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warping-realities · 4 months ago

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A Better Brighter Future

A brief explanation, this story is a spinoff of Dalton Academy, you don't need to have read that series to understand this story, but you will miss some references. The themes here are also controversial and I need to remind everyone that just because I wrote it doesn't mean I agree with what's happening! Otherwise, a great read for anyone interested!

Director Horace Johnson wasn’t having a good week; in fact, the week he was having was bloody dreadful. The blonde, skinny bloke, fifty years old, had dedicated a good chunk of his adult life to educating young people, finding that calling shortly after leaving university. A staunch defender of human rights and a proponent of positive education, he faced all sorts of problems with reactionary teachers throughout his career, none worse than Ethan Wood, the former PE teacher at King Richard All Boys Institute, affectionately referred to by everyone in the tiny village of Daffodil-Meadow-Over-The-Hill as Lionheart School. However, after numerous run-ins over the three years he’d been the head of that institution, he finally got fed up with the other bloke's speeches, attitudes, and teaching style, and thanks to an anonymous tip about some dodgy behaviour that led to his dismissal, nearly all the students and many of the teachers breathed a sigh of relief; that sort of hardline, oppressive treatment had no place in today’s world. The one thing Horace couldn’t imagine was the struggle to find a replacement who shared his progressive ideals, not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the backlash from some conservative parents, teachers, and board members. Just another battle they were fighting; he should have known, it was like that when he banned the posh uniforms or tried to authorise the use of gender-neutral pronouns – one battle won, another lost. But he was determined to come out on top again; he refused to put another outdated troglodyte in that position. A better, brighter future was the motto of that school, and he was going to make it happen.

While he was mulling over these issues, sitting in his office with a good cup of tea, his privacy was invaded. With a loud BAM, the door to his office was flung open, causing him to quickly raise his eyes from the document he was reading, only to see the monstrous figure striding towards him. A black man in his thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, tracky bottoms, and trainers, exuding the brash vibe of a sports coach, swaggered confidently in his direction. He couldn’t remember scheduling any interview, and certainly not with someone so rude, who gave off exactly the impression of the type of professional he refused to hire.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to leave this room; I’m busy and we haven’t got a time booked!” he said, standing up and positioning himself beside his desk, noting the absurd difference in build and muscle between the two.

“And since when do old mates need permission to see you, Henry?”

“That’s not my name!”

“I know that, Henderson, you tosser, but if you reckon I’m not gonna use your nickname just because you’re the head honcho of a fancy school now, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait until the lads on the rugby team find out the Steamroller Henry is all posh now; they’ll be laughing their heads off!”

“Sir, I… I don’t know what you’re on about… I insist you leave!”

“Now that’s the Henry I know, always ready to pull a fast one on his mates.” The man said, slumping down in the armchair opposite his desk. “But enough of the banter, mate. After you got in touch, I did a bit of digging into what’s going on around here, and you’ve got some serious problems. Losing a bloke like Ethan Wood must have been a right kick in the teeth, especially after scrapping the uniforms; they might have been a bit too posh, but they helped maintain a sense of unity and shared identity. Good on you for getting rid of that daft idea of using gender-neutral pronouns. Still, mate, I can see why you need me here. Transforming these crybabies into real men can’t be easy, but don’t you worry; you called the right person!”

“I… what…? I don’t get it…”

“What’s hard to understand, Henry? You need help to rein in this progressive agenda that’s trying to take root here, so you called your old uni mate Blake Ian Garret, The BIG and said, ‘Mate, I need your help with these wankers trying to sabotage me; old Wood is out, I need you for the job!’”

“I… Blake… BI… BIG, then… do you accept?”

“Of course I do, you muppet; it’s exactly what I’ve been banging on about! That whisky you’re drinking is probably messing with your already dodgy brain. I wonder how they let you become a director, Henry; not that I’m complaining, we need more blokes like us in charge.”

“I also wonder how I ended up here; I only became a teacher because that dodgy Wood promised to pass on his job to me when he retired, and next thing I know, I’m stuck in this boring role and now I have to give the job I wanted to an arse.” He said with fake exasperation.

“Shut it, mate; I know you missed having another real man around here, and while I explain how things work in the place I was working, why don’t you pour me a bit of that drink? I think you’ll love hearing about Dalton Academy.” The man commented, noticing the change happening in Horace Johnson. In a blur of movement, the skinny man’s body expanded in muscle and height, while the wrinkles vanished from his face and his blonde hair started to grow back where it had receded. In less than a second, Henderson “Henry” Johnson found himself grinning, offering a glass of whisky that hadn’t been there before to his old university friend and now professor Blake Garret, The BIG in his realm.

“A toast to the best hire I could have made,” he said, raising the glass to his old friend, who broke into a wide smile.

“To a better and brighter future, indeed!”

…..

The students and teachers didn’t know why they were gathered in the school gym. The summons came from Director Johnson himself, and they knew they had to comply quickly, as the man had a military rigidity about that sort of thing, not tolerating any behaviour he deemed lazy. So, what a surprise it was for everyone to see that it wasn’t Henry Johnson heading to the packed gym.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name’s Blake Garret and I’m the new PE teacher here at Lionheart. The director Johnson and I have known each other for a long time; we were university mates and teammates, and he’s shared with me his concerns about the behaviour and ideals presented here. This nation is infected, gentlemen. Infected by a parasite called progressivism. Progress should be encouraged, yes, but with proper control, guided by the ideas of our parents and ancestors. Progress for the sake of progress should be discouraged!” He said, striding across the gym floor like a caged beast ready to break free, pausing only to observe the indignant faces of some teachers and a few students who bothered to pay attention to what he was saying. But that was about to change, and it was going to be now. “When Henry told me that the infection was spreading here too, I couldn’t believe it. I said to him, ‘Surely not, Henry, my dear. Lionheart is a beacon of clarity amidst a stormy sea of harmful ideas; the teachers are exemplars of masculinity and manliness, and the students are the pinnacle to which every young man in this nation should aspire; surely there’s no such behaviour here.’ But… but now that I’m here, I see! Gentlemen, my eyes fill with tears at what Lionheart is.” He said, taking another pause to take in the disgusted expressions before finally finishing what he had come to do there. “Tears, yes, tears of pride! For you are much more than I imagined, gentlemen. You are paragons of masculinity, the example of what every man should aspire to be; you haven’t allowed yourselves to be contaminated by the corruption attacking our country from within; you are what gives me hope for the future of our great nation.” He said, resuming his frenetic pacing, and with every step he took, the audience transformed; teachers, students, staff, all expanding in size while ideas and thoughts shrank, casual clothes being replaced by training gear that showcased their muscular and defined bodies, while a powerful funk that only dozens of sweaty gathered men could produce dominated the atmosphere, not that anyone there cared about it.

“That was a brilliant welcome drill, lads; now off to the showers and back to your uniforms for your lessons. Teachers, I ask you to stay a bit longer; I need to know about any absent students today.”

….

Franklin was in deep trouble; he missed the bus to school and had to walk all the way from the village of Grimchurch to Daffodil Meadow, which wasn’t pleasant for a skinny, asthmatic kid. The worst part was that he ended up terribly late for school, and knowing the kind of reception he would get, he thought about just not going, but that would bring even bigger complications, so he decided to face his fate with resignation. He was greeted by the guard, who merely directed him to one of the classrooms where a teacher would speak to the late students and administer the necessary punishment. Sighing with resignation, he headed to the indicated location, but upon arriving, something stopped him from entering the room; some sort of primitive alert resonating within his mind. Peeking through the corner of the window, he saw a teacher he didn’t recognise, a tall and very strong man with skin as dark as his own, talking to Bernard, Vincent, and Timothy, three of the biggest truants at Lionheart, who were looking at him with bored expressions. But then, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened; the boys he had known all his life were replaced by larger, stronger, muscular versions, wearing uniforms and smiling as if they were getting drunk on every word the teacher was saying, words which Franklin couldn’t hear. But then the teacher approached the door, and he could hear the end of the speech.

“… rowing at the end of the day; you lot are to be congratulated, I wouldn’t be surprised if any of you ended up representing England at the Olympics. Oh, before you go, Bert and Victor, you’re in the same class as Franklin Burke, right? If you see him, let me know; I need to have a word with the lad, the same goes for you, Tom.”

Hearing that, Franklin took off running, desperate, not fully understanding what he had witnessed but knowing the risk he was in; he urgently needed to get out of there. In his despair, he didn’t notice that the man had left the room and smiled when he saw a skinny kid running toward the changing rooms.

Franklin thought the safest way to escape the trap he had fallen into would be through the school gym, which should be empty at that hour. Sneaking in as quietly as possible, he finally reached the changing area; he just needed to cross it and head to the football pitch, which would be free from whatever was happening there. But there was a hitch: someone was using the changing room. Quickly hiding behind the door, he saw the stranger swaggering arrogantly through the space. Recently out of the shower and wearing only a jock strap, the muscular Chinese lad strutted as if he owned the place. Stopping in front of the mirror, he admired himself. Who could he have been before? No… no… Lionheart only had one Chinese student. That must be… Anshen? Franklin’s best mate… no… this was a nightmare.

“I can see you there, mate!” said the muscular lad, crossing his arms. “Coach BIG is looking for you. I wouldn’t irritate the bloke if I were you.” He added with a cheeky grin. Having been discovered, Franklin stepped out of hiding.

“Anshen… is that you?”

“The name’s Ashton, Franklin. Honestly, how could you forget the name of the captain of the school swimming team?” he said, acting as if that made him the most important person in the room. Without even glancing to the side, he brushed past that aberration towards the corridor leading to the football pitch.

“Hey, mate, the coach’s office is the other way!” shouted the other lad, but Franklin didn’t pay him any mind. He was running anxiously toward the door that was his salvation. Only to see it swing open and the monstrous giant that was walking toward him with a grin. Between the two giants, he chose to face the smaller of the two and took off running in the direction he had come from, without seeing the smile fade from the man's face or hearing him grumble.

“Don’t know why they run…”

Upon reaching the door of the changing room he had just passed through a few seconds ago, he found it locked. How? Ashton must have locked it. Franklin grunted as he cursed the other lad with every ounce of strength not being used to try to open the door.

“It’s useless, lad. Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in this school. But you know what? I like you; you’ve got fire in you. Turn around.” The man said with authority, and Franklin felt his body obey against his will. Gathering courage, he faced the man.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“What I am is something to be answered another time. Now, who am I? Frankly, Farrel, that’s no way to speak to your godfather.” Coach BIG replied, seemingly hurt, although a slight tremor at the corner of his lips indicated he was actually enjoying himself.

“What? Godfather? I don’t have a godfather and I don’t even know who you are! And who the hell is Farrel?”

“Farrel is my godson; a lad, strong and sure of what he wants. A man who knows a man’s rightful place in society. He’s a bit of a rogue, the type who’s too smart for his own good, always finding a way to dodge consequences. Except when he’s on the pitch; he’s the captain of the rugby team and takes that role seriously, even knowing his future lies in politics, thanks to the silver tongue he possesses. In short, Farrel is you, you great numpty. Now that it’s just the two of us in my office, come give your godfather a hug.”

“I… what? No…!” Franklin stammered as he felt his legs move on their own and a dreamy smile form on his lips, even as he internally screamed in anxiety.

Anxiety? He never got anxious! At least not off the pitch. There he was a monster, a bull. But off it? Off it, he was the face of relaxation. Chill out and have a laugh was Farrel Burke’s motto! Thought the muscular black giant that few would believe was only eighteen years old. While he put on the school uniform in his godfather’s office, admiring his beautiful body and smiling.

“Farrel? Farrel! Bloody hell, lad, can’t you pay attention for a minute?”

“Sorry, Uncle BIG… I mean… Coach BIG… oops… Professor Garret.”

“If you weren’t my godson, I’d give you a right telling off, lad, and just because I’m your godfather doesn’t mean you can use my office as if it were your personal changing room.”

“If you hadn’t dragged me from the changing room, I wouldn’t need to finish getting dressed here!”

“Is that a dig at my behaviour, lad?” BIG asked seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, sir, professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The lad replied, sensing the danger.

“Great. As I was saying, I want to implement some of the ideas I brought from Dalton; while you finish getting ready, let me talk to you about the clubs…”

…..

By the end of that week, BIG’s initial work was complete; there were no more students or teachers left to be improved. The uniforms had returned to being the norm, and all the lads were required to be part of at least one of the school’s sports teams. Moreover, the social clubs had been formed, ensuring that the lads, even after school ended, would have a reason to return to Lionheart and not forget what they had learned there. BIG was proud of what he had accomplished, and those above him were too. Now it was time for the expansion phase, to take what was taught at Lionheart outside the school’s walls and fields. BIG’s approach was different from that taken at Dalton; times were different, and in the war they were waging against those who wanted to remove men from their rightful place, there was no room for the discretion adopted by the sister school. Europe was falling too quickly; it was necessary to be more incisive. That’s why Lionheart would focus not only on creating the leaders of tomorrow but a whole generation of influencers, and sport would be their flagship. And there was no sport more popular worldwide than football. Knowing this, the Lionheart team became a priority for BIG, and he created a particularly talented and charismatic group, but they still lacked a coach of the right calibre. But that would soon be resolved, and quickly too; normally, BIG liked to savour the moment he transformed a pathetic figure into a real man. However, as the mass transformation of the first day showed, when the need was pressing, he acted fast. And that Sunday morning, it was needed again. While the lads prepared for training, the stands of the school filled with students from other teams, but also with parents and locals from the surrounding towns. This would be exhausting. And the cherry on top was the old man walking across the field with an angry look directed at BIG, who returned the scorn before breaking into a smile.

Zachariah Hastings, a member of the school board and a staunch conservative, which in theory should please BIG, but the problem was that the old codger was too conservative. Homophobic and racist, he seemed to boil inside the outdated suit he was wearing at that moment. He indeed represented that mythical figure of patriarchy that the snowflakes loved to point out as the cause of all ills: the white, heterosexual, cisgender man. BIG had nothing against a man who was all those things; on the contrary. The problem was that this figure represented everything that the enemies of the brotherhood of men took pleasure in using to attack. BIG’s group merely wanted to return men to their rightful place in society; they didn’t care about race, religion, whether you were an immigrant or who you slept with. Implicating with those things only created divisions, pushing men away from the real goal. And it was precisely for that reason that Zachariah had to go. Without any fanfare or manipulation, in one moment, the old codger was there with a bewildered expression, as if he knew what awaited him, and in the next moment, a fine specimen of a black man, very much like BIG himself, stood in his place, while every man in that audience became an upgraded ally, and BIG enthusiastically announced to everyone the arrival of the legendary Zeke Hastings, newly retired player from Manchester City and multiple-time champion of the Premier League, Champions League, and Euro Cup, to take the position of coach for the school’s football team, sending all the men in that place into a frenzy of delight, while BIG himself smiled, satisfied that the first part of his duty was finally fulfilled.

**Two months earlier**

Barret couldn’t stop tapping his foot while waiting in the posh waiting room of Dalton Academy; after all, this was his big chance, even if he didn’t understand why an American school would be interested in an English literature teacher. Although the whole place reeked of Old Money, perhaps that justified the interest in him.

“You can come in, Mr. Garret.” A metallic voice startled Barret, who looked around for the source, but found none. Collecting himself, he stood up, straightened his suit, and opened the massive door to the office. What he saw there gave him a sense of strangeness. Smiling and walking towards him in a space much larger than would be possible, was a handsome lad, no more than eighteen years old. Was this some sort of prank by the posh students?

“Come in, Mr. Garrett. Barret Garret; your parents had an interesting sense of humour; I would have certainly liked them…” commented the smiling young man before frowning. “Why the scared face? Ahhh, I always forget these modern conventions; in my day, this would already be the appearance of an adult man.” The young man said, his face concentrating, and then, as if by magic, he began to walk towards an office desk that Barret could have sworn hadn’t been there seconds before. When he reached the desk a blonde, older, and muscular man wearing a slightly less formal outfit smiled at Barret.

“I think you’ll prefer this appearance, my dear. You can call me Mr. Edgar. And even though I’ve used a bit of trickery to bring you here, since unfortunately there’s no place for you on Dalton’s faculty, by the time we finish our conversation, it’ll be as if you know the place better than you do yourself, and I guarantee the goal I have in mind for you will leave you quite satisfied. Put a smile on that face and step in.” Even against his will, in that incomprehensible situation, Barret found himself smiling and stepped into the creature’s lair.

If anyone who wasn’t an active member of Dalton was watching what was going on, they would have been shocked. But within those walls, it was almost routine. A young, well-dressed black man hesitating in front of a portal, only to, upon crossing it, see his body modify and expand, while he aged a few years, though that only made him even more charming; his slow steps transforming into the confident stride of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And anyone who knew Blake Ian Garret, coach BIG, could tell that that impression would be correct, though incomplete. BIG not only knew what he wanted but would also do everything in his power to achieve his goals. And those goals at the moment consisted of returning to England to find a way to occupy a position at Lionheart School, which conveniently was established on top of one of the largest dormant power points of the old country, but which only needed a spark to awaken. A spark that Mr. Edgar handed to him, only demanding in return that he use that power to ensure that the occupants of the place, both the established ones and those who would come, and even the unsuspecting traveler passing through, became the right kind of men. The exact type that BIG himself represented.

….

**6 months later**

“Son, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. I survived high school; you will too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to be transferred in the middle of the second year to a school with the highest concentration of wanker athletes that would have certainly made your life a nightmare.”

“Duncan, I understand; I was transferred as well, remember? I need to make friends at work too.”

“Dad, that’s completely different; none of your colleagues are going to shove your head in a toilet or anything like that.”

“I’m sure that only happens in films, Duncan.”

The pair of overweight blonde father and son walked through the corridors of the Lionheart Institute towards Director Johnson. The truth is that even Alex, the father, was not comfortable with that arrangement, but there was nothing to be done; Lionheart was the best school in the area, and he refused to send his son away from him. Duncan was a shy and reserved kid, just like he had been at that age. That school would be a challenge, but any other would be too, and there he would be close by if something happened.

“Dad, didn’t you read the articles I sent you? This journalist, Aaryan Patel, wrote a series of them talking about what goes on here; all the students here, regardless of where they came from, are some kind of athletes; some have even competed in the Olympics. And there’s more; all of them have behaviour described as toxic; some have been banned from giving interviews; some bloke named Ashton Zhang won a bronze medal in Paris but said so much rubbish about the opening ceremony that he almost got banned from competing.”

“Well, then they’ll know what it’s like to have a mathlete among them now! And who knows, you might become a good influence on them or even get motivated to take up some sport; exercise does wonders for a young lad.”

“Says the man who’s never set foot on a court in his life…”

“Duncan, enough! You’re coming to study here, and that’s final.” The father snapped, as he noticed a giant figure approaching confidently down the corridor.

“But Dad, I think Aaryan Patel has a point…”

“Duncan! I don’t want to hear you talking about Aaryan Patel anymore!”

“You do quite well.” Commented the giant black man approaching them, his smile vanishing upon hearing that name. “Mr. Patel has only been defaming the good name of this school with lies and distortions, when what he should be doing is praising the performance of our students in all areas of life. I’m Professor Garret and I believe you are Archibald and Duncan, am I right?”

“In fact, my name is Alexander…”

“Ah, some misunderstanding then.” Commented the professor with a cheeky smile before continuing. “Director Johnson should have welcomed you, but he had a slight hiccup and asked me to do it for him. I thought I’d chat with you, Archibald, while one of the lads shows Duncan around the school. Where is that rascal? Ah, here he comes.” Professor Garret finished speaking without giving Alexander a chance to correct him about the name error, although he himself had forgotten it when he saw the lad strutting down the corridor, almost like a mini version of the professor. Although saying that anything about that lad was mini would be an affront. Broad shoulders and strong limbs pushing the limits of the school’s smart black uniform, made up of a full suit, tie, and dress shoes that must have been tailor-made to fit the boats that were his feet, the overall effect was one of sophistication but also of dominance and confidence that left Alexander gaping and Duncan, who was already fearful, completely terrified.

“Good day, Coach BIG… hum… Professor Barret; good day, sir.” The lad said politely, although a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes.

“Farrell, my boy. Would you be so kind as to show the school’s facilities to Duncan here while Archie and I have a chat?”

“With pleasure, Professor Garret. Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Duncan?” He said, positioning himself next to the other lad who, although overweight, was shorter and lighter than him, before turning to Alexander with a cheeky grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Archie.”

“The pleasure was mine, lad.” replied Alex, again forgetting to correct the name error. “We’ll see you in a bit, Duke.” He ended up saying to his son, who looked at him first with wide eyes of pleading and then in surprise at how his father had called him. But there was nothing to be done, for at that moment the muscular giant lad took him by the arm and carried him down the corridor, while his father walked away in the opposite direction, chatting amiably with the behemoth that was Professor Garret.

BIG entered his office and sat down at the desk, although he hadn’t asked Archibald to enter, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

“So, Archibald Dunhan, that name doesn’t sound unfamiliar to me.” Commented the professor.

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name these days.” Archibald replied, accepting the name as if he had always used it.

“No, it’s not… Archibald, Archibald Dunhan, Archie, Archie Dunhan! But of course! Wall Archie! You could have been a legend at Arsenal, material for the England team, if it weren’t for that nasty injury in that game against Manchester City; but from what I know, your career as a player agent isn’t going too badly.”

“I… I think you’re confusing me with someone.” Archibald timidly replied, still standing at the door. Just the idea of thinking of himself as a former footballer was hilarious. Although he was indeed a die-hard Arsenal fan and risked a few matches with his mates on weekends. No, not that…

“No, I’m not mistaken; you were a leak-proof goalkeeper, you were a wall indeed, Archie; don’t let something that wasn’t your fault bring you down.”

“That accident ruined me, mate…” Archie found himself responding automatically. What the hell was he talking about?

“I know, but managing guys like Haaland and De Bruyne is also a success story. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Believe me, no one has ever accused me of being too humble!” Why would he say something like that???

“Then we’ve got the same problem!” replied Garret, bursting into laughter, and Archie joined in, unable to contain himself, stopping with a startled look only when the other man spoke to him again.

“What are you doing standing there, Archie? Come in, come in; we’ve got Duke’s future to discuss.”

Hearing that name stirred something in Archie; there was something very wrong with all of this, but then he took a step into the room, and everything changed. In a blur of movement and colour, his muscles expanded, height increased impressively, and fat seemed to evaporate from his body. When he stopped smiling in front of the other man, any trace of humility or shame had left his body. He was one of the most successful sports agents in the country; there was no reason to worry about that sort of thing.

“BIG, you’ve got 5 minutes to convince me to bring my son to this school, mate.”

“Archie, you know me you wanker; I can do it in three.”

….

“Take a seat, chubby; I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Said the muscular black lad to Duncan, although he clearly was already doing that. The moment Duncan’s dad and the teacher left their line of sight, Farrel dropped the politeness, throwing aside all false pleasantries, revealing himself to be exactly the type of person Duncan believed and feared he would be. He didn’t show anything Duncan might find relevant about the school’s facilities, leading the lad through some of the many sports facilities on site. They had courts for all sorts of sports imaginable, gym equipment, swimming pools, running tracks, and even a complete weightlifting gym. After the exhausting tour of Jockland, they finally arrived at the spacious and luxuriously furnished room where they were.

“I’d rather stand, thanks.” Duncan said, approaching the window of the room, which overlooked the well-kept football pitch of the institution.

“You know best, but carrying all that weight can’t be good for your knees.” Farrel commented venomously, as he took off the top part of the school uniform with no ceremony and flopped down on the sofa in the room. “But that won’t last long; BIG will have you sweating off all that flab in no time.”

“I wish you’d stop making comments about my body.”

“When you’ve got the physique of a real man, I’ll stop, chubby. And trust me, you will; in no time, no one will recognise you, not even you.”

“I’m fine as I am; I don’t intend to change anything.”

“As if anyone here gives a toss about what you think, lad. I repeat, soon you’ll be one of the lads at Lionheart and won’t even remember the wimp you are now. And even if you did, you’d be ashamed of what you let this society do to you.”

“I won’t let myself change; you can do what you want with me, humiliate me, torture me; I won’t change.” Duncan replied, feeling an uncharacteristic rage and turning from the window, seeing for the first time Farrel’s bare chest, which made him blush deeply, while the other lad shot him an intrigued look.

“Seeing something you like, chubby? You a queer or something? Not that I have a problem with it; It’s an all boys school after all, and the lads have their needs. Besides I know what my body does to others." He said, flexing his powerful muscles as if he was at some kind of obscene show, which made Duncan look back at the window, only turning around when the other spoke again, hitting the target this time."No, no… it’s a different kind of desire, isn’t it? Ever thought about having a body like this? Ever wished for muscles like these?” He conclude, looking distracted for a moment, as if he were reliving an old memory.

“I don’t need that; I’ve got my mind, and it’s more powerful than any bulging muscle.”

“Loooser! I wish I could record this and show it to my new bro when he comes out of you; it’ll surely make him die of embarrassment.”

“I… what?”

“You know where we are, Duke? At the headquarters of one of the Lionheart clubs, my club; not just anyone gets in here, but I decided you’d be one of the lucky ones. I’m the captain of the rugby team and would love to have you with us, but the boss has other plans. Speaking of which, you know what’s even more curious? The club is located exactly one floor above Coach BIG’s office. An office that has a direct exit to the football pitch. That exit, I believe, must have been used quite recently, so while you’re at the window, tell me what you see.” Farrel asked, his eyes sparkling and his voice filled with an uncontrollable mix of eagerness and excitement.

Without really knowing why he was obeying the other lad, Duncan looked outside, initially seeing nothing of note, but then his gaze landed on the pitch, and what he saw shocked him. Professor Garrett, who at that moment should have been with Duncan’s father, was walking across the pitch, bare-chested and laughing animatedly with a blonde man who was just as monstrous and muscular as he was. But if Garret was there, where was Alexand… Archibald?

“I don’t get it? Where’s my dad?”

“With all that talk about intellect, I thought you’d be smarter, Duke.”

“My name isn’t…”

“Duke!” Duncan read the lips of the gigantic blond man more than he heard him speak as he waved vigorously, beckoning him to join him and Garret on the pitch. Why would a complete stranger act that way? Unless… unless he wasn’t a complete stranger.

“No… it’s impossible…”

“Finally, you got it, chubby, although I think this will be the last time I can call you that.”

“No… dad?” Duncan asked, although the man who continued to wave excitedly couldn’t hear him. “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, old BIG has a thing for The gentlemen’s sport; even though he’s never been a pro himself. I’d say we’d put you on my team, and that would be that. But for a former pro rugby player, he doesn’t value us much. He says nothing gets as much visibility as football, and our team is about to lose the captain to a contract, and we still don’t have a worthy replacement. Plus, the old rogue managed to create a connection with someone who can get him the best seats at the games.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand, Duke; you just need to accept.”

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this…”

“Duke?”

“What!?! He screamed back, enraged in response.

“Come over here, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, mate!”

“Of course you are; you’re my little bro; me and Ash were looking forward to finally having our little brother with us! Farrel, Duke, and Ashton, best mates. FDA, like the American agency, and like them, we run the bloody show! F for a lot of food, D for drugs to grow and an A for, shit what is the A again? Let it be A for awesome because that's what we are, mate!"

“I…”

“Think about it, Duke; you want to make your dad proud.”

“Yes…” he replied, shivering at hearing that.

“Then get your arse off that window and come with me to meet him; for you, I’d even play a match of football just to see the old geezers eat dust.”

“Haha, I want to see you try to score on my dad, F! The bloke’s a wall; not that he can stop his son from scoring.”

“That’s what I want to see; let’s go, then.” Farrel insisted, and Duke finally took a step back and went to meet his fate. In an instant, the fat seemed to be sucked from his body as his muscles expanded into a strong and toned physique, far from the giant muscle mass of Farrel or his father after the forced retirement and years dedicated to bodybuilding. A slim and strong body, except for the long, powerful legs with thighs capable of exploding a watermelon if it were squeezed between them. His unkempt hair giving way to a well-groomed cut, the sad, chubby face transforming into a beautiful, almost angelic face, but still unable to completely hide the mischief within him, easily identified by the cheeky smile playing on his lips at that moment.

“Don’t know why you’re so excited, bro; with that size, dribbling you will be the easiest thing in the world.”

“Watch what you say, scrawny boy.”

“This is definition, something a ogre like you will never know what it is.”

“Come talk about agility when you compete with me in rugby.”

“And why would I stuff myself into a game with a bunch of lard arses?”

“Who are you calling fat, punk?”

“Not me, your body mass index.”

“You’re getting quite cheeky there, lad. I want to see you crack jokes on the pitch.” Farrel replied with false irritation.

“When I get past you, you won’t even notice, chubby!”

….

Aaryan Patel was absolutely fuming; he had no idea why his boss at the Independent Herald had sent him from London to that conservative hellhole that Daffodil Meadow had become. And to top it all off, he was heading straight to the epicentre of that rubbish, the King Richard Institute for Boys, aka Lionheart School. A place he had written a series of scathing articles about in recent months, which didn’t mean he wanted to walk into the lion’s den, especially when it was the lion himself who had sent the invitation. But his editor insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and now here he was, walking purposefully along the edge of the grass on the school’s grand football pitch towards Director Johnson, who was at that moment in one of the few empty stands. Apparently, it was a tradition for the school and the surrounding villages to gather every evening to watch some sort of competition from the different teams, and today it was a football match. What didn’t make sense was the question Aaryan kept asking himself: why the hell did Henderson Johnson make him walk across the pitch where the students were parading around with their muscular bodies on display while the school staff prepared everything for the match?

As Aaryan made his way to his destination, he passed two muscular black blokes wearing the infamous light blue polo shirt of the sports team, one of whom was much bigger than the other. The one he wanted to take down the most. However, when the larger man glanced at Aaryan as he walked towards the nearest entrance to the stands, the lad who considered himself a brave man felt his knees go weak. Feeling angry with himself as he watched the two lugs burst into laughter, Aaryan quickened his pace and climbed the stands to meet Director Johnson.

“Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person after reading the rather vehement words you used to describe me, my school, and my students.” The man said with a threatening smile. But Aaryan wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated; he was indeed brave, and although he was much leaner than the brute, he wasn’t a total wimp; he could handle whatever the other bloke had to throw at him. And any words spoken would receive an appropriate response from his sharp mind.

“Vehement is an appropriate but incomplete description of what I have to say about this place, Director Johnson. And that description could also be applied to the behaviour of the people here, although belligerent might be a more fitting term.”

“And you know a thing or two about belligerence, don’t you? Big guy like you? Bet you’ve had your fair share of scraps, haven’t you, Aaron?”

“The name’s Aaryan! And I prefer to fight with words.”

“Ha, I knew there was a fighter in you; I never miss.” The man commented as if Aaryan's response had been completely different, leaving the journalist confused for a moment. Quickly shaking off that momentary confusion, he turned back to the giant blonde.

“So, Director Johnson, what’s the purpose of summoning me here? And summon is the right word; my editor informed me that you pressured him quite insistently and intimidatingly, I should add.”

“Right, lad, I just wanted you to see for yourself what it’s really like here, what you’ve been so harsh about. You might not realise it, but what you write affects people’s lives, people I care about; my staff and my students.”

“Forgive me, Director Johnson, but the actions of those people you care about affect many others’ lives.”

“You paint us as monsters, Aaron, but do what I asked you: roam about, chat with my students and teachers; there’s one teacher in particular who’s quite eager to have a word with you.” The director said, smiling and nodding towards the pitch where Blake Garrett was watching closely as Zeke Hastings paced back and forth, correcting both teams’ players’ positions.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of talking to that man. Forgetting to correct the misuse of his name, he responded to the director.

“Alright, I’ll do that, but I don’t think anything will change my mind. I’m sure the teachers are lost causes by now and the students are probably already conditioned to the behaviours taught here.”

“We’re not a cult, Aaron, but if you want a fresh opinion, why not have a chat with the centre-forward for the black team? The blonde lad in number 9. Duke has been at the school for less than a week; see what he has to say after the game.”

“I know how to identify a centre-forward, thanks! And I think I’ll do just that; cheers!” replied the journalist, who until a few minutes ago certainly couldn’t identify any positions.

After chatting with some students and teachers who repeated the same toxic spiel about masculine values, manliness, and the rightful place a man should occupy in society, Aaryan felt drained. Coming here had certainly been a bad idea. He thought about leaving and writing another scathing article about the evils of that place. However, he realised that the game had finally come to an end when he saw the blonde centre-forward walking to the edge of the pitch, opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig that practically emptied the bottle in one gulp. As Aaryan approached him, the lad poured the remaining water over his sweaty hair, then shook it off vigorously just as Aaryan reached him.

“Good afternoon, lad; my name’s Aaryan Patel, Director Johnson told me I could have a word with you.” He said, moving closer to the lad and using an authoritative figure as a reference to ensure the lad paid attention; he had dealt with many of those arrogant lads in the past couple of hours to give the kid a chance to mock him or simply ignore him.

“Eh?” The lad huffed, flexing his muscles and shaking the soaked t-shirt. This was pretty much the expected behaviour from any football player giving an interview after an hour and a half of strenuous exercise. What Aaryan, as any good fan of the game, should have remembered. So he repeated the information to the lad.

“My name’s Aaryan and you’re Duke, right? I want to ask you a few things about the school.”

“Sure, mate.” The lad replied, looking more awake after taking off his shirt and showing off his powerful physique, even though it was clear that not much was going on upstairs. This diminished Aaryan’s hopes of getting any productive conversation, as it was obvious the lad belonged there. Still, he decided to press on; when in Rome…

“So, what do you think of the school? Settling in well?”

“Aaron, mate, this place is brilliant! I begged for nearly two years to come here, but my dad thought I’d have better chances of getting signed if I kept training in a bigger city. It was only when Coach BIG took over the sports department that he was convinced.”

“Um… just out of curiosity, who’s your dad?”

“Haha, as if you don’t know who he is, Aaron, mate! I’m not some little kid to fall for your tricks.” The lad replied, giving a thumbs up.

“What are you on about?” Aary… Aaron asked, confused. But then something worse happened; the lad turned to the middle of the pitch where his teammates were milling about, shirtless, chatting and joking under the watchful eye of the coach, who was in turn under the direct supervision of the head of the sports department, the infamous BIG, who was precisely the person the lad was addressing.

“Oi, Coach BIG! Come meet my mate, Aaron.” And to Aaron’s horror, the man who instilled all his primal fears turned to him, serious for being interrupted, but soon a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Strutting towards the two with all the arrogance in the world, looking at Aaron with the same gaze a lion gives to a gazelle before it attacks, making Aaron’s knees tremble… but why? He should respect the bloke, of course… but no matter how big he was, Aaron could handle him… how? Certainly not with words… hey… what was he thinking here? What intrusive thoughts were those? However, he had no time to fight against those ideas so contrary to his essence because at that moment, the coach was standing before him, eclipsing everything else with his immense physical presence.

“Aaryan Patel, the man of the moment! You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you!”

“It’s Aaron… sir.” He added. The respect for the figure of coaches ingrained in him wouldn’t allow him to respond any other way. But why so much respect?

“When young Duke told me he knew you, I couldn’t resist the idea of bringing him here. But where exactly do you two know each other from?”

“Eh… what?” He had just met the lad, right? But then where did the memories of him teaching the kid fighting positions come from? Fighting? What fighting? In the midst of his confusion, it was Duke who answered.

“It’s my dad’s agency that looks after Aaron’s career, coach. In fact, he’s been following Aaron from the beginning; he’s spent more time at our house than at his own over the last few years.”

“Oh, of course. A cunning man like Archie wouldn’t let a talent like that slip through his fingers.” Agency, what agency? Big-name journalists needed agents, but a rookie like Aaron… mate, in his world, even rookies needed a decent agent; it was the difference between a million-dollar career and retirement in the gutter, and Wall Archie was the best; after all, he had experienced firsthand how cruel that world could be. Yeah, the world was a cruel place, and it was his duty to expose those ills… No, not that, what he needed to do was fight… yes, fight for improvements in society… mate, society was what it was and that was that… in this life, you either lose or win, and Aaron Blink Patel, rising star of the heavyweight MMA scene, was born to win. He earned the nickname for the short time he needed to take down opponents. Which was almost the same amount of time he dedicated to interviews with journalists. He didn’t need many words in his life, being known for keeping his opinion to himself, aware of what the media vultures could do to his career. The only time he expressed his opinions was when he was with his friends, when he let out all the intensity inside him, in conversations filled with cheeky banter and heated praises of masculinity in today’s world. And if there was someone who was the ultimate representation of masculinity, it was Aaron Fucking Blink Patel!

“No… no…”

“Aaron, mate, it’s all good?”

“Of course it is, Duke; it’s just the fighter inside him manifesting, but now it’s just a matter of a blink and it’ll all be sorted.” Coach BIG commented.

“Just a blink…” Aaron grumbled, and then… blink… and… his toned, lean torso expanded like a flower blooming, if flowers were made of huge, protruding muscles and their scent was an animalistic musk, with a touch of spices that didn’t go unnoticed even in that place full of sweaty young men… blink … and his legs exploded in size and power needed to crush opponents… blink… and the years dedicated to reading and research evaporated, replaced by training in jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai… blink… and all the pent-up rage inside him flowed out in flowery words in sharp texts, concentrating in the massive paws that were his fists and feet… wink… and Aaron Blink Patel found himself smiling at the man and the lad before him, an image seen only by those the fighter deemed worthy. But he’d known Duke since he was younger than the kid, and after hearing the glowing praise he gave about his new coach, the man earned Aaron’s respect without needing to lift a finger.

“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?”

“You can call me Coach BIG; Aaron is what everyone calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, causing Duke to burst into laughter.

“You’re a lost cause, mate.”

“Actually, I think Aaron is a great example to follow; I wish my rowdy students had his level of respect.” Coach BIG commented, his voice cutting, making the lad’s smile fade instantly. “By the way, after I speak to the team, I’d love for you to have a word with those rascals, Aaron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a motivational speech to give. Duke, keep him company while I’m at it.”

“Yes, coach, sir.”

“See? Just your presence has instilled some respect in this cheeky little sod.” The coach commented before returning to the pitch to address the teams.

“Could you not be such a teacher’s pet, mate?”

“I only got where I am because I respected my coaches and your dad; authority figures are there to be respected. Don’t you want to be captain of the team? Don’t you want to be a pro one day? You could already be playing for a real team if you had a bit more discipline since talent isn’t lacking. Take advantage of that man.” He said, pointing to the coach who was animatedly giving a speech. “BIG is a legend, a legend capable of making other legends; it was a scandal to find out a man like him had moved to the States, but the results he achieved with Dalton’s teams speak for themselves. And he brought in fucking Zeke Hastings to train you lot, and your dad to manage those of you who are truly capable of going pro. So yes, listen to what your coaches have to say; you may think it’s just theatre, but it’s the attitude that separates the men from the boys.” Aaron finished, flexing his powerful muscles to the point where the polo shirt he was wearing ripped under his arms.

“Wow, mate! That’s wicked! You’re a beast!” Duke said with such genuine admiration that Aaron couldn’t help but smile and repeat the feat, tearing his shirt even more before returning to a serious demeanor and looking at the younger lad.

“And you know how I became who I am today, little brother? By listening to all the shite my coaches had to say to me!” He said, pointing in the direction of Coach BIG, who was just finishing his speech, raising his voice so that everyone on the pitch and in the stands could hear him easily.

“… because this society wants to diminish you, weaken you. They want you to believe that being a man is wrong, that being what we were born to be is a shame. But they don’t know the power you carry with you, the influence you possess; many of you will be professional athletes, some already are. You’ll be seen around the world, admired, able to inspire, capable of making our brothers, hounded by our enemies, react, and more than that, you can make some of those enemies see the mistakes they’ve made and bring them back to the right path, and for those who insist on their mistakes, you’ll be able to hit them where it hurts most, where they’ve been hitting us for years, and I’m talking about their children; You will shape and save them because you have the power to correct what’s wrong in this generation, then in they do same with the next. The truth is men, and never forget it, you have power! And we’ll use it to secure a better, brighter future!

#male tf #jockification #mental transformation #corruption #race change #reality change #mind change #musclegrowth

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poppy-s-rampage · 5 months ago

Text

Once a Hero.

Chapter 1: Too late!

Warnings: Blood, Gore and violence. You can't sue me now!

‐-------------------------

Prologue| Masterpost| Chapter 2!

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

The Master of time leaned over the unmoving form of his young protegee, forceps needle and thread in hands. The old ghost deftly redid the stitches on the youngest torso. Slowly but surely closing the jagged ‘Y’ shaped wound shut.

‘How did it come to this?’

All it took was one minute of inattention for the young Halfa's timeline to be put in jeopardy. In a single moment of inattention, Daniel’s timeline tangled with another stray unstable one and merged. By the time Clockwork noticed, the timelines were already fused to the point of no return. Reality wrapped to fit the new Frankenstein series of events. So he did what he could, snip at some parts, and twist at others to make it so his protegee could have a chance of survival and still having a goodish timeline.

The gaping wound now finally shut, the old ghost went to treat the boy’s muzzle cuts and throat. The apparatus, when destroyed by the wail, had split open the right cheek’s flesh from the corner of the Halfas mouth, carving a morbid half smile. The boy’s tongue was bloody but could still be salvaged with diluted ectoplasm. The real problem was the throat; it was impossible to currently heal to a usable level with the concentration of ectoplasm he could safely use on Danny.

He was no Frostbite, but he was more than capable of putting back together the young ghost in a Time out. Daniel was too unstable to stay in the infinite realms, his core still too raw for pure Ecto. It would be like feeding a 10-year comatose patient a buffet after being kept alive via IV, transfer the concept to a fragilized and forcefully balanced core, and you get the idea. It was also a way to better realize the consequences of his mistake. But not to apologize, nothing would ever be enough to fix what Daniel had endured.

Clockwork stopped believing in apologies an eternity ago.

It all had happened so fast, Phantom had no chance of changing the course of events. Ironically, the current timeline was the best possible outcome after the incident.

While his protegee’s original timeline’s parents would have been accepting of his heritage, the ones of the intruding unstable timeline were not. ‘Monsters’ would have been too kind of a word to describe them. Curiosity plagued individuals who could have given Dan a run for his money. The origin of a world’s collapse, the cause of too many deaths, terrifying geniuses with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and slaves of their obsessions. Even their children didn’t hold enough value for them to spare.

Thankfully, this world didn’t come to that and was still salvageable. Unfortunately, too many people have already lost their lives and existence to his mistake.

It had been like any tranquil day in young Daniel's life. He woke up groggy after a night of patrolling, went to school, hung out with his friends, patrolled a bit, saved a few weaker ghosts, stopped a few accidents and then went back home. The young Halfa had planned to finally reveal his identity to his parents- with no little insistence and encouragement from his sister and the reassurance of the previous Freakshow happenings. (He, of course, delayed the moment as much as he could.)

Of course, Clockwork had already watched and analyzed all the possible futures caused by this decision. He had assured Danny that no harm would befall him.

And since every possible happening was in Daniel’s favor, the ghost of time left the timeline out of his watch in favor of fixing yet another mess the Speedster’s had caused.

Seriously, what kind of mentally challenged troglodyte would erase an entire timeline to enjoy a cheap burger in loop instead of buying another!

*Crack*

The forceps broke in his hand. The Ancient summoned another one. Moving to stitch the lacerations on his king’s arms and legs.

It had, sadly, taken a while for the Master of Time to fix the Flash themed issues. It then took him an even longer while to salvage the tangled mess of timelines. He was far too late to save Danny’s loved ones. Humans, even Liminals, were fragile.

—-------------------

The reveal had gone well at first, Jack and Maddie had accepted their son’s new nature. But then the timelines merged, the Fenton parents became one with their alternates and the world was set ablaze.

The youngest Fenton was promptly drugged and knocked out, only to wake up on a dissection table. His parents and a few GIW agents circling him, tools in hand. The hours, maybe days, Daniel spent in these creatures’ grasps were a nightmare made real.

His sister and friends tried to free him, only to be captured and fall victim to the same fate. Amity Park’s younger population mutinied against the agency and scientists but quickly got shut down. Brutally. The city was deemed a lost cause and put on lock down. The elder Fentons and the GIW galvanized by their success, went after every single being standing in their way in the name of science and self-defense.

It was too much for the young Halfa. His every waking moment being haunted by monsters wearing the skin of people he used to know and love. To hear the same people who raised and loved him gloating at the harm they caused his fraid. At the harm they caused him, vindictive. Every ounce of strength Danny had went into figuring out a way to save what he had left. But alas, he was too late.

Everything culminated the moment the agents and his parents reentered the room for the how manyth time. Their make believe faces fixed into a cruel smirk, smiles too wide, eyes too bright and too many teeth. Were the ghosts truly the monsters ?

Black opaque bags were dragged into the room next. A dreadful foreboding feeling caressed his spine. It was different. What were they planning?! What did they do?!

Panic seized the Halfa’s heart, hair standing on end. Eyes wide and pupils dilating as he noticed the strong smell of copper permeating from the bags. His restrained limbs shaking at the realization of the truth he oh so wanted to deny.

The monsters kept talking, taunting and accusing him of something. Blaming him. But he didn’t ‘hear’ them over his ever rising dread.

They opened the bags and his world came crashing down.

Three lifeless barely recognizable corpses. Chest opened in a bloody imitation of a butterfly. Missing limbs and organs. An innumerable number of lacerations. All indicators of a painful and slow death. But yet their eyes remained closed into acceptance and welcoming the relief of death.

He wailed.

Despite the muzzle, despite his already severed vocal cords. The wail coming from his very core blasted everything in his surroundings. The muzzle shattered, the monsters vaporized into a red mist and the walls became debris.

The building shook. The creatures in human skin panicked trying desperately to flee the premise but they were too late.

The latest experimental portal meant to be mass produced by the GIW resonated with the Wail and destabilized. The explosion that followed erased the facility and its surroundings and triggered the original Fenton portal which in turn wiped the city above off the maps.

Every single being died. The GIW agents, the Fentons, the citizens and some of the weaker ghosts. The stronger Phantom rogues weren’t even in the range or succeeded in escaping. The Fentons and GIW were still ‘thankfully’ useless when it came to capturing them.

And then there was Phantom.

Unfortunately or fortunately for him.

Forever the exception.

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

Prologue| Masterpost| Chapter 2!

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

Author note:

Hello! Thank you for reading! This time I didn't write this at 3 am!

I wrote it at 5am! Insomnia says what?

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propheticclown · 3 months ago

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As much as I love Homestuck and praise it for the character writing. I have to say... (TW: rant) (Spoilers for Homestuck Act 5 Act 2 and beyond) FUCK YOU HUSSIE WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS FOR YOU PIECE OF SHIT HE DID NOT DESERVE THAT YOU MOTHERFUCKER

NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I EVER SEEN A CHARACTER WITH SUCH AMAZING POTENTIAL GET WIPED AWAY SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU CONSIDERED HIM A "JOKE CHARACTER" WHAT THE FUUUUUUCK!?!??!!??!??! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE LIMITLESS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT POTENTIAL EQUIUS HAD YOU HALF-BAKED OVER SEASONED FUCK OF AN AUTHOR?!!?!?!? DO YOU EVEN HAVE THE COGNITIVE ABILITY TO UNDERSTAND HOW GREATLY YOU FUMBLED THIS BAG!?!?!?!? DOES YOUR KITCHEN SHELF-LEVEL IQ EVEN COMPREHEND THE MISTAKE YOU MADE WHEN YOU DECIDED TO DO THIS?!?!!? EQUIUS' STORY COULD'VE BEEN FUCKING AWESOME!!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW INTERESTING HE WAS!?!?!? HE COULD'VE LEARNED THAT THE HEMOSPECTRUM IS BULL AND FULLY APPRECIATED THE PEOPLE AROUND HIM?!!?!!? HE EVEN COULD'VE BEEN ANOTHER POTENTIALLY INCREDIBLE VOID PLAYER!!! ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING HE'S A FUCKING HEIR OF VOID!!! "HOW DOES HE INHERIT VOID?!?!?! GREAT QUESTION!!! TOO BAD YOU'LL NEVER FIND OUT BECAUSE HE ONLY HAS TWO BIG PARTS OF THE STORY AND ONE OF THEM IS HIS LITERAL FUCKING DEATH!!!" I COULD EXCUSE IT IF IT GAVE WAY FOR SOME CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT BUT GUESS FUCKING WHAT?! YOU FUMBLED THE BAG TWICE!!!

BECAUSE YOU KILLED THE ONE PERSON THAT WOULD'VE ACTIVALLY BEEN AFFECTED BY EQUIUS' DEATH YOU UTTER NINCOMPOOP!!! IT'S LIKE YOU GOT POSSESSED BY A FUCKING TROGLODYTE THE SECOND YOU STARTED WRITING THIS PART!!! NEPETA COULD'VE GONE THROUGH A SERIOUSLY AMAZING ARC ABOUT EQUIUS' DEATH AND WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A ROUGE OF HEART!!! IT WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU AND YOU MUST HAVE WORSE EYESIGHT THAN I DO BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T SEE IT!!! AND YOU KNOW WHAT'S FUCKING CRAZIER?!?!?! THE THIRD AND FINAL FUMBLE!!!

YOU GAVE JOHN THE ABILITY TO LITERALLY BRING PEOPLE BACK FROM THE DEAD!!! AND YOU ONLY BROUGHT BACK VRISKA?!?!?!??! THE ONLY TROLL THAT ACTIVALLY HAS BEEN SHOWN TO BE A PROBLEM?!?!?! YOU DIDN'T BRING BACK FEFERI, EVEN THOUGH A STRIFE BETWEEN HER AND THE CONDENSE WOULD'VE BEEN PERFECT!!! YOU DIDN'T BRING BACK ERIDAN, EVEN THOUGH IT WAS FORSHADOWED THAT HE WAS GOING TO DEFEAT LORD ENGLISH, AS WELL AS HAVE BE MOIRAILS WITH KARKAT AND MATESPRITS WITH ROXY!!! YOU DIDN'T BRING BACK TAVROS, EVEN THOUGH HALF OF GAMZEE'S PROBLEMS WOULDN'T EVEN EXIST AND IT WOULD'VE MADE FOR A GREAT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT FOR BOTH OF THEM!!! AND YOU DIDN'T BRING BACK THE TWO CHARACTERS WHO WOULD'VE HAD SOME OF THE BEST POTENTIAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE ENTIRE SERIES, EQUIUS AND NEPETA!!!! AAHGHGHGH!!! ACT 6 WAS SUCH A GIANT BALL DROP ON EVERYTHING YOU SET UP FOR THE TROLLS!!! SO MUCH NOTHING HAPPENED!!! IT'S LIKE YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT VRISKA, WHICH IS PROBABLY THE CASE CONSIDERING YOUR SELF-INSERT TRIES TO GET WITH HER MULTIPLE TIMES, EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS DEAD AND LITERALLY FUCKING 13 YEARS OLD?!!?!?! I HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE BEEN THIS LIVID OVER SOMETHING SO GLARINGLY OBVIOUS!!! IT'S LIKE YOU'RE BEING WILLINGLY OBTUSE!!! UUUUUGHGHGHUGHHGG!!!!!!! I SWEAR STUFF LIKE THIS MAKES ME FEEL LIKE A LIGHT PLAYER!!!

#homestuck #beta trolls #equius zahhak #nepeta leijon #rant #tw: rant #FUCK YOU ANDREW HUSSIE!!!#I HATE YOU!!!#AHHHHH #meowrails #gamzee makara #murderstuck #YOU'RE A MORON #AHHHHHHHHH #horse #honse

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christinebloodwrittings · 5 months ago

Note

Please, could I make my request... Angel! Leito and Alastor having a secret relationship... The reader always comes on the day of the extermination to get together with Alastor again. Maybe in life Alastor and the reader were married, but the reader didn't know Alastor's secret that took him to hell, of course that's why she fought with him, but as time went by, the reader missed Alastor and after a long time reader forgave him (and maybe Alastor being manipulative and cute with his deer appearance).. But now reader always comes to hell to spend time in hiding with her husband...

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader Summary: Until death do us apart wasn't enough of an oath for Alastor, but after certain miscommunications, it was harder and harder to remain attached to it. Warning: Mentions of cheating, other than that, none.

(Also, I forgot the Angel bit, so they were married in life. And what the blazes is "Leito"?)

The clock on the wall showed five minutes to midnight. In time with the sound of its hands, Alastor tapped against the leg of his chair, impatient. "We had an agreement, where is she?" he asked his shadow, but since he didn’t knew more than his master, he only could shrug.

Alastor's patience was wearing thin by the minute. He continue to stare at the clock as if that would press it to go slower or to make you show up faster. He considered fighting his way through the exorcists to reach the city, considering certain death if it meant putting you behind walls, where it was safe.

He didn't know why he was surprised, you were never the most punctual person in life, why did he think that would change after death? Although you had your ups and downs, the lack of your presence made him feel uncomfortable, as if termites were crawling through his body.

He would never admit that, not to your face. – Having said that, there were a lot of things he would bite his tongue to –.

“I’m sorry, everyone is trying to get to safety, it was almost impossible to walk by the clock” The door to his room burst open, and like a hurricane, you burst through and made yourself present, much to the delight – and relief – of the radio demon.

He thought about scolding you, as usual, but with the headache his impatience caused, he just didn't feel like it. You were with him, that was all he cared about.

He sighed, appearing in between shadows behind you to take your coat and hang it on the rack, “How was your week, dear?” he limited to ask, disregarding your tardiness, which was odd for you.

“Busy. Since your little argument, Vox has been making everyone’s lives miserable” There was a bit of resentment in your tone, since Alastor knew that you worked for the television man, and yet he went and bothered him without thinking about how that would affect you as Vox's co-assistant.

It's not that he was inconsiderate, he got carried away and still hasn't apologized, but of course, that wasn't the only reason why you were upset with him. But it sure didn’t help.

“It's not my fault he behaves like a troglodyte…Did he hurt you?" He, although tried not to let it be noticed, was looking for any sign that Vox was mistreating you, some would say just to have the excuse to punch him, and they’re right, but also to recover your soul.

“No, he just throws stuff around and short circuits, the usual” you let down your bag near the nightstand on the left side of the bed, facing the bayou. The one he only puts, along with the bed, when you come to him.

“You cut your hair” he noticed as soon as you took off your hat, “It was getting too long” you answered Alastor's attempts to make the situation less awkward, blatantly ignoring the elephant in the room, were a failure. You answered him what was just enough and necessary, with a dry tone and without the affection that you gave him before.

The side eye you gave him after each try, made him realize he would not hold on until extermination was done.

“Alright, dearest, when can we let it go?” he had enough composure as to ask firmly without sounding as tired as he was. “The day you apologize, or hell freezes over, whatever happens first” that felt as if you had hit him with a bat, “I have more faith in seeing snow around here, to be honest” and had struck another swing straight into his temper.

“If I apologize, will you go back to be my wife?” he raised his voice just a pinch, “If you can stomach killing your pride, I might as well” his jaw tensed, brows furrowed, he didn’t liked being challenged. “You say that as if I couldn’t” he heard you snicker while seating down on his bed, “We’ve been married for more than a century Alastor, and never once you said a fucking sorry to me” much for his own disappointment, it took him one look to his shadow to confirm your statement.

“You– Fine” he sighed, pressing one finger to his temple. “Y/n, love of my life, I’m sorry I never told you I am a cannibal and sorry you had to find out by the police statement when I died” you nodded so he continued, “I’m sorry I killed your ‘Mr. perfect prospect’ back in the day” he wasn’t exactly sorry, that man was in the way of him courting you, but for the sake of it he said it anyways.

“I’m sorry I put a hidden curse in our wedding vows that would make us find each other in the afterlife” you remember him saying weird stuff and then a mark appeared on your thigh after he died. A voodoo witch in the bayou told you it was a bonding rune, and that he had doomed you to hell, just because he was down there.

“I’m sorry I left you alone for seven years without telling you where I was going” addressing the matter hurt his pride deeply, because of that, Vox took advantage of your vulnerability to enslave you in his ‘technology work’ as he likes to put it. “Still not telling me?” the worst thing of his deal, he wasn’t allowed to speak of it, and by extension, he couldn’t explain his situation to you.

“You know if I could, I would” not knowing didn’t exactly ease your feeling of betrayal. “Do I?” your attitude started to get old very quickly, so he taunted, “Should I stop?” earning a sigh from you, “Go on”.

“I’m sorry we didn’t had a wedding night because I went out ‘to tie a loose end’” He laughed between his words, he definitely didn't regret killing that idiot at all, you knew it, but his absurd decision cost you your wedding night, and it wasn't even your fault.

“And by that you mean killing my ex-boyfriend” you clarified facts, arms crossed at the level of your chest. “Who abused you” he added, proud of his contribution, only to meet your not-so-fun expression, “That is not the point” and you were right, but he did said he was sorry, and he wasn’t going to repeat himself.

“Did I miss anything?” he obviously did, given the dirty and unamused look you shot at him, “Yeah, you forget the times you told me you were doing extra hours at the radio station, when in reality you were with that harlot at the speakeasy” and then she had the audacity to call you out in the groceries store, saying stuff like ‘you have to be a better woman for your man or you’ll lose him’.

Then the anxiety kicked in your door, following with elaborated outings, new recipes, even lingerie, but he still insisted on his time at the speakeasy.

“Don’t call Mimzy that” he sighed, pinching his nose. “Fine, Mimzy the whore who was screwing a married man” your voice broke mid-sentence, anger was a word that was just not enough to describe your feelings about the subject, it escalated every time he defended her.

“I never had sex with her, I just needed a drink!” a lame excuse for a bad situation, “I wanted to tell you, about everything, I just didn’t wanted you to hate me” that was rich coming from him, you thought.

With your hands rubbing against the sides of your neck you tried your best to keep calm, not really working, but tried. “I don’t exactly know how you expected me to react” you exasperated, walking up to the limit of the bayou and then turned on your heels, “So my husband is a psychotic maniac, who enjoys killing and eating people, yeah that’s a thrilling piece of news” you probably wouldn’t reacted as harshly, being afraid to die and all that jazz, but since he doomed you to hell, and your contract guaranteed your safety, you didn’t care.

“Have I ever treated you wrong?” he asked, making you almost could hear your blood boil, “You mean besides the lying and cheating?” He scoffed, re adjusting his monocle. “I admit that I lied, but I was never unfaithful to you” His mother would have hit him with a wooden spoon or the coal poker for saying that, she knew it as soon as she saw how the color in your cheeks increased in intensity just like your tone of voice.

“Alastor, spending the night with another woman while having a wife is the very definition of cheating!” and then it was the same things you told him, “And while you were out there, I was in that house, living above the freezer full of bodies” and then how he made you feel, “You made me feel horrible, you made me question if I was doing something wrong, I spent many years harboring those thoughts”.

He knew your speech by heart already. He could recite it on a broadcast, but he knew you would throw him a rock later.

“I’m sorry” he then said, what else was going to help, really?

You rolled your eyes at him, a sorry wasn't going to cut it. And since you were clearing things up, “They caught the man that killed you. You were his first, so they let him go with a tap on the wrist” he was so damned annoyed by the fact that he was killed by a newbie hunter who mistook him for a deer, but he couldn’t give a rat’s ass at the moment.

“He’s probably here anyway” you chuckled in response, “I sure hope so, I put him here” if a needle were dropped, given the tense silence, it would’ve sounded like a thunder.

“Huh, so you kill someone and it’s fine, but I do it and suddenly I’m the psychotic one” he suddenly was talking exactly as his mother, in his head the words ‘Oh god, I’m turning into my mother’ were used.

“Yes, because you hunt people for fun. That guy broke into our house, Alastor, I acted in self-defense” the image itself brought his antlers to grow in size and his eyes to turn black, “How come I’m just hearing of this?” true, you never told him, but there was a lot of things he didn’t told you, and also: “Because I didn’t wanted you to run out on me again” was that reason that played in your head a million times, because of your wedding night.

He fell silent. His antlers and eyes went normal as he sat on his chair, rubbing his scalp with one hand and tapping against the armchair with the other.

“Until death do us apart, was it?” he thought out loud, recalling his wedding day.

It was summer. There were lots of flowers, which you had struggled to find. The aisle was decorated with a white cloth over the soft grass, marigold petals on it, ‘yellow for good luck’ you said.

He had noticed the combination of details that described the relationship you had, little wooden details in the shape of animals, both of your favorite foods and the music, even the soundtrack when you appeared at the end of the path to the altar was perfect, the song that was playing on the radio in the cafeteria where he met you.

“Contemplating a divorce now?” Alastor smiled to himself, never in a million years would he even entertain the thought.

“Au contraire, dearest” he got up, walked rather happy with himself and swoon you around, his hand taking you by your hip, and the other on your cheek. “How about we renovate our vows? No spells this time”, his nose was touching yours. You gave it a thought, it was enticing, yet not going to make you less mad at him.

“So you can lie and cheat all over again?” he hummed a no, “I want to rectify everything, years of lies and pain, and give you a proper marriage” he nuzzled his face in your neck, knowing you find that cute, even more so with his fluffy ears.

“I would like the magic anyhow, to ensure you never lie to me again, otherwise, no” he felt himself anew, like the boy he was when he set his eyes on you.

“Deal” he said without a single second to spare, “Is there anything else left to be addressed?” he added, eager to have some wounds left to heal.

“Do you even love me still?” he pressed you closer, your chest flushed against his warmth. Lips painfully away, so close yet so far, just as he wanted you to hear some words he had been brewing since the first fight, and the first time you questioned his love.

"You are the only anchor I have that keeps me sane. Without you it's like I’m breathing acid, it only improves the one night a year you spend with me during the extermination, then, I’m left alone and cold to count the days again” he was aware of how he spoke to you when you found out about what happened with Adam, he handled it poorly, but in his turmoil of insanity, he needed you to tell him that everything was going to be alright.

“You are my heart, my life. I would gladly burn Hell if that could persuade you to forgive me” His voice broke in static and a crackle of truth. He craved your touch, your breath on his neck, your little morning giggles, the sound of your heart pounding faster in your chest whenever he kissed you.

“But if you need an answer, yes Y/n, I love you” he could watch you smile every day for the rest of his existence, just like you were when he finally uttered the words. “You cheesy old geezer” you hugged him closer, not losing the opportunity to touch his little tail. “I’m your cheesy geezer” he presented his left hand, taking off the black glove with his teeth, “Forever” proudly showed you that he still wore the ring.

“So, to confirm, you want me because you love me or you just want control over me?” your last question made him think. He could say it was a matter of love, like he just did, but he decided to be a goof about it. “To put it simple darling, if I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t put up with your attitude” you gasped in fake offence, “Granted, but ouch” he kissed your cheek with a chuckle.

The sound of screams and carnage drifted through the bayou spell into Alastor's room. With a nod and a flash of green he looked out the window, the horror continuing unabated. “Looks like they will be at it for a while” he softly let go of you, reluctantly so, then he made the window go away.

“I hope so, they announced acid rain for today” Alastor laughed, he's always known you're an introverted sadist, and he loved that. It made his stomach feel tingly.

“Will you stay this time?” He asked with a little bit of hope. The arrangement didn't specify whether you were staying the night with him or not. Because of the fight, you had decided not to be with him for a single second longer than necessary.

But now he had apologized.

His hand took yours, pulling you gently towards himself. When he had you in his arms, sat on his thigh, he took a moment to appreciate the subtle amount of makeup you added for work, and the little necklace he gifted you, which held your ring on the silver chain.

“I thought you had threw it away” he took it in between his claws, observing it was well preserved. “I wanted to, but then I remembered how hard you worked to pay me a proper ring, I felt guilty” if it weren’t for his restraints, his smile would fall to a less pronounced grin. “Thank you, ma chérie” he nuzzled his head again in your neck, this time with your arms around his shoulders, gently enjoying a pleasure no one else in hell could have.

Petting Alastor’s ears and tail.

He's killed for lesser, and more subtle, put-downs of his image, so you wouldn't use the word cute in front of him, though he'd begrudgingly let it slide once or twice, if it’s you. However, and he may never say it out loud, he loves the little giggle you make when you see that your ministrations make his tail wag happily.

After a brief dinner he had made beforehand, hoping that you would say yes to stay, he handed you the silky pajamas you left last time.

"Let me help you" you thought his radio host skills were so annoying sometimes, he could use a single tone of voice for a thousand meanings, and he intoned that simple phrase like the best seducer in hell, while unbuttoning your dress, one button at a time.

His breath felt warm against the bare skin of your shoulder, he was breathing in the perfume you had spritzed earlier, a citrus scent you enjoyed. He could recognize that smell easily, it helped him during his misfortune with Adam, for comfort.

“You’re so warm” he parted your dress with his hands, letting it pool at your ancles while he roamed your skin, his chest pressed against your back. “You don’t get to be sexy with me, sir, you’re injured” you watched his performance at work, on the worker’s lounge Tv. Angry that he didn’t left a single note for you to find if he died. He didn’t think he would get hurt in battle, so a note wasn’t in his thoughts at all.

“I can take it” he purred, paying no mind to the pain in his chest at all. “The hell you will, let me change your bandages, and if you don’t fuzz you might get a kiss” you grabbed the coat he had discarded on the edge of the bed, placed it on your shoulders and then turned to see him.

He had a breath stuck in his lungs for a while now, but when he saw you, with no anger in your eyes, he let it go. His smile looked a lot less forced, and all his menacing features, like his puffed up chest, fell down like a veil.

“Alright, darling” he caressed your cheek before pulling you in for a kiss, his lips were battered from biting them out of anger, stress, and idleness. How many times did you scold him for that annoying habit? Several times, it made his kisses taste like blood.

He pressed down on you, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your hip, his thumb caressing the line that runs down to your pelvis. “But it seems I can fuzz freely now” he smiled widely and shamelessly, proud of himself without a doubt.

Alastor didn't enjoy bathing time, especially since one of the eternal sufferings he must endure is briefly reliving what his last minutes were like. He had no problem with water or soap, only with the fact that it had to come into contact with his skin.

That is until you introduced him to bathing together, you taking care of him made the feeling less intense, even the migraines that came with the whole ordeal dissipated. He could actually feel clean at least once a year.

After a well earned bath and having changed his bandages, he put a safeguard spell around the bed, only for extra protection. “You’re incorrigible” you tried to mind your words, having into consideration that he’s an overlord and your husband’s insanely paranoid personality.

“It’s just a precaution” he often believe if he slept, someone would take advantage of that and kill him in his sleep, so he doesn’t rest as much as he should.

“I wonder if I can ask Rosie to re make your wedding dress” he slid under the covers, his arm open for you to join him, “A white dress could be controversial” as soon as he had you close enough he pulled you in for a hug, ensuring you were well under the covers.

“I promise to give you a proper wedding night” you scoffed, he raised his eyebrows, “You would have to investigate of the matter dear” you pated his chest, snickering. “I know the basics” he defended himself, “Better check your knowledge” he scoffed and asked you directly, “Are you insinuating I don’t know how to pleasure my wife?” you took a soft bite of your lip and smiled like he does when doing a point based on facts, “How should I know?”.

Since the missed honeymoon, Alastor just didn’t seemed into sex, at all. So he “compensated” by touching your body, but not the areas that mattered.

“Touché darling, cold as fuck also” he didn’t swore often, so he was really offended, “Investigate, then we’ll see who gets to have the other one begging” oh and he was so on to that challenge.

“I missed you” he softly admitted, “Me too, I love you” you kissed his cheek, “I love you more” and with that he snuggled close and drifted off to a very much wanted slumber.

He was definitely going to make a thorough research.

#alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel

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wakacreations · 16 days ago

Text

Infernal Happy Holidays

I wish everyone a happy holidays! Santa Waka made it in time for Christmas lol. Anyways I hope you all enjoy and take care! I'm going to go pass out in the sleigh. If anyone's curious about the song lyrics it's Merry Sinsmas by Samuel Haft & Yoav Landau.

Zevlor:

There is a fleeting wonder when looking upon these flurries with renewed but still tired eyes. I hold few memories of this time of year. One recollection bleed into another sparsely did I have any to covet so dearly. When was the last time I partook in these winter festivities, would come to cross my mind. I used to have a family once long ago before the city was plagued by undead. Maybe it comes with time that I have forgotten their names but not their faces. A crackling fire from the hearth I used to nestle in close under mounting furs. Getting scolded by loved ones for leaving a trail of crumbs from sneaking about to consume some baked treats in my youth.

I have since then spent most of my life away in the midst of redden snow drifts. Another skirmish for I to be sent to the wilds or to simply stand guard outside the city’s borders. Though I had become a quiet observer of these holidays. I did commit to one tradition; to share a reluctant pint with the other Hellriders when the city was safe once again. Though does it still count in celebration of the season if the act was only so brief? Well depends upon your interpretation truly I suppose. Maybe I am a sentimental fool. The Hell’s were never the most idyllic welcoming environment for holiday cheer. Though we had to be very particular about caroling down below, you know. Too uncivilized for the local residence of the Hells for any Faerunian holiday to take root there but we made do. Now this time of year has come again once more. No longer am I greeted by the clash of metal, the uneasiness of reaching nights nor the endless days. I am slowly coming to peace with the tiredness that I can never be rid of. A life long lived and filled with rich emotions littering my skin. There is a pounding in my chest that won’t cease. Honestly this is a recent development. A feeling that I wasn’t sure I was capable of. With each of my steps there was trepidation not of tragedy but of possibilities as your steps aligned with mine. The cold touch of winter leaves their impression upon our cheeks and nose as we chase its delicate beauty. The winds used to howl long lost voices replaced with familiar hearty laughter rings in my ears. I can’t help but stare in awe. There are moments left to witness. Our battered hands falling in hands. Moments left to remember. Stained boots lead a gentle steady pace. Moments to cherish. With a bashful smile that meets the eyes, “happy holidays my love.” Moments to yearn for. A heartbeat goes in sync. Moments left to live for.

Rolan:

I always had complicated feelings about the holidays. There are many who enjoy this time of year and those who can't be bothered. My first experience celebrating was in the orphanage. The first time I snuck out I saw the twinkling lights of Baldur’s Gate and later in Elturel, walking alone in winter night markets. I was young then. My hands have since healed but there are still faint scars from my time being a lowly tiefling beggar. I was lucky enough to have met my mother as she was freely giving out pastries on one of those frigid nights. This is one of the holidays I spare no expense to celebrate and partake in. I used to dream as a child that I would not be alone during this time of year. Don't dwell on that too much. I have never been alone since I had Cal, Lia and my mother for a time. Time I still look back on fondly except for the teasing from those troglodytes. Now I have Cal, Lia and… Now you. It is an odd feeling to start over again once more. I watched you as you helped set up the decorations. Cal and Lia are busy fighting over where to place the tree. Those two haven't changed from even back then. I feared we would never have a home to celebrate in but look to where I have found myself. I don't know where I would be without you. “Cal! Lia! We will sort that out later! Tav has finished decorating the fireplace,” I called behind from my latest project. “You have the scrying eye ready to capture, Rolan? Are you sure it will work?” My little brother poked his head out from behind the mass of leaves. “Don’t worry I have tested it well Cal.” I ushered for them to come sit down before the fire. “Tav let's hurry before those idiots steal all the pillows,” Lia tossed you a couple. You two raced to sit down. Children, all of you. After much arguing and equal distribution of pillows as much as Lia protested. Everyone is finally settled in well… almost. “Move your big head Lia, I can't see!” If you two don't stop roughhousing… “Well stop slouching and maybe then you can see!” You two are grown tieflings! “Quiet! The both of you!” I snapped. Cal and Lia sat straight up in attention. Your hand found my own with a reassuring squeeze, I took a deep breath in. Gods! They're such a headache. “You alright,” you looked up from where you laid on my shoulder. “Better now,” I smiled back. But I wouldn't have it any other way. “Three… Two… One… Happy holidays!” “Did the eye go off?” You idiots. Happy holidays, Tav.

Raphael:

I was always one for grandeur celebrations. I have hosted my own fair share with immaculate planning and the finest quality materials the realms have to offer. There is a certain charm to the city, seeing through the thin veil placed upon their wide toothy grins of these mortals. Desperation hangs heavily through the chill in the fresh air like the first savoring breath in after wrung lungs. Always a familiar comfortable formality, a reminder of the impending frost. There is a wide variety of handcrafted decorations I have come to appreciate. The brilliance of these gemstones adorned by the lost souls wandering through the congested cobblestone paths, ever looking for a humble refuge from the seeping claws of winter's hand. With utmost care I would enjoy plucking the twin stones to examine the craftsmanship but I will save the activity for another time. Under their breaths, the notes of old traditional hymns wishing the downfall of passersby. If only there were new original compositions this year. My what a delight would that be to my ears. The prime season of contracts and to reap one's dues had arrived. There is a long waiting list but should I start with my favorite clients? Where to begin I wonder. Whom would be my first claim?

You kiss me on the cheek and look me in the eye. The wisp of words grabbed my attention. A love ballad, how often are those to be strummed by foolish bards. You tell a lie that you will soon return to me. The soft patter of keys and the familiar soothing resonance carries above the chaotic chatter of the city. Well this is quite a surprise as I stepped away from the busy square. Where have I heard this voice before? I loved you then, Where was the source coming from? I looked around at the nearby taverns. I love you still I followed the tune through the snaking alleyways. Whomever they are, a siren indeed. And now, it won’t be long until you’re here at last. I was greeted by a crumbling home. The sound bled from the battered door before me. And then I ask, “If your heart still burns for me?” I peered through from a side window. There was a figure hunched over surrounded by clutter. Barely any light illuminated the dwelling. I would travel every ring of Hell By the flicker of candle light I caught a glimpse. Just to see if you’ll be mine. Mouse? Know that you are on my mind. You chuckled, the last of the chord settled atop the keys.

“I suppose that is how far my creative genius will take me today.” You yawned, arching your back into a full body stretch. Ah, so it is you, little mouse. Looking over your shoulder our eyes briefly met. Snap. “Raphael?” It has been awhile since I heard my name on your lips. “I must have been mistaken,” rubbing your palms against your lids. There was no one there. You turned back towards the piano. The lid of the instrument began to close shut. “Alone for the holidays?” You went deathly still, the hairs on the back of your neck stood. “Don’t stop. Keep playing. I wonder how the piece will end.” I could hear the thumping of that heart of yours like the fast ticking of a metronome. No that tempo won’t do. “Why are you here, devil?” You stared up at the wall in front of you. “I thought I heard a little mouse squeaking from the square. Only to discover a sweet lonely songbird in their place,” I purred into your ear. You were the one to invite a devil into your home. Who else would you be singing to? “Get out,” you held firm. “Don’t you miss me?” You shivered when I leaned in close. My fingers splayed onto the keys. “Indulge me and I will make it worth your while. Why spoil the holiday cheer in the air?” I began to play my own composition. “Since when did devil's care about mortal holidays?” Your ears perked up at the chord progression. “Mortal holidays hold a special place in the Hells. It marks the time where we are most productive.” Ah, it seems you remember these notes quite well as beads of sweat start to form on your temple. Though I do prefer an organ to play my final act. “Fuck off!” You ceased my wrists for my fingers to still at once. “The longer you hold my attention, mouse. One less soul inked onto my parchment. I am a very busy devil. Now shall we?” I missed this banter of ours. Reluctantly you let go. I placed my hands to where your fingers danced on the keys. You shut your eyes and cursed under your breath. Vaguely I could make out the words, you should have casted silence. Even if you had, I would still find my ways to listen.

“Let's start from the beginning then.” Your hands shoved my own out of the way. Eager, are we? “No, let's start further along in the passage at the line. What was it again, mouse? Your confession?” “You pack a bag, you say goodbye,” pressing down onto the keys. “You never said that phrase,” arching a brow. “I did at the very beginning. Which confession are you referring to in the piece, Raphael?” Don’t play dumb mouse. "The part where you say I lo…" “I am waiting, devil.” You spoke as if you had other plans for the evening. “Let's move on to the next couple of lines.” “You kiss me on the cheek and look me in the eyes. You tell a lie that you would return to me.” It was no lie, little mouse. Your hand froze atop the keys. Afraid to say it once more? “Sing the next phrase, mouse.” Come now you spoke it effortlessly before. “I already did and now it's your turn,” your playing resumed. “I will finish the song if you sing along in harmony. I will not entertain you otherwise.” Hmm? There are many souls waiting for me, mouse. What is stopping I from leaving out the door to go off and collect? “You will never know the ending of the piece.” Who are you to be in a position for negotiations? “Do you honestly believe that I-” You moved to slam the lid. “Alright! Insufferable pipsqueak.” I should have you hanged like an ornament. I cleared my throat, the piano accompaniment came in.

I loved you then, I loved you still. And now, it won’t be long until you’re here at last. And then I ask, "if your heart still burns for me?” I would travel every ring of Hell Just to see if you’ll be mine. “I thought you were a bard that was above singing a love ballad,” I could hear that grin of yours. “I thought you were above serenading for a devil but here we are. You have impressed me. To think you would compose such a ballad and expect the devil not to appear.” You squirmed in your seat and rightfully so for having me sing along. “... Happy holidays, devil.” Well that is a surprise. Maybe we can make this a time honored tradition. I will have you singing my own original work. With a better… as I looked around at the clutter rat's nest you've accumulated.. scenery would be putting it generously. “Likewise, mouse.” You glanced up at me awaiting for there to be more words to utter. My you are already pouting, remember that for next year when you will celebrate in my home. “Happy holidays, little mouse.”

Haarlep:

Sometimes I miss the ice and snow of Cania. “Haarlep, you ass!” But the more that I pondered the thought. “Well that's on you mousey! You never knew how to dodge my projectiles,” I ducked as you threw another ball of ice. The more that I came to the same conclusion I missed being able to wander. “Such a naughty little mouse. You said we were to merely play in the snow, not the ice.” You rolled your eyes at me. My have I seen you do such an act one too many- “You are too cruel!’ I wiped away the snow from my face. There you stood laughing as I was made to stare up at you where I lay in the snow. The mortal realm is missing the otherworldly luxuries I have grown fond of. You squealed as I ran towards you. But I suppose it is a worthy exchange… “I caught you little thief.” For I too never grow hungry. The endless blanket of white was beneath us. Well you were always eager to satiate my appetite. “What is to be my reward?” You have always piqued my curiosity. Seeing you panting before me, hair all tussled from exertion, a flush across your cheeks. Such a tasty mortal you were. “Whatever you desire Haarlep.” You chuckled, reaching out to cup my face. There was always fun to be had with you. “Whatever I desire. You won't like that. Are you sure about that, my sweet pet?” My face came down to yours. You nodded your head like it was the easiest decision to make. I will enjoy every last moment with you. “Happy holidays, Haarlep.” Your voice hitched as I laid my hands atop your wrists. You were always fun to toy with. I will never grow tired of you. “Happy holidays,” I pulled back. With a flick of my tail you were covered in snow. “Haarlep!!!” You screeched at me when I took off into the air. I told you already, but you never do listen. “I thought you would have better aim by now,” I weaved through your barrage of snowballs. My heart's desire will always be to use you for my amusement. “Haarlep, where are you going?” You paused your movements as you watched me flew further away. That heart of yours is quite delectable. “I will be waiting for you at our home.” It should always be pounding in your chest. “Haarlep, no!” You dropped the snowballs in hand. “Come back!” You quickly ran to chase after me. So, you do enjoy my company. Always think of me whenever you feel that beat of your heart. “You were the one who brought us here!” You attempted to wave me down but I happily waved back with a smile. You are mine for the rest of your lifetime. Enjoy it while you last and I will enjoy you. “Happy Holidays, my precious mousey. See you very soon.”

#bg3 #bg3 zevlor #zevlor #zevlor nation #bg3 rolan #rolan #holy rolan empire #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 haarlep #haarlep #haarlep the incubus

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yikimiki · 2 years ago

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Ok but what about popular bully!eren x popular cheerleader bully! Reader??? They find out about each other by some other people and they end up together

⚠️ quick warnings for descriptions of bullying, reader is a little bitchy and mean but Eren is fully a horrible douchebag. Mentions of misogyny, harassment, etc. Smut. Mentions of weed. Bickering.

I did a little twist. They kind of hate each other lol

You fucking hate Eren Jaeger before you even get the displeasure of meeting him — his reputation is a cloud of putrefaction that reaches people before he has the pleasure to do so. And you’ve seen him around the halls of the campus, terrorizing freshmen and borderline harassing girls until they basically run away from him and his group of troglodytes. You’ve seen it all. So you have a good amount of evidence to know that he’s a total douche.

Not that you can judge — most people would say the same stupid things about you. Though you like to believe that you and Eren aren’t of the same breed. He’s a stupid bully. You just like to give unwanted constructive criticism that ends up giving people a new perspective about life. And if they can’t handle the heat and, like, transfer schools or take meds or whatever, that’s simply not on you. But you would never hit another guy for a minor inconvenience. You’re so much better than that.

The point is that you hate — hate, hate, hate! — Eren. And you hate even more that he steals all the attention away from you every time that his stupidly pretty face appears anywhere. And you hate that he looks at you at every game you cheer, hate that you like the way his eyes move up your mini skirt. You hate that you crave his attention so badly, and hate even more that it’s become a pathetic habit.

“Thought you’d at least pretend as if you’re hard to get,” Eren mumbles, all heavy eyes and slurred words, as you place yourself on top of his thighs. You roll your eyes and decide to ignore him, instead working on undoing the zipper of his jeans. He chuckles. “God, you’re fucking horny. Are you in heat or what?”

“Don’t pretend as if you don’t want to fuck me, Jaeger. I bet this is the first pussy you get since someone had enough pity to pop your cherry years ago,” you say, rushing to push the fabric down his thighs. “Now shut up.”

You two have less than twenty minutes before someone notices your mutual absence and a crowd gathers in front of the one house bathroom that has been suspiciously closed for a long time. The downsides of popularity, you guess. And no way in hell you’re letting your reputation — and your flings with half of the football team — be thrown into the trash like it’s nothing. Especially for someone as gross as—

“Eren!” You hiss, a shock running through your body as his fingers plunge inside your pussy. He’s quick, even stoned out of his mind, and it took him less than a second to push your panties aside. “You’re fucking gross.”

“Hm, right,” he says, one hand landing on your shoulder. Eren presses down hard, and you get down on your knees — yeah, you got the message. “I like you more when your mouth is full.”

“Gross,” you repeat.

#eren headcanons #eren smut #aot smut #eren x reader #attack on titan smut #eren x you #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger x you #snk smut #lost steam towards the end lol

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fic--writer · 6 months ago

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A surprise for Rolan

Tav and Rolan have a complicated relationship. He wants a quiet life, and she still longs for adventure. One day, endless arguments lead Tav to go on a journey. She has been away from the tower for six months, but circumstances force her to visit the tower's master again.

"Oh! Is that you? Of course it's you!" - Rolan slams the door in her face, not wanting to see her again. She had caused him too much pain. He thought he'd been abandoned and now she dares to show up unannounced.

"Please, please open the door. I have something to tell you." - Tav sighed regretfully and crouched down against the closed door. - "Okay, I'll just wait here until you're choking on book dust in your damn office."

Fifteen minutes later, the infernal screaming subsided and the door was ajar.

"Rolan, all I'm asking is that you listen to me. And... I have a surprise for you..."

"Zurgan! Tav, I'm not interested in your handouts. I literally begged you not to leave me, but your stupid adventures were more important to you. More important than me, more important than everything we've built and achieved, more important than our..."

She knew there was no stopping his tirade. She knew he was right, she knew how unfairly she'd hurt him. And so, without further explanation, she threw her baggy cloak to the ground. The buckle of his belt clanked on the floor and the Archmage looked back at the sound.

His face changed in an instant. He saw what he thought was his ex-girlfriend in a very interesting position. She carried the little troglodyte inside her. And he could count too fast in his head to realize that she was carrying HIS troglodyte.

He went over to her and put his hand on her round belly. Why hadn't she told him before? Was she afraid of him, thinking he would reject her? There was a wall of misunderstanding in their relationship, but this...

"That's the surprise, isn't it, Tav?" - Rolan still couldn't take his eyes off her new form.

"So you like it?" - She didn't know what to ask.

"Do i like it? You know, I love my family, unlike ... Oh, shit." - he paused and offered her a chair.

"I want to call her Lora" - Tav announced as she sat down in the chair. - "Just so you know, before she rips my body apart with her horns."

"What?! Tieflings aren't born with horns, they grow them after birth." - Rolan laughed nervously, pouring her tea. He tried to hide his fear behind that laugh, but it would take him some time to get used to the idea of having a daughter. His daughter.

"That's all right, we'll fill in the gaps in your education, ignoramus. But I have to wonder if you're planning to have a baby and leave it here with me, Lia and Cal and go off on your own adventures?"

"I'd like to grow she here, with you in the tower, if you don't mind." - Tav sipped her drink and crossed her arms over her bulging belly.

"You didn't think I'd kick out the mother of my child, did you?"

"I don't even know if you've got someone..."

"Oh, you'd know for sure if you'd written me a one damn letter!" - He burst out again.

A strange noise and fiddling was heard in the hallway. And the Archimage went to investigate.

Outside the door, Lia grabbed him by the collar and huffed:

"I don't care what you had going on before. From now on, I forbid you to hurt her. You hear me, you red-ass bastard?" - she shook him like a mother cat to a careless kitten.

"Ouch, easy!" - he whined.

"Be fucking civil, Daddy." - Cal added, tugging on his tail and shoving him back into the office.

A chilled Rolan went over to Tav and hugged her:

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, for the love of all the gods, I have no idea how hard this has been for you." - His mind was back and he knelt down beside her, pulled up her blouse and kissed her belly. Not because he was afraid of his brother and sister, but because he wanted to do it himself.

And he never again reminded her of that not-so-easy time in their lives.

Inspired by this art.

#bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #tiefling #rolan x tav #rolan nation #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #fanfic #bg3 drabble #bg3 tiefling #bg3 romance #bg3 lia #bg3 cal

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my-fancy-hat · 11 months ago

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This may be one of the best chapters so far. Mami's character address so realisticly a issue that girls (all girls) face when it comes to establish platonic relationships with men, a unspoked "life rule" that says friendship between men and women can't exists, one of them is plotting something- as Masumi said. Mami resonated with me a lot because one part of the reason I am nb is because I've struggle with gender roles my entire life, and one of them is this. I want people to see me for a person first, my gender and clothes are accesories of who I truly am, I want to connect with people beyond this body that erodes everyday and will eventually dissapear. You can say all things about this toxic troglodyte mindset but at the end of the day it's just another way in which we isolated ourselves because we are view as a trade object: you give I receive, you are kind = you must want something from me; either loved or hated, never accepted for what it is. I lost so many valuable guy friends in the past because they saw me as "an opportunity" for romance or hit, and I can't deny I didn't feel betrayed and stupid. So when my current guy friends call me "homie/bro/buddy" etc I feel happy too. It's the first time I've seen a manga address this issue, I'm glad.

#ao no flag #reading #edit: her love for touma is the hope to confirm her existence through someone eyes omfg #the mortifying ordeal of being loved for the yearn to be known #ngl i was hooked for the gay angst but the character devolpment goes CRAZY #there so many highlights and mostly are monologues

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miimo96 · 7 months ago

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Thoughts on TBHK Chapter 115

Judging by the Cover Card it looks like this chapter is going to be focusing Heavily on the relationship between Kou and mitsuba in this timeline, since the last chapter ended with mitsuba asking for kou to join him in investigating the incident that happened with the Students missing after summoning a spirit AKA Tsukasa, I wonder if this will be like a Scooby doo mystery adventure for these 2 or if it will Entirely focus on them at all like in the Aquarium date a few Chapters back, or heck if we even see any other characters show up like yashiro or hanako, or if This will focus on anything that I had predicted last Chapter, well only 1 way to find out

Ok 2 things: 1 I'm surprised I Actually remembered who the f#%k this guy was the Minute I saw him since it's been like Chapter 1 when he was 1st introduced and was just there to drive the plot forward, 2 is yashiro in this timeline Still the Same as episode 1, like is She Still the girl that is So desperate for love that she will literally ask anybody if it means even having some sort of a "chance" and that She Never changed Staying the way used to, and 3, TAKE YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF HER YOU TROGLODYTE, The hell you mean if She gives you an "interesting" confession She'll be your TENTH Girlfriend, Sry but she's taken; I'm actually kinda worried that's he's back because when Stuff like this happens, it usually means we're Getting closer to the End, Omg I'm not ready 😰😰

There ya Go yashiro get the eff away from Him, I'm glad that he got the headbutt treatment she likes to do to Our sweet boy Servers him right, also the fact that she did a freaking somersault and Stuck the landing while getting out of dodge immediately is Just Hilarious 🤣🤣 *sigh* I miss Hanako so much....

Already this is Starting to become one of My favorite chapters omg I love that she's Finally realizing how Stupid she used to be before meeting hanako, always being manipulated into doing things for other people, always asking out people who Never truly even cared for her, always just being the classic "Doormat" shoujo protagonist she was, Glad She's finally realizing how much growth and character development she's had ever since meeting kou and Hanako, God I love this series ^^

😦😧😨 No way omg no way Did I call it Omg please

AHHHHHH!! OMG 😭😭😭 HANAKO 😢

Wait what was it all a Dream omg my Heart Damn it Aidairo why!? 😫

Ngl this scene hurt, I went completely silent reading this part, and wow just, wow, Seeing hanako's/ Amane's life and what it is/could've been really hurts and yashiro's tears in this Scene just speak louder than any words possible, God This chapter is so Good 😣

Ok firstly is it me or is My boys rocking the DRIIP, secondly this Show has gotten Way more Darker than when it 1st started, the fact that this Went from being a Show about ghost stories and spooky stuff, with just a tad bit of Dark topics to it, To literally now giving me Straight Gravity falls season 2 vibes is Really telling me a lot, also Kou in this timeline seems to be a lot more experienced when it comes down to being an Exorcist, the way he was just talking and examining the situation shows that He's no longer a Noob when it comes to this sort of thing, and is a lot more trained than he let's on Which pretty awesome

Bruh this series is Not holding back Anymore whatsoever, this is just Straight TERRIFYING 😅

Oh yeah that's Totally Not Nightmare fuel at All, Wow when did this Series become so horrifying, Also this is NOT Tsukasa, this is that Mother effing THING, till this day I still don't understand what this thing is and What it wants, all I know is that it's the freaking Hole the Kannagis were being sacrificed to and that the real Tsukasa sacrificed himself to in the Red house, I've always had a thought that Maybe just maybe a bit of him was still in their after the Red house arc and that he was just fighting or switching out from time to time, But from what I'm seeing It looks like the Thing has Taken him over COMPLETELY in this timeline, Tsukasa is Gone, this just a Shell, an empty husk Wearing his face; yep it's official, This is Absolutely One of my favorite Chapters Now, Omg I can't wait ^_^

Also the fact I was right about that the Next chapter was going to be focusing more on Yashiro, Makes me so FREAKING happy ^^ YEAH! I CALLED IT

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horizon-verizon · 6 days ago

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Can we talk about this weird dynamic where Daenerys being the chosen one is generic (and TPTWP prophecy isn’t real) and GRRM is about subverting expectations but also it’s normal that the chosen one is the angsty dark haired male bastard because GRRM wrote it in the 90s, like is GRRM cliche or not ?? Babe, the trope of a prince in secret leading life under a different identity is very cliché already but especially in fantasy novels, absolutely no one is gagged.

I wonder what the usual response to this point is from Jon stans who think Jon is Azor Ahai/TPTWP? I never asked bc I never engaged aside from once on TikTok when someone tried to make as if Dany wouldn't accomplish anything worthwhile w/o her dragons.

People will transplant 2010s fantasy/YA fiction tropes and genre conventions onto 90, 80s, 70s conventions of the fantays genre either bc they are ignorant asf, or they intentionslly try to obsfucate the context of the series within the drama in the real world. Because female "badass" protagonists are in or get much more attention, they surmise that alone means that things have "gotten too woke" while at the same time deny that there was ever a previous state of fantasy fiction where the male protagonist was exactly this exiled or disguised prince-who-must-take-back-his-kingdom-and-banish-the-primordial/human-evil. They really don't know what they are talking about at any given moment bc they are so focused on destroying what is right in front or "in their way" of enjoying their male-centered reality. Ahistorical, nonreading/comprehending troglodytes, the lot of them.

#asoiaf asks to me #daenerys stormborn #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn's characterization #agot characterization #asoiaf fandom #fandom critical #agot #asoiaf

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d1onysusw1n3 · 11 months ago

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★ Daughter of dionysus ★

┌────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┐

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐮𝐬 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

"𝓘'𝓶 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼"

"𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 "

└────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┘

Tw: crazy with a mix of mania, heated make out, and slight sexual themes not the whole Shabang tho. 🦭🍇

You know as the daughter of Dionysus, I wasn't expected to be sane.

"Yo D whaddup!" I lazily smirk down at my dad while dapping him up.

"How's it going favorite." He returns dapping me up with a crisp smack.

Me and him don't have the most normal relationship, but i'm okay with that, At least it's not like daddy issues over here.

I look over to some curly blonde haired kid with blue eyes, he goes on about wanting to see his father and if Dionysus could help him.

I turn on my heels immediately uninterested, actually i was thinking bout the time i drew a dick on clarisse's forehead with a black paint marker, now that was legendary. Imagine trying to scrub a giant penis off your forehead realizing that it wont budge a inch, dessert privileges were lost, but seeing clarisse with her usual smug smile wiped off and beautiful art work plastered on her forehead, was like a full course dessert table served in front of me on a golden platter.

I walk over to the black smiths to see my friends Jake and Amy, we were known to be the outcasts, we aren't children feining over glory or some bullshit praise from the gods, we were looking for trouble instead.

"Yo Jake" I slide onto the desk he sketches his new weapons project for Amy, the daughter of Hephaestus, Jake hisself was a Hermes boy, not my proudest moment befriending one of them, but he's cool in my book.

You see we're the trouble trio, my charm mixed with Jake's amazing ability to steal and Amy's ability to craft anything we needed for our stupid ideas, we were practically unstoppable.

"Whatcha drawing?" I quirk my head to the side as he quickly scrambles his notebook closed.

"Birthday surprise, don't push it anymore, Mr. D threatened to chop off my toes and feed them to tartarus if i snitched this time." Jake shuddered at the thought of my dad threatening his life.

"Pshh light work, i would've unleashed tartarus in your room instead" I smirk at his mouth dropping wide open.

"And there goes Astrope, always one upping Mr.D's unstable craziness, somehow" Amy rolls her eyes at our bickering.

I push my wine colored hair out of my face and into a pony tail. My sea green eyes with specks of violet in the iris trails back to Luke Castellan the camps golden boy, He defines the word glory, always trying to prove something to someone, if you asked me, i think he's a garde A loser.

"Who else is gonna carry on the legacy" I say booping Jake on the nose.

"Wow very mature of you princess" Luke rolls his eyes.

"Why thank you, I think I'm rather mature myself pretty boy."

I look over to see him slightly blush and look down.

Cute.

"Anywayyys, I'm throwing a party later, thanks giving and all, who's joining." Amy takes a seat next to Jake leaning her elbows on the table.

"Why thank you for the personal invitation, but you're only throwing this party so you can scout out the new ares boy this year." I roll my eyes at her.

"And so what, the new curly brunette is fine." She says with dreamy eyes.

"Your type is brunette curly hair daddy issues and anger management." I say taking the apple Jake was eating, he prostest me with a small 'hey', but that doesn't stop me as I chomp a fat bite in the middle of said apple.

"Hands off, troglodyte. Getcha own apple" Jake huffs while snatching his apple back.

"Booo tomato tomato tomatooooo" I blow a raspberry at him as we get up to head to dinner.

Luke follows Amy on her trail like a lost puppy, everyone suspected he was whipped for her,what they didn't know was my deep crush for the boy ever since I met him, it's a horrible love triangle.

"Well if you want me to get the goods you're gonna have to distract the camps janitor." I say sitting down at the Hermes table with the three for dinner.

"Huh why?" Luke questions.

"Well Luke, Chiron find alcohol In my cabin, bad." I say slowly shaking my head.

"But if Chiron finds alcohol in the janitors cabin, he'll just think he hates his job or something." I shrug.

"So basically you're saying you hid alcohol in dito's cabin." Jake grinned at the challenge.

"That's his name?" I raise my eyebrow.

"Yeah.. what have you been calling him the whole time.." Luke looks at me crazy.

"Irrelevant.." I roll my eyes.

"So we need a plan we can't just walk into the janitors cabin and grab wine out a hiding place" Amy says munching on her celery sticks.

"Righttttt about that. I hid the alcohol there two summers ago and forgot the hiding place so we're gonna need two on watch out and two on rummage duty" I cringe.

"Astrope I should slap the living shit out of you right now. But in the fear of Tartarus and what Mr D would do to me, you are off the hook." Jake says straight faced with a finger pointed at me.

"Look here goes dito right now." Amy whispers.

"We could distract him now, then three of you can head to his cabin?" Jake said shrugging.

"How are we going to distract him." Luke says with an eyebrow raised.

I chuckle sarcastically then go straight faced looking into his eyes.

"Watch the master do her job." I say getting up from the table and turning around hitting dito on the shoulder on accident.

"OH DEER, IM SO SORR-"

I cut him off pulling a spoon out of my pocket, gripping the back of his head and pushing it to his jugular.

"ARE YOU THREATENING ME, CHUCK." I scream.

This takes everyone's attention allowing the three to sneak away.

"MY NAMES NOT CHUCK.." his voice wavers.

I pull the spoon back pointing it in this face while walking backwards.

"AND DONT FORGET IT." I yell turning around so I could sprint to dittos cabins.

┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛

I slide the window to dito's cabin open abruptly falling face first onto the floor scaring the three to death.

"JESUS ASTROPE A WARNING NEXT TIME" Jake yells.

"Uhhh warning?" I shrug laying on my stomach kicking my feet back and fourth.

"How bout you get up and help look, you lost it princess." Luke says rummaging through cabinets.

"Right, check the floor I remember putting it in a secret wooden floor board that slides open." I sigh getting up looking under the bed for it.

Instead I find skimpy lace panties and diamond earrings.

"OUU EARINGS." I say dangling them by my head.

Out of no where the lunch lady walks into dittos cabin wearing a skimpy silk robe and.. I don't want to know what's under.

She clutches her heart and gasps.

"DITO GET IN HERE!!" She yells.

"FOUND IT!" Amy screams throwing the box out into the long cushioned grass.

Quick I need a distraction.

I take out my blow torch lighter and fire it over by the sheer curtains hanging by dittos bed.

"YEAH DITO GET IN HERE! SO YOU CAN WATCH ME LIGHT YOUR HOUSE ON FIRE." I scream back at her.

I look around to see Luke scramble out the window so I jump out with him and close it behind me.

Amy takes the box and run with all of us behind her we make our grand escape behind Zeus's cabin deep into the woods where a bunch of the people in on the party we're helping us by decorating.

"REALLY? LIGHT YOUR HOUSE ON FIRE ASTRO?" Jake yells at me waving his hands around.

"Well it worked I didn't see you making a distraction?" I roll my eyes.

Everyone just looks at me stupidly shaking their heads. Jake even started to boo me, followed with a train of boos.

I hop on a log pointing at them all.

"GIVE ME YOUR BOOS I AM NOURISHED, BY YOUR HATRED." I yell.

┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛

Luke pov

To say Astrope was crazy is an understatement. To be honest I don't know how I even developed a crush on her.

It just happened, her crazy and flirty attitude just draws me in somehow. It's like a drug, you taste some and it's never ending.

To say she was the daughter of the god of ecstasy was an understatement.

She just seems so carefree and untouchable. It's hard to make a move on someone who never takes anything seriously.

┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛

Astrope pov

Surprisingly the party so far was a success.

even after our scandalous breaking and entering fiasco.

Many people were having fun, except for Amy. The ares boy she had her eye on, and even asked out, had ditched her to talk to a pretty Aphrodite kid.

I see her and Luke talking, him resting a hand on her shoulder for comfort. It kind of ticked me off, but bros before hoes yall.

I sigh grabbing my dagger out of my holster sitting down next to Luke and her by the lake in the sand.

a couple of feet away from the party in the woods. Nobody could really see us, but I noticed her running off and Luke trailing behind her, so I followed.

"Who are we killing. I won't do kids that's a rule. BUT the rule is negotiable if the kids a dick." I say wiggling my eyebrows.

And to my success it makes her laugh, I smile putting my dagger back into my thigh holster.

"How do you do it astrope" Amy sighs looking down.

"If you mean being absolutely funny and the hottest one in the room, don't stress it comes natural babe. Ya either got it or ya don't" I smirk flexing whiling grunting.

"You see that, you seem so care free all the time, I don't know how you do it."

"I don't." I shrug

"What does that mean." Luke questions.

"I just don't, I don't care nor have I ever, I just do me"

"If it was up to me, I'd push the girl aside tell him that I like him and that he can either take all this or shove it." I say with a trashy Jersey accent.

Amy lunges over luke to hug me tightly.

"I don't know what I'd do without you girl." She whispers in my ear. Then hopping on her feat she takes a deep breath and starts walking in her crushes direction.

I chuckle laying down in the sand, a small tide washes over my bare feet as the full moon pushes the river.

"You know you're right princess" Luke says.

I turn my head to see him already looking at me.

"Yeah and what about pretty boy." I whisper sitting up leaning closer to him.

"About caring too much." He sighs looking down.

I frown scooting over to push some of his hair back, he leans his face into my touch. I blush deeply, luckily the moons shine wasn't too bright.

"Princess, I like you." Luke whispers to me, his hot breath dusting my cheeks.

"I like you more pretty boy." I smile.

He leans in closing in the space between us kissing me deeply with need.

The kiss was sloppy and fast. It was heavy with need, not really caring who took control, just needing an outlet for these suppressed feelings.

Laying down as he crawls on top of me. His fingers slip around my throat grabbing hold of my jaw with his finger tips, his other hand sliding up the side of my thigh griping it with such strength I knew bruising would definitely show up int he morning.

I slide one of my hands under his shirt feeling his defined stomach, the other hand snaking around the back of his head to grip onto the back of his curls slightly tugging on them.

He groans into my mouth as I push my hips up into his allowing me to release some built up tension while he marks my neck up and down with sloppy kisses and bites.

"Fuck, princess I need you." He groans panting and sweaty.

I sit up immediately taking his hand leading him to my cabin.

As soon as we get in he grabs me by the back of my thighs. I wrap my legs around his waist slamming the door closed behind us he lays me down on the bed taking no time with slipping our close off discarding them around the room.

"Are you sure about this princess" he says just when he lines up collecting slick from how wet I am.

"Yes Luke jus need you." I whine arching my back when he finally pushes in.

Our groans almost pornographic as I could only see straight stars. I wrap my arms around his back scratching down.

He groans snapping his hips harder with more force.

I'm definitely gonna be sore in the morning.

┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛

I wake in the morning with Luke laid on his stomach arm wrapped around my waist as I lay on my back.

I get up leaning on my elbows looking at all the scratches left on his back from the previous night. As well as the hickies running up from his jugular down to his stomach.

I smile tracing all of the cute little reminders to all the girls that might think that have a chance, that they don't.

"Morning princess" his deep morning voice grumbles out.

"Morning pretty boy, how'd u sleep?"

"Good" he gets up kissing me on my temple.

"You know sooner or later you have to get up and sneak back to ur cabin before my dad throws a fit." I say tolling my eyes.

"Yeah I know" he sighs getting up slinging on his shirt and pants sitting back down on the bad to give you a kiss.

"See you later princess" He says opening my window and escaping into the back of the cabins.

I sigh not really believing yesterday happened. All of a sudden I hear an obnoxious banging on my cabin.

I get dressed with Luke's hoodie and my shorts underneath. Only to open the door face to face with my father.

"Burn your house down.. really?" He scoffs.

"So you're angry?" I squint, just happy the topics not about a cute tall muscular brunette who just hopped out my window moments ago.

"Where is it." He whispers looking around frantically like someone would hear him.

"What?"

"The alcohol I know you have it."

I shake my head smiling.

"Well halfway into the party Chiron busted us and took it, sorryyyyy" I say slamming the door in his face laying back down to sleep.

It's six in the morning and too early for this, I'll deal with the mess I made later...or never.

Sooo ts is long and messy I'll fix it later.

Words: 2,545

Can you tell who inspired this whole chapter 🤗🤗 guess in the comments lmao.

#fluff #child of dionysus #percy series #percy and annabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy and grover #percy weasley #percy de rolo #nico di angelo #luke castellan #annabeth chase #grover underwood #lime #dionysus #childofdionysus

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warping-realities · 11 months ago

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Overlap

This story was made based on a request from @themousefromfantasyland it's not exactly the same as what he asked for but if it weren't for him this story wouldn't exist.

Andrew Meyer was an unhappy eighteen yers old young man and even he couldn't say why. His mother believed that the reason was related to the early death of his father and the boy's refusal to accept any possible new father figure in his life to the point where his mother Amanda avoided any romantic relationship over the last ten years. Something that had changed recently, thus creating a friction that had never existed before between mother and son.

Amanda was a history teacher at the local high school, and the year before she ended up falling in love with an old friend the P.E. teacher Josiah Washington. Coach Washington was beloved among the students, even among those who were not adept at sports, something he did not believe in, believing that given the opportunity everyone could demonstrate some unexpected talent.

Under Josiah's command episodes of bullying by athletes completely stopped. The man was adored by almost everyone, and after much insistence along nine full years Amanda's enchantment with him ended up becoming true love, which was promptly responded to. But that story that had everything to work out ended up hitting a snag.

Not only was Andrew among the few who disliked Coach Washington, he also viewed the relationship as a personal affront. He had a deep and deep-rooted conviction that Josiah was just another jock, willing to humiliate him as had happened so many times in middle school, when he didn't have his mother to protect him. This thought was due to Josiah's insistence on making Andrew participate in the most different sports, something that the skinny nerd abhorred and believed was being done with the intention of ridiculing him. Because of this and his block in accepting anyone in his father's place, he decided to do everything he could to end that relationship.

Andrew was an intelligent boy, in fact he was in the Top 3 of his senior year class, being the president of the school's debate team, where he used his fierce tongue to eliminate all his enemies. He constantly competed for first place in his class with Cassie Jones, the president of the photography club, and Rajesh Patel, the president of the chess club. Andrew could be friends with both of them, but his own bitter nature prevented him from making any friends, with many of his colleagues fearing that they would be the next targets of the boy's venomous comments. These comments made many of the school's jocks clench their knuckles as he passed through the corridors. But Andrew, who already had the protection granted by his mother's presence in those same corridors, had received an unexpected reward from the relationship he so abhorred. Out of respect for the coach, all the athletes at the school treated him politely even though they were the boy's biggest target. The satisfaction of mocking the intelligence of one of those troglodytes and knowing that he wouldn't get revenge brought him immense satisfaction. What didn't give him the slightest satisfaction was the news he received from his mother at breakfast on a sunny autumn Tuesday.

"What do you mean by engagement?" The blond, skinny boy with glasses exclaimed indignantly upon hearing the news.

"I thought I wouldn't need to explain this to a grown man, as you make a point of defining yourself, Andrew."

"Don't act like a fool woman, you know what I'm talking about. Is that... man going to live with us?"

"First, have manners when talking to me, second that man is your teacher and for that alone you owe him respect and third but not least, yes the fact that he and I are engaged means that we will live together. But as I know the son I have we chose to wait for you to go to college next year. And that's the only concession you'll get." Amanda said with a firm voice, thus further souring her son's already normally taciturn mood. And it was with that bitter mood that he started his day, while just a few blocks away someone else's day was starting and very soon their path will cross and change his entire reality.

…..

Cassie Jones was a happy and vivacious girl, with a shrewd intelligence and a spirit focused on the arts. Despite being a real nerd she was very popular at school, always being in demand to take photos at the most different school events as well as to her colleagues' Instagram posts. Photography was in fact her great passion, so much so that she had a large collection of analogue cameras from the most different eras, and that was a very special day, as she would use for the first time the Laica Mini camera produced in the 80s and 90s that she had bought it from another photography enthusiast, a lovely lady called Cintia who owned an inn on the coast and said she had taken some of the best photos of her life with that (now) antique.

Although Andrew saw her as a rival, it was not reciprocated. Cassie was a pure soul, one of those who always looked for the good in people and situations, even those where it didn't seem to exist. And she was precisely that type of person who was given to customs such as painting, photography and... choosing to go to school walking through the city park looking for images that conveyed their inner world to the outside. That's why the thin blonde girl, with prescription glasses that, instead of making her face ugly, only increased the aura of innocence, stopped that autumn morning and observed nature and life around her, with the camera ready, waiting for the right moment to transpose the elements of both herself and the world around her into an image.

She didn't have to wait long because her attention was soon caught on an image that would easily convey that communion with the world and nature. A young man was running with a pair of dogs across the lawn, a Doberman and a beagle puppy. And Cassie took advantage of a moment when the owner was far away and the two dogs seemed to exchange thoughts to click.

Little did she know that that click would set in motion the chain of events that would end up profoundly modifying the reality of that would-be rival, for whom she had only a feeling of compassion, but which would soon become much more.

…..

Cassie, Andrew and Josiah's paths crossed that day during physical education class, where the beloved teacher greeted the students with a bright smile. Coach Washington was a huge black man, the type that can be intimidating at first glance. Although in his case it was enough to get past that first glance to realize that despite his impressive size, the most impressive thing was the man's kindness and dedication. For him there was no bad time or student who wasn't worth the effort.

But even he would have to admit that his future stepson was a tough cookie. While even Raj Patel had found a way to exercise, exchanging basketball passes with Samuel Miller, Andrew was sitting sullenly on the edge of the court giving withering looks of hatred to everyone present. With a resigned sigh Josiah approached the boy, but even before he could say something he was interrupted.

"Don't even try, there's nothing you can say that will force me to participate in this... class, especially today!"

And so Josiah discovered firsthand how the boy had received the news of his mother engagement with him.

"Andrew, I am still your teacher and this is still a mandatory subject, you must participate in it if you hope not to fail."

"Try to reproach me and I will accuse you."

"For what? Do my job?"

"I wil say to everyone you stare at me when you come to my house." Replied the poisonous boy.

"Andrew, that's absurd... it's untrue! I never did that and you know it!"

"But the others don't know, so why don't you leave me alone for the next few months and when I go to college we can get rid of each other?"

"Andrew, think about what you said, it's because of this type of behavior that people turn away from you."

"Great, that's exactly what I want."

"Andrew this isn't healthy, your mother worries about you, I worry about..."

"I don't want your concern, I didn't ask for your concern."

"I'm your teacher, it's natural for this type of worry arise."

"So why don't you do yourself a favor and use that worry on someone who cares? There's Cassie Jones doing nothing useful messing with one of her stupid cameras." Andrew replied, getting up and going in another direction.

Cassie was actually playing with her new camera. But it was untrue to say that she had not been participating in the class, on the contrary she had actively participated in the activities until that moment, but when she saw Raj and Sam, people from completely different worlds sitting together and sharing a lively conversation in the middle of a break that artistic feeling that guided her took over and she couldn't help but take a photo of the two boys.

"Cassandra Jones, put away that camera immediately if you have the desire to keep it." Scolded Mr. Washington in a much harsher manner than his usual behavior.

"Sorry Mr. Washington." Said the girl with tearful eyes.

"Cassie, I admire your talent, but there is a place and time for everything. So, please put the camera away and don't let me see you doing that again." Josiah continued in a much more pleasant way.

"Yes, Coach." She replied, quickly putting away the camera and returning to class.

Later that day she was in the photography club's dark room looking at the photos she had taken, there were Raj and Sam, some landscapes of the park and... a photo of the park in which two doberman dogs appeared playing.

Weird, she could have sworn there was only one doberman that morning. Even stranger was the fact that the photo of the doberman and the beagle didn't seem to be anywhere. She found herself wondering if it was possible she had gotten so confused. Leaving the photos separated on a table, she left the room to go home without noticing that a change began in another one.

….

"Are you sure you don't want to come in."

"Sorry Mandy, but I'd rather not go in."

"Would you rather? Really?"

"No, of course not, I would love to go up to your room right now but..."

"Andrew? What has my son done now?"

The sunny afternoon had given way to a windy night that brought with it the omens of the winter to come. Josiah and Amanda had taken advantage of the cool wind for a dinner for two at Chateau de Fondue followed by a walk to the house she shared with her son and would soon share with him. Josiah had avoided bringing Andrew's name to the stall, but at that moment it became inevitable.

"Mandy, it doesn't matter, it's just that he can't stand me and I don't want to fuel his dislike any further."

"Josiah Washington, what has my son done? Answers me now." Amanda said, making him suddenly remember the affronting blond boy whose mother she was.

"He threatened to make things up about me, but I seriously doubt he would be able to..."

"You don't know him like I do. Something broke in that boy Josiah and no one knows how to fix it, not him, not me and no professional I've turned to since he was eight years old and saw his father die."

"It couldn't have been easy, being stuck in the wreckage of a car with his father dead next to him..."

"It wasn't easy, for months he woke up screaming desperately during the night, I had to let him sleep in my bed for a long time, I lost count of the times I woke up with my bedclothes soaked in his urine. But none of that give him the right to threaten you."

"I've been trying to protect him, you know, and the other students resent it, the conversations go on... now you and I are engaged, until someone accuses me of favoring him..."

"Favor him? In what way?"

"He would have failed physical education last year if I hadn't intervened and this year it's worse."

"Josiah Washington, you don't protect my son by doing this, on the contrary, it feeds the dark being inside him. Tomorrow you won't treat him any different than any other student, promise me and keep your promise, because I'll find a way to find out if you don't keep it."

"Okay, I promise, no more favors. But I want something in return..." He replied with a playful smile.

" And what would it be?" She replied, also smiling as he approached and kissed her passionately.

…..

Cassie walked through the park again the next morning, with her camera ready in case inspiration struck. And that's when she saw the young man from the day before playing with two doberman dogs, with no beagle in sight.

Had she really been so wrong? Maybe he just hadn't brought the beagle that day. Building up courage she called out to the man.

"Sir, sir... are these your dogs?"

"Yes, any problem?"

"No, no, I'm sorry but yesterday I took a photo of them without your permission and I would like to ask you if you don't mind."

"As long as I'm not in the photo..."

"No, no, just your dogs."

"Then fine."

"Didn't you bring the beagle today?"

"Beagle? What beagle? I'd like to have one, I think they're really cute, but I only have these two demons here!" He replied in a happy voice while playing with the dogs and leaving Cassie even more confused.

….

Unlike Cassie's morning, Andrew's had not started in a confusing way, as his mother had been very clear with him about his attitudes and the threat of slander from him. The atmosphere in the house, which was no longer good, had turned sour once and for all. Trying to control the waves of fury that overwhelmed him he trotted down the school hallway without even noticing the people he bumped into until he came face to face with a real concrete wall: Mark Sheppard, one of the school's athletes, member of several sports teams and in Andrew's opinion a major idiot.

"Could you get out of the way instead of standing there like an idiot?" Asked Andrew to the boy three times his size, making the other turn in the direction. Mark could be described as a version of Andrew himself on steroids, he was blonde, tall, muscular and...

"What are those glasses for Sheppard? You know that intelligence doesn't come with them, right?" The thiner boy mocked with his usual bitterness when he saw his colleague's new acquisition. Who in turn just looked at the inches below that separated the two.

"I wouldn't worry so much about my intelligence if I were you, Andy, but rather about what I can do with you on the court."

"Only in your dreams that I'm going to enter a court with you, you ogre."

"Ah, but you will. I heard your mother asking Coach Washington to get you to play and she even asked me to let her know if he doesn't do it." The bigger boy replied with a wide smile as he passed by his classmate. "See you later Andy. Get ready to get everything you deserve."

…..

Physical education was the last period before lunch. What a torturous morning waiting for an even greater torture thought Andrew. Maybe the morning wouldn't have been so bad despite the terrible future outlook if he hadn't been forced to partner with the unbearably cheerful and good Samaritan Cassie Jones. How that child's doll could be competing with him for first place in the class eluded him. The worst of all is that she seemed immune to his mean remarks, always treating him kindly and looking at him with a strange look that he didn't know how to decipher.

"No, no, no, you're completely wrong and they still think you're intelligent, what a joke, just because you walk up and down with that camera pretending to be an artist..." He shouted at her just before that class morning ended and for the first time it brought tears to his colleague's eyes, which gave him a dark satisfaction.

After the end of the class they both went to the school gym without exchanging a single word as apparently even Cassie's enormous compassion had reached a point of exhaustion. At the moment Andrew aggressively entered the men's locker room two Indian boys tall, strong and extremely similar, already completely uniformed came out.

"Arrogant asshole..." One of the two grumbled while the other turned to a surprised Cassie who didn't remember either of them.

"I hope you're the valedictorian and not him Cassie, my grades are good but they're not even close to yours."

"Rajesh...?" She asked in disbelief.

"Raj, only our mother calls me by my full name, right Sam?"

"At least you don't have to tell everyone that Sam isn't for Samuel's but Samarth's, brother."

"Sam...?"

"Hi Cassie, if you don't mind we're in a bit of a rush for practice, we'll talk later. But I agree with everything my brother told you." Replied the boy she swore she had never seen in her life as she accompanied a Raj very different from the one she remembered. What was going on there? At that moment, a tall black young man left the locker room and she took the opportunity to try to clarify that.

"Jayden who's that new boy with Raj?"

"Who? I just see Sam there with him."

"This one..."

"Are you kidding me Cassie, that's Sam Patel, Raj's twin brother, you've been colleagues for almost four years."

"No, there's only one Sam in our class, Samuel Miller, a blond boy..."

"What are you talking about? There's only Sam Patel in our class, no Samuel. Are you feeling well Cassie? Do you want me to walk you to the infirmary?"

"No, it's okay...but I...I think I'll do it anyway, thanks Jayden." She replied, leaving the somewhat frightened boy behind. What was going on there? First the beagle that disappeared and now that... the beagle... the dobermans... Sam Miller... Sam and Raj Patel... no... it wasn't possible... or was it? She thought, running frantically to the photography room, spreading the photos on the table and not finding the photo she had taken yesterday of the Sam and Raj that she remembered, but instead a photo of the smiling and athletic Patel twins.

That P.E. class was proving to be the greatest horror of Andrew's school life, all the idiotic troglodytes who had previously been prevented from touching him were taking the opportunity to bump, trip and poke him in every possible way, not to mention the humiliation of rehearsed passes done solely with the intention of making him look like an idiot. And that asshole Washington letting that happen, Andrew was sure that no matter how much the man scolded the other students for those attitudes inside he must have been rejoicing in it all, after all it was all planned by him, and innocent Andrew had let himself fall for the trap. But it wouldn't stay like that, no, no... he would... Andrew didn't have time to finish the thought as Mark Sheppard bumped into him and threw him in the middle of the court fuming with anger, humiliation and pain.

"Here, Andrew let me help you up." Said Jayden Williams extending his hand.

"Take your dirty hands off me. I don't need help from people like you." Andrew replied, making his classmate appalled and angry at the same time.

"You little shit, how dare you!" Said Mark Shepherd.

"What's going on here, kids?" Coach Washington asked, approaching quickly.

"That piece of shit said a lot of racist shit to Jayden." Replied an irritated Raj Patel who was close to the two.

"No, it's not true... I didn't... that's not what..."

"Yes it was, you fucking liar, we heard everything." Retorted Sam Patel.

"Andrew, locker room now."

"But, but..."

"No discussion, locker room. And you guys back to the game, I'll sort it out."

....

"Cintia Cozy Cabin, Cintia speaking, how can I help you? Oh, Cassie, what an unexpected surprise, I hope the camera arrived safely at your house.

Yes, yes... oh my God I must have made a mistake and sent you one of my special projects... I told you that I made magical photos in my time, I wasn’t lying. No, dear, unfortunately it's irreversible, I'm sorry, but the colleagues you knew no longer exist, this is the version of them that exists now, which in fact has always existed.

What the camera does is project the essence of one being onto another, sometimes creating an overlap like what happened with the dogs and sometimes an interposition like what happened with your colleagues. This occurred randomly because you I had no intention when taking the photos, the camera works either way, but when there is intention on the part of the operator the results are usually less unpredictable, although when talking about magic there is always an unpredictability factor to take into account. And that is precisely why I need you to send the camera back to me, it's a very dangerous thing to have, it's a project I've used very few times and you can imagine why.

Thank you dear. I will send you the correct camera today and I'm really sorry for the inconvenience, but I must say that you are responding very well."

...

Cassie wasn't responding well. That was madness, a daydream of a lady isolated on a beach all year round. It couldn't be real, yet the Patel twins were there to prove it. Just thinking about the way things must have had to adjust to accommodate those changes almost took her out of reality while she wandered aimlessly, with the camera hanging in tow as she returned to the school gym, now almost empty, if it weren't for the pair arguing in the hallway in front. And the matter seemed very serious. Taking care not to be seen, she watched the discussion unfold.

"I didn't speak with that intention!"

"After what you told me yesterday how do you expect me to believe you?"

"I don't care if you believe me or not."

"Well, you should care, because it's up to me whether you get a suspension or something worse."

"Look, when I talked about people like Jayden, I wasn't talking about his color... I was talking about his way of being... of being someone, just like you..."

"You do realize that saying that to a black man doesn't help your case at all, don't you?"

"You understood what I meant... I'm talking about you athletes, the owners of the party... the jocks, who walk around the school as if they owned it, who think they're better than the others, a gift of God for humanity."

"Funny, I've heard that description applied to you a few times, ironic don't you think?"

"No, I don't think so. You don't know me!"

"No, I don't, but does anyone? You're a closed book with the pages glued. Not even your mother knows you, Andrew, but I'm willing to get to know you if you give me a chance."

"I'll pass, zero interest."

"I want you to understand that I don't want to replace your father, his place will always be his with you and your mother."

"Don't talk about my father."

"Andrew, I'm trying. Look kid, I've also had losses … I… I can't have biological children."

"It's your problem, I am not and will never be your son. Now leave me alone!" The boy replied, ready to leave.

And at that moment, the kind and carefull Cassie made an impulsive decision. When she saw the suffering in her favorite teacher's eyes, she raised the camera and took a photo of the two of them thinking about how things would be better if Andrew was actually Josiah's son. Almost instantly she regretted what she had done, running back towards the photography room. Leaving behind two people whose lives would be irreparably changed.

In a hurry she prepared the solution and entered the dark room. Her heart pounding as she thought about what she had done and the countless possibilities of disaster. Cintia had said that the intention was the main thing and her intention had been clear, but there was so much that could go wrong. What if Mr. Washington ended up like an older version of Andrew, unhappy and bitter? She would never forgive herself for doing that to a good man. Or even worse, Andrew's biological father was dead and if by wishing Josiah was his father she ended up making her teacher dead?

Uncharacteristically bad thoughts overwhelmed her as she worked on the photo. With her heart still racing and her hands shaking, she took the final product and stared at it for long minutes. The photograph taken in a hurry and from a bad angle was far from her usual work, but it still showed what she remembered. Mr. Washington in all his poise having a serious conversation with his future stepson, a defiant Andrew Meyer. She was already letting out a sigh of relief when she noticed something.

"Where were Andrew's glasses?"

Meanwhile, in the school cafeteria, the boy's transformation began to unfold.

…..

Andrew was about to leave Josiah talking to himself when he was hit by a flash of light followed by a wave of dizziness that almost knocked him over.

"Andrew, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you done? I need lunch."

"Okay, but think about what I told you."

"Yeah, sure. Count on it." The boy concluded by withdrawing and rubbing his eyes with the strange sensation that there was something missing there. At the same time, his stomach growled with an unusual intensity, making him not even change his physical uniform before running to the cafeteria for lunch.

Andrew headed to his usual isolated spot and with his thoughts stuck on what had happened in class he began to eat without even seeing what he was putting in his mouth. That time he had gone too far and he knew it, but he also knew that he hadn't lied, his problem with Jayden and Josiah had nothing to do with the color of their skin and everything to do with the way they both were. He hated the jocks, they made his life a real hell before he moved to his current school. But it wasn't any of the jocks at that school who had done those horrible things to him, a little unknown voice said in the back of his mind. Yes, but only because they didn't have the opportunity, today's class proved that. But they didn't get the opportunity because Josiah asked them to stop their behavior, a point in Josiah's favor. He probably prohibited their barbaric behavior thinking about his image, certainly if it weren't for that Mark would have already ended Andrew's life. But at least Josiah did something about it differently than middle school teachers. Plus Jayden could have been offering real help and trying to be a good person and now he would be thinking Andrew was a racist. Not that he normally cared what his colleagues thought of him. But that was different, Andrew knew he was difficult, he knew people didn't like him, that he was bitter and... unhappy. He knew that very well. But he also knew that there were certain things he was not and being racist was one of those things. And knowing this he made an unprecedented decision in his life, he decided to apologize.

Standing up and gaining the courage to go ahead with that decision, he didn't even notice that he was wearing something completely different from the training clothes he wore when he sat down and also from the one he usually wore.

Walking somewhat clumsily as if he didn't really know how to do it, he approached the jocks' table and positioned himself in front of Jayden, releasing everything at once.

"Hey Jayden...um...I'd like to apologize for today...I know what I said sounded like...and I want you to know that it's nothing like that...and well... . I'm really... sorry... I'm really... sorry... and I hope you can... you can forgive me." He concluded, still not completely believing in what he was doing. The boys at the table also didn't seem to believe what they were hearing, it was something unprecedented in their school life for Andrew to admit he was wrong and apologize. So much so that everyone stared at him open-mouthed. The first to recover was Mark, who quickly stood up and positioned himself in front of Andrew with his fist raised. Interestingly, the two were now the same height, something they both didn't seem to notice.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing Andy, but if you say that kind of shit again to Jay, I'm going to wipe out your ass and you won't have a mother or a coach to protect you, because I won't mind being suspended if it guarantees teaching you a lesson!"

Hearing that kind of threat made Andrew quickly return to his usual behavior.

"Now you've left me very worried Sheppard, I would be even more worried if you had the slightest bit of intelligence to be able to fulfill what you promise. And even in the remote possibility that you achieve something, I will find a way to put an end to your athletic aspirations, a proven assault charge against a classmate is not going to look good on your academic records."

"Listen here, you little shit..." Mark replied angrily, ready to attack Andrew.

"Guys! What's going on here?" Josiah Washington asked entering the cafeteria in that moment.

When Andrew looked at him, he felt a flash hit his retina and was then struck by a sensation of vertigo. Taking enough time to recover as Mark accused him.

"Andrew came here to talk shit again, coach."

"Hey, that's not true, I came to apologize to Jay about this morning and Sheppard started with his usual fragile masculinity show." He accused Andrew as he tried to remember when he was close enough to Jayden to call him by his nickname.

"Who's fragile, scarecrow?"

"Mark, that's enough! Jayden, what happened?"

"Andy told the truth, coach. He came here to apologize and by the way, I forgive you Andy, it was just a misunderstanding." Jayden replied, always fair, but still being fair he continued.

"But as always he and Mark couldn't bear to be together for even a minute and ended up exchanging threats." The boy finished, making the two colleagues forget for a second their mutual hatred and look at him with the looks they used to give each other.

"Guys, you are colleagues, and besides, teammates..."

"Ha, we can play together but we're not on the same team, or at the same level, don't compare chicken legs with me, coach."

"Mark, Andy runs a lot more than you." Jayden commented, making his friend look irritated at him.

"Why all the defense with him now? When has he ever been nice to anyone? You know we only put up with him because he's Coach Washington's stepson!"

"Mark, that's enough!" scolded an irritated Mr. Washington. While a very offended Andrew stared at his stepfather with angry eyes before turning and leaving the room.

"Thanks, guys! You helped a lot, really." He said to the embarrassed students.

"Sorry coach, I exaggerated..."

"Yes, and because of that it’s bench time to you this afternoon. I think it's time we give Andrew the chance to be the starter."

"But coach..." Mike started to complain, falling silent at a stern look from Josiah.

"That is, if I can convince him to show up." Josiah concluded thoughtfully.

….

Andrew walked aimlessly through the school corridors, until he found an empty bathroom where he sat on the toilet and cried, something he hadn't done in a long time. He knew he was a difficult person, but he was trying. His relationship with his stepfather was never easy, but they had reached a mutual tolerance agreement in recent months, shortly after Andrew's mother's marriage to Josiah. In fact, the relationship, which was not exactly cordial, had evolved to the point where Andrew allowed himself to be convinced by his stepfather to participate in the school teams that last year. Not that he did much more than warm the bench. But just participating in something with his colleagues would help a lot with his behavior. He discovered that he could talk to the Patel brothers about common interests and Jayden seemed to be sincere in the way he treated him, Mark of course continued to be the same irritating idiot he always was and now it was clear why, he was the only one who didn't fake cordiality.

That was what he got for trying. Annoyed, he dried his tears and washed his face in the bathroom sink and then stared at his own reflection. Wavy brown hair and gray eyes, still red from crying.

It was then that he made a decision, he would go to Josiah's office and say that he was going to leave all the teams and let his stepfather deal with it.

.....

Cassie was panicking, the photo she took had undergone another change, she tried to contact Cintia again, but when she called the inn she was informed that the owner had left and would only return in mid-afternoon. Not knowing what else to do, she stared at the photo waiting for the next change, thinking about what other changes were happening without her even having any idea.

....

"Come in, the door is open. Hey, Andy, I was just going to look for you, please sit down." Josiah said to his stepson who entered the room with his head down, without looking at his stepfather, as he gathered the courage to say what he had come to say.

"Look, I know how it felt when Mark told you that. But I hope you understand that I only asked them to go easy on you because I know how much you suffered from kids like them at your old school. And Mark... Well Mark can be a bit of an ass sometimes, but that's between us." Josiah concludes with a knowing smile that was not reciprocated because Andrew didn't even look up at him.

"I want to quit training." He said without looking at Josiah.

"Why? You're doing well, I thought you liked it. Raj and Sam seem to get along with you and Jayden would be a great friend if you give him a chance."

"They only talk to me because of you and I don't want to depend on you for anything."

"That's not true Andy, I don't have that power over them, I can only ask them to treat you with respect, the rest is up to you and it seems like you've been doing well, despite some slip-ups like this morning."

"I already apologized, it was just a misunderstanding." Andrew replied, looking for the first time at his stepfather, only to be hit by a flash of light followed by a sensation of vertigo.

"Of course it was a misunderstanding Drew, no one with the slightest intelligence would ever think that a racist speech would come out of your mouth."

"You said it well, coach. No one with the slightest bit of intelligence, but Mark Shepperd doesn't reach the bare minimum." Drew replied.

"Andrew, your feud with Mark has to end, it's disturbing the whole team." Josiah replied in turn causing Drew's face to droop.

"Don't look at me like that, you remind me of your mother when she's mad at me."

"Funny, most people say I remind them of my dad." Replied the dark-skinned athletic young man, with curly hair and dark eyes, already fully dressed for basketball practice that afternoon.

"Well, I didn't know your father other than through photos, but I'd say you're a good mix of the two. But that strong genius certainly comes from your mother." Married to Amanda for seven years and with a cordial relationship with his stepson, Josiah felt secure to make that type of comment.

"Now, one thing I can say about Mark, his behavior today guaranteed you a good opportunity. You start training today as a starter and if you do a good job no one will be able to accuse me of giving preference to my stepson. I suggest that you take the chance."

"Thank you, coach."

"Thank me by doing a good job on the court, son." Josiah replied without thinking making Drew retreat into the armchair. Because despite the stable and respectful relationship between them the stepson made a point of making it clear that this was a limit that he would not let his stepfather cross.

"Sorry Drew, I said it automatically, go warm up with your teammates and I'll be there soon." Josiah said quickly to avoid a conflict knowing that although he saw Andrew as a son the feeling was not reciprocated.

……

Cassie's desperation upon seeing the new change in the photo reached alarming levels to the point that she was forced to leave the refuge of the photography room just to feel like she was doing something. The photo now showed an unchanged Mr. Washington talking to a clearly mixed-race Andrew with a much more athletic physique. She couldn't even imagine how reality was realigning itself to justify that or what it would be like to have to interact with this new Andrew.

It didn't take her long to find out because unconsciously her legs took her to Coach Washington's office where she came face to face with the new Andrew leaving the place, with a slightly disturbed face, but which soon lit up with a smile that she never imagined possible.

"Hey, Cass! I thought we were going to have lunch together today? I was worried when you didn't show up, I sent you a bunch of messages. Look, if it was because of that argument I'm sorry, but it's just that it's hard for me to be your partner, you are a genius."

"Andrew... I..."

"Since when do you call me by my full name? You must be really annoyed with me."

"Uh..."

"Cassie, are you okay? Do you mind if we talk to the gym? Coach made me the starter today and I don't want to be late."

"Hum, of course..." She said, still disturbed by that new much more open and talkative version of Andrew.

"Cass, we've been friends for years, you know what an idiot I can be sometimes. But you have complete freedom to tell me exactly this: Drew, you're being a complete idiot."

"OK."

"Are you sure everything is okay? I can take you to the infirmary even if I end up being late for training." Hearing that was what got her for good. The Andrew she knew would never put anyone else before his interests. So maybe, just maybe she would have done something good with that reckless decision of hers."

"Cassandra Jones, it's decided we're going to the infirmary!" He said with her lack of response, making her quickly intervene.

"No. I'm fine, really...Drew."

"I'm not so sure, but if you say so... the truth is that I really didn't want to miss this opportunity... but if you need me, I'll come with you."

"No Drew, go play. In fact, I'll even watch!"

"Serious?"

"Serious!"

"Then I'll make a point just for you!" He replied with a big smile that had certainly never been seen on the old Andrew's face. As the two arrived at the gym and he said goodbye to her, he headed towards the court where he quickly got busy greeting his teammates with high fives and even some hugs. Leaving a still stunned Cassie to look for a seat in the stands. And she was still amazed as he played with a previously unknown skill and when he finally scored his first point it was in her direction that he looked with that beautiful smile on his face.

At the end of the training Cassie returned to the photography room while trying again to talk to Cintia, although now she thought she could have actually done a good thin even though she still didn't know for sure how to deal with that new Andrew. He and his teammates headed to the locker room where the atmosphere of camaraderie and fun prevailed. Even for someone naturally more withdrawn like him there was room for jokes and laughter, especially with the twins Patel and Jayden, with whom he had created a good friendship, even if to do so he had to endure the unbearable...

"Hey Andy, good game, but very inferior to the king's game."

"What king is that? Because it's definitely not you!" Andrew said as he took off his sweat-soaked training shirt and sat down on a bench.

"Your envy doesn't hit me, asshole." Mark replied, flexing his muscles.

"Envy? Of what? Of looking like an anemic vampire with glasses?"

"This will be the third time that I will need to intervene in an argument involving you two today, will I have to suspend you both?" Coach Washington asked, entering the locker room and causing the two young men to quickly look in his direction. And with that Drew was hit by a flash of light and a feeling of vertigo. While he recovered, Mark responded to the coach.

"Nah, coach. We're good, aren't we, Dre?" He said.

"Sure, we are good, coach. Even more so because blondie here just admitted my superiority on the court."

"You piece of shit, I'm going to..." Mark began to threaten, being interrupted by a stern look from the coach while Andre burst into laughter, making his huge muscles shake while sweat dripped down the ebony skin of his developed pecs and ripped six pack.

"Enough of that, you two, and all of you, I want this locker room to shine like a jewel. If I come back here and find this disgusting mess I'm going to have you clean the floor and walls with a toothbrush. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Coach." They all responded in unison.

"Good." He said before speaking to his stepson in a lower voice. "Dre, when you're done here come by my office, please"

"Yes, Coach." The boy replied, still wiping away tears from his bout of laughter.

....

In the photography room, Cassie had her cell phone in hand, trying to contact Cintia again while she looked at the latest version of the photograph showing a young muscular black man who looked very similar to Mr. Washington in the place where Andrew had been. Surely now it would all be over and she would have to live with that new reality. And deep down she would have to admit that it wasn't that bad, Drew seemed like a really nice guy and who knows, a real friendship could blossom between them...

"Cintia Cozy Cabin, Cintia talking..."

....

Andre took a long shower thinking about what the coach would have to say to him, probably a reprimand for his arguments with Mark, but he should have known better. That was just jokes between the two long-time frenemies. Neither of them had ever come to blows. Or maybe it was about the position of captain of the basketball team, the season was about to start and they didn't officially have anyone yet. Jayden who got along with everyone and was great at motivating others would be the most obvious option, but he had difficulty giving constructive criticism whereas Andre, well, Andre could even be overly critical. Perhaps the conversation was precisely to tell him that. And with that thought, his normally quite cheerful and expansive mood turned sour. After getting dressed he headed to the coach's office.

"Mr. Washington is Dre." He said after knocking on the door a few times. At home he called his stepfather Uncle Josiah. He was married with Andre's mother since the boy was 4 years old, but even before that they know each other as Josiah had been a long-time friend of Andre's father and had been at his mother side throughout her grieving process, when she was left alone with a one-year-old baby to care for. Andre had been in the same car accident as his father but had no memory of what happened, something he was grateful for.

"Come in Dre, I'm in the bathroom finishing changing, you can sit down and I'll be right there."

"Thank you, coach. Can I ask you the reason for this talk?" Asked the young man with anxiety permeating his voice and face.

"It's about the team captain position, Dre. I know you don't like hearing this but you're the son I never had. And for a lot of people, even at this school, it's like you actually are, which raises discussions about me favoring you, which is complete nonsense, because you wouldn't be in the position you are in if you didn't have talent, and anyone who says otherwise should come and do it to my face." Josiah said, leaving the bathroom and passing behind Andre as he walked towards his desk.

"Still, our relationship is something that must be taken into consideration in my choice and after much consideration I want to tell you that I chose Jayden..." Josiah began to say as he finally sat down and looked into his stepson dark and at that moment sad eyes at the exact moment those eyes were struck by a last flash of light, before he concluded. "...and you to be co-captains of the team. Your firm attitude and accurate criticism earned you the position, and I trust that you will be able to keep your strong temper under control, even in the presence of Mark Sheppard. Congratulations, son."

"Thanks, dad. You won't regret it." Andre replied with a big smile, knowing that in that moment father and son could treat each other like that. And there was no way not to realize that the two were father and son, as they shared the same build, the same facial expressions, the same smile and even the same haircut after Dre decided to shave his hair. Poor Amanda, who had to hear constant jokes about having given birth to a copy of her husband.

"You deserved this position, son. Every day that passes you make me prouder to be your father."

"Thank you dad, I'm also very proud to be your son, there is no better father than you."

"You only say that because you just won what you wanted, let's see if you'll say the same when I pull your ear for arguing with Mark in the middle of a game." Joked Josiah with smart smile.

"Let me deal with Mark, you know very well that I love the guy and he loves me, we are long time friends, but some friction is inevitable when you have two people like us on the same team. Although I promise to control myself. "

"Good. Now how about a game with your old man in the city park? I know you must be tired, but I'm dying to put my captain to the test."

"Sure, I just need a few minutes to tell someone the news."

"Okay, I'll wait for you in the parking lot."

"I meet you there." Andre said, getting up before turning back to his father to say something that was stuck inside him. "And dad, I know I don't say this very often, but I love you." He said before leaving the room and Josiah Washington with the biggest smile in the world just before tears started rolling down his face.

"... what's done is done Cassie. You should have listened to me and that's why I ask you to give me back the camera as soon as possible. But the damage could be worse. Apparently you did that boy a lot of good , yet your choice can bring unexpected consequences. Are you sure the photo has stabilized? Oh, is it changing again? Totally different from the previous one? Great, it means there will be no more changes. I'll turn it off my dear, send me the camera today if possible. Good afternoon."

Cassie heard Cintia hang up the phone as she stared at the photograph, certain that this was by far the strangest thing to happen in her life. And she wasn't completely wrong, since the strangest thing in her life was about to happen but still linked to that photography. As she was getting ready to go to the post office to send the camera to Cintia someone knocked on the door.

"Hey Cassie, it's Andre, can I come in?" Andrew? Cassie thought, could even the name...?"

"You can come in," she replied with a trembling voice, seeing the muscular almost 6'7" tall young man enter the room making her legs feel so wobbly she had to sit on a bench in front of one of the cabinets full of photo albums.

"I won it Cass! I'm the new captain of the basketball team." He said, approaching her. "Okay, I'll share the position with Jay, but that's fine, he deserves it too. What's that in your hand?" He asked, looking at the photograph in her hand as he sat next to her, who found herself at that moment invaded by his perfume and a feeling of intense heat.

"It's... a photo... of you and your father... I was going to give it to you as a gift." She said handing the photo into his gigantic hand. Who in turn admired the image of him and his father both in uniform, hugging each other after class.

With teary eyes he looked at her, and she felt her knees weaken with the intensity of that look.

"Thank you Cass, I don't know what I would do without you, you are my best friend, my support in difficult times and a great first place for my second place in the class. I don't even know how to thank you other than like this." He said kissing her who found herself reciprocating with unexpected enthusiasm.

"Wow." Dre said catching his breath.

"Wow." Cassie agreed, realizing firsthand the unexpected effects of playing with reality.

"Cass, you don't know how long I've wanted to do this, but right now I need to go, my dad is waiting for me. Don't you want to come along?"

"I'm sorry An...Dre. I need to do something urgently."

"So meet us at the park later, we'll be at the basketball court. Can I take the photo?"

"Of course it's yours, I'll see you later."

"Promise is debt!" He said before giving her another stunning kiss and leaving the room and her, completely stunned.

….

That late afternoon Cassie was walking through the park where the most magical and absurd situation of her life had begun. She had just sent the camera back to Cintia but the effects caused by it would remain forever. She didn't know what had happened to Raj and Sam's parents, as she didn't know either of them very well before the change happened, but she tried not to blame herself for whatever had happened as she had no way of knowing at the time what she was doing.

Although there was a situation that she knew very well what she was doing, a situation that messed up her entire life, but that she was trying hard to believe was for the best. That overlap practically obliterated the old Andrew and that was her conscious decision, impulsive yes, but deliberate and no matter how bitter the boy had been she didn't have that right, at least Andre seemed to be a wonderful person and was really a good kisser... and there was still the fact that Mr. Washington had the son he always wanted, a son that every father would be proud to have. That alone made her remorse almost disappear.

As she approached the basketball court, Andre waved to her with that fantastic smile on his face and then signaled for her to take a new photo of him and his father. Unable to avoid being infected by his joy, she also opened a smile and with a camera no more magical than usual, she recorded that moment. Knowing that if placed on a scale for good or evil, regardless of the result she was responsible.

Anyone who looked at that image could tell which way the scales tipped.

#male tf #mind change #reality change #jockification #mental transformation #race change

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