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starglossie · 4 years ago

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how can we deny what we feel?

summary: where cherry is joe’s date for a dinner party because he lost a beef. and when joe gives himself a chance to truly consider how beautiful cherry is. and how they nearly get into a brawl in the middle of the dance floor, because their love language has and always will be: fight first, fall in love later. rating: e for explicit! wc: 4.7k! pairing: matchablossom !!! CAN BE READ ON AO3 + under the read more below!

“Excuse me?”

Kojiro anticipated the dirty, crumpled napkin, hurled his way and dodges just in time. Kaoru’s eyes widen and his eyebrows are crunched so hard Kojiro’s convinced they’ll connect by sheer force alone. His cheeks are red. His lips are pulled upwards into a snarl. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Just for a weekend,” Kojiro continued while Kaoru looked for a fork. Or a knife. Probably both. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Once! One time! That was the promise!” Kaoru hisses and Kojiro is so close to losing it.

“Okay, well, you know what they say about the second time being the charm… Don’t give me that look!” he takes a purposeful step back as Kaoru leans forward to grab him by the collar. “Listen. It’s for the restaurant. It’ll only be for a few hours. And the food will be delicious.”

Kaoru’s expression barely shifted, but it’s one Kojiro noticed. A little acquiescence to the idea of good food- free, good food. Something Kaoru could never deny. Kojiro grinned. Kaoru’s shoulders visibly relaxed, though he was still on edge. That’s also nothing surprising.

“... You think I’m so cheap to be bought by food, you brainless musclehead gorilla ?”

Kojiro’s eyebrow twitched. “I absolutely think you are, gearhead . Anyways, you lost the beef.” he crossed his arms over his chest, smug. “I’m just entertaining your back and forth at this point. You know the rules.”

If there was a bet made during a beef, the losing party had to abide by the terms the winning party set out. Kojiro knew this. Kaoru definitely knew this. He was just being stubborn. And really, if the roles were reversed, Kojiro would be doing the same thing. But they’re not. So he’s enjoying every second of it.

“I hate you,” Kaoru mumbled, stabbing his fork into his steak Kojiro made.

“The feeling’s mutual. So 8 o’clock. Be ready. And don’t bring Carla.”

“Huh? That’s not a part of the deal! Carla comes or I don’t come.”

“Do you have separation anxiety? She’ll be fine. She told me she needs space from you to spread her AI wings and fly.”

“She would never speak to you or say anything like that. Carla comes .”

Kaoru’s stubbornness was going to be the death of Kojiro. He was sure of it. “Alright. Alright she comes. But she’s on mute .”

Kaoru opened his mouth and then promptly slammed it shut. “Fine. And one more thing.” he said, though it was much quieter than his earlier words.

Kojiro raised an eyebrow. Waiting for Kaoru to speak. When he does, it's like he hadn’t spoken at all. “Huh? Speak up! Stop acting like you’re all shy!”

“I-” Kaoru’s frustration was apparent. Kojiro braced himself for a hit but what came instead was… not expected. “No repeats. Of last time. Strictly platonic.”

Ah. And maybe, at this point, a physical punch would have been better. Kojiro can’t tell why his stomach curled into a horrible twist or the sharp twinge that followed. Can’t explain why his brain suddenly went into overdrive about why and what does he mean as if he wasn’t aware of what Kaoru was referring to.

He remembered the heat. And nails down his back. And the cramped fit of the closet. And being on his knees.

Was this feeling, the weird heat up his neck, disappointment?

Better play it off.

“Cool with me,” Kojiro shrugged it off. He picked up Kaoru’s plate and placed it in the sink. “We go. We mingle. We leave. In and out. Easy peasy.”

He carefully watched Kaoru’s expression and body. How the man’s shoulders still seemed taut with tension. How his frown deepened even further and his eyebrows were bunched so tightly, Kojiro feared they’d magically meld together and form one, pink unibrow. Kaoru wouldn’t look at him. But Kojiro caught the red tinge on the tip of his ears, and held back the urge to snort.

Sometimes he was so easy to read.

“In and out,” Kaoru finally said, agreeing.

“Easy peasy,” Kojiro repeated, smiling.

Dinner parties were never really Kojiro’s things.

Sure, they were fun. Especially when he got a few drinks in his system. And socializing was never a problem for him. Well, until he socialized a little too much. To the point where two people were fighting to see who went home with him. Cliche, horribly so, and happened a lot more than he would think it would-now that he gave it a little bit of thought. But then again, he had two hands-so why fight?

That normally worked.

As he adjusted his tie, he looked towards the suit hanging by his mirror. He really hated suits. They felt tight around his shoulders and arms always . He was a big guy, with a lot of muscle. He’d rather wear loose jackets, or no shirt at all.

Really, this was all for formalities. A lot of investors and restaurant connoisseurs came to these kind of fancy smancy events. He’d rather be out skating. Out feeling the wind in his hair and the open road before him. Rather than feeling the gel in his hair, and the sparkling lights of chandeliers and designer jewelry. Had to be done, though. For the sake of business. If he wanted to keep his place afloat, he had to show up to these things at least once. Get his face out there. Make nice with people. Laugh at the right jokes. And then steal a platter of shrimp cocktails before heading home.

And then there was Kaoru.

This wasn’t the first time he’s done this. Gone with Kaoru to one of these events. The first time it happened spurred from a late night, drunken conversation. When Kojiro had gotten a look at Kaoru's back profile, with his hair over his shoulder and his elegant stance-proud, sure, strong. And immediately thought about how Kaoru would look on his arm, done up in a different way from his usual attire.

“Be my date for this dinner party,” Kojiro slurred, his smile coming across nice and easy.

Kaoru frowned, confused. “Huh? Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” Kojiro had said aloud. Faster than he could catch them. But the words were already out in the air. And really, Kojiro was never one to go back on something once he’s said it.

He watched as Kaoru’s face exploded in a brilliant shade of red. All the way to the tip of his ears. Kaoru didn’t speak. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Instead, he had reached for his glass. Downed whatever whiskey was left. And quietly, but fiercely, responded-

“Fine.”

That same night ended with them in a closet. Also drunk, but this time a little better dressed than Kojiro in one of his casual t-shirts and Kaoru in his casual kimono. How did they get into the closet? Kojiro wasn’t sure.

But did they have fun in the closet?

As much as Kojiro remembered, they did.

“No repeats,” he said to himself in the mirror. He wasn’t upset. Not really. Hooking up with Kaoru was not on the top of his list. But it did reside on his list. If he had to have a moment of honesty with himself as he stared at the reflection in his mirror.

He slipped into his suit the same time as the door to his room opened. He caught Kaoru first in the mirror, and turned around immediately to get the full view.

His hair was loose. Not in its usual high pony or low pony. But free. Kojiro had rarely seen Kaoru’s hair out since high school. He normally kept it tied up because he hated how it got into his hair. He didn’t have his glasses on. And he wore a brilliant purple kimono.

Kojiro’s throat went dry.

“What?” Kaoru fidgeted and Kojiro realized he must have been staring a little too intently.

Kojiro beamed, from ear to ear. “You really know how to sweep a guy off his feet. I should have known your pride wouldn’t let you come dressed anything less than your best.”

“Well, I have a rep to uphold,” Kaoru sniffed.

“Right right. The purple is actually a good choice. It brings out my eyes.”

“You’re the most annoying individual to ever grace the earth.”

“Thanks, I try. Ready to go?”

They arrived fashionably late.

Kojiro never liked to be on time for things. Kaoru liked to be on time for things a little too much.

So yes, maybe Kojiro did take an extra five minutes for them to do a shot of courage before leaving his place just to waste time and get on Kaoru’s nerves.

Absolutely worth it.

“You wanna drink?”

“No,” Kaoru said, folding his arms across his chest.

Kojiro shrugged and reached out for a champagne flute by a passing waiter. “Suit yourself. You’re gonna regret it later, though.” Kojiro could never get through this party without being a little drunk. Just for funsies.

“We already drank before we came here.”

“One shot is not drinking.”

Kaoru rolled his eyes and stalked off towards the buffet table. Kojiro watched as he left, gaze intent. Kaoru was usually a bundle of spikes and clenched jaws. However, when he was walking through the crowd Kojiro couldn’t deny the elegance and grace Kaoru swiftly adopted.

Shoulders high, gaze straight and resolute, and striding with purpose. Kojiro carefully sipped his drink watching as the crowd of sparkling individuals quite literally parted for Kaoru.

“He sure knows how to command a room,” Kojiro murmured. He scanned the crowd to see if any of the usual, important connections were there. He had at least three people he needed to follow up with about inventory, marketing, and promotions. So with another sip he slipped into the crowd himself to mingle.

Mingling was easy. It didn’t take much for Kojiro to find what a person loved to hear and then, repeat those very same words like silver and silk to get what he needed. Conversation was never something Kojiro struggled to cultivate. Once he painted on his smile and adjusted his body language as open, friendly, and warm-the rest was quite easy.

“Are you by yourself tonight, Kojiro?” Hana was one of Kojiro’s important connections in the restaurant business. She was beautiful and quick witted. Any restaurant in Okinawa who wanted to stay on top of the latest trends knew it was best to have her on their side then against them. She was, quite literally, the pulse of their social circle.

Kojiro’s eyes cut through the crowd slowly. He found Kaoru at the buffet table chatting with a man Kojiro didn’t recognize. Kaoru was engaging pleasantly. No doubt putting on his fake, charming persona to engage the man with.

“Hmmm,” he debated what to answer. He could say no. And see if that would lead to Hana offering to go off, just the two of them. They’ve hooked up before at one of these functions. And she was always a fun company to be around.

But then he saw the man talking to Kaoru lean forward. Whispering something in Kaoru’s ear that made him flinch.

“I am,” he said to her, smiling. And then took off to where Kaoru was.

Kaoru caught Kojiro’s gaze as Kojiro was walking over, and Kojiro immediately caught the tense aura surrounding Kaoru like a cloak.

“Kaoru,” Kojiro made his voice syrupy sweet, slipping an arm around Kaoru’s waist. Kaoru leaned in, pressed to his side. A part of Kojiro’s brain said this is right . He shut that part down. “Sorry to make you wait. I was catching up with some friends.” His gaze cut to the man who looked much smaller up close now that Kojiro had a good look at him. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, don’t mind me!” the man smiled shakily. “I was just complimenting your date’s attire, as all.”

“Did you have to lean so closely to do it?” Kojiro asked. “Surely you can respect another’s need for space and leave them be, no?”

“Kojiro,” Kaoru muttered. He placed a warning hand on Kojiro’s chest and then flashed the man a dazzling smile. “Don’t mind my date. He’s overprotective as all. Though I’d appreciate that if we ever have the unfortunate experience of crossing paths again, you don’t try to touch me so inappropriately in such a casual manner.” when Kaoru opened his eyes again they were sharp, and cutting. “Now begone.”

The man scurried off into the crowd without another word.

Kojiro watched him go, laughing. “Man he can haul ass.” More seriously, he asked. “Are you okay?”

Kaoru yanked himself out of Kojiro’s arm. Kojiro looked down at the now empty space and frowned. “Fine. Did you have to do all that? I was capable of handling it myself.”

“You looked uncomfortable. What sort of date would I be if I didn’t come to your defense?”

“Oh please. Don’t act like you’re a gentleman when you were off flirting with some woman.”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb! The woman who was hanging off your arm!”

“Hana?” Kojiro asked, slowly. “We weren’t flirting.” then a beat later, “Yet.”

Kaoru scowled, muttering a curse Kojiro couldn’t hear but definitely felt. A waiter with a tray of champagne glasses walked by. Kaoru waved them over and grabbed two glasses. He downed them with scary efficiency and placed the empty glasses on the table. “I’m going out for some air. Don’t follow me.”

Kojiro could have let Kaoru walk away from him again, tonight. But something in him wanted Kaoru to stay. Maybe this was another one of his urges to push the boundaries between them. Or, maybe, it was something within Kojiro that still felt irked having seen that man get a little too close to Kaoru.

Whatever it was, Kojiro reached out and grabbed Kaoru’s wrist.

Kaoru turned back, glowering at their hands. “What?”

“Let’s dance,” Kojiro responded, smiling.

Kaoru balked, “Excuse me?”

The music turned into a slow tempo and Kojiro just continued grinning as he led Kaoru to the dance floor. “Dance. You and me. Do something a little different from getting incredibly wasted, stuffing ourselves with food, and then passing out in the Uber home.”

“That sounds much better than this idea,” Kaoru said but he still allowed himself to be pulled. And when Kojiro looked back, he could see a blush coating his cheeks.

Cute , Kojiro thought. There were people on the dance floor, some chatting and some dancing with their dates. Kojiro wouldn’t call himself a dancer. But he’d been to enough of these events to know a few basic steps. He placed one hand on Kaoru’s waist, and grasped one of Kaoru’s hands in his own.

“I’ll lead,” he smirked.

“I’m going to step on all ten of your toes,” Kaoru smirked back.

Kojiro threw his head back and laughed as he led them through the dance. “Please do! I’d love to see you try, metalhead.”

“Metalhead? I’ll have you know per your request I haven’t even unmuted Carla, you monkey in a monkey suit.”

“Monkey in a monkey suit? Is that the best you can come up with?”

That earned him a stomp but it was well deserved. The two continued bickering back and forth through the dance, much to the amusement of anyone who caught them. It was truly comical. Kojiro turned them around and around while Kaoru barked insults and Kojiro threw back as good as he got.

When the song ended, the two’s foreheads were pressed together. Their hands were now interlocked in a fierce embrace as they snarled at each other.

“I didn’t even want to come! Meanwhile you basically blackmail me to come-”

“-You lost the beef, idiot!”

“Shut up! Don’t talk about that here! You brainless meathead! And then you have the audacity to flirt with someone woman when I’m your date!”

“Oh so I’m just supposed to turn away people who come talk to me while my date is getting himself felt up by somebody else?”

“You act like I wanted that to happen! I was ten seconds from ripping all his fingers off!”

“If you weren’t gonna do it, I was!”

“All you do is talk and talk and talk! That’s why I can never take you seriously. Because all the talk you speak is just empty flattery to everyone and everyone! You drive me crazy .”

“You’re the only person I never just chat to! You’re the only person I’m ever serious with!” God when did his voice get so loud. And when did their faces get so close. And when did Kaoru’s face get so slack, so shocked. What did he say? What had he said?

The weight of his words finally crashed. He felt like he’d just wiped out on the track.

Kaoru leaned back. “What…” he said slowly, carefully choosing his words. “Do you mean by that?”

They’re on the dance floor in stupid, fancy attire. Amongst stupid, fancy people that Kojiro had to woo and smooze once every few months. Yet it’s in this moment where the chandelier is above them and the violin strings are softly building up momentum and Kojiro is filling the champagne in his veins and he can’t help but think. Think that in Kaoru’s rage he is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

At this moment, he could run. He could put on his pretty words and regulate Kaoru to everyone else, like he said. With pretty words and pretty lies and shallow promises.

But it was Kaoru.

And Kaoru was always different.

“It means. It means, I like you, Kaoru.”

The music stops. Kojiro’s feel his entire face heat up. Kaoru’s face turned a brilliant red and he’s so beautiful. God he’s so beautiful. Why had Kojiro never allowed himself to see that? To allow himself the ability to gaze upon the most beautiful man he’s ever had the pleasure of calling his best friend.

Why has he not kissed him yet?

Kojiro pulled Kaoru back, until his arms were around his waist. Their foreheads touched again, and he could feel Kaoru’s heart pounding. And Kojiro’s remembering when they were drunk in the closet. And how he wished they weren’t in the closet, but back at his place. Getting to know each other. Getting to learn each other’s bodies. Getting to slowly fall in love with the parts of themselves they’ve always known, but now they could experience one another in a whole different fashion.

He wanted that so badly he could taste it.

“I like you,” he said, softer. He closed his eyes. And he’s not sure if his pulse quickens out of fear or exhilaration.

“Kojiro,” Kaoru’s voice sounded strained. Kojiro opened his eyes, Kaoru’s face was still bright. His eyes shining with something Kojiro couldn’t quite place. But then Kaoru’s leaning forward, and their lips almost touch. “Take me home.”

If Kojiro didn’t know Kaoru so well, he would have taken those words as rejection. But Kaoru was gripping his shoulders tightly. Biting his bottom lip. Glancing down at Kojiro’s lips and then back again.

“Yeah. Yeah ok.”

“Is this alright?” Kojiro asked, as he placed a soft kiss on Kaoru’s neck.

Kaoru gripped Kojiro’s shoulders, “You keep asking me that. I’ll punch you if I don’t like it.”

Kojiro frowned, lifting himself up. “One, don’t do that. And two, you said you didn’t want any repeats. I want to respect that. So tell me, now. If you want to keep going, or if you don’t.”

He’d respect it. Even if every nerve in his body was screaming to be inside Kaoru and feel him down to the wire, if this wasn’t something Kaoru wanted to do tonight-he’d respect that. No questions asked.

Kaoru glanced up at him, and Kojiro got such a glance of how wrecked Kaoru looked already. His lips were red and glistening from their earlier kissing. His pupils were blown and his kimono was slipping off his shoulders. The sight was… so much. It made Kojiro’s cock ache tightly against his pants.

“Thank you,” Kaoru said softly. Then his hand moved to cup Kojiro’s hardening cock through his pants. He stroked a few times. Kojiro moaned, head dropping forward and hips shallowly moving into the touch. “I appreciate your concern, but.” his thumb traced the tip of Kojiro’s cock. He was too good with this. Moving his hand up and down Kojiro’s hardening erection like he was making brush strokes. “I want this.”

“Are you sure?” Kojiro gritted his teeth as Kaoru gave him a particular squeeze.

“Yes, you idiot.” Kaoru wrapped his legs around Kojiro’s waist, pulling him close. He leaned up so his lips were near Kojiro’s ears, “I want you to fuck me. Make a mess of me. I want to feel it tomorrow morning.”

Kojiro didn’t really need to be told twice. He stripped out of his shirt and jacket until he was just in his pants. Where he unzipped himself and freed his cock. He reached over to the bedside table where his lube and condoms were.

Kaoru started stroking Kojiro’s cock with his. Kojiro groaned, dropping his head to Kaoru’s shoulder as Kaoru worked them slowly. “You’re far too fucking good at this.”

“I know,” Kaoru replied, smug.

Kojiro snorted and kissed him again. “Hold on, stop.” Kaoru did as he was told, and Kojiro spread Kaoru’s legs wide as he kissed down the slope of his body. Kaoru’s cock was leaking, strained against his belly. Kojiro pressed a kiss to the head. His own cock twitching as Kaoru sighed in pleasure.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about sucking Kaoru off again. He never thought the opportunity would arise. Now that it had, he wasted no time swallowing Kaoru to the base.

Kaoru’s hips raised off the bed. He moaned Kojiro loudly as his hands fell to Kojiro’s hair. Kojiro hummed, his tongue running along the underside of Kaoru’s cock. He pulled off with a pop after a few sucks. With the lube, he poured some over his fingers and began to slowly work open Kaoru. There was some resistance at first, but he made sure to go slow. First, with one finger, and then another, and finally-a third.

He watched as Kaoru became an utter mess. Writhing and cursing, an arm flown over to cover his face. Kojiro kissed the inside of Kaoru’s thighs, feeling them tremor and shake. He kissed up and up until he was at the base of Kaoru’s cock. As he thrust his fingers forward, working him open, he licked Kaoru from the base to the tip. He suckled on the head, swirling his tongue around and into the slit of Kaoru’s cock.

“Fucking Kojiro , stop being a tease.” Kaoru pushed at Kojiro’s shoulder. “In me. Put it in me.”

Kojiro slipped Kaoru out of his mouth as he removed his fingers. He reached for the condom on the bed and ripped open the packet with his mouth before rolling the condom onto his cock. “I should have known even in bed you’d be super demanding.”

“Yeah yeah,” Kaoru rolled his eyes and pulled Kojiro closer. “I should have known even with my dick in my mouth you can’t shut up.”

“It’s part of my charm,” Kojiro grinned as their tongues met, a sloppy intertwining as he lined himself at Kaoru’s entrance. He pulled back so he could guide himself slowly, feeling Kaoru’s walls stretching to his size. He sank until he was inside, fully. Groaning at the heat. Kaoru was so tight . He was so tight. Kojiro had never felt something sweet. Nothing better.

He held onto Kaoru’s thighs, lifting them up so Kaoru was angled slightly off the bed. “You okay?” he asked, voice tight.

Kaoru exhaled slowly, nodding. “Go slow. I’ll adjust.”

Kojiro obeyed. He eased himself out slowly and slid back in just the same. Kaoru’s soft gasp at the thrust sent a warm jolt down Kojiro’s spine. Their pace was gentle, as he took the time to work Kaoru open, in and out. Kojiro went in for another kiss. Their lips wet, and tongues sliding against each other.

Kojiro’s fingers curled around Kaoru’s hips, and he snapped forward with a roll that had Kaoru gasping his name into Kojiro’s mouth for him to swallow.

“Faster, there.” Kaoru commanded.

“Yes,” Kojiro snapped his hips forward again while he picked up the pace.

Kojiro threw his head back and moaned. Kojiro dipped forward, sweat coating his brow, to kiss and mark up and leave Kaoru’s neck a red mess.

“You feel so good,” Kojiro moaned while he fucked Kaoru. “So so good. I’ve thought of this. Of me fucking you. Me kissing you. Like this. You feel better than expected.”

“Shut up. Shut up, Kojiro. You’re so cheesy-Ah!” Kojiro’s next thrust hit the right spot, it seemed. Once found Kojiro angled his hips so he could hit that pressure inside of Kaoru again and again.

Kaoru couldn’t speak. He could only moan and let loose curses as they continued. Their hips meeting each other for every thrust. Until Kaoru reached down between their bodies. Grasped his dick in his hands, and jerked himself off shakily.

Kojiro grabbed his hand and placed it above Kaoru’s head. Kaoru growled but Kojiro leaned forward to kiss him. “No. Let me make you cum. I want to.” Kojiro released Kaoru’s hands and leaned forward, pressing his weight on Kaoru, and rolled his hips with deep, quick thrusts. Kaoru grasped onto Kojiro’s back, nails digging into his skin. Every word out of his mouth was of pleasures, moans and gasps and moans and gasps until his breath started hitching.

He rolled his hips frantically, cock leaking and hard and pressed between their stomachs. With a few more thrusts, Kojiro felt Kaoru’s walls tighten around his cock and felt wetness spurt between their bodies.

“ Kojiro ,” Kaoru groaned as he came. Kojiro fucked him through his orgasm, holding him tightly as he felt his own come upon him. He groaned Kaoru’s name into his neck, fingers gripping tightly upon Kaoru’s back. His whole body shook with the force of his orgasm.

After a few moments to catch his breath, Kojiro pulled out of Kaoru and rolled over. He took off the condom, tied it, and deposited it by the trash can by his bed.

He turned back onto the bed. Laying on his side as Kaoru laid spread out, his entire skin a soft pink. His kimono ruffled. His hair all over the place. And beautiful. Utterly beautiful.

Kaoru looked up at him, as Kojiro looked down, and their lips naturally found their way to one another. They kissed lazily, with no rush to start another round and no rush to kick each other out.

Kojiro leaned back, pulling Kaoru to lay on top of him. Kaoru frowned but he didn’t make any moves to get away.

“You’re sweaty.”

“So are you, Kaoru.”

“You’re sweatier.”

“Oh my God can we just bask in the afterglow of some bomb sex, please?”

“You like me.” Kaoru said instead.

Kojiro had the audacity to look embarrassed, “You’re … I-yes?”

“Since when?”

“Uh… honestly? Probably since, high school.”

‘Since high school !”

“Listen! I just recently realized tonight I like you, ok! I’m just saying that I’ve probably always liked you since back then and didn’t know until… now.”

“God, you’re an idiot.” Kaoru huffed and dropped his head onto Kojiro’s chest.

Kojiro chuckled, running his hands through Kaoru’s hair. “That I am. Yo, you gonna tell me you like me too or did you just use me for sex?”

He felt Kaoru’s mouth move against his chest, but whatever he said was too quiet for Kojiro to hear.

“Huh? What was that? Can you speak up please?”

“I said I like you.”

“What was that?”

“I SAID I LIKE YOU, YOU IDIOT. YOU BUFFOON. YOU OVERSEXED GORILLA.”

Kojiro’s laughter rang through his room as he flipped them over and kissed Kaoru all over his face.

“Since high school too, right?” Kojiro asked, laughing between the kisses.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“ Knew it. ” Kojiro was grinning ear to ear. He smiled down at Kaoru’s scowling face that soon transformed into a small smile in return. Kaoru wrapped his arms around Kojiro’s neck and pulled him in for a sloppier kiss, all tongue and saliva.

“Congrats. Now fuck me again.”

“ Anything for you, Kaoru.”

#my fics #matchablossom #sk8 joe #sk8 cherry #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #read on ao3 #also on ao3

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years ago

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One Hundred Days - Good Omens Fic

Another fic for @bingokisses - Part 1 fills the prompt “Back of the Head kiss/Knees Brushing under the Table.” For once, just some nice easy fluff, little bit of anxiety, and happy ending (in part 2). Also available on AO3!

Part 1: The First Fifty Days

The first night at the South Downs cottage, Aziraphale cooked dinner while Crowley finished setting things up on the upper floor. It had been ages since he’d cooked anything that wasn’t a pastry, but pasta was simple enough, and salad, and…well, rather more dinner rolls than two beings needed, but he’d had more time than expected.

They ate and talked for hours, neither quite believing that they had done it, that they were in their place. Their home. Sometimes, Aziraphale would hold Crowley’s eyes a little too long and need to look away, waiting for his heart to settle down again.

He kept glancing around, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. That they were exposed, that someone was watching, that something was about to happen, though he couldn’t say what. But no – only the long wooden table, the stone fireplace, the steps leading upstairs, dark carpet on pale wood.

He shivered anyway.

“Alright, Angel?”

Breathe, Aziraphale told himself and took another sip of wine. All night, his feet and his knees had brushed Crowley’s under the table. It was daring, and thrilling, and more than a little terrifying.

“Perfectly fine, Crowley.” The bread rolls had gone cool hours ago, but Aziraphale reached for one anyway, tugging at it with his fingers. “I was wondering what…what you…planned to do? Once we’re all unpacked and such?”

They should have discussed it more. Wasn’t that what humans did? Spend weeks and months talking about what sort of home they want, what sort of life, dreaming of what moving in together will be like. Making sure their dreams matched up, their expectations.

They didn’t buy cottages – in the middle of a forest, no less, half a mile from the nearest village – without considering questions of…of hobbies, and use of space and…and living arrangements. They certainly didn’t take such a step without…defining their relationships.

Three weeks. Six thousand years and then some of dancing around certain emotions, certain thoughts, and somehow Aziraphale had thought three weeks was enough time to plan such a drastic change?

“The garden.” Crowley nodded towards the window, but the sun had gone down and all either of them could see was his reflection. “Plenty needs to be cleared out. Maybe lay a new path. And the planting – not a lot of options for fall blooms, but some of the best spring flowers should be planted now.”

“Where would you start?”

Crowley tapped his fingers on the table. “Have to see what that garden shop in the village has. Tulip bulbs for certain, they need time to settle in before the cold. Daffodils or geraniums. Scilla, crocus, maybe fritillaria. Snowdrops, I think.”

“That all sounds…” Aziraphale glanced at the potted plants in the windows and the corners, the remnants of Crowley’s flat. All were tall, lush, and unvaryingly green. “Sounds very colourful.”

“Thinking of experimenting.” Crowley shrugged. “It’s a challenge. They need different soils, different amounts of sunlight, different watering schedules. And you always have to be thinking about the next season, and the next.”

“Seems like a great deal of work.”

“Only if the flowers try to be disobedient brats.” Crowley shifted his fork around his empty plate. “Might get some more trees, too. S’a good time to plant saplings.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale smiled just a little. “Apple trees?”

“Well…maybe,” Crowley grudgingly admitted, with that particular frown that was also a sort of smile. “Pears, too.”

“It would be nice to have some fresh fruit next fall.”

“Nah. Takes years for the trees to be ready, maybe a decade.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale glanced out the window now himself, trying to remember what the garden looked like. They really should have spent more time preparing, studying, learning the ins and outs of this cottage. A few days of feverishly sketched plans over bottles of wine. Hardly anything at all. “Well. I suppose I’ll be buying my fruit from the market, then. A few trees might be nice, eventually, though. If you’re willing to put in the work.”

“Nmmmh.” Crowley arched his back until it popped. “Speaking of hard manual labor, I think it’s bedtime.”

Aziraphale’s head whipped back around. “What? What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Crowley pushed to his feet, “I’ve been moving two-stone boxes of books all day and we’re not even half done. You want to order me around again tomorrow, I need some sleep first.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale’s stomach turned to ice. His eyes flicked to the stairs, remembering how he’d rushed down them to start on dinner that afternoon. “Oh, I – I – I, you know, I still have to – to clean all the dishes and – and pots and pans – there’s so much to do…”

The tall, dark form rounded the table quicker than he expected, and Aziraphale tensed – but Crowley merely stepped behind his chair and gently kissed the back of his head. “Take your time, Aziraphale.”

“I…” He shredded the bread roll in his hands. “I…think you…you’ll regret saying that.”

“Never. I mean it.” One more kiss, quick pressure on the back of his head. “Take all the time you need.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Good night, Angel.”

The stairs creaked under his feet as he went up without another word.

On the second night, Aziraphale served mushroom risotto. It wasn’t the only thing he’d cooked that day – he’d been secluded in the kitchen since before Crowley rose, trying every challenging recipe he could think of. The bins were filled with burnt croissants and raw beef and a baked Alaska that had gone horribly wrong.

“You planning to cook that much every day?” was all Crowley asked, as they settled back in their seats after dinner. “You could probably feed the whole village with all that.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale glanced guiltily at the kitchen. “I suppose…I mean, it certainly fills the time, doesn’t it?”

Crowley tossed his head, the way he did when he was thinking, and his growing hair swirled around him in a red cloud. “I mean, yes, I suppose it does. But. Is that what you want? To fill time?”

“I’m not sure what else there is to do,” Aziraphale said. “Not much of a theater scene out here, no museums, no restaurants, no customers.”

“Do you miss the city?” He asked it a little too fast, and Aziraphale’s stomach clenched with even more guilt.

“No, dear, of course not. I just…well, I’ve been there so long…I’ve rather forgotten what there is to do out in the country. But I know I must keep myself busy.”

“Only if you like.” Crowley turned his plate. “We should be done with the big items tomorrow. I’ll be able to start the garden and…just, do whatever makes you happy, alright?”

They continued for hours. They seemed to have run out of the excitement of yesterday’s conversation, and now alternated between awkward chatter and pauses so long, Aziraphale feared they’d run out of things to talk about and would remain silent forever.

Finally, Crowley stood. “Better get some sleep,” he said, stretching.

“Oh! Is it – is it really that late?” Aziraphale glanced at the clock in a panic. “Oh, drat, there was, you know, so much more I meant to do today.” Crowley started walking around the table. “I – I – I mean, as you said, I wasted quite a good deal of food, a few miracles ought to put it all back into its original state and – and perhaps I can donate—”

Crowley paused behind his chair, and kissed the back of his head. Aziraphale closed his eyes, trying to memorise it, the feel of Crowley’s lips and breath stirring his hair. They hadn’t really decided if their new partnership would involve kissing, or hand holding, or…other things of that nature. They’d done a few anxious experiments, made rather more assumptions and…never really articulated anything.

But this…Aziraphale thought he might like this.

“Good night, Angel.” A quick shoulder squeeze, and Crowley headed up, stairs creaking under every step.

On the fifth night, Aziraphale stopped making excuses. It was starting to feel silly, as Crowley never acknowledged them anyway. When Crowley rose from the table, he simply said, “Pleasant dreams, my dear.”

“Always.” A quick kiss to the back of the head. “Good night, Angel.”

By the tenth night, nearly everything had been unpacked and put into some semblance of order.

They’d spent two hours rearranging Aziraphale’s armchairs, carrying them up and down the stairs as he decided which would go in the study, which in the living room. When Aziraphale was satisfied, Crowley had gone outside, leaving him to rearrange his books in peace.

Aziraphale soon discovered that, with the window open, he could hear the sound of footsteps in the garden, of spade into earth, of a grumbling, threatening lecture delivered to each sapling before it was lowered into its new permanent spot. It was a comfortable sort of background noise, and Aziraphale smiled as he worked.

There was a second door on the upper floor, across the hall from his study. Aziraphale did his best not to glance at it all throughout the day.

After supper, they moved into the sitting room, Crowley sprawling on the sofa, Aziraphale comfortable in his favorite armchair. They talked, glanced at each other, smiled. Crowley played with his mobile phone while Aziraphale flipped idly through a book.

“How was the village?” Aziraphale wondered, since Crowley had finally made it out to the plant shop.

“S’alright. They’ve got a bakery you’d like. And the market.”

“Mmmm.” They’d visited a thousand villages and towns together through the years, yet somehow the thought of walking together through this one in particular made Aziraphale feel cold.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

He wasn’t sure when that might be.

They sat in silence for a little while longer. At least Aziraphale no longer worried it would last forever.

When the demon abruptly stood up, Aziraphale’s fingers only twitched a little, curling around the pages of his book. “Well, that’s it for me tonight.”

“Of course.” He stared fixedly at the page. “Have a good rest.”

“I will.” A kiss on top of the head, almost absent in its familiarity. “Good night, Angel.”

On the twenty-third night, Aziraphale waited for the Good night, Angel, then grabbed Crowley’s hand, a little too fast, perhaps. Studied it. Crowley had been in the garden all day, and the dirt was still there in the beds of his nails, his hair probably thick with sweat. Aziraphale rolled Crowley’s hand over, studying the lines, the shapes of his fingers, the length of his palm.

Finally, he gave it a squeeze. “Good night, Crowley.”

Perhaps there was something more he should do. Kiss the knuckles. Brush them against his cheek. Something.

But it all seemed so…much.

Every night, then, he simply gave Crowley’s hand a squeeze, and received a smile in return.

The thirty-second night, they returned to the cottage late. The weather had been just right for a walk through the woods, which had turned into a walk to the village, followed by dinner at the little restaurant, and ultimately Aziraphale trading recipes with the chef over a glass of wine.

Crowley had waited patiently, almost-smiling, and they’d finally started the walk back under the stars.

“Did you have fun?” Crowley asked, walking beside him, one hand in his pocket, the other dangling between them. “The walk? The village?”

“I suppose.” Aziraphale conceded. “I must try this squash au vin recipe soon. And it is…rather pleasant out here.”

“Yeah?”

Aziraphale was suddenly very aware of the forest, the brilliant stars, and his proximity to Crowley. “Hmmm. But I’d like to get back and finish reading, if you don’t mind. Rather a lot of lost...reading time.”

“Yeah.” Crowley tucked his loose hand into his pocket.

Aziraphale didn’t read, though, when they returned. He held a book on his lap as they sipped wine, talking about places they’d visited through the years. Then Crowley mentioned that time they’d run into each other at a performance by Mozart – one bottle of wine turned into three – and a great deal of reminiscing ensued.

When, more than a little after midnight, Crowley finally stood to head upstairs, he paused to give Aziraphale’s forehead a clumsy kiss. “Night, Angel.”

Aziraphale gave his hand an easy squeeze, and they smiled at each other without restraint. “Good night, dear.”

On the forty-eighth night, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and didn’t let go.

He wasn’t sure why. They had a rhythm now, a pattern, something sustainable.

Almost sustainable.

Aziraphale still never went upstairs after dark, still never looked at the door across from his study.

On some level, he knew what he needed to do.

They both waited, countless seconds, for the other to speak. But Aziraphale had lost his voice, and Crowley’s expression was as masked behind the glasses as it had been for many centuries.

The cottage was utterly silent, except for the ticking of the clock.

“Yes. Well.” Aziraphale swallowed. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night, Angel,” Crowley said for the second time, and Aziraphale finally relinquished his hand, heart racing.

But on the fiftieth night, fingers wrapped tightly around Crowley’s, on the fiftieth night, Aziraphale stood up, on the fiftieth night he let Crowley lead him up the stairs. He trailed slightly behind, hand clutching the bannister as they ascended, noticing how much heavier the creaks were under his own feet.

At the top of the stairs, Crowley turned right, away from the study, and pushed open the other door, the one Aziraphale could never quite bring himself to walk through, and—

The bedroom was just as they’d arranged it, fifty days before. Heavy red curtains, cream area rug over dark wood, bed in the center of one wall, an end table on either side.

The tartan pillow still lay at a skewed angle, exactly where Aziraphale had dropped it when the sudden panic took him, the sudden realisation of what they were doing, and it was all too much, too fast, and good lord, here he was again, what was he thinking?

Crowley led him to the left side of the bed, the side nearest the door, with black pillowcases and the down duvet slightly rumpled. Pulled his glasses off, and at the first sight of golden eyes, Aziraphale pulled back, eyes slamming shut, hand clenching, seizing up. Crowley snapped his fingers—

Then, for a long time, nothing happened.

Aziraphale finally, cautiously opened his eyes, to find Crowley in black pyjamas, watching him.

When Aziraphale nearly met his gaze, Crowley half-smiled, leaned forward, and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Angel.”

Crowley dropped his hand and climbed under the duvet.

But Aziraphale stood stock still. Now that he was here what was he supposed to do? Fifty days and nights, he should have had a plan but here he was, still just as afraid as the day they’d arrived.

Crowley’s voice, a little rough, with that curious burr in it: “S’alright, Aziraphale. Take your time.”

“But…But it’s already been…” He looked around the room, the one room they’d discussed all night in his bookshop, all the papers they needed to buy their cottage piled on the desk between them. The room they’d breathlessly planned, whispers escaping uncertain lips and bright red faces.

It certainly looked as though it had been planned by two drunken fools with no idea what to do with a cottage, the most atrociously mismatched combination of colours and styles.

But it was all here. The little shelf to hold his favorite books, the electric kettle for if he wanted tea in the night. The overstuffed rocking chairs by the largest window, overlooking the corner of the garden with the little duck pond. The planters lining the rest of the windows, filled with sweet-smelling herbs. The record player, Crowley’s awful music already organised in the stand below it while Aziraphale’s awaited him in a box nearby.

It was a jumble, a mess, it was everything that represented their life together.

And he wanted this life. He truly did. But it had all come too quickly, too suddenly, he wasn’t ready—

“Aziraphale.” Their eyes finally met. “Don’t worry. Take all the time you need.”

He hung his head, burning with shame. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” He could feel Crowley watching him, but didn’t dare look up. “I…I mean, look. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

After several more breaths, Aziraphale gathered his courage, stepped forward, and pulled the duvet up to Crowley’s chin. Bent down, lips hovering just shy of Crowley’s forehead, his breath stirring crimson strands. “Good night, dear.” His courage broke, and he fled the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Good night, Angel,” muffled but still as gentle as ever.

Part 2 to be posted on Wednesday. If you enjoyed, please drop a comment on AO3!

#good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #asexual ineffable husbands #south downs cottage #aziraphale and crowley #anxious aziraphale #crowley not going too fast #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves his angel #my writing #ao3 link

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higuchimon · 3 years ago

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[fanfic] An Afternoon In The Snow

Manjoume didn't look outside. He knew what he'd see out there if he did and he'd seen it once already that morning and he felt no need to look again. It would have only gotten worse in the past four or five hours. Besides, it was just snow. He knew what snow looked like. Everyone did. It was white and thick and messy and got over everything and in the way and sometimes it got dirty and he would be very, very glad if he never saw it again as long as he lived.

Especially when he had something far better to look at - his deck. He had all of the cards set out neatly and carefully, sorted into spells, traps, and monsters. He'd tucked all of the Ojama cards out of the way. They would always be a part of his deck, whether he liked it or not - and he absolutely didn't and if anyone had ever suggested he take them out, then he would take them out, as noisily and quickly as he possibly could. But he wanted to revise the rest of his deck and make sure it was up to his standards.

"Hey, boss!" Ojama Yellow caroled from wherever it was. "Your boyfriend's coming!"

Manjoume's shoulders stiffened at once. If someone had been looking at him, they might well have noticed a faint dusting of a blush over his cheeks for a few seconds before he jerked up. "He's not my boyfriend!" He and Fubuki weren't dating! They just - went out together a lot, to eat and to go to movies and concerts and sometimes really awesome duels, and sure, they'd kissed about thirty or forty times, and done quite a bit more than kissing, but that didn't mean they were dating!

Sure, he growled to himself. And if he told himself that often enough, then maybe he'd actually believe it one of these days. Somehow or other, he'd ended up dating the brother of the girl he had a crush on in high school. Someone somewhere was probably getting a really good laugh out of this. Well, if they were, at least they weren't laughing where he could hear them. He'd settle for that.

The door swung open and he could feel the faintest hint of a cold breeze touch the back of his neck. He packed up his cards and slid the deck back into place. He'd never get anything done with Fubuki there. At least not anything card related. He might end up doing other things, of course. Fubuki had a way of persuading him. Even if he hadn't, Manjoume knew himself well enough to know he might very well bring the subject up himself.

"There you are!" Fubuki didn't quite pounce on him but he didn't not pounce on him either, wrapping his arms around Manjoume without fear of being bitten by his coat, and snuggling into his neck before he dropped a quick kiss on the tip of Manjoume's nose. "Are you busy?"

That was an improvement. Normally Fubuki just wandered in and pulled him off on whatever madcap adventure he had in mind. Sometimes he'd ask what Manjoume was doing before pulling him away from it. So perhaps Fubuki was actually maturing?

Probably not. Manjoume would rather believe Fubuki just wanted to know how much of a fight he'd put up before being pulled away. He shrugged for the moment.

"Nothing I can't stop for right now. What do you want to do?" They hadn't had any particular plans for tonight. Manjoume had even thought Fubuki wouldn't come over, given the weather. But now his boyfriend cheerfully brushed snow off of his shoulders and shot Manjoume a very mischievous look.

"Let's go out."

Oh, that look didn't bode well. At least not in the sense of having a peaceful evening at home preparing for when the next season of the Pro Leagues got started. But sometimes Manjoume did like a little time away. It often seemed to clear his mind and he fought better, especially when he could hear Fubuki's clear and bright voice singing his praises from the audience.

He eyed Fubuki carefully. "What do you have in mind?" He wanted to know before he made up his mind on if he would be stubborn or not today.

"Let's go for a walk!" Fubuki wrapped his gloved hands around Manjoume's wrists and started to tug him to his feet. Manjoume wriggled back; he wasn't ready to haul stakes just yet.

"It's snowing. It's cold out there," Manjoume pointed out. He'd set up his office in here so he didn't have to look outside and see the snow packed practically to his knee if he didn't have to. Why on Earth would he want to go out in it? Let it all melt and he'd be thrilled to step outside. Not until then.

Fubuki blinked at him, shaggy head tilted to one side. "I know! I've been out in it all morning. It's beautiful out there! The clouds are clearing up." He tapped a finger on the side of his face. "You might want some sunglasses, though. Don't want you to go snow-blind!"

Manjoume shook his head. "Not going anywhere. Talk to me when the snow's not there. Want some hot chocolate?" Surely that would distract Fubuki from this insistence on going out in the snow.

Fubuki's eyes lit up and he opened his mouth for a second before shutting it and shaking his head. "I'll make you a deal," he said, his eyes sharpening. "First we go out for a long walk. Then when we get back, we'll have hot chocolate and cuddle in front of your fire." He nodded at the electric fireplace, before he smiled at Manjoume. That sweet, sweet smile that struck right into Manjoume's heart, teasing him to do whatever it was Fubuki had in mind.

Walking in the snow would be cold and annoying. The Ojamas would be a pain, insisting on following them everywhere. He'd probably slip and fall. But - Fubuki would catch him if he did. Fubuki always did. Fubuki would be there for him, and Fubuki would hold him afterwards.

It might be worth the trouble, now that he thought about it.

"All right," he relented. "One long walk. Then right back here." He wasn't going to let Fubuki get away with turning this into some kind of wild adventure that would end up with his hair soaked in snow and dirt and rocks and who knew what else.

Not that Fubuki wouldn't figure a way to do that if that was what he wanted, but Manjoume just wouldn't let him get away with it. Or so he rather fondly told himself.

"All right!" Fubuki tugged on him again and this time Manjoume got to his feet. "Get your coat on! And earmuffs! And something for your eyes! And your boots!"

Manjoume rolled his eyes, leaned over for a brief touch of his lips to Fubuki's, and stepped away. "I know how to dress for the cold. And I don't need all of that." His time in North School had been brief, all things considered, but some things stayed with you no matter what. A coat and boots would do nicely - and maybe something for his eyes. Other than that, he'd be fine.

As soon he stepped into the bedroom, the Ojamas popped up around him, chattering happily to one another. He hated to admit it, but they liked Fubuki, and tended to be even happier when the two of them went out together. Manjoume had expected this.

"All right, runts," he snapped as he searched in his closet. "Keep quiet while we're out. This is supposed to be just me and him."

"But-" Ojama Yellow waved tiny gremlin hands around. "You-"

Manjoume cut whatever the spirit had in mind off with a snap of his head. "You can chatter later. If you're going to come along," and they would, he couldn't get away from them, "at least be quiet and don't interrupt."

The three of them nodded, though he didn't believe for a second they'd listen to him. He knew them too well by now. He settled his coat around himself and made sure his boots were tightly fastened before he headed back. He wouldn't have been surprised to find the idea of walking out had already vanished out of Fubuki's head. While Fubuki could be flighty, when he really wanted something, he stuck with it. It seemed he really wanted this walk, since he fidgeted not too far from the door, waiting eagerly for Manjoume to get back.

"Let's go!" Fubuki chirped the moment Manjoume stepped out of the bedroom. He didn't wait until they were out before he slid his hand around Manjoume's and squeezed it lightly. Manjoume returned it with a small smile. Sometimes Fubuki could get on his nerves, but more often than not, he found it all worth it.

Hand in hand, they stepped outside, and Manjoume wondered if just a quick walk around the block would work. Not when it was Fubuki, he knew. He would want a full walk, and probably would sneak a snowball fight or some ice skating in there too. As far as Manjoume knew there weren't any places to ice skate in his neighborhood but that didn't mean Fubuki wouldn't figure out something if that was what he wanted to do.

He kept his attention on where he set his feet as they walked along, not wanting to take the chance on slipping and falling, even if that might mean ending up in Fubuki's arms. He could do that perfectly well without making an idiot of himself. The snow piled thick everywhere, shimmering mounds of white that came up sometimes to his ankles or mid-thigh and in one or two rare spots a bit higher. He could see streaks of blue sky as the clouds cleared away slowly, and shafts of golden sunlight slid down to send crystalline sparkles racing over the snow.

Fubuki sighed one of his most melodramatic sighs, admiring all of the beauty all around him. Manjoume had seen that expression many times before, usually when they went to the beach or when he'd pulled off an especially impressive play in a duel. He smiled one of his most brilliant smiles, dropping Manjoume's hand so he could spin around gracefully.

"This is gorgeous! We should have done this long ago!" A light laugh trilled from his lips. "Too bad we had to wait for it to snow!"

Manjoume wanted to point out they could go for a walk anytime - just being with Fubuki would make it special enough for him. Before the words could shape themselves, Fubuki sent a smoldering glance his way and stepped back, arms spread wide, and looked about ready to say something, when his foot caught on a tuft of dead grass hidden underneath the snow. He stumbled and Manjoume moved without thinking, darting forward to wrap one arm around Fubuki's waist, catching him before he could hit the snow.

For a few moments they stayed like that, blinking at one another. Then Manjoume quickly got Fubuki back on his feet and brushed him off. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." Fubuki regarded him, a light smile playing about his lips before he darted in to press them against Manjoume's. Manjoume knew very well what being kissed by Fubuki was like - sweet and soft and strong and amazing all at once. He leaned into the embrace and returned the kiss, not caring what brought this on. When they finally stepped apart, though only to arm's length, Fubuki grinned at him. "My hero! I hope that was a good enough reward for saving me."

Manjoume's cheeks burnt bright red. He'd known Fubuki properly since he was fifteen and he still had no idea of how just a few easy words could turn him into a blushing mess.

Fubuki's grin deepened. "I don't think it's enough." One finger stroked along Manjoume's chin. "I might have to thank you even better later."

Manjoume drew in a chilled, stuttering breath. "I think - I think we should keep going?" He wasn't sure of what else he could say or do right now. Clearing his head sounded like such a good idea. If he could have plunged his head into one of the nearest snowdrifts to cool his blood right now, then he would have gladly done so. As it was, he thought about finding somewhere to get a good drink. Hot chocolate might be the most traditional right now, or some green or ginger tea. He'd also developed a taste for amazake. There was a particular sweet shop this way that sold some of the best malted rice that he had ever drunk.

I have my card, he mused as they moved along, Fubuki's arm tucked comfortably around him, and he returned the embrace. He knew that Fubuki liked the drink as well.

"Hey," he nudged his boyfriend lightly, getting his attention. "I'm thirsty." Which was and wasn't true. He was, but he wanted the drink for other reasons than that.

"I think there's a vending machine around here somewhere," Fubuki mused, glancing ahead of them to a more populated region of the street. Manjoume shook his head at once.

"I want some amazake."

Fubuki's eyes lit up at the word. "Oh, that does sound great!" He looked around, orienting himself, and then started tugging on Manjoume's arm. "This way!"

Manjoume might have argued, but that was the way that he wanted to go regardless. So he hurried his steps along, if a trifle carefully. They'd have to find somewhere to drink it; in times like this it wasn't likely there would be seats available anywhere near the shop itself. But perhaps he could persuade Fubuki to head back home so they could enjoy themselves in front of an open fire or under a good warm blanket.

Just the thought of either of those set his temperature rising a little more. He strove very hard not to let Fubuki see it. Sometimes he didn't mind, but today was turning out to be different in many ways.

Before they got into sight of the shop, Manjoume could hear the unmistakable sounds of a crowd - shuffling feet, people muttering among themselves, one or two who sounded very annoyed about having to wait, and a great many more. He'd heard that sort of sound several times before. The difference in those sounds and these were that before, those people were lining up to see him. Right now, they were lining up to get hot drinks, and were very annoyed that they weren't getting them fast enough.

He eyed the length of the line and decided that he didn't like it. "Let's try somewhere else," he suggested, trying not to show how annoyed this made him. But Fubuki only grinned.

"We're already here and anywhere else is going to be just as crowded," he pointed out, before he rolled his shoulders and did something that in Manjoume's mind translated to being more noticeable.

This was going to be interesting.

Fubuki strolled forward. Even in a warm jacket and boots concealing his normally flamboyant dress style, he drew every eye just by the way he walked and the cheerful warmth of his smile. He picked out the last person in line who looked likely and smiled at her. By all rights, the smile should have melted a good finger's worth of snow. The young lady blushed just at the sight of him.

"Hi there," he greeted cheerfully. Almost anyone else would have been told to get to the back of the line. That kind of thing never happened to Fubuki. "I was wondering, could my friend and I go ahead of you?"

"I- of course!" The lady moved to one side. "I'm not in any hurry."

Fubuki beckoned to Manjoume, who hurried over to join him. They hadn't stood there for very long before more people stepped aside, apparently just by the sweet way that Fubuki smiled, and one or two of them even were dueling fans, who gladly let Manjoume Thunder get closer to the head of the line. Soon enough they stood there ordering the amazake. He folded his hands around the cup, enjoying the heat, as the two of them stepped away. Manjoume savored the taste of it slowly, taking care not to slip on the ice anywhere, and hoping that Fubuki did the same thing.

"I'm getting hungry," Fubuki declared somewhere in he middle of his drink. "Let's hit up somewhere with some nikujaga."

Manjoume hadn't thought about it before, but now that Fubuki mentioned it, the idea of a hot beef stew appealed to him. But he wasn't sure of where they could get any. He didn't eat out a great deal in this area, preferring to either have his meals made at home or to go out to a slightly larger city when he was in the mood for rarer fare. But Fubuki looked around, sniffed the air a moment or two, then grabbed onto his hand.

"This way! There's a restaurant." He charged forward, ignoring the way the snow and slush crunched under their feet, equally ignoring Manjoume's startled yelp as he had to hurry along. If he weren't used to this, then he might well have lost his footing and gone down hard.

As it was, he just managed to keep himself balanced, until Fubuki whirled around the end of a street and gestured ahead of them. He beamed as if he'd invented the restaurant himself and was responsible for its entire existence.

"The Duelist's Table! I get a discount there."

Manjoume blinked as they moved towards it. He wasn't sure if he wanted to ask why. He thought if he did, Fubuki might tell him. He trusted in Fubuki's faithfulness, but there were things that he just didn't want to know. Maybe he'd find out at some point in the future.

"Come here a lot?" That was all that he asked. He didn't get out here that much. He knew that he probably should, but he'd picked this town to set up his home in because it was far away from where his brothers would want to come and visit. They got along better now than they had when he was a teenager, but that didn't mean he wanted to see them on a regular basis. E-mail and video calls sufficed for him.

"Sure do! They've got some great food." Fubuki tugged him inside and waved a greeting to one of the servers. Enough of the tables inside had people at them that Manjoume could guess the food was good, but there wasn't much of a line at the moment. They'd clearly arrived at a very good time. He found a trashcan for his cup and disposed of it before following Fubuki to where they were seated.

Menus were brought over and he and Fubuki started perusing them. Fubuki didn't for long; he knew what he wanted. Manjoume decided that was a good idea too. While waiting for their order, Manjoume took a look around the restaurant. There were several small tables, seating no more than four for the most part, though he could also see larger tables in other areas. He would guess the restaurant was about half-full at the moment, probably with people seeking warmth or just hungry or both. He thought they qualified for both.

I like it here, he decided, before turning his attention to Fubuki, wanting to ask something about how he'd located this place. The words never quite made it out of his mouth, not when Ojama Yellow, Black, and Green popped into existence right above his head and started exploring the area themselves.

"Oh, wow, this place is nice! Do you think they have anything that we could eat?" That was Yellow, peering over Manjoume's shoulder at the menu.

"We can find out! I smell some good stuff here!" Black. Who hovered almost right away over the food on someone else's table, and Manjoume found himself quite grateful that the spirit couldn't be seen.

"Is that a fireplace?" And of course, Green, who prodded at the fireplace and jerked back, saying a few words that no one else should hear.

Manjoume leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He did not need this, not now. Of course, they wouldn't be Ojamas if they didn't poke themselves in right when he didn't want or need them to. He'd tried. He'd tried so hard over the years to get them to just pop up when he was alone, or at most just with someone like Juudai or Johan, who could see them as well and wouldn't be giving him side-eyes whenever he started muttering to the empty air. Part of him wondered if that was why things had been doomed to failure with Asuka. She'd never been fond of supernatural events, and those happened around him almost as much as they did with Juudai.

Fubuki's hand flicked onto his wrist and Manjoume glanced at him. That cheerful smile warmed him down to his toes. "The Ojamas again?"

Fubuki never gave him strange looks, no matter what happened. Manjoume didn't think he could see spirits - or if he could, he'd never indicated that he could. But he also never seemed to worry whenever the inevitable spirit activity stirred around Manjoume. Sometimes he'd even thought he'd seen a spirit around Fubuki. Never very clear, never certain, but just a vague hint. He had a feeling he knew which one it was, too. But unless he actually saw it, he wasn't going to say anything. He might not even then. Not unless Fubuki mentioned that he'd seen the spirit too.

"Always," he muttered softly. He tried to look around some more. They were spirits; they couldn't do too much except yell. Sometimes they could move small things but he hoped no one would notice around here. The place itself seemed very duel oriented. There were framed articles on the walls about important dueling events, a few of them even signed by relevant duelists. He wondered if he'd sign one of them one day. The tables themselves had duel disk designs on them. It definitely was a place for duelists.

Fubuki's eyes cut to the side. Manjoume followed with his own, wondering if the Ojamas were up to something, then blinked when he saw a spill of black scales. He blinked and shook his head, not certain if he'd actually seen what he thought he did. Then Fubuki murmured, and he just caught the words.

"Reign them in, would you?"

For a heartbeat, Manjoume wondered if he meant him. But before he could shape a single thought, let alone words, the black scales turned out to be Red Eyes Black Chick, who unfurled gleaming wings and shot over to where the Ojamas were poking into someone's dinner. With a swipe of claws and snapping of teeth, all three were herded back over to Manjoume, flying right up against him, and all three babbled incoherently.

"Quiet down," he ordered, pitching his voice low. He knew that most people knew that on occasion he 'talked to the air' - you couldn't be the kind of famous duelist that he was and not get caught on camera conversing with spirits a few times - but he'd rather not do it in public if he could avoid it. "He's not going to hurt you."

At least he didn't think the Chick would. The dragon perched on Fubuki's shoulder, glowering at the Ojamas, who popped off into their cards with undignified squeaks. Manjoume thought they might just stay there all night.

"I didn't know you had one too," Manjoume asked a few minutes later, after their food had arrived and they'd satisfied their first hunger. He approved of coming here; he hadn't had a good beef stew like this in a while. He'd have to come here again if he waned another one.

Red Eyes Black Chick stayed on Fubuki's shoulder the whole time, looking all around but keeping silent and watchful. Manjoume hadn't thought that was what it would be like. But he'd never seen it out of the egg for long before.

"He only just started showing up a few days ago." Fubuki told him. "I wasn't really expecting him." He raised one hand, and the dragon chick tucked his head there so Fubuki could rub behind the ears. Manjoume found himself a little envious; almost everyone else seemed to have such a different relationship with their spirits. Johan considered his family. Juudai - well, Manjoume wasn't even certain of what to call what he had going with Yubel. He heard from Hayato now and then about something his partner had said or done. He didn't hear often from Edo or Fujiwara but on those rare occasions, he did get the impression they were good friends with Bloo-D and Honest respectively. He'd even heard a rumor that Hell Kaiser and one of his Cyber monsters had formed a special bond.

And here was Fubuki, casually scratching a dragon's ears as if that happened every day of the week. And he had - Ojamas. Who were, of course, the aces of his deck, and he'd not trade them for anything no matter what. But they were still Ojamas.

It didn't matter in the end. If any other duelist insulted them, he'd use his Ojamas to pound them into the ground. That was all there was to it.

He started to reach to pay the bill but Fubuki shook his head. "This was my idea," he reminded Manjoume. "So it's all on me."

That was fine; they generally took turns paying whenever they went out anyway. Sometimes Manjoume wondered what Fubuki did to get money. Probably random street duels, since he wasn't a professional duelist and didn't seem to have any other line of work. But he always helped whenever he needed to.

Paid up, the two of them headed out into the cold again. Manjoume handled it better than before, given that he'd had the chance to warm up while they were inside. He glanced around a little, wondering if they should head home, when noise caught his attention. He peered a little farther that way, then started to tug on Fubuki's arm.

"Let's go check that out." It had been a long time since he'd seen a full on winter festival. He'd heard this town had a pretty good one, but he'd never bothered to check it out before. Now that they were out and about, he figured they might as well go see what was going on.

The closer they got to the actual festival, the more he could hear very pleasant music, and scented even more delicious scents that hung in the air. If he hadn't already eaten, then he would have started getting a lot hungrier just from that. He did pick up a small bag of sweets they could share once they were home, tucking it into his pocket after buying it. Another street after that revealed something even more incredible.

Fubuki, ever the artist in so many forms, caught his breath at the sight of a long street of ice sculptures. Perhaps they weren't as large or detailed as some of those that could be seen in larger cities, but as far as he or Manjoume were concerned, these were incredible. He hurried down to stare at each of them in turn, cooing over each ice and snow sculpture. Birds and blossoms, characters from movies or plays, there were many different views to look at here.

"Over here," Manjoume called, peering down another pathway. When Fubuki joined him, his smile shone brighter than ever when he saw what his boyfriend indicated.

Duel Monsters. All of them carved from ice or packed from snow, in loving detail. The two of them walked down that way, naming off some of them as they did. It didn't take much effort to identify each one; some were unmistakable, such as Black Magician, while another required careful examination to be certain if it were meant to be Wolf or Silver Fang. Manjoume still wasn't certain even after they agreed it was probably Silver Fang.

At least the Ojamas didn't pop out to give their opinion. If Red-Eyes Black Chick had a thought on the matter, the dragon said nothing at all.

Manjoume stopped at another sculpture, glanced at it and then at Fubuki, whose smile shone with a warmth equal to that of summer itself. Red-Eyes Black Chick leaned over to sniff at the sculpture, before flicking its tail and dismissing it altogether.

"I'll take a picture," Manjoume offered. "Go stand in front of it." He gestured to Fubuki, who quickly did so, posing with his arms spread wide, as if to embrace the enormous sculpture of Red-Eyes Black Dragon itself. Each scale had been carved with absolute precision, and somehow the artist had managed to involve color as well so it looked like it should, instead of a faded Blue Eyes White Dragon. Manjoume made sure he had the best shot, centered on both Fubuki and the dragon, clicked his phone, and glanced at the time before he put it away. "It's going to be dark soon."

He meant to say that they should head on home and spend the rest of the night cuddled up in front of the fire. Fubuki had other ideas - as he so often did. His boyfriend latched onto him, grinning mischievously.

"We are not going to miss the fireworks! They've got a great show here!"

Manjoume tilted his head. "Fireworks?" He'd seen fireworks plenty of times. But here?

"Fireworks! It's going to be awesome. You don't want to miss them, do you?" Fubuki pouted at him, and if Manjoume had ever had any thoughts of doing so, those thoughts faded away without a trace. Fubuki had that effect on him.

"I guess not." He had a pretty good idea that Fubuki had arranged this just so they'd have a snow-filled date. Starting off with something small and not very time consuming, and now - now... Well, now he didn't think they'd get back any time soon. But if it made Fubuki happy, he was always up for it.

"I didn't think so!" Fubuki dropped a quick kiss on his cheek, ignoring the way a few older people glanced at them, and then hurried Manjoume along until they were out of town and on a small rise that wasn't quite big enough to qualify as a hill. It still gave them a fine view of the evening sky as it slowly darkened, and Manjoume's backside grew damp from siting on the snow-covered grass.

"We could have gotten a blanket or something," he muttered, fidgeting. "This isn't comfortable."

"It'll be fine." Fubuki assured him, wrapping one arm around him without fear of Manjoume's coat. That would always surprise him. Fubuki wasn't nearly as fastidious as some people he could think of, but he always seemed so much more put together than Manjoume himself would ever be. And yet he still happily hugged Manjoume whenever the opportunity presented itself and often when he just thought Manjoume needed a hug. There were people who murmured that Manjoume's coat was either sentient or could bite them and Fubuki would probably just pet it on the sleeve if it did, and go on hugging Manjoume.

For now, though, Manjoume leaned against him, and watched as the first fireworks started to blossom against the sky and the stars. Pop went the fireworks, rising up in columns of shining light to hang there for a few far too brief seconds before they faded away. Every color of the rainbow glowed up there, shaping intricate designs and waterfalls of beauty that Manjoume hadn't seen in person like this in a very long time. There were even a few images of famous Duel Monsters, mirroring the ice sculptures. He wondered if that had been deliberate or accidental.

Throughout it all, Fubuki drank in every moment, eyes wide and mouth open, pointing out particular shapes that caught his attention, and squealing when he saw others, grasping Manjoume's arm and pointing as if Manjoume couldn't see it all perfectly well for himself.

Manjoume wasn't the squealing type, nor was he all that fascinated by fireworks, not the way Fubuki was. But he enjoyed how Fubuki enjoyed everything more than anything else. It didn't feel as cold as it had, even with the sun having gone down. The longer he held onto Fubuki's hand, the warmer he felt. Occasional flicks of those deep brown eyes told him Fubuki felt the same warmth.

By the time the fireworks ended, Manjoume had to hold back his yawning. He wasn't doing a very good job of it either. But he tried, especially as Fubuki wrapped a firm steadying arm around him and helped him get home. The entire afternoon and early evening had melted away like snow in the sun. He almost wished that they could do it all over again, just so he could enjoy it for the first time.

But he couldn't, so he settled for enjoying settling on the couch near the fire, removing his jacket and getting into more comfortable nightwear, and curling up next to Fubuki, who provided a steaming cup of hot chocolate for the two of them to share. It took all of his energy to keep his eyes open. It didn't feel as if he should be that tired, but he was.

When he dragged his eyes open again, not wanting to miss a moment of cuddling, he could see the Ojamas perched over the fireplace, staring at a table across the room. He carefully swung his head around that way and wasn't surprised to see Red-Eyes Black Chick curled up there, tail over nose. The Ojamas weren't going to do anything to disturb the other spirit, he knew. They would just have to get used to him. He'd be sticking around a while.

"Let's go to bed," Fubuki murmured, and Manjoume nodded. They'd had an excellent afternoon and the night bid fair to be just as fine, no matter what they did or didn't do. Fubuki helped him to his feet and they headed for the bedroom. Manjoume so looked forward to what the next day would bring. Fubuki brought a breath of fresh air wherever he turned up – no matter how chilly the weather.

And if he were going to be completely honest with himself, he definitely looked forward to what the night would bring.

The End

Notes: I've been working on this for a while and finally got it to a point I was happy with it. Hope you like it!

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygo gx #stormshipping #manjoume x fubuki #fubuki x manjoume #manjoume jun #tenjoin fubuki

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nemo-draco · 4 years ago

Text

The First Step

Hi all! Bit of a crossover piece here, courtesy of some amazing art on behalf of @rose-junk-junky on Tumblr, and @a-rae-of-sunshine, whose characters feature here along with my own. Long story short, saw some amazing animatics and art with Rae's characters in a Frankenstein-like scenario, and my guys jumped in with a cry of 'new friend!'.

To read off our cast, Whimsy, Fancy, and Whimsy's 'creator' (this AU's version of the Mayor of Burnsville) are the characters of a-rae-of-sunshine. The AU itself was thought up by rose-junk-junky, who I also have to thank for showing the Frankenstein Musical album in the animatics. All the rest are mine.

Hope you enjoy!

A First Step:

"If any being felt emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred and a hundredfold; for that one creature's sake I would make peace with the whole kind!" Adam Frankenstein, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Their dreams were racing, blurred things, fraught with frantic energy and a sinking sense of wrongness that made them feel sick to their stomach. It was like they were stuck on a top, whirling from images of crackling electricity, to fire, to the ripping of stitches, to the sounds of people screaming in both anger and fear. But rising above it all was that one face, that one person, who's attention they had coveted the most, and the one they hated all the more for what HE'D DONE TO THEM-

"I should never have given you breath…"

-Awakening in a dark room, empty, filled with books and beakers, devoid of anyone-

"You're a beast to be feared…"

-Wandering in the wilderness, cold and alone, seeing others but always being met with screams and vitriol-

"By heaven we'll drag you…"

-The brief respite of the blind woman and her company, ruined when the others came and saw-

"And haunt you…"

-Fire leaping, climbing higher and higher, growing out of control-

"And banish your soul…"

-His face, their own creator, staring at them with such revulsion and hatred-

"From this earth!"

The nightmare went from formless to something concrete, Whimsy all but slamming down into their own body just in time to feel a rope slip around their neck. Immediately it tightened, yanking the reanimated faerie towards…

…A creaky, rickety platform of wood. One that somehow filled them with more dread and fear than they'd ever thought possible. The fear became something real, forming fire that leapt around the construct like it was some specter summoned up from Hell. A shadowy crowd appeared in the billows of smoke, voices like howling wolves as they screamed.

"Kill it!"

"It's a demon, a monster!"

"Be rid of the awful thing!"

They spun, pulled, tried everything they could to get away from the noose's pull, even slipping their fingers around the rope to try to yank it off, but nothing worked. And worse still, a numbness was seeping into their body, starting from their feet and working its way up to their ankles.

A face in the crowd leapt out to them, their eyes widening as they recognized their creator standing among the throng. Before they could even think, or read into the neutral, blank expression on their maker's face, they cried out like a drowning man casting about for a lifeline.

"Help me! Help me, please!"

Their legs grew stiff and cold, only weighing them down as they struggled to escape the noose, the fire, the awful drop...

"I'm alive!" They screamed, eyes tearing as they sought out their creator's emotionless stare, as cold as the deadening sensation creeping up their body. They were being pulled up the stairs, up to the gallows...

But somehow, even over all the screaming, the jeers, the fire, and the creaking pull of the hangman's rope, they could hear their creator whisper as though he were right next to them.

"No, you aren't."

"You made me!" Whimsy cried, feeling a slight give in the boards under their feet, hinting at the presence of a trapdoor. The fire climbed, the crowd howled for their death, the feeling of the end pulling their hands away from the lethally light weight of the noose. "YOU MADE ME!"

But with no inflection, no emotion, came the cold response.

"I reject you."

And with a snap, then came the short drop...

...And the sudden stop as their body thudded against the floor, thankfully a carpeted one that masked the noise.

Not that Whimsy, for the moment, had much mind to be thankful.

For the time being, their mind was frozen, limbs shakily drawing in to curl out of some instinctive reaction as they tried to figure out whether or not they were once again dead.

The feeling of their heart galloping in their chest, as well as the frantic gasping rushing in and out of their clenched teeth, contradicted that idea. Well, that and a slight sting radiating through their hip given that had smacked into the floor before the rest of them.

Sitting gingerly up and untangling themselves with a trembling set of arms, Whimsy sat in the dark for a spell, before deciding that this wasn't helping and stumbling to their feet. Their hands only shook a little as they found the doorknob, though as they stepped out into the hall the faintly cooler temperature jolted them to something that felt a little more in control...and drew their eye down to a plate that had been left next to their door. A quick sniff brought the scents of beef, some kind of vegetables, maybe bread? All of it was a little dulled though, the plate itself cool to the touch. This had been left a while ago, that was for sure...

It made them realize that they weren't even fully aware of what time it was. The most they could say was 'night' but the house around them was dead silent. Everyone else must already be in bed.

The notion was surprisingly relieving, Whimsy picking up the plate and deciding to head downstairs. Even the faintly chilled food was somewhat appetizing, especially since this would be the first time they'd eaten all day. Or…night? Whenever.

Despite their height, the reanimated (corpse) faerie was able to move stealthily down the hallway, to the stairs leading down to the larger part of the house. The…guy, Cab, who had brought them here had said that it was an old firehouse. When they'd gotten it set up, they'd moved the pole, somehow got a spiral staircase, and made the whole downstairs open to co-join the garage with the rest of the first floor, barring a little section for a bathroom and closet. That was a design choice that Whimsy'd been a little confused by, Cab's words that it was for 'Bee's benefit not really helping to illuminate much.

At least, not until the car sitting in the garage space started talking, during which that little mystery was cleared up in short order.

Whimsy had just come down the stairs when a faint noise caught their attention, their head jerking in the direction it had come from to see a very small figure sitting at the table. The most eye-grabbing feature was a small streak of silver running through a head of otherwise black hair, a tired shadow in the tailor's face despite the brief flash of nerves at the sight of the towering, stitched-together faerie (reanimated corpse). The pair stared at each other, Whimsy belatedly remembering that this was the person who owned this house, what had Cab called him again?

Either way, they couldn't exactly ask with their mouth full, so they made an effort to swallow a rather large mouthful of chilled beef and bread. He ended up beating them to actually talking though, voice quiet with an attempt at nonchalance.

"Glad to see you liked the food. We did have dinner a while ago, but you were asleep. We didn't want to wake you."

"Thanks," Whimsy muttered, once their mouth was free to reply, though they realized that they didn't really have anything to add or say. Funnily enough, Fancy seemed to have the same issue too, drumming his fingers on the table for an instant as his eyes cast around before lighting on the softly steaming mug in front of him.

"Do, you want some tea?"

Tea. Whimsy had a vague memory of it from when they'd spoken to the blind woman. A bit bitter, but warm. And, if something were to go wrong, then they could just leave, right?

So, even with the mistrust nudging at the back of their mind, Whimsy edged cautiously forward, carefully watching for some sign of underhanded play. It was a nervousness that was echoed a little in the tailor, Fancy looking up to meet Whimsy's eyes and, consciously or not, huddling down a bit like a fox that had come too close to a bear.

The faerie themselves edged quietly into the seat, nearly approaching calm before a metallic, humming voice spoke up from behind them.

"'Ey Whims."

Oh, right, and the car, the thought of which immediately had Whimsy changing seats to keep both Fancy and 'Bee' within view (and noticing with a silent shiver of bracing tension that the sleek, not all together large but still not small black car had rolled closer). Not that Bee himself seemed to take much offense, given his next, calm words.

"Thanks for switchin', by the way. Easier to talk when I'm not hollering over someone. Guess it's the exterior, dunno. Not many people expect the car to hold a conversation." Despite the easy tone, Whimsy couldn't feel relaxed, like there was a trap somewhere that they needed to keep an eye out for. They might not have been run out on a rail yet but it had barely been twenty four hours.

"People…ignore you?" Whimsy still asked, faintly piqued by the implication. Though they really couldn't guess what was worse, to be shunned or ignored. A faintly vindictive part of them hissed that to be shunned was worse, an ignored person could at least live among other people.

"Eh, sometimes. Though bein' innocuous enough to escape notice does have its perks. It's how I was designed after all."

Immediately Whimsy's brain got stuck on that last bit, to the point where they couldn't help asking.

"…Designed?"

"Originally I was made to be what you'd call a 'cursed object'. Maker just decided to be more ambitious and cursed a car rather than something like a toaster or doll or whatever. Demonically-charged rituals can be a mite bit unpredictable, apparently, 'cause I ended up with enough 'me' to say I liked the guy I was supposed to be causing trouble for a lot better. 'Course I couldn't stay when I kinda revealed I was alive, but, y'know, nice while it lasted."

"We're glad to have you either way, Bee." Fancy spoke up, it just striking Whimsy then and there that the tailor didn't seem surprised by any of what Bee had just said. Granted that could make sense, considering they had known each other longer. Things like this had probably come up before. It definitely seemed like it considering that Bee's tone was casual, even wistful in some spots, when talking about this person that he'd supposedly been sent to cause trouble for.

"Same. Great to be in a house where I can actually talk to people."

It was almost relieving for Whimsy to drop into the role of a spectator, but inevitably, the talk had to turn back to the last conversation partner that was sitting at the table.

"So, Whimsy, were exactly have you been? Thought I knew all the myths around here. Granted, most of them live in this house, but, well…" Though Bee trailed off, and certainly didn't sound like he was anything but calm and faintly curious, Whimsy couldn't help but feel the edge of an interrogation in the words.

"I, I've been…traveling…" Even to their ears, it sounded incredibly feeble. But they didn't know what else to add so they stayed quiet. At least, what they could say without getting into some worrying territory.

"Blew in from outta town?"

"Yeah." The faint grumble from the reanimated faerie completely contradicted the easier, flowing tone that the car employed, Whimsy remembering what they'd just learned about Bee and feeling…a sort of discomfort. Bee had sounded like he'd at least known something about what they went through, at least on some level, how on earth could he sound so put together? So calm?

It wasn't fair.

"What made you decide to come here? It's not exactly a prime tourist spot."

"…I wanted to meet someone."

"This a myth or a person?"

"Person. Didn't work out." To put it mildly, their memory flashing to a twisted, destroyed frame hidden partially under a sheet, sightless eyes staring up at them as that voice screamed about how they would not be tricked or cowed by a demon, a shambling wreck of a faerie-

"Sorry to hear that."

Whimsy didn't have an answer, and looked down as Fancy came back with a mug of tea. It was too hot to drink, but the warmth from the mug was more than enough to create a comfortable heat, soaking into their hands and driving the memories away. At least for the time being.

"Do you have anywhere else to go? I know Cab's probably said you could stay, but… do you have someone that might be waiting for you?" Bee asked, the somewhat quieter, hesitant tone a definite tell that this was a question that the car was aware might be difficult.

"…No."

Alone. All alone. Anything they might've had gone in a blaze of fire and all because of some bad timing. Anything they could have had gone because of a selfish, stupid creator that only cared that they'd taken their first breath, and not any of what came after.

A flash of pain went through Whimsy's temple, causing a wince that had them bringing their hand up before they realized what they were doing.

"You alright?"

"Fine."

The sound of something rustling off to the side caught Whimsy's attention, the reanimated faerie nearly jumping out of their stitched skin as they looked in the direction of the noise, only to see Fancy having reached to the center of the table for a napkin. The sudden movement on their part made the tailor jump too, though something in Whimsy's face seemed to catch his attention.

"Whimsy?"

They weren't fine. This wasn't fine. They felt horribly off kilter and the questions and constant presence of people were starting to take their toll. If it was just Bee, or just Fancy, Whimsy felt like they could have handled it better. But the fact that there were two relatively sharp individuals here, moving around and poking at them, stoked their nerves. Even though they knew that there was no immediate danger, that no one had lit fires or gathered up weapons, a part of them was consistently on edge, looking for some sign of trouble.

And they didn't want to! It was making their jaw clench, their head zinging with overstressed aches and pains. They were jumping at shadows and it made it hard to concentrate.

They knew that the full answers would only provoke suspicion, and perhaps an eviction. It wasn't like they'd told everything to anyone here. Though, the memory of the blind woman, and the distinct difference in how that had felt versus this, tugged at Whimsy, making them wonder both just what had changed in them to create such a feral anxiety, and also knowing exactly why.

How long before this ended too…

Another faint pain twanged at the muscles in their temple as a result, the feeling making Whimsy wince and murmur to themselves as they tried to knead the sensation out.

"What's, what's wrong with me...?"

There was a pause, Fancy seeming to shore up his nerve before taking a seat next to the steadily devolving faerie, a hand tentatively resting on their arm.

"I think, that there's a lot you're grappling with, and you need some time to process it all. I could be wrong about this, but it doesn't seem like you've really had anyone before Cab brought you here, and part of that might be due to your appearance. Which, isn't fair to you, you can't control that sort of thing, not completely. I would say it's normal, even expected, for you to feel angry, to feel hurt, and... perhaps even a little afraid."

The notion that they were, or had ever been afraid caused Whimsy to recoil, turning a hard look Fancy's way as the tailor jumped and also withdrew, his face a mask of tension. Bee too remained quiet, though Whimsy could just faintly hear the noise of his tires rolling closer by a half-inch. The standoff lasted for all of a few moments, before Whimsy remembered that Fancy did not have to let them stay in his house. Besides, he had drawn off, and didn't look ready to try touching the reanimated faerie again.

So, Whimsy let him be, and turned back to stare into their tea.

But the sight of their own reflection merely stirred those thoughts up again, the defiant bark of why would I be afraid answered with a smaller, insidious whisper of because your existence is singular, and you will always be alone. You don't even like the sight of yourself in the mirror, remember? Your creator wanted nothing to do with you, you were a mistake from beginning to end...

And when death finally claims you, who will even bother to mourn?

A small droplet of water splashed into the tea from above, Whimsy's grip on the mug handle so tight it was quivering.

"Whimsy...?" Fancy's voice came from the side, still worried sounding but there was a new edge of care to it that still felt so alien for Whimsy to hear directed at themselves.

"Oh geez…" Bee's voice murmured, with the same sort of softer, concerned tones.

"Damn that stupid, selfish..."

It was quick, a hissed few words on Fancy's part, but Whimsy had heard them clear as a bell.

They weren't able to move, much less address those words, and Fancy didn't acknowledge them either. Instead, he rested his hand atop their arm again and continued to speak.

"Whimsy, I need you to take deep breaths, just a few. Can you do that for me?"

They tried, but what came out were hisses that turned into gasps that felt like far too much effort for the simple act of breathing.

"Alright, that's a good start. Now I want you to try breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth, Whimsy. It'll help you feel better, I promise."

Though there was that instinctive nugget of mistrust, there was also the part of Whimsy that was starting to believe that they were being smothered somehow, and the way Fancy had spoken before tipped the scales in favor of trusting the little tailor.

And, in spite of everything, the advice was helping. Whimsy found air coming easier and easier after a moment or two. But the whole experience had left them winded and exhausted, which made it a little difficult to hear what Fancy asked at first.

"How are you feeling?"

"I," Whimsy started, swallowing around a dry throat. "I feel…"

It took a moment to really parse through their physical symptoms, though eventually words came to describe the strange mix of light-headed and completely worn out.

"Dizzy. Air, I need, outside…"

"It's alright, there's a window next to you, I'll open it. Just stay sitting down, please. I don't think I could carry you if you fall."

Whimsy glanced to the side as Fancy moved to the window in question, getting it open with only a small bit of effort. The rush of cool air was a balm, Whimsy turning in the direction and leaning as much on the chair as their towering frame would allow.

"Just take deep breaths, it'll pass." Fancy's voice came, the faerie's eyes fluttering open for a moment and locking straight on the tailor's gaze. There was a slight flinch that went through Fancy as their eyes met, Whimsy frowning and looking away first.

Something in their face must've leaked to Fancy, because he spoke up again.

"Do you, want to try drinking some more of your tea?"

With nothing else to do, Whimsy did take a sip, the lukewarm liquid still having a soothing edge to it. There wasn't much left, but the whole episode had taken a lot out of the reanimated faerie, leaving them rubbing at their eyes and blinking blearily as they set the mug down.

That eventually turned into them letting their head rest on their folded arms, though they still tried to remain turned towards the window. It was later in the year, but the faint chirping of crickets was still prevalent over the dark nightscape outside. The sound was a calming, and vaguely relieving one, reminding the faerie of those times when they'd lived off the land and spent long nights under the stars.

Before they realized how…different they were. It was definitely an easier time.

They must've dozed off at some point, because a new voice speaking up brought them back to reality.

"Aww, lookit that. All tuckered out."

It was a voice they only somewhat remembered, given that the person in question had been present when they had been brought in to be introduced. A concealingly-dressed figure that had been quietly leaning back in his chair, looking them up and down with a set of luminously colored eyes that flickered through bright, sharp hues. Everything about this otherwise gray shape was nonchalant, from the way their frame settled to the way a similarly colored smile flickered into being over the wrapping covering the lower half of the face, there and gone. After everything Whimsy had been through, it was a different way to be greeted, and they still weren't sure if that was a good thing.

So, carefully, they opened their eyes and turned their head in the direction of the voice, and immediately caught sight of the same figure simply lounging in the chair next to them, even going so far as to tilt it onto its back legs.

"Tagger, please don't break the chairs." Fancy's voice came, the tailor gathering up the mugs before stepping away.

"Alright, alright. No fun," 'Tagger' replied, and performed the somewhat odd feat of dropping the chair back on all four legs with barely any noise. Though, as it landed, those oddly-colored eyes happened to see Whimsy's, and immediately there was a flicker of that smile again.

"Oop, guess somebody is awake. Hey, Whims. Think maybe you wanna catch some 'z's in your own bed?"

On some level, that should have been a good idea, though there was a part of Whimsy that definitely remembered why they'd come down to the kitchen to begin with, and therefore was not so ready to just head up to lie in bed, jumping at more shadows and quite possibly have more nightmares. So, instead of acquiescing, they settled in and closed their eyes, turning their head away.

"No, good here."

"But, you're gonna go back to sleep." Tagger pointed out.

"Maybe I will," Whimsy growled back, still refusing to open their eyes.

"Inna chair."

The rather frank observation did get a more venomous look from the faerie, though Tagger didn't look the least bit worried by the much taller Whimsy staring him down. It was such a strange switch to what would usually happen that they honestly weren't sure what to do, so they ended up breaking off the impromptu contest first to stubbornly shut their eyes, huddling in their arms like it was some sort of impregnable fortress.

And they knew exactly what Tagger thought of that given that the sound of him chuckling to himself wasn't long in following.

"Oh, you are just a treat, aren't you? Can see why Cab liked you."

Cab being the one that had brought them here, that had opened the door to his home. Admittedly, he'd neglected to mention the presence of folks like Tagger, or Bee, but he did mention the fact that he knew two faeries. They'd already made the decision, but it definitely helped things along. Still didn't endear them much to Tagger right now though.

"Bit of a backstory moment here, Whims. I was the first."

"…What?" The reanimated faerie couldn't help asking, their gaze turning back to Tagger just to see if they could spot some falsehood. A bit hard with a mostly concealed face, but for the most part it looked like he was telling the truth.

"The first one Cab made friends with. The very first. We've been paling around together for years! Think after that it was Patches, then we found Bee, then Sunny, and finally Manny. Oh, and then Fancy." Tagger elaborated, just as the tailor walked by and glanced over with a fondly sardonic look.

"Thanks for remembering."

"Welcome. Anyway. Guess we can add you to the list. That's if you plan on sticking around, a'course." Whimsy honestly wasn't sure if the implication that they would just up and leave was insulting or not, and ended up giving off at least half a surly glare which was probably why Tagger continued. "Well, you don't gotta make a decision just yet. It's only your first night. Plenty'a time if you decide you're sick of us an' wanna split."

Yeah, that language really wasn't helping, Whimsy's stare towards Tagger turning a touch more spiteful. Though, instead of being bothered by that, he gave a theatric shiver before slipping back into his seemingly normal, at ease persona.

"Yeesh, if looks could kill… Tone down the eyeballs kid, it's casual conversation." Then a brief flicker of that same, glaringly colored smile appeared over the wrappings covering Tagger's mouth, further conveying the mischievous smirk in his following words. "Though I guess someone does need to go back to bed. A certain grumpy someone."

And back to this again, Whimsy growing fed up enough with the whole encounter to just resettle their head on their arms and close their eyes. Though, in doing so, they completely missed the somewhat conspiratorial, and equally impish grin that Tagger flashed to both Fancy and Bee.

It made the feeling of being swept up into a pair of arms all the more jarring, Whimsy left blinking as Tagger arranged the reanimated faerie in a bridal style carry and spun on his heel for the stairs.

"H-Hey! What're you-?!"

"Wouldn't squirm too much, Whims, the staircase is only so wide."

A very good point, and while Tagger was apparently strong enough to carry someone that definitely was a good few inches taller that didn't mean that the stairs were necessarily going to alter their proportions to make it easier.

So, out of a perceived sense of self-preservation, they scrunched in their towering frame as much as possible, warily eyeing the metallic edges as Tagger easily ascended. After what felt like a harrowing few minutes, they both made it to the upstairs hall, though to Whimsy's surprise and more-than-slight annoyance, Tagger kept going until he was standing next to the door of their room.

"…You can put me down now."

"Whatever you say, Whims," Tagger replied with shadows of that same amused chuckling, to the point where Whimsy had the honest impulse to just scramble away and figure things out from there. Tagger's approach to them may have been novel, but the novelty was quickly turning sour. They weren't a child!

Still, Tagger was both deft and careful, setting them down on their feet and heading past them to a door down at the furthest end of the hallway.

"Night, Whims. See you in the morning."

And he was gone, leaving Whimsy standing like a silent sentinel in the hall. With nothing better to do, they went back into their room, quietly clambering onto the bed and staring at the night sky they could see from their window. The sight brought to mind the window downstairs, from which those familiar sounds had emanated that had provided a brief spark of respite.

Whimsy got up to crack the window open, sliding under their covers and looking in the direction of the small square that looked out to the outside world. The sound of crickets and the rush of wind through the trees accompanied them as the world grayed out, and they slid into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

A knock at the door snapped Whimsy awake, though it only felt like they'd just closed their eyes. Blinking bemusedly, they stared in the direction of the window, seeing a blue sky and trees losing their red and yellow leaves, not quite sure what was going on before the knocking came again.

Yeah, they…probably should answer that, shouldn't they? The thought of which was what teased them up, causing Whimsy to reel to their feet and plod around their bed for the door.

A familiar face was there, a more unique set of features given the black and white, checkerboard-like pattern that was stamped into the other person's skin. Cab was wearing the same primarily white pinstriped suit as yesterday, a not-totally open grin on his face that somewhat disguised his teeth, which Whimsy couldn't help noticing yesterday given that they'd resembled the sharper ones in their own mouth. Cab was tall, lean, though even a six-foot-tall frame didn't have much when compared to Whimsy's eight feet in height, and therefore he'd had to crane his neckless head back a little to look them in the eye, reaching up to hold his boater hat on his head.

Not that Cab seemed to mind, an ever-present grin on his face that sharply contrasted Whimsy's barely awake stare.

"'Ey Whims! Sorry for wakin' you up, but I figured you'd wanna get some breakfast. Ever had pancakes before?"

It took their wakening brain a few moments to figure out, firstly, what had been asked, and secondly, that no. Pancakes were a somewhat foreign concept.

"It's a food…right?"

"Yep, it's a food, a breakfast food. Wanna come down an' try some?"

Their curiosity had been piqued, so they did say yes and made to follow Cab. Whimsy found themselves waking up a little bit more, enough that they couldn't help noticing the confused look Cab passed them just before making it to the stairs.

"…What's wrong?"

"Nothin', nothin', it's just…did you sleep in your overalls?"

Were they being insulted? It was a little hard to tell, though from what they saw Cab wasn't the sort to just poke a beehive just for the sake of it. But, if it was sincere then what was even the point of the question?

"…Yes?"

"We could try givin' you some pajamas if you like."

"What are… pa-jamas? Is that even a word?"

"It is too a word! They're clothes you wear when you're sleepin'."

"People wear special clothes just for when they sleep?"

"Well, yeah, they're meant t'be comfier. Fancy could make you some if you like!" Cab's offer was nice, though Whimsy was decently sure that if they tried to go to the tailor to ask for anything they might end up giving the poor guy a heart attack. Hopefully, they thought as the pair reached the bottom of the stairs, Cab wouldn't bring it up with Fancy because they sure weren't about to.

"What're we talkin' about Fancy makin'?" The sudden presence of Tagger's voice made Whimsy jump, head swinging around to see the whatever-he-was in question leaning on the railing like he might as well have been there all along. Even though Whimsy knew he hadn't been just a moment ago.

"Hi, Tagger! We're talkin' about pajamas! Fancy could make Whimsy some!" Cab replied, as though the sudden appearance just didn't bother him.

"Oh, are we?" Tagger's reply had Whimsy preparing for more demeaning mockery, though they were somewhat thrown when Tagger instead looked them up and down before coming to a decision.

"Green or red. Maybe blue. But not light, definitely darker colors."

"You think so?" Cab's frank question was also somewhat disarming, to the point where Whimsy finally had enough and decided to break in.

"Wait, wait, what are you talking about?"

"If you were gonna get new clothes, those colors would probably look the best on you. Your fur's darker, so lighter stuff would just clash. And make you look pale. Paler. You get what I mean."

"Tagger's an artist!" Cab jumped in, the 'artist' in question looking more flippant.

"You can see my work around town sometimes. Usually at night. I've, ah, 'tagged' a lot of buildings." Tagger's expression clearly hinted at a joke, though as to what the actual joke was, Whimsy couldn't help not knowing. And Tagger didn't seem too primed to explain, muttering about how 'it didn't land' and turning away, heading out to the kitchen.

The kitchen at which Fancy was quietly helping a much taller figure, a similarly patchwork shape that was handing him plates to put on the table. Whimsy had seen this one too, back when they'd first come in. They'd been given a name, they knew, but the sight of a figure even remotely similar to them had caught them off-guard.

Though, as the moments of that first meeting had worn on, it became clear that there were differences.

This other creature, this other faerie, did not seem to need to blink, for starters. Pale blue eyes ringed in black faintly glowing and constantly staring, almost as if their owner had been trying to pick apart Whimsy by sight alone. They, no, she, was also considerably shorter, with the top of her head coming up to the middle of Cab and Tagger's faces. In physical shape, she resembled a doll with a simplified face, jagged-edged mouth and all. But, much like a faerie, she had more animalistic features mixed in, namely small but noticeable claws, legs that resembled a dog's or a cat's, along with two points coming out of the top of her head that resembled a pair of ears. Though, given that her skin appeared to be a sort of canvas material, Whimsy wasn't sure exactly how well they worked. Then again, maybe they did, faerie logic being the way it was. Whimsy had tried to read into it, but the general consensus was that people generally didn't know how faeries worked. At least, not inside and out.

Their creator might've known. But the ship had sailed on asking.

Before Whimsy could even have a hope of sitting down, a pair of fast-moving shapes dashed past their legs, hurrying to the table with the same frenetic urgency of a starving animal that had just been presented with the prospect of food. And they were both chanting 'pancakes' like the apparent breakfast would need some sort of summoning ritual.

"Hold on you two." Fancy's calmer tone hinted that he had no fear of either, despite the fact that one was a literal skeleton but dressed like a child they might see walking down the street, and the other looked like an uplifted wolf puppy, dressed in what looked like some sort of medieval garb. A tail wagged through the seat of the canid creature's pants, mirroring the flicking movements of a pair of batlike wings poking through the wrap covering the upper part of the small body. Somehow Whimsy knew, without being told, that this was another faerie.

Granted, they had the same feeling that they did when first looking at the canvas-made fae, that, just maybe, they might be too different to fit in with another faerie. The fact that this little one was so bouncy, full of life, didn't help that notion any.

They felt like a note in a song that didn't fit, Whimsy's feet already sliding back before an arm at their back caught their attention. A glance to the side revealed that Cab was the culprit, the sharp-toothed grin turning softer at the edges as they gave the reanimated faerie a little nudge; it's okay.

So, taking a deep breath, and feeling like the act of moving their own limbs was a momentous thing, Whimsy put one foot in front of the other and started moving towards the table. They weren't exactly making a lot of noise, even with their larger size, so they weren't sure what exactly made the little faerie-puppy's ears swivel around to them. Her head followed the movement, cherry-red eyes growing wide as she looked up and up…

I should say something, right? Whimsy couldn't helping thinking, the feeling of something squirming in their stomach as they stared down at the faerie-puppy's face, the mask-like fur around her eyes starkly contrasting with that bright scarlet.

"U-Uh, h-"

"You're tall…"

This hadn't come from the faerie-puppy, but from the little skeleton who had turned around while Whimsy had been focused on what exactly they were going to say. The small, child-sized skull had bright lights set in the sockets, glowing blue pinpricks that also stared up and up at Whimsy with the same stunned shock.

"Yep! This is…" Cab started, before trailing off and gesturing with theatric dramatics to Whimsy, inviting them to introduce themselves.

"Whimsy."

"…Whimsy! They'll be stayin' with us ferra bit, so, don't give 'em too much trouble, okay?" Cab continuation may have been meant well, but it seemed to hammer in the notion that Whimsy had done their introduction wrong. Not that they had much experience, but the emotional knife had already been pushed in, and twisted all the more by who exactly they were being introduced to. They didn't exactly have the best luck when it came to people, never mind children…

An image flashed through their mind, of a small child clutching his arm as they tried to skitter away from the faerie, eyes wide and liquid-y at the edges as they stared at Whimsy with nothing short of complete fright.

"Why did you do that? I-I was trying to help you!"

-a limp little figure in their arms, before a CRACK-BOOM rang out and pain blasted through their shoulder-

They blinked, hard, the images vanishing though the sight that greeted them when they opened their eyes didn't seem much easier. Both the little skeleton and the faerie-puppy were still staring up at them with frankly unreadable, worrying awe, and Whimsy felt fresh out of possible conversation. Thankfully Cab came to their rescue, though the reanimated faerie felt like a coward as they accepted his reminder of pancakes as an excuse to get away from the pair, and actually sit down.

However, the trials for the day were not done, as the one that slid in to sit on Whimsy's other side was the other faerie, the taller one with the staring eyes. It didn't help that once the dishes were all laid out, this faerie was taking over the actual doling out of the pancakes, and while Whimsy was trying their best to mirror what they saw the others do, it didn't keep them from feeling a twinge of nerves when those unblinking, unreadable eyes turned to them.

It seemed to take an inordinate while of them staring at each other for the other faerie to figure out that Whimsy needed a little help, a much softer toned, feminine voice speaking up and somehow very audible to them despite one of the children laughing about something nearby.

"Did you want one pancake or two?"

"…Can I get three?" Whimsy's request was answered as she doled out three pancakes, though they couldn't help the brief glance at the plates around, mentally doing the math as to whether or not they'd taken too much. It seemed fine, but their brief spate of figuring was interrupted as they realized that the other faerie had not stopped looking at them.

"…Wh-What is it?"

"You never mentioned your name."

Though the specific language wasn't used, this still felt like a request for a name, and not in just the 'what is your name' kind of fashion. Whimsy had certainly not forgotten that this was a faerie, a faerie that, even with their more placid demeanor, probably held to at least some of the old standards when it came to behavior. So, squaring their shoulders a little, they replied.

"You can call me Whimsy. I don't think I got your name either?"

"Do you want to know it?"

Wasn't that why they were asking? Maybe they should have phrased themselves differently…

"…Yes?"

"Then you can call me Patches." The frankness with which the words were delivered made it hard to tell if the other faerie was upset or angry about what they'd said, Whimsy feeling that uncomfortable, cornered-animal-type squirming settle in their gut as they maintained eye contact. Patches was the one to look away first, turning to her two pancakes and leaving Whimsy to awkwardly consider their own three. The pancakes themselves were warm, the smell more than appetizing though the sight of the faerie-puppy trying to slice hers with her fork while partially shoving them in her mouth caught their attention briefly. Fancy's efforts to get her to use the knife something that Whimsy paid close attention to. While there was a surlier, more combative part of them that groused who cares how we eat it, a part of them couldn't help pointing out that if they wanted to avoid attention, they'd at least have to give some semblance of good manners.

Though when they finally tasted the pancakes for the first time, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate impulse to scarf them down. They were good, the one with the little dots of blue in it quickly discerned to have blueberries and wasn't that just a completely welcome surprise.

Non-sarcastically meant. At this point they were seriously considering asking for more, though a quiet chuckle from Tagger cut through the euphoria.

"You enjoyin' the pancakes, Whims?"

Of course, their mouth was full when he asked, leading to them throwing the neon-eyed figure a glare as they considered the notion of whether or not they could rush through swallowing this. Deciding that no, they wanted to savor the pancakes, Whimsy instead made to turn their attention back to their food, and ended up having another distraction in the form of Cab proffering what looked like some kind of jug.

"Syrup's real good on those. Here, give it a try."

Whimsy watched with a growing-less-wary sense of curiosity as the golden…liquid (?) was poured onto what remained of their pancakes. And a hesitant taste turned into pure bliss as Cab had been proven completely right. The rest of the pancakes were quickly scarfed down, though a quick glance around the table showed that there were other things to pick at. They recognized the small bowl of berries, snagging a few and quickly eating those, though the one with the bacon going too quickly for them to have a hope of getting anything and with everyone reaching for some they weren't too sure they wanted to bother.

But, just as Whimsy had dropped back to more or less consider their empty plate, Cab reached over and placed down a few strips of bacon. At their surprised look, he pointed to his other side, to where the little skeleton boy gave a bright wave to go with his fixed grin. Whimsy's lips twitched, though the sight of the relatively normal-looking teeth brought to mind their own, sharp-toothed grin, and they kept their smile small. It didn't seem to deter the little skeleton at all though, the small bones clattering as the child jittered around with pure happiness at the simple show of gratitude.

It did help, a little, though Whimsy found themselves drifting towards a silent backdrop, more listening to the words of the others rather than contributing. They didn't think they would have very much to say anyway. At least, not things you said when everyone else was talking, laughing, telling jokes, and overall being far more light-hearted.

Was this what it was like? To be…normal? To have a home and a family? It was vaguely reminiscent of what they saw through the cracks in the walls of the blind woman's family, the strangeness of the current cast aside, and it made the role of the watcher feel all the more fitting and familiar. Safe.

"Whimsy," someone started, the faerie feeling like that veneer of security just tumbled down around them as they were yanked into the conversation. The source turned out to be the nearly silent Patches on Whimsy's other side, their eyes yanking to her like she'd brandished a knife. "Have you ever done this sort of thing before?"

Their brain stuttered out a little, because they knew the answer and also had the very certain knowledge that perhaps telling the whole group in any detail how that went likely wouldn't end well.

"I, uh, yes. A long time ago."

Not so long though, the reanimated faerie avoiding everyone's eyes as they drew inward, closing off from the rest of the group. It didn't stop them from hearing the somewhat awkward pause in their wake, the conversation stuttering to life with some sort of joke from Tagger that blurred in their ears. They didn't really feel like paying attention much anymore, the earlier, calmer feeling gone by the wayside as things seemed to move on around them. Before they knew it, everyone was getting up, doing their respective parts to gather up the dishes as Cab took over the washing of said dishes.

It felt like the rest of the group moved on like a hurricane, taking their warmth and energy with them. Whimsy was left clumsily fumbling along in the aftermath, glancing around in askance before handing their plate off to Cab who'd practically all but entreated the reanimated faerie to give it over.

Just as the porcelain left their fingers, a tug on their overalls caught their attention, Whimsy looking around before dropping their gaze even further, and finally catching sight of the faerie-puppy staring up at them.

"Y'smell really funny." Her voice had such an odd accent to it that it took Whimsy a few moments to realize that the words weren't altogether flattering.

"Uh…"

"Y'smell like a lotta different things. It's weird."

"Uh, Sunny…" Cab tried to interject, though he was still up to his elbows in the dishes from breakfast.

"They smell like apples, Cab!" Sunny insisted, before closing her eyes and taking in another deep breath through her nose. "An' trees. An' dirt. An'…"

Another inhale, and Sunny's eyes opened again, looking more puzzled.

"…Lightnin'. You smell like dead things an' live things. Which one are you s'pposed t'be? Are you like Manny or are you like me?"

It felt very much like the child was asking the question 'are you alive or are you dead?'. It was one that Whimsy couldn't help asking themselves sometimes, especially given the fact that the only side of the spectrum they'd ever see were the people in the villages, the towns. The very much alive, and the dead things were lying in their worm-infested, decomposing beds. Seeing Manny was definitely a first, but Whimsy knew that they weren't the same as the little skeleton.

"I, I don't know. I don't think I'm…either…"

"Why don't you know? Wasn't anyone there t'tell you?"

No, but the word wouldn't come to their mouth, as it came with ranting about how their own creator hadn't wanted them, had taken one look at them and fled, leaving Whimsy to deal with the world alone. Even with distance, and cares, that still stung worse than physical wounds. But, as they tried to figure out how best to answer, Sunny seemed to come to her own conclusion, reaching out from her perch and pressing a hand to Whimsy's front.

"…It's okay. No one told me either. But if you're smart, you won't need tellin'. You'll figure it out. That's what Tagger said. But Patches said I could ask an' so did Cab an' Fancy. Maybe they can tell which one you are." Sunny said, with the gravitas of someone delivering a prime solution, punctuated in the conciliatory pat they gave the leg of Whimsy's overalls. It was the sort of thing that they really didn't have any words for, but in lieu of just sitting there like a dullard Whimsy did try to add something to the conversation.

"That's…that's some nose you have."

…Didn't mean that it didn't sound any less lame to their ears. Though, thankfully Sunny didn't seem too off-put by the switch. If anything, she seemed proud that Whimsy had pointed it out.

"I've got the best nose. Ask anyone."

"It's the best. Can find a rabbit in the whole forest." Cab pointed out, Sunny grinning happily at the support.

"Yep!"

But, even with the lighter switch, the question that the little faerie-pup had asked stuck in Whimsy's mind, beating like a drum.

Are you alive or are you dead?

It was one that, for all their efforts to wrangle an answer, they couldn't quite manage it.

They ended up retreating to the couch again, settling down on the leather fabric with a quiet sigh. Was there a right way that that was supposed to go? It hadn't felt right at all…

The faint sound of someone walking caught their attention, their head turning to see Cab approaching, a somewhat nerve-edged smile flickering over his face as he came near.

"'Ey, Whimsy. You doin' alright?"

"Yeah, fine," they mumbled, looking away to consider their knees and feet yet again. It seemed to provoke something in Cab, his tone changing from moderately upbeat to quietly apologetic.

"…Hey, just wanted t'say sorry. Forgot the kids can be a lil' inquisitive sometimes, realized that y'prob'ly didn't want t'deal with that just after wakin' up. And don't worry about Sunny, she's just curious. An', hey, Manny seems t'like you."

Which was, reasonable, and a little bolstering, but Whimsy couldn't help a recriminating thought from slipping out.

"…Don't think most people would want their kids being around me…"

"Hey, hey no, none of that now," Cab suddenly murmured, sitting down on the table in front of the sofa just to be within the reanimated faerie's field of vision. "Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person, y'hear?"

Whole mobs of people felt differently, Cab, Whimsy wanted to say, though the more biting thought wouldn't quite make it to their tongue. Instead, something a bit more lame slid out, the faerie letting their chin drop even more as their shoulders rolled inward.

"…yeah, sure…"

"Whimsy, look at me? Please?" Ordinarily, they might've rankled a little at the thought of anyone telling them what to do. But Cab's behavior, his tone, everything felt like he was actually trying to be nice, like he thought of them as a person. So, even though they didn't quite relinquish their hangdog, beaten-down demeanor, Whimsy did look up to meet Cab's eyes. The look they saw there was enough to give them pause, only having seen something like it once before. Beaming sincerity and emotion, to the point where the eyes glimmered faintly at the edges. Cab's hands came up to grasp Whimsy's shoulders, the touch only getting the faerie to look away for the briefest instant before their gaze immediately snapped back to Cab's, somehow sensing that what he was about to say was something that he wanted them to properly hear and absorb.

"Trust me, I know. This is hard. And it's okay to be freaked out about it. But, Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person. And, if you want to, you don't have to be a bad person. You don't have to be. You can be just as good as anyone else, just as good a person as you want to be. Nobody can force you t'make a choice, only you do that. And, Whims, I don't know a whole lot, I'll admit it. But, anythin' anyone said, anythin' anyone did to you, it's not your fault, okay? That's on them, what they do, what they say. Not on you."

It was nearly everything they'd wanted to hear, but somehow, there was doubt. There was a part of them that couldn't help looking for falsehoods and tricks, that thought that what Cab was saying couldn't apply to them. And maybe it didn't. It wasn't as though Cab knew about what happened to the blind woman's house, or that child's arm, or a similarly patchwork shape underneath a sheet…

"…Why do you care? Why, why does this…matter so much to you?" It was an honest question given how suddenly Cab had come in and just started, offering them things like friendship and a place to stay. Though while Whimsy couldn't fault themselves entirely for asking it, a part of them couldn't help feeling just a little like they'd done something wrong as Cab's hands fell away, his eyes glancing around as though for help before he just seemed to decide to come out with it.

"…I, I've been there, before, Whims. Maybe not exactly where you are, but…I've been somewhere near it. And, in a lotta cases, what I'm tellin' you was, I didn' exactly have that many friends to start out. Pretty much none, actually." Cab's eyeline dropped, his whole, lanky frame drooping as though held down by weights. But he didn't stay that way for long, quietly looking back up to meet Whimsy's eyes though there was still a careworn shadow in his face as he smiled. "Kinda, y'know, when you see someone goin' through somethin' similar, makes you wanna stick up for people like that. T'help them out. Heh, sorry, prob'ly not makin' much sense."

"No, I, I think I get it." Whimsy replied, feeling a faint, nearly involuntary grin tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Thanks…Cab. Thank you."

"Welcome. Also, Whims, we're goin' out, by the way. Just takin' a walk. Wanna come with?" As Cab spoke, his hand reached out to Whimsy, gloved palm up with the fingers a little outstretched. There, if they wanted. But...

More crowds, more people, more feeling out of place.

"...No." They should say something else, right? "No thank you."

Though there was a slight downturn to Cab's smile, he nodded in that understanding sort of way before heading back into the kitchen.

"Okay. I'll see you later, okay, Whims?"

"…Sure." Whimsy more murmured back, a faltering feeling in their stomach that Cab probably couldn't hear them. The thought that the group would have to come back through the room, and would therefore have to walk past them, forced Whimsy up and back to the spiral staircase. Not to mention, Bee was right beyond the door, and if he were to come back…

Well-meaning or not, Whimsy didn't want to deal with really anyone right now.

They were nearly to their room when they saw a faint ribbon of light playing across the floor, from a door that was a little further down the hallway than theirs. A wary sort of curiosity pricked at Whimsy's conscious mind, the reanimated faerie skirting down the hall with a stealth that was a little disarming given their eight-foot-frame.

It was a skill well honed, though, and put them right next to the door in question. And, with the way it opened, they got a rather good view of the room beyond. It was a space filled with color, different reels of fabric here and there, gatherings of sewing material, a rack full of completed and partially completed clothing. There was a desk directly across from the door, a familiar figure there and quietly at work. Fancy was bowed over what looked like a mess of warm colored fabrics, hands a constant blur of motion as he carefully stitched one of the seams. Whimsy honestly could not have said what it was, both because of the angle and just by looking, they were hardly any sort of expert on clothing.

But, the more they watched, the more they found the motions, and the overall atmosphere of the room, soothing. Perhaps it was the fact that it was quiet, but warm, and perhaps it also had something to do with the stitches running through their own frame, but somehow it was enough to keep Whimsy rooted there, quietly watching, for what felt like a good few minutes, their eyes quietly roving over everything from the clothes themselves to other things scattered about the room.

On one of the upper shelves of the desk, standing out because it was different from the other nooks and crannies filled with sewing supplies, were a bunch of what looked like random objects. Small stones, what looked like some sort of porcelain figure of someone dancing, an apparent amulet with a piece of some kind of crystal, a small mechanic's wrench, and a folded piece of paper with a smaller, colored piece pinned to it.

They were too far away to really look at any of the other objects, but the wrench immediately brought to mind Bee. Had Bee given Fancy that? Were the other objects all gifts too?

With the added layer of detail, the view into the room almost became a mirage, something that Whimsy could almost imagine themselves stepping into and claiming as their own. Someplace warm and inviting, with objects here and there that had their own stories, their own place.

Their own home…

Though unfortunately, the spell was broken with a too-loud creak coming from the hallway, Whimsy not sure if they'd accidentally shifted or not but seeing Fancy pause and make to look up. Without thinking, they turned tail and tried to hurry back down the hallway as quietly as they could, closing the door of their bedroom behind them.

For a brief instant they stood there, listening, before realizing that there was light coming in through the window behind them, which would illuminate the fact that they were standing there. Stepping back, Whimsy moved closer to the window, and happened to catch sight of movement in the yard below.

Out of instinct, they drew back, but it still didn't mask the sight of Cab, Tagger, Patches, Sunny, and Manny all heading off for their walk. The younger children skirted around the older three, clearly in good spirits with Cab more readily following along. Tagger and Patches were going at a more sedate pace, though were clearly part of the group. Despite the strangeness of the people, it was much like what Whimsy had watched from a distance.

What would it have looked like if they had gone too?

It felt foolish, not to mention horribly vulnerable, to just stand there staring out the window, so Whimsy instead turned to the bed, still rumpled from the nightmare-fraught sleep of last night. It looked just as lonely and forlorn as they felt, the reanimated faerie letting their eight-foot-tall frame thump onto the mattress. They didn't want to sleep, for a multitude of reasons, but, really…they had nothing else to do. Nowhere else to go.

It was…frustrating. Wasn't this supposed to be better? Were they doing this right? Was there a right way? They didn't want to go on the walk. Cab hadn't tried to force them, but he'd seemed… not bothered, but maybe a little put out. Had he wanted them to come?

But, they hadn't wanted to. Should they have agreed anyway?

The thoughts were more maddening than helpful, and getting tumultuous enough that Whimsy forcibly cut them off with an irritated growl as they pressed their face into the pillow.

Of course, cutting off their own air really didn't help much, so after a few seconds the reanimated faerie quietly pulled their face away and looked to the side instead, fixating on the blue and the tops of the trees they could see through the window. They had the thought to open the window again, to hear the sounds of the nature outside given that so far, it had been the only comfort. Though the thought was in their head, and they could easily picture getting up to do it, for some reason, they couldn't make themselves move. Instead, what happened was that Whimsy rolled onto their side, eyes lazily focusing on the trees outside as they gently swayed in a breeze.

Time melted by like that, and they easily could have slipped into a doze that thankfully was too light for dreams. But, as they flopped onto their back, a knock came from the door.

It brought to mind Cab, though in a twist, the one standing there when Whimsy opened the door was Tagger.

"Hey, Whims!"

"Hi." Whimsy wasn't about to force more than a politely neutral tone, though Tagger's voice still kept that calm, devil-may-care lilt that showed he wasn't the least bit intimidated by anything, never mind the eight-foot-tall faerie staring him down.

"Missed you on the walk, but Sunny and Manny wanted to get you some stuff. Think you might be able to come out and play next time?" They weren't sure how it happened, but somehow Tagger moved past them, setting down a few objects on the dresser across from the bed. Two rocks, one lighter colored and with rounded edges, the other jet black with sharp angles. As Tagger placed down the little souvenirs from the hike, it struck Whimsy just how plain and bare the place was. Fancy's room had been littered with personal touches, but for them the only thing in the room was the furniture.

Well, it wasn't like they'd set up shop anywhere long enough to really acquire things of their own. The fact that they had an actual bed still felt like a marvel. Tagger was currently sitting on it but it still counted.

Still, Tagger's tone, and words, rankled enough that now Whimsy actually felt a rebuke coming to their tongue.

"I'm not a child, you know."

"…Funny you should say that. T'me, pretty much everyone in this house is young. Well, younger." Tagger's tone had softened a little as he turned back, the look in those oddly-colored, glaring eyes easing down to something a little less blinding. It brought to mind the conversation that Whimsy had sort of participated in, where Tagger had divulged that he had been the first one that Cab had befriended, and more or less kicked off the formation of this strange group. Perhaps then would have been a good time to actually dig in and find out more, but, well, they were here now. No time like the present, right?

"…How old are you?"

"Rude." Given that it was more than a little hard to read Tagger's face, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate apology that leapt to their tongue. It didn't help that Tagger's body language could have been either mock-affronted or real-affronted, his arms crossed and upper body turned away with his head back a little. Had they said something offensive, it wasn't like they would know…

"I, wait, I wasn't…"

Thankfully, Tagger seemed to get that facing in the opposite direction wasn't helpful, turning around and actually facing the reanimated faerie as he replied.

"No, no, it's okay. I'm kidding, Whims. Don't be so serious. And, honestly? Couldn't give you an exact, numerical answer. I just know that, in terms of age, I pretty much rank ahead of everyone, Fancy included."

The notion was honestly a bit of a shocking one, though it stoked to life Whimsy's curiosity. And, if Tagger hadn't been too bothered by that one question…

"What exactly are you?"

"Well…you know that feeling you get when you're out at night, alone, and you keep having the feeling that someone's behind you even though you're pretty sure no one's there?"

"…Yeah?"

"That's kinda in the same ballpark as me. 'Course, you might be a little more familiar with the rest of the family. The Call of Cthulhu mean anythin' t'you?"

"…No, not really."

"Don't worry about it. For reference's sake, think of it like the blackness between the stars, or like when you're swimmin' in deep water an' just happen to look down at all that nothin'. Just, all the stuff out there that's too big to know that might keep you up at night if you think about it too much because, as it turns out, there's either no answer, or there's one you might not like all that much. Point bein', there's a reason I keep all this paraphernalia on."

Well, that was something of a revelation, even though Whimsy felt they really could only guess at exactly what Tagger was eluding to. Something unknowable, something too old to really pin down a proper age to, something that couldn't even show its true face or form around anyone. How on Earth did Cab even befriend something like that?!

"So, now that you know somethin' about me, can I ask somethin' about you, Whims?"

Seemed fair, though they weren't too certain they'd like where this was going.

"…Sure."

"Y'can sit down by the way, not gonna bite. Alright, my question is…where've you been, exactly? I can tell you're a faerie, at least on the outside and before whatever happened there, but somethin' like you doesn't just sprout up overnight."

"…I, I was, I've been traveling. Around. I…I spent some time in a village, a good ways north of here." Whimsy haltingly replied, sinking down to sit next to Tagger.

"Yeah? Spent a while up there?"

"Yeah. I, I was staying with a family…they didn't really know I was staying with them." This felt like the start of a chain reaction, Whimsy fully aware that this was, while not the worst of their crimes, a good lead into the destruction they'd wrecked.

"Guessin' the family might not have reacted well to their house guest, huh?"

"…One did. There was an older woman who lived there. She was blind. I thought if I could make my case to her, then, maybe they'd let me stay…"

"Didn't work out?"

"No. Her family came back, and they saw me, and chased me away, and when I'd gotten back they'd left and I-" Fire, fire had happened as the little cottage that they'd been so fond of burned up around them like some portion of Hell had risen to devour it. Whimsy had been angry, true, but there'd been something so soul-chilling in the sight that it had sapped them of their anger like a bucket of water to the face. Their efforts to put out the flames had ended in burns, burns that hadn't stopped stinging until they'd been able to douse it with water from the well and despite their best efforts, the whole thing had gone up. They'd had the thought in the back of their mind before, but especially now as they relived the memory, they couldn't help wondering what happened to the family. Did they come back? Did they see what the faerie had done?

"…I burned their house down."

"You don't sound proud of that."

"I wasn't, I'm not, I just…I got angry." A deep sigh, before Whimsy went with the first thought knocking about in their stitched-together head. "Doesn't matter anymore. Wouldn't have worked."

"Maybe you didn't find the right people."

"There aren't any right people. Nobody cares about me."

"You sure?" Tagger's voice had started to take on that semi-teasing lilt again, the reanimated faerie finding that they had barely any patience left for that nonsense, thank you.

"…Look, whatever you want to say, just come out and say it."

"Don't know the specifics, but Cab didn't have to say he'd be your friend, right? Fancy didn't have to let you stay in his house. I didn't have to carry you back up to your room last night. But we did. Kids didn't have to get you presents either. But they did. Know your experience is a little skewed, but…what'dya have to lose in tryin' again, Whims? Besides, you're not dealin' with some run of the mill, salt of the earth types. We're all pretty weird. Think I just demonstrated my own case decently well. And, if you're runnin' around with a crowd of folks that're weird, d'you really stand out?"

It was a good point, Whimsy going quiet as they considered it. They were, unique, for sure, and they were pretty sure that there wasn't anyone else in the world like them, but, considering what they were learning about their new housemates, maybe someone exactly like them wasn't needed.

"We're a stubborn bunch, Whims. You ain't gettin' rid of us that easy." The words, in and of themselves, were something to think on, but what grabbed Whimsy's attention was the fact that Tagger, did something. Made some sort of motion like he was going to reach out to the reanimated faerie, but as Whimsy stared and leaned away, Tagger pulled back.

"Alrighty then, suit yourself," he murmured, almost sounding dismissive. Though as Tagger made it to the door, he glanced back to the faerie. "And, if and when you're ready, c'mon down. We'd like to see you sometime."

They'd all like to see them. There was nothing in Tagger's voice that suggested a falsehood, which made the knee-jerk, resulting thought that no, no one wanted to see them, feel very much like a double-edged sword. Keeping anyone else away, but cutting deep somewhere inside.

"Oh, by the way, Whims," Tagger spoke up, twisting around in a way that didn't look altogether right as the neon pie-cut eyes glimmering from underneath the hood glanced back at the reanimated faerie. "Left you a surprise on one of your gifts, but you gotta turn the lights off and close the curtains to see it. Anyway, see you 'round!"

And with that, he was gone, leaving a somewhat confused Whimsy in his wake. Bemusedly their eyes turned to the little stones that were now sitting innocently on their dresser, the faerie even resorting to going over and picking them up for a closer look. Left something on them? What the heck did that mean?

Though there was the added stipulation of the lights, Whimsy quietly putting the stones back down before going to the light switch and then crossing the room to get the curtains.

It was when they turned back to the stones that they saw the glimmers of light, almost like paint, dotting the surface of the darker one. But it was only when they got close and picked it up that the reanimated faerie could read what had been scrawled over the rock.

A simple message, written in brilliantly neon colors with ever letter being a different shade: Hi Whimsy!

And a sort of design underneath it that, as they turned it around, looked like a small, simplified face winking at them.

It was such a small thing, the kids not having to think to get them a present but Tagger also had not had to add in the extra message. But it felt both lightening, and a little worrying. Like Whimsy was standing on the edge of a precipice and couldn't see the bottom of the pit they were looking to jump into. They'd seen groups of people, both friends and presumably families, that looked to have that perfect happiness.

It had been a strong lure, as perfect and content as it looked, to tease Whimsy from the trees and pique them to try talking to the people they saw. But it had never worked. Even when the other person couldn't see how they looked, it never worked.

Whimsy was weird, Whimsy was wrong, Whimsy was disgusting, a monster, unwanted, not supposed to be…

In a snap, they realized that they had started to squeeze the little stone, and immediately loosened their grip with a worried grimace. The present, and the message written upon it, were thankfully unharmed, Whimsy looking down at it for a moment before carefully placing it back on the dresser.

Their attention was grabbed by a brief shuffling noise in the hallway, Whimsy wondering for a brief instant if Tagger had come back to see if his gift had been warmly received. The door had been left open a crack, a few strides taking them over to it and a brief nudge opening it enough for them to look out into the hall.

Which was empty. Whimsy peered left, then right, seeing no one.

They pulled back into their room, thoughts turning to what Tagger had said before. Maybe, maybe they would try to go downstairs in a little bit. Just to maybe explore the place a little more, though they couldn't help a mental block on the notion of what they would do if they actually encountered anyone. Maybe better to tackle that in the moment rather than try to plan ahead, planning ahead didn't seem to do them much good…

Whimsy ended up being so engrossed in their own thoughts, that they missed seeing the door to Fancy's workroom, which had been open a crack, surreptitiously slid shut as they returned to their own room.

It took a few hours before Whimsy felt ready, heading down to the landing and ending up a little relieved by how quiet the main area was. Bee, it seemed, had left, and though the sight was calming, they were still on-edge given that just because the more-visible car had apparently stepped out didn't mean that the others weren't here somewhere.

Though, thankfully, at least from the higher-up vantage point, Whimsy could safely say that they couldn't outright see anyone wandering around in near the couch below, or in the kitchen. Listening around revealed that things were quiet, though a quick glance to the windows drew Whimsy's eye to the fact that the sky had gone gray, the first of a rainfall pattering against the glass.

It did kill the fleeting impulse to actually wander around outside, though Whimsy was loath to just return to their room. Not after they'd come this far. Maybe, even with the possibility of someone coming along, they could just sit for a while.

So, with that thought in mind, they slipped the rest of the way down the stairs, walking past the little kitchen area to the sort-of living room.

It was a good thing that Whimsy had gotten into the habit of watching where they were putting their feet, otherwise they might've traipsed all over the two little forms simply sprawled on the living room floor. As such, they simply stood there for a moment, a foot handing in the air as they stared. Sunny was predictable enough, the little canine-gargoyle faerie arranged like a sleeping puppy, but Manny was…more interesting, to say the least. At least, Whimsy was fairly sure that when things looked all disjointed and, spread out like that, they were supposed to be dead. Actually dead, but then again, Manny being a little skeleton, maybe the rules were different?

Either way, this was a little more weird than they felt equipped to handle, especially from children, so the reanimated faerie turned on their heel. Thankfully, Patches was just coming out of the back room, though the other faerie's lighter tread meant that Whimsy nearly ended up running into her when they peeked out. Immediately both recoiled, Whimsy with an apology on their lips, though they ended up truncating it, given that Patches had that ever-present serene look as she considered them. The kind that barely seemed to get ruffled, it was almost maddening given that it made it difficult to tell what she was really thinking.

But it would be…wrong, to simply judge the other faerie for a trick of her demeanor, something not able to be really helped, so Whimsy simply bit their tongue and stayed quiet on their internal thoughts. Instead, they turned, gesturing to the scene in the living room as they tried their best to convey the issue at hand.

"I just, I found them like this, is Manny supposed to be…?"

Patches peeked around them, pale, unblinking eyes immediately lighting on the slumbering pair. Perhaps it was relieving, in a way, that the cloth-made faerie didn't immediately blanch, or scream, but that calm serenity was a little maddening. This was precisely why they'd been so slow to integrate with anyone, Fancy was easy to read, Cab was too earnest to have ulterior motives, the children were children, Bee was a demon, if not an easy-going one, and Tagger was…Tagger. Whimsy still had yet to figure that one out, but at least he had more visible moods, unlike Patches who seemed to skate through life with a strange sort of distant coolness.

"This happens sometimes," she was saying, lightly skirting over with barely a noise. "You can just pick up Sunny. I'll show you what to do with Manny. Just watch my hands."

"If you just give him a little help, he'll come together on his own." To illustrate her point her gentle motions of picking up the somewhat discombobulated skeleton caused Manny's bones to jolt back into place, Patches carefully scooping up the small monster and tucking him close, like Whimsy had seen mothers handle their children. Manny himself barely woke up, automatically snuggling in to Patches's shoulder, though the reanimated faerie felt themselves bristle as those unblinking eyes turned to them.

"You can try picking up Sunny. As long as she's comfortable, it should be fine."

Though there was a part of them that bristled at the notion, especially since Sunny could easily fit in an arm, Whimsy still knelt, reaching carefully out to the small, winged body. It was only after they'd carefully plucked the wolf puppy-like faerie off the ground that they realized that Sunny had been sleeping on top of something. It was a sheave of paper, along with some pencils, though what drew Whimsy's attention was what was on the paper.

"Sunny likes to draw," Patches said by way of explanation as Whimsy picked up the paper, though something in their expression caught her eye. "Is something wrong?"

"I, she drew me."

And it was so, Whimsy able to more feel than hear Patches coming around to look, but for the moment they had no space left for their knee-jerk guardedness. They only had eyes for this, picture. This child's creation that had them as a part of the group, standing under a bright sun and blue sky, amongst what looked like long, yellow grass. Strangely enough, Tagger was the tallest of the group, Whimsy competing with Cab for second-tallest, and what was probably Bee looked like more of a jumble of red and black than a proper car, Sunny, Manny, and Fancy looking similarly blobbish, but it was all recognizable. And they were a part of it.

"Patches told us," Sunny spoke up through a yawn, having woken as Whimsy had picked her up, ", 'bout the fields she used to live in, when she scared the crows. She said it was like a dream, when it was sunny, and the winds blew through the fields. It's her best place. She said I could use it. Wanted you to be there too. No more bad people, just us. All of us."

"Wh-Why…?" Whimsy forced out, their mouth feeling very dry as something about the word, or perhaps the emotions behind it, stuck in their throat. But Sunny merely looked up at them with her cherry red eyes, beaming that sort of empathetic heaviness that most children didn't have. Maybe Whimsy might've considered it more, though right now, their emotions were bubbling up their throat, coming out in a soft sob at what had simply fallen in their lap.

"If I had known…I would never have given you breath!"

"You're an object of shame, without soul or a name!"

"You…no place but…THE GRAVE…"

"No," Cab had said the other night, when they'd first met. "You don't need him! You don't need someone that don't want you! He's hurt you, cut him out of your life! If you need somewhere to go, you can come with me, with us."

"You're a little late offering me friendship," Whimsy had replied, a sneer curling their lip as they glared at the bizarre…thing, a creature dressed very much like a man, that stood before them. But, a strange thing was happening, had happened. Even as Cab had spoken, tears were gathering at the corners of his eyes, like he'd meant every word of what he'd been about to say.

"But I'm doin' it. Late or on time, the point is in the doin' of the thing! An', if'n you saw someone who you know felt as lonely and as hurtin' as you do now, would you just stand by? Knowin' what you know, and havin' been through what you've been through, would you, would you just let them suffer?"

They hadn't an answer, but when Cab had held out his hand, they'd taken it with only a faint bit of hesitation. Cab had tried more to steer them along, but the way he'd been keeping a grip on Whimsy's hand made them wonder if he thought they might bolt if he let them go. But then he'd turned to them and said something that had been sitting quietly at the back of Whimsy's mind.

"Everythin' in life is a choice, an' while you've gotten one hell of a raw deal, you don't hav'ta stay there, you hear? You won't be alone, not with us."

A choice. Whether they'd been aware of the significance or not, they'd made a choice. And it had brought them something small, but heartfelt, and precious. This, not small, but simple life that accepted them so readily as one of their own. That accepted them as…

"Whimsy, it's okay, I just meant that we're family now, see? Patches, Cab, Tagger, Bee, Fancy, Manny, me, you, we're all a family now." Sunny's voice trembled with upset, though Whimsy felt completely unable to answer. But, like a calm wind, a ray of sun in darkness, Patches's calm, whispery quiet voice spoke up.

"I think Whimsy needs a hug, Sunny. Can you give them a hug? One of your very best?"

The small arms wrapping around what they could of their frame snapped the last, delicate thread holding back the emotional floodgates, Whimsy doing their best not to crush the smaller faerie as they cradled her, and cried. Deep, heaving sobs that came from somewhere far down inside as a wail stayed locked behind a set of clenched teeth, their stitched together frame feeling like it might shake itself to pieces from the maelstrom raging inside.

We're a family…

"No soul or a name!"

You don't have to stay there…

"Corruption of biology…"

You won't be alone…

The feeling of another small frame, this one bonier, coming to hug them caused Whimsy to start, wide eyes finding the equally tumultuous ones of Manny. They must've woken up the little skeleton, but before they could even think to apologize the boney little arms were wrapping around their own arm, Manny tucking in in his own effort.

Whimsy looked up just in time to see Patches kneel in front of them, something beaming through as they made eye contact. That calm serenity swirled with a compassion that loomed as large as the open sky, Patches quietly reaching out to the reanimated faerie, and carefully brushing their tears away with a hand made of course cloth. They were quickly replaced by more, though for the moment Whimsy only bowed their head, shoulders helplessly shivering as they tried their best to ride out the storm.

What they weren't expecting was for Patches to reach out, gently easing them to lean into her shoulder. Her hands, with their faint suggestion of needle-like claws, carefully combed through the topmost layer of their curly mane. Their head rested against Patches's shoulder, folded down enough that even their eight-foot-tall frame could rest comfortably while still not crushing the two children doing their best to give the overwrought faerie a hug.

A soft hum caught Whimsy's attention, Patches's whispery tones rumbling low in her ribcage before it blossomed into a lulling song.

"You'll remember me, when the west wind moves, 'pon the fields of barley, you'll forget the sun in his jealous sky, as we walk in fields of gold…"

The 'best place', a field of pure gold that rippled in the movements of wind like something alive. But peacefully so, like the soft rise and fall of breath. It felt so antithetical to what they had known before, the shouting, the strife, the loneliness, the abandonment…

Though there was a part of Whimsy that wanted to push back, to withdraw until they felt safe, they found they couldn't. It felt so foreign, and yet there was a part of them that couldn't help staying right where they were. It was also the part of them that seemed to be the center of the emotional storm, this screaming, wailing, crying thing that grasped at the physical comfort like a lifeline. Patches's voice blurred in their ears, a lulling hum as their mind moved away from the images of darkness, lightning, mobs, screaming…and to a field of softly waving gold.

The thought caused a soft, near-involuntary sob to rattle through Whimsy's frame, Patches briefly breaking in her song to murmur some soothing words that was probably meant to be nonsense, but somehow, Whimsy couldn't take it that way.

"Shh, shh, we're here, we're here…"

A few moments of that, and carefully rocking them a little, and the scarecrow faerie went back to her tune. Whimsy listened, holding onto it like it was a part of the stitches running throughout their skin as the world dissolved into an exhaustion-dulled haze.

"I never made promises lightly, and there have been some that I've broken, but I swear in the days still left, we'll walk in fields of gold…"

"Hey, Whimsy…" A voice spoke, piercing the calm stupor that had drifted in. In the moment, Whimsy had no other thought apart from that they particularly liked where they were and didn't want to move, burying their face in the material as they tried to get away from whoever this was.

"G'way…"

"Would, but you're kinda pinning Patches to the floor. Wanna try gettin' up on the couch, probably be comfier?" At first, Cab's words were confusing, Whimsy's eyes blinking groggily open before they realized that, well, he was right. Turning their head brought Patches's face into view, the calm, even stare a little softer as she looked down at the reanimated faerie. With a somewhat sheepish flutter in their chest, they realized that they were still using Patches's shoulder and upper body as a pillow, with Sunny and Manny still held close in a careful but firm grip. Whimsy straightened, pulling away from the relatively vulnerable position, but they couldn't make themselves let go of the pair just yet.

With nothing else they could do, and a glance around telling them nothing, they couldn't help asking a somewhat hesitant question.

"H-How long was I asleep?"

"About ten minutes. Not very long at all," Patches replied, stretching now that the weight of all three had been removed.

"Hence why we're bringin' up the couch." Cab pointed out, about to reach down to help Whimsy up before Tagger nudged him aside.

"They got two heads on you, noodle-arms. Lemme do it."

Though Tagger was definitely more than ready to haul Whimsy up, it was a little difficult given that their hands were full of sleeping children. Patches and Cab tried to make it easier by taking at least one per each of them, but Whimsy had a moment of conflict as they looked between the offered hands and the little forms nestled against their front.

"It's okay," Cab spoke, catching Whimsy's hesitation. "They're pretty much out. You wanna take five with 'em?"

The question provoked a shy, eye-avoiding nod, though no one seemed to begrudge Whimsy an iota as they clambered up onto the sofa, and quietly scooted inward to make room for the sleeping Sunny and Manny. Instead, there were just quiet words on the part of Cab and Tagger, varying levels of affection in the pair's voices as Cab handed Whimsy a blanket and wished them a good nap, and Tagger's neon grin rife with rough warmth as he said he'd see the faerie later.

Sleep well, see you later. Was that normal to hear, and to feel like it was being meant? They weren't sure if they wanted to ask, but it definitely was a first for them. But, as Cab and Tagger were moving away, it suddenly struck Whimsy that Patches was still standing by, and apparently had something to say.

"You can come to me again if you need to talk, I don't mind. Also," she murmured, kneeling down next to the couch to look Whimsy in the eye. "You have brambles in your hair. I got about three out but there's probably more. We can try to fix that later if you like."

The faerie in question wasn't sure they could offer much to that, but Patches thankfully didn't seem to need an answer, getting up and leaving without any prompting. Whimsy was left blinking in the wake of that, before deciding that, well, they didn't need to really decide anything now and settling into the pillow with a sigh.

The slight movement made both Sunny and Manny move around, twitching and squirming for a moment or two. Without thinking Whimsy reached out and placed an arm over the pair, mostly for the sake of keeping them from rolling off the couch, but found themselves surprised when Sunny turned to huddle into them, Manny's arms reaching over Whimsy's and wrapping around like the limb was a stuffed animal.

It made the realization hammer in all the more that these little creatures, these kids, trusted them. Trusted them enough to sleep peacefully next to them, trusted them enough to let them into their home, draw pictures of them like they were one of the, the family.

The thought had Whimsy swallow another lump in their throat, a prickling at the corners of their eyes stubbornly forced back down because they were sick and tired of feeling miserable. Besides, if they started up again it might wake the kids.

"Shh, go to sleep, you're safe with me." They found themselves murmuring anyway, a faint tremble eating at their voice as they huddled around Sunny and Manny.

The sounds of the rain pattering on the windowpanes formed a soothing backdrop, Whimsy's eyes lazily drifting to see the water as it ran in rivets down the glass. It didn't quite banish the sounds of fire, of screams, that lay burned in their memory, nor the ghostly feeling of a noose tightening around their neck…

…But it was some space. It was a start. Maybe that would be good enough for right now, the thought bringing enough peace to the reanimated faerie that they let their eyes slip closed, breathing growing slow and deep as they slipped into slumber.

It made them miss when, a little while later, a much shorter figure came round the sofa to look at the little huddle gathered there. Fancy looked upon the otherwise sweet scene, a slight furrow in his brow as his eyes turned to the hand and arm Whimsy had used to keep Sunny and Manny close, covered in stitches that he knew so very well. Because he'd sown them with his own hands, slaved for hours over the eight-foot-tall frame that now belonged to the sleeping faerie on his couch.

Briefly, the tailor reached out for the fingers in some knee-jerk impulse to inspect them, before the thought of what if Whimsy woke up, how on earth he would explain what he was doing made him draw back. Thankfully none of them moved, but it left Fancy standing there, awkwardly staring, and wondering what on earth to do.

The sight of a light flashing from behind the sofa, out in the garage, quickly caught the tailor's attention, and he followed the nonverbal signal all the way to the car innocuously parked in the far corner of the garage. The door opened silently in an invitation, Fancy climbing into the driver's seat with an exhausted sigh and feeling more tired than he'd felt back when Cab had simply brought his 'new friend' right to their doorstep.

"You gonna tell them?" Bee's voice spoke from the radio, quiet but questioning. Not accusing, or forceful, but like a nudge on your shoulder to get you in gear. But right now, Fancy very much did not want to 'get in gear'. Instead, one of his arms folded over his front, his hand coming up to knead at his forehead to dispel the growing ache there.

"Okay, different question," Bee started, "what'dya think of them? It's been a few days, you gotta have at least some thoughts."

"I think…they've had to deal with far more than they should have. That that stupid idiot…made some very big mistakes in handling them. That they've probably been alone for a while. I'm glad they're connecting with people though, be it Cab, or Sunny and Manny, or Patches. It should be good for them."

"Alright. Gonna let 'em stay?" Bee asked, the sudden question catching Fancy off-guard.

"Huh?"

"Whimsy. It's your house. Is it okay if they stay?"

He could tell that this wasn't meant to cast doubt on Whimsy or their character, but if the tailor were to be any judge he would say that this might be a way to make up for the downright shock that Cab simply bringing the reanimated faerie home had been. Especially given that it was practically unannounced, which was something that tended to throw everyone when it came to Cab. In a group of supernaturals that had to adhere to some strict etiquette rules, the one that behaved the most like a mortal, with all of the spontaneity that came with, tended to stand out like a sore thumb. Even if, to this day, Cab was something of a mystery. A mystery that tended to be danced around, given that telling someone like Cab that they were 'different' was usually a recipe for the checkered-skinned toon to just avoid the issue and then for him to burn out a few days later from how much he tried to avoid dealing with it.

And, either way, it wasn't like Whimsy had destroyed his house or anything, so Fancy didn't feel too much conflict over his next words.

"Don't think I could throw them out now even if I tried. The kids would be too upset if their new playmate left. Cab wouldn't like it either." It also probably wouldn't be very good for Whimsy to be just acclimating to a new place and then be thrown out. If anything, it would likely undo that bit of progress that Fancy had just seen. And, though Fancy might not admit it to anyone other than himself, there was a slowly growing sense of responsibility for the reanimated faerie. If the mayor would not look out for his own creation, then maybe the only other person aware of the circumstances behind said creation should.

"Good point." Bee's voice rumbled through the speakers, before taking on a somewhat more hesitant air as he asked his next question. "You, uh, holdin' up okay?"

"I'll be fine. You're not worried, are you?"

"Think Tagger an' I have been sorta worried since you called us to come get you. First time I saw you that freaked out by anything. Second might'a been when Whimsy came in."

To be fair, Fancy ruminated, both instances had been firsts for him too. The fact that a reanimated myth had simply been brought to his doorstep was a shock in and of itself, but the fact that it was the same myth that he'd been more or less forced to slave over, put together from dead bodies, and whose creator pushed him to the point of a nervous breakdown, now that was enough to perhaps add to the gray streak in the tailor's hair.

The nervous breakdown itself had been something, given that while Fancy could say that he'd had rough points in his life before, there was nothing quite like the experience he'd had when one of the bodies that Whimsy's creator had been working with turned out to be a little more rotten than previously thought. Mostly because trying to take anything from it had resulted in a horrid, absolutely putrid smell filling the room, Fancy having gotten a glimpse enough of the rotting features that he'd about lost whatever little he'd been able to eat beforehand. He'd run out, managing to get a call home and getting Tagger, and of course he'd come with Bee for expediency's sake.

The ride home was an ordeal, given that by the time Fancy had been sitting on the curb for a good fifteen minutes, trying to banish the stench and sights from his mind, he'd become uncomfortably aware just how acquainted he'd become with the dead. The sight of dehydrated, blackened flesh no longer enough to sicken him but in retrospect it was all the more horrifying. He'd tried to focus, tried to buckle down, tried to tell himself that it was just a job and he'd make it through, and the mayor had definitely been paying good money that could be put to good use.

But in the end it wasn't enough, and Tagger had been coming just shy of outright putting his foot down in stating it. It wasn't enough to justify poor sleep and worsening health. It wasn't enough to make up for the fact that Fancy knew, in his heart of hearts, that what the mayor wanted wouldn't be so easily obtained. Some 'conditions' just weren't curable, and death was unfortunately in that category. And while the tailor had been able to ignore the niggling concerns in the back of his mind about just where these bodies were coming from, there was the part of him that wondered if they were all being obtained by 'legal' means. Or, if any family involved might be aware of what was happening to their loved ones.

There was only one body that he'd felt more or less sure about, the one that the mayor had had set up on that main table, the one that had been having the most alterations done to it. That one had clearly died not that long ago, still with a shadow of life in its features. In the right light, it almost looked like someone languishing under an illness, their face frozen in a look of quiet but poignant resignation though their neck had been a little oddly bent.

Perhaps it was to be expected, given that it was a faerie's corpse, though there had been a part of Fancy that had been a little put off by how dismal the expression was coupled with what the mayor had been doing. Perhaps it could be partially blamed on the fact that he knew faeries, Patches and Sunny, and to see either of them in this position would have been gut-wrenching. But he hadn't known this one, so looking at them had just brought a sort of melancholy irritation for their situation.

You look like you've suffered enough. Can't he just let you rest?

But then that night had happened, and Fancy had taken a break for a few days to come back to a note on the door for him, explaining that his services were no longer required. There was talk of a payment, the mayor had sounded apologetic regarding the whole incident, but Fancy's mind kept going over what had happened when he'd asked why his services hadn't been needed anymore. The mayor's exact words were that the experiment had been a failure, but he didn't elaborate.

Maybe that should have been a sign that not all was well, but Fancy had believed the whole endeavor impossible. How was he to know it had actually succeeded in creating something?

Though, as Fancy snapped out of his thoughts, he realized that he'd more or less been sitting in silence, ruminating, for a good minute now, with Bee patiently waiting for him to reply.

"…I'm doing better, promise. Startled me, definitely, but I'm feeling more…balanced. Definitely less 'freaked out', as you put it."

"Good to hear there. Though, Fancy…I get 'not now', but, be careful with that kinda secret. If anything just because it'll end up sitting like a rock in the trunk."

"Fair enough. Worried I'll get more gray hair?" It might've been a bit of an unfair thing to joke about, as while Fancy had adjusted to the streak of gray in his hair following the whole incident with the mayor, the supernatural cast of characters in his household…really hadn't. At least, not until everyone was sure he wasn't about to keel over given that they'd all made the somewhat correct assertion that 'going gray' could mean that you were close to the end of your life. It had taken at least a few weeks for them all to back off, though out of all of them, Tagger and Bee were the only ones that knew the full circumstances. Still, there was a laugh in Bee's tone as he replied, hinting that while there might be a worry it wasn't nearly as strong as it had been.

"Hey, don't even go there, mister. Not until you're at least pushin' fifty."

"Alright, alright, I'll be careful. And, I probably will tell them. Just not right now. Thank you, Bee." The words were punctuated with a gentle pat on the steering wheel, the lights flickering like a grin in reply.

"Welcome. Gotta work on stuff?"

"As always."

"Can you show me sometime? Can't exactly make it up the stairs…or wear clothes, but it looks fun." It might've been an odd request for a car to make, but Fancy was decently sure that Bee had made similar ones before now, about various things that though he knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of him being able to participate he still wanted to know about. Ergo, it wasn't too hard to agree.

"Sure thing."

As Fancy was about to cross the living room, his path brought him within viewing distance of the huddle still slumbering on the couch, the tailor pausing for a moment to sort of re-take in the sight. Whimsy's face was quietly relaxed, arm still in that careful, protective position over Sunny and Manny, the pair just barely visible though Fancy could see Manny's much smaller arms still wrapped around the darker, stitched-together limb.

It was a surprisingly sweet sight, even with the unusual-ness of the cast of characters. Fancy gave a quiet, calm smile, before heading for the stairs.

#nemo's writing #whimsy #whimsy the faerie #frankenstein #frankenstein au #a-rae-of-sunshine #original characters #misfit toons

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skye-maxwell · 5 years ago

Text

Mostly You

Persona 4 | Souyo | Third year, pre-relationship | Rated F for Fluff

Happy birthday, @livefreeordie13! You are my friend, and I like you a lot! \o/

For prompt #6: “I think about you all the time.”

---

It was Yosuke’s turn to call him today, so Souji sat on the floor of his bedroom, patiently folding paper cranes while he waited.

They had spoken to each other on the phone nearly every day since Souji had left Inaba, and Souji was grateful that Yosuke always seemed eager to hear from him. Even if it was just a quick call after school on his way to Junes, or while he was drifting off to sleep after a long day—Yosuke made time for Souji, and that meant the world to him.

The ringtone Souji had specifically assigned to Yosuke started playing, and Souji smiled, like he always did. It was a song Yosuke had shared with him to cheer him up when things had been at their worst, and now Souji knew every word and every note of the track.

“Hey, Yosuke,” Souji greeted warmly, putting his phone on speaker and setting it on his desk so he could keep folding.

“Hey, Partner!” Yosuke said happily, and Souji smiled again. He would never get tired of that enthusiasm. “What are you up to?”

“Cranes.”

“Haha, again? Are you trying to set a world record for ‘most paper cranes folded’ or something?”

“No, but now that you say that, it sounds pretty good. I think that’ll be my goal now.”

Instead of dismissing the joke like Souji expected him to, Yosuke said, “Well, if anyone can do it, it’s you. I believe in you, Partner!”

“Thank you,” Souji said dumbly, becoming flustered for a moment before he could think of a better reply. “If I do break the record, you’ll be the first one I invite to the party.”

“The party?”

“Yeah, to celebrate my success.”

“Oh man, a party thrown by you? I can see it now. It’s gonna be a total rager,” Yosuke laughed.

“Of course. It’ll be the most enraged of ragers.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Honestly, it would probably just end up being you and me sitting in a room drinking something like, not even alcoholic, and we would try to clink our glasses together and probably spill lemonade everywhere—”

“When did it turn into lemonade?”

“—and then you’d be all ‘Congrats, Partner,’ and yeah, that would probably be it.”

Souji expected Yosuke to laugh at the image he had created, or to call it lame and throw out ideas for an actual rager…

“I mean, as long as I’m there with you, I’m down for whatever.”

Souji dropped his paper crane.

Why? Souji mentally asked Yosuke, picking his crane back up off the floor. Why must you say such cute things?

Not about to say anything remotely like that out loud, Souji asked, “So what are you doing right now?”

Not seeming to notice the abrupt change of subject, Yosuke answered, “I’m doing homework! Kind of.”

“Are you just doodling in the margins?”

“Not just the margins, Partner—the whole paper! Because, you know, there’s no notes on the page…”

Souji sighed. “Do I need to hang up so you can get your homework done?”

“No! No no no! Please don’t hang up! I’ll actually do it later, I promise!”

“Calm down, I’m not actually gonna hang up on you.”

“Okay, good.”

“That does remind me, though… Lately I’ve been daydreaming in class a lot. Sometimes I’ll just completely space out, and by the time I space back in, I realize I haven’t been paying attention for an entire lecture.”

“For real? Did my bad habits rub off on you?”

“Why do you sound like that? What are you doing now?”

“Finished drawing. Balancing a pencil on my nose. Crap! I dropped it. Anyways, you’re supposed to be the good student between the two of us, man! We can’t both be slacking off!”

“Sorry, Yosuke.”

Before Souji could say anything else, Yosuke suddenly asked, “What do you think about?”

“Hm?”

“When you’re daydreaming all that time—what are you thinking about?”

“Well… I think about last year a lot, and how I wish I was still there with everyone, and I think about recipes I want to make, and movies I want to see, and what I want to do after high school, and… you. Mostly you, actually,” Souji accidentally admitted.

“Me? What about me?”

Now that Souji had let the cat peek its head out of the bag, he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to keep the rest of it in the bag for much longer.

“I think about all the crazy and terrible and amazing times we had together last year, and how I wish was still there with you. I think about recipes I want to make for you to try, and the faces you’ll make when you’re eating them. I think about movies I want to see, whether or not you would like them, the discussions we would have after we watched them together… I think about how badly I want to do whatever it takes to have more of you in my life after I finish this stupid third year… Yeah, all the time. I think about you all the time.”

“Partner, that’s… um, unexpected. I’m sure someone like you has better things to think about than me.”

Souji shook his head. “No. I don’t. Not more important than you, no.”

“You’re exaggerating, right? To make me feel good?”

“I’m not. Does it make you feel good?”

“Well, yeah, sure it does. Being on someone’s mind makes me feel special, y’know? Especially your mind.”

“You seem surprised, Yosuke. You really don’t have any idea how important you are to me, do you?”

“I guess not? I don't know, it’s just… hard to believe. Do you know why I always make sure we talk to each other like this? I mean, obviously I don’t want you to be lonely, and I want to make sure you’re doing okay, but also like, I just don’t want you to forget me.”

Souji scoffed, immediately covering his mouth afterwards because he definitely hadn’t meant to do that, even if what Yosuke had said was completely ludicrous.

Forget you? With the amount of running around you do in my mind, how on earth could I possibly forget you?

Souji quickly tried to find a way to convey that sentiment to Yosuke in a less creepy way.

“The only way I could ever forget you is if I had a major head injury, like blunt force trauma, and I forgot everything… or, if I, you know, died.”

“Partner! Don’t say shit like that!”

“My problem isn’t forgetting you; my problem is remembering you too much. Seriously, it’s constant. But actually, yeah, no, I don’t want to think of you any less, not really…”

“Heh, is this what it feels like to be flattered? You’re really something else, Partner. Oh hey, I’ve gotta go; my mom’s calling me for dinner.”

“Okay,” Souji sighed, feeling like he had sort of just poured his heart out (in a subtle yet super vulnerable and embarrassing way?), and yet the conversation had not come anywhere close to a satisfying resolution. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Will do! She’ll be thrilled, haha. She’s actually trying out one of the recipes you left her, so I’ll let you know how it goes. Don’t worry though; it’s definitely not gonna be as good as when you make it.”

Souji rediscovered his smile, happy that Yosuke would be thinking about him after he hung up—comparing his mother’s cooking against Souji’s own while he ate, remembering the times Souji had made the dish for him, coming up with an evaluation to share with Souji after the meal was done…

“Your loyalty is appreciated.”

“All right, Partner, thanks for talking to me.”

“Yosuke? I’m sorry if anything I said was too weird.”

“All you ever say is weird stuff, man. I’m used to it.”

“Pfft, okay, bye.”

“Talk to you later!”

Yosuke hung up, and Souji finished off the crane he was working on, setting the red paper bird on his desk in a row with several other red cranes. He took a photo and sent it off to Yosuke with the caption: “It’s like your shirt.”

Satisfied with that, Souji stood up so he could go make his own dinner, but a text from Yosuke stopped him in his tracks.

Instead of a reply about his picture, he opened up an unexpected picture from Yosuke.

It was of his notebook, the one he had been doodling in at the beginning of their conversation.

The first thing that caught his eye was a big-headed (chibi?) doodle of himself (the distinct bowl cut was a dead giveaway) in the middle of the page, holding his sword and wearing his TV World glasses. He also appeared to be on fire? Or maybe that was a representation of Persona power?

Whatever it was, it was adorable.

Souji’s gaze flitted across the full page, his breaths growing more shallow as he took it all in: Izanagi and Jiraiya doing cool(?) action poses next to each other, a bento box that looked very much like the ones Souji used to prepare for Yosuke every day, a half-melted snowman wearing Souji’s grey scarf and Nanako’s Loveline hat, a Mega Beef Bowl from Aiya’s and stick figure versions of all their friends drowning in it…

It took Souji a minute to realize it, but every single doodle across the page was somehow related to himself, and the memories he and Yosuke shared together.

In the bottom corner of the page, one doodle was squeezed in that must have been the last one Yosuke drew. It was the two of them standing side-by-side in front of a house (but it didn’t look like any house that Souji recognized?) with their arms around each other’s shoulders. They were wearing big happy faces, and one of Yosuke’s arms was in the air, as if he was waving.

The circular sun with squiggly rays coming out of it was in the sky above them, smiling and wearing sunglasses, ironically. There was a thing in front of the house that Souji didn’t recognize at first until he saw the bike next to it; it was a half-pipe.

Then Souji squinted at another part of the doodle and zoomed in on the image, not quite believing his eyes.

In the front window of the house, there was a cat peeking through, big and fluffy just like Souji liked.

Was that supposed to be… their house?

“No way,” Souji whispered to himself.

Then he scrolled down to the caption and completely lost his breath.

“I think of you too.”

And with that, Souji’s fate was sealed—he was going to be thinking about Yosuke—his Partner who he was in love with (who thought about him too!)—nonstop for the rest of his life.

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pandoraborn · 4 years ago

Text

14 - IS SOMETHING BURNING? || branding. ||

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

It takes a day of planning. It takes a day of Henrik slowly working on Jackie in the lab, while Marvin gathers whatever supplies he needs with Amon’s help, the pair of them portaling around for herbs, crystals, and anything else that might be instrumental in opening a gateway to a fairy realm. It takes another few hours of rest, and it’s also awkward, because Amon is still avoiding Marvin whenever possible.

However, after sleep and food, Marvin can brush it off. Henrik had just announced that Jackie was still comatose, but finally reaching stable condition. The doctor had been down there for hours, so Marvin can only imagine what kind of stress and relief Henrik is feeling right now.

He pushes the temptation of rushing to Jackie’s side as he sets up the pentagram, with Chase’s help. He’s prepared for him and Amon to leave, but Amon holds up a hand, lifting his gaze to stare at Chase.

“I want Chase to come with me. Right now I trust him the most, and I know with a weapon on him, he can provide actual backup for me.”

“I don’t have my gun, Ames.” Chase looks uncomfortable. “Wouldn’t you do better with Jameson or Marvin?”

“I picked up a gun from Marvin’s apartment earlier,” Amon says. “You’ll have a temporary gun, and no, Marvin needs to keep the portal open, and Jameson needs to stay with Henrik. So you’re it. We’re going to find the hostages and get out as quickly and quietly as possible, the gun is a last resort.”

Chase sighs heavily. “Amon…”

“Chase, I am making a call, because someone else who’s supposed to be ‘leader’ isn’t doing a great job of it right now. Grab the gun from the kitchen table, and follow me. Marvin, open the god damned portal.”

Marvin doesn’t question it. He had been fine, but now he’s doubting himself all over again. He hates being so flustered and useless. Amon’s lack of faith is really taking a toll on him in ways it shouldn’t, but he doesn’t know how to stand up against Amon right now. If he were in the entity’s shoes, Marvin wonders how mad he’d be, too. He doesn’t say anything, he merely steps into the pentagram and starts chanting in an odd mix of Latin and Irish, feeling magic course through him almost painfully. He’s never had to properly open a portal to an entirely different realm before, and opening one to Tír na nÓg is taking a huge toll on his powers and energy supplies already.

He doesn’t know how long he’s chanting for, it feels like forever, but the magic flowing through him finally bursts forth, creating a flaming oval in front of him, revealing a darkened forest just on the other side. With the portal solidly in place, Marvin can let himself relax, only slightly. He still has to remain in place to keep the connection up; keep the magic flowing.

Which, thankfully, Jameson is there to help provide some of that. He’d gotten some shots of adrenaline. Which, while not ideal for Marvin, is better than nothing. There will always be plenty of time to rest after this is over.

“Alright.” Amon rubs his hands together. “Chase and I are going in to find the kids or Vin, whichever comes first. We’ll try to be fast so we don’t waste Marvin’s energy, but the portal has to stay open the whole time. Without it, we can’t get back easily. My own powers won’t kick in for a while yet.”

Chase notes mutely, clutching his borrowed pistol in his hands. He’s not really looking forward to being the chosen partner in this, but he’ll go along with Amon, because at least Amon has experience with otherworldly beings, being one himself. He moves closer to Amon, swallowing down whatever nervousness he can. In and out, quickly as possible. They should be fine, hopefully.

“Right.” Amon takes Chase’s hand and gives him a smile. “C’mon, after this is over, you can make me a sandwich.” It’s such a dumb statement, but Chase grins in spite of himself. It does work to cheer him up, slightly.

They say nothing more as they step through the portal. They can’t keep wasting Marvin’s time, because he has his limits. The pair are already in a forest, stopping next to what looks like a dirt path to Chase.

“It’s a road,” Amon says quietly. He crouches down and traces a finger along the dirt, pointing out grooves to Chase. “This is a carriage, and those look like hoof prints.”

“Hoof?”

“Like from a horse, Chase. Horse drawn carriages, keep up.” Amon straightens up and looks down one way, then turns to stare down the opposite direction. “The question is, which direction did they go?”

“Horses have weird shaped hooves,” Chase points out. “The U-shape. So, we look at the prints, right?”

“I knew that.” Amon makes a face as he crouches down again. “I don’t know animals.”

“Yet you know enough to know that horse drawn carriages are a thing. You really need to educate yourself on animals and anything Earth-related.” He rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I think you know a lot more than you want us ‘ta believe, and your idiocy is an act.”

“Which side of the hooves are we looking for? Is it the pointy ends we want to follow or the curved ends?” He glances up at Chase, finger circling around one such imprint. Chase stares at him for a whole minute before tilting his head to the side.

“The curved end, Ames. We wanna follow the curved end.”

“Then we go that way.” Amon points toward the left. “Because the carriage leads that way.” He grins, as if he’d just solved some great mystery. Chase pats him on the shoulder.

“Good job buddy, I’m proud of you.” He pulls his hand back and starts walking. “Think we’ll encounter anything ahead?”

“Probably not. It wouldn’t be like creatures to randomly appear in the middle of a road. We’d have to go into the forest for us to actually meet anyone.” Right as Amon says that, Chase can hear the faint sound of singing. He automatically turns his head left and right, trying to find where it’s coming from, but Amon grabs at him, tugging him along.

“No, don’t pay attention to it. Don’t pay attention to any sounds you hear, no matter how close they are. We’re in their land, we’re intruders. Just focus on finding where the tracks lead and nothing else, got it?”

Chase nods, lowering his head to stare at the dirt road instead. He wishes he had a pair of headphones to block out the melodic singing in the background, giving him thoughts of sirens luring pirates to their deaths. They’re not at sea, they’re not in a ship, but Chase has no doubt the fae would use whatever tricks they could to ensnare any intruder, and it’s increasingly harder to shut the sounds out.

They walk for what feels like hours. He feels heavier, like he needs to stop for a rest and sleep, but he wonders how much of it is adrenaline wearing off, or some enchantment he needs to fight. When he starts lagging, Amon grabs him again, urging him forward.

“Chase, look. There’s a small village up ahead.”

Chase blinks as he lifts his gaze, trying to focus in the sudden darkness. When had the sun gone down? Does the sun actually set in this realm? He’s starting to feel panicked as he leans against Amon for comfort, trying to ignore the doubt in his mind, telling him he should have stayed with Jackie.

“A village doesn’t-”

“It means everything. The carriage could have stopped here,” Amon points out. “We could have gotten lucky and found who we’re looking for immediately.” “My money’s on the kids,” Chase points out. “I highly doubt Cian can keep Vin locked up anywhere for long.”

Amon brushes that off as he continues. “We did use Marvin for the portal, and it could be that his love for the kids led us straight to them, or however his magic works. If it works properly.”

“You’ve got to stop sniping at him,” Chase grumbles. “It’s pretty obvious you’re mad at him.”

“Let’s see if we can’t find the kids. Bet Cian never would’ve expected either of us.” Amon starts jogging, excitement evident on his face. He says nothing more, and Chase doesn’t miss the abrupt subject change either. He narrows his eyes, but he’s glad for the distraction from the music anyway. Already he can feel energy returning to him as he starts jogging after Amon.

They stop in front of one such building. There’s no one in sight, and the carriage tracks seem to lead away from this particular building. It’s made of stone and wood, standing a little taller than the surrounding buildings. Clearly it has some significance.

The pair push open the door. It’s made of iron, and it creaks loudly when opened, causing Chase to cringe. He hopes no one’s around to hear that. But what he sees is...odd.

It’s a darkened room, no lights. There’s a weird mix of furniture that screams timeless to him. Candles as lights, filing cabinets, what looks like a front desk, complete with an office chair, only for there to be no electronics in sight. He definitely is not at home anymore.

“This is weird,” Chase whispers. “Why would this realm have modern things if they’re fae?”

“You know what, I don’t know. Maybe they’re trying to account for all times?” Amon shrugs. “I don’t know Chase, I just want to find Neb and the other two. Maybe they’re in here for all we know.”

“For all we know.” Chase huffs, smacking Amon upside the head. “Real genius plan you’ve got here, we’re in fae-land, about to be food, and you don’t even know what we’re doing! I’m taking charge now. We’re going ‘ta sweep the building, then get out and then backtrack. We’re not wastin’ a lot of time here when we’ve got Marvin at the helm. Don’t abuse his power because you’ve got beef.”

Amon lets out a sigh. “Sorry. Okay, when you say sweep the building-”

“I don’t literally mean sweep, I mean one lap around ‘ta check for anythin’ off.” Chase doesn’t bother sticking around for a reply. His concern is focused on Marvin now; he wants to get in and out as fast as possible before Marvin somehow collapses and they get stuck here for days more. He doesn’t want to be here at all.

He heads down one hallway, trusting Amon to follow him. It looks like a bunch of cells, which tells Chase this is probably the village’s prison. There’s still no one in sight, which means either an ambush, or-

“The doors are made of iron,” Amon whispers. “Fae probably don’t need guards when they’re trapped in iron boxes.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re still alone,” Chase hisses back. “Anyway, let’s go.”

“Hello?”

Chase freezes in place when he hears that voice. It’s female, it’s muffled, and it’s coming from behind one of the iron doors. He looks from door to door, feeling a cold sweat starting to bead on his forehead.

“Hello? We’re just hungry. Can we get food? Or a blanket?”

“Neb?” Amon calls back, keeping his voice low. “Neb is that you?”

There’s a long pause. “Amon?” Even muffled, her voice sounds like it’s trembling. The pair can hear a knocking sound that seems to reverberate around them, causing them to wince. “Amon we’re in here!”

“All three of you?” Amon approaches one of the doors, knocking in return.

“Yeah!”

“Alright, stand back from the door,” Amon says. He sharpens his nails into claws again, and even in the darkness, Chase can see his eyes shift to black. He’s glitching again, so Chase backs up as well. He watches as Amon sinks his claws into the door and yanks back, clearly struggling with the weight. A loud groaning sounds out; probably the door being pulled off the hinges. It’s too loud, too ear-splitting, and Chase has to swallow down a rush of irritation, directed toward Amon. Something in him wants to point the gun toward the entity to shut him up, to stop him from making a racket, and he gets as far as pressing his hand to the gun before he stops.

This isn’t normal.

He forces himself to let go of the gun right as the door is pulled free. Amon is sweating and panting as he retracts his claws, but Neb, Alphie and Erin are standing there, looking surprised, confused, with traces of anger in their expressions as well.

“Cian’s here,” Chase says rapidly. “We gotta go before we start tearin’ each other apart.”

“Wait, is that-” Erin starts to ask, but Amon just picks him up and starts bolting toward the exit. The other three are right on his tail, as they rush out of the prison, back down the dirt road until they feel the anger fading.

“We gotta get back, Jackie needs me,” Chase pants, doubling over. “Where’s the portal?”

“Is that a portal over there?” Neb points, looking ready to collapse herself. “I see something glowing.”

“Yeah,” Amon nods. “Yeah, we gotta go. We can’t stay anymore.”

The anger is starting to rise again, along with fear and panic. So Chase does what he does best in these situations: he grabs anyone he can and bolts forth, pushing them through the portal first. He pushes everyone through before they can react, leaving him as the last one in place. Not too far away, he can see the silhouette of what is unmistakably Cian approaching, so Chase fires his gun in that direction before diving through, landing on the living room floor.

“Close it, close it!” He rolls into Marvin to break the connection with his magic. The portal disappears too slowly, and a hand reaches through as if to grab someone.

Luckily, barely in time, the portal closes, and an arm, severed cleanly from the body, falls limply to the floor in the middle of the pentagram.

----------

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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X-Men Evolution Reviewcaps: Rogue Recruit

My series long look at X-Men Evolution rolls on as eveyrone’s favorite goth reworking of everyone’s faviorite southerner debuts. The X-Men and Mystique race to bring Rogue to her side after her powers accidently coma a boy. The X-Men try the usual compasion.. while Mystique just tries attempted murder and gaslighting while wearing a wolverine costume. Mother of the year! Meanwhile Kurt tries to get Kitty to likes him, Kitty does something profoundly stupid to prove Wolverine wrong that ends up proving him right, and Wolverine grumbles and is kind of an asshole. Well at least one of those is just an average tuesday for him. We’re going Rogue, Rogue, Rouuuuggeeee under the cut.

Onto episode 3 though this time I did actually get around to watching a few in a row, so while i’m not MILES ahead of this episode, I do have a better sense of where things are going and where this falls in line with everything else. And this is a big one as it’s the debut of Rogue, easily one of the shows more popular characters from what I can tell and it’s no real suprise. In most incarnations Rogue is a huge fan faviorite, with a tragic but very useful and intresting power that makes for good stories.. and okay in the comics and carton she’s also fanservice incarnate, but that’s not exactly a factor here so moving on. And here is no exception as naturally, with her goth apperance, and general moody outsider atittude, she was a huge hit with goths and emos one and all! And eveyrone really, it’s a good take despite being almost the oppsite of the angsty but still fesity and funloving 90′s version.. and the ironic part is BOTH are entirely accurate to the comics. And yes like the last time about to dive a bit into the comics.. but unlike the shiar thing this is throughly relevant to how the character is portrayed here and a neat history less for those not in the know, so buckle up.

What’s intresting is both adapt the character.. just at vastly diffrent points. See most probably think of Rogue as she is now: Bubbly, Scrappy and able to throw a man into a mountain, if still understandably mopey about not being able to touch anyone, thoguh that issues come and gone a dozen times by now because comic books can’t resisit undoing things to meet fan expectations despite most dedicated fans wanting some fucking change once in a while.

But that’s due to years and years of character development: When Chris Claremont first intorduced her, in an avengers annual no less.. she was a villain, a member of her adopted mother Mystique’s brotherhood of evil mutants, and unlike here, we’ll get into that, she was a fully willing member at first, gleefuly following her mama’s orders to drain the powers of one of Mystique’s most hated enemy: Carol Danvers, aka Ms Marvel and the future Captain Marvel. Yeah this one takes some explination for you non-comic fans, and even some of you comic fans who might not get how one of the more iconic x-men villians has personal beef with Carol.... granted i’m pretty sure half the marvel unvierse has personal beef with Carol in present day after Civil War II, especially tony for murdering him, but story for another time. It’s actually pretty simple: Chris Claremont was writer of x-men for a decade and easily the most important x-men writer period who created a ton of iconic and well loved characters and shaped Cyclops, Charles Xavier and Magneto into the characters fans know and love among others. And around the same time as his x-men run’s early years in the late 70′s, he was writer of Ms Marvel, and took Carol from a half hearted girl counterpart to the first Captain Marvel with a wonky two identties gimmick, into the asskicker and feminist icon we know today. As such Mystique debuted there and when that book ended, Claremont slided her over to the x-men and the rest is history. And this wasn’t an isolated incident: Sabertooth, aka wolverine’s arch enemy and one of hte more famous mutant baddies, debuted in, of all comic books, iron fist, with Claremont bringing him back years and years later as part of the mutant massacreing Marauders, while Misty Knight and Coleen Wing were breifly supporting characters in x-men inbetween Iron Fist’s cancelation and Iron Fist becoming bros for life with Luke Cage and forming the heroes for hire, bringing the two along as supporting characters in the process. It’s a process writers have contiuned to this day; Bringing a character from other unrelated comics in to keep them out of comic book limbo and one i’m in favor of: as long as their writing the character well and they fit why not. And like her momma Rogue DIDN’T debut in the pages of X-Men, but in Avengers Annual #10. And no Chris wasn’t writing avengers, though it wasn’t really unusual for another writer to hop in for one annual to pinch hit for the regular writer for whatever reason, with Chris Claremont being one of the few who wrote every annual himself for his run on X-Men. What was is he did so for one reason and one only: To get justice for Carol Danvers after a recent story had screwed her over BAD. Two things before we start: If you haven’t heard of this debacle, my apologizes and rape and abuse trigger warning. If you want to skip this portion of the review just ctrl f HIGHER FASTER FURTHER MORE and you can move right on past this clusterfuck and the aftermath. Anyways in Avengers 200, Carol gave birth via terribly contrived mystical pregnancy to Marcus, son of avengers foe and sometimes ally immortus and creepy asshole. Marcus is revaled to have brainwashed carol into loving him , and making love to him so yeah he raped her physically and mentally and the story ends iwth the “Happy ending” of him whisking carol away with him to his limbo dimension while everyone else is fine with it despite him admitting to using the “subtle manipulations of his machines” to make her love him. So yeah, he kidnapped carol to his limbo dimension, mind controlled her, had his way with her, had her give birth to him so he could come to earth then took her back with him.. and not ONE avenger raced a hand, shield, repulsor or hammer, and yes the big three avengers were very much present for this debacle and very much cuplable. IT’s a throughly disgusting hideous story i’ve only see played out thanks to Linkara, long time comics reviewer and all around sweet guy, reviewing it, though with the panels show to show yes all of this is there, and have no intrest in EVER reaading this vile piece of garbage. If your still curious or after just hearing about it want to see it torn to shreds, here’s the review for you.

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It’s terrible for a variety of other reasons. Naturally Chris, who’d put a LOT of time into building up carol and like any creator who sees their character throughly dragged through the mud, was PISSSSSED.. and so were fans who rightly rioted at the issue, so editorial was more than happy to let one of thier biggest draws right the ship and also allowed him to take Carol back home to the x-men with him. As for how that happened, after Rogue stole her powers, Carol fell in a river and was rescued by her best friend and fellow Chris Claremont alumnis Spider-Woman, Jessica Drew, who brought her to the x-men since she was a friend of theirs, where charles fixed her mind, though Carol was left with no emotoins attached to most of her memoreis. When the avengers, after scrapping with the brotherhood in some neat bouts, came to visit their friend.. Carol instead laid into them for letting Marcus take her, poitned out just how fucked up it was as well as how, and this actually happend, the avengers downplayed her concerns and tried to get her to connect with her demon spawn instead of worrying about her while others made jokes. Basically just one long page of chris claremont unloading on the issue and Carol unloading on her former friends before staying with her new ones. And to the issues credit the rest of the team. .takes it, is utterly devistated to realize what they’d done, and reflects on if they can ever make up for it or if they even deserve forgivness. She would eventually, mostly because people wanted to forget this story after that for good reason, but it’s still a damn cathartic moment. HIGHER FASTER FURTHER MORE.. so yeah Carol was now with the x-men, who did end up meeting Rogue during a mission to wipe themselves from goverment records for good reason. And to his credit Chris not only used Carol’s lack of emotions tied to her memories for good drama but gave carol a huge power upgrade as binary, if your curious as to where her glowy headed distctrugion of an entire starfleet in her solo film came from. So okay after about a paragraph not really involving her we get into why this is so important to rogue’s character; Rogue now had Carol’s personality and memories trapped in her head and her mind was blurring between them, something this episode would use, and was falling apart as a result and with her moms Mystique and Destiny unable to help a despearate scared and repetnant Rogue went to her last hope for help saving her sanity and her soul: The X-Men. The X-Men, having both fought her and bonded heavily with her victim, naturally were less than pleased about this, and Colossus outright attacked Rogue before charles stopped him, not unresonably given the circumstances. However after talking with her and realizing both how badly she needed her help and how genuinely she wanted to change, going from a brat in love with her own power to a scared young woman terrified of what she’d done and what she was becoming, decided to roll her into the x-men. And everyone revolted: Carol was understadanbly piss and famously punched Rogue into orbit, while the rest of the x-men threatned to walk. Charles however refused to back down and gave one of his finest speech and one of the characters best moments:

To me this is Charles Xavier, a man who will accept and try to help anyone, regardless of their past, because it’s the right thing.. because they deserve a chance and he will GIVE IT TO THEM. It’s a powerful and well done moment and the x-men relucntantly take her in as a result, eventually seeing her as family as she proved herself. So yeah THAT is why I took so long to get here and went through ALL of this: Because this series adapts this period in it’s own unique way, taking out Rogue’s outright villiany mind, but leaving in her being a moodier, more closed off person who is constantly afraid of once again stealing someone’s very soul. She still has her confidence, as idd the comics version, it’s just tempered by a wall she puts up between her and everyone else that wasn’t as present by the time the 90′s series adapted her. And there are other bits i’ll get to as we go and in future episodes, I just felt this story was important as it colors Rogue’s journey here, hence me taking a good portion of the review to dive into it and even then I have more bits to give as we go. So with all this exposition that’s probably lost ya’s out of the way, this is Rogue Recurit. Pitter Patter. We open in the mighty Missisipi, neighbor to my home state of missouri and home of the deep fried shoe. No wait that’s connecticut my mistake. We meet our unfriendly neighborhood goth moping outside, not really enjoying the dance and probably only having gone because her mom told her not to.. Destiny not Myistque mind. More on that in a minute. She’s being watched by two guys: Cody, who if you know your x-men lore you know this never ends well for him, and his friend uh.. let me check my noootes (Checks wiki while shuffling papers to simulate notes) Ty. Turns out Cody’s been starring at Rogue all week but dosen’t even know her name which to be fair, minus the muscles and being on the football team, is pretty much me in high school and is just as pathetic in 2000 as it would be from 2007-2010. I mean if I just went for it I PROBABLY would’ve been shot down, and the one time I did I indeed was, but at least I would of went for it and maybe learned more about women and not been such a dipstick for the next decade.... “sigh”

Point is Cody awkwardly asks Rogue to dance but like most cool kids, including the kind I hung out with in high school and tended to crush on, she’s there to look COOOOL and mope a bit.. and again tell her mom she can’t tell her what to dooooo. But Cody’s awkwardness and sincerty gets her to say why not, he means well.. a little pity dance can’t hurt. So they dance and then Ty causes this entire episode, yes really, by shoving Cody into her because they happen to be dancing seperatley because Cody’s a goddman gentleman ya maroon, and is respecting her personal space, and IS actually hitting it off as she seems to be enjoying herself. Had he not done that, he at least MIGHT have gottne a kiss before what happens next.. during the fall he accidently touches her skin, which had been mostly covered up and goes into a Coma while Rogue is now stuck in a stupor wondering who she is. Yeah as I omniously hinted at Cody is the guy in every version of Rogue’s origin story, including I assume the 2000′s one where until doing some research i.e. going to wikipedia then letterboxd to find out if his name was given, who she has her first kiss with.. and thus the poor sap who first gets hit with her absorbtion power and traumtizes her. And here it’s no exception. Cue the opening credits. Which despite this setting up the slow arc of Rogue joining htem.. has Rogue in an x-men uniform with the team. Not that the arc is particuarlly subtle about hiding it, we’ll get there but still. After the credits Ty is wondering what she did to him.. even though she barely moved when he fell on her, and Ty shoved Cody into him, and for all we know Cody just went into shock. He also easily could’ve fell on an epi pen or something.. I mean she could’ve stabbed him wiht one but that’s more of a candian thing than a southern thing.

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So Ty, who while understandably given Mutants aren’t public and Rogue herself had no idea still casued this by shoving Cody into her without thinking about if either had any medical conditions or if Rogue you know WANTED to phsyically touch him that soon, and yes diffrent standards and all but even 2000 this was stupid, decides to mess up things further when Rogue tries to run and tries to block the way. Now granted I get it on some level: For all he knows Rogue drugged his best friend and she needs to be there anyway to answer the police.. but counter arguments 1) She may have a record (She dosen’t) and while not having DONE anything may get brought up on charges anyway. 2) If she DID drug cody with a needle of something WHO SAYS SHE DOSEN’T HAVE MORE AND CAN’T JUST STAB YOUR DUMB ASS 3) she’s got a VERY distinctinve haircut with a white streak, wears a very specific outfit she probably son’t have time to change out of , and everyone there saw her. YOu can tell the police what she looks like. They will find her. No instead she tries blocking her and she football tackles him.. because Cody is a footballer because this show, much like Tommy Wiseau, weirdly loves football. though unlike the room most instances it comes up, the first episode, cody being one here, and a future episode where the objective is to get the ball from your opposing x-man, all make some sense versus “Let’s go put on tuxes and play football because that’s what friends do huhhhhh?”. But yeah THIS is why I brought up Rogue’s past: becuase this episode heavily uses the part where she had Carol’s memories.. and would occasionally get messed up between who she was, with one issue having her lapse into being carol to rescue her ex from capture, which he dosen’t take well for obvious reasons. This episode uses something similar with Rogue’s brain a bit fried from taking in cody and thus not being sure where she ends and he begins, which is a very intresting idea and was a cool wya to go about having her powers activate. I mean sure it’s the second time in two episodes a mutant’s powers have traumatically awkaned. but both were distinct and interesting and it’s a staple of x-men stories to have this sort of thing happen.

Meanwhile Rogue’s caretaker Destiny, who we flashed to a bit during the awakening of her powers, calls Mystque. I mentioned her ealrlier in jokes but for those unaware both here and in the comics Destiny is a pre cog, although sh’es an elderly woman in the comics, or rather was having died decades ago in real life, meaning she can see the fuuuuttureeeeee. And thus she saw what was about to happen but couldn’t prevent it. Mysitque is apparently railing her out on the other end over it.. and not in the fun way they usuallly do. And that’’s not crude ininsiuation.. in the comics.. Chris Claremont wrote them as a gay couple and only didn’t explicltly say anything because Jim Shooter was a homophobic moron, even if he had the common sense to stop the kitty and colossus thing because dear god why was that a thing, chaste or not dear god why. The point is Chris fully meant both as lesbians though Mysitque became bisexual under other writers, and the two finally kissed on panel, in flashback last year and Msique wanting her revivied, the x-men can come back from the dead now in comics and Xavier and Magneto refusing for complicated reasons I won’t go into here, and Desitny herself knowing they might not and telling her to burn Krakoa to the ground if she dosen’t get to come back is a major bubbling plot point that got set up earlier this year. So yeah I fully see them as a couple here. ANd yes mistue was with her even as an old lady, it’s really sweet and misty is also immortal so they’ve been together a long time. Also fun fact you probably dind’t need to know: Chris Claremont FULLY inteded to have it turn out the two were Nightcrawler’s biological parents. Mistque is a shapeshifter and can become a man after all.. I like to think that’s what happened here since thankfully the show decided NOT to go with the “kurt’s dad is a demon” explination from around the same time.. and yes that’s a thing and yes it’s fucking stupid and only ever worked under jason aaron who made Kurt’s dad into a pirate who raided heaven and lead to the x-men pirating up alongside a about to come back from the dead nightcrawler to kick his ass. And yes much like the misqute shapeshifting a dick to make a child being shopped around, this actually happened. Comics are awesome sometimes and I genuinely wish Destiny was kurt’s mom. Also yeah spoilers Mystique is nightcrawler’s mom here as usual, including possibly in the movies but it’s kept vauge in both timelines.

Destiny explains that while she kept Rogue’s powers under wraps, giving her a phony skin condition and having her wear skin covering clothes, she couldn’t keep her away from teenage things forever and figured she’d be fine.. she was wrong but hey her precontion isn’t something she can control and she can still see the fucking future, so it’s not like it’s a bad trade off. Myistque is of course coming to collect her but Destiny warns her that, naturally, the x-men are going to be there soon.

Speaking of the X-Men, Wolverine is breaking into the x-men mansion in a ninja costume while storm tries to thrwart hm. Yes there is actual context to this and he is a trained ninja so this fits.. yes really he apparentlyt rained with ninjas as part of his backstory and later had a samurai sword fight iwth his girlfriends dick of a dad twice and has had many since then since even with his claws the image of wolverine wielding a sword is fucking awesome. He crawls through the vents but Storm freezes them and he’s forced to enter the danger room and then tears some machines apart because chuck stops him because APPARENTLY their expesnive.. even though he can afford to buy his teenage son a sports car and himself a fucking rolls, so no Chuck I don’t see why Logan would assume you can’t afford to buy more death machines.

Scott rightly asks what the hell their supposed to learn from one of their teachers putting on his ninja robes and trying to sneak into his own house while another teacher tries to murder him. And yeah with enoguh episodes I can fully say my assement was accurate, and not only that this scott has a bit of a temper at times, being a bit quicker to fly off the handle while also having a clear sarcastic streak, something his comics counterpart would thankfully soon pick up and that’s come back in full under jonathan hickman:

It’s.. a long story.. a bunch of racist genocidal scientests decided to inject themselves with devolving serum to protect their project from the x-men.. okay maybe not that long a story. BUt I LIKE that this scott is flawed, but not enoguh to make him unlikeable just enough to round him out: He’s charming, empathetic and a tactical genius.. but he can also be hot headed, sarcastic and impulsive. I’ts a nice ballance that dosen’t prevent him from being likeable or useful to the team, but keeps him intresting and gives him room to grow. What I really am liking about the series so far is the team is fairly fleshed out.. except Jean and Storm unforuntantley as Storm really hasn’t gotten enough screne time to shine like her comics counterpart and Jean is just sort of “popular girl type a who’s sweet to everyone, but also still badass”. She’s still better than the 90′s cartoon, as she can actually do stuff more often and is a vital member of the team, and has mor eof a personality, but I hope we get more to her as we go. But otherwise the characters are layerd, flawed but likeable, and enjoyable to watch, and it helps with these earlier more awkard episodes, papering over the weaker aspects with strong character.

Anyways Logan explains why they did all this: both to show the kids how to infiltrate big complexes, which given most x-missions are “investgate a base of some sort wher eno good is coming of anything”, case in point the mission in the picture above, it’s a valid and useful skill, and to test the mansion’s security, suggesting since the vents are crawlable to electrify them and add poision gas. Storm objects to the poision gas part as well.. their only enimies besides mystique are two teenagers who while dicks don’t really deserve to choke to death. Wolverine’ relucntantly agreers.. he’ll get em next security update. Next timeee. Kitty meanwhile wonders if anyone else is freaked out and just gets blank stares.. a great gag and a great bit of character as she just joined and had a fairly normal life before all this. Kurt assures her she’ll get used to it, but his telporting over and offering popcorn fails to impress her and she nopes out of there, though Jean reassures him chicks will dig the fuzzy eventually. This is a nice nod to the comics where , with Kurt being the only non-human passing x-man, Kitty was afraid of him for some time, but slowly came around going from being horrified to him to defending him to evelangenlical lunatic reverend stryker, he was a preacher in the comics but no less vile or murder happy, telling him that kurt was one of the noblest souls she ever met after he angrily lambasted him as not in god’s will because you know, he looks like a demon.. and apparently is half of one but let’s ignore that bollocks shall we? Here i’ts more he’s coming on a bit strong on top of that, but it still works reconfigured like that. Anyways enough teen romance, to me my x-men as Charles needs the full team for a mission and it’s the first time we’ve HAD a full team mission which makes sense: Episode one only had two active x-men and one who just joined and episode 2 only needed a smaller team for both subplots so we split the team minus storm in half. Here we have our first full mission: To find Rogue as Xavier believes she’s a danger to herself and others.. which isn’t exactly wrong when her power can abosrb at a touch and she has two entirely diffrent minds overlaping in her head. I do questoin however going in full combat gear, as they do. Bringing it, no sweat what if someone shows up to attack them, their apparently aware of the brotherhood as of next episode... which makes little sense but whatever. But when they land they go out in full superhero gear which not only ends up playing into myistques hands , more on that in a bit but makes htem look super supscious. And this could just be wanting more costume action early on which would be fine.. if the previous episode hadn’t had jean in plain clothes to talk to kitty, because yeah most people freaked out about their powers probably wouldn’t assume the best of someone in tactical gear iwth a big x on their costume! Gah. I”m glad I went ahead simply to know the x-men do get smarter.. a little.

Anyways, that stupidity aside on the jet Kurt is flying for the first time with Scott proud of his skill saying he’ll be an ace.. and taking it back when Kurt starts driving with his feet.. even though to me that’s just as impressive as while he has that classic arms behind the head relaxed pose, he is still paying attention, has his feet on ten and two and, and it’s a fact that I forget sometimes: His feet are just as, or at least, almost as good at gripping as his hands. It’s why he can wall crawl like spiderman. Their llike gorilla feet but better. So yeah that joke dosen’t really land. Meanwhile it’s time for what an older man thinks two teenage girls talk about.. and I just noticed looking at the credits this episode is written by Simon Furman, one of the more renowed transformers creators and write of the UK comics and later the US comics, as well as the first few mini series and one shots for the first idw continuity.. granted the latter is a bit infamous for what he did to arcee, which I both don’t know enough about and don’t have enough time to get into here, nor have I read enough of his work to gush, but I sitll felt it worth mentioning. ANd it’s not uncommmon for comic book writers to write for animation: Greg Weisman started in comics before moving to animation with Captain Atom’s post-crisis solo series, Dwayne McDuffie had a rather sizeable career in comics as a writer and editor and returned to writing comics in the 2000′s for a stint, and Marv Wolfman helped make the treatment for beast machines, while Peter David’s done scattered episodes of various shows, most memorably for me Ben 10. So not a HUGELY uncommmon thing but still worth noting. Anyways legend or no, he still makes the rest of this scene awkward as Kitty fawns over scott, Jean ends up agreeing and in annoying fit of jealously kurt ports to the roof to do .. some sort of stunt to impress kitty and end sup having to come back in due to wind resitance, teleproting on her by accident and pissing her off. It’s not a terrible scene, as it shows some vunerablity in kurt and furhters the jean scott love triangle but in revisiting it it just feels a tad awkardly put in there, especially since so far kitty having a crush on scott goes nowhere and love triangle wise it’s more Jean, Scott and Rogue.. more on that next time. Wolverine mutters about kids in annoyance.. so for the first and probably last time in my existance I feel the exact same as wolverine for one shining moment.

Mysitque arrives and is angry at her wife for letting their daughter get away, Irene reitrates the dance thing.. you get it. Luckily having a precog for a wife is handy for more than timing your orgasms to happen at the same time, and Irene knows she’s going to Cody’s hosue which she thinks is her own and that’s where we see her next. Now while this episodes quality is mixed... I do like this element of Rogue torn between two identites not sure which is her.. it’s thorughly intresting and hasn’t been used enough in adaptations, though the 90′s series did do a good job with it’s own take of having Carol and Rogue fight for Rogue’s body.

At any rate wolverine attacks.. wow jesus wolvie I know you don’t like kids but this is a bit far.... at least go back home and take it out on duncan if you need to murder a teenager sheesh. Of course it’s actually mysitque whose trying to make her afraid of the x-men, shifting into storm next. It’s not a terrible tactic.. it has specific faults i’m saving for the end, but in the short term using the x-men in costume to scare her, then having Irene show up and tell her their mutant hunters.. it’s not bad. It also nicely back fries when the x-men arrive, charles unable to pointpoint her due to her brain being scramble, and end up going down the alleyway with Wolvie in tow causing her to book it.

Kurt, whose really on the ball outside of the plane stunt this episode, comes up with a better plan than “Chase the frightened teenager around missiipi and hope it works” and realizes since she’s clearlys cared of logan, even if they don’t know why he can try talking to her while in inducer form. Logan relucntantly agrees but tells kurt to keep an the rookie, i.e. kitty which pisses her off. Remember this for a second from now.

So Kurt.. actually succeeds in calming her down, pointing out he like her was once freaked out, that being diffrent is okay etc, usual line but it works.. then ... yeah that second from now is now now as Kitty decides “she dosen’t look so tough” AND TACKLES ROGUE. Who they know has the power to absorb things by touch even if she’s mostly covered, and who was about to turn to their side. Just because Logan, it turns out CORRECTLY, insulted her. Just.. jesus this is bad writing.. Kitty isn’t this obnoxious or usless later on and while she could sometimes fuck up in the comics..it was less noticable since she was the ONLY teenager, and still once fried a demon with a jet engine. Here? She hasn’t done any of that so she just comes off as a dumbass brought on a mission too soon who causes her friend to not long after this get his powers absorbed by rogue.. though weirdly she dosen’t get his blue skin, which annoys me a bit but whatever. Animation budgets. Point is kitty lost their target and got kurt comaed. Kitty paniced realizes she can reach the professor telepathically, and we do get a great gag of her doing so too loud, while Logan grumbles about not going with them.. which is a godo point.. why didn’t he just.. you know take the costume off. even if she panicked if she learned who he was later, they would at least have her on the plane and could easily knock her out gently, especially logan since he recovers fast and would the instant his healing factor came back, and then deal with her panic and her fear of them they didn’t know about back home versus here. He didn't even have to come with her just hang towards the back in plainclothes. Instead his telling Kitty she sucks caused her to prove that assessment accurate. So Charles goes to help while Storm, Cyclops and Jean continue the search They find her and Jean shows her empathy again, and I have to admit the character really isn’t that bad in moments like this.. the only reason I ragged on her coming to kitty last time is she made the rookie mistake of telling Kitty about her telepathy, which, while better sooner than later, was done so clumsily it backfired. Here.. she genuinely and softly talks to Rogue, and offers her a communicator which looks like a neuralizer for some reason.. seriously why not just hide it in a compact or a watch or something Chuck? But that aside i’ts a nice moment.. that storm accidently ruins by showing up and terrifying her away. Yeah that’s PART of my problem with the episode right there is jwhile it changes up setting and what not it’s still just “The x-men find Rogue , get her calm, then she runs when one of the x-men mystique traumatized her with shows up”. It just gets old fast despite some clever switches here and there.

Thankfully we’re at the climax and since Mystique saw all that she shifts into Cyclops.. and up until now I haven’t mentioned this but it becomes a glaring issue here: Mystique’s dialouge when shapeshifted when coming up is basically variations of I’M GOING TO KILL YOU. Which not only is a bit dull, as she apparnelty knows the x-men and at least could make them sound like evil versions of the people we know but also REALLY dumb... again i’m saving this for the end of the episode because it all comes together with her endgame for Rogue, but even if you haven’t watched the show given what’s happened with Toad and Avalanche you can probably guess. But yeah while watching I WAS going to lambast her for not using Jean.. but she’s actually clever here, using Scott who Rogue hasn’t met to unerve her already, then shifting into Jean to take back the chance she offered. IT scares Rogue out who naturlaly books from Jean.

Rogue then touches storm.. and Cyclops promintently craps himself as he realizes “Oh shit an already scared and psonically scrambled teenager just got an omega mutant’s levels power but with none of the experince and 80 times the angst”. So yeah Rogue’s powers spin out of control in what’s a great sequence and she hit sa transformer but ends up running. Xavier decideds to call this one a wash, and can’t find her anymore anyway as Cody has faded and decide she has to come willingly. Kurt reawakens to Kitty’s delight. Yay that mildly annoying subplot is done. We end at the school and this is what i’ve been building towards folks: Myistque enrolls Rogue in the school, comersrates on magneto on a job well done and Rogue looks at her commincator. And now for the reason I was a bit patient on this: Mystique’s plan is really shortsighted and dumb. Now pretending to be the x-men, that works.. but her impersinations are so shallow, ESPECIALLY for an experinced shapeshifter that the minute Rogue gets to know any of the x-men, her entire facade will start to crumble. Or if she touches one of them and gets their memories.. which never happens even when she borrows one of their powers next time but hey. Instead of making the x-men seem like gaslighting manipulators she makes them seem like petty murderous villians.. when 5 minutes with Scott or jean or just watching either will cure that. And sure as we see next time she TRIES keeping her from talking to them for too long.. but as we also see school projects happen and she can’t control EVERYTHING without raising some red flags with her faculity. She’s principal, if a teacher’s supscious she’s abusing a student she brought in, they hopefully won’t hesitate to call someone to look into it and as a shapeshifter running a dodgy mutant milita made up of students you brought in that’s the last thing you fucking want. It’s really not even a remote surpise this only lasts three episodes before she turns, and makes me question why do this arc if it’s going to be so half assed? In the comics Myistque was not only a master planner, even getting her team jobs as goverment enforcers when she realized being anti-human terrorists in a very racist climate was just going to get them all killed, but she also CARED about Rogue and her using empathy and kidness on TOP of the manipulation would make Rogue trusting her so much make more sense than “Well it’s you or the attempted murderers”. It’s just really fucking sloppy and to it’s credit Wolverine and the X-Men ended up doing this sort of plotline 80 times better, with Rogue being a villian for a while AFTER the x-men had broken up, left her with nothing, and things had only gotten worse for mutants.. and I think bein ga double agent, it’s been a while, but her reasons for turning there feel natural in comparison to this. The x-men aren’t much smarter as they only connect the dots that maybe it’s a shapeshifter, a shapeshfiter I belive xavier, storm and wolverine alread know about and coul’dve told the students. Gah.

Final Thoughts: This episode isn’t very good and in reviewing it I really realized it when it took me 4 or so diffrent sessions to finish this thing. While it has good parts, like a lot of ROgue’s stuff, the danger room break in, it’s held back by stupid decisions, a stupid villian plot, and a waste of great POTETIAL stories for a half assed one from a writer who clearly can do better and a show that will soon enough. Glad to finally be done with this one.. I might not come back to evolution for a second, but when I do I promise it won’t take this long.

Next Time on X-Men: Evolution: Blob debuts, crushes on jean to an obssesive and quickly very stalkery degree and also nearly murders duncan with a locker... so he’s clealry a mixed bag. Meanwhile Scott and Rogue get paried up on assigment and Paul wears out his welcome Like this if you enjoyed it, I have other x-men evolution reviews in the x-men tag on my blog, as well as other animation goodness, and if ther’es an episode of another x-men show, including the gifted and legion as i have hulu, or marvel show in general you’d like me to cover just drop me a pm to comission it for a reasonable fee. ANd until next time, courage.

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amratsu · 5 years ago

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alright these girls have haunted me for about a whole month now time to break it all down for anyone vaguely interested in them

hololive/vtuber 101 below the read more

THE FUCK IS HOLOLIVE?: An idol agency except all of its roughly 20 or so girls are youtube streamers who have their identity protected by a live2d avatar. They recently had a very fun live concert and all of them have or will have 3d models, but the majority of content is just them streaming whatever's their fancy at the time. (As of 2/17/2020 a lot of them play a lot of ARK, thank Coco for that) Therefore, they're part of the new form of niche culture called Vtuber.

THE FUCK IS A VTUBER?: Virtual youtubers. Like a normal streamer but, again, live2d portrait instead of their actual face. That's basically it. Content is about as varied as any other youtuber.

ALRIGHT, WHO WE GOT?: Hololive's split into OG Tokino Sora, the girls alongside her who are also primarily 3d, and then 'generations'. Just plug in their names and you'll find their channel easy. Again, variety differs between all the girls, but expect a lot of Nintendo games, chat streams, karaoke, and Minecraft across the board.

-Tokino Sora OG mom slash idol, debuted all the way back in 2017. Probably the only proper idol in all of Hololive. Warm, friendly, relaxing. She mostly does 3d variety streams and song debuts so she's hard to follow without advanced japanese.

-Roboco(-san) Pose happy killer robo with a notably smokey voice and calming demeanor. Plays a large amount of minecraft and first-person games in general; recent streams include ARK, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon remaster, Apex, and Fortnite.

-Sakura Miko ELIIIITE MLG miko idol with a tendency to swear a bit. High energy, fully embraced 'press f', gives herself sunglasses during streams, great friends with Pekora. Also notably into eroge. Did a full playthrough of Papers Please lately and is one of the most addicted to ARK (21 streams at around 4-5 hours each.)

1st Generation -Yozora Mel Sleepy vampire with the occasional killer instinct. Soothing, gentle, kind of lewd. Very much into nintendo games with Smash, Ring Fit, SwoSh, and Mario Kart being her latest content, but she's a little slower with the output. Part of the lewd blonde club with Aki, Haato, and Choco, who were demonetized until recently.

-Aki Rosenthal Cyber elf with detachable twin tails. Pretty similar to Mel in disposition, though less sleepy and more...I want to say 'fantastical'. Recently gained popularity due to her buck naked superhuman beefcake character in ARK, with Kerbal, Go Home, and some ASMR rounding out the rest of her content.

-Natsuiro Matsuri Eternal 17 year old cheerleader from the class next door, Matsuri is a high energy raging lesbian who's also a complete sweetie. Her infamous bandaid clip is what got a lot of western fans into Hololive. Plays a wide variety of games but also twitcasts at random times of the day like when she's in bed or in the bath, just to chat with her viewers about what's on her mind. Well loved.

-Akai Haato The ESL transfer student, girl next door, Haato is, well, exactly that. Commonly traveling for studies, Haato is a bubbly girl with a fine sense for aesthetics; you'll catch her making elaborate builds in Minecraft or playing visual novels during streams, along with a smattering of other games. Notable in that she's the only girl that'll do purely English streams, likely to help with her own education. Also kind of a baka.

2nd Generation -Minato Aqua Disaster masochist maid who's actually stupidly good at video games sometimes. She's both mischievous and hard working, massively popular in China, and, again, stupidly good at games. Soulsborne speedruns, PUBG, ARK (also one of the most addicted), Minecraft (seeing a pattern?), League if you catch her bilibili streams...but she's also the one who will spend a stream calling the other girls and asking them to bully her. Wild card gremlin.

-Murasaki Shion Genius mage who doesn't do a lot with her magic. Pretty well known for her 'neeeeeee', with a distinctly smug avatar/voice. Pretty good at games too, with a variety of Pokemon, retro games, Minecraft, Smash, horror, Mario Kart, etc. Excellent singing voice too, would recommend her covers.

-Yuzuki Choco The totally-not-a-succubus demon nurse at your highschool, Choco embodies :sweating:. Obviously she's lewd, but there's also a silly and petulant side to her that's fun to watch too. ASMR is her specialty. She's also, surprisingly, really into Dead By Daylight, so if that combination sounds fun to you hit her up.

-Oozora Subaru If Haato is the girl next door, Subaru's the bro next door. A very down to earth but energetic and sporty tomgirl, she recently spent three streams and sixteen hours on trying to take down Sans. Other recent things include Live A Live, The Witch's House, and GTA. Refreshingly easy to relate to compared to the other girls sometimes.

-Nakiri Ayame Hello, honored humans~ Hololive's millenium old oni. Has a peculiar way of speaking, especially in her pronouns, which lends a certain charm if you can got on board with it; happy go lucky, easy to like, and really cute on top of all that. Recently recovered from sickness (as of 2/26) so was the last to get on the Ark craze, she's actually very fond of multiplayer games as a way of 'getting to know mortals'. Apex Legends, Mario Kart, Splatoon, etc.

GAMERS: A sort of generation on its own, and also a kind of weird designation when all the girls game so frequently. Oh well!

-Shirakami Fubuki Fox. Not a cat. Super cheerful, makes a lot of weird noises that people turn into youtube poops (that she encourages), and also a helluva gamer. Plays plenty of battle royales, ARK, and of course Nintendo/Minecraft stuff. Infamous for her absolute feral hunter instincts in Project Winter, where she commonly massacres the entire map on her lonesome when she's the traitor.

-Ookami Mio Mom wolf who has to play tsukkomi (straightman) to basically all of Hololive sometimes. Which makes it all the more hilarious during her semi-common charisma breaks, like during Haato's recent English Exam stream. Has been into EDF, Pokemon, Ghost Trick, and Splatoon lately.

-Nekomata Okayu The sleepy smug cat with the most chill personality. Notably very, VERY close with Korone, and in general kind of a playboy in general. Never denies it or any of her myriad transgressions though. Her Mother 2 run has been fun recently, but really you could just tune into her frequent chat streams and relax that way.

-Inugami Korone Dog. An oddball who kind of just goes at her own pace, playing all sorts of weird games like Nyanpo (the pokemon prototype) and weird PS1 retro games. Shows a disturbingly violent side sometimes; her ongoing Blasphemous run and recent RE4 runs have shown how much she's into that kind of stuff. But also she's still a dog, so really don't worry.

Inonaka Music: -AZKi AZKi is closely associated with Hololive but is really more of her own thing, being even more idol than Sora is. Doesn't stream much if at all, has her own album out, does music collabs more than anything else, etc. Helluva singer though.

-Hoshimachi Suisei The vtuber idol who's totally not a psychopath, and totally a goddess at tetris. Like Fubuki, made a name for herself with her psychotic rampages in Project Winter, and also very much unfazed by horror games. Really fucking good at tetris too, doing 98v1 streams lately in Tetris 99, and a godly songstress too. Her karaoke streams are to die for.

3rd Generation: Also known as Hololive Fantasy. These girls are particularly close to each other. If you can find translated clips, I definitely recommend their host club streams where they compete in seducing other Vtubers. (Yes. That's serious)

-Usada Pekora AH^HA^HA^. You'd think she was a cute rabbit, but no! It's a Tewi level shitposter combined with some legit video game skills. She likes playing the heel deliberately just for shits and giggles, like when she nearly walked off with Miko's Nether Star. She's in fact very close to Miko, their relationship being both great friends and great rivals. Definitely one of the most addicted to ARK too; she's been making headway in conquering the ocean.

-Shiranui Flare Handsome half-elf archer, Flare's the designated tsukkomi of the third generation. She's definitely the most down to earth of them, charismatic to boot, and does as she pleases with a relaxed personality and husky, smokey voice. Very very VERY close to Noel. You'll find some really fun playthroughs of various action games like Dark Souls, Bayonetta, and Sekiro on her channel, and thanks to her picking up game mechanics fast they're fun to watch for anyone.

-Shirogane Noel Knight Captain of the Shirogane Knights, Noel's...kind of an airhead, actually. But she's definitely a pleasant, softspoken sort of person who's incredibly relaxing to listen to. Also a big eater, you'll hear her talk about beef bowls and muscles a lot. Just try not to stare too much at her 'pectorals.' As mentioned, VERY close to Flare (they just had a two day long date to a ryokan). Plays whatever with no focus in particular.

-Uruha Rushia The cute, soft, innocent apprentice necromancer, Rushia occasionally comes out of the gates roaring with rage filled screams before chilling out. An absolute cutie though, who loves her fans very much (though really every Hololive member does), her attempts to be cool and reliable lend to some great comedy. She's got a great singing voice if you can find one of her bilibili streams, and otherwise plays a wide variety of things.

-Houshou Marine A~hoy~. The completely safe for work, modern, not-cosplay eternal 17 pirate...and everything I just said was a lie. Most of it anyways. Marine's a riot of a lady with an incredibly dirty mind and dirtier motor mouth, great voice acting ability, and knack for art that she'll happily show off (among other things). Definitely one of my favorites, you'll find plenty of chat and art content on her channel, along with some of the most Ark addiction and a full array of Touhou game playthroughs.

4th Generation: Hololive's newest five girls, it's been a month and change since they debuted. They're notable for working together on some of the most wild content Hololive's put out so far, all helmed by a certain dragon. But we'll get to that.

-Tokoyami Towa The little devil that does whatever she wants, Towa's known for a couple of other things at this point: refreshingly honest personality, Pokemon playthroughs with an eclectic choice in team comp, and her charmingly atypical tomboy voice (though her mic's not amazing). Great singer, super funny if you can find the rare translated clip of her, and was an absolute menace at the recent Hololive werewolf/mafia game. How she managed to fake being a Seer from day one and nearly win, I'll never know.

-Tsunomaki Watame Hololive's bouncy sheep. Ram? Something like that. A very girly, friendly, lightly ara-ara personality, she's an honest and open with her feelings sort of girl. Earnest laughter at chat and games, real emotional tears while watching the live concert with her generation mates, Watame's a total sweetheart who streams a bit of music everyday as the pre-show to Coco's Morning Shitposts (official name). She's also gotten very close to her senpais in some regards...but above all she likes singing, chilling out in Minecraft, and recently playing through a couple Kirby games.

-Himemori Luna If you want to see a completely innocent cinnamon roll looking character say things like 'ass' and 'don't f*cking take crystal m*th', Luna's your gal. Her high pitched, almost childlike voice takes a bit of getting used to but she's a sweetheart that just has fun no matter what she's doing. But she'll also say a bunch of really funny shit while doing it just from sheer juxtaposition of her voice/appearance and the vocabulary. Surprisingly good at video games too.

-Amane Kanata PP Tenshi. Perfect Pitch, Powerpoint...Kanata's a bit of a sheltered honor student sort of girl who has an incredible vocal range, so much you'd be forgiven for thinking she was a professional voice actor or singer. She loves playing along with jokes even if she doesn't get them some times, and is really close with Coco. If not for said dragon she'd be the biggest memelord in the 4th generation, but alas; her channel has lots of collabs with fellow members and a series of cute 'research' videos on the various generations of Hololive. Unfortunately untranslated though.

-Kiryuu Coco The one, the only, the President of Nishinari herself, Coco has been a force of nature since she debuted. Her vulgar sense of humor, rapid fire jokester nature, fluent English speaking, and complete conversion of Hololive to the wonders of dinosaur taming in Ark has made her one of the most subscribed girls in a matter of weeks. Every day at 6am JST or 1pm PST, she does a quick 20 minute gig called Coco News (officially translated as Coco's Morning Shitpost) where she reports on the various ongoings in Hololive. This ingeniously brings attention to the silly crap everyone's been up to, really fostering a sense of community between the girls you don't see elsewhere, while also being a riot to watch as she roasts everyone for their silliness (with full permission). Other notable memes include her stalwart boycotting of Nintendo Switches, her desire to fund a Hololive house, and her recent Hitman 2 run.

#Hololive #Virtual Youtuber #Inonaka Music

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mikkock · 4 years ago

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Hey hi your murder mystery art is super totally cool and amazing and I'd like to Extra! Extra! hear all about it *rattles bells*

haha wow i cant believe ud ask me THIS! unbelievable! now im gonna have to make a long post!

all info under the cut cause im kind like that ♥

For reasons I felt like making a Fancy Ass murder mystery story, with you know, hella complex secret storylines and everyone having drama and shit, and one person died but the more the story goes the less people care about who did the murder and the more they want tHE JUICY DETAILs. X and Y had an afFAIR you say!!! well that’s thousands time more interesting than that murder that happened, who cares about the culprit its not like any of us are going anywhere anyway! tell me more about the marital issues!

The ultimate Vibes are Clue (the game, ya kno, it had a movie too, and that movie was shot with three different endings -fun fact- so that movie theatres could play one alternatively that way people wouldnt get spoiled or even if they did they would not get the ending they were spoiled or even if all three were spoiled you couldnt know which ending you were getting anyway, big dick move, cause its an old movie and film is expensive, also that movie stupid and campy, ALSO I ONLY LEARNED MAKING THIS AU THAT IN ENGLISH THE GAME’S CALLED “CLUE” wE CALL IT CLUEDO therefore my wip playlist is called cluedo. because. fuck it.)(i just have an emotional attachment to that game i even had a cd rom video game version and it was the spookiest shit for a 6 years old, trust me, i played it so much tho i didnt even understand the rULES i was just making scenarios like gathering the characters in rooms n making conversations outloud cause honestly the banter is the best part of a murder mystery) ANYWAY that sure is a whole paragraph of tangent.

BUT YE the inspo from the Clue game. you can tell it from the Colours obviously, everyone’s colour codded.(even everyone’s name is colours as well you’ll see it’s real dang fancy! im just remaking that game but with 2932020 characters and more behind the scenes drama and also for gay people.)

So BASIC PLOT!

Sir Belyy, the dude in white, is The Rich Powerful Respected Fancy Boss, and he throws a Fancy Reception Party with his closest friends and associates to celebrate the opening of a new branch of his business. All the lads gather in his wonderful little very isolated mansion in the middle of nowhere, like ok he got a death wish or something or he’s very trusting of his business partners, but not a good move, cause in the middle of the reception, as A Phat Storm Starts (for plot convenience, we going with a campy vibe if you couldnt tell), his body is found, it’s awful, there’s a killer on the loose! All the guests gather, and attempt to maybe contact the authorities, to not avail, since The Storm ya know, phone lines are Broken my dude. Its clear that the culprit is among them, since no one could have entered the house, or left it (cuz once again, ThE sTORm). And then it’s all about interrogating each other, distrust, alliances and betrayal, revealing one’s deepest secrets when they form an alibi and revealing someone else’s deepest secret for they could be a motive! Meanwhile there’s a dead body in the mansion just chillin there.

So as I mentioned, I changed everyone’s name to be colour related (or ya know, food or flowers of that colour cause sometimes a colour in a language would not work as a name given the way names work in that culture all that jazz) which is the trippiest thing cause tHATS NOT YALLS USUAL NAMES but its fun (also changed so many ages hgfhs it was a trip)(still no one’s really old i guess i got boomerphobia). The “Cast” is clearly the most important part, and if ur a True “My OCs” Connaisseur (hdfghd the most useful skill to have, knowing *MY* Charactersdshgd) you may have recognised some faces and can already read some vibes and predict who will be progressing the plot and who will be yelling at people throwing accusations ghdfgd.

(god i wish i hadnt slacked off making the portraits of everyone in that AU i only have 3 tho that’s so sad so ill just make little sketches just cause <3 only text??? i got too many hoes with no attention span for that)

Sir BELYY (the one who dIEs lmao)

(bust shot missing the fact that this man is the tallest beefiest lad around)

Intimidating, powerful, composed, wealthy, carries the name of a family who has generations of control to it’s reputation, he’s The Man that hoes who believe in the economy wishes they were. As in, the “self made” man who only just happened to benefit from having a wealthy background to uplift his plans. In his youth, he wanted to prove his worth, seperated himself from his father, started a business, that business became big, then got attached to the family’s business, bam back to square one but with Reputation now. There seemed to be VERY big tension between him and The Father, some speculate it had to do with his unknown mother, and some family drama there, and it never got resolved as old man Belyy died quite young (the jUICY speculations are that current sir Belyy mURDEREd old man sir Belyy, fucked up if true!). People love him though in general, as he has that reputation of “Cold Lad With a Gold Heart” aka he takes people under his wings, donates, doesnt treat his employees like the absolute worst garbage etc... you know, he’s rich and a half decent person, so obviously he’s an angel on earth. But does it matter though, he’s dead! that’s the concept of the story!

Mr.GRAY (the grey guest)(who could have guessed from the name)

He’s one of Sir Belyy’s oldest employees, and benefits from a high rank in the company. But, sadly for him, he’s been stagnating lately, as newer, youngest employees seem to have Belyy’s favours, and are his prefered associates for important tasks and positions. Therefore he has Some Bitterness, Some Salt, Some Distaste, some unbriddled but professionally muted hatred for Specific people in the company. He can be an antagonistic figure, but the amount of time he spent in Belyy’s circle grants him an immense quantity of information about the man, but mostly, about his business. Anything about the company’s history, dealings, operations, he’s aware of, either having been told of them, or having snooped around to obtain, immune to being questioned due to his legitimacy in the company.

Mr.LIM (the green guest)

Remember when it was said that Gray had beef with some employees cause they were younger and rose to high ranks faster than him and became Belyy’s favourite over him? Yeah well here comes the one he hates the most for that (ofc he’s belyys fave cuz he’s Mine <3) Our lad caught Belyy’s attention for his Exploits in like, em fancy high school tournaments of smart people, it’s a thing its ridiculous, making kids compete on Smart stuff for the pride of their schools n shit, well homie Lim got clout when doing that, and Belyy was extremely interested cause that kid’s main thing was how “this young lad got mad strategic skills tf are u a war general or smth how fancy”, and that’s a coveted skill for ruthless business. So as soon as the kid is an adult, bam, join the company my dude. And because he’s just that Cool n Sexy ofc he met the expectations Belyy had, and old man Belyy got attached cuz it do be such a young lad, a kid, mentally i am adopting. That’s how you get a youngas employee becoming the right hand man of one the phatest CEO in a few years, and even make your way into being a Good Lad on top of a business partner. And that’s how you get Gray to hate your ass too. Now though, fine lad with mad strategic skills, rising to power that fast, and even infiltrating Belyy’s private life? If I were Gray I’d call suspicion there’s surely some shady stuff going no way we’re just dealing with a nice fella who just happens to work good and be friendly to the boss right?

Herra MUSTA (the black “guest”)

Belyy’s newest butler, assistant, house keeper, he multitasks. His family has been tied to Belyy’s for generations, fullfilling roles of help, but also of confidents. He’s been the head butler since only a short time, after his mother passed, and as such is still “in training” you could say, despite having served the family his whole life. There are rumours going around that the contract tying his family to the Belyys may end on his generation and need to be resigned. He known the manor by heart, and carries all keys to any locked room (and mostly, The Master Key, cause in an old house, some doors may be locked beyond all still existing keys). He also knows secrets of the family that no one else knows, but good luck getting em out of him, he’s under contract not to divulge em bro.

Mr. HASSEL (the brown guest)

Belyy’s childhood friend. They grew up together, pictured their dreams together, sworn to flourish together, worked together when starting the company, and then Hassel felt he should create his own thing instead of depending on his friend’s existing wealth, and while Belyy’s business went wild, his never took off. They still stayed very close, despite the massive difference in wealth. Belyy considers him his closest friend, the one person he can trust (fucked if hassel did the murder lemme tell u). So of course, he’s still always invited to the Prestigious meet ups where’s he’s free to feel uncomfortably out of place amongst all the rich and powerful people that he could have been a part of had he had a tiny bit of luck and a small loan from a wealthy relative...People LOVE saying he’s still hanging out with Belyy so much to leech off his wealth, cause of course they do! His bestie status means he has a whole different brand of information of Belyy than his butler does, the Most Intimate Stuff, the Childhood Stuff. The Juicy stuff ya kno...But Bro Code, its all secrets...

Sir RUZH (the red “guest”)

Deep dive into Belyy’s personnal history, the man has many employees working at his house keeping it working, clean, ya know the vibe. They live on the premice, one has a kid who’s just a Joy to be around, all the employees just vibe with that lad, he’s just a born socialite you know? Belyy gets to meet the kid, and also hella vibes with him. And because human are influenced by their feelings, he gives the kid’s mum a bit of a preferencial treatment, in the tasks she fullfils and all, til he gives her an important-as mission, and then there’s an accident n mama dies, and now Belyy got guilt and there’s this kid who just Vibes. So naturally the move is to take the kid in, and play on how his vibes are just so clean, and raise him to be the Perfect Entertainer for guests, bam, its soft power propaganda, if everyone loves your now son’s vibes, they associate them with you too. And also that’s kind of a clean rep, the selfless man who adopted his employee’s son to not have him fall to the streets, how heartwarming. Not at all traumatising for the kid too I bet! But anyway now the lad is just the most charming young adult, mission accomplished. He’s always present at any reception, ready to work his people-pleasing magic, and then going back to a gigantic empty manor to wait for the next and curate the perfect vibes to meet the expectations of dad. On the plus side, he knows everyone, and those who don’t know him cannot wAIT to, he’s just got that aura ya know. People skills for miles, and the insider knowledge that comes with being the son of the CEO, all this hidden behind the personna of the fresh innocent bashful party lad.

Dr.FEN (the pink guest)

Do not get mistaken by the title, he’s no doc, he will not diagnose you with anything, he just studied long enough to get the sexy title. Study in what? Haha. Nothing shady. Just toxicology. He’s a world reknown poison expert basically, that’s his main thing. Oh but don’t worry, of course studying substances that may kill people is only for finding out how to cure them from it of course. What brings him in this circle? Simple, Belyy may or may not have started to suffer some weird illness that no doctor has been able to find the source, let alone cure, of. Him and Dr.Fen had met previously on some event, cause some rich man also love flexing how smart they are and attending sciencey shit, and he was contacted as sort of a shot in the dark. The lad does know how to treat some things, maybe he can treat The Mysterious Unwellness, since no traditional doctor was able to. He knows science, he’s trustworthy, bam, you’re hired to work on My Case Exclusively. Thanks to this, Dr.Fen has access to the whole health history of Belyy and his family, to many mANY dangerous substances, and also has The Respect of the hoes at the party. He HAS a doctorate after all. Epitome of knowledge. And he’s a kind to people and he wears pink like dang how can you nOT pour your wHOLE trust in him.

Sir MOREVITCH (the blue guest)

Youngest son of an affluent family, who used to be close the the Belyys. The two families fell slightly appart after the death of the previous head of the family on the Belyy side, as they do nOT vibe with the current one (well current, til the first night of the story ig). But, unbeknownst to all, one strong link had been kept, between the youngest of the Morevitch, who dislikes his family and wishes to emancipate himself from them while also assuring his depart will not throw him basically in the streets, and our beloved Sir Belyy, who also dislikes the Morevitches but loves to see the rebellious energy of the young one (and ya know, my enemy’s enemy’s my friend or however you say that). So Belyy’s basically offering tips and helping Morevitch plant himself safely out of his family’s grasp, but it’s all taking quite some time isn’t it, slow and steady is fine until your parents try to arrange a wedding to secure more political power, and suddenly it is all quite urgent that you escape that situation because No Thank You Parents I Do Not Want A Wife I’m Too Young And Also Huh <3 Stuff You Won’t Like Hearing For Sure <3. The people who know they’re working together also know that it’s a big point of argument between them, the difference in vision between “you have to go slow and steady to be safe” and “I have very limited time to get to that safety anyway so I gotta risk it” “hell no you cant i can’t follow through if we’re going that quick that’ll put me at risk and you’re family’s gonna send gunmen to take me down”. A mess, it’d be much quicker to just obtain a few million bucks out of nowhere and bolt for sure...

Mr.GANG (the orange guest)

Morevitch’s trusted assistant. He hears the concerns, he helps the secret businesses, he lies to the parents about the whereabouts, and mostly, he’s basically a budget spy. The lad got that talent where people just don’t notice him popping behind them and catching all their dirty laundry as they confess it to someone they trust, and he always manages to break into places, get the intel he was looking for, and escape, putting everything back into place as if no one was ever there (wonder where he got all those skills from damn!). But what he’s even better at is being sneaky not only to benefit his boss, but himself as well <3. If he can catch all the info in the world, go any places, nothing’s stopping him from playing double agent and also going behind Morevitch’s back. After all the assistant life isn’t the most glamourous and rewarding, who can blame him from going and using his talents to build his own little exit route, right? Everybody sort of knows he cannot be trusted, but also no one managed to really incriminate or stop him, and as much as he has tea on many people, no has it on him, but bet once found that would be heeeella juicy.

M.MOUTARDE (the yellow guest)(this one is straight up the name of the yellow player in the french edition of clue too when i say its my main vibe)

Moutarde was an influential celebrity. He had a big break acting in a movie that the whole country stanned so hard they basically turned the script into their national anthem (they would have if it was a true democracy where the people really decide), he was so handsome and elegant, everyone’s dream husband. And then the fame fiddled out because it’s how fame is, one moment you’re the sexiest dish on the table and the next someone brings in dessert and baam, its all about that fresh cake, and no one pays any mind to your delightful aroma anymore, you’ve gone cold, they had a bite, their interest is somewhere else. Belyy really admires his work though, and mostly finds his image fits with the brand of his company, therefore the two are working on a collaboration to make Moutarde a representative. This WOULD boost Moutarde’s reputation, for his ads would be displayed on every imaginable surface of the country, and it would also benefit the company cause being represented by thAT sexy motherfucker? clearly that’s a deal. The freshness of the partnership means Moutarde is a newcomer in the guests, a fresh face, with no reputation, no relationships, no unfair biases against him. He’s just the new handsome charismatic lad with a squeaky clean image. Emphasis on “image”. After all, no one really knows anything of his background, right?

Kun.LAWENDER (the purple guest)

Private investigator, very useful to be around at a party it’s almost like it was expected there’d be a body to investigate, he’s a very close associate of Belyy, as there’s nothing more important to business than investigating the rivals and finding dirt on them to make them fall through infamy. He’s not exactly the PI who goes look for justice to be served, he’s just here for cash bro. He’s got intel on everyone, and will only let it out if offered the right thing in return (money, or sometimes other pieces of very secret intel, trade is good). Wouldn’t advise letting him and Gang team up tbh but they probably wouldnt, as Lawender is really more of a lone wolf player, going on his own for himself. The one thing that negates his usefulness as a PI on an accidental crime of scene is that even if he knew the whole truth of the event he would not spit it out unless he benefitted from saying it. He sure is a polarising lad, but at the same time, an untouchable one, he’s too knowledgeable to be taken down. Rather than sneaky, he’s extremely observant, noticing the tiniest details and engraving them in his memory, ready to be linked up to other details to deduct the big picture. He’s the upfront tea gathered basically (as opposed to Gang’s shadow tea gathering if you will, they are similar forces but using opposite methods)(also one of em got a licence n the other does not hAH).

~~~~

Now the secrets, all of em have them. One of em at least got the secret of having KILLED Belyy that’s that. But that’s to be kept for later (for if i ever use this story for more than daydream material gfhjgh) bet you can imagine what some of em may be just out of Knowing what i do, from having seen the characters in other contexts, or just because you’re a genius and reading the character profiles immediatly lit up the bulbs in your head forming the perfect theory, props to you, mad genius.

Honestly my thoughts are just how lit of a game that would be, you get to pick one hoe (maybe sum are locked til u find their secrets for juicy purposes) and you do your invetigation using your character’s perks and disadvantages, and maybe there could even be Multiple scenarios and outcomes, to spice it up, give replay value, i just think it’d be a game id spend hours on. tryin to get the spicy details of everyone’s life. walking around n digging through a rich man’s stuff, witnessing the drAMA of people fighting cause they’re locked in with a murderer and that’s stressful ngl. That or a long ass show @ netflix wanna give me a show maybe? give me hella budget we’re making it animated cause im too cultured for live action.

whatever i make of it though, i hope i can make this story Flourish, just so that i can lay down all those secret backstories i’ve written. i want the satisfaction of throwing out the craziest secret drama between character n seeing peeps loose their minds, it just is a tasty experience.

also i gotta say, i plug the hell out of Clue for an inspo but when i was building the basics of the story my mind immediatly went “oH MY GOD THE VIBES,, THE BACKSTABBING AND tEAMING UP and all,,, its The Genius, that one tv show where peeps have to do the wildest games that require strategy n they’re in that fancy set that looks like a rich ppl mansion oh god the vibes” so yeah, i rewatched the whole first two seasons cause they’re my faves and that had an impact if only minimal in the aesthetic.

Anyway hope that quick presentation gave you a lil taste of the story, and maybe,,,, got you curious,,, craving to learn more like you never did before (im exaggerating the only real question we all got is just “so who’s fuckin with whom then how many of yall secretly dating” this the real deal)

#doodlin every lad's face at one rly be like 'welcome to the cheekbone festival'#they got antti AND said at once like the cheekbonage is out of this world!#that's musta n gang btw #also every single time i draw cream (blue lad) im like 'i havent drawn u in ages' n it isnt #that i dont draw him much anymore #but that ive drawn only this bitch for months back in the days #him bein in this without his lover....criminal #cuz his boo wouldnt fit a murder mystery au like #hoes would find the corpse he'd just be like 'welp on that imma go to bed aight bye'#anyway u can tell which of my ocs i simp for v easely #like fr #they the ones i spend the longest drawfigfdj cuz i draw em n then go 'not hot enough do it again'#a struggle!#anyway the secret is that i prepares a motive AND an alibi for all of em #so that i can pick who murdered belyy at the last moment <3 #its all abt the contextual clues on the scene of crime <3 #none of the drama tells u anything its all for the treat of gossip <3 #sad part of this project is how much ive planned n written yet i can barely tell anythin if i want to make it #n ive drawn nothingbhd #i hav a dari n a weiwei in their coloured clothes lookin handsome cuz ofc i do #im predictable i have faves #ask if they're in love in this one too take a fuckin guess #u rly think hoe going to his boss's house so much to see the ceo ???? HAH #the real question isnt if theyre smooshin we all kno that answer the question is if dad white suit knows thATs whats important #are yall secret lovers or is green boy climbing the ladder of the company cuz he's smashing the boss's son #who knows #i do i aint telling pay me

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quillsareswords · 5 years ago

Text

Clips of a Year

Damian Wayne

In which we explore highlights from a year of a funny relationship between a hero and a teen with a taste for trouble. Both Damian and reader are 17 in this one. (Also an apology for being inactive for so terribly long.)

Prompt List // Masterlist (both in bio)

You looked as if someone had kicked your puppy and smashed your favorite mug, all in the same instant.

Damian held very still. Very, very, still. His toothbrush was sill hanging loosely from his lips, comb still in hand.

What had he said? What did he do? He clicked through every action he’d even considered in the last three minutes that could have possibly triggered such an offended reaction.

You’d both gotten out of bed. You had shouted that both of you were twenty minutes late. You’d lunged for the shower, he’d gone for his clothes. You’d stumbled out in a rush, still yanking your shirt over your head. He was still fixing with his hair and finishing with brushing his teeth when you’d started scooping armfuls of things into your duffel bag. All he’d done after that was suggest that you leave it all there, as apposed to dragging it back and forth between your apartment and his father’s manor.

“Why?” Your voice is level, wary. Calculated. As if you aren’t entirely sure you want to hear the answer.

He arches an eyebrow. Reaches up and takes the toothbrush from his mouth, and spits the foamy remains of his toothpaste into the sink bowl. “Isn’t it bothersome to keep packing that bag back and forth?”

You loosen at that. Still, you squint suspiciously at him. You dump the last of your belongings into the bag. “No, not really.” You plop down on his king size bed and start yanking your boots on.

This (crashing at one another’s homes in some sloppy cycle, after patrols and nearby, late night activities) has been going on for the past eleven months. Nearly a year, still, you refuse to leave so much as a sweatshirt at his home. He couldn’t be sure exactly why, as he’d never prodded the subject. Though it did interest him a bit. At this point, he left things of his at your apartment all the time.

He saw it as an odd form of trust. Comfort, even. It seemed a strange form of intimacy, to leave his possessions in your space. It was the same kind of trust he felt every time he handed his phone to you before bolting after any of his brothers.

“Damian?”

He blinked dumbly at you once. “What?”

You stand at his bedroom door, propping it open with one hand, the other looped around the strap over your shoulder. “I said, are you coming?”

“Yes,” he finished lacing his boots quickly and met you in at the door. “Of course. No reason for you to get a cab.”

The music is loud, drifting up and out of the nonexistent roof of your car, only to be carried off by the far louder sound of the wind billowing your hair around. Either sound is enough to drown your joyous laughter, though. You howl, face half pressed into the leather headrest, and you’re still sitting sideways in the passenger seat.

He grins straight ahead at the road, suspiciously perfect teeth glimmering in the blurry neon lights.

The stars above you are muted by light pollution of a small town somewhere in western New Jersey. Parents are glaring your way, young couples are throwing you envious stares, and elders are reminiscing, wishing for that youthful flame burning at your core.

You’re sitting on top of the world, breathless with incandescent splendor and the rush of speeding down a highway at 95 miles an hour.

Damian knows this. He knows you’re reveling in the blurry colors and the way they light up his profile, and the incredible and indescribable sense of freedom you feel from the high of this speed. You live for it. And to be sharing it with him? You were so high off the pure happiness, you didn’t have room in your soul to worry about the crash when you came down.

He’d be lying to say he didn’t share every inch of raging enjoyment you held. He turns away from the road for only a moment, and locks those six frames of time away for later. You’re glowing with pleasure, red, blue, and pink neon lights from the bar you pass throw it into different shades, and the beaming grin splitting your lips apart is something he swears he’ll never forget.

You hit the county line only a few minutes later, and suddenly, you know exactly what you’ve always wanted out of life.

It’s midnight when you find him.

Your boots are heavy on the gravel of a building’s roof. You don’t know the address, or the building’s purpose, owner, or even a minute of its history. But you’re thankful to it all the same: for offering him a few hours of quiet sanctuary while you stuck your neck out on his behalf.

You’d never had any particular beef with Bruce. He annoyed you sometimes, but he had always been courteous to you and supported your relationship with his son (to an extent -- you are technically a criminal, in his defense). But you weren’t one to stand by idly when he decided it was necessary to to rip Damian a new one for something you both knew wasn’t his fault.

You expected a less supportive parent on Damian’s end.

You slowed your pace a few yards across the roof. You gave him enough time to tell you to leave, to decide if he was alright with your presence at the moment. He didn’t object to it.

You stopped beside him. He peered up at you. “Did Bruce send you?” he gritted.

You propped your hands on your hips. “If you think for one second Bruce could make me do anything, you’ve obviously had a clouded image of me in mind for way too long.” You dropped down to sit on the roof beside him, and knocked the rubber heels of your boots against the top of the brick wall, soles facing the nearly empty road beneath you. “Besides,” you breathed, “I don’t think your dad’s gonna be askin’ me any favors after that.”

He didn’t turn to face you. “After what?” He paused, as if a few pieces had clicked together. “What did you say?”

You leaned back on your hands, sagging your shoulders to recline yourself enough to stare up at a cloudy Gotham night sky. “Oh, nothing important.”

He didn’t seem like he wanted details. “What did he say?”

You rolled her eyes his way. “Not much, actually. Didn’t give him much of a chance, I guess, now that I think about it.”

He went silent for a little while. For that little while, you busied yourself with searching for stars among all the light pollution and dense clouds.

Then, “I didn’t kill those men.”

He doesn’t face you. He hunches his back and stares down at the scarce traffic.

You stare at the back of his head for a fleeting moment, before you shift your weight and lay a hand on his shoulder. “I know you didn’t,” you state firmly. “The thought never even crossed my mind, to be honest.” You were quick to correct yourself, “At least, not til Bruce brought it up, anyway. Never entertained the idea, though.”

He didn’t answer right away. But before you turn away again, he turns to face you fully at last, and you can’t miss the shiny wet streaks of tears marking his cheeks. “You might be the only one.”

You push your self up immediately, and wrap him in a tight embrace. He buries his nose in the crook of your neck, and sets his hand firmly on your shoulder blade to pull you closer. You thread fingers through his hair, and will back angry tears. “We’ll figure it out, Love. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“Do you know what time it is?”

You smile sheepishly at him from the drivers seat of your ‘75 mustang convertible. “Sorry.”

He lazily tugs the door open and drops into the seat next to you. “This had better be something,” he warns loosely, snapping his seat belt into place.

You wave your free hand as you pull away from Wayne Manor. “I know how much you hate losing beauty sleep, trust me.” You throw a wry grin his way. “Everybody suffers when Mr. Perfect misses his much needed beauty rest.”

He rolls his eyes at you, even turns away so you can’t see a smile, but he’s forgotten all the marvelous uses of side mirrors. “Where are we going, (L/N)?”

You flip the radio on, the warm wind blowing your hair back as you gain velocity going down the long stretch of driveway you’ve always cursed his home for. Lord, the number of times you’d had to walk up the beast-

“Don’t you worry about, Wayne. Just know that you’ll love it.” You slide on your favorite pair of sunglasses with one hand. “In fact, why don’t you get that pillow out of the back seat and doze for a bit, if you’re that tired.”

“Doze? How long far are we going-?” He looks behind the seat to find this mysterious pillow. Suddenly, he’s giving you the look. The one that closely resembles a tired thirty-something aunt and asks the gods why on Earth he had to be the one to fall for you. “(Y/N)?”

You bite back a smile. Don’t turn away from the road. “Yes, Love?”

“Why is my dog in the backseat of your car, with my suitcase?”

“Oh, is he?” you spin around dramatically to see. “Wha-?” You grin, turn back to the road, then to the dog again, as if you’re in some cheesy sitcom and this is the result of a prank you’d entirely predicted. “Titus! What are you doing in my backseat? And is that your daddy’s suitcase?”

Damian smacks you lightly on the arm as he leans all the way back into his seat, white pillow in the other hand. “Bruce is expecting me at the Enterprise tomorrow, you know. And what about patrol?” He fixes the pillow against the door. “And aren’t you supposed to be at your friend’s race Monday evening?”

You shook your head disappointingly. “I am truly offended that you think I’d whisk you off into the sunset-”

“Sunrise.”

“-to keep all to myself the first week of summer break.” You grin at him. “I got clearance from your dad, Tim and Dick agreed to split your shifts this week, and the race got cancelled because her garage almost got busted.”

He shakes his head at you.

“What?”

“I swear you’ll be the death of me,” he breathes, just loud enough to hear over the wind.

You beam at him again as he settles on the pillow. “Then it’ll be a damn good death!”

Saturday mornings have always been a favorite of yours. Especially when they were spent laying in bed with your favorite person.

“Would you rather: kiss a grizzly bear or a cockroach?”

He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Neither, I’d rather avoid both altogether.” This earns a laugh.

You’re laying in your queen sized bed together, strips of mid-morning sunlight streaming in through the open window at the foot of your bed, beneath a comforter and Damian’s arm, and not specifically in that order. He isn’t wearing a shirt, you aren’t wearing pants, so you’ve agreed you’re even and both immune to any quips about being lazy or having manners.

He didn’t understand why you had wanted your bed backwards, so the footboard was against the wall and the headboard faced the opposing wall, but now, with a warm crisp fall breeze swirling over you both and around the room, bathed in sunlight, he saw your reasoning with perfect clarity.

“Alright, alright, my turn.” He paused to think up your two options. “Would you rather: have learned to paint, or learned to cook?”

You didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Cook.” You smiled warmly at him. “I wouldn’t trade your little lessons for the world.” You looked past him, the the easel set up in the far corner of your bedroom.

They weren’t really lessons, just little things he tells you while he works. He’s laughed before about needed another easel so you could paint with him, but you always replied that you liked sketching more.

His lips pulled at the edges, and a certain warmth filled him that he could only ever seem to find with you.

Yes, Saturday mornings were the best mornings.

“I don’t know if I like this,” you hummed absently, more to yourself than to him.

He peered down at your sketchpad from her perch on his stool. He hums. “Try a sharper profile,” he suggests.

You take your eraser to the paper, and he turns again to the blank canvas in front of him. He stares at it blankly for a few minutes more, before he gives up and looks back down at you, sprawled across your comforter on the floor beside his easel. “Let me see your book.”

You finish the line you were working at, then hand the whole thing up to him. Your gaze remains on him, while he flips through your most recent off-white and graphite works.

He seems to find one he likes. He turns the paper for you to see. “May i use this one?”

It’s one you had worked at a few days prior, when you had found yourself in the park that afternoon. It depicts a woman and a man, sitting on the same bench, though at opposite ends, yet they share what appears to be a longing gaze. Behind them, leaves fall from the trees framing the scene, and before them, the sidewalk.

You nodded and offered an encouraging smile. “Mhmm. Go ahead and tear it out, if you want.”

He does, and clips it to the top corner of the canvas. “Thank you.”

It’s getting late when you find him again, still sitting up on that stool you’d found for three dollars at a flea market last summer.

You all but draped yourself over his shoulders from behind, minding the painting pallet balanced on one hand, and the shiny blotch of yellow on his shirt. “How’s it coming along?” You let your eyes roam over the beautiful swirl of colors.

“I should be asking you that,” he replies. You watch in subdued wonder as he takes yellows and dull oranges to create beautiful leaves.

You remember the first sketchbook of his you’d seen. It was far back when you were first growing to trust each other. You’d come up to him from behind, without any warning. You’d seen the gory, angry, hand-drawn pictures. To most, they’d, have warded them off. Sure, they were a bit disturbing, but you’d seen worse. The crowd you ran with back then wasn’t any better than a handful of murderous street rats without a care in the world or any regard for anyone else: so you didn’t think much of it, at the time.

But now, you get to look at this beautiful image he’s had a huge part in creating. One of vibrant color and peace and sunnier outlook on things. You get to see it firsthand. You get to see him firsthand, and you find yourself bursting with pride, because look at how far he’s come. How far you’ve both come.

You smile tenderly at the artwork as he lowers his paintbrush to observe it himself. “It’s possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Dearest.”

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #Damian Wayne #damian wayne blurb

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binkysteebnpewter · 5 years ago

Note

Bucky x Fem-R? "Somehow you dont even have to open your mouth to make my head hurt" "any shorter and youd probably fade out of existence." "i fixed you breakfast. i know its just a bowl of cereal but its the only thing that i cant burn."

A Lucky Charm Truce

A/N: I hope you enjoy! This was pretty fun to write!

Warnings: Cursing, a little angst, ends in fluff though

Drabble Taglist: @softpeachbarnes

Everyone knew the bickering between the teams resident Short-Stack and Ex-Assassin was just that, bickering. No real hard feelings, sort of like him and Sam. His and her bickering was non-stop however, and everyone hoped it would soon come to an end. While occasionally it was amusing to listen to or watch, other times it tended to be annoying and repetitive. Don’t be fooled, the two were definitely friends but their friendship had been founded on the fact that neither took any crap from others. They were both blunt and honest, telling each other off when one was wrong.

They went back and forth at times like cat and dog. Insults hitting like claws, their bickering played out like hisses and growls— interrupting one or the other, sometimes ignoring until a paw or set of claws struck out. Scratches and paw marks were left on each other, white or red with remnant irritation— a hint of something underneath that no one could see yet.

Today was one of those days where the bickering wasn’t bickering but instead arguing, today it wasn’t repetitive not annoying— it was concerning. It stemmed from a mission, reckless decisions had been made from both parties in the argument.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I think you do, Bucky. What you did was reckless and stupid! It could’ve gotten more than just you and I hurt!”

“Shut up.”

“No, Bucky. I won’t because despite the bickering I care about you, I’m making it my job to keep you alive!”

“I don’t care.”

“I do, Bucky! Are you even listening—”

“No! Oh my god, I don’t care! You ruin everything okay?! Leave! Can you not just fuck off already!? It’s a wonderful how you’re still on the team as much as you bitch!”

A heavy silence froze over everyone, a chilling shock that numbed everyone to their spot. It was a shot to the chest to hear Bucky yell, especially so angrily. No one really knew what to say.

“Are you going to cry now?”

“No. I won’t do this anymore, I won’t care about you anymore if that’s how little you think of me.”

The sentence hit everyone like a knife, even though she wasn’t even talking about them directly. Bucky seemed to freeze and stayed stand still in his spot as she walked off, down the hall and out of sight. He huffed and headed off away from the others, leaving no one any room to speak to him about what he’d just done.

It had been three days since Bucky had said those things to her, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He didn’t mean those things he’d said. He really didn’t want her to “fuck off”, she didn’t really “ruin everything”, and he cares about her. The problem he faced now was that the next morning she never came to breakfast, nor lunch, nor dinner. She had left the compound without a word, no one knew where she went. She was as sneaky as Romanoff when she wanted to be, now was one of those times it seemed.

Anger worked in funny ways, it made people say things they didn’t mean at all— it made people say things that leaves burns on the other individuals mind. Anger is like fire, flicks of flames that lick at skin. Little red licks left in its wake, warm and burning— a warmth unwelcome at that degree.

The longer she was gone, the more Bucky realized as his mind obsessed over a way to apologize. He couldn’t stop thinking of what he could do for her to show that he did in fact care, that he didn’t want her to fuck off, and that she didn’t ruin everything. He couldn’t really cook anymore, the stoves weren’t the same as back then. Just before the mission, he’d managed to burn a can of beef stew. So what on earth could he do for her? He wasn’t good with words, clearly, and cooking was what Maximoff had suggested— but he’s sure he could burn pasta even if he tried his best to make it correctly.

He didn’t expect to see her walking into the compound at 2:30am after he’d had a nightmare and came out to make himself tea, but he took the opportunity and wuickly made the only thing he could think of. Cereal, Lucky Charms. She likes the marshmallows, he remembered that from a random conversation they shared at one point some time ago—during a time of sleepy civil talk they’d had.

“Somehow, you don’t even have to open your mouth to make my head hurt.”

The statement came out bland and exasperated when she entered, it had cut him off when he went to speak to her. He couldn’t find himself caring about that either, he had hurt her more three days ago that that could ever hurt him now. He found himself smirking when she tried to reach for a mug and fell short of reaching it.

“Any shorter shorter and you’d probably fade out of existence.”

The jest came with the motion of Bucky handing her the mug she always used, she called it Queen’s Mug™️. She gave him a half hearted glare at the jest and said nothing as she began to collect what her knew she used for hot cocoa. Snatching the mug from her hands, she groans.

“I fixed you breakfast. I know it’s just a bowl of cereal but it’s the only thing I can’t burn.”

She smiles a little at the bowl of cereal and thanks him, he didn’t say anything as he nodded— but he was certain he couldn’t mess up hot cocoa. He warmed up the milk in the microwave and mixed in the powder, putting in the marshmallows she’d gotten out and dashing it with the cinnamon she’d set down.

“One hell of a breakfast combo, wouldn’t you say?”

#marvel #reader insert #avengers #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes drabble #drabble

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

Text

Dead Things || Morgan & Kaden

@chasseurdeloup

Just two friends having a walk in the woods. Guest-starring Ashley the Zombie!

It surprised Morgan that Kaden would choose her to walk in the woods with to let off steam and vent safely. It seemed like the sort of thing to do with a girlfriend, but maybe Regan and her denial blinders were a little much for him just now. And for all the times Morgan had been driven to sign off on him with a ‘fuck you’ on her lips, she did consider them to be friends of a certain kind. He was kind at heart, kinder than he let on even to himself. He had his anger, which Morgan still couldn’t quite fit her head around, but if his life had been anything like Deirdre’s, he had plenty of reason to be. She’d wished he had suggested a place a little less spooky than the woods, but it wasn’t like she could enjoy anything from the counter at Coffee Plus. Morgan reached out with what senses she had and tried to remember the comfort they’d once given her. The sanctity of nature. Never judging, always open to her. The soft earth, ready to take her body back some day. Did it welcome them now? Did either of them know how to fit in a space as simple and open as this?

“Shucks, Kaden,” Morgan teased, “I didn’t think you’d ever ask me to meet you like this. If you’d given me more time I’d have made us BFF bracelets.” She elbowed him gently as they walked. “What’s been up with you?”

There had been a few moments of calm in Kaden’s life the past week. But something about it felt more ominous than comforting. Even though it was a new moon and it should be the calmest time of the month, something felt off. He couldn’t say what. Maybe he just wasn’t used to peace and quiet. Hell even most of his assignments had been normal. It was possible that was why he felt the need to lean into the weird of hanging out with a supernatural friend. Though, to be honest, he was short on non-supernatural friends at the moment. And no matter how many times him and Morgan went head to head over things, there was something, enough easy rhythm, especially when sharing the realities of having banshee girlfriends; a strange commonality and bond he never expected to have or share with anyone else. Leave it to White Crest.

The mention of friendship bracelets pierced through him as he thought of the stupid leather braclet on his wrist. His nose scrunched a little even though he tried to hide it. He hadn’t planned on bringing up Celeste. Or having to dwell on death for a moment. Hopefully she didn’t catch it, assumed it was an overreaction to her elbow. “Well I’d say a friendship bracelet with me is a death sentence but I guess that’s not a problem is it?” Putain. Fine. Just fucking lean into it. Why not? “I figured we could both use a non-carcass walk every now and then.” He gave a small shrug. “And nothing much. No clue what the fuck I’m doing with my life but I guess that’s just what White Crest does to you.”

“Wow. I was kidding, but I didn’t think you’d give me literal stink-eye,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “What, are you afraid the big bad world isn’t ready for us? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” She pretended to be scandalized, gasping and clutching her imaginary pearls, but she could feel herself skirting close to a kind of truth that lay between them. They couldn’t exactly gather round a foosball table with his hunter friends anymore than she could bring him to a movie night with Remmy and Skylar. Granted, her friends wouldn’t ever try to kill him, but that wasn’t a path she should be going down when they were supposed to be enjoying each other’s company critter-free. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she huffed. “Every walk I take is a carcass walk.” She turned to face him, tilting her head so far to one side it threatened to dislocate her neck. “If you have beef with the dead, you really came to the wrong zombie.” She smirked, her smile growing wider as she kept their pace along the path, backwards now. She righted her head and rolled her shoulders. That had helped with muscle strain before, right? “You’re too easy to mess with sometimes. But, I can be serious if you need to talk about big things. Life isn’t for having all the answers, though. It’s not a performance, you know? We learn things. We try. We--”

An animal roared in the distance. It didn’t sound like any creature Morgan knew, but what else could it be? She looked over at Kaden. Did he hear that too? She turned in the direction of the sound. Something was lumbering through the underbrush, something big.

Kaden let out a sigh through his throat. “Very funny. I’m just saying my quota of friendship bracelets from dead girls is officially one. Spot’s taken, you’re too late,” he said, elbowing her back. “So quit your dramatics.” If anyone was going to be okay joking about death, it was Morgan. He knew that much. Honestly, it was nice to have second that he wasn’t just fucking sad about it all. And it was only a second because he looked over to see her fucking head turned around like some kind of horror movie. “Putain de merde, do you have to do that?” His face scrunched in disgust as he turned it away from her. It definitely didn’t turn like that, thank god, but it wasn’t quite enough to avoid the fucking scene of her putitng her head right. His mind flashed to Bea’s head in a jar and if he didn’t feel sick before, he sure did now. “At least warn me before you do.” Yeah he knew that wasn't going to happen.

Unsurprisingly, she had a deep answer to his dumb question. Or he was pretty sure she would have it hadn’t stopped paying attention as soon as he heard a wail. Inhuman, for sure. His stomach dropped. Again. She wasn’t going to like this. At least not if his suspicions were correct. Without thinking, his hand reached back to the knife in his pocket and he positioned himself between her and the rustling in the foliage. Another roar and the creature broke through the bush. A decaying, hungry zombie, shambling towards them. He leapt to act. There was only one thing to do with a monster.

“I didn’t even break anything,” Morgan grumbled, pouting. “And isn’t it good for me to have a positive relationship with my new body? Don’t you want the best for me, Kaden?” But, honestly, it was probably a good thing he hadn’t become completely inured to how dead dead-bodies could be, especially hers. Positioning herself in proximity to human existence was a losing game, but for Kaden...maybe it was the best he could do right now. “I want the best for you too, obviously,” she added, more sincerely.

But the moment was shattered by the figure that leapt out from the underbrush. Morgan recognized her at once. She had only seen her ruined face a few days ago in the cemetery with Rio. “A-ashley--?” She moved forward, but Ashley’s face was too rotted and glazed with hunger to give any intelligible response. She groaned from somewhere deep in her hungry belly and shambled forward, one arm half raised with want. Animals didn’t last long on a dead stomach, even the feast they’d given her, but Stars, she’d hoped Ashley would have at least lasted longer once she was herself again. Her path was clear, but Morgan wasn’t going to go any easier on her now. “Ashley don’t--!” She jumped into her path, holding her by the shoulders and digging in her heels. But Morgan had fed too recently since the last time they’d met, and her muscles were quickly meeting their limit. “Kaden! Help me!” She cried.

There was no doubt in Kaden’s mind what was headed towards him was a monster. The decaying hungry zombie was nothing more than undead bones and decay searching for flesh and organs to tear into. His knife was ready and he was prepared to run in and take care of the situation before this became a problem when Morgan put herself in front of him and started speaking. Did she just say a name? “Wait, do you know that thing?” His stomach fell watching the shambling gaunt body. He wanted to pull Morgan away and just get this over with but she ran towards it and put herself right in harm’s way. Sure, she was a zombie, too, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get hurt ever. Putain.

He ran over and wanted to tear her from the threat but it was clear she was fighting her hardest to keep it at bay. Which didn’t exactly bode well. Kaden ran around behind the monster and grabbed its shoulders, pulling back. He’d have to find a way to cut off its head, a knife seemed impractical but it would have to d-- Before he could even consider that, the zombie rounded on him and lunged for his neck. Fuck. He raised his hand and threw a punch in its decaying face, trying to get it away from him. But it was fucking determined. His eyes went wide as he watched the teeth come closer and braced his arm to try and keep it away. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Her name is Ashley!” Morgan snapped. What had she been doing this whole time? Sure, the animal food she’d been given wasn’t going to last long, but she’d had time to hunt or buy or even steal something. Did she not know how? Did she not feel like she could? Morgan gripped the zombie tighter, wrestling against her brute force-- and then she whirled on Kaden, teeth bared.

“Don’t hurt him!” It was the stupidest thing she could’ve said. Ashley didn’t even have enough brain cells to string together who she was. There was no way anything like pleading was going to work right now. Morgan barreled into her from the side, sending them both sprawling to the ground. She pinned her to the forest floor by the shoulder, but Ashley roared and wrenched herself up before she could make her position any more secure. The flesh from Ashley’s arm came straight off and Morgan stared helplessly as the dead limb lay in her grasp. “Shit,” she hissed, scrambling back to her feet to follow the hungry zombie. She was making a beeline right for the hunter and Morgan wasn’t sure if she’d be able to tackle her in time if he didn’t move. “Kaden, get back!” she cried.

“Her what?!” Kaden yelled as he pushed his forearm into the monster’s neck. Putain, it didn’t matter what flesh the teeth connected with, just that they did. His stomach flipped furiously. The thought of being undead was far worse than the threat of death. He may be immune to werewolf bites, but zombies and vampires were still on the table. He could feel his pulse pounding in his chest. And fuck, he’d like it to keep fucking doing so. Desperately, Kaden took his knife and rammed it into the monster’s guts over and over, intestines and rotting flesh tumbling out of its side. It was barely holding itself together anymore but all the same, he was fucking panicking just a bit.

Before he knew it, the monster was thrown away from him by Morgan’s body. Okay. Alright, He had to find something to behead it with. Something more effective than a knife. Shoe lace? No, that would take too long. Morgan could only keep it at bay so long and he had a feeling she wasn’t about to try and kill her “friend.” “I thought you said not all zombies fucking knew each other,” he grumbled as he pulled his belt from his pants. Not great, but it would fucking do.”Mo--” Kaden was about to yell at her to get out of the way but he didn’t have to, the monster was lunging at him all the same. He didn’t listen to his friend and kicked out at the zombie and went to wrap the belt around its neck.

“I just fucking asked her!” Morgan was running as fast as her legs would take her. She could do this. Kaden was bound to have something to restrain Ashley with until they could get her food again. He could hunt her as many deer as she needed. She just needed to get the two of them apart long enough for him to understand what the plan was. She grabbed Ashley from behind, tugging her back as hard as she could by her shirt and wrestling an arm around her neck. “What part of ‘get back’ was hard for you?” She grunted at Kaden. “She’s just starving!” She dragged Ashley back several paces, grimacing as she wriggled and bit at her skin. Her grip loosened as Ashley took a deep chunk out of her arm, and it was all she could do to push the zombie off her feet as she stumbled free. “Give me that,” she said, pulling on the belt in his hands. “You need to run for some fresh deer, or brains, or--fuck!” She hit the ground hard. Ashely’s hand was around her leg, pulling her down with a strength Morgan couldn’t compete against with her humanity intact. “Kaden, what are you doing?”

Kaden really didn’t give a shit if this zombie was hungry or not, but Morgan sure did. And it was hindering him from doing his job. She seemed to insist that she knew this monster and it was very hard for him to care when all he saw were teeth coming towards him, hell bent on tearing into his flesh. “Deer?! You think deer are going to solve this?!” He was just about to solve this his way when Morgan yanked the belt away and he was once again without a way to take care of the problem quickly or easily. Putain. Morgan was down and while deep down he knew that the other zombie couldn’t really hurt her, he didn’t want to risk it. But he had no confidence that Morgan could keep the zombie contained on her own. Kaden reached over and pulled the zombie away from his friend. Or tried to. All he got was a fist full of flesh that had pulled off the bones. “She’s too far gone, Morgan.” The monster turned and hands wrapped around his arm as it pulled at him, teeth coming dangerously close once again. This time he was ready and had his knife braced against its neck. The closer it came to him, the more of its head he hoped he’d sever. It was hungry alright. Hopefully starving to death.

“I don’t know, maybe two of them?” Morgan wrestled with Ashley on the ground. It shouldn’t have been this hard to overpower a woman who was falling apart, but she was still fierce enough to knock Morgan’s bones out of place every time she thought she had the upper hand. And Kaden wasn’t running. Morgan didn’t know how to get it through his thick skull that what she needed wasn’t a rescue, but zombie tofu. “You’re too far gone,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just get her something--no!” Kaden’s knife glared in the twilight around them, slicing deep into Ashley’s neck. Morgan reached out for them from the ground with her broken arms. “Stop! She doesn’t know what she’s doing!” She popped them back into place and scrambled up. Ashley’s neck had been sawed away down to the bone, so fragile and bare for all her thrashing. No one should look like that, she thought. No one’s bones were meant to be bared that way, with rotten flesh staining the surface brown and dripping over the rounded ends. The body protected the bones. All of this was wrong… “Kaden, don’t!”

The knife cut deep into her neck and the stench that came from the rotting severed neck was enough to make him gag. Kaden held it back and kept pushing the knife through. It slid and slipped through what was left of the muscle and then the bone. The monster backed off and started to crumple away. One last whack with the knife and there would be no way for it to regenerate. He was about to do it when Morgan spoke up. All of the fear he felt before was burning away with anger. “No.” It was all he said before taking that final chop to her head, the tenuous connection between the body and it finally removed. All that was left was two piles of disgusting decay. It smelled like the reverse garden in the back of Regan’s apartment, maybe worse. Even before the head was gone, there wasn’t much keeping this together.

“We should burn what’s left.” He frankly didn’t give a shit if she was okay with that or not. Now that he had a moment, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Morgan had said earlier. All of it. “Just get her something, huh? Something to eat?” He could feel the impression of the knife handle pushing into his palm as he gripped it tighter. “Like what? Me?!” He was so close to getting bitten so many times and here she was concerned about a fucking monster. “You knew her, didn’t you? Met her before? You knew her name.” His voice raised louder every fucking sentence. He kicked a lump of decayed flesh away from his shoe. He wanted to kick the fucking corpse but he didn’t feel like trying his luck. “You knew she was like this and you let her--” There was so much he wanted to scream about that he couldn’t even pick where to fucking start. He threw the knife blad first into the ground, making sure it fucking sank in instead. “Morgan what the fuck?!”

“No!” The cry was barely a sound in Morgan’s dead throat as Kaden lobbed off the woman’s head. She stared, mute and trembling, at the remains of her body. All the magic that had been holding her together was gone. There were only masses of green and purple rot and the poor bones that couldn’t hold themselves together anymore. Kaden was yelling, but Morgan couldn’t hold on to any of his words for more than a few moments. “I--I met her once,” she said faintly. “I got her some food. I fed her. It was just...a stupid faun, and the butcher’s whole stock of brains and organs. She...she was scared. I think she was scared. But I don’t know why she didn’t…” Take care of herself. Feed herself. Come up with something better than roaming the woods. Morgan shuddered, thinking of how deep her pit had to be for her to choose living this way, to run away from people who wanted to help. “She ran away before I could do anything more.” Her eyes filled with tears as she finally looked at Kaden, teeming with his hunter rage. “I wasn’t going to let her hurt you. She wasn’t even trying to hurt you, she was just...I don’t know. She was lost, Kaden. Haven’t you ever been lost and stupid?”

“You could barely hold on to her! And your fucking help before led to this!” Kaden said, pointing that the pile of decomposed flesh and bones. “She wasn’t trying to hurt me, she was trying to eat me. I was fucking two seconds from getting bit. A couple of times.” A chill ran through him. There were few fates he could imagine that were worse than being undead. Morgan had adjusted or what-fucking-ever she wanted to call it, but it was the last thing he wanted for himself. And he wasn’t immune. He rolled the muscles of his shoulder blades back, trying to ground himself, pull back. “Lost and stupid was going to fucking kill me, Morgan. If I didn’t-- She was going to eat me. You fucking saw that, right? Putain, if I didn’t have hunter strength--” He gave a small shake of his head. He was so fucking sure she didn’t see it or didn’t care. “What if she came across someone who wasn’t us? What if-- She would have killed them. That’s not some ‘lost stupid’ mistake,” he spat out. “That would be murder. Fucking murder, Morgan. You fail at rehab with monsters and it ends in murder.” He took a deep breath and reached donw for his fucking knife. He wanted to just leave. “This isn’t some fucking game you get to play at.”

“She is not a monster!” Morgan cried, her voice cracking in her stiff throat. “She was a person, Kaden. Not a ‘this’ or a thing or a--whatever else someone told you she is! She is like me, Kaden! She’s just as much of a person as me! It’s not her fault what her brain does to her when she’s starving, we don’t even know how much of a choice she had! And now we’re never going to because you couldn’t see past the end of your knife long enough to think of a better solution!” She pointed at the body, shaking her head furiously. He couldn’t even feel bad for her. He couldn’t even mourn what he’d taken away from the world. He couldn’t even see her. “That’s murder, Kaden. Not your hypothetical hunter crap. That.”

“That. Wasn’t a person. Not anymore. And it was going to kill me. I’m really glad to know a pile of rotten flesh is worth more to you than--” Kaden couldn’t even finish his sentence. It hurt too much to hear out loud. And he knew the fucking answer already. How often had he seen supernaturals value each other’s lives over human’s? It made him sick. Potential zombie life valued more than a living, breathing human. “There was no time for a better fucking solution. And your attempt at a better fucking solution however long ago your little intervention was clearly didn’t work. She ended up like this.” He was ready to walk away and be done. He was so fucking tired of being told he was wrong for fighting for human life.

“Yes, she was! Ashley was sick, Kaden! People get sick and say and do hurtful things when they’re sick all the time. And we don’t murder them for it, we put them in hospitals! And plenty of your people, your fucking humans do them stone cold sober!” Morgan backed away from Kaden, her insides crawling with disgust. He seemed to come so far and when they were joking around or having their heart to hearts everything between them could feel so nice. She always forgot that to him she was just an exception to a rule about creatures, worse than the dogs he wrangled up for his day job. “But, you know, good job. I’m sure it’ll make a great story to tell all the guys over a beer someday. You showed that starving girl who’s boss all by yourself. If you don’t mind, though, I’m gonna pass on whatever you have lined up next.”

“Sick? What the fuck, Morgan? Sick?!” Kaden was walking away when he heard that, but he turned on his heel to walk back to her. Were they even talking about the same fucking event anymore? Had she even been there just now? “A starving girl? Is that how you think of that?” he shouted pointing once again at the pile of decomp between them. “That was a zombie. Who was very fucking hellbent on eating me.” The more she spoke the clearer it was to him that she didn’t get it. That she saw no value to him or what he did, what had to happen, the reality of things. She had some rose colored zombie glasses or something, he couldn’t figure it out. “You know what, have fun on your walk with your friend there. Because it’s apparently not me. Hope she’s better fucking company. Considering she was higher on your fucking priority list.”

#dead. things #wr kaden #wr chatzy #wr kaden chatzy #wr

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