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yamanorakuen · 3 years ago

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HC: If they disliked MC at first [Side characters]

Again, I'm not super happy with this one but I'll still post it lmao. Hope it makes someone's day at least slightly brighter or better! :)

[Brothers vers.]

Headcanons under this line :)

While Diavolo might be imposing and intimidating at the first glance, he’s actually rather difficult to anger simply because he likes to believe the best in everyone and just wants everyone to get along.

But you.. He just didn’t get you. He even started to think the exchange program was going to be a failure, seeing how he felt somewhat wary of nearly all of the exchange students at this point.

He didn’t trust how you had managed to form pacts with the brothers so easily. He didn’t trust how conveniently you had them wrapped around your finger. They were supposed to be fearsome demons, but around you, they seemed more like lap dogs!

He also saw the way you had grown close to Solomon.. What were you two up to? He knew Solomon practically had a small army of demons, while you had a hold on to the seven powerful demon brothers.

Also the way you treated Diavolo fueled his suspicions; you always seemed to keep your distance. You could never meet his eyes. You kept fidgeting with your hands or pulling the hem of your shirt whenever he addressed you.

He also found it weird how you kept tucking your hair behind your ear. Was that some kind of secret code? Or how your cheeks flushed whenever he walked past. That must mean you were hiding something from him!

One evening Diavolo was discussing political matters with Lucifer and Barbatos when he brought his observations up with them, asking for their honest opinion on what was going on with you.

Lucifer nearly choked on his coffee and Barbatos just blinked at him slowly before a small, knowing smile formed on his face.

“Hmm, somehow I have a feeling the reason for MC’s behavior is less deviant than you’re assuming, My Lord.” Barbatos nodded along calmly.

“Oh? What are you suggesting they’re up to, then? I don’t really understand humans..” Diavolo sighed, wondering if he had misunderstood the signals.

“It is not my place to speculate things like that. Why don’t you find out yourself? I’m sure that if you just change your perspective, you’ll figure them out eventually.” Barbatos answered.

“I need to have a serious conversation with MC..” Lucifer sighed deeply, shaking his head disapprovingly.

After that day, Diavolo started to view you in a different light and slowly came to understand that maybe you weren’t so devious after all.

Barbatos had many reasons to dislike you. First off, he had caught you helping Mammon to steal the castle’s property MORE THAN ONCE.

Secondly, you always seemed to inconvenience his Lord and even himself with the most foolish and peculiar things. No, MC, Lord Diavolo and Barbatos can’t simply come over whenever just because you’re bored.

Third, your personalities just simply didn’t mesh well. You were improper, loud, obnoxious, careless, foul-mouthed and rude, at least in Barbatos’ eyes. He wondered how the brothers and his Lord even tolerated you. According to them you were ‘lively’, ‘fun’ and ‘courageous’. Funny how he didn’t see any of that.

You also always managed to talk Lord Diavolo into skipping work or concentrating on irrelevant matters, which gave Barbaton even more work to attend to.

That’s just what you had done today. Diavolo was supposed to have an important meeting today, but instead you had dragged him off to the city, leaving Barbatos in charge of the meeting. Were you knowingly trying to make his life a living hell?

Barbatos hid his distaste for you as well as one might expect, but you still had an inkling about it by the way his forest green eyes bore into the back of your head whenever you two met.

However, his sour mood was about to turn upside down…

When Barbatos got to the meeting room, instead of the people he was supposed to be meeting with, he was greeted by Diavolo, Lucifer, you, Simeon, Luke and Solomon.

“Glad you could finally make it!” You greeted him with a grin. Barbatos furrowed his brows, racking his brains in an attempt to understand what was going on.

“What is the meaning of this?” Babratos asked warily, not trusting anything good was going to come out of this.

“We’re just having a small get-together to discuss the exchange program!” Simeon replied cheerfully.

“Originally it was meant to be a boring meeting, but MC had the idea to make it more casual. Luke and MC baked all these delicacies, and MC and I left for the city today to pick up your favorite tea.” Diavolo explained further. Barbatos looked at all the desserts on the table.. Making them must have taken a while..

“But what about the actual meeting I was supposed to attend?” Barbatos continued to press on.

“Rescheduled.” Lucifer stated simply.

“I hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries, but..” you began, smiling sheepishly, “I know how much stress you’ve been under and that I haven’t exactly helped with that, so.. This is my formal apology! Please forgive me for all the trouble I’ve caused so far!” you bowed your head diligently, worried for Barbatos’ reaction.

“...” Barbatos was speechless. Was this really the same person he had come to know? He felt many expectant eyes on him, urging him to answer, “..You’re forgiven. Just.. Will you please stop keeping my Lord from his duties from now on?”

“Okay! I solemnly swear!” You beamed at Barbatos, your smile warm and genuine.

“And if I’m kept from my duties while I'm in MC’s presence, it’s my own fault!” Diavolo laughed loudly, causing Barbatos to let out a long, drawn out sigh… But he couldn’t stop himself from smiling slightly to himself.

After the incident, Barbatos began to see new sides to you; while you were still lively and loud, you were also diligent, kind and hard-working.

You started to enjoy baking together, sometimes inviting Luke around. Together you formed something that almost felt like a family, something Barbatos hadn't experiences in a long, long time.

Simeon wasn’t a hateful guy. Really, he attempted to be tolerant towards everyone. He tried his best to see things from everyone else’s perspective.

But there was just something about you that bothered him.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Was it the way you seemed to prefer demons over angels? Or was it the way you seemingly rejected all of his advances to become friends?

Simeon felt this weird aura about you.. Like you were hiding something dark.. But what were you hiding? That he didn’t know, and that annoyed him. He was usually pretty good at understanding stuff like that with humans.

But you were like a brick wall. Unreadable, head-strong and just simply untouchable.

So he just kinda let you do your own thing while he did his thing. You guys can still support each other, all you just gotta do is avoid each other..

But Simeon’s entire outlook on you changed one day when you there was a presentation day, when every class had to present something they’ve made so far during the school year

One demon was supposed to make a speech, but when they were supposed to step up to the podium, they began to panic and hyperventilate.

Simeon wanted to run to help the poor demon right away, as it was in his nature to help those who were in need.

But you beat him to it. You walked up to the demon, crouched down next to them and both professionally and thoughtfully helped them to calm down.

You were like a therapist, a motivator, a nurturer and a teacher, all rolled into one neat package. Simeon couldn’t help but wonder whether you’ve either had to deal with these situations before yourself or even been in the same spot before in one way or another.

And not only that, you handled the speech for the demon yourself by coming up with a topic on the spot that you gave a heartfelt speech about.

Simen couldn’t help but stare in awe as you spoke with a lot of conviction and grace.

Later he confronted you about the speech and you explained how the topic was something personal and really important to you, something that you were really passionate and knowledgeable about.

This event ultimately helped Simeon to see another side to you and he began to make an effort with befriending you.

In Luke’s honest and unfiltered opinion, you were too much of a demon to be a human! You acted just like the idiotic brothers, you always teased him, called him a chihuahua and looked down at him!

Luke just wanted to be acknowledged but all you did was put him down and treat him like a kid. Every time he passed you in the hallways you would look at him and LAUGH to whoever you were with! Luke was sure you were badmouthing him behind his back. What a meanie!

Luke wanted to like you, he really did, because as an angel he’s supposed to be looking after humans, but you were just a different breed. He was beginning to suspect you had some demonic blood, or maybe the brothers had corrupted you already. Anyway, you were a lost cause.

One late afternoon Luke was walking around the city, unaccompanied. He was in the middle of baking when he had run out of some ingredients needed for the recipe so he had just quickly slipped out without mentioning it to Simeon or Solomon, positive he could handle one short shopping trip alone. He was one of Michael’s angels, after all, and no demons could scare him!

Sadly, some lower demons had noticed that the small angel was alone and decided to pick on him. It started as just some shouting and laughing, but when they began to get a reaction out of Luke, it just egged them on.

One of the demons walked up to Luke and pushed him against the wall. Luke yelped, having hit his head, only to notice he was being cornered by a group of demons.

He couldn’t help but feel scared, tears welling up in his blue eyes, praying that someone would save him..

“Hey! Leave him alone!” Luke heard someone commanding the demons, “Back off! Pick on someone your own size!” Wait, that voice sounded familiar..

“And what can you do about this, human?” One of the lower demons spitted out menacingly, the demons turning their attention to..

You rolled your eyes, unamused, “Who should I summon? Maybe Mammon? Or Beelzebub? Oh, I’m sure Satan would enjoy wiping the ground with your sorry asses.” You spoke with such confidence and conviction that Luke couldn’t help but stare in awe.

“Damn, the tiny angel’s not worth the trouble.. Let’s just go..” One of the lower demons whispered and the rest nodded, walking away with murderous looks in their eyes.

You walked up to Luke to make sure he was okay. To your surprise, the little angel’s lower lip trembled as he threw his arms around you.

“Thank you for helping me! I was so scared!” Luke admitted to you, embarrassed but too relieved to care.

You took your time to calm Luke down and even walked him through his shopping and back to Purgatory Hall. When Simeon found out what had happened, he lectured Luke and asked you to stay over for dinner.

Over the dinner, you and Luke really bonded more and quickly became inseparable. Luke saw you as a sibling figure who we could always rely on, and that he could help in return.

Ordinary humans like you have nothing but AUDACITY. And that absolutely grinded Solomon. How dare you just walk in and form pacts with seven of the most powerful demons with a snap of your fingers when he has been trying to do that for YEARS?

And you’re not even trying to convince the previously mentioned demons to make pacts with HIM, your fellow human comrade?

And you told everyone you didn’t know magic and THEN pulled some magic tricks out of your pockets like some kind of fraud magician?

AND you weren’t even fun? You were bland like unseasoned chicken and he was a whole-ass meal yet everyone seemed to prefer you over him?

But Solomon needed to pretend to tolerate you for the sake of everyone else, for the sake of his goddamn charade.

He showed his distaste towards you mostly by attempting to hog the brothers to himself, mostly Asmo for obvious reasons but also Satan and Levi to some extent.

Then one day, RAD held this event, a small friendly competition between the exchange students, one where intelligence, creativity and agility were all valued.

You kept impressing Solomon throughout the competition, giving him a run for his money even though you were considerably younger, less experienced and less potent with magic than him.

He honestly thought Simeon would be his worst adversary, when in reality it was you he should have been more worried about.

In the end it was a stand-off between you two. The last round. Diavolo had planned it from all his research on humans and their topics of interests..

So what was the last round about? … Well, it was an epic rap battle. Seriously, Diavolo?

Solomon thought he had this one in the bag, rhyming was like a child’s play, right?

Out of chivalry, he let you go first. And boy did you blow him away with your roasts and rhymes. It might sound dumb, but after all the earlier impressing and now this, Solomon found you way more competent and hot than before.

When it was his turn to rap, he completely froze, his mind occupied with how surprised he was by your actions that day.

So you won, but Solomon wasn’t mad; knowledge is the greatest prize of all, and he had learnt some valuable lessons about you and underestimating people around him.

A/N: I hope you liked these! I really struggled with Simeon and Solomon in this one but I hope they were still tolerable to read. Once again, thank you to everyone who likes, leaves a comment or reblogs :)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

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Latest part of my commission series from an awesome person, now on part three of the Brave Police hanging with the Lost Light!

Kazuto Azuma had known nothing but one long, continuing headache from the moment he'd allowed the Brave Police to be commissioned. Between their eventual acclimation of sentience to the constant additions to their numbers, they'd turned what was supposed to be a public relations move into a nightmare of paperwork and legal ramifications, mostly to be dealt with by him.

And all for what, so they could have feelings? Emotions that did nothing to help while they were on the job, and only resulted in insubordination and disaster for his end? He doubted anyone could live a day in his shoes and see them as anything but a gigantic inconvenience, and an expensive one at that!

Thus, it seemed fitting that he hadn't time to celebrate their apparent loss in space before receiving a message that they were somehow fine, and worse, had been rescued by Cybertronians.

Reading the transcript again, word for word, the vice commissioner had to resist the urge to crumple it into garbage. Of all the fates they could have met, of all the ways he could have finally been rid of them, they had been picked up by the biggest robotic nuisance in the galaxy? Even if they had spent little time in Japan, Cybertronians had made their mark well known on earth, and the litany of restrictions against them spoke to the nature of their destructive presence. Despite being machines, they had no inclination nor any kind of desire to heed the will of humans, and thus every government they dealt with was left with a huge and expensive mess. Knowing that the already rowdy Brave Police were in such company was… disturbing. Who was to say what horrible habits they could pick up while cruising back to Earth at such an apparent lackadaisical speed? Just the rudeness it took to return with "relaxed urgency" as the message had put it was enough to make his blood boil, and he had no reason to believe the few days it would take for them to arrive might leave them even more unmanageable by the end.

At the very least, before it came to that, he had a rare opportunity in a tiny window of time. Neither the Tomonaga brat nor Saejima knew any of this yet, and he was in no rush to let them know of the development. Surely it wouldn't be too bad if they received the news a little late, continuing to believe the bots were MIA in the depths of space, while he made a little call.

Adjusting his suit to appear less ruffled, he left his office behind and ventured into the depths of the building, where the communication center was nestled amongst a swarm of high tech enhancements and long range experimental equipment. It was here the first message had been received, and it was here he would send back a reply. Staff, already informed of the plan, set to work as soon as he arrived. The report had mentioned that there was some unknown and invisible "tether" of sorts connecting to their end, likely a way for long distance communication to happen instantaneously even when only one side had the technology to make it happen, and had likely been left in place for the express purpose of getting a reply back. Azuma intended to use it for just such a thing.

A great monitor for communicating visually faced him in the pulpit where he'd chosen to stand, and he made it a point to ensure he was presentable. Robots or not, it was important he established he was a prominent figure that required respect, assuming the Brave Police hadn't had the last of that knocked out of them by their troublesome rescuers…

"It it ready?" he asked after checking his watch, knowing that he only had as long as it took for Saejima or Yuuta to arrive and receive their initial briefing. It had taken all of his influence to ensure they weren't informed immediately, so he had to make the delay count.

"Yes, Mr. Azuma." an engineer replied hastily, nodding to his co-workers with a neutral expression of assent. Several great switches were flipped and the building hummed with tremendous energy, the invisible tether for communication igniting to allow an instantaneous connection across the vastness of space.

-----

Sitting idly at the bridge, Rodimus allowed himself to more or less sink into the captain's chair in boredom, wishing desperately that he could be at the bar having fun with their guests like everyone else. But, of course, plotting a reroute to Earth didn't happen on it's own. For reasons he couldn't begin to understand, the Brave Police had indeed been insistent about returning home with relative speed. It was only because of the message they'd been able to send that he'd been able to get them to take it slow at all… Ah well, at least they did seem to be happy about going home. Earth did have its charms-

An unexpected beep from an incoming message made him flail nearly to the point of crashing, but thankfully he managed to catch himself and flip right side up, plopping down into a somewhat respectable position in his chair just as the computer brought through the signal.

A face so grumpy it would have made Magnus appear sociable appeared on screen, and Rodimus recognized the speaker as human just before he began speaking the same language used by the Brave Police. "This is Kazuto Azuma, Vice-Commissioner of the Brave Police Force in Tokyo, Japan. Who am I speaking with?"

"Uh, Rodimus, Captain of the Lost Light." he replied automatically, having heard friendlier opening statements from enemies about to open fire. There was also no memory of this person being mentioned by the Braves, but he had figured their organization was a big one, so he tried to take the helpful route. "What can I do for you?"

"Are the Brave Police in your custody?" Azuma asked pointedly, and Rodimus knew with just a few words he wasn't going to like this particular human. Just managing to hold off a frown, he replied with a carefully chosen sentence, folding his hands together to keep them from forming fists.

"They're our guests, yeah." he said, hearing approaching footsteps from the side door. Judging by the pace and weight, they belonged to Magnus, who could always be expected to check in when a message came in. Thankfully the mech also had the sense to be subtle about it, so Rodimus made no move to acknowledge the big bot when he stepped quietly into the room off camera. Having a calm bastion of reason was going to be critical in keeping this from becoming an incident.

"Per your communication, you are not making utmost haste to return to Earth, is that correct?" Azuma asked, the question sounding more like an accusation to Rodimus given the aggressive way it was delivered. It proved to be one when he wasn't even allowed a chance to reply before he was being chewed out. "I demand an immediate increase in your speed, they must be returned to us as fast as your technology allows!"

Dentae clenching, he tried to hide how thoroughly enraged the tone made him, especially with the particular choice of words. Did this guy really think he had any kind of authority here? Was he so callous to the Brave Police that he regarded them as nothing but cargo to be shipped overnight? With Magnus tensing by his side, Rodimus just managed to reply without visibly clenching his jaw. "Is there some kind of emergency you need them for? Because otherwise, I don't think you have the authority to make that kind of order."

"That is none of your business, Cybertronian." Azuma retorted, practically sneering at the immature bot who was refusing to do what he was told. Assuming that the Braves would pick up anything from such hosts, he was certain it would be uncooperative behavior like this, and at this rate that seemed more and more unavoidable… He'd probably have to try and convince the Commission to reprogram the entire group.

"It's Rodimus, human." Rodimus sneered right back, gradually letting his scant efforts to look professional fade out into open contempt. Every word seemed to confirm his worst fears about earth and the Brave Police, and he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of just dropping them off back home. With people like Azuma about, it seemed equivalent to leaving a group of cybersheep surrounded by hungry turbofoxes, and he was not about to let those bots come to harm. Sitting back more formally in his chair, Rodimus tried to cut an intimidating figure. "This is my ship, so that means if you expect it to jump, I need to know why."

"This is pointless." Azuma clipped, sputtering as he fought to keep his anger in check to avoid looking too flustered. Looking about what little of the ship he could see, he tried to find any trace of the bots he was looking for. At the moment he'd settle for anything more cooperative than this fire patterned Cybertronian. "Where are you keeping the Brave Police? I must speak with them."

"Okay, because you're having a hard time grasping this, we aren't keeping them anywhere. They're not cargo, they're our guests." Rodimus replied, standing up from his chair as the energon in his veins started to run hot. If a human could be so condescending now, what did those bots have to endure on a day to day basis? Protective instincts told him to never give a human the opportunity to hurt them again, leaving him tempted to kill the communication as Azuma sputtered through an increasingly red face.

"That-"

"Secondly, you aren't going to just hop on my channel and start barking orders." Rodimus interrupted, not intending to give the man a second to recuperate. He wanted the tiny organic to realize he had no power here, and that the Brave Police would not have to endure any further bullying on his watch.

Azuma, never one to put the pieces together expediently if he didn't like the picture, continued to press every metaphorical button possible to anger the captain. "This is absurd! I don't know how your laws, if you have them, presume to function but by the standards of earth you're in possession of stolen property!"

Rodimus felt his vents hitch, and thankfully Magnus was already mobilizing just before he could finish the thought someone might eventually regret.

"Now that's where I'm gonna need you to stop-"

"I can assist with this matter." Ultra Magnus said plainly, stepping into the video and laying a hand on Rodimus's shoulder. The gesture appeared amicable, but was more than a little forceful, pushing the captain back into a seating position. Reading the intent loud and clear, the smaller mech still pouted as he conceded and sat back down. Choosing the smart path never felt as good, especially because Azuma looked pleased by the turn of events as Magnus took over. "Greetings, Mr. Azuma, I am Ultra Magnus. Perhaps the best way to proceed is to allow the Brave Police to speak for themselves? I have already asked that they come to the Bridge."

"Acceptable." Azuma replied simply, appearing less ruffled but no more amicable. At the very least he was silent until a group of bots audibly approached at full speed, and after just a minute of tense silence their wait ended and the bots of the hour entered the room.

Rodimus couldn't help tensing at how the human regarded the group with barely concealed contempt.

"Vice-Commissioner, we came as soon as we heard you were in contact!" Deckerd said the moment he stepped into the Bridge, snapping to a salute that his companions mirrored with varying amounts of success. It was a greeting so proper and well mannered one would have thought they were interacting with a popular superior, and the effort they'd put in made Rodimus frown with dissatisfaction. Azuma didn't even bother with a wave as they continued. "As stated in our message, we are all intact and accounted for, and will be arriving at earth in due course!"

There was an awkward silence and a dissatisfied glare from the human before he went right into criticism. "Why are you not returning at full speed?"

Deckerd wavered in his salute, and those around him did the same. There was a moment where the bot looked about almost helpless for a reply, before carefully stringing his words together, helm lowered the whole time like a child caught in the wrong. "We… we do not want to pressure our hosts, Mr. Azuma. They have been most accommodating-"

"Ah, so you've been content to stall up there, lazing around while we need you back on Earth?!" Azuma snapped, interrupting the police bot so aggressively he flinched. Rodimus clenched his servos into fists, knowing that getting involved would lead to a huge mess but caring less with every passing moment. Seeing the bright and happy bots pressed into a corner was making him absolutely enraged, to the point the air about him wavered from the heat. Only a firm hand on his shoulder from an equally simmering Magnus kept him in check.

"Their technology is quite advanced, but it would still be strained by an immediate trip to Earth." McCrane offered helpfully, stepping in as he always did when things were tense. A grateful smile in his direction from Deckerd was so subtle and quick it may have been a trick of the light.

"We would not wish to cause our rescuers any kind of harm or stress." Duke confirmed, stepping to the front with a level of calm control not yet seen by anyone on the ship. The transformation from shy and quiet to bold and in control impressed the Cybertronians present immensely, but had no impact on the fuming Azuma, who didn't take well to being told no in very certain terms.

"Unacceptable!" he barked, making Drill Boy flinch and step closer to the others for security. Though they appeared quite accustomed to the man's badgering, the stress was no less considerable, and they all shared the same tense mannerisms of a cornered animal. Rodimus could feel himself reaching his boiling point, and knew it was now a matter of when rather than if. There'd be no holding him back once that was reached, and thankfully Magnus appeared to be in similar straights. One could almost see the anger breaking through his usually stoic frown.

"Are you really trying to convince me there is no way for you to arrive sooner? That you're just going to laze about in space because there are no other options?!" Azuma said, grilling the Brave Police so readily it was obvious he had considerable experience with the task. It hit Rodimus in that moment; this was merely how they were treated with an audience, what was this man like in private? What terrible things had he said or done to these bots when no one was there to protect them? The thought flipped a powerful switch inside him, and before he knew it he was rising from his chair, having been given free reign to do so by an equally protective Magnus.

"Vice-Commissioner-"

"Alright, I don't think we're communicating effectively here." Rodimus said loudly, stepping in front of the Brave Police to form a physical barrier with his larger frame. Deckerd appeared worried by the action, but the captain didn't flinch, putting his hands on his hips as he faced the monitor with a plastered on smile. "Look buddy, maybe your human technology is buggy so you're not hearing us clearly…"

Azuma fumed, visibly growing hot under his collar as the bot he had no power over flounced about before him. "You-"

"So allow me to make it loud and clear! They'll be there in a few days at the earliest, got it?" Rodimus replied, cupping a hand beside his mouth so he could bark the words back as loudly and obnoxiously as physically possible.

"I do not believe you understand the situation!" Azuma sputtered, and Rodimus was tempted to reply with something far more crass than what he eventually settled on.

"Try me!"

"Perhaps it is unclear, due to personal reasons fogging your judgement, but the Brave Police are the property of the Japanese government! You risk a great incident by delaying their return!" the Vice-Commissioner said, unintentionally striking the deepest possible nerve within every bot present. Rodimus felt something snap inside of him at the way the word property was uttered, and he was so revolted the human was able to take advantage of his horrified silence to continue. "They may look like you, but they are Earth made, not Cybertronian! Their physical appearance should tell you that much."

Magnus stiffened at his side, the big mech's equivalent to what would have been a shocked gasp by most other bots. Through sheer incompetence, Azuma had managed to put together an insult so grave no Cybertronian could let it stand, though the Brave Police themselves appeared resigned to the treatment. Only a murmur from Drill Boy came in response.

"Is he calling us ugly?" the dejected little bot said just loud enough to be heard from his fellows, and a simultaneously comforting and silencing hand was laid on his shoulder by Shadow Maru.

"Okay, see… I thought we were getting along okay here, but I think things are getting out of hand…" Rodimus said in a halfway bitter laugh, pinching the bridge of his nasal ridge as the full torrent of anger he wanted to unleash stewed inside of him. Though there were quite a few foul words in the mix, he cared very little for propriety, especially when none had been directed their way since the conversation had begun. "Because I can't help telling you what a massive and egotistical-

"Rodimus!" Deckerd whispered in warning, his frightened expression only managing to fuel the fire. After all, why would these bots be afraid, except if terrible things could happen if they disobeyed? He was going to go nuclear on their behalf, just to make it clear there was nothing to fear while they were with him.

"Vice-Commissioner!"

Every single being involved in the conversation froze when a voice cut through from the other end of the call, echoing through the long distance tether as someone approached Azuma from an out of frame location. Rodimus lost all of his fire and only stared in total confusion as the once haughty human blanched at the sight of whomever had called for him, and the expression of worry only intensified as the voice cut it again.

"Vice-Commissioner, what is the meaning of this?!" the unknown speaker said, their tone gruff but somehow personable and animated as their laid into the other man from offscreen. A look in the direction of the Brave Police revealed only a shared smile of relief amongst them.

"C-Commissioner!" Azuma sputtered, stepping away from the podium to meet with whomever had arrived. The Lost Light was treated to a somewhat distorted view of the out of focus man they'd just been arguing with as he tried and failed to make his case. A sharp rebuttal was issued before a single word could pass his lips.

"You received word that the Brave Police are alive and well, and we were not informed immediately?!" a man said as he appeared suddenly in the view, advancing upon Azuma with his greater height and build as the smaller Vice-Commissioner backed up at every word. To the surprise of a greatly entertained Rodimus, a small human appeared as well, undoubtedly a child. The little boy glared up at Azuma with all the rage Rodimus had been feeling moments prior and then some.

"You jerk, how could you lie to us!?"

Azuma ignored the child altogether to retort to his apparent boss, pointing at the screen where Rodimus was still front and center with his current expression of total bafflement. As if it would clear his transgressions, he announced his argument for everything with as much desperation as could be packed into so few words. "Saejima, they're with Cybertronians!"

Worlds apart, the two groups fell into total and oppressive silence. Rodimus met the eyes of the man called Saejima, and immediately got the sense he was dealing with someone who actually had a backbone and a conscience just by the way he apologized with his expression alone. Clearing his throat, the man gave his subordinate a flat look and spoke with undeniable authority.

"We shall discuss this later."

Like any bully, the defeated Azuma slunk off, leaving his superior to clear his throat and take center stage on the pulpit. The confused child remained at his side when he finally addressed the Autobots.

"My apologies." he said calmly, giving Rodimus the comfort he needed to step in line with the Brave Police so they could be seen far more clearly. The man smiled as he caught sight of the bots. "Is everyone safe and accounted for-"

Without any warning, the child lit up as he saw the Brave Police, his wide eyes locking on Deckerd as he ran up to the monitor as if it were a barrier. Tears began to flow unabated as he cried out in a voice choked with emotion. "Deckerd?! Deckerd, are you there?!"

In another surprise for Rodimus, the always restrained police car pushed right past him and mirrored the boy's actions, his optics lighting up as he replied with equal jubilation.

"Yuuta!" he cried happily, his tone alone making it clear he adored the little human bawling his eyes out a billion miles away. Rodimus and Magnus exchanged shared looks of total surprise and confusion. Neither had ever seen a human and a bot so incredibly close, and the two weren't even done.

Sniffling so hard he could barely talk, Yuuta tried in vain to wipe away tears, looking to each of the Brave Police as tears continued streaming down his face. "Deckerd! Build Team! Everyone!" Each and every bot came behind Deckerd to joyfully greet the human Rodimus recalled was their fabled "boss", and judging by their smiles none felt anything but relief to see him again. The crying adolescent made it clear why they all loved Earth with a single heartfelt phrase. "You're all okay!"

"We're more than okay, these guys rule!" Drill Boy interjected, clamoring over the bigger bots to be seen.

"They've welcomed us into their home, and they're bringing us home while showing us the sights on the way back!" Power Joe said, gushing as if describing a vacation.

"Boss, please tell Ayako I am safe! I know she'll only believe it from you!" Dumpson said, spurring McCrane to make a similar request.

"Please tell Seia the same!"

"Make sure nobody touches my bike until I get back, that includes you!" Gunmax said playfully, obviously just messing with the little human. Yuuta nodded and smiled through his tears, overwhelmed with happy relief that Rodimus had to admit was beyond touching to witness.

"Stay safe, miniboss." Shadow Maru said simply, and at his side, Duke cleared his vents before speaking softly.

"Make sure Regina is okay, she won't admit that she's worried." he said, and Yuuta nodded in acknowledgment and a kind of deep understanding.

"As you can see, Commissioner, we are all doing quite well." Deckerd said once everyone had spoken their peace, smiling as he was shushed in amongst the group. Saejima smiled in kind, and Rodimus found something inherently trustworthy in the expression.

"That is a relief." he said calmly, sighing ad a great weight of worry disappeared from his relaxing shoulders. "I must apologize on behalf of my subordinate once again, Captain. Please excuse his behavior, as he does not speak for us. We are beyond grateful for your actions."

"Thank you for rescuing my friends." Yuuta added, finally getting his tears under control long enough to speak clearly. Rodimus found his spark flickering at all the gratitude he felt hit him from a galaxy away.

"Uh, no problem. We'll get them home safely." he said, a little unsure of himself at the total whiplash the conversation had taken. How was it that a planet capable of producing an Azuma could also have people like this? Then again, the same could be said of Cybertron several times over, couldn't it?

"Mr. Commissioner!" the offscreen voice of an engineer said with urgency. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but this communication is taxing our equipment heavily! I'm afraid we have to end the call."

"Understood!" Saejima said, speaking fast in the wake of the news. "Until we speak next, just let me say that you have our highest gratitude!"

As the older man jumped into a full salute, Yuuta spoke with the speed only a child could manage, bouncing between his various concerns as the video began to fade. "Call again soon! I miss you guys! Stay safe but have fun!"

The Brave Police gushed out their farewells, waving and promising to do so with such excitement that Rodimus found himself unintentionally joining in with a tiny wave of his own before the screen went dark. He was left speechless when it did, but the bots at his side turned to each other and began to talk amongst themselves with unimaginable excitement. A million different things were said at once, most of which were praise for their tiny boss. The Captain of the Lost Light could only look on in awe at their happy circle of friends, one that just minutes before had been reduced to anxious silence at a being from the same planet.

It occurred to him in that moment why they truly wanted to go home, and he found himself smiling at the thought. Just as there were those on this ship who wanted to keep them safe, so we're there individuals on Earth to do the same. They were really loved wherever they went…

A flash of amusement tickled his spark as he thought about all those friends reacting once they heard about this call. Their protective instincts would undoubtedly be the same as his, especially for dear Tailgate, who'd more or less claimed the group as his adoptive younger brothers… along with the entire crew. It seemed they had a young human to add to that rank now.

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lostlight #lost light #idw #tf #ll #my writing #my commissions #brave series #brave police j decker #brave police

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andoqin · 4 years ago

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Sisyphus: The Myth Ep 1- A Dissection

Okay, so I’ve had some time to process what I subjected myself to today, so I’ve decided to list everything in episode 1 that is just completely insane and an example of how Not To Do it.

I’m not an expert on Film Theory, but i’ve watched a shitton of media, plus I watch a lot of Youtube Video essays, so clearly I’m half

The episode starts off okay enough even if we get a weird exposition dump and “tense” parting scene between a father and daughter.

We start in what presumably is the time travel terminal where people stand around in pyjamas waiting to get through.

Okay, fairly interesting if unspectacular but I’m guessing that’s the point, this is now an industry. We zoom in and get this line that made me laugh, because well...

a) humans are living creatures and b) the amount of microbial organisms on human skin is estimated to be at hundreds of billions, or more. And this kind of time travel/teleportation is always hinky because well if you think about it, how does that even work without getting into The Fly territory. I’m willing to cut this drama some slack here and maybe it’s an awkward translation besides.

This gets... exceedingly long, but if you want a (too) in-depth summary of what happens in ep 1 and why it doesn’t work (for me) read on :D.

But then the real trouble starts, because PSH’s dad (I’m not bothering to learn the character names) says he’s not going with her and this is apparently very sudden. He then makes her repeat some lines that are supposed to create tension? Be exposition? Idk.

“Don’t trust anyone.”

“Don’t get involved with [CSW]’s character.”

PSH get’s teary eyed, because her dad is not coming with her, but the problem with scenes like these is: I don’t know either of them and do not have an emotional connection to their parting. Sure, it tells us something about PSH (she likes her dad and is worried about him) but I also don’t know how important her dad is going to be down the line. So when PSH asks about her mom and what if her mom dies and her dad just replies everyone dies at some point I’m a bit weirded out, but not to the point where I necessarily want to know more.

We then smashcut to PSH waking up in a world that’s more similar to ours and she does what her dad told her to do. She grabs her (very inconvenient) suitcase and runs along the tracks she woke up next to. We see that she is somewhat surprised by the running trains and also hardy enough to track on despite bleeding feet.

Alas, creepy people in gas-masks with guns and drones are waiting for her, so she runs even harder and after some near misses (they are able to track her by some sort of radiation meter) makes it to safety.

On top of a train car that the TWO DOZEN PEOPLE WITH GUNS AND DRONES are too stupid to check apparently. Clearly if she’s not under the train car, the detecting devices must be mistaken. So she just chills on top of the train car, sitting on her suitcase and those goons trundle off after 5 minutes presumably like they’re Assassin’s Creed Enemy NPCs.

Now we get introduced to CSW in the most insane scene i’ve ever witnessed. Honestly.

He is just ~chilling in 1st class in an airplane, filming a douche who is rude to the plane staff and epically owning him because he’s So Smart.

First of all, I don’t know what that has to do with soggy noodles(which the other asshole complained about), since by that measure the noodles should be *undercooked* (lower boiling point means longer cooking time after all) and secondly good lord I already hate this guy. He then proceeds to Epically Own (tm) with a convenient Forbes (sorry “Eorbes”) Magazine that he is on the cover of and flirts with the plane hostess.

So right off the bat, our impressions of CSW are supposed to be: He’s Cool (look at his hoodie and general bearing), he’s Smart (debatable), he’s nice to The Help (I guess???) stands up to bullies, and most importantly he’s fucking rich. I guess we’re also supposed to get the impression that he’s arrogant, maybe a bit of an asshole, but still cool and everything.

If this had been where the scene had stopped I would have rolled my eyes and then just continued on watching. But no, the writers thought: “Schooling some sexist rich asshole isn’t enough to show off how Cool and Smart and Cocky our main character is. Also he likes the ladies.” Look at him, he’s Tony Stark only from South Korea!!!

So shortly after he sits down, and we have the first moment with CSW where he connected with me emotionally (he sees the ghost of his dead brother and the way he says “because ... you’re dead.” and I thought OOOH this I can work with), the cockpit windshield is hit by what looks to be a suitcase (DUN DUN DUUUN) and something crashes into one of the engines, causing it to explode and catch fire.

The pilot is knocked out and unconscious and even the co-pilot loses consciousness (after conveniently unlocking the cockpit lock). CSW is the only one who goes to check on the pilots, having grabbed a fanny pack from his onboard luggage and quickly assessing the situation he revives the copilot and welds the hole in the windshield shut with some ducttape out of his fannypack and a plastic notepad. IT’S VERY EFFECTIVE! They did it in WW2, or so CSW tells us so you know it’s true.

I’m not sure that ‘s how plane windshields and duct tape and plastic notepad thingies work, but well the plane is still in freefall we have more important things to worry about :).

The electrics are all on the fritz, the copilot cannot get control of the plane and so CSW takes a seat in the captains chair (having foisted the captain out of it, not even he is so crass to sit on some unconscious dude’s lap i guess) and quickly calculates that they have 3 min and 30 secs for CSW to restart the electronics before the plane crashes. So he hands the co-pilot HIS PHONE with a timer on it for 3.5 minutes so the co-pilot can tell him when 30 seconds have passed. Instead of idk, contacting Air Traffic Control or ANYONE he just sits there and lets his big boy brain work.

After 30 seconds he has an idea, because he’s Tony Stark-ing it up like crazy now and can just figure out the electronics of a plane cockpit in 30 seconds, but guess what. HIS PHONE RINGS. AND HE ANSWERS IT, because he’s devil-may-care and “haha look at this, friend, i’m in the cockpit of a crashing plane we have 2 minutes before i’m dead.”

Said friend is calling him from the board meeting of CSWs company, bc of course the board is ~unhappy with CSWs antics (I gotta say I can’t blame them) and the friend doesn’t believe it at first, when he says he’s in a crashing plane, but checks on the news to see it’s true.

I ... I don’t think news work like that, we’ve gone 5 minutes from the initial troubles till now, there won’t be news reports all over the media yet. THEY’RE NOT EVEN TALKING TO AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL YET. Hell he even tells his friend to call 119 or the airport for help. I just... I’m very forgiving of a lot of things in a drama when it comes to writing. I’m willing to ignore obvious blindspots in a narrative, if I think the narrative is strong enough to support whatever it’s trying to say. At this point what could calling the police or the airport do, they have like 90 seconds left...

I don’t know what the writers are trying to tell me with this scene though? It’s so stupid, so unrealistic and CSW is so unpleasant and weird in it, because he tells his friend that he has to confess to taking out the friend’s college girlfriend on a date while they were still together.

Well since the drama is longer than one ep, they do make it out alive, but the fact that the co-pilot managed to safely LAND the plane (which is insane to me) gets skipped over and we just get news snippets that herald CSW as a hero who singlehandedly saved the planes passengers.

We then get to see him in his natural habitat “convalescing” in his giant apartment where he is being showered with gifts by worshippers basically. He continues to be an asshole, but his friend tells him, one more stunt and the board will kick him.

The board will kick the guy who just saved a plane full of lives????? Yeah right, I’m sorry but that’s just fucking stupid from the writers. Why would anyone do that, even if the board hates him, kicking him now, when he’s literally a national hero would be the worst thing they could do for the stock prices. It’s only here so the writers can shoehorn in that CSW is close to OD-ing on pharmaceuticals and that the board wants to monitor his therapy and they have a way of “forcing” him to comply.

Also he has what looks to be a dental x-ray machine next to his bed. Someone correct me if I’m wrong but lol what’s up with these set design choices.

His friend tells him to go to fucking therapy or else and the next scene he is actually at a therapist.

Who’s his ex-girlfriend (they have a whole tangent about that).

Who writes a report about his therapy to the board.

But hey at least the therapy gets us a flashback of the last time he saw his brother. Big surprise he was an asshole to him as well, so no wonder he’s traumatised by that.

After therapy he *conveniently* runs into the co-pilot who’s incoherent and beaten up and hands CSW a usb-drive. It contains video of the cockpit on the day of the crash and it’s obvious what struck the plane was a suitcase and what crashed into the engine was a human being (DUN DUN DUUUUUUN maybe someone forgot to convert feet to meters when setting up the time travel thingamabob).

As he looks at the (very pixelated) figure of the person about to crash into the engine, he suddenly sees his brother’s face and honestly this scene just made me laugh? I know it’s supposed to be haunting and more evidence of CSW’s deep trauma, but I guess at this point my brain was just completely checked out.

And that’s what we end our introductory phase of CSW. What the fuck was that plane thing even for. To show us he’s callous in the face of danger? He’s an asshole even when he’s about to die, so he’s got a long way to go? He’s haunted by the spectre of his dead brother and the guilt he feels for not being there when he died? I got a lot of that before we had the insane Plane Adventure!!! There are literally millions of ways they could have gotten this information to the viewers and not made an absurd spectacle of the plot that means that everything afterwards just feels lame, because you already had the insanity that was this plane ride, so it can only go down tension wise.

Now we’re back to PSH, but honestly her parts are kinda boring and bog-standard “UwU I’m unfamiliar with this way of life, I don’t even know how to eat a banana (that looks *nothing* like a banana btw), so I just eat it peel and root and all. Also I’m from the Future, that means I obviously know todays LOTTERY NUMBERS.”

I know kdramas like clichés and tropes, I like them too, that’s why I watch kdramas, but you gotta give me a bit more if you want me to at least invest in PSH, because I’m sure as hell not invested in CSW.

She gets taken in by some guy, because we can’t have her homeless all the time, and she needs someone to explain this world to her and also how to eat bananas properly and she opens her suitcase. It’s got both future-tech-y looking stuff and a pink notepad that seems to hold specific information on what needs to happen on certain days.

She also makes this expression and I don’t know if we’re supposed to laugh because she’s not threatening or if we’re supposed to laugh because she’s not threatening, but we know she’s gonna kick ass later, haha you just thought she was harmless. I gotta say it’s the former for me.

Rarrr fierce Elite Warrior PSH coming to get you.

She tries to get in touch with CSW, already breaking one of her dad’s three commandments. Oh, I guess staying with this guy breaks the other two. Welp, so much for that then. What even was the point of that first scene...

Anyway she tries to get in touch with CSW but ofc you cant just call the richest person ever (Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos would get very angry voicemails from me if that were the case), but she manages to get his voicemail. Or a voicemail he spoke for. But oh no, she is just Not Familiar with this world and keeps having a conversation with the voicemail as if it’s CSW himself.

CSW who has scienced his way to finding the suitcase that crashed the plane and as she begs his voicemail not to open the suitcase, of course he opens it and gasp the combination for the suitcase lock is his birthday!!! Something his brother used to do!!!

MAYBE THAT MAN WAS HIS BROTHER AFTER ALL!!!! OH NO!!

But thank fuck the episode is over now.

VERDICT:

Just no. Don’t do this. The latter half of the show is more standard fare, but the first 25 minutes destroy any capability of this show making sense. I can see what the writers are trying to do, but it’s so hamfisted and badly written I’m just not willing to go along.

If you want a show that also has a fantasy action aspect (and this show is all fantasy no matter how much it tries to science it up), watch LUCA instead. That show at least knows how to set a tone, how to get us invested in the characters and does exposition in a way that doesn’t feel obtrusive.

#sisyphus: the myth #sisyphus #I RANT #FOR WAY TOO LONG #kdrama

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leechonspeeddial · 3 years ago

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Midnight Shift: Carry On, Citizen Fang

Summary: Something wicked this way comes. If only Resentment could figure out if it was the same thing that stunk up the Burger King. Chapters: 2/? Read on ao3

Straight Kevin had been very understanding about my family emergency – He was super duper cool with manning the restaurant all by his lonesome. Sadly, he wasn't understanding enough to let me get away with not telling Gay Kevin about it – which wasn't very super duper cool of him, now was it?

He didn't even have the decency to offer to call for me, the fucking coward.

"Are you certain it's an emergency?"

I rolled my eyes and skipped over the muddy snow pile blocking the sidewalk. I felt a sense of kinship with the season. Besides the cold and death, Winter went all out when it came to inconveniencing the population.

"Trust me, Kev. If I wanted to blow off work, I'd do it on location. I'm not exactly in a rush to get home, ya know?"

The line went quiet for exactly five seconds and I could picture him doing that breathing exercise he did whenever he was fed up with my shit. I took the opportunity to loudly slurp my mello yello.

Delicious.

"I don't know, you could be ditching to hang out with friends or something. Teens do that. I did that." I almost laughed, as if.

"I spend all of my free time at work and everyone my age thinks I'm pregnant with an incest baby. Bold of you to assume I even have friends."

"You would get friends if you felt like it would inconvenience me. And it would really inconvenience me right now"

"Ugh. Don't be so dramatic. I don't do things just to be a general nuisance," I heard a snort that didn't come from Gay Kevin. "Wait, did you put me on speaker?!"

"What's the word, Res" Not Kevin chimed in before being shushed by Gay Kevin.

"Relax, we're loading the rental. I don't exactly have a free hand."

"So? This only needed to be like two seconds. Take a five or something."

"I'm going to level with you, our new napkin guy gives me real sketch vibes. Any second where we're not loading, it's an additional second we have to spend here. I simply refuse to die in a dilapidated warehouse, Resentment. I refuse."

I crossed the street to take the park shortcut home. A couple of high schoolers were vaping by the swings; they stared at me and I ignored them.

"I think you'd survive. You exude final girl energy"

"Have you ever watched a horror movie? I'd literally die first"

"I watched Practical Magic once" I smirked when Not Kevin groaned.

My satisfaction didn't last long, because no more than a second later, a snowball hit the back of my head. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I couldn't gloat to Edward about having the moral high ground if I murdered every minor annoyance that crossed my path.

It just sucked having to ignore my vampire senses because I had to play human. What was the point of knowing something was coming if you were unable to stop it because you had to keep up appearances? In my opinion, humans should just have to deal with the knowledge of the supernatural. They were big kids, we didn't need to coddle them anymore.

It was 2022, for God's sake.

I turned back scowling and flipped off the fuckers. I recognized High-Pony in the group and decided to give her the soggiest, saddest, AND smallest fries next time she dared enter my work.

Maybe even sprinkle some burnt ones for extra flavor.

"I know what you're doing and I'm begging you to stop. I'm the one who has to deal with him for the next two hours"

"Don't be rude. Not Kevin is a gift," I glared at the group and slowly walked away backwards. At least until they were out of my sight. The Cullens were insane for going back to high school as often as they did.

"Ha. It's nice to be appreciated"

"Truly. Short of a museum, where else are you going to find something so old?"

"Boo. Get new jokes, the material is stale," I rolled my eyes as I shook the snow from my hair. I was rapidly approaching home and I wasn't quite prepared to go in.

For one, how was I supposed to keep my new mystery to myself if that's what Alice saw? It wasn't fair. To think I had only been worried about Big Brother and his thought police...

Reflecting on it though, if Alice saw my mystery man, then wouldn't that mean he was either a vampire or a human? Ergo, something neither mysterious nor interesting.

Disappointing.

"Whatever, gramps"

"Ok, ok. Let's get back on topic –"

"You gotta start trying harder, Chucky. You're far from the only teen girl that calls me ancient on the regular."

"Why are you regularly taking to teenage girls, creep?"

"Guys –"

"That's not what–! I foster kids!"

"Yeah, sure, pervert"

"I'm NOT –"

"OK RESENTMENT, DEAL WITH YOUR FAMILY. HANGING UP NOW"

I stopped walking and stared at my phone. Despite the length of the call, there had been no new messages from my family. I was unsure if that was a good sign.

I took a sip from my drink and was disappointed to find I only had ice left. I wondered if that was thematically significant, or maybe even foreshadowing.

Sigh.

I picked up my pace and tried to empty my mind before arriving home. "No thoughts, head empty" was a good mantra when you lived with a mind reader.

The rest of the walk was fairly uneventful, save for some guy who got attacked by a flock of ducks for getting way too close without enough food. Beware, all amateur wildlife photographers, lest the same fate falls upon you, I guess.

Poor guy even lost his coat. I was happy to assume it was the first casualty under the duck assault.

I slowed down when I finally arrived across the street from my home. The newest Cullen mansion stood foreboding before me. A concrete monument full of sharp lines and odd angles; despite all of Esme's soft touches, brutalism simply exuded hostility and soullessness. Try as she might, there was a limit to how much you could dress up a giant grey concrete block to make it look approachable – and if we were being honest, it wasn't working.

How's that for a metaphor?

Well. There was no use delaying the inevitable.

I entered the house.

[Scene Break]

Being a half-vampire meant that I always felt at a misstep with everyone around me. To me, humanity was more of a scientific field of study that I took interest in and less of a dearly held-on memento of a bygone era or something that I simply had.

From the vampire side of things, while I was clearly an abomination, my existence didn't require me to be a parasitic blood freak. That put me in a different head space from the rest of my family. For one, I didn't need to agonize over my monstrous nature; secondly, I wasn't a slave to my bloodlust if I kept myself full of human food; and thirdly, there just wasn't much precedent for me to measure up to.

For all we knew, everything I did was the best I could have done.

That was all to say, I always felt like there was something I was missing when interacting with anyone. My point of view was fundamentally a different one, and though some things I could make sense of theoretically, it wasn't the same as first-hand experience.

Standing in the living room, surrounded by my family as they continued to say nothing, I couldn't help but think that perhaps this time the context I was missing had nothing to do with my hybrid status.

Edward paced while looking constipated but everyone else stood motionless and rigidly like the statues they were. Not even Emmett tried to lighten the mood, and that's how you knew it was serious.

"So who's going to who's funeral? Please don't say any of my coworkers, I've grown quite attached to them"

"Renesmee," Edward warned. I ignore him like he ignored my preferred name.

"Is it you pops? Wanna crack open another high school girl and drink her up like grape soda?"

"For once in your life could you stop acting like a brat?" Edward snapped and I flinched.

"Takes one to know one. Maybe if you didn't raise one you wouldn't have to deal with one, dad"

"Enough!" We both turned to look at Carlisle and I could see how unsettled he was. My stomach churned.

"Maybe my vision was wrong. Maybe it wasn't him," Alice sounded desperate, almost like the time the truck transporting her latest Givenchy haul got into a freak accident and the customer service lady told her they couldn't replace her order until after whatever microtrend that had been happening at the time ended.

"No, Alice. I saw your vision. It was. No doubt about it, that face is burned in my memory"

"It just doesn't make any sense, Edward!"

"I know what I saw," he replied forcefully.

Carlisle rubbed at his eyes, and for the briefest of seconds, you could have mistaken him for human.

"What's going on? You guys are scaring me," nothing felt right and all I wanted to do was to get back to the Burger King. At least the Kevins kept me in the loop when potentially life-threatening stuff happened.

"James is back," Bella whispered and I looked at her. Out of all of the Cullens, she looked the least worried. While everyone else's expressions visibly darkened at hearing the name, Bella said the name like she would say any name that wasn't Edward's.

"Who the fuck is James?"

"He was a vampire," Jasper growled.

"So what's the big deal? I don't know if you have noticed, but all of you are vampires"

"Emphasis on the was, Nessie. We ripped apart the bastard a good 16 years ago," Emmet explained. I raised my eyebrow.

"You sure about that? Last I heard, once you killed the undead, they were dead for good. No such thing as an undead undead."

"Oh, damn sure. We tore into him like frenzied piranhas at lunchtime and then lit him like a firework on the Fourth of July," Rosalie lightly hit his arm.

"You don't have to be so graphic about it"

"So it's obviously not him," Edward made a noise filled with frustration.

"Renesmee, I know what I saw. It was him, I would bet my life on it"

"Would you bet Bella's?" was what I almost said but Edward's glare made me reconsider. Just this once.

"Dead people just don't walk around all over the place," I said instead.

"We do," Emmett chimed in.

"We're different!"

"So why not him?"

"Edward is right," Classic Carl Carlisle move. His Golden Child could never be wrong. "I might have heard of something like this happening before."

There was a brief moment of silence before everyone exploded.

"WHAT?!"

Carlisle sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You have to understand, I couldn't verify it at the time."

When he said nothing, Esme made a "well, go on" motion.

"It happened about a decade ago. I only came upon this information because of Eleazar – he had approached me about it because he thought I was involved," Carlisle walked towards a window and stared into the distance like the dramatic bitch he was.

Edward slapped the back of my head.

"He told me heard of rumors of a vampire that had died 50 years ago and who walked the Earth again. You all know about my passion for Theology and my desire to find out what waits for us on the other side, so I promised to look into it. It took a while, but eventually, I heard back from someone"

"Your trip to Carencro," Esme gasped. "You said it was a conference!"

"When was this, I don't remember this?" Carl was holding back no punches in his dramatic reveal.

"It was our semester abroad," that's what Edward like to call the half a year experiment we spent in France. He wanted to see if Bella, him, and I could be a family unit all on our own.

It failed pretty miserably, would never happen again.

"I didn't want to burden you, love. Not unless I knew for sure."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "So what happened?"

Carlisle turned back to us and shrugged.

"I met my informant and they told me to go to this one cafe and ask for Roy. I went there and the manager told me no one with that name worked there"

"So you got pranked," Emmet said.

"I looked around town for a couple of days, and since nothing else came up after my trip to Lousiana, I felt comfortable labeling the whole thing a hoax."

Rosalie scoffed. "And you think that's what's happening here?"

"I think it could be a possibility. This is our only lead"

I thought over what Carlisle just said. Could there really be an afterlife vampires could come back from? And if that was the case, then what happened to Roy? Was Roy even the vampire Elezear heard about?

But most importantly, why now?

"Hey, Alice. Besides James, what else did you see?"

Everyone went quiet and I looked back at them confused.

"I saw us without you"

"I mean, you don't really see me in your visions," I chuckled nervously.

"When I don't see you, it's like I'm looking around something. What I saw...it felt like I would never have to deal with that interference again."

"...Oh"

That didn't sound good.

#midnight shift #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #my writing #renesmee cullen #the cullens #fanfiction #twilight renaissance

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preciousthingsareprecious · 4 years ago

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With a Heart of Scars Ch 4

I think I’m at the point where if I’ve posted on Wednesday two weeks in a row, then Wednesday is probably posting day lol. This chapter features Dick and Jason’s povs and we’re starting to get moving into some plot-y things.

AO3

Dick ducked as a fist came flying at him. He turned on the back of his heel, and shoved his elbow up and into the attacker’s sternum. It connected, and the man cried out before falling backwards. Dick grinned as he danced backwards and away.

Something caught as he moved, making Dick stumble backwards, one foot getting caught in the long cape that was for some reason under him now. It wrapped around his ankle as he twisted and turned in his attempt to find his balance, and finally tore even that from him, sending him stumbling to the ground.

The man he’d been fighting caught his own breath and straightened, now towering over Dick as he struggled to untangle himself from his cape. The guy had scooped a plank of wood up from somewhere and hefted it to swing downwards while Dick fumbled for a batarang. A slim metal rod interrupted its descent.

Robin moved in between Dick and the thug, giving him enough time to finally untangle his boot from the traitorous cape and locate what had caused all the trouble. The cape had caught on a part of raised concrete, just crooked enough to catch a cape that was ever so slightly too long.

Dick yanked it back and finally stood again. He looked around and realized Robin had finished off the men they’d been fighting. He was currently crouched over and securing zip ties around the guy’s wrists.

He contacted Oracle while Robin finished securing the men, and then they were off, ready to continue patrol. Dick held in his frustration for all of five minutes, just long enough for them to have made it far enough away from the thugs they’d fought and into a relatively quiet part of town.

“You know, things like that never happened when I was Robin.”

Tim snorted, “When you were Robin your cape was about as big as a napkin.”

“First of all, rude. Secondly, it was not. My cape was long enough to be fantastic, but not so long it tripped me up at the littlest thing.”

As if to make his point, part of the cape curled up and threatened to tangle around his leg again. Dick swatted at it, tugging it loose.

Tim chuckled, “We’ll just have to ask Alfred to take off another inch when we get back.”

Dick grunted and reached up to fiddle with the cowl again. “An inch there and some adjustments to the cowl. My peripherals are a nightmare."

“You didn’t complain this much when you were filling in for Bruce last time,” Tim pointed out, as they both stopped atop the edge of the roof they were on.

Their patrol route was well planned, but they’d gotten off it when they’d moved to stop the thugs. Dick paused while trying to sort out what direction they needed to go in order to get back on track. He wouldn’t lie that the break was so he could school the emotions suddenly rushing through him.

It was the permanence of their situation that fueled Dick’s many complaints. After Bane, he’d been able to ignore the little irritants that came with donning the cape and cowl, because he understood that sooner or later he’d be back in his Nightwing uniform. Now? A miracle had to happen for him to be allowed to step back into the life he’d made for himself.

He didn’t want to complain. Well he did, but he didn’t. This was simply what he had to do, and whining about it would help no one. What he could rail against were all the inconveniences that came with added kevlar, a heavy cape, and a cowl that made his head sweat.

The wind caught his cape in a sudden rush and dragged at him, causing a spark of irritation to flare up in his chest.

“Yes, well this time I’m not just filling in, am I?” Dick snapped.

Continue on AO3

#Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Batfam #Fanfiction #With a Heart of Scars #Precious Posts #Chapter 4

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catharticdevice · 3 years ago

Text

maybe life is not for everyone

I’ve been meaning to translate these jumbled mess of thoughts into coherent sentences. Just to see them from a distance. I don’t know why I think it matters—it really doesn’t. But here we are.

Come on in, everyone. Welcome to my version of a ✨spiraling free fall ✨

I’m okay, by the way—I think? If we share some commonality in terms of how we define okay, it really is not that serious. My suicidal thoughts have all been passive and my brain hasn’t lost its chemical capacity to perform my role as a functioning adult. In all honesty, I’m a bit wary of using the word depression; it’s such a blanket term that’s too intimately linked with the clinical branch of depression. The more nuanced lower end of the spectrum gets slided onto the back burner, because it’s not pressing—which is a perfectly sound logic. Given that none of my symptoms directly point to major/clinical depression, I’m more inclined to stay away from it altogether. My episodes are never debilitating to the extent that I ignore hygiene or fail to keep my job. So it feels stupid to be open about my minor inconveniences. I’d much rather invalidate my own mental struggle before someone can say to my face “You’re just faking it for attention—”

You know how people sometimes say “I haven’t been feeling myself lately,” More often than not, it indicates a varying degree of emotional disturbances—be it gloomy, anxious, in despair, discontent, bitter, or what have you. You recognize what your normal behavior looks like and you get a sense when it deviates off the course. In contrast, I can’t really tell if my low-spirited nature is just a part of a temporary mental distress or is it actually me. It has been my default state for as long as I can remember that it successfully assimilated into my personality traits. So much so that if I were to say “I haven’t been feeling like myself lately,” it would mean a good thing.

I learned to make peace with the way life works; how to navigate through the challenges while keeping my head above water. The secret is to give up all your hopes and be okay with not thriving. Life is not actually that bad when you feel apathetic. I’ve fully embraced my apathy and made it my home—very comfy here, 10/10 would recommend. Because who the fuck got time to do some thriving? Also, why must we thrive as humans? Why is that a necessity? Who decided that? Why can’t we just survive? How is it not enough to survive?

Not quite sure what else there even is to life that makes me willingly choose it every single day. But surviving has to be enough for now. I am not putting any more effort into this bullshit.

Anyway, that’s the baseline. That’s what my good day looks like. Lukewarm, with a hint of melancholy. Now, on to the good stuff—

Every time something drives me over the edge, my go-to coping mechanism has always been limited to safe non-lethal strategies, which include social withdrawal (textbook self-sabotaging behavior) and restrictive food intake (an effort to regain some sense of control apparently). It wasn’t until recently that my brain got a bit more creative and incorporated suicidal ideation into the mix. Whenever I only have my thoughts to keep me company, it’s incredibly easy to spiral into a self-destructive existential conundrum. Although the problematic eating behavior has now also progressed into a more frequent pattern. Anxiety is no longer needed to spur the action. I just need a win sometimes. And running on two cups of coffee and nothing else all day is the most instantaneous way to earn a sense of accomplishment. (PSA: I don’t recommend it though. It’s ok for me and me only, it really is not good for you, kids.)

I wonder, why has nobody told you that as you get older, cutting your life short is becoming a more and more interesting option? It really feels like I’ve maxed out on my lifetime serotonin quota—it’s all spent. I’m done. At this point I’m not even living anymore; I’m just wasting everybody’s time. The thought of having to endure 20-30 more years of this fucking non-consensual existence is such a nightmare. (Actually, with the rapidly accelerating climate change and billionaires continuing to play gods, 30 years is probably too generous.)

When it comes to the subject of suicide, some people’s prevention approach is to say stuff like “...think about how that makes your loved ones feel,” or “There’s so many things you’re going to miss out on,” First of all, let’s think about how I feel, ok. This is about me—focus up! Secondly, I don’t know where you got your biology lesson from, but you actually don’t have to worry about missing anything if you don’t wake up tomorrow. Because when you’re flatlined, your neurons stop firing. Ergo you can’t think, you can’t feel—so you wouldn’t have any function left to miss anything. Win-win.

I’ve been told countless times that it’s temporary; that there will come a time when I won’t feel this way anymore. But man...when you’re swimming across any large, deep body of water and then around mid way you’re slowly feeling your energy level is plummeting below zero, we all know how that’s gonna end. There’s no way you would ever be able to make it to the shore. Even if it’s only a few feet ahead of you. There’s nothing you can do except to let the water take you in.

I’ve been enjoying looking into how body donation works lately. Interesting hobby—quite niche if I do say so myself. Unfortunately Science Care does not currently operate where I live. Also, in Mass you have to sign a consent paper that’s called Instrument of Anatomical Gift. But there has to be two witnesses. Urgh...! Ideally, I’d like my heart to stop beating at the exact place where they would actually store the bodies before they’re being used. Dying in my apartment room doesn’t really appeal to me. I don’t want to create a hassle where somebody has to schlep my body around. Can you imagine being dead and still be a burden to someone? Also, where do people buy body bags? I wonder if they do like a prime 2-day delivery. In the event of a demise-causing-amount-of blood spurting out of my person, I wouldn’t want to leave a mess for someone to clean up—that would be rude. It should be much cleaner and easier to manage if everything is contained within a cadaver bag.

...

Ok, you know what, never mind—too many things to be mindful of. Fuck. I can’t believe being too polite is the only thing keeping me from actually executing any plans. Nope. Let’s be honest, you’re just a wimp, Sash. One day, maybe.

Again, let me reiterate: I am A-OK. I assure you, you’ll still see me being miserable and think about dying tomorrow and the day after. But other than that, everything’s fine.

Peace out, homies.

#suicide tw #ed tw

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catsafarithewriter · 5 years ago

Note

For the prompts- "Is that a new hat? Nice, very pointy. Classic.” and/or “It’s not my fault! You make it all too easy to laugh at you.” Muta and Toto shading each other or Haru and Baron.

A/N: Someone already requested the “it’s not my fault!” prompt, so I’m going for “Is that a new hat? Nice, very pointy. Classic.” This is another Soulmate AU, because apparently I’m weak for playing with the concept. :D

Basically: there’s a business for everything. Even soulmates.

(Also the first scene is inspired by The Librarians TV show. Also… this got long. Like... 6K long? I regret so much.)

Humbert von Gikkingen - or Baron, to the few that knew him - didn’t receive many visitors while working in his quiet little corner of the Bureau of Soulmate Regulation.

Or any, if one didn’t count the handful of co-workers he shared the Sanctuary with.

So when there came a quiet knock at his office door, he didn’t bother to look up. Of the few co-workers he had, even fewer bothered to knock. Instead, he pulled up another file and began to write up the results. “Toto, if this is about the radio, I promise I barely went near the infernal machine, and Muta is the one responsible for the coffee machine–”

“What happened to the coffee machine?”

He snapped his head up and was greeted not with the tired expression of the Head of the Bureau of Soulmate Regulation, but of a woman he didn’t recognise. For a moment, he glanced behind him as if half expecting there to be someone else she had come to see, before remembering he was the only one there. “Can I help you?”

“I, uh…” She faltered as she looked at him, her gaze slipping from his eyes and pausing instead on the ginger fur, the feline ears, the tail sweeping behind him… Then she visibly remembered her manners and dropped into a hasty bow. “I’m Haru Yoshioka. I’ve been hired as your… facilitator, I think?” She rose out of the bow, her face reddening. “At least, that’s assuming you are Humbert von Gikkin- Gikkanin-”

“Gikkingen,” he supplied. “Yes, I am, and no, I do not need a facilitator.” He returned his attention to the file at hand. “Door’s behind you; I presume you can find your own way out.”

She didn’t move.

He glanced back up. “I’m sorry, does something seem to be confusing you, Miss Yoshioka?”

“Well… kind of.” Her hands were dancing over a slip of paper, turning it over and curling the edges. “It’s just, the letter I got seemed quite sure…”

He now saw the paper was a beautifully embossed piece of card, more akin to a wedding invitation than a letter, and his stomach sank. He held out a hand. “May I?”

“Oh. Sure.”

He turned it over in his hold and, sure enough, there were the words he knew too well, written in flowing, nearly-illegible script.

‘Miss Haru Yoshioka. You have been selected to interview for a prestigious position with the Bureau of Soulmate Regulation,’ it read. Simple. To the point. Almost insultingly brusque, if it weren’t for the obvious expense and care put into it.

“I mean,” the woman said, missing his growing resignation, “it was kind of weird. I don’t remember ever applying for anything, definitely nothing that would prompt this, but the name and address was correct, and the man I met didn’t seem that surprised by it.” She paused. “Now I think about it, he didn’t even interview me; just sent me here to meet you.”

“No,” Baron said. “He wouldn’t have.” He sighed and passed the letter back , reaching for the internal phone with his other hand. “Please excuse me for a moment. Toto?”

He pressed the call button several times before it responded with an angry buzzing. He pressed again, and it cleared into an acceptable phone pitch. “Toto?”

After a long moment, the Head of the Bureau picked up. He sounded like he already knew the incoming conversation. “Baron. How lovely to hear your voice. What can I do for you today?”

“Toto, I have a woman here claiming she’s my facilitator–”

“Oh, good. Then she found her way to your office. The Sanctuary must like her.”

“No. Not good. Toto, why would you invite her here? We’ve already discussed that I don’t need a facilitator–”

Toto gave a short laugh. “I don’t send the invitations, you know that. The Sanctuary does. The Sanctuary sends the invitations and, evidently, it has decided that yes, you do need a facilitator before you blow up another computer. I’m sorry, Baron. The decision is out of my hands.” There was a pause, and then, “Oh, and Miss Haru, if you’re hearing this, welcome to the Bureau of Soulmate Regulation.” He could hear the smile in Toto’s words. “Good luck.”

They both stared at the phone as Toto hung up, and a dubious pause lingered.

“So…” Haru said eventually, “does that mean I’m hired?”

“It would appear so.”

“You, uh, don’t seem too happy about this.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Yoshioka. Trust me, this isn’t any fault of yours, it’s simply that I do not need a facilitator. You hear that?” he snapped, glaring at the office ceiling. “I don’t need her! I’m fine!”

“Sir… are you arguing with the building?”

“The building’s quasi-sentient,” he muttered. “You get used to it.”

“So, um, I guess I should have asked this before now,” Miss Haru said, “but what exactly does a facilitator do?” She frowned at the blue nitrile gloves set before her. “And do I have to wear these?”

Baron paused, mid-way into bringing up the next case. “How much do you know about the Bureau of Soulmate Regulation?”

“Just what it says on the tin. You’re the people who match folk up with their soulmates. People send their details in, fill out a form, and you respond back with their match.” She hesitated and glanced round at the singular office. “To be honest, I thought there’d be more of you. It’s a big business.”

“This building is just one of many offices strewn across the world, but it isn’t a popular vocation.” He didn’t meet her gaze as he flipped through the file. “Only mages can actively cast the spells required to identify soulmates, but using your magic tends to have… complicated effects.”

“Like turning into a cat.”

He looked at her.

“Wait, I’m sorry, was that rude?” she gabbled. “That probably was rude, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just say it like that, it’s just that you are, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you…”

He waited.

“…sorry.”

He sighed and closed the case file. Better to get the awkward conversation out of the way now. “Yes, my… feline appearance is due to my use of magic. Yes, the transformation is solely superficial, yes, it will continue to happen as long as I work here, and no, I am not about to go chasing after a laser pointer.” Yet, his mind supplied.

“Oh.” She glanced back to the gloves she had been given. “So is that what these are for?”

“You’re going to be coming into contact with magic while employed here. Officially, we cannot make you wear them, but they are strongly recommended for non-mages who work in a magical environment. Second-hand magic isn’t as strong as it is for mages, but it will still have… consequences if you are regularly exposed to it.”

Her eyes flickered over him, and he knew she was considering the possibility of becoming half-cat herself.

She put the gloves on.

“And… my job? You didn’t answer that.”

Keeping his deadpan expression on her, he reached across and brushed a hand over the electric kettle.

The fuse blew, and along with it every light bulb in his office. There was a curse somewhere else in the building, and Baron suspected the effects were slightly more wide-reaching than usual today. He grinned at her in the semi-gloom. “Side effect number two of regular magic usage: Electricity really doesn’t like it.”

The lights flickered back on. Someone had evidently located the fuse box.

“Huh” Miss Haru said, and to her credit, she only looked vaguely unsettled by the electrical fault. “I guess that explains Mr Toto’s comment about exploding computers.”

“Firstly, I didn’t explode anything. It smoked, at best. And, secondly…” He faltered, not entirely sure where his train of thought had been going.

“Secondly, I guess that’s my job?” she offered.

“Yes. Facilitators are hired to help mages whose magic has reached the stage where it becomes… inconvenient around electrical appliances.”

“Like exploding computers?”

He sighed. “Like exploding computers.”

For all his complaints about not needing a facilitator, Humbert at least remained professional enough to keep his irritation to himself. For that, Haru was grateful.

Even if she did have to move the kettle into the next room to stop him from making his own tea.

And shift the internal phone onto her desk.

And put warning tape around the light switches.

In any case, she quickly became familiar with where the fuse box and spare light bulbs were kept, more so than she did in her actual home, and life fell into a strange sort of routine. She’d arrive, turn on the lights in their corner of the Sanctuary, make them both tea with the exiled kettle, and then settle down to help whenever Humbert’s job required access to anything electrical.

Sometimes it was picking up the phone, and other times it was replying to emails or updating Humbert on their contents. But mostly it was dealing with the influx of soulmate requests - transcribing the details onto paper for Humbert and then transferring them back onto the computer when he had the results. She wondered how he had managed before she had been hired.

Explosively, if the previously computer comment was anything to go by.

“Someone would run down with the list in the morning and then pick it up at the end of the day,” Humbert answered when she finally decided to ask.

“Sounds inefficient,” Haru said.

“It worked.”

Slowly, Haru suspected.

She didn’t say that though. She just put down a fresh cup of tea and ignored how tentatively he sipped at it.

“You don’t like my tea, do you?”

She wasn’t sure what prompted her to be so direct - maybe it was a month of watching her co-worker superficially thank her every time she set a cup down before him and reluctantly drink it out of gratitude. Maybe she’d just had enough.

He looked startled. “Miss Haru, I assure you–”

“You’re really not that subtle. So, what is it? Too much milk? Not enough sugar? Seeping for the wrong time?”

Humbert hesitated. “You make excellent tea - for store-bought tea bags. The fact of the matter is simply that I’m more accustomed to making my own blend - or,” he added, “I was before…” and he motioned vaguely to himself.

“Oh.” She supposed that explained the cupboard full of loose tea leaves and other varied ingredients she’d found when moving the kettle. “You know, if you tell me how to–”

“Thank you, but I’m afraid I quite enjoyed the process as much as the drinking.”

He smiled politely in a way that didn’t meet his eyes.

“Thank you, all the same.”

Baron jolted back as a tray was set firmly on his desk. He leant back, appraising the tea pot, the cups, and the assortment of boxed ingredients laid out before him. “What is this?”

“I would have thought you, of all people, Humbert, would recognise a tea pot when you saw one,” Miss Haru said, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Yes, but more to the matter: What is it doing here? You know I cannot make tea–”

“What you cannot do,” she said, “is use a kettle. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but the rest of the tea-making process is pretty analogue, right?” She beamed proudly at him. “And, luckily for you, you have someone on hand who can fill a kettle.”

He looked at her anew.

She grinned back. “Well?” She was almost brimming with excitement. “What do you think?”

Baron pulled the tea pot towards him. It was ceramic and red, a classic combination with a good quality weight to it. Inside was a detachable infuser, ready and waiting for a fresh tea batch.

“Okay, now is the time to tell me you love it,” Miss Haru said, doubt beginning to creep into her voice. “

“I love it,” he said.

“Oh, thank god. I was beginning to worry… Look, just let me know when you want to make a cup and I’ll get the kettle sorted.”

“I really do,” he said, and he was surprised when his voice wavered. He browsed through the ingredients, all freshly bought variations of the old collection he’d had before his magic had made using a kettle impossible. “This is… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Humbert.”

“Baron,” he said.

She faltered. “What?”

“Please, call me Baron, Miss Haru. All my friends do.”

She grinned. “In that case, it’s just Haru to you.” She laughed. “’Miss Haru’ makes me feel like someone’s nanny.”

He returned the smile.

“As you wish, Haru.”

She had to admit it: his tea blends were delicious.

“A stick.”

“Yep.”

Baron glanced at Haru. “You bought me a stick for Christmas.”

“I put a bow around it and everything” she said. “Look - it’s a little bowtie that matches yours. That’s real care and dedication. And it’s extendable!”

“Why did you buy me a stick for Christmas, Haru?”

She grinned and retrieved it. It was, as far as sticks went, fairly fancy. It was metal and the pointer was shaped in the form of a cat’s head but, when all was said and done, it was still a stick. Even so, he watched with one raised eyebrow as she pulled it out, extending it from a foot to nearly a metre, and prodded the light switch.

“Now you don’t have to wait for me to turn the lights on!” Haru cried.

“That’s… huh.”

Haru prodded the lights back on. “You don’t like it? Of course you don’t like it, what was I even thinking–”

“Of course I like it,” Baron said. He reclaimed the stick. “It’s very… you.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

He tilted his head. “It’s the highest praise, Haru.”

“Did you ever think of testing yourself?” The question slipped from Haru as she watched Baron perform the soulmate spell. It was a complicated affair, made up of several parts, including a spell to specify the individual, a spell to transfer the data to a compatible magic format, a spell to find the soulmate, and another spell to identify the soulmate… to name but the few Haru had been able to spot. She leant over his shoulder, almost but not quite touching, and added, “You know, seeing who your soulmate is?”

“Not particularly,” he answered. “And, even if I were inclined, things are somewhat complicated due to…” He motioned to himself, and Haru bristled.

“Do you think your soulmate would care what you looked like?” she demanded.

Baron laughed. “That wasn’t what I was referring to, although I imagine it wouldn’t make things any easier. No, you see, the magic used to determine one’s soulmate doesn’t work with a mage. It has something to do with our own magic contaminating the results.”

“Oh. So, even if you used your own magic to try…?”

“It still wouldn’t work.”

“Oh.” He laughed again. “Don’t look so sad, Haru. I made my decision, and I’m happy with it.” He smiled. “And, as you reminded me, my appearance doesn’t… simplify matters.”

“I didn’t mean it in that way, I just assumed when you said that, that you meant–”

“Look at me, Haru. Would you date me?”

“I…”

Moments passed.

Her mouth dried, and she glanced away.

Baron didn’t see her blush.

She had become accustomed to Baron’s unusual appearance.

It had crept up on her, in the same way he had gone from co-worker to friend; quietly, and with no fuss.

She was sorting through an old cabinet when she found the scuffed picture frame - stuffed between an expenses file from three years back and a confirmation of the instalment of a new computer. It showed two people; a woman with long blonde, almost white, hair, and a man with curly ginger hair. The two were posed in old-fashioned clothes, grinning into the camera.

Baron must have sensed her sudden stillness, for he shifted his gaze her way. “Haru, what has… oh.”

She turned the photo towards him. “Is that…?”

“Old,” he answered and he took the picture from her. “I thought I’d lost it - where did you find it?”

“Just… down there. Baron, who are they?”

He looked to her with a feline grin. “Don’t you recognise me?”

“That’s… that’s you?”

“And my sister. She convinced me to attend a regency fair with her, and took great delight in making the costumes. Of course, we both look a little different now…” He noted her expression. “You seem surprised?”

“It’s just…” And she laughed, embarrassed. “I guess I had kind of forgotten that you were ever…”

“Human?”

“That you didn’t always look this way.”

He twisted the photo back towards her. “Well, now you know. What do you think? I was quite the looker, back in my day,” he said, with a kind of detached humour.

“You still are.”

He stared at her.

She stared back. Shoot, had she really said that?

Then he laughed, throwing his head back and placing the frame on his desk. “Yes, I suppose my appearance still draws quite the eye, that’s true. I guess some things never change.”

She was always careful to avoid contact.

Baron didn’t think she even noticed it anymore, it was so ingrained into her habit that she now instinctively kept that distance. Still, her behaviour had shifted. If he had to describe it, it would be that she had grown comfortable around him.

And, to be honest, he had with her.

Maybe that was the reason he felt confident enough to ask why she had never applied to find her soulmate.

At first, she only laughed. The sound was light, surprised. She raised an eyebrow back at him. “How do you know I didn’t? Maybe I already did and am happily married with two kids and a mortgage.”

He raised an eyebrow back. “A mortgage? On this payroll?”

“You’re right, I guess that did make my lie obvious.” She continued to type up the most recent batch of results. “Next time I’ll be sure to omit that.”

“You still didn’t answer my question.”

Now she paused. The familiar clicking of keys ceased and she glanced to him out of the corner of her eye. “I… don’t know. It costs to find your soulmate, and I suppose I just didn’t have the money spare. Still don’t,” she added.

Baron hesitated.

The next words came heavy on his tongue. “You know… I could always do a test for you, free of charge.” He didn’t know why the smile he offered felt thin. “It’d be no trouble.”

She stared at him for a long, long moment.

“I…”

“Only if you wanted,” he hastily added. “I just thought…”

“I’m fine.” The smile she returned was nervous, although he couldn’t figure out why.

“I just ask because there’s always a risk that, even with only the second-hand magic around you, you might eventually become immune to the soulmate magic…” He was rambling. Why was he rambling? “And if that were the case, it feels only right to give you the chance to discover your soulmate while the magic still works for you–”

She leant in suddenly, drawing intimately close. “Baron, I’m fine. I’m happy not knowing who my soulmate is.”

“But what if that changes?”

She only looked at him. “I don’t need magic to tell me who to fall in love with.”

It was only as she backed away did he realise her hands had, if only briefly, covered his.

“Is that a new hat? Nice, very pointy. Classic.”

Haru finished tying the bonnet’s ribbon beneath her chin and examined her reflection in the darkened window. “Thanks. Does it suit me?”

“It looks lovely, but I’m fairly certain it’s not approved Bureau dress protocol.”

“Toto would have to catch me in it first.”

“You also have it on backwards. Here, let me…” He was halfway to untying the ribbon when he remembered himself. His hands froze. “It… should be the other way around.”

There was a flicker in her gaze, and then she set the hat in its correct position. “Like that?”

“You need to tilt it further back, or it won’t stay in place…” His fingers itched with the desire to straighten the bonnet, but now his mind was becoming preoccupied with other thoughts, notably how close they suddenly were.

Haru huffed, a strange, amused sound, and took his wrists in her blue gloved hands. She brought his hands to the brim of her hat. “Just sort it out, Baron, before your delicate fashion senses get any more offended.”

“The magic–”

“You haven’t done any magic today, not yet,” she informed him. “Look, I did my reading; second-hand magic can only be picked up from either active sources, or inactive sources within an hour of being exposed.” She grinned. “You’re not contagious, Baron, so just tie the darn ribbon.”

Still, he hesitated.

Haru tilted her head up to give him a better angle, and her eyes were bright and close and beautiful–

“Why exactly do you have this?” he asked. He hoped she couldn’t tell how hard he had to work to get his brain back on gear. “Short of flaunting the dress code.”

“I’m seeing if it fits. Your sister lent it to me and I need to let her know by the end of the day whether it’ll do.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you have it.”

“I’m borrowing it because we’re going to a regency fair.”

“We as in, you and my sister, or…?”

“We as in you and me.”

He’d finished tying the bonnet in place and, he had to admit, it did suit her. He didn’t back away. “What?”

“There’s a fair in town this weekend and I know you don’t have anything planned - don’t lie, I checked with your sister - so I may have organised for us to go.”

“Why?”

“Because you used to go all the time and I thought you’d enjoy it.”

He took a step back. “Haru, have you considered that maybe there was a reason I stopped going?”

“Yes, and it’s balderdash.” She made a face at him. “Your sister still goes regularly, and she’s as much a cat as you! Why should you miss out on fun just because of a few whiskers and a tail? And don’t tell me about the whole second-hand magic thing, because we both know that as long as you don’t use magic, you’re not a danger to anyone.”

He hesitated. “Haru…”

“Louise tailored your old costume and everything.” She laughed. “She, uh, may have made me a dress too - I didn’t ask her to!” she was quick to add. “She’s just so…”

“Impulsive,” Baron finished.

“I was going to go with ‘enthusiastic’ actually, but sure. I only asked after her advice, and the next thing I knew she had already found your old costume and was planning one for me, and…” She chuckled and shook her head. “She thinks it would be good for you to get out, Baron.”

“My sister thinks a great many things, and she’s as often wrong as she is right.”

“Like the rest of us.” She leant towards him. “Come on, Baron; it’ll be fun! You do know what fun is, don’t you? Or did you skip that day at school?”

Despite everything, he felt the edge of a smile on his lips. “Miss Haru, you are far too convincing for your own good.”

“Is that a yes?”

He had to admit it: the regency fair was fun.

More fun than he’d had in a long time.

“You’re in love.”

Haru nearly dropped the files she was carrying. “I what?”

Baron continued to mark through the paperwork, not even deigning to look up. “You’re wearing the same perfume as you did when you were first dating Machida and when you developed a crush on that waitress. Also, you’re wearing a necklace; a habit I have rarely seen outside of situations you want to make a good impression. Ergo, there is a new love interest on the scene.”

Haru’s hand flew to the charm around her neck. “How could you tell? You didn’t even look.”

He offered a knowing smile. “Feline senses.”

“Oh. Is it… is the perfume okay? It’s not too strong, is it? I can… sit downwind of you, if you want, not that there even is a downwind in an office, but–”

He smiled, and Haru’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s no bother, Haru. So, who’s the lucky person? Do I know them?”

She made a show of readjusting the files in her arms, eyes downcast. “Um… no. No, I don’t… You don’t.” She felt her cheeks heat up as Baron chuckled. “It’s…”

“What’s this? The indomitable Haru Yoshioka, lost for words? I never thought I’d see the day.” He raised an eyebrow. “If it’s my sister, I only ask that you disbelieve 80% of the childhood stories she shares. She exaggerates.”

“It’s… uh, it’s not your sister.” Haru hesitated. “Although she is really pretty.”

“Oh. I just thought, since you’ve been spending time with her… nevermind. So, who are they? I only ask because Louise will demand every detail when she hears of this.”

“He’s… well, he’s a he,” Haru mumbled, “and he works in an… office. Files and paperwork and… stuff.”

Baron paused in writing up the soulmate report. “Somehow, that surprises me.”

“Oh?”

“I presumed it would be someone more… exciting than that.”

“Office people can be exciting.”

He faltered, and Haru suddenly wondered if she had dropped one too many hints, but then he said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that you’re dull, I just meant…” He chuckled and looked awkwardly away. “There’s no way I can recover this, is there?”

“Not really.”

“How about if I try distracting you by asking you about this mystery man? What’s his name?”

She fumbled. “Uh… it’s.. um, Aaron.”

“How old is he?”

“Uh… about your age.”

“What does he look like?”

“About… your height. Ginger. Green eyes.” She blushed. “Is this a interrogation? Do you want to rig me up to a lie detector or something?”

“Actually, I’m just hoping it distracts you from my embarrassing comment earlier,” Baron admitted. “Is it working?”

“It’s definitely keeping my mind occupied.”

He beamed. “Grand. So what is he like, this Aaron?”

Again, she faltered, her gaze carefully shifting to the files she held. “He’s… uh, nice. Kind. Even when something irritates him, he does his best to be patient. He’s funny. And smart. And he trusts me, even when he’s nervous, and I love our conversations, and…” she hesitated, “he doesn’t know how I feel about him.”

Baron’s gaze turned sympathetic. “Have you tried telling him?”

“It’s… difficult. I think he just sees us as friends, and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“Haru, if the friendship is true, then you won’t ruin it even if he doesn’t return the feelings.”

“And he’s a little oblivious,” Haru added.

“Just be forthright. Just go up to him and say, ‘Aaron, I love you.’”

“I love you.”

“Yes! Like that!” Baron laughed. “If he doesn’t get the hint then, I’m sorry, Haru, but he’s too oblivious for you.”

Haru stared for a long moment. “Okay. Thanks, Baron. Good pep-talk.”

After Haru left, Baron hesitated. His mind ran over the conversation, picking up coincidences and hints and almost piecing them together into one complete picture.

Then he laughed and shook his head.

“Don’t be silly, Baron,” he muttered to himself.

Baron’s sister, Louise, had taken the shapeshifting side effects of being a mage in her stride; something that Baron still couldn’t quite get used to. She sat back at the cafe, wide-brimmed hat settled between her feline ears, and a tailored pair of sunglasses perched precariously on the bridge of her nose.

“You look like an undercover spy, Louise,” Baron said as he swung into the seat opposite.

Louise snapped the book she was reading down. “And you, darling brother, look like a librarian. A dull one at that. Honestly, you should wear the morning suit I bought you for last Christmas. Now that was a look.”

“It’s ridiculous and outdated, Louise.”

“It’s smart! And eyecatching!”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need to be more eyecatching.”

“So you might as well dress as if you’re having fun with it,” Louise reprimanded. “Not as if you’re apologising for existing.”

“I don’t–”

“How is Haru doing?”

He always forgot how disorientating Louise could be until he was sitting in front of her. “She’s… fine? Why do you ask.”

“No… developments since we last chatted?”

Baron hesitated. “What kind of… developments are we talking about?”

Louise gave him a stare and then snapped her book back to her face. “Nothing. Forget I asked.”

“What developments, Louise?”

“Nothing.”

“Louise…”

She groaned and dropped the book onto the table. “Fine. Has Haru had any… conversations with you about dating?”

“She asked my advice on a guy a few weeks back… Is that what this is about?”

“What guy?”

“Someone called Aaron? I didn’t ask for a last name - that seemed somewhat inappropriate–”

“Aaron?”

“Yes.”

“Aaron?” Louise repeated. Her sunglasses began to wobble as she repressed the laughter. “Oh my god, she can’t lie for buttons. What else did she tell you about this ‘Aaron’?”

His sister’s hilarity gave Baron pause. “Just a few small details - he’s kind, works in an office, about my height and age, ginger…” He trailed off as Louise’s grin only grew more knowing. “Louise… what is it?”

“You, Humbert, are the most stupidest person I’ve ever had the pleasure to know.” She laughed and raised her hands to the sides of his face, gloved hands sinking into his fur. “Clap two slices of bread between your ears and call yourself an idiot sandwich, Humbert; the person she was talking about was you.”

“You can’t be sure–”

“I can, because I’m not an idiot sandwich.” Louise grinned. “And because she may have told me as such a while back. Now, are you going to go talk to her about it or do I have to do that for you too?”

“Release my face first.”

“Toto, I think I might be in love with Haru.”

The Head of the Bureau of Soulmate Regulation laughed and swivelled his chair to face Baron. “Oh thank god, you’ve finally decided to join the party.”

“What?”

Toto leant back from his desk with a grin. “We’ve all known about how you two feel about each other for months. It’s about time one of you did something about it.”

“In Haru’s defence,” Baron said, his face heating up, “she has told me at least once.”

“What happened?”

He winced. “I… may not have noticed?”

Toto cawed a laugh. “Naturally. So, now you have caught up with the programme, what are you going to do about it?” Toto tilted his head. “You do intend to do something, don’t you?”

“I - yes, of course, but–”

“But what?”

Baron hesitated. He still wasn’t entirely sure that this wasn’t some elaborate trick from his sister to get him to confess what he’d been trying to ignore all this time. It wasn’t that he thought his sister cruel, but more that the idea that Haru - funny, intelligent, fearless Haru - would have fallen for him was laughable.

Some of those thoughts must have made it onto Baron’s face, for Toto scowled and rose to his feet. “Oh, no; you’re not wimping out of this now.” He grabbed Baron’s collar and hauled him out of his office and down to Baron’s.

“Toto, is this really necessa–”

“Yes.”

Even the Sanctuary was working against him, it seemed, for the usual trek between the two offices took no time at all, and Baron had little chance to think up any convincing argument before he was suddenly standing before Haru in their little corner of the Sanctuary.

“Haru, Baron has something to tell you,” Toto said, and shut the door.

And, suddenly it was just the two of them.

The two of them and a whole unspoken secret.

Haru glanced curiously to the slammed door and then to Baron with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, that’s strange… even for Toto.” She laughed and nodded over to Baron’s desk. “By the way, the soulmate identity spell you left running is almost done so, uh, maybe you should keep an eye on that while you tell me whatever Toto has dragged you back to say.”

Numbly, Baron moved over to his desk.

“Haru… we’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?”

“A year and a bit, yeah.”

“And we’re friends, aren’t we?”

She gave him an odd look. “I hope so. Otherwise I’m going to have to return your Christmas present - and, no, it’s not another stick.”

“Haru, please, I’m trying to be serious here.”

Another odd look, and she turned in her seat to face him. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Haru, when you first arrived, I was very certain that I did not need you.”

“Shouted it at the Sanctuary, if I remember correctly.”

“Haru.”

“Sorry. Listening.”

“When you first arrived, I was very accustomed to working by myself, I could not imagine working alongside a facilitator. Especially not one who had so little background in magic, who barely understood the risks of second-hand magic, I couldn’t imagine why the Sanctuary had chosen you–”

Haru was beginning to make a face, and Baron quickly shuffled the conversation along.

“–but now I see its reasoning all too clearly. Haru, you are clever and creative and kind, and you are never afraid to speak your mind and give others the push they need. When you first arrived, I couldn’t imagine working alongside, but now I can’t imagine working without you. Haru, you are my very good friend, and it can stay that way if you want, but… we could also be something more…”

There was a long silence.

“If I seemed unafraid,” Haru eventually said, “it was only because I knew you trusted me.” She shook he head. “And, anyway, you’re wrong. If I were truly unafraid, then I would have told you how I felt a long time ago.”

“You did.”

She laughed, the sound half-born out of embarrassment. “I would have told you properly. Should have. Not hidden it behind some silly hypothetical crush.”

“And I should have listened.”

“It’s not your fault. I already knew I was dealing with an obtuse idiot. I should have made it so obvious even you couldn’t ignore it.”

There was a flash of light behind Baron. The soulmate identity spell had finished. He ignored it.

It could wait.

“Haru…”

“Do you love me?”

So blunt, so clear-cut. She was leaning towards him now, those searching, bright eyes he had come to know so well in the last year boring into him. He couldn’t lie.

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything sooner, you great goose?” she demanded, but she was laughing now. She reached out, hand cupping his cheek, and began to shorten the distance between them.

“Haru - second-hand magic–” he began.

“Small doses don’t harm anyone,” she said. “Mr Baron Humbert von Gikkingen, I am about to kiss you, if that’s alright with you.”

“I… yes. Yes, that’s…”

She grinned at his flustered response. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue, Bar--”

She was so close, he could see her eyes flicker away and grow cold all in a moment. She blinked several times and suddenly dropped her hold. As if stung. “Oh.”

“What...?” Baron glanced behind him to see the cause of her distress, and saw the spell identifying the soulmate for request number 12 of the day shimmering above his desk.

And the face of Haru Yoshioka stared back.

#thedrunkenwerewolf #replies #soulmates #tcr ficlet #cat writes #the cat returns #this is one of those cases where i twist the prompt to fit the story i want to write #also the 'aaron' scene is partially inspired by a similar scene in twelfth night #that i vaguely remember #that moment when you realise you could write a multichaptered fic with this concept #but you're already committed to a ficlet #I feel like this would probably be the halfway point #anyone familiar with a series called 'Matched'?#now i've written this i'm reminded of it #anyway this is why this prompt took so long to write #bleeeeh #not sure if or how i'll continue it #might one day trasnfer it to a multichaptered fic #if people want #actually delve into the scenes rather than these soundbites #the cat queues #and i finish this just in time to queue it before 4!

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suh-eng · 4 years ago

Text

Send to fuck

alternative title - Screw him

“Look at you; you can’t even make a proper coffee, it’s impossible to think about family with you! You are not able to take care of your husband!”

“What? How dare you! If you ever pitied me, I wouldn’t cry a whole night through in the bedroom, I’d sleep well, and the coffee would taste good!”

“Mom, dad…”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you like sobbing in the pillow and feeling sorry for yourself!”

“Mommy…”

“You are always acting like that! You just enjoy making me lose my temper! Unsympathetic bastard!”

“Dad, if you could give me some money to buy myself a breakfast…”

“And you are a hysteric, and all you do is look for a shoulder to cry on about how miserable and sad you are!”

“I think I’d better go…”

“Don’t you dare saying this! I wasted my youth on you, I gave you my life, I gave you all!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll steal something for breakfast…”

“Oh God, so what? Why do you say it like I owe you something for it? Nobody dragged you down the aisle involuntarily. I gave you both my youth and life too!”

“And for lunch I’ll find something in a trash can…”

“Asshole!”

“Bitch!”

“Oh my God!”

Frank slammed the door, but his parents wouldn’t notice it as they were busy with insulting each other. It’s amazing how a tiny cup of shitty coffee can become a reason of a huge argument.

Frank’s mood couldn’t be worse. Firstly, when he woke up this morning, he discovered that the clothes he has prepared for laundry was still dirty, because mom has forgotten about him when she started arguing with father. That’s why now he is wearing jeans with filthy knees and milk-stained t-shirt and looking like a real piglet. And secondly, mom was so busy screaming at dad that she forgot children are basically supposed to have breakfast, and dad didn’t even think about giving him a bit of cash so he could buy something in the cafeteria. Yeah, it was a shitty morning.

The classes were starting soon, so Frank grabbed his board, jumped on it and was almost ready to go, when suddenly the belt of his bag cracked and everything that was inside fell out to the ground. As he was looking at the pencil that was peacefully rolling towards the bushes, Frank loudly cursed and violently kicked the science textbook.

"For the God’s sake, why can't all of this just stop existing?!"

Crawling along the cold asphalt and collecting textbooks and notebooks, Frank realized that he was definitely late for the first lesson, and now this old woman will have another reason to mock him. And when he got up and discovered that he had torn his shirt in the bushes, he officially put this morning on the list of the lamest mornings in the history of mankind, and then he jumped on the board and rushed off to school.

Being ten minutes late, Frank made his way to the desk at the end of the class under the teacher’s disapproving gaze and nasty grins of the classmates. He opened the paragraph and zealously began to absorb everything that the teacher said quickly pulling out a textbook with a notebook on his desk. He has been an excellent pupil all his life. Ever since Frank was a child, his parents kept telling him about the importance of the good education, and they have chosen him a university in New York when he was only in the fifth grade; “there is a high level of teaching, every teacher is a Doctor of Philosophy, the best medics study there” – that’s what father was never tired of saying. And Frank honestly has been working all these years in order to pass all the exams, get the highest scores, enter that uni in New York and become the most qualified dentist of all the most qualified dentists that ever existed.

Four classes have passed at such pace. Frank was listening carefully, writing everything down and quietly rubbing his empty stomach, which nevertheless was growling so loud that it created an echo in the silence of the class. On the fourth break Frank met his new acquaintance from yesterday, Alexa, and for some reason Frank felt something unpleasant, so he wanted to leave. But he didn’t do that.

“So, how’s the test?” she asked, sounding amused in some way, with her voice of a young smoker. “Nailed it, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, nailed it,” answered Frank, as if he was talking to the wall and not to the girl.

“I didn’t. I don’t know a damn,” she let out some kind of a chuckle. “Straight A’s, huh?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re a nerd?” she sneered.

“No, I just get A’s,” Frank hissed between gritted teeth.

“Chill, man,” Alexa snorted.

Frank felt uncomfortable. He didn’t like her; he didn’t like her at all, and that’s why he didn’t want to argue with her, it was an unpleasant feeling, even a creepy one. After all, he was a newbie, he didn’t have to be rude to anyone.

“Okay,” he tried to soften his voice, “it’s science now, isn’t it?”

“Yup. A combined class.”

“It’s not a school, it’s a whole mansion. Where’s that classroom?”

“Ugh, you do need the map,” she smiled at him. “It’s on the fifth floor. Let’s go, I’ll show you.”

Alexa lifted her bag from the floor, and pulled Frank’s sleeve. She headed to the stairs, making her way through the crowd of hasty students.

“And what is a combined class?” Frank asked, panting and trying not to get lost in the crowd.

“Don’t you know? Didn’t you have that in your previous school?” asked Alexa, turning her head back for a second.

“Nah, I didn’t.”

She quickly ran up the stairs to the fifth floor, and only when they were standing in front of the needed classroom, she threw her bag on the windowsill and answered him.

“A combined class is when a classroom is getting stuffed with two groups of students of the same year. We always have combined science, P.E. and history.”

“Ah,” murmured Frank. “Is that convenient or what?”

“It’s fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yup. The more the merrier, right? Besides, Pierrot is always pulling something. Psycho. God, I wanna smoke.”

“Pierrot?”

“Yeah, oh, look, the class is open, let’s go.”

Alexa, all frisky, jumped off the windowsill and waltzed in with the rest of the kids, leaving Frank all alone. But he was okay with that.

The bell has rung. The last student has come into the classroom, and Frank had to leave the window and follow him. When Frank came in, he was amazed by the size of the auditorium. He has never had such a huge classroom back in his previous school. Two groups of students could easily fit in that one.

Having hard experience, he wasn’t even trying to sit with anyone and just headed straight to the empty desk at the back of the class. And while it was fine in the usual classroom, now it was terribly inconvenient. How’s he supposed to hear anything? But he had nothing to do with that.

Sort of getting settled, Frank looked around the room. That girl with long black hair, wearing it in two pigtails, was nice. With her short plaid skirt and a bright red lipstick, she looked cute and sassy at the same time.

Staring at her, Frank didn’t even notice someone who walked in the auditorium, and everyone became silent. The Beautiful Girl was sitting quiet too; she turned her head to the door, and Frank also turned around to look at whatever caught everyone’s attention.

Right by the door there was a boy. He was squeezing the strap of his bag, while everyone looked at him with some kind of an evil judgment. Clumsily shaking his long black hair off his face, he took a tiny, very shy step forwards, and someone from the back row started chanting:

The scrawny lover With a long neck Will be His last mistress!

And Frank didn’t understand why, but every single person started laughing, even his Beautiful Girl was glinting with loud laughter, what made her no longer beautiful in Frank’s eyes. He knew for sure they all were laughing at that guy, but he couldn’t understand why.

The boy angrily looked around the laughing crowd and headed towards the desks to take a seat, but kids were putting bags and legs on the nearby seats, or even pushing the chairs down. Nobody wanted to sit near him.

He went around every seat, and finally got to Frank’s place, looking as if he was asking a permission to sit there. Now, when he was standing so close, Frank could see him better, and his first thought was “this bag must be so heavy it’s gonna break his shoulder”. He was so weird, so… slender, fragile, with a glossy fever burning in hazel eyes, with black, terribly messy hair and amazingly thin fingers.

He was odd, and Frank was staring at him until he questioningly raised an eyebrow and coughed a little, as if he was trying to draw Frank’s attention.

Frank blinked a few times, as if he was trying to wake up, and desperately looked around. Everyone was looking at them and waiting for something.

The boy wasn’t welcome there. So Frank gave in to some kind of an impulse and shook his head and put a bag on a nearby seat, banishing the boy. He noticed the satisfied smiles of the tall strong guys that were sitting somewhere in the front row. They even winked at him, and Frank unwillingly felt happy about doing everything ‘right’ and not making contact with an outsider.

“Poor, poor Pierrot, nobody wants you,” some blondie drawled, and everyone burst laughing.

“You know what,” the boy said with a quiet but clear voice; it was nice and even soothing, in Frank’s opinion. “Fuck you,” he proudly raised a hand, getting up his middle finger, demonstrating it to every person in the auditorium.

With those words, he just sat on the floor; he sat on the floor just like that, taking the textbooks out of his bag and really preparing for the lecture, sitting on the real goddamn floor. Frank was taken aback by it.

A few seconds later, a teacher has come into the classroom, and she definitely has noticed Pierrot among all of the students, but, surprisingly, she didn’t say anything to him. The lecture has started.

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

link to the picture link to another picture

link to the artist’s insta

#frerard #frerardie #frerard fanfiction #Frerard fanfic #Frank x Gerard #frank iero fanfiction #Frank Iero #frank iero x gerard way #gerard way fanfic #gerard way #mcr fanfiction #mcr fanart

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small-birdie · 7 years ago

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my take on ready player one

overall, i did like the movie. it was exciting, it was colorful, it was fun and basically entertainment for the sake of entertainment. it didn’t need to be deep or terribly emotional, it was made for great watching experience and references, and that’s exactly what i got. i had a blast watching it. so yeah, good movie! but it did have its flaws, quite a lot, and things it could’ve handled so much better. i want to go more in-depth though, so under the cut, there is a detailed list of stuff i liked and/or didn’t like. INCLUDES SPOILERS TO BOTH BOOK AND MOVIE (and they’re so different) SO BE CAREFUL!

likes:

• the point i already made was how different it was from the book, and i found that i liked that a lot. it felt new and exciting despite me knowing the basic outline of the plot; i wasn’t forced to re-watch what i already read. it wasn’t compliant to the book at all, but it didn’t need to be, and that’s much easier than trying to make it the same and inevitably getting some things wrong, thus getting people mad.

• parzival never getting his high five in a literal sense (like 3 people left him hanging) was hillarious. he did get the actual high five though (i mean, the people) and i felt like it was a good little joke.

• that ioi researcher girl with red hair was so cute and excited about parzival winning!! (also her quote of “halliday is making everyone watch the contest, of course, that’s so… halliday!”). she felt more like a good guy than a bad guy tbh, and that is good because it shows that not everyone who works for ioi is sorrento level terrible.

• special effects department – good fucking job!! the stacks looked awesome, and omg the ioi main “battle” room (the one with white/red circles which the sixers used as the oasis gear) was really well designed! the scenes were realistic where they needed to be (irl) and not realistic where they didn’t (in-game), and the fact that they managed to find that balance was really important imo.

• they did well with camera angles and general scene design; every time the in-game stuff was shown through the virtual reality glasses it fit the scene really well and was done masterfully.

• good character designs (at least in-game avatars) – i feel like they were imaginative enough to be realistically something people would design, yet not ridiculous enough to be distracting. (side note – i’ve heard people say usually there would be much more ridiculous designs, but i gotta point out – the players have to walk around as these characters, in those bodies. making a weird avatar would be an inconvenience to them too; besides, with how popular oasis was, avatars were basically a sign of social status. but i digress).

• following the previous point, i really loved the sixers’ designs. terrifying because they’re all identical, there’s so many of them and they’re so in-synch, and yet really cool-looking.

• aech’s actress has done a really good job, and i feel like her character was very badass even despite the whole thing with shining.

• though the curator’s character was not canon in the book, i really really like the way he was used. i even preferred the way it went about the coin thing to the book.

• HALLIDAY’S PORTRAYAL WAS AMAZING. like, he was done exactly the way i expected him to be from the book, and it was honestly so damn awesome. i’ve also heard people say that he was represented as autistic, and i can’t say anything about that, i’m nowhere near being an expert, but if he was – that’s really good, it’s always great to see representation.

• i did like the main message of the movie. reality is real, and we shouldn’t forget about it even if we have video games such as oasis to escape to. it’s nice to have distractions, but don’t forget to live in the real world as well, no matter how bad it is – instead, try to fix it for the better.

• i’m glad they kept the nightclub with no gravity as a setting, i was wondering what that would look like in live action.

• sho(to) had cool one-liners and i appreciated him a lot.

• (book spoilers!!!) daito being alive was good?? like i’m glad he didn’t die, he was a good character in my opinion and i liked him! though, more on that later.

dislikes:

• first quest. are you telling me not one player before parzival, not ever, not even because of sheer curiosity and/or desperation because there was nothing else to do, decided to drive backwards?! bullshit. i do it in racing video games all the time and those video games aren’t even about to get me trillions of dollars. did no one else know halliday didn’t like rules?

• aech was used as comic relief a lot, and i just feel like her character was a little more serious and a lot more independent in the book, and it could’ve been handled for better things than a few gags about horror movies.

• they didn’t show that aech was gay? like almost not at all? she did try to kiss a (zombie-)girl in that one scene in shining, but that was one throwaway line and i don’t think many people picked up on it. in the book that was almost the entire reason why she was living the way she was (in a van and whatnot) – conflict with her mother due to her sexuality! would be nice to have that acknowledged better.

• art3mis and parzival’s relationship was underdeveloped. like, really underdeveloped. like, “telling the person you knew for three days that you love them” sort of underdeveloped. it wasn’t even clear why parzival had a crush on her in the first place – while the book does specify the whole thing about her blog and how he’s a fan, in the movie z just has a few lines of dialogue with aech before the race, and that’s all we know about art3mis when she’s introduced. then she just proceeds to be mildly rude to parzival and yet he falls for her anyways. could’ve been much, much better, and way less rushed.

• speaking of art3mis, she was at the very least meant to have a much more noticeable birthmark. seriously. she needed something to hide. the way movie presented her, she was still conventionally attractive despite the reasonably small mark, which in no way explains why she was so defensive of her irl appearance. (not to say i don’t adore her actress because i do!! i’m just talking about the character design).

• sorrento was presented as some cowardly douchebag, and i feel like he was really meant to be much more cold and manipulative, facing off with parzival in the final battle for the easter egg, fighting side by side with sixers. but no, he was shown to be a selfish scaredy cat. one of my favorite scenes from the book is when parzival demands sorrento steps down if ioi want his help, and sorrento just smiles and says something like “consider it done”. in the film he proceeded to be insecure and mad about it, and i feel like that made him much less threatening.

• also, sorrento’s allies (i-r0ck and the unnamed lady who commanded his troops) felt sort of… redundant. there was no need for them to be as big a characters as they were. not to say i don’t like the idea of having a badass lady henchman for the bad guy, but she was presented to be sorta incompetent and at times even ridiculous; and i-r0ck was used as a comic relief in moments which didn’t need one.

• they cut out so much of the second act character conflict (or rather, conflict between characters). they kinda tried to do the whole “art3mis wants to stay alone” thing, but briefly and not too well, whereas in the book it was a massive plot point when she stopped talking to parzival. aech, too – there was time in the book when she and parzival weren’t in contact at all because she was mad at him, and when they contacted again, it was only because SHE helped him find the second key, and i feel like that would’ve established her as a much cooler and in general better character if they did that. because of that, z didn’t feel to have as much of a character arc in the movie – he didn’t really change from how he was like in the beginning.

• there are two further points to do with this. first one is, in the book art3mis figured out how to get the jade key on her own, and so did aech. they didn’t rely on parzival showing them the way, they did it themselves because they were smart and logical, and he was too full of himself after finding the first key first to concentrate enough on the second clue. it highlighted his character flaw while also establishing that the other characters are in no way dumber/less capable than him, and it was very important. the movie didn’t do this. while, sure, art3mis was the one to think of the general idea, z was the one who pointed out the movie, and aech’s contribution was overall erased.

• second point is (book spoilers again!), actually, daito’s death again. it created stakes! so much stakes! ioi was actually out to get them, it was real! and it highlighted his relationship with shoto so well, how upset the latter was and how he was mourning, and it was a very good dramatic plot point; so while i’m glad he stayed alive because i don’t like character deaths, it may have been somewhat better if he was in fact killed.

• also, shoto and daito’s general presence in the movie was very different. firstly, they were (i think?) actual brothers, and secondly they were not at all wary of getting close to parzival and co, while in the book they preferred to stick together and barely trusted them. it was a much more interesting dynamic i think, and showed things like they were more likely to play out if this scenario happened in real life. so while i don’t hate this decision, i think keeping it the way it was in the book would’ve been good too, if not better.

• stakes created by a shaking van and sorrento, who was shown to be fully capable and willing to kill the kids before, lowering his gun when they were right in front of him, seemed just a little ridiculous.

okay haha that’s about it! that’s a lot, sorry for the rant, but i tend to get strong feelings about completely random things, and i did really like the movie! i see a lot of hate out there, but while i admit it had substantial flaws, we also mustn’t fail to acknowledge the good parts!

so yeah. have a good day if you read all of this! (and if you haven’t, have a good day too ^^)

#careful!!!#spoiers #also long #ready player one #rp1 movie #rp1 #rpo spoilers #rpo #parzival #art3mis #aech #daito #shoto #ready player one movie #ready player one book #rant #likes and dislikes

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whisker-biscuit · 7 years ago

Text

Harley Quinn is Not A Good Role Model: Chapter 4

Rated T-M for language and graphic descriptions of violence

Pairing: Dr. Flug/Black Hat

Summary: Dr. Flug Slys is a successful psychiatrist working at one of the world’s most respected mental institutes for the criminally insane. But this new patient is unlike anything he’s ever encountered. Flug is determined to help him, nonetheless.

Black Hat has other ideas.

Note: All Black Hat POVs are in first person

Chapter 4: Naming Conventions

Before we continue, I suppose I should make a few matters quite clear.

First, I am not, as you humans say, beyond this world. My body is very much physical, for all of its horrific capabilities. I require sustenance as any other, although the frequency and form of it differs greatly from most current life on this miserable mass we call a planet. I also have the potential, hypothetically, to experience pain in its most basic, physical manner.

I have yet to encounter something able to do so.

Secondly, I have a biological drive, so to speak, in the same way all living creatures do. But unlike the pathetic urges felt by these creatures to survive and reproduce and further the existence of their species, mine is the unconditional opposite. I live to destroy, to halt the process of life and its advancement. These inclinations are most strongly felt during the potential removal of a soul – a being, if you will – from the corporeal world, but that does not mean I am unfulfilled in the more subtle eradications of the every day. Far from it; I relish the inconsequential inconveniences, the negligible nuisances, the eventual ends of equanimity that develop only from the consistent and repetitive breakdown of the emotional and mental states. One does not have to lose their head to, well, lose their head.

Third and last of all, I am not above admitting my faults. I will not deny to being prideful, or confident, or even arrogant. The accusations of those concepts mean nothing to me. But to be unwilling to recognize a mistake, or refuse to believe one can be made, is a dangerous and frankly foolish mindset. How does one expect to prove themselves the best, if they cannot seize their moments of weakness, however few, and use them as stepping stones to an even higher level of awareness and efficiency towards their claim? The thought baffles me.

That is not to say I allow my enemies or allies to recognize them, or admit to them there are indeed mistakes that I can make. Quite the contrary – one must always display a certain poise in the presence of others that does not betray any hint of fault, as failing to do so often leads to insubordination, mutiny, and challenge on all sides. A lapse in judgement is fine, so long as it is known to only yourself.

And so, of course, we reach my current predicament. I had one rare moment of weakness, and it was such an unfortunate occurrence as to happen in a situation where many significant details were at stake – the disruption of human lives, the destruction of human lives, and myself. Needless to say, my error cost me dearly, and I soon found myself captive at the hands of the detestable Inspector Marcus Daniels and his deplorable team from that blundering group known as Interpol. It was not my first time in incarceration, but it was the first instance in which I was actually treated as a more viable threat than most convicted individuals. Imagine my surprise and disbelief when I was finally released from my, transport, to find I had been dropped rather unceremoniously at a criminal mental hospital, of all things.

To say I was insulted would be an understatement.

Even more humiliating was the presence of who was supposedly my psychiatrist. A thin, clumsy, stuttering excuse of a human who hid his face under a paper bag and was so woefully unprepared for the task appointed to him. His boldness surprised me, near the end of our first meeting, but that was quelled easily with the threat of bodily harm. Humans are so breakable, really. I should have snapped his neck and been done with it.

But in the high brought on by my inclination, I forgot myself and my situation and erred yet again. I attempted to change the shape of my jaw, for easier access to wrap around the beautiful, beating veins of the throat and tear it open in the most visceral, painful way. But I was thwarted as soon as I tried.

That damned collar.

So here I was, confined in a high security room reserved for the most mentally unstable and unable to do anything about it. You could imagine my frustration, perhaps, in those first few hours after I was wrestled away from the pitiful doctor and left alone to do nothing but dwell on my newfound situation.

Of course, one does not create a means of escape without first knowing every variable, so I spent much of that isolation observing every inch of my outfit, my cell, and the door. I counted every buckle keeping me restrained – six – as well as every bolt covering the only way in and out – forty-five. No windows, no manipulated patchwork in the floor or wall or ceiling, and no immediately obvious form of liberation. Everything was a lovely shade of light blue, intended for its calming effects I’m sure. Even the blasted toilet seat was the same color. It too would be unhelpful to my predicament – nothing more than a basic hole in the ground with a foot pedal for flushing.

My mortification turned to fury rather quickly.

Unfortunately, the bloody padding was thick and smooth enough that my teeth – currently my only way of expressing my ability – could not puncture in any place I attempted. Ironically, it was not my physical strength but my…release of emotion that garnered attention.

I had admittedly overlooked the possibility of the presence of other inmates.

A few responded immediately to my outburst of anger, loud in their screaming and thumping. Whether they were declaring their presence, asserting their own dominance, or were simply emboldened by my actions I cannot say. Regardless, it was enough to startle me out of my emotions and instead pay attention to the direction and distance these sounds occurred in relation to my quarters. At least three voices, maybe more, all coming beyond the right side of the wall when I faced my cell door. Whereas I had stopped my actions quite suddenly, it took nearly five minutes for most of the others to calm themselves.

Fascinating.

Moderately satisfied with my conclusions – or as much as I could be in the present situation – I settled down on the raised cushioning that no doubt was meant to resemble a mattress. One side was raised in the imitation of a pillow, but no blanket or detachable items were available. It struck me as odd until I remembered a personal assassination of a high-ranking nobody in which I tied him with his own comforter and proceeded to suffocate him with his pillow.

Unlike the fools at Interpol or that idiot doctor, there was a semblance of competence here, at least.

My surprise the next morning was apparent even to the densest of people when I was visited by the same psychiatrist who had pressed my patience just the previous afternoon. He was not alone this time, obviously having learned his lesson; another man in a white coat arrived at his side, along with one of the guards who had so rudely assaulted my person. They stood shoulder to shoulder like a meager mimicry of force, and I could not help the expression of amusement from outweighing my irritation.

“Back again already, are we? I didn’t take you to be that imbecilic.” I took the time to incline myself against the far wall in the perception of laziness. Nonchalance is often greatly underestimated.

“Ah, I, I did say we have to w-work out a schedule while y-you’re here,” Dr. Slys resembled a skittish antelope, rather remarkably well. “Since yesterday, uh, since we d-didn’t get to finish our, your orientation, I thought it would b-be best to try again as soon as possible. I’ve, brought another psychiatrist if, if you’d be more comfortable with someone else.”

This particular individual puffed his chest up most pathetically at the declaration of his presence. “That’s right, Doctor, and I’m here to let you know that we won’t tolerate any breach of protocol or improper behavior from our patients.” He was reckless enough to glare at me. Fool.

In response to the feeble display at superiority I allowed myself a chuckle. “So it would seem. And what shall I call you?” He was considerably larger than Dr. Slys; at least six feet if I had accurately estimated the height of the security guard, to whom he rivalled in elevation. Nothing outstanding about his features, except perhaps the dainty silver watch along his wrist.

“I am Dr. Bautista, but you can address me as either sir or doctor.” The newest intrusion held up a clipboard in a parody of importance and clicked his pen most unprofessionally. “According to our records, you have no known history of substance abuse. Is that correct?”

His words had long stopped holding my attention, and I deemed the watch to be more significant. Not knowing the time and date can be so cumbersome. My gaze stayed fixed on the polished silver metal, waiting for the angle in which I could read it properly. The watch’s owner did not have the intelligence to realize this, as he cleared his throat in obvious frustration.

“I asked you a question, Patient 513.”

“So you did,” was my soft reply. Patient 513. How interesting, that they had already assigned me a number. No doubt an attempt to disassociate me from my former life. At yet another sound of aggravation, I flicked in the direction of the nuisance’s face. He had stepped closer, just past the human line of defense.

“Yes I did, and I expect you to answer it.” I studied the movements of his hands, waiting for the clock face to be visible. “And I also expect you to make eye contact in a conversation. Honestly, can you believe this?” The miscreant turned to his colleague, no doubt trying for sympathy.

He got none. Instead of catering to the ego of his fellow, Dr. Slys surprised the psychiatrist, and myself, when he looked directly at me and said very sincerely, “It’s 9:47 am, on a Wednesday.”

I had already written off Dr. Bautista as useless and of no interest to me. Yesterday, I thought I had come to the same conclusion about Dr. Slys. But now he tiptoed closer, and despite the limp I saw in his gate – my doing I was certain – he did not appear bothered by the decrease in our distance. He offered his gloved hands to me, palms up.

“That’s what y-you were wondering, wasn’t it? That’s why you were, um. You wanted t-to know the time.”

To see a human again who I had attacked less than a day before was unusual. To see him willing to visit me in my own territory, backup or no, was abnormal. For him to be observant enough to recognize what I wanted, and to give it to me without negotiation in his favor, well. It was rare to the point that I found I could not ignore it.

“If I say yes, Dr. Slys, what would that matter?” I could feel the edges of my mouth part fractionally, poised to expose my only current weapon. Regardless of subject, it was dangerous for anyone to feel they had power over me. Dangerous for me, of course, but even more so for them.

“Ah, well, I j-just thought, you might want to know, since you…” His goggles fluttered briefly in the direction of his colleague’s watch, but he did not reveal me. Smart creature. “Well, I know I like kn-knowing the date, and the t-time. It’s…easier. Everyday.”

“Is that so.” I could find no lie in his expression, despite the headwear. This was the second time he had been so earnestly truthful, and the second time it had caught my attention, for what reasons I could not say. I would have to be careful with this one.

At his eager nod, a good-natured smile stretched along my visage. “Well, Doctor, I suppose I should thank you. You may ask five questions, and I will answer them.” Both psychiatrists were visibly astonished by my change in attitude, and my smile spread further. Two could play this game of catching the other unawares.

Of course, the idiot Dr. Bautista attempted to open his mouth, but I stopped that behavior short with a hiss. “Dr. Slys may ask me five questions, and I will answer them.” He looked affronted, but had enough self-preservation to let his colleague take his place.

“Okay, um, okay.” He fretted with the serrated edges of his paper bag; a bizarre motion I had witnessed before. “I g-guess, we’ll start with what we asked earlier. Do you have any history of substance abuse, or currently using? Our records have no indications of anything.”

“No, I do not. Nasty, uncontrollable things.” I was not lying. Drugs of all forms – except alcohol, perhaps – were useful tools of destruction but entirely unpredictable in combination with my biology. One methamphetamine mixture could have no effect beyond an itch along my feet while another could leave me in the closest I’d ever experience to a seizure. There was no way of knowing which black market substances were pleasurable, painful, or nullified without personal experimentation, and I did not have enough interest in the subject to waste my time.

“Well that’s g-good,” Dr. Slys scribbled along with his fellow psychiatrist and looked me in the eye. “Next q-question. Are there any allergies we should be aware of? Food, medical, latex, etc.?”

“I have no such weaknesses, Doctor.” To even insinuate that human issue was insulting.

“Okay, um. Third question. Are there any actions you feel would be detrimental to your psyche? Some patients have a history of physical, emotional, or sexual abuse that can accidently be brought to memory in a, situation, such as restraining involving human contact or the sound of raised voices. We cannot comply with all requests, but if there is anything you think is noteworthy, we will take it in consideration. If you have a preference for the gender of your psychiatrist or physician, we can do that.”

“I do believe you offend me, Dr. Slys, to assume I am so easily triggered by petty things like those.” I had noticed that as my supposed doctor continued his query, he appeared more relaxed and confident in his posture. The stuttering had also vanished. Fascinating. “But to fully answer your question, I do not have many, requests. However, I must ask that your security keeps their hands to themselves. It was rather irritating yesterday.”

“Well, we can try our best to accommodate you, but I’m afraid that would depend on your behavior around others.” Dr. Slys moved on the weight of his heels and winced, clearly still injured. I offered him a cruel twist of lips. “Okay, so that’s about it for the preliminary. Now about your schedule, I was – we were thinking that the best option would be to start with a bi-weekly counseling session in your room, with me and possibly Dr. Bautista depending on…conduct. I would also suggest a three-hour period of recreational activity every day, and we can work out the activities at the beginning of each day. Perhaps after a full evaluation of mental and physical stability, we can include group therapy and/or outdoor privileges as well. Would you agree with this tentative schedule plan? Your first counseling session would be with me tomorrow at 11 am.”

I pretended to consider it, to assume as they did that I would be actually be imprisoned any longer than a week. “Yes, I suppose that is a plausible arrangement. How long would you estimate my sessions with you to last?” I tilted my head, amusement broadcasted freely.

“Roughly about an hour and a half, give or take.” To my surprise and admitted delight, he looked at me with narrow, calculating eyes and continued, “And I expect we’ll be having them for a long time, Mr. Black Hat. You shouldn’t underestimate our facility.”

I should have been incensed by his calling out of the real meaning of my question, but frankly I found it interesting. Here was a human who understood at least the basic rules of how I played. That he had willingly defied my orders the day before and was now matching my serve with a fair enough return was not as bothersome as I had earlier considered.

“Very well, Doctor. You may ask your final question.” I crossed my legs on the imitation mattress, nearly finished with our conversation, lovely as it was. But what he asked next caught me off guard.

“In your case file, it mentioned you had named flying as your favorite mode of transportation. Why is that?”

I could not help the bemused twitch of my eyebrows nor the brief, startled blink that passed my face. Dr. Slys waited patiently for me to recover, and the colleague at his side appeared just as rightly confused.

There was no gain or loss to be had by answering this, so I settled with a shrug and laid back, studying the unusual human. “Flying is statistically the safest method of travel.” He looked at me, and I looked at him. My mouth parted. “At least until it hits the ground.”

His gloved hands tightened on his clipboard in what I assumed was anxiety. Imagine my surprise when he let out a solitary laugh, not much more than a breach of air past his lips. It stopped just as suddenly as it started, and the doctor seemed shocked at his own action.

“Is something funny, Dr. Slys? I didn’t know humans could find a plane crash humorous.”

My psychiatrist was nervous now, and fretted yet again with that silly headwear, but still he responded despite the abrupt suspicion placed on his shoulders.

“I j-just thought it was a coincidence, a-a bit of a funny connection.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Unfortunately, my doctor has already shown to be more observant than he looks, because he shut his mouth promptly – I could even hear the click of teeth – and returned to his notes in an attempt to protect himself. His colleague was not so perceptive, however, and gave up the doctor’s secret.

“Hey, doesn’t your name mean a plane wreck? Like in German or something?”

Dr. Slys squeaked most unbecomingly, but it was too late. As someone who prides myself on my knowledge of social etiquette and culture, I knew most languages thoroughly, and those of Indo-European roots were no exception.

“A flugzeugabsturz?” I gave my psychiatrist a lengthy once-over, considering him. “No, your last name is Slys. But you pronounced it as the English adoption. So how…?” As I calculated, Dr. Slys’ body language grew more nervous, apprehensive even. “Perhaps not German, then.” The answer came to me just as my doctor appeared ready to flee, and I smiled.

“Icelandic, I do believe.” My delight heightened at the stiffness setting in his legs. “Plane crash. Flugslys. Dr. Flug Slys.” I practically purred the word. “Do tell me, since you pronounce your last name so hideously, does your first name follow its Icelandic rule, or is it more barbaric? Floooog.” My psychiatrist shuffled backwards to the door. “Fl-ugh.”

That was it. That was how he introduced himself. I watched, twitching grin wrapping my face as Dr. Flug Slys grabbed his oblivious colleague and the forgotten guard and hauled them out. There is a lot of power in names, you see, and he seemed to know it as much as I did. The two doctors stood just outside my cell and whispered hushed nothings while I laughed longer and louder than I had since my capture.

“It truly is a pleasure, Flug Slys!” I raised my voice, standing and gliding to the center of the room. I could see the top half of brown paper through my window. “I look forward, to our first real session tomorrow. You are a fun one indeed, Dr. Flug.”

Every use of his name sent my psychiatrist into a flinch until he disappeared from my sight and I heard his retreating, feathery footsteps leave the hall. The mirth from the encounter left me in a much better mood than I had expected while confined here. Perhaps I would not be so short of entertainment.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough, in my honest and humble opinion.

#villainous #villainous au #asylum au #dr flug #black hat #demencia #paperhat

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imaginetheliar · 7 years ago

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I'm not very sure, but if it was possible, could I request pregame Ouma as a yandere for his soon-to-be s/o? I seriously love all the pregame theories and I figured it'd be fun to see your interpretation of them as well! Also, your blog is very cool!

Pregame Ouma as a Yandere for his soon-to-be s/o!

Okay, first off, I wanna apologize for the sloppy ending, I was in a hurry and that was everything I could think of, so please forgive me for that minor inconvenience. Secondly, as mentioned, this is my interpretation of how Ouma could have been before the game has begun, so there shouldn’t be any wrong or right option for it. Anyways, this was a blast to write, I still hope you guys can enjoy it!

This imagine contains minor spoilers!

Ouma Kokichi

Ouma always hated liars.

Liars that tricked others for their selfish needs.

Liars that decieved their own emotions and feelings.

And even liars that have hid their true self in order to appease others and become liked.

Although Ouma never was anywhere near strong, what he lacked in physical strength, made up for his wit.

It has always been this way, but in the end, it’s the main reason he’s targeted by the torment he has to go through because of his classmates.

Everyone would take their anger on him because of his fragile structure, be it through emotional or physical abuse.

Of course, that included you as well.

Whenever the other students laughed at him, you reluctantly joined as well, whenever he was being labeled as a creepy outcast, you reluctantly agreed, whenever his things got stolen, you also reluctantly took part in them.

Whenever everyone looked at him with ridicule, seemingly recognizing him as a mere punching bag, your eyes showed nothing else than immense sadness, pity and regret.

But maybe that’s what made him so intrigued in the first place, your desperate behaviour not to stand out.

As time passed, things were getting more and more out of control, to the point even Ouma was starting to doubt his own beliefs and reasons to continue living.

Yet, when it was nearing the complete last straw, weird occurrences have been happening to him.

Every time he looked into his locker, there would be either a new positive heartfelt message or even the stolen things he has been constantly searching for.

Naturally, he had his suspicions about those petty “don’t give up!” notes, but with all the evidence flying around it didn’t take him long until he put the pieces together.

Truly, he didn’t know if you were an absolute sadistic monster or an angel.

Overtime, he grew to enjoy those sweet nothings, being childishly excited for what you’re gonna write for him today as well.

Anticipation was all he felt whenever he got up to school, ignoring all the negative events awaiting for him, being more than ecstatic to see how both ugly and beautiful you are gonna be today.

Over a period of time, he didn’t nearly even feel the pain he received from all the bullying, becoming numb to the abuse of others, while only wishing to experience the pain directly coming from you.

With this masochistic ideal in his mind, he didn’t even comprehend the situation when he blacked out due to the immense beating.

It was only then when his classmates realized they went overboard this time.

While they were desperately trying to put the blame on others, you couldn’t stand the whole mess and volunteered to take him to the nurse office yourself.

You got a few snickers, whimpers and even astonished looks, but your guilt was getting the best of you.

However, the things haven’t been as easy as you anticipated, seeing the nurse was nowhere to be seen.

While humoring yourself with the thought of how light Ouma was actually to carry, when you looked at his face you couldn’t help but to feel a pang at your heart.

Of course, you never had anything against the purple haired boy, you’d even fancy to be friends with him, but what kind of option did you have?

After all, you were a coward.

All you could do was to send a few friendly messages after witnessing how much of a toll has it really been, also giving back a few of his lost items in your possession.

Gently putting Ouma on one of the beds, you tried to find any source of easing his pain after he’d wake up.

With your preparations done, all you could do is settle down and wait for the short male to get up from his beauty sleep.

Not even a five minutes passed until you heard ruffling, signaling you should get the treatment in motion soon.

However, you didn’t expect him to be so bewildered at finally recognizing your face.

Sure, you knew you were also one of the people that mocked him and made his school life hell, but it still hurt you deep down inside he’s so deathly scared of you.

Obviously, you got the wrong impression, not noticing the pure bliss Kokichi was currently experiencing.

He actually expected this kind of scenario happening, with his analytical personality he figured you’d be the most probable participant.

But the ecstasy has even increased now that this is a real deal.

While quickly covering himself with the blanket so you wouldn’t see the maniac grin on his face, you grew even more worried by every passing second.

Not knowing how to start, you slowly started to apologize as you tried to treat his injuries simultaneously.

It didn’t take long after he regained his composure, Ouma felt still itchy and a weird sense of electricity whenever you tried to mildly touch him, just the feeling simply intoxicated him to no end.

He swears he can’t help it, he swears that it’s not his fault this is happening to him, he swears it’s not a bad thing he feels this way, he swears his obsession is not wrong in any kind of way.

Although you felt more than creeped out by his outbursts, you believed it’s because of how cruel you were before, and the least thing you can do now for him to forgive you is to stay with him.

Ouma knew how to play his cards right, he knew the exact words to play on your heartstrings and make you breakdown crying for forgiveness, and he might as well use it now.

And surely, your heart nearly shattered when he started weeping and whimpering about you wanting to hurt and betray him, like you always did.

After all, you were a coward, weren’t you~?

He knew what kind of drastic measures you’d go to fix things up to him already, and although Ouma is physically weak, he is as cunning as a fox.

But naturally, who would suspect such a fragile looking boy of sadistic manipulation? He’d never do that!

With your final vow, you swore to do anything to appease him, just so he could please, please stop giving you that look.

This was your fault to begin with, right?

It’s your part of the debt to make it up to him now, right?

Naturally, all he needs is someone to protect him, someone to care for him, someone to love him, right?

Listening to his pleas and requests of spending more time with him, to the point you nearly don’t even remember your friends’ names anymore is just a part of the process of course, otherwise you’d hurt his feelings, right?

And whenever you actually did hurt him, it’d be only right for him to emotionally scar you even more, right?

Obviously, it’d be rude to speak up for yourself and have a free will after everything you’ve done to him, right?

Slowly but surely, you were getting more and more caught it the beautiful web of lies, without realizing there isn’t even a way out anymore.

But hey, at least you could make it up to him.

#ouma kokichi #pregame ouma #kokichi ouma #yandere #ndrv3 #ndrv3 imagines #danganronpa #mod tsumugi

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sterekgala-blog · 7 years ago

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Hi! A couple things. First: it's extremely rude that you're stating that the exchange fell apart because the groups fell apart. Not all of the groups did, and we posted our fic. You're passive-aggressively pushing the blame onto someone else. Take accountability. Second: please let me know for whom our fic was written, so we can post it to AO3 and gift it to them, as was intended. You can ask box or respond to this ask with the answer.

I don’t blame the groups, I mostly blame myself for how poorly it was set up. I apologize if I came across passive aggressive, it wasn't my intention. Secondly, after the challenge was deleted from AO3 so were all the groups and names. I have no way of finding out who was gifted or giftee. Sorry for the inconvenience. You can still post the fic, and if it will make your group feel any better I could still post it on our Tumblr on our rec list. Again I’m sorry for my poor maintenance. Like I said, this is a learning experience for me given that this was the first exchange I’ve ever run. It’ not an excuse and I’m really sorry that all your work was for fraught.

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bosstoaster · 7 years ago

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I'm sorry if this isn't the type of prompt your looking for but I thought that idea of the black lion being able to take over her pilot in an emergency was interesting and I'd love to see Keith and pidge's reaction whether they see it first hand or hear about it from lance and hunk :))

I’m looking for all kinds of prompts!

For the curious, the fic in question is here. Honestly, I’d forgotten all about it, so thank you for the reminder.

Of all the members of the team, Keith considered himself the most used to how strange Shiro could be when the mood struck. No one else had seen Shiro go through phases of almost obsessive interest, no one else had heard him laugh over their potential deaths after wiping out in the desert, no one else had seen the way he’d carry on outrageously over anything but a perfect score on a test or essay.

That being said, this was still odd.

First of all, there was no reason Shiro should have been out of bed. Allura had personally banished him to his room after their last battle, once he’d admitted he hadn’t slept that night, and not really the night before. It had shown, which was proof enough how bad the situation had gotten.

Secondly, Shiro had taken over the kitchen, which was not at all his usual domain. Thankfully he wasn’t trying to cook anything, but he had a line of bowls spanning the entire fifteen-foot length of the counter space. Each one was filled with small amount of- well, of just about every kind of food they had, it seemed like. They were all perfectly lined up two inches from the edge. As they watched, Shiro put the last one down, then readjusted it until it matched the others.

So this was odd. Even for Shiro.

(Read More Below)

Keith glanced over at Pidge, who looked equally baffled at the display. Her eyes were wide with a silent question. Um, what? He shrugged back - no clue.

“Shiro?” Pidge asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is well,” Shiro replied, tone flat and affectless.

Yeah, funnily enough, that didn’t make Keith feel better.

Once the last bowl was in place, Shiro walked all the way back to the start of the row. He heaved himself up onto counter and sat on top of it, then picked up the first bowl. Using his foot, he opened one of the drawers and withdrew a spoon, then started to eat.

With each bite, Shiro paused, brow furrowed like he was considering something very important. Finally, once every scrap of food was gone, he nodded, then put the empty bowl in the cleaning unit. Without a word, he started on the next one.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Keith asked, taking a cautious step forward. “You’re-” What was the polite way of saying ‘you’re kind of freaking me out right now’?

Shiro looked at them again, head tilted. “My paladin is fine,” he confirmed.

My pala-

Oh.

Lance and Hunk had mentioned this, the one time Shiro had managed to make this sort of connection. The news had thrilled Allura and Coran, even when they’d been told it was essentially a fluke.

The fact that the lions could override their paladins hadn’t made Keith feel especially comfortable. Learning that it was only with permission helped, but he still didn’t like it. Luckily, Red hadn’t expressed any desire to even try. When he’d asked, he’d gotten the sense that Keith should be able to get out of situations on his own, or else Red would come get him in their vastly superior metal body.

Frankly, that worked for Keith.

“Okay,” Pidge replied carefully. “Hello, um, lion.”

Shiro gave a distracted nod. Once he finished the bowl, he made a face and dropped it down into the cleaning unit as well. “No. Not a good taste.”

“Sorry about that,” Pidge said, her eyes cutting to Keith again. “But, um, Allura said Shiro was supposed to be in bed.”

“My paladin required nutrients,” Shiro - okay, the Black Lion - said. “He is resting. Mentally.” Then he (she? they?) looked down Shiro’s nose at them both. “The Princess may rule you, but she does not rule me.”

Oh, Allura would just love hearing that tone.

Keith hesitated. “Does Shiro know you’re, um-” taking his body for a culinary joy ride - “up and about?”

The Black Lion gave Keith a flat look. “Of course. He is aware. Mostly. But he is resting.” The expression turned into a glare. “Do not disturb him.”

Well okay then.

Keith was ready to give the lion the benefit of the doubt and make his escape, honestly. The whole thing was weird, but Shiro had just been embarrassed of it last time. Lance hadn’t stopped teasing about giving Shiro ear scratches for a solid week, so far.

But apparently Pidge had other plans. She climbed up next to the Black Lion on the counter and watched the experiment. “You’re seeing which ones taste better?”

“Taste is interesting,” the Black Lion replied. “Why do chemical compounds with such minute chemical make-ups cause such extreme reactions?” When Pidge opened her mouth, the Black Lion held up a hand. “It was explained. I simply wish to experience it.”

Lips curling up, Pidge reached over the Black Lion as comfortably as she would have with Shiro. “Try this one, next.”

The Black Lion put aside the latest bowl, then took Pidge’s offer. “My paladin says you are ‘messing’ with me.” She paused. “What does it mean to mess someone?” There was a silence like someone was offering an answer. “Why is that messy?”

Yeah, Hunk had been right. That was very weird.

“Are you going to try it?” Pidge asked, smiling eagerly.

The Black Lion nodded firmly, as if waving off mental objections. “Yes, I am.” But after one bite, they froze. “Oh. That is... That is displeasing.”

Snickering, Pidge glanced at Keith. “Yeah, the food goo is pretty bad.”

So even the lions thought it was disgusting?

Or, wait. The Black Lion was using Shiro’s mouth and Shiro’s perceptions of good and bad. So she was really just trying out his tastes.

Interesting.

“It is terrible,” the Black Lion replied, taking another bite. “Amusing.” A smile curled up Shiro’s lips.

Well, when taste at all was novel, even bad ones were a fun experience. Though Keith could imagine Shiro’s feelings on the subject.

Ah, well. Apparently this somehow both checked off Shiro taking a break and getting his nutrients. Despite how odd the lion was, Keith doubted she would do anything that harmed Shiro, even in such a little way. So it couldn’t bother him that much.

Even so, Keith bet that Shiro would be more comfortable if they weren’t feeding the Black Lion anything disgusting.

Walking along the counter, Keith started to pick out a few items, mentally cataloguing what he could recognize from Hunk’s cooking. Then he placed them all down next to the Black Lion.

The action earned him a pout. “I was getting to those.”

Keith arched a brow, far to used to Shiro in a sulk to be bothered. “Trust me.”

The Black Lion stared back, considering. Then she nodded. “Alright.” She picked one up and tried it tentatively, then perked. “Oh. It tastes like... cheese?” The word was slow and drawn out, like it had to be felt in the mouth.

“A little,” Pidge agreed, watching in fascination. “Since you have different memories from Shiro, do you think your tastes are different?”

The Black Lion shook her head. “No. I have no memory of taste.” But then she paused. “But I did share memories with my former paladin. So perhaps.”

Huh.

Pidge let out a chuckle, then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I was just thinking- going on a secret mission that makes all the food in the main fleet taste like something Zarkon hates.”

“That would be very petty,” the Black Lion mused. Then she nodded. “I would enjoy that.” Finishing up that bowl, she moved onto the next.

Then she let out a yelp. “It burns!”

Keith’s smiled toothily. “I may have mixed in a surprise.”

Snatching up another, the Black Lion sucked on the spoon, full on sulking again. “I trusted you,” she mourned. “You are rude.” There was another pause. “Stop laughing.”

Maybe this wasn’t great for Shiro’s rest, but if Keith was making him laugh somehow, it was very worth it. “I humbly apologize,” he drawled.

“I do not believe you are being sincere,” the Black Lion muttered.

Pidge grinned. “Want me to give you more suggestions instead?”

Considering her, the Black Lion slowly shook her head. “No. I do not believe that would be wise.”

“Aww.”

Taking the next bowl, the Black Lion paused. “This is sweet. I like this.” She looked at Keith. “Are any of the others tricks?”

Keith’s expression softened. “No. The rest are what Shiro likes.”

“Oh.” Smiling softly, the Black Lion nodded. “I- Thank you.”

Judging by the tone, for just a second, that had been Shiro again.

By the end of Keith’s choices, the Black Lion’s jaw was working in a muffled yawn, exhaustion catching up. She blinked slowly, like a contented cat, and Shiro’s normally perfect posture slumped forward.

“I think it’s time for bed,” Pidge commented, patting the metal arm.

The Black Lion frowned. “The food will go to waste.”

Yeah, that was probably a Shiro objection, no matter who said it. Keith shook his head. “We’ll finish them up, and some of this we can put away.”

That got him another slow, sleepy blink. “I see.” The Black Lion stood, then frowned down at Shiro’s legs. “Being organic is inconvenient.”

“I say that every day,” Pidge offered. “C’mon, I’ll help you down the hall. It’s the least I can do, since Shiro does this for me all the time.”

The Black Lion nodded, the movement loose. “Yes. That would be wise.” She tumbled forward, and Pidge stepped closer, acting as a brace. “You are very small.”

“Don’t start with me.”

Pidge glanced over her shoulder, brows up in question - can you start cleaning?

Nodding back, Keith waved them on. “Sleep well.”

“He will, I assure you,” the Black Lion replied, before the door closed behind them both.

Odd. Very odd.

But not the weirdest thing that had happened to them so far.

Keith rubbed his temples and sighed. Space was weird. But as long as it wasn’t bad, he could manage.

It was easier to deal with when he didn’t have to clean dishes, though.

#Voltron #BT Writes #If anyone needs this tagged with some kind of warning lmk #But I wouldn't even know what to call it #Anonymous

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

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Lipstick on coffee cups {chapter 2} (Trixya) ~ Evelyn°c

AN: THANK YOU FOR THE LOVELY COMMENTS I LIVE!! Looking back on the first chapter i spotted a couple of mistakes, alot of repition of words and all that, so my apologies. This chapter is out pretty close to the first one cuz im in the middle of exams. I wanted to develop the story at least a bit more before i die of maths revision and cant write for a while.

Also “chugging at their piping hot bean water” is probably the best thing ill ever write. Thats the best you’re gonna get. Enjoy! ( ˊ̱˂˃ˋ̱ )

Trixie had tried to forget about last nights encounter. She really had. Part of her was wondering if Katya was even real (she did look pale enough to be a ghost.)

Alas, after replaying the scene an unnecessary amount of times in her head she landed on the conclusion it was real. An odd Russian woman had come in before closing time, drank her cappuccino, winked at her, then floated away into the night.

The next day Trixie rolled into work particularly early, wondering if Katya would keep to her words and return. Just for the coffee of course. And maybe a chat if Trixie was lucky.

She scanned the room, noticing a few customers huddled in the cramped booths, shivering and chugging at their piping hot bean water, ignoring the pang of pain that came with it. The weather was less than friendly, pelting anyone who dared step outside with buckets of rainfall.

If the decor looked bad at night, it looked hideous in the day. The carpets were something right out of an 80’s film, and the walls were plastered with a damp wallpaper. It had once been a neon red, now it was rendered this sort of blood orange after years of bombardment from latte steam.

Day shifts were nice. Theres just enough customers to avoid going insane from lack of human contact. Plus she had Kim, who was fun enough to talk to. They had attended art school and shared a dorm together for a good number of years.

“Kim?” Trixie murmured, leaning on her hands gently to avoid smudging her makeup.

“What is it Trix” Kim responded from the stockroom behind the counter, a clear lisp softening her tone. Her head peeked out from the door as she hoisted a fresh bag of coffee grounds to the machine.

“I think I’m going insane” Trixie responded in a distressed voice, flopping her head to the counter with a small clunk, her wavy hair splayed out around her.

“Im aware” Kim giggled, loading the machine with the bitter grounds, pausing momentarily to flip thick strands of black hair out of her face.

Whilst Kim was a morning person, Trixie certainly wasn’t. Then again, she wasn’t a night person either. Sometimes she’d consider what type of person she was at all. Trash person?

“Is this about that weird German lady you felt the need to text me about at 11:00pm”

“Russian” Trixie corrected, propping herself up on the counter, shooting a look at Kim as she did so.

“Do you get the hots for all the customers with accents?” Kim joked, slapping Trixies arm with a perfectly pedicured hand. How Kim managed to do so much manual labour whilst maintaining her perfect appearance was baffling to Trixie.

“Ok firstly, rude. Secondly, she was funny! I just want to talk.” Trixie protested, she had managed to convince herself that Katya was just intriguing. ‘I may of just murdered a man’ kind of intriguing.

If she dug deep down however, part of her would say Katya looked downright stunning. A jawline that could cut steel, two smoky eyes, wide and crazed, and calves crafted from stone by the gods themselves. But she wouldn’t admit that to Kim.

“Anyway” Trixie continued, glancing over to Kim who had an equally bored expression at this point. “You’re in no position to talk, how about the way you act around Naomi?”

“Miss smalls happens to be a very good friend with ideas for this branch” Kim said matter-of-factly whilst poorly concealing the creeping red around her cheeks. “Whatever, i have to go do a stock check. For the love of god, DON’T BREAK ANYTHING”

“When’s the last time i broke something?”

“You smashed 2 mugs and a plate just yesterday”

Trixie gave a brief wave of her hand, eyes half closed. “Noted” she grunted before turning back around to the counter. Once she’d heard the clip clop of Kim’s heels fade into the background noise of working machinery and boiling water, she fixated her stare on the counter, tracing circles on the table with her nail.

To be honest, Trixie wasn’t sure what to think. She certainly wasn’t infatuated with Katya by any means. She’d never been prone to having crushes, why start now? Trixie tried to mimic Katya’s enthusiastic laugh in her head. It was manic and uncensored. Her whole face would probably scrunch up into a big toothy grin.

Maybe Trixie wanted answers. Why come into a coffee shop so late on a monday night? Did you move here from Russia? How old are you? Whats with that last name? It almost sounds fake…Are you real? Have you been sent here from Russia to assassinate me under a false identity?! Unbeknownst to Trixie, somewhere between the second and third question, a customer had walked up to the counter. They gave a small cough to try and grab the blondes attention whilst she gawked at the counter, lost in thought.

“Can i like, order something?” The voice piped up, startling Trixie to the extent where she jumped a bit.

Breathing a sigh, she looked to the person ahead of her. She was a taller girl, blonde hair curved elegantly around the frame of her face, sporting a golden nose ring that glistened as she shifted.

“Y-yeah what can i get you?” Trixie mumbled, not quite in it completely.

“Just something strong” the tall girl spoke, almost disinterestedly. She seemed pre-occupied staring into the corner of the café at another customer.

“Well, how about the-”

“Yeah yeah sounds fine.”

Trixie huffed, pursing her lips. “One ’yeah yeah sounds fine’ coming up.”

The customer rolled her eyes at Trixie’s comment, yet she was still utterly fixated at the other girl in the corner. Trixie was almost intrigued enough to ask who she was looking at, but her social anxiety would never allow this.

A few minutes later and she produced a steaming cup of caffeine, warm to the touch. “Want your name on the side?” Customers always loved that feature. Looks good on social media posts, and that never hurts publicity.

“Pearl” She spat back, finally focusing on the matter at hand as she produced the correct amount of change from her pocket. Trixie began to scrawl against the side of the paper cup.

“Actually, there was something else i was meant to do” Pearl drawled on, picking up the cup and bringing it to her lips. She rustled into her pocket and grasped a small slip of paper. She slid it along the table over to Trixie who just gawked.

“Your number?” Trixie inquired, examining the slip further.

“Excuse you, I’m taken!” Pearl spoke, mustering the most disgust she could in her voice. Though by anyone’s standards it was still monotone. Pearl looked over to the corner and waved at the girl, who was presumably her girlfriend. That made sense.

“So then who’s?” Trixie said holding it up to her eyes now, squinting slightly.

“My colleague over at the fashion agency, Katya zamoblamowhammo or whatever” Pearl recounted. She almost threw the money against the table before beginning to walk away.

Trixie had to do a double take.

“Wait wait wait pearl did she…give you an explanation?”

Pearl looked like Trixie as if she was the biggest inconvenience she had ever experienced. She paused for a moment, rubbing her forehead before letting out a drawn sigh. “Yeaah something about being ‘sorry she couldn’t make it today. She wants to talk’…other gay stufff….”

Trixie was no doubt bright red by now. “Thanks pearl” She quipped half sarcastically. A small bit of her was grateful, thanks to pearl she had Katya’s number.

She had katya’s number. That felt good to say. Was this first base? Maybe she was overthinking it. Lots of friends meet by showing interest in each-other then exchanging numbers, nothing special.

Of corse Pearl was sat down with her girlfriend by now, giggling away, taking contented sips at her drink. Trixie hoped the caffeine would wake her up at least a bit.

“Everything alright back there?” Kim yelled from the back room.

“Fine” Trixie squeaked.

Well, not really. She was freaking out.

The rain hammered down on Ru’s coffee place. It made the noise of pindrops falling on a sheet of metal, covering the noise of Trixies heart pounding out of her chest.

#trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #coffee shop au #lesbian au #slow burn #angst #Evelyn°c #rpdr fanfiction #submission #lipstick on coffee cups

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