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silverwhittlingknife · 2 years

Note

I noticed something in a lot of your Dick and Tim fics. It's probably so obvious, but you always write that Tim is watching Dick. In your newest one, Tim's watching Dick, in The Return Tim's watching Dick, and you even write that Tim is always watching him. Is Tim trying to read Dick? Trying to understand? Or does he understand him by watching? What is he trying to figure out by watching Dick? What does that say about Tim? I really hope this is intentional lmao because I would be embarrassed. Maybe this is just something so obvious that I'm just getting now.

YES IT’S ON PURPOSE <333 Anon. Anon. I'm so sorry this answer took forever, but listen, this was a really delightful ask <333 I think about this a lot. I really love origin stories—I like stories that resonate through a character’s history.

And for me, a whole lot of what interests me about Dick and Tim is that theme of watching and being watched. Seeing and being seen.

"Watch me on the trapeze, Tim. I'm going to do my act...'specially for you." | "Timmy, don't look." | "I turned away... I couldn't watch. Then I heard you crying and I turned back... I'm sorry, Dick. I didn't want to hurt you by telling you all this." Dick's watching me. Gauging my reactions. (Tim watching Dick watching Tim!) | "I'm taking off the blindfold." "No!" | "I can't see him. You can't see him. But I know Robin. And Robin's always there when you need him." | I love that kid. Too much to let him see me like this. (But Tim spots him anyway.)

Spotlights and lighthouses and cameras and photographs. Blindness and vision and masks and detective work and trust.

I'm going to try to be coherent about this but it's gonna be incoherent sdfsf BUT I'M GOING TO TRY so. Below the cut, a really long grab-bag of my rambling on vision and watchers and watching.

Tim + watching / Dick + being watched / different dynamics

Tim's origin story

Being watched goes with vulnerability/exposure

Incomplete list of moments with Dick and Tim and vision

Tim + watching

The first time we see Tim's face in LPoD: a close-up on his eyes looking for Dick, a close-up on his eyes at the moment that he sees Dick, a pullback to his face at the moment of recognition, a pullback to his face + his camera (you could maybe even argue that Tim comes into existence at the moment that he sees Dick, like, conceptually. the act of seeing is his defining characteristic. it is the thing that makes his character happen. he is the kid who's watching.)

Tim's a very vision-centric character: he's first introduced as a camera, then as a pair of binoculars, then as a pair of eyes. His whole backstory is about watching: watching Dick's parents die, watching Dick on TV, watching Batman and Robin. I've grabbed a few panels above with Tim watching Dick but there are so many more. His major deductions are all vision-based: he sees Dick-the-acrobat and later recognizes Dick-as-Robin; he sees Bruce-in-the-past and recognizes him as Bruce-of-our-time; the climactic moment in Red Robin is about going into a dark cave with a torch so he can see what's there.

And he's a detective. He pries into secrets. He analyzes people. He's a worrywart and a fusser who always wants to understand what's going on with other people. In a lot of those panels where Tim's watching Dick, his inner monologue is busy deducing Dick's emotions and trying to psychoanalyze him. Tim's caring and watchful and intuitive... but all those qualities also make him very very intrusive.

Dick + being watched

Dick performing acrobatics for Bruce, Donna, and Tim in Detective Comics 38 (his first appearance), New Teen Titans 16, Batman 441, and Nightwing 88 (where he reflects he's glad to be back in the hot glare of the spotlight)

Dick's a detective too, of course - Tim deliberately mirrors Dick, both in-universe and out-of-universe. But also Dick's a performer who loves being watched and also wants to control how he's seen. He gets a kick out of showing off, making puns, kicking ass, taking names, and he gets a kick out of having an appreciative audience. And he's got a kind of yearning for recognition - it hurts, when Bruce won't look at him, and in fights with Bruce, Babs, Roy, he'll often bring up the past, trying to get them to acknowledge a shared history.

At the same time, he's a very private person who withdraws and hides and pushes people away when he's upset. Right before Tim shows up, Dick's just ghosted the Titans because he's having emotional turmoil and doesn't want to have it in front of them, and they're trying to respect his wishes... but that solitude doesn't last long, because then Tim tracks him down. Tim will do this again when Dick's having an emotional crisis and trying to avoid everybody in Nightwing 110.

Possible dynamics

Tim watches Dick in Robin 11, while silently analyzing Dick's anxieties about Two-Face

"The watcher and the person being watched" is a dynamic that really interests me, partly because it can be so complicated?

You can see in Dick and Tim their very first roles: enthusiastic performer and the enthusiastic audience member. Dick likes to perform and show off and entertain; Tim likes to watch; those are roles they both easily slide into and they have a lot of fun together! But also you can look at the harsher side: the crime victim and the voyeur, the amateur photographer and the guy who hates being photographed. Dick's intensely private about his vulnerabilities; Tim's intrusive and watchful and constantly trying to figure out how other people tick. Sometimes Tim's the caring friend who watches Dick closely, reads him well, understands him; sometimes he's the nosy mini-detective who pries into Dick's secrets. And that's just two different ways of describing the same thing!

One of the things that kinda fascinates me about Dick and Tim's relationship is that in a lot of ways it's built on a bunch of low-key boundary violations. A lot of their early relationship is driven by Tim's desire to know more about Dick vs. Dick's reluctance to get close to anyone from Gotham; Tim's often out-of-line, but without his pushiness, it's hard to see how they would've developed a relationship at all. Later on, their friendlier relationship is marked by Dick teasing and low-key bullying Tim; it's pretty obvious that Tim isn't actually bothered by this, but it does involve Dick ignoring whatever Tim's claiming he doesn't like ("Quit it!" "Shh").

And one of the aspects of those boundary-violations is that Tim has a habit of witnessing things that Dick would prefer that nobody see. Tim's a witness to Dick's first and most miserable tragedy; he sees the aftermath of some of Dick's fights with Bruce; he's there when Donna dies. And he's sharp and observant and analytical, and I like to imagine this as being something Dick's not entirely comfortable with.

When Dick first meets Tim, it's before he's learned to wear a mask. And Tim spends a lot of time trying to see through Dick's masks, and he's pretty good at it, and a lot of that prying comes from love and care, because one of the ways that Tim shows love and respect and admiration is by trying to absorb absolutely everything about you, like a little sponge. But there's also something unsparing and even threatening about the search for the truth of someone else. It can be comforting or threatening, to know someone's watching you.

And I love how all that complexity is wrapped up in Tim's origin story? Both the giddy childish "Watch me on the trapeze" and then the awful grim reality of what Tim actually sees as a result and then the difficult connection when Dick and Alfred finally get Tim to explain how he knows their secret identities.

Tim's origin story

Tim (recounting his origin story in LPoD): My parents held me back as the thing moved to you. I cried out to warn you. (Two panels where we see just Tim's eyes, as he watches a crying Dick. He sees Batman approach and start trying to comfort Dick.)

I think fiction sometimes presents "being understood / seen / known" as an uncomplicatedly good thing, and there's nothing wrong with that! But I like complications, and I like the way Tim's origin story frames that moment of witnessing as difficult and fraught. Tim doesn't want to tell Dick how he knows their secret identities because he thinks it'll hurt Dick to know it: I don't want to hurt you, Dick, and I'm really afraid I might. And he's not wrong. It is painful; it does hurt; it's not something Dick's happy to know.

Dick's a very private person, and there's a painful intimacy to Tim's origin story - it's not Tim's fault he was there, but at the same time, it's not like Dick chose to have the most traumatic moment of his life on stage in front of an audience of strangers, you know? It's kind of a violation. In NTT/NT/Nightwing, Dick's pretty violently hostile to photographers, and he's intensely private about trauma in general, and I like to imagine this as partly a reaction to that foundational trauma of losing the most important people in his life and also doing it publicly.

And Tim's part of that audience. And he sees the worst part, the part that Dick can't talk about. He sees the bodies and the blood. He has nightmares about it for years. He hears Dick crying and sees him holding onto his parents' bodies. Not at all the kind of first impression Dick would want to make. Not at all the kind of person he wants to be seen as. And that understanding can be painful, because it's so close to the bone, and when Tim's just a stranger, it's upsetting, because Tim knows things that Dick would never have chosen for him to know. Their few conversations about it are awkward partly because Tim's thirteen and awkward... but at the same time, it's not Tim's fault so much as the situation! There's no way for Tim to talk about what he saw that wouldn't be uncomfortable for Dick.

... And yet, and yet. Tim's also one of the last people to see the Graysons alive. He sees Dick and his parents together; he even takes a picture with them. He remembers the whole thing so vividly he'll recognize Dick's somersault years later. He sees the grief. And so I think of that connection as kind of a metaphor for witnessing. Tim sees these things and they become real; Dick can't hide from them; in the act of being seen he's caught, he's in a spotlight, all the grief made real. You can't hide, that way. And Tim's got this unforgiving memory; he won't ever forget; he won't ever stop knowing.

But then, too: Dick's seen, he's known. Even at the very beginning, when Tim doesn't know enough to understand what he knows, he knows the important things.

So that shared memory is a barrier and a bond between them. It can be a source of discomfort or a source of comfort. And that's how I think about Tim watching Dick in general - it's complicated, and sometimes Dick's glad of it, and sometimes he resents it, and also it just is, it's a fact of Tim, that Tim watches. It's notable when he's not watching, when he's turned away.

Being watched goes with vulnerability/exposure

So I'm going to talk about the fraught feeling of being watched more in a little bit, but first: I think it's fascinating that Dick likes screwing around with games where Tim can't see!

Here's Nightwing 25 - Dick's come up with the idea of trainsurfing while blindfolded:

Tim: Are you sure this is such a good idea? Dick: Shh! Listen. Tune into the changing sounds and - Tim: I'm not so - Dick: JUMP!

Here's Robin 49 - clambering through a tunnel into No Man's Land:

Dick: Hard not to think about the river. All the water above us. And bugs. This tunnels' probably full of 'em. And rats. Big ones. Big blind rats with teeth as long as -

Here's Gotham Knights 9 - ambushing Tim in a sorta game of hide-and-seek:

Dick: Gotcha! Tim: Augh!

I feel like mmm I don't want to emphasize power dynamics too much because it's easy to overplay it BUT when I think about headcanons it's interesting to me to think about how maybe when Tim can't see, Dick's more in charge / in control, and so he feels more comfortable and less vulnerable, and that's often when he's most relaxed and playing around the most?

Whereas the moments when Tim's looking at him are often a bit more fraught, as here in Lonely Place of Dying:

Tim: I'm sorry, Dick. I really am. I didn't want to hurt you by telling you all this. Dick... Dick: It's all right, Tim. No matter how old you are, there are some things you never forget. Or get over. (Silent panel: Tim's watching Dick as Dick turns away and stares into the window.)

Or here in Nightwing 6, when Tim wakes him up from a nightmare:

Dick (internally, imagining a kid falling): He shouts to me. He always shouts to me. I never hear what he says. Tim: Nightwing! Wake up!

Or here in Gotham Knights 26, when Bruce is accused of murder:

(Silent panel where Tim's watching Dick.) Tim: I'm sorry. This must be hard for you. Dick: Me? Why? Tim: Well, I mean, it'd be one thing if we really knew he was innocent, but as it is - Dick: Wait, what? Stop right there. What are you saying, Tim?

Here's Tim spotting him before he can get away in Nightwing 110:

Dick (watching Tim from a distance, internally): Still, Timmy played it through nice and clean. Disarmed the perps, protected and avoided the cops. Kept any civilians from getting shot. God, I love that kid. Too much to let him see me like this. Tim: Hey! (appearing on the roof above him, fake-cheerful) You weren't gonna leave without saying hi, were you? Dick (looking away, very quietly): Hey, Timmy. Tim: Look at you, man! Back on both feet! Think you're done stopping bullets with your body for a while? Dick: Hope springs eternal. (Silent panel with Tim watching Dick, who's turned away.) Tim: You okay, Dick? Dick: I'm fine. Tim: Well, where're you staying these days? Dick: With some people.

Of course, sometimes Tim's watchfulness is frustrating but also a comfort, as in Detective Comics 874:

Tim (watching Dick, who's looking away): Are you listening to me, Batman? I'm saying the gas the Dealer used on you was powerful stuff. Dick: I'm fine, Red Robin. Besides...you're here now. Tim: You're not fine. And with or without me, you shouldn't be out on patrol ye - Dick: Sshhh. Here they come.

(Later in the comic, Dick mentally concedes that Tim's right that he hasn't really recovered from the gas, and Tim saves him from drowning when he's hallucinating. So Dick feels kind of exposed by the scrutiny, but also... he invited Tim along, so there's trust there, too - Tim's perceptiveness can be a good thing, too, when things are serious.)

Incomplete summary of moments with Dick and Tim and vision

I think I already mentioned a lot of these but here is my LIST

almost the first thing that Dick says to Tim is "watch me on the trapeze, Tim" and then Tim does and he basically never stops watching;

Tim watches Dick's parents die and watches Dick sobbing on-stage and watches him on TV and recognizes him by seeing a particular trick because he's dreamed about Dick doing the trick in his recurring nightmares about that night;

in New Titans 65 which is their very first team-up comic after Tim's origin, Dick's training pre-Robin Tim and gives him a test about watching for details and later Tim's takeaway is "I saw how [the Titans] listened to you";

there's a moment in Showcase '93 12 which is just Tim watching Dick and analyzing what's going on with him and there's another moment in Prodigal which is the same thing;

in Nightwing 6 Tim sneaks into Dick's apartment and hides in the dark and Dick spots him and tackles him; one of their most important bonding comics is Nightwing 25, where Dick insists on blindfolding him to get him to rely less on vision; when they sneak into No Man's Land they're in the dark and Tim can't see again and Dick's teasing him;

there are multiple moments when Tim can't see Dick for a bit and panics about his safety, in Nightwing 25, in No Man's Land, in Transference, in Bruce Wayne: Murderer;

Tim's there watching when Dick's wedding to Kory falls apart and he's there watching when Bruce and Dick fight and he's there watching when Donna dies and he's watching when Dick and Bruce swing together on the night before Infinite Crisis, and when Dick goes down and almost dies in Infinite Crisis we cut to Tim watching and seeing it happen and screaming;

there are multiple moments which are just silent panels of them staring at each other trying to figure out what's going on with each other or having a stand-off - in Bruce Wayne: Murderer, in Resurrection, in Red Robin;

in the aftermath of Donna's death there's a panel where Dick's watching Tim from a distance and not approaching;

in the aftermath of Blockbuster Dick spends half the comic just staring at Tim from a distance and hiding himself because "I love that kid - too much to let him see me like this," but Tim sees him anyway and chases him down and then they lie to each other and *ranting* LISTEN TO ME the whole comic is about Dick trying to AVOID being SEEN both literally but also METAPHORICALLY AND --!!!

(the only thing i'm even as halfway obsessive about for them is the heights thing because also there are a bunch of moments involving falling or Tim being anxious about heights and worried that he'll fall or Dick will fall)

In conclusion

Consider the progression in all these moments where Tim's watching an upset Dick and worrying about him!! From reaching out instinctively-but-pointlessly when he's too far away in the LPoD flashback, to almost reaching out in LPoD but hesitating, to putting a hand on Dick's back to walk him back to the Cave in Gotham Knights 10, to physically dragging him clear of the water in Batman: Black Mirror!

In conclusion I don't have a conclusion but basically YES, "watching Dick" is a core Tim characteristic as far as I'm concerned, and Tim watches Dick a lot and that can mean all kinds of things from admiration to nosy intrusiveness to worry to care to gratitude to trying-to-figure-out-what's-going-on-with-him, and sometimes Dick's resentful and sometimes he's relieved and sometimes he's playful and sometimes it's a mix of all those feelings.

And at first it's always Tim watching Dick, but later you've got Dick watching Tim too, and there's that moment where Dick's secretly watching him fight but Tim spots him in Nightwing 110 and there's a silent panel where Dick's watching him in Resurrection and at the very end of Robin there's a scene where Dick's secretly watching him fight but Tim spots him and in the very last issue of Red Robin Dick's watching the end of the confrontation with Boomerang and in Prodigal Dick's the one who notices his face is bruised and aaaaaaah

Anyway I think they're neat <3

#ask tag #hi anon this is SO old i'm so sorry sdfsfs #if you're still here hi!! <333 #this was such a validating ask to get because as you can probably tell i think about the vision thing constantly #also this is SO long oh man. sorry i just started typing and it went on and on sdfdsf #dick grayson #tim drake #dick & tim #it's like. it's just endlessly fascinating to me because the paparazzi/photography stuff is one of dick's biggest triggers #and tim's introduced as a surreptitious amateur photographer #so there's no WAY they will ever get along #but then there's the Meaningful Photo from before the show #that low-key shows that tim's freaky obsessiveness comes from a place of genuine caring & this moment of real connection #so you have early days!dick kinda vibrating back and forth between 'I DON'T WANT HIM MAKE HIM GO AWAY'#vs. those moments when he IS getting attached to tim kinda against his will sdfsdf #and just. the dichotomy between paying attention as a form of love vs. being watched as a kind of violation and exposure #and that both are kinda the same thing?? and dick deeply craves the first and deeply hates the second #tim shows up being all I REMEMBER and what he remembers is exactly what dick was demanding bruce remember in b416 #but /also/ he remembers /everything/ 'i remember it all' he remembers the graysons dying in incredibly painful detail #and like. kid!tim is very tactless & has only two switches of 'TELL HIM NOTHING' and 'if forced to speak then overshare'#but the tactlessness is a fixable problem and the remembering is /not/#it's not like it's any better for tim to keep his mouth shut & dick to just be painfully /aware/ that he's thinking abt the graysons dying #bc ofc /tim/ remembering forces /dick/ to remember #but!! but also. you know. maybe that remembering /isn't/ entirely a bad thing #and dick's feelings about it can change over time #anyway tim's not the only person that dick has this kind of conflict with - wally & roy sometimes chase him down when he's withdrawing too #and he often doesn't really appreciate it from them either #and dick's not the only person who gets subjected to tim's particular brand of intrusive caring #conner's not thrilled about the dna thing & ives would be within his rights to resent the stalking even though he doesn't #but i am obviously personally most fond of the ways this plays out with dick & tim

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formula-fun · 1 month

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hiii its me again,,,,

with more prose that makes me insane

"Tragedy takes and takes, for both of them. Max is trying to learn how to grow older; softer. He’s trying to dream of slower things, but it won’t stop people from poking at what he tries to forget—romanticizing all the bad bits and gilding them into their history right alongside the worst days of Charles’ life. People love a tragedy.

Not this, though. This isn’t for the history books. He won’t have people rewatch the podiums where Charles wouldn’t even look Max in the eye and know it was because something horrible happened, and Max didn’t know what to do; didn’t know how to ask for comfort or answers. And Charles—people already remember him in mourning before they remember anything else, and that’s already unfair. They like to treat his life like a play, spilling onto the stage in perfectly romanticized pain. Max won’t have this spilling across it too; won’t have Charles’ grief, his guilt, his self-flagellation, Max’s uselessness to make it right, the two of them ripping themselves apart and beating themselves bloody against each other’s ramparts, their dream of something gentle dead between their feet—he won’t have it added to the list below Max’s shitty childhood and Charles’ monthly visits to the Monaco Cemetery."

I just.

your ability to seamlessly switch between narration of events like races and sex and then just almost a poem of the characters thoughts in that moment is just insane

I think max's refusal to let charles' grief be commodified ( i hope that's the right word) or used to generate clicks like how almost anything that occurs today is used by f1 'journalists' feels rlly organic?

I won't say in character bc idk any of these men but I feel like this determination to keep what's between them, between them is very sjdnsjdb I don't have the words I hope you understand my incoherent rambling sorry

Another line that really stood out to me was when charles says that max understands that 'he enjoys podiums, not pedestals'

just. FERAL. Jsbbdnxbxj

the whole il predestinato title is beautiful and romantic and I will forever be unwell ab it but I wonder at the deification of ferrari bc like. wow. red god whom you love with every fiber of your being, who loves you back but. akdnbxjdnd BUT.

anyway sorry, I hope you don't mind that I'm doing these excerpt dissecting thingies I'm. very insane.

☀️

no no no never apologize!!!!! i love this so much <3333

this is all so on point honestly! what you said about being in character...i dont know these people at all and completely made this read up, but that's 100% what this fic is getting at?? they grew up racing and giving interviews and crashing out and they can be really rational about all of that because its just in their nature. they can sacrifice whatever they need to and behave however they need to for their teams and their success, and they don't question it because it's just who they are. in a way there's even solace in recognizing that it's a trait they share and they're not alone in it. theyre like the scorpion and the frog except they're both the scorpion which is an idea that keeps me up at night because not to be fake deep and pretentious but i feel like scorpions probably have a very different understanding of that story than frogs do. i might be insane

ANYWAY what that all means is it's really new to build something together that's just for them and that isn't about racing or expectations or even about gender roles, it's about love and honesty and trust. it's really new and scary but it's also really freeing. dont ask me how the a/b/o porny fic became about that, but the whole point of it is them finding new ways to see themselves based on the stability they've found with each other. or something. and that's why max is protective of their real actual vulnerabilities and why both of them kind of treat il predestinato/the inevitable mythos as a fun story but ultimately not a very serious one

the bit you quoted is sooo highly ranked for me <3 it relates very directly to telescope by boy & bear which became such a max song for this fic, especially "i've adjusted all my dreams for something slow // and it's a softening that age has taught me well // for the things i cannot change i must let go" like hhh its HIM

anyway thank you for thiiis i always love discussing my fic <3333

#sun anon #writing tag #if i had words

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chidoroki · 1 year

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182 Days of TPN - Day 137

Chapter 137: "Conversion"

It may only happen twice but I shall never get tired of seeing Emma slap the hell outta Ray. He's so stunned on both occasions that he can't even think of getting mad.

He is so freakin' lost it's actually adorable. It takes a great amount of nonsense to confuse a full-scorer so congrats to the Seven Walls and Emma's reasoning for completely stumping my boy and leaving him speechless.

I know the manga is showing us the flashbacks for our sake, but with how the duo is sorta looking off to the side instead of at each other, it makes me wanna believe they can see the images too. Hey, the Seven Walls can do anything. It ain't too farfetched to think it could project their memories right in front of their eyes like little screens. It's been playing with their minds this whole time anyways.

Bro help she's so cute being this tiny and explaining something this advanced to him.

Emma outright declaring she's acting on impulse gives me serious nostalgia for ch17 and I love it so much. Trust her hunch Ray, it's been right before!

I'll be damned.. I actually remembered to bring up what I had mentioned back in April. Huzzah!

"..when the trio speculate what’s outside of Grace Field’s large walls and Ray mentions the possibility of a desert, it reminds me of his time in The Seven Walls. While there, he states he’s never actually seen a desert (and concludes one only shows up because he visualized a vast space and sand due to the riddle), but it was satisfying to remember that he at least did think of what they look like once upon a time (here in ch16). I dunno, it just feels better knowing that one appearing in T7W wasn’t totally done at random, I guess."

It's scary to think how easy it is to actually lose yourselves in the Seven Walls. Ray mentions last chapter that the longer they stayed trapped here, the more his senses became messed up and had difficulties recognizing the differences between dreams and reality. Safe to say that he'd be truly lost without Emma's guidance.

I'm sorry but my RE heart is howling at this entire chapter. It's not even due to the ohmygodtheyreholdinghands thing, it's because of how determined they are to work through this confusing place together and everything else I ramble on about below.

Ray knows her logic is insane yet he chooses to put his life in her hands once more and trusts her plans anyway despite not understanding it fully and damn it they both make me so soft.

The fact that Emma was able to make some reasonable sense of this chaotic space and advise Ray of her logic in a way he would understand so they can both advance further into the Seven Walls together is nothing short of amazing and no doubt one of my favorite moments for her. And for Ray. It's takes a lot of grit to follow such a reckless leader after all.

Them actually succeeding and my boy being completely baffled that he just becomes an incoherent mess (he's just like me fr fr.)

Ah, so this is the hole that I've been trapped in ever since I started the series because I have yet to escape it.

My lovely GP children look fabulous. Can't say I'm a fan of how Norman & Vincent plan on using them for their plan though, even if just for logistical support. I'm sure the kids probably agreed to help but eh, they way they're chatting about their possible assistance makes me kinda skeptical about it.

Favorite panel/moment:

Okay, I honestly had such a hard time to decide.. there's so much I love about this chapter: Emma slapping Ray once again, him being totally confuzzled by her fantastic big brain moments, his mumbling, and the quick glimpse and the GP resistance at the shelter. This chapter has SO MUCH of everything that I adore and is probably one of my favorites. I obviously can't forget about these breathtaking double spreads either. Demizu never ceases to amaze me. The artwork is so incredible and I'll forever be upset that we didn't get to see this beauty animated.

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #182daysoftpn #chidoroki used chatter

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kodzukyan · 3 years

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better with you (until it kills me)

notes: it's always missing baji hours here </3 fluff, angst; alternative ending: always, always you

summary: four times you think you are in love with baji keisuke, and the one time you tell him.

wc: 3.7k

You're reasonably sure the only reason he chooses you to pair up with for the Japanese literature project is that you sit next to him, but it surprises you all the same. You don't think you have much of a presence in class, but you don't think you can say the same about your new partner, Baji Keisuke.

His slicked-back ponytail and thick frames make his presence seem like a poindexter, but there's something about his bruised knuckles and his fierce aura that makes him feel ferocious. You've noticed him hang out with the school delinquent on multiple occasions. You also think you've seen him laugh wildly as he beats up some of the local thugs who crowded around the said delinquent he's friends with.

He isn't who you expect him to be at first glance, and that intrigues you more than you like to admit. You're too nervous to openly ask, so you settle for stealing glances at him from the corner of your eyes.

So, when he really decides on you and submits the partner form, you don't know what to think.

In the time that you two are partners, you've discovered a couple of things about him. First, his handwriting and kanji absolutely suck. Despite that, he writes a letter addressed to someone named Kazutora every week without fail. As if that isn't endearing enough, it gets even more so when he pouts at the complex characters that he often gets wrong and the inevitable smile that breaks out whenever you show him how to write them correctly.

("Oh, thanks! I would probably fail my kanji tests without you and Chifuyu. Kazutora probably can't even understand what I'm saying," he laughs rambunctiously.)

Second, he's genuinely an unexpectedly good partner in terms of being punctual about meeting up. However, despite being on time, there is little progress on the project. Your work times often end up in discussions about random life topics rather than the project itself.

(“Do you like cats?” he asks out of the blue one day, head on the table and books already forgotten.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” you humor him because you’re also tired of researching Japanese literature.

“Wanna see my cats? They’re all strays,” he sits up suddenly, eyes lit and smile bright.

You nod, and he proceeds to take out his phone to show you pictures of his cats. You note his lock-screen is a picture of all his cats, and his camera roll is just full of his friends and mom, motorcycles, and the said cats. With shining eyes full of excitement, he tells you their names and their personalities in detail.

"Do you think cats recognize their names but choose to ignore us whenever we call them?" he resumes the conversation after he finishes showing you his gallery. He leans back as he balances his pencil on top of his pursed lips.

"Maybe. Depends on the cat? Maybe they just hate you?" you mimic his pose. You suppose thirty minutes of work is enough progress for the day.

"Ouch," he grimaces as if it shatters him directly in the heart.)

Third, sometimes he comes with his hair down and without his glances, with stains on his clothes that he claims are ketchup, despite it not smelling like that at all.

("Uh, hey, sorry I'm late today," he offers sheepishly as he runs a hand through his unbound hair.

"Oh, it's okay," you finally say after you take in his shaggy appearance. You try not to think about how handsome he is despite the bruises forming on his face. "Are you… okay?"

"All good! The ketchup bottle just randomly exploded," he laughs nervously and awkwardly. "Anyways!! The project!!"

You stare at him dubiously but nod anyway. "Okay, if you say so…")

Fourth, he has an extremely charming smile, especially when his fangs are in full display. To some, it may look fierce and menacing; to you, it looks cute, especially when his eyes are always brimming with life and his laugh is full of vitality.

More often than not you catch yourself staring at him because he's just so intriguing.

You try to ignore your racing heart when your stolen glances become shared ones, and he flashes you a grin softer than the smiles you've seen.

-----

“Uh, hi.” You say shyly as you enter through Baji’s window. It’s not frequently you seek out Baji at his own home, especially through the window he keeps open almost exclusively for stray cats to seek shelter.

“What the fuck?” Baji drops the stray cat he's cuddling as you give a slight wave, causing the cat to meow loudly at the sudden change in demeanor.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced. I, uh, just wanted some company.”

You feel vanishingly small as you awkwardly laugh and piece together some words that make sense. Home is supposed to be full of warmth, but your home is more of a house with people than a home with love. It’s a truth you’ve long accepted, but some days, it feels a little extra cold.

Therefore, you run, and somehow you end up here, in the comforts of Baji’s room.

Maybe you are currently a stray cat, feeling a little more lost than found. Maybe you find that he’s the sort of comfort that warms you a little when your heart feels heavy. Maybe you are just a little bit in like with him, and he is the first person you want to see whenever you’re feeling down.

The room is silent aside from the soft paps of cats moving around and the periodic meow. Then, he pats the spot next to him, and you make your way there. As soon as you sit down, he hands you a cat.

“Here, hold her. She’s nice,” he comments as he places the calico cat he dropped earlier in your lap, petting her as she adjusts to her new position on you.

She narrows her eyes and softly purrs in your lap as Baji pets her, and this makes you feel more in the moment than in your head like you’ve been. Your initial baffle turns into a smile as she purrs louder when you pet her, and just like that, you feel a little more found than lost.

You lean on his shoulder as you continue petting the calico cat in your lap. You keep your eyes on her as she climbs onto his lap and nuzzles him in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks and your drumming heart from your proximity.

“Thanks for giving me a home when I don’t want to be in my own,” you tell him softly, airly, almost as if you’re letting him in on a secret.

He stops playing with the cats for a moment and pauses. Feeling his intense stare, you peek through your lashes up at him. His broad grin and sharp canines are in full display, and his smile looks a little more boyish than wild. He tousles your hair as he laughs aloud boisterously before he props his head on top of yours.

“You’ll always have a home here.”

-----

It all started when a group of thugs looked at you inappropriately and made some comments that made you uncomfortable. You grip the ends of his sleeve just a little harder and press yourself behind him, trying to make yourself impossibly small. Baji, seeing your small form and downcast eyes, removes your hand from his sleeve and places it in his hand. Knowing Baji and him knowing you and your every mood, he does not stand for it. He simply flashes you a reassuring grin before he squeezes your hand and runs straight at them.

He throws the first punch, and you could just stand there in shock as he pummels through them and beats them up. He has cuts and bruises everywhere, and you’re certain he’s taken on a few nasty hits on his ribs. Though you’re equally confident that these thugs are absolutely 100% in worse shape than he is.

“Oh my god,” you sob frantically as Baji wobbles back to you, ferocious smile on his face softens as he sees you. He pats your head when he notes your teary eyes. You’re not even sure when you start crying, but the tears just don’t seem to stop. “Are you okay? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you -”

He clutches your tear-stained face in his hands, “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his, but you can barely see him over your tears as you continue your incoherent rambling.

“Hey,” he tries once more, voice more frantic as he struggles to find words. He finally just squishes your cheeks and yells, “Do you think I care about anything else but you right now?”

Your eyes widen, and the tears forming fall freely onto his hands. Oh, oh, oh, you think to yourself as your beating heart rapidly thumps at an exponential speed, maybe he’s also falling. When you meet his steady gray eyes, the shocking realization that maybe you’re not the only one dumb and possibly in love stops your tears.

He sighs in relief when your tears gradually stop, and as if all the tiredness accumulated in his body hit him all at once, he falls down onto the ground.

You try to catch him as best as you can, and with the combined effort of mostly himself and partially you, he breaks his fall. He lays sprawled out on the ground. After you check for wounds and find none too serious, you sit with your knees tucked under you by where he lays and moves his head onto your lap.

All around you are the battered bodies of the thugs you’ve encountered, but all you can see at the moment is him and his gray eyes that disappear into crescent moons as he flashes you a grin. He’s too tired to move, but he raises a fist up into the air in victory anyway.

“I got you.”

-----

"Wanna go on a ride?" he texts you.

It’s almost midnight when he texts you, and it’s probably way past when you should stay up. But your heart flutters at the thought of adventure, at the thought of him, so you quickly respond, “Okay, but be quiet! Don't wake my parents up again, stinky!!!”

You can already imagine his sheepish smile when he sends you a "that was once!!! my bad" back.

After sending him a quick ":p", you silently put on some clothes more fitting to go out than your pajamas. The sound of his motorcycle announces his greater-than-life presence long before his text does. Grabbing two scrunchies, you sneak out your window.

He only greets you with a goofy smile and a wave, hair free-flowing in the wind. Under the moonlight, his gray eyes twinkle with vigor and youth. It knocks the air out of your lungs as you glance at him because he's beautiful, ethereal, and alive. He smiles smugly when he catches your stare, but he holds his hand out for you to take.

"Hi," you whisper under the twinkling stars as you put your hand in his.

"Hey," he whispers back as he curls his fingers around your hand before adjusting to interlace your fingers together.

The quietness and intimacy of this moment drown out the world - the sound of cars driving by, of cicadas flying, of the world standing still. The only thing keeping you from floating is his hand and the sound of your heartbeat.

"I got you a hair tie." You offer softly with an equally soft smile, eyes pointing to the scrunchies on your wrist.

"I got you a hoodie," he responds as he nods to his motorcycle. "Because I knew your dumb ass would, once again, forget to dress for the winds."

"I'm dressed decently enough. You, though… please tie your hair… It hurts like hell when it whips in my face," you laugh lightly.

He rolls his eyes. "That's also what you said last time before you ended up stealing my hoodie, and I ended up being cold!" he complains, but there's a certain fondness in his voice.

You only stick your tongue out childishly at him. You would rather bite your tongue than admit that you are always slightly underdressed for the occasion so he would keep giving you his hoodies.

He tugs your interlaced hand and pulls you closer, and as you stand so close to him, you think close isn't quite close enough. The two of you linger in that position for longer than what should be appropriate for friends, but you think you have been tiptoeing around that line for a while now. Your heart races, and you're sure your erratic heart is beating fast enough to generate heat to keep you warm against the cold winds.

He pulls away first, moving to grab his hoodie before he roughly puts it on you. He laughs when you complain about your ruffled hair, but as his hoodie and scent engulf you, you could only shyly smile. He takes a scrunchie despite complaining about how poofy it is. As he settles in his bike and you settle in behind him, arms tight around his waist, you think this is probably what holding the universe in your arms feels like.

He rives his bike loudly despite your warning, but you find that you could care less right now as he takes off. You are young and dumb, but the wind is running through your hair as the two of you are chasing the moon, and it makes you feel so alive. Neon lights and starlit skies blur together as he speeds through familiar roads, and the brisk winds drown out your loud laughter. It feels like you're feeling everything at once, but your head is so clear.

You think you can understand why he loves riding so much because the only thing that you can hear is your loud heartbeat, and the only thing that matters is you're living.

He finally stops at a local 24-hour diner. The moonlight shines through the window by your table. You are still feeling the wild wind in your hair, cold air on your face, and the warmth of Baji’s back on your arms. It's way past midnight now, and the yellow lights of the diner feel a little more homey than dingy. He’s munching on some fries, occasionally waving one in your face whenever he’s trying to make a point about something. As you watch the various expressions on his face, a smile makes its way to your face.

“Hey Keisuke,” you grab a fry and jab it at him in the middle of his sentence. He stops his mid-word as he stares at you, head tilting slightly and mouth still gaping. There is a particular word that you keep thinking of whenever you think of Baji, a feeling that lingers and fills your heart up. You know what it is. You think you know at least, and in moments like these when you’re just watching his goofy self munching on fries while boisterously laughing at something dumb, all you can think of is those four letters.

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper before you eat your fry. Best friend, you think, encompasses a lot of things and feelings as you stare at his childlike grin, heart fluttering and mind blanking because all you see is him. You hope he knows, hope he gets that best friend is a loose term because he is so much more.

When he meets your eyes and his gray eyes crinkle in mirth and laughter rolls off his lips, you think he does.

“I know,” he smugly nods before he drops another fry into his mouth. “I guess you’re pretty cool too.”

You stick your tongue out at him and feel a warmth in your heart that matches the pinks of his cheeks. Maybe it’s adrenaline still in your blood, maybe it’s the moment, but it makes you devious, brave even, as you lean over and chomp down on the fry he's holding.

He stares at you with his mouth wide open, looking absolutely flabbergasted and offended. “Hello? That was my last fry!”

“Sorry,” you giggle, not feeling all that sorry at all. You know he’s not truly that offended because he has that stupid grin on his face, because he’s always soft with you. A part of you does feel a little sorry when you see the small pout that arises on his face. “I’ll treat you to yakisoba later?”

He turns away from you, face still slightly sulky as he huffs silently.

“No? You don’t want yakisoba?” you ask. You still find it amusing that Baji Keisuke, the first division captain of the Toman Gang who would punch someone on the streets for no reason other than just because he feels like it, is pouting because you stole his last fry. If anyone from any rival gangs sees Baji Keisuke now, they probably wouldn’t believe this is the same person.

“Fine,” he huffs softly, “But don’t think one yakisoba is enough.”

“Then,” you begin, your heart pounding loudly in your chest as you work up the courage, “What about this?”

He turns to you in confusion, and before your courage runs out on you, you crash your lips onto his before you pull away.

“Repayment,” you mutter meekly, eyes avoiding his because you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from where he’s sitting.

“Hey,” he tugs on your hand under the table. When you finally look at him, he continues, “Just one isn’t enough.”

He kisses you again.

-----

Home is supposed to be the place you come from, but you think it's more like a place you find, pieced together from scattered bits of feelings, emotions, people along the way. Somewhere along the lines, home becomes less of a place and more of a person. Your home becomes the boy with the sharp canines and long hair that gets tangled by the stray cats he keeps, the "I love you" declared loudly with kisses and the longing looks in between, the comfortable warmth of his body next to yours as you chase sunsets and live in your own infinity. Your home is Baji Keisuke and the constant image of him in your mind and the infinite pieces of him in your heart.

Infinity, though, is awfully short, you think, as you see him lay surrounded by bouquets, eyes closed in eternal slumber. He's always looked good in white, but when his tan complexion is nearly as pale as the white roses surrounding him, you think white is an awful color on him. His eyes always shine with possibilities and promises, and while you've always joked that his sleeping face is cute because he always looks so innocent, adorable even, all you want now is to see him awake.

His heroism and love for his friends are always something that you love about him, but in turn, it feels so incredibly cruel to you now. For as short as he has been in your life, he becomes pieces embedded so deeply in it that it makes you whole. You cannot imagine a world where there is no Baij, where he isn’t there to punch a hooligan on the streets or feed stray cats at night or hold you when your world is crashing. You cannot imagine a life where he isn’t here to shine a bright light in your life without his laughter and goofy personality. Suddenly the world blurs around you, and you can't breathe as droplets of water hit your clenched hands on your lap.

You hold his hands. Cold, cold, cold, when they used to be warm enough to light a fire in you. There are so many things you want to tell him, say to him, but the speech you prepare in your head drowns in silence as your voice gives out on you. All the words in your head just come out as broken sobs. You feel the sympathetic and equally broken glance of his mom as she embraces you, but all you can think about is that he won’t open his eyes.

Baji Keisuke has always been bigger than life, you think, because he becomes a part of everything in your life. There are traces of him everywhere - him with his cats on your lock-screen, the random memes he sends you at night, the little notes he leaves you written in his ugly penmanship with love. When you think of these things, you feel like your heart is breaking all over again.

People tell you to be strong, and while you want to retort because how can you when he’s gone?, you find that you cannot say a word without crying. You’re tired of crying too because your eyes are already so, so raw, but it seems like all you can do is cry. When you think you've finally run out of tears and your tears finally stop, a new batch takes over even at the slightest things that remind you of him. You feel so pathetic because you can't do anything without water leaking from your eyes, and you hate yourself for being so weak.

You tune out the somber tone of his friends and the broken tone of his mom because you don't want to accept a reality where he isn't here. But luck is never on your side because he never opens his eyes again, and you never get to tell him how much you love him. All you get are flashbacks and memories of him and emptiness in your heart and soul. You tell yourself you have to be strong and smile and live for the both of you, but you can't. Not when he isn't here, not when he isn't with you anymore. Every time you think about that fact, your heart breaks again.

"Hey, stupid," your broken sobs ring loudly in the deafening silence, "I love you."

The words you’ve wanted to tell him for so long are finally in the open, but there is no answer.

#baji keisuke x reader #keisuke baji x reader #baji x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokrev x reader #baji fluff #baji angst #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers angst #i... i just really miss baji :(#come home you stinky head </3 #i'm sorry if he's ooc :(( in my head he's just really dorky and soft w his s/o HAHA #rissa told me to make it angst so i made it angst 👍#sometimes i write things

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kanene-yaaay · 3 years

Text

Go to Sleep

Kanene’s note: Gosh, having a schedule is weird. I just wanna post everything I already wrote and ramble non stop about it asdfgtyujkigfdo. XD

Well, this was suppose to be a drabble, but it’s very long so sdftyujikgfred. I hope you like it!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders from the serie Sanders Sides.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic. If you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Virgil with Ler!Roman. Around 1.500 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Listen a bit to the birds today. Changing the way you think is not a bad thing. Drink water, sleep, eat and love!

[~*~]

Roman growled, missing by a few inches the button of his thunderous, infuriating alarm before finally hitting it. Staring and blinking lazily at the numbers his brain struggled to discern and recognize, only to confirm it was really time to wake up and start the day. He grabbed his pillow and squeezed it with all the strength he could muster, rolling from one side to other on the mattress, trying to wake up his body as quick as his mind and almost falling from the bed a reasonable number of times during the process.

He got up, yawing, stretching and humming as the first lyrics of the day stuck on his head, hand rubbing at his eyes as he followed the kitchen’s direction with slow steps and tired sways on the beat of the song.

Two dark, wide eyes stared right back at him, their owner completely frozen on the spot with his hand inside the cabinet, probably already holding some sort of a snack. Roman also stopped mid-step, gears running inside his mind, gaze locked on the other, his brow progressively furrowing.

“Virgil,” he began, voice slightly hoarse “What the heckty heck are you doing up? It’s barely seven in the morning!” Virgil only stared back, slowly closing the cabinet’s door, as if afraid the movement would startle the other. Roman proceeded to get some eggs and other cold ingredients from the refrigerator for the breakfast, his words growing more awake and vivid as they spilled with no filter or whatsoever from his lips. “You got an early shift again or something? Those are absolutely hellish. A bunch of people exhausted, tired and glaring at you as if you are the holder of all their problems and their solutions can only be achieved by being insufferable pieces of- Urg. I can’t believe they would give you one right after you got the night one. Damn, I didn’t even see you arriving here yesterday!”

He turned his attention back at the other, looking for a kind of frustration in the place of the still startled, wide gaze which continued to be directed at him. Virgil nodded slowly, stepping away and putting some physical distance between him and the confusion on Roman’s features.

Then, between the strings of sleepiness that clouded his brain, it clicked.

Suddenly more details on the other’s behavior started to become clearer: the way Virgil’s hair was messier than his usual ““style”” (Roman scoffed mentally, thinking that if he rolled his eyes any harder they would never come back to his normal place again), his wary, yes, but way too much slow movements, the way he seemed to be unable to stop blinking at every millisecond and, above it all, the final piece of the puzzle.

Virgil wasn’t wearing his pajamas.

“YOU DIDN’T!” Roman gasped, as if Virgil’s life choices were a personal attack. “YOU DIDN’T GET ANY SLEEP LAST NIGHT!!” A turn of heels and he was again fixating his glare on the other, his free hand accusingly pointing in his direction, receiving an annoyed hiss as immediate answer.

“Shut up!” Virgil snarled, practically growling back at him. “It’s fucking seven am don’t be so freaking loud.”

“Don’t change the subject! Why didn’t you go to sleep?”

The one being questioned just snorted, half amused. “Bold of you to assume I’d ever sleep in my whole life.”

“That is it.” Virgil didn’t even have the time to wonder the meaning of his friend’s sentence before the aforementioned picked him up, resulting to a not very contained shriek escaping from his lips and his hands not much gracefully – or gently, although since they were keen on just jumping on each other out of nowhere to play fight Princey would be fine - meeting his friend’s face.

“Roman! What the he-”

“Did you just SLAP me? My beautiful face?! Before my own beautiful eyes??” Virgil Storm always got, even if he would never admit this out loud, surprised with Roman’s capacity of doing a series of offended incoherent noises which evolved to words before being carefully metamorphosed in weird noises all over again, and in the end still managing to form comprehensible sentences. His surprise did nothing to quell the grumpy snark immediately flying from lips, though.

“And I’m going to do it again if you don’t let me go in this exact instant.”

“You go and try to help and that is the acknowledgement you get,” The one wearing pajamas with little crows printed on it huffed, mumbling in a lower tone as he noticed the sharp gaze being thrown in his direction. “fucking unbelievable.”

“I still can hear you, Princey. You’re literally carrying me.”

“I sTiLL cAn HeAr yOu-OW! Ow! Ow!” The sentence was interrupted when the sleep deprived one punched Roman’s shoulder. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Let me fucking gAAH!” In a way his wish was granted, one could say as they watched his protest being cut as Storm was impolitely tossed on his bed, Roman quickly following his friend on the mattress, arms hugging him from behind, and physically preventing him from escaping his current soft predicament. “Prince, you’re dead.”

“Shhh, no talking. We’re sleeping.”

“We are not. You are being a pain in ass and I am about to defenestrate you.” Despite his fervent protests, his sharp, flaming glare began to lose its heat, his body not doing any actual effort to free himself from the other’s – strong, good - grip, muscles starting to relax against the great warmth involving him in a comfortable and secure blanket.

“Sure, sure, mister Grumpy Pants, you can do that when you wake up.” He tightened a bit his hold around Virgil, yet being the most careful as possible, actively ignoring the annoyed hiss his friend gave him. His hoodie was really fluffy at the touch, slightly remembering his stuffed animals he frequently hugged to sleep.

For a moment, everything was pleasantly quiet. The one with smudged makeup, since he hadn’t time to get it off before being trapped by his roommate and best friend, felt the tiredness becoming sleepiness as the seconds went by.

…That was until an electric sensation shot across his spine, leading him to almost jump in the same place

“S-stop nuzzling me!”

“Hm? Oh sorry.” Virgil pressed his lips tightly closed, preventing the wobbly giggles to escape as Roman speaks, not realizing how close his mouth was from the base of his neck, every breath sending tickly shocks across every nerve. “You’re just too much sooooft.”

Roman opened an eye when realized that no snark remark from the other followed his words, the figure in his arms shaking too much to be asleep. A frown painted his feature as he readjusted the position of his hands, trying to get a bit more of balance to look at Virgil’s face when suddenly a high-pitched yelp escaped, cutting the air and immediately catching their attention.

“Did you just squeal?” He questioned as his glare assumed a playful shine seeing a blush spread on his now frozen friend.

“It was NOT a squeal! It was a yelp.” Virgil’s words came so fast that they almost tripped on themselves. Roman snorted, a smile taking over his face. “Get off me!” and, in the moment the one wearing a hoodie tried to pry his hand from the spot on his right side where it was resting, the pieces finally clicked in the right place and his smile quickly submerged, giving space to a smirk.

‘No WAY Doctor Doom and Gloom is ticklish!’

However, the red lover only blinked as the true personification of innocence and naiveness, his hand firm in its place, fingers starting to slowly move, light pokes being delivered on the sensitive skin. “But why that, Knight Mare? It’s cold and all I could ever want is just to hug my bestest friend!”

“You already hugged me, now go aWAY!” His voice trembled in the last second, the exact moment his thumb experimentally scratched the spot right under the lowest ribs, leading a surprised squeak to leave Virgil’s mouth.

They both stared at each other, gleaming, filling their wide eyes.

“No.” Virgil said, trying to squirm away but finding himself stuck between Prince and the wall. Roman didn’t even attempt to hide his smug grin, anymore. This was going to be so much fun

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you freaking dare!!” His friend only laid down again, now carefully, yet firmly, pulling him one more time against his chest, growling playfully. Years and years fighting for the Tickle Monster title on his family, battles and battles against Remus only sharpening his skills, which showed by the way his fingers seemed to find every single weak spot on Virgil’s skin, wiggles, scribbles, pokes and scratching exploring everywhere. “No! Nononono! You fucker, you moron, you bitch, you-” A few chuckles cut his curses as he one wearing pajamas squeezed his side a couple of times, the tip of his fingers also teasing his ticklish stomach. “Roman!!”

“No, no, my so dear, so ticklish, friend. Roman is no longer here, this is…” He paused for a dramatic effect, basically beaming at the giggly giggles and wiggly wiggles from the other. He shoved his face on his neck, the next words vibrating almost as bad as the spidering on his ribs. “The Tickle Monster!!”

#Cursing #This is inspired on a meme I saw that was basically two beans staring each other like ':0' with the legend 'Me waking up at 5 AM' and-#- 'My roomate going to sleep at 5 AM'#Idk why but this is so funny to me xDDD #I will probably use that exact scenario in others fics in the future #Lee!Virgil #Ler!Roman #Ticklish!Virgil #Sanders Sides tickles #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Fic #Kanene's Art #I couldn't write the tickles here for some reason xDD Honestly if someone want to continue the idea/fic pls feel free to!#I really like this idea xP

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heyiwrotesomethings · 4 years

Text

A Wild Valentine Appears!

Ririka Momobami x She/Her Reader (Feat. some KiraSaya!)

A/N: I now realize why it takes me months to finish writing things. I wrote this oneshot in a day and although I have read it over several times already, I still feel like it’s incoherent. I’ll still happily post it though because if I only posted things I was completely satisfied with, I’d post nothing lol. Anyway, just wanted to give a little love to Ririka because she deserves it. Hope you’ll like it! Word Count: 2,425

Ririka stared over the sea of students pushing and shoving to get into any of the more contested council member lines. God, she really hated Kirari sometimes.

Today was Valentine’s Day, and all Ririka wanted to do was go home, order a giant, cheesy pizza, and watch anime from the comfort of her own bed and forget this stupid holiday even existed. But no, her dear sister just had to be an insufferable nuisance. Nothing could ever be easy, could it?

Kirari had decided to inform the council that morning in an unplanned meeting, that in order to spare the mail room from total annihilation (and Sayaka’s back), each council member would have to accept their Valentines in person. She had even set up the gymnasium for the occasion. Not herself of course, she made the house pets do it, but you get the idea.

“But president, I already have an idol greeting in place!” Yumemi smiled, though her eye twitched, “I’m too busy to deal with people outside of my fan club who need I remind you, actually pay me for my time.”

“It is a waste of time,” Kaede pushed his glasses up, “A pointless holiday.”

“Well I think it’s a great idea president!” Itsuki proclaimed, leveling a glare at Kaede.

“Free sweets so I’ll happily comply!” Runa grinned.

“Sayaka,” Yumemi called, exasperation seeping out of the cracks in her cheery idol facade, “Surely you don’t want to watch people confessing to the president all afternoon?”

Sayaka’s hands, hidden behind her back, clenched tightly in agreement, yet her polite smile stayed solid. “The president’s will is my will.” She replied, her eyes dark and focused.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Sayaka will be busy enough dealing with her own little pack of girls! Crazy to believe I know, but she’s actually pretty popular!” Midari sensed the air around the president change and cackled. “I’m cool with it, prez. I’m sure Yuriko’s ego would love all the attention too!” She offered on behalf of the absent council member. Yuriko had some important business with the Traditional Culture Club to take care of before the impromptu meeting was called.

“Majority rules.” Kirari smiled, passing a glance over to Ririka who was silently stewing.

So that’s how Ririka ended up standing in the furthest corner of the gym, watching all her fellow council members’ lines fill up while hers remained painfully desolate. She had never been more thankful for her mask than she was today. However, it was probably because of the mask and her eerie silence that people were afraid to approach her in the first place.

Ririka found entertainment watching Kirari and Sayaka at least. Though those two usually drove her absolutely bonkers, it was kind of funny to watch them take turns discreetly eyeing their ‘competition’ for the other’s affections. It was enough to make Ririka want to scream over the school’s intercom system that they needed to just kiss already and stop wasting everyone’s time, but still funny to see her sister making a mental list of every person who dared get too comfortable with her secretary. Ririka rolled her eyes as she was sure Sayaka was doing the same to the patrons in Kirari’s line. Her sister’s line was much larger than Sayaka’s own, but Ririka knew better than to think Sayaka couldn’t keep up.

“Um, excuse me, vice president?”

Ririka startled, but years of schooling her emotions and physical reactions hid her scare well. She looked away from her sister to stare at the disturbance head on. Ririka was surprised to find a face she recognized. (L/n) (Y/n), she sat next to Ririka’s left in class since their first year of high school. What could she possibly want?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t disrupt your train of thought did I? Here, let me just give you this quick and I’ll be out of your hair,” (Y/n) laughed nervously, her hand rummaging through the school bag over her shoulder, “I knew I should have packed better, sorry, just a second... There!” (Y/n)’s hand finally re-emerged with a rectangular box, striped with red, pink, and white. She held the box out to Ririka with a barely detectable tremor, “I made these chocolates for you. I hope you like them!”

Ririka tilted her head, mouth agape. Was this actually happening right now? Someone was giving her Valentines chocolate? And they were cute and nice? What the hell?

“Oh no, you hate it! I’m so sorry!” (Y/n) looked every bit as horrified as Ririka felt for just standing there and staring like an idiot instead of accepting the chocolates.

Ririka immediately waved her arms and shook her head, swiping the chocolates from her classmate’s hands and pressing the box into her chest protectively. Looking between (Y/n) and the chocolates Ririka knew she had to do something to show her gratitude so, she awkwardly flashed (Y/n) a shaky thumbs up. If Ririka could blush through her mask she was sure it would be bright pink.

“Thank you, vice president! I hope you like them, I worked hard on these- but! But don’t feel obligated or anything!” (Y/n) quickly added.

Ririka looked down at the pretty box in her hands a popped the lid open, a little gasp escaped her lips and came through her voice modulator like a crackle of static. The chocolates were shaped like cats!

“I hope you don’t mind, I noticed you doodle a lot during class and I think you make the cutest little kittens so that’s why I shaped the chocolate like that. I made the mold too, it took a couple tries, but the end result was worth it I think.”

Ririka hadn’t realized (Y/n) had paid attention to her at all, much less that she would be interested in her enough to know what she did during class, or remember and care enough to then turn such observations into an incredibly sweet and thoughtful gift. There was no way she was going to be able to keep her eyes off of (Y/n) during class now... not that she had ever stared longingly at her before! Or chickened out of buying chocolates to put in her classmate’s shoe cubby that morning, not at all! But damnit Ririka really wished she hadn’t been such a coward now!

“I’m glad this worked out. I had been planning to just send them through the mail system like I have in previous years, but then I heard that the student council was only accepting gifts in person this year and I kind of lost my nerve,” (Y/n) rambled on, waving her hands around as she talked.

Ririka couldn’t believe it. (Y/n) had sent her chocolates before? She had never gotten them. They had probably been lost in her sister’s vast piles of confectionary wealth, damn her sister!

“You are always so distant with everyone. I was afraid I was just going to be bothering you, but seeing you standing here all alone... I knew I had to just go for it and put my feelings out there, you know? Ah, I’m talking too much. I should really—“

“The president did not consent to be touched!”

(Y/n) and Ririka whipped their heads around just in time to see Sayaka flip a student twice her size to the ground, tasing him for good measure. Kirari stood by with an amused smirk, her hands rubbing sanitizer into her skin as she watched her secretary obliterate the boy.

The girls who were still waiting in Sayaka’s line started cheering and swooning which quickly made the president’s mood sour and she turned to the girls, offering them an icy stare that shook them all to the bone.

“I’ve grown quite bored of this. Would any of you care for a high stakes gamble? I’m sure we all have something of value to offer.” Kirari spoke, reaching her hand out towards the group.

The girls dropped their gifts and ran away screaming, none dared to accept the president’s wager. Especially not while she looked so menacing albeit elegant, as if she drank human blood and tears from a wine glass while sitting regally upon a throne constructed from the bones of her enemies.

Once the boy on the ground was disturbingly still, Sayaka stood and brushed off her skirt, her dark, calculating eyes scanned over the rest of the line. She zapped her taser twice in warning causing the remaining students to scatter and flee the scene.

“Oh my, Sayaka. Did you need to be so harsh?” Kirari teased, as if she hadn’t just subtly threatened a handful of high schoolers herself. She’d be lying is she said she hadn’t enjoyed the momentary chaos she had created.

“School hours are nearly over president. I was simply killing two birds with one stone.” Sayaka informed, still looking a bit miffed.

“Ah, so they are. Well then, far be it from me to hamper anyone’s holiday plans.” Kirari looked around at the remaining students and made a shooing motion with her hands, clearly bored, “Leave.” The students knew better than to complain, not directly in front of the president at least. (Y/n) moved to follow the crowd but Ririka grasped her by the bicep, keeping (Y/n) glued to her spot. Ririka was not going to let her slip away, not without returning the favor. Once the students were pushing out of the gymnasium doors, Kirari turned back to Sayaka, her eyes glimmering. “Sayaka, accompany me to the student council room. I would love a hot cup of tea. You always prepare it so well.”

“Yes, president!” Sayaka nodded, falling in step behind Kirari as she took a different exit.

“That was, something.” (Y/n) laughed, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand, “I better get lost now before I overstay my welcome. Um, thank you again, vice president.” (Y/n) moved to pull away but Ririka held on tighter, making her classmate’s skin grow warmer. “Vice president?”

Ririka looked around at who was left loitering in the gymnasium and rolled her eyes. She may not have gotten chocolates for (Y/n), but she was surely going to make up for it before the day was over. Ririka just needed to get away from all these people first. She tugged (Y/n) along to the gym storage room and blushed as Runa laughed and pointed at her. She pulled (Y/n) inside the storage room and closed the door behind them.

“(L/n),” Ririka’s distorted voice crackled to life behind her mask, causing (Y/n) to jump. (Y/n) had never heard her speak before. “Do you like anime?”

“I- yeah I like anime?” (Y/n) blinked, she clearly had no idea where this could possibly be going.

“Do you like pizza?” Ririka persisted, the modulator making her sound much more severe rather than excited.

“Sure, I like pizza vice president.” (Y/n) answered taking a cautious step back as Ririka stepped forward, effectively cornering herself.

“Would you...” Ririka’s hand quivered as she lifted it to her face, (Y/n) tracked the movement, a look of bewildered wariness upon her face as she waited with bated breath for whatever was to come next. Ririka pulled the mask off her face, blushing as (Y/n) grew more shocked, awed, and confused. “Would you like to come to my house to watch anime and eat dinner?!” Ririka squeaked, her face growing hotter after every word that left her mouth.

“But— how? You... we were.. and you were, and then you?” (Y/n) babbled looking between Ririka and the door, weakly pointing between the two. Ririka starred at (Y/n) oddly then smacked her hand over her eyes and laughed feebly at the misunderstanding.

“I’m not Kirari. We’re twins. I’m Momobami Ririka.”

“Twins? Oh,” (Y/n) suddenly looked very relieved, “I thought for sure Igarashi was going to pop out and strangle me with a jump rope or something. Twins, wow! How have I never guessed?”

“Do not tell anyone!” Ririka warned. “No one is supposed to know yet!”

“I won’t tell!” (Y/n) raised her hand and made a gesture of zipping her lips. “Your secret is safe with me, vice president!”

“Well, good.” Ririka replied awkwardly. “So do you want to...?”

“Oh, yeah!” (Y/n) cleared her throat, “Yes, that sounds like fun, thank you for inviting me.”

Ririka smiled, “Excellent.” She fitted her mask back over her face and led (Y/n) out of the storage room by the hand. “Come with me.” the distorted voice commanded.

Ririka dragged (Y/n) down the hall and the feeling was near euphoric. The grin taking over her face was fighting to be as wide as the one covering her mask when (Y/n)’s hand grasped hers just as tightly.

***

“That’s odd...” Sayaka murmured staring down into the courtyard from the student council window.

“What’s odd, Sayaka?” Kirari asked, tone light and playful as she hugged her secretary from behind, resting her chin on Sayaka’s shoulder.

“President!” Sayaka blushed, wiggling in Kirari’s hold. “I just, I didn’t realize the vice president had a girlfriend is all.” Sayaka explained, pointing to the two girls jogging up to an expensive, black car.

“Oh?” Kirari was just as bemused as she was confused, not that she would allow her face to show it. Watching her sister usher a girl she recognized as a classmate of theirs into the back of the car before Ririka followed in after her and closed the door. Soon after, the car pulled away from the curve. “How interesting.” She would have to confront Ririka about this at a later date, but for now she had a secretary to shower with affections. “Sayaka, this chocolate is delectable. Would you like a taste?”

“I think I would. Thank you, president.”

Kirari smirked, removing one of her arms from around Sayaka to pluck another chocolate from the box while Sayaka turned to face her. Sayaka naively held out her hand, then spluttered when Kirari placed the chocolate on her own tongue and pulled Sayaka closer.

***

“Oh! I remember this episode, it’s so good Ririka, you are going to love it!” (Y/n) was practically vibrating in her spot on the couch.

“Really? I’m looking forward to it.” Ririka smiled between bites of pizza.

Hopefully they could make a habit of this. Who knows, maybe she and (Y/n) would actually pass up Kirari and Sayaka in terms of pursuing a romantic relationship at a reasonable pace. Ririka cautiously leaned her shoulder against (Y/n)’s and she received a kind smile that enveloped her more warmly than the snug blanket over her lap.

Best Valentine’s Day ever.

#kakegurui oneshots #kakegurui x reader #Ririka momobami #ririka x reader #ririka momobami x reader

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echos-newlegs · 3 years

Text

Hey there y’all, this is my first ever post and it was a request from a friend (idk their tumblr yet, I’ll probably just share it with them on Instagram lmao.) anyways it is a multiple part, Echo x Fem!Reader and you’ve landed on the first part! I will be linking the second part below after I make it. You can message me request too, and I’ll get to them before or after I finish this, I may do some prompt lists 😏 This is post and then Pre-Citadel. Reader has a daughter from a previous relationship and I promise it’ll get more interesting. I’ve never actually wrote and posted a story of any of the clones and I feel like I don’t do Echo any justice, but enough talk here ye be.

(P.S. c/n means child’s name. My friend was very specific with this request)

Part One - Part 2

Echo sat up at the bar. A drink in hand that he was slowly milking. His mind was everywhere but there. He was thinking about the war, sleep, his brothers he’s lost, who he could have and didn’t save. It was all a nightmare and a half. He’d honestly pay for just a simple hug from someone who wasn’t his brothers. Even from Ahsoka. Someone who he knew cared about him, but wasn’t part of him. If that made any sense?

So he stepped away from the bar with a sharp sigh. Patting Fives back. Gloved hand slapping against the others armor. “I’m gunna head for a walk,” “Want me to join ya?” Fives asked in a slur. He was obviously not milking his drinks like Echo was. Causing him to smile with a chuckle, “no, I’ll be fine, you.. Keep an eye on Rex.” He teased and Fives grinned. “You got it, vod.” He spoke and spun in his chair to face the other clones.

The moment Echo stepped out the door he felt a bit better. It wasn’t as stuffy and loud out as it was back in 79’s. Starting his little stroll with a small hum. He wasn’t even sure what he was humming. Just a ramble of tunes he had heard. “Mama, look!” He heard a voice shout. A little one. “C/N! Get back here!”a woman shouted and before Echo could turn around there was someone tapping on the back of his leg. “Mister, are you a clone?” Echo turned, raising an arm and looking down to the child. Brows furrowed, a small smile rising to his face. “Hello to you too, little one, yeah, yeah I am..” he murmured and the little girl squealed. “Mama it is a clone trooper! Are you one of the boys in blue? You have to be! I see you on the holo- Mama!” She rambled, and then shouted when you pulled her from Echo. “I am so so sorry about her.” You spoke. Bags of fruit and other groceries in one hand and stuffed under your arm. Your other hand now holding your daughters hand.

Echo was amazed by how much the kid knew. Smiling softly in amusement. Though he was even more amused when you came into view. You were breath taking, really. Running up behind her and pulling her back from him. Apologizing for the incident. Though he didn’t really mind. “Oh, no need to apologize ma’am, feels nice to be recognized by someone,” he joked, c/n whining a bit. “Mama, he’s part of the five oh first, I know it, I do. I was just asking him questions.” “Well baby, you can’t go running off like that,” “but mama-“ Echo kneeled and caught the girls attention, both of you actually. “You know, good soldiers follow orders, you need to listen to your mama, she just wants you safe,” he spoke. Smiling at the kid and she stared at him in awe. You watching Echo with an intrigued expression. “Yes, mr. clone sir.” She piped and Echo giggled at that. Nudging the girls shoulder. “At ease, solder, I’m an Arc Trooper, not a Captain or Commander, names Echo.” “Echo..” she whispered, “I’m c/n, and this is my mama, and she loves the 501st, and-“ you grew a bit flustered, laughing a bit nervously. “Okay hun, that’s enough. We should probably let him be now.”

Echo stood from where he was crouched, looking you in the face for a moment. “Can I at least help you with your bags,” “y/n,” he smiled as you said your name. “Y/n, it’s the least I could do.” He spoke and you smiled a bit sheepishly. Glancing down to the bags and then back to him. “Sure,” you gave in. You couldn’t say no. His eyes pleaded with you and you lost the battle. Though it wasn’t hard to convince you when help was offered. You handed him some of the bags and he took them. You stuck with less now since he took most of the heavy things. Giving you a look when you went to tell him it was fine. That you could carry them. “Least I can do for a supporter,” he added with a smile that had you smiling black and even blushing a little.

The three of you got to the apartment you lived at. You pulling out your key as your daughter rambled, somethings incoherent. Pushing the door open, your daughter running in, and you following. Turning to motion for echo to follow with a small grin. “C’mon, Arc Trooper,” you added with a grin, snickering slightly as he stumbled a bit through the door.

Echo sat the things down, looking around the house slightly before they landed back onto you. “Would you like to stay for supper?” You asked, putting away some of the groceries. “Nah, I don’t want to intrude.” You smiled, turning as you shut the fridge. “Please? It’s the least I could do, for a helper. Plus you’d make my daughters day, you guys are her hero’s.” You added and he smiled, “Alright, alright, you got me.” He added. Though he was going to say yes even if you would have just said please. He was hungry, and something other than rations sounded like an absolute blessing. Not only that, but he wanted to get to know you more. You intrigued him, you were beautiful and kind. Yet he barely knew you and already wanted to make this a normal thing.

While you fixed up supper Echo ended up wandering off with your daughter. The five year old grabbing his hand and dragging him back into her room to show him her toys. It made you a little nervous, even if he was a clone. You knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but you rarely left anyone alone with her. She was really all you had left. Her father leaving the both of you behind shortly after she was born. So you ventured back while you let some of the meat cook. Seasonings already filling the air and your senses. Peaking into the bedroom to see Echo sitting on the floor with her.. Playing. The sight shocked you more than it did him really. Standing, watching for a moment with a small smile on your face.

Echo was using the toy ship she had, flying it around and imitating noises as your daughter did the same. Brows knitted together just the slightest bit in concentration. “Ahhhh, your ships been hit!” She exclaimed and Echo gasped. “Oh no, Crash landing, or as General Skywalker would say.” “Surprise landing!” The two exclaimed at the same time. Causing the, to break into a fit of giggles. You bringing a hand up to your mouth as you leaned against the door way. Giggling a bit yourself.

Your little laugh made Echos head turn to face the door. “Ma- er- y/n,” “is the food ready mama?” Your daughter interrupted him, and you could swear he was blushing. “It nearly is, go get washed up honey,” you added and your daughter shot up. Tapping Echos shoulder, “C’mon, we have to wash our hands before we eat, Echo.” She stated with a grin and you chuckled as the two passed you to the bathroom. Catching Echos glance and shrug. Which cause you to giggle again. Catching him smile even more before he turned away,

The two came back, your daughter on his shoulders and you were dishing out food for the three of you. “Mama look! I’m big!” She was in a fit of laughter, and he was too. You hadn’t seen her so happy in what felt like forever. “You are, aren’t you?” You cooed a bit and watched as he pulled her off and placed her into a chair. Sitting in his own. “No, mama sits there,” she spoke and you furrowed your brows. “Oh sorry,” “I’m joking,” your daughter blurted with a snicker and you sighed. “She’s full of those.” You rolled your eyes as you sat and Echo seated himself again. Smiling at you as he sat across from you. “Does she get the sense of humor from you?” He asked with a brow raised. You meeting his gaze with a bit of a smirk. “Maybe she does,” causing you both to laugh a bit.

The three of you ate, but it wasn’t without conversation. You had your fair share of questions. Asking about the hand print on his armor. Why he was on Corusant and wandering. Instead of at 79’s like you noticed most other clones were. Which he has an answer for each question. Though he did seem a bit nervous almost. Once finished you instructed your daughter to get ready for bed. Though she was hesitant, she finally did shuffle off to the bathroom to brush her teeth and then her room to get dressed. Leaving you and Echo in the kitchen by yourselves.

You collected all the dishes and placed them in the sink, deciding to do them after he left. “Let me help you,” “You’ve done enough helping today, soldier.” You told him with a grin. “Sit back down, it’s fine.” You added, and he smiled. Doing as told, “yes sir,” he added and you let out a titter. He was so formal and cute.

You sat back down across from him, and he was staring at his hands. “Thank you,” you spoke. He looked up with his brows raised. “For helping, and making my daughters world.” You spoke and he shrugged. “It’s my pleasure, y/n.” You pressed your lips together. Watching him for a moment or two. “I’d love to have you back,” you words shocked him. Watching as your cheeks tinted pink and your eyes darted down to your hands folded on the table. “I mean, if you’re ever on Corusant again, I really enjoyed your company. Don’t find a lot of nice people anymore.” People. The word was vague, meaningless to most, but the fact you didn’t call him a clone made his day. You included him as someone, not what he was. “Plus it’d make c/n’s day.” He smiled and nodded. “I’d love to, I don’t find a lot of people willing to feed, let alone hang out with clones like me.” You scoffed a bit and chuckled. “You’re kidding right?” His smile faded a bit. “No?” “Echo, you’re absolutely wonderful, and I don’t see why People wouldn’t want to hang around you. What? Just because you share the same face with a million other people? That’s ridiculous and people are obviously missing out.”

Your words weren’t much. It wouldn’t mean much to a lot, but to him it was like poetry. Without the rhyming. “Thank you,” he nearly whispered. Staring at you in awe, and you smiled back. Reaching a hand out to place on top of his. It made him jump a bit, causing you to retract your hand. “No no-“ he blurted, clearing his throat. Eyes darting around. “I mean, it’s fine, you’re fine, I just don’t get touched often.” He spoke, voice light and faint. Looking up to you with tinted cheeks. You wanted to pull him over to the couch and just hug on him. He was so sweet, so unloved by those who weren’t his brothers and you could tell. Frowning a bit and you placed your hand back onto him. Watching as his expression changed a bit. Softened even more, if that were even possible. He seemed relaxed. You barely knew him and you wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.

A few moments passed. The two of you sharing glances and unspoken words. Which was soon interrupted by Echos com link. “Echo, we’re heading back, I hope you’re not getting laid right now.” Fives spoke over, drunken giggles following after. Echos tanned face flushed red. Eyes widening and his eyes darting down. “Kriff, I better get going, thank you so much for the food.” He spoke in a near ramble and you couldn’t help but smile. A small giggle following after. “Of course, you should come see me next time you’re in Corusant.” You added, walking him to the door. Both of you smiling like idiots. “Sure thing, how could I not?” He added and you directed your gaze down at the floor. Smiling a bit more. “I’ll be expecting to see you again, then.” And those words were enough to keep Echo fighting hard during the war. The two of you exchanging good byes. Echo making his way back to 79’s. Hoping Fives didn’t just up and leave him.

———————

#arc trooper echo #clone wars #the 501st #echo x reader #arc trooper echo x reader #echo is baby #ct 1409 #ct210404 #ceo of repeating orders #star wars writing #star wars #the clone wars #writing #clone x reader #clone trooper x reader #slow burn

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delimeful · 4 years

Text

taking the fall (1)

BTHB: Framed

decided to return to my borrower roots for this BTHB prompt! it was fun to work in a 'verse like this again.

warnings: snakes, injury, captivity, janus being a little bit of a prick, using 'it' for a person

Virgil should have known something was up from the moment Roman wasn’t there to greet him at their normal rendezvous point.

It was a little alcove between the roots of a sapling on the border between the oversized apartment building and the small forest Virgil called home. The perfect compromise for soft insiders that were terrified of local wildlife and outies like him that wouldn’t be caught dead in a human building.

He’d waited there for about two marks after their normal arranged meeting time, and when someone had finally arrived, he’d been on the brink of irritability. It hadn’t lasted long, not in the face of the other borrower’s clear panic and weariness.

“What’s going on?” he’d asked, and was then treated to a rambling, half-incoherent explanation about how Roman was desperately sick and hurt, and they couldn’t find any human medicine but they knew he had to have something up his sleeve, right?

He’d tried to ask for symptoms, make it clear that he would have to figure out exactly how sick Roman was before finding the necessary herbs to treat it, but the other borrower-- what was her name? Elli? Ari?-- was persistent and desperate, and hurried him into the apartment despite his protests. He’d even had to leave his spear behind to fit in the walls properly.

Despite his complaints, he wouldn’t leave a friend in need just because they were stuck in a bean’s walls. So he went, and he was so intent on mentally taking stock of his current medicine supply that he only barely noticed when the insider-- Mari? That sounded closer.-- led him to a crack in the wallpaper that led directly into one of the human’s homes.

He’d dug in his heels there, but only for as long as it took her to weave a story about Roman being stuck under a television stand and too weak to be towed back to the nearest exit. Like an idiot, he’d believed it, too consumed with worry to question her further. If Roman, master of putting up a facade of bravado, had admitted he didn’t think he could make it to an exit, things were worse than he thought.

He’d swallowed down his nerves about being so out of his comfort zone in the name of helping Roman and maybe even doing something that would make the insiders stop looking at him like something scraped off a human’s shoe. Relatively speaking, he’d felt pretty good about it even.

Then, as they sidestepped past the faucet in the kitchen, a pair of hands firmly shoved against his back, hard enough that he didn’t have a chance to recover.

And now he was here, in the bottom of a human’s shiny, slick-sided sink, leg throbbing, looking up at the insider who’d put him there.

“Sorry,” she had the gall to say, “but I don’t have any other choice.”

Virgil may have been gritting his teeth against the pain, but he always had time to snark. “Really? You hate me so much that you had to do all this?” Insiders. Couldn’t even get their own hands dirty.

“What? No.” The borrower’s expression was hard to make out from all the way up on the counter, but her tone was incredulous. “No, I just needed-- I was seen. You get it?”

“I get that you’re out of your mind,” he bit back. “Don’t you people have a rule for that? I thought you were supposed to move out, not push someone into a sink!”

“It’s hardly even spring, and we don’t have enough supplies to make it!” the backstabber protested. “We’re not outies, and if this human doesn’t get what he wants, he could call pest control on all of us, not just me. He threatened it, even.”

“So that makes it okay to offer me up like some sacrificial lamb?” Virgil rolled onto hands and knees, and then bit back a whimper as he hurriedly kept all pressure off his left leg. Standing was out of the question.

“It’s for the good of all of us. And if you ever cared about Roman even a little bit, you’ll follow our rules for once and keep your mouth shut when he finds you.”

Virgil went still. “Was he in on this? Roman?”

Mari’s voice turned sorrowful. “Roman’s already gone. He was the first one to vanish, probably to this very human and his wretched snakes.”

“Snakes?” Virgil asked, his voice pitching embarrassingly high. And then, as his heart dropped, “Roman’s gone?”

Mari continued on, half to herself. “If he were still here, though, he’d be on my side. I don't know what he was thinking, cavorting around with you, but he knows that I’m just doing what’s best for the colony. We have children to look after.”

She took a step forward as she spoke, and then another, and Virgil felt his heart jump into his throat. “Don’t leave!”

He bristled helplessly at the pity-filled look she gave him, not halting her slow progression back across the counter ledge. “Like I said, it’s for the best. You’re not getting out of this, and me staying here would just give you false hope. I’m sure the human will be home soon, so just… try and come to terms with things.”

“Come to terms with things?!” Virgil howled as she finally vanished from sight. “You’re literally leaving me here to certain death for your own selfish ends! I could… I could help you move. I know how to travel safely, find food, for thunder’s sake don’t just leave me here!”

There was no response to his pleas, not even the sound of her footsteps across the counter. Roman wore soft cloth coverings to muffle his footsteps, Virgil remembered somewhat hysterically. He couldn't remember how far the exit was. How reassuring that even if he managed to get out of the sink, he wouldn’t know the first thing about surviving in a human house.

He was so fucked.

---

Janus sighed as he shoved his apartment door up slightly, twisting the knob and pushing it open so that the hinges didn’t make a sound. His footsteps were immediately muffled by the rug he’d placed at the door.

Just a few of the… security measures he’d come up with.

Really, if the little thieves living in the walls had any brains at all, they should’ve long ago memorized his schedule. Seeing as they avoided his traps so effectively, he didn’t have much hope of randomly catching one unawares.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t try. If he was lucky, he would at least unsettle them with how stealthy he could be.

Four steps into the living room, he heard it. A tiny clink, just barely audible past the fan lazily rotating overhead. It was coming from the kitchen.

He set his bag down, a disbelieving smile flitting over his face. Were they really that stupid, to steal food from his apartment when there were safer targets in practically any of the other units?

All the better for him, he supposed.

Carefully, slowly, he approached the other room, pausing to listen in the doorway. He didn’t see any movement on the counters, but…

Miracle of miracles, the noise came again. Janus recognized it this time— the sound of glass on metal. It was a dish being moved in the sink. He wondered for a moment if maybe it was just a small animal that had snuck in. Why would one of them be in the sink, after all?

He crept closer, and peered over the edge of the counter. Despite his doubts, it was a tiny person, slowly pushing one of the crumb-covered dishes towards the other side of the sink, where a small tower of dishware was building up. Janus couldn’t see a hook. The little creature didn’t seem to have any supplies at all, actually.

“Stuck, are we?” he asked, finally breaking his silence.

The tiny person jumped like a startled cat, and in the next moment, they were already trying to scramble up the makeshift stairs to freedom. Janus reached out and grabbed one of the glasses in the sink, plonking it over the little creature. “Not so fast.”

He took a moment to lean against the counter and observe them closer as they backed up to the far edge of the cup. Clearly handmade clothing, dark hair and sun-tanned skin, a badly-hidden limp from some injury in their left leg.

“You're not the one from before,” he mused out loud. “I don’t think they’d be dumb enough to trap themselves like this.”

That tiny expression darkened for a moment, but still not a word. Janus sighed, and decided that this was going to require more preparation than a glass, unless he wanted to suffocate the tiny stranger. He straightened up and walked out of the kitchen without a word.

One closet-scouring later, he’d found his prize and set it up in his bedroom, with only a little extra decoration for mockery purposes.

When he returned, the tiny person was pretending not to have moved, though the glass had clearly been shifted perilously close to the edge of the plate. Janus wasted no time in picking up the plate, glass, and passenger.

The tiny stranger dropped to hands and knees to brace themself, and Janus did try to make sure his steps were smooth so as to not agitate their wound. He wasn’t a complete monster.

Once he reached his room, it was simple enough to transfer them from the glass to the old terrarium he’d prepared. They made a lunge for his sleeves, as though to latch on, but between their injured state and Janus’s experience with snakes, he was quick enough to avoid them.

He clicked his tongue, but the moment he’d removed himself from the terrarium, the tiny person had ceased to focus on him completely. They immediately hobbled to press their back against the glass, staring at the fake plastic plants inside as though… Hm.

Janus tapped the glass, eliciting a flinch-glare combination. “There’s nothing alive in there but you. Relax a little.”

If looks could kill, Janus would have been dead twice over. He ignored the glare. “I know you can talk, so let’s skip the part where you pretend to be mute, shall we? You’re a new face, but I’m assuming you know who I am.”

Still no response. Janus rolled his eyes. “I suppose I don’t need you to be talkative if I’m going to be using you as a hostage.”

—-

Virgil couldn’t help the harsh laugh that bubbled out of him, shaking his head sharply like that would reverse the sound. What a joke.

“Care to share?” That oil-slick voice again.

The human looming over him waited patiently for an explanation, and Virgil scowled. He couldn’t imagine that Roman had done well under such pressure. The guy loved the sound of his own voice.

The thought felt harsher, now that he knew Roman was… dead. He’d never hear him again.

He shuddered, glancing back over his shoulder at the fake greenery around him. If this wasn’t where the snakes were kept, then where were they?

It occurred to him that he could ask. What was stopping him? Loyalty to rules that had already been broken? To someone who had already been killed by this very human?

“The snakes,” he said, voice barely there. He tried again. “Where are the snakes?”

“Oh? You know about them,” the human seemed pleased, sickeningly enough. “How about this, you answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

Virgil hesitated, but it wasn’t like the answer was giving all that much away. “You found me in a sink. No gear. Injured. You think the ones who put me there are going to give you anything? I’m not some valuable hostage. Just let me go.”

"I see." The human’s face had shifted somewhat, but it only assessed him for a moment longer before turning to the large, glass boxes nearby. It reached into one.

“They outgrew that old terrarium years ago, now I’ve got a much fancier set for them over here.”

The sentence seemed like nonsense, until the human returned with a snake wrapped around its wrist. Virgil froze, staring at the vibrant green coils as they shifted.

“This is Jekyll,” the human said, as though Virgil cared to be introduced to those beady yellow eyes. Though, it didn’t look large enough to eat an entire borrower. Virgil had faced larger garden snakes. “He’s the timid sort, no claim to the doctor title unfortunately.”

He watched the human rummage around in the other terrarium, and come back out with a much larger snake. He felt the blood drain from his face as the pale, patterned snake was brought closer.

“And this,” the human said, carefully running a finger along it's spine, “is Hyde. She’s a little moodier, as boas tend to be.”

Virgil slowly shifted back, knowing logically that there was glass between him and the creature, but also that the human could change that at any time. Had changed it, in Roman’s case. It was only a matter of when.

The human tracked his motion, head tilted in an uncanny parody of his snakes.

“I don’t let them wander loose in the household,” it said, finally. “They won't hurt you, despite what your friends may have told you.”

I only had one friend, Virgil thought, not stopping until he’d found the back corner of the cage, and that’s exactly why I don’t believe you.

He drew his limbs up around himself, silent, and waited until the human finally left him alone to start tending his wounds.

The more advantages he had for his escape, the better.

#sanders sides #g/t #borrowers #ts virgil #ts janus #ttf #taking the fall #writing #my writing #bthb #injury tw #ask to tag #angst #i guess?#i spent like an hour looking up snakes for this one #snakes tw

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joeyclaire · 3 years

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if you dont mind i would like to hear more about your "the player isnt involved in undertale" thoughts... im interested particularly in floweys speeches at the end of the game and how they relate to this. since they seem very 4th wall breaking but in universe hes talking to frisk who he believes is chara, since he uses the name you selected at the start of the game. though it could be a sneaky way to refer to the player since he assumes we chose to name chara our real name. sorry if im rambling

YEAH like i said its definitely not my usual headcanon or how i think its meant to be interpreted but i think you could maybe see those scenes as asriel speaking to frisk/chara? like ok. fair warning that i have a headache and it's late so this will be probably a bit incoherent

when u reload your save so you can talk to asriel, he speaks to you and talks about chara as a separate entity, and never refers to you by name.

at the end of no mercy, he talks about how he didn't recognize chara in frisk at first but later did. in a true pacifist run he only thinks frisk is chara towards the end, and since a true pacifist run can only be completed after at least one reset maybe he started paying more attention to frisk and started to see chara in them more as they went on more runs? idk. so we know that at least at first asriel did not immediately think chara was frisk and saw them as separate entities.

asriel is by definition the game's main antagonist and constantly works against frisk in pacifist and neutral runs at every opportunity (while in no mercy, he tries to help). when he warns you about sans, he refers to it as his "ONE piece of advice for you." chara he'd do anything for, but frisk he hates, so it would make more sense for him to be saying he'd only give the one tip to frisk. his whole talk that's like, oh you're just bored and messing around with the resets so you can see what i'll say, could apply to literally anyone with determination. he assumes you want to befriend him but is skeptical about it, while he already considers chara his best friend.

so yeah those monologues could be aimed at either frisk or the player.

but the ONE AT THE END OF TRUE PACIFIST that's almost certainly aimed at the player BUT you could maybe read it as being aimed at chara sure. he talks about frisk as a separate entity from you so we know he isn't talking to frisk, who he at this point knows isn't chara. and we know that chara can true reset, because at the end of the no mercy run they do so. problems with this concept: humans probably can't use determination on the surface and asriel thinks chara is gone.

like ultimately i'm almost certain the post-pacifist monologue is a 4th walk break, asriel is speaking directly to the player, and uses the name for shock factor. but he also specifically uses [name] which the game constantly asserts as being chara's name, not the player's or not JUST the player's. so like ???

IDK MAN i do think that all these monologues are aimed at the player im just playin around with ideas

#asks #anons #praying this posts #undertale #anon ily #ut commentary

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yikesimonfire · 3 years

Text

Howdy Neighbor || Alfie & Bex

Timing: Before the events of Promise to Bind. Location: Hallway of Alfie’s apartment complex. Parties: @inbextween & @yikesimonfire Summary: Bex drops by Eddie’s apartment with a gift; Alfie isn’t sure what he thinks of her. Content: internalized homophobia tw

It wasn’t necessary, but Bex liked doing nice things for her friends, and so she’d made Eddie a bone crown while she’d hyperfocused on making things yesterday. She’d had so much energy the past few days, due mostly in part to Mina, and well-- the stuff that had happened between them. Sometimes, she couldn’t stop smiling about it. Sometimes, it made her face hurt. The crown was littered with dried, pressed flowers that were sealed with preserve to keep them from crumbling apart, and she’d dusted off some of the small antlers Morgan had in the workshop-- way too small to even be baby deer antlers, so Bex really had to wonder what they might be from. They looked almost rabbit size-- and arranged them in a fashion she thought might suit Eddie. The coyote jaw bones really brought the piece together, as well. She hoped he’d appreciate the celebration of death in it. She figured he might, considering he saw ghosts and lived his life with them. But when she knocked, no one answered. Hmm, maybe she should’ve messaged him first. That probably would’ve been the smart idea, but she’d sort of wanted to surprise him. She wondered where he might be, as she peered into the front window. All the lights were off, which meant no one was home, probably. She pulled out her phone to text him when she noticed someone outside the apartment next to Eddie’s. “Oh, um hello!” she called out, waving. She didn’t recognize them, but then again, Bex didn’t know a lot of people around town. “I was just dropping something off! Do you know Eddie?”

It wasn’t uncommon that Alfie saw people he didn’t know lingering around the apartment complex. In fact, he didn’t know many people that lived there — even fewer by name. So when he got upstairs, mail in hand, he didn’t think anything of the young woman standing outside of Eddie’s door. As he reached for his keys, he ducked his head to avoid any unnecessary eye-contact. Soon enough, he’d have the door unlocked and he’d be safe. But then, in an unusually friendly voice, she called out to him. The sound of her voice made him involuntarily jerk (and almost drop his keys), but he managed a glance in her direction with a polite, but thin-lipped smile. “Hi,” he curtly replied. The question that followed, however, caused his brow to raise.

“Eddie? Uh — yeah. Yeah, I know Eddie.” Knew him better than most, or at least that’s what Alfie liked to believe. But that was neither here nor there. “I think he’s out, actually. Can’t exactly say when he’ll be back.” Obviously he was out, it probably didn’t take Alfie’s saying so for the stranger to figure that out. She wouldn’t have been standing outside if Eddie were home. Still, while Alfie fiddled with his key, edging it closer to the lock, he figured his friend would probably appreciate him being courteous. “Didyouneedanything?” The words sputtered out in an incoherent mess. “Or, uh… Is there anything I can do to help? He — he’ll probably be back soon.” He figured the polite thing to do was at least offer to wait with her (Eddie would like that, right?) but thought it inappropriate to mention.

Bex didn’t really notice the anxious behavior as she fussed with the phone and the crown in her hands, trying not to drop either one of them. At least her clumsiness had never extended to her hands. She managed to type out a text before the other boy mumbled something so quickly she didn’t quite understand it. “Oh! Oh, that’s-- kind of you to offer,” she said, looking down at her phone as it buzzed. An immediate answer, of course. He wasn’t going to be home for a bit, and she had stuff to do. Mina was expecting her back in a bit, as well. “Um, actually, yeah,” she said, pocketing her phone and looking back over at the other boy. He was quite a bit taller than her, even in her heels, and it wasn’t often she met someone who achieved that. She glanced back at Eddie’s door, before turning back to the other boy. “Would you mind giving this to him when he gets back? I would stay, but I have to be somewhere, and, well, I don’t really trust just leaving it on the doorstep, you know? I made it for him myself and I’d really like it if he actually, you know, got it.” She paused. “Not that I think anyone would steal it or anything! Or, well, I guess I sort of do, otherwise I’d be okay leaving it, but I’m more worried about it getting broken.” As nervous as Bex could be, she was used to talking to strangers and asking things of them. At least her parents had taught her one useful thing.

She made it for him herself? Alfie stood there, dumbfounded for a moment before giving her a small nod. “Yeah, yeah. ‘Course I can!” The hand holding his keys dropped to his side as he shifted towards her, his arm prematurely extended for a swift transfer. In the process, he noticed his shoulders were slouched and straightened up his back a bit — careful not to stand too tall and risk intimidating her. “Trust me, I get it. It’s a sketchy place. There’s no telling what might happen to it before Ed — Eddie gets back. ‘Sides, we wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.” A forced chuckle followed which Alfie immediately regretted. “That… sounds like I’m saying it’s dangerous or something. I just mean, y’know… Things happen around here and, who knows — it’d probably be fine, but better safe than sorry.” His lips pursed together as he studied her face, trying to remember if he’d seen her anywhere; in any pictures Eddie had shown him, or even just from around town. Nothing. Was this just a thing now? Eddie having people over to bring him handmade gifts? “Will he be expecting it, or should I mention who it’s from?” he wondered. He figured that Eddie would be expecting it if she considered leaving it, but he also hoped that putting a name to her face might jog his memory.

“Oh, thank-- I appreciate that!” Bex said, catching herself quickly. It was still such an easy habit to fall into, saying thank you, without knowing what someone was. She thought of all the times she’d said thank you to Professor Campbell and hoped he wasn’t a fae. “Oh, yeah, yes! Better safe than sorry! I mean, this place doesn’t look too sketchy, and when I was over helping him edit some videos the other day, it seemed like a nice place! I think there’s definitely much sketchier places in White Crest,” she rambled. Oh, she was rambling again. She always did that when she was nervous. She smiled to cut herself off and held out the crown for him. “Do you know Eddie well?” she asked, when she noticed the slip in name. If he called him Ed, they were probably good friends, right? Usually people who were close gave each other nicknames. “Uh, no, I don’t think he’s expecting it. I just-- decided to make one and thought of him while I was doing it, so,” the sentence cut short as she shrugged. She wasn’t really sure why she’d made it for him, only that she wanted to do something nice for him, after everything he’d done for her. “You can tell him it’s from Bex,” she tacked on finally, looking back at the other boy with a half smile.

Helping him edit videos? Alfie never helped Eddie edit videos. Granted, that was probably because he never showed any interest in helping him. “Oh, yeah,” Alfie forced another laugh. “He keeps it surprisingly free of dog hair, considering.” He wasn’t sure what to say to that. Hell, he wasn’t even sure how he felt about that. Eddie was allowed to have other friends; it shouldn’t have bothered him. So why did it? “We’re pretty close, yeah.” At this point, Alfie didn’t even know if that was true. No — that was ridiculous. Of course they were close. Eddie was his best friend, after all.

As soon as the stranger introduced herself, things started making a little more sense. “Oh, Bex! From the — the exorcismyay,” Alfie’s voice dropped to a near whisper when he said “exorcism”. He remembered Eddie mentioning her now; how a filming adventure went awry. As it seemed, these excursions of his were just as dangerous as ever. “I realize now that’s still the same word in Pig Latin,” he tittered, a genuine smile crinkling at the corners of his eyes. The nagging in the pit of his stomach was quickly dissipating. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bex, and it’s sweet that you wanted Eddie to have this. I’m sure he’ll love it. I’m Alfie, by the way. Alfie Ramirez.” Why did he just tell her his full name? Should he shake her hand now? Was that the right thing to do? Without thinking, Alfie dropped his keys to offer Bex his other hand. “I’d hate to keep you,” he added as an afterthought. “I know you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Hey, well, Bucket is a queen and she deserves the world. I wouldn’t mind dog hair all over me if it was hers,” Bex chuckled, giving Alfie a better smile this time. He was a nice guy, and, so far, Bex really liked him. Especially if he was friends with Eddie. She didn’t think Eddie would be friends with anyone that wasn’t at least a little like him. “Oh, have you known him long, then? He said he grew up here, and he’s one of those people who seems to love this town. I think it’s cute, don’t you? How much he seems to like this place. It’s...refreshing.” She wasn’t sure why she’d said all that, but she supposed it was the truth, so what did it matter? And if this was Eddie’s friend, then, maybe she wanted to connect with him, too. Maybe she wanted to show Eddie that she had a genuine interest in his life. He made her feel welcome, after all. And safe. She had broken down in front of him and made him see her horrific nightmare and he’d still offered to drive her home and then also be her friend. He deserved a lot more than a bone crown and a date rejection.

“Oh! Yes! That! That was fun! I was so excited he asked me to come with him. I’ve never seen a ghost before. Or, well, I still technically haven’t, but I’ve seen what they can do! And stuff like that! And it was-- kind of amazing? Did you know there’s different kinds?” She straightened up, laughing a little. “Sorry, I um-- kind of get carried away when i get excited. It’s nice to meet you, Alfie!” she stuck out her hand and took his, watching his keys drop to the ground. “Oh! You’re not keeping me! I mean, I do have someplace to be in a bit, but not right away! Eddie just said he wouldn’t be home for a while--” she shook her phone at him in a gesture of ‘he texted me’ before dropping it, “--so I just don’t have time to wait for him to come back.”

There was a dull throb in Alfie’s chest the moment Bex referred to Eddie as “cute”. For years now, he’d been telling himself not to think like that — and for years, he’d failed. His friend and neighbor would forever be unattainable. It was fine; Alfie accepted that Eddie would only ever be his friend. But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t difficult every now and then. How could he pretend that his feelings were strictly platonic when Eddie’s laugh made his heat soar? Or when he stood there, one hand on his hip, and the other forcing his mess of hair in every which way? Eddie was cute — painfully so — but hearing that someone else thought it too seemed… unfair? Almost. With any luck, Bex said that sort of thing about all of her friends; it couldn’t be exclusive to Eddie, could it?

“Uh, kind of, yeah,” Alfie croaked. “I’ve known him since high school, but we didn’t talk much.” That was a lie. Sure, they went to school together, but implying that they interacted at all was inaccurate. “That changed when Eddie moved in nextdoor, though. We’ve been friends ever since… The rest is ancient history, and all that jazz.” Alfie knew he needed to stop embellishing the truth. One quick chat with Eddie and Bex would know the truth. Hell, he apparently didn’t make it a point to mention him to her yet. The ache in Alfie’s chest permeated his entire body. His cheeks flushed and his heart raced. He was being ridiculous, he told himself. It shouldn’t matter that Bex didn’t know about him. It shouldn’t matter that Eddie was making new friends. And having them over to his house. Introducing them to Bucket. Watching movies and cuddling on the couch.

Stop it! His mind screamed at him over the sound of Bex’s voice. What was the last thing she said? “Different kinds?” Alfie parroted, trying to remember the words that came before it. Ghosts, right. His ears were still ringing. She shook his hand and he laughed, returning the gesture long enough to be socially acceptable before withdrawing, completely disregarding his keys on the ground. “No, no — you’re fine! I know a bit about ghosts, but I’ve definitely never had an encounter like that before. It sounds—” terrifying, “— fun!” For what it was worth, Alfie didn’t exactly want to shoo Bex away, not even when his heart was drumming in his chest. Maybe if he changed the subject? “Ah, that’s understandable,” he agreed. “Have you been here long? In White Crest, I mean — not here, here. I can’t say I’ve ever seen you around.”

If the other boy was distracted by thoughts, Bex didn’t notice. She was caught up in her own, thinking about Eddie, and how much fun she’d had with him, and what was wrong with her? She had Mina, she had slept with Mina, more than once, and maybe she wanted more than to just be friends with Mina, so why did she keep thinking about what Eddie had said? Why had he asked her out? Why hadn’t she just told him the truth? Everything was so confusing yet so clear right now. She blinked, and readjusted, because Alfie was talking again and she needed to pay attention. Pay attention. “OH, you went to highschool together? That’s cool! I assume you went to the school here? Yeah, I mean, that’s fair. I always feel like people are very different in highschool than after.”

She looked down at his keys on the floor and wondered if he knew. Should she point them out? “Um, you dropped your keys, by the way.” He was being oddly quiet between bouts of words, and she wondered if he was somehow off put by her. She was being awfully nosy, after all. She couldn’t help it. Eddie was still kind of a mystery to her, aside from his ghost stuff. She wanted to know more about him. She’d have to ask him. Maybe bothering his neighbor was a bad idea. “Oh, me? I mean, technically, yes? I was born here. I live-- lived-- out on Harmony Island. I’m in East End now, but I didn’t go to school in town. I went to a private school up in Augusta, so that’s probably why you haven’t seen me around.” Lately, a lot of locals had been saying that to her. Did everyone just know everyone here? She supposed the whole six degrees of separation was more like two degrees in a tiny town like this. “What about you? Did you grow up here? I mean, obviously you went to school here, but, you know, did you move here or were you always here?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Alfie absentmindedly agreed, not bothering to get into the smaller details. In high school, the boys didn’t have much to do with each other. He saw Eddie around campus and onstage in theater productions, but that was about it. Whoever Eddie was in high school, he doubted they would have gotten along back then.

When Bex mentioned that he’d dropped his keys, Alfie looked almost startled. His eyes shot to his feet where, lo and behold, his keychain limply lied. “Oh, huh, I— yeah, I guess I did,” he grumbled before crouching down and plucking them up. How was he managing to make this much of a fool out of himself? He worried what Bex must have thought of him; more importantly, what Eddie would think if he knew. Would she tell him? ‘Hey, I met your neighbor, Alfie. You know, the one you never mentioned? What a weirdo!’ His thoughts swarmed with what they’d potentially say about him. No doubt laughing as they huddled around Eddie’s computer and bonded over a shared interest.

“Harmony Island, huh? Sounds fancy.” Alfie chewed nervously on the inside of his cheek as he tried to purge the negative thoughts from his mind. Honestly, he didn’t know much about the island. His reaction was purely based on the fact that it was, well, an island. There were probably a lot of fancy houses there, right? As per the natural progression of conversation, the question was now turned on him. “Yeah, I grew up here,” he answered as he shifted his weight, standing somewhat smaller than he had before. “I’ve never left the greater White Crest area, actually. My family— they, uh… own the library. Or, run it, I guess? It’s probably a lot less cool than it sounds unless you really love books.” Bex probably didn’t care about what his family did for a living, but it was better than hearing how great friends she was with Eddie. “I haven’t worked there in a while, though. I’m actually a software developer. Freelance. I could never work a nine-to-five.”

Bex took a small step back as Alfie bent to pick up his keys. He didn’t seem very talkative, and she wondered if it was because of her. Was she making him uncomfortable? Was it weird that she’d come to Eddie’s place without asking before hand? Was he wary of her? Did he not like her? She shook the thoughts from her head and tried to focus back in on what Alfie was saying. “Oh, uh, yeah! My family is actually kind of uh, well known around town,” she said, rubbing the back of her head before hands came together to wring each other out. She looked back over her shoulder, as if maybe she would turn and see Eddie coming down the hallway, but there was nothing. “My parents are pretty well off.” But I don’t speak to them much anymore. Or at all. She shivered at the thought.

“You’re-- family owns the library? The public one? Do-- do you have a sister? I think I might’ve talked to her online! Is her name Leah?” She was somehow grateful for the change of subject, perking back up for a moment. IF she could make friends with Eddie’s friends, then that was only a good thing, right? That had to be a good thing. “Software developer? Woah, that’s so cool! How’d you learn to do that? Did you teach yourself or did you go to school for it? Either way, that’s, like, super impressive.”

Alfie gave a series of small nods as Bex talked about her own family. He wondered if he should know who they were, but thought better of it. He was still a stranger, after all. They knew each other's names and that they shared a mutual friend. That was it. Alfie was never any good at making friends. Sure, there was also Nell, but their friendship started out of sheer luck — and family ties. Small talk was also not within Alfie’s usual realm of comfort. He hated it, in fact. That’s probably why he didn’t have many friends. That and the fact that that he never felt he needed any. Maybe, with any luck, he’d manage to befriend Bex too. “That makes sense; with private school and everything,” he agreed.

A light laugh surfaced from the depths of his chest. “Yeah, that’s the one,” Alfie confirmed after clearing his throat. “Leah, yeah. She’s, uh— she’s great, really.” He never knew what to say when it came to his family. His parents were strict when he was growing up. They still were, actually. Not that he had much to do with them these days. Leah was — beyond a shadow of a doubt — the golden child. Compared to her and their other siblings, Alfie was the black sheep. That wasn’t the sort of information people usually offered to someone they just met. Instead, Alfie kept quiet; at least until Bex showed an interest in his job. All of a sudden, his face lit up. It was cool! “I’m mostly self-taught, actually! I mean, I took some classes for it in high school, but that’s about it. It’s just always been something I’ve enjoyed doing — fiddling around with computers and whatnot.” Alfie grinned sheepishly at Bex. As much as he enjoyed talking about it, he didn’t want to bore her. “What about you, though? Do you work, or…?”

“She is! She was super nice and agreed to let me borrow some books! Which...it’s a library so of course she did, but I mean, like--” Bex lowered her voice a bit and leaned in, “--special books, if you catch my drift.” Supernatural books. Magic books. She smiled again as she leaned back and gave a short chuckle. “Sorry. I just get really excited about books, and when I actually happen to know people. I don't know too many people around town, so it’s nice knowing this place is actually smaller than it seems, you know? Like, who woulda thought that Eddie’s neighbor, who I met coincidentally, was related to the nice librarian lady I talked to online, who also knows my mo-- er, my current guardian, and is friends with her! Isn’t that wild?” She tried to recuperate fast enough to hope Alfie hadn’t caught her stumble. Not that he knew about her situation, but the slip had even her surprised. Morgan wasn’t her mom. Morgan probably didn’t want the responsibility of that, either. Plus, Bex was an adult, mostly. She didn’t need someone to be that for her. She was doing fine, really.

“But, oh, wow! That’s so cool! And so impressive that you learned most of it all on your own! Do you make a lot of money doing it? What kinds of things do you design? I mean, software, obviously, but is it like, firewalls, programs, mods? There’s so much. Me? Oh, well-- I used to intern at my parents’ law firm, but I, uh-- have recently had a change of heart for what I wanna major in. So, currently jobless, just uh, focusing on school! And, well-- I guess ghost hunting, now. Does that count as a job if I’m not getting paid? It feels like more than a hobby, though, you know?”

“Special books — right, totally getcha. Like, say… her personal copy of ‘Interview with the Vampire’,” Alfie nodded. It wasn’t surprising that someone jumping into the ghost hunting scene would be interested in perusing the restricted section of the library. On the contrary, Leah wasn’t known to lend out books (as far as Alfie was aware) and he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it than just Bex’s excursions with Eddie. “Sorry, that was lame. But, yes, I caught your drift.” As Bex apologized, Alfie shook his head with a gentle smile. He was no stranger to talking a bit more than he should about things that made him excited. The library might not have been one of his go-to hangouts these days, but if Bex wanted to gush over it, he’d be happy to listen. “No need to apologize! And actually — now that you mention it — White Crest may be a relatively small town, but you’d be surprised how many people I don’t know. I guess it is pretty cool to realize who knows who and whatnot.”

The broad grin never wavered from Alfie’s face. It was easy to push aside his reservations towards Bex when his craft was in question. He was very quickly warming up to this new acquaintance. “A handful of different things, actually! I’ve cast a pretty wide net. I’ve recently been really into programming a personal database. It’s, uh… a work in progress.” Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. In the event that it got back to Leah, his sister might start asking questions that Alfie wasn’t prepared to answer. “But, yeah. You pretty much hit the nail on the head with all of those. The pay’s decent enough, though I haven’t had any big projects lately — takes care of the bills at least.” Did it matter that some of these projects were morally questionable? Alfie was merely the brains behind them; what the clients used them for were out of his control. He objected not to voice this, considering her parents were in law. “Hey, take it from someone who didn’t go to college: you’re allowed to change your mind about that sort of thing. ‘Specially since you’re the one earning the degree. Have you picked a new major, or…? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Yeah, but less Interview With A Vampire and more--” Bex started, then stopped. She’d been reminded time and time again that telling people she didn’t know that she was a spellcaster was a bad idea. But Alfie was friends with Eddie and he was Leah’s little brother, so he could be trusted, right? She wanted to trust him. “More, Practical Magic.” Oh, that was a blatant reference, wasn’t it? Well, no hiding it now, she supposed. She gave him a sheepish smile and waved it off. “Not lame! Definitely not lame. If it was lame then so was mine.” She chuckled lightly, hoping to move past the notion quickly, nodding eagerly when he amended his statement about White Crest. “Yeah, totally! I’ve definitely noticed that. I mean, I grew up kinda closed off, so I never really knew people around town, but once I started actually meeting people, it was like everyone knew everyone! Or knew of them, at least. Wild, huh? Six degrees of separation who?” Oh, now she was just embarrassing herself. She cleared her throat. “It’s just interesting to see. When I moved away to Penn State briefly, it was so different. Everything was so impersonal.” She’d sort of liked that, though, blending in easily. The dream of that life was so long gone,though.

“Woah, you’re making a whole database all from scratch?? That’s incredible!” Bex exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly, but she couldn’t help it-- people being excited made her excited and her cheeks bubbled with it. She needed to find every reason to be excited, anyway. Every reason to be happy. “But, you know, pays the bills is good! Especially if it’s something you enjoy! Isn’t that what they say? Find something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life?” She remembered one of her professors telling her that. She didn’t know if it was true. “Oh! Uh, yeah, I have. Um-- Anthropology. I’ll probably focus on uh, Archaeology. It’s what interests me the most. But, really, anything about history interests me. I could probably go to school for the rest of my life getting different history degrees. I won’t, though! But I could.” She rubbed the back of her head. “I’m what they call a History nerd. Or buff. History buff. Anything you wanna know about history, I probably know something about!”

Practical magic? That came as a surprise. The only spellcasters Alfie knew in White Crest were the Vurals. He always figured there were more, but never bothered to find out for himself. A wave of anxiety crashed over him at the thought of Bex having something to do with his curse; a worry that quickly subsided at the realization that no beginner magic-user could be involved in a plot spanning across what was likely centuries. Unless…

“Not lame,” Alfie reiterated with a meek smile. “Although, I can’t exactly say I’ve read it myself.” He wondered if it would be appropriate to ask her more about it — if only to subdue his concern. Maybe it was best to leave it be for the time being.

It was interesting to hear about Bex’s fondness for White Crest. The reasons she seemed to adore the small town were on Alfie’s list of why he wanted to leave it. “That sounds ideal to me,” he said playfully, electing not to elaborate. Explaining that he longed for a bigger city where he could easily hide away would only dampen the mood. Not to mention that it could potentially get back to Eddie who would undoubtedly be upset by it. If anyone could make Alfie stay, it would be him — another thing on his ever-growing list that Alfie wasn’t prepared to get into with Bex.

“More or less,” he chuckled. “The original code is pretty much public domain, but I’ve made my own enhancements.” These ‘enhancements’ being private journals that he so eagerly nicked from the family’s secret collection, though that was neither here nor there. He’d return them… eventually. “I mean, that’s awesome, though! There’s still so much to discover through artifacts from the past.” In a sense, Alfie was doing the same; unearthing his own past through vague remnants of it. “Good on you for chasing your dreams.”

Alfie thoughtfully pursed his lips. He wondered if Bex had anything in her bank of knowledge pertaining to his own circumstances. “Actually, now that you mention it… You don’t happen to have any recommendations on, say, the history of White Crest, do you? More specifically pre-dating European colonization?” It was a long shot, but he couldn’t exactly ask Leah.

“Oh!” Bex perked a bit, “it’s actually a really good book! If you like reading about that kinda stuff, I’d totally suggest it.” She beamed for a moment. She loved talking about books and sharing other people’s interests and, well, it was always nice when people shared hers, too, wasn’t it? She wondered if Alfie knew about all the things that went on in the shadows of White Crest, all the things the world tried to hide from people-- probably, considering he was friends with Eddie, and Eddie didn’t seem like the kinda guy to hoard that type of information. In fact, he was the opposite. She shook the thoughts away.

“What? Oh! Yeah,” she blinked back to the present moment and away from her thoughts and nodded. “I don’t mind living in a small town. I know it’s not everyone’s thing, but I dunno-- it’s not so bad, for me.” It was harder to disappear, but maybe that wasn’t what she wanted anymore. Maybe she did want to be known, after being hidden for so long.

“Enhancements? Well, I mean, still! That’s amazing. I’m sure you made it infinitely better. And, well, yeah, thanks! I just kinda figured, what’s the point of life if you’re just living someone else’s, you know?” She gave pause at his last question. She did, in fact, have recommendations on all that. But they were Morgan’s family notebooks and the ones she’d dug up at the record hall and “borrowed” permanently. No one knew they were missing, not when she’d replaced them with fakes. She chewed her lip. “Uh, I mean, you could check town hall, if you wanted to. They might have some old newspapers or records that could tell you about that stuff. Does your family not have any books on that stuff in the library?” And little did she know, her own parents had records of that time. They’d been in White Crest longer than the town had a name, after all. She shrugged. “Sorry I can’t be more help there.” Her phone buzzed and she glanced down at it. “Oh, uh-- I-- I should probably get going, actually. I-- thanks again, you know, for talking to me and for holding onto that for Eddie for me.”

“I’m not exactly, uh — how do I put this? — affluent in that sort of thing, if I’m being honest,” Alfie chuckled. The hand holding his keys darted behind him to rub the back of his neck. Growing up, Nell tried her best to explain it to him, but the only thing Alfie could relate it to was his lessons on temperature control — and his innate ability to burst into flame. Aside from that, magic simply didn’t make sense to him. He always assumed it was something some were simply born with. These new-age witches and wiccans most likely accomplished nothing more than what any ordinary human was already capable of. Then again, what did he know? He figured it would be impolite to ask Bex whether or not she had any real powers. It wasn’t his business.

Alfie nodded along as Bex spoke, failing to come up with anything valuable to add. Living in White Crest was a curse (at least for him), but he didn’t expect others to share that opinion. He wasn’t sure how far back his history with premature death went. All Alfie knew for certain was that the records he did have access to were set in the unusual town; none of which explained the source for his self-proclaimed “curse”. What he needed to find was something with the answer in bold print — a pissed off spellcaster rebuking one phoenix in particular. Or perhaps an astrological phenomenon occurring around the time of his birth or death. Not that Alfie knew the precise dates.

“Yeah, I mean, the library definitely has some stuff,” he said sheepishly. “But, uh, thanks. I’ll have to give town hall a shot.” At that moment, Bex’s phone buzzed. Alfie hadn’t noticed the tension in his shoulders until then. “Oh, of course! Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.” He felt a little guilty for being relieved that Bex was leaving. He hated small talk. “It was great to finally meet you, Bex. I’ll make sure Eddie gets it as soon as he’s home. And, uh… be safe out there.”

#c: bex #writing #howdy neighbor #internalized homophobia tw

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

Text

Right or Wrong

Well, this one is for @grahoundart, who got my brain going on the idea of Loki rescuing a damsel in distress from the gif below (imagine him saying “She’s mine”. This is what came of it. It does lean into the damsel in distress trope a bit, so if that’s not your cup of tea, you might not want to read.

Warnings: Implied smut, alcohol consumption, and the beginnings of non-consenting touching from a man to a woman. I will put the threats of such acts in between asterisks so you can skip over that part, if you wish.

“Just one drink! And if you don’t drink, just come and hang out. Everyone will be there,” Nat coaxed you good-naturedly with a winning smile and elbow nudged into your ribs. “Plus, I hear Thor is dragging Loki along.”

You rolled your eyes, gathering your notes and carefully organizing them into your satchel to take home for the evening. “Nobody can drag Loki along to anything.”

She shrugged. “True, but I hear he’s coming. I’ve noticed how you look at him during meetings.”

You didn’t realize you had been that obvious. It was completely inappropriate for you to have anything more than a professional interest in the tall, dark, and intimidating god given your position in public relations for the Avengers. But you couldn’t help but be drawn to the devilishly handsome man with his arresting emerald eyes that seemed to stare straight into your very soul. You longed to work the tension from his shoulders with a gentle caress, discover if his jaw was truly as sharp as it appeared or if his lips could twist and give into anything besides a disdainful frown or sarcastic smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you bluffed, dropping your eyes to your hands fidgeting with a collection of sticky notes.

She patted you on the shoulder. “Sure you don’t. We’re all meeting up around ten, unless the world ends before then. See you there.”

You grumbled incoherently at her retreating back, putting a bit more force into your packing up even as your heart raced at the possibilities the evening hinted at.

What would one drink hurt?

“I’m only here to make sure that you don’t get yourselves into trouble!” you insisted loudly over the loud music streaming from the jukebox beside you, taking a sip of the drink she’d shoved into your hand as soon as you’d appeared. “Not to socialize.”

“Whatever you say,” Nat agreed, leaning back against the bar you sat at, eyeing the crowd at your back. “So you don’t care at all that Loki and Thor just walked in? And that they’re walking toward us right now looking like sex on two legs?”

You choked, coughing against the burn of the alcohol seizing your lungs, leaning against the worn wooden bar for support.

A hand, warm and large, patted and rubbed at your back in turn, accompanied by a silken voice you’d recognize anywhere murmuring in your ear. “Easy, sweetling. It isn’t yet late enough for me to steal your breath away.”

Heat flushed beneath the skin of your cheeks and neck at the salacious timbre of his richly accented voice. You turned just enough to look him in the eye. He was so close that any movement from either of you would touch your lips together. Were they soft and pillowy? Did they taste like toothpaste or the alcohol that lightly scented his breath as it teased against your neck?

The logical side of your brain took control over the carnal needs sending your thoughts into a flurry. It wasn’t proper to even begin to think that way. He was your client, and you couldn’t mix business with pleasure. And judging by the desire that darkened his gaze as his eyes darted to your painted lips and his hand traveled lower to smooth over the small of your back, he could give you pleasure.

You cleared your throat, straightening up and taking a gulp of your drink to give yourself something - anything - to focus on besides Loki at your side. His hand left your back so he could take his own drink, and he stood in the spot Nat just vacated without so much as a second glance in your direction. He chose to stare out over the crowd instead, his eyes lighting on the rest of the crew clustered around a series of pushed together tables before scanning the other patrons with nothing but boredom settling on his finely-sculped features.

“Milady! How are you this fine evening?” Thor’s pleasant voice practically boomed out over everything else as he stood beside his brother, holding a frosted mug of beer so large that it was almost comical.

You fell into easy conversation with the golden god, interrupted on occasion by a random Avenger strolling up and giving an enthusiastic greeting on their way to grab another round for everyone else. Loki’s eyes lingered on you from time to time, dragging down your body and lighting an inferno in their wake that you longed for him to smother with his lips and calloused fingertips. Somehow you managed to keep your cool, channeling all of your desire and tension into the white knuckles that clutched your drink as if it could stop your heart from jumping out of your chest and into his waiting hands.

At one point the nervous drinks you had consumed finally got to you, and you excused yourself to the ladies’ room. No amount of splashing cool water on your face was going to calm your frazzled nerves, even if it did feel amazing. You adjusted your shirt as you walked out, bumping into a wall of a man in your brief moment of distraction.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-”

Loki turned around, catching you as you stumbled with his hands on the dip in your waist, cutting off your quickly rambled apology. Once you were righted his touch lingered, branding you through the thin cotton of your t-shirt. “Apology accepted, although unnecessary. You must be more observant in the future.”

You combed your fingers through your hair to give your hands something to do besides splaying across his chest to see if the muscles barely visible beneath his button-down shirt were truly as smooth as they appeared. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’ll do that. Thanks.”

He released you from his captivating presence, freeing you to dart through the crowd back to Thor who watched over your newly acquired glass of water dutifully.

“Ah, you’re back!” he exclaimed, shooting you a radiant smile that could probably outdo the sun for how much warmth it exuded. “You look unwell. Is everything alright?”

Only after chugging half of your water did you reply, setting the glass down gently on the bar to compensate for how your hands trembled with an intoxicating combination of excitement and nerves. “Yeah. Just ran into Loki, literally, and almost fell on my ass.”

“You are attracted to him.”

You shook your head a little too forcefully to be believable. “Of course not. He’s my client, as are you and the rest of the Avengers.”

“He is attracted to you as well,” he replied, as if you hadn’t spoken at all. His eyes moved through the crowd before settling on a distant point, and you knew it had to be the man currently in question. “I approve of such a union.”

Union? “No, no, no. It isn’t like that. He’s just-” Your phone buzzed insistently in your pocket, drawing your attention. Glaring at the familiar name of your boss lighting up your screen, you waved it at Thor apologetically before shouldering your way through the crowd and out of the door into the night.

“Hello?” You shoved the phone into your ear, scurrying away from the front door to escape the biting cold wind that tore through your clothing. You’d left your coat inside. The alleyway beside the bar provided a bit of shelter from the wind, although it now seemed the journey was pointless was the call had been dropped.

“What is so important at midnight that you have to call?” you hissed, stomping your feet against the cold sinking into your bones as you redialed the number, your chin tucked into your chest and your shoulders hunched.

“Whatcha doin’ there, sweet cheeks?”

Your hand fell to your side, thumb hovering over the keyboard as dread filled your veins with a thick sludge that threatened to anchor you to the spot. Lifting your gaze from the dirty asphalt, you caught sight of the man walking confidently toward you, all sinister swagger as he stopped too close for your liking.

“Just calling my boyfriend,” you hedged, backing up until the grit of the stone wall bit into your shoulder blades. You searched behind him frantically for someone, anyone, to see your wide eyes and trembling figure slinking into the shadows. But they were all going about their business without even glancing in your direction, too busy to notice the quiet confrontation happening scant feet to their right.

“Why don’t I keep you company until he shows up?” he asked, an ominous chill to his tone as his hands came up on either side of your shoulders to box you in.

You closed your fist over your phone, trying to remember anything from the self-defense classes Tony had gotten for all the staff, when the weight of his body was suddenly lifted from yours. It was replaced by the gentle pressure of another, and your vision was filled with Loki’s broad shoulders.

His hand reached out behind him, and you slipped your fingers through his without a second thought, the reassuring touch pulling you into him until your front fitted to his back. He settled your hand on his side in slow, measured movements that told nothing of the strength and rage straining at the muscles in his neck and clenching in his jaw. His body practically thrummed against you from withheld fury.

The tension beneath your fingertips matched the threat lacing his words. “She’s mine.”

The man scrambled up from where he’d sprawled on the ground, brushing off his jeans and shooting Loki a hateful glare. “I don’t see your name anywhere.”

You shifted just enough so that you could catch Loki’s profile, the line of his jaw and slope of his nose drawing your attention to his eyes, which briefly flashed a blood red that shot a spike of terror through you. They held a dangerous promise that you didn’t want to see fulfilled.

“She is mine,” he repeated, arms moving out from his sides in a fluid motion. The glint of his daggers caught the light at the edges of your vision. “Leave now if you wish to maintain what little manhood you possess for believing you can accost anyone in such a fashion, let alone what belongs to me.”

The man wisely took the command, cursing under his breath as he stormed away. The breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding burst out of you, and you sank back against the bar’s outer wall, closing your eyes as you focused on calming your racing heart.

“Did he harm you?” The words were soft, quiet and dripping with concern, directed at you from just in front of you.

You opened up your eyes, tilting your head back so that you could clearly see Loki towering protectively over you. His brows pulled together with his care for you, and he stepped to shield your body from the view of those passing by as well as from the frigid wind. When you trembled, either from shock or cold you weren’t sure, he removed his black blazer and draped it over your shoulders. His hands rubbed warmth and comfort over your upper arms.

“No,” you managed to eke out around the dryness in your throat. Swallowing down your fear, you tried again, “I’m okay. It was just some dumbass…”

The skin around his eyes tightened as he peered down at you. “Would you like to gather your composure before returning to your companions?”

You couldn’t imagine the uproar that your current state would cause. Trembling, eyes wide and shoulders hunched, you were quite the opposite from the cool, calm, and collected persona you carefully constructed each day. Gratefully, you nodded, digging your fingers into the borrowed blazer and pulling it tighter around your shoulders. It was warm, scented with a clean, masculine scent that stirred longing deep in your belly.

“Come here,” Loki instructed quietly, holding out his arms at your sides. At your quirked brow, he clarified, “You look positively frozen and I am quite warm.”

When were you going to get such an offer again? Silencing the part of your brain that screamed that you shouldn’t do it, you stepped into his embrace, tucking your forehead into his neck and nuzzling your cheek against his chest. His arms held you firmly to him, cradling the back of your head and dipping beneath his blazer to rest on your waist. His thumb toyed with the sliver of skin he found between your shirt and jeans. Tendrils of pleasure slid out from that tiny tease of a touch, curling your toes and drawing all of the moisture from your mouth to pool hopefully between your legs.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your breath curling between you in a small cloud as you pulled your head back to look up at him. He dropped his chin to do the same. “I’m lucky you happened to be out here. Right place, right time and all that.”

His hand dropped to cup the side of your neck so his thumb could caress the soft skin beneath your ear. “It was no coincidence. I followed you here. I wanted to speak with you, alone.”

Your heart stopped beating. “About?”

His head lowered until his nose nudged along yours, and you felt the tiny puffs of air from his speech against your slightly parted lips. “I believe you know the matter I wished to discuss.”

He straightened up with a frown. It was quickly replaced by his typical look of indifference. You hated that look when compared to the desire that had graced his face only moments before. “But now is no longer an appropriate time. As you do not seem fit to enjoy the remainder of the evening, allow me to escort you home? It would soothe my anxieties to know that you arrived there safely.”

“Of-of course,” you stammered, shocked both by what he basically just admitted and at how quickly he had retreated from it. He pulled away from you fully, leaving emptiness behind that was more chilling than the softly falling snow that dotted his long, black locks. The ensuing ache in your chest was too much to bear. “Loki?”

He stilled, turning around on his heel. “Yes?”

Summoning all of your courage you reached out to him, stilling your fidgeting hands on the expanse of his chest. “You were right.”

“About what, sweetling?” he asked, guarded, curious, but not overly so as he regarded you behind dark lashes.

You threw all caution to the wind. “That I’m yours.”

“Is that so?” A hopeful grin curled on his lips. He walked you back into the safety of the shadows, the length of him holding you against the wall. It made your heart race in anticipation, and you wetted your lips in a quick flick of your tongue that made him growl softly in his throat. “Then I shall have what is mine.”

Your lips caught his in a tender, questioning kiss that differed from the fire you had seen burning in his eyes before yours had fallen closed. He was gentle, achingly so, as if you would break at the slightest bit of pressure or passion from him. But that touch broke the last of your barriers against him, sending them crumbling to the ground where your toes curled inside your shoes. Your fingers pressed into his pecs and you gasped into his mouth at the pure bliss that flowed through you, hot and enticing and demanding.

Your quiet gasp was his undoing, and he licked at your lips before slanting his mouth over yours in a deep and thorough kiss that took every bit of your yearning for him and created more. It was dark and rich and full to the brim with undisguised urgency. His fingers at your waist aided in the grind of your hips together and you clung onto him for fear of your knees weakening at his fervent touch.

You panted for air when he finally broke the kiss to lean his forehead against yours. You would have drowned in his amorous hold had he allowed it. “Loki?”

He hummed his questioning response, the words buzzing through your skin to tease at the tension clenching your stomach tight.

“Take me home.”

~~~

Little Bit o’ Loki taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815 @lots-of-loki

Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @lovesmesomehiddles @peterman-spideyparker @silverswordthekilljoy

#loki fanfiction #loki #loki x reader #loki/reader #protective!loki #damsel in distress #implied smut #loki implied smut #marvel fanfiction #hopelesswrites #right or wrong

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beauregardlionett · 4 years

Text

tugging you even closer

AO3 Link

There was something about Nicodranas that always soothed the frazzled edges of Beau’s nerves. Most days, she felt like a piece of sea glass, fighting to stay coordinated in the tumultuous tumbling of waves around her. But they always seemed to find their way back to Nicodranas, and she washed up onto the shores gratefully, taking solace in their steadiness, and less jagged each time she did so.

Their first night back found Beau on the balcony of her room at the Chateau, arms folded and leaning on the railing of her balcony. The constant wash of water in the distance, the idle chatter of the night streets below her, and the stars in their multitude above her were all Beau needed right now. Familiar in its simplicity, and Yussa’s tower in her peripheral, Beau merely observed without analyzing. She took deep, purposeful breaths that weren’t quite meditation, but left her grounded, let the salty ocean air clean her lungs with brine.

After the days spent on Rumblecusp and everything that had transpired, Beau was more than happy to take this lapse as it came. She was usually itching to get moving, to feel like their group still had a purpose for fear of falling apart if they didn’t. But there was a certain timeless weight to Nicodranas and the Chateau, the port city like liminal space in which the Nein could exist forever without repercussions.

A soft knock at her door pulled Beau from her reverie as she called over her shoulder.

“Come in!”

Twisting from her spot where she leaned against the balcony railing, Beau blinked with only mild surprise as Yasha slipped into the bedroom. Her mismatched eyes found Beau easily, and the Aasimar offered a quiet smile of greeting as she made her way toward the balcony.

“Sorry to bother you,” Yasha said as she hesitated by the balcony doors.

“No,” Beau shook her head, gesturing for Yasha to join her. “I wasn’t doing anything, so it’s no bother at all. Not that you could ever bother me, though.”

Beau physically bit down on her tongue to stop her rambling, wincing at the sting. She always seemed to lose any sense of composure or coherence around Yasha lately, and it was getting embarrassing. The only consolation was that Yasha never made a big deal of it, sometimes appearing just as incoherent as Beau.

As Beau leaned against the railing once more, arms folded on the wrought iron, Yasha took up position beside her, chuckling quietly. Risking a sideways glance, Beau admired Yasha’s profile in the light spilling from the room behind them. Cast partially in shadow, the lines of the Aasimar’s face were sharper, and the white ends of her hair falling messily over her shoulder all but glowed.

“They’re beautiful,” Yasha murmured, eyes trained on the stars. It took Beau a moment to realize what she was talking about, and the monk forced herself from her daze to look up at the sky, too.

“Oh, yeah,” Beau managed, clearing her throat. “I’ve never really noticed them before, but I read a bunch of stories about the constellations at the Soul. Y’know, when I was bored and doing everything except what I was supposed to be doing.”

Yasha chuckled quietly and glanced sideways at Beau.

“Could you tell me about them? The stories? My tribe never really cared much about the stars, so I don’t know any.”

“Oh, yeah. Uh, sure!” Beau stuttered over her tongue for a moment or two, brain scrambling suddenly to remember information that had been there a second ago. Craning her neck a little to look up at the stars again, blue eyes flit between the constellations. She was familiar enough with a few to recognize them upon first glance, but kept searching for one with an interesting enough story.

Eventually, she found a familiar cluster of stars and trained her eyes on them, leaning toward Yasha’s shoulder and pointing into the sky.

“Do you see those stars there, the three that form a diagonal line?” When Yasha nodded in her peripheral, Beau continued. “That’s the belt of a warrior, there are other stars that are supposed to represent the arms and legs and even a shield, but the belt is easiest to find. The books I read all said there were, like, a million different versions of the story. But the common one was that this warrior was so skilled and larger than life, that they were the hunting partner of some ancient goddess of the hunt. But she had a brother who disliked her relationship with the hunter, so he sent this big ass scorpion to attack the hunter. The scorpion killed the hunter, and the goddess was so distraught and her brother felt so guilty that they placed the hunter into the sky as a constellation. For some reason, they also put the scorpion in the sky too, but they’re never seen in the sky at the same time.”

Beau could feel Yasha’s eyes on her, but she resolutely kept her eyes on the stars, knowing that the second she made eye contact, she was a goner.

They were quiet for a moment. Then Yasha turned her eyes back toward the stars, searching. Beau took the moment to catch her breath, before Yasha reached out a hand and pointed to the sky, tracing a shape for Beau to see.

“What about that one? Is that a constellation?”

Beau followed Yasha’s direction and let out a quiet, quick laugh.

“Somehow I’m not surprised you picked that one out. It’s supposed to represent a harp-like instrument. It belonged to some dude who used it to play the most moving music anyone had ever heard. But when he died, it was thrown into a river, so the gods placed him and the instrument in the sky to remember him by. Maybe you picking that constellation means you’ll end up being so famous you’ll become a constellation.”

It was probably the cheesiest thing Beau could have ever said, but it was so easy to let her walls down around Yasha. She hadn’t even thought about it before saying it.

Mustering up the courage to look sideways at Yasha, still leaning slightly toward the other woman, Beau froze as she turned her head. Yasha was already looking at her. Turning her head toward the Aasimar caused their lips to brush.

They stayed frozen for two long seconds, breathing stilled and just barely kissing, before both pulling sharply back. Blinking at each other, eyes wide, Beau tensed as she watched Yasha reach up and slowly place her fingers against her lips. Beau panicked, wondering what Yasha was going to say. She could picture with far too much ease how the betrayal was probably about to set into her expression. Yasha had trusted Beau with so much, had confided her grief over her wife in Beau, and now this happened. Gods, Beau ruined-

Yasha’s hands cupped Beau’s cheeks. She looked into Beau’s eyes, expression deliberate, and Beau knew without a doubt that Yasha was going to kiss her. Yasha gave the monk a few long seconds to pull away, but Beau didn’t move.

When Yasha kissed her, Beau felt like her nerve endings had been set on fire. Not because the kiss felt like all those cheesy romance stories about two puzzle pieces finally fitting, but because it was Yasha. Beau knew like it was engraved in her bones - she loved Yasha. The simple act of being kissed by someone she loved, and someone who loved her in return, was enough to weaken her knees.

Yasha kissed Beau on purpose, with purpose, and Beau could do nothing but kiss her back.

They pulled apart after a few suspended moments and Beau chased after Yasha’s lips, breath shaky. Yasha stared down at Beau with fondness and hunger, and Beau’s knees went weak all over again. She wanted to keep kissing Yasha. She wanted to do a lot more than kiss Yasha, but despite all that, Beau took a steadying breath and twisted her fingers in Yasha’s tunic, grounding herself.

“Not to make this sound like a suggestion, but do you want to sleep with me? Not like...not like that. Just like...fuck, this is going to sound bad no matter how I say it. I just want to sleep next to you. If that makes sense.”

Yasha gave Beau that beautiful smile the monk loved so much and nodded. Her big, warm arms wrapped around Beau and she thought she had never felt more secure in her life.

“I would love to.”

They had a lot to talk about, Beau knew they did, but right now she was giddy. Right now, she had everything she needed.

#cr #critical role #beauregard lionett #yasha #beauyasha #writing #my writing #leTS MANIFEST THESE LESBIANS #LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOO

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wendibird · 4 years

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SPN 15X14 Observations

So, for whatever dumbass reason, when trying to use my actual television, the cable refuses to work properly 8 times out of 10. BUT I was able to stream tonight’s episode on my computer with my cable network’s app. So, there’s that. Because of that, and since it’s easier for me to type on my keyboard than on my phone, I actually took quick notes and observations during commercial breaks. Here are those, then some more of my thoughts following. (And I’m sorry if any of these seem a bit incoherent. They were more my observations to myself. *LOL*

(everything else under the keep reading line since I got a bit rambly, and just in case anyone wants to avoid spoilers)

- Brothers being written a bit like characters of themselves rather than just themselves. (trying too hard?)

- Love Mrs. Butters. Actress really good. And the minor ret-con works with what we've seen.

- Sam more concerned about Jack. I think he understands him better, even though he hasn't seen much of him.

- "Ignoring your trauma doesn't make you healthy." (or something like that.) Good quote!

- Waiting for the catch.

- "Enjoy the world you're fighting for." (compare with Kevin's similar line: "I can't enjoy a world I need to save.")

- Mrs. Butters knows Jack isn't human.

- BOY did the shoe drop! But it was Sinclaire involved. Not surprised he took advantage of her natural protective nature.

- Wanted more plot for WHY exactly they still have Thor's Hammer. Have they had it this whole time? Last we saw Sam dropped it in 8X2. Or did Mrs. Butters conjure it up because they might need it? Was cool though that Sam was using it. Because we already know he can.

- Jack figured out on his own how to use the projector. (love that boy!)

- liked hearing him talk about what happened with Mary and how he feels.

- Mrs. Butters knows from experience about needing "second chances" I think.

- Why were they ALWAYS wearing the same clothes during the "We got one!" montages? Assuming it was supposed to have taken place over several days at least if not longer. (I highly doubt they went out on THAT many hunts in one day.)

- Yeeeah... So I get she's protective, but JACK IS BABY! She can clearly see his power levels but she has to have seen how he he actually IS? But she gave him the smoothies from the start, so she's been planning it from almost the start. Hrm.

- idk what anyone else says, I'm thrilled that Sam and Eileen had a date. Also, THIS is where that sweater-vest comes from. Bet we'll see him going for his gun too. (That clip was hotly debated in one of the discord servers I’m on)

- Dean is obviously still having some issues with Jack, but he also seems to know that they're his personal issues and he knows that Jack is good. (Expanding on this thought post episode, I was seeing this as Dean recognizing the difference between what he knows and what he’s feeling. So, yey! Personal growth!)

- DEAN JACK IS NOT A BATTERING RAM!!!

- Dean sees Jack as a weapon. He used him as a battering ram. He'll use him as a grenade to throw at Chuck. (More on this after the notes.)

- Sam sees him as a person. His argument was that Jack was someone he cared about. That killing him would HURT him.

- Also, did they HAVE to go for the fingernails again?!

- Poor Sam, getting tortured. And being the "favorite" of something bad.

- Also, SAM WAS RIGHT! To be cautious of her at first. Too many times he's had things/people seem good and turn out opposite.

- And because Dean had decided it was all okay, they both stopped looking up on her.

- Maybe Sam will realize that he doesn't always have to follow Dean's lead. He can pursue his own paths. (Not talking about them separating. Just, if he wants to look into something, he should do it. If he wants to follow a different lead, he should check it out.)

- I know he lost a lot of confidence last season but I hope he realizes that he doesn't by default make bad decisions.

- Okay, that was a good resolution. I'm glad she's going back to her people.

- Interdimensional geoscope: Dean saw nothing. Because ALL the other universes are gone. *sad-face*

- Love Sam and Jack. Wish we got a bit more. But it was something.

- Also love that Dean tried. That felt real to me. (the birthday cake)

More thoughts!

So. Overall I liked this episode. It was lighthearted mostly, but touched on some serious topics and wasn’t completely disconnected with what is going on with everyone, despite the random holiday montage. *LOL* (Yes, I know she wasn’t bending time or anything, she was just choosing to celebrate some holidays with her boys regardless of when this is all taking place exactly.) It did feel a bit to me, at the start anyway, like the writing at least was trying too hard to “Sound like Sam and Dean” instead of just them being them. I mentioned that at the start but what I mean is, in this season especially (but not exclusively) I’ve noticed a lot of times where it feels to me like the writing/directing/whatever leads to the sum total of what we see is trying too hard to present this idea of who the characters are, like caricatures of them. The things associated with them get emphasized, sometimes out of proportion. Though in this episode, it only felt like that during the opening scene and maybe a few places elsewhere. Overall I thought the writing and especially the acting on the parts of the main 3 guys and the guest actor were well done and had a lot of nuance when needed. Like, as an example, when Sam and Dean sussed out that this being that they didn’t even know was a bit behind the times, they were actually pretty gentle with bringing her up to speed. And her reaction to realizing that everyone she knew before was dead felt very real.

I liked what we saw of where each of the characters were emotionally this episode. It was the first one after Jack has been re-souled and it had definitely been weighing on my mind how everyone was doing. (Though I REALLY wish we could have actually seen Sam and Dean’s reactions to Jack tearfully begging their forgiveness last episode. But lacking any other input, I’m headcannoning that Sam gave him a very long, warm hug.)

I also agree with Sam, I think there’s something more that Jack hasn’t told them yet, probably some details about Billy’s plan that he or her are sure the brothers won’t like. (Now, what exactly that could be is very much up in the air. I can think of quite a few options, but the details aren’t really important to me just now. Just the fact that something about it is weighing on Jack. More than just Mary’s death and the prospect of having to kill God. Which, in and of themselves would be more than enough.)

Speaking of Sam, I liked that we saw all those little nods to how he feels about Jack, how he’s still worried about him, and seems to understand him.

I also get where Dean’s coming from. And I thought it was well-portrayed. And let me just say, I am GLAD that he just outright told Jack where he was at. He didn’t sugarcoat it, but he also didn’t blow up at him, or reply with sarcasm or bring up other, unrelated stuff. Dean knows that Jack is trying, but he himself has some emotional stuff he needs to deal with. That he is dealing with. And it’s going to take him some time.

I do however stand by my observation made during the episode that at least at that point in it, Dean considered Jack a weapon. An asset. He literally used him as a battering ram, and in a more meta way, he’s planning on using him as a grenade to throw at God. Even when arguing with Mrs. B about it, his response was in reference to Jack’s usefulness. Whereas Sam was arguing that Jack meant something to him, that he cared about him, and hurting Jack would hurt him. Now, I do think that Dean’s POV had shifted a bit by the very end. Dean’s love language has almost always been shown by doing things for people, and taking care of them. So him making that birthday cake for Jack really felt to me like him trying to tell him that he does actually care about him. And I think Jack got it. And true, the cake might not have been as neat and pretty as Mrs. B would have made it, but I thought it was beautiful because of all the thought that went into it. (Dean’s more of a cook than a baker too.)

As a side note, something I thought about after the episode: when Mrs. B stepped in, she kind of took over that care-taker role. AND the research role. She made them lunches, cooked them dinners, decorated for holidays, and overall made them feel comfortable and safe. And she also pin-pointed where monsters were and made sure they were all stocked-up and ready to go. All they had to do was show up and get it done. And yeah, it must have been a nice break from the norm. But I also think about how much Dean finds his identity beyond hunting in taking care of people. And how much Sam finds his identity in researching and figuring things out. And with her doing that, they both took it easy on those ends. Dean didn’t have to make burgers for everyone since Mrs. B made a roast. Sam didn’t have to research since she could tell them where the monsters were and what kind. I almost wonder if both of them were starting to feel like those parts of themselves were all of a sudden unnecessary. (Which makes me a little sad, because it reminds me a bit of the “two cakes” concept in fandom. Who cares if someone else can “do it better”? If you do it, then there’ll be even more of the good thing!) And as I observed above, Sam also stopped looking into HER. I mean, he didn’t even know what would kill a wood nymph. And I do think part of that also goes back to him having recently fallen back on letting Dean make the big decisions. Because last season so many of his blew up in his face. (Though I don’t think most of that was his fault. But Sam tends to blame himself for a lot.) And I do hope that maybe he’ll remember that he does have good instincts when he listens to them. And he can keep looking into something even if Dean thinks it’s fine. It’s not a betrayal to be prepared.

ALSO! Being the absolute Saileen hoe that I am, even though we didn’t Eileen in this episode, I was thrilled that Sam went out on a date with her because she was in town! And true, we don’t know what all went down, but regardless, I see it as good that they’re at the very least still friends, and that hopefully Eileen is sorting out her own feelings vs whatever she might think could be Chuck’s manipulations. Even if Saileen isn’t Engame (and honestly, as much as I love it, I don’t think it will be) I would still like for them to be on good terms with each other. (And for her to NOT get fridged again!)

Another thing I was pondering afterwards and a bit during: I wasn’t surprised that Sam held up to the torture fairly well. I mean, it still obviously hurt! (And again, WHY with the fingernails again?! As someone in one of my discord servers mentioned, we didn’t need THAT particular call-back to the Christmas Episode of Season 3!) But he was listening to what she was saying. And he understood the implications that she had been tortured into acting how they wanted her to act. And Sam understands torture, and how it can mess someone up. And despite what she had done to him, and was trying to still do, he validated what she had been through. He empathized with her. And that.... it’s just SO Sam!

I will say that the resolution felt a little... abrupt. Like, her expression had changed a little during the fight/argument. Then back from the commercial break and she’s all packed-up and ready to leave and they’re all saying goodbye and wishing her well. I feel like there might have been some more scenes or parts of scenes that were originally there connecting things up more, but were cut for time.

I wouldn’t say this was a groundbreaking episode, but it WAS fun, and it did have some seriousness at it’s core, and I think it did what it needed to do.

(And I apologize if this is just a big rambling mess. I’m not used to doing structured episode reviews. *LOL* Feedback and opinions are welcome though!)

#spn 15x14 spoilers #spn season 15 spoilers #episode review #my thoughts #ignoring your trauma doesn't make you healthy #sam winchester #dean winchester #jack kline #mrs butters #i still need more sam and jack

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