#like i kinda feel like some sort of better man mash-up is coming and this would fall right into it lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

finsterhund · 1 year ago

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Thank goodness for Sly. Love my Special Sly.

Idk just this guy is such a huge comfort to me right now. I want to feel bad about hugging a stuffed animal goodnight every time I go to bed who had a 1998 retail price of 300 USD but he's just such an incredible toy.

I know he was made to be loved. That's important.

Still world building for a story inspired by him. I kinda want to come up with a new name for him for the story so I'm not just stealing the character made for the toy. But idk. Sly is just a perfect name for a conniving vicious-servant-esque slithering under the bed monster.

For my story I'm making enough design changes I think to be its own thing also. But man is his design super comfy to me.

I wish I could see a giant version of him. I've already been thinking a lot about making my own quilts. Quilted under bed monster. 🥹 Like the only thing that'd make him a better cuddler was that he was bigger. We're talking Lifesize/sleepingbag sized. Lol imagine one so big you can actually fit inside his pajamas bag tummy.

Idk so positives are Sly. I love my Special Sly. Still been unable to write or draw but with the world based on him world building documents come easily.

I wish I could do art fight. I want to get art I want to draw for friends. But grief and pain is just too much. I'm getting familial trauma and childhood pain dragged up a lot in my brain. I guess that's to be expected when I'm struggling with similar pains. I just wish I could have a relationship with my grandparents without all the baggage. Part of me fears what if they weren't good people like I remember. Because I was so small. Because there's people still around who aren't good people. But I know they were good. I can feel it. Idk. I wish I could start again have a new life be born to new parents and have a childhood that wasn't torn asunder by grief and abuse and trauma, you know? Imagine how I'd grown up if so. I'd actually have grown up for one thing. Not stuck in trauma child limbo.

Idk. Just hugging my Special Sly. Thank you Fishy for helping me get my hands on him.

Apologies as part of this Tumblr ate my gotdang post so I tried to the best of my ability to replace what was lost but it's not going to feel as complete as it should be.

I have been thinking about how wanting to create comes easily with Sly because my world for him to inhabit is simple and childish and a sort of dreamland esque thing. My magnum opus I've been working on since I was little is a gargantuan undertaking tied to my childhood and trauma and it's just so daunting to touch it. And I both want to change it and don't want to change it. It's literally grown up with me and it's become so much an untouchable thing. But with Sly I can go "hehe ho childlore HoDcore under the bed monster dimension go brrrrrrrrr"

My main fictional universe is very much if you didn't already know the result of the mythology esque "constellation creatures high fantasy" world of my earlier years mashed together with the "sci-fi post apocalyptic mutant and/or bionic dogs on what is almost certainly some form of Earth" world of my elementary school years that over the course of time I've been functionally merging the two at times conflicting concepts. And it very much is something I feel I still struggle with the balance of. Sometimes I feel it's way more obvious than others.

I've just put so much into this world that if I go in to change literally anything there's a domino/ripple/butterfly effect that happens where I've gotta extensively go and ensure there's consistency and that "nothing breaks" the established worldbuilding and planned plotlines and such in doing so. Which is pretty fucking exhausting.

But I mean that's what happens when there's over a decade of a child retreating into this fantasy world. A lot of time has passed, a lot of areas for growth and change. In real life I am stunted and didn't grow, but my world sure as hell did. Tired (and weak)

Idk if I'll ever be able to even publish book 1 (pretty much done in draft form except for when I feel compelled to overhaul shit) or book 2 (predominantly done but less than 1 and I have the same problem where I keep wanting to add and change) and I don't want to end up being a George Lucas about it and then not commit to it once I do publish and insist on changing and republishing ad nauseam forever. I'm gonna die before my life's work ever amounts to anything 😔

If you reduce it to the bare bones what has been set in stone is essentially Heart of Darkness but the boy and his dog are natives of the alien planet in question and it's at the point in history where the dark force is attempting to achieve purchase within the world rather than it already having largely taken over and deposed any and all opposition. But of course I have an unkillable Tolkien approach to the whole thing and I just have to have that encyclopedic brand of autism where I have to ensure consistency with everything from the way the world is designed to the way the damn physics works in relation to how physics works in the real universe. I was talking about this to some friends on discord and I joked about how this neuroses of mine could outcompete the entirety of Wookiepedia. Which is not exactly a healthy thing considering that Star Wars EU was the product of many people and Wookiepedia itself is the product of many people. And I'm just one immensely fucked up little boy with a special brain.

Creators, I want you to take your biggest longest worked on specialest project and I want you to seriously narrow down just how big of a world you've made for it. Is it a town? Is it a kingdom? Is it a continent? Is it a planet? Is it a galaxy? Or are you like fucking me and you've got in some capacity at least four goddamn star systems and while you do only largely focus on the one planet you feel compulsively the need to develop it as much as fucking possible and also to worldbuild stuff that you may never even get to in a similar degree with every other fucking planet? Bruh I've got a whole fucking potential universe to work with and my brain absolutely won't let me forget it even though a human brain really isn't equipped to process an entire universe. And I post none of this online because I've had people steal my shit literally since the third grade (Fuck you Jarod) and also where the fuck do I start with the posting? And once I post things god forbid I retcon it because not only do I need to alter things internally but publicly now too.

Yes, the only things I ever share at a bare minimum must be stuff I know isn't going to fucking change six thousand times over the course of the month. The only things I let other people see are the stuff where changing it would be sacrilege. Like Red Spot is always going to be a red eyed doberman with cropped ears and a docked tail and wings and a star collar. Orion is always going to be a little blue-tinted albino emperor penguin boy. And for 99% of people who know anything about my shit that's pretty much all they know, all they're ever going to know, and all I'm ever going to tell them. Because that at this point would never change. (If you knew me in school you may be aware that Red Spot has flip-flopped to some extent in turbulent mistake-ridden points of my life but shut up no he didn't. Forget that. What do you mean he had red-toned constellation coloration at one point rather than the black and rust typical doberman coloration??? Shut the fuck up I am gaslighting you. Forget. Forget. Forget. Forget.) (Also an aside but the whole finsterhund lichthund wing morphology thing only initially was a thing I decided needed to exist because of how the type of wings Red Spot had was inconsistent. I built an entire fuckton of shit that has significant thematic impact and worldbuilding lore and societal connotations and etc. etc. because little baby Andy couldn't decide between dragon or eagle wings. Just to give a small example of why this monster has taken years and years and years and it is STILL FUCKING IN DEVELOPMENT HELL CHRIST MAN WTF SOMEBODY HELP ME)

So I've burned out almost completely with my beloved world. It sucks. I don't even know how to proceed from here. An obvious answer is just to strip away everything save for the bare minimum and start over. But I don't want to abandon my fucking child. And I know I'm just likely to do it all over again even if I managed to commit. Which I wouldn't in the first place. Friends tell me "oh just focus on books 1 and 2 and work with anything else later" but you don't understand I need to make sure that I never contradict myself ever and that even the tiniest thing within books 1 and 2 remain canon compliant permanently and inscrutably. God.

I do not have this problem with my Heart of Darkness headcanons. I feel more restricted with HoD. More restrained. Because I am violently picky about something potentially being an aberration or inconsistency or ruining the canon. I can't just harass Eric or Fred every hour of the day about shit I can't infer from what's present in the game itself so I am on a leash. Which in and of itself is stressful because I do wish there was encyclopedic levels of autistic worldbuilding that was canon that I knew for a fact was what Eric and Fred and Christian intended.

How do I let loose and have fun? Well the answer it turns out is Underbed.

My whole concept of Underbed is that it's some sort of backrooms esque nightmare realm where monsters from under the bed, in the closet, etc. live. And akin to the whole backrooms concept it's not like it's a planet or universe all its own. It's like a parasitic pocket dimension to Earth. Which Earth? It doesn't matter. It's implied to be powered by childlore and childhood dreams, imagination, fear, etc. So it can bend and stretch and fluctuate and I don't have to worry about how quilted patchwork creatures are "alive" or how things can travel between the two spaces or anything. And I haven't yet felt the compulsion to over explain and set compliancy rules in regards to lore, physics, etc.

Of course I do want to do crossover stuff with HoD, but not seeing Underbed as its own distinct planet like where the Darkland is does make this easier. I only have to worry about one of the locations having its "black hole at the heart of the planet how does this dictate how things work there" lore. Underbed gets to be "idk magic quilt lol" about the whole thing. The most I've gone into more realistic concepts is that perhaps it's implied the childhood creatures may have once been flesh and blood but were cursed somehow. Maybe.

I think that acknowledging how creating to me is a tiresome burden because of the state of my brain is a good first step but I don't know where exactly to go from here. I do wish I could just not give a shit but unfortunately my entire childhood has drilled into me that there are consequences for not covering your bases at all times.

I ended up contacting the surviving daughter of the designer of the original Sly, who is also the person who wrote the little beanie babies esque story on the tags to see about officially getting her blessing to make my own story based off of my Special Sly but I'm currently waiting on a response.

I do think that what I want to make is its own distinct thing to the point that I surely have every right to do it. I mean he's not even going to fully look like the original toy design and people make stories based on their childhood toys all the time but I'm so self-conscious and paranoid about the whole thing.

#text post #long post #negative #writer problems #vague hod

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

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Trial by Fire (Part 1/3) Santiago “Pope” Garcia x GN reader

Summary: You’re finally introducing your new boyfriend to The Boys. It must be intimidating for your guy because, hello? Not only are they literally lethal, as well as infeasibly handsome, but they’re hella protective of you to boot. They want the best for you so, naturally, they make your guy run the gauntlet the whole evening. Santiago, though? Well. Given that he is secretly in love with you? Let’s just say he doesn’t handle the situation very well at all.

Genre / tropes: angst, friends to lovers, love confession.

Author’s note: I wasn’t planning on writing this (in fact I’m writing the opposite, where “Santi has a new girlfriend and you don’t take it well” as a series, loosely based around the 7 deadly sins); but, in the meatime, I wrote this to get back into the swing of things after a lil break. It’s just a quick one, but there will be a second and final part, if you want it! Let me know!

Word count: somehow, 4.4k.

Warnings: language, angst, best friends arguing, Santi being an asshole.

Rating: T

The boys aren’t being as awful as you had anticipated, at least. For the most part, they’re actually being pretty friendly, and although they’ve transitioned into grilling Dean about every aspect of his life, they are at least listening intently and smiling at his answers. All except for one fucker, of course; and, naturally, surprising no-one, the fucker misbehaving is one (1) Santiago “Pope” Garcia.

The group - the boys, yourself, and Dean- are huddled comfortably around the blazing warmth of the fire pit in Frankie’s yard. The dancing, oranged flames cut through the dark and cold of the crisp night, as you sit upwind of the smoke on scattered, mis-matched camp chairs.

Whilst the others are evidently enjoying the evening -faces painted with smiles, body language open and leaning-in to chat to Dean- that fucker Santi is leaning back in his chair, his jaw twitching in seeming aggravation, his arms folded, and his intense eyes needling your beau. In this dim light, with the firelight licking over the sharp planes of his face, he looks every bit like a trained killer about to leap out of the shadows and garotte someone. Well… a very petulant trained killer. His call sign should have been Mr. Grumpy Pants, you think idly.

What’s up with him this time?! you wonder.

He gets these moods sometimes. And, when it strikes him, he can be a little bit hostile - despite the fact he’s a puppy underneath it all. You had hoped that for once, maybe he would suck it up, and yet, your hopes had been in vain, it seems.

Every time Dean speaks, or touches you, or even laughs at another of the guys’ stories, Santi’s expression sinks further and further through layers of distaste; and, by this point, he’s eyeing Dean as though he’s a war criminal the squad have been sent to take-out. You half expect him to leap up and take down Frankie any second for fraternizing with “the enemy”, if you’re honest.

Truth be told, you’ve had just about enough of this. Your friend had better buck his ideas up, sharpish, or he’d be reminded very swiftly that you were Delta Force too.

For now, trying to ignore the bastard, you look back at Dean, and the sight of him in animated conversation with your buddies causes at least some of your aggravation to fall away. Things have been going well between you and Dean, even if you do say so yourself. Originally from Michigan, he now worked as a lecturer at a nearby music school. He was also a banjo musician in a bluegrass / synth power-pop mash-up of a band, which (sort of) explained his retro-inspired mop of brown hair and his thick dark moustache - majestic enough to rival Frankie’s. True, he wasn’t your usual type, but he was honest, and sweet and kind... Plus, he’d never killed anyone with his bare hands, which was rather refreshing too, if you were honest.

Safe to say, so far, things were working out. So well, in fact, that you’d recently met his parents for the first time while they were in town. So well, in fact, that -after keeping him purposefully away from the boys for as long as you feasibly could- you’d now brought him to meet your family. That’s what this squad was to you, after all. Your family.

Remembering sporadic moments from the past few months together, you smile gently as you listen to Dean talk. You watch him seamlessly integrate some tailored conversation starters you’d fed him ahead of time, and you gently squeeze his thigh in an act of reassurance and appreciation. He is feeling the pressure, you can tell, although he is handling it well. To be fair, you think, who wouldn’t feel the pressure? You’d been nervous enough to meet his parents, but this? A bunch of Delta Force guys and an MMA champion? This squad was lethal; literally -you’ve lost track of your combined kill count, though Will probably hasn’t, you are sure.

Aside from that though, most of all, they are your family. You need them to like Dean and vice versa, and you know that isn’t necessarily a given. You are a tight-knit group, with little hope of outsiders grasping the full extent of your decade’s old in-jokes, or the intense camaraderie instilled by facing a hail of bullets together. Plus, as the baby of the group, they were protective as all hell of you.

It came from a good place, you knew: they wanted what was best for you. But, there was a reason you’d delayed this meeting... It’s not as though they were threatening or anything. They didn’t do the whole “if you hurt our buddy, I’ll kill you” thing, for example (at least, not while you were present – you couldn’t vouch for what happened when you were out of earshot). However, after introducing a succession of boyfriends to them over the years, the squad had developed a well-rehearsed system for sizing-up your new squeeze. In the past, not all of your squeezes had made it through the gauntlet. It was a trial by fire, to be sure, and you were pleased that Dean has not yet been burned.

Of course, whilst the boys’ approval didn’t mean everything to you, you couldn’t deny it was important; perhaps especially this time, with this guy. And, out of all of the group, Santi’s approval meant the most to you. Always had. Probably because Santi meant the most to you, full stop. You simply couldn’t imagine having someone in your life that didn’t get on with your best friend. And, so, you are not overly thrilled at the reception Santi is giving Dean right now. The reception he had been giving him all evening, in fact. And the more you dwell on it, the more an anger bubbles forth from you. Even though you try to push it down, and focus on Dean, that fucker in the corner of your eye sends you.

“What’s wrong with you tonight, Garcia?” you blurt out, a little louder than intended, causing the amiable chat and giggles to stall, all eyes turning to you - then, in turn, following the direction of your fiery gaze over to Santi, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Now, he leans forward. Looks back at you with a rare venom in his eyes. With a smug curl of his mouth, he dips to pick up his beer from the floor and takes a swig - buying himself some time. Trying to brush you off. Still, your gaze does not relent as he rests his elbows on his thighs, bridging his fingers together in the space between, thumbs sticking in the air.

Now, he engages, and he looks directly at Dean, his eyes sweeping dismissively over the entirety of his form. Now, he speaks, his voice filled with far more bitterness than the situation merits. “Nothing at all. I’m fucking peachy. So, Dean. You play the motherfuckin’ banjo?” he offers, and yet, it sounds far more like an accusation than a question.

What the fuck is up with him?

Wilting a little beneath Santi’s stare, as the ex-operative squints his eyes in his direction, Dean casts a helpless, sideward glance at you from his place in the circle, and yet, you are so stupefied by anger that you can do little to help.

“I think what my dear friend means to say -” Frankie dips in valiantly, smacking Santi pointedly on the thigh, likely hoping to smack some sense into him too “- is why don’t you tell us more about your music, Dean?”

Frankie’s eyes and smile are soft when he looks at you, surreptitiously exchanging a pointed look -what’s up with that pendejo?- and you are grateful that at least some of the evident tension is diffused when he picks up the slack in the conversation.

Santi and his mood swings be damned, and, feeling bolstered, Dean continues on.

“Actually, it’s going pretty frickin’ well with the band. It’s a side-gig to my lecturing job, but we’re planning a tour during summer vacation. The States -east coast- and Western Europe for now. Maybe headlining a couple of small festivals, if that pans out, who knows.” Dean relates, humbly.

“That’s great, man,” Will chips in, helping Frankie get things back on track. “We’ll have to come down to a gig soon, hear you play.”

“Actually, we have something to tell you about the tour, don’t we, babe?” Dean says bashfully, and he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to pick-up the thread. You’d talked about it before coming today, and it had seemed like a great idea at the time, but suddenly, now that the announcement is imminent, your mouth is dry - as if filled with cotton. Still, you force a smile, and you’re not sure why, but you look anywhere else but at Santi as your lips form the words. “Yeah – kinda big news, fellas. I’m going to join Dean on the Europe leg of the tour. I’ll be leaving you losers behind for a few months.”

Dean’s face cracks into a smile and he reaches for your hand, looking made-up at the prospect. Still, while you will yourself to be fully present in the moment, you find yourself focussed on looking anywhere but at Santi, sure that his stare must be boring into the side of your head. You hadn’t told him yet. Unfortunately, at Santi is where just about everyone else ends up looking, as the fucker abruptly pushes his camp chair back and stands, storming indoors before anyone can hope to fathom it.

You exchange glances with Frankie, Will, and Benny, with Benny thankfully stepping-in this time to distract Dean from the obvious, and asking him which stops you two will be making, and which sights you plan to see.

“Look, man, don’t mind that tool. Got any sightseeing plans?”

What is Santi’s problem? Why can’t he give Dean a chance? Yes, you’ve made some mistakes in the past- been hurt, and Santi had helped you pick up the pieces -every time- but you had a good feeling about Dean. A really good feeling. Can’t he see that too?

Frankie throws a concerned glance back towards the house and motions as if to stand, but you beat him to it, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “I’ll go,” you insist, motioning for Frankie to stay put, and with a quick promise to Dean that you’ll be back soon (and a silent plea to your boys to take care of him in your absence), you do just that, walk-jogging across the grass.

When you step inside to the kitchen, you find Santi stood, hunched over the counter, his palms clasping the surface tight enough that his knuckles pale, and his head hung low, his shoulders rising and falling as he takes in exaggerated breaths.

“Well?” you ask pointedly, with zero tolerance for his bullshit. “What’s going on with you? Wanna explain why you’re being an ass to my boyfriend?” you challenge to the back of him, and he instantly whips around at the sound of your voice.

“I’m being an ass?” he asks indignantly, his eyebrows shooting towards the top of his head.

“Yes. In a nutshell. Yes,” you hiss, any other interpretation feeling impossible. You fold your arms and purse your lips, making it plainly evident that you are waiting for some explanation. And, oh boy, it had better be good.

Instead of explaining though, Santi simply huffs out breath, gesturing angrily out of the window. “That guy, really? That’s the guy you’re gonna go all in for? Go to fucking Europe for?”

That guy, you mouth silently, completely stupefied for a moment. You’re not sure exactly what your so-called friend is insinuating, but you are clear that you don’t like it one bit.

“What is your fucking problem?” you ask, punctuating your words with motions of your hands, as if you are trying to strangle the air in-between you in lieu of his neck. “Dean’s a catch. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s a nice guy. He’s there for me. He takes care of me.”

“Like I don’t take care of you?!” Santi exclaims, his voice rising and abrasive; and then, immediately after the words tumble forth from his lips, he steps back imperceptibly, as if startled by his own outburst, his hand rasping over the stubble on his chin.

“What in the...? This isn’t about you, you ass!” you bite back, face scrunching up in confusion. Your fingers come to your temples as you grow increasingly lost-off and perplexed, and seemingly, your riposte only makes Santi double down on whatever the hell he is complaining about.

“Who’s the one who’s always been there for you, hmm? Who picks up the pieces every time you make yet another dumb shitty choice with another shitty guy?” he rambles, gesturing his hand towards you dismissively.

You step back from him this time, just a little, tears spiking instantaneously in your eyes at such an unnecessarily cruel blow. He’s right, in a sense: you had always relied on Santi to heal you, not to hurt you - and yet here he was dealing these painful, incoherent blows out of nowhere.

“Shit, Garcia. If it’s that much trouble to be there for me don’t bother next time,” you snap, your voice breaking as the swell of anger and hurt and adrenalin sends tears spilling over your cheeks. “Don’t worry though, I don’t think I’ll need you again. In fact, I have a feeling this guy might stick. So, maybe? Maybe you should think about the fact that the only shitty guy around here is you.”

“You really think he’s good enough for you, hmm? He’s really who you want to end up with?”

You listen, aghast, as his tirade keeps coming. However, as Santi’s voice breaks with emotion part-way through his second question, you can’t explain it, but you feel an intolerable sadness in the pit of you. Even though you’re not sure what’s causing all this, what you’re barrelling toward, you want to thrust this sadness away from you. Push him away from you. You want to push away the knot in your stomach for fear that if you tug at that thread, you might arrive at an answer to his question.

Exasperated, overwhelmed, you roughly paw tears from your cheeks, not knowing where all of these feelings are coming from, in either direction. “Fuck, I... I don’t understand what this is. I don’t get it!” you say, waving your hands, palms-up, through the air. “Is this some macho bullshit? Have I pissed you off somehow?”

At that, the wave of Santi’s anger crests and breaks; as you wonder if you annoyed him. Then, as suddenly as his anger came it is waning, his eyes pooling with rare tears now. With a huff of breath he tears off his damn cap, tossing it aside to run a hand through his grizzled hair.

“No. No,” he backtracks a little, palms up in surrender. “You haven’t... I.... I just...” He pinches his lips in-between his teeth and looks up at the ceiling as his words trail off, perhaps trying to steady his voice before continuing. Or, perhaps he has nothing else to say to you. Perhaps he’s said enough.

You examine him. Still pissed as all hell, but worried now too, and ultimately, your love for your best friend slightly edging-out the anger. It’s rare that anything affects him like this, and you can’t help the sudden rush of concern.

Cresting too, you exhale a tightly held breath into the now silent, taut space between you, and your body sags - just a little. You chew over your words a moment, but when your voice comes back the volume is lower, your tone softer - and, although it cannot be considered friendly, by any stretch, it’s the best you can do right now.

“You know what,” you offer, generously, wrapping your arms around your own middle, stroking your forearms with your own fingertips. “I’m giving you a pass. You don’t even want to give Dean a chance? Then just leave, Santi. Just go. I’ll give the guys some bullshit excuse that doesn’t leave you looking like a total ass, because I’m not a dick to my friends. So just go, okay?” You pump your eyebrow at him indignantly and await a response, your manner stiff and unyielding.

Santi closes his eyes and knits his brow together, something like regret finally passing over his face and he shuffles guiltily from foot-to-foot.

You puff out air through your teeth and shake your head, as you observe this Delta Force hero; the bravest man you know in many ways, but still too cowardly to tell it like it is. To admit that he’s in the wrong. You are afraid to say that even as his gaze comes back to you, misty-eyed, you have little sympathy for his plight. You are sure it is of his own doing. You are almost as sure that he won’t open-up.

“You know,” you begin, breaking from your position and gathering up a fresh cooler of beers from the fridge, turned away from him as you speak. “I brought Dean to meet my family. Do you understand that? I didn’t have parents and siblings for him to meet. I have you guys. You’re my family.”

Still nothing. Nothing but silence greets you. Nothing but a pained expression on his face, his brows drown together and the artificial light of the kitchen highlighting the harsh planes of his face as you look over your shoulder at him, waiting for some reaction. Some admission of guilt. None comes. He simply slots his hands into his jean pockets, looking sheepish.

“So,” you continue, greeted with a brick wall, “fuck knows why you don’t want me to be happy, but I am. I’m happy with him. Thanks a ton for shitting all over that.”

You don’t even bother to look towards him this time, instead placing the last of the clinking, condensation-adorned bottles into the carrier, resigned to head back out without him, and without any apology.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your head whips towards him in surprise.

He looks it - sorry. He looks apologetic. Deeply so. He looks sorry for this, for every way he’s ever slighted you, for every time he’s hurt you, even in ways and moments you never knew about. He looks sorry down to the pit of him, and it catches you off-guard when you see it freely offered there in his eyes.

Even so, this is a stubborn man. There’s an apology, but there’s no explanation. Nothing to explain his behaviour. So, even though it seems genuine, it also doesn’t seem like enough.

It doesn’t appease you, and yet, all you can bring yourself to do is sigh deeply.

You know Santi better than anyone, but there’s always been a part of him that has seemed out of reach, even to you. You’re not sure -never have been- whether to be scared or excited by those unknown parts of him. Not sure whether the impasse hints at buried secrets too dark and deep to bear, or whether it hints of a possibility of something more. Something deeper or something better you could have together, if only he would let you in. You don’t know, and you never have, but all you are sure of is that you have constantly teetered on the edge of that abyss, too much left unknown to know all of him, however much you may have wished to. He’s entitled to his secrets, of course, but you hate how they hurt him.

With a little sympathy now, you examine his watery eyes, and when your voice comes back this time, it is softer and slower than you intended. More tired than you expected.

“You know, Dean wants to be with me. And he tells me so.” You casually dip down to pick-up the cooler handle, eyes still fixed on your best friend. “He might not be Delta Force… he might be a banjo player from Michigan… but even he’s brave enough for that.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Santi says, bristling all over again, his hand rasping angrily over his stubbled jaw, and yet, you decline him an explanation. Instead, keeping your own secrets now, holding back, you head towards the door, beers in hand.

Still, you turn back to him. You might be angry, but you still care for him -more than you could say.

“If you figure out what’s up with you, let me know, and I’ll be there for you. Whatever you’ve got going on, you know that, right? But this? This isn’t okay, Garcia. You might think that I make dumb choices -you ass, by the way- but I’ve watched you hit self-destruct so many times instead of dealing with your feelings. Maybe you should look at your own life, huh, instead of shitting all over me for trying to be happy? Shit, at least I fucking try.”

His eyes shift from side to side in the room, the muscles in his jaw twitching, chin jutting forward, and his thumbs locked in his belt loops. He can’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze; at least not until you are disappearing through the threshold; until it’s almost too late. Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

“Wait!” he pleads, but you cut him off, before he can speak. Even though, truth be told, you’re not sure he would muster anything to say at all, even if you gave him a chance. He’s so used to holding back.

“No,” you say firmly. “Forget it, I’m done. I still love you- you’re my best friend. But, fuck, just go home, and get out of my sight, Santiago. I’m so pissed with you right now.”

And so, you turn away, and when his words finally do come, they are spoken to the back of your head. They are spoken without you ever seeing his lips move, and you wonder if he ever said them at all, or if this might be some cruel trick of the night. Some witching hour spell. That is, until you turn towards him and you see the words painted clearly on his face too.

“Fuck it. I’m in love with you.”

I’m in love with you.

Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

You’re not sure what reaction he was expecting, but you almost choke on the sudden lump in your throat. You feel a taste of bile rising-up into your mouth. An intense, resurgent anger fills you, which near makes the room spin, and makes your hands and your legs tremble.

Even if a hidden, unconscious part of you has been waiting, hoping for these words all these years, when they finally come all you can feel is... royally pissed off.

“Oh. No. No. No,” you repeat, words gradually increasing in volume, looking at Santi as if he has mortally wounded you, rather than offered that confession. “You do not get to do this to me.”

You see a hard swallow bob down his throat, a near-instant regret on his face, and your heart pounds in your chest as you reel with the implications of his words.

The coward. The fucking asshole. He waited until now? All the times things had gone to shit, and he waited until you were happy?

“All the times...” you accuse, your tone as bitter as the taste in your mouth, the metallic tang of blood as you feel a rushing in your ears. “All the fucking times. All the chances, Santi, and you do this now?” you continue, your finger sawing through the air, wagging accusations at him, even as your voice wavers, as your hands notceably tremble. “No. Fuck you, Garcia. Fuck you.”

You want to cry, or scream, but you are too angry. So angry, that it eclipses anything else which might come to light. So angry that you almost come full circle again, beginning to stabilise out at eerily calm.

Santi looks down at the floor, and exhales air, chuckling disbelievingly to himself, then lightly nodding his head, lips pressed tightly together. His feet shift agitatedly below him as he brings his endlessly familiar eyes back up to meet yours. This time when he looks at you, it hurts. You remember bullet wounds, and you swear that was nothing compared to this.

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say to me, hmm? Fuck you, Garcia?”

“What the fuck were you expecting?” you say, launching your words before you realise the implications of them. Yes, you know fine well that your boyfriend is sitting outside, likely wondering where you have got to. But, if you had the wherewithall to have thought about it, you would know exactly what Santi was expecting, despite all of that. You would know that a part of him must be expecting, hoping, that when he told you, you might reciprocate. That you might love him back.

And, would that be so outside of the realms of possibility? Would it be so hard to imagine that the deep, magnetic, and unshakeable friendship you shared could be something else? Something more? That you could tip over the edge you had long been teetering on? Maybe it could, or maybe it could have, but right now, you can’t see past the flashbang he has just dropped over your life, and it is clouding your vision.

You were happy. You are happy. Fuck him for doing this now.

Why would you fall into the unknown for him, if you never knew whether he would catch you? If you never knew whether ruin or safety awaited you if you let yourself tip? He always held back.

What the fuck were you expecting?

Your words linger in the space between you, and in lieu of any other lifeline, realisation dawns on Santi’s face. Realisation that, although he jumped, you are not intending to catch him either. But how could you catch him, with your arms already full?

And, so, he slowly nods his head once again, his eyes beading with glassy tears and his hand grazing over his chin in a self-soothing gesture. Wordlessly, he sets his jaw and he abruptly replaces his baseball cap on his head, padding a few steps forward to stand opposite you, sucking all of the breath from your lungs. This time, when he looks at you, you see all of your past, but you still can’t see beyond that. The abyss still scares you too much.

Like this, facing each other down, eye-to-eye, the silence in the room grows sharp as a knife, refined to a point. So, when Santi abruptly turns to leave in a sharp, determined trajectory, without so much as looking at you, it is as if he has dragged the blade across your skin in an equally swift motion. As if he has left you open and bleeding-out, having delivered a mortal wound with the act of his exit. You’ve felt like this on the battelfield before, and in life, yet he was always there for you. Always there to patch you. To pick up the pieces.

Instead of screaming open-mouthed for help, this time, you simply watch him go, and now you are the wordless one, mustering nothing but a gasped inhale of breath before your vision blurs with tears - as you watch his hazy form disappear along the hall and out of your sight.

“Santi,” you call pathetically, your voice small and weak and teary, barely making it past your throat, and he doesn’t hear you. He doesn’t hear you but even if he had, you’re not sure anymore if he would have stopped.

When Santi slams the front door behind him, you shudder with it in its frame, your hand coming to your chest as if to hold your heart inside your opened-up ribs, and you close your eyes against the jarring sound, tears spilling down your cheeks, your face screwing-up into a shined, contorted grimace.

Entirely lost, now alone, you bizarrely wish for the room to be filled with anger again, instead of the intolerable sadness - which all too suddenly takes hold of you as your emotions crest and break. It is all you can do to stumble forward a few paces and hunch over the countertop, finding yourself in the exact position you had discovered Santi in. You stand, bracing yourself with your arms, fingers clutching the edge of the worktop, and your head slumped forward, tears freely spilling out of you as your chest heaves.

You wonder whether he’d held himself in this same position because he had felt an intolerable sadness too. An intolerable sadness at seeing you happy.

Suddenly you could understand it.

That fucker. Santiago “Pope” Garcia.

I’m in love with you.

The words echo in your mind, but this time, if you’re honest, you’re not wholly sure if they’re his, or yours.

PART TWO IS HERE

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfic

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emperorbubblegum · 2 years ago

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Okay so for no other reason than I'm bored, I'm gonna list what I think are the five worst designs in fgo.

So uh, click read more if you're interested about my opinions on this

Okay so without further ado, here are

Bubblegum's Top 5 Worst Designs In Fate/Grand Order

Number 5

Apocrypha's probably one of the most "eh" installments in Fate, but at least we can all agree that the majority of those characters' designs were sick as hell. So uh, what the fuck is this? First question: why is he grey? Is it like a Hulk reference? Okay, I can get behind that. Second question: why is he in bdsm gear? Like I get that his whole thing is "Aggh! Oppression sucks!" but this is so uncomfortable to see in game. Imagine if you were going to war, and the dude next to you looked like he just got of a sex dungeon. His first and third ascensions are fine but this one is just, no.

Solution: Remove this stage and make some sort of mish-mash of the no armor and yes armor stages to replace it

Number 4

Okay, here's the thing. I actually really like Kuro as a character. The Prisma Illya rerun was the second event I actually gave a shit about, Kuro's NP's super cool, and she was the only single target archer I had for a while.

Her design's actually pretty cool too. I love this version of EMIYA's outfit, and the torn cape is something I can fuck with. However, Kuro is canonically a fifth grader, and that is WAY too much skin for someone that young to be showing. That's it though, I like nearly everything else about her, and any issues I have would go away if she wasn't a minor.

Solution: Age her up ten years or so and we're good

Number 3

EMIYA Alter has a similar issue to Kuro, in that he's really fucking cool... until you realize that's supposed to be Shirou Emiya, and it all comes crashing down. The sword guns are sick, and the shirtless sleeves are unique, but that man is not Japanese enough to be Shirou Fucking Emiya no matter how hard you look at him. This is such a big yikes that FGO NA actually editted his sprites so he's closer to EMIYA's original skin color, but even that wasn't really enough.

Solution: Make him an agent of the counter force who isn't Shirou. That fixes everything

Number 2

Yeah, yeah, we all knew this was coming. Apocrypha's Jack the Ripper, in lore, is an expert example of why Fate should be allowed to stray from the source material. I love the idea that the discarded fetuses grew a conscious and started murdering people. Personally I feel that idea works better as an Avenger, but there's no way Jack the Ripper isn't an Assassin. Designwise, however, they are an expert example of why Fate shouldn't stray from the source material. This is creepy, and not in the kind of way Jack the Ripper is supposed to be creepy either. Give them some fucking clothes.

Solution: Give them actual, normal clothing for a child to wear and give this outfit to a different, adult character because it's lowkey kinda cool

Number 1

Hey Fate? What the actual fuck is this?

First off, I feel Jeanne's Saintness would work more for a Santa than Jalter, but I digress.

Secondly, Jalter's already a ridiculously popular character, why did you turn her into a little kid? Who the fuck looked at the Firey Big Booba Goth GF and went "Yeah, that's cool, but what if she was 8?"

Finally, and frankly this is the worst offense, WHY IS HER CHEST JUST OPEN LIKE THAT? Like, you almost have a cute outfit, that actually looks somewhat normal on a kid, but then you gave her that giant ass chest window so we could see her bra. What the fuck.

Solution: Trash it. Trash all of it. You're better off just making a new Jeanne alt from scratch.

#fate grand order #fgo #fate series

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shesawriter39049 · 4 years ago

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|Breakdown’s & Bugatti’s| M|

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (Ft a hint of Tae & Jin)

About- Namjoon just does what he has to do to keep you ....calm while at a charity gala!

OR:

CHAPTER 1 : MEET THE KIMS OF NEW YORK

**WARNINGS: **Semi public sex, Fingering (F receiving), Minimal prep, Light dirty talk, Light spit play, Choking, Spanking, Gags (Makeshift), Non protective sex (Creampie), light overstimulation

WC: 7K (This is a sneak peak so it’s 1.2k)

NON SEXUAL WARNINGS: (Fictional political background) Hints at recreational drug use (Molly) Brief mentions of death, father issues, and panic attacks/anxiety (All of these topics are super minor but again, out of respect I’m mentioning them)

The remaining “characters” will be introduced at a later date

This chapter hints at various future plots

This is almost 2 years old, I reworked it recently

If you’ve been following me for a while this is the original draft for “Club First Royale”

FINAL NOTE: I haven’t been active in damn hear a year ( 8 months) So I am posting sneak peeks intentionally! No, not to torture you guys lol but to get my blog flowing again because I’m sure people aren’t really checking in anymore

OT7 ALTERNATING STORYLINES

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

FINALLY, fuck 36737 years later you spot your Kim!

Standing there in all his glory, in a Valentino slim fit navy blue suit, the jacket appearing to have some sort of paisley print, opting against a tie. Leaving his crisp white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing at his broad carnalized chest as he makes his way from the bar. Heading over to the table, which has an empty seat waiting right beside him with your name written all over it...literally!

Purposely dodging the old lady to your left in a coat that would have PETA ready to throw hands! Gaudy diamonds, terrible Botox, and smelled as if she showered in an entire bottle Chanel No. 5!

Yeah, no, sorry, not in the mood for another meet and greet right now!

“Joonie” Squeals from your lips once you’re in close enough proximity, his dark piercing eyes cut over to meet yours. A playful smirk tugging on those sinfully thick lips of his, accompanied by those disrespectful ass dimples!

“There she is!” Eyes dripping with warmth, as he ushered you in with open arms ,and in these types of situations, Namjoon felt like home, he was your safe space. “You look fuckin good” The words hushed into your hair in a tenor meant for your ears and your ears only! A hint of something a little more than just friendly playing on his tongue.

A small little “Thank you” leaves your lips, and if I didn't know any better I’d think the compliment made you a little flustered.

Namjoon was the definition of Ocean arm’s and goddamn if you didn't just love how big this man was! It literally felt like he was hiding you from the entire universe when he has you nuzzled into his frame! The whole interaction couldn't have lasted longer than 20 seconds in all actuality but god you needed it!

Face flush to his chest, wrapping your arms firm around his waist, letting your eyes flutter shut briefly, a deep slow exhale flooded through your body. Inhaling the musky yet sweet scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma, which has grown to become a calming mechanism over the years.

“You had me worried for a minute…” Placing a quick kiss in your hair, that you would have missed if you blinked but again, your in public soo...

Palms soothing up and down your back gently, as he breathed into your hair , pulling back a little so there was some form of personal space between the two of you.

“Your late, even for you princess...I know you started early, I got your live(Instagram) notification, so what happened?” Head clocked to the side as he appraises you and fuck, the bass in his voice still has you all types of fucked up! Glancing over your shoulder briefly before leaning up to place a kiss on the hinge of his jaw, that tittered the line of passing as an “innocent” greeting.

“I’m fine Jonnie it’s nothing, we just got held up in glam.., Ariel was flying in from Miami...we got a late start” Gaze intentionally diverted as you welcomed yourself to his glass of Scotch instead. Damn near inhaling the entire drink as we speak and you hated dark liquor so that alone let him know something was up!

Merely resisting the urge to smooth out the crease he felt forming between his brows, a dry snort left his lips, rolling his eyes in response to your blatant stubbornness. Nevertheless, always the gentleman, reaching down to pull out your chair so you could take a seat next to him. Mirroring your actions just moments prior, quickly scoping out his surroundings before he brought those plush pillows he calls lips a centimeter away from your ear.

Fuck.

“Right, so I'm just going to assume you don’t wanna talk about it right now! Or wait I’m sorry, have you just upgraded to insulting my intelligence straight to my damn face?”

Brow quirked inquisitively, and you could literally feel every word, tone taking on a hint of seriousness the more he talked. Namjoon licked his lips and the tip skimmed the edge of your ear and I - .

“For one you smell like an entire bottle of Heidsieck, I can almost taste the nicotine on your tongue and you've been crying I know you. ”

Pulling back just enough to glare down at you above the brim of his glasses, which he always wore low along his bridge. Eyes daring you to look him in the face a lie again, teasing his fingers through his chocolate locks. Styled in the perfect semi grown out undercut, the top a little on the long side, while the sides tapered into a crisp fade. Sideburns outlining that extremely understated jawline of his! Though you had to admit the yellow gold diamonds dawning his ears were kinda stealing the show right now!

“So again, do you just not wanna talk about it right now? Or have you forgotten that I have an IQ of 137, and can smell bullshit from here all the way to Gangnam!?”

You're having very vivid day daydreams of your hand wrapped around this man's windpipe and for once it’s not even remotely sexual!

Blatantly ignoring the strong twitch within Namjoon’s jaw and simply saying “I’m here, aren’t I!?” Face stoic, tone flat as all hell, in case it wasn’t clear that this conversation was more than over, you opted to eye his bourbon glazed salmon until he got the hint.

“Oh, for fucks sake! ” Hissed from his lips without a lick of heat behind them, because as quiet as it’s kept ,your lowkey Joon’s baby, which is why he cares to begin with! Picking up a piece on his fork before essentially shoving it into your hand ”Your lucky I can’t have your ass getting sick on me tonight, we still have like, 3 hours left of this bullshit.”

More like he just can’t tell you no, but hey, whatever helps him sleep at night! Sliding his plate in your direction, completely giving up on eating at this point, he knew you needed it more anyway! Finally, starting to feel your mix of poisons hit your system so you knew you needed to even it out with a little substance. I mean yeah, you could have just ordered your own plate but meh, this was easier!

Namjoon started busying himself on his phone while you ate, scrolling through a couple contacts until he landed on a contact labeled under “Kookie”.

“Even though you were only late because “Your glam team ran late” There were air bunnies involved, and again you just really wanna choke his ass! “What are you thinking tonight? He’s actually on his way here right now, but he already has a couple options on him...”

The question was vague and for damn good reason...considering…

However you knew exactly what he was referring too.., and thank god!

Speaking over a mouth full of salmon, sounding utterly exasperated! “Honestly, any fucking thing at this point…”

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, sucking on a Bourbon soaked Ice cube “He’ll be here in 20, I just went with Smartees…always a safe bet...”

Smartees, candy, Vitamin -E, Molly... Estcasy...it’s all one and the same, just depends on who you ask!

He leans back in, apparently keen on whispering tonight. “Maybe, if your a good girl and eat enough we can split one before we leave...chill you out a little bit. '' Voice thick and heady, lips curling into a grin with a hint of something wicked playing on the ends, as his fingers idly ghost over your forearm. Giving it a light squeeze and regardless of how innocent the skin-ship may seem to the naked eye, you’re well aware of all the underlying innuendos behind it!

You make a noise of agreement, trying your damnedest to ignore the slight chill coursing up your spine at the pet name. Though before you could even dwell, Namjoon was sliding back in with another update, this one however wasn't as...arousing…to say the least!

“Fox 2’s been waiting for you to get here by the way...since the event was put together by council and all. They've been wanting to talk to us together about the fundraiser, just the same shit as last year.”

Waving his hand dismissively idly twirling the various pieces of Bvlgari around his fingers, seemingly un-phased while you on the other hand...release the most exasperated huff! Reclining against your seat, eyes rolling to the back of your head in 30 different directions! Yeah, It comes with the territory, you know this, hints Namjoons reaction, or lack thereof! But fuck you just really weren’t in the mood to do press tonight, It’s literally physically exhausting to pretend that you weren’t just PISSED!

“Of -fuckin- course they do!” Stabbing your mashed potatoes in a way that's... somewhat concerning…

“Baby.” It was a warning, though his voice sat barley above a whisper, his tone was crystal! Eyes cutting in your direction briefly before dropping back down to his phone….

You didn't have it in you to argue, there’s no way around this anyway, fuck it! “What -the-fuck-ever!” Sliding the half empty plate aside “Well, you wanna just get it out of the way now? Because I’m really not in the mood for-”

“Y/n..oh my god! Hi, honey how are you!? You look beautiful as always…” Suddenly there was a human, a human wearing the wrong shade of foundation kissing your cheek. A human by the name of Caroline, one of the local news anchors...clearly her damn ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, that’s all she wrote, well kinda, actually she finished it like 16 months ago lol but that’s all she wrote for now I guess....

**_

_****Love you...see ya soon!!**

***SIDE NOTE, MY FRIEND MADE THE TWITTER EDIT SO DON’T ASK LOL IDK ****

UPDATE: HEADCANONS FOR THE KIM BOYS/OC

HEADCANONS

#Namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon au #kim namjoon #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon x reader #bts #bts smut #bts au #bts x reader #kim namjoon x you #kpop #kpop smut #kpop au

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stillebesat · 4 years ago

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Lemon Drops

Sanders Sides: Patton, Remus Blurb: Patton just wanted to go somewhere where he wouldn’t be judged, wouldn’t disappoint...wouldn’t...screw up another relationship. (Takes place after SvS Redux) Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort, Frog!Patton Overall Fic Warnings: Remus being Remus, Death Talk, Mentions of Nudity, Various Innuendos, Blood mentions, Negative Self Talk, Trapped/Captivity talk, Fight talk, Panic Attack Taglist in Reblog.

There was no answer.

Patton exhaled, biting his lip as he dropped his hand, staring with only slightly blurry vision at the crown emblem on Roman’s door.

There had never been no answer before.

Out of all the others, Roman’s room had always been open to him. No matter the time of day or night. No matter the reason. Roman...Roman would always let his door swing open and Patton could come in to spend however long he needed to inside.

Now….now….he swallowed, fighting to keep his vision from blurring further. Now...it obviously wasn’t.

Maybe because of today this door would be closed to him forever.

We love you.

He hugged himself, chest aching as he turned away for the stairs, keeping his head down as he moved past both Logan and Virgil’s doors.

Both firmly locked.

Both silent.

Both...unhappy with him too.

Do you think there’s a limit... on how many times someone can say sorry?

He wished there wasn’t. He wished that it would just be one more apology and things could get back to...being...better. Back to the...okay not great...but better times when his fellow Sides actually kinda wanted to be around him.

If they had ever wanted to be around him in the first place.

Had they?

Had they ever...liked him?

His breath hitched as he entered the kitchen, his fingers digging into his arms as he came to a stop in front of the stove.

Cooking had always made him feel better.

But what was the point of cooking for one?

Patton closed his eyes, fighting to keep the tears pooling behind his lids from seeping out.

He’d been so overbearing for so long. Been so set in his ways. In trying to make sure that Thomas was a good person...that...that all those icky feelings were locked up tight and pushed away that he--that he--Patton reached out blindly as his legs buckled, grabbing onto the handle of the oven, hanging onto it like a drowning man clutching to a tree root as his knees made contact with the tiles.

Do you think there’s a limit on how many times someone can someone say sorry...before you have to admit...that they’re just bad for you?

Thomas wasn’t always a good perfect person. Despite how much Patton wanted him to be. He was...he was...Human. And humans made mistakes. His fellow Sides made mistakes. Patton...Patton himself could make mistakes.

He just wished it didn’t hurt so darn badly.

Patton dropped one hand to his shirt, clutching at the fabric over his heart as he pressed his head against the cool side of the oven door, his throat aching with suppressed sobs as the tears he’d been fighting so hard to keep at bay flowed down his cheeks.

Repressing depression can also be bad.

Well...he’d--he’d never been particularly good at facing his own icky feelings either, not when returning to his room could bring such a quick jolt of happiness that he could forget for a time...all the...all the...and not let the others see...his...this...see him---

Unhappy.

Not that anyone was likely to see him unhappy here right now.

Not when they were locked in their rooms.

Avoiding him.

Because he...it felt like he’d been wrong more often than right these days. Hurting the ones he loved.

And nothing he did seemed to fix--fix--

Patton shuddered, curling in on himself, trying to find a way to steadily breathe, to keep silent so no one would come to investigate. To--to...calm down. He didn’t--he didn’t need to become--that mutant frog again...to let his icky feelings change him like that--but it...he…

I just have a lot of feelings.

And none of them were the right ones to help the others.

They never seemed to be any--any--

A zing of electricity rushed through him and Patton let out a small cry as he felt his body abruptly shift.

NO. NO. NO.

He jerked his head up, gasping for breath as he caught sight of a bright green arm before it shifted back to his normal human appearance.

NO! Patton fought to shove all the ick--sadness he was feeling away. To keep his regular appearance. He couldn’t trigg--

But the grief was welling up. Swelling like the tidal wave he’d felt before growing into that monstrous frog into a--bad guy.

Patton shoved to his feet, heart racing his tears as he leapt for the doorway, shooting for the stairs. For his room where he could get that jolt of happiness that had to stop this--

He gasped as another electric zing zapped through him. He stumbled, falling against the door under the stairs that lead down to The Others.

“Please.” He begged, sticky green fingers slipping off the handle as he curled back into a ball on the floor. Fighting to stay small, to not grow into that...that thing as electric pulses danced along his skin.

Small.

SMALL.

He had to stay---

He cried out, closing his eyes as it felt like all the air was suddenly being squeezed out of his lungs and he felt himself shift further with a soft POP. He shook his head, missing the weight of the glasses on his nose and his cat hoodie around his shoulders as they fell with a muted thud to the carpet. NO FROG NO FROG NO FROG. He internally shouted, mashing himself into an even tighter ball, his voice choking off in a deep Croak.

NO! Patton had to--he’d break something if he--he desperately synced himself out of the living room, falling down and away before anyone could come investigate the noise.

The others couldn’t know.

He landed with a soft plop onto a semi-bouncy surface that could only be his bed.

Safe.

Patton drew in a shuddering breath, burying his head into the blanket, breathing in its fresh lemon scent, waiting for the familiar zing of happiness to hit him, to help him shift back to his normal human look.

He had to stay--stay---happy. Pre--pretend that things were---that it would all be okay.

And that meant going somewhere else where he wouldn’t be judged, wouldn’t disappoint...wouldn’t...screw up another relationship further because he couldn’t control himself and became a terrible giant monster--

“FROG!”

DANGER.

Patton’s eyes flashed open barely taking in the surroundings of the softly lit room that definitely wasn’t his bedroom as he instinctively leapt before the oily voice over his head could finish pronouncing the G, terror rushing through him and coming out of his mouth in a series of frantic ribbits as he sprang off the enormous unmade bed.

SPLAT.

“Hey!”

Patton gasped as neon red liquid flew past his face as he landed in something cold and slimy and--he didn’t want to think about just what he may be sitting in right now. No. NO. He had to get away from Remus before he...before he!

“Whoa! Wartface! Hold it!”

Patton flinched as Remus’s shadowy form towered over him and jumped--hopped? His limbs definitely were more froglike than anything human--freeing himself from the red icky liquid, to land on the cold black floor, leaving bloody red frogprints behind as he hopped yet again.

Only to have a puke yellow slime meet him in a squelchy embrace as he landed in a different container.

What was this stuff?!

“Froggysoggypants stop!”

No. No way. Patton croaked as he freed himself from the second container, landing with another plop onto the blackened floor, marring its surface with red, orange, and yellow streaks as he frantically tried to run--hop away from Remus towering over him like--like--

Earlier. When Patton had towered over the others as a giant frog. But now that Remus--did that mean...had he shrunk instead?!

“GOTCHA!” Clammy hands grabbed him around the middle midleap, squeezing him tight enough that Patton was certain his eyes were bulging as he was lifted upwards.

Remus’s crooked grin filled his vision, showing him just how small he’d become.

He squeaked, an awkward sound coming from his frog mouth as he struggled helplessly in the Duke’s grip.

“Look at you!” Remus breathed, easily holding him in one hand as he used the other to pull Patton’s arm out. “You’re blue!” He exclaimed, eyes sparking as he played with Patton’spaint covered pale blue froggy toes. “I wonder--”

Patton flinched, trembling as Remus ran his tongue over his back, the hairs of his moustache brushing against his skin.

This was it. This was how he died.

“Bleh.” The Duke gagged, pulling away wiping his mouth against his shoulder. “You’re not one of mine.” He complained, running his tongue over the fabric in a manner that had Patton cringing.

How could Remus stand the texture of cloth against his tongue? Didn’t it--no wait. This was the Duke who ate pickled poo log deodorant. He probably loved the sensation.

“You taste far too sweet like--like--” He poked Patton between the eyes with a frown. “Like a saccharine sugar cookie under all that paint! Peh! At least taste bitter like arsenic or mucus! Frogs are covered in mucus! You should taste like that at least.”

Patton closed his eyes, shuddering, still feeling Remus’s tongue on his bare back. It wasn’t like he could control what he tasted like! And if he tasted like cookies then that was much better than than--

Than all the ugly and gross things that would be right up the Duke’s dark, grimey, and probably blood covered alley.

But if Remus didn’t like sweet things. And if he realized who he was holding in his hands--

His heart dropped.

It definitely wouldn’t be pretty. At all. Not when he was sure the Duke blamed Patton for being kept from Thomas’s conscious mind for so long.

He could easily take revenge.

Remus could skewer him with a sharp stick, throw him in a boiling pot of oil or even peel him open like some sort of crazy science experiment---

Patton whimpered, the sound shifting to soft frantic ribbits as he wiggled in the Duke’s grip.

“Nah! Ah! Sticky Feet! No. Stop squirming!” Remus tightened his grip on him as Patton did his best with his odd toe finger things to find purchase to pull himself free so he could hop the heck out of there and shift back to normal away from the Side that had always given him the heebie jeebies.

After all…it wasn’t like any of the others would come to his rescue.

Not when none of them...liked him currently.

Not when their resident Prince and Hero who loved to save people in distress...had locked his room and refused to come out.

Patton stopped struggling, feeling a cold heavy weight settle in his stomach as he stared hopelessly up at Remus.

Roman wouldn’t come save him. Not this time.

Perhaps it was only right that his brother, the Duke, Master of the Dark Side of Creativity, held him now. Captive. Trapped. He probably deserved it after all he put everyone through today with his…..monstrous self.

“There there.” Remus whispered, stroking Patton’s back with a finger instead of his tongue this time. He plopped down cross-legged on the paint splattered floor, head tilting at an unnatural angle as he studied him. “You’re not mine.” He repeated softly, an eerie light shining in his eyes as he played with Patton’s toes. “Too sweet. Too sweet. Not Ro’s either. The salt on him is thick these days. Sooooooooooo~” He tilted his head the other way, a small smile playing on his lips. “What brings you here to me in my dark dismal tower and not to him in his gleaming marble castle, little sugar wartface?”

Patton gulped, trembling as Remus brought him up to eye level, unable to do anything more in his grip. He’d already tried to go to Roman. B-b-but--

That door was shut to him now.

“Blue...a blue frog….” The Duke mused, humming under his breath as he rocked in place. “Call me Mr. Blue...but with the downright stodgy rainbow theme all of us have going on...being blue means you can only be--” He paused, eyes growing sharp as he grinned like a feral cat about to catch its prey.

Today really wasn’t his day.

Patton slumped, a soft ribbit escaping him as he fought back the urge to sob. He just wanted to get away where he wouldn’t hurt the others. Where he wouldn’t be judged or hated. Where he couldn’t...couldn’t mess things up for anyone any more.

But all his icky feelings had only screwed him over more. Changed him into a tiny slimy frog. Landed him in Remus’s room where he was now trapped in the Duke’s grip.

And now Remus knew exactly who he was.

“Potty.”

He flinched at the nickname, closing his eyes as his heart sunk even lower. Sure, he felt like a pile of crap right now. A tiny smelly useless pile of nothing. But he didn’t...didn’t want to be compared to a...toilet.

“This is no place for you and your awfully tender heart.” Remus said, booping him on the nose. “Why did you come to me? Like this?”

Patton cautiously opened his eyes, confused. Why was the Duke not boiling him alive right now? Hating him too? Why was he--he---being gentle?!

‘I don’t know.’ He whispered, his words changing to a soft croak as he spoke, rendering his words incomprehensible.

Out of all the Sides...Remus would have never have crossed his mind as someone to come to for any reason. In a--in a perfect world he would never have to deal with the Duke at all.

“Ooooohh~ Lemme guess.” Remus flopped backwards, head landing in a pan filled with pink paint, sending neon droplets flying across the room as he held Patton high over his head. “You waiting for a kiss?” He asked, puckering his lips, drawing him close.

True love’s kiss can break any curse.

Even if this had been a curse and not his own fault that he was now a useless tiny slimy frog, Patton knew that no-no one woul--would….no one--not even Remus--He recoiled as the moustache filled his vision, breath hitching as the gaping hole in his chest where his heart should be only seemed to grow wider.

A kiss wouldn’t work. Not--not when...no one loved him.

How many times? How many times can you say sorry?

Not enough. Never enough. He couldn’t--

A fresh lemon breeze washed over him as Remus paused a hair's breadth away from pressing his lips against his face. He tilted his head, going cross-eyed as he hummed staring down at Patton.

He snorted. “No kisses? Figures. You don’t want to see us as lovers?” Remus wiggled his eyebrows, smirking as he rolled to his stomach, the room spinning like a kaleidoscope around them.

L-lovers?! Patton squeaked, feeling his body go all warm. If he’d been his normal human self, he was sure his face would have gone bright red at that.

Remus cackled, dark eyes glittering. “Surely as Thomas’s Heart, wittle Pittle has a teeny weenie spot of love for smelly old me if he loves all of Thomas.”

And Patton thought his heart couldn’t break further. If he was any good at his job...then that should have been True.

But it wasn’t.

The knowledge that he didn’t want to have any love for the Duke only made him feel worse.

What good was he as Thomas’s Heart if he couldn’t love every Side of him?

Remus huffed, eyes growing sharp. “Oooh~” He sing-songed jabbing a finger into Patton’s chest. “Did Sappy Pappy forget he’s the center of all of Thomas’s feelings?”

Patton kicked back smearing paint across the Duke’s arm as he wiggled in his grip. No!...Yes…maybe? He...he was...the center...but….Patton pushed pointlessly against Remus’s fingers, his throat contracting with suppressed croaks.

What did it matter what he was to Thomas? Feelings. Morality. He wasn’t doing a very good job of being either one right now.

The Duke wiggled his eyebrows as he made a fart noise with his tongue. “Are you trying to only be happy again? Hide all your juicy twisty feelings? How booooring, Poppyseed. You gotta let it out!”

NO! He shook his head. Letting out his...twisty feelings had only resulted in BAD Things. He’d become a giant frog! That wasn’t good.

Now you’re a small frog. Is that any better?

“Guess what, Potthead.” Remus dipped one hand into a pan of green paint, flicking his fingers at Patton’s face. “Hate is a feeling.”

He flinched, raising a shaking toe finger hand thingy to rub the paint off his face, giving a loud ribbit of disagreement. Hate was such a...a strong word.

Remus rolled his eyes, plopping Patton down in a pan of orange paint, speaking over his croak of disgust at suddenly being surrounded by more cold slimy ickiness.

“That’s not bad, Pottycake.” The Duke said, easily catching Patton as he jumped out of the paint and plopped him into a different can of pink slime before he could blink. “You don’t have to like everything you encounter or everyone you meet.”

Of course not, but that didn’t mean he--Thomas couldn’t pretend! Patton wiped the paint from his eyes before he doggy--froggy paddled over to the edge.

Things worked a lot more smoothly when Thomas was nice and happy.

Only it hadn’t worked out doing that this time had it?

Patton pressed his lips together, chest aching as he heaved himself out of the can.

It didn’t matter. It would work out eventually. He just had to keep up the positive attitu--

Remus scooped him up, careless of how Patton struggled in his grip, getting slime and goo all over himself. “You know…” he clicked his tongue, dribbling purple paint all over Patton’s back. “I don’t need you to like me, or tell me exactly how you feel, but that feeling is a part of you.”

‘NO!’ He didn’t want it to be.

The Duke’s eyes grew sharp as he lowered his hand, chuckling as Patton sprang from his grip, narrowly avoiding landing in any other pans, his feet leaving multi-colored prints over the dark floors. “It’s a part of good old Tomalongadingdong that won’t go away, Potty, no matter how much you try and shove it into a dark dusty corner and forget about it.”

Repression can be bad.

It was--he knew that. Patton forced himself to keep hopping, crying out in frustration as he was easily grabbed around the middle and plopped back into the Duke’s lap.

Remus had proved that as Thomas’s Intrusive Thoughts despite Patton’s best efforts to keep Thomas from ever knowing that his Dark Creativity even existed. That the bad thoughts could be--be--okay. That just because they were there didn’t mean Thomas himself was...bad. But knowing was not the same as...as...accepting.

And he wasn’t about to accept being stuck here with Remus any longer than he had to. Patton scrunched up his face, concentrating on gathering his limbs together for a more coordinated hop. Even if he wanted to express his icky feelings--which he didn’t!--there was...wasn’t anyone left he could...could go to. Who would ever need you? When all you do is more harm than good?

Remus tsked, scooping Patton up and dropping him in a large can of blue paint before he could spring away.

GAH! That. WAS. IT. ‘Would you QUIT it!’ He yelled as he surfaced, splashing paint back up at Remus’s face.

It was bad enough already being stuck here without any hope of the others coming to get him without continuously getting tossed into paint along with it!

He froze as the Duke threw his head back with a loud laugh.

Oh no.

“Oooh.” Remus’s eyes glittered as he lowered his head, teeth flashing as he grinned, blue paint dripping from his moustache into his mouth. “Patteywattey has some fight to him!”

‘NO!’ Patton recoiled with a strangled croak. He’d fought far too much earlier today as that--as--tha--as the Monstrous Frog! He’d--he’d attacked Leslie, Lee and Mary-Lee. He’d even attacked Thomas without realizing--He’d--No. NO NO NO. NO FIGHTING. EVER.

He ducked down, letting the paint cover him completely, a hollow ache in his chest. He had made another stupid stupid mistake splashing back. Fighting back. That wasn’t supposed to be him! If he wanted Remus to leave him alone he shouldn’t have encouraged him by action! It should have been through words---

What words? You’re a frog. All you can do is Croak.

It wasn’t like words had helped earlier either. Not when he didn’t...when he hadn’t known the right things to say.

Patton felt rather than heard the splash of something else entering the paint can with him before reaching fingers grabbed him, pulling him free of the paint, if not of Remus’s grip.

“Hiding from a fight isn’t very fun.” The Duke said as warm liquid splashed over Patton’s body, washing away the heavy weight of the paint covering him. “But then again.” His blue moustache came into view, tongue stuck out between his teeth as he carefully wiped around Patton’s eyes with a green stained towel. “You fighting against me would be really weird, Pops, despite how often you’ve threatened violence against our dear old Virgin.” He smirked.

I will physically fight you.

Patton shuddered, gripping onto Remus’s fingers as another wave of icky feelings rushed through him, choking him to the point he could barely breathe.

Again and again. He was reminded that he could do nothing right no matter how hard he tried.

Virgil.

Logan.

Roman.

Despite his efforts...he’d let them all down one after the other.

Just like the deadbeat fathers in all those tv shows.

He was a failure through and throu--

“The thing is….” Patton looked up as Remus ran the towel down his back before setting him on the half-made bed.

“It’s just goo and paint, Pattycake.” Remus gestured around his room to the various multi-colored splotches before resting his arms on the bed. “Using it to create--” He placed a sheet of paper on the bed along with a tube of paint, squirting a glob of red into the center of the page. “It’s just a way to express your feelings. All your feelings” He said dipping a finger into the paint, trailing it over the black sheet creating a--.

Patton winced, looking away from the crude image.

“There’s nothing bad about getting those feelings out. It’s what Creativity is for.” He wiggled his shoulders suggestively as he flicked his fingers at Patton splattering him with red droplets. “Didn’t you once say that you liked playing with the stuff?”

My channel would have videos of me playing with goo and mixing paint.

Patton frowned down at his hands, squeezing his toe finger things into fists before relaxing them on the page. It felt like a lifetime ago though. Back when he’d been trying to include Anxiety in their group. Back before everything---He hadn’t even thought about sticking his fingers into a tub of goo in ages. Not when he’d been trying so hard to keep Thomas happy.

And failing.

“Now’s your chance, Patcasso.” With a wave of his hand the image on the paper vanished, leaving the single glob of red paint once more untouched. Remus winked as he scooped up Patton, depositing him on the large sheet right next to the glob of paint. “Stop repressing. Paint.”

Repressing Depression can also be bad.

But...But….painting? How could that hel--

Remus hummed, dipping his finger into the paint, idly drawing a heart right next to him. “The Heart becomes a Frog.” He murmured. “Just like one of those prudishly dull fairytale quests my dear old brother enjoys huh? With the kissing and the happily ever afters.”

Had enjoyed...it wasn’t like Roman would want to---Patton drew in a shuddering breath before shakily dipping his hand into the paint, drawing a jagged line down the middle of the heart.

No one loved him.

The Duke’s eyebrows rose, eyes gleaming as he leaned forward. “A broken heart? Oooo~I do love an unhappy story.” With a wave of his hand, the rest of the rainbow appeared as globs of paint on the page. “Go on.” He encouraged, resting his arms on the bed. “What fly got into your soup?”

Go on? But he had no idea where to start. It was just--too much. He’d been wrong--so strict and set in his ways for so long, he didn’t even know where the problems had begun between him and the others! Today was just the latest addition to a very very long list of--and--he shoved both hands into the red paint, smearing it across the heart with a muted croak. Red for his failure with Roman.

We love you.

….Right.

The hurt. He’d tried so hard to--but--red streaked fingers dug into the yellow paint, as he drew a lopsided crown on top of the heart, the yellow marred by lines of red. Roman refused to answer the door. To let him do what he did best. Comfort others.

Hence why everyone has shut their doors to you huh. You’re sooo good at comforting.

Another lie. Another falsehood. What good was Morality? What good were Feelings if he couldn’t--

He shoved his hands into the dark blue paint, drawing another wobbly heart with a line through it followed by a large smear and then a ragged tie. Logan.

Another broken heart. This one purple. Followed by the cloud and a lightning bolt. Virgil.

All streaked through with yellow. With Janus. With Deceit.

How many times can you say sorry?

Not enough. Never enough. He--he--Patton slammed his fists into the paint sending it flying all over the bed, chest aching as he closed his eyes.

“....Patton?”

He shook his head, ignoring Remus. It didn’t help. Painting didn’t help. The icky feelings were still there. If he was feeling icky how could he ever hope to--

Patton gasped, jerking as splotchy green arms suddenly wrapped around him in a warm hug, squeezing him far more tightly than he was comfortable with.

He looked up, meeting the dark eyes of another frog, one with blue tipped black spikes sticking out from his upper lip.

Remus? Why had he--why was he hold--why was he a FROG?!

The frog gave a watery croak, holding Patton close in an embrace that was so warm it sent a wave of soothing heat through him.

Oh Crofters...He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged.

It felt--it felt---He melted into the other’s arms, burying his head against the Duke’s chest as the dam he’d tried so hard to build to hold back his tears crumbled like so much dust, leaving him sobbing in a series of squeaky croaks against the Dark Side.

Remus made a buzzing noise, nearly like a hum as he rocked Patton back and forth, keeping up the steady too tight pressure around him.

It shouldn’t make him cry harder. Yet Patton found himself doing just that, hot tears trailing down his cheeks. It had been so long. So long since anyone had done this with him. He’d never expected Remus of all Sides to instigate a hug with him, not when he’d spent so many years trying to keep the Duke from influencing Thomas’s everyday life. By all rights, Remus should hate him for being so strict. Should want nothing to do with him.

And here he was.

Hugging Patton.

Comforting him.

Trying to help in his own odd Remusey way.

It left him feeling all tingly inside, like butterflies dancing inside an inflating balloon as electric pulses danced across his skin.

Fresh tears leaked through his closed eyelids. It should end soon. All hugs had to end. Remus had to pull away at some point to leave Patton feeling all cold and icky again.

And yet…

Remus didn’t move.

The Dark Side wasn’t known for his long attention span, always fidgeting or spouting out a new topic of conversation.

But here he was...holding tight unto Patton without showing any signs of releasing his grip, his warmth as constant and steady as the Duke’s heartbeat.

Patton drew in a shuddering breath, eyelids fluttering. He didn’t deserve this. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice hoarse, barely registering that actual words left his mouth instead of croaks.

Remus huffed, adjusting his grip for the first time to run his fingers through Patton’s hair, sending a shiver down his spine. “Apology accepted, Padre.”

Accepted? Just like that? No questions? Patton trembled, breath hitching, not quite believing he’d heard correctly. “Y-you--why?”

“Mmm?”

Patton steeled himself before looking up, registering Remus’s very human face inches from his own. His regular sized face. Not a giant one. Which meant...he’d somehow shifted back to his normal self while bawling his eyes out. “Y-you di-didn’t ask why I-I-I was sor-sorry.”

Remus made a clicking sound with his tongue, as he trailed his fingers down the back of Patton’s neck, eyes glittering. “Do you know why you were saying sorry?”

Patton blinked, mouth half open with no idea what to say, his mind racing as he raised a shaking hand to scrub at his wet cheeks. There was...it was hard to explain! “I…”

Remus chuckled. “Then it’s sewage under the bridge, Patters. I don’t need to know why. You just needed to know I accept. Right? Make you feel better?”

He...he did feel a little better. “I--but--that--” Patton growled, shaking his head. “Tha-that’s not how apologies work!”

“Says who? Cus they’re wrong.” Remus winked. “Besides I got to see your rosy cheeks and it was well worth the wait.” He met Patton’s eyes before deliberately looking down.

Patton looked down as well and squeaked, practically throwing himself off of the Duke’s lap, knocking the paint covered paper to the ground in his desperation to grab a blanket to wrap around his waist, ears burning as Remus collapsed in a fit of giggles, his own--his own...rosy cheeks just as exposed as Patton’s had been. “WHY ARE WE NAKED?!” He demanded, voice cracking.

Sure he’d felt his glasses and hoodie fall from him when he’d changed into the tiny frog, but he hadn’t realized the rest of his--He shuddered again feeling Remus’s tongue against his bare back. No wonder it had been so--but he was human again! He should be wearing clothes! He’d had his outfit unmarred after he’d changed back from being that monster frog!

Remus rolled to his side and Patton flushed harder, looking away, pulling the blanket up to his neck, getting a wift of lemons as he did so.

“Never changed into an animal before have you?” He remarked, a wicked grin crossing his face. “Clothes can’t shift with you when you do that. You just leave them behind.” He pointed to his own pile of clothes on the paint covered floor.

Patton gulped, twisting the blanket in his hands. “But Deceit!”

“Shifts between people.” Remus waved a hand dismissively. “That’s different. People wear clothes. You’ve never seen him change into a snake in front of you have you?” No….but! ”But that-- my clothes! Earlier! I kept--”

Remus raised an eyebrow as he rolled off the bed, heading leisurely to his closet. “Were you a real frog earlier?”

Patton paused, mouth half opened. He--he--well they had been in a video game formant at the time he’d--he’d changed. Did...did that not count?

“Thought not.” Remus reemerged, thankfully wearing a tank top and very very short shorts as he tossed a wad of fabric at Patton’s head, the clothes vanishing just before hitting him only to reappear on his body.

If he hadn’t done cloth swaps before with the...with everyone else before, that would have been---Patton shoved the thought from his mind, drawing in a shaky breath, reluctantly lowering the blanket to see just exactly what Remus had dressed him in.

His fingers brushed over the black tank top with a picture of a kraken wrapped around a broken ship, to land on a pair of pajama bottoms that made it look like he had a multitude of tentacles instead of two legs.

Remus gave him a critical once over before flopping back onto the bed. “Satisfied Mr. Monk? I’m sure that outfit won’t upset your delicate tastes too much.” He winked. “Though I can always dress you in something more--” he popped his lips.

It wasn’t his favorite get up... but it was much better than--than a lot of things he could imagine Remus wearing. Imagine Remus trying to get him to wear to get a reaction from him. Patton bit his lip, looking back up. “Why are you being so….nice? To me?” He whispered.

Remus tilted his head at an unnatural angle to look at him, his eyebrows raised.

There is no rhyme or reason to what I do, I just do.

Right. Patton flushed, looking away. Remus just...did things. Not just bad things apparently. Good things too. “Sorry. I just---no one…” He cut off as his voice cracked, blinking as his eyes began to burn again. “I...I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Recently. I--I thought you’d--”

“Kick you while you were down?”

Patton bit his lip, pulling his knees up to his chest, grateful his tentacle patterned pj bottoms were pants instead of a pair of short shorts. “...Yah.” The Dark Side of Creativity liked doing things like that...didn’t he?

Remus twisted, shimming up to flop between Patton and the wall. “It was tempting.” He admitted, tapping a random pattern on Patton’s arm as he smoothed down his moustache with his other hand, “but considering you just cried hard enough to fill like twenty toilets--” He shrugged. “There’s only so many times you can kick a dead horse before it’s no longer fun. Seemed like you needed a breather from being hit.”

Patton swallowed over the lump in his throat as he relaxed his grip on his knees, turning his head to Remus. “Yah...I-I did.”

Remus smirked. “As a frog though? You know there is this delectably bitter frog leg soup I’ve been itching to make and your legs--” He smacked his lips, eyes dancing with laughter as he stared at Patton. “Are quite shapely.”

And he thought his face couldn’t grow any hotter. At this rate he would give himself a sunburn from blushing so hard. “I--I-”

Why did Remus have to go and say THAT. Despite his legs already being covered with his pants, Patton pulled the blanket back over them, hiding them from view.

“Soo sensitive.” Remus teased, his feet prodding at Patton’s covered ones.

He was Feelings. He just--he pushed his feet against Remus’s, shoving them back. “I’m not used to--”

“Ah yes.” Remus propped himself up on one elbow, rolling his eyes as his knee knocked against Patton’s calf. “Roman’s compliments are a bit more tame aren’t they? Something more boring about how you’re super sweet and like unto fields of flowers and being like the Sun and other trite drivel?”

Patton bit his lip, a hollow pang echoing through his chest at the sound of Roman’s name. “...I don’t think he’ll be saying anything like that...to me….for a while.” Probably never again.

Remus froze for half a breath before he twisted, forcing his head between Patton’s chest and his legs so that he could use his stomach as a pillow.

Roman used to do that.

Patton swallowed over the lump in his throat, staring down at the Duke as he made himself comfortable.

He should push him away.

But at the same time...he--he missed...moments like this. Where it--it felt like someone wanted to be in his bubble. Wanted to stay near him.

“I do love an unhappy story.” Remus remarked, bracing his feet against the wall as he gave Patton a feral grin that quickly softened as he stared up into his eyes. “But,” He raised a hand to brush at Patton’s wet cheeks, fingers coming away with flecks of paint on them as he dropped his hand to his lips, tongue flicking out to lick his fingers. “...I don’t think you should tell it tonight. A scab isn’t fun to pick at if it’s still fresh you know.”

Patton bit his lip, blinking to keep his vision from blurring. “Right.” He managed to choke out.

He didn’t know when this..this would not be fresh though. Would it ever...ever scab over if Roman--if Virg--Lo...if he was constantly left alone on the Light Side--

A warm hand again pressed against his cheek. “You’re welcome to stay, you know.”

Patton drew in a shuddering breath, leaning into the Duke’s palm. “Huh?” He was...welcome? Here?

“The night. For a breather. Be away from everyone. Seems like you need it. Though--” Remus’s eyes lit up with laughter as he gestured with his other hand around the low lit room. “I do only have the one bed.”

Patton jerked, face burning as hot as the sun as he shoved Remus off him. “REMUS!” His voice shouldn’t sound that strangled. But. AH!

The Duke’s infectious laughter rang through the room as Remus rolled back to his spot between the wall and the bed, giving Patton as much space as he could on the twin sized bed.

He may be more naive than the others in some aspects, but after finding some of the stuff that the Fanders had written about them...he--he--knew what that particular phrase could imply. “You could create another.” He said, once Remus’s laughter had died down to faint giggles, hating how high his voice still was. “You’re Creativity too!”

“I could.” He easily agreed, shoulders still shaking with silent laughter. “but that’s not Fun. I wouldn’t be able to hear your breathing if you weren’t right here,” Remus dropped his voice seductively, smoothing down his moustache. “Next to me.”

If he got out of this room without getting third-degree burns from blushing Patton would be amazed. “I--I--stop it!”

Remus tilted his head at that unnatural angle, his foot darting out to tap his toes again. “Stop what? You’re the one still here, Patters. On my bed. I haven’t tied you to it with fluffy handcuffs or anything though I could give you some. In your favorite shade of blue even.” He snickered. “Ooooooh, I’m sure I could make you squea--” He cut off as Patton shoved a pillow into his face.

He! He! Patton fell on top of the pillow, muffling his voice as he--he wasn’t sure if he was screaming or not, but AGH. Remus was--was so! So!!

An arm snaked around the pillow tapping Patton’s head before trailing down his neck. “Why haven’t you left?” Remus asked, his voice barely understandable through the pillow. He wiggled, the tip of his nose peeking out. “You can any time you know. I know you don’t like me, Pats. Don’t stay on my account.” He--yah...he---he could leave. Should have left as soon as he realized he was again. Synced back to his room. To the light sides...to--to the loneliness. “If you know I--I don’t---lik--I haven’t been that--that good to you Remus. Why are you being nice to me?” Patton whispered reaching up to grab The Duke’s hand before it could trail further down his back.

“Thomas is nice.” Remus said simply, going lax under him, his fingers twisting to squeeze Patton’s. “I’m just nice...differently.”

He didn’t understand. Had never fully understood Remus nor his purpose. But this-- Patton tightened his grip. “Well it’s...I...I need nice right now. To feel--” Loved. Wanted. He trailed off, trying to keep his voice from wobbling. Was that pathetic of him? Wanting to stay when Remus was talking to him when no one else would? When he was instigating touch without Patton having to ask? “And..and you’re...you’re being nice...you hugged me and I just--” He cut off with a squeak as the pillow suddenly vanished, sending him right into Remus’s chest, the Duke’s arms wrapping around him in that too tight grip, fingers trailing through his hair.

“Let me hold you then.” Remus whispered. “If that’s what you need.”

It was. He--he needed--Patton trembled, fingers gripping the Duke’s shirt as he pressed his face into his chest, breathing in the scent of lemons. “I’m sorry...it’s---”

Remus huffed a laugh into his ear, squeezing him tighter. “Apology accepted.”

#Lemon Drops #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Patton #Remus #Morality #Duke #Frog!Patton #Death Talk tw #Nudity tw #Innuendos tw #Blood tw #Negative self talk #Trapped/Captivity tw #panic attack tw #Fight talk tw #Frog!Remus

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the-fourth-knower · 3 years ago

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Diary of a lost doe, part 1

A short fic where my character Annabelle writes in diaries

Fresh off losing her parents, Annabelle Flaches must contend with trying to fend for herself and her baby sister Angelica. And with Angelica talking to a mysterious green orb when she thinks Annabelle isn’t watching, things are only at the tip of the iceberg.

This is for me and Aquillis’s “half and half” AU, our ‘main’ AU. not to be confused with Aqui’s pack universe which is her underground re-write.

Due to the length I'm splitting this into two parts. This is part 1, part 2 is here!

Diary Enry 1, Day I dunno.

Okay here it is. First diary entry I guess. Gotta keep it brief, writing instruements are hard.

Been a few months since that day. We’re doing fine. Angie started another garden. Moved to a new spot.

Got some new things for the house. Old car door and a tire. Not sure what I’ll do with the tire gonna use the door as part of wall.

Finished roof this morning. Good thing 2, might rain.

Angie still sleps bad if not next to me. Writing while she’s curled up. Wasn’t for scars on ear and having to sleep in same clothes she’d look like we’re still home.

Gotta sleep now.

Diary Entry 2

Maybe got a job. Illegal probs but $ is $

Angelica talked more today. Good sign? Maybe she relapses back into not talking but progress.

I never thought i’d miss her annoying stupid “hey lets go explore a cave and not tell anyone bout what we’ll do” self. Never thought about losing mum and pa ei

Shit crying. Bye.

Diary entry 3

Diary didn’t get too wet yesterday.Don’t think bout mom and pa it ends badly.

I can’t afford to break down even if Angie’s sleeping

If I break down then Angie will get upset

I won’t put her through it

I won’t

…

Diary entry 54

Had to leave town but am 600 $ richer

Angie’s quiet again. But she didn’t complain bout us leavin

gonna go for a city maybe. more risk but more money and places to live.

Jadetown’s the city. Dunno too much bout it but mum liked it.

Should get there in maybe a cuple weeks or so

Angie’s sound asleep. No kicking or anything so that’s good

Hope the city’s okay. Angie hates crowds.

Need somewhere with not a lot of crowds to live at

…

Diary Entry 63

Been a hot second. Settling in Jadetown’s pretty hard.

Find a quiet spot in the slums. Pretty shitty now, but the two of us can make it work

Angie still isn’t talking, but she kept close to me while we made our way through the crowds. She seemed fine as long as she held my hand

Lost her a couple times, but not for long. She seemed upset bout it.

Sorry Angie.

I’ll do better. I promise.

...

Diary Entry 169 (it’s the morning but fuck it)

The nightmare happened again.

Angelica having her ear scared by those monsters. mum and pa being taken away in exchange for us being set loose

Only it loops around and around before it’s just cries and blood and knives and screams and crying and they’re all surrounding me judging me for just failing everyone because you’re a fucking failure

Haven’t had it a while. Don’t upset yourself, Angie needs you.

Diary entry 169? Night

Angelica almost killed some street thugs.

we caught some dumbass looking punks bullying some sort of chao. I think it’s a chao

I ran up to one like an idiot and gout in their face to know what they’re doin, and the things went dark. I got knocked out on my ass, apparenlty the big brute that led them butted me in the head. Asshole didn’t even let me get ready

I came to to Angie trying to shake me awake. When I looked around the punks were gone, there were plant vines all over, and the other kids that had gathered were a mix of crapped their pants and mouths on the floor

I asked angie bout it and she just said she took care of them and that the punks had run off

What the hell did she do? Usually I’m the one saving her? But she was having none of it today.

Oh the chao’s fine, weirdass chao though. Never seen chao that just cause flowers to grow around them or in their footsteps.

Made 30 $

Rib’s hurting and headache, Angie fast asleep. Time for bed.

Diary Entry 170

Chao’s bak.

Visited Angie’s garden for a while watchin me watchin it. It waved and left right around Angie gettin up.

Showed up again when we got back home. Angie hasn’t seen it yet. Good thing, she wanted to bring it with us. We can’t afford three mouths.

I don’t like it. We save its ass and now its stalking us.

Made nothin.

Ribs hurt less. Still a bitch.

Diary entry 171

Angie’s found the “chao”

She talked to it all morning when she thought i was napping. Couldn’t sleep, too afraid of bad dreams.

It doesn’t make chao sounds. Or it does but really weird ones.

Then it turned a green light ball for a bit and back into a chao

Angie liked that.

I don’t trust it. Even less.

Need to watch it.

Angie’s relaxed.

Made 5$.

Diary Entry 172 morn

Nightmare again

Diary Entry 172 night

Angie got excited, claimed that she “found Trevor”

he lived near us back in our old home

Had to tell her no, every red mouse we see is not Trevor.

She says that Trevor and his family were gonna move here, pretty inistent too.

Man she gets caught up on the smallest things

Made 20$

Diary Entry 173

Chao returned while i was working. Left Angie on her own

Shes seemed like she was having a fun time being able to talk with someone

She’s not made friends much. Maybe i’m being too hard on the ‘chao’

Still gotta watch it. It could be manipulating her

Haven’t told her I know bout the chao yet.

Should i?

Not now. Angelica is sleeping.

Made 5$

Diary Entry 174

‘Trevor’ spotting 2. Angie wanted to go bug the person. So we went and sure enough as we got closer Angie changed her mind. It was a rat, not a mouse she said.

How can she tell the difference?

No Angie and chao visit. Unless it was while i slept in. but why would she be secretive bout it?

Saw the punk bitch again today. Looked like he crapped his pants when he saw Angie and she glared at him. That’s my sister.

Made 60$

…

Diary Entry 364

Got a new diary. Last entry for this one. Things going well. Got a good thing going for myself.

Angie found a new plant today, and now she’s got it in her garden.

Loved the look on her face when I got it for her.

Made 50$

Angelica’s chatted with the Chao again. Sort of like, is her guardian I think. Or is that its name

Guess good bye diary 1. Really weird to do but it feels right.

Angie’s sleeping well enough on her own. She mumbles but that seems it.

Do I do a good job keeping her safe

Diary 2 Entry 1

Managed to find a new diary. Keeping the old one just cause, and because I have the storage. For a couple of street bum does, we’ve got a decent enough house going. Been able to put it together from bits and bobs lying around, Angie even threw in her hat and added her own touches.

Looks ugly as hell with the plants holding things together and it’s all a mish mash of junk and crap I found, but it’s our mishmash of junk and crap.

Also saved up enough and am making enough to afford more than one pen and even some pencils. So I can write more often. Just felt like writing

Angie’s started to get more vocal again. I think she’s catching onto the fact the way I’ve been making money is less than honest a lot of the time.

I’m not going to sell myself for it though. I’m not degrading myself with that and nayone who fucking tries is going to a hospital.

And if any of those freaks dare go near Angie there won’t be enough left for a morgue to pick up.

Oh, and the chao’s still around. I can feel it. Angelica loves it, I think. I don’t trust it entirely, yet. But, it hasn't been a danger for the past months. So I think it’s actually a good thing.. Angie calls it Guardian. Maybe it's our own Guardian Angel.

Made 65$ today.

Good journal entry me. You got talkative. Writative? Whatever.

...

Diary 2 Entry 23

Got into a fight today, that was fun. The punks from when I helped save Guardian decided to jump me when Angelica was at the house. Guess they figured they could jump me without little sis to back me up. Too bad for them, when I don’t get suckered I’m damn good at defending myself. Sent them packing. Got a bit bruised. Why is it always the ribs with those guys.

Admittedly. I didn’t have to beat the crap out of them. But talk shit get hit, I say. They shouldn’t have been trash talking me when I was walking by.

Angelica was upset when I got back. Should’ve expected that, really. Don’t know why I didn’t think she would notice me being hurt, she’s got a sixth sense for that sort of thing. Always has. Kinda weird.

But, she did try and heal me a bit. Somehow, she’s gotten better at it -Ever since she's met Guardian, she’s gotten more control over that healing ability she has. I just need to make sure she doesn’t overdo herself again.

I don’t know anything much bout healing magic or whatever it is, but I don’t think what Angie has is normal. I think she uses herself for it. Whatever healing she tries to do just eats away at her. And whatever it was was enough to frighten Pa to move us in the first place

I think part of me might blame ANgie for it. For getting us out of the safety of where we lived near Agateton and moving.

But if we didn’t move would we really have been safe still. And it wasn’t Angie’s fault she did what she did, it was Pa who pushed for it and Mum who went with it.

So do I blame them? I don’t want to. The monsters that took them and hurt Angie are the ones to blame.

But they wouldn’t have found us if we didn’t move near that forest. But Mum and Pa couldn’t have seen it coming.

Ugh. brain hurts. Fuck this mind screw bullshite

Spent 123.54$ today. Groceries and supplies. Tampons are stupid expensive but I want to have a decent supply for when we need them. Also some food.

Made 13$. Gonna need to work more to recoup.

No idea if Angie talked with Guardian. She still thinks I don’t know anythin bout it.

At least, I think she doesn’t. She gets defensive and acts like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

I wonder why she does that. Wonder if it’s tied with how I react to her saying she’s found Trevor for the umpteenth time.

Maybe I should press her bout it. But I don’t want to get her worked up over nothin.

Okay that’s enough, my mind’s getting wandering now and I stay up if I do that.

...

Diary 2 Entry 54

Someone showed up with a bunch of robots earlier. Cause quite the commotion, sent people running, the usual.

Apparently he set up shop in the rich quarter and is causing all sorts of troubles. People have been coming to and fro a lot the past few days.

Angie got worried over explosions. Had to calm her down, explain that whatever it was probably wasn’t coming here. She asked me bout the people there and if they needed help - told her that someone would take care of the rich fops. That’s what they do after all. Who gives a shit about two practically orphaned kids.

Not sure if she bought it. Gotta keep an eye on her. Might need to pull an all nighter.

And we don’t have any energy drinks or coffee. I could go grab one, no one is gonna give a shit if I do, not in this current environment.

Gotta stop for now. Gotta focus on Angie not some stupid book.

Entry 55

Angie’s missin

#Knower writes #Sonic #Sonic Fic #Sonic the Hedgehog #Annabelle Flaches #Angelica Flaches #didn't realize it'd be so long #guess that's what happens if I just let myself write something #but I had fun writing this #hope everyone enjoys this first part

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

Text

Marinette: Stone Cold

Ok so i love this prompt but it took forever to get to. And as soon as I did its like suddenly I was swamped with everything. So frustrating. But I finally finished it. And I love it. @vixen-uchiha

Marinette was six-years-old when her parents died in a car crash. She had been at school when the vice principle, Mrs. Valmontes, stopped by and pulled her out of class. The little black haired girl had known something was wrong instantly as Valmontes had smiled just a little hard at her and much more gently than what she was known for.

Still, she had been really surprised to see Office Raincomprix, her classmate Sabrina’s dad, waiting for her in the principle. Marinette always thought he was really nice; always jolly and quick to lend a hand to the teacher at the end of the day if he got to class early to pick up Sabrina. However, he too, seemed rather despondent when Marinette entered the room. His partner, a rookie named Lorna, looked really sad too.

They took her down to the station where she was led to one of the back offices. Sabrina’s dad waited with her there. And then woman name Susanna LeFlont, who Marinette would later learn was a grief counselor. Then they told her.

Susanna held her as she cried and begged and called them liars, until she couldn’t cry anymore. And then they gave her a stuffed animal, and said they would try calling her relatives to pick her up.

They came back an hour later, saying they got ahold of her parents’ emergency contact…

Marinette’s Uncle Jareth Dupain.

She had frowned when they said his name because to her he had never been Jareth Dupain. No, he was always her cool Uncle Jagged. So it took her a second to remember that his real name was Jareth Dupain-Stone, her father’s younger half-brother. Marinette even briefly remember her dad mentioning having to change their emergency contact after his mom, Gina, passed away a few ago.

He was only 20 when Marinette born and he was always a budding Rockstar so he wasn’t around too much. And 6 years later he was the biggest rockstar in the world. Still, that didn’t stop him from rushing to the police station, Penny hot on his trail, and pulled his sweet niece into the biggest hug he could.

Jagged took his niece to the hotel room to get her settled and had Penny go back to the bakery to get some of her things. He didn’t think it was a smart idea to take her there yet; not when the wounds were still so fresh.

Still as the twenty-six year old Rockstar stared at the small form cuddled up to Fang, he realized for the first time that he was all Marinette had in the world; the only family she had left. The only family he had left.

So he knew, despite the lawyers taking days to contact him regarding who Marinette’s guardian would be, that it was him. Jagged was the person Tom had entrusted to protect and watch the most precious thing he had the entire world; his daughter. And he wouldn’t let his brother down.

Tom had always been the best big brother anyone could have. And when Jagged’s own father, Tom’s Stepfather (as tom’s own father had suffered a heartache when Tom was a teen), had walked out, Tom had stepped up. He showed Jagged, who was still called Jareth at the time, how to be a man. He believed in Jagged’s rockstar dream when Jagged didn’t even believe in them himself.

Jagged would do right Tom, by Sabine; he would do what they would do if the situation was reversed and they were given Jagged’s kid to care for.

He would raise Marinette as he own. And though he knew would never come close to being the father that Tom Dupain had been…

Jagged would damn well try to be.

…

Jagged Stone, Shattered Roses, Nightmare’s Hail Mary, Unmasked Dragon, True Born Rejects, and Emancipated Mirrors were some of the biggest rock band in the world. Whenever, they went on tour together, they were the epitome of what people thought Rock Stars were. They were loud. They partied all night. Groupies hung around everywhere. To them, it was paradise. When all the bands were invited to go on the Kings of Neverland tour, with Jagged Stone headlining, they expected very much the same as they were used to. Jagged always had the most Rockin tour bus. His parties were legendary. They came to expect it.

However, when Neon Savage (front man of the Shattered Roses), Austin Knight (Leader of Unmasked dragon and lead Guitarist), and Niklaus Bane (Lead vocalist of True Born Rejects) showed up with beers and all other sorts of alcohol the day before their opening concert for the tour, they came across something very unexpected.

Or rather someone.

A little Asian girl with pigtails in her Blue hair, a tiara on her head, in a rainbow tutu paired with a black too large Guns N Roses shirt, her hand on her hips, no shoes, and a rather large crocodile next to her.

“What’s with the ballerina?” Austin asked. He had dyed silver hair done in a stereotypical emo style, grey eyes, and too many piercings. He was slim and tall.

Niklaus sighed in relief, “Oh good, you see her too!” He had curly blond hair, dark brown eyes, and wore mostly black. He had ripped jeans and a red tie. The tie was as red as the whites of his looked. “Why is your hair blue?”

“Because Uncle said I could,” She answered and pointed a figure at them, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Savage scoffed, “You got that twisted, kid.” He was a bulk guy, with long dark hair, and a severe expression on his face. His arms were covered in tattoos. He played in a metal band, and it was obvious. “Where’s your mommy?”

“Dead,” The little girl said bluntly. “I live with my Uncle Jagged now. This his tour bus, and you’re not supposed to be here.” She glared at them. “Fang, Stranger Danger!”

What happened next was a bit of a blur. One minute they were fine, the next they were being chased around Jagged’s tour bus by a rather vicious crocodile while pint-sized twerp laughed.

Lucky for them, their yells for help were overheard by Penny and Jagged who had been working in back, “What’s going on?” Penny asked as she ran in.

“Mates, what the h. e. double hockey sticks is going on?” Jagged asked right on his assistant’s tail.

Austin, who had jumped on top one of the shelves, gave Jagged a confused look, “Better question; what the hell did you just say?”

“Ooohhhh! There’s five bucks for the swear jar!” The little girl taunted.

Jagged glared at rockstar, “Watch it! A Kid’s in the room!”

Savage glared at his longtime friend, “Who the fuck do you think set Fang on us?!” He cast a dark look at the crocodile. “Stranger danger my ass! I’ve known you sent you hatched, you overgrown cheap pair of boots.”

“That’s ten buck for the swear jar!” The girl said.

“Ten bucks?” Austin frowned. “Kinda of steep for just two swear words.”

“I swear to God-” Savage growled but was cut off.

“Chill, mate,” Jagged said. “This is my niece Marinette.” He gave her a loving smile. She beamed up at him brightly. He had been taking care of her for a year now. “I told ya about her.”

“You didn’t say she was Satan!” Austin whined. Fang had bitten him, the slowest of the three, quite a lot, and he had a giant hole in his jacket.

“I’m not Satan,” Marinette huffed. “I’m a ballerina, princess, Rockstar on my way to a tea party with Duchess Rosy Sparkles, of the Unicorn Fairies. And guess what, you’re not invited!”

“Oh that’s just mean,” Niklaus complained.

“She sicked a mini dinosaur on us,” Savaged hissed.

“Yeah, well, now she hurt my feelings.”

Jagged sighed. The guys were some of his closest friends, and by the look up the “entertainment” they brought, they were ready to raze it up like always. But things had changed. Jagged couldn’t be that guy anymore. “Marinette’s staying with me from now on,” He reminded them. “No parties on the tour. She has a bedtime. And doesn’t need to see “us” at our finest, no matter how Rockin we are.” Jagged shrugged. “Spread the world, my bus is off limits.”

The rock stars grumbled a bit but didn’t leave. They could hang with Jagged without presence of booze, weed, loud music, and groupies. It would be a little weird but they’d managed. Jagged was their friend; they’d known him before any of them became famous and stayed close well after. They hadn’t been there for him as much as they wanted to after Tom died; too many commitments, too many required appearances in different countries that had taken them away. But they were there now. And if being there for one of their best friends meant regularly chilling with a six-year-old, then they’d deal.

Savage grunted, “Austin, get rid of the booze.”

“By ‘get rid of’, I assume you meant put back in my tour bus,” The silver haired guitarist corrected.

Niklaus raised his hand like he was a student in class, “I get the whole no alcohol thing; that stuff will kill ya. But what your feelings on pot?”

Jagged just sighed. It was going to be a long summer.

The three musician, and even the other Rockers on tour, slowly but surely got used to the seemingly near constant presence of a six-year-old around Jagged or running around backstage. And the swear jar was a serious thing. It didn’t count when they were singing on stage but off it and anywhere near Marinette and they found themselves forking over five dollars for ever swear word. It added up a lot. And quickly.

Jagged’s tour bus, instead of being the Party palace it used to be, now was the chill zone. It was also the cleanest of all the tour buses. No empty beer bottles everywhere. No one random passed out anywhere. No having to watch out for throw up. No rabid fans, as Jagged had increased his security to Tony Stark worthy levels.

All they had to do was mind their manners and remember that Marinette was very impressionable at her age.

“OH screw you!!!!!!” Savage roared as he jumped up and frantically mashed buttons on his controller. “I’m not losing!”

They had been babysitting Marinette all day while Jagged did an interview Buzzfeed.

Austin snickered, “Says you.” His character raced past Savage’s. Only for something to hit him and send poor little Yoshi spinning out of control. “Did you- did you just blue shell me, bitch?” He hissed at Niklaus.

“Nooo!” Niklaus said sarcastically. “Hey!!! Not nice, brat!” He told Marinette after a banana caused him to slip off the ice.

Marinette smiled easily, but there was a determined look in her eyes. Her hair was jelled into a faux-hawk courtesy of Ashley Crimson, from lead singer for Emancipated Mirrors, an all-girl punk rock band.

“Die, scumbag!” Ashley roared as her racer zoomed by. She was a vivacious redhead. Her and her bandmates got used to being some of the only girls around that weren’t either working for one of the rock stars or were scantily clad fangirls who do “anything” to get backstage.

“You’re going down, twerp!” Savage told Marinette.

“Bite me!” She snapped back just as Jagged and Penny walked into the tour bus.

Jagged crossed his arms, “What did you morons do to my sweet little niece?”

“Nothing!” Niklaus, Ashley, Savage, and Austin chimed together.

“Savage taught me to throw a punch, and or kill a man.” Marinette smiled happily. “I helped Austin set up a glitter bomb in Nightmare’s Hail Mary tour bus. Niklaus and I are banned from Chuckie Cheese. Ashley and I spray painted her ex boyfriend’s car. Cleo and I got arrested. We disturbed the peace!!” Cleo was a pink haired girl who played drummer from Nightmare’s Hail Mary. She had to rush off for her own interview. “Oh and we’ve only been Playing Mario kart for an hour but they each owe like a hundred bucks to the swear jar.”

There was silence as the words were processed.

“And not one of us taught her how to keep a freaking secret?” Ashley face palmed.

Jagged just sighed.

…

For the next few years that was Marinette’s life. Austin, Niklaus, Savage and Ashley became pseudo Uncles and Aunt to Marinette.

She spent most of her childhood on tour with her Uncle; going from to place, concert after concert. Marinette was homeschooled and didn’t mind it. Jagged went on tour with a bunch of different people over the years and she got to meet all sorts musicians; Clara Nightingale, Ed Sheeran, Adam Levine, Brendon Urie from Panic! At the Disco, Taylor Swift. Her favorite were the award shows though. Through them, she got to meet all her favorite actors. And was inspired to start designing on her own clothes after seeing so many fabulous looks. She got to model and do some acting. In her free time, she ran a very popular fashion blog/youtube channel.

The press had always loved her. To them, she was Marinette Stone (Jagged didn’t want her real name released to the media). She was always on the best dressed list, frequently seen with various celebrities, and could be found on the cover of various magazine.

However, when Marinette was eleven, she begged her Uncle to let her go to school with other kids. She was getting older and she wanted to have some type of normal childhood. It took him a year to agree. Her uncle Jagged had become quite protective over the years.

So Marinette went back to Paris. She cut her hair, used her given name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Her Uncle bought a grand penthouse not too far away from her new school, and whenever he was gone her bodyguard, a sweet woman named Harlow who was former CIA, was in charge of her. She started at her new school with a smile on her face.

Not long after, she became the hero Ladybug.

Everything was great. She had friends, a normal social life, went to school with other kids her age. She wasn’t constantly being followed around by paparazzi. She still ran her fashion blog and had frequently updates. It was perfect.

It took two years for it to go bust.

The reason’s name was Lila Rossi.

And she was the biggest liar Marinette had ever met. And Marinette had grown up in the entertainment industry.

Lila made wild claims that the other kids just ate up. A simple google search could refute all of them. The ones Marinette could stand was always about Jagged. Like her Uncle, or an airline, would be reckless enough to let a kid race on to an airport to save a cat; not that Jagged had ever own one. Fang was territorial.

Lila made her out to be a bully, and slowly Marinette lost all her friends. Her only one left was Adrien, her partner Chat Noir. The blond and Marinette had modeled together a few times and he had recognized Marinette despite her new looked but he kept it a secret. Because of their history, Marinette developed a crush on the other and Adrien was quick to lose his crush on Ladybug once he found out it was his dear friend behind the mask.

When Marinette was exiled to the back, Adrien was quick to join her (much to Lila’s fury) and nothing could change his mind. Mostly because he was sick of Lila always touching him despite his vocal protests, and Bustier not doing anything about it.

Soon Marinette things started being messed up or destroyed; her homework, her sketchbooks and pencils, her jacket. She was tripped and called rude names. Her cellphone, (Well one of her phones. She had two; one she used as Marinette Stone. One for Marinette Dupain-Cheng; a number only her classmates had.) was filled with mean texts.

Bustier caved to demands and had her excluded from class trips and events due to being a negative influence; again Adrien decided not to go either, and Lila was Akumatized once he said this. Marinette hadn’t been surprised. Bustier always ignored the bullying and harassment clearly happening in front of her. Still, Marinette decided to start recording her classes a hidden camera on her desk, on the corner of the celling and even on top of the whiteboard behind Bustier. It was just in case anything took a serious turn.

Still losing all her friends because of a few promises and dreams of glitz and glamour had been a wakeup call. Her Uncle had warned her. Her Aunt Penny, who Jagged had married with Marinette was ten, had warned her. So did Savage, Ashley, Cleo, Austin, Clara, and Niklaus. They told Marinette to watch out for fake friends and gold diggers, coattail clingers and desperate wannabes; people who would sell out every secret she had to the paparazzi behind her back just for five minutes in the spot light. So called friends who would do anything to get ahead, to get famous.

And it was clear that’s who most of her ex-friends were. Even Lila learned the hard way. When she told Alya about her mom meeting with some important celebrity about their Go Green initiative, this wasn’t a lie as it would turn out. However, the glasses-wearing girl posted it online, despite Lila legitimately asking her to keep it a secret. Lila got in big trouble with her mom apparently.

The teacher, Bustier, was awful but she always had been. Marinette ignored it in the past because at least she had her friends. But if that witch told Marinette to be a better example one more time, it was over.

Everything came to a head after Marinette got expelled, granted she was brought back after evidence that it was impossible for her to have cheated surfaced, and the bluenette decided enough was enough. She finally gave in and told her Uncle everything.

Jagged was pissed. He cursed up a storm; enough to fill the swear jar ten times over and buy Marinette a car.

It took a while to get him to calm down. And to convince him that Marinette could handle it. She had a plan.

Still, she remembered that Uncle was a wild card.

Friday, during lunch, Marinette was eating in the cafeteria, when suddenly the lunchroom doors burst open, “Marinette,” Jagged called as he entered, trailed by a happy Penny and bodyguards “Where’s my favorite little fashion designer?”

Marinette just sighed.

Adrien smirked at her; looking way too amused. The jerk must’ve known. She had thought it was strange that he wanted to eat in the cafeteria. The two rarely ate on the school grounds, opting and preferring to go to local restaurants rather than deal with terrible food and pesky classmates. Still Marinette didn’t mind as long as they away from her classmates. And they did.

Kagami, Aurore, and Claude gave her perplexed looks.

The students in the cafeteria went wild. Girls and guys screamed, and tried to get pictures. Jagged ignored them and went straight to Marinette’s table, walking passed where Bustier’s student at lunch. Alya shook Lila’s shoulder and pointed at Jagged, and loudly asked if Lila could get her an interview. Lila looked horrified.

Jagged beamed when he reached Marinette, “There you are, you’ve been ignoring my texts,” He accused. Which to be fair, Marinette had been. Her Uncle had been coming up with way too many revenge plots to be healthy. “I decided I need a new look for the VMAs; something rockin, something tasteful, something to show remind the world the amazingness that the Rock Gods have blessed them with.”

“I’m at school,” Marinette told him.

He smirked, “Then Learn to answer a text,” The Rock star shrugged. “But fine; we can talk later. How about at my concert, yeah. You and your friends” he motioned to the kids at Marinette’s table, “Can have backstage passes. We’ll talk then. But I really want you to wow me. Maybe get a matching hat for Fang too.”

“Fang?” Adrien asked innocently. Still Marinette could practically hear see the script he was reading off of. “Is that your cat?”

Jagged gasped as if insulted, “Cat? Do you think I’d ever own anything as ordinary as a cat? Me? Jagged Stone?! I should be insulted, mate. I hate cats, always have. Never owned one, never will. Fang’s a crocodile. Marinette’s knows. Fang loves her.”

“That is strange,” Kagami shot Marinette a smirk which caused Marinette to nearly hiss at the betrayal. Kagami knew too?! “Lila said you did.”

“Lila?” Jagged asked. “Who’s Lila? I don’t know a Lila.”

“Lila Rossi?” Aurore offered. “The Ladyblog practically swears in an interview that Lila Rossi saved your cat from being hit by a plane or something.”

Jagged scoffed, “What a loud of bull! Any journalist that believes that is not worth the pen they write with.” Gasps were heard. “But I heard that rumor. Didn’t know where it was from. Thanks for letting me know who I should sue. This Ladyblog and Lila Rossi will be hearing from my lawyers.”

It was a photo finish as to who fainted first; Alya or Lila.

Lila went home right after that. This caused the reactions of the class to be split. Half the class still defended Lila; refusing to believe their golden ticket was lying. The other half was ready to burn her at the stake; they had carried her books, done her homework, wrote her notes, nearly everything for her.

Marinette just sat back and watched with amused eyes. If they thought this was bad, they hadn’t seen anything yet.

That weekend Marinette Stone released a video on her blog about bullying. She had been mentioning her own trouble with bullying for months and people had asked her for more information.

The title of the video was:

Bullying Stone: The Expose

In it Marinette revealed that at her school she went by Marinette Dupain-Cheng, her real name, and had a new look. She told about how much she liked school at first. And they what changed; that it all started when a new girl arrived and started telling lies about celebrities about Marinette. She told the story of how she was expelled; and just how many procedures were broken when it happened.

Marinette used the recordings she had of class, and even showed up the horrible texts she got.

“As you can see the teacher does nothing,” Marinette frowned. “It’s all happening right in front of her and she does nothing. In the next video, you’ll see someone being sexually harassed, in front of the teacher and she doing nothing about it. And then what victim blaming looks like. Again, as a reminder, all these videos and pictures are unedited.” She had offered to blur Adrien’s face but he declined, and even appeared in the video too and talked about his own experience.

At the end of the video, Marinette looked straight at the camera, “Anyone can be bullied; famous or otherwise. If you’re being bullied; speak up. Tell your parents, your Aunts, your Uncles, your siblings, your cousins, teachers who you know will actually do something about it. I waited too long to tell someone. I regret that. They thought what they were doing was hurting me. They thought I’d be miserable without them. They thought I’d cry and break and come crawling back to them. They thought wrong. You can bully Stone but it takes a hell of a lot more than that to break it.”

The video went viral in an hour. And people were angry. The people who knew Marinette and loved her were beyond furious. Jagged, even more so, as he hadn’t seen the videos before, read the texts.

Marinette Stone’s phone blew up with texts and calls. She was tweeted and retweeted thousands of times. And she got far too many, ‘You want me to kick their asses for you. I can kick their asses for you,” texts. But she had known she’d get them.

The Ladyblog was ripped for lies by celebrities who been lied about on site and fans.

Gabriel Agreste, Adrien told her, was pissed about what had been happening to Adrien, in front of a teacher no less. Lila Rossi fired. And if Lila ever had dreams about working in the fashion industry, they were over.

Savage, after berating her for not kicking Lila’s ass, told her he and the gang (Austin, Cleo, Ashley, and And Niklaus) was coming over for some Mario Kart and artery clogging fast food.

When the call disconnect, Marinette got a text from him.

Why did you sic Fang on them?

And that’s a five for the swear jar!

Marinette couldn’t stop laughing.

#ml salt #ml fic #ml salt fic #marinette dupain cheng #Marinette deserves better #adrien deserves better #adrien agreste #alya salt #class salt

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lozislaw · 2 years ago

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Hey!! I think a while back ago I gushed (through anon again) about how much I love your south park fics, particularly the alien one (gosh it's still delicious) and now I have returned, older and more wise, to say that I've read the antibody fic too and what the absolute heck man ??? I read it all in one go even though I meant for it to be graciously spaced out and UGH how do you DO THIS????? You've really gotten into Kyle's head, so much so that it feels like he's got complete autonomy and he's so real here.

My particular favourite aspects for the fic are Butters and Kenny, because dude, it's them, and honestly I didn't know I needed to see some semblance of a friendship between butters and kyle till you pumped this out. Wendy and, damn, cartman? Or should I say Erica? Is such a concept too! Whenever they come into the scene I get excited hehe. Scott was a bit of a surprise, but I'm curious as to whether he will genuinely grow close to Kyle. Ah gosh, don't get me started on Kyle. Feels like watching a train wreck and on one hand you want to coddle him and go Nooo it's okay honey, other hand, you kinda wanna see how much further he can go, and third hand, it's painful bit in a good way? Might be biased because it's just from his pov but feels like Kyle seriously fared the worst after the 'divorce'. His mind and thoughts are so hectic and how that manifests itself in your writing is so gold. My heart aches every time he talks to Stan but it's so addictive seeing how they bounce off each other.

Small side note though, Kyle was so fixated on Stan bringing up ice men it made me laugh. And Stan being so smug about Kyle calling the idea of him being him up hot is hilarious, make me wonder if Stan goes into, for lack of better phrasing and apologies for possible crudeness, gay panic at the sight of Kyle just like how Kyle does at him. Well Kyle hasn't changed much appearance wise but nevertheless .... <<

Also Stan mentioned something about how he expressed his feelings three times and kyle rejected it? Or am I remembering wrong? Is this a reference to something in canon or is this some sort of hint :'00 I need to reread these 8 chapters and scrutinise everything better

Oh Bruh I'm so sorry for such an obnoxious long ask I should've commented on ao3! But still, thanks for feeding the world with your amazing writing and frankly mind blowing art. Hope you have a wonderful day <33

I too, Anon, have come back to you older and wiser, and by doing so I can return to you with an eloquent response, instead of the torrent of childish emojis and button mashing that my heart so desperately wants. Because you fucking angel - how dare you come into my house and say these things to me raw no rubber. And because of that, I'll try and respond your theories as "wait and see" free as I can.

I'm so flattered that you like the way Kyle is being written, and I'm pretty pleased with his character in the story myself. Because yes, I very much intend him to be a sandy butthole of an antihero protagonist, and I want him to hurt as much as possible in this plot. I'm just spit roasting this guy until he's sizzled and cooked and at his lowest. Because what does the boy have to lose anymore? No friends, a bad reputation, a truckload of unwanted therapy and no way out of the situation. Or so he believes.

Kenny and Butters? My absolute favourites in this story, apart from everyone else because I love every character and the role they play - even poor Dr Debby - I mean Teena, Downer. They’re at peace with each other and living a world behind the scenes that Kyle refuses to accept as anything but being buttbuddies that kicked him to the curb so they could go and fuck each other without a third-wheel.

And Butters and Kyle, yes! I love love love their relationship and exploring it, even it’s not much done in fandom, considering in the show they almost have a younger/ older brother relationship. I jump onto that dynamic in the story, where Kyle tries to look out for Butters even if he doesn’t like showing it (as any older sibling does), but Butters was trying to break free and be rebellious in life and he was carrying a wet blanket around who hated the mere idea of change so much that he still wears his disgusting carrot orange jacket and thinks it fits. Hmm, kind of reminds me of Post-Covid Kyle...

Now to the part I hate to say, but Stan is my biggest secret in the story and I’m not spilling anything big, until the time comes. But yeah I think it’s at least obvious that he thinks about that “hot” comment Kyle made in his dying last words. Of course it is - just imagine if Post-Covid Kyle called Stan hot and then passed out and just fucking died. Stan would be obsessing over that shit for a looong time.

Ah yes, and those drunk confessions;

You’re right to wonder if those rejections happened in canon or later in the story, and I’m gonna go ahead and rip off the band-aid that it’s from both. But who wants to hear about that? Moving on. :p

You call it long and obnoxious, I call it beautiful and perfect. Don’t you dare ever apologise for writing this ask, you don’t know how often I read this for two days before I started drafting this response.

My new chapter is nicely in progress and hopefully you’ll enjoy it and not hate me for tugging your balls like I have this whole time. Thank you so much for reading this fic so far. It’s my favourite I've ever worked on (and alien fic is a close second!!).

Here’s the link to the fic for anyone unfortunate enough to stumble upon this messy response and wonder what all the big fuss is about. And I thank you in advance.

Have a great day too anon, I smooch your hands. <3

#i can't seem to post anything under the 10k word count anymore #and now asks are getting involved too #south park #south park fanfiction #sp fanfiction #i don't want antibody but you

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maivalkov · 3 years ago

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I have seen not long ago a post about "spain's dark side" so...your opinion about that? (I kinda have a feeling of knowing why himaruya came up with that and, if I am right, I am not sure if I like it. It's not that I don't like the dark side thing, but if the reason is what I think, then I don't fancy it)

Great question! Please excuse the length of this response in advance, and if I go off on any tangents. To directly answer your question: I have a horrible feeling that Dark Spain is inspired by the Spanish Black Legend/La leyenda negra, and I don't like that at all. You've really hit on an important topic here, so I'm going to extend this discussion. I call this upcoming piece: Why I don't like Dark Spain and why we, as fans and creators, need to be mindful of how we enjoy our beloved series.

Side note before we begin: I'm going to be talking from a writer's perspective, since this is what I mostly do. My opinion is just that, nothing more. Some will agree with me, others won't, and that's okay. If you're happy with the terms, let's crack on.

Part 1: "Dark" characters I'm not against 2P or "dark" versions of a character if it's required for a particular setting. Let me show you what I mean, using some fic plots I just pulled from my head: Example one: You've got this gritty, fantasy gangster city plot. You use a real city as your location, but the characters are human. Antonio's the leader of a huge criminal organisation and therefore he will do incredibly bad things. It's trigger warnings ahoy. Is this portrayal okay? Sure. (read on before you hit that reply button) Example two: You're writing a horror fic. Antonio's a sexy merman who's more likely to decorate his cave with your entrails, than serenade you on a beach. Is this plot fine? Absolutely. It's dark af, but you're writing sexy merman horror. It kinda’ comes with the territory. Did you see how I wrote "fantasy" and "human" in bold? And did you see that I used Antonio, not Spain? There's a reason. I personally believe in this: When your story uses Hetalia characters in their human form (i.e: Antonio is just Antonio, he does not represent Spain), there's much more freedom and flexibility. I've read many excellent works with darker themes who use real locations alongside human versions of the characters, and do so brilliantly. They're wonderful stories, and they don't cause harm. They're fiction. Fantasy. Fiction. Did I mention fiction? On the flip side: When we are writing the characters as country personifications, who represent the people and the history, we must take proper precaution. The same applies to writing about historical events. (To be continued down below.)

Part 2: Dark Spain

As someone who's been in fandom 10+ years now, my problem with Dark Spain is this: a number of creators back in the old days seemed to agree with my Black Legend theory/concerns, and yet they willingly made content for it. Not everybody did this, but I certainly saw some who thought "wow dark crazy Spain because Inquisition", applied it to certain ships because "ohh angst leads to romance, what a plot" and that is wrong on so many levels. If you know the Spanish Black Legend, then you know how bad this is. It's an incredibly difficult topic because it is, in the simplest sense, massive propaganda designed to seriously damage a country's image. I welcome Spanish input on this, but personally I think using this as some edgy portrayal of Antonio in your fics is insulting. Don't bloody well do it.

(Please note that the fandom is MUCH better now, but it doesn't change the fact it has, and could still happen. I used past tense for a reason, as I do think things are improving.)

Russia is another character which suffers this treatment, and I do think we have a responsibility to be considerate. Many countries have done awful things, mine (the UK) included, and yet our characters have escaped receiving this Dark persona. It's not fair, it really isn't. It's a poor judgment call on Himaruya's behalf if my theory is true. If I'm wrong, then this argument is void. Either way I feel like Himaruya should've specified how and why Dark Spain came about. Part 3: Historical writing

Here's where it gets interesting. I'm not saying "don't write historical hetalia fanfiction", and I never will say it because historical fiction exists. You can go in your local bookshop and boom, people are making real money off it.

I'm not one of those lucky sorts, but I am contributing to that genre myself. Despite lots of magic, fantasy and general artistic license, my story Gatito can be considered historicaI.

It's set in England, 1569. Spain and the Netherlands are two of the main characters, and yes, their conflict is referenced. It coincides with the timeline, and all the while I write them as personifications, I can't pretend that tension between them doesn't exist. If I did, that'd probably be even more insulting to their history, and no doubt confusing for the reader.

The main plot is a daft mash of Arthur misusing his magic, a vile fictional man from Antonio's court who wants his head, and poor Netherlands and Portugal get wrapped up in the drama along the way.

The Dutch conflict is featured, but not the plot. The event is occurring right in the middle of a fictional disaster which Antonio is trying to overcome. It's acknowledged, but it's on the side, to put it simply.

I use human names (Antonio and Abel) and explore that situation from an emotional, human perspective. I do not claim that Abel is a victim, and no one thinks he is either. Personal HC time here: I don't think any of the characters look back at their history and think "wow, poor me". Everyone's made mistakes, and they've all played a role in hurting someone else. My history teacher once told me this: The more you look, the more you see. There's many sides to a story, and even to this day, I doubt historians have truly, faithfully documented events so that it's fair on every nation involved. That's why we need to try and learn history from multiple perspectives, and why when writing hetalia characters during a historical event, we should show the reader as many viewpoints as possible. If you don't, then... well. I frown at you. More on this in part 4.

Part 4: Conclusion/advice

I won't pretend to be a saintly figure in the fandom, and this rant is a bit of a mess, but I hope you get what I'm on about. Thank you if you're still reading.

I'm going to finish with a bit of advice that has helped me have a positive time, and allowed me to create works for a series I really love:

1- If your story is historical, and you purposely want to paint a country in a bad light, think before you do. Don't slander another country for the sake of your comfort character or ship. If your story is set during a battle then yes, they can moan about the opposition, but don’t go hardcore. You know what I mean.

2- Research, research, research.

3- You want to write a particular character. Their human name is unconfirmed, or you don't know a part of their history, but you want to write about it. What should you do? Talk. I had this very dilemma regarding Portugal's surnames, and I just asked Portuguese mutuals on Tumblr for help. I received numerous valid responses in under an hour, and I felt better for it. 10/10 highly recommend.

4- If you've gotta' write Dark Spain: Keep. It. Fictional. If you don't believe my theory behind it, cool, crack on. But if you agree with me, then yeah, I've said it enough. Respect the country.

5- DO explore history. It's fascinating.

6- If you write historical hetalia and you feel that something might be misunderstood: PLEASE USE DISCLAIMERS, END NOTES ETC. I write number 6 from experience. There is a scene in Gatito where a significantly stressed Antonio attempts to summarise the Dutch conflict. He's being blamed for countless fictional issues, and rather than think things through, he blames himself for Abel's pain as well. He does it on a purely emotional basis. Have you ever had that really bad day, and things keep getting worse? Someone comes along and says "you did x y z and I'm mad", and rather than argue your side, you accept it?

That's Antonio in that scene. I know it is, because that's how I intended it to be read. His answer is flawed, to say the least, but in his human heart, he can't help it. I used the end notes as a warning/apology/explanation for this scene. I don't want it to be misinterpreted, and I don't want to disrespect Spanish history.

7- If someone does comment/ask about a sensitive, historical part of your work: don't rant. And don't get offended. I believe we all need to talk more. Have conversations about HCs, how we would write/imagine different scenes, and use it to improve your work.

8- Have fun, and be sensible. Thank you again for reading, I hope this helps to some extent. I know I've thrown my opinion out here, but if you strongly disagree with me, don't @. Move on, embrace what you believe, and everyone's a winner. (This really should've been number 9 on the list haha.)

#ask #hws spain

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oh-boy-me · 4 years ago

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:0 could I have a beel,asmo,belphie,lucifer,mammon, satan (not including levi) and diavolo playing videogames? I thought it would be kinda funny since they're all really old- except for levi of course haha

Ohhh this should be fun!

Decided to do individual HCs for this one instead of a group thing so they wouldn’t be limited to multiplayer games.

Most of them, save for a certain prince, have been exposed to games a fair amount by proximity to Levi.

---

Lucifer:

Lucifer has a Mononoke Land account so that he’ll get the email notifications for events and can therefore keep track of Levi’s whereabouts. He’s never played the game, though, nor downloaded the app, and he has no intention of doing so.

In general, he’s not much of a gamer. The most gaming he gets done is minesweeper on Windows XP. He doesn’t have the time, and it was never something he could get into.

That isn’t to say that he owns zero games, though. His favorite genre is turn-based strategy, because he can afford to look away from them, and they make him think and plan.

He doesn’t like the hyper-realistic ones, though. Things like Civilization and Here Be Dragons are up his alley, Hearts of Iron not so much.

He doesn’t care too much about the story, but a good soundtrack is mandatory.

Also he’s an old man so the controls also have to be intuitive or he just won’t be able to play. Why is he jumping when he presses A he thought that was the attack button.

The type of player who needs to get every achievement. A completionist.

When the group gets together for the rare multiplayer night, he has no idea what he’s doing and yet still manages to do well. It’s kind of infuriating.

He won’t make alliances with anyone, no, it’s every man for himself. He also actively targets Mammon no matter what game they’re playing.

The fact that he doesn’t really get it protects his pride when Levi inevitably wipes the floor with him.

Mammon:

Mammon actually does game a little bit in his spare time, mostly with Levi. He’s got a couple consoles and is more open to different genres than Lucifer is.

He thrives in any game where the main goal is to rack up as many points or as much profit as possible. He’s undefeated in tycoons and pinball. (Tetris is an exception; he’s terrible at Tetris. Stupid spacial recognition.)

The RNG elements boil down to his insane luck, but he’s actually very smart when it comes to investments and stuff, so it’s not like he’s only using his luck to get by.

If the games have multiplayer, even better! Nothing like kicking Levi, MC and Belphie’s asses in a game of Fortune Street!

He also tends to like the action-focused games that Levi plays. Not so much into turn-based RPGs, but he enjoys stuff where the enemies spawn, like in Zelda or Rune Factory. And he’s great at button mashing in fighting games, although Levi, who actually knows how to play them, always beats him.

Mammon uses items as soon as he gets them, and is too busy rushing a boss to care about learning its patterns and strategizing.

Skips cutscenes even on his first run. Levi and Satan hate him for it.

Like mentioned before, he gets an unfair disadvantage in game nights because everyone targets him. Especially in those games with RNG, because otherwise he WILL win.

He’s banned from PTW games because he will indeed PTW.

Satan:

Satan is another one who doesn’t play too many games, and that might be for the best because he’s a nightmare to play with.

The sorest loser, and a pretty nasty winner too. He insists on the hardest difficulty and then rage quits at the slightest inconvenience.

He will play when prompted, though; he’s not above hanging out with his brothers. His favorite sorts of games are ones with a good story and/or good puzzles. His planning is more on the tactics side, as opposed to Lucifer’s strategy, so he would love Fire Emblem.

He WILL drop a game if the story isn’t holding his attention, and he’s done so in the past.

Overly cautious and hoards resources. He takes the safe route every time.

Also another completionist.

Beel would often ask Satan to help him find out which art pieces were originals and safe to buy in Animal Crossing, and Satan got a little bit interested and ended up making a resident on Beel’s cartridge so the donations could be in his name. He went on a mini-campaign to drive out the residents he didn’t like, but one of them turned out to be Beel's favorite and he felt terrible about it for weeks.

During family game nights, everyone is always torn between appeasing Satan and telling him to deal with it when he loses.

He also gets angry if he catches on to the fact that they’re letting him win, though.

Probably a genwunner.

Asmodeus:

Asmo enjoys video games. They don’t fit into his aesthetic so he’s never really tried to understand them, but he doesn’t dislike them by any means.

Gaming is becoming more mainstream though, right? That’s a whole new audience that could appreciate him. Maybe, just maybe, he can let himself be a bit of a geek.

Unsurprisingly, he’s got a penchant for games with customization options. Surprisingly, he also really enjoys FPS games. If he and Levi ever played at the same time, it would be chaos in the House of Lamentation.

As opposed to his in-your-face attitude, he likes to play sniper units.

He said he wants to tap into the gaming community, but he’s not very good at most of the games he plays so he’s too embarrassed to actually do so. He does, however, play the Sims on livestream. He does his best to make the steamiest and most dramatic scenarios happen, and he’ll hold strawpolls to let his viewers make some choices.

Asmo also plays Animal Crossing like a few other brothers, but his island is so well groomed and with just the right residents, it feels like you’re touring an uncanny dystopia and Asmo is the dictator.

When the group gets together, he usually ends up doing the worst. He’s more interested in executing perfect combos than actually dealing damage, so he’s not aggressive enough to get anything done against players like Levi and Satan.

He’s also not very good at teamwork; he starts yelling at his partner very quickly.

Beelzebub:

Beel doesn’t have a lot of “gamer” in him, but some of his brothers seem to like it so he decided to give it a go. Turns out his hands are too big, but he makes do. Kind of.

You’d expect a sports game to be the best for him, since he’s so athletic. However, it’s BECAUSE he’s so athletic that this sort of game isn’t in his library. He gets too antsy and bored tapping buttons instead of actually playing the sport.

Beel’s also not an aggressive player in any sense of the word. He feels guilty even hurting the most basic of slimes.

No, no games are better for Beel than the stress-free, casual life simulators. Animal Crossing is no surprise his favorite one right now. Satan handles the museum for him while Beel gets to do whatever he feels like in a world where the biggest threat is a wasp.

He’ll also play other low stakes games where living your life is the main goal, like Harvest Moon and Stardew Valley. His big heart can never choose who to marry in those games.

Horror is also ok for him, because while aggression is hard for him, self-defense is not.

He got the Cooking Mama app on his D.D.D. and bit the device in half, so he’s not allowed to touch that franchise anymore.

When the gang meets up, his non-aggressive side sticks around. In fighting games, he’s more likely to dodge and steer clear of the others, and in other versus games he’s so open to compromise you’d think you were on the same team.

Satan did get him his favorite resident back.

Belphegor:

Belphie probably games the second most after Levi; it’s something that keeps him entertained but doesn’t require him to move very much at all.

I actually have no idea how to describe his preferred genres, but League of Legends and Dark Souls is basically all you need to know.

League lets him socialize a bit, and it’s the game that he and Levi play together most often. As for Dark Souls, he loves the sort of game where learning your opponent’s every move and outsmarting/outmaneuvering them is the only path to victory.

I guess that would be described as “really hard action-adventure” games? He’d also like Sekiro.

He also has his own copy of Animal Crossing to visit and play with Beel, but his island is so underdeveloped you’d think he started that same week.

Belphie is the true wild card of family game nights; sometimes he sleeps through the whole thing, while other times he can take down even Levi.

He has everyone’s habits down to a T--Mammon charges in, Asmo does too much setup, Levi’s overconfident--and he knows how to counter each and every one of them.

For someone who’s so much of a cunning player, though, he also misclicks a lot.

He’s the most likely out of his brothers to make alliances. He’s also the most likely to break alliances.

If he doesn’t think he can win, he’ll choose a player and start sabotaging the game in their favor.

Diavolo:

Lord Diavolo had read about like, Mario? The little blue hedgehog guy? But he’d never owned a gaming console before. He probably thought Neopets was peak gaming.

Levi swore to fix this grievous error, and this was also a mistake, because now Diavolo keeps trying to get Lucifer to play all these hack and slash games with him.

He has legitimately told Lucifer that “if you don’t play Devil May Cry with me THIS devil may cry!”

The games need to always have something happening in them or he’ll get bored, kind of like Satan’s need for a good story, except with action.

It’s also worth mentioning that “play a game with Diavolo” actually means “sit in the same room as Diavolo while he plays.”

And oh boy… is he terrible at these games.

He just button mashes until either he dies or all the enemies die.

Never uses any of the items he gets because he’s sure he’ll need them more later on. When, Diavolo? During the staff roll?

Will bomb a door before trying the knob.

Since he’s usually only around Lucifer, who doesn’t want to get sucked into this, and Barbatos, who honestly couldn’t care less about this, he’s been left alone and free to develop these terrible gaming habits.

It’s rare that he comes to family gaming night. Legend has it that Lucifer’s piercing glare is somehow connected to the fact that his brothers always let Diavolo win.

Masterlist

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has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong · 3 years ago

Text

SLEEPOVER☆CHAOS

In which my mastersona, Seihai-kun; joins Gudako and Mash for one heck of a fun sleepover!!!

Secrets and hidden emotions are finally exposed! ;)

(naw i just like sleepovers)

Cold, billowing gusts of snow rattled against the glistening window panes; as the mundane, clinically white halls of Chaldea sparkled like brand-new.

Yes.

For the first time in ages, Seihai had volunteered to assist with the cleaning!!

'Well, it was either to help with clean-up or join the servants for a session of group counselling with Kiara...' The mere idea of pouring their heart out to their fellow allies made a cold shiver run down Seihai's spine.

No way in hell did they want to let others know about their inner demons; especially not when he was also attending today's session. To Seihai, that was akin to a recipe for disaster.

And in addition to that, Kiara was eerily perceptive as a counsellor. It'd be IMPOSSIBLE to hide anything from her. Seihai had seen how even Gudako's cheery outer self faltered before Kiara's intelligent wiles.

'It's much more relaxing to clean the place instead.' Resting their vibrant red cornrows onto one of the latest prototype model of the Chaldea Speedmop 2000 (nightingale had an entire stock of them in order to keep chaldea as clean as possible), they sighed.

Life had been a real struggle as of late for Seihai. Lacerating wounds. Ferocious beasts. Storylines bursting at the seams with treachery and Machiavellianism. In other words, the missions were hell. It was tough- unbearable even- to carry on, to keep on pushing forward like Gudako, Mash, the Staff and Servants were; but deep down, Seihai knew that they had no choice but to follow ahead.

However, it grew. A festering, deep pool of regret; self-abasement and shame. Was it really alright for Seihai to be here? Weren't they just a nuisance? Were they even worthy? Did anybody at Chaldea even care about them, anyway? Who could they open up around?

As a horrendous deluge of negative self-talk smashed into Seihai with all the force of a tidal wave; encasing them within a moment of anxiety so painful that they felt as if they were about to drown- a miracle occurred.

'TAP TAP!!!!' Tapping them ferociously on the shoulder, Seihai leapt out of their very skin to face such an intrusive force. "H-HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK- oh, Gudako."

"What do you mean by 'oh Gudako'?!! It's none other than me, Gudako; your beloved homie and most trusted ally!! I was looking for you. Kiara was disappointed that you couldn't make it to counselling today. Told me that she's happy to meet you one-on-one, if you got some extra time." Gudako all but winked, as her golden eyes glimmered mischievously.

'You little shit,' Seihai couldn't help but laugh at that. "Alright, I'll visit her tomorrow. How was the group therapy?"

"Oh, it was awesome! We all had a good laugh, shared our stories and gave each other some support." Gudako was more or less beaming with joy. "It's so nice here, in Chaldea. Everyone's so supportive of one another. There's no shame here, Seihai. I hope you know that."

"Haha, of course I do!" An itchy, aching laugh that was even faker than the fakest of plastics erupted from Seihai's throat. Well fuck, looks like their skills at faking had subsided greatly as of late.

'Oh shit...she's onto me..' Seihai recognized that expression clearly. Gudako's eyes were wide, almost brimming with tears, as her eyebrows arched incredulously.

That only meant one thing- she was finally onto Seihai's bullshit.

"Hey, Seihai. If something's up, tell me! You always listen to me ramble on and on about all of my feelings too. Let it out!" Gudako gives Seihai a friendly shake of the shoulders. "AH!!!!"

"Oh lord, Gudako. What's happened now?" Seihai guffawed softly at Gudako's vibrant pose. "You got a new idea? C'mon let it out!"

"Oi, you're the one who needs to let things out more!!! I am doing perfectly fine, thank you. Well anyway. Seihai?"

"Come with us. Join us on our sleepover tonight. Let's chat, just like old times. You, Mash and I. How does that sound?" Gudako's expression was apprehensive, linking her palms together. "I want to help. If that's okay with you..."

'SHIT, I'M WEAK TO SLEEPOVERS!!! DAMNIT!!' There was something so precious, so special about being privy to the personal thoughts and opinions of others; that Seihai was infinitely weak towards. And a sleepover with Mash and Gudako? Lucky!

Seihai instantly looped their ebony hands with Gudako's scarred palms. "Look, I'm going. You better bring some popcorn and snacks, or I'll drain your room of food, Gudako!" Seihai's joke brought a smile to Gudako's face immediately.

"Hell yeah! I'll see you at 10. You better not flake on me!"

Gudako was most certainly one of the most beloved homies around.

SLEEPOVER TIME!!! (yeet)

Decked in the most casual pyjamas and a pale gray dressing gown, Seihai trooped into Gudako's room with all the force of a warrior. It was time to commence battle!

'ONWARDS I GO!!! YOU'VE GOT THIS ME!!!' Seihai slammed into the door as bravely as they possibly could. 'YEAH BOI! I AM NOT NERVOUS, I AM WORTHY AND AWESOME! I am valid, I've got this!' With an entire array of self-affirmations tucked under their sleeves, they boldly seized their targets.

"Yahoo, beautiful ladies. It's me." Seihai posed languidly, as an excited Mash and ridiculously energetic Gudako ran up to her. "Wow, this is my first time here...nice room you've got, Gudako."

Gudako's room was filled with an array of posters, dvds, cds and technological gear; however neon lights also paraded the walls, giving it a very 'cyber beach party' feel.

"Oh damn, the finest one of them all has arrived." Gudako smirked, swaying from side to side. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too...Senpai was yammering on and on about how she wants you to join in with us more often," Mashu beamed softly, tucking her hands politely behind her back. "Thank you for making it here. Truly. I am very grateful for this."

At this, Seihai's eyes widened with shock. They were so used to being alone; and dealing with everything on their lonesome. So to see these two seem so joyful by their mere arrival came as a deep surprise to Seihai. 'Y-yo...I can't handle this...Shit.' It was time to clam up.

Awkwardly ruffling ruby red locks of hair, Seihai turned to the side. "Don't worry about it, I think you two are great people. So...what have you both got planned for today?"

"Well, senpai and I usually tend to enjoy a good romance movie..." Mash began.

"...And imagine ourselves in their situation as well." Gudako's grin was enormous, as Mash's cheeks flushed ever so slightly. "It's so much fun when we do that. Mash and I have very interesting viewpoints on romance. Hehe." Gudako's expression was wistful and warm, her eyes filled with affection.

'Damn, they've got it bad for one another...' Seihai blankly mused. 'Are they just close friends? Are they in love? Hell if I know,' They wondered.

"B-but, as you're here, we wanted to make things much more simulating for you as well. So we decided to choose a legendary movie..."

"... that's named SHREK." Gudako's face was extremely serious. "The movie that fucking destroys all other movies, because it is just that darn good. What do you say? Want some SHREK TIME??"

"Of course, Shrek is love AND life, after all." Grabbing a huge bowl of popcorn, Seihai sits to the right of Mash and Gudako. "How may times have you watched it?"

"I've genuinely lost count..." Gudako sighed. "How about you, Mash?"

"Only twice...I don't really understand the jokes and references made..." Mash hung her head dejectedly. "Sometimes I wonder if these movies are wasted on me."

"That's not true at all, Mash. I have all the time in the world to explain them to you. You won't be left out, alright?" Ruffling Mash's hair softly, Gudako smiled blissfully.

"Senpai...Thank you. In return, I shall explain all sorts of magecraft theories to you so that you can rise above all of the clock tower mages. I'll be cheering you on!"

"Aah, Mash; what have I done to deserve someone as good as you? C'mere." They were now snuggling closely together.

"Yep, Mash! You heard Gudako. This movie isn't wasted on you at all! All knowledge has to start from somewhere. You may be lost now, but you'll eventually possess enough referential knowledge to enjoy this soon. Be nicer to yourself, okay?" Ah, there it was. Seihai couldn't help but throw out some positive vibes. Worried that they had gone too far, they cringed- only to be met with wide smiles.

"You're so right, Seihai!" Gudako was now caressing Mash's hair. "Hehe, you always give such wise advice."

"Seihai, you're so kind...Thanks." Mash grinned.

"Ah, no problemo! Just didn't want to see you hurt yourself."

As Seihai quietly watched over the two's warm cuddling session, a slight pain twanged at their heartstrings.

In Chaldea, they had no connections as close as that. There was nobody like that for them, whose arms they could be held in; who they could bond with so closely. Nobody who they could cry with in the worst of times; nobody who they could while away the darkest phases of night with...nobody at all.

It had always been them, and them alone.

No matter how many people they connected to on a surface level; how many people they met and spoke to; who they relied upon and trusted within their lifetime- Seihai had never experienced a close bond with anyone.

For the first time in a while, the arid, bitter taste of jealousy clawed across their throat.

'Ah man, they're so cute. Kinda wish I could love and be loved like that too.' Seihai silently watched the movie besides them, as blue rays of light danced upon their face. 'Damn, now I'm mixed between feeling both happy and jealous for them. GUHHHH!!!'

Sometimes... being emotionally distant from others sucked.

But they couldn't let desperation consume them. Whenever they were desperate for friendship and love, they'd let the wrong people in, and would end up even more battered and bruised than before...

'I just gotta keep on being my own pillar of emotional support, no matter how desperate I am for some hugs.' Seihai sighed.

'If this is the price I have to pay to live honorably to my true self, than so be it.'

"So...Mash, Seihai. Let's share some secrets. Have any of you got somebody who you like? Fess up to your dear Gudako!!!"

What was once an extremely loud and rancorous viewing of Shrek (Seihai laughed throughout the entire thing, as Gudako cracked an inane amount of jokes) had now become none other than a GOSSIP SESSION.

'FUCK...' Seihai's face paled at this. Of all the topics to discuss, why did it have to be this??? Whilst Seihai's face was creased up with pure pain and terror, Mash was blushing like a cute tomato.

"W-well senpai, I...You see, I..." Gudako was leaning in so closely towards Mash that she was bordering on pinning her to the wall.

"Hmm, what? What is it, Mash?" Her voice was a husky whisper. "C'mon, tell me who..."

'Bruh. GUDAKO!!! That's not helping at all.' Seihai wanted to facepalm at their antics. 'They really are this dense to each other's feelings, huh.' It was adorable, yet somewhat amusing to watch as well.

"A-AH! I GIVE, I GIVE!!" Pushing Gudako to the side, Mash panted in agony. "S-SEIHAI! WHO DO YOU LIKE??"

"OI, DON'T THROW ME UNDER THE BUS LIKE THAT! WHAT THE HELL!!!" Seihai couldn't help but yell, as a dastardly cold wind dashed through their spinal cord. "Fuck, well okay, there is somebody I like, but..."

"Spear."

'Shit...' Seihai's eyes were as large as saucers, as they spun in Gudako's direction; her smirk pernicious.

Did Gudako KNOW?!

"Looks like Seihai's in a spear of trouble." Gudako winked proudly at them. "Mash, save Seihai the embarrassment. We all know who they like already!"

"T-that's true..." Mash had finally calmed down, much to Seihai's own chagrin. "Yes, we do know."

"How? I mean, should I be worried by this??? How many of you know??" Seihai's arms pooled with cold sweat. "Damn you!"

"More or less the entirety of Chaldea?" Gudako admitted, chowing nonchalantly on a massive pocky stick. "You're not very good at hiding your emotions, you know. Seihai, we in Chaldea understand you much more than you may realize. You can open up a little more, you know?"

Overwhelmed by this, Seihai snaps for the very first time- their hazel eyes burning with repressed rage. "How can you say that, damnit?! How can you understand me, when I mainly hang out alone; when I can barely connect with anybody in Chaldea; when I don't even fucking belong in this damned place??? How can you say that, when I have a fucking useless one sided affection that I've been trying to hide, but everybody now knows of??? How can you say that Gudako??? You don't know shit about me, nor my feelings!!"

At this outburst, both Gudako and Mash's faces soured. Roughly gripping Seihai with her war-torn hands, Gudako shakes them by the shoulders, her golden eyes burning with passion.

"You don't think I see it, Seihai? How you fucking pour out all of your feelings by accident, only to withdraw back into yourself again? How you look longingly over at Mash and I, craving a bond of your own? How you reluctantly look over towards staff and servants, aching to talk to them but not knowing what to do? You don't think I see you crying, see your eyes fill with affection for a certain someone every now and then; that I don't pay attention to your feelings?!! I CARE FOR YOU, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!! WE'RE FRIENDS, AREN'T WE?!!!"

"S-senpai, stop! Seihai, I'm so sorry, Gudako just gets a bit...well, passionate sometimes." Mash manages to successfully pull Gudako back. "Err, Seihai?"

Tears. A flowing river of tears dropped from Seihai's eyes as they sobbed quietly into their palms.

Gudako cared?

Somebody actually did acknowledge their emotions, and actually looked out for them?

'What, what...It can't be...But I thought that only I could care for myself and understand my emotions that well...How could she?' Before Seihai could even look up, Gudako had wrapped them within a fierce hug.

"Seihai. Look, I don't know what's happened in your past, or what's convinced you to be your sole caretaker and self-support system without letting anybody else in." Gudako ruffles their hair. "But I want you to know, that you're NOT alone. Yeah, maybe you've not found your close homies yet. But Mash and I are happy to hear you out, we all are!! Even the person you like sees you as a friend, hehe. You don't have to worry about hiding yourself behind a mask of peerless positivity and self confidence anymore."

"Gudako..."

"You know, you were there for me when I was crying about having to be strong. And you know, I struggled to open up as well. But yeah, Mash...well she came along, and now I feel so much better! Look, I just want you to not beat yourself up for this. It's okay."

"Gudako, you're gonna make me cry. Damn, you're really hitting me in the feels today. I got a real case of the 'crying in the club at 3am vibes' right now."

"Oi, no making shitty jokes to cope. Here, we show our vulnerability like real warriors!" Gudako declared triumphantly, as Mash laughs.

"Gudako, I swear...you really are a wonderful homie. I'm sorry that I tried to hide away from you...I am so grateful that you care enough to seek me out like this. Thank you."

"H-HOLY SHIT, WE CRACKED OPEN THE COLD ONE. MASH TAKE A PHOTO!"

"Senpai, please stop the joking."

"S-sorry..."

"I'm glad," Mash also sat by Seihai's side. "I just want all of us to be happy. And Seihai, I am sure there are many wonderful beings out there that you may eventually grow close to! You already believe in yourself, which is a great start! I know you won't have to be so lonely anymore!" Lacing her palms together, Mash spoke a prayer. "I wish that someday, you will meet people too. And that you'll stop fighting alone."

"Mash, you're gonna make me explode with tears. You're being so nice right now that I'm going to cry." Seihai blushed.

"You heard her, Mash! Why are you so damn cute, I'm falling in love!!" Gudako was clutching her heart dramatically. "Ahhh....Mash is such a beauty!!! Thank you, for blessing me with such a wonderful person!"

"S-SENPAI!!! STOP!!!" As the two began to pillow fight, laughing all the while; Seihai smiled softly at them both.

'So I'm not fighting alone after all...I'm not the only person who values myself in this world anymore...' Seihai could finally put down the weapons that they had grown so used to aggressively defending themselves with.

From now on, they'd do their best to trust in Chaldea more. And maybe attend group therapy from now on, as well.

'So this is how it feels to open up to people.'

It was an unforgettable sensation.

THE END

holy smokes this is so fucking LONG

#my writing #fgo #fate series #mastersona #gudako #mash kyrielight #its 2868 words LMAO #mashu potato #ok i love mash and gudako. and i thought 'let me throw my mastersona at them and see what shit happens' welp it was much more chaotic #gilgablog

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stxleslyds · 4 years ago

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Nightwing #75

So i am a little conflicted about the last Nightwing issue. To start i would like to talk about what i liked.

I liked how Dick was talking about himself and his experiences; i felt it was needed for Dick to tell both Bruce and Barbara to stop trying to get all over his business as if they know him better than himself.

(Just a disclaimer i like Barbara (as Oracle even more) but when it comes with Barbara being such an important person in Dicks life i think i lose interest because i don’t think Barbara has been that relevant in his life in a long time so as far as Rebirth continuity goes i don’t feel like she would know or impact him as much.)

And seeing Dick so confidently talking about what he thinks as opposed to Bruce is always good. Dick and Bruce don’t see eye to eye in a lot of things and sometimes we forget that.

I found the scene in the graveyard very emotional, the one with just Dick in front of Alfred’s grave while he says that he hopes Alfred knew that Dick didn’t remember him and that’s why he reacted in such a “rude” way. I like that he doesn’t guilt trip himself for that.

But the most beautiful thing in this issue was...Travis Moore’s art. I mean do i even have to mention it? He just draws Dick so beautifully you can just feel all of his emotions through Moore’s art. Just fantastic!

Before i get into my feelings about some things in this issue...lets address the big elephant in the room shall we?

What the hell is continuity in the Joker war event/tie-ins/aftermaths?????

I just don’t get it and i don’t really want to get into it because continuity within a same event really doesn’t matter to DC so why should i try to work it out for them you know?

Now to my feelings and review kinda... its going to be long so forgive me in advance...

We start this issue with Donna and Garth visiting Dick in a hotel room. They are both happy to have Dick as Dick back. Now here is where my feelings start to conflict and i know....yeah way too early for my taste. Donna and Garth seem like they are in a hurry for Dick to put the suit on and act as if nothing happened to him for the last few months (that is in comic continuity which i agree with), i do understand that to these two it hasn’t been easy all the death and the uncertainty of what’s to come...but you will think that they would take it slower with him. But here we see Dick’s first thoughts on the matter “everyone expects instant magic” and well yes Dick my dear...the continued subject during this issue is people close or seemingly close to him telling him how he should feel and what he has to do to be Dick Grayson once more.

The first time we see Alfred talk we are not given information as to how it’s happening but later in the issue we come to understand that Dicks thoughts are part of a speech he is giving in front of Alfred’s grave, which Alfred in ghost form is answering and this is how the story from the issue unfolds. Only the end of the issue happens after the conversation in the graveyard.

Alfred continues to talk and he tells him “you are free to be whomever you desire, Richard, the decision is yours to make”

Which Hell Yeah! You are right Dick is the only one who can decide who he was, is or would be and more than that he knows if there was really a difference between Ric/Dick and the man he is now or in the future.

But as humans we also tend to look for others opinions so Alfred continues with “you might look to those who love you for support. Barbara will always be there for you”

And here is where you lose me a little bit, and it’s not Alfred’s fault like the guy was jut written that way...i know that DC loves to play the card of there is a official timeline and we know how it works but i haven’t seen it yet. But in the rebirth or new 52 timeline nowhere did Dick and Barbara strike me as friends, partners or lovers, or having any kind of relationship where Barbara truly knows Dick.

Anyway that is followed by a flashback of Dick and Babs fighting together against some Joker goons after the Joker is taken down and there Dick is wearing the suit he wore as Dickie Boy... Yeah here is where continuity is all mashed in the wrong way. If you read or saw anything from Batman #100 you would know that Dick wears the Nightwing suit the whole issue. So in the Nightwing book timeline Dick either changed back to the Dickie Boy suit after the fight or never wore the Nightwing suit and is not fond of the idea of wearing the Nightwing suit or name.

Back to him and Babs he is explaining that he was himself back when he was Ric and that he wasn’t miserable but happy, this apparently doesn’t sit well with Babs because she can’t wrap her head around the fact that Dick was happy without being Nightwing she tells him “i don’t think it’s possible to be happy if you are denying the essence of who you are”

She follows that statement with “...it seems to me that real happiness doesn’t happen without being true to yourself” and “which means you have to be Nightwing”

That whole thing is messed up to say...mostly to somebody who just got his memories back, and who just told you that they were happy.

Barbara cannot dictate if Dick was or not happy when he was Ric because she wasn’t there after Ric understood that Babs wanted Dick and not the man that he was trying to build after losing his memories and being shown how he was shot while being a vigilante. So if you are not present in someone’s life for a period of time how on earth will you be able to tell them how they really feel or should feel.

Alfred maybe knowing that things wouldn’t work out with Babs he says “perhaps Bruce has the answers you are looking for, Richard” Not only did i thought that was insane but Dick did so too.

But we are shown a flashback once more to when Dick and Bruce are fighting Jokers goons and then Bruce asks about the suit and Dick is so over it i so am i so i will just jump right into the Dick being “whole” again.

Bruce says that “all i want ...is for you to be whole” alright batdaddy you are being weird, they continue fighting and Dick soon realises that Bruce is taking him to that place where Dick was forced to fight Babs back in Nightwing #73 where there is a Nightwing suit (So Dick obviously never wore the Nightwing suit in the Nightwing book timeline). Dick is not pleased by Bruce tricking him into going to that place and he tells him so he tells him that he doesn’t need the Nightwing suit because he doesn’t need to become Nightwing he has all he wants as of now and is happy with how things are. But just like Barbara Bruce is not convinced he tells Dick that he doesn’t have all his things sorted out neither of them do (nice batdaddy always inserting yourself in other peoples life) because they don’t have Alfred with them which Dick once again has something to say “i would like to think he’s here (with a hand over his heart), has been every step of the way”

After this in the comic we are shown the graveyard scene which is emotional and lovely, Dick talks to Alfred about him having reached happiness while he was Ric and being with Bea. Alfred’s ghost says that Bruce and Dick reaching happiness even with the jobs they carry is all he wants for them.

Back to the past when Dick is talking to Bruce about the same thing saying that Alfred would love for them to be able to continue their jobs and find happiness Bruce has something to say “impossible, happiness certainly if it’s of the house with white picket fence variety...is not an option for us”

And Dick my man has once again something to say, he tells him “can’t say that i have ever truly agreed with that” and then continues to say that Alfred thought that the isolation that Bruce put himself on wasn’t truly necessary and that he and Bruce were different because Dick can actually build a life while having the job that he does.

Dick puts the Nightwing suit on because (and this is me reading into it) he realises that he can have both things he knew that he was happy with the life he built with Bea when he was Ric but he had to convince himself that being Nightwing wouldn’t take that from him, he reached a place where he feels confident. He not only will take Nightwing back but Bea too.

And i am going to leave it at that because writing these things isnt really something easy for me but i wanted to write my thoughts on this issue.

I do have problems with some of the subjects talked about in the issue but i still liked the fact that Dick continously stood his ground in what he believed so yeah

#dick grayson #nightwing

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zootopiathingz · 4 years ago

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Thanksgiving in Quarantine

(A/N: more Pixar AU!! no there's not really a plot I just wanted to write something for thanksgiving. Also friendly reminder I've never cooked a day in my life so Imma just be vague on those details)

"Alright Pixars, listen up!" Mike called to get everyone's attention. After their conversations died down, he stepped forward towards the front of the room so all eyes would be on him. As the group leader, it was his job to host the monthly meetings and inform them of recent events or decisions made by him or their creator, Luxo Sr.

Once he was sure they were listening, he proceeded to explain, "So as you all know, even though we aren't affected by Covid, we still have to stay in quarantine for the sake of others. So that means that this year, we won't be spending Thanksgiving with the Disneys—"

"YES!!" Everyone cheered ecstatically, some standing up to pump their fists or high-five each other.

Mike was taken aback by their joyous reaction. Not just because it was a response to what he said, but he couldn't remember the last time all of them were that excited about anything. "—like we usually do.." He finished.

"Oh don't act like you're not relieved about it, Mike." McQueen said, "You hate the Disneys just as much as we do."

"Excuse me, but we do not 'hate' here." He said, "We just strongly dislike. Anyway, I'm not that relieved like you guys are. I was actually looking forward to our tradition."

"Well, I'm just glad we won't have to be greeted by them singing 'Be Our Guest' for the millionth fucking time." Woody scoffed, earning some murmurs of agreement from the rest.

Their relationship with the Disneys was complicated, to say the least. Luxo Sr. started the alliance with Mickey Mouse himself several years ago, and thus they joined the Disney family. But the Pixars were never given a say in the deal, and while they did admire the Disneys and were grateful for the success they brought them, that didn't mean they were tolerable to be around. The Pixars didn't hate them (despite constantly joking that they did), they just despised their arrogance and their random outbursts of songs every ten minutes.

"Wait so if we're not going to the Disneys, we're gonna have Thanksgiving at our house?" Marlin asked, "You do realize we haven't done that in like, 14 years? And obviously the family's grown since then."

Mike nodded, "I understand that, but if we're able to somehow survive Halloween, Easter, Christmas, and New Years on our own, then how hard can Thanksgiving be?"

"Your optimism is appreciated." EVE said, "But from past experience, this feels like yet another disaster waiting to happen."

"Yeah, I mean, who's even gonna cook dinner?" Remy asked.

"You are." Mike shrugged.

The rat man widened his eyes, "Say what now?"

Remy was a great cook, and honestly he was the only one who actually knew how to use an oven. But cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal for the whole group was asking a bit much.

"I can't cook that much in one day by myself!"

"You won't, some of us will help you. Right, guys?" Mike asked. But he got no responses, instead everyone just awkwardly looked away.

Remy sighed, "Come on, guys. Do you really want to eat burnt turkey for Thanksgiving? Imelda?"

She put her hands up in defense, "Don't look at me. I don't know how to make white people food."

"Okay, relax. We'll have WALL-E help you." Mike said, gesturing to the robot man—who gave an enthusiastic wave.

But this offer didn't make Remy feel any better. Out of all the Pixars Mike could've suggested, it just had to be WALL-E. "Seriously?" He asked, "You know he burns toast, right?"

"He'll be fine." Mike waved a dismissive hand. "..probably. Okay, does anyone else want to help with Thanksgiving dinner?"

Once again there was nothing but silence and awkward glances. Remy looked around with a pleading face, trying to get anyone to agree, but no such luck. Well, until Atta got tired of the lack of responses and and decided it was best to take one for the team. "Alright fine. I'll help you." She said to Remy.

"Thank Luxo." He sighed with relief, "You are a saint, Atta."

She shrugged, "I try."

"Then it's settled." Mike said, "Thanksgiving will be hosted by Remy, Atta, and WALL-E. Let's pray they don't screw it up."

The three gave him a cold look, while the others nodded in agreement.

—

Thursday came sooner than they realized, and unfortunately due to the pandemic, buying groceries was a pain in the ass and getting what they needed for dinner took longer than they would've hoped. Luckily they were able to have it all in their kitchen and (hopefully) would have enough time to make it. And even though they were spending the holiday by themselves, the Pixars still got dressed up and decorated for the occasion.

Since the kids would be joining them at the table as well, that meant having to cook for even more people. Remy, WALL-E, and Atta were hard at work in the kitchen making gravy, deviled eggs, sweet potato casserole, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, etc. And of course, turkey. At first it didn't seem like cooking was going to be so bad. They got an early start before most of the Pixars even woke up. If all went well, they would have dinner done by the afternoon.

"Okay guys, we've got a full house of hungry Pixars so we gotta get this done quick." Remy reminded them, "Atta, you're on pie detail, and you're gonna help me with the turkey. WALL-E, you focus on the casserole, eggs, and making sure Atta stays away from the marshmallows."

Atta slowly looked over at him while he pointed at her, "Yeah, I see you."

She narrowed her eyes at him before slowly reaching her hand toward the bag of marshmallows. He scolded her as she popped another one into her mouth, smirking at him and holding back a laugh. But then the two quickly moved on, since they couldn't waste much time on banter and jokes.

"I don't see how the Disneys do this every year." WALL-E commented, taking a bite of bread.

"Well, they don't actually make it. They have a whole cooking staff that serves them every meal. Which is kinda why they invite us in the first place." Atta explained to him, helping Remy baste the turkey.

Remy scoffed, "And yet there's only one chef in this house. Man, I'd love it if I could get more help around here. Hopefully the new Pixars will know how to cook."

"That's what you say every time." Atta chuckled.

"Maybe if I keep saying it, it'll happen." He shrugged.

After a few minutes, the turkey was ready to cook. They placed it in the oven and set the correct amount of degrees and time. Now all they had to do was wait and finish the rest of the meal.

Violet walked into the kitchen, inhaling the strong scent of half-cooked food. "Mmm, smells great in here." She commented, opening the fridge to grab a water bottle. "So how's slaving away for the others going?"

"We're not 'slaving away', Violet." Remy rolled his eyes. Although now that he said it out loud, it kinda seemed like they were, considering not a single other Pixar was offering to help. Instead they were all hanging out around the house doing who knows what. "Regardless, we're doing just fine."

"You wanna help us?" Atta asked with a mouthful of marshmallows—which earned a scowl from Remy.

Violet sighed, shutting the fridge. "I'd love to, but Joy's taking me out shopping for Christmas presents.

"But stores aren't even open today." WALL-E said.

"That's what I told her." The teen shrugged her shoulders, "But she insisted on taking me and a couple others. I honestly think they're just trying to get out of the house so they have an excuse not to help out."

The three exchanged an annoyed glance. While they expected that sort of behavior from their friends, it was still irritating to know they didn't care enough to even stay home for Thanksgiving. But then again, ditching her friends when they need her didn't sound like something Joy would do.

Before they could question it, they heard Violet's name being called from the other room, signaling her to walk away. "Well, good luck with dinner, guys." She said.

"Okay, have fun today." Atta said to her right before she left. The three then gave each other the same confused expression, all thinking the same thing. But it was a short-lived moment, as they quickly got back to work.

"Alright, making conversation is nice and all, but we can't spend much time having social interactions." Remy reminded them, "From now on, no more distractions, okay? Focus is key."

He turned around, seeing a certain someone once again stuffing three marshmallows in her mouth. "Atta!"

"Leave me alone!" She retorted.

—

Several hours passed since the three started cooking, and they were getting close to being finished. It was hard keeping the kids out of the kitchen to stop them from sneaking bites of the food, since they always did that even when eating at the Disneys' place. But in a display of irony, Remy always shooed them away or chased them out with a broom.

A little after noon the meal was finally ready to be gorged. Everyone had a little bit of everything on their plate and had to pull up a few chairs and small tables so they could all sit together in one spot (one of the tables was actually just an old nightstand). Usually when eating meals, the Pixars would just sit in different areas around the house since the table wasn't big enough for all of them to sit at. But since this was Thanksgiving, they wanted to be together.

"Alright everyone, before we eat, we should go around and say what we're thankful for." Woody said, "And I'll start if that makes it easier."

"It would." They all agreed.

They all joined hands as Woody began, "Well, I'm thankful for all of you. You're not just my friends or people I'm forced to live with, you're my family. Which is kinda the same thing but has better meaning. I'm also thankful for our success, and I'm thankful we're doing this here and not at Disney hell."

A few of them laughed and nodded, although they never thought they'd hear the words "Disney" and "hell" in the same sentence.

"I'll go next." Sulley said, "Let's see, I'm thankful for the food on my plate, and the hard-working people who made it for me."

Remy, Atta, and WALL-E smiled at him.

"And I'm thankful to have the privilege to celebrate this holiday with the people I love."

"Awww!!" They cooed.

Barley leaned towards Sadness to whisper, "Wait, are we supposed to say meaningful shit like that every time?" The girl merely shrugged in response.

Once everyone had a turn saying what they were thankful for, they were finally able to dig in. The turkey was even better than they were used to. The whole meal tasted far better than what they would've received at the Disneys' Thanksgiving. Except the sweet potato casserole appeared to be missing quite a few marshmallows.

"I'm so glad it's Thanksgiving." Joy said, a little out-of-the blue.

"Why's that, Joy?" Bob asked her curiously.

"So I can finally get in the Christmas spirit without people telling me to 'wait until Thanksgiving'." She rolled her eyes.

Out of all of them, Joy was definitely the Christmas fanatic, so much that all other holidays around the end of the year were irrelevant to her. The Pixars didn't mind it, though. They loved Christmas, and they were glad she was always the one to go all out on decorations so they didn't have to.

"Can't argue with that." Jessie said, stuffing a piece of pie in her mouth. "But sadly it's not gonna be the same this year."

"No kidding." Merida scoffed. "If people had just done what they were told back in March, this wouldn't have happened."

McQueen raised a brow, "Dude, we had a whole ass celebration for the Swearing-In in March—"

"That was before quarantine, shut up." She was quick to defend.

"When's quarantine gonna be over?" Dash asked, "I'm tired of staying inside all day."

Mike sighed, as he dreaded this topic every time it came up in conversation. But as the leader, he had to be the voice of reason. "Look guys, I know it's tough, okay? We can't even die from Covid but we're being forced to stay at home, and I know it's frustrating. Heck, there's probably not even gonna be a Swearing-In ceremony for 'Soul'."

"There's not??" Dory asked with a frown.

"If things stay this way, then no." He said, even though it hurt to admit. Swearing-Ins were a big deal for the Pixars. It was what made them apart of the family. "But there's nothing we've been through that we've faced alone, right? We've always had each other, and we always will."

Even though they were still sad about the situation, and even if what he said was a little cheesy, they knew he was right. They were the Pixars for crying out loud, they could handle any challenge as long as they stuck together.

Mike raised his glass, signaling everyone else to do the same. "I propose a toast. To our Pixar family."

"To our family!" They cheered, sipping their drinks afterward.

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