#i’m fine with people saying that maybe there’s some resentment building up but outright hate? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uwu-shinsou · 4 years ago

Note

First,,,, CONGRATS ON 500 BB!! YOU DESERVED IT!! And uhhh if it's not much a bother can I request Shinsou Hitoshi with 6 and 13 (if it's alright! If youre not comfortable with doing it you can do whatever youre comfortable with, I care abt your well being more than the fic that Im requesting) and I dont really uh care if its hc or a drabble or smth cuz im inlove with anything and everything that you make! Again congrats! Have a nice day :))

Title: Whatever You Say

Prompt: Accidental Text, Hate-to-Love

Warning(s): Mild language

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi X Gender Neutral!Reader

Genre: Drabble, working through feelings

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: THANK YOU ISSA!! 🥺💖I’m so glad you requested!! Bc I’m trying to keep these shorter like “drabbles” I had a hard time doing like,, full on hate to love so this is more like resentment to friends with implications of hidden feelings?? AHAHA but uhhh yeah, I hope you all enjoy 🥺and in case you missed it, my last year of college has started, so I will be updating less frequently, but I will still be around and writing and vibing!🤗

500 Event Masterlist

✿ .✿ .✿ .✿ .✿

Oh shit.

You flew down the hall, bursting into Kaminari’s bedroom without knocking. The blonde sat up quickly at your intrusion, but relaxed slightly upon seeing it was you.

“What’s up speed racer?” He joked, folding his legs up to make room for you on the bed. You walked up to the side of the bed, dropping your knees on the edge and falling forward face-down onto the covers.

“I messed up, Denki,” You groaned, rolling over onto your back and staring at the ceiling. “I sent a text to Shinsou-”

He let out a little snort. “Now that’s unusual.”

“Yeah,” You agreed. “Because it was a text that was not meant for him.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad, right?” He asked, now a little nervous. You couldn’t blame him. You and Kaminari had clicked instantly at the beginning of your first year at U.A., and now you’d pretty much consider him your best friend, and you his. But come the end of first year, with the trial and following announcement that Shinsou Hitoshi, general ed student, would be transfering into the hero course- and more specifically- your class, Kaminari Denki had seemed to collect himself yet another best friend.

And you had made your first rival.

You hadn’t wanted to. But when you had first heard about Shinsou’s quirk, people couldn’t help but compare it to yours. As long as you maintained skin to skin contact, you could command another person to do anything that you wanted. Paired with your athletic background (which started when you were young, at the insistence of your parents that it’d “prepare you for hero training”) you were clearly the superior “mind control” student. You didn’t understand why another one was needed in the hero course. Wasn’t he just fine being in the general course?

But of course he had to join class 2A, become Aizawa’s favorite, and start to steal the attention of your best friend.

But Kaminari was his own person, and he made his own choices about when he hung out with the two of you. It really wasn’t fair to put him in the middle of your mess of feelings. And even though he was Shinsou’s friend, you knew he would keep your secrets.

You turned onto your side to look at him. “Here just- read this.” You shoved your phone at him. He took it in his hand, his face contorting into a grimace as he read your mistake once, twice, three times.

“...Why the hell did you send him this?” You slapped your hands against your face in embarrassment and despair. He mockingly cleared his throat. “‘Can you believe purple hair beat me in today’s exercise? Why does he have to basically have my quirk? If he wasn’t so hot I’d be really pissed.’” Kaminari let out a whistle. “Wow, now there is a lot to unpack here, hun.”

You winced. “Yeah, that text was supposed to go to Mina, but I mean- fucking hell, I don’t know?” You ran your hands over your face. “I guess I somehow just clicked the wrong contact and instead it went to him! And it’s even worse that he hasn’t responded about it yet.” You’d never outright said to Shinsou that you disliked him, but you had to assume he knew, and felt the same way about you.

“I didn’t know you thought he was hot,” Kaminari said, wiggling his eyebrows. You launched a pillow at him that he ducked.

“C’mon, anyone with a brain can see that he’s attractive,” You muttered. “It’s the same as Todoroki, or maybe Bakugou if you took away some of the attitude.”

He let out a sigh. “Yeah you’re right.” After a moment of silence he pressed your phone back into your hand. “Anyways, I think the best approach would be to sort it out face to face. Texting can make things too muddled sometimes.”

“Since when did you have so much wisdom?”

He nudged you with a knee. “Hey, there’s a reason you came running to me.”

“I suppose you’re right.” It’ll probably be really awkward and not fun, but you should try to explain yourself in person.

Which is how you found yourself on the outskirts of the woods by the dorm buildings watching Shinsou workout, your presence still unnoticed as his back was turned to you. Kaminari had directed you here, knowing that his friend often trained here on his own.

Suddenly he relaxed his stance, speaking without turning around. “What, you got more to say to me than what was in that text?”

You gritted your teeth at his words. What is up with his attitude!? “Yeah, well maybe I do.” You crossed your arms, shifting most of your weight onto one foot.

Shinsou glanced over his shoulder. “Sucks for you, I’m busy.” He reached down to the ground and slung his towel over his shoulder. “Since my quirk is clearly inferior to yours, I need to keep training.” You winced slightly at his words.

“Hey, I never said it like that-”

“Yeah, well you didn’t have to.” He sighed before turning to face you fully. “Look, I get it, you feel like I’m trying to take your spot here at U.A. Well just- don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll stay out of your way.”

As he began walking away, you found yourself stepping after him. “Shinsou, it’s not fair to phrase it that way.”

He stopped and turned to face you once more. “What do you know about ‘not fair’?” Shinsou took a step closer to you. “‘Not fair’ is getting into the general class, only to see someone just like me being praised for their power in the hero course. ‘Not fair’ is working as hard as I can to make my dreams come true, only to find out that I still have to compete against you. ‘Not fair’ is wanting to so desperately hate you for it all, but I can’t. Not when I see your strength, your power, your drive and ambition, and I can’t help but admire it. Admire you.” He let out a soft snort of mock amusement to himself. “I do kind of hate you for that, though.”

You stood there in silence. What do I even say to that? Shinsou watched you warily, waiting for a reaction.

“I don’t hate you, not really,” You said slowly. As good a place to start as any. “Resented you, yes, but hate is a strong word.” As you continued talking, your mouth let more and more words spill out, words you didn’t even know you had wanted to say. “And yeah, I was worried that you’d ‘take my spot’ or whatever, but I think that was the competitive nature of this school getting to me. They support friendly competition between students, but maybe I took that too much to heart.” You toed at the ground, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. “I was worried about you joining our class because I think you have amazing control over your quirk and you’re really talented. You really do have the potential to be an incredible hero. And I think… I’d like it better if we were friends, instead of pitting ourselves against each other.”

As you waited for Shinsou’s response, you started to get antsy. Why do I care so much about what he’s going to say?

Finally he answered. “Alright. Friends is a good place to start.” He held his hand out to you, as if to shake on it. Hesitatingly you reached out, your fingers firmly grasping his. He tightened his grip. “Should we also acknowledge that you said I was hot in your text?”

His words brought on a wave of nerves, and you yanked your hand back as if it were on fire. “That- That was a typo!” He began walking back towards the dorms with you hurrying to catch up to him.

As you matched his stride, he huffed out a laugh and sent you a knowing smile. “Sure, whatever you say.”

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acephysicskarkat · 5 years ago

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I don't want to start fights, but don't you think you may be going way too far with the salt? It's one thing to not be happy with the way a show ended(and so many people think S5 was great, so you are in a huge minority already), but to insult the showrunner because *one* ship didn't become canon is going too far, mate. Catradora was there from the start, and Catra had an amazing redemption arc. Then again, I am just one person, so idk. Anyway, thanks. -Callum.

I actually respect Noelle Stevenson a lot: bringing a show like She-Ra all the way to its conclusion, producing seasons 1-4 (which are in fact really good), working hard for BLM, all while being out and proud in an industry that still has plenty of bigots around - these are legitimate achievements that are worthy of respect.

However.

1) I don’t give a shit how many people liked S5. I am allowed my own opinions on my own blog. If you don’t like my opinions the block button is right there. Telling me that a lot of fans like the season is an irrelevant data point because my opinions are not subject to majority vote.

2) Catradora was part of the disappointment that was S5, but it was far from the only thing. The strong ensemble cast, one of the best things about the show, is underused; every redemption arc is utterly weightless (Catra’s isn’t the worst but it’s still badly undercooked, of which more later), Glimmer and Bow are barely relevant despite the BFS being the show’s actual beating heart (I know Noelle says Catradora was supposed to be the heart but it’s never felt like that to me), everything related to Catra and Adora’s relationship feels forced, out-of-character and clumsy, the resolution is tied to a bullshit save-the-world button with unclear results, long-running elements like Adora’s family or the Catra/Shadow Weaver parallels are ditched in favour of coming up with dumb answers about what Greyskull means, and the writing is just kind of bad.

It has good elements - I loved the Star Siblings, I liked having Entrapta actually deal with the consequences of her actions, Melog and Wrong Hordak were good additions, and “Peril of Peekablue” was excellent, on par with something like “Mer-Mysteries” - but the season was considerably worse than all the others.

Like, I actually went into S5 going “The most likely outcome here is Catradora canon, but hey, maybe this will be the season that sells me on it” and it wasn’t. It really, really wasn’t.

3) Catradora was there from the start, but it was also badly done from the start and S5 did not meaningfully improve it. It’s actually my go-to on how not to tell an enemies-to-lovers arc because the “enemies” part is really prolonged, heavily emphasised, toxic, unpleasant, emotionally wearing and vicious and the “to” is super rushed and clumsy (of which more in the next bullet point). From "The Promise” to the end of season 4, there are no moments where Catra and Adora’s emotional connection does anything to soften the hostility; if anything, it makes Catra worse because it adds a really cruel and personal note to the whole thing.

Then S5 executes on it badly because it relies heavily on papering over inconvenient events and character development instead of trying to build organically on what has happened before. Catra telling Adora, “You never gave up on anything, not even me,” is my go-to example of this, because she did. It was the S3 climax and a huge moment for Adora’s personal arc! And then the show even reinforced it by having Adora throw a robot directly at Catra’s face with pretty unambiguous intent to kill, or at least severely wound, in "Flutterina”. But it’s not dealt with; instead, we get one questionable line of dialogue about pretending it never happened. Having Adora admit she was wrong to give up on Catra and swearing never to do so again could have been a really powerful moment, but instead of trying to do anything with the thing we saw happen onscreen, it’s just shoved under the rug. It’s bad writing and a huge waste of interesting potential. (It’s also bad planting and payoff; we get the setup in S3, the reminder in S4, and then it’s outright retconned away.)

4) Catra’s redemption arc is actually kind of bad. It’s not as bad as Hordak’s, which I only barely consider a redemption arc because it’s super truncated and he never admits to even doing anything wrong, but it’s bad.

First, it’s super fucking rushed. Literal years of seething, constantly building resentment disappear offscreen; there’s never a point where she meaningfully grapples with it or comes to realise that being “Shadow Weaver’s favourite” was also a hellish experience just in different ways. She does her one big redemptive act, gets forgiven instantly by everyone (including Adora, for whom it feels badly out of character given the aforementioned giving-up, her suspicion in “Princess Prom” before Catra had even tried to ruin her life once let alone six times, etc.), and her resentment just...vanishes in one hand-hold. It was her defining personality trait and the underlying cause for most of her time as an antagonist; it really should have been, you know, dealt with, instead of just forgotten. It does try to deal with her anger issues and problems expressing vulnerability, but that’s like saying that now that Azula has agreed not to torture small animals everything is fine; it’s far from the deepest issue here and pretending otherwise does the character and the show a disservice.

Worse than that, nothing she actually did feels like it means anything because the show just shoves it all under the rug. I’m not asking that she spend an episode personally making it up to each person she’s harmed a la Zuko, not least because after her participation in the sack of Salineas that’s more episodes than a long-running daytime soap opera, but at the very least using her actions in seasons 1-4 for something could have led to some really interesting scenes and good character moments and all that potential is instead just wasted. Angella’s death is just plum forgotten despite how important it was last season; the parallels between Catra’s actions in “White Out” and Horde Prime’s chips are never explored; the Shadow Weaver parallels the show’s been building for four seasons and explicitly stated in the graphic novel tie-in are just ditched and nothing ever comes of them; everyone who might not forgive Catra in under five minutes is mind-controlled until the season is almost over, contributing to the sidelining of the strong ensemble cast. It just feels like they didn’t know how to square Catra’s actions in seasons 2-4 with how they wanted her arc to end, so they just opted to pretend those actions never happened, and as a direct result the whole mess lacks texture and weight and doesn’t feel like a satisfying development for her story. It never feels like she’s dealing with the consequences for her actions, because her actions don’t have consequences.

Noelle once said that the driving question for Catra was “what happens when you’re the toxic friend”, and now we have the answer: nothing. Catra faces no long-term consequences for being the toxic friend. Perfuma’s one minute of being angry is the longest gap between Catra seeming sad and Catra getting forgiven. Nothing she did matters in the long run except in the sense that she’s kind of sad about them in aggregate. None of her bridges are burned so badly they can’t be fixed. And that’s a bad answer, because in real life when you’re the toxic friend people do refuse to forgive you instantly when you say sorry. Relationships do get trashed so badly they never recover. The pain you cause matters, and the traits that made you the toxic friend take work to overcome...unless you’re Catra, in which case the pain you cause suddenly stops mattering and your issues can be dealt with in under an hour offscreen.

Or at least, that’s my attitude. Like, if you liked the season, I’m not saying you’re an idiot or have bad taste. But I hated it. It could maybe have been good if it had been two seasons, actually allow Catra’s arc to breathe instead of speedrunning the whole thing, done more with the ensemble cast etc., but what we got was a rushed mess and telling me that “lots of people liked the rushed mess actually” is not relevant to that assessment.

(Just as a side note, if you really don’t want to start a fight, I’m not sure sending passive-aggressive asks to the tune of “have you considered that your opinions are Wrong actually and mine are Right” is the best way to go about it.)

#SPOP SPOILERS #S5 SALT

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tysonrunningfox · 7 years ago

Text

The Stressed Calm before the Storm

This chapter is a doozy. It’s a big-un. It’s a big old doozy, and also, the last one before everything switches up on us again. And not parent based this time, but kid based. (Let’s hope I can get some of the side scenes I want for that out before then so like...if anyone is wondering about Aurelia, please come bug me about it. I’ve got boulders clogging up that creative pipeline and I’d love some help)

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Fuse gets the charges for the wall ready in record time and they all do a little too much, turning the rock into a surprisingly even pile of small, sharp pebbles. Sven is understanding but impatient and I end up spending three days flying back and forth from nearest islands with rocks that he needs and only stopping when Bang starts refusing to let me on his back, instead rolling over and asking for belly rubs whenever I get within a few feet of him. The initial build of the dam seems to go alright and it feels like a big item checked off of the list, that is, until I get back to town and find Aurelia directing Darren Thorston to do something with the academy.

“Just the wall, we need the rock for the dam—”

“What’s going on here?” I cut her off, standing next to Darren and crossing my arms. I feel like Mom in a way I’m not used to but she doesn’t look anything like me getting caught.

“I’m getting rocks for the dam.”

“The dam is done, don’t touch the academy.”

“Alright,” Darren wipes his hands and shrugs, “less work for me. Cool. See ya around, Acting Chief, I’m assuming you’ll be lurking around my sister’s shed soon?”

“Lurking is a good word for it,” Aurelia glares at me but doesn’t say anything until Darren walks off. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re the one giving orders no one asked you to give.”

“You said Fuse didn’t get the rubble, I was figuring it out.” She says it like she thinks I’m stupid, like that’ll impact me in some way. And yeah, it kind of does, because she doesn’t say it outright and I thought we used to be close, but…well, I’ve kept things together. The island is still running and that’s no small feat and at some point, doesn’t that have to make my ability to act like the chief when I have to kind of a good thing? At some point, isn’t some level of confidence inevitable?

“I spent most of a week collecting rocks from other islands, your information is a little out dated.”

“Mom just told me last night—”

“You know, if you wanted to help with something, you could ask me instead of doing this again.”

“Fine, give me something to help with—”

“No!” I snap and a few people turn to look at us. I realize how small she looks next to me, how furious her face is when her nostrils flare, and mostly, how I feel young in the bad way for the first time since the chief said he trusted my judgement. I feel like a teenager. I feel like slamming a door or destroying something just for the sake of it, but I can’t, because this horrible tension between who I fear I am and who I have to be is the only thing big enough to hold the island together. “Not after you went behind my back twice—”

“So you’re lying when you said I could ask—”

“You didn’t ask, you told me.” I look around again and people are leaving the area, casually, quietly the way that Vikings only do for a chief and I hate it. I hate it that no one takes either of our sides, that they just leave it looking like level ground when it can’t be, because if it were, it doesn’t make any sense why I’m here and she’s there. “You told me to give you something to help with—”

“You didn’t even let me get to the end of my sentence, you can’t make an intonation argument.”

“Right, it was the start of a pleasant, friendly, helpful question. Excuse my mistake.”

“Yeah, thanks for the sincere apology.”

“Oh, it wasn’t sincere—”

“I knew that.” She huffs, shaking her head, “why are we fighting about this?”

“Because you keep going behind my back. Because first it was Fuse—”

“The unsubstantiated Fuse argument is getting a little old there, big brother.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I hate how angry this is and I hate how good it feels to be angry. And it’s better that she deserves it, that this is something I should tell the chief, except I can’t because I hate the way he reacts. I hate the way he looks at me like everything I bring up is the weather. I could tell him I was dying and he’d hum and look interested like his ears are disconnected from his brain.

“Nothing,” she sighs, “I just—you decided to help and you started helping and everyone thought that was so great, but when I try to help, suddenly—”

“This isn’t helping, this is just you doing things the way you want to, whether that has any basis in fact or not—”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t have all the facts.”

“Yeah, because people don’t tell you things because they aren’t supposed to!” I take a step back and spin in a circle, fighting with everything I’ve got to not walk away. To stay here and finish this instead of pushing it back under the rug where it has been. “Look. I—I’m just trying to hold things together, alright, until the chief—”

“Until he what?” She looks small again, hurt but not like I hurt her, and that’s worse because I should have protected her. The things I don’t see are worse than the ones I do. “Forgets?”

“Until he comes back.”

“If it’s so hard, why won’t you let me help?” She sounds halfway sincere but I realize I don’t trust it, I don’t trust my own perception to align with whatever’s in her head and I remember when we used to think the same way. When we were both lonely and sad and disrupted and that led us to the same outlets.

“Because I don’t trust you,” I sigh. “I don’t trust you with more information right now—”

“Because I might do something smarter with it?” There’s something desperate in her expression and if I thought calling her smarter than me would help, I’d do it, but it doesn’t feel true and that wouldn’t help anything. It’s not maces and talons, people are involved, and like Fuse, people aren’t something Aurelia navigates with much grace. Or honesty, in Aurelia’s case. Everything about her is a contradiction and she’s turned it against me more often than not lately.

“Because you think smart is all that matters.” I’m more tired than mad, all of a sudden, and I rub my head, “and you’re treating this like some competition—”

“And you’re worried I’d win.”

“Yeah, you would, because I don’t know the rules.” I hate how I’m going to sound. I hate that trembling, authoritative voice when it comes out of me. When I sound like the chief trying to order me around last fall and not get punched. I hate how I don’t know how to sound more official and the fact that I’m using it on Aurelia, who grew up with it and probably hates it more than I do. “And I’m Acting Chief. That’s final. Maybe if you go a couple of weeks without giving some order behind my back, I’ll consider—”

“I used to think you were different,” she shakes her head and stomps off and it doesn’t feel like I won anything.

It never feels like there’s anything to win anymore.

It seems like no matter what I do, I always end up missing someone else somewhere down the line. Next I’m probably going to piss off Stoick, or something, or Mrs. Ack is going to start withholding pie.

When I get back to the chief’s house, that feeling of having been here before persists, because from outside the window, I can hear yelling inside. It’s Mom and it’s the hysterical, fast paced yell of someone determined to win and unsure if it’s possible. I think about going inside and breaking it up, but then the chief starts talking and it’s something louder than that sad, pathetic mumble he’s had lately and I pause by the shutter because maybe I don’t have to be chief here. Maybe I can draw a line like I did with Arvid and this house can be the side where I don’t have to act, no matter what I’m thinking.

“…because a baby could have fixed everything!” The chief yells and it reminds me of a dragon in pain. More than that, a dragon with a family member that’s in pain. It sounds like the dragon island, condensed into one house that feels bigger and older than ever as I lurk outside of it, staring at the weather worn stain on the shutters. “Because it was going to, because it proved that trying meant something—”

“You keep saying that!” Mom’s on the edge in the way I haven’t heard since she and Dad split up. Like she’s frantic to find a way through that doesn’t hurt anyone and she knows it’s impossible because she’s already hurt. “You keep saying that it was fixing something—”

“It fixed everything.”

“What needs so much fixing?” Mom slams her hand on some hard piece of furniture and the whole floor creaks with the force of it, “what is so broken about your life? What don’t you like—”

“Because I’m old!” The chief finally sounds mad and enough of it is directed at himself that I feel it too, I feel my future and past echoing through the same hundred year old wood. “Because I didn’t have this when it would have mattered, because I was stupid and stubborn when I was young and because I can’t fix it now!”

“Nothing is broken!” She sounds like she’s doubting it herself and like she resents him all over again for messing with the way that she sees reality. Because he’s done it before, when I happened and when my impending chiefdom happened and when I was such a failure they had to try and re-create me. Because this is my fault like they all are eventually, because I’m so tangled in both sides that I can’t ever be external. “Nothing needs to be fixed except for the fact that you think it does!”

“We didn’t get to have a family, Astrid, we didn’t get to do any of that—”

“We have Eret!” She shouts, louder than she has, and my name resonates like a thunderdrum blast, a deafening weapon.

“He’s practically grown.” The chief doesn’t point out my name. No one needs to. The house still shakes with it and I place my hand flat against the shutter, feeling it persist even though no one wants it to.

Does anyone like being a third? It’s twice the legacy. It occurs to me that I have five times, because I should have been a fourth too.

“That doesn’t mean that he’s not ours.” Mom says it how the chief used to say it, when it felt like an earthquake tearing through the ground beneath the quiet Hofferson house. Back when it felt like it was destined to tear me in two.

But I am. I am and I’m not enough of it and that makes the third sting even more.

“I hardly know him.”

“I…I hardly know him,” Mom laughs and it’s bitter and sad and she sounds old too, “I don’t know when he grew up, he’s out there running the whole damn village.”

“He doesn’t have to do that—”

“Someone had to.” She sounds like she’s catching her breath and I take my hand off the shutter in case I don’t want to absorb whatever she says next. “What is it that you think needs so much fixing, Hiccup?”

“My life.”

“Why?” Mom is on the verge of tears in a way that sounds alien to me. She was always so strong and steady and larger than life and now she’s shorter than me and if this fight goes bad, she’ll be the one who gets hurt because the chief has already given up. “Because you can’t—you know you can’t expect me to want that, right? That’s not something you can ask for—”

“Just…imagine it, Astrid,” he says her name like a prayer and I feel wrong for listening in, “if I hadn’t—if I hadn’t done everything I did, if I’d been here. If it had been me, us, you and me and a house full of kids—”

“You can’t ask that!” Mom doesn’t sound like she’s going to cry anymore, she sounds like a wall, like a physical cliff face moving forward in the most futile game of maces and talons ever played, because if the chief doesn’t move he’ll get crushed and that’s the kind of odds he’s never respected. “I had my life, I have my kids, I had my mistakes and if you—they all made me who I am now and that’s who you’re supposed to be married to. Not the idea of me at twenty, ready to produce heirs—”

“That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Do I?” She laughs, half hysterical, “because the only part of this marriage that felt like it used to was when the healer said I was—”

“Pregnant.” The chief barks it out like he’s digging something out of a wound, “you can say it.”

“Yeah, I can, I—when I found out that I was pregnant, you forgot about me and us and this thing we’ve managed to find after it was lost for decades, and all you cared about was what I could do for you. That I could make you feel like your mistakes were erased, that you had gotten everything back. I know you, Hiccup, and there are parts of you I wish I didn’t.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What you put on me wasn’t fair either.” Mom is all the more vicious for her plain honesty, quiet enough that it doesn’t quite make it outside without being muffled. “I’m old too, I had my kids, I—I’m not ashamed of my life, I’m not ashamed of what we have or how we got here. And I’m not ok with you burying everything we fought for under sadness over something impossible.”

“It wasn’t impossible.”

“Maybe if it’d been you.” There’s a smile in Mom’s laugh, “but I’m only human. And I’m old and I’d just like to be old and love you and not feel guilty about it.”

The chief is silent for a long time. I hear Mom move around and shift a pot in the hearth, like she’s waiting for him to fall silent again and stay there. He walks around closer to the window and I’m scared I’ve been caught, but he shifts, metal leg dragging across the floor as he faces her.

“I…we can do that.” He’s choked up and I take a step back because for the first time, it feels like something personal between them isn’t because of me. It feels like I didn’t get in the way, my existence didn’t force anything to happen.

That maybe, in that magical world I’ve thought about where the mistake that made me didn’t happen, Mom and Dad wouldn’t be happy together, taking on the entire world. That maybe I’m a symptom, not a disease.

It’s the first time I think that maybe they love each other. That it wasn’t coincidence or convenience or spite or ambition. That maybe they just love each other.

“Yeah?” Mom is still challenging him and the chief steps towards her, three thumps of boot and three of metal as he makes it across the floor.

“Yeah.” He sighs and I press myself closer to the shutters, hating what I might hear the whole time, how it might change things again. “You’re…you’re right.”

“Ok,” she hugs him. Or I think she does because then her voice is almost too muffled to hear. “Eret’s going to be home soon. I made him promise he’d be home for dinner.”

“I’m glad we got that over with then,” the chief laughs, slowly at first, and it sounds more human than I think I’ve ever heard him.

“Me too.”

00000

It’s another, slower change. The chief wakes up before me a couple of days, he takes Stoick to training. He holds Mom’s hand at the dinner table and I don’t react to it. He asks me a few surface level questions, things about weather and dragon numbers that don’t seem to stress him out. He tries to pay attention and after a few days, succeeds. I stop fretting about coming home, even though Aurelia sits across the table with a frosty, silent expression. She doesn’t bring up our fight and I don’t either and it starts to feel more and more like she’s having my old growing pains, just a few months behind me.

A few days after I hear the chief and Mom’s fight, I’m down at the docks, trying to figure out a path for wood bin access after the dock gets built and I get that feeling of someone watching me. I know it’s not Bang, because this morning he elected to stay with Stoick. And as much as I miss him, the silence is honestly comforting, or it was until I felt that back of my neck chill.

I make a couple of chalk marks on the mountainside and there’s that always present nagging feeling that if nothing changes, I’ll be the one to build it. Except that’s not even true, I’ll just be the one to decide where everything goes and no one will ask why, they’ll just accept it and if it fails, it’ll be all on my back along with everything else.

The feeling persists after I measure two extra times and I look around, at first pass trying to be subtle, but then practically spinning, scanning the fishermen for someone looking at me.

I feel stupid as soon as I see my dad. Or Eret Sr. Eret II. Whatever I’m supposed to call him. Dad feels right but I know it’s not, you have to talk to people you call Dad and I haven’t been. And the idea of thinking that he’s looking at me and then finding that he’s not sounds painful in a way I don’t want to navigate.

I remember when I used to just feel. I used to just react. Feeling important is the best thing that ever happened to my self-control but I’m not entirely sure it was great for my self-esteem, and I find myself staring at my dad and seeing everything I’ve always thought I lacked. I’m not big. I’m not strong, not really. I’m not quiet or right or accepting.

I’m harsh and not as funny as I think I am and that all sits against what he tried to teach me. What he failed to teach me.

What he aimed at me because it was too late for the chief, and at some level, some things are unavoidable.

I must be staring because he looks up and I’m forced to jump from jilted almost-son to Acting Chief in a second and I stand up so straight it hurts my back as I simultaneously try to puff up my chest. I feel like I need to be big even though I’m not, even though I feel small.

I wave.

He stares for another moment and I fight deflating like it matters if I look strong even when I’m not.

“Chief,” he calls out, stepping towards me, and he looks old the way that Mom looks old and I hate that I’m the only one feeling steadier. I hate that this feels like a positive in some direction I don’t entirely agree with.

“Acting Chief,” I correct, reflexively, and that makes me feel worse because I’m acting for someone else, someone who isn’t him.

“Acting Chief,” Dad says and I can’t think anything but Dad even if it’d be better for me not to.

“Yeah?”

There’s a weird, long moment where I can’t think of anything but late nights at my old home. The nights we’d stay up and look at maps and he’d tell me about everything I’d never seen. I can’t think of anything but when he called me his son and said that would make me a better chief. Even though I haven’t really seen Arvid in weeks, I can’t help but notice the differences between them that were never obvious before. Arvid is always looking for a fight, at some level, he’s got Mom’s icy way of seeing things before thinking about them, but Dad looks like he’s hoping for the best. I just wish I knew what his version of the best is.

“We’ve got a surplus from the North shore that we can’t make sense of.”

It’s an actual problem and I feel my jaw move silently, because as always, my mouth is ahead of the rest of me.

“Yeah? A surplus? How much?”

“Enough to worry about.”

I sputter, “I…I don’t know anything about surpluses. I just know about getting enough.” I swallow, harder than I usually have to when I ask for help. It’s always hard but this is harder and I hate that it is. I hate that this is complicated and that I keep thinking of my mom and the chief, on the same level again, like it was something they could get back to. “Can you explain why it’s a problem?”

“We could dry it, but that always sells for less.” He says in a stilted, slow voice and I get the feeling that he’s assuming I’ll be emotionally conflicted. He’s not wrong but I don’t know how to confront that.

I don’t know how to navigate the difference between chief and son and the son I never quite managed to be.

“To who?”

“I don’t—”

“Sorry,” I apologize and fail at making it sound like it doesn’t mean anything more than I mean it to. “Who do we sell fish to? I don’t know. I’ve only ever wondered about how much there was for me to personally eat.”

I can see he wants to laugh. Whether it’s at me or with me, I want to laugh too. I bite the inside of my cheek because I’m chief right now and that means I shouldn’t, but it makes him feel less human and I hate that the most.

“Other tribes, mostly. Sometimes in exchange for things.”

“And it’s worth more fresh?” I swallow, stepping closer and trying to treat this like a normal investigation even though it seems like something set up for me to fail. Some part of me believes that I could pretend that I never knew him, that he wasn’t my dad for sixteen years, that he doesn’t hold the opinion I trust over all others, and that’s terrifying.

“A lot more.”

“Ok,” I swallow, trying not to look at him and see how he looks shorter and older and different in the way that means I haven’t looked in a while. His lack of malice translates automatically to a lack of respect and that’s not fair but also, I don’t know how I can make an exception for him without feeling weak. “And we’re worried about wasting it because drying it will make it cheaper and someone is going to buy a lot of it soon or something?”

“It is the season for it, down south a lot of their fish dry up this time of year and they end up sending an emergency buyer. But if that takes more than a couple of days, this will go bad and if our fish dry up, we’ll regret not having it dried.” He’s got that look on his face like he’s wondering if I’m paying enough attention to understand and I miss him more than I can say, because now people just keep talking even when I’m full and I have to find some way to juggle it. I nod and he continues, almost sheepish, the way that people are starting to sound when they whisper to me about dragons. “But we’ve got a lot of fish because there aren’t as many dragons eating it. And if that’s true here—”

“It’s probably even more true down south where there were always fewer dragons,” I cut him off and immediately feel horrible about it, taking a step back like I’m expecting an offensive, like I’m seeing Arvid where he isn’t. “Sorry—”

“No, chief, you’re right. There were always fewer dragons down south.”

“I uh…” I swallow the urge to apologize again, to blurt out some big, long thing about interrupting him being bad and how I know I’m bad for it and also how I miss him, but I don’t want to think of how that would feel if he didn’t want to hear it. Or if he didn’t care. “About the surplus, dry the fish, I think. And Hel, I don’t know who sets the prices but maybe we could spare some cheap fish for a couple of days, I wouldn’t mind arguing with a few better fed people. They’ll be sluggish and it’ll be like a vacation.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

“Er…thanks.” I open my mouth to say something else, something that would put him in a position to be honest, or something, but I still don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to fight right now, it feels like fighting would steal my grip on all of this away from me. Like if I remembered that I used to be someone who fought about everything, I wouldn’t be able to do what I have to do to keep everything together. “Is that all?”

“That’s all I’ve got right now.”

I want to tell him that he has me but it sounds corny and childish and fake, because I’m Acting Chief and that means I can’t promise things like that.

“Cool. Good. That’s…I’ve got to go um…” I point back up the hill and shrug, turning and walking away before he can say anything else.

When I get back to the chief’s house, I’m tired from climbing the hill all in one go, and I pause outside for a minute to catch my breath. No one’s fighting inside even though I keep half expecting to hear them re-hashing what I heard the other night and when I open the door, the chief is sitting at the table reading a different document from the one he stared at for more than a week. He looks up at me and halfway smiles, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re home awfully early, slacking off?”

“Always, you know me.” I remember him yelling that he doesn’t and cough. “Actually, I kind of am. I had to go down to the docks and now it’s time to stress nap.”

“Oh.” He looks at his lap and I wonder if I can edge around him without having to endure more of this conversation. “Did it—I mean, are you and—”

“I’m nothing with anyone.” I shake my head, “wait, that doesn’t make any sense. But I’m not—we aren’t getting along and we aren’t fighting, I don’t think.” I leave Aurelia out because it feels like her problem is with me and if I tell the chief now, I’m tattling instead of dealing with it myself. “It’s…I’m acting like Chief and he’s not interested in rebellion so…”

“That’s good,” the chief nods, “that’s—I know you guys were close—”

“I mean, he just raised me to sixteen,” I laugh and it comes out awkward and harsh and that’s how I feel most of the time these days, “not through any of the hard parts or anything though.”

“Tough day?” The chief laughs too and there’s an edge to it like everything I’m saying is making it harder for him to hold onto the conversation.

“Tough year.” I try to soften it so it doesn’t sound so direct, but I don’t think it works. I point at the paper in his hands, “anything interesting?”

“It’s that notice from Freezing to Death.”

“What notice?”

He frowns, “oh, I figured you’d seen it because it was open—”

“No, I’m behind on all this shit, what does it say?”

“Actually, I’m a little concerned, they’re seeking to adjust a trade agreement halfway through the term of the contract. I thought you might have done something to piss them off.” He chuckles like that’d be expected and I shake my head.

“I’ve been trying really hard not to piss anyone off.” I hold my hand out and take the parchment, skimming and trying to quickly pick up the highlights. “It’s a little bit like Bang trying not to snore, but…”

I see a lot about dragons. Dragons and fish and numbers I haven’t familiarized myself with yet.

“You didn’t open this?” The chief asks again and I shake my head. “Well, if you’ll take some advice, I think it might be worth calling a council meeting over. Mid-term trade deal changes are a big deal, I think I’ve only done one a couple of times and both were trying to choke out someone I thought was going to go to war with us.”

“It’s advice? Not an order?”

“You’re still Acting Chief,” he looks guilty about that and it only makes me feel more responsible, if that’s even possible at this point, “and if you need someone to talk it through with after—”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll call a council meeting. Do I just…yell it from the roof or—”

“Just tack something in the wall in the mead hall and they should all check it. With dragons, it got to the point where going to fetch everyone just wasn’t worth the time anymore, they’re all supposed to check every day. The chances of that happening, eh, but…”

“Ok.” I nod, “I’ll go do that now. I…I need to go read up on some of this stuff but—”

“I could tell you about it,” he offers, and he looks hopeful like Dad never quite got to, like I can give him something no one else can and I hate myself a little bit for still not wanting him to know me. Maybe this doesn’t quite count. “If you don’t want to go root through books all afternoon while Fishlegs nags you.”

“I…sure.” I gesture vaguely at the door. “Let me go put something up and then I’ll be back.”

“Really?”

“I just said sure.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to go for that.” He laughs, stilted like he was almost hoping for the silence but knows it wouldn’t be good for him. And here I am, caring at some foreign level what is good for him because it’s good for all of us. It’s good for my mom and that’s somehow still a fresh wound. “But hey, maybe I’ll be quick enough that you can get an actual nap and not a stress nap.”

“All my naps are stress naps, chief.”

#eret iii #festerverse #httyd #aurelia haddock #hiccstrid #eret sr #can he please dad better please #he's so proud of his awkward son

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incredibeale-archive · 7 years ago

Note

Beca agreeing to date Aubrey as well as Chloe in the fear of losing Chloe if she said no when Chloe asks if they could date Aubrey as well?

“Okay, so… Don’t be mad.” Chloe says suddenly. Beca looks up from her laptop, brows raising slightly. They had been sitting quietly, Chloe studying and Beca mixing.

Beca sets her laptop onto the coffee table and sits up a little. “Usually when someone says that, it means I’m probably going to be mad. But I’ll try…” She says warily.

Chloe bites her lip, setting her book aside and sitting up. She looks anywhere but Beca as she takes a few breaths. “I–I’ve been thinking…”

“Always a dangerous thing.” Beca jokes nervously, it doesn’t garner the reaction that Beca is hoping for – the usual affectionate eye roll and shake of Chloe’s head isn’t there. Instead the redhead just gives her a pointed look, and suddenly Beca is even more anxious because this is apparently serious. “Uh, okay. Thinking about what?”

“About – about us.” Chloe hedges gently and immediately Beca starts to think the worst case scenarios. She feels her heart drop to her stomach and she’s pretty sure the color is draining from her face but before she can spiral down that rabbit hole, Chloe is grabbing her hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not breaking up with you, Becs.” Apparently the panic she felt was also visible on her face.

Beca breathes a quiet little sigh of relief before she nods wordlessly for her girlfriend to continue.

Chloe takes another steadying breath. “First, let me ask you this…” She pauses and brings her gaze to Beca’s. “How do you feel about Aubrey?”

Beca’s brows knit together in confusion. What the fuck was this even about? “Uh… I don’t know, I mean… she’s fine, I guess.” Okay, that was a bit of an understatement. Beca cared quite a bit about Aubrey. After that night in the abandoned pool, and the finals, she and Aubrey had grown closer and Beca had come to think of her as a close friend. They still argued just as passionately but they didn’t loath each other like before. “What is this about, Chloe?”

“Just… answer the question, Beca. Think about it, alright? What do you think of Aubrey? And don’t give me that generic answer. Like, just… your honest feelings.” Chloe insists, giving her a pleading look.

The brunette’s frown deepens as she studies her girlfriend’s face. There’s this little flicker of hope behind her eyes and Beca isn’t sure what to make of it – of this. She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know, dude. She’s – uh…” Beca looks around the room as if the words she’s searching for are floating there somewhere. She’d never really thought of Aubrey that much, save for the occasional thought of wondering how she was doing or when they could all visit next. “She’s uptight, but a good person, I guess. She’s crazy smart and kinda scary when she’s yelling at everyone but she knows what she wants and she’s ambitious and when she’s not being a hard-ass, she’s cool to be around.”

Chloe smiles a little at that, nodding. “Okay, do you think she’s pretty?”

Beca’s heart falters in her chest. “Uh… what?” Was this a trick question? This was a trap, wasn’t it? There was no way to answer this without being thrown in the dog-house.

“You heard me, Beca. Do you think Aubrey is attractive?” Chloe’s head cants to the side, brow raising expectantly.

“I – well – uh –” Beca scratches the back of her neck anxiously, eyes looking anywhere but Chloe. She can feel the way her cheeks burn and she curses her pale complexion. Chloe’s smirk seems to grow, clearly amused by Beca’s struggle. “I mean… uh, yeah.” She finally stammers out anticlimactically. Chloe’s brows raise higher, clearly expecting a better answer. Beca huffs. “Well, I mean I have eyes, Chloe. Jesus Christ. Aubrey is a very beautiful woman, a fucking blind man could see that.” She blurts out, blush seeming to crawl all the way up to her ears.

Chloe bites her lip on a grin before she reaches forward and gives Beca’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Okay,” She says softly, but there’s nothing soft about the unbridled excitement behind her eyes. It’s clear to Beca that she’s holding that back. “Okay, that’s good.”

Beca looks at Chloe as if she’s grown three heads. “Dude, what the fuck is this about?” She asks exasperatedly. Chloe jumps slightly at the outburst and Beca regrets it. She gives the redhead an apologetic smile.

Looking uncertain, Chloe glances down at their clasped hands. “I’ve known Aubrey since the beginning of my first day of college. We became friends immediately and slowly, I fell for her. I never acted on those feelings, though…”

“Oh.” Beca says very quietly. And all at once she can feel herself closing off.

“But,” Chloe rushes to continue. “Then I met you a few years later and I fell for you instantly. And you were very receptive to my flirting.”

Beca’s grip is loose around Chloe’s hand as she regards the redhead with caution. “And Aubrey wasn’t?” She asks, half curious and half not wanting to know at all.

“Not – not exactly, it’s complicated.”

“Complicated? What’s complicated is trying to understand where you’re going with all of this Chloe. If you’re not breaking up with me, then what the fuck are you doing? I mean, it sounds like you’re sitting here telling me that you’re still in love with Aubrey!” She doesn’t mean to snap, hates the hurt look on Chloe’s face, but the longer this conversation goes on, the more upset that Beca gets. She’s trying not to get defensive, trying not to let her walls build back up. She’s trying to give Chloe the benefit of the doubt because — this is Chloe, she wouldn’t purposely hurt Beca, right?

Chloe glances to the side, fiddling with a button on the bottom of her shirt. “I – I am.” Oh. Chloe looks up at Beca and the brunette guesses that the hurt on her face is easily visible, because she rushes on. “But, I’m also in love with you.”

Beca laughs, but there’s no humor there. “I’m sorry, but what? How is that even possible, Chloe? You can’t be in love with two people at once.” Can you?

The redhead frowns, eyes flashing with hurt. “Well, I do, Beca.” She snaps, crossing her arms.

“Okay, fine. So you’re in love with both of us. What is it that you’re proposing?” Beca mirrors the redhead’s actions and crosses her own arms, still trying to ignore her want to run, to physically remove herself from this conversation – this fucking room because, Jesus it feels like it’s getting smaller.

Chloe looks hesitant. “I thought maybe we could all date. All three of us. Together.”

Beca stares at Chloe a moment, studies her soft features, resists the urge to kiss the furrow from her brow. Her heart feels heavy because she can see how much Chloe really, really seems to want this. “You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” She asks quietly.

The redhead nods softly. “But, if you don’t – if you know you can’t, Becs – that doesn’t change anything for us. I’ll still love you, of course.” She assures, gently.

But Beca knows that things have already changed. The knowledge is out there and there’s no turning back from that. She can’t just ignore everything, and she certainly doesn’t want to disappoint Chloe. She sighs and scrubs her face tiredly. “Say I agree to this – what makes you think that Aubrey will? I mean, this is Aubrey we’re talking about. Is she even into women?”

Chloe seems to bite back a hopeful smile as she leans forward. “She’s… experimented… I don’t know if she’ll agree or not, but obviously I wanted to talk to you first. Beca, you and Aubrey are a lot alike.” Beca scoffs, brow raising. “You are. I think if you two really sat down, you’d see that – she probably understands you in a way that I don’t. I’m not saying that I don’t get you, I’m just saying that I feel like we would just… balance each other out.”

Beca lets the words tumble around in her brain as she studies the hopeful look on Chloe’s face. She’s never been great at hiding her emotions, and Beca thinks she’s never really had a reason to, because she’s never ashamed of them or allowed fear to rule that part. Chloe has always been very open in her feelings, and now, Beca supposed is no different.

If Beca says no, she can’t help but think Chloe would resent her, and or eventually leave her, and Beca is pretty sure that would probably break her. If she says yes, then she’ll have to learn to share Chloe with Aubrey, because she doubts that she and Aubrey will connect on the sort of level that she and Chloe connect. Sure, they’d gotten closer but, she just doesn’t think that that sort of emotional intimacy would exist between them. There’s also the high possibility that Aubrey would outright refuse. But all Beca is really focused on is that she can’t lose Chloe, she just… she can’t. She sighs. “Okay… I’ll, I’ll give whatever it is you’re wanting, a shot.”

Chloe lets out a squeal and throws her arms around Beca’s shoulders and Beca just sighs, wrapping her arms around the redhead tight and nuzzling her face into her neck.

–

As Chloe formulates some sort of way to propose her idea to Aubrey, Beca can’t help but try to imagine what it would be like to be with Aubrey. It’s not something she’s ever had the chance to really think about or consider, because Chloe has just always taken up the forefront of her mind.

But as she thinks about all the arguments they’d had, all the times they were in each other’s faces – noses close to touching – she distantly recalls the little thrills she’d get when she noticeably affected Aubrey in some way – got under her skin. She thinks about the times when they weren’t fighting and how she had been actually pretty comfortable around Aubrey.

…And then there are the not so innocent thoughts that would sneak up on her. She’d somehow go from thinking about how she actually enjoyed Aubrey’s company to suddenly imagining how her hair would look fanned out on the pillow next to Chloe’s, or what she tasted like, or – god – how her body would look pressed up against Chloe’s. Thoughts of Aubrey and Chloe should make her jealous, but it only seemed to turn Beca on.

More than a few times, Chloe had caught her mid-thought and Beca’s face would go red and Chloe would raise a brow and ask what was wrong, to which Beca would stammer out a very vague answer which Chloe would laugh about and then straddle Beca’s lap to whisper in her ear – feeding those naughty scenarios.

–

Chloe has a plan. She’s told the plan to Beca over and over of how she’ll ease Aubrey into the conversation, how after she’s explained herself, she’ll hand the blonde research of polyamorous relationships because they both know that Aubrey needs information, statistics, research – things to help her better understand and gain control of a situation.

So, when Chloe suddenly blurts out at dinner when Aubrey has come to visit, that she and Beca would like to date her, Beca nearly chokes on her beer.

She’s coughing and hacking as Aubrey’s fork clatters to the plate. “Excuse me?”

Beca wheezes but manages to catch her breath as she gives Chloe a pointed look. “Dude! What happened to ‘easing her in’?”

Chloe actually blushes and shrugs. “I’m sorry – I just – I couldn’t hold it in!”

Beca sighs and brings her gaze to Aubrey who looks very pale and is sort of staring past Chloe’s head. “Uh, Bree?” Beca hedges gently.

After another thirty seconds, Aubrey shakes her head and glances between them. “I’m sorry, but what?”

Chloe opens her mouth, but Beca holds up a finger. “Chloe and I – we uh – we would like to date you. See, Chloe told me a few months back that – she’s kind of been like… in love with you since she met you, but… she’s also in love with me and she thought that we could try to like… date…”

If possible, Aubrey’s face seems to pale more. “I’m sorry, and what, you just… agreed to this?” Her voice is tight as she speaks, green eyes staring hard at Beca.

“I – well, not at first. I didn’t – I didn’t think you and I would connect like Chloe and I connect or – like you and her connect – could connect.” She starts out hesitantly. “But then I – I started to really think about how I felt about you.”

Aubrey tenses more and Chloe just watches on, brows knitted together in worry. “And what was your conclusion, how do you feel about me?” She asks after a beat, voice clipped.

Beca’s face flushes a little under the blonde’s scrutiny and of the fact that she’s about to just lay her feelings out on the table with no idea of how Aubrey will react to them. “I uh, well, I mean – there are… certainly some feelings there that I hadn’t paid attention to.” She admits, glancing away. “At first, I was – I’ll be honest, I was just doing this for Chloe, I was afraid I’d lose her if I said no – I figured if you said yes, I’d just have to learn to share her, because I was so sure that you and I wouldn’t – click like that, I mean it wasn’t so long ago that we barely tolerated each other.”

Apparently, this is news to Chloe because she gives Beca this sad, surprised look before she reaches out and takes the brunette’s hand.

“And you think we’ll click, now?” Aubrey asks skeptically, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised just so.

Beca merely shrugs, because she honestly doesn’t know, but Beca’s never been one to go in just halfway, it’s all or nothing. “I’m not sure, but I thought maybe it was worth a shot.”

Aubrey’s cheeks flush slightly and she glances away. Chloe bites her lip, glancing between the two of them. “Can I, maybe say something?” When Beca and Aubrey both bring their gaze to Chloe, she smiles something soft and warm, if not a little hesitant. “As someone who has stood on the outside of your… arguments – the sexual tension – god, you could cut through it with a knife. To be honest, before Beca and I got together, I was a little nervous your fights were going to turn into really awesome angry sex and while that would have been fun to watch, I didn’t think the Bellas would have… appreciated it, so I was stuck dealing with these confusing feelings of wanting you both and… wanting to see you together… and not just in a sexual way, but don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see that–”

“Chlo,” Beca warns, fingers gripping her beer bottle so tight, she’s a little afraid the glass is going to shatter in her hand. Beca chances a glance at Aubrey to find that she’s flushed and looking anywhere but Chloe.

Chloe chuckles a little and shakes her head. “Right, sorry. But anyway, I was struggling with feelings for both of you, and I wanted to be with both of you, but then I could clearly see – anyone could clearly see – that you guys totally had like… this chemistry. But then Beca kissed me at the finals and I just – ”

Everyone is silent for a long moment before Aubrey takes a gracious sip of her wine and sighs this little resigned thing, like she’s about to throw all her cards on the table. “I only fought with Beca to distract myself and anyone else for that matter, from the fact that I had–” She pauses to swallow thickly. “More than platonic feelings for her, and she made it so easy to argue, too. And I was always so angry that she had managed to get under my skin, and at the fact that you two seemed to be so… clearly infatuated with each other.”

Beca is speechless. She had never been aware of Aubrey’s feelings, always so sure she loathed Beca. She’s going over all of their spats in her head, trying to catch a moment where maybe the blonde’s true feelings showed, but then Chloe is talking again and Beca forces herself to pay attention.

“So, you only have feelings for Beca?” Chloe asks, and Beca doesn’t miss the hurt in her voice. She squeezes the redhead’s hand, reminding her that Beca is there, and she will be no matter what the outcome of this is. But the brunette is surprised when Aubrey’s hand reaches across the table and grab’s Chloe’s free hand, green eyes soft and loving.

“I wasn’t finished, Chlo.” The blonde says, voice thick with emotion. “When I met you, I was instantly drawn to you. You were everything I wasn’t. Bubbly, soft and sweet and full of love. I was used to cold and concise. Quiet, stiff dinners and holding in emotions because it wasn’t becoming of a young lady to ‘act hysterical’. But you came up to me like we had known each other for years and I hadn’t realized I was so starved of affection until you were giving it away like spare change and I just – I fell hard and fast and I was so scared because I just – I couldn’t lose you.”

Beca is pretty sure her heart is breaking because Aubrey is on the verge of tears and she’s never seen the blonde so open and raw and she imagines she knows exactly what Aubrey is talking about when it comes to Chloe, because she felt almost the same. She was so used to being on her own and holding in her emotions and just – being alone, but then Chloe came along, hugging her and loving her and breaking down all Beca’s carefully constructed walls like they were legos.

Chloe is crying, and Beca isn’t really that surprised. Chloe is a crier, whether she’s happy, sad, mad, frustrated. She cries, but Beca understands that it would be impossible not to cry right now, because she a little bit feels like she’s going to cry, too.

“Aubrey,” Chloe’s voice is shaky, but the blonde’s name comes out in this breathy little way that sounds like reverence and Beca kind of loves it.

Aubrey swipes at a stray tear and smiles this watery little smile at the redhead. “I couldn’t lose your friendship, it meant so much – it means so much to me. So I just… I buried my feelings, and then Beca came along and she forced me to let go, and to see things differently. And she was everything I wished I could be. She had that devil-may-care attitude and this sort of effortlessness about her.

“It was like she barely had to try and I had to work so hard and I both loathed and loved that about her, and I loathed that I loved her.” Aubrey chuckles a little. “I wanted to be able to let go like that. And then when Beca and I weren’t at each other’s throats, she was helping me do that.” The blonde sighs a little. “And then Beca kissed you at the finals and my heart broke twice as hard, even though I knew it was silly of me, because I knew that it was inevitable but, I guess I still wasn’t as prepared as I had hoped.”

Beca is looking hard at her beer bottle, trying to deal with the swelling emotions in her chest the best she can, but she brings her gaze to Chloe when the redhead stands suddenly and pulls Aubrey up into her arms and hugs her so tight that Beca is pretty sure she’s cutting off the blonde’s air supply.

Aubrey says as much when she lets out a strangled little laugh, arms out at her sides awkwardly for a split second, before she’s hugging Chloe back just as hard, despite herself. Beca smiles at the sight, wondering why jealousy isn’t amongst the tangled knot of emotions in her chest.

“Beca, get over here.” Chloe says, holding out her arm.

Beca quirks a brow and tries to smirk in an attempt to hide the fact that her emotions are all over the place and that her eyes are totally glassy with un-shed years.

“Mitchell, seriously.” Aubrey all but commands and Beca stumbles out of her seat awkwardly before she hesitantly moves toward the both of them, pausing a few inches from the two of them before they’re both grabbing an arm and pulling her into the middle. Beca lets out a surprised yelp as she stumbles into them and before she knows it, she’s being engulfed on both sides.

And okay, maybe she really, really likes this. It’s different, sure, but she likes being in between them. She likes the feeling it gives her, the way her heart seems to swell and warm, and the way her stomach fills with butterflies at Aubrey’s close proximity.

“So,” Chloe says when they pull back a little, eyes bright and smile hopeful. “Does this mean you want to try, Bree?”

Beca stands next to Chloe and brings her gaze to Aubrey. The blonde looks nervous as she glances away bashfully. “I – I really want to, but it seems too good to be true.”

Tentatively, Beca takes the blonde’s hand. Aubrey looks up and meets Beca’s eyes. “Dude, we printed out a lot of research and bought a couple of books for you. We figured, ya know – it’d help. That was how Chloe was supposed to ease you in.” She shoots the redhead a pointed look, but Chloe just smiles sheepishly and shrugs.

Aubrey looks a little like she might be swooning, her cheeks tinging a pretty pink. “You guys did that for me?” Beca nods and Chloe does as well. “That’s – that’s really thoughtful, and sweet.” She says softly. The blonde looks thoughtful for a moment before she glances between the two of them. “I want to try, but I definitely would like to go over that research, and… take things slow.”

Chloe is grinning bright and happy and Beca finds that she’s smiling too. “Dude, of course. We realize that… we’ll have a lot to discuss.”

“Rules and the fact that we really have to be open and honest with each other.” Chloe adds, nodding, sagely.

Aubrey breathes out this little sigh of relief, but then she’s biting her lip. “Can I – I want to try something…”

Beca and Chloe share a glance before Beca shrugs and Chloe nods. Before anyone can add anything else, Aubrey is surging forward and capturing Beca’s lips. The tiny DJ has enough time to gasp, breath getting caught in her throat, and oh… Oh, this was – oh. It’s the only word that she could come up with because Aubrey’s fingertips are light against Beca’s chin and her lips are soft and it takes the brunette a second to catch up, but after a moment, Beca is cupping the back of Aubrey’s neck and pulling her down to deepen the kiss.

As Beca’s tongue traces Aubrey’s bottom lip, she hears a little gasp beside her before Chloe is practically purring in her ear. “I was totes right, that’s so hot.”

That seems to break both of their concentration because the two of them pull back together with a chuckle. Beca can feel the heat radiating from her cheeks and she wonders if Aubrey is as affected by Beca as the brunette had been by Aubrey.

“My turn?” Chloe grins something wolfish at Aubrey and Beca has to laugh as Aubrey’s already noticeable blush seems to deepen, but before the blonde can offer any sort of rebuttal, Chloe is in her personal space, lips ghosting just inches from Aubrey’s.

“Oh.” Beca mumbles, mouth suddenly dry as Aubrey closes the distance. Instead of the instant heat of jealousy that Beca had semi-expected when seeing Chloe kiss Aubrey, a different heat shoots through her, all the way to her lower belly. Her heart rate seems to quicken when Chloe nips at Aubrey’s lower lip, eliciting a gasp from the blonde, which Chloe uses to her advantage and slips her tongue between Aubrey’s slightly parted lips. A quiet, little moan slips past Aubrey’s lips and Beca – jesus fuck – Beca’s brain short circuits and she forgets how to fucking breathe, and probably her own goddamn name.

When they pull back, Beca lets out this rush of air, like oh, yeah – oxygen is a thing she needs. They look at her questioningly and the brunette just blushes. “What?”

Aubrey smirks, eyes narrowing a little as she cups Beca’s chin and all at once, the brunette loses her breath again. “Your pupils are blown so wide, I don’t even see your irises.” Chloe is standing beside Aubrey, fucking giggling and Beca blushes harder, swatting the blonde’s hand away.

“Yeah, well so are yours and Chloe’s.” She huffs, folding her arms and pouting. “If you guys are gonna gang up on me, I’m not sure I want to be apart of this.” She teases, turning away.

“Aww, Becs.” Chloe coos, wrapping her arms around the brunette from behind. “We won’t gang up on you.”

Aubrey is beside the both of them, arms tentatively wrapping around them. “Not much, anyway.” She agrees, smile evident in her voice. Beca huffs again, squirming in their grasp. “But I promise we’ll make it up to you later.” She adds, voice dropping an octave lower, and then Beca is squirming for an entirely different reason. They were going to kill her, she was sure – but what a fucking way to go.

#triple treble #triple treble fanfiction #( pitch perfect tag )#( she makes us better || triple treble ff )#this is long af guys #i've been working on this one for a few days #i hope you like it okay

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dear-wormwoods · 7 years ago

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okay can we talk south park meta? bc i was reading some of your kyle meta and i'm super glad to have found someone who sees his character the same way as i do. have you noticed that somewhere along the way people (both in show and rl) have stopped giving kyle the importance that used to be given to him? like a great example would be his speeches. back then people actually used to listen and agree, now it's more like- shut up kyle no one cares. and the weird thing is that even people like (1/2)

(2/2) even people like stan are telling him to shut up with the speeches? idk but i feel like somewhere along the last few seasons people just stopped caring about what kyle has to say, or what he does, or what he goes through (humancentipad was so fucked up and no one cared??). the stuff gerald was saying to him in s20 kind of felt like trey was using him as a mouthpiece to say that stuff about kyle. kyle’s dynamic with basically everyone in the show has changed? why are the writers doing this?

Hey anon, I love getting Kyle-related messages! And I agree with this, for the most part. I feel like in recent seasons the boys in general (with the glaring exception of Cartman) have had their roles reduced, which I suppose is why I really enjoyed last season when a lot of people hated it… I was just so glad Kyle had such a prominent role, I could look past everything else. But I have a few thoughts on some of the specific things you mentioned:

Kyle’s thoughts and opinions have never held a ton of weight in the show. He has always been sort of the voice of reason that no one listens to, and that’s kind of the trope they most often used with him. I think the major shift between past seasons and recent ones is that, like… in the old days, even if no one actively listened to Kyle’s speeches, in the end he was always proven right, or justice was served, so we as the audience knew that the show was on his side and it was simply the townspeople’s and/or Cartman’s stupidity that caused him to be initially ignored. More recently, it seems like there hasn’t been any real karma in the show? Like, Kyle is ignored like always, but instead of things going wrong because no one listened to him, things just go fine for the people in the wrong and there is no real comeuppance. Like Cartman gets away with A LOT nowadays, as does Randy, or Gerald, or anyone else really. And that really bothers me, because like Kyle I’m a fan of cosmic justice, and it’s disheartening when it seems like the wrong side is prevailing disproportionately. It seems like they might be trying to turn this trend around though, by giving him a voice toward the end of last season and in this season (if this week’s episode is enough to go on, at least).

Re Humancentipad: I’m ALMOST glad that it was never addressed again, for a couple of reasons. First, that episode ruined my life when it came out and I hate thinking about it because it physically hurts me to do so. Secondly, I don’t think that Matt & Trey are really capable of dealing with that sort of trauma long term in a meaningful, effective way. I think if Humancentipad was in a more recent season and they attempted to weave the thread of what happened throughout a season for serialization purposes, it would NOT have gone well. They just don’t have the tools at their disposal to be sensitive about handling a character (a MINOR) who was kidnapped, mutilated, humiliated, horribly violated, told that he deserved it, and then given to his mortal enemy (who has a history of humiliating & abusing him as well) as a literal gift.

I do think that Kyle has shown very SUBTLE reactions to the long term abuse he’s gotten from various sources throughout the show. For instance, he constantly feels guilty for things that aren’t his fault and feels a sort of… responsibility, almost, to subject himself to additional humiliation and abuse because he feels it’s deserved, or that something good will eventually come out of it - not for him, but for his loved ones, or for the world. The most recent example of this is probably Ginger Cow, which is another episode that is uncomfortable to watch but is very important in Kyle’s character arc, I think. It definitely gives off the vibe that his spirit has sort of been broken down too much, to the point where he almost seems to SEEK OUT humiliation, perhaps in an effort to just get ahead of it? Like he knows it will happen anyway, he’s resigned himself to that fate, so he’s now trying to create the scenario himself so he at least feels like he has some control over it? It’s telling that Ginger Cow comes after Humancentipad, an episode where he was totally blindsided by the traumatic event and was helpless to do anything about it. So in that sense, I think Matt & Trey are, maybe subconsciously, weaving in the impact of trauma on him without explicitly talking about past events like Humancentipad. They sort of do the same thing with Butters, who is another character who suffers a LOT for no real reason, and Kenny, who is very clearly using Mysterion as an outlet for his darker reactions to his curse. I’m just not sure how much thought they’re putting into this. Maybe it’s purely coincidental.

Re Gerald: his reactions to Kyle last season did not surprise me at all. Gerald has a history of being a jerk. He’s always been a narcissist and always had problems with addiction and self-control, like many other adults in the show. He got away with it for a long time because sometimes it was fairly innocuous and when it wasn’t, it still wasn’t outright abusive. I think his issues went to an extreme last season, but it seemed like a natural progression to me, because I have spent too much time analyzing the Broflovski family dynamic, haha. It makes sense to me that he would react negatively to Kyle and project his own attitudes onto Ike, even though Ike isn’t interested in his shit either. Gerald is someone who feels like he lacks control in his life because he married someone who is very opinionated and has a strong sense of right and wrong. Sheila has always been the dominant personality in their relationship, and Kyle is A LOT like her. He has inherited her moral compass and her self righteousness. He isn’t afraid to call people out for being shitty, and this rubs people the wrong way because no one likes being told they’re shitty. He sees them both as total wet blankets, as does basically the entire town. The difference between Gerald’s relationship with Sheila and his relationship with Kyle is that he has authority over Kyle and can get away with bullying him. I’m not sure how much of what he said was about KYLE specifically and how much was him projecting what he wishes he could say to SHEILA onto Kyle, but either way, it was disgusting and abusive, and I don’t think their relationship will ever be the same.

Regarding Trey using Gerald as a mouthpiece… I’ve definitely gotten that feeling before, in recent seasons, whether it’s Gerald or Cartman or Stan or whoever else happens to be totally disregarding or outright shitting on Kyle for no reason. I think that there had to have been some turbulence in Matt and Trey’s friendship at some point that caused some resentment to build up on Trey’s end, because he’s the main writer/creative force and I do agree that his treatment of Kyle has been suspiciously bad lately (but again, it seems better this season so far). This resentment has manifested both in the unnecessarily frequent silencing and abuse of Kyle and in the constant, inexplicable friction between Kyle and Stan. I have a lot of thoughts on Trey’s sort of split personality situation regarding Stan and Cartman, and how it feels, lately, as if he relates far more to Cartman and is therefore (again, maybe subconsciously) trying to drive a wedge between Kyle and Stan to pull Kyle more toward Cartman. But I’ve already talked too much to open THAT can of worms in this post.

ANYWAY, I hope this is what you were looking for! I could talk about Kyle all day, haha. I have hope that he won’t be as sidelined in the future if their goal is to return to their roots, but we shall see.

#asks #kyle broflovski #south park #meta #rambling about kyle #anonymous #sp meta #my meta #contributions

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elsewhereuniversity · 7 years ago

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Me and My Shadow, a Freshman Story

Alex couldn’t remember applying to Elsewhere University, that’s how it worked sometimes, but the course he was accepted on was perfect for him. He loved the feel of the liberal arts college, but their Computer Sciences department had a great reputation too, he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t been rooting for this school all along.

The suggestions for living on campus seemed a little silly, he mulled over them a few times, puzzled by the descriptions of salt and iron, and outright baffled by the need to use a fake name. He spent the summer determined to ignore them. He would be a voice of reason amongst the student body, he thought, as he imagined parading around with his real name printed on a teeshirt, emblazoned on his backpack. Nevertheless, as the day of his departure grew ever closer, he relented, and packed a handful of iron washers, a large canister of salt, and a thesaurus to pick a name from. If he had to live by a pseudonym for the next 3 years, he wanted an impressive one. Alex hadn’t been popular at school, much more of a wallflower than the centre of any social circles. This year would be different, he wanted a name that stood out, a name that would bring an air of mystery.

By the time he set foot on campus, Alex was Shadow, and Shadow was cool.

The first few weeks of school, Shadow managed to keep his social profile higher than he ever had before. Parties every week, no embarrassing stories to follow him from high school. It was the best few weeks of his life and, while the following weeks never quite compared, Shadow built up a reputation. The cost, however, was his grades.

The first few projects Shadow handed in were graded poorly. He fought the feelings of embarrassment at the idea of failing, he had never gotten less than an A in his life, even at Elsewhere, it only took a couple of months before he was called before his Professor.

“ Look, Shadow. I didn’t want to say anything, I actually thought you had been taken. It was a bit early, but then thats when the most simple mistakes are made, but I had a quiet word with a few people and I hear you just aren’t putting the work in.”

Shadow was glowing scarlet. This wasn’t what he wanted, he had made a crucial mistake.

“ I’m sorry Professor, I really am. It’s all just been a bit overwhelming and I lost track of priorities, I’ll try harder.”

The Professor seemed unconvinced.

“ I want to give you a second chance Shadow,’ he removed and started polishing his silver glasses.

“ You’re grades have really suffered, it will take a lot of work to get back up to an acceptable level.”

Shadow was in full panic mode, he needed a second chance.

“ Can I redo the projects?” He gasped. They had a week free for study coming up, he could sacrifice his time then as a lot of his friends were heading home.

“ I will let you hand them in if you manage but, I have to say Shadow, it’s a lot of work, I don’t know if you have time.”

They agreed that the Professor would grade the papers again, on a reduced scale. It wouldn’t get him anything resembling an A level score, but he might scrape by with something respectable. He ran full sprint to the library, setting himself up in the computing department.

The EU Library was odd, but the computing department at Elsewhere University Library was odd in it’s own special way. Each shelf had a locked door, able to be opened only on presentation of a special ID card (made of iron, naturally). Apparently the campus had an ongoing issue with books about technology being vandalised at night. Far at the end of the room, one cabinet was sealed with, apparently, no lock at all. He asked in the first week about that shelf, the Librarian mumbled “Those books aren’t finished yet,” and somehow escaped from sight.

He gathered what he needed for his first project of the year, and got to work. It had been a couple of hours when someone came and sat across from him at the table, a young man, around his age, black hair, smart clothes. A few moments later, Shadow noticed the student was not doing work.

“ Can I help you?” he asked, looking up from his book.

“ No, but I think I can help you,” he replied. “ If you go upstairs to the 12th floor, theres a room. 17c. Time works weirdly in there, its good for concentration or something. “

“ I’m fine here,” Shadow mumbled, mildly irritated at the interruption.

“ Someone is about to come in and clean, it’s gonna get loud.” the stranger added. Shadow took the bait and packed up his stuff.

Shadow was sure there had only been 9 floors to the Library, but there it was, the button for floor 12. 17c was creepy. A single room, with a single desk. Olive green walls and a single pendant lamp with a heavy shade, making a spot of light on the floor and sending the dark corners into wild shapes.

The guy was right. Time went weirdly here, but so did everything else. The room seemed smaller one minute, then huge, sound seemed echoey and then muffled. Shadow was sure he had been there for a few hours when he realised it had only been 1. The light wasn’t still, so his concentration was being slightly disturbed by the shapes and figures rising from the shade of the area outside the light. It was getting too much. Shadow got up and went to find a coffee machine, his study materials scattered over the desk. Including his favourite calculator. The one he used at school. The one with stickers all over it and his name scratched into the back.

The week dragged, Shadow felt like he had been living there for a month when the rest of the class came back from their visits home, but the work was done, and the grade came back good. He wouldn’t make that mistake again, and he cut his partying in half.

One day, his room mate moved out without a word. Things had been weird between them since Shadow had been around more often, he figured the guy just didn’t like him. Their room was small, two single beds only a foot and a half apart. It was tough luck, most of the other rooms on campus were far better, but maybe the guy just needed more space.

That night, he remembered waking up with his leg out of the bed, his shadow stretching across the room to the sheet of the bed opposite. He must have been dreaming, because he was sure he saw his room mate asleep over there.

The next day, the bed was still unmade, and not slept in. He went about his business, enjoying the new independence, which made it all the more annoying when he came home from class that day and found a boy in his room.

“ Hi, I’m your new room mate. My name is Alex.”

—————–

‘Alex’ was startling to Shadow. He looked so like him it was unreal, though not identical, they could be brothers.

He was paler Shadow, with darker hair, but still blond. Their eyes we’re different colours, and where 'Alex’ was slightly taller, Shadow was slightly more muscular. Their faces were stronger and weaker in the same places, but the features did not match.

“ Wow, we could be twins!” the new boy exclaimed as his brown eyes landed on Shadow in the doorway.

“ I’m a late transfer, I hoped we could be buddies and you could show me around the place?” his eyes were pleading.

“ Yeah, sure.” Shadow replied, the guys chosen name alarmed him at first, but coincidences happen, and he would hate to be here so long after orientation with no friends.

They chatted for a while and realised they had quite a lot in common. By the time they went to bed, Shadow felt like the guy had been here forever. His other roommate had been boring, they had nothing to talk about and the guy was always so moody, Alex was a breath of fresh air. A few weeks went by and life was starting to become a bit of a routine. The good kind.

Alex was always very busy through the day, arriving around 8-9pm each night, in time to socialise a bit before bed. It suited Shadow fine, he could spend the time between classes and Alex’s return catching up on his work.

The friends he made at the beginning of the year resented Alex a bit, the timing of his arrival had been around the same time Shadow had started taking his studies seriously again, so from their perspective, Alex was bad news.

The first few parties Shadow took him too had been pretty bad for Alex. Mostly ignored and left out, he had been resigned to the sofa while Shadow caught up with people he hadn’t seen in a while. Some crazy girl, who kept talking about glowing eyes in the darkness, sat next to Alex and wouldn’t leave him alone the first time. Shadow thought she was on Acid.

But over a few weeks, the group warmed to the new kid. Alex started to build friendships himself and Shadow felt a little relief. He really enjoyed Alex’s company, but he had started to feel like they were in a couple.

The end of semester projects were handed out in March. Shadows class groaned in unison as they realize the workload expected of them. The next party Shadow would be going to would be when they left for summer. Alex came and went, day in day out. They still hung out a few times a week, but the summer sun had come to Elsewhere and the classes had begun to move their study periods outside, he was getting a little tan and his hair was bleaching in the summer rays, becoming a brighter gold than before. It suited him and he had been getting a lot of attention from girls and guys. Alex was a busy man!

No one had warned him how much of his social life would suffer doing computer sciences. The coding and the technical aspects were so unpredictable he was up all night, most nights, trying to get his work done. His team had grown distant, he attributed it to stress, which meant that Shadow had started to work alone more and more often. He was starting to feel like the old Alex, the one he left behind and never wanted to meet again. The one he had worked so hard to get rid of.

Time passed, and projects finished. Shadow had been napping after handing in his full project, he had done most of it himself, when Alex woke him, face so close he could smell his breath.

“ Shadow. It’s done. Come party!” he whispered, before handing him a beer and sliding silently out of the room. He went to his buddies house, the party was raging as always ( he was half sure it never stopped), and people we’re everywhere. He saw his friend Jeff across the crowd, a rush of realisation at just how long it had been hit him as he waved and ran across the room.

But Jeff practically sneered before turning away. It was almost like he couldn’t see him, but what he had seen had really annoyed him. Shadow lost him in the crowd.

He saw Alex coming towards him. “ Hey,” he whispered as he grabbed Shadow’s arm.

He looked into his friends eyes, but saw only annoyance and frustration.

Alex’s mouth opened, it looked subtly different somehow, it had done for a while. Maybe it was the tan.

“ Alex, the others want you to leave. They said they don’t like flakes who think they can come back after disappearing and act like nothing has happened.”

Shadow took a second to realize Alex had used his real name on him.

“ No no, I’m Shadow. You’re Alex…”

“ Alex, I know you must be upset, but you need to leave!” Shouted Alex as he grabbed Shadows arm and escorted him out the front door. “ Now go, find somewhere you belong.” Alex grinned. Just before he slammed the door, his brown eyes shifted to a very familiar green.

Shadow… No, the other guy was right, he was Alex again now, wandered across campus. When he got to the dorm, his ID wouldn’t work, he couldn’t get anyone to pay attention to him and no one would help.

It took two days before he stopped trying to find where he belonged. Even then it was only because of a lack of options. He slumped next to a wall near the crows, the crows could see him, he could tell that much. How did this happen, he wondered? He had noticed his hands growing pale and he could not bear to find a mirror, he knew he wouldn’t like what he saw. His trousers were getting too short for him, he thought he had stopped growing.

A pair of purple leather shoes stopped in his vision. Shining inexplicably in the shade of the crows tables, and leading into a pair of olive green trousers.

“ I’ve been looking for you!” the new voice shouted, a growl to it that scared Alex, but not enough to snap his depression. He glanced up into the eyes of a creature that definitely wasn’t human. Dull grey skin, wrinkled and sagging so much it looked like folded tissue, a snub nose any pig would be jealous of, and a subtle green sheen to his skin that looked like he was coated in petrol. As disgusting as he was, the eyes that locked with Alex’s were vibrant and more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. At first they looked black from corner to corner, but then they flickered… constant flickers of blue and purples, spectrums and nebulas, all shining out of an inky black void.

“ Time has been catching up with my room since you left in that boys bag, I need the shadows to form the circle, you know that little shade.” he growled, “No one escapes from Gossamer,” he took hold of Alex’s collar, the grip was strong and somehow relieved the shade of all mass and weight it had left. Crumpling into something looking like a gauze suit, it was stuffed into a purple briefcase with no ceremony. Alex smiled, as best he could. The darkness of the case was home to him. He could relax, he belonged.

As Gossamer scurried back to the Library, his hulking frame moving far faster and more sprightly than should be possible, the layers of loose skin on his face split, blue lips curling into a tight twisted line. Time flowed like water around here if it wasn’t regulated correctly, and his circle had been suffering all year for being one member short.

Shadow Alex went on to pass with flying colours but, once graduated, disappeared. He hasn’t been heard from by any of the alumni or staff since.

#thehairygodfather #stories #alex #shadow #me and my shadow #stolen away #oh shit #this one got me #submission

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