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daaziscoolbesties · 4 years ago

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[REPOST] MY 2K WORD COMMENTARY/ANALYSIS OF RANBOO’S LORE STREAM

‼️‼️This post contains lore spoilers from Ranboo’s 4/23 stream, “The Enderwalk Saga. Chapter 1: The Lessons”. If you haven’t seen that stream don’t read ahead unless you want spoilers‼️‼️

disclaimer: this isnt really an analysis as much as a bunch of commentary and half-baked theories.

-on the way to the mansion he was sort of talking to himself saying stuff like "i'm good i'm good" which m a y be a normal thing but also maybe it's not and it flew over our heads cause he talks to chats and donos like that so often

-again, this one may just be a normal thing but when he was climbing up the stairs in the mansion looking for foolish, he repeats some of his words like down to the exact same tone of voice and everything. 12:42, "this mansion is way too big actually. this mansion is way too big actually." (why the repeated actually? seems odd to me but again it might just be a normal thing that i haven't picked up on). (right after) "okay okay lemme find him lemme find him" again repeated words in the e x a c t same tone.

-does everyone know about ranboo's silk touch hands ability thing? or was that just a techno and ranboo main character moment. bc if it was, how would foolish know that ranboo could pick up the full cake after it'd been partially eaten. unless everyone on the sever knows about that in which case this means nothing. but if they d o n t know... how would foolish know? ranboo wrote about it in the do not read book so maybe if it's not a publicly known thing maybe foolish got his hands on the book and read it??

-14:53-ish, they're talking about the war room and how it was for tubbo or whatever and ranboo says, and i quote "he prepares for lore but he's never gonna do it." now funny thing is at first i couldn't tell if he said "war" like in reference to the war room or "lore". but after playing the clip over and over i can say with ALMOST 100% certainty that he said lore. there is a definite L sound at the beginning of the word. which either means a) this was a slip up (doubtful bc he said later that there were no mistakes), b) he broke the fourth wall because they were supposed to be rping at that point, or c) i'm completely wrong and he said "war" which leads down an entire other road of possibilities

-15:17 "are you a book reader?" "*checks inventory for do not read book* uh yeah i'd say i'm a book reader-" dunno how i didn't catch this the first time I HATE THAT DAMN BOOK

-15:18 there's blue in his hotbar. where did he get the blue.

-16:40 "it's like a metaphor- i have two minds: i have my normal self, my normal little shift-dancing self, and then the builder one. the builder one is demanding. it's a very demanding mind." ranboo then lets out a weird sigh after this. i feel like what foolish was talking about was an indirect(?) parallel to ranboo in and out of enderwalk, there's how he normally is, trying to do best for others, and then there's enderwalk, meeting up with bad guys and "demanding" things (its very late as i write this i really don't know what i'm talking about)

-17:11 "you have your panic closet" i'm sorry his what now 😀 no but seriously how the hell did i miss some of these

-18:04 "you're asking me if i remember?" very funny ranboo thank you for making jokes in these trying times

-18:25 WHY DID HE GET OUT THE AXE WHEN STARING AT THE BEE

-19:38 why did foolish hold the grass block- most of these observations probably mean nothing but- h u h - is that- i'm too tired for this

-19:54 "i never properly thanked you for the deal you made with me" so foolish got something out of this deal, we're not sure if ranboo did. "the green cardboard box" again do you mean dream's house- but seriously the only people i can think of on the server that are associated with green are dream and sam. and i have no idea what cardboard box could be referring to. foolish got a lime colored shulker from drista

-20:30 "we're supposed to only talk about it at a certain location" hmm now where would that be? panic room maybe? cause like usually after doing a big thing in the enderwalk state ranboo wakes up in the panic room so maybe? the deal was that they only talk about it in his house

-21:52 how does ranboo receive(?) the lessons? like are they whispered to him in his mind or is he seeing them as words in front of him like we see? hmm

-"Lesson 14: If you have the opportunity to gain a favor, take it." "gain a favor" don't you usually ask people for favors though? how does one "gain a favor"? anyways i'm pretty sure lesson 14 has to do with the deal foolish was talking about. (the deal explained because i now have info: at some point a bit ago foolish met up with ranboo and asked to make a deal, he'd gotten a shulker box from drista. the deal was that ranboo would have ownership of the box, it would be under his name but foolish rents/borrows it indefinitely. ranboo negotiated that if he took ownership of the box he would get a "war favor" from foolish where if something happens that creates sides, ranboo can ask him a favor that could change his side. but why would foolish want ranboo to have ownership of the shulker you may ask? well i have an answer for you. a theory actually but still. basically since drista technically isn't supposed to give out shit on the server if someone where to have that stuff then they may get in trouble. foolish wants to be able to use the shulker but if it gets found he doesn't want to get in trouble, so he can blame it on ranboo seeing as it's under his name.)

-22:16-ish "i still have this from when you *can't understand whats said here*" well i guess that sort of explains why he had the grass block? idk man (info update: he had the grass block from when ranboo threw it at him telling him to calm down like what ghostbur does with blue)

-31:35 "i figured out how to cause it" how to cause the enderwalk state

-38:30 "ninety three lessons" I STILL DONT KNOW WHY HE KEPT SAYING NINETY THREE AND NOT NINETY FOUR AND ITS DRIVING ME CRAZY LMAO

-39:01 "it's all for the greater good" okay well when are you gonna start thinking about yourself and not everyone else for once huh. self care bitch.

-40:31 he started holding the axe when he was looking at sam- gonna say it i really don't like that axe ahahah- WAIT A DAMN MINUTE THE AXE IS NAMED "axe of ender" I DONT LIKE THAT I DONT LIKE THAT AT ALL

-41:53 is there something?? physically keeping him from telling sam??? or maybe it's sort of like his enderwalk state taking control to make him shut the fuck up??? so many questions and approximately zero answers

-43:18 ranboo raising his voice legitimately scares me 😀👍

-"Lesson 27: Do not reminisce on what you have lost for it will weigh you down." showed up when he was thinking about and REMINISCING about the community house 👀👀

-"Lesson 53: Never fully trust anyone." showed up literally after he said that he thinks he can trust the other people on the server enough to tell them about what he did

-"Lesson 67: Leave no evidence of what you have helped with." this is different from the others because there doesn't seem to be at least a semi-direct connection to it? unless maybe at the time ranboo was near something he may have "helped with"? not sure about this one

-"Lesson 94: DO NOT LET THEM KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE DONE" yeah yeah i get it i get it he's fucked up some shit in enderwalk i don't feel like analyzing this thanks

-OH OH NOTICE HOW HE SAYS "REMEMBERING" WHEN THE LESSONS SHOW UP. IMPLYING THAT THIS ISNT A NEW THING, ITS HAPPENED BEFORE AND NOW HES REMEMBERING IT. MAYBE HE WROTE DOWN THE LESSONS WHEN HE WAS IN ENDERWALK AND NOW THAT HES BEEN EXPERIMENTING ITS BEEN EASIER FOR HIM TO REMEMBER THOSE ENDERWALK MEMORIES

-okokok the experiments are that he's been e x p e r i m e n t i n g on how to purposefully induce the enderwalk state. and we know now that it wasn't from the pain of the water because on the stream afterwords he said that it's caused by the intense fear of something happening. and so the "side effects" of the experiments is that since he's in enderwalk more often(?) he starts remembering more things from it

-OH MY GOD WAIT "there is a reason sam, there's so many reasons, theres ninety three of them" (44:47) WHAT IF EVERY LESSON IS TIED TO A QUOTE UNQUOTE "reason" THAT RANBOO THINKS HES A BAD PERSON/NEEDS TO BE LOCKED UP BUT HE SAYS NINETY THREE INSTEAD OF NINETY FOUR BECAUSE THE NINETY FOURTH LESSON DOESNT HAVE A REASON YET/HE DOESNT REMEMBER IT HAVING A REASON

-dude honestly the whole sam part hurts so much this man is scarily good at acting

-46:46 "i cant put you in the prison you wouldn't be able to see michael anymore" bestie that's the point he doesn't want to accidentally hurt michael or tubbo in the enderwalk state—

-okay but there's no way that sam couldn't tell that ranboo was at least TRYING to confess to something- i feel like he definitely knows more than he's letting on because usually like when people do bad shit or admit to doing bad shit he's like in Prison Guard Mode™️ (he literally cut off ponk's arm because he stole some keycards or something) and whatever and idk what he knows but he definitely knows something and is trying to protect ranboo. or he's trying to manipulate him or smth either one works—

-50:38 "you are a good person" "i am?" you can hear my heart shatter. "yes you are" "i don't think so sam" "i do, even if you don't" "i really don't think so" and there it goes again

-51:25 hello badboyhalo i see you to the left of ranboo

-52:44 "but then my curiosity got the best of me" curiosity killed the cat, bitch

-52:54 "there's ninety three, ninety four, ninety- theres so many reasons!" SEE!! NOT ONLY ARE THERE THAT MANY LESSONS THERE ARE REASONS THAT CORRESPOND IM S O SMART—

-52:56 "i don't want to remember anymore!" *quietly brings forth my theory that when ranboo loses a canon life his memory gets wiped*

-53:13 "ive opened pandora's box" isn't the prison?? literally called pandora's VAULT??? so this m a y be a stretch but i'm thinking that maybe this could be taken in the literal sense that he "opened" the prison and let dream out (the sirens at the end of quackity's stream confirm that dream is indeed out)

-53:42 mans just straight up walked through a ghost i—

-55:37 so are we just gonna ignore the eleventh page of the book? "he's alive, but hopefully soon dream won't be"??? alright nevermind it's most likely bc when tommy came back he recruited ranboo in his plan to kill dream

-55:47 notice how he writes "what am i?" as opposed to "who am i?" no elaboration here idk what it could be

-56:08 just so it's clear for anyone who doesn't know- he's wearing armor at this point, and i'm like 90% sure that when he wears his armor water can't hurt him. and i saw someone say somewhere that like with splash potions when thrown it turns into a gas-like thing? so again, it didn't hurt him, he didn't get hurt. he said in the chill stream that he wasn't comfortable making it where his character had to hurt himself to do that. the thing that causes the enderwalk isn't pain, it's intense and sudden emotions like fear and stress. thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

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mami-koppe · 4 years ago

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Desperate - Dabi x Reader

This is my first fic ever in this fandom pls be gentl. no beta reader WE DIE LIKE SCUM. Also please note that english is not my native language so if you find something wrong *please* point it out 👀 Enjoy!

TW: smut, angst, mentions of drug use and abortion, violence, yadda yadda. aaa

Cyan eyes open up, alarmed and scared and anxious, only relaxing when following the rise and fall of the lump under the white comforter set just beside him. He knows he shouldn't be here; he's had a few more nightmares about a fellow villain finding out about your existence than he was comfortable with. In his dreams they would tear down your house, break the heirloom grandfather clock in your hallway, ravage all the cabinets and drawers (maybe they would find that picture of him under your Christmas-decorated pine tree, the only proof you had of his existence intermingled with yours, and you thought you hid it oh so well but Dabi's far more smarter than that). A shiver runs down his spine and he breaks a sweat when he imagines if Overhaul was the one raiding your apartment. The yakuza boss would most likely delight himself in breaking and putting you back together, again and again, only so he could leave in your bedroom wall a myriad of blood splatters for Dabi to find and grieve for. Chisaki would make sure he wouldn't even have a body to bury. Maybe if he was feeling lucky, not even a brick of your house would be intact, your whole life only resisting in Dabi's memory.

He wishes he could be honourable and selfless enough to say that's the main reason he never bothered to officialise your relationship; but even greater than the fear of coming home and finding your body reduced to a pulp, is the fear of being vulnerable (yet again). He kinda cares about you, yes, he can say that much, and anyone who has met you for more than 15 minutes know that you're in deep. He's not that emotionally stunted. But he's jaded enough to know that caring is a concept with many translations and definitions, and if you so happened to have a different one than he did, specially if that concept involved controlling and screaming and fighting and black bruises all over his back while his skin burned off at every flash of his quirk painfully taking over his body ... He couldn't just sit down and wait to find out.

Also, you seem pretty fine with this arrangement. He has a knack this has less to do with letting him roam free range, and far more with knowing that as soon as you express the need to define the feelings that have grown stronger and stronger for over three years, he will be out the door to never come back. And that simply won't do.

Almost as sensing his distress, you wake up and wrap both your arms around his neck. He tenses for a fraction of second, then relaxes, reaching out for the cigarette pack you leave in the nightstand just for him.

_ "What's on your mind, babe? You seem real distracted. I know you're usually kinda emo but that much brooding just isn't you. Are you okay? Perhaps you're having... cravings again? Did something happen? Was it crusty fuck again? If he tried to decay your face again, I'm so gonna fuck him up..." You run his fingers through his coarse hair, trying to show your adoration while lightly pressing your lips to his jaw and he shudders both from your ministrations and the mentions of his past cravings.

_ "...Whoa whoa whoa, calm down princess. Why are you even awake? It's still really fucking early for so many questions. One would think you would be out like a light by now, since we had so much fun last night, but guess I haven't fucked you hard enough if you still have half a mind to think about all that, dollface. And fuck you, I'm not emo." – he stops, cringing at his out-of-nowhere flirting and vague answers, hoping you don't see right through his crude words, thrown around in case you haven't noticed he's been shaking for the last 20 minutes.

Please don't notice. Please let it go. Please don't point it out.

_ "...Yeah, maybe you're right. But I should be asking you the same, it's 2am and you still got the energy to lewd me. And YES you are emo and well fuck you too. Forget I asked anything, love, if you want to we can talk about that tomorrow morning. Can't afford to be tense when tomorrow's gonna be such a long day, right? So what do you say about letting me tire us both out so we can finally have a full cycle of sleep?", you say, and in that moment he knows that you know.

The sudden pause in your sleep ridden speech tells that you have at least an idea that he's not fine in the slightest, but decided to just ignore it, knowing that your black haired lover wouldn't want to talk about it anyway. So you lift a leg just above his hipbone to pull him closer to your hot, warm core, both of you still naked and spent from your previous lovemaking, one of the few displays of affection he's completely comfortable with.

He runs his hands all over your sides, commiting them to his memory (just in case common sense comes to you without knocking and you finally leave him); suddenly his hands find your hair and tug at your nape, pulling your neck back to find his charred lips. Your smells mingle together, and it's all a blur of smoke, sandalwood, scotch and black pepper.

You kiss him, bringing his mouth towards yours with fervor, while slowly stroking his manhood, pausing around his tip, smearing his precum on your mouth with your fingers (you know he loves seeing you covered in him, and after all these years he wouldn't man up and admit it freely, so you tease him to no end). He can't find it in himself to be rough to you tonight, but it seems you have different plans because it doesn't look like you'll be patient enough for foreplay; and in a blink you are tangled in a mess of sheets and legs and sweat, him sliding swiftly into your heat, appreciating the drag of his swollen tip inside your pussy, going in and out roughly, the fast paced rythm of your skin slapping together only stopping when you feel the familiar head rush of your impeding orgasm and the sensation of his white hot seed spilling deep inside your throbbing center.

His low moans fill the room as he feels you tightly clenching around him; you cannot follow him in his vocal declarations due to being physically incapable of screaming anymore, a mix of pleas and gasps falling out your lips as he bottoms out and groans your name, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. The space between your foreheads close, both heavily panting near each others mouths, following a kiss that's way too sweet considering your personalities.

For a moment, he kinda wants to say those damned three words, but he will be dead before he makes a fool of himself like that, so he kisses your forehead and pull you to his chest, helping himself to a now dreamless sleep.

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It's one of your biggest flaws yet: you are far worse in keeping secrets than you give yourself credit for.

In the five years you spent together, he has plenty of evidence to support this case – all the gifts that were supposed to be a surprise, the job promotion you were hoping to disclose about at a movie night in your house (that said promotion tumbling out of your mouth in one of your daily, unimportant phone calls), the stray cat you tried to adopt without his knowledge (because obviously he would say no without even thinking about it, but now Tama's getting fatter and meaner than ever and Dabi lives for it), and you always said it was the other way around, that Dabi was the one who was way too good at uncovering things that he wasn't supposed to.

And in that exact moment, he wishes you were wrong, because the ripped blue cardboard box he finds forgotten in your bathroom floor just behind the toilet – probably fallen, since it's a bad habit of yours to let your shit fall all over the floor and eventually forget to pick it up – looks too much like the ones he would see in drugstores and at that time Shigaraki made him work undercover for a week in a brothel to gather intel about a winged pro hero who was kind of a degenerate, and he freezes.

He sensed something wrong weeks ago, your delicious skin even more tender to the touch and your face perpetually stuck in a barely concealed frown. He tried to ask you what's the matter a few times, before finally granting you the same leniency given to him when he was having a bad day and wanted to be left alone.

Now the only things going through Dabi's head is "why didn't she tell me", "wasn't she on birth control", "what the fuck is going on" and suddenly he understands why his – wife? girlfriend? lover? fuck buddy? SHIT – always said that some things can't just be left ignored. He never wanted to get high so much in his life.

Like a man possessed, he goes through your trash (it's not like he's not used to some dumpster diving and other unsavoury survival skills, since being a kinda prolific villain can only happen so late in life and before that, you have an empty stomach and way less standards than you'd like to), pausing when he finds what he was dreading: a fucking plastic wire, adorned with two dark pink lines. His eyes begin to blur and he can only thank so much you're at work right now so you can't hear his raging shouts ressonating around your room.

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He does what he does best: he ignores it, simply leaving it all exactly where he found it and waits for you to come home. He helps you cook your favourite meal – you insist it's his turn to choose, but he says he's craving yours – runs you a bath, making sure to douse every crevice of your body in that cherry body wash he loves to smell in you, makes love to you until your head spins and your body is feeling almost bloated with his essence.

Can't get anymore pregnant than that, huh?

He asks about your day, and you let it all out, and every time you make that face you do when you want to tell him something important, he kisses you until you're breathless and changes the subject.

He desperately hopes you choose to keep it.

Then, after you're sleeping soundly on his naked chest, he brings out the duffel bag he hid earlier beneath his side of the bed, gets dressed, gives Tama his beloved wet food, sitting him down for a few minutes of belly rubs and leaves your home, his home, sending you a text through his burner phone that tells you too much about an undercover mission for the LOV that might last for years and none about where your relationship stands.

He's never felt so inadequate. Suddenly he hates being a villain.

He hopes you might catch the underlying forlorn tone in his words – that this is a "goodbye", not a "see you soon" – and not foolishly wait for him to come back. But he kinda knows it is unreasonable to expect you to move on and find a more loving, present person to warm your bed, put a smile on your face, a ring on your left hand, give his only child a decent attempt of a family, promise you the world and keep that promise. He leaves knowing that much.

And as you wake up in the middle of the night, with a cold bed, an empty apartment, a text and the briefest memory of Dabi lovingly kissing your midriff, you cry out for what could have been. Said text was supposed to be monotonous, robotic even, and it's so much like Dabi to go on a mission without wanting to say goodbye in person (because he's too cool for that) that normally you wouldn't even bat an eye, but you know you'll never see him again because of the words adorning the end of your screen.

I love you.

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Yet again, Dabi's dreams haven't ever been easy on him. He jumps out of the bed, startled, as he fumbles with a bag of white pills which he spent the last year or so sneaking from your sight and angrily swallows four at once; the image of a little girl with her grandmother's hair and his azure eyes, no older than three, tightly clutching his hand and smiling. It's way too early in the morning for this shit and he can't be bothered to deal with that yet. Not sober.

Papa, look! I've drawn us today at school! I've made sure you look cool enough like you asked, okay? That's you in your coat, that's mama, that's Tama and that's me!

He's not sure he should burn the image to his mind or off his mind. He still hears your stupid giggles in the back of his head (probably it doesn't help that he has been watching almost daily for the last six months that particular video of you hollering, high as a kite, when he and the LOV raided the compounds of a drug cartel that was antagonising their plans, and let's say that Dabi has come home that day with more than a few weed satchels).

Feeling the top of his head getting heavier and his eyes blurring with difficulty to focus, he clings to the porcelain sink in his hotel room, mindlessly bangs his head on the cabinet just below the small mirror until his forehead is openly bleeding – not that he can feel anything when he's like that anyway, but he DID always try – and lets himself fall to his knees, silently glaring at the floor.

He somberly notes that his blood has painted the bathroom floor a vibrant red. He hopes yours isn't painted too.

Later that day when he has already puked almost all the drugs out his system, he and Kurogiri are sent on a minor errand; some human trafficking ring leader, a former ally, was threatening to spill out their secrets and they were to break and enter, kill him swiftly and move on with their lives, no biggie. But as he steps into the compound – a shell orphanage, he notes – Dabi knows it's not going to be a normal mission. Soon as the children know the leader's dead, most of them flee, making a run for their long lost freedom; but a small group, maybe six or seven of them, stays. And usually Dabi is proud of being the nonchalant, motionless member of the party, but with the late events even he can't help to be a little horrified when he notices that children as young as four have the same eyes he had when he fled his childhood home, Ende- his house.

Children that have seen so much grief and despair they can't be bothered to exit the building, even when he irritatedly screams at them to get out already as the walls roar up in flames. They have no reason for escaping; their will to go on died way before their bodies did. He can look into their eyes and tell already that they will turn out to be like him, or worse. This would be the perfect time for a rookie wide-eyed pro hero to appear and save these innocent children just so they can grow up so emotionally damaged that they will turn to villainy, to be eventually caught and brutally murdered by the very same hero.

Dabi knows the kids will stay rooted to the same spot until they're engulfed by the flames or choked up in poisonous smoke and that's gonna take so much longer; he's already in deep shit with Shigaraki because he said "no witnesses" and so many of them have already fled, so he does what he does best – ignores the vision he has of that little girl, his little girl, embraced by the blue fire of his body as he gives the children the most quick, painless death he can think of.

Dabi's thankful that they don't bother to make a sound. He doesn't think he could stay clean for much longer if he could hear the white haired girl's voice in the squeals and pitiful sobs of the children who stayed behind.

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He returns to his empty hotel room that day, still hearing Shigaraki's screeches ringing in his ear, and the only thing he wants to do is to swallow the whole bag of pills he still has under his mattress and doze off until he chokes up on his own vomit and doesn't wake up the next morning, but he cannot die, not yet, and that night he remembers the children's empty glares as he brings out the half full bottle of whiskey sitting besides his bed and drinks till he's tumbling unconsciously down the wall.

The morning after he wakes up a little emptier inside and his sheets are actually wet with the sweat he expelled during his goriest nightmare yet, but the possibility that yet another child is going to end like the ones he has spared killed the day before drives him mad with frustration. And then, he takes the longest steps he's ever taken in your home's direction.

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This time, is your turn to wake up in a sweat. You can clearly hear the noise of a window lock being picked (your former lover did this way too much in the beginning of your relationship, so much you suspected that he did it for fun, even when you gave him a spare key), and the sheer panic that runs through your whole being when your brain computes it's the nursery window lock being picked, you grab the pistol Dabi gave to you after a night out with your friends almost went sour in a robbery, and runs to your newborn daughter's room. You can feel the tears gathering around your eyes, desperate to hear her make any sound – anything to know she's alive – and when you kick the door open, the gun in your hands seems heavier than it does when shooting, as soon as you reckon the black hair and blue eyes you loved (honestly, love) so much, you seem to forget how to breathe.

The father of your child is holding onto her so tightly, a pained but relieved expression on his face as he clutches her so close to his warm chest, and you feel something wet running down both your cheeks as he presses his trembling lips to her forehead, almost like he expected to find the spare room in your apartment just the way he saw last, empty and full of broken spare parts of utensils and furniture. Your daughter is not bothered at all, like she recognizes him even if she never met him before and your heart is so confused.

Is he gonna leave again?

You longed for him throughout all your pregnancy, wanting him to know he was going to be a father, wanting him to see her first sonograms, feel her first kicks but you knew Dabi could only be there when his mission was over. And you waited, even if every cell in your brain screamed at you for it, confirming what you already suspected – he's abandoned you, both of you.

He thought that maybe you would be gullible enought to believe he was gone for a few months, not the slightest intention of leaving you behind, but in that moment, he knows that you know. And as you choose to let it go once again, he feels all the weight on his shoulders disappear as you both say, in unison:

"Welcome home."

#dabi x reader #bnha x reader #dabi x y/n #bnha x y/n #bnha angst

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

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Sleep Paralysis

Gift fic for @sporks-metal!

William Lancer had never been a superstitious man. He enjoyed reading about the supernatural, true, about mythology, legends, folklore, but he wasn't superstitious.

In Amity Park, believing in ghosts did not count as superstition. It was simply common sense.

Even so, this was pushing the limits of common sense. The almost-empty salt container rattled softly in his hand as he shook out the last few grains. Sweeping all this up, each white line he had drawn at every threshold and every windowsill would be a pain. A greater pain than the splinters and thorns he had picked up from the 'sacred trees' he had alternately planted in his yard and cut up to hang over his doorways.

William didn't have a choice. He was at his wits end, and he was being haunted.

He was being haunted, and the normal methods of dealing with such things hadn't done a thing. Of course, the 'normal methods' were 'wait for Phantom to show up' and 'call the Fentons,' so he wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting.

The teenage ghost didn't exactly have a hotline and while the Fentons did, their services had been less than efficacious. They'd camped out at his house for two nights, and the only things they had removed from it were all of his sweets. The ghost had not made an appearance. It (they, she, he, William didn't know) was smarter than that.

The Fentons had told him that he was most likely suffering from a case of nerves or stress (what nerves, what stress, in the middle of summer?) and had given him a small ectogun. On the house. Neither of these things comforted him.

Oddly, part of William insisted that if Mr. Fenton, that is, Danny, not Jack, had been there, things would have gone differently. Differently how, that part of William wouldn't say. When he thought about it, he honestly couldn't imagine why Danny's presence would change things. He liked Danny. Somehow, the younger Fenton had found his way to being William's favorite student, even if he was also an incredibly inconsistent student, but he was also shy, never in place when a ghost showed up.

... Huh. There was something there, but William's tired mind couldn't quite reason it out.

If the ghost would just let him be, let him rest.

William pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. What he wouldn't give for some rest... He'd even call the Fentons back, if it came to that. He exhaled slowly and sank into his armchair, the laughably tiny ectogun balanced on his thigh, his fireplace on his right. He had covered the hearth with salt, too, just in case.

He was losing his mind, wasn't he?

No. Ghosts were normal in Amity Park. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't even superstitious, for all that he was resorting to older apotropaics. There was a reason the garden supply store sold so many different varieties of holly, rowan, and sage.

He took a deep breath, let it out. Nothing had happened yet, tonight. Perhaps the Fentons had scared the ghost off. Perhaps he could pass this night in peace. His hand inched towards the small table next to his chair. He had a book there, one he had been reading before this started...

A fire roared to life in the fireplace. William's breath caught in his throat.

For several long minutes, the only thing that changed was how much sweat glued William's pajamas to his skin.

Then the whispers started.

The ghost haunting William was not like the Box Ghost. William could deal with the Box Ghost. He had dealt with the Box Ghost. That cardboard-loving spirit could have been a threat, in another world, in another life (death?), but in this one he was more of a pest, than anything. Sort of like a barking dog. A very small barking dog.

But this ghost, this ghost that William hadn't even seen but somehow managed to turn his life into a paranoid hell, this ghost wasn't like that. Wasn't like any of the ghosts he'd seen at the school. Wasn't like any of the ghosts he'd seen on the news. Wasn't like the ghosts the Fentons talked about.

This ghost, it was more like things he'd seen in stories, in books, myths, legends. Something ethereal, something that stuck to shadows, drove men crazy, stole the breath from their mouths and light from their eyes, or burned down their house while they slept.

Or pushed a person so far that their inattention and exhaustion did them in. If it was the school year, and he had to drive... But, maybe, if school was in session, he would have been able to flag down Phantom after one of his fights.

William's hands shook as he pressed buttons on his coffee machine. He needed to sleep. He couldn't sleep. Not with the ghost always, always waiting for him to relax.

He was a mess, and he didn't know what to do.

He did not save his coffee from boiling over until it was far too late to salvage. He felt sick. He needed air.

Going outside was risky. Too many accidents had dogged his steps yesterday, even accounting for his fatigue, but staying inside wasn't any better.

He stepped slowly and carefully over his salt lines and onto the porch. Fresh air hit him like a sledgehammer. The space just below the top of his head buzzed uncomfortably.

Looking to the side of his door, William noticed that his extra rowan cuttings were all gone. He shivered. He was only wearing his pajamas. This really wasn't dignified.

He was afraid to go back in.

Something across the street caught his attention. He looked up, half afraid of what he would see.

Danny Fenton.

William let his shoulders slump in a mixture of relief and intense embarrassment. What kind of a teacher was he, letting his students see him dressed like this?

What was Danny Fenton doing here, anyway?

Danny tilted his head to one side and blinked a few times. Slowly, William raised a hand in greeting. Danny seemed to take this as an invitation, because he smiled brightly, raised one of his hands, laden with a shopping bag, and crossed the street, walking right up to William's porch.

"Hi, Mr. Lancer!" he said, with an energy William hadn't felt in years. "Jazz and I are back from our college tour." Which was obvious, really. "Mom and Dad said you weren't feeling well, so I brought you some stuff." He shook the bags. "Should I just give them to you, or put them down somewhere?"

William's sleep-deprived brain was still caught on being embarrassed, but he did manage to make himself nod. He had been wishing for Danny to be here, like he was some kind of lucky charm. But... was it safe for Danny to be here?

"Safe?" asked Danny.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah," said Danny. Amusement mixed with worry in his tone. "You really must be sick. You look like you haven't slept in days."

William pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Something like that," he admitted. "I'm being haunted."

Something William couldn't interpret passed over Danny's features. "Mom and Dad couldn't find it?"

"No."

"Well, maybe some of this could help. Have you tried candles? Or eyes?"

"What?"

Danny's face twisted into a wry grin. "Mom and Dad use modern methods," he said, "and I see you've been trying other things. Like salt, and the holly. But not all methods work for all ghosts." He put one foot on the steps of William's porch. "I can help you set up."

"But if the ghost comes-"

"Hey, I've dealt with ghosts before," said Danny.

William frowned. "So have I," he said. "So have your parents."

Danny shrugged. "Like I said, they prefer modern methods. They don't always work." His head tilted again. "Not all ghosts are like the Box Ghost, you know."

There was confidence, there. Quiet, yes, but... Danny wasn't confident. At least not in class, and... William felt like he was being trusted with something, almost. With a glimpse.

His head hurt.

"Alright," said William. He took a step back, towards his door. "Come on in."

Danny laid boxes out on the dining room table. "This is just snacks," he said, pushing one box towards William. "Keeping your energy up is important. This stuff is apotropaics, which is mostly supposed to keep ghosts away in the first place, so I don't really know if they'll work." He picked up a rock painted with a blue eye, and a pendant with the same. "It can't hurt, though." He handed the pendant to William. "So, what's this ghost like, anyway?"

Feeling dazed, William just watched Danny take candles out of the bag and stand them up on the table for a few minutes. "When I relax," he said, finally, "that's when it comes. At night, mostly. Sometimes it doesn't. And then it does. It gets hard to move. I get-" He put one hand over his chest, and pressed down. "Then things happen. The fireplace. Stuff gets all-" He moved his hand up and down. Some English teacher he was, he could barely speak. Words escaped him. "What does it even matter?"

"Different ghosts have different weaknesses," said Danny. "Like, if you were dealing with a, um, more traditional Chinese ghost, you might be able to confuse it by breaking sight lines. They only like to move in straight lines, some of them. Feng shui or whatever. Spirit mazes." He wiggled his fingers. "But you've got walls and doors and stuff, so I don't think it is one of those." He stared down at the table and the objects on it, frowning slightly.

"What do you think it is?" asked William, tiredly. "And why didn't your parents bring this up?" He had the feeling that he really should find this whole situation more suspicious than he actually did, but he'd do almost anything for sleep, at this point.

"I don't know," said Danny, shrugging. "Did you ever have sleep paralysis? Or sleep walking? Night terrors?"

"Please don't try to tell me this is sleep paralysis," said William, scrubbing his hands over his face. His jaw felt like sandpaper. "I know what that feels like."

"But you did have it."

"Yes," said William. "I used to. But it stopped."

"When?"

"When I got a new medication."

"Which was?"

"I don't know. Last March, or February."

"Right before the ghost king stole the town?"

"What are you getting at, here?" asked William.

"I think-" The windows rattled, cutting Danny off. "Oh, it doesn't like that, does it?"

William felt the weight in his chest like a stone. Couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think-

Danny pulled on his elbow, and suddenly he could move. "We need to get out of here," he said. "Sunlight."

"What?"

"You never had sleep paralysis," said Danny, pulling William along. "You were possessed, and it wants back in."

"What?" wheezed William, and it was getting really hard to breathe. Black spots danced in his vision. He fell.

"Hey!" shouted Danny. Something like a growl rippled in the air. "Back off! You can't have him. He's mine."

Which didn't make any sense, but then, nothing made sense right now, he couldn't think except for terror.

And suddenly the missing holly branches were in Danny's chest. Danny staggered. Went down on one knee.

"Don't think you can kill me that easily, pest."

And William's vision went black.

William woke up in bed. In his bed. With the covers drawn up to his chin. He'd been sleeping on his back. He never sleeps on his back.

Other things are off, too. His slippers were in the wrong place. His throw rugs have been moved. A picture shifted to hide a burn mark on the wall. The dishwasher has been run. Several cups are missing.

So are all the supplies Daniel had brought him, earlier.

It was as if someone, or something, wanted to make William think that everything that had happened was just a dream, but William knew that it wasn't. There were too many discrepancies, too much evidence, and, more to the point, he remembers.

He hoped it was Danny trying to cover things up. He really did.

If it was the ghost... William didn't want to think about that.

Should he call the Fentons? He still has their number.

But he didn't know what happened. He could remember, but... it didn't make sense. It didn't make sense for the ghost to cover this up, or to let him sleep. Except-

William nearly threw up when he remembered the branch embedded in his student's chest. That was- That was awful. That couldn't have been real. He must have been hallucinating. He had passed out, right after.

He shook his head. No, this was how people convinced themselves that something was 'just a dream' in movies. That hadn't been a dream. He hadn't dreamed that whole awful, terrible thing. He hadn't dreamed he was being haunted. He wasn't going to gaslight himself.

That thought turned over for a few minutes, then he lunged for his phone.

This was stalking. William was stalking his student.

That sounded bad.

It was bad, honestly, but William needed to see for himself that Danny was intact, and it wasn't the school year. He couldn't just wait for Danny to stroll into the classroom, thirty minutes late.

What if the ghost has latched on to him?

But, no. Even if the Fentons hadn't found it when it was haunting William, if it was after their own son, surely they'd realize it.

William just had to see. He'd look, he'd see, he'd maybe knock on the front door if Danny insisted on staying inside all day, and-

Danny walked out of his front door and bounced down the front steps of Fentonworks. He turned and started walking up the street.

Great. Now William should go, Danny's fine, but...

William did not go. Rather, he did go, but not home.

Now he really was stalking Danny, and he was being as stealthy as possible, given that this could likely cost him his job if anyone noticed. Stealth was difficult. Danny walked surprisingly quickly. Deceptively quickly. His half-skipping gait looked slow, but it ate up the ground, and trying to keep up with it left William feeling winded.

Of course, that might just be the effect of barely sleeping for who knows how long. Who knew? Not William.

But Danny went up the street and so did William.

They had almost reached the local park, when a ghost attacked. Because of course a ghost attacked. This was Amity Park, after all. Thankfully, for William's nerves, it was a normal ghost, not like whatever had been tormenting him. He even knew this ghost's name. Skulker.

Which was less of a comfort considering that the ghost was intent on attacking Danny. Why this was the case, William didn't know.

The metal-covered ghost sent missile after missile after Danny, and Danny just. Kept. Dodging. Oftentimes, by little more than an inch.

It was terrifying.

Danny didn't look particularly scared. Which was somehow even more terrifying.

After what couldn't be more than a minute, the ghost swooped low and close, and Danny whipped something white and green from behind his back, and a blue light poured out of it, engulfing the ghost and sucking it in.

Danny continued down the street.

William went home.

When school started again, William watched Danny more closely. As closely as he dared. Now that he had his eyes open, it was easier to see that there was something off about Daniel. Not really wrong, per se, but not normal.

It wasn't just skipping class, although that was part of it, or the way he and his friends hold themselves aloof from the normal social hierarchy, or how there were sometimes burn marks on his homework, it was something deeper and more elusive. Something more fundamental.

Halfway through October, William realized Danny didn't move nearly as much as someone his age should. He's still. Too still.

In November William found a pattern to Danny's absences. He didn't like it, and he tried to forget. He tried to stop looking, stop watching. Tried to tell himself that it wasn't possible.

But by December, William was fairly certain: Danny was dead.

Danny was dead.

His student.

Dead.

And a ghost, on top of that.

William had no idea how to cope.

But he didn't know for sure. Didn't know that Danny was out there, day and night, fighting ghosts, so he simply... ignored it. Treated Danny like normal. Like a student. Even if he was a ghost, he still had a right to an education, didn't he? Being dead was simply... a disability, of sorts. William's training covered exceptional students and accommodations. He couldn't very well set up an IEP meeting with the Fentons to discuss how Daniel was no longer among the living and how that might affect his ability to learn, but as a classroom teacher and as vice principal, he could make things a little easier for Daniel.

None of this really settled his anxiety, but it kept it at manageable levels.

It helped that his sleep paralysis did not come back. He didn't want to think about that too closely.

But then he couldn't ignore it, because he walked in on Danny changing, peeling off his skin and burning it like flash paper, in an unused classroom, and now there was a ghost tearing up the school behind him, and a ghost tearing up and hyperventilating in front of him, and he didn't know what to do.

"Just," said William, holding up his hands, "just breathe, Danny." He had no idea if that would help, no idea if Danny even needed to breathe.

"Mr. Lancer?" asked Danny. His voice wavered beneath a supernatural echo. He blinked hard, deliberately. "You-" He inhaled raggedly. "You can't- Please don't tell anyone!"

"I-" started William, unsure if or what he should promise. Now that he knew... Did that change what he should do? As a teacher? As an adult?

He didn't know.

Something crashed behind William. Far behind William. Somewhere in the vicinity of the cafeteria, he'd guess.

Something flickered over Danny's face. "I've gotta go," he said. "Please, just, don't tell anyone."

And then he vanished.

The next time Danny reappeared it was in front of William's house, between two of the holly trees William had planted that summer. He was wearing a coat that was much too thin for the weather, and had a box in his hands that just screamed 'bribe,' for all that it was wrapped in Christmas-tree themed paper.

William watched him through the blinds. He wasn't sure if he should invite Danny in.

Danny was a ghost. A dangerous ghost. Arguably the most dangerous ghost in Amity Park. A ghost that beats up other ghosts on a daily basis.

Danny was also his student, and he was standing out there in the cold, looking terrified.

William walked over to the door and opened it, slowly. It creaked and the cold made his toes curl inside his socks.

"Mr. Fenton," he said, "Danny... Why don't you come in?"

#danny phantom #prize #phanfic

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sidecarghost · 4 years ago

Text

Suptober20 - Day 21 Fear Part 1

HighSchool!AU with a little bit of Soulmate trope - this AU has a phone app that can tell you the fears of your soulmate

Part 1/2 (part 2 is an epilogue that kind of changed the feel of the story enough that I decided to split into separate post)

Summary: Dean wants to get Castiel on a date and asks his best friend Charlie for help. Charlie tries to convince Dean just to talk to Castiel, but Dean is sure that Castiel doesn't even know he exists.

“Please Charlie, have some pity on me,” Dean laments tragically. He sits at the lunch table across from his best friend Charlie. He attempts his best puppy eyes to help his cause.

“Just talk to Castiel or I can talk to him. Your plan to rig his soulmate app results is so bizarre. I really can’t believe it has any chance at working,” Charlie counters.

“You just need to have faith, and I’m sure you can do it Charlie. Please don’t abandon me in my hour of need,” Dean begs his friend.

“Okay, okay enough with the guilt trip. You owe me after this Dean. But I’m not hacking Cas’s phone. We share a CompSci class. I’ll just ask him to beta test a soulmate clone app that will be loaded with a few random things you can try to be scared of,” Charlie explains.

“Thanks Charlie, you’re my hero,” Dean smiles enthusiastically.

“I’ll work on the app later, and text you after school,” Charlie tells Dean as she picks up her lunch tray and leaves the cafeteria. Dean floats to his next class with complete optimism that this plan will work.

~~ Later on, Charlie texts Dean ~~

Charlie: How is this for the list of your fears for the soulmate clone app?

Clowns

Cockroaches

Opening up to people

Germs

Demonic Possession

Cat jumping out of locker

Dean: Really “opening up to people?”

Charlie: Yeah, you can walk up to Castiel and tell him that you like him, and you were scared to tell him before. And then we can skip the rest of this bizarre plan.

Dean: Not happening.

Charlie: Okay, then back to our overly-complicated and sure-to-fail plan. How about this list?

Clowns

Cockroaches

Public speaking

Germs

Demonic Possession

Cat jumping out of locker

Dean: Okay this will work, and I have some awesome ideas how to pull them off. Cas is in a few of my classes, so I just need to do some prep and everything will run as smooth as a drive in the Impala.

Charlie: So what are you thinking?

Dean: my awesome plan:

When I see Cas at bus drop off area, Garth can help scare me with a clown mask

During our HomeEc class I'll put a cockroach in my pie batter to scare me

Presenting our projects in civics, I can do a mini panic attack or something

During gym maybe I can get someone to sneeze on me and then overreact

I have a charm from my Uncle Bobby that he said would ward off evil spirits according to lore. But since monsters aren't real I'm not sure how that one will work.

Who has cats at school? I don't think this one will work, can you take it off the list?

Charlie: Ok, so 4 is probably enough, but ig wear your evil charm just in case. And you have totally grossed me out with #2.

Dean: hey, the things we do for love right? I do feel bad for the pie batter tho.

***

Charlie makes her soulmate clone app, and she asks Castiel if he wouldn’t mind beta testing it during their Computer Science class. Castiel looks at Charlie with a fair amount of skepticism, but Charlie is his friend so he decides to indulge her request and installs the app. Charlie tells him a story about how she hit the original app with some machine learning algorithms to feed her clone app. So her soulmate app should be just as reliable as the original. Castiel figures they can just test that theory by opening the original app and seeing if the fears listed in both the original app and Charlie’s app match. Charlie sighs, and says that is very sensible, but she thinks her algorithms may have actually found flaws in the original app, so the results could be different because hers are more accurate.

"Really you think your app could be more accurate Charlie?” Castiel asks with a heavy amount of skepticism. “As in, there is actually a chance that a random generator on some server, is in fact not random but knows who we are destined to be in love with. I don't think soulmates are even something I believe in, do you believe in them?"

"Well, I never used too," Charlie replies thoughtfully. "But I have a friend, and he has been pretty unlucky in love. Maybe some people just keep striking out, because they really were meant to be with one particular soul. And until they finally end up with that person, they just have a lot of heartbreaks and casual flings. Seeing my friend struggle, is enough to make me think that sometimes, cupid can be a soulmate app. Or maybe I'm cupid in this metaphor and the soulmate app is my arrow, I'm not sure. But anyway, I guess what I mean is, romance doesn't only have to exist in romcoms. Sometimes we can let go of our fears, and believe in some greater force like destiny or soulmates or a very efficient machine learning algorithm will find us something we never knew we were missing, like the love of our lives."

"It sounds like your friend is lucky to have you," Castiel says.

"Yeah, he totally is," Charlie smirks.

"So what can I do with your soulmate app to help you and your friend's cause?" Castiel asks.

"Just look over my soulmate app results to see the kind of things that it lists as your soulmate’s fears, and I guess let me know at the end of the week if you found your soulmate, potential soulmate, or at least someone worth a date or two," Charlie says sheepishly.

Castiel checks the clone app results and laughs, "Okay, Charlie I'll keep you posted."

Charlie: Castiel has the app. Good luck! Dean: Awesome! Tyyyy!

Dean is not having good luck with these fears, and is beginning to think Charlie may have been right calling this plan too bizarre or complicated to succeed.

The first failure was the clown. Everything was going smoothly. Castiel was walking by him after leaving the bus drop off, and Garth jumped out with perfect timing wearing his creepy clown mask. But before Dean could say a word, Sam started screaming like a kid possessed. It was all Dean could do to calm his kid brother down and show him that it was just Garth playing a prank. Sam gave Dean and Garth the ultimate bitchface, and any hopes of that fear establishing his soulmate status with Castiel were gone.

Then there was the crisis with the cockroaches. For some reason, Garth was able to give him a cardboard box of several large cockroaches. And Dean was feeling pretty good about his chances of success, because Sammy wasn't there to scream bloody murder at the bugs. But when he went to get the cardboard box he found it empty. As the emptiness of that box registered in his brain, the shrieks from Meg and Jo's station gave him a good clue where the cockroaches were. Dean shook his head, and he looked over to see Castiel watching Meg and Jo take their rolling pins to squash the bugs. "Crap, now Cas is going to think Meg or Jo is his soulmate." Dean was definitely going to have to sell some panic for the Civics presentation.

But it seemed that fate was mad about Dean trying to rig the soulmate clone app results because the Civics presentation ended as the worst failure so far. Dean and his Civic project partners Anna and Kevin had taken their place at the front of the class. Dean checked out Castiel, who was seated in his desk and watching him and his partners attentively. Dean ran through in his head how he could nervously drop some things and sell the whole paranoia for public speaking. While Dean daydreamed a bit about Castiel's sexed up looking hair, he was snapped back to reality by the sound of vomiting coming from his left. He turned to see Kevin had upchucked all over Anna. Apparently Kevin was actually afraid of talking in front of people and that stress had affected his digestion. And it turned out that Anna was a bit of a germaphobe, because she seemed equal parts afraid of catching a disease and disgusted that her clothes were stained in barf.

Dean was faced to admit defeat, every fear meant to establish him as Castiel's soulmate had slipped through his fingers. And unless a demon suddenly appeared he was out of options.

Gym class was the last class he shared with Castiel. Dean was not going to bother to try to get sneezed on. Seeing Anna covered in upchuck was enough germs for one day. His gym teacher told the class to run laps around the building, and Dean began to run at a steady pace.

"Hello Dean," Castiel had run up alongside Dean and matched his speed so they could chat.

"Oh, hey," Dean turned to see Castiel had a slight smile and that was enough to encourage him to return with his own smile. Maybe Dean should try Charlie's original advice and just talk to Castiel. "How's it going Cas?"

"Pretty good. How's your brother? I think I saw him get upset on the way in to school today," Castiel says.

"Oh, he's okay," Dean grins sheepishly. "He is afraid of clowns, and I kind of had this prank idea with Garth. But since I can be a self-absorbed, older brother I didn't really think through how that would affect Sammy."

"Yeah, it seems like there has been plenty of weird stuff going on at school today between the clowns, cockroaches, and vomit," Castiel says cocking an eyebrow at Dean.

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I just wish I could hit a restart button, and start the day over without all the weird," Dean shakes his head.

"You know Charlie Bradbury right? If it was possible to program a restart button I would talk to her," Castiel replies. "We are in Computer Science together, and I think she knows more about the subject than our teacher."

"Oh yeah, I know Charlie. We have been best friends since kindergarten," Dean tells Castiel. "And I have no doubt that she is smarter than your Computer Science teacher."

"Do you mind me asking what that charm is on your necklace?" Castiel asks.

"Oh, just this thing from my uncle. Supposed to ward off evil things or bad spirits." Dean tells Castiel.

"I guess that would be a good thing to wear if you were afraid of demon possession," Castiel deadpans.

"Uh..." Dean finds himself at a loss for a response. Dean has the sneaking suspicion that Castiel has figured out everything about “beta testing” Charlie’s soulmate app. He considers changing course from circling the school, and instead running flat out the entire way back to his house. Maybe Charlie can get him an assumed identity.

Before Dean has a chance to flee, Castiel continues the conversation. “Do you have a cat in a locker somewhere?" He asks with interest.

"Of course not," Dean tries to hold back a laugh and fails. "Charlie was supposed to take that off the list. So I guess you found me out." Dean glances towards Castiel to get a read on his expression.

"Well, I did tell Charlie I'd give her app a chance," Castiel replies with a soft smile towards Dean. "Would you like to go on a date with me later? Maybe we can find out if we are soulmates or not."

"Yeah, Cas," Dean says with a dazzling smile. "I really would like that."

#suptober20 #destiel fic #spn au #spn #gum writes

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choupichoups · 5 years ago

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Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.14

Eliott may be all that; rich, handsome, instagram famous— but the basic plebe inside comes out to play when his crush follows him from out of nowhere.

Or: Press F but Eliott’s POV

Parting is such sweet sorrow has gained a whole new meaning as Eliott stands in front of Lucas, bouncing back and forth on his heels in a bid to stall some more before he truly has to go.

“You really don’t want me to stay with you until Yann comes back?” He finally pushes out the question, brows furrowing in concern despite the reassuring smile Lucas gives him.

“I’ll be fine, Eliott.” Lucas picks Champ up from the ground when she starts spinning around in place, looking about ready to lay down and have a nap right at their feet. “Go see your mom.”

"I mean... she’ll probably survive one day without eating my dad’s cooking.” he reasons, pouting when Lucas gives him an exasperated look.

“Bring your mom her rightful lunch, just like you told your dad you would. I don’t want there to be any reason for them to hate me.”

“That’s impossible, they already love you.”

Lucas pauses, bottom lip caught behind his teeth as he looks up at Eliott uncertainly. “Really?”

Eliott softens, sighing out a quiet, “Really.” His hands move on their own accord, brushing against the line of Lucas’ jaw. He can’t imagine how a single person in this universe could ever be capable of hating Lucas.

“Really, really?”

“Really, really.”

“Cool. You really, really have to go now, though.” Lucas laughs, nuzzling into Eliott’s hands like that would help his case.

“Okay, but if you need me for anything at all, you’ve gotta promise to tell me.” The grip he has on Lucas tightens just a little, firm enough to have his boyfriend tipping his head back to see the resolve in Eliott’s eyes. “I mean it. Anything.”

Lucas can honestly ask him to do his grocery shopping right here right now and Eliott would undoubtedly agree. Hell, if Lucas tells him that the windows rattling from the wind bothers him, he’d drop everything and run back to him. Eliott has no qualms about the lengths he’d go to protect Lucas, to keep him feeling safe.

Champ yips, gazing happily up at Eliott as a comfortable silence embraces them otherwise, the sight of Lucas’ precious smile warming the crystallizing fear creeping up on him. The mere prospect of leaving his boyfriend alone for hours until Yann gets back is frankly a no go in Eliott’s books but he understands that Lucas might need some space, and Eliott has his own responsibilities to uphold.

Fuck if it doesn’t scare him, though. The atrocious start to their weekend has really done a number on him.

“I promise,” Lucas whispers eventually, leaning up to kiss the beginnings of a frown off of Eliott’s lips.

Eliott watches him carefully, running a thumb over the shadowed smudge under Lucas’ eyes. He’d waited until Lucas fell asleep first before slipping into dream land himself, but Lucas had already been awake by the time Eliott next opens his eyes— and Eliott is an early riser. He forces himself not to dwell on it, he had been privy to an offhanded comment about Lucas’ complicated relationship with sleep before so maybe this morning is nothing out of the ordinary.

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” Stooping down for another kiss, Eliott lets this one linger a little longer, breathing in once they pull away and brushing a final kiss to Lucas’ forehead. He peels his hands off of him, squishing Champ’s tiny head in between his palms to make up for how his mind is screaming for him to hold on. “You’ll take care of him for me, right tough girl?” She licks his hands in enthusiastic answer.

Lucas snorts out a laugh. “You take care, don’t miss your stop or you’ll get back too late.”

“Yes, sir.” Eliott playfully salutes as he walks backwards, stopping just out of reach before he gestures towards Lucas’ still closed door. “Well? I’m not leaving until you’re inside.”

He’s expecting the eye roll that comes— it’s sweet and fond, familiar. The exact kind Eliott craves to soothe his fraying edges.

Lucas turns around once he’s inside, grinning at Eliott and blowing an exaggerated kiss in his direction. It’s so ridiculous that Eliott’s laugh is ripped right out of him, loud and startled, echoing in the empty hallways, nipping at the sound of Lucas’ door shutting with a heavy bang.

All alone, he finds himself despondent, kicking imaginary dirt off the floor as he trudges on with a pathetic pout. There’s no proper way to explain this feeling— they’ve literally almost managed to hole themselves up in Eliott’s apartment the entire weekend. It’s not like Eliott can help it, though, he did just get Lucas back and his needy little melodramatic heart misses his boyfriend for every minute they aren’t together.

He drags himself out of Lucas’ apartment building with visible difficulty, feet shuffling against the rough gravel below his feet all the way through his journey to the bus stop.

It’s going to take him quite a while to get to his mother’s office without a car. Usually, his father has no problem dropping by himself, but he’d answered a favour for an old coworker out in Lyon and will probably be stuck there until the next morning.

In a not so shocking turn of events, his mother forgets to take her ready packed lunch to work without his father being present to remind her of it. And obviously that’s an abomination, she can’t go without a homemade lunch Eliott, she’d get so hungry and her brain won’t be as sharp as usual, her work ethic would suffer because of it. Eliott had cut off his papa’s rambling with a groan and a reluctant agreement to bring the goddamn sandwich to its rightful owner just so the guy would stop worrying already. Hopeless romantic runs thick in the blood of the Demauries apparently.

adam.fk plans today??

idrisomd sleep

abebkhellal oof yeah

emir.yous buncha boring old men

omarions says you?? didn’t you spend fall break last year learning how to play chess lmao

emir. yous we don’t talk about that

idrisomd shut up emir not everyone is a free bird like you I was editing some stuff and I realized I need that dumb triangle still lol eliott can I borrow yours pls

emir.yous maybe if you don’t procrastinate you’d have more free time I thought you were keeping that triangle??

idrisomd maybe if you shut up you’d get more dates I had to sacrifice it for the greater good

Eliott laughs under his breath, contemplating whether he should add his two cents into the conversation. In the end, he keeps to himself for now, reading through the childish banter that inevitably starts up.

The triangle, huh. He’s glad the bus is mostly empty at present, else the giggling he can’t quite suppress would’ve probably worried some people. Fucking unbelievable, really. It’s ridiculous how it all started, now that he thinks about it. It feels like a lifetime has gone by since then.

Eliott still remembers it, vividly. That moment he set his eyes on Lucas. It’s the week before their new semester officially starts— a Thursday to be specific. He and his friends are scrambling around frantically attempting to maximize their remaining days of freedom to get ahead on his and Idris’ new film project.

“Props.”

“Props?”

“Yeah, we’re missing some props.”

Eliott struggles with the cardboard boxes he’s dragging behind him— they’re saving all the money they can by building the set for filming themselves. The rest of the guys get pulled into the fray, as always, so it’s a bit of a disaster when they’re all going around picking up stray cardboard and styrofoam just in case they need it for later.

“What’s the thing you were talking about earlier?” Abe snaps his fingers, trying to recall everything they need before leaving campus.

Idris jumps. “The triangle!”

“What do we need a triangle for?” Adam asks, fumbling with the styrofoam cups he’s balancing in one hand.

“For that one scene in the forest.”

“There’s a scene in the forest?” Omar pipes up from behind their circle, returning from the storage room where he’d gone to dig out some black garbage bags they can borrow.

“Well, it’s Emir’s backyard but whatever.” Eliott mutters, scratching things off of their checklist. “Can’t we just fake the triangle sounds?”

“Too much effort for a little scene. Don’t you have one at yours?”

“Yeah, but my place is out of the way, it’ll take too much time going there and then to Emir’s.” He shrugs, tapping the pen against his chin. “We can take the one from the theatre.”

Emir gives him a look. “We are not stealing the orchestra’s triangle.”

“Nobody will miss it,” Abe dismisses, already walking off to load their things in his car.

“What if someone tells the director it’s missing?”

“Emir, who would notice a missing triangle?” Idris raises his hands as he talks, incredulous at the question. “When you watch your classic live shows, do you hear anyone go oh, yes, the triangle was on point today? No you don’t, cause nobody gives a fuck about the goddamn triangle, man. Eliott, can you please grab us the triangle so we can get outta here?”

“If we get in trouble, I get plausible deniability,” Emir mumbles defiantly. Eliott snorts, patting Emir on the shoulder on his way out.

The theatre is only a short jog away from the parking lot so Eliott slips through the doors in no time, rooting around backstage for the instrument. He finds the little thing buried underneath a broken flute and a... tambourine?

Single piano notes echo along the walls without warning, and Eliott jumps from his crouch, heart beating fast from shock. He doesn’t run, though, because whoever is out there is obviously not going to spot him if they’re preoccupied with playing the piano.

He’s just about to leave again, grab his stolen goods and sneak his way back out, when the aimless piano notes begin to blend together with effortless flow, a sudden transition tickling his ears so pleasantly that Eliott can’t bring his feet to move along more than two steps at a time. Transfixed, he walks closer to the curtain, curious as to who would play such a beautiful melody so delicately.

Eliott has always wished life would be as easy as the films he's grown up watching— with twists and turns that cause crushing moments, yes, but with the comfort of a happy ending to cushion against the pain through it all. He’s always dreamt of something cliche to happen to him once in his life. Maybe he could win the lottery and live the rest of his life as a billionaire. Maybe he could meet someone so inspiring he’d gain the courage to pack up and explore the world with nothing but a boat and backpack. Maybe he could fall in love at first sight

The boy on the piano is turned sideways but Eliott can clearly see him from where he’s hidden behind the curtain. The smile on his face is plain adorable and the way he’s swinging his feet under the piano (he’s not even using the piano pedals and it still sounds so good) goes straight to Eliott’s heart.

His feet carry him forward, as if entranced, so helplessly drawn into the boy’s gravity—

“Stop,” the boy says, laughing. Eliott stops, startled. “You’re gonna ruin it, Yann,” his angel continues, head swinging to the side where another person who Eliott has apparently not seen is sitting.

The other guy, Yann, laughs too, picking up a violin. “No I swear, I can do it. I took classes once, remember?”

“Yeah, like ten years ago and you quit after two days.”

The two boys giggle at each other and the angel stops playing, attention fully on Yann. There’s a profound affection in the way they interact together, which makes glum little stones fall heavy against the bottom of Eliott’s stomach.

Jesus, he needs to calm down. He doesn’t even know the boy’s name yet.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Eliott’s glad he’s forgotten to put the ringer back on. He doesn’t know how he’d explain it if the two boys catch him skulking around backstage.

Eliott runs out of the theatre soon after, remembering how pressed for time he and the guys already are. He tries to put the thought of the boy behind him, making vague hand gestures in lieu of explaining what delayed his return when the guys question him.

He fails miserably.

The bus lurches and Eliott almost drops his phone, fingers grappling for a firm hold on the screen as it slips and slides from the abrupt movement. He still has the group chat with the guys open so the scrabble has him accidentally scrolling up, up, up around a month back.

When he looks down at the screen, he's taken right back to that delightful moment Lucas had unknowingly caused back then.

The doors open and close, one person exiting but a whole crowd entering right after. Eliott presses himself more comfortably into his back seat corner and settles a hand over his mouth, covering the widening grin stretching his lips as he reads through his own moronic words.

Good god, looking back on it now is hilarious, but Eliott will never forget the all consuming panic he’d felt at the time.

Eliott exits out of the chat, frantically scrolling down his barrage of notifications to stare reverently at the one that matters most.

lucallemant started following you

It’s almost two hours past midnight, with him having just finished up the sketch for the side project he’s working on by himself. He’s been looking forward to falling into bed ages ago but now he’s wide awake, brain swirling with jumbled thoughts and with no hope of falling asleep within the next second.

srodulv when should I? should I wait til later?

adam.fk maybe wait til its not 2 in the morning lmfao

srodulv what if I wait too long and he unfollows

abebkhellal god almighty 😂😂😂 sorry bro no one can help u now

srodulv help me

emir.yous why does it matter? just follow him now

idrisomd he’s probably sleeping so he won’t know you’re a nocturnal beast

srodulv he won’t think that’s lame?

omarions he’ll eventually figure out how lame you are so might as well run with it

srodulv fuck off

idrisomd yeah man you can’t hide lame

emir.yous sorry we can’t help with that

abebkhellal rip

srodulv has left the chat

A bunch of useless hooligans, those guys are. He needs better friends.

His phone pings with more notifications— Idris has added him back in the group chat but Eliott ignores the messages for now, knowing full well that there’d be nothing but more of them poking fun at his current dilemma.

He opens up Lucas’ profile, heart palpitating as his thumb hovers over the follow button. Looking at the boy’s feed brings him the same mix of apprehension and fondness, as always. The latter because he’s an idiot who apparently falls head over heels for snippy little piano players and the former because, well—

I’m sorry, bro. I saw something, I think they’re maybe together? I’m still not a hundred percent on it, though.

Eliott sighs, clicking on Lucas’ latest post, of that guy playing the guitar for him. He scoffs, he can play the guitar too. He can even do the Star Wars theme song. On the guitar and the piano. Lucas needs to see that he’s the better choice over here.

He lets his screen go dark, closing his eyes as he urges himself to relax. It is quite an ungodly hour to be awake so he drops his phone on the bed, turns over, and hopes that morning comes with a newfound game plan to get the love of his life to love him back.

The good news is that morning does come, but the bad news is that all the plans he comes up with throughout the day are steaming piles of shit.

“I think I’m in love,” he blurts out, sitting in the basement of Emir’s house. Idris is standing on the couch, trying to cover the ceiling spotlights with printer paper so as to ‘dull’ its luminosity. Adam and Omar are struggling to hold up some desk lamps while Abe holds coloured file folders over the bulb, changing the colour of the lights for the correct ‘ambiance’. Emir is elbow deep in crushed styrofoam pieces.

They all exchange looks of confusion before Abe goes for a hesitant, “Uh... just now?”

Eliott scowls, waving a hand as if they’re so stupid to be unable to read his mind. He gestures to his phone, still open to Lucas’ Instagram page.

"Oh yeah! Any progress on that front?” Idris hops down, eyes glued to the ceiling as he backs up, slowly as if one wrong move could shake the house so much that his pieces of paper would dislodge themselves.

“No.” Eliott pouts, flailing his legs in unashamed frustration.

“Okay, well, have you followed back?” Adam asks, twining some rope around the lamp once they’ve figured out the best angle to go with.

“No. Shit,” Eliott hisses, sitting upright and immediately hitting the follow button. He’s been so focused on figuring out how to start a conversation with his angel that he’s neglected to think of much else.

One of them sighs, but Eliott doesn’t bother to look up at the sound of it.

“So what are you gonna do next?” Emir abandons his crumbly work of art, now sitting cross legged across from Eliott.

“He’s vague posting.” Idris grins, scrolling through his phone. “Ooh, Polaris. When did you even sneak off to take this? That caption though. Much mystery, so cool.”

“Shut up, it’s an old picture.” Eliott throws a couch cushion at him, then proceeds to slide onto the floor, diving flat on his stomach closer to the guys, as he comes up with the most brilliant idea. “What if I’m not?”

“Huh?” Abe goes to sit on the floor as well.

“What if I’m not cool or mysterious? Would that get him to talk to me?” Eliott’s thumbs are working on overdrive before the words are fully out of his mouth, scrolling down each and every one of Lucas’ photos and hitting like on as many of them as he can manage.

He looks up just it time to see the dawning realization on Abe’s face. “No!” he screams in horror, reaching out to snatch the phone from Eliott’s hands. “No, you— oh man, you guys, he did a weird thing.”

“It’s not weird,” Eliott dismisses, trying to retrieve his phone back but every attempt is slapped away by the annoying people he unfortunately calls friends. “It’s called reaching out.”

Idris is cackling, bent over in half as Abe shakes his head in wonder. “That’s kinda genius, though? How very Eliott of you,” Idris gasps out once he’s done wheezing up a lung.

“He’s getting the Eliott experience way too early in the relationship.” Omar mumbles, curiously going through the rest of Lucas’ older posts. “Aw, cute.”

Eliott scrambles towards them, wanting to see which post Omar’s referring to despite the fact that he’s seen every single photo twice over.

His hand slowly creeps up above the phone and double taps on the post.

“Oh my god, someone restrain him.” Adam says, dragging a hand down his face. He sounds like he’s trying his hardest not to laugh which is more than what he can say for the rest of them so Eliott appreciates his effort.

“Come on, Eli monkey, time to break off from Insta for a bit, hm?” Idris walks forward, still chuckling as he tries to pull Eliott off the ground and away from his stolen phone.

Eliott wraps his arms around Idris’ ankles, almost making the latter fall on his face in the process. “But he’s so beautiful.”

“Yes, yes.”

“His eyelashes are the 8th wonder of the world.”

There’s a collective groan from everyone in the room and then Eliott feels a placating hand patting the top of his bowed head. “Yes, we get it. But you gotta get up now, lover boy. We‘ve got shit to film.”

By the time his stop comes up, Eliott has to squeeze himself past a godawful amount of passengers. He gets it’s break week for a lot of the students but considering it’s a Monday afternoon, Eliott is of the opinion that there really shouldn’t be this many people out and about.

His mother’s office is a towering structure of reflective glass and one way windows. Eliott pushes at the revolving doors, nods a smile towards the reception desk, and settles into one of the many armchairs in the lounge area. He shoots a message for his mama to come meet him downstairs and doesn’t wait for a response before switching tabs to pull up the film he’s been wanting to see all day. Initially, he’s planned on seeing it with Lucas, knowing that it’s just the right amount of lengthy and boring (for his boyfriend’s taste) to have Lucas cuddling for a nap on his shoulder instead.

But alas, his plans are impeded by none other than his loving parents. Again. He still hasn’t quite forgiven them for poking fun at him being grumpy at brunch after that first night he’d spent with Lucas.

About ten minutes in, someone walks towards him and sits directly across from Eliott’s armchair, never mind that the entire lounge area is devoid of any other person than the two of them.

Eliott doesn’t pay it much mind, unmuting his phone speakers just loud enough for him to hear the background music coming from the film— he wants to record the sound and see if that kind of music score would work well for the mini project he’s planning to put up in the future.

The stranger lets out a faint chuckle but Eliott ignores him, watching the minutes rise on the recording to make sure that he doesn’t miss a single note. Never let it be said that Eliott doesn’t take his films seriously.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Violence is never at the forefront of Eliott’s mind. In fact, he thinks it doesn’t solve much, and should be considered as the last resort. But as life would have it, there are always a few exceptions to the rule and unfortunately for his good mood, the sole exception he’s found in his twenty one years of existence has decided that today is the day that Eliott will commit murder.

Eliott’s eyes flick to where Raphael relaxes back in his seat, legs crossed and fingers delicately twined in his lap— to any outside viewer, he truly looks the perfect representation of an educated, well-bred gentleman. Eliott sees why people are drawn him.

“Fancy isn’t the right word,” he says, just as casual. He pauses the film, music cutting off just in time for him to hear another one of Raphael’s grating chuckles. “Why are you here?” The answer is obvious; pressed slacks and dark suit a dead give away. He remembers Lucas mentioning that Raphael works in a law firm but Eliott needs to hear it, to make sure that fate has really handed this opportunity over on a silver platter.

Raphael spreads his arms. “I work here,” he answers, smug. “What about you? Someone trying to pin murder on you?”

Funny how he’s asking that, but Eliott doesn’t answer his question. “New York too much for you, huh.”

Eliott watches the minute narrowing of Raphael’s eyes, taking pleasure in the fact that the guy hasn’t expected Lucas to divulge their story in such detail.

“New York was great, actually, they offered me a spot there as well but eh, I need to think about it.” Raphael leans forward, elbows on knees as he brings one hand up to rub across his lips, faux thoughtful. “I left a little something behind here.” He looks at Eliott, then, and the latter sees the fabricated warmth in his eyes freeze over, ice cold in barely restrained anger. “I want it back.”

Don’t mess this up, Eliott reminds himself, fists clenching and unclenching as he reigns in his temper. How he’d love to feel the crunch of Raphael’s nose under his fists right now, but it’s not that kind of battle. Eliott only has one shot to play his cards right.

“Cut the bullshit,” he responds, surprisingly calm. “Lucas isn’t yours to take back.”

Raphael laughs. “Why, he’s yours now?”

Yes. “Neither. I’d appreciate it if you stop talking like he’s something to pass around.”

“How chivalrous of you.”

“I’m surprised you know what that means.” Eliott wants to say more, but he grits them back. There are more important things for him to needle out. “What with all the shit you put him through.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Raphael falls back into the cushions once more, infuriatingly unaffected.

“Do you want an essay or a list?”

“So quick to believe everything you’re told, are you? Did he cry and look at you with those big blue eyes? He does that all the time to get what he wants.” There’s a strain at the corners of Raphael’s eyes, nonchalant facade slipping down the longer Eliott stares on without a word. “You know there’s no evidence for any of these, right?”

The quick dismissal of Lucas’ personal recounting almost does it for Eliott. But if Raphael is a master of manipulation then Eliott is of restraint— he won’t let Raphael win. “Yeah? You gonna tell that to the marks on his wrists?”

Raphael scoffs, “That was an accident. Friday was a big misunderstanding, trust me. It’s called tough love, he likes it.” He smiles, obviously waiting for a reaction from Eliott but the latter maintains an impassive exterior.

“It’s called assault.” He barely refrains from tagging on a spiteful fuckface at the end of that.

“Whoa there, that’s some heavy accusation you’re dropping!” Raphael laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Do you know who I am?”

“A sad excuse of a man who takes advantage of vulnerable minors?”

Raphael clicks his tongue. “You think you’re so perfect, huh?”

“Far from it.” Eliott shrugs. “But I don’t hurt the people I’m supposed to love.”

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest.” Sarcasm drips from Raphael’s words. “You think if we both stand here, right in front of Lucas, and make him choose.” He leans forward, a desperate glint in his eyes. “You’re positive he’d choose you? Cause let me tell you, Eliott, that boy is wired for my touch, for my voice, for my own to do as I please, and he will choose me no matter how much I hurt him. He will always come back to me and you can’t do shit about it.”

Victory feels good when taken by a landslide. Eliott grins, and he sees confusion, frustration, and wariness warp Raphael’s carefully constructed expression into that of something… human. Human, unlike the impenetrable monster Lucas has painted inside his head. Human, who, despite the cunning and intelligence, very much fucks up like everyone else. And oh, has Raphael fucked up big time.

“My turn,” Eliott says cheerfully, just to mess with the bastard even more. “Do you know who I am?” Slowly, so as to make sure that Raphael catches the movement, Eliott stops the recording on his phone.

Raphael shoots up from his seat, panic dousing his face red all over before seething rage takes prominence. He hisses out a quiet, “Get rid of that, right fucking now. You don’t want to mess with me.”

Eliott stands, huffing out a small laugh as he notices that they’re of equal height. None of Raphael’s tactics has worked, or will ever work on him. “Nah, it’s the other way around.”

“Eliott?”

Georgine Eloise Demaury, part time managing partner of the law firm, part time vicious criminal prosecutor, and full time doting mother, makes a tall, intimidating figure in her navy suit and sky high heels. Her eyes are steel blue as they land on Eliott and Raphael alternatively. The red on her lips is a sharp scowl, striking against the paleness of her skin.

Eliott presses his lips together, amused at the sight of what he fondly refers to as her working bitch face. She’s forbidden Eliott from visiting her at work too often just because he’s the only one capable of cracking her diabolical attorney persona. He keeps quiet, shrugging innocently when she raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Hi, mama.”

He hears Raphael’s sharp intake of breath and fuck, that feels good.

Her lips twitch the slightest bit. “You two know each other?”

“Just having a friendly chat,” Eliott says, looking over at Raphael with a tight smile. He relishes the startled loss he sees there.

“I’m waiting on a call from Mr. Schutt,” Raphael says, rearranging his face, posture straightening under Georgine’s gaze.

“And you?” She addresses Eliott this time.

“I brought lunch?” Eliott gestures at his bag on the chair. “Papa got worried you’d starve when you told him you forgot it.”

She rolls her eyes at her husband’s dramatics. “You didn’t have to come here.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to papa. You’re gonna have to eat it now, I ditched my boyfriend for this.”

“Ah, how’s Lucas? Come up to my office, you didn’t finish telling me how he’s doing last night,” she says, rigid frown compensating for the soft tone in her voice. Across from Eliott, Raphael flinches at the mention of Lucas’ name. “I need to grab something from IT and then I’ll be right there.”

“Will do.” Eliott smiles, throwing his backpack over one shoulder when his mother walks away. He waits until the click clacking of her heels fade off completely before he turns to face Raphael. “So anyway, I suggest you think very hard about that offer in New York.”

“You’re insane,” Raphael mutters behind clenched jaws.

Years ago, that might have stung. Coming from someone else, it might still hurt. But as it is, Eliott revels in it. “You have no idea,” he says, raising his hand for the most condescending pat on the back he’s ever delivered before heading off to the elevators.

Eliott ends up taking a long nap on his mother’s office couch, tired from interacting with Raphael and his stupid mind games. Sure, he’d come out on top of that one but lengthy confrontations are most definitely not Eliott’s cup of tea. He thinks if Raphael still has the audacity to show his face after that, Eliott will let loose of inhibitions and just start a proper fist fight.

Recording their conversation had been a gut reaction— he’s not even sure it would help much if push comes to shove. But his mother has quite the terrifying track record and judging from Raphael’s reaction, he knows that too. He almost wishes for Raphael to do something stupid, to trip up the wire on Eliott’s half baked, convoluted plan to take him down permanently. The idea of delving into it scares him a little. He knows shit all about the justice system and Raphael is literally part of the goddamn system.

Lucas wants to leave it to karma, and maybe he’s right.

But then Eliott remembers the tears streaming nonstop down Lucas’ face, the blank disconnect in his eyes throughout that night. His worn voice begging for Eliott not to let go. The hours spent in bed coaxing for an unresponsive Lucas to sleep just a little, I’m right here. The events of that night have taken permanent residence in his mind, painfully unwanted, but there to stay.

lucallemant Eliott, I know I said I’d give you all the time you need And I mean it, you can have more right after this But please, can you pick me up at work? I need you please Please

Call him dramatic all you want, but Eliott’s world comes apart when he reads Lucas’ pleading messages. His vision narrows, the path a blurred vignette, and time slows as if he’s thrown into the fucking matrix. Except there’s nothing exciting or amusing with this development, and his limbs work through honey as he turns and grabs a jacket, shoves his feet into mismatched shoes, and makes a run for it.

It’s not the messages itself that cost him his breath— though those do have him worried out of his mind, unable to even begin guessing as to what would scare Lucas enough to send them. It’s the timestamps that have his heart rattling with unease. The faint chanting of too late too late too late a mournful echo in his head.

He pays no mind to it when he begins panting, head pounding as the freezing wind bites at him with heavy force, unbothered that he hasn’t eaten much for the past however long. He’s not going to stop until he reaches his destination.

However, when he gets there, the cafe is dark and empty. You’re too late, the voice is screaming now. Eliott tells it to shut up, paces the area for a bit, and then checks inside the darkened alleyways. It’s empty. He walks the opposite direction, headed towards the parking lot— and there, that’s when he hears the hushed voice speaking.

Eliott swivels around, rushes towards the sound, and doesn’t allow himself to hesitate on the idea that it’s not Lucas trapped in between the wall and that man’s body.

“Get the fuck off of him.” When he’s close enough, he shoves them apart, fighting against the urge to take Lucas in his arms right away. He has to get rid of the man first. The visceral clutch of anger simmers inside of him, a heat of gargantuan proportions boiling his blood. Eliott imagines this is what one would feel like just before committing a heinous crime.

His interaction with the stranger barely sticks to Eliott’s mind, more focused on the way Lucas presses close to his back. His hands shake with barely constrained fury but he doesn’t move, afraid Lucas will fall if Eliott isn’t there to hold him up. “You can fuck right off or I swear to god.”

The man raises his hands, chuckles ringing malicious as he shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Eliott doesn’t care for his cryptic bullshit. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

His smile is visible in the dark and Eliott’s been around enough of those with questionable morals to pinpoint the lack of kindness in it. “Fine.” He tilts his head as if to catch a final glimpse of Lucas but Eliott tucks Lucas in tight behind him— this guy doesn’t deserve to even look at him.

When the sound of a car engine fades out, Eliott turns around, engulfing Lucas as best as he can, hoping that his embrace would provide a temporary shelter from it all. He knows it’s impossible, knows he can’t do much on his end other than watch with powerless clarity as painful sobs wrack the small body in his arms. He repeats a litany of apologies into Lucas’ hair. “I have you, I have you.”

Their walk home is silence in its strangest form. Eliott realizes there’s something wrong, he can feel it at the tips of his fingers but he puts it down to Lucas gathering his thoughts and lets him be.

“Lucas,” he says as the apartment comes into view. “I know we haven’t… I don’t… listen, can I stay with you for the night? I’ll sleep on the couch, anything, I just want to be there.”

Silence.

Eliott bites his cheek, fidgeting nervously when Lucas continues to not say anything. He chances a glance at the boy beside him and sees him looking straight ahead, expression blank as if nothing’s been said.

“Thanks,” is all Lucas says once they reach the steps to the building, failing to acknowledge Eliott’s request.

“Lucas, wait!”

Unheard, just like the last time.

There’s something really, really wrong.

Eliott picks at his head, staring up at what he knows to be the window to Lucas’ apartment. He tells himself he’ll only wait until the lights flicker on, but seconds turn to minutes and the window remains dark. Chest tightening, Eliott changes his mind. He’ll wait until someone goes in or exits the building, will plant himself outside of Lucas’ door— he doesn’t care if Lucas or Yann don’t want to see his face right now, all he wants is to make sure that Lucas stays safe for the rest of the night.

Except the next person to exit the doors is Lucas himself, Champ cradled in his arms.

“Why are you not inside?” Eliott is familiar with the feeling of helplessness but it always pertains to his own mind, his own body. He’s rarely ever so taken off guard that he doesn’t know how to make it better for someone else. And yet here he stands, frozen with panic, speechless in the face of the one he loves most.

Yann isn’t home, Lucas is hard-pressed on buying extra locks for their door, and there’s no way Eliott is letting him back inside the apartment all alone.

“Lucas,” Eliott reaches out, wants nothing more than to cradle Lucas’ face in between his hands, but he’s afraid of what touching him would do. “Come back to me.” It sounds unsteady even to his own ears and maybe Eliott’s having a little trouble breathing, but he’s more desperate for Lucas to meet his eyes than worry about his next inhale.

Lucas doesn’t. Come back to Eliott, that is.

The entire walk up to his apartment, and then the walk back to Eliott’s are both filled with a strained distance that has nothing to do with physical proximity. Eliott’s no longer surprised when Lucas doesn’t answer any of his questions but he keeps firing off either way, hoping against all odds that something would click. But it doesn’t work that way, he knows. He, of all people, should know better.

He tries again once they’re inside the safety of Eliott’s home. “Lucas, are you with me?” Eliott asks and he’s not. He’s not.

Running out of options, Eliott’s hand hovers over his mom’s contact info, his dad’s, Idris’, Lucille’s— he just wants someone to tell him what to do.

In the end he doesn’t get to call anyone, as a loud thud comes from the bathroom where he’d left Lucas and Eliott trips over himself in his rush, crashing into the kitchen counter, banging his arms against the potted plant hanging in the living room.

But the pain from those clumsy little accidents is nothing compared to the sight of Lucas crying on the floor, blue eyes running red from the force of his tears. “Lucas?”

“Eliott.” His voice is so quiet, so broken that it takes Eliott down to his knees, colliding harshly against the tiled floors as he brings Lucas into the circle of his arms. Tears gather in the corners of Eliott’s eyes but he knows for certain that they’re not from the sting of his fall.

“Don’t let me go back,” Lucas pleads, breath caught between one word and the other.

“You’re never going back,” Eliott swears on his life.

Lucas quiets down after what feels like hours upon hours of tears and stuttering breaths. Eliott knows he isn’t asleep, though— his wet lashes brush softly against the skin of Eliott’s neck for every blink. Left without much option, Eliott detangles their legs and carefully lifts Lucas into his arms, a mustard seed of hope swelling in his chest when Lucas twitches at the movement. There’s a pause as Eliott waits for the boy to protest, grumble for Eliott to put him down, he can walk on his own.

It doesn’t come, so Eliott goes to tuck him into bed, receives no protest when he quietly dresses Lucas in the clothes he’s brought out. Lucas’ eyes remain downcast the entire time, immovable no matter how many times Eliott brushes a hand through his hair, wipes at the tear tracks smeared on his cheeks.

Lucas doesn’t sleep until well past two in the morning. Eliott doesn’t sleep at all.

“You okay, honey?”

His mama looks like a whole different person in private, Eliott’s always marvelled at her ability to switch off just like that. Her eyes are all clear skies and motherly affection, no trace of the savage G.E Demaury to be found as her hands card gently through his hair.

He wants to tell her so badly, but this is Lucas’ story to share. Involving his parents to ask for help with anything is a foreign concept to Lucas and would make this a bit more complicated, yes, so Eliott will just have to wear patience like it’s going out of style.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, still groggy from his nap.

“Do you wanna wait for me to finish up here and I can drive you back?”

“Uh…” Eliott rubs his eyes, forcing his brain to catch up with his mama’s words. He checks his phone before answering, blinking while his eyes adjust to the brightness of his screen.

lucallemant Do you wanna come over for tonight? I know we were just together but It’s fine if you’re gonna be back too late though

He thinks he’s actually physically melting just from reading those. “It’s okay, I have to get going now.”

srodulv If I didn’t fall asleep I’d be begging you to come over anyway

lucallemant You were asleep at your mom’s work??

srodulv 😂 See you soon ♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ☹️ ♥️

lucallemant ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️ ♥️

srodulv 😊 ♥️

He stops to get some take out on the way, knowing Yann will be there and would most likely not be so chummy with Eliott after the whole thing from the past few weeks. He figures he can extend a truce through food— the way to a man’s heart and all.

When he knocks on Lucas’ door, he hears a couple of thuds, some rapid, illegible whispering, and then the door finally opens only for Lucas to catapult himself into Eliott’s arms. The door slams shut behind him and Eliott might just be seeing things but he’s pretty sure that’s a glimpse of Yann’s unimpressed form standing on the other side of the door.

“Hi,” Lucas breathes out, one arm slung around Eliott’s neck while the other is bent awkwardly behind him, holding onto the wriggling doorknob as if to keep a ravenous beast from escaping.

Uh oh.

“Hi,” Eliott greets back. “On a scale of Champ to Jurassic Park, how scared should I be of Yann right now?”

Lucas bites his lip and Eliott can’t help it— he kisses him before Lucas can respond. He means for it to be a chaste touch, but Lucas lets go of the knob (thankfully no longer rattling) and throws both arms around Eliott, pressing closer and opening his lips to deepen the kiss. Eliott lets himself indulge in it but is quickly brought back to reality when he tries to wrap both arms around Lucas only for the take out bag to hit Lucas’ ass with a dull thunk.

“Ow, what the fuck.” Lucas pulls away, spinning on the spot as he looks for the offender.

“Sorry,” Eliott laughs, lifting the bag. “I bought food. Peace offering.”

“Oh my god, you’re so smart,” Lucas says, sounding genuinely pleased. “I apologize in advance though, he thinks he’s my dad sometimes.”

“Damn right!” Yann shouts from behind the door.

“Jesus.” Lucas mutters under his breath. “You ready?”

Eliott nods, rehearsing the quick speech he’d made up in his head during the ride back to Lucas’ place. All that preparation’s for nothing, however, when all Yann does is look at him when the door finally opens. He looks at Eliott like he’d done weeks ago, when Eliott had taken Lucas home after the encounter with his father, unspoken understanding passing between the two of them as easy as that.

I technically have no right to be mad but I am, Yann’s usually kind eyes are hardened earth. There’ll be hell to pay if you pull that shit again, the look in them all but screams mistrust.

Eliott nods, hoping Yann also understands his most sincere but wordless response— never again.

The stare off probably only lasts a few seconds but to Eliott, it feels like an eternity before Yann’s eyes start to squint, one hand reaching for the take out bag that Eliott has stuck in the space between the two of them. Slowly, Yann takes a hold of it, snatches the bag from Eliott’s grip, and sniffs into it. He’s still squinting at Eliott as he walks backwards to take the food inside the kitchen.

“Okay, weird but blessedly silent. I’ll take it,” Lucas huffs, taking Eliott’s hand and dragging him past the living room and into the little hallway. Belatedly, Eliott realizes that they’re headed straight for the bedroom, Lucas marching them towards the door like a man on a mission.

“Don’t you wanna eat?” Eliott asks, pulling back to slow Lucas down. “I bought that for you too.”

“Later, I just,” Lucas pauses, his door already wide open once they reach it. “I have to ask you something.”

Well that doesn’t sound foreboding at all. Eliott clears his throat. “Okay.”

They arrange themselves on the foot of the bed, legs crossed and facing each other. When Lucas starts fidgeting, Eliott reaches over to intertwine their fingers together.

“I know we joked about it before… or more like just yesterday actually… but uh,” Lucas starts, looking around the room to avoid meeting Eliott’s eyes head on. “So Marie’s home now and I’m taking Champ back to her on Thursday.”

“Okay,” Eliott says, smiling when Lucas discreetly looks at him from the corner of his eyes.

“Okay, um.” Lucas takes a deep breath and spills the rest out on a long exhale. “My mom will be there too and I was wondering if you’d like to come?” He’s wincing by the time the question ends and Eliott, endeared, can only stare. “Maybe? You don’t have to. I understand if it’s too early or whatever—”

Eliott brings their tangled hands up to his lips and rains down kisses to the back of Lucas’ palms until he shuts up.

“I’ll come,” he says, and then after a short silence continues with, “I’d love to.”

Lucas’ relief is palpable.

“Okay. That’s… that’s good.”

“You’re cute when you’re all nervous like this,” Eliott teases, wanting to see Lucas’ smile. Sure, it’s only been a couple of minutes since he’s last seen it but Eliott’s one greedy motherfucker when comes to Lucas.

“What?” The corner of Lucas’ lips tilts up, but it’s not quite the smile Eliott’s looking for.

“You’re all nice and cute when you’re nervous. No room for snarking or swearing at me.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, it was good while it lasted.”

“Shut up!” Lucas laughs, kicking at Eliott’s knee.

“Oh you’re kicking me now too, my god, such violence from a tiny human.”

“You’re so dumb.” Lucas pushes at his shoulder and Eliott goes down easily, but not before winding an arm around Lucas so that his boyfriend falls on top of him in their descent. “Such an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” Eliott retorts as cheesily as can be, grinning when Lucas laughs again, eyes scrunched and mouth open.

“God, do you ever shut up?”

“Yeah, there’s one way to shut me up.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re really good at it.”

Lucas leans down and Eliott feels the smile on his lips. The kisses start off as innocent pecks, short and dry, until Lucas brushes their noses together and teases the tip of his tongue in between Eliott’s slightly parted lips.

Eliott surges up then, locking their lips together as he moves, sitting upright with his arms still secured around Lucas. His boyfriend goes along with it, easily shuffling around so that he’s sat comfortably on Eliott’s lap, hands slightly cold against the back of Eliott’s neck, but the latter doesn’t mind— Lucas’ mouth is scorching enough to make up for it.

His jacket gets tossed to the floor at some point and his hands wander inside Lucas’ hoodie, searching for the warmth of his skin under, encouraged by the way Lucas tightens his arms around Eliott’s shoulders when he runs a hand from the nape of Lucas’ neck down to the dip low on his back. The intensity reminds him of their first time— only slightly, because Eliott doesn’t think anything could come close to that night. But he recalls the warm weight of Lucas on his lap, against the wall, over him, under him. Recalls the way he’d jokingly asked Lucas how many fingers he’s holding up. How Lucas had very non jokingly slipped the two fingers in his mouth and licked around them until Eliott lost his mind.

The memory of it has heat rushing up and down Eliott’s body in frantic jolts, melting away his higher functions until he finally flips them over, gently laying Lucas down below him just like he’s always done. His fingers lightly dance along the line of Lucas' jeans and the latter lets him, Lucas’ hands exploring the wide expanse of Eliott’s back under his shirt.

And that’s something new— not Lucas touching him no, but rather the confidence he exudes in bed. Eliott doesn’t think he’d ever forget the shakiness of Lucas’ breath, the furious drumming of his pulse, the flinches he’s tried so hard to cover up. Eliott’s noticed every single one of them, often pausing to suggest for them to stop only for Lucas to hold him by the sides of his face and mutter a determined, keep going.

Back then he couldn’t figure out if there’s a story behind it, or if Lucas is only nervous about being intimate with someone else. Now that he knows, can extrapolate the details from what Lucas has told him so far, Eliott’s heart is close to bursting with the realization of how much trust Lucas has placed in his hands that very first time. Of how much trust he continues to have in Eliott despite all that’s happened.

I love you, his touch speaks, lingering and light over the smooth skin of Lucas’ waist.

I love you, his eyes repeat, insistent, hopeless, as they meet Lucas’ wide, adoring gaze.

I love you, his mouth whispers, soundless against the brush of Lucas’ lips, plush softness falling open under the gentle touch of Eliott’s tongue.

I love you, he wants to say, out loud, with all his anxious, fragile heart but what comes out instead is a nearly inaudible, “You’re so beautiful.”

Maybe someday, he’ll be able to speak as it is. Someday, he’ll work up the courage to stop hiding behind soft touches and pretty words. But as Eliott opens his eyes on a slow blink, he looks down at Lucas and catches the most tender of smiles directed up at him. Maybe words aren’t needed right now. For Lucas, in this moment, maybe Eliott is enough.

“No, you,” Lucas retorts childishly, arching up to press a giggle into Eliott’s amused smile.

“This is a losing battle, baby.” Eliott nuzzles his cheeks, nose instinctively wrinkling when Lucas kisses the tip of it. The sweltering heat has cooled between them, replaced by a softer kind of warmth.

“Yeah, your losing battle,” Lucas says, trying to shift from under Eliott’s weight. “Baby,” he adds in a whisper, smile cheeky when Eliott’s head snaps up to look at him. He sputters, unfairly flustered at hearing Lucas use that pet name, any pet name in fact, for the first time—

“Are you being a brat?” Eliott tries to keep his voice stern, but he’s pretty sure his eyes give it away as Lucas dissolves into helpless giggles. “Are you being a brat?” he repeats a little louder, hands splayed widely over Lucas’ sides, curling up where his boyfriend is most ticklish.

“No!” But it’s too late, Eliott’s already found his weakest spots and proceeds with the attack, relentless despite Lucas’ half formed begging in between his laughter. “Eliott, no! Wait!” he squeaks, turning red when one of Eliott’s hands slide up to tickle at his neck.

Eliott only stops when Lucas, breathless and teary-eyed, pouts pitifully up at him. Honestly, what human being with a heart could resist that? So he leans down and brings the jut of Lucas’ bottom lip in between his teeth, waiting until his boyfriend opens his mouth on a groan before diving in for a kiss. Lucas’ hands immediately tangle themselves into Eliott’s hair, legs pulling up to wrap around him as if Eliott has any batshit plans of leaving the bed any time soon. Eliott’s shirt is halfway off his back when Lucas’ door creaks open.

They barely let up, both expecting to see Yann coming to interrupt them for whatever reason but the entry way is empty.

“What—”

Soft, fast-paced panting is their answer and Eliott’s completely unprepared for when Lucas shoves him off the bed with all his might— Eliott hangs onto the sheets to keep from cracking his head open.

“Oh shit, sorry!” Lucas shouts, dragging Eliott back up to the center of the bed. “I just— Champ’s just a baby, she can’t see that!”

Eliott doesn’t know whether to agree or laugh. He figures responding with a deadpan she’s just a dog won’t go over too well with Lucas so he keeps that thought to himself. With a sigh, Eliott smooths down his shirt and walks over to where Champ is still panting happily up at them.

“Are you happy now?” He asks the dog, crouching closer to her level and tapping her tiny nose with a finger. He carries her in his arms on his way out to the living room, turning back to see Lucas attempting to fix his hair as if Yann doesn’t already know what they’ve been up to, alone in the room for at least half an hour. “Come on, baby, let’s keep Yann company before he decides to take back my rights.”

#skam france #elu fic #elu insta au #fictag #there are about 20 variations of this chapter #lays down #chapter warning: ch11 flashback #the eliott pov i've been hiding

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symphonic--chaos · 5 years ago

Text

Someday Stars

Chapter 1/? Malec (Shadowhunters AU) Summary: Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane are both YouTube musicians who dream of making it big some day. When Simon Lewis and his band, Rock Solid Panda, go on tour and ask them to open for him, they both realize this could be their window to something greater.

Also here on AO3

Alec rushed around his apartment, creating a tornado's path with every step as his hands grabbed clothes as fast as they could. He knew he should have folded them after getting home from the laundromat last night. The email from Simon Lewis's management team still sat open on his laptop, which had been thrown unceremoniously to the end of his bed, the words still sitting on the screen: We will be back in New York City tonight and we would love to invite you to join our tour.If you will join us, you will be opening after Magnus Bane, and followed by Simon and the band. We will provide the bus, Simon does have room on his own. Please bring any merchandise you would like to sell. [Text from Izzy] OMG OMG OMG ARE YOU SERIOUS??????? YES, DO IT DO IT DO IT [Text from Izzy] while you're at it, get me some free tickets [Text from Mom] Oh, I'm so proud of you Alec! The book store and myself will be fine. Isabelle can help me. Go! I'm sure you'll make more money on the tour than here, anyway. We need to empty out your web store and send you with merch! [Text from Izzy] waIT I JUST SAW MAGNUS BANE IS THERE???!!!! TICKETS, BROTHER, YOU THREE ARE MY DREAM TOUR. [Text from Mom] Isabelle is screaming, I can hear her from downstairs. With each vibration Alec felt his anxiety grow, his hands shaking as he shoved the last thing he needed into the second suitcase. His eyes scanned over each text as he struggled to hold his phone, the smile growing on his face with each text they read. They lingered on the name Magnus Bane as he read Izzy's texts, he knew the name but he wasn't sure if he'd actually sat and listened to him. Both of them were musicians on YouTube aspiring to be as big as Simon had gotten, though according to Izzy, Magnus had just a slightly bigger following than Alec now because of the tour. Taking in a deep breath, Alec tilted his head back and closed his eyes, trying to focus himself on relaxing- he still had six hours until the tour reached New York City from their first shows in Boston and Hartford the previous nights.

"Alexa, start YouTube."

Alec said to the TV, releasing the button on the firestick as he moved into the kitchen. The cardboard of the pizza box he'd retrieved from within the fridge gave a dull thud as it was tossed onto the counter and a slice of cheese was taken out. "Magnus Bane," he said around a full mouth once he'd selected the search option, leaning against the counter as he watched the TV begin pulling up the search results. A few clicks had him on the fellow singers profile, his eyes scanning over the short bio on the About page. **NOW TOURING WITH ROCK SOLID PANDA** Singer/Pianist/Loverboy Web Shop Insta Twitter

Moving onto the main tab, Alec scrolled through, some of the highlighted ones being of Magnus sitting in a room decked out like a studio, or being in an actual studio. One or two was of him and a girl with a bright smile and dark eyes, her lips painted deep red and eyes with as much eyeliner as Magnus had. Alec noticed there was a trend of hearts on each video title with her in it, no doubt this was someone he liked or was dating and it came as no surprise, Alec thought as he took another bite of the pizza, Magnus was pretty attractive.

Scrolling to the top once more and finally selecting videos, he was surprised to see a video had been uploaded the day before, the preview screenshot much different than the bright, usually gold and purple themed photoshopped pictures he did in most of the videos Alec had scrolled past. This time is was Magnus illuminated on a stage by a single light from above, his head bowed as a grand piano sat at the mercy of his fingers. The picture was only titled HALLELUJAH, rather than the more descriptive titles on other videos.

Alec selected the video and moved to the couch to flop down with the pizza box. The camera shook a little, it was clear someone was holding it rather than it being on a tripod and self-shot. Alec wondered if it was someone from Simon's team or if Magnus had crew of his own- something Alec realized he didn't have any of which might create problems down the line. One of his dogs came over to the couch, a whine in her throat and vibrating against his knee as she rested her chin on him, looking longingly at the pizza in his hand as the piano started, soft and slow. Alec took a final bite before offering half of the crust to the dog, saving the other half for her brother.

Alec choked as he heard the voice come from his TV.

His whipped back to the screen as Magnus sang the first verse, his voice soft but firm like the notes being played on the piano. Despite the camera staying focused on Magnus and the piano as a whole, only moving as the person slowly circled the two, Alec couldn't stop staring at the look on Magnus's face. It didn't take a genius to know something was bothering him, that bright smile and lit up eyes from the video previews replaced by something dark, sad. His voice wasn't forced, but there was something in it that Alec knew all too well, he was singing this to someone- this upload was deliberate, a public liberation.

The camera came around to Magnus's side as he reached the second verse and once again his face was changing, sadness turning to anger and Alec could see the tears in Magnus's eyes. Alec's hand shifted on the remote, the volume on the screen going up as he leaned forward, not even noticing the other dog coming and slowly stealing the other crust half from his hand. “She tied you to her kitchen chair,” Alec could hear Magnus's voice getting louder, angrier, hearing the echo of both his singing and the piano echoing through the empty hall unveiled behind him as the person filming moved.

"And she broke your throne and she cut your hair," Magnus was hitting the keys harder. "And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah." Magnus's voice finally wavered, cracking as the pain seeped out in a moment of weakness, his fingers slammed down the final notes of the second verse before stilling. Alec's breath caught in his throat as he watched the singer take in a deep breath, the sound in the echoing silence monumental as the person filming paused, whether on purpose or a sudden feeling of remorse. "Hallelujah, hallelujah," It took a little under thirty seconds, but Magnus was playing again and this time, he was a broken man nearly whispering his lament. This was for the girl with the heart in her title. Alec finally found his breath as his lungs screamed for air, his heart pounding in his chest and, much to his surprise, his eyes stung with tears for the man on the screen. He didn't even know Magnus yet and already his heart was breaking with him as if he'd been through whatever relationship issues Magnus was having as well. Alec knew he put a lot of emotion in his music, thoughts and dreams into his lyrics, but here was someone who managed to bring him to a level he'd never reached before when listening to a performance. Whether it was the anger resurfacing or a sudden strength that Magnus had forgotten was in him, Alec came back to the moment when he heard Magnus singing the final verse of the song, his voice rising strong, normally low notes changed to high in such a beautiful time and contrast with the notes played on the piano, made his own and suddenly Alec could tell why Izzy was such a fan of the man on the screen. The final 'Hallelujah's' resonated through the hall, the camera recording him picking up each echo of the lyrics until the last note played and the echos faded away. Alec swallowed harshly, his tongue darting out over dry lips only to find everything was dry from his mouth being agape. Alec would be touring with the one who just poured his heart and soul out to not only the piano but his virtual audience. Magnus was a performer to a level that Alec wasn't sure he was ready to follow with his mellow tunes. Magnus was... amazing and Alec knew he needed to meet him. -- Simon waved Alec along behind him, his big goofy smile bright in the near darkness as the sun set behind the tall buildings in the horizon. Lights were just starting to come on and Alec had already been given a tour of Simon's bus, his bunk, and was alerted that all staff needs would be handled by Simon's staff due to the late notice in having him join the tour. It was a relief to say the least, since Alec wasn't used to any sort of tours, he was used to the safety of his recording room behind a microphone and camera with his guitar on his lap. "Come on, this is Magnus's bus. I'll introduce you to him." Simon said, not bothering to knock on the door and instead putting in the code on the door and letting himself in. It took only seconds after the door opened and they stepped up onto the stairs that a woman's harsh voice filled the bus. "You can't just tell me to leave! We've been together for years! YEARS, Magnus!" "Well maybe you should have thought of those years before you fucked two guys on the staff, Camille!" Magnus's voice snapped back, no hint of control there like he'd had in the video that was uploaded. Simon looked back at Alec, behind him on the stairs, like a deer caught in headlights. Neither wanted to move, neither wanted to say anything about them being there, purely out of fear of the repercussions. Alec shrugged and glanced behind him to see how they could back out slowly and quietly, only then noticing what looked like Magnus's staff out on the sidewalk behind them, seemingly waiting for the fight. Great of them to warn he and Simon. "It was a mistake! I had too much to drink, you know how things get!" Camille retorted, her voice going from harsh to pleading, Alec almost able to hear the tears in her voice. Cheap shot, he thought. It was Magnus's silence that had Alec peeking up slowly over the partition between the bus and the stairs, not daring to go up any higher like Simon was. Simon was actually impressed the two hadn't noticed them yet. Magnus looked done, his eyes tired and his lips void of the bright smile he had in every video; instead turned down in a deep frown. He looked thoughtfully at Camille and Alec almost wanted to tell him not to cave to guilt tactics, but this wasn't his place. He didn't know either of them, he didn't know the situation other than her cheating- he bit back the comment. "Camille, you need to leave. It's done. We're done." "Magnus, we--" "We went through this once before, two years ago, remember? You drank too much, you got loose with the wrong guy. I forgave you and said I would never do it again and now here we are, Camille. Back to this same old shit and I'm tired. I want to make something of my life and having to worry about keeping you close so you don't just fuck someone with a bottle of gin? That's not part of my life. Please get out." Magnus said finally and Alec watched him stare Camille in the eye, holding strong to his words. It was something Alec wasn't sure he could bring himself to do in a situation like this, but he felt an almost pride in Magnus for it. "No. No, Magnus, we can talk this o--" Camille started, though Simon clearing his throat caught her attention and she looked over at him, her pleading look turning into a sneer. "We're having a conversation here!" "One that it sounds like Magnus is done with. Look, this is between you two, but we have a show coming up tomorrow and I wanted to introduce Magnus to Alec..." Simon trailed off as he motioned behind him to Alec, who had ducked back down as if he wasn't there. Well, the jig was up. Alec straightened up, giving the two further in the bus a sheepish smile and a hesitant wave. "Uh, hey. I'm Alec Li--" "Lightwood." Magnus finished, sounding miserable still but Alec gave him a break on the smile he tried to force on his face. "I've seen and subscribe to you, you do great work." Alec felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn't heard of Magnus before, especially considering Magnus had at least a thousand more followers than he himself did. A hand rose to run through shaggy black hair in desperate need of a haircut, something he should of had done instead of spending hours watching Magnus's videos. Then again, he was sure Magnus probably followed a bunch of YouTube musicians, especially with a collab folder as large as he'd found under the video collections and the amount of 'Musician spotlight' shoutout videos that were also there. "It's nice to meet you, and ..." Alec looked to Camille, every bit of his willpower used to not make a face of displeasure. First impressions were important and the first of her was certainly something. "This is Camille, my ex-girlfriend. She was just leaving." The bag held towards Camille punctuated Magnus's words as he nodded towards the door. It didn't need to be said twice, Simon moved quickly out of the way and into the drivers seat area as Alec backed out of the bus to make room for her. It seemed like both men were eager to be rid of her, which Alec could only find himself mimicking to ease the moment. Camille looked between Magnus and Simon before she ripped the bag out of Magnus's hands, her eyes narrowing at him. "You'll regret this some day, Magnus. You don't know what you're losing." She spat out, her heels clicking harshly down the aisle of the bus and the stairs to follow. "You okay...?" Simon asked as he looked over to Magnus, moving further into the bus to pat his shoulder comfortingly. Alec was behind him though giving the two a bit of space, not wanting to intrude on the two friends that seemed to be having a moment. "I'm fine, thank you for stepping in. I didn't want to snap, I just..." Magnus sighed before glancing over Simon's shoulder and straightening his slumped back. "Mr. Lightwood, I'm glad you could join the tour. When Simon's manager mentioned wanting to reach out to you, I backed Simon and told her I highly recommended it. They were worried it was too last minute, but who gets a chance like this, right?" Alec found himself smiling at Magnus's smile, no matter how defeated it looked on the other man. "Yes, thank you, and thank you, Simon, for talking to her about me. Really, this is... I couldn't have even imagined I'd be here right now, much less going on a tour across the country performing for people, with other people." "Surreal, isn't it? This one is bigger than my last one, that was kind of just a small venue type thing where it was little crowds, but once we saw forums saying people were sad we were sold out, and when my manager saw people outside lined up around the block trying to get in still, they knew we had to go a little bigger this time. Really it was the last albums success, plus all the promotions and videos we threw up on YouTube that made it work for us. That last bit was at some persuasion of Magnus during one of the collabs we did of a Queen cover. Also we--" "Simon, you're rambling." Magnus chimed in, his fingers massaging his temple. Alec noticed the paint was slightly chipped, but he was sure there was more pressing things that Magnus had to worry about than that. "Oh! Oh, I am, yeah, sorry." Simon laughed and looked at the men he was basically sandwiched between. "Sooooo Alec, you should come see the venue and you can talk to my manager. Do you have a manager? They could talk about pay and stuff like that?" Simon's attention turned solely to Alec, who seemed nervous suddenly. "I... no. I mean, my mom handles a lot of my stuff like little shows around town and my sister handles my merch store but... I'm my own manager." "Nothing wrong with that, I'm my own currently as well. It's not so hard, I can show you the ropes." Magnus offered as he moved to the nearby fridge, pulling out a bottle of water and offering it out towards the two. Simon took it, Alec taking the next offered, and Magnus opened the third to take a long sip. "What order will we be doing this?" "I think you should go first to get the crowd riled up, then Alec, then me." Simon answered, his fingers fiddling with the cap of the water bottle. "Actually, I was thinking, if it's okay, if I go first and Magnus goes before you?" Alec said nervously, clearing his throat. He then looked to Magnus as he lifted a hand in defense, which had the other smirking. "Not that I want to displace you other anything, I just... you know, my stuff is kind of slower and I stand there and play my guitar. Magnus... is everywhere. I saw someone call him the next Freddie Mercury and I mean, I've been watching videos and--" "You've been watching me, Alexander?" Magnus mused, watching the faint trace of pink tint Alec's cheeks at both the comment and the name. "N-NO, I mean, yes, but-- look, what I mean is I think Magnus can get them more riled up and ready for you better than I can. He's got the energy like you, he's got an entire band to perform with, it's just me and--" "Are you torturing the new talent?" A woman's voice floated from the staircase, all three turning to look at the redhead watching them with amusement. "Ah! That's my manager. Alec, this is Jocelyn. Jocelyn, Alec. Her daughter, Clary, does the art for our flyers and shirts." Simon introduced, slipping past Alec to go over and greet the woman. "Should we show him the venue? Go over setlists?" "I think that would be the wisest decision, we don't have much time." Jocelyn nodded, smiling to Alec and Magnus before turning and moving back off the bus. "Alec, do you have a manager?" She asked as Alec came off the bus as well, followed by Magnus. "No, not yet. Just me. Magnus said he could help, though?" Jocelyn glanced past Alec to Magnus as he spoke, nodding in agreement. "I can help you out as well, we'll make you a natural. I've been teaching Simon along the way with the promise that he doesn't replace me." She winked to them and turned to lead them to the venue, the guard at the door opening it for them once he saw the badge around her neck. -- "This is..." Alec stood on the stage, looking over the rows of seating both on the floor and on the balcony above them. "Intimidating?" Simon asked. "Beautiful?" Magnus said at the same time, the two looking at each other with grins before they looked over at Alec. "Yeah," Alec answered with a breathless laugh, since both statements were pretty spot on. He'd played in coffee shops and small bookstores, but this was 10x's bigger than anything he'd been in before. It was surreal, almost so much so that he couldn't believe it was real. He was grateful for the opportunity and even more so of the moment that the two were giving him to soak it all in. Alec was sure they'd both had their own their first time, which Magnus had stated on their way in was the show they did in Boston. It apparently took him almost an hour to recover from it, and he only fully accepted it when they stepped into the Hartford venue. "You ready, big guy?" Jocelyn asked as she touched Alec's shoulder lightly, bringing him out of that moment and making him realize that Simon and Magnus had left his side and were now messing around with some of the equipment waiting for the show the next night. "Y-Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to get lost there." Alec could feel his face heating up, but Jocelyn looked plenty understanding and smiled at him, exuding the air of motherlike patience. "Hey, everyone goes there. Simon looked like a kid in a candy store his first big stage. Took me fifteen minutes to get him to stop running around with his arms up like some musical Rocky." She laughed and led him back to the others, putting a folder down on the table. "Alright guys, I think Alec was right in saying he should go first. No offense, Alec." "None taken." "Magnus you not only have energy, you're just infectious and now that ... she's gone, I think you're just free, kid. That Magnus you bottled up to keep an eye on her, let him go. Be the you we all saw on your channel, the one that we fell in love with when you came to the studio to do Killer Queen with them." Magnus's arms were crossed, his face neutral, but her pep talk seemed to bring a little bit of that light back and he couldn't stop the crook of his lips from forming a little smile. "You want me to..." "Break free." Jocelyn said with a playful wink, the two having found a bond over a shared love of Queen. "Are you guys flirting? This looks like flirting. I'm totally cool with it but like--" Simon's voice carried all the humor that Alec had expected from everything he'd seen on the RSP channel- he'd always seemed like the goofiest of the group. A shove from Magnus had Simon laughing and lifting his hands in a mock surrender. Jocelyn rolled her eyes though her smile was bright and she opened the folder, pulling out different papers and handing them to the men they belonged to respectively. "Alec, Clary and I went through your channel and we picked the videos with the most views, both covers and your originals, the same way we did with Magnus. What your homework is tonight is to go through this list and let me know if there's anything you want to add or remove. Remember that you have a 45 minute slot- so make sure the songs fit. It's okay if you go five minutes over, but we generally try to keep that to any crowd attention and loving you want to do after you perform. Magnus, you do the same, though I'm sure you want to keep your set, and Simon- anything you want to switch up?" Alec was completely baffled at the situation, he had always just assumed that artists picked out their own list of their most current music and then just random songs from different albums, but it made sense that they would go with the most popular since after all, that was what sold tickets. Simon was busy scribbling out one song and replacing it with another and Magnus---- Magnus was watching him. Alec froze, unable to tear his eyes away from the stare they'd become locked into, and it wasn't until Magnus gave a smile, a genuine one this time, that Alec was able to look away, instead focusing on the paperwork on the table. "This list is pretty good, I think I might replace two, but not too much more than that." Alec stuttered as he felt himself grow hot once more. What in the hell was going on with him? "Great, make sure you have it to me by 10 A.M tomorrow. The sound guys will need to go over everything with you and get pre-testing done, so we'll want to take care of that after to make soundcheck move smoothly tonight. Also, you're free to stay in your own place while we're in the city as long as you promise you'll be back on time, assuming you live in the city?" Jocelyn was excited herself to be near her own bed and it was very evident in her tone of voice. Looking around the table, Simon and especially Magnus looked just as relieved to be back home, even though they'd only been gone for less than a week. Alec could only imagine what it would be like in a couple weeks when they'd only be a month into the six month tour. "Yeah, I live about twenty minutes from here so I think that's great. My dogs will appreciate it." "Dogs? You have dogs? You should bring them!" Simon chirped, perking up at the mental image of having dogs with them all as stress relief. "Simon, no. There isn't enough room on the bus and we just started the tour. It's going to get crazy. Let's revisit that in a month, okay?" Jocelyn's words were only relenting at the end when Simon's smile dropped and she even noticed Magnus looked bummed. Alec smiled at the trio in front of him, feeling like they all were Jocelyn's new adopted kids. Admittedly it would be a little nice having a mom on the road, especially since this would be the first time Alec would be far from his own. There was no doubt he was a mama's boy, and there was nothing he would do to deny it if ever called out on it. As Jocelyn and Simon spoke about the setlist change once more, Alec's eyes caught Magnus's at the same time as Magnus had started looking at Alec, the two staring at each other subtly for a moment before Magnus was spoken to by Simon. This would definitely be an interesting start to a new beginning for Alec.

#someday stars #malec #au #youtube musicians #simon lewis #jocelyn fray #my fics

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merryfortune · 5 years ago

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Duelling Gives You Wings

Commission for @authenticaussi3

Written as a birthday gift for @2014federalbudget

Word Count: 2.8k

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! ZeXal

Ship: Astral/Yuma

Yuma giddily ripped open the package. Astral hovered nearby, twisting and turning as Yuma sat on the floor, cross-legged, and utterly annihilated the unsuspecting white cardboard box. Astral had to admit though, he was impressed by Yuma’s tenacity as he had observed Akari opening similar boxes with much avail and requiring tools such as scissors. Yuma had no such need. He wondered if it was because Yuma had very much been looking forward to this package’s arrival and had sworn himself to secrecy regarding it.

Thus, Astral drew in a little closer, “Say, Yuma, are you finally going to tell me what this package is or am I still to be kept in the dark?”

“Ta-da!” Yuma said as he held his prize high amid the cardboard carnage.

His arms flew through the air and startled Astral who twisted another way, so his body avoided any collision. Then, Astral drew in again. He blinked as he tried to examine that which Yuma held onto. It just seemed like another D-Pad.

“I don’t understand.” Astral said. “Why does this excite you? Your current D-Pad is standard, yes? And hasn’t fallen to any disrepair despite the abuse you put it through.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad.” Yuma huffed despite having rather clear memories of perhaps using his D-Pad in a game of catch rather than a ball. “Anyway, Kaito and Chris were able to get me on the, uh, beta list with them so now I get to help them test this new wave of upcoming Duel Technology. So, this isn’t a D-Pad. This is something else, well, kind of… the terminology’s gone circular so its called a Duel Disc.”

“Fascinating. Humans are always finding ways of reinventing the wheel…” Astral mused. “So, what update does this Duel Disc have that present D-Pads lack?”

“Real Action Technology. There’s a new and upcoming programmer on the block apparently, some one names Aka… Akaba, maybe? No, no, that’s right. Akaba! Anyways this dude is cool as heck because he’s got the know-how to bring Duel Monsters to life.” Yuma explained.

He then slammed the Duel Disc’s chassis onto his arm and its straps immediately attached to his arm. He waved it up and down for good measure and found that it was securely fixed to him. He beamed. Yuma then searched the pockets of his red jacket and soon found what he was looking forward upon the third precision strike upon them. He reefed out his deck from where he had hidden it on his person and then fed his cards into the holder.

The Duel Disc whirred and turned on. A prismatic light flashed across the keys of the Duel Disc and then it appeared ready and functional. To prove such a thing to its new owner, the Duel Disc shuffled Yuma’s cards. Yuma’s heart pounded ecstatically. Unable to contain his excitement, he leapt to his feet with a great and cheerful bound.

“Oh, I am feeling this!” he yelled. “C’mon Astral, we gotta test this out.”

Astral nodded. “Agreed.”

With that decided, Yuma sped out of the house to the backyard with Astral in tow. It was a lovely day out, today. It was a balmy sort of spring day with a still, blue sky and a gentle, almost unnoticeable breeze. The sun was warm and there was much to be done.

Yuma beamed as he got comfortable in his field and in his imagination. He closed his eyes and he felt the sunlight on his scalp; it was a warm and tingly feeling. Just as he thought his grin couldn’t widen any further, it did as he imagined that he was taking home some sort of championship cup. A foray into victory was more than enough to amp him further. Yuma’s heart pounded in his heart.

His eyes snapped open. “It’s time to feel the flow!” he announced.

“Yes, I’m very interested in seeing how this upgraded device works, no go on.” Astral coaxed him.

Yuma pulled out a hand from his deck. He looked through the cards; two support cards and three monsters. He carefully considered the monsters that he had drawn: Kagetokage, Zubaba Knight, and Overlay Owl. Yuma then carefully considered what he wanted to do to test the new equipment. Astral drew in nearer and blinked thoughtfully over Yuma’s shoulders.

“An unusual first draw…” Astral murmured.

“Good thing we’re not in a duel then, eh?” Yuma snidely commented.

“I suppose…” Astral hummed and his eyes, golden and silver, slid towards Yuma’s who suddenly grew a lot brighter.

“I know what to do now!” he exclaimed, and he gathered up his cards save for one which he guarded so Astral could not peek at.

“You do? I’m proud.” Astral said.

“Mmhm.” Yuma then slammed a card onto his Duel Disc. “I summon Overlay Owl in attack position!”

Prismatic light glowed and flashed and twinkled stupendously upon Yuma’s brand-new Duel Disc. It was quite stunning, actually. Even a little hard on the eyes but in such grandeur, even greater things came forth. Overlay Owl was summoned, and it ruffled its feathers over having been summoned. It stood on the field, awaiting orders but there was a curious look in its golden eyes; it was as though it knew there was no battle to be fought or effect to be wrought.

Astral hummed. “The animations don’t appear to have been upgraded, unless memory is failing me and therefore making me cynical.”

Yuma slowly approached Overlay Owl. Overlay Owl looked very disgruntled and puffed out its chest further. And Yuma was absolutely enthralled by such a development. His black-brown eyes glittered and watered; his hands twitched as he stared holes into his monster’s chest, enamoured with its snow-white breast. He sucked in a breath and Astral watched, indignant, as Yuma groped Overlay Owl. Then, Astral realised that he ought not to be indignant because, in the past, Yuma had never been able to touch his Duel Monsters.

In the past, Yuma could not even perceive them without the aide of his Duel Gazer.

Astral had grown so used to more unconventional Duel Gazers – as well as just their omniscient presence in a duel – that he hadn’t even realised that Yuma wasn’t wearing his. So, he twisted around – almost like an aerial mermaid – and he drew in close again to Yuma. Yuma, who was still giddily feeling up and down the thick wad of feathers on his monster’s chest, did not mind in the least and simply grinned back.

“This is… very impressive, Yuma.” Astral said, genuinely awed and it lit up his voice.

“Yeah, technology is amazing.” Yuma said. “Now, let’s see if this thing can fly.”

“Fly?” Astral exclaimed. If he had skin, it would have crawled.

“Yeah, fly.” Yuma replied, clearing up absolutely nothing and upon realising a moment later that it had cleared up absolutely nothing he added: “Yeah, Real Solid Vision has this cool density function where holograms are transformed into something more! I can – should – be able to safely use Overlay Owl here to fly. And, well, do other things. But fly’s the coolest.”

Astral tensed. He had a very bad feeling about this. But, then again, he had many bad feelings about many of the things that Yuma said and did so his intuition was slightly worn down by that. So, he took a breath and sighed, letting what ever was bound to happen and inevitably go wrong happen.

Yuma’s fists balled in front of his chest as he grinned maniacally and with overwhelming joy unto his Duel Monster. Overlay Owl was slightly unsettled by this. Its face visibly ripping with avian discomfort. And then the ball dropped. The idea was explained. Spouted, really.

“Okay, Overlay Owl, here’s the plan!” Yuma began, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re gonna grab onto my shoulders and then, we’re gonna fly, yeah!”

“Hoo…” his Duel Monster replied.

It was a quiet, murmuring reply but it managed to throw Yuma into a frenzy of ecstasy. There was a slight difference to how Overlay Owl emoted and operated when summoned via this updated Duel Disc as compared to Yuma’s previous Duel Disc. It was only a slight difference that could only be sensed intuitively but it was there. And it wasn’t imagined.

“Please? C’mon?” Yuma begged of his Duel Monster.

In the most avian-esque and long-suffering manner, Overlay Owl finally conceded to Yuma’s silly request of it. It ruffled its feathers and took three, toddling steps backwards. Yuma waited with gleeful expectance whilst Astral hovered with his interest piqued. Overlay Owl then, regrettably, took a running jump at Yuma and his claws hooked over Yuma’s shoulders. It felt strange; more akin to wearing a backpack straps than talons, Yuma found as his feet were slowly lifted from the ground. With a great flap of its wings, both he and Overlay Owl were spectacularly air bound.

Yuma whooped and hollered. His legs kicked. Overlay Owl’s wings gave tremendous beats of its wings. Soon enough, the pair were eye level with the levitation that Astral leisurely enjoyed. A smile tugged at Astral’s face and he waved his fingers at them as a greeting.

“How does it feel to be up here?” he asked, joking.

“It feels gr-!”

And before Yuma could even finish his sentence, as ecstatic and earnest as it was, Overlay Owl fumbled him. Its wings, beating as strong as it could, grew weary. The clutch it had upon Yuma’s shoulders weakened; unused to being used in such a capacity. It gave a strangled noise before disappearing back into fiction, into the art upon the card it had been born from.

Yuma was dropped straight into the ground. He screamed and his arms flailed. With good fortune, however, Yuma was able to pull them both into his torso he could protect himself. Thus, his forearms to the brunt of the impact. Although, there was a sickening crunch as his newly arrived Duel Disc also smashed into the ground as it had been attached to his extremities.

Astral shivered as he watched the calamity unfold. “Are you okay… Yuma?”

Yuma took a breath and straightened himself up and out, Of the humans that Astral has had the pleasure – and occasional displeasure – of observing, Yuma was the mostly clearly sturdy and indestructible. But it didn’t hurt to show a little bit concern towards him.

Yuma groaned, wearily and dizzy, as he got back up. He shook himself off though. Bits of grass and dirt flew elsewhere. He took a steadying breath and gingerly lifted up his arm. Nothing felt broken or even strained. He had definitely taken worse but that was still all different types of awful to cop.

Astral drifted in closer. His legs twisted about as he came to get a closer look at Yuma. Yuma sucked in a sudden breath and he smiled.

“No harm, no foul.” He said. “Get it? ‘Cause Overlay Owl is a bird; a fowl?”

“Thank you, Yuma.” Astral replied.

Yuma then turned over his Duel Disc. He tapped it on the side a couple of times and got a few flashes here and there. Colours were now missing from the once brilliant spectrum that it could produce. He sighed dejectedly but gave it another thwack for posterity. Upon doing so, a new noise was heard. Thwip. And then again and again, over and over and Yuma’s back grew rather heavy and itchy.

“Is that… supposed to happen?” Astral inquired.

“Is what supposed to…?” Yuma mumbled as he twisted around. “Huh. You know. I’m not sure. I didn’t read the instruction manual after all.”

“Perhaps you should have.” Astral did not necessarily admonish Yuma but his voice and neutral facial expression was within the vicinity of it.

Regardless, both stared at the additions upon Yuma’s back: a pair of owl-like wings. It seemed like Yuma’s shoulderblades had truly sprouted the necessary bones, skin, and flesh needed to host them and more. He promptly discovered, with a rather garishly frustrated face, that if he used enough willpower, he could wiggle them no differently to how some people could do the same thing in order to wiggle their ears. Regardless, it amused Astral enough.

“May I touch them?” Astral inquired.

Yuma glanced at him. He was surprised that Astral had asked that. When it came to Yuma’s shenanigans, he was usually the straight man; the supervisor; the one above it all. Then again, it was just them two in his backyard so maybe he felt compelled to sink to such a level because no one was around. The same as when he had tried food for the first time.

“Yeah, absolutely!” Yuma replied, beaming.

Astral’s eyes twinkled and he sailed around closer, twisting and hovering almost like a fish flitting through water. He then extended his hand which shook slightly. A small, shy smile tugged at his mouth as his hand finally made contact with Yuma’s fluffy white wings.

His brows quirked in fascination as he patted Yuma. He ran his finger along the bone which made Yuma’s skin prickle and made him roll his shoulders. His reaction was cute but cuter still, Astral found, was the rivets that he made in the feathers. They were divinely soft.

“Do you think you can use them for flight?” Astral asked.

Yuma’s face lit up and Astral felt a twinge of regret. Perhaps, he thought, he shouldn’t have asked that because now, Yuma’s imagination was up and running.

“I have no idea.” Yuma ecstatically replied.

So, naturally, he bounded to his feet. His wings bowed slightly, and his excitement reverberated throughout the whole of his body. He straightened himself up and Astral gave him some room. Yuma thrust his hands into the air and his wings outstretched. The feathers catching in the morning sunlight, tinging to a soft, yellow. He grunted and he tried again. Nothing happened. So, he tried again but more forceful still, making awfully exaggerated frustrated faces.

Astral blinked owlishly. “You don’t know how to fly, do you?”

“Nope.” Yuma replied, bald-facedly.

“It’s probably for the best. You wouldn’t want to injure yourself.” Astral said.

Yuma deflated. “Yeah… That’s true…” he mumbled, dejected.

“And, additionally, you wouldn’t want to corrupt your body further than it already has.” Astral said.

“Yeah, true.” he murmured.

“And what is your sister going to say when she sees you like this, is another thing worth considering.” Astral added.

Yuma shivered. “Oh God, what will she say?” His wings twitched. “I wonder if they’ll just faded away or am I stuck with them forever?”

“I haven’t the foggiest, but I have some hypothesises.” Astral said.

“Oh? Do share it with the class.” Yuma sarcastically replied as he slumped back to the ground. So now, he sat cross-legged, hunched over his lap, and with his hands clamped onto his ankles.

“Well, given that the wings are a manifestation of human error, perhaps they’ll disappear when the battery runs out.” Astral said.

“These things practically have a nuclear reactor for a battery. It ain’t gonna run out any time soon.” Yuma said.

“Hm, well,” Astral put his hand to his mouth in thought, “perhaps removing Overlay Owl from the Monster Zone might help.”

“Can’t hurt to try…” mumbled Yuma.

With a defeated relucantance, Yuma followed through with the suggestion. He plucked the card from the Monster Zone. He winced in preparation of a cacophonic, clanging noise to alert him of an error but none occurred. He blinked once. Then twice. And then happily looked over the Overlay Owl card. In doing so, he suddenly felt lighter and even tingly.

“It worked.” Astral commented.

Yuma looked over his shoulders. “It worked.” He echoed in agreement.

“I almost miss them now.” Astral said. “They were a good look. You humans are missing some vital adaptations, I believe.”

Yuma laughed. Of course, that would be Astral’s take-away from the whole experience.

“So, would you say your purchase was satisfactory?” Astral inquired.

Yuma leapt to his feet. “Absolutely! Now, let’s go and find someone to duel with this new Duel Disc now that I’m used to how it works!”

“A fine idea.” Astral placidly agreed.

Giggling, Yuma dusted himself off and double-checked that his Duel Disc was fine. Having ascertained that it was now mildly used rather than mint condition, and still perfectly good to go, he was happy to bolt off. Astral trailed after him, excited too and perhaps, if he squinted just right, he could still see the wings on Yuma’s back. He could still feel them on his fingertips, a tickling sensation he enjoyed but he had to imagine to make up some of the tactile difference. Still, he was quietly happy for Yuma and looking forward to seeing where this new Duel Disc took them next.

#writing tag #commissions #commissioned writing #yugioh zexal #zexal #keyshipping #astral (zexal)#yuuma tsukumo

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magaprima · 5 years ago

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Part 2 Episode 1 Thoughts (Part 4 of 4)

“If demons are hunting you with any regularity, perhaps you should transfer back to Baxter High”

When Hilda asked Lilith to encourage, she was very disinclined, but seeing that a demon, and a major one at that, was willing to defy all rules and kill her, concern for Sabrina’s welfare is coming into play. Now, at this point, it’s not genuine concern (as it does become later on in the season), but entirely out of the concern that if Sabrina is killed, Lilith is the one who will be made to pay the price. Their survival and protection is intrinsically linked via the Dark Lord.

“It would...please your Aunt Hilda and..I could keep an eye on you”

I love how Lilith uses reassurances rather than arguments to convince Sabrina to come to back to Baxter High. She already knows telling Sabrina she must do something, that she can’t protect herself and do things by herself, will just make her dig her heels in, so she’s using emotional connections; her Aunt Hilda is all worried about her and her favourite teacher wants to look after her.

Also notice the box to the side of Sabrina; it is a cardboard box filled with all of Hawthorne’s things. Lilith has literally dumped them in a box and isn’t even bothering to hide it, and the fact no one is questioning the man left without any of his stuff, shows how heavily disliked he was. People, most especially women, are too relieved he’s gone to question how and why.

When we begin talking about Sabrina’s issues at the Academy, Lilith seems to switch from manipulative talk to genuine conversation, genuine interest, revealing some of those early stages of the attachment she is inevitably (considering their similarities and the amount of time spent together) developing towards Sabrina. And Lilith doesn’t even take a second to correctly guess how people are viewing Sabrina’s bid to be Top Boy.

“Oh, I see, and erm, stab in the dark, the warlocks, aren’t too keen on the idea of a female Top Boy are they?”

This is a story Lilith knows well and knows personally. Her very first conflict, very first experiences, were her saying she was equal to men, that she was entitled to the same role as men, and she’s spending thousands of years trying to prove to everyone, not just Lucifer, that she is deserving and worthy of being Queen of Hell.

“Well, with a name like that, I can only imagine he’s trouble”

Well, needless to say, from this comment alone, Lucifer has not shared with Lilith that he’s told a warlock to get close to Sabrina. This is clearly the first time Lilith is hearing about Nick, but the fact she gauges from his name-- both of which are names consistently associated with the devil in Christian mythology- that he’s going to be trouble reveals a lot of how she views Lucifer, even before she has admitted it out loud to herself.

Lilith looks genuinely and really amused when Sabrina tries to dismiss the idea of Nick being the one behind everything and dismissing her attraction to him. We’re seeing more of Lilith’s genuine interest in Sabrina’s welfare etc, the attachment is there, even if it’s only minorly showing itself and even if Lilith is in complete denial of it, but the way she engages with Sabrina here, her interest, teasing about a new boy in her life the way a Mother might tease a daughter is extremely revealing about what Lilith’s role is truly becoming towards her (the fact in the finale Lilith literally takes Sabrina’s birth father’s place in hell kinda seals the metaphor). Even the language she uses, the words she chooses, are very much maternal.

“Oh, Sabrina, Sabrina, Sabrina. Is someone having a rebound crush? Is some handsome, young warlock clouding your judgement?”

It’s all very familiar, affectionate, caring, and it all comes too naturally and easily for it to be entirely down to manipulation. The bond is already there between them, whether Lilith likes it or not. Even the way she refers to Nick as ‘this provocatively named’ is another maternal thing, like a Mother immediately pointing out the issues with a potential boyfriend, warning against having interest of the boy with the motorbike (metaphorically speaking).

But when Sabrina says Nick is a conjurer and both of them realise this means Nick could very well be the one summoning the demons to attack her, Lilith’s expression is so resigned and unsurprised like ‘well there we go, it took a man exactly 2 seconds to disappoint and betray. How shocking’.

The heavy sigh when Sabrina leaves, and Lilith is sat alone, is so freaking exhausting. Like this is a woman whose job is literally never done. She is always cleaning up something, sorting out something, fixing something, and getting no reward, no credit, and this is just another item to add to the list. She’s basically like Bob in The Incredibles when he’s like ‘I feel like the maid! I just cleaned up this world, can the world not stay saved for five minutes?’

And then we come to Lilith getting read to summon Satan. The woman doesn’t feel she can just summon him, that she can just cast a spell and have a chat; she has to get ready. She dresses herself nicely, she styles her hair, she applies lipstick; like the very last thing she does before casting the spell, is her make-up. She then messes with her hair, pulling her forward, she is obviously trying to make herself look as sexually attractive as possible. Now, remember this is not how Lilith originally looked. It may be her body now, through that flesh-copy spell she cast in the first episode, but for thousands of years she’s always looked like she did when Lucifer first met her, which among many things, looked a lot younger than her new form, and Lucifer is prideful, vain, arrogant, and no doubt Lilith is more than aware how much image and appearance matter to him.

She has been playing this role of Ms Wardwell for absolutely months and months now, constantly, 24/7 and perhaps is even starting to feel sometimes that she is losing herself in the role, that she can’t see her original self in the mirror anymore. And what if Lucifer can’t see it either? What if he looks at her and all he sees is the ‘spinster school marm’ (to quote Zelda)? Lilith is, after all, very much aware of how easily men dismiss women due to looks and age, and Lucifer is a fallen angel, yes, but he’s also a man. So she tries to make herself look as much like her old self, even in this new form. She wants him to see her and still want her, and that, considering his treatment of her, and how worthy Lilith is in her own right, so tragically revealing of the existence she has been suffering through for so long.

She looks at herself in the mirror like she’s getting ready for battle. She swallows, nods at herself, and is clearly tense as hell about the idea of summoning him. But she does it, because Lilith has never let fear stop her before, not when things need to be done. But we are very aware that this is a far from easy task, on so many levels.

And then when we see her sat in the chair, working on the talisman, we see how she has styled herself; her hair, her makeup, her dress, all of it is more reminiscent of her old self rather than her ‘Ms Wardwell’ self. She has a very youthful style here, proving that she is trying to ensure Lucifer sees through her new appearance to her true self, the way she has been looking past his twisted form to remember his true self (It’s interesting to note that they’re both trapped in forms that aren’t their own, but the only difference is, it simply happened to him, a cause and effect, but Lilith was convinced to do this at Lucifer’s request, for the sake of getting Sabrina to join their ranks).

“Forgive me impudence in summoning you”

She is quick to apologise, to assure him that even though she has commanded him here (and so proving that despite everything he says, she does have the power to do that. She is extremely powerful, enough to control him, even if only for a time; which obviously happens to a greater extent in the finale, when she fools him with a glamour and grabs him by the throat) as a way to stop him from being too angry, to remind him she knows that he is charge.

She avoids his eye so much though, even as she makes her challenges, She only glances at him briefly, as if afraid too much eye contact would make him lash out. It’s only when she finally gets to the point about Sabrina, and her suspicions about his secrecy, perhaps even betrayal, that she finally looks directly at him as she says ‘than you’ve led me to believe’. And we finally get the very first glimpse of the rebellion to come.

#episode stuff

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symmratgiftexchange · 6 years ago

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Satya Vaswani Smile

Hey @threepointonefourmakesxai ! I went and made you a fic based off of your request. Thank you so much for participating in this event! I hope you enjoy this and I hope you have a wonderful new year!

You can read your story either under the cut or over on my AO3!

Junkrat fucked up.

He didn’t know when exactly, or even how. But at some point this which for whatever the reason he fucked up things with Symmetra.

She was still working next to him in the labs. But she would hardly look at him! And when she spoke to him she was so clinical and curt. More so than usual. So much that it’d finally dawned on Junkrat that Satya was intentionally trying not to speak with him. That she was mad with him.

And Junkrat had no idea what he did.

Maybe a year ago he wouldn’t have cared. He definitely wouldn’t have worried over apologizing, he wouldn’t even bother with any of that nonsense. He would have just ignored the lady, brush her aside just as quickly as she was ostracizing him, call her another one of those stuffy suits, cause a few pranks to get a rise out of her then just… move on with his life.

But this wasn’t just some lame old suit. This wasn’t a faceless nobody who he’d just go on to forget. This wasn’t even the same woman he’d met when they first joined the team, a woman he assumed would always judge him and never see him as more than a criminal or a coward. This was Satya Vaswani, this was Symmetra. And ‘Metra had come to be one of the most precious people in his life. The only person who shared that title was Roadhog.

So if Symmetra was mad at him than he needed to figure out a way to win back her favor or die trying!

First he tried to figure out what the hell he even did wrong.

He was tempted to just go ask her but whenever he got close to Symmetra she’d either glower at him, or worse yet her face would stay completely neutral and she’d just raise a single eyebrow, as if daring him to take another step closer and see what would happen. And while not always the safest person on the Overwatch team he at least had enough self-preservation to know he ought to avoid Symmetra. At least until he had a plan of fixing whatever he did and apologizing.

So without knowing exactly what he did wrong, Junkrat began formulating a way to make things up to Symmetra. He started off by trying to think of all the sorts of things he knew the woman actually liked. In the time they’d come to know one another and even develop a relationship he’d learned there was a lot more to Satya “Symmetra” Vaswani than met the eye.

For example, everyone who was anyone knew she was an amazing architect but her fascination went much deeper. She adored art, especially in the 3rd dimension in all its forms such as sculpture, CGI and architecture. And it was more than just art appreciation of simply liking art a lot. For Symmetra that 3rd dimension was a special interest of hers. Going as far as to memorize the names of many great artists as a child and study their styles and inspiration. Even to this day if someone brought the subject up Symmetra could talk for hours on end about art. Many times Junkrat had gotten so caught he almost fooled himself into liking art too just because of how much passion Satya had for the stuff! And it was that dedication and good eye in Junkrat’s opinion that had helped Symmetra become an even greater architect. She didn’t just see boring towers waiting to be built in over-crowded cities. She saw art and beauty. She wanted to inspire people the way old artists had inspired her.

Also despite being such a regal, poised woman, Symmetra loved to stim. Junkrat had seen her fiddle with a few physical things before, a pen, an object she’d just built, but she stimmed the most with her hard light. It reminded Junkrat of a man he’d known back in Junkertown who would wind up old strings in his hand into all different kinds of shapes. Symmetra would do so with her blue lights, turning them this way and that until they created these different crystals or towers of interwoven triangles. Whenever she had down time, or felt nervous, or found herself trying to focus intently on a project, like clockwork her mechanical hand would begin glowing and she’d set off forming light structures. And while most of the time Symmetra’s stim shapes were just nonsense pattern’s that built nothing, sometimes Junkrat caught her making little intricate crystals or flowers.

She also loved tea, whenever the two of them went out to a café it was a given that while Junkrat got his boba, Symmetra would get her own cup of tea. Though unlike his own iced, half sweet brew, Symmetra preferred a cup of warm freshly-brewed stuff without any sort of milk or sugar. And while she usually got similar things, a few times when she claimed to want to “treat herself” she would order these special brews that came in a glass pot where you could watch as a flower slowly bloomed in the tea or little pearls of dry leaves would unfurl in a nice little showy display.

She also had a soft spot for kids. So worst comes to worst, Junkrat could bring a kid like Efi along with him to make sure Symmetra didn’t do anything rash in front of the children. She always wanted to make a good impression on kids, always acting polite and listening to what they had to say.

And while she wasn’t very good at caring for plants she still appreciated how they looked and their ability “to seem so simple but truly be so complicated on the cellular level” as she put it.

Oh, and even though it could make her homesick at times she still adored Bollywood. The music, the outfits and costumes, the dancing, the movies, all of it!

So at least Junkrat had that, now all he needed to do was figure out what pieces he could use to make things up to Symmetra.

Most of the things he could recall didn’t seem to fit together in any perfect pictures. However Junkrat was nothing if not an inventor. And it was his specialty to take small things that seemed like nothing to others and turn them into something they couldn’t ignore… usually bombs. But he knew that he could figure out how all these small pieces of Symmetra’s interests could fit together into something so great she would have no choice but to stop being mad at him!

Two days later he finally got something and was ready to show it to Symmetra, along with what he hoped would make a good apology.

Symmetra had been in the middle of creating a new model when Junkrat slid a cardboard box in front of her, disrupting her hard light.

“What is this Junkrat?” She asked in a humorless dry tone.

Trying not to lose his cool, Junkrat cleared his throat. “Uh, why don’t you open it up and find out?”

Sighing through her nose, Symmetra dispersed the light from her gauntlet and began unwrapping Junkrat’s gift. He’d done a quick sloppy job taping the box closed, Junkrat expected her to at least comment on the crummy job he did wrapping. But she didn’t say anything. She just continued to silently unwrap the box until she could finally pull the tabs apart and see what Junkrat had given her.

Inside was what could probably be best described as an oversized desk ornament. A shelf if you were feeling generous. Held together by a metal frame a few pedestals branched out from a base. Each branch seemed to be molded to look like shining towers in Utopaea, though rather than the shining silver and gold of the city these were made from a more rustic metal that had been painted orange and blue. And within each “tower” were different hollowed out spaces. Some of which were already taken up by packages of floral teas or little succulent plants. And scattered all about the little towers were photos and cut pictures. Some Junkrat had found of different cities Vishkar had constructed like Utopaea or Oasis, others that seemed to just be the more natural landscapes of India, but mostly there was pictures taken of their base in Gibraltar, and of all the people the pair now considered friends.

“Tah-dah!” Junkrat sang, making jazz hands. “A little something to remind ya of home!”

Symmetra was trying to keep their face neutral. But Junkrat had seen the look of surprise on her face as she’d taken the little city out of its box, and how that spark of joy had yet to leave her eyes as she ran her hand along the lovingly crafted towers, modeled after her own work.

“This is indeed a fine show of craftsmanship.” Symmetra said in a bored tone, not even her voice reflected that happiness Junkrat had seen in her eyes. But as she turned her head to Junkrat, she tried to remain serious. “What on earth prompted you to build such a thing?”

“Oh you know, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been… eh, off these past few days. And I thought, I ought to make’ya something nice and… cheer you up?”

Symmretra raised an eyebrow, though she had yet to let go of the little city. “You spent all this time making this thing just to cheer me up?” She asked, repeating his own words.

“Also, I uh, I wanted to apologize.” Junkrat said nervously, hand subconsciously going to rub at the back of his head. He could hardly look at her and waited for the other shoe to drop.

“So yeah, I’m real sorry ‘Metra. About all… that?”

Whatever small look of happiness on Symmetra’s face seemed to instantly die as she looked at him directly. For a moment Junkrat was horrified that she was going to smash Junkrat’s gift on the ground but instead she set it down gently in the center of her workbench. Her constant, emotionless gaze however did little to make Junkrat feel any better.

“Tell me Junkrat, do you know why you’re sorry?”

And here it was. The moment Junkrat had been trying to avoid. He honestly had no idea what’d he’d done to piss her off. His best bet was he broke something on accident, but he couldn’t recall smashing anything recently. Plus everything in Symmetra’s side of the workshop seemed to be in good condition. His only other guess was that maybe she thought he smelled or something, but he’d been staying on top of his hygiene more recently. Besides that he had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Uhhhhhhh-”

All at once that calm exterior was dropped and Satya glowered at Jamison with a fire normally only left to the battlefield. “You completely humiliated me in front of my Vishkar associates!”

“Oh, that’s what that was? When the hell’d I do that?”

“Last Tuesday. I was in the middle of a call with my associates to update them on my work. And I’d explicitly asked that everyone stay out of the workshop while I made my call. And not only did you walk through! But you were completely shirtless and scratching yourself!”

Everything finally fell into place, Junkrat wanted to say something more thought-out but all that came out was “Ohhhhhhhhhh…”

“I can’t believe you!” Symmetra continued, massaging her temples. “After you left I was reprimanded for your lack of dress code, or professionalism of any sort! It was so humiliating!”

“Hey at least you weren’t the one runnin’around shirtless!” Junkrat tried to joke, the only reaction he got from Symmetra was another glare. Though she was already starting to lose that fire from moments before. “And Overwatch don’t even have a dress code. No one’s ever got on me case for not wearing shirts before.”

“I know, and there is no policies here on how to dress.” Symmetra agreed. “It’s just, I feel like as I’ve been here I’ve grown more lack with my own self-discipline… And my meeting was another harsh reminder that I still have responsibilities. A vision to uphold”

Junkrat frowned. “That sounds like Vishkar talk.”

“Well, I do owe them my entire career.” Symmetra argued. “My education… The opportunities they gave me. My whole life even.”

“Nah.”

“No?”

“I don’t agree with that.” Junkrat said. “I think no matter how you would’a ended up right here doing what you’re doing. Whether you got roped up with a fancy company or not.”

“But without Vishkar’s training I wouldn’t know how to manipulate hardlight.” Symmetra said.

“No, I mean bigger than that.” Junkrat continued. Reaching over to grab the little city he’d built her. “No matter how, you’d find a way to do what you do. Sure you can get trained or whatever but you got something bigger than all that. You got a mind. You got ideas and dreams. And you do what you do to make things happen. And you wanna help people. Like really help people.”

Symmetra said nothing, watching as Junkrat placed the city back onto her workbench, sliding it closer so she could see some of the pictures of their Overwatch team.

“So I’m sorry I made an ass of myself in front of those suites. But you know what? I don’t care about any of those blokes! And I don’t think you should either. Cause no matter what you’re already lightyears ahead of those bastards, no matter how they try to drag you down and make you feel bad!”

“You really think so?” Satya asked.

“Sure!” Jamison said, suddenly realize he’d gotten so loud as he talked that he was practically shouting.

But then, for the first time in days, Jamison saw Satya smile, and he knew everything he’d said and done had been worth it.

“Thank you Jamison…”

“Any time darl!”

#symmrat #junkmetra #threepointonefourmakesxai #symmratgiftexchange #symmratgiftexchnage2018 #symmrat gift exchange

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squigglecheesecake · 6 years ago

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Day 2-Tougher than Expected

I am awful at keeping up with this. BUT I SHAN’T GIVE UP!

I watched as he continued to mess around with the beakers and those...bugs. It made me squirm just watching them crawl up his neck. He never flinched once. I tried memorizing his image. Okay so he wore a black shirt..blacks jeans...black shoes…. This was going to be a nightmare to explain to the police. If I even made it to them. The only distinct feature was the disgusting sewage green colored hair. If he really wanted to though, he could re-dye his hair back to his natural color and never be found. Yep, I was screwed.

I got lost in my thoughts and went back to when I was studying psychology. I didn’t learn much but I’ve met a few good nutcases to know one when I see one. Owker...that guy was insane. (His name was really Owen but hey, we all have our preferences) Alan, nothing too severe. A Parker? I think? A Michael and a Westin. He didn’t look like any of them. Maybe a little bit of a Michael but...he was different. He actually seemed sane, if you ignore the laughter and murder.

Obviously he had a reason to come here and kill Henrik. And what was that reason? Yeah, exactly, that’s what was bothering me. What bothered me even more was that he claimed to have broken all the light bulbs. Then his strength and very concernedly his speed.

Did I have some sort of panic attack? Or...did my mind simply refuse to see Henrik get stabbed? There was no way he could possibly move that fast. They were both standing together and in half a second Schneeple was crouching down in pain. And how the hell did he get in here?! Schneeple said there was no back door. Unless he lied? No. He wouldn’t do that. Maybe the window? Even so, why would Henrik lead us (most importantly me!!!!) there if he knew?

“Dammit!” He growled, ripping off one of the bugs on his shoulder. “You son of a bitch!” He stomped his foot down. As if that wasn’t enough torture for the poor insect, the man...Mike? Yeah I’m sticking with Mike. As if that wasn’t enough, he slid his food back, leaving a disturbing trail of the bug’s insides. There was a long ten second creak coming from out the door. “Great.” Mike muttered.

He picked up a syringe and collected more from the beaker. Look you’d think after watching ten horror movies and being an hour into this messed up situation, I’d learn not to move. Nooooooooo. My body uncontrollably slouched downward. I instantly tensed up. He paused and slowly turned his head, scanning the room.

“Henry!!” A familiar voice shouted. The doors swung open. I was so surprised and nervous yet very relieved. Jackie, a favorite colleague of mine, stood there drenched in sweat. He wore his same old red hoodie along with some dark blue jeans.

Mike let out a low sigh, tapping on the sink. “I had a feeling you’d show up sooner or later. Get lost.”

“Where’s H-” He drifted off, staring at the body in front of him.

“Yeah sorry. Daddy’s gone.” He mused. “Don’t worry, big brother’s here.”

“And...y/n?” Jackie never lifted his head up once, his eyes were fixated on Henrik’s corpse.

Mike had a sinister smile and tilted his head. “Huh, I knew someone as in here.”

“Jack!!!!” I screamed inside of my head. I covered my face. “Idiot.” I took a deep breath and felt kinda sore. Okay let’s be honest. This wasn’t the most comfiest box and as squeezed in as I was, my lower back was aching.

“We can fix him.” Jack said. “You can. I’ve...we both know you can.” Mike scrunched his nose and set his knife down on the sink, admiring it. “Please Anti.” He continued to plead.

I cocked my head to the side.

Anti?

….Anti.

Stand back Owken we have a new champion for the oddest name ever!

“Tell me something.” Mik-Anti straightened up. “Did Henrik.” He hissed his name. “Promise you anything? That he’d make you into something greater than you once were?”

Jack’s face turned pink. “.....yes.” He admitted. He grabbed his hoodie and lifted it over his head, embarrassed.

“Well Parker, what exactly did he offer you?”

“...to make a dream come true.” He mumbled, becoming more shy.

“Well boy wonder, your villan’s right here.” Anti held his arms out wide as if saying ‘Try me.’

“Please...don’t make me.” Jack whimpered. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He seemed really hurt. It made me wonder..how they knew each other. Neither Jack or Henrik mentioned about some Anti freak.

Anti snickered. “Hurt me? You expect me to actually fight you? That’d hardly be fair...don’t you think?” He roamed across the room. His footsteps came closer. He stopped by the box again.

My eyes watered and I squeezed them shut, like a kid cowering under a blanket, hoping the shadow on the wall would go away. Jack kept silent, making it ten times worse. It was so quiet. Absolutely nothing. No breathing, no laughing, no bodies shifting, not even a freakin creak in this godforsaken warehouse!

It got to me. I slowly opened my right eye to take a peek out of the cardboard tab. I let out a shriek, seeing his eyes stare back at me.

“There’s my little puppet.” He grinned as I frantically tried to scramble out of the box.

“Jack!!” I screamed as loud as I could. All of a sudden I felt a sharp snap and quickly held my neck in a panic. My vision blurred out again, like before.

“Jack?” I recognized his bright red jacket. I was now standing in front of him. “Jack!” I cried. There was still hope.

#wholesomemonth #jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #writing #fanfiction

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medea10 · 7 years ago

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Medea’s Top 10 Touching Cartoon Episodes

#top 10 list #the proud family #animaniacs #Daria #as told by ginger #rugrats #steven universe #life with louie #hey arnold #futurama #home movies #courage the cowardly dog #the simpsons #south park #alvin and the chipmunks #charlie brown #powerpuff girls #The Critic #winnie the pooh

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zentheatrics-blog · 8 years ago

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The Details:

No Country for Old Men (2007)

By Joel and Ethan Coen

Starring: Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin

The Journey without a Goal

Welcome! I am trying a new sch-

~Tedsters closes fridge loudly~ Sorry!

It is okay. I will start again. So! I am trying a new-

~Tedsters loudly rubs jelly on his bread~ Sooo… sorry…

Dude?! How in the world do you spread jam soooo loudly…

~Spreads peanut butter loudly~

Whatever… This looks bad… New Heading!

The Truer Journey… blah blah… with stuff… whatever…

Welcome! Like the extra space? Makes it seem more professional! It is like, “Oh he means business now with an extra space!” Anyways… I have a very interesting analysis for you guys today. I apologize for the late post, but I will get back on track. There will be blood… and rod shooting guns… but mostly thought. Very thoughtful... um... thought!

In all seriousness, I enjoyed watching another great Coen movie. This one is about a psychic... kinda psychic? psychotic man who has an awesome bit of hair, dead eyes, and a killer rod air gun thing. He chases after a man who steals money from a drug deal that went awry, while Tommy Lee Jones plays a reflective sheriff.

Now when I first watched this movie, it was closer to 2007 instead of 2017. I liked it for the suspenseful action, the thought that went into the cat and mouse game, and for Tommy Lee Jones. Yet at the time I didn’t really consider a greater meaning to the story.

Upon watching it ten years later, I actually ended up in the same spot again. Tedsters! Don’t start. I see your glares! Anyways, yes my groovy audience, I ended up confused again at the ending. With all the chasing and all the killing, I found the retired sheriff simply looking back on two dreams a bit empty. But I was uneducated, and with that let us dive into a bigger philosophical concept that I haven’t considered in cinema.

A Plot-less Plot

So with Fifty Shades, we mentioned the concept of gimmicks within a film. This movie, being one full of intriguing gimmicks, follows the same build many other movies have. A beginning, a conflict, a climax, and a resolution. When I took film analysis-

~Tedsters cough~ Tryin’ to sound smart I see ~Continues to sit back and listens~

Ah hem… Anyways. I remember reading in my film book about how The Wizard of Oz was used to understand concepts that are seen in other movies. See, we as the audience are used to a story that begins, shows an obstacle, resolved it through the end of a climax (not dirty), and sums things up. But it is far more than that.

Think of space. The vastness of everything up there. Most of us can’t truly understand infinity. The Wizard of Oz is finite. It ends with an ending that is tied up. It satisfies our need for closure and resolution, while also being entertaining. It has plot development and character development that ends up finishing its overall goal at the end. Most films follow this. It plays on humans desire for completion. We see this in real life where ever we look. If a friend is hurting, you may go up to them to comfort them. After they appear to feel better, you may go check on them to see if they are still happy. The lack of knowing can be troubling, especially if you are tied into it.

In No Country for Old Men, it follows a lot of the same concepts. Throughout it all, the sheriff has issues understanding the craziness of these crimes. He recalls moments in his past about how things appeared different and uses these moments to attempt to understand the present events. Additionally, when he can’t figure out what is going to happen next in the cat and mouse game he struggles to understand the entire meaning of it.

The truth is, once I finished watching it I was confused. So I decided to break the norm and look at another review about the movie. I vow not to stop my search for knowledge, even when an obstacle appears to me. Since I don’t do a lot of outside research (which may change) when I write these reviews, I feel that I needed to for this film. So with that in mind, what did I discover?

What it kinda, sorta means…

When the sheriff reads the newspaper about a grisly murder, he wonders how such a thing could happen. It is in this moment that I realized the greater significance of the sheriff and his reflective nature.

The Sheriff questions how such behavior could happen. Humanity does the same thing. It is when he talks with Ellis that he begins to see the repetitive nature of life, as well as the audience. Ellis remarks on a series of deaths that occurred in the county over during Sheriff Bell’s father’s time. These deaths were unlike anything his dad experienced, but they happened nonetheless. They were prompted with no understandable reason and they ended without must information as to why. Sometimes information was given to the origin, but mostly the middle part of the story was revealed. This point entirely marks the meaning of this movie.

Really? How? I don’t understand! How can a plot be plot-less?

Well my skeptical friend, it is because the plot deals with the concept of not knowing the end. Since we are presented with a cat and mouse movie, we want to know who wins as well as any loose ends being tied up. The mouse is more than likely dead. As for the cat, he is left injured and the observing sheriff is left with only tidbits of information. This lack of knowing is what occurs in real life, except unlike in real life most people see movies as a medium that comes to a clear conclusion.

This movie gives us a section of a story that when it ends it doesn’t tie everything up with a nice bow. So why do some people get confused by this?

Movie Psychology

We like tied up things (def... not meant to be taken bad). This concept ties into our need for things to be understood and labeled. Like in a song, it follows an order of progression that reaches a climax and concludes with an ending. The vastness of space is hard to fully understand because it defies this concept. If it was finite, like a cardboard box, it would be easily understood. Yet, our own world is not as vast as space. It is definitely complex and definitely open ended, but there are things that are tied down. Look around you, fellow reader, and see what we label and what we try to understand. It is truly amazing how often we try to explain what happens to us. We conclude on things by how we analyze cause and effect. Person A is bad, because they did a bad action. The truth is, this is oversimplifying things greatly. Person A may have had to do a bad action for an ultimately positive outcome. When we know of this fact, we just adjust our interpretation of Person A. The ultimate issue is that in the real world we may not always have this information.

With this movie, that is what happens. We are, in a way, the sheriff. We are the outsider, the observer, watching tidbits of information where the majority of it is simply shrouded in mystery and misdirection. What the sheriff is able to observe and process happens mostly after the fact and even though we see it in real time, we are ultimately limited as well. It is true that we see things that we wouldn’t probably see if we were truly in the sheriff’s shoes, but most of this information would have been printed in the newspaper. The few times we see things that we weren’t normally acquire in our daily lives are simply there to move the story along, such as the stolen money being stored in the vents.

So are we the sheriff? I say no. I feel that we, the audience, are two things. 1) We go along with the sheriff. We learn what he learns and observe from a large distance. Like the newspaper reading scene, we are learning tidbits of information. This is why some people (like me) may become lost at the end of the film for we are looking for more meaning out of it. And, 2) We are also able to transcend this state and see things we weren’t normally able to see. This knowledge ultimately becomes limited at the end. This step is what the audience typically is. We see information that moves the story a long.

The Switch

Throughout the film, we switch between seeing the limited range of knowledge similar to the sheriff and the state of being the all-seeing audience member. The latter state, as mentioned before, is the typical state an audience member is in when observing any film. We are presented information that is being viewed and not much thought is put upon us.

So to recap I will do a quick bullet point version:

- Like when reading a newspaper story, we are given a section of a drug deal gone wrong and the effects of it.

- We don’t truly know the cause of it or what started it.

- We see some of the “backstory” of the welder, as well as his actions. He tells his love interest to leave, so that she can be safe.

- The cat and mouse game begins. The sheriff observes the chase, but is only able to acquire tidbits of information. Most of what he knows that we see would be written in a newspaper article.

- By the end, we are left unaware of what happens to the villain. He gets away. In a newspaper article, we may not always know what happens or even the fact that he broke his arm. We lose our ability to be all-seeing and ultimately become more of what the sheriff is.

- The sheriff is someone who processes everything that occurred, but ultimately is limited to being a distant observer. He tries to label and understand what he sees both in the chase and in life, which allows him the peace of mind of acknowledging his own limited range of knowledge.

So the switch happens at the end. We lose our ability to know everything like a typical movie would allow an audience member to experience. The sheriff learns this lesson, which is why his second dream features his father showing him the light through the darkness. More than likely, his father went through the same thing that his son experienced. The realization that the world is disorganized and even though we as humanity will continue to label what we can, some stuff will just be confusing and unknowable. Some stuff will be left unfinished or feel incomplete, no matter how much we desire things to be solved and finished. This acceptance of our own humanity is the fire that his father showed him in his dream. It is a difficult lesson to accept, because humanity will continue to look for the causes and effects whenever we can. We like to know things or at least slightly understand them how things started. If it is too vast, we either learn more about how large it is or simply pass is by.

We know that the psychopath is bad, because of how he acts and hurts people. We know that corruption exists when we see Woody Harrelson being a secretive businessman that personally knows Anton. Yet we don’t know Anton’s true motives or why Woody Harrelson acts the way he does. For me, Woody Harrelson’s character came into the story as quick as he dies and like a fleeting moment he vanishes from my thought. We don’t truly know his backstory or motives, and more than likely a person reading the cat and mouse newspaper story would never learn of his character.

The Overall Stance

I like this movie. I like it a lot, because it challenges the norms of plot development. The story causes a twist in the stomach… or minds… of the audience by making things left untied. It is full of suspense and the action sequences are great. They don’t have a lot of quick cuts, which is nice. They are direct, grotesque at key times, and full of eager possibilities.

The reflective sheriff is what I like the most upon continued reflection. These thoughts are important to consider. Things in the real world are tough to categorize, yet people often still try. There is nothing wrong with that, however knowing our own limitations are important. We can’t always see every outcome and that is okay.

To be honest, I don’t know what to grade this movie entirely. It challenges the norms and deals with a subjective concept. I feel satisfied with four stars out of five, however I feel that it is worth watching and judging for yourself. I recommend watching other movies first then coming to this one so you can see how the plot behaves the way it does in this film.

Thanks groovy audience! Next review will be Tedsters! He has been hard at work drinking Coke and contemplating!

Peace and love!

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mackinmacki · 8 years ago

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The Day Love Was Confirmed

Rating: K

Word Count: 1877

Pairing: Power Hug (HitomiChiduko)

Summary: Chiduko finds Hitomi protecting a kitten on the street, and learns something about her own feelings.

Notes: That new tenfes comic with Hitomi and Chiduko just shows I was on the right ship the entire time. I changed the name slightly for the title, though. Considering it involves Hitomi, I should tag @hitomishiga just in case.

Rain poured down as Chiduko happily skipped home. It may have been terrible weather, but that wasn't going to put a damper on her good mood. She loved watching the rain falling down, like a cascading curtain that sounded like a beautiful storm symphony. Plus, she liked to huddle up under her umbrella like it was a shield, protecting her from getting soaked. Who wouldn't love taking a stroll in the rain?

While on her way home, she found herself stopped in her tracks by a surprising sight. A short distance away was a cardboard box, clearly having ended up in poor shape due to the elements pounding away at it. In the box was a small white kitten, a poor, defenseless animal having been abandoned to the cold cruelties of the world. Her heart would've been wrenched in pain if not for the fact that there was someone else there protecting it.

It wasn't that she was surprised that someone would come to the aid of that poor kitten. What she was surprised about was who was doing the protecting: Hitomi. The same Hitomi who chased a tardy student down the halls with a giant sword was crouched down on the wet ground, allowing her own body to get soaked in order to use her umbrella to protect the kitten.

From her location, Chiduko could just make out the wistful expression on Hitomi's face, a much softer expression than she usually saw on a day to day basis. That blade of grass was still in her mouth, a look that at least complimented her outfit. She had always wondered if Hitomi just watched a lot of American westerns, but she'd never bothered to ask. It was interesting to compare such a rough-and-tumble look with that expression and the act of kindness she was witnessing.

She took one hand off of her umbrella handle and placed it on her chest, feeling her heart beating much more audibly than normal. It wasn't just love, she knew that. After all, she loved everyone. There was no better discipline than to shower someone in affection, so she had made it her mission in life to bring love to everyone in the world. So no, it wasn't love. It was greater than that, like some kind of superpowered love.

This wasn't a new phenomenon, though. She had felt there was something more when it came to Hitomi, ever since they first met as members of the disciplinary committee. Sure, Hitomi had been brash and distant, with a disciplinary style completely contrary to her own, but there was no denying that Chiduko felt something more for this girl. The scene before her just put the final nail of proof in the coffin of love.

Hitomi didn't seem to notice anyone else was there as Chiduko approached her, and it was only when the rain stopped falling on her that her attention was drawn away from the kitten. When she looked up, Chiduko was smiling down at her, holding the umbrella above the both of them to keep the storm at bay. "You'll catch a cold out in the rain like this."

"Unlikely. My immune system is extraordinary strong." Even when caught doing something so unlike herself, Hitomi always at least sounded normal. Chiduko giggled and crouched down to be next to Hitomi, refusing to move the umbrella regardless of that strong immune system.

"So have you given it a name yet?"

"Its name is Claymore, because it will someday grow up to be big and strong, and then it will smite all its enemies." Did she really expect anything else? That was Hitomi though, through and through. She could still feel her heart beating loudly. "My parents would never allow me to bring a street animal home, though. So this is our new committee mascot. We must make sure that Mikoto does not hurt it with her angry little hands."

That did sound nice, but Chiduko was pretty sure that they weren't allowed to have animals in the schools. Not like either of them always followed the school rules to a T, but this one might be a tougher nut to crack. "How about we keep Claymore at my house, instead? My parents won't even notice." With a moment of deliberation, Hitomi nodded, then scooped up the kitten, who seemed happy to be going with them.

Hoisting their umbrellas back up, the two of them walked to Chiduko's house. She did most of the talking, while Hitomi did most of the grunting. It wasn't a big deal, though. Chiduko loved Hitomi just as she was: a person who didn't talk so much as she dispensed silent justice.

Once they reached the house, they left their umbrellas outside, with Chiduko telling Hitomi to stay at the door so that she could get a towel. She felt a bit giddy as she hurried inside to fetch one. She'd never had anyone from school at her house, and having Hitomi as the first was even better.

When she reached the laundry room, she grabbed a towel and rushed back to hand it to Hitomi, who thanked her and began to dry off. They stood on the porch together, with Chiduko being happy to enjoy their silent company. Claymore mewled in Hitomi's arms, and when she was relatively dry enough, they went into the house so the kitten could move around.

In Chiduko's room, Hitomi set the kitten down, and it began to wander around the room. Meanwhile, Chiduko went over to her drawers and started to look through them for another change of clothes. She didn't want Hitomi to catch a cold by standing around in clothes that were still semi-wet.

"What are you doing?" Hitomi just stared at Chiduko, not entirely sure what she was doing. Why was she looking for clothes? Her current attire seemed fine.

"Getting a new change of clothes for you. You'll still risk sickness if you don't remove that outfit." She shoved a new outfit into Hitomi's arms. "Now go take a warm shower and change into this okay?"

"I told you, my immune system-"

"I know, but pleeease? For me?" She gave Hitomi her best puppy-dog eyes, clasping her hands together. Hitomi stared at her for a moment longer, then just stiffly nodded and let Chiduko lead her to the bathroom, where she would be allowed to shower and change in peace. With that settled, Chiduko went back into her room and smiled brightly at Claymore. "Isn't this the best day ever, kitty?" All she got was a simple 'mew' in response before it went back to laying on her rug. "I'll take that as a yes!"

Meanwhile, even while in the shower, Hitomi still had that blade of grass between her teeth. Maybe she oughta throw it out, but it helped enhance her tough gal aesthetic. What could be more important than the aesthetic? She'd carry her sword around everywhere if Mikoto didn't constantly confiscate it.

It felt a tad awkward to be showering in someone else's house, but Chiduko was very insistent. That was a normal trait of hers, though. Not that it was a bad thing. It was just a part of her warrior way. The way of a love warrior.

They tended to be grouped together due to their 'troublesome ways', according to Mikoto. She wasn't sure she understood that. After all, she was on the disciplinary committee: how could she be troublesome when she was out there stopping trouble? Sometimes she had a feeling that Mikoto had an issue with how they ran things. Weird.

Chiduko understood, though. She was always willing to help out, even though her help usually involved a lot of hugs and invasion of personal space. If she ever needed to break into the secret council room to retrieve her sword, Chiduko was always the first person willing to help. That was a worthwhile ally.

Surely the kitten would be in good hands with Chiduko, so she felt confident that there wouldn't be an issue. The safety of such defenseless creatures was tantamount, after all. With that all settled in her mind, she just needed to get her clothes and she could be off.

She shut off the water and grabbed a towel, drying her body off before attempting to dry as much of her hair as possible with an already-wet towel. It would be easier with a blow dryer, but that would mean sitting there in another person's house for a lot longer than she had originally intended. So instead she just got it to 'decently dry' levels and put on the clothes that Chiduko had picked out for her.

They were a bit tight in the chest area, and a bit short when it came to the skirt, but her main issue stemmed from the colors. It was so... pastel. The light, cheerful yellow didn't exactly fit her tried and true aesthetic, but it would have to do on a temporary basis. Now it was time to go get her actual clothes back.

When she got back to the room, she found Chiduko sitting on the bed patiently waiting for her. "Were you just sitting there the whole time?"

"I was talking to Claymore." Chiduko smiled and waved at the kitten, who just meowed again. "It's such a cutie. Oh by the way, I put your clothes in the washing machine."

"What?"

"I figured I'd get them nice and dry, and I'll bring them to you tomorrow." She smiled easily, like this was just a normal, regular occurrence. What could she do, though? She wasn't going to try and find the laundry room, yank open the washer, and pull out her even more soaked clothes.

"Alright then. Well, I should get going. My parents will be expecting me." Chiduko nodded, standing up to lead Hitomi to the door. "Thank you for your hospitality and the temporary usage of your clothing. I am sure that Claymore will be in good hands."

"Absolutely!" Smiling brightly, Chiduko leaned in to give Hitomi a big hug, then placed a kiss on her cheek. "And you're in good hands too. See ya tomorrow, Hitomi!"

"Uh, yeah, see you." Hitomi could only wave in bemusement as Chiduko beamed and shut the door, leaving her alone on the porch. Did she just... kiss her? What did that mean? Maybe it was some kind of challenge. Was that something Chiduko would do? ... Yes, yes it was. That was a challenge kiss, which meant that she would have to respond in kind. No Shiga ever cowered before a challenge.

Resolute, she turned right around and nearly walked out into the rain without her umbrella. That kiss had shook her a little. She needed to get her guard back up... What was she looking for again? She nearly walked back out into the rain before remembering that damn umbrella.

In the house, Chiduko leaned against the door with a big, silly grin on her face. Hitomi looked so cute in her clothing. Pastel really suited her. Now she knew what she had been trying to describe earlier. It wasn't 'superpowered love': she was in love. She was in love with Hitomi Shiga. "My love has been upgraded!"

#love live!#love live! school idol festival #shiga hitomi #sakamaki chiduko #power hug #my writing

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