful eyes that I might have been the cause of. I didn’t want to hurt you. Facts and information are what I deal with it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with I know and I am also aware that I do not always have the best people skills in the world but I do have empathy.

“You don’t seem very shocked by this.” She probed.

“On the contrary I believe I am so deep in shock that my body is in fact moving on an automatic instinct and I will more than likely eventually be violently and physically sick later.” My monotone reply seemed to have her think of something as I saw her eyes waver slightly.

“Well we should probably leave and get help before that happens then.” She attempted a smile and although it was broken with all the emotions she was undoubtably feeling right now I still was struck by its beauty.

“Agreed.”

– Mmm, Mmm –

One of the girls in the furthest corner that wasn’t completely in the light of the lamp was moving rapidly trying to get our attention. I held on to the lamp and moved closer while the woman who had been at my side until now suddenly lunged towards the girl.

“Ren?... Oh God, Ren it is you hold on.” She slipped her tanto blade out of her Kimono and held it against the fabric gag, cutting it free so that the girl could talk freely.

“[Name] I thought I recognized your voice but I … am I dreaming?” The captive girl’s voice was weak.

“No, you aren’t dreaming Ren, I’m right here … it’s really me honestly. What the Hell happened to you? Why are you even here? You were back at the village last I heard.” The rapid-fire questioning from [Name] put a smile on Ren’s face. Clearly these two were good friends. All I could do was hold a light to illuminate this rather uncomfortable reunion.

“I came here looking for you. Dad sent me he said there was some people asking for you and he wanted you to be safe so he sent me to find you and pass on the message.” Ren attempted to adjust her body into a more comfortable one but after pulling a pained expression and wincing she slumped back into the wall.

“You came alone? For Heaven’s sake Ren do you know how dangerous that is?” [Name] sounded like a chastising big sister or even a mother.

“I didn’t come alone, Aito was with me but…” Ren burst out crying and in between sobs she told us how Aito had been killed defending her. [Name] held her friend in her arms until she had calmed down again stifling the cries in her shoulder so as to not attract unwanted attention from the noise.

The story of how they were ambushed on the road to town by bandits and taken to the Daimyo. The fact that Aito had tried to distract them to allow her to make a run for it and failed. The Daimyo saying, he had “no use for men only the woman would fetch a high enough price for my desires.” It made my blood boil and my knuckles holding the lamp were turning white. Why must it hurt so much to feel so helpless?

“Look Ren I’m not sure how yet but I’m going to get you out of here ok? I’ll get you all out.”

I was captivated by [Name]’s defiant words and attitude. The spark in her eyes was something I normally only saw in Lord Kenshin when he was talking about battle. Regardless of situation I knew we had to get these girls out and free and to do that we needed a plan and help. I thought back to my studies. What had I learnt? Knowledge becomes a powerful weapon in battle, sometimes the most powerful. You can save someone’s life if you have learnt to study and apply background support. But battle tactics… they were the key to bring it all together. Used right you could produce a reliable victory with minimal damage and sacrifice. Lucky for me I know a brilliant tactician… two of them really.

“Who’s he? Is he your boyfriend?” Ren’s innocent question resulted in me freezing in place. I was thankful for the lack of anything other than a dim light because I was fairly sure I might be suffering from idiopathic craniofacial erythema that might rival Yukimura.

“What? Don’t be silly, what would a great guy like that want with a castaway like me?” [Name] chuckled at the girl but I noticed she didn’t look in my direction.

“My Name is Sasuke Sarutobi I’m a friend.” I nodded my head in a very informal bow. [Name]’s words made my mind spin I had no idea how to process that kind of information on top of working on a battle strategy and possible hostage negations. But she said I was a great guy… oh come on Sasuke get a grip!

“No way… are you being serious I mean your name is…” [Name]’s eyes snapped up to mine a very charming inquisitive look on her face.

“My parents had a love of history and didn’t pass on the opportunity when it came to my name.” I shrugged. It had been something I was used to and also sometimes the start of some episodes in my life where I was teased for it. My name after all was effectively a fictitious ninja’s name.

“I bet that was fun growing up with.”

“Well you could say that my speed and agility are a result of years avoiding stereotypical situations of being a nerd.”

The previous look on her face turned to amusement as she giggled at my explanation. Her friend sat in silence clearly confused. Now that was a look I was familiar with the expression Ren had reminded me of Yukimura.

I put the lamp down on the floor for a second and went up to check for loose ceiling tiles. If I could guarantee a second concealed route then it would add to an element of surprise. I managed to slide one up a little and hooked my fingers inside hanging there in mid-air until I found a ground spike from my tunic and placed it up there as a marker.

“Sasuke… What are you doing up there?”

“Umm, Ninja stuff.” I let go and dropped back to the ground.

“Ok Peter Parker we’ll talk about it later.” We both shared a smile. She was possibly the most interesting woman I had met before and not only was she a time traveller but she got my references. Hardly anyone even in modern-times got my references.

“Peter who? I thought he was called Sasuke.” Ren tilted her head in confusion.

“He is sorry it was a joke. Besides all that I’m sorry but I’ll have to leave you for a bit while I make some arrangements and I promise I’ll be back for you.” [Name] pulled her friend into a hug.

“I know I trust you. You saved me before remember?” Ren said as she gave a broken smile.

“Of course I do, I couldn’t forget that. But I’m going to have to tie a new gag on you before I go otherwise they’ll get suspicious. I won’t make it as tight though ok?”

As tightly as she dared [Name] attached the cut fabric back around Ren’s head and mouth before standing.

“We’d better go.” I snuffed the lamp placing it back where I found it by the door. Suddenly going back to darkness from the light meant that it took a fraction of time to readjust our eyes but we didn’t have time to hang around and wait we had to move.

Patrols were on the move again and by the time we got back to the compound wall the sky was starting to lighten again. I gave [Name] a boost at the compound wall before swinging off a tree to pull myself up. Together we hopped down into the buildings of the town and in what felt like a surreal moment out of a ninja film we were free running around the rooftops on our way back to the Inn and my room.

---

By the time the sun had risen we had already been in my room and had a pile of papers with scribbled and scratched out ideas scrawled on them. She had been watching the compound for longer than I had and was a fountain of knowledge. Between us we had a good idea of number of guards, patrol routes, how often members of staff left to go into town and the general daily running of the manor. Naturally all the information we could get was a bonus but it didn’t solve the main problem. We didn’t have the man power or ability to get the girls out and take down the Daimyo.

– Knock, Knock –

“Hey Sasuke you there?”

“Yes, Yukimura come in.”

The shoji door to my room slide open and Yukimura came in. after closing it he noticed [Name] sitting near the window to with a cup of tea in her hand and raised his eye brows before looking at me with a grin on his face. It’s not what you are thinking, whatever it is.

“I didn’t realise you had company last night.”

“He didn’t or not like you are implying anyway. I take it he is your friend?” [Name] was quick to set things straight and move on to business. We had spoken at length about who we could get to help us and the obvious choice was to ask Yukimura to take a message to Lord Kenshin to inform him that the situation was much worse than mere over taxation.

It took some time to explain last nights events to Yukimura who became more and more agitated the more he heard about it.

“Well I’ll try to get there and back again as fast as I can. If I change horses I won’t have to stop and I can ride through the night.” Yukimura took the message I had written for Lord Kenshin and slid it into his Kimono as he mounted his horse.

“Do… or do not. There is no try Yukimura.” I smiled at my friend who was straightening up his reins.

“You did not seriously just quote Yoda.” [Name] was stifling a laugh from her position leaning on the wall of the Inn near us.

“Yoda? Who is that?”

“The force is strong with this one.” Her comment made me break out in a broad grin. It was unbelievably enjoyable to use modern day references and quotes and not be the only one that got them. I was again hit with a wave of warmth for her in my chest. Perhaps I do really like her.

“It doesn’t matter. Safe travels Yukimura.”

“Yeah stay safe too Sasuke.” Yukimura leant down towards me and then whispered in my ear. “She’s kinda cute. Don’t be a dummy.” With a light pat on my shoulder he kicked his horse into motion.

“Well, shall we get something to eat?” Her voice from behind me suddenly made me feel really nervous. Dammit Yukimura why did you have to say that?

---

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wantbabybump · 7 years ago

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The Truth.

What people dont tell you about motherhood is that it can come with a profound amount of sadness. In a world full of social media and everyone wanting to portray themselves in the best light possible cause people are so judgemental and opionated now a days. We dont see the real picture. We see pregnancy announcement, but we dont see the anxiety that comes with announcing cause maybe thats her rainbow baby. We see the maternity pictures but we dont see the girl thats struggling with her changing body and finding ways to love her new self. We see the just born pictures but we dont see the fear that comes with not knowing what to expect. we dont see the amount of pain a woman is still in cause they are pressing on her tummy every few hours. We see the coming home photos. But we dont realize that the dad drove 2 miles a hour just make it safe. We see the newborn photos but we dont see the shots where the baby cried for a hour, where they peed all over the dad. And we definitely glamourize the first few months. When you think of a newborn you think of a squishy little baby that eats and sleeps. You dont think of the fact that you will live off of broken sleep for however many months. You dont realize as a first time mom that you will be afraid to leave your baby long enough to shower but then feel like utter crap cause you havent showered. You have to learn to not be selfish. Sure maybe you were married but you didn't put all your needs.. even basic needs above your husband. You now have someone who comes first always and forever. And while thats a "burden" taken gladly its still a adjustment. No one tells you how hard its going to be. They will say "wait til you have a baby, enjoy that sleep now". But you just dont realize exactly what that means til your in the thick of it a week in going on 2hours of broken sleep a day and still have no time for yourself. No one tells you how lonely it will be. Even though you have added another person to your house its so lonely. That little squishy has you tethered to your home especially if its a winter baby. You think that you will finally fit in with your friends but they will be to busy for you and your needs. After all they have kids already. Your husband will be working most of the day, come home want to eat, play with squishy and want to sleep. Even though he didn't get up with the babe all night he probaly heard him crying and still didn't get a decent night of rest.

No one tells you just how emotionally taxing it can be. When you dont have kids and think about the thought of it. You think about the unconditional love. You dont realize the anxiety, stress, and self inflicted pressure that you will put yourself through. Emotionally you think that adding a baby will be nothing but joy and love to your life. But its kind of like picking traits in a game or skill points. If you start off with three like say social, confident, outgoing. You need to minus something to make room for the parenting trait if that makes sense. You cant have it all. Maybe eventually as the squishy gets older, motherhood begins to be in a groove and babe sleeps longer. But the first few months you wont even have the energy to be social or motivation to reach out to people. No one tells you how it has effected their marriage. Its not all lets look at this beautiful babe that we created together. Its placing blame on something that was no ones fault. Its critizing the other cause they aren't doing it the "right way". Its fighting cause you dont think one is doing enough to help. Or its fighting cause one is being overbearing or controlling. When in all reality the fights are fear. Fear of not knowing what your doing. The fights are a result of not enough sleep and everything is bound to upset you. The fights are two people trying to learn to live and be in love in a completely different way then what they pictured in their head. Ive never wanted to end my marriage as much as I did in the first year. Looking back now was most of what I was upset about completely justified, probably not. Was the lack of sleep and always feeling helpless clouding my feelings and attitude very much so. The first year your body still goes through changes. Hormonally things have to level back out. There will be crazy period patterns. Hair loss. Physicaly your body will be different point blank. Unless your a one in a million unicorn who poops out a baby and then looks like a model. But you will probably have weight you want to lose but who has time. When you do lose it your stomach will still be soft. Much softer then it ever was as your old "fat self". Pregnancy weight gain then weight loss will most like give you some type of stretchmarks. Not even just on your tummy. Your hair will always have a coat of dry shampoo in it. And you will probably hate your body. You will think your husband hates your body. But does he hate your body.. not a chance in hell. If anything you have gave him the greatest gift he will ever recieve and to him that will just be sexy. Sexy will look different in your relationship. Sexy wont be lingerie and candle light dinners. Sexy will be a frozen pizza and you wearing his shirt in some yoga pants. What you thought of sexy when you would think of your husband will change also. Sexy will be him watching the baby so you can take a bath and wash your hair and shave your legs. Sexy will be him taking a night feed. Sexy will be him offering to change a stinky diaper. I know this probably sounds all negative and you probably think jeeze why even have a baby this sounds terrible. But let me tell you all the good and the love definitely out weighs anything I wrote here. And theres a light and once you get a routine and you get use to your new life and embrace it. Once you become confident in your parenting motherhood will be amazing. I wrote this not to scare people. I wrote this so moms who are pregnant, moms who have had kids, wives who want to have a baby they know that their feelings aren't uncommon or that they are horrible cause they feel that way. Its okay if you didn't enjoy motherhood at first cause you were overwhelmed and scared beyond belief with whats the right decisions. Its normal to feel these feelings. I remember my first few months home alone with my squishies i felt so isolated. I felt like I didnt know anything. I felt like everything I did was wrong. Every decision I made I second guessed later on. And most of all I felt judged. I felt like everyone was looking at me and just waiting for me to mess up so they can rub it in... I've had 3 kids.. do it this way. That's so wrong. Instead of encouraging me. And saying in my experience this seems like a easier approach to the situation you should try it and see what you think. People are to opinionated now a days. They like to tell you whats you did wrong but they dont want to take the time to show you a better way. They want to tell you that your mother this is expected of you. They dont like to think back to their first baby. I just want to let you know. You are not alone. Your feelings are valid. Things will get better.

#motherhood #first time mom #mom of twins #postpartum #mommylife #mommyblogger #ivfbaby #I beat infertility #rainbowbaby #sanctimommy

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loreweaver-universe · 7 years ago

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Y’know, today I feel like talking about Disgaea, specifically my problems with Disgaea 5: Alliance of Vengeance.

Spoilers for Disgaea 1, 2, 5, and Makai Kingdom, I guess.

So, first off, let’s talk about...

The Narrative.

Disgaea 5 tells the tale of edgelord Squall Leonhart wannabe Killia, a former asshole who got redeemed by falling in love with the daughter of the only demon to ever give him a proper ass-thrashing, who spent his time teaching Killia how to find inner peace blah blah blah it’s actually pretty bland. Killia speaks in a constant monotone, half-heartedly tries to get his rapidly accumulating party of Overlord-level demon pals to leave him the hell alone, and is generally just really goddamn boring. It’s not to say this kind of character can’t be interesting--in fact, I name-dropped Squall earlier, and until Final Fantasy VIII went completely off the rails in the second disc he was a legitimately nuanced character and I was interested in seeing where he went. Here’s the problem with all that, though:

The Disgaea series is a parody.

Now, full disclaimer--I’ve only played Disgaea 1, 2, 5, and Makai Kingdom. I have Disgaea 3 and 4, but I haven’t been able to secure a PS3 to play them on yet, so I’m leaving those out of the discussion (though from what I’m aware those are parodies as well.) However, of the four games I have played, Disgaea 5 stands out as being the only one of them to really take itself seriously.

Well, 2 did as well to a certain extent, but other than the looming issue of “we’re trying to off your evil dad, Rozalin,” Disgaea 2 takes itself about as seriously as Disgaea 1 did, and Disgaea 1 is a farce.

A beautiful, glorious, hilarious, one hundred percent intentional farce.

Laharl is a ridiculous creature. He’s petty, narcissistic, and childish, and while there are serious story beats (Etna being blackmailed, that asshole Angel stealing Flonne’s protective pendant, etc) Laharl never stops mocking his foes, his friends, and the genre itself. Disgaea 1, in short, is taking the piss, parodying the most ridiculous parts of anime and JRPGs (and, hell, American raygun gothic) with delightful glee...which is why, when things turn deadly fucking serious in the final chapter, it’s so goddamn heart-wrenching and effective. That slow burn of Laharl growing to care about Flonne enough that he tears the Heavenly Host several new assholes to try to save her from their judgment (and, even in the best ending, has to talk himself down from murdering the head angel in cold blood because she wouldn’t have wanted him to take revenge for her sake) is one of the most effective tonal twists in the history of media, in my opinion: all of a sudden, it’s not funny anymore.

While Disgaea 1 lampooned the genre as a whole, Disgaea 2 takes a different tack, and lampoons common anime/JRPG character archetypes. The hot-blooded, idiotically honorable melee fighter; the spoiled rich brat of a princess; the annoyingly perverted goblin of a third wheel (and, ugh, I wish that archetype would die already), the plucky little kids who are the least innocent characters in the whole crew other than the aforementioned perv goblin, on and on and on. The goal may be serious, but the characters are almost as silly as they were in Disgaea 1, and I actually think 2 manages an even better balance of humor and compelling storytelling than 1, because not only is the romance between Adell and Rozalin natural, enjoyable, and endearing, the dramatic beats come along without undermining the sheer silliness of our protagonists until it can have the most impact. There’s a moment in one of the later chapters where Laharl from the first game appears without warning, pissed off, heavily geared, and more than a thousand levels your superior.

(Yes, I said a THOUSAND levels. For those of you in the audience who aren’t familiar with the series, the level cap is 9999, and you can reset a character to level 1, storing attained levels for bonus stats. I’ll be talking about the grind later, don’t you worry.)

The encounter with Laharl accomplishes several things over the course of the two fights with him: it delivers a joyful reunion with the protagonist of the first game, which turns to terror when you see his stats, which turns to horror as you send your team into the meat grinder to die helplessly...and then it shows us that something is frighteningly wrong with Rozalin as she is seemingly possessed and tears this impossible foe apart effortlessly. From there the story really kicks into high gear, and like Disgaea 1, transitions into a deadly serious final assault on Zenon’s stronghold, but unlike Disgaea 1 it’s not a shocking swerve in tone--the story’s been building to this over time, gradually reconstructing the genre it gleefully tore to pieces over the previous game and a half.

Makai Kingdom is a very different affair, and can actually be most closely contrasted with Disgaea 5. In the Disgaeaverse, an “Overlord” is a very powerful demon who rules a pocket dimension called a “Netherworld.” Laharl’s an Overlord, for example. Makai Kingdom deals with a set of protagonists on a whole other level of power; these are the Overlords that other Overlords view as gods, and they essentially sit around on their asses playing card games and throwing popcorn at their TV.

I think you can see where I’m going with this.

Makai Kingdom is a return to Disgaea 1′s attitude--relentless silliness, mockery of itself, with a sharp turn at the end. Whether it accomplishes this goal as well as Disgaea 1 isn’t all that relevant, but it is something we can compare to Disgaea 5.

Disgaea 5 starts off similarly--hideously powerful Overlord-level demons gather together, but the characters are...not exactly dour, but played straight, I guess. There’s no parody, no lampooning; it’s very stock JRPG comedy (and “comedy”), with dramatic tension, a serious approach to its story and antagonists, and predictable story beats obvious to anyone who’s ever seen a mediocre anime or played a mediocre JRPG. Hell, the main villain’s name is Void Dark, and not a single character makes fun of that! There are some interesting designs, and I actually think Majorita is a compelling villain for Usalia, who I likewise enjoy immensely, but the story abandons almost everything that made the previous games’ plots entertaining. Topple an empire, murder some baddies, get your homes back, save your dead love from the creepy brother with the incestuous undertones. That’s it. That’s all. As a story structure, it works just fine, and as evidenced by my love for the rest of the series I absolutely think challenging established conventions is a good thing, but it doesn’t do so successfully enough that it stands out as a worthy entry in the series. Where it does shine is in improvements to gameplay quality-of-life and beautiful animation, which brings me to...

The Gameplay.

Disgaea 5 improves the UI, adds all sorts of neat little quirks to character customization, and improves game control substantially. It adds extra ways to gain stat points (like I said before, character levels cap at 9999 and can be stored for stat bonuses--this game also allows you to train stats for stat points via minigames) and is just generally more in-depth than its predecessors...at the cost of being stupidly easy to grind out.

Yes, I think an easier grind is a bad thing. Let me explain: I have over ten thousand hours in Disgaea 2 alone over the last twelve years. I picked the first two games up when Disgaea 2 was brand new, and have beaten the game dozens of times in the intervening span. Most recently, about five years ago, I created a save file on the PSP port of the game, and I spend idle trips or the time I’m falling asleep grinding it out as kind of an idle game.

Literally everything you do in a Disgaea game gets you experience for something. Weapon mastery, skill exp, character exp, you name it. Hell, you can run randomized dungeons inside your items to level those up, too. It’s incredibly satisfying and makes for a constant sense of progression--even if you don’t level up in a fight you’ve still gotten experience points for the skills and weapons you’ve used, making it stronger, more effective, etc. My personal goal is to, eventually, have one of every character class maxed out on stored levels and every skill and weapon proficiency in the game, which is a deliberately impossible task because it’s just so much fun to chase it forever.

Here’s the other thing: the Disgaea series, due to the ludicrous level cap, is known for its absurdly deep pool of ever-stronger bonus bosses, stretching, yes, all the way up to the level cap. The hunt for those is likewise extremely satisfying, and takes quite a while, especially since the campaign usually caps out at around levels 70-90.

With all this in mind, imagine my dismay when I realized I was blowing through skill and weapon exp and hitting the caps on everything in a tiny percentage of the time I was expecting. To be fair, there is a “Cheat Shop” NPC who can adjust the EXP you gain up and down, which is neat, but I have to crank it down to literally single-digit percentages of normal to get the same amount of chase-time out of it. This is not to say that the game should be inaccessibly grindy; in fact, Disgaea 1 and 2 aren’t. The story campaigns in those games are perfectly completable with the normal skill progression and a small but admittedly grindy amount of extra leveling in unlocked areas. It’s all the extreme bonus content that’s gated behind the postgame grind, and the huge ceiling on skill levels and weapon proficiencies means you’re constantly rising in power and challenging new heights. I think that’s a fantastic reward for being dedicated to the game! And Disgaea 5 in its default state takes that away. I had a character capped out on all proficiencies, subclasses, and aptitudes within my first hundred hours of the game.

It was...disappointing, I guess. All around, mostly; for every step forward it took, it also took a step back. Ultimately, the story takes a backseat to my points about the grind, because the campaign in any Disgaeaverse game is literally about 2% of the game’s content. Disgaea 5 took my grind from me, and that’s why I’m salty enough to have just spent an hour typing up a book report on its failings, I guess.

#disgaea #disgaea 5 #disgaea spoilers #disgaea 2 #makai kingdom #bloggin #inbetween

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multiverseofmiracleshq · 4 years ago

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For the third year in a row, the Stark Memorial Gala was held in New York to honor those lost to the Cleanse. Like always, proceeds went to the Mutant Outreach Trust, Stark Memorial Fund and the Natasha Romanoff Foundation for Girls. Those invited to this exclusive event are guaranteed to have something to talk about the next day.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL INCOMPLETE CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

TONY: Here’s something no one ever really expected— Tony Stark being present at the Stark Memorial Gala. It was easy for him to have a short laugh at the irony of the whole situation, especially since he’s had time to adjust to being back. Stepping back into the spotlight was like walking through a memory, though. He was still himself. He was still Tony Stark, Iron Man, blah blah blah. But he was different, and there wasn’t really a way around that. There was a lot on his mind as he waited for the perfect moment to officially kick everything off, holding a mic and tapping a repetitive rhythm on its handle with a few fingers. Eventually he turned it on, straightened his bowtie, and walked out with a smile. “Hello everyone! Welcome, welcome! I gotta say, it’s nice to see all of you again. I’m sure it’s just as nice to see me back up here. All of you really missed me throwing words in your face for a few minutes before every party. But shh, shh I’m not pausing for laughter. To get back on track, it’s amazing to see so many people here tonight. We have a few charities that are close to our hearts receiving support tonight: the Stark Memorial Fund, The Natasha Romanoff Foundations for Girls, and the Mutant Outreach Trust. It’s gonna be an even split between the three, so keep the donations comin’ throughout the night. It’s all about helping those who need it. That’s what heroes do, right?” Tony took a small pause, then continued. “Alright, you know the drill. Like always, my advice is to have fun, give generously, and try not to be too stupid. Let’s all have a great time and do some good while we’re at it! Happy Holidays and let’s make this New Year start off on the right foot!” Then he switched his mic off, gave the crowd a peace sign, and walked away to join the festivities.

ALEX: Champagne flute already in hand, Alex adjusted his bow tie with his free hand, listening patiently as Stark made his speech. Despite the occasion, nothing good ever came out of these events for Alex - and going into the evening with a preemptively negative attitude didn’t bode well for the younger Summers. But he’d make the best of it - whatever that meant - and if he needed a little alcohol in his system to make things easier, well then, so be it.

QUILL: Peter kept tugging at his collar, two fingers pulling at the starchy material and loosening the too tight black tie around his neck. Man, but he was already sweating through his shirt, he could feel it sticking to his back. "We promised no dancing right?" he said under his breath to Gamora, who was standing just a little off to his side. He'd had to let go of her to start rolling up his sleeves when the ballroom didn't offer any air circulation. "The only moves I know are the electric slide." he tried for a smile and hoped he wasn't doing too much. Since getting her memories back, they hadn't been to something like this-- and even for him, it was suffocating.

PETER: Tonight Peter was wearing what was possibly the nicest outfit he’s ever worn. Tony had offered to get him something new like he did every year, and for once Peter agreed. It was mostly because he wanted an excuse to spend time with him now that he was back, since there was still a weird feeling in his gut when he accepted things from him without any rhyme or reason. But Tony enjoyed it. So Peter let him. It was a maroon suit, something Peter would never have thought about wearing, but he had to admit it was nice. And he looked good. As Tony was making his speech, Peter was already chowing down on some of the fancy bread that was sitting out on the ends of the tables. He smiled through a mouthful of it and clapped as best he could with some still clutched in his hands. “Oh crap—” His words were muffled through the food in his mouth as he glanced down to his suit, realizing he was getting crumbs all over it. “You can’t wash suits, right? I gotta be careful.”

JULIAN: "Look its not my fault we're late -- you're the one who decided to babysit the dog and I wasn't going to walk in here covered in dog hair." Julian grumbled as he plucked two flutes from a passing waiter and offered Kate one. "Besides, if you hadn't gone for round three we'd have been here an hour ago." He took a sip from his glass and chanced a glance around the already crowded room. "I have a feeling body shots are out this year. Damn."

CABLE: "I can think of a hundred things more terrible than a Stark party. One, being stuck in my dad's moon house having to listen to my baby brother wail all night. Two, stuck listening to my dad give me another round of strategy lessons. Three..." his voice was quickly drowned out by the din of the ballroom and Nate cast a glance around, recognizing some but not enough. "Oh I miss Krakoa parties." he said a little to himself, a little to Lana.

BUCKY: The most embarrassing thing on Bucky’s mind tonight was the amount of time he spent trying to make his hair look okay. Back when it still had length to it he had eventually mastered pulling it back and being done with it. Now it was short again and he was learning a whole new style. But there was one thing he was learning— and it was that people seemed to like it when he thought it was too messy. So that’s what he tried to go with tonight, even if he felt that it was a bit too casual to be paired with a suit. “Am I the only one who never knows what to do at these things?” He glanced to Wanda with a soft smile, lightly tapping a metal finger against his glass of champagne.

NATASHA: It was strange to hear her own name, especially in conjunction with a charity gala of all things. Natasha had been a lot of things over the course of her life and good person didn’t always rank. There it was though, one of her aliases next to a real, tangible thing that helped people. And not only people. Girls who were lost or had been taken advantage of. There had been no one there to save her. Natasha had to save herself even if it took decades. Even though ‘Natasha Romanoff’ wasn’t her birth name there was still a brief appearance of tears that she quickly blinked away. Due to the tight security at the gala there was an ease that had settled over her. Most there knew she and Steve had gotten married even if they had put a raincheck on the big ceremony thing. After everything that happened she had just wanted to get it done and enjoy their second chance. Bells and whistles would one day follow. Her hand was connected to Steve’s but Natasha was making her way towards Tony, knowing her husband could detach if he wanted to. “Feels strange to have people giving money in my name, but I’ll always support a good cause.” She tilted her head towards him before a smile flickered over her lips at the sight of Tony. “How long did you practice that in the mirror this morning?”

CRYSTALIA: As much as she didn’t want to be the pregnant person who couldn’t stop complaining about being a pregnant person, Crystal was teetering on the brink of being just that. She was two months pregnant, and yet, about to burst. That was due to her boyfriend’s mutant genealogy, a quirk the Inhuman doctors had yet to crack. The baby - their daughter -was by all accounts full term and ready to come any day. They had attempted to give her a due date but the entire pregnancy had turned into a game of we’ll see how it goes and Crystalia had no choice but to wait to see when a human exploded out of her. Hair pinned into a crown and adorned with flowers, one hand was on her tulle covered stomach and the other clutching a flute of water. “Is your sister coming?” She turned to Pietro, the light yellow layers of her dress swishing slightly.

SAM ALEXANDER: Sam had only ever owned one suit. A dark blue tuxedo he’d reluctantly worn to junior prom and then never again. But this seemed like a good enough time to break it out, right? His mom seemed alright with it, and Kamala hadn’t immediately laughed at his appearance upon their meeting earlier in the evening, but now, after stepping into the gala and seeing everyone else looking - ridiculously expensive - Sam was not so sure. “Alright, well— uh- we can’t drink. Do we mingle? How does one mingle...”

TONY: Tony gave Nat a smirk and shoved his hands into his pockets as he replied to her. Then he gave Steve a nod hello and offered up a nonchalant shrug. “Just once. I’m nothing if not a professional. Normally I would just wing it but with us having the added flare of being back from the dead, I figured I should put in a little effort this time. I will admit uh.. it’s nice to be back. Feels almost normal, you know?”

STEVE: Steve was use to events, though it felt like it’d been a while since he’d bothered to attend. he followed natasha through the crowd of familiar faces, dressed in a traditional suit and tie—which somehow seemed underdressed compared to the attire that seemed to be going on tonight. as she spoke, steve chuckled “Get used to it.” She was bound to attract the appeal of the sympathy donation for all that she’d done, it was a good tactic and she deserved the recognition. plus it went toward a good cause. “Normal?” steve sighed, though it was more content than anything else. “I’ll drink to that.” he smiled. “Maybe we can get it to last longer than a week?”

NATASHA: Steve and Tony, talking with ease and getting along. Natasha and Tony, not dead but breathing in the same public space. “Thank god you boys clean up so nicely.” She knew that she did as well, dress plunging and also revealing a sliver of leg. “And what, exactly, is normal to the three of us? Robots or mad titans?” Maybe the government collapsing. It was day dependent.

SAM WILSON: It wasn’t every day that he got to roll up to nice events a beautiful woman on his arm. Most of his time at the Avenger’s party had consisted of Sam, a beer and either Steve, Rhodes or Barnes. Now, Rogers was with his wife and Sam hadn’t seen Rhodey in a minute. Even though they were likely around, he only had eyes on the blonde on his arm. “--Y’know, you gotta be careful, Cap,” he was saying as they made their way across the room. “People are gonna think you like me and I don’t want to ruin your street cred.” That was both a joke a little bit true. “Now, for the important question of the night: bourbon, whiskey or rum?”

BETSY: They never got any time to breathe anymore. The chance to take off the armor and put down the ( telepathic ) sword came as a welcome relief to the constantly tired defender of Britain and Otherworld. A pretentious title, and one that she was desperate to slide away from for just a moment. The old Betsy - the model with the blonde hair who was blissfully unaware - reemerged momentarily when she put the dress on her credit card, deep purple adorned with an amethyst and gold arch at the top of the slit. It was pricey but she liked how she looked and her chest was secure in the sharp scoop of the neckline so she wasn’t complaining. Brian couldn’t be convinced to come even though Meggan had also suggested it, meaning that Betsy was making her way around the perimeter of the room alone with her drink. “Alex,” her tone was light as she came to a stop, accent lilting. “Did you come alone?”

GAMORA: Despite the fact that she had been back for the better part of a year, Gamora had made a grand total of zero public appearances. She wasn’t hiding, per se. She’d stay on the Milano or go into the New Avengers Facilities. There just wasn’t any parties or outings. They weren’t her scene and she had slowly been knitting together what it meant to be herself now. There was virtually no back to the tight black dress, the tiny flimsy straps crisscrossing over green skin. “I thought you liked dancing.” Dark eyes flickered towards him before Gamora finished her visual sweep of the room. Once she was satisfied she was able to turn and face fully with a small smile. “Or do you only prefer when it’s horrible and in your room?”

TONY: “I am so glad you said something. Now I don’t have to awkwardly hit on your husband in front of you.” Tony was in a surprisingly good mood tonight, and he was doing his best to not sabotage himself by thinking about how strange it was to be even slightly happy during the holidays. “Robots are so last year. But I’m not going to tempt you into using your imagination because I happen to be very superstitious and like Steve said— we’ll be lucky if this calm lasts the week.”

YELENA: Like gum that you couldn’t get off your shoe, Yelena continued to appear at events where she was assumed she wasn’t wanted. It wasn’t true, but she hadn’t quite been able to wrap her around that yet. Still, there was a part of her that desired acceptance and approval. Maybe it was the years of being conditioned to achieve and attain. All Yelena knew was that she had taken time on her hair and makeup. The dress - while white - managed not to look like a wedding dress due to the missing fabric under her non-existent chest. She had been ready before James had picked her up and now she stood by her side. Natasha was there, but like all the other times Yelena just turned in the opposite direction. “It’s too pretty here.” The corners of her lips tugged downwards. “Someone’s got to get in a fight.”

JESSICA: Despite the fact that she once had a live in manny, it had been hard to secure a babysitter. Maybe that was on Jess. No, scratch that. It was definitely on Jess. She could have asked Roger but she felt bad when she was planning on attending a party with someone else. He had moved out anyway and back with Kallie for the foreseeable future. It was for the best. That was what she kept telling herself, at least, as she flicked a dark wave away from her shoulder and the strap of her red dress. “Aw, look. Carol’s with Sam. Maybe that means I can talk about it now.” She could keep a secret but Jessica hated them. She was too impulsive to remember to hold things in. “We need drinks, Barton. First and foremost.”

LORNA: Who didn’t want to attend the biggest party of the year with their dad? Lorna had become a diligent daughter. She divided her time between the Boneyard and the Monarchy of M where Dawn was living. Erik made a fuss about bringing honor to the Monarchy of M but Lorna admittedly liked having a purpose. She existed best when she had a reason to. Without one she began to lose direction and that had never led to anywhere good. “I’m surprised you didn’t give a speech. You love to hear yourself talk.” Lorna’s voice was wry. Her neck was hurting from the massive pile of green curls that was piled on her head and her dress was tight. Ever since she had Dawn she noticed things like that more, but Remy was coming later and she had to look good in case he ever decided to get on one knee.

KAMALA: The whole thing had been nothing short of a CIA sting. Her parents -- for very good reason -- knew nothing about Kamala’s second life. She couldn’t exactly say Nova was taking her to Iron Man’s holiday party, so instead she dealt with the pang of guilt and lied that she was going to Bruno’s to study. Nadia had been thrilled to help her get ready ( maybe too thrilled, but it was cute ) and her dress was conservative enough to make her comfortable. With the goal of staying out of any pictures, Kamala arrived on Sam’s arm with an eager smile. “--This is awesome. Like, maybe the coolest thing ever. We mingle. We definitely mingle. But where to start?”

WANDA: She had half been lost in thought, gaze focused on nothing in particular on the dance floor. Wanda didn’t mind parties. She attended even when she felt alone. Then, she had Vision. Now, she had Pietro. She existed in the middle spaces. Crystalia was incredibly close to delivering and Wanda hadn’t even suggested attending with Pietro as she knew the unborn child and its vessel deserved his attention. She was a big girl who could handle hanging out at the desert table to see if Steve or Clint showed up. “--Oh,” she shook her head. “I usually eat the cookies. I don’t drink, so, it’s seltzer water for me.”

KATE: “I’m not babysitting the dog, Julian, He lives with me.” Kate reminded him once again. It had been difficult to get out of her sweatshirt and leggings even though it was just as nice as the dresses she had worn back when she wasn’t a broke ass bitch. The lilac of her dress meant that she had been spared the trouble of golden retriever fur all over her. Instead, she had needed Julian to zip her in even though the zipper was buried by layers of light fabric and tulle. “Listen, I thought you had four in you and that’s my bad. I also underestimated my getting ready time. You like how I look though, don’t you?” She arched a dark brow. “Damn. Maybe at Clint’s tacky knockoff party.”

LANA: “Don’t act tough. You love the baby.” Lana was hiking up the skirt of her dress to avoid getting stepped on. “And your moon house is really @#$@# cool. You should try living on the Champions Mobile Bunker. Tres chic.” Violet eyes rolled. “I’m pretty sure every Krakoan party is an orgy. Which is impressive and concerning.

MICHELLE: She was putting effort in. Effort towards what? That depended. College had been good for Michelle. She had found a few freaks like herself and was coming out of her shell some. Her previous participation in the Stark Scholarship Program meant invites to other events that made Stark look good, like his charity. For the entire week leading up she said she wasn’t going to attend. Then, three days before, she went out and bought a dress she wouldn’t have before and showed up. Just like that. A part of MJ longed to be home with her books but instead she went to the snack table to check out their bread selection. “You can dry clean them,” she answered automatically without looking to see who was speaking. Peter. They hadn’t really seen each other since graduation. His identity was public and some classmates made the connection and asked what it was like to be Spider-man’s girlfriend, to which she had almost redirected them to Gwen. Now here they both were with him looking admittedly adorable in his suit and her being very tall but well dressed in the black and maroon of the tightest dress she had ever worn. “Hey, tiger. Nice suit.” She wasn’t sure what to do with her hand so she grabbed a random cracker.

ALEX: Alex was mid-sip when Betsy approached, tilting the glass back instead as he quickly downed the rest of the champagne, “Betsy— hi. Uh, yeah. I guess. I’m surprised my name was even on the list,” a curt laugh followed his words as he glanced ( as respectfully as he could ) at Betsy’s ensemble, “You look lovely. You uh—“ Alex glanced around, “—come here alone as well?”

PETER: “Ohhh right, right—” Peter nodded and then swallowed, using his one free hand to carefully scrape the crumbs down towards the floor. When he looked up and saw who it was that happened to answer him, he froze. “MJ.” He blinked a few times and gave her a quick glance from head to toe, trying not to be too obvious. Then he cleared his throat. “Hi. Thanks, uh— Tony he, well he picked it out. You look great.” She really did. “I should have remembered you would get invited to come tonight. It’s really nice to see you. How’s everything been? How have you been?” Per usual, Peter was unsure of what to do with his hands. In a spark of mild panic he set his piece of bread down on the table next to him and then shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, only to take them out again a few seconds later. He almost offered MJ a handshake, he almost went in for a hug, but ultimately he did neither of those things. Damn, he was not good at this.

SAM ALEXANDER: Sam knew Kamala’s parents were unaware of her alter ego, which was a feeling wholly unfamiliar to him. His father had been a Nova, and his mother had been well aware of his father’s profession. There weren’t a lot of secrets in their family. But he understood Kamala’s situation, and would do everything he could to help keep her secret. Sometimes, however, that secret life lead to things like this. Attending the Stark Gala— and mingling. “Uhh— that is a good question,” Sam’s gaze drifted around the room, “Trying to pick out someone unintimidating, “I have no idea.”

ERIK: Erik gave his daughter a sideways glance in response to her comment, one eyebrow perked up in a dramatic fashion. “And here I thought I might have earned some praise for relenting my time to Stark instead of hogging the stage for myself.” He took a moment to fiddle with his cufflinks, even though they were already perfect. “I’m doing my best to learn when to talk and when to not. Progress is progress, wouldn’t you agree? And perhaps someday it will be you making the speeches, instead of me.” A short pause. “—in case I haven’t said it yet tonight, you look beautiful Lorna.”

BUCKY: Bucky took another sip from his glass and chuckled. “Cookies and seltzer water. I’ll have to try that sometime. Usually I’m not a big fan of bubbly stuff that doesn’t taste like anything, though. If you ask me, plain water is the way to go.” Alright, so apparently he could at least handle talking about food. That was progress in the small talk department. “How’s it been having your brother around for the holidays again?”

BETSY: At his apparently flustered response, Betsy tilted her head to the side with an amused chuckle. He went for champagne but she had skipped ahead to the ever elegant whiskey. It hit harder and that was more her style. Her new tastebuds had softened compared to Kwannon’s sharp ones but she was soldiering through the burn. “I think being a Summers will always put your name on the list.” It was nothing more than a casual observation, neither good or bad. She had known the Summers for a long time to varying degrees. Betsy had no quarrel with them currently. She couldn’t help but laugh at his compliment - and the corresponding thoughts - before smoothing a hand down the front of her dress. “Thank you. Considering how much this cost, I’m very glad to hear that. It’s been forever since I’ve been allowed to be pretty.” She tossed back the rest of her drink and glanced to the bar. “Woefully. I thought I’d try my hand at meeting someone here.”

MICHELLE: At the sound of her name coming from his mouth again the best thing MJ could do was flatten her lips into a pursed smile. She was over him. Of that she was roughy 70% sure. Michelle had made a living not being the sentimental type. He was her first love and therefore her first heartbreak. Why then did she still want him to see her? “Tony, right. I was going to text you or something to see how you were doing with all that, but then there were classes and meetings and....” Distance. There was distance between them and she forgot how to cross it. “You like?” She couldn’t help but turn to the side slightly to show the dress. “It’s, like, a lot. But my friend Danika liked it so I thought I would wear it even though I’m here alone and it’s 90% rich white people.” Her favorite crowd, really. Michelle was still holding the cracker so she tapped it against the heel of her other hand while she collected her thoughts. “--S’good. I’m good. I’m dorming which is nice because my Aunt Anna was ready for an empty nest. School’s good. Idk about you but Empire is chill. I’m thinking journalism. How are you, Spider-man?” She swallowed around the inevitable. “And, uh, Gwen.”

KAMALA: Wow, there was a lot of people. Were there always? She had never been to a Krakoan Outpost. Even though Kamala herself tried to be personable and agreeable she was still an Inhuman and the mutants weren’t super hip on them yet. Kamala bounced slightly on her feet, eyes wide as she took everyone. “I mean, I know Carol pretty well. It’s that whole marvelous thing. But is she... is Carol on a date with Captain America??” She made a mental note for an update on her Avenger’s fanfic that was eighty chapters deep. “Maybe we should start with punch. Punch is simple.”

LORNA: “Mhm, well, I’m surprised that in all your years of life you haven’t learned that you just can’t win.” She was being facetious. The mutants were, by most accounts, on a winning streak. She’d hate to see what it would look like when they lost again. “Of course, father. But I’ve made plenty of speeches. Underground, Hellfire Club. They’re never well received. Now I only give drunk speeches. Better for everyone.” Lorna couldn’t help but blush at her fathers compliment, head ducking. Here she was, almost twenty-five years old and still craving praise even though she had gone years denying that she wanted it. “Erik. Dad. Gambit’s coming tonight. We’ve been seeing other and you’re going to be kind.”

CAROL: For a woman who spent most of her time in flat soled boots or tennis shoes, Carol was doing surprisingly well in her heels – a strappy pair that lofted her just enough that the hem of her white dress brushed the floor gently. She still had to ball up the right side of it to keep other people from stepping all over her, but she was happy for the break from hoodies and spandex. Tossing Sam a warm smile, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, even if it was lovingly. “I’m pretty sure I was starting to hear spinster behind my back.” She commented as they approached the bar. Even as she let go of his arm, Carol kept a hand pressed lightly to the small of his back. “Bourbon. Double, neat.” She supplied to the bartender. “Jeez, when was the last time we got to do this? A year ago?”

QUILL: The laugh he let out was almost unexpected, but Quill quickly recovered. “We agreed to never speak of that again. Besides,” after locating the dance floor and then the bar, he refocused his gaze onto Gamora. “I’m more of a Footloose guy. I can get down to a little bit of Bowie, some Marvin Gay. This,” he pointed to the ceiling. “Is not dancing music.” He pushed his sleeves up a little more. “Now I did hear there was a buffet. Hungry?”

JAMES BUCHANAN: James had slung his suit jacket over his shoulder as they entered the Gala, his free hand trailing touches across Yelena’s lower back. The crowded room was causes pinpricks to roll under his skin and he had to fight the urge to bolt. Instead, he focused on where his feet were planted and tried to keep a marginal amount of distance between them and the other guests. “You want someone to get in a fight?” he asked, his tone dipping humorously. “Big parties bore you that much?”

JULIAN: “So when did we decide to get a dog?” he said with a smile as they hit a couple of empty tables. He loved the Stark Galas; they reminded him of the parties he’d attended before donning the black sheep label – and Stark sure knew how to splurge on them. Nothing felt cheap or worn, and Julian reveled in the few hours they’d have to be the people they once were, even if Kate was happy to shed that part of her. Without faltering, Julian spun her gently, the edges of her dress twirling out as he did so. “Do you need me to compliment you a tenth time tonight? You look damn gorgeous, Kate Bishop.” Her name came out a little breathlessly and Julian gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “You think I’d get invited to one of those?”

CABLE: Nate made a sound at the back of his throat. “He drools you know. On everything.” But she was right, because buried under his chiding tone was a bit of adoration he couldn’t suppress. “Maybe I want to live a little rugged. I am mostly cyborg – living life in luxury is hardly my scene.” He fanned his arms out a bit to make his point, the whirring of his metal pieces speaking up as if to agree. “The orgies are only half the fun,” he joked.

CLINT: Clint pulled at the edge of his deep purple vest, more a nervous habit than a serious concern that it was riding up. He wasn’t sure where the feeling was coming from – the energy that was settling in around him. Maybe he’d been trapped inside his one bedroom too many nights, watching reruns and eating stale pizza – or maybe he knew these Gala’s always promised something more dire in the future. A bit of light before the darkness, if you may. Tugging again, he searched the din for the sound of Jess’s voice, but it was hard to pin it down through his aids. So instead, he turned towards her, just in time to catch her suggestion for drinks, but he knew she’d said something before that. “Sure --- wait who’s together?” he tried to follow what was her eyeline and the pieces fit together without her having to repeat it. “So Carol finally settled.” He remarked good-naturedly. “We should buy Sam a round for that win alone.”

ALEX: Alex eyed the glass of whiskey in Betsy’s hand as she finished off the drink, realizing a bit too late that that was sort of an option here. Getting shit-faced wasn’t necessarily the classiest thing to do, and this was a classy event, so Alex would have to be smart about this. Just enough to drink to dull his senses a bit, but not enough to ruin the party. He let out another laugh at Betsy’s remark, shaking his head, “Well, only the most eligible bachelors are in attendance tonight. Take your pick—“ he gestured to the crowd full of mutants and humans and heroes alike, before signaling to the bartender that he’d like a whiskey as well. Top shelf. Scott could afford it.

WANDA: “Tommy told me a joke,” Wanda smiled as she tried to remember. “It’s spicy water. That’s funny.” In a dumb kind of way, of course. There was a lot of things that Wanda had missed in her childhood that she was now experiencing. She wasn’t any good at dumb humor but it still made her chuckle. “Pietro and I are Jewish. We never celebrated Christmas and the holidays became difficult after we were ten. This is the first season in a long time where I’ve felt warm. Does that make sense?” Even with holes, it felt secure. “Do you have someone to spend time with?”

SAM ALEXANDER: Sam leaned around Kamala to gawk at the duo before realizing how ridiculous he probably looked and stopped, attempting (horribly) to be a bit more inconspicuous instead. “Holy shit you’re right. When did that happen? Wait do we go talk to th—” He glanced over at the punch bowl the moment Kamala mentioned it, “- no, yeah. You’re right. Punch. Punch is good.”

BETSY: He didn’t order her a drink and Betsy didn’t need him to, so she leaned back against the bar and gave the bartender a nice telepathic push to replace her glass. She thanked him with a smile and took a long sip. “Any of the bachelors? I’d consider a bachelorette as well, but everyone seems nice and coupled up. That’s how these things always go.” Before, she had been on Warren’s arm. He was tall, blonde and too perfect while Betsy remained a slender shadow by his side. They were on fine terms now, but there were moments when Betsy missed the wholeness of human connection. “And what about you, Alex?”

SAM WILSON: Moving carefully to ensure that no one stepped on his dates dress or knocked her over, white flashed as Sam smiled. “It’s the cat. I tried warning you but I’m scared of him. That Flerken’s going to eat my face.” Goose had taken Fury’s eye. If he had messed with him then Sam was definitely not safe. When Carol released his arm he gave the bartender a good natured smile before ordering the same with a casual “Thanks, man.” It was easy to get distracted looking at Carol. He had spent a lot of time observing her in different lights, from the tired planes of her face after combat to the way the light softened the edges in the morning. She was a marvel and he was honored that he got to work with her, let alone call her a friend. “It’s an annual gala, so that sounds about right. Last time we were all together we were fighting Osborn.” A shadow crossed his face at the thought of Osborn’s escape. But he didn’t want to darken the night. Sam tried to shake off the thought as he raised his glass. “To you, Carol Danvers.”

ALEX: Alex raised an eyebrow curiously at the mention of a bachelorette - he hadn’t even considered the option. Huh. You learn something new every day. “Fair enough,” Alex shrugged, realizing just how right she was. Shit— it was out of the norm to come to these events alone, but at least he wasn’t the only one. But what about him. He had been casually flirting with Tabitha for some time, but ( and perhaps it was the alcohol’s influence ) it still left a sour pit in his stomach to see Lorna in attendance with someone that wasn’t. Their relationship was long over, though. No use dwelling in the past. Just the lonely, shitty present. “Uh, nope. Single and loving it,” he groaned, his tone painfully sarcastic as he raised his glass to Betsy’s - clinking it against the other before taking a large swig of whiskey. His nose wrinkled slightly at the burn as it crept down his throat.

GAMORA: “You agreed. I didn’t.” Gamora shook her head, the pink ombre of her hair moving around her bare shoulders. “Be proud of yourself. You try.” Before she had both admired and disliked that about him. Gamora was impressed by how he threw himself wholeheartedly into things but when it was his initial pursuit of her she hadn’t been impressed. They had come a long way. “Kevin Bacon.” Her tone was serious even though they had gotten into a fight after she learned the truth about that movie. Something had been thrown ( by her -- quill had never been violent ) but they had somehow ended up in his bed lost in an ocean of warm, scratchy sheets. She swayed slightly to the beat, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. It was for him. Gamora’s body felt in this moments where her mind wasn’t her own but that of the Gamora had died. If the last few months had taught her anything it was how to push past it. “Terran food is too salty.” Her nose scrunched before she pointed a finger towards the buffet. “That way.”

CAROL: She turned so she was leaning back against the bar, her drink cradled in her hand. Her nails were painted a simple nude, but her hands were bare of any jewelry save for a thin silver bracelet. It glinted against the dim lights as she crossed one arm over her chest and cast Sam a small smile. "It's also Stark. Annual is a relative term for him." The routine they'd settled into felt more like coming home than Carol had imagined it could --- her brief affairs over the years had burned out faster than they'd begun, mostly due to her attitude, her job, her duties. There were only a few people in the world who knew Carol better than she knew herself, and she couldn't believe she was falling for one of them. The woman in the mirror warned her that she was a bullet ripping through people's lives, leaving dead bodies in her wake, but Carol ignored the voice. Ignored how it told her she'd just leave Sam ruined and broken. He was stronger than her and so much more than she deserved, but she couldn't pull her gaze away from his face. Couldn't get enough of the sound of his voice. They fit too well together, their minds and bodies moving in sync --- it was just too, too good to give up. Smiling behind her glass, she tinked the edge of his softly with her own. "We've been through this before, Sam. Just because I'm the first to hit something doesn't mean I should get praise for it."

BETSY: One shoulder shrugged at his reaction. Her bodycount was high. Betsy had never shied away from the lovers she had taken over the years as their minds and bodies imprinted on her. For someone who felt cold she had craved the fleeting warmth of another. But that was then. Betsy lived in moderation now even if she had nearly finished her second glass. There was a pleasant buzz in her head intensified by the whisper of minds around them. Alex wasn’t terrible company either and fine to look at. “I’m terribly sorry, but I have to remind you that I’m a telepath. And Lorna’s lovely, but you worked as well as Warren and I did. But we don’t need to talk about that. To new, better decisions.” With that her second glass was gone.

REMY: The shop would be shut down for three weeks, they'd said, and tonight was the last night before the New Years holiday that Remy could get in. It'd meant that he'd be late to the Gala and wouldn't be able to escort Lorna in, but for him, there were far more pressing matters. It had given him enough time to pick up the velvet box and drop it off at home, shower and change, and now he was pushing through the thick crowd at the entrance over an hour late. Spotting bright green hair wasn't the toughest quest in the world and he was almost to her just before he saw who she'd attended with. Pulling up short, Remy instinctively resisted the need to turn on his heel and call Lorna later with apologies that he'd gotten stuck in traffic -- but it was a lame excuse and even worse, both of them would know it was a lie. Swallowing his pride and probably a good amount of his dignity, Remy approached with a wry smile towards Erik and a softer one towards Lorna. "Sorry I'm late," he was suddenly too sober for this. "Erik, I didn't think I'd ever get to see you out of your helmet." there was a bit of sarcasm beneath his tone that he couldn't help and so he faced Lorna instead. "Tu es belle chérie" It was quieter and softer. And then, "You too Erik. Nice, I mean." Suddenly he realized that the amount of parents he had to meet and talk to could fit on one hand if he chopped off two fingers -- let alone having to try and charm the least charmable person in the room. "Drinks?" he suggested.

YELENA: Her skin was electric. She always was hyperaware of her body and where it existed spatially but James’ hand on her back had filled her with lightening. “Honestly?” Boredom laced her words. “I’ve been to too many. You smile, you flirt. Maybe show some leg and then you finish the hit. If there’s a fight there’s always at least one thing different about each of these.” Yelena tilted her head to the side. Her long blonde hair had been pushed into a series of cascading finger waves but she kept her fangs hidden behind red lipstick tonight. “I’ll settle with you getting me a drink. пожалуйста, James.”

ALEX: Alex blinked slowly, embarrassed, “Riiight. You know, I should probably be more aware of that or it’s definitely gonna bite me in the ass some day.” He took another sip, finishing his own drink, before mumbling under his breath, “Not that it hasn’t already.” Nodding to the bartender again, Alex set his glass down onto the bartop as the man returned with the same bottle as before, and refilled it. Making note of Betsy’s empty glass as well, the bartender offered to refill hers, unsure of what sort of night the woman wanted to have. Alex, on the other hand, was already nearly finished with his second glass, but rather than accept another refill, he chose to abstain — giving the alcohol a little bit of time to settle in his bloodstream before forcing more into his body. “To new, better decisions,” he held up the now empty glass, nodding at Betsy, the tired grin on his face just beginning to reach his eyes.

QUILL: "Right. One of our six no no topics. Sorry." he tossed that out with a smile, realizing belatedly that two of those topics were older -- as in an experience he'd had with the Gamora who'd died, and not the one who'd just recently acquired her memories. He forged on, pushing that thought out. "This isn't Terran food," he said pointedly. "This is fancy food. Big, big difference. It was a mistake taking you to Sonic, I see that now." he followed where she was pointing and reached down to weave their fingers together, leading her through the crowd. "Food, bar, maybe the dancefloor after a lot of time spent at the bar. Sound like a plan?"

KATE: Cute. “I got a dog. As in, I stole Clint’s dog.” The situation was more nuanced. They had a non contractual custody agreement that worked well for both. Lucky was the epitome of an emotional support dog and she wished she had him during the nights After when she had sat up all night in a ball on her bed. An elderly man passed her, eyes a little too friendly as they trailed down her form. In Derek Bishop’s court no one had dared do so. Even before her dad was a certified super villain he had just been a mean bastard. Now there was no father she would accept help from and Kate shot the man a glare, knowing it would take .2 seconds to topple him. Even though she hadn’t admitted it aloud, Kate had picked the dress with Julian in mind. She had worn tight and revealing before but wanted something new. The deep plunge in the neckline was softened by the sheer fabric that composed a high neckline and sleeves that formed around her bicep. The slit in the leg was nearly buried by the voluminous skirt but she made sure to flash some calf. Good on her feet, Kate followed through on the turn before steadying herself with one hand on his arm. “Thirteen is my lucky number, so I’m getting close to being satisfied.” Her smile was genuine. “You’re my plus one. Maybe next year. Hey,” she paused, a funny half smile fleeting on her face. “I kind of like you, Julian Keller.”

KAMALA: When Sam started acting like a total loser ( let’s be real, they both were ) Kamala swatted at him discretely. “No idea. We talk but she doesn’t, like, give me life updates.” Maybe Kamala needed to ask her to get coffee soon. The only problem was that Carol was Carol and her face was always recognized. Why would New Jersey high school student Kamala Khan - the face behind Kamala’s Law - be hanging out with an Avenger? Nope. Too weird. Kamala pivoted towards the punchbowl and began to ladle out two cups. “I hope it’s not cherry. I hate cherry.”

JAMES BUCHANAN: James perched against the edge of a barstool, the heel of his shoe hooking around the bottom rung. He couldn't comment much on her opinion of parities seeing as the clearest memory he had of one was from 90 years ago. Anything else was messily strung together pieces of a story in a language he didn't understand and he was tried of trying to translate. Instead, he used what he knew, and that was that he knew the proximity between him and the person behind him, he knew the four exit points beyond the main entrance, and he could clearly see a path mapped out to each of them. Drawing his eyes away from the crowded floor, he eased a smile to soften his features. "You ever long for a quiet night? The booze is free," with that, he indicated two drinks, whatever Yelena wanted, and passed her the glass. "Mostly everyone is too enveloped in their own world to try and talk to you and-" he took a sip and noted the bitter tones that would do nothing to ease his sobriety. "-There's dancing. I used to be really good at that, too."

SAM ALEXANDER: Sam shrugged, understanding, but a bit disappointed - for Kamala’s sake. The Avengers often felt like the untouchables. But did Sam resent them for that? Only a little. He did however, sort of know Tony, and maybe that counted for something? “Hey— I take offense to that. I kinda like cherry,” Sam joked, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before he graciously accepted a cup from Kamala, “Thanks.” Taking a sip, he furrowed his brow as he pondered the flavor, “Tastes just like, I dunno— punch.”

BETSY: “Sometimes things bite you in the ass. It’s not always unpleasant.” Betsy made no motion to explain. Instead, she just brushed purple waves away from her eyes. Deciding she would allow herself to step out of line, the telepath once again urged the bartender mentally to refill her glass and leave the bottle this time around. Dropping one hand onto Alex’s arm, Betsy used him as leverage to ease herself onto a barstool. The dress was tight and she had to angle her body so that her leg came out of the slip instead of losing circulation. “I’ve been thinking a lot, you know, about life and second chances. What’s something you want to do?” The liquid was swirling in her glass with its dark amber tones. The minds were louder now but the edges of the world were a little ore blurry and gentle. It was a nice reprieve and Betsy rested her chin in her hand.

JESSICA: It felt like she had been attending these things for a hundred years, and while Jess wasn’t sure of her age she knew she wasn’t that old. A part of her mind was at home in sweatpants watching a two year old break out laughing over something that was admittedly not funny. Gerry had been entranced by his mothers skirt, fists balled in the red until she had untangled herself and made it to her Uber. There was no way in hell she was riding her bike in a ballgown. “Carol,” she repeated as she jutted her chin towards the couple. “I think she’s in the process of settling. They’re comfortable, but Sam definitely deserves a round. Carol is rough.” So was Jess and everyone knew it. “You want a beer or are we living a little tonight? It’s not every night I go to a dead mans party with my ex.”

JULIAN: "So no chance on giving him back then?" He asked, though his tone belied his genuine like of Lucky. He'd had one dog growing up, a Great Pyrenees that'd been already twelve by the time he was old enough to learn her name and then she was gone. His parents never got another dog after that. His affinity for Lucky had a lot to do with the pieces of Julian that weren't selfish and narcissistic, but even after a year of being together, Julian still didn't admit to that easily. With a soft smile, he trailed his fingers lightly over Kate's waist, leaning down to whisper softly, "As good as you may look in that dress, Kate, the whole reason we're late is because I like you much better out of it." he straightened and shook his head. "You know, I was going for absolute loathing but I guess I'll take kind of like. I kind of like you too. Now, drinks?"

YELENA: Accepting the drink, Yelena sipped it in silence for a moment. She’d never fit in at parties because she’d never be able to relax and enjoy herself. Instead her back remained ramrod straight despite the fact that her dress did give her some room to be flexible. “I’ve had a lot of quiet nights.” She usually only made it through a handful before an ugly spree of nights out with a high body count. “You danced?” She softened, gaze drifting over the cloud. “I dance too. Ballet. It’s the one thing I’m actually better than Natalia at. I don’t do it enough anymore.” Sorrow settled over her words before she shook it off and cleared her throat. “I’m not built right to be a ballerina. Too short, too curvy.”

ALEX: Alex watched on with dazed fascination as the bartender deposited the bottle in front of Betsy, and the temptation to refill his own glass again was much too strong. But before he could do anything a hand latched onto his arm. Helping Betsy to a seated position now, Alex couldn’t help but stare - at the way the fabric draped over her body, the way the dress hugged her waist just snugly enough to be agonizing, the way her dark purple locks fell past her shoulders - ah, fuck this wasn’t good. ( C’mon Alex, you’re better than this. ) Her question caught him off guard. “I uh—“ ( But are you really? ) “—I dunno, just thinking about being somewhere else right now.”

BETSY: I hate my dress it’s just too tight. Man, maybe I’lll get laid tonight. My tie is choking me. Foreign thoughts invaded her mind but Betsy casually left them slip through like sand falling through an hourglass. It took her a moment to remember that she was in engaged in conversation with someone and his gaze was trailing over what she had to offer. Which was, admittedly, a lot. As Kwannon Betsy had existed with miles of legs and bare skin. In that moment, she missed it. She didn’t want to put her armor back on. “If that place isn’t your brothers moon home, I wouldn’t mind an invitation.”

CLINT: Clint had already redirected his attention away from the pair, settling his gaze on the array of liquor bottles that lined the shelves behind the bartender. He'd done what any sane man would do and had started at home, lining up the empty beer cans on his windowsill and slingshotting them with a rubber band and paperclip until his cab had come. It had actually been Jess's cab and thank god for that, considering he was pretty sure his phone was dead and stuffed between his couch cushions. "You think I'd come to a Stark party and not abuse the open bar?" he actually had no plans to over drink tonight, already regretting the hangover he'd have in the morning. "Should we send four shots down to them?"

JAMES BUCHANAN: James wanted to comment that his version of a quiet night was probably different than what she'd been thinking, but he instead took another sip of his drink and slipped into the second half of the conversation easily. "At least an approximation of a dance." he said with a small smile. "Nothing too crazy, but I hated being holed up inside. You could feel the tension in the air with the looming war and no one wanted to waste any quiet moments they had. So I learned to dance, at least well enough that I didn't step on any toes." A few weeks ago, it had been tiresome and difficult to talk about a life that felt more like a shadow than a memory. The person he'd been almost a century ago had died -- and yet, if James focused a little, he could still feel the buzz of budding adulthood - the last summer he spent in New York before enlisting. It was the last time he remembered being James Buchanan Barnes and not the Winter Soldier, and the more he talked about it, the more the grief grew. And yet he still spoke of his past to the only person who wouldn't pity him - and he was so ever grateful for that. "But you enjoy it, don't you?" he asked, because attempting to disagree with her was usually fruitless. "There is a studio in the city."

PIETRO: In all honesty the last thing he wanted to be doing was attending this damn event — not with a baby due any day now and precious sleep to be salvaging. Still, he’d put the suit on and agreed to escorting his beautiful girlfriend and mother of his child to be to the floor. Pietro carefully tucked one of her strawberry curls that had gone astray back into place and dropped his hand to the small of Crystalia’s back. At the mention of wanda his blue eyes cast a look around the room “she will be — i don’t see her yet. any one from your side expected?”

STEVE: Steve cracked a smile a sipped his champagne. “I guess in this case, normal’s subjective.” he said. “But I think the general population might agree with me that it’d be nice if this party ended without aliens falling out of the sky.” as he spoke, he slowly walked toward a little table with food. he wasn’t overly familiar with the display of hor’dourves but when he saw a little cone of french fries he put them on the plate and passed it to her. “what do you think of this Krakoa thing?” he asked.

GAMORA: There was a range of we’re cautious around these topics that eventually escalated to the six he referred to. Thanos - the Titan who had dominated her life - didn’t fall on either. How funny it was that the giant things in Gamora’s life, the ones that made her feel the most stripped down and vulnerable, were the ones she could share. Kevin Bacon, Twinkies and the other four topics remained off-limits. She began to drift towards the buffet, neck inclining slightly in acknowledgement. “The food that’s not related to the fast blue Rocket creature.” Hedgehog? It was close. There were some foods that Gamora liked. She liked the insides of the Oreo cookies, a trail of black cookies sucked dry left in her wake. “Bar dependent, yes. I may pass over the food.” Again, salt. On the warship the Children of Thanos had drank together, but Gamora had never been welcome in the Black Order. She took her bottle in the back of the room with boots propped up on the table.

JESSICA: “I knew you’d come to a Stark party and abuse the bar. I have Uber pulled up on my phone for the moment I have to load your ass into a car.” At least, that’s how it had been before. Before: when they were actually dating. They were on a team and it was simple. No baby, way less time learned trauma. A lot of passionate sex, though. That had been a plus. Jess couldn’t help but laugh as she gestured for the bartender to do just that. She sent them down the bar along with an air kiss in case her friend chose to look over. Bare arms braced against the bar, Jess’ eyes trailed down the fancy laminated lists of drinks. “I’ll have the I am Iron Man,” her nose scrunched. “Terrible name.”

KATE: “I’d give you back before Lucky. That’s my main man.” Even though he was Clint’s dog, her mentor understood. Kate needed Lucky and they all made it work. Her father had been strict about no pets. No cats, no dogs, no turtles. Not even a goldfish. Still, Clint would come for the dog eventually. He always did, and then her apartment was silent once more without clicking nails and an obnoxiously loud pant. Kate had never liked sleeping alone. Her mother had been too willing to sit on her daughter’s bed in the middle of the night, Kate never considering that maybe Eleanor didn’t want to be in her own next to her husband. She had grown out of it only to become afraid of the dark once more years later. The warmth of Lucky’s body as he dominated her bed made it a little easier to close her eyes, sleep settling over her for twice as long as it would otherwise. Her hair - originally an updo - was a victim of their little tryst and had been shoved into ( not so ) purposefully messy waves. She turned to face him, hand skating over his suit sleeve as she smiled. “Play your cards the right way and you may get to again. While I debate if you’re absolute loathing worth, I would love a drink that’s not Clint’s cheap lukewarm beer.”

LORNA: It wasn’t often that her boyfriend and father occupied the same space. Which was funny, really, as Remy was all but living with her in the Monarchy of M when she wasn’t in the Boneyard. Magneto, as a leader, was hard to pin down. Erik, as a father, had been distant on a good day. They made concerted effort now and their tea times were spent just the two of them or with Dawn playing on the floor. Lorna had never had a father and now she was reluctant to share him. He had been cordial with Marcos when they had met, even though she already had a screaming bundle of blankets at that point. He had never been sold but he hadn’t been rude. Lorna didn’t want to get into what it would be like if Erik and Remy clashed, so she kept them apart as casually as possible. After Remy addressed her father and Erik responded, Lorna rose on her toes to press a kiss to Magneto’s stubble lined cheek. “I’ll see you for tea tomorrow, father.” Even though their evening had been pleasant, Lorna was still quick as she and Remy made their retreat. “I always want drinks. My fatal flaw. Also, hey. You like nice.”

CRYSTALIA: She liked being doted on. Could you blame her? Pietro was tall and handsome. An asshole, sure, but she wasn’t without her own moments. She liked when people looked them and did a decent job ignoring the fact that at least some percentage was because of her distended stomach and their strange situation. “You’ve met my family.” She turned her head so her her cheek brushed his hand before it fell to her back. “They veer from antisocial to arrogant and stuck-up.” Crystal adored them but would be remiss to ignore their faults. The Inhumans had made a lot of mistakes over the years but Crystalia was determined to not let the child in her stomach count as one. There was a slight pain in her stomach off to the side, not unlike the one earlier when she had been sewn into her dress. One hand moved to rest on the side, almost like she could somehow figure out the source from the simple gesture. “At least these parties have beverages. Not that I can imbibe, but still.”

QUILL: "No, but it comes out fast and that's where the similarities end." It'd been a last minute stop, mainly for him, after he'd convinced Gamora to go on a long drive up the coast. It'd been too long since he'd seen it either, and he missed the salty, briny air. Fast food was a blow to the evening, but man did they have great tater tots. "Do you know what happens to people if they drink on an empty stomach?" he grumbled around a bite of food he didn't have a name for. He offered her some of it with his free hand. "Sure you don't wanna be a little adventurous?"

CLINT: "Awh Jess," he started, his tone cloying. "You do care." he bumped shoulders with her gently as they both peered over the bar card and he suppressed a laugh at the name and her opinion of it. "I'll take a Capscicle and a shot of Jack on the side." He twisted slightly to face Jess as they both waited, pulling out a few bills and dropping them in the tip jar as he did so. "So. It's been a long time since we've attend one of these together, yeah?"

NATASHA: It only took a smile and a few words for Natasha to excuse them both from Tony’s company before she followed her husband to the table that was steaming with food. “Aliens were 2012. 2017 and 2018 as well, if we’re keeping track. This year was political espionage.” A return to Natasha’s roots, really. She took the fries gratefully, the pit of her stomach warming at the fact that they knew each other so effortlessly. It had taken years to get there but their friendship and mutual respect had strengthened into the strongest bond she had known. Popping one in her mouth, red lips blew a tiny circle at the heat. “I think any kind of new government just popping up and demanding sovereignty is dangerous.” Her voice remained upbeat and neutral in case someone was listening. “I was dead a year. In the time it took me to come back they already had the world by its balls. I don’t love that.”

JULIAN: He clicked his tongue at that, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half smile. "Careful Bishop, with words like that Sofia may just get her chance." One girl he'd had an on again, off again flirtation with in the months prior to sleeping with Lana that had never really died down -- even if it went into a more platonic territory now. Still, he joked about it with no real seriousness. "You truly put up with a lot, Katie," he said as he indicated the bar with a tilt of his head. "A few drinks and a few bad decisions later and this might actually turn out to be a true Stark party."

LANA: “Duh. He’s a baby.” She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like Lana had any real experience with babies. Her mom hated them and had been very vocal about the fact that she had been thrilled when Lana no longer required her diaper changed. Taking both of his hands, Lana squeezed the metal one. “Part cyborg, part hunk, part asshole. It’s fine that you live with your parents. I very obviously don’t want to live with mine, but I don’t know.. You got this family that adores you and parents that call you *son*. I can’t help but be a little jealous.” Lana released him, watching as he extended his arms. “Well, I haven’t been to any. Definitely not my scene.”

REMY: "You do know one day I'll probably have to have a full conversation with him, non?" Remy asked as they weaved through the crowd towards an unoccupied space at the bar. It was filling up quick with some parties milling around, as the rest of the room began to get claustrophobic from the amount of people occupying it. "How does he know this many people?" he wondered aloud as they hit the wooden bar top and he ordered simply; just a double shot of rum, neat. Turning, he leaned forward just enough to kiss the corner of Lorna's mouth, the shadow of a smile on his lips. "Merci," he responded just as the drinks hit the bar. "You can't keep your father hidden away forever." And back to the topic at hand.

CABLE: "Yeah well, I might not remember being one, but I can say for sure I didn't cry half as much." he could hear the petulance in his voice, but there was no real honesty behind it. He loved that weird little hellspawn that was both his full brother and his half brother simultaneously. Nate looked down to where she was holding his hands in hers and he flicked his gaze up just as she started speaking. "Not full hunk? It's the eye, isn't it? Always throws 'em." It was tough to be serious in a room full of patrons getting rapidly more intoxicated and the music had begun to change to accommodate --- but Nate tried to sober up the humor and he squeezed her hand back. "It's weird Lana -- I had to accept this guy who dipped out on me as a baby and a mom who looked like the woman who raised me down to the last detail. I'm not ungrateful, and I love them both, but sometimes you have to find family, you know?"

SAM WILSON: There were parts of him that didn’t know how to do this. This: a healthy, functioning relationship pressed in between the layers of hate and grime that being a hero came with. Sure, Sam had girlfriends before. There was the one from high school, the one when he first enlisted. After Riley, however, he hadn’t found it in himself to invest in another person. Riley had been his brother in every sense of the word and in his absence Sam had decided the only thing he could do was carve out spaces for himself to heal. It had been a long time since then. His morality and humanity had weighed heavily on his mind since he picked up the shield. Where was the balance? Being around Carol had helped him realize that it feasible to be both hero and human. He still lived his life, the morning runs and the evenings spent reading to try and make sure both his mind and body were being worked out. It was just a little more full now. There was someone to bounce ideas off of when he was sipping his coffee at the table. Sometimes he’d hear water running from a tap he hadn’t turned on and smile a gap toothed smile to himself. It was nice to not be alone. “Relative is all Stark is, but everyone likes the circus.” Tony had slowed down some ever since he had been resurrected. It made sense with the kid and the wife and the expensive place Upstate. Body against hers, Sam stood with arm propped up on the bar so his chest was aligned with Carol’s profile. He was close enough to touch her, and he did. It was little gestures, like his fingers brushing hers as he passed off a cup or a chaste kiss to the side of her temple. “We’ll compromise. It’s all me next time.” The bartender then slid them four shots and he caught the end of Jessica Drew’s air kiss. “A gift from your friend and Barton. Think they put something in it?”

YELENA: She hated that what he was saying made sense. That it was relatable, almost. There had been no looming war for Yelena. There was always a war, or at least a quiet approximation of one that they were enlisted to fight in again and again, soldiers for the highest bidders. Her dancing was a commodity too, even if she tried to lose herself in the tempo and pretend that it was hers alone. “You speak well.” Yelena’s voice was quiet. Not reverent, exactly, or entranced but something that danced on the edges. Of course, all spells are meant to be broken and Yelena had never had interest in witchcraft. Her jaw feathered before she took a measured sip from her glass. “Do you know why I love ballet? It’s ugly. Everyone sees it as so beautiful, so graceful. Ballerinas are tasked with slamming their bodies on the stage and creating the illusion that it’s soundless.” It wasn’t. The ballerina heard the dull thuds the music hid. They felt the shockwaves go up their ankles and they ignored it. “It makes your feet bleed when you go on pointe, but girls love the pretty pink slippers. It’s so ugly and so beautiful. That’s what they wanted from us. Look at Natalia,” she jutted her chin towards her sister. “So beautiful and she did ugly, ugly things.” Her little monologue was over. Yelena returned to her drink. “Нет. Like I said, I’m not built right. Have you seen a ballerina? Tall and thin. They want long legs. I wasn’t built to dance.”

GAMORA: “--I don’t think I like what you are saying.” Gamora shook her head. There was one thing she would always have over the Gamora who died. Any memory on Earth was hers and hers alone. Gamora and Quill had never made it there together, her former self only ever hearing about the place her love had grown up on before being kidnapped. It was Gamora who got to experience this for the first time and she carried the win like a small flame in her chest. “If they’re strong, nothing.” A green shoulder shrugged. It was a testament to the gladiator like environment she grew up in. You knew your limits. You didn’t mess up. Still, she turned a critical gaze towards the table before pointing at one item. “What is that?”

JESSICA: She scoffed. “Yeah, well, having a kid absolutely ruined me.” Maternal instincts and shit. As his shoulder connected with hers Jessica willingly let the momentum sway her to the side. “Capsicle, really? I thought the Hulk Smash was tempting.” That was a joke. Not one bone in her body was interested in Jagermeister and she had quit Red Bull around the time she had gotten pregnant. His question took a moment to mull over, one hand running through her hair as she thought. “Four? Five? It was pre Gerry, definitely. I don’t know, Barton, you never seemed short of company.”

KATE: She was tapping one had against the bar casually, shoulders relaxed and body loose. “So we threaten each other with exes now? You’ll have to give me a minute to find my list.” Another joke. She had no problem returning barbs if the mood was right. Kate had grown up with parents in a loveless relationship. They had never laughed, never joked. It was suffocating. “I’ve had a lifetime to practice. And never, I mean ever, call me Katie. Only person who does is Clint and I’m liable to kill him any day for it.” It had been Katherine at home. Kate everywhere else. Katie had never really fit, but Clint was like an older brother and it had slid on like a glove she pretended to hate. “I skip these sometimes. I’m technically an Avenger and my partner actually is one but they all blur together. So, I’ll take whatever you’re having.”

LORNA: “One day that’s not today.” Lorna tapped Remy’s arm with one black painted finger. She thrived in busy, full places. The amount of metal in the room made her feel charged. It was tempting to hold a hand out towards the people she passed and let their jewelry rattle a little bit on their arms. “Money means you know everyone. Or, everyone wants to know you.’ She shrugged. Lorna had never really cared about wealth. There were other ways to be powerful and for a long time all she had to rely on was her own magnetism. Lorna turned her head to meet Remy’s mouth but was left with only the ghost of his kiss. A small smirk crossed her lips instead. “You can’t hide Magneto. He’s pride is too big. It doesn’t fit anywhere. And I’m not keeping him under lock and key, Remy. You could march into the Monarchy if you wanted and demand a session. I just don’t want him to come in the way of us. He’s... messy.”

CAROL: She couldn't agree more. Carol hated confined spaces and large gatherings -- the discombobulation of panicked civilians fleeing one enemy or another always made her heart race, even after years of training. Yet she attended every single Stark party, hell bent on drinking his bar under the table and not worrying about where the exits were. Even though she knew parties like this could end in disaster, she couldn't step away from the role she wanted to play: a normal girl attending a normal party with her normal boyfriend. But who was she kidding -- neither of them were, even if they were playing dress up for the night. "I'll hold you to that, Wilson." Carol said with a hint of a smile, turning her head just in time to intercept the kiss for something a little more public and a little more out of their present comfort zone. Turning again, she grabbed for one of the shot glasses. "Knowing Jess, she just made sure it was a liquor I couldn't stand cause she loves to see me pucker." She held the shot up. "She really wants to see me tango too, apparently."

JAMES BUCHANAN: That made him laugh, though it was short lived and not at her expense. He appreciated the way Yelena spoke - bluntly and without hesitation. Too many people tip toed around him, worried he might lose it or break down, when in reality, he just wanted people to either say what they meant or not speak at all. "I've never been to a show," he began "Sounds a lot like sacrifice for the sake of entertainment, but what would I know." he truly didn't because he didn't understand why anyone would willingly sacrifice their bodies for the sake of dance. But then again, he willingly charged headfirst into a war he only thought they'd win. And they'd had - but at whose expense? "Also sounds exactly like what I'd expect from the Red Room." Hidden ugliness beneath layers and layers of beauty. It made them deadly and efficient. "Does that mean you can't then, or just don't want to?" he wasn't sure why he was pressing the issue, but it came anyway.

LANA: He was arrogant but it was charming. Lana couldn’t help but lean into him. She had screamed. She knew that much. She had screamed her head off until her mother had debated blowing her up. If she had tried it hadn’t worked. “That’s one more difference between us. I have great lungs now.” Not that Lana was the yelling type anymore. She had been more combative if anything. “No, no. I’m not going to tell you what it is. You’ll have to keep guessing. I’ll give a hint: I like the eye.” The sentence was punctuated with a wink. Lana was underage and Nate didn’t drink. Maybe before she would have copped a shot from someone ( Julian Keller ) but she was feeling inspired on starting the new year off on a good start, so she nursed a Sprite instead. “Scott, Jean and Rachel now. Is that your found family?” She didn’t want to sound ungrateful. She knew his situation was hard. The curl of jealousy and longing remained in her gut though. Lori was quick to yell and her hand came closely after. She had exploited and degraded and ruined the notion that Lana could have a mother. So she had found a family. She found friends. Why wasn’t that enough to keep her content?

QUILL: He just chuckled around another bite of food, quickly filling up a plate as he went down the table. "You base a lot on strength but you haven't tried to go down Tony's bar card like it’s a frat game." he turned just as she pointed towards something that he didn't recognize. "You know, probably has a name I can't pronounce. What's the worst that can happen if you give it a go?" Peter was only egging her on out of adoration and love; their relationship having moved into a more comfortable place in the past few months. He kept trying to introduce her to things they missed out on the first time and he was determined not to waste time this go around.

CLINT: "The Hulk Smash sounds like a hangover from hell and I have work in the morning." That was half a lie. He promised Kate he'd take Lucky around the block and get his ass curtain trimmed in the morning, which meant he'd have to hop skippity skip on over to her side of the tracks and take him for half the day. Which meant watered down mixed drinks that looked like more food coloring than alcohol were his forte tonight. "Well Pop always told me never to show up alone or you'd get bullied at the door." Which was neither true nor relevant, considering what memories he did have of his dad were shit at best. "Cheers," he said, holding up his glass.

SAM WILSON: One of the most memorable Avengers parties that Sam could think of had been all the way back in 2015, the group gathering together only for Ultron to smash through the window. They had eventually dealt with the problem like they always did. It didn’t change the fact that Sam had increasing concerns about if they could ever just unwind for a night. Dating the woman who was powered by an Infinity Stone and could smash through ships helped ease some of his nerves while the others remained. It wasn’t up to Carol to save the day even when she thought it was. It wasn’t worth losing her over. She was an incredibly strong woman who could make her own choices and he respected her, but hero colleagues needed to check one another. The intercepted kiss meant that she just got another quick one before Sam grabbed one of the shots. His other arm snaked around Carol’s waist to pull her close. “You may not know it, Cap, but the community center in Harlem offered dance classes. Now, my mama was really big into being involved. Pop got killed when I was nine and she went shortly after. Kept taking my siblings to the center for as long as I could and I got a mean tango as compensation for the tragedy.” He had been taught by that same community to be glib. Black men didn’t cry. Not even when they were boys.

TOMMY: Tommy wasn’t very into the special events that involved a suit and a tie—in fact most times he avoided the tie all together. Tonight was a little different in the fact that he had a date, one that he hadn’t exactly been sporting around. Not for any reason outside of just...not really leaving either of their respective rooms. Still, it was kind of nice to get out, see his friends, stretch his legs. As he surveyed the room he noticed Crystalia looked like she was about to pop any second—how someone so little could carry that baby... “ten bucks says she delivers that kid before the night’s done.” he said turning to James, a pile of snacks on the platter he’d just snagged.

YELENA: She didn’t laugh with him, but it didn’t make her frown either. Instead, dark lips remained flat over the rim of her glass. She exhaled slightly before taking a sip, the cup finding a home on the bar without much thought. “Maybe we could go.” Yelena tossed out, a rare instance where her words made it out before her mind approved them. Yelena had learned to take her time in conversations. Some liked to shoot retorts back quickly but she moved slower. The last thing she needed was to have to shoot someone for taking something the wrong way and getting upset. Maybe we could go sounded simple but was anything but. Yelena wasn’t often in public with people she closely associated with ( why put a target on their back? ) and she had been on random dates for the hell of it but didn’t put much effort into it. She never called back after, just grabbed her shoes and slipped out. “They have good ballet in New York, supposedly. The Lincoln Center. Probably not as good as the Bolshi Ballet.” Maybe one day Yelena would explain to him why the sacrifice was worth it. The layer of deception satisfied the sadist in her but the beauty sated her unspoken desires. It felt good to have one singular thing in her life that brought other people joy, even if it had been tainted like everything else. “The Red Room can иди нахуй сама.” She scoffed as Yelena reclaimed her drink. “I can, but there’s no career in it. If I dance it’s by myself and I can only do so much. I can’t lift myself, can I?”

GAMORA: “You know I don’t know what a frat is,” Gamora muttered under her breath. She didn’t point it out every time a reference went over her head ( it, at a certain point, had become embarrassing to reflect on how little she knew about the jokes that had lingered in the mind of quill for three decades ) and instead rolled her eyes. The evening had her feeling loose though, a little lighter. The world could have been ending outside but they were in a bubble of champagne ( she knew what that was -- it fizzed on your tongue and made it dance ) and a privilege she had never acquainted herself with. Gamora had just picked up the small green item of food and observed the way they shade differed from the fingers that held it. There was a moment she lost herself and her mind went back. Not to Thanos. To before. Her family had never been rich. They had never known opulence or expensive dresses that somehow managed to cling to your skin without becoming sticky. They would never know what it was like and Gamora had never felt more like an alien who had been shoved off the spaceship and into a whole different world. She took a careful bite that severed the food in half before wordlessly offering him the other part. “I hated it here, Peter.” Gamora’s voice was quiet. “But I loved you, so I stayed. Even when I couldn’t remember I never talked myself into leaving. I’m glad. I’m glad for this. I’m glad for you.”

JESSICA: The Hulk Smash sounded like something you’d drink at a frat party before someone took a video of you getting your head shaved while shit faced. Not that Jess had ever actually attended a frat party, or went to college. Minor details. “Oh, so you have a job now?” The reply was glib. He had a more solid gig than her at this point, motherhood excluded. In reality she was happy for his spot with the West Coast Avengers. Some stability never hurt. Carol had told her multiple times she could rejoin the Avengers but every time she brushed it off with the reassurance that she was happier on the reserves, happier getting her faced smashed into the NYC pavement on her own time. “Nice. My pop just taught me that the best way to deal with your problems was to vanish into thin air.” Jess held up her glass as well, the clinking of glass nearly lost in the din of the party before she took a sip. “---Jesus, that tastes like ass. Are they using rocket fuel?”

#event: tdocm 2020 #tdocm 2020: stark memorial gala #chatlog: stark memorial gala #unfinished chatlog #momevents

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