#the problem with drawing those anime girl in messy rooms is you have to draw all that garbage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

illyaana · 3 years ago

Text

Homebound to you - Sasha Blaus

I can't find the artist on Tumblr (again (＞人＜；)) but this is the twitter post!

Synopsis: You are childhood friends with Sasha. This part is on how you grew up with Sasha and how she told you how she's joining the Training Corps. (if I tell anymore, it isn't a synopsis welp-)

Tags: Sasha x Binaural Reader, Fluff, SFW

Word Count: 2226

⋯⋯ ⫍ SFW Masterlist ◍ Navigation ⫎ ⋯⋯

Fanfiction Masterlist

The lush meadows of Dauper Village - the place both you called home.

It wasn’t one that you’d see written in the papers about its beauty. It was a hidden gem known by those who were willing to venture out and seek it. The forest welcomed you - the sounds of the woodland creatures and the wind against the bushes reminded you of life when you believed the world was much more peaceful than it was. The scene of an ocean blue stream of water surrounded by small animals was vivid in your memories.

“You don’t want to join me? It isn’t that dirty, trust me,” a 6-year-old Sasha said, gripping tightly onto the ends of your shirt.

Sasha Braus - the girl you’ve known ever since you were a kid.

No one could imagine the daughter of a hunter being friends - close friends - with the child of a scholar, but you both proved them wrong.

Sasha was your first ever friend. She was the one who made the introverted you more social with others.

She was the first person you truly cared for - nothing could’ve changed that.

Sasha played along a stream of water right beside the willow tree you both found the first time you ventured into the forest. She’d jump feet first into the stream, diverting the flow of water into multiple small streams before converging in the front of her feet. She loved seeing the small fishes play with each other as if they were racing to meet a bigger water source.

She’d beg you to join her in the small game - but you never did.

You wanted to steal every single moment with her in your eyes - to let it sink into the deepest parts of your brain.

“I’d rather stay dry, Sasha. My mom would kill me if I go back home with my clothes all wet,” your younger self said, trying to reason with her.

Sasha’s face immediately paled the minute you finished that sentence. She looked to her now soaked trousers. A ring of dried mud formed on the top half of her trousers decorated with dried leaves and vines.

“Why didn’t you warn me earlier?” she said, anger stricken on her face, “Mama is going to kill me now. I didn’t expect it to be this dirty.”

You chuckle at the red-faced girl in front of you.

This girl was meant for greatness - no one could deny that.

The adventurous side of hers could never be tamed.

It was wild and relentless - and you loved it to bits.

“You’re wearing shorts underneath, right?”

She nodded.

You sighed.

“Take off the trousers. I’ll wash them as best as I can and you sling it on your shoulder so that it can dry. That’s the best I can offer,” you told her.

In an instant, she ran to the bushes, took off her trousers and tossed them to you.

“You’re only 6-years old - how can you think like an adult at such a young age?” she said, an inquisitive look painted on her face.

“I grew up surrounding playful 6-year-olds, that’s why,” you said, teasing her, “I basically became their mom - looking after them, making sure they behaved well in public - I did it all.”

As time passed, Sasha became more than just a friend you used to look after.

You both became each others’ rocks - the very thing that kept each other from falling.

Sasha learnt how to hunt - to survive in the harsher world of the forest.

You learnt knowledge - to create and to move the world with a pen and paper.

You never saw Sasha hunt but you’ve pictured it billions of times.

You pictured her hazel-colored hair dancing in the air as she rode her horse. Her golden-brown eyes would focus solely on her target - they would force her victim to shudder and slow down, to become hers. Her muscles would flex under her thin shirt as he pulled the arrow in her hands against the bow - the tip fixed exactly at the weak point of her target. Then, with one swift release, her victim would fall and a rush of happiness would surge within her.

You could only draw it and picture it in your head, but how you wished to see her in action.

She’d always bring a huge portion of the meat she gained for your family. She’d say she caught more than she expected, but you could hear the rumbles from her parents.

Eventually, your families decided to move into one house to reduce the problems faced by the Braus family.

Your family would provide the income - the money to buy resources. The Braus family would help in gaining food and rationing out how much from the resources to use.

Even though your parents hated the idea of moving in with hunters, you were ecstatic.

You imagined a life with Sasha, and you were going to get a glimpse of it.

Every night, she’d come into your room with a cup of tea and talk about her hunt. You, on the other hand, would talk about what you’ve learnt for the day. Even though she never understood what you spoke on, she’d try her best to listen and even ask questions when she didn’t understand.

You taught Sasha how to use a quill while she taught you the wonders of the wild.

Sasha entered your room in the middle of the night. She had her blanket wrapped around her as she held two mugs of tea.

She saw how you continued to study throughout the night. You’d use an oil lamp as a light source as you crammed for all the future tests and exams you were going to face.

She hated the sight of you slowly losing energy. The eyebags under your eyes intensified each day. You didn’t smile as much as you used to. You lost the energy you had when you were younger.

Yet Sasha managed to keep hers, just like you wanted.

“Tea break?” she suggested, pushing a mug into your hands, “I caught a deer today! Tomorrow, you’re eating venison - get ready!”

You shook your head in denial as you placed the mug on the table.

“I swear, Y/N,” she started, agitation clear in your voice, “I will burn all your books if you don’t stop and drink tea with me right now.”

You knew Sasha’s threatens were to be taken seriously. She seriously once burned an essay you needed to hand in the next day.

You immediately closed your book and placed the hot cup of Chamomile tea in your hands. The mug itself gave you warmth, making you sigh in content.

Sasha hopped on your bed, dropping the blanket to her sides. She closed her eyes as she brought the cup of hot tea to her nose, taking it in.

You swear that she almost looked like an angel at that moment.

Her soft locks now reached her shoulders - messy and tousled. The pale moonlight against her skin highlighted her features. The gold flecks in her eyes against the hazel shined - it even showed against the steam wafting from the cup. The scar on her left shoulder from one of her hunts showed through the almost see-through shirt, showing how strong she was as a warrior.

You smiled, leaning against your chair while taking in the beauty in front of you.

“Y/N?” Sasha called.

“Yeah?”

“When are you free?”

“I should be free by this Friday, my exams end then.”

“Oh...” she said, trailing off.

You walk to sit beside her and place your head on your shoulder. You felt her relax as he placed her head on top of yours.

“Is everything good?”

She begins rubbing her head against yours.

“I’m good. I’m just worried about the future, that’s all.”

“The world must be ending,” you joke, “You’re actually thinking ahead.”

Sasha flicked your forehead, “Stupid - of course, I need to!”

A silence formed between the two of you as you both stared at the sky from your windows. It was pitch black. Stars twinkled against the black canvas, dancing to a song only they knew. The clouds tried their best to hide the beauty of the night, but their efforts were in vain.

“I’m thinking of joining the Training Corps,” Sasha said, cutting the silence.

Your face paled.

“What?” you froze.

“I hate hiding in fear, Y/N. I hate the fact we stay hiding away from the thing that threatens our lives. We should be killing it rather than just killing animals for meat,” she said with a serious voice.

You put both of your finished mugs on the floor and grab Sasha’s hands, forcing her to face you.

“Sasha, you might die. You might never see your parents again, you might lose everything,” tears form in your eyes, “I can’t lose you, Sasha - not now, not ever.”

She smiles while wiping the formed tears in your eyes.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll die the minute I see Titans,” she says.

She pulls you out of the bed, dusting off her shirt.

“We’re going out for a while. Get ready for an adventure after so many years, Y/N L/N.”

You both snuck out of the house and got on her horse. With one nudge from her, you both rode off into the forest. Through the dark greens emerged fireflies that lit the view before you. You spotted the eventful stream, the sleeping woodland creatures and the plants that reminded you of your childhood.

You turned to face the back of Sasha, and you were in awe.

She looked exactly like how you pictured her to look.

Her dancing hair, her flowing skirt, her smile - everything - it was what you imagined.

You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling yourself closer to you. You pressed your head against her back, earning a chuckle from the horse rider.

“You better come home to me, Sasha Braus. I will never forgive you if you don’t.”

“As if I won’t.”

She signaled the horse to stop at the willow tree you used to spend most of your childhood days at.

She gets off the horse and runs to the tree. Her fingers slowly graze the tree, reminiscing all the memories you both have made right here.

“You know,” she started, “I used to stare at you reading those books of yours under this tree. The wind would blow softly for you when you perched yourself under the tree, but the vines of leaves at its branches would move so much. It was as if they were dancing for you. Even if I brought a drink or a snack, you’d just give me your portion and continue to read those books, but when I wanted you to talk to me, you’d instantly put the book down and give all your attention to me.”

“Well,” you say, “I’d always look up once in a while and see you play with the animals in that little bush there,” you point at the bush covered by fireflies, “I’d see you try picking up squirrels and capture butterflies wondering what goes on in your head.”

You get off the horse and walk towards Sasha.

“I’ll miss this the most when I leave, I think. This small haven we made from trees will always be my first home.”

You hug Sasha from behind, gripping onto her loose shirt.

“It’s happening, isn’t it? I can’t talk you out of it, can I?” you say, sniffles stopping you from speaking clearly.

She shook her head and you sigh, feeling defeated.

“Y/N, pass those exams and get into the Royal Capital. I will enter the Military Police and I’ll meet you within Wall Sheena.”

“I’ll try to get everyone to move. Then, we all will be together again,” you say, building your resolve.

Sasha turns to face you. The minute she sees you, she begins to laugh hysterically.

“You look like a lost puppy,” she says as she touches your cheek, “I’ll miss you, Y/N.”

You press your foreheads against each other. You both instinctively close your eyes, enjoying the small moment you two were sharing.

You couldn’t imagine how your life was going to be without the bubbly presence only Sasha could give. To think there would be no more random rendezvous, no more jokes and no more stories from the girl in front of you made you feel the pain you didn’t want anyone to feel.

But you knew that Sasha had aspirations and dreams - you were in no place to stop her, even if her life was on the line.

The only thing you could do was to cherish this little moment with her before years without her begin.

Soon, a swarm of fireflies surrounded the two of you, giving you a clear view of the woman before you. The bright, flickering lights enhanced the raw beauty only Sasha exemplified. Her eyes stared into yours, begging you to say something.

It was only fair to do this now. If it didn’t happen now, you don’t know when you’ll have the chance again.

“I love you, Sasha Braus. Ever since I was kids I-”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Your lips met under a firefly-lit forest under the willow tree in your safe haven.

Wanna request something or just wanna talk? Go ahead and send me an ask here! If you want to send a request, please check my guidelines to see what I am comfortable with. Thanks for reading <3

25 notes · View notes

purple-dahlias · 3 years ago

Text

day seven- dog

wc: 662 requested: no warnings: none

Saturday afternoons were what Sarah looked forward to most now in this landscape of her new life. They at least were a time given to her that allowed her to forget about the way things were. All the troubles and the pain and the hurt of the last few months. Just for an afternoon, they could disappear, and she could be just Sarah, the girl who volunteers at the dog shelter every Saturday. Here, she wasn’t the depressed barista or the med student who couldn’t make up her mind or the newly qualified and failed doctor. She didn’t even have to be the disappointment of a daughter that her mother biannually told her she was. On Saturday afternoons, she was just Sarah.

She would sign in at the front desk and slip on her volunteer’s vest, tucking her bag away in the staffroom out back, and head for the room with kennels lining the walls, occupied by dogs of varying breeds and sizes. There was always something to be done. A Pomeranian who needed more water, a Labrador who wanted to play, a German Shepherd who was due for a walk. In particular, there was a young golden retriever puppy she had become fond of over the past few weeks, Maisie. Sarah had come to learn the exact place under the chin she liked to be scratched at, which ball was her favourite (the green one), and even what her different barks meant—especially the one she gave when she saw Sarah.

Being someone who was such a meticulous researcher, someone who always liked to know what they were getting into, Sarah knew there was supposed to be some therapeutic benefit of having a dog, petting a dog, playing with a dog. She’d read many such accounts of studies that had proven this, how even now they were being used as therapy animals as part of treatment in many hospitals across the country. And really, she could see why. Those afternoons spent at the shelter were like a lifeline to her, the string pulling her along, the stitches holding her together. Just to be somewhere else, somewhere without the messiness of people and life and all its problems. Dogs were far, far easier.

If she could, oh if she could, she would have adopted a dog out of there in a heartbeat, but her apartment operated a strict no pets policy, and since quitting her job, well, she didn’t exactly have the funds to look for an alternative place. and she certainly wasn’t about to go and make that particular fact known to her mother. She would never give her that satisfaction.

And it pained her, most of all, not being able to take Maisie out of there, give her a better life than one that ended every day being shut into a kennel for the night. In that way, though, Sarah often thinks, her and the shelter dogs are similar. Leading lives with no real direction, with people who pass through with their own destinations in mind, leaving you behind in their wake to continue on. Trapped, constrained by what you can and can’t do. While there isn’t a physical cage holding Sarah in, she just can’t shake the feeling that she is stuck. What’s worse, perhaps, is the comparison she draws between the way many of the shelter dogs had been given up, abandoned by their previous owners, and how desperately left and alone she is. And it’s hard to keep that from consuming her completely, especially now. Now when she had just managed to pull herself together enough to work again, even if it is just at the coffee shop down the road. She needs something to focus on, something to keep her going. So continues her visits to the shelter every Saturday. Because if that helps its inhabitants to feel less alone, less forgotten, less trapped, less like her, then that was what she was going to do.

#medtober2021 #medtober alternate prompts #recovering!au #sarah reese #my writing #chicago med #this may well be the single worst thing I’ve ever written

10 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 4 years ago

Text

Minimum Distance

If there’s one thing Obi’s sure of, it’s that this is Hisame’s fault.

Not the lockdown-- though honestly, he wouldn’t put it past the bastard if it meant having things go his way-- but everything else. This fucking party. That stupid fake dating plan. The kiss.

He scrapes a hand down his face. This whole ‘day trip’ is turning right into a disaster weekend and god, if he had the ability to fly right back to DC right now, he would. But instead he’s trapped here, in the middle of the New Mexican desert, in the Smart House of some elusive and shady billionaire. He must have kicked a puppy in the last life-- no, bags of puppies-- if the universe is exerting this level of karmic violence on him.

His back hits the door. He needs like, five minutes. Just until he learns how to breathe again.

Which he’s not going to do, if he keeps replaying that kiss in his head. You know, the only thing he’s been doing for the past twenty-four hours, including breakfast, where Rougis just stared at him with that grin on his face. Like he knew. Like he could somehow see every last mortifying second of his dreams last night, and thought it was funny.

Doc’s informed him this whole pandemic thing is serious, that there’s stuff with r’s and knots and things being close to two. He is tangentially aware aware of how a logarithmic scale works, and he’d never wish anyone actually sick, but-- if Hisame could just shuffle off this mortal coil in the next few hours, that would really pluck one of the bigger monkeys off his back.

He takes a deep breath-- more like a deep hiccup, honestly-- and lets the tension fall out of him. It’s fine. He doesn’t have time to stand here and freestyle mental scream. He has to work on getting them back home. Which means getting this Rugilia guy to sign off on funding.

And then he can hop on a plane, pandemic permitting, and get instantly fired for kissing his boss’s girlfriend. Bingo bango bongo. Job well done.

God, it would be just great if he could resist fucking up just one good thing in his life. At least Ryuu will still write.

Right, no time for catastrophizing. They’ve got a billionaire to woo. Or something.

He swings open his door-- no, it’s her door, but also his, because switching rooms seemed prudent when the guy holding all the keys spent a night trying to get Doc alone in a garden-- only to run into Doc. Literally. Right there. In her borrowed pajamas.

Whatever intel Rugilia had on her was clearly not as good as his, since Doc is really a matching pajama sets kind of girl, and not--

Well, after living with her for three years, Obi can firmly say he’s never seen a cotton teddy. At least, not on Doc herself.

He could get used to it, though.

“Oh, Obi!” She blinks, taking a step back. Adjusts her glasses, too. Tugs at a hem that is not going to get any lower, no matter how much she tries. “I was just coming to see you.”

“Ah.” He scrubs at the back of his head; it gives him as good an excuse as any for looking anywhere else. If he gives her more than a glance he’ll start counting freckles, and well-- they have separate rooms for a reason “Me, too. I was thinking--”

“The room thing isn’t going to work.”

He blinks. Blinks again.

“I mean...” Her cheeks bloom to a pale pink, the start of what’s sure to be a painful blush. “We should be sharing a room.”

He hopes there’s an actual, medical doctor in this group of useless socialites, because he’s about to have a cardiac event, and Doc’s doesn’t have the right alphabet soup to handle that kind of thing. “UH.”

“No, no!” She waves her hands, and god, they’re so close her fingertips practically brush his chest. Which wouldn’t be a problem if she didn’t follow up with, “I just mean, we should be sleeping together.”

Oh, it’s too late for medical intervention now; he’s already dead. “Ah, Doc--?”

“I just mean,” she yelps, fingers fluttering nervously between them, making it real hard to not look down and get some solid ideas about her cup size. “I know we switched rooms. For safety.”

“For safety,” he echoes dumbly, because that’s the level of thought he’s at right now. Or at least, the level he can safely be at without risking a real containment breach on all the things he’s not allowed to think when Doc’s around, wearing almost nothing, and telling him they need to put their bodies in close, horizontal proximity.

“But if we’re trying to be a couple, I don’t think...” Her tongue pokes out, pink and spongy, and draws his eyes right to the lips he definitely shouldn’t be staring at. “Well, I just don’t think that we-- that you-- that it looks--?”

“You mean,” he says, so slow, like she’s a rogue possum and he’s animal control, “I don’t look like the kind of guy who wouldn’t be taking advantage of a king bed and silk sheets?”

“Ah...” She’s the one that blinks now, eyelashes fluttering against red cheeks that are begging him to take their temperature. “Not-- not the way you were, um...”

She lets the implication hand in the air, and god, fuck Rougis for putting that fucking idea in his head, for even allowing the memory of her against him like that, sighing into his mouth--

“I thought we were supposed to be keeping it on the down low,” he says, leaning in with a grin. “Since you’re slumming it with the help.”

Her mouth goes from sexy to scowl. “I’m not slumming it with anyone.”

“Right, right, I know that,” he assure her, “but Rugilia--”

“No.” It’s loud enough that he flinches, because fuck, he can pretend to be normal all the live long day, but the second a voice raises-- “Oh, Obi, sorry, I didn’t--” her palm wraps warmly around his arm, thumb rubbing over the cotton of his sleeve-- “I just meant that I’m not-- it’s not-- being with you isn’t slumming.”

It’s all a little much having her so close, having so little of her be clothed, and smell so good as she does. She must have taken a shower or something before rushing out here to make herself his own personal problem. In any case, all he manages is a half-dubious, half-distracted hum.

“Besides,” she adds, one of her eyebrows rounding in a teasing arch, “as far as I was aware, doctors and lawyers were considered the same pay grade.”

Obi coughs on his own spit. “I’m not a lawyer.”

“And I’m not that kind of doctor.” Her arms fold neatly-- distractingly-- beneath her breasts, A cups giving off a distinctly B-cup vibe. “But Eisetsu doesn’t know that. I told him I was here about a vaccine, and you said you were here to keep me out of trouble.”

And with a man used to dealing with pharma rather than the academic side, the legal representation would be implied. Obi scrubs a hand through his hair, staring down at his silk pajama set, and tries to discern what about him says ‘went to a four-year college,’ let alone law school. “Me?”

“Well...” She really shouldn’t look at him like that, all coy from the corner of those big eyes, if he can’t give her a repeat performance of last night. “It only makes sense. I mean, who else does Zen hang out with.”

Now, that-- that gives him pause. Mitsuhide, lawyer. Kiki, lawyer. Doc, doctor, but Not That Kind. Him--

“Fuck me,” he breathes, “that actually makes sense.”

“It does,” she agrees primly. “I’d thought the keeping it quiet angle was more along the line of, uh, conflict of interest, rather than, um, other reasons.”

Other reasons, like that half of his other aliases were on No Fly lists. “Conflict of Interest?”

“Well, um...” Her flush is brighter this time, spilling over her cheeks and down her neck, flirting with the lace edging her neckline, and he certainly is feeling both conflicted and interested about how far it might go-- “There’s probably fraternization rules.”

He blinks. “Fraternization?”

“You know,” she says slowly, taking a step back, right into the doorway of her-- his room. “That employees can’t date or, um--” her skin’s barely a shade lighter than her hair-- “do other stuff. At least without clearing with HR first.”

It shouldn’t be so cute that a woman with a doctorate can’t say sex, but this is it, this is his type now.

“Other stuff, hm?” He steps close, their toes sharing the jamb. So close that when she sucks in a breath, shallow and quick, her chest brushes against his. “If we’re supposed to be fraternizing in this room tonight, a few things are going to have to change.”

She shuffles back, an arm’s length--one of hers, at least-- toes curling on the carpet. “O-oh?”

The thing is: Obi can’t resist a good joke. It’s why he works so good with the boss-man; no matter how transparent, how dumb it is, all his teasing crawls right under that lily-white thin skin of his and sends Wisteria climbing right up the wall. It’s satisfying.

So when he closes the gap between them with a single long stride, he expects Doc to just-- tell him to quit it. Yelp maybe. Slap his chest. Scold him, if he’s lucky.

But instead she just peers up at him, chest quivering, and doesn’t get the joke. By the way she’s looking at him, she--

Ah, well, it doesn’t look like she minds overly much either. Which is going to make this Not Funny real quick in a southerly direction.

Strange, he doesn’t feel much like laughing either.

“The bed.” His hips guide her back a step, then two. “For one.”

She really needs to stop him, to put her foot down, to really get it through to the parts of him below the belt that she’s not interested in bringing some realism to this little show they’re putting on.

Instead, she lets him herd her four more steps back, body following every slow, rolling suggestion of his. “Bed?”

“Yeah.” Her knees hit the edge of the mattress-- well, considering how tall these beds are, her waist. She wobbles, hands bracing on his chest. “We need to get this bed messy.”

Her breath sighs into the air between them, eyes so round, so dark, and--

She realizes what he’s about to do five seconds too late. “Obi, n--!”

Feathers fly everywhere. Damn, this Rugilia guy really did spare no expense.

There’s a long, quiet moment, Shirayuki staring up at him with confusion and betrayal warring in her eyes, and she-- she laughs. It’s all the warning he gets before he’s blind-sided, pillow knocking him to his knees, and god, she’s going to regret starting a fight with--

Tap tap. Tap tap.

They both freeze, staring at one another. That was on the door. Her door. No, his door.

“It’s Eisetsu,” comes the soft voice through it. “Can we talk?”

#obiyukichopped #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #modern au #quarantine au #ans #this is another one of those fics where I really just gotta...write out the whole thing #and i will!#hopefully in Feb/March you'll see the first chapter of this particular fic #i have got some IDEAS for how this is going to go down #and oh boy is it gonna be fun

39 notes · View notes

cute-communist-pink-pervert · 4 years ago

Text

my candy love is over.

After all this years, the game that made me make this tumblr account and that probably changed my life forever is gone.

What can I even say?

I was 10 when I started playing it.

The story while simple, was so interesting and fun for me at the time, I spent 12 hour per day thinking about it, and on the other half of the day I was creating fanfics inside my head, where my oc was a mermaid, a long lost princess, a sassy blonde tsundere girl with a heart of gold... I could be all of that while looking good and having five anime boyfriends!

And the fandom...oh the fandom. I said a while ago that it was/is a very toxic community, and while I'd still consider this statement to be true, there for sure was a lot of passion and creativity in it.

Some of my current favorite youtubers and artists started here, it's crazy to see how far they've come when looking back they were just some teens with crushes on anime boys.

The memes in the fandom were also 👌👌👌 honestly, it has here were I learned what shitpost is.

As for my personal relantionship with that hell of a game well, I'm not kinding when I say It changed my life forever.

I was always a shy, self consious, anxious kid, with little to no friends, so to have a place where ""I"" was an outgoing pretty teen, who was not only beloved by all of her classmates, but also desirable by boys, so much so they would get flustered by things that I've said and compliment me for small actions???? Mannnn that was AMAZING.

I know I don't post my artwork in my tumblr so it's kind of weird for me to say that but this dating simulator literally gave me the dream of being an artist. It's true, I was so in love with ChiNoMiko's artstyle that all I wanted when I was 12 was to be able to draw just like her, so praticed every day till I could draw a girl as pretty as Candy or a guy as cool as one of the main boys.

But what helped me the most was for sure the much needed escapism MCL gave me.

I'm a pedophillia survior, for years I spent every single day of my life afraid my abuser would hurt me, rape me or even kill me haha guess what profession he occupies? yep, good ol' cop, protecting those in need! like all his noble co-workers! It felt like I was in a constant danger zone, and that no matter how much I'd pray, he would always be there to torture my existence. This trauma was the main reason why I developed depression, and why I hated being me so much.

But this game...this game helped me, it helped a lot. When I was in the school of Sweet Amoris I could take myself out of the world where there was someone trying to use me in such a disgusting way. I could distance myself from being the scared introverted girl I was and become a confident and beloved idealized version of me.

There really wasn't room for fears and anxiety when I was chasing Nathaniel, argueing with Castiel, helping Lysander find his notebook, making pop culture references with Armin and simping for Kentin.

Now I'm in no way shape or form saying My Candy Love is a good game. It's full of plot holes, has a problem with keeping its consistence in artstyle, has billions of wasted storyline, some of the wrost character development I've ever seen, had some very bad stereotypes and representation of minorities in it's early years and I'm not even going to begin on how Beemov is a shitty company runned by idiots that treats it's employees and consumers like fucking garbage.

But I can't deny my love for this series, or at least the first part of it, and how much it meant for me.

Nowadays,after somehow finishing high school, somehow getting into a happy relantionship and finally being able to have my abuser far away from me and anyone I love, I look back grateful for my times as a cringy weeb obssed with these french anime boys, if I am who I am today it was thanks to these weird memories that marked my life.

So thank you you,

For this messy story,

For this even messier fandom,

For Kentin, the biggest fictional crush I've ever had,

For making me create my account on this lovely hellsite,

For the joy,

For the laughter,

For the dream,

And so much more.

MY CANDY LOVE IS OVER BITCHES

#my candy love #ill miss whatever this was #hmm #will i?#hmmmm #no not really lol #rip #you will not be missed

14 notes · View notes

whitecatindisguise · 5 years ago

Note

Angst idea: So everyone in the fandom, including myself, seems to headcanon that Varian didn't eat or sleep enough between QFAD & SSD and just worked nonstop. What if while he's got the queen in his lab, his body just gave out and he fainted, or even went into some kind of shock? That'd be inconvenient.

Okay, I did a little research so I can write it right. I hope I don't make any big mistakes lmao.

Anyway, let's do this.

-------

The last thing Arianna remembered was a masked person blowing some kind of green powder in her direction and falling.

When she came to, she was chained to the floor in an unfamiliar room. She blinked out the remains of the sleep and tried to understand, where she was.

The room was spacious. Or at least, it used to be, as now a large shape covered in tarp took over more than half of the space. She tried to figure out what was it, but the shape was anything but familiar.

By the wall, numerous shelves stood, filled with various vials, mixtures, scrolls and books. There was a desk and a chair somewhere to her left, cluttered with notes and equipment she didn't know the purpose of.

There was a window on the other side of the room, but she was too far away to see anything other than the sky night sky.

The door opened and the Queen stifled a gasp at the incomer. His dark hair were longer than usual, dirty and messy. His eyes, barely visible from under the bangs, had dark circles around them. His cheekbones were visible, and the clothes he wore hang on him like one size too big.

All in all, he looked so much different she almost didn't recognise him. If it wasn't for the blue eyes and teal-coloured hairstripe, she would take him for anyone but not the cheerful boy she saw all those months on the Science Expo.

Granted, it was a short encounter and they didn't talk at all. Arianna was quite sure the boy didn't even know she was there, but he made quite an impression on her, being so brilliant and intelligent as he was.

"Varian?" She breathed out and the boy flinched for a second, before his shoulders squared and an awful grin appeared on his face.

"Hello, Your Majesty. I hope you had a nice sleep." He said and Arianna could hear his voice being raspy and hoarse.

"What are you doing?" She questioned, unsure how to approach the situation.

He clearly kidnapped her and was holding her hostage. But, at the same time, he was just a child, barely in his early teens.

"Only what I have to." He replied, setting down the raccoon from his shoulders onto the desk. "I kindly asked for help and was denied, taken for a villain. So, I had to take up a different approach."

"Help? What kind of help?" The Queen was confused. This was the first time she heard of anything like this. What kind of help would he need, that would force him into this?

"What kind of-? Oh, don't play with me, Your Majesty!" Varian snapped, his eyes red from anger and something more, Arianna thought as she regarded his look once again. "You all ignored the problem far too long! But, if it doesn't affect you directly, it's not really your problem, isn't it?!"

"Varian, I have no idea what you are talking about... please, I just want to help..." She tried once again.

"The black rocks!" The boy shouted, throwing his arms in the air. "They are everywhere, destroying the crops, the-the houses! Everyone was forced to leave their homes! Don't you dare to say you have no idea what I'm talking about!"

Arianna was shocked. Sure, she heard from Frederic black rocks were growing, Rapunzel mentioned it too, but she didn't think it was that bad. Her mind mulled the information, before she stuck on a specific sentence.

"Varian... why are you still here?" She asked cautiously. "If everyone left, then why are you...?"

"I-I can't. Not when dad's-!" He stumbled on words, tears suddenly appearing in his eyes.

It was such a drastic change from the outburst of anger before, Arianna didn't know what to do. The boy was shaking, tears falling from his eyes. He was mumbling something about black rocks, experiments, his father, amber and snowstorm.

Suddenly struck by a thought, Arianna's eyes shot to the shape covered by a tarp. Her heart skipped a beat, as she noticed a part where the material didn't reach.

There, hidden inside the golden crystal, was a hand. It clenched a piece of paper, with words 'Son' on it. She covered her mouth to stifle a startled gasp, as she finally understood.

Suddenly, a loud sound took up all of her attention. She looked in Varian's direction only to see him sway, one hand reaching to his head, the other trying to grab the side of the desk for support.

He missed by inches and stumbled forward, falling to the cold floor with a loud thump.

"Varian!" She cried but the boy didn't respond.

He lay motionless on the ground, his skin looking more pale than moments ago. The raccoon chittered anxiously and jumped down, running up to him. He pawed at the boy's cheek, chittering in agitation.

Arianna wanted to run to the fallen alchemist, but a sharp pain in her ankle sent her tumbling to the floor. She cried out in pain and looked down, only now remembering she was shackled to the ground.

The raccoon jumped at the sudden noise and turned to her, his eyes terrified. Their eyes locked for a moment, before it turned back to the boy and started shuffling through his pockets.

After a few moments he scurried towards the imprisoned woman, something small and metallic in his mouth. He dropped it by her hands and looked at her expectantly.

The Queen looked down and her eyes widened in shock as she noticed the key. She didn't ponder about it, quickly unlocking the shackle and approaching the boy.

He was still unmoving, and she reached out her hand to check for the pulse. Finding none she hesitated only for a second, before starting pressing down on his chest, checking every now and then if she could feel anything. The raccoon was sitting next to her, chittering nervously but he didn't disrupt her in any way.

After several tense moments, she almost cried in joy, as her fingers felt a small pulsating under the boy's skin. His chest slowly raised and fell, and both the Queen and the raccoon let out a sigh of relief.

"What happened...?" She wondered out loud, as she felt the tension leave her body.

She looked over the boy's body, once more noticing the darkened skin under his eyes, visible cheekbones and far-too-small frame.

The raccoon crooned sadly and gently pawed the boy's cheek. Arianna looked at the animal and a thought hit her.

"When was the last time he slept or ate?" She asked. The raccoon looked up to meet her eyes and let out a sad wail.

Her eyes widened in realization, as she remembered what the boy was mumbling before, during his breakdown. She looked over at the covered shape, not needing to see it to know, what was hidden under the material.

The snowstorm happened weeks ago. If that's when Quirin was imprisoned, then the boy was on his own for almost two months. She didn't think he stopped eating at all, because he would have been dead two weeks after. But certainly he didn't eat enough, which, added to serious sleep deprivation (as noticable by the dark circles under his eyes) was more than enough to put him in his condition.

The Queen was so deep in thought she didn't hear the sounds from outside, until someone gasped loudly behind her.

She turned around startled, only to be tackled by her daughter and soon joined by her husband.

"Mom, are you okay?" Rapunzel asked her, when she noticed a body sprawled on the floor over her mother's shoulder. "Is that Varian?!! What happened?!"

"It... it seems he had a heart attack." The Queen replied cautiously, to which the blonde gasped terrified.

"A-a heart attack?! But how? Why?" She questioned, moving to check on the unconscious boy. Finding the pulse she let out a relieved breath and turned back to her mother.

"I can't say it for certain, but I think he suffers from severe food and sleep deprivation. In some cases, might lead to heart attack." Arianna explained as gently as possible. She sighed and looked at her husband. "Frederic, he's been on his own for almost two months. I think that something happened during the snowstorm and Quirin is now..." Her eyes landed on the shape in the middle of the room. He followed her gaze and his eyes widened on realization.

"I... I didn't know..." He said, shocked.

"Varian said he asked for our help during the snowstorm but was denied." She looked at Rapunzel and the girl looked away, embarrassed.

"I... he did ask, but there was so much going on and... he wanted me to go with him... and I couldn't do that." She replied, ashamed. "But... I didn't go check up on him after that. I guess... I just assumed that if everything was fixed when I banished the snowstorm, whatever happened to his father was too... I didn't know..." Her gaze moved to the unconscious boy on the floor. "Oh god, he must have thought I forgot about him! That I broke my promise! I... I promised him I would help if he needed it. And I left him alone for that long!"

She broke out to a cry and Arianna hugged her, gently drawing circles on her back.

"He-he must have worked himself to dead, trying to figure it out on his own!" Rapunzel cried in the Queen's embrace. "And it's all my fault!"

"Shhh, no one is blaming you for his condition, darling. It was his decision." Arianna reassured softly. "A bad decision, but his nevertheless."

"We'll take him to the castle." Frederic announced suddenly. "We'll make sure he gets the help he needs. Both physically and mentally."

"Thanks dad" Rapunzel smiled through tears.

She moved away and stood up, Arianna standing up too. The man kneeled and gently picked up the small boy, cradling him in his arms.

"Don't worry, Varian. I won't fail you this time..." Arianna heard Rapunzel say as they left the house, the raccoon following close after. "I promise..."

--------

So, that's it. I am not sure that's what you meant by the prompt, but that's what I came up with.

Anyway, I did a little research and sleep deprivation MAY cause heart attacks, or at least the body might be more prone to it. Other symptoms may include mood swings, which I also included.

So, I hope you enjoyed the story. It was fun to write.

#varian #tts #fanfiction #angst #oneshot #ask answered

94 notes · View notes

mehiwilldoitlater · 4 years ago

Text

Little secret

“Honestly, only you could like a place like this!” It’s not a big phrase, after all it’s just a fact, you showed mny many times to like kind of creepy like thing. The real thing that started to irritated you was more the constant degradation coming from the brunette behind you. You and Victoria weren’t friends, you were two people in the same group of friends, and that it’s completely different. It wasn’t even like you didn’t like her, she was an average girl like you.....just really bitchy, aggressive, far more capable around people than you and other thing, and you were you, and maybe that was enough to hirritate her. You never understand why she hate you so much, and you didn’t want to know, but for the sake of the other memebers of your group you had just decided to let go, but on this particularly trip in Louisiana she became particularly creative on how piss you off. The only thing you wanted was to have a good time with your friend doing camping, and now you and the only girl that enjoy just unsettle you around, mocking you and show off were forced to find the nearest city, Ambrose in this case, to find a phone because the driver of your van had forgotten to bring an extra bottle of motor oil. You two were determinated to just not to be near each other, so you just ignored a pair of important signals that should have warned you, like a completely empty city and the most strange kind of museum that you had ever saw in your life. It was incredible, the entire structure was made completely of wax! That place should have supposed to be in the Guinnes book!!! Victoria was...less impressed, bragging about the discomfort of the place. Inside was not different, even the forniture were made of wax! You two were able to notice this fact was when you posed ypur hand on the near library in a twenties syle room, and you check the books, the lamp, the flower...all made of wax! Being an artistic creature of your own, how could you not find this place amazing? Whoever was the creator of this museum, he sure was capable to deceive the eyes of the viewer! The only artist that had tried to do something like this was Dalì with his bread room, but compared to this masterpiece even the Barcelonan artist was overshadowed! But Victora was just...her. She didn’t get it all, just started to bragging how that place was creepy, you had just decide to not listen to her, untill the last sentence. “Well, it’s a you problem...” “Oh please, you creep out everybody with that notebook of yours! Drawing all that stuff...” “It’s none business what i do with my stuff Victoria. I don’t complain about the amount of alcohol that you swallow, or the the deadly breath that you bring around when you smocking pot or all the thing that i find annoying about you...” Your were more occupied on admiring the strutcure, but your ears pointing out the irritation of the girl behind your back by the movement of her shoes on the floor. “At least my friends did not bring me around just beuse they know i’ll be a looner all summer like somebody else!” Aaaaah, the old loser trap card, how did you not missed this. You weren’t that much of social, okay? But it wasn’t a big problem, if people didn’t want you around them they would have just left you in the big city...right? Well fuck Victoria and her fucking ability to just stab you in the right place, you were that nervous that you just started to move around the museum, ignoring not only the surroinding, but even the muffled sound from the twenties room. “Oh yeah! I’m sooooo sorry, you know?! I’m so sorry that i prefer to stay on my own! I’m so in despair to know that i don’t follow all of those fucking tendencies like you and the others, that people prefer girls like you that and just think that girls like me should just go die in a pit because all society just don’t care about....” ....did you just hear a yelp of a dog? In your rage, you find yourself in another room...the prettyest one too, it was like one of those old victorian greenhouse, that too made of wax of course, like the plants too. The only difference?....there was a dog there. On first sight, yur first idea was that, maybe, that was a fake dog, like all things inside that museum, but the sounds that it was making and the unmistakable movement of his torso surprise you! There it was, on four, looking at your direction, almost curious maybe? It was a medium size,white and black, and it wasn’t exactely something that you would have connected with a guard dog, since it wasn’’t even charging or barking at you. He was just there, watching you, trying to understand if you were a threat or not... “..OH! Hello buddy! What are you doing here???” Ok, no threat! You kneeling in front of him, stretching a hand carefully to evitate to scare him all of sudden, and he reacted pretty well too! Still unsure about your intention, the dog dares to take a few step in your direction, sniffing your skin, and when finally it realized that maybe you weren’t so bad, it’s started to rub his on your palm, wagging his tail in the moment it sensed your nail scratching his throat side. “You’re such a good boy...uh?” The collar on throat showed a little rudimental, lamost handmade, metal label with a nome on it. “Sparky?...it’s your name? It’s adorable Sparky!” Completely absorved by the animal at your feet, you didn’t have the chance to sense the presence at your back, watching you carefully and moving without make a sound...but a dog is a naive creature, and Sparky had recognize only his owner, joyfully barking and reaching him. Only then you finally turn around, finally facing the first human being besides you and Victoria in that city. “Oh...um....it’s yours? I didn’t know, he was just sitting here alone and...” Silence, he wasn’t talking, and he was...strange. You weren’t capable to fully observe his face, covered in those that were his hair, a long raven mass that almost reached the hand of his back, messy and almost uncured. His clothes weren’t that different, boots covered in mud and something else that you didn’t dare to understand, a sweater that maybe a long time ago was white but lost his color for a new brownish shade, the trousers were hided behind an black leather apron. Again, your distraction on his look didn’t let you notice the position of his arm, like he was holding something behibnd his back, something that had already stained the unseen part of his sweater and that was ready to take care of you. He was ready to strik, until... “....Wait...a-are you the owner of the museum?.....you made all of this???” He stopped, your eyes were glued on his face, jesturing your finger on his apron, covered in now cold wax. Wait, why weren’t you scared? Didn’t you get a good look on his face? Maybe you didn’t get the max... You move closer, completely uneffected by his appearence, with a gleem in your eyes. “Did you???” Still unsure, and still with a vice grip on whatever now he was hiding from you on his back, he made a simple movements with his head. “Oh my gosh you’re incredible! I never met someone that could have done something so amazing like this place! And it’s all hand made! You must be a genious!” His posture changed, it was more like a deer in front of a car, unsure of what was happening but still mesmerized by the situation. You liked his museum?! Usually he never get compliments like those, but the light in your eyes...you were sincere! Nobody ever was able to get so near him...at least alive....and you were a few inches from him, more interested on know the creator of this majestic palace. “If i knew there was a place like this i would have stopped by ages ago! Me and my...friend...have come here to find some motor oil, but it looks like the city is empty ...did you maybe know where we could find some?” This time he moves his head , gesturing a negative response. Well it wasn’t completely but still... Strange, he didn’t say a word from the moments he saw you..maybe he was mute... “....Oh ...well, just my luck....well i’ll fetch my friend and go back, maybe you saw her here too?” He do had node his head, but then he gestured the outside of the structured, and moved his finger, imitating a legs movements. “...Did she just leave me here?! That fucking...urg....” Trying to contains every derogatory adjective for the girl that seemed to have leaved you alone in a freacking ghost city, the mysterious man take his time to study your face. Maybe you two weren’t in a good term... Taking back your composure, you passed a hand in your (H/L) hair. Well, better for you! Victoria was usefull in the wild like toaster in a desert! Complaining about everything every five minutes! Finally some piece, and if you were lucky enough, she could have become a bear snack for the day! “..Sorry, it has been a really long day...i have to go back to my friend, sorry for the intrusion in your home...” He moved aside, give you space between him and the dog to let you pass, but before getting out from the green house you stopped again, like you had forgotten something. “Oh yes! Anyway my name is Y/N!” Exctending your hand, you only find him far more confused from before, and after had finally understand your intentions, he started to to search something in his pocket. That something was an old piece of paper, something that maybe must have been part of a sketch book, and what that had remained of a black crayon. He really was mute, but maybe he was used to people to not get it the first time, sicne he hand to you what is was his writed name. Taking it, you finally met completely the artist. “Vincent Sinclair......It’s your name?...It’s cute! I like it!” Before he could take away his hand, you fully take it and shake it gently, sensing his skin through your palm. It wasn’t bad, it was strange feeling, maybe for the remaining presence of wax on it, but still normal somehow. When you released his hand, he stayed there, completely absorved bu your gesture. “Well...see you around Vin!”

//////////

From the inside, Vincent was able to take some last shots of you, just enough to memorize your body before the others structures could completely cancel your presence from the little city. What had just happen in his house? Did he let a victim get away? But you were so strange, so...different. You didn’t scream at his presence, you didn’t find his museum creepy, you find it amazing...you find Vincent amazing. Abandoned the knife, covered in blood from his previous victim, now well hided in his workshop, Vincent started to finally reassemble his actions, he did let you go, but he lied to you about the girl....Well you weren’t that happy when he told that little lie, but still why did he do that? He didn’t want to scared you? He was confused, but still in that momemnt something happen in his mind. When he was thinking about someone his thoughts were about the utility of that subject in his museum, but now he wanted to...know you? He wanted to meet you again? More, he wanted to sculpture you something, he wanted to draw your face and make many anatomy study. He wanted... No wait...he did let you go...If Bo ever found out about that it would be the beginning of many troubles! No, Vincent would never allow that, he loves his brother but you were different, a complete stranger that weren’t scared of him, you were nice! Yes, he needed to keep the secret, even from Lester, he wasn’t cruel like Bo but he wasn’t good on keeping secrets...secrets...A part of Vincent liked that idea....

You were Vincent little secret...

#house of wax #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #slasher

27 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

Text

Survey #371

“some of those that work forces are the same that burn crosses”

What is one song you feel as though you sing particularly well, if any? Probably none, lol. What was the last lengthy task you completed? I love these unique questions I've had lately, but damn, are a lot of my answers "I don't know," lol. What type of photography do you enjoy looking at? Do you take any photos yourself, and if so, what types of things do you prefer to photograph? I love floral and wildlife photography. Landscapes, too, and I have a great fondness for boudoir for reasons I've mentioned in previous surveys. I like taking nature pictures, mainly. Have you ever gone out for the Black Friday shopping rush? Did you enjoy it, or not so much? Or, what’s the busiest shopping day you’ve ever experienced? Hell no, that's a hard pass. I'm sure the busiest shopping experience I've had was like at the mall or something around Christmas, idk. Do you enjoy reading diaries or stories you wrote from when you were younger, or does it embarrass you? If you’ve kept them, was there a particular reason for hanging on to them so long? NO. I DON'T. BECAUSE I CRINGE INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION. I keep a lot of it for memory's sake, but goddamn, is it always embarrassing. What would you say was your first true hobby? What about your most recently developed one? Um... the first thing I really remember is video games. I played Spyro like, a LOT, along with other childhood games. I was just really into gaming at a young age. Is there one thing that throws off your mood more than others, whether it be lack of sleep, lack of food, heat/cold, etc., and when was the last time you felt especially cranky? THE HEAT. I become so irritable. I was needlessly cranky a few days ago for whatever reason. What kinds of things are you likely to complain about? My legs hurting, more than anything. Also being hot. Do you like to put any extra effort into your food in terms of presentation, or do you prefer to just put it on a plate and eat it as it is, no frills? Ha, no. It's not gonna look fancy in my stomach, so whatever. Have you ever dated someone who had kids? No, and I very much doubt I ever would. Are there any candles in the room with you? No. Does the last person you kissed have tattoos? No, but I tell her all the time that dainty nature tattoos would be THE most beautiful on her. When was the last time someone called you pretty? I think when I last updated my Facebook profile picture. Do you like the color pink? It's my favorite! Does your cell phone have a case on it? What color? It came with this thin purple one. What was the last song you had on repeat? "Moon Baby" by Godsmack. Ever kissed someone your parents hated? No. Your most recent ex says he/she hates you, you say? I wouldn't *say* anything, I'd break down sobbing. Would you feel hurt if your last ex was in a relationship? No. Have you ever had to choose between two people? Yes: Jason and Juan. Juan and I dated for less than a day not all that long before Jason and I got together, and Juan was pretty upset. He was nooot a fan of Jason due to a shared ex-girlfriend. Jason, meanwhile, just didn't care. What is the saddest thing that has happened to you? What about the happiest? I think the saddest thing has to be my breakup, especially when you know just how madly in love I was with him and had endless trust that he would never leave, and then he was gone in a flash one night. The happiest is, in turn, my recovery from said split. I found strength in myself and felt hope for once as I learned coping mechanics and got a psychiatrist that was worth a shit in my partial hospitalization program. What was the last new drink you discovered that was delicious? *shrug* Do you have a YouTube channel? Yes. I don't make videos anymore, though. Were you happy as a teenager? God no, my depression was awful. What do you do for your mom on Mother’s Day? Sigh. Not enough. I just tell her happy Mother's Day, give her a hug, and try to be an extra good daughter. Do you know anyone who follows a raw vegan diet and lifestyle? No. Can you go see a doctor alone or do you like to take someone with you? I can do it alone (but only have once), but I like to bring my mom with me still. Would you have sex with someone of the same gender as you? I'm bi, so. Have you ever had a concussion? One or two, I can't remember. How many dresses do you own? Zero. Do you know anyone who has a pet gecko? Yeah, my friend Summer has a darling leopard gecko. I want oneeeeee. They look so damn derpy and adorable, and their chill demeanor is something I really like in pets. Would you ever go bear hunting? No. Absolutely never. Do you prefer drawing or painting? Any particular reason why? Drawing, for sure. At least you can erase stuff, and paint is just so messy. Do you like raisins? NO THANKS MAN. Do you remember your locker combinations from high school? Nope. Do you forget to flip the page of your calendar at the start of each month? I don't have a calendar. Are you racist to any race? Nope. Have you ever intentionally hurt an animal? I've given cats and dogs a small pop on the rear, but nothing more than that. I hate doing even that, but with the language barrier and all, sometimes it's the only way to get your point across. Do you own any autographed memorabilia? No. Have you ever dated a twin? No. Oreos or Chips Ahoy? Oreos. Have you ever considered being a cop? Yeah, no thank you. What’s your favorite superhero movie? Maybe Logan. I thought it was very emotional and just overall a good movie. Name somebody you know who deserves a better life than they have: MY MOM. Name something that you’re good at but don’t like: uhhhhhhhh Name something that you’re bad at but DO like: Dancing, maybe. Which is worse: Stale chips or flat soda? Stale chips, for sure. It's certainly not my preference, but I can drink flat soda. Who’s the hottest guy and hottest girl out there? M-Mark Fischbach. :') Girl... let's seeeeee... maybe Alissa White-Gluz from Arch Enemy. GodDAMN what a WOMAN. ❤_❤ Do you ever trip over your pets? Yes, because he just looooves to follow me at my feet. What’s your relationship like with your exes? Aaron, Juan, Jason, and Tyler: nonexistent. Sara and Girt: great. What was the last thing you turned down doing? Going to my nephew's t-ball game. I always feel bad when I say no when Mom asks if I wanna go... but at least the kids know I just don't handle the heat well. Are you a party animal? Faaaaar from it, my friend. Who are you the biggest fan of? m-m-m-mMARKIPLIER You’re DJ for the night - first track to get everyone going? Uhhhh maybe "Party Hard" by Andrew W.K.? Have you ever been hit on by a pushy person? I think Juan was kinda pushy, but not to an uncomfortable degree. He respected what I felt. What accent do you find attractive? Most attractive, British. But I also really like Scottish and Irish. Also French accents in women I tend to find very beautiful-sounding. Have you ever had feelings for a friend's partner? Yes. What’s your favorite thing to do that doesn’t cost much? Drive around take pictures, maybe? Let's, uh, ignore the whole gas crisis in this answer. When in danger are you more fight or flight? Flight. Do you feel self conscious about a certain body part? *gestures to entire body* Have you been accused of being manipulative? Yes. Have you ever considered violence to solve your problem? No. Are you romantic? I personally think so. If you are a smoker, how long does a pack typically last you? If you aren’t a smoker, does anybody you are close to smoke, & if so, are you against the fact that they’re a smoker? I don't smoke. To answer the next part, yes, like my dad and stepmom. I wish they would stop so badly, like it's literally going to kill them both. Do you have more subscribers or more people that you are subscribed to? On YouTube? I'm definitely subscribed to waaay more people. Is there anything that has been drilled into your brain since you were young & you finally decided to stop listening to? How did it feel once you decided to listen to yourself over what you were told? Yes: "finish your plate." Teaching your kid to eat beyond their comfort can be very destructive, and I'm glad I never stuck to that once Mom stopped enforcing it. If you are currently in a relationship, what is one thing that seems to be unique or different about your relationship with this person, compared to other relationships in general? If you are currently single, is this more of a choice or is it more just the way things are going, not really something you chose? If you are neither “single” or officially in a relationship, what are your feelings on your current situation? I'm single, and it's just how it is. I know realistically I wouldn't tell what felt like the right person no, but it really is probably better that I stay single and keep figuring my shit out. Think of somebody famous that you have a lot of respect for. What is something that you really admire them for? To name just one thing I admire in Mark, his relentless "I'm going to do this no matter what" attitude is very inspirational to me. He lets like... n-o-t-h-i-n-g get in his way. If somebody were to leave a harsh comment on a survey you took, judging you on one of your opinions, how would you react? I'd get pretty self-conscious, just because I in general take judgment quite poorly. I obsess over "what if they're right, and you're just an idiot?". Are there any other sites you use to find surveys to take? What sites do you use? I mainly use Tumblr and LiveJournal, but in times of great desperation, I'll use Bzoink and just google surveys as well, haha. Have you sent or received any friend requests on Facebook lately? Not sent, but I got one from someone I had no mutual friends with the other day. Safe to say I declined it. Can you recall the last time you turned down an offer, of any kind? Uhhhhh no. Which fruit would you say you eat the most often? Apples. What was your pet’s last vet visit concerning? Roman has been to the vet once to get neutered (and I think shots?). I took Venus many years ago because I thought she had a respiratory infection. Thank god, she didn't. Which animals do you tend to go check out first at pet stores? The reptiles, snakes in particular. Have you ever been a victim of a house fire? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever had to wait before being seated at a restaurant? Like, over an hour. Have you ever had a cavity before? How about a root canal? A tooth pulled? Braces? Cavities and braces, yes. What is your favorite zoo animal that you would like to set free? Probably polar bears. Like especially here, it gets so hot in the summer, and the poor things sometimes only have a bit of snow in the shade. Like... they can't be very happy. Especially when you see those videos of them playing in snow, and then you think about situations like our zoo here... ugh. What kinds of artifacts fascinate you? I really think old figurines built with like clay and stuff are cool. But all artifacts I find to be very intriguing. It's so interesting to see that the desire to create has always been with us as a species. Is there anyone that you’ve visited in jail? No.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''killing in the name of'' by rage against the machine

2 notes · View notes

javistg · 4 years ago

Text

Through the Senses

Chapter 3. Smell.

The third instalment of TTS is here! To read the previous chapters you can go HERE or to AO3 or FF.net.

This one’s from Katniss’s POV.

Hope you enjoy ❤️

The electric fence, covered in early morning dew, loomed on the horizon.

Keeping to the narrow alleys of the Seam, Katniss reached the empty Meadow. The smell of freshly cut grass tickled her nose.

She quickened her step. The place would be crawling with Peacekeepers soon -- and not the usual lazy kind.

The officers patrolling the streets today had been sent directly from the Capitol to oversee the reaping. They wore spotless uniforms and walked in a straight line.

Young and arrogant, they always kept their eyes peeled for any irregularities. The thought of catching some poor sucker trying to break the law drew them in, but the prospect of showing up the local authorities --and gaining some glory-- was what truly drove them on their quest.

Luckily for Katniss --who spent her days breaking the law— their loud, coordinated footsteps, paired with the stench of bleach they left behind, were hard to ignore.

Stealthily, she walked over to the loose spot in the fence and, hiding behind a clump of brushes, flattened out on her belly and slid underneath.

After retrieving her bow and sheath of arrows, she moved deeper into the woods. There, hidden by the thick line of trees encircling District 12, she breathed easy again.

Wrapped in the scent of pine needles and wet dirt she knew so well, Katniss made her way to the rock ledge where Gale was waiting for her.

Breakfast was good that morning. Fresh bakery bread; goat’s cheese packed in fragrant basil leaves; sweet blackberries, tart and juicy, that tasted like summer dreams.

The sun was high in the sky when the hunting partners walked back to the district. Their satchels were full; their hearts heavy. A good haul didn’t matter as much when the reaping was just a few hours away.

Eager to get rid of their goods, Katniss and Gale stopped by the Hob first.

The sweet smell of ripe strawberries followed the hunters. Stubborn and thick, it hung in the air as they traded their fish for bread and salt.

After visiting Sae, Katniss wrapped her arms over her hunting bag and stepped out into the bright day. Keeping her eyes to the ground, she hoped the visiting Peacekeepers wouldn’t notice the unmistakable fragrance trailing behind on her way to the mayor’s house.

By the time she got home, a warm bath awaited her.

After scrubbing off the dirt and sweat from the woods, Katniss washed her hair. Clean and refreshed, she rested her neck on the lip of the tub, stretched out her legs, and closed her eyes.

As the water cooled down around her, she took a deep, long breath.

The anise shrub Mrs. Everdeen had planted on the windowsill was in full bloom. The soft, cotton-like blossoms released their heady scent into the muggy air, sending memories of hearty winter stews and rainy afternoons back into Katniss’s mind.

Soon she’d have to dry off and get ready to go to the square, but for a few blissful seconds, her world was at peace.

Prim hadn’t taken any tesserae. Their pantry was full.

Somewhere deep, in that place in her soul where she tried not to dwell, Katniss hoped her father would approve.

XXXXX

The cave was still dark when Katniss opened her eyes.

Pushing her hood away from her face, she stretched out her neck and greedily filled her lungs with cold, early morning air.

Outside, a fierce storm raged on, pelting the rocks of the cave, and filling the small space with the rhythmic patter of droplets hitting wet earth.

The scent of damp tree bark and green moss that filtered through the rocks reminded her of her woods, but the strong arms holding her tethered her to reality. These weren’t the woods surrounding District 12. Her life in the Seam was miles away.

Trying not to disturb her district partner, Katniss gingerly flipped over on her side. It was a tight fit inside the sleeping bag, but she didn’t mind. Having Peeta there, keeping guard right next to her, beat being alone, any time.

“You OK?” he asked, lifting his arm to accommodate her movements.

“Mm-hmm. Just needed to change position,” Katniss mumbled, drowsily resting her head on his shoulder and her hand over his chest.

Peeta’s arms wrapped around her.

He smelled of sweat, dirt, ointment, and… rust?

Probably the dried blood on his bandages, Katniss thought.

It wasn’t the most enticing aroma —some might have even found it nauseating— but, to her, it was better than the most expensive Capitol perfume.

She was so relieved to have him there, alive and kicking and resting in her arms instead of dead by the river bed, that she rubbed her nose against his t-shirt and smiled.

“Hey, that tickles,” Peeta chuckled.

“Sorry,” she said around a yawn.

Lifting his free hand, Peeta began brushing the loose strands of hair on her forehead, gently stroking them back into her messy braid. “Not a problem.” His voice was a soothing caress when he asked, “D’you want me to tell you a story to help you sleep?”

A story?

The world outside was falling apart.

The star-crossed lovers of District 12 were still trapped in an arena with a crazed career hot on their trail, but as she lay there —comforted by the steady warmth of Peeta’s body beside her— none of that seemed to matter much.

Maybe a bedtime story is just what I need. “Tell me about those cakes you make,” Katniss asked, “the pretty ones.”

Still stroking her hair, Peeta told her about the bits of chalk he collected when he was little, and of the funny animals he liked to draw on the sidewalk. “Then, when I was eight,” he whispered as her breathing evened out, “my father asked me to make those same caricatures on a birthday cake. I’ve been in charge of frosting ever since.”

Peeta’s soft words blended with the gentle melody of water dancing around them, and before long, Katniss drifted off.

XXXXX

Wrapped in her mother’s old shawl, Katniss rocked back and forth. Back and forth.

A few feet away, a fire danced in the hearth.

The smoke of burning hickory and eucalyptus leaves floated through the house, infusing the empty rooms with its soothing aroma.

Dull, Katniss stared at the flames and rocked. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Morning broke.

Sae bustled about in the kitchen, humming softly to herself until the smell of scrambled eggs and toast filled the room.

“Come on, girl, breakfast’s ready,” Sae called out.

Too tired to do anything but comply, Katniss dragged her feet over to the table, sat down, and slowly cleaned her plate.

Days went by.

The rocking chair by the fireplace swayed back and forth. Back and forth.

Sae cooked and scrubbed the house clean. Traces of lemon peel and soap lingered in the air late into the night.

Lost in a world of pain and shadows, Katniss buried her nose in her mother’s shawl and, numbing her senses with the smell of mothballs and lavender that still clung to the soft fabric, rocked in her chair.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

“Spring is in the air today,” Sae said one morning. “You ought to get out. Go hunting.”

The idea seemed absurd, but a few hours later, Katniss left her chair and walked down to the study.

Wrapped in the musky smell of her father’s hunting jacket, she fell asleep on the couch.

The next morning, Peeta came back.

Shaken, Katniss shut the door behind her and ran up the stairs and into her room.

The scent was very faint, but it still laced the air.

A white rose —shriveled and fragile, but holding on to that unnatural perfection cultivated in Snow’s greenhouse— stood among the dried flowers in a vase.

Grabbing the vase, Katniss stumbled back to the kitchen and threw its contents into the embers.

The flowers flared up. A burst of blue flame enveloped the rose and devoured it.

Fire beats roses again, she thought, smashing the vase on the hardwood floor.

Back in her bathroom, Katniss peeled off her clothes and stepped into the shower.

Chamomile scented bubbles danced around her, washing away the weeks of dirt and neglect.

Later, as she untangled her hair, rubbing pomegranate infused oil to the damaged strands, she began to wonder about the world outside her door.

Haymitch was probably at home —drinking himself into oblivion.

Peeta was back.

Where was everyone else?

XXXXX

Restored after a good night’s sleep, Katniss stretched her arms and legs until they reached the edges of the bed. With a contented sigh, she relaxed onto the mattress and turned to the empty space next to her.

The sheets were rumpled but cold. Peeta had woken up early.

Frowning, Katniss flipped over, buried her nose in his pillow, and took a deep breath.

Nutmeg, vanilla, orange peel, and something else —deep and enticing that she identified as exclusively Peeta’s— tickled her nose and soothed her worries.

Smiling again, she pushed the covers away and got up.

After brushing her teeth and getting ready for the day, Katniss threw the windows open.

The smell of sweet lemons and ripe cherries greeted her, making her heart jump in joy. The trees in her orchard were in full bloom. Summer had begun.

Humming a happy tune, Katniss walked down the stairs.

As she neared the kitchen, her nose picked up hints of cinnamon, melted butter, and bacon sizzling in the skillet.

Her stomach grumbled in anticipation. Sunday Brunches with Peeta were something she looked forward to all week.

“Morning!” she said, slipping into the kitchen.

Peeta turned away from the stove. His eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Morning! Did you have a good night?”

“Yup.” Katniss walked over to the counter and reached the teapot. It was already full. “How about you? You woke up early.”

Peeta turned his attention back to the skillet with the bacon. “I woke up at seven. I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I figured I could start my day.”

With a soft hum, Katniss poured herself a cup of tea. “Want some?”

“Yeah, I’m almost done here.”

While Peeta cracked two eggs onto a waiting pan, Katniss poured two teacups and carried them back to the table where she sat down.

Resting her elbows on the countertop, she watched him work.

He looked good. He had recovered some of the weight he’d lost during the war, and the yard work he did every day had given his pale skin a healthy golden glow.

“Got any plans for today?” she asked as the earthy smell of the freshly brewed tea hung around her.

Peeta began to plate the bacon and eggs. “Not really, but it’s a nice day out. We should do something.”

“How would you like to go for a swim?”

Peeta turned around; eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? Where?”

“I know a place.” Katniss reached out and took the plate he was offering. French toast with cinnamon, maple syrup, fried eggs, roasted apples, bacon. The smell alone was enough to make her mouth water.

Peeta sat down. “Is it far from here?”

“It’s a bit of a walk -- we’ll need to take some food for later -- but I think it’s worth it.” Dipping a bit of bread in the egg, she added, “You should bring your watercolors.”

Looking up from his food, Peeta smiled at her. A soft, warm smile that spoke of the trust between them, the joy he found in the small moments they shared.

Blushing, Katniss nodded to his plate. “Eat up, your food’s getting cold.”

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, stealing shy glances over their food while Katniss made a mental list of everything she wanted to show him on the way to her father’s lake.

#through the senses #things I write #smell #everlark fan fiction

42 notes · View notes

singlethread · 4 years ago

Note

you totally don’t have to do it, but every even number for the ask prompt?

You are chaotic but i have nothing better to do

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? Apple Music actually

is your room messy or clean? Clean

what color are your eyes? Blue

do you like your name? why? Yes because I like how it sounds

what is your relationship status? So fucking single

describe your personality in 3 words or less. Loud if I know you, passionate, and caring

what color hair do you have? Dark purplish red like merlot

what kind of car do you drive? color? A black denali envoy

where do you shop? Online right now, but normally my local thrift stores

how would you describe your style? I like mixing hard with soft, I ever tend to dress in blacks or pastels both mixed with whites. Also I will always be wearing weird dangly earrings

favorite social media account. Tumblr

what size bed do you have? Full

any siblings? 2

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? Just like in the forest in Norway, it just looks pretty and peaceful

favorite snapchat filter? I don't use snap

favorite makeup brand(s). I like Stilla’s eyeliner and also anastasia’s eyeshadow and highlighters

how many times a week do you shower? every other day bc I’m not going anywhere, but I only wash my hair once a week

favorite tv show? I watch too much to pick, I’m currently rewatching Teen wolf so I’ll say that one

shoe size? 9.5 or 10

how tall are you? 5′11

sandals or sneakers? I like both equally, but in the summer I mostly wear sandals

do you go to the gym? no

describe your dream date. Picnic in a park where we end it stargazing

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? like 12 dollars

what color socks are you wearing? none

how many pillows do you sleep with? three

do you have a job? what do you do? not currently with school, I just pet sit during the school year for money

how many friends do you have? irl probably like 12?

whats the worst thing you have ever done? gosh idk, I had a really big problem with stealing when I was little, and I was apparently good at it because when we got home from a trip to Canada when I was five my mom found like 20 things I had stolen from different gift shops skdfjkdsjfjsk

whats your favorite candle scent? Coffee anything

3 favorite boy names. (boy and girl names are a social construct so I'm just gonna do six of my favorite names) andrew, percy, oliver, anastasia, taylor, rosalina

3 favorite girl names, see above

favorite actor? I don't have one but David Tennant is good

favorite actress? Anne Hathaway

who is your celebrity crush? Halsey

favorite movie? my fave comfort movie is the princess diaries 2

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? yes, but I haven't had the time lately, and the martian by andy weir

money or brains? brains

do you have a nickname? what is it? Lia or Emmie are my most used

how many times have you been to the hospital? uhhhhh at least 7?

top 10 favorite songs. Im doing taylor songs: peace, daylight, idsb, komh, safe and sound, treacherous, I know places, haunted, my tears ricochet, and the lakes

do you take any medications daily? Wal-phed

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) dryyyy

what is your biggest fear? I wont have mattered to anyone

how many kids do you want? 3

whats your go to hair style? down with my natural curls

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc), like a 1500sq ft home with a wrap-around porch

who is your role model? My college advisor

what was the last compliment you received? “your ass looks great in those pants” from my best friend

what was the last text you sent? “yessss”

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? like 8

what is your dream car? honestly l love the car I have

opinion on smoking? cigarette: no, weed: I would if it was legal

do you go to college? yes

what is your dream job? Small animal vet

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? Rural

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? no

do you have freckles? a million

do you smile for pictures? yes

how many pictures do you have on your phone? 15,230

have you ever peed in the woods? yes

do you still watch cartoons? yes

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? Wendys

Favorite dipping sauce? Ranch

what do you wear to bed? shirt or nothing

have you ever won a spelling bee? no

what are your hobbies? painting, playing video games, reading, and doing puzzles

can you draw? yes

do you play an instrument? yes, 2 mediocrely and cello really well

what was the last concert you saw? the 1975 on dec 13th

tea or coffee? coffee

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? Starbucks

do you want to get married? Yes

what is your crush’s first and last initial? J.D.

are you going to change your last name when you get married? yes

what color looks best on you? I like blues on me

do you miss anyone right now? yes

do you sleep with your door open or closed? open bc cat

do you believe in ghosts? yes

what is your biggest pet peeve? toothpaste dried up in the sink

last person you called` my mom

favorite ice cream flavor? coffee or chocolate chip cookie dough

regular oreos or golden oreos? i hate oreos

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? chocolate

what shirt are you wearing? dbatc shirt

what is your phone background? A painting I did of Taylor

are you outgoing or shy? shy

do you like it when people play with your hair? only if I really like that person

do you like your neighbors? no

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? yes and in the morning

have you ever been high? no

have you ever been drunk? yes

last thing you ate? grilled cheese

favorite lyrics right now I want auroras and sad prose, I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet, 'Cause I haven't moved in years, And I want you right here

summer or winter? Summer

day or night? night

dark, milk, or white chocolate? dark

favorite month? May

what is your zodiac sign aquarius

who was the last person you cried in front of? my mom

#amelia answers asks #tw food #Anonymous #long post

2 notes · View notes

bluedaviau · 4 years ago

Text

「 cherry. rachel hilson. cis female. she/her. 」 are you ready for the time of your life, BLUE DAVIAU? the TWENTY ONE year old FINE ART graduate from tulane is ready to HOT AIR BALLOON in DUBAI this semester. close friends would describe them as IDEALISTIC and CREATIVE, but there’s really only one way to find out. get ready for what august has in store for you, BLUE ! 「 pepper. twenty one. est. she/her. 」

ABOUT THE MUN. the 2000 claymation film chicken run radicalized me

what up, i’m pepper, i’m twenty four, and not to flex but i’ve had writer’s block for two str8 months !! but i’m hoping to change that right here right now with one ms. blue daviau so thank you for coming on this journey with me friends it’s gonna be wild. a bit about me is i’ve gone to the mall literally every day this week and honestly, i am Exhausted from it so i apologize for the mess this intro is about to be. i’m a taurus with a libra moon and libra rising so do with that information what you will. my favourite pokemon is mewtwo. growing up i had a massive crush on danny phanton and ben 10, like i loved those lanky boys that could transform to fight crime for some reason?? i can’t tell you why. also when i was a child i thought god looked like king triton from the little mermaid. alright that is enough about me, moving on to blue.

BIO. if you use my coloured pencils you better put them back in rainbow order

this is going to be the short version of her bio but if you want to see the long rambly messy version you can find my google doc/app here ! which i recommend you looking at for no other reason than to see how cute the little cherry doodle i inserted in there is. it took me so long to get that in there and looking cute. it’s baby’s first fancy google doc 😌 anyways sdjhdsjh

blue was born and raised in hawaii! her mother, stormi, was miss hawaii state at one point and her father, reggie, was a pro surfer! however before blue was born her father had a surfing accident that left him in a wheelchair. he turned to art to try to cope with the trauma of this accident and the reality of never being able to surf again, and he even opened up his own gallery! his gallery became a tourist attraction in hawaii and pretty well known in the art community and after passing down her crown blue’s mother became a news anchor. so the fact was blue was the daughter of two local legends in hawaii and the expectations were high!

not to mention the fact that all of blue’s elder siblings were amazing too. blue has five older siblings and all of them are successful in their own right and in their own niche. they’re also all named after colours funnily enough. the daviau parents had big hippy energy in case you were wondering.

so growing up blue was always just kind of the ‘other’ sibling. all her older siblings had showed their talents at a young age and grew into them pretty quickly, while blue was just kind of... there. she was an artist, but she wasn’t a groundbreaking artist. she could sing, but her voice was simply pretty, not lifechanging. she could surf, but she was average at best. to put it simply, blue was the daviau sibling who wasn’t at all special. which ironically, made her stand out like a sore thumb.

blue didn’t mind too much though, at least not when she was younger. she kept to herself anyways. all blue wanted do when she was younger was read, draw, and explore hawaii’s wild life, so she had everything she could possibly need to be happy right at her fingertips. life was good for her despite her inadequacy, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of it (and wouldn’t develop a complex about it later).

when blue was six though her parents decided that they needed to have sweet, sweet, baby number seven to save their marriage. they named that sweet boy gray. he did not save a damn thing, but he sure was cute. blue was eleven when her parents finally divorced and that pretty much marked the end of blue having any kind of parental guidance.

long story short, both of blue’s parents went kinda buckwild the moment they were single and most of the responsibility to take care of five year old gray fell on blue. blue was the one to make gray’s meals. blue was the one to give gray a bath. blue was the one to tuck gray in at night and get him into his school clothes in the morning. blue was the one to help him with his homework and hold his hand as he crossed the street and honestly pretty much do everything for him until she was about seventeen. both her parents simply checked out on that front, and it the end blue was more of a mother to gray than either of their parents were.

the pressure of having to not only take care of herself but also gray when she wasn’t even legally an adult yet, was honestly way too much for blue. her anxiety skyrocketed, and the pressure she put on herself only grew. the only way blue could really cope with it and calm herself down was by 1. losing herself in nature, 2. drawing, or 3. reading, or rather most likely, doing all of the above at once. using art of an escape pretty much guaranteed that blue’s love and passion for it grew, and with that her talent for it. by that time blue was seventeen she had a full portfolio ready to send off to any university outside of hawaii that would take her. because you bet your bottom dollar your girl was getting the hell outta there!

as we all know blue got accepted to tulane. it was hard to leave gray and her family behind, but blue set her mother and father straight before she left, ensuring that gray would be well taken care of in her stead and hoping that some distance between herself and her family that was so dependent on her (her mother never new how to cook so blue made all the meals, her father never knew how to handle gray so he was always coming to blue to advice, gray was absolutely lost without her, etc) would lift that pressure off her shoulders.

it didn’t at first. the first few months were tough with all the calls blue got from home. that plus the schoolwork she had on her plate almost left her more stressed than before. however, slowly the calls began to fade and slowly blue was able to put her full focus in her art program, and later, her animation programs.

sorry folks my brain is fried, we’re gonna stop here!

HEADCANNONS. on all levels except physical i am sitting on top of the moon with my legs swinging back and forth

Blue’s father is in a wheelchair from the surfing accident that made him take up art. His past as a professional surfer is actually part of the reason why his gallery is so popular though honestly, because the accident was televised and after that tragedy many of his fans and the public wanted to support him. He just also so happened to be really talented. But yeah, Blue’s father was really talented at surfing, he was even invited to the summer olympics in the nineties! But he was also the type to refuse to go because ‘surfing should be freeing, the olympics have so many restrictions, it takes away from what surfing is!!’ dkjsd he was that type yk? I also imagine Blue’s parents were the type to be on the front lines at protests. As it is, Blue is the same, very passionate, definitely has made some bomb ass posters and t-shirts for every women's march she’s attended.

Blue can play the ukulele really well and she honestly has a really pretty singing voice. However she can’t dance even a little bit. Honestly, she could literally break a bone. Really wants to throw it back though 😔

Loves to bake and cook because they’re relaxing activities with built in rewards. Learned to bake and cook because of having to take care of herself and her brother's meals when she was younger, that is if she didn’t want them both to literally get diabetes. As it is though, now that she doesn’t have to worry about her baby brother’s diet as well as her own, she will make a whole chocolate cake just cause she’s a little stressed and proceed to actually eat it. But she will share though. Catch Blue coming to your hotel room with sweets.

All of Blue’s elder siblings are adults now, but Gray is still about sixteen. They exchanged letters from Hawaii to Tulane and Blue always spends hours decorating hers and including little snacks and cute little knick knacks in them, despite the fact that Gray is now an angsty teenager and does not find these things as entertaining as he used to. Despite that, they are definitely the closest out of their siblings for the most part.

Blue’s siblings' names are Sage, Jett, Jade, Ruby, Rose and of course Gray. Jade and Jett, and Ruby and Rose are both twins.

The type to cry easily honestly. Also the type to carry other people’s problems with her. Like if you tell Blue that someone hurt your feelings last week she will remember and she will check on you the next time she sees you. Very empathetic, almost to a fault though because she’s constantly being careful of everyone else’s feelings rather than her own. The type who’s a good listener though. Also the type to give either really good advice or really odd advice.

Art still tends to be her happy place, something she got from her father. Trying to find her own place outside of her father's shadow. She wants to get into the world of animation and cartoons but the whole task is a bit daunting. Is planning to work her ass off for it though! Spends a lot of time in coffee shops storyboarding and making animations. I think she may have a contract going on with a cartoon network of some sort, like they may have picked up a show of hers? Because I imagine her putting out some of her first shorts on Youtube and that might have gotten a bit of attention and led to her getting a deal for a show, so. She’s probably working her ass off towards that, and is honestly probably 1.doubting if they really picked up her show because of her talent or her father’s name, and 2.wondering if she can really do this.

Loves water in all shapes and forms. Since she can’t go to the beach everyday, the small bath in her tiny ass apartment??? Suddenly heaven. That said, Blue is either terrified of the ocean or loves it and I can’t decide which. Standby on that.

Makes a great coffee cake. Like it’s to die for.

Is VERY passionate about the environment. Is a pescatarian. Goes to the farmers market to pick out fresh produce. Loves to hike.

Always has the urge to sketch or paint after she reads poetry or novels. Highlights her favourite bits and has the tendency to read them over when she’s sad. The parts she loves are usually the parts that leave her wanting something.

Draws when she’s sad too. Claire Saffitz energy when she’s cooking but also just through life. Very friendly, but an introvert when it comes to gathering her energy.

Lives for libraries and bookstores, and has stacks on stacks of books in her old apartment. Loves old children's books honestly, like The Secret Garden, and poetry. Like whimsical and fantastical fiction with flowery words that just brings you to another place? Blue’s freaking jam. Falls in love with someone in fiction every five days, and desperately wants to be in love in real life, hence all the tinder dates and blind dates. I don’t think Blue ever has fallen in love though, like not really.

An absolute baby when it comes to the cold. Literally there could be a slight breeze and Blue will be acting like she’s suddenly in the arctic. Any cold destinations will be greeted by a bundled up Blue’s Clues.

Made her first painting out of her own feces at six months old. Her parents proudly framed it. It’s probably still up in the attic in their Hawaii home.

Won her first art show at six but was unsure whether it was because her art really was something worth awarding or because of her father’s name. The award got her on the front page of the Honolulu Tribune but with her father proudly at her back and the title ‘Following in her father’s footsteps’ above her head. Blue just wants to find her own footing in the art world, and be her own person.

Keeps a journal and has since she was a teenager.

WANTED CONNECTIONS. i’m the friend that needs help opening water bottles.

coming to theatres near you soon!

#august.intro #i am too tired to write any more for now but tomorrow ??? it's over for you hoes

5 notes · View notes

omgjasminesimone · 5 years ago

Text

Running Epilogue

Colt x MC

Previous Part: Part 3

Bonus: Interlude, Ficta

Author’s Note: A short epilogue to Running! AKA my big chance to write Colt as a daddy.

Word Count: ~1500

“CT, come here.” Colt beckons, standing at the fence behind the dugout.

Colt Teppei Kaneko tries to ignore his father, drawing patterns in the dirt with his bat. Colt is left looking at the ‘Kaneko 3’ emblazoned on the back of his son’s red jersey as he refuses to turn around.

Colt’s jaw clenches, not appreciating being ignored. If this is what CT is like at only 7 (although he’s almost 8), he can only imagine the attitude he’s going to give him as a teenager. “Colt Teppei Kaneko, come here.” Colt repeats.

CT reluctantly stands, the use of his full name letting him know that his dad means business. He leaves his teammates to approach the fence. “What Dad? I’m up to bat soon, so make it quick.” He demands with the slight southern drawl that he’s picked up from his classmates.

Colt quirks a brow at the attitude in the statement, so CT amends his response. “I meant, what did you want to talk about?” After a few moments, he adds “Sir?” for good measure.

“Don’t be afraid of the ball. You’ve got this. Do it just like we practiced, okay?” Colt coaches.

CT nods. “Got it. Can I go now?”

Colt frowns but nods anyway. CT runs back to his teammates, joining them on the dugout bench as he awaits his turn at bat.

Colt returns to the spectator stands, taking a seat beside his wife and toddler daughter. Ellie adjusts Bailey in her lap, scooting over a little to give Colt more room on the bleachers. Bailey claps excitedly as her big brother heads up to home base to bat. “Go CT!!!” She cheers adorably, in that way only an adorable almost-3-year-old can.

The first pitch is thrown, and CT doesn’t swing. “Strike one!” The umpire calls.

Colt’s jaw clenches. He should have swung at that one. The pitcher throws again, and it’s clearly a ball but CT swings anyway, getting his second strike.

“Unbelievable.” Colt mutters under his breath, and Ellie gives him a dark look.

“This is supposed to be fun for him Colt.” Ellie admonishes.

The pitcher throws again, a perfect pitch. CT swings early, and the ball soars past him into the catcher’s mitt. “Strike three! You’re out!” The umpire calls, a little too joyfully for Colt’s taste.

“All those hours at the batting cages, and in the backyard, wasted.” Colt mutters, slouching in the bleachers as CT heads back to the dugout, looking dejected.

“It’s just a game.” Ellie reminds him.

“But I know he’s better than that. He’s great at home. He has stage fright or something. That’s a serious issue we need to nip in the bud before it follows him his whole life.” Colt explains his irritation. “CT!” He yells out, “Get out of your head!”

CT flushes, looking embarrassed as he continues to the dugout.

“You’re so embarrassing.” Ellie insults, but there’s fondness in her tone.

“You’re one to talk. You practically fought that mom at Bailey’s tap recital.” Colt retorts.

“She was a bit-“ Ellie cuts herself off, remembering that her toddler soaks up curse words like a sponge. “B-I-T-C-H” She spells out.

“Who’s a bitch? Hope you’re not talking about me!” Raya, Colt’s mother, announces as she approaches the family.

“Bitch bitch bitch.” Bailey predictably parrots. Ellie shoots a somewhat annoyed gaze at her mother-in-law, but Raya doesn’t notice as she gets situated.

“Hey ma.” Colt greets, letting his mom plant a kiss to his cheek as she squeezes between him and Ellie.

Raya plants a kiss to Bailey’s dark hair, and then gives Ellie a one-armed hug. “How’s he doing?” She gestures to CT with a tilt of her head as she searches through her bag for snacks.

“Just struck out.” Colt reveals, taking the cold water his mom offers him. It’s another hot day in North Carolina, and although they’re in the shade there’s no escaping the humidity. He always misses LA in the summer.

“Coltie baby, it’s okay! You’ll get them next time sugarplum!” Raya yells out.

CT grimaces as his teammates chuckle. “God Grandma, don’t call me sugarplum in public!” He bites back.

Raya gives CT an apologetic look, making a motion to zip her lips. “I guess I’m embarrassing now. I thought I had a few more years until my grandbaby got too big for nicknames.”

“CT is 7 going on 17.” Ellie jokes, resting a reassuring hand on Raya’s knee.

“Well, give me my baby. You’re not embarrassed by me, are you sweetie?” Raya asks, taking Bailey from Ellie and pulling her into a hug.

“I’m not a baby gramma. I’m going to be this big!” Bailey exclaims, raising three fingers when she pulls away.

Raya smiles fondly. “My my, what a big girl!” She praises, handing Bailey a popsicle from her bag. She turns to Colt. “What are the plans for the b-i-r-t-h-d-a-y p-a-r-t-y tomorrow?” She asks.

Colt rolls his eyes. “It’s not a surprise party mom. Bay knows she’s having a party tomorrow. It starts at noon at Chuck-E-Cheese. Try not to be late like usual.”

“I’m fashionably late.” Raya insists, turning her attention back to the game as CT’s team gets their third out and switches to the outfield.

CT catches the first hit by the other team, throwing it to first base in time to get the other player out.

“Great catch CT!” Colt calls out, beaming with pride. CT grins back before exchanging high fives with the first baseman. Colt’s phone starts to vibrate in the pocket of his basketball shorts. He checks the caller ID and sees it’s his property manager.

“Hey Jim, what’s up?” Colt answers. He listens to Jim’s concerns about the new trailer park Colt has just acquired. They’re major money makers, with the land rent he gets to collect. “That’s not the price he quoted last week.” Colt complains, attention still half focused on the baseball game. Jim continues, but Colt gently cuts him off. “Jim, I’m at my son’s baseball game. I’ll call you back in an hour. Yeah, okay, thanks.” Colt ends the call.

Ellie looks at him curiously. “Problem?” She asks. Ellie got her real estate license while pregnant with Bailey, and now sells houses. Her contacts come in very handy in Colt’s line of work.

“It’s nothing.” Colt assures.

“Bailey, you’re getting popsicle all over my skirt.” Raya complains, handing Colt his now sticky daughter, melting popsicle getting everywhere.

“I could have told you not to give her that.” Colt informs his mother, pulling a packet of wet wipes from his pocket. He takes the mostly finished popsicle from Bailey, popping the rest of it into his own mouth before tossing the stick into the trash. He cleans off Bailey’s sticky hands, and wipes at her face despite her squirming.

Raya heads off to the bathroom to try to get the stains out of her clothes.

Colt uses the wet wipe on the ends of Bailey’s hair, where she’s somehow managed to get popsicle. He pulls a hair tie from his wrist (ever since his daughter’s hair started getting long, he’s found that he always has a hair tie around somewhere) and gathers Bailey’s dark hair into a messy bun.

Bailey reaches into her grandmother’s bag, looking for more snacks. She triumphantly pulls out some animal crackers.

CT’s team gets a third player out, and heads back to the dugout for their turn at bat.

Colt starts to hand Bailey to Ellie. “And where do you think you’re going?” Ellie asks, not reaching out to take Bailey.

“He’s getting another pep talk.” Colt informs her.

“He doesn’t want one.” Ellie insists.

“Well, he’s getting one anyway.”

Ellie rolls her eyes but doesn’t try to stop him. “Take your daughter, I think you’ll be better behaved with her there.” Ellie demands.

Colt places Bailey on his shoulders, and she grasps at his hair with one hand. Good thing her hands are no longer sticky. “No crumbs in my hair this time, okay Bay?”

“Otay Daddy.” Bailey promises.

Colt smiles fondly, resting his hands on his daughter’s legs to steady her. “Otay.” He parrots.

Colt approaches the chain link fence behind the dugout once again. “CT.” He calls, and this time his son comes without further prompting. “Great job in the outfield. Carry that momentum with you to the plate. You’re beating yourself out there, you just need to be confident.” Colt assures him.

“Go CT!” Bailey adds, continuing to munch on the last few animal crackers in the packet.

“Bailey is getting crumbs in your hair.” CT informs his father.

“Of course she is.” Colt acknowledges, quickly returning to the task at hand. “Play your best. I know you can do it.”

“I’ll try.” CT promises.

“That’s all I ask of you.” Colt responds, giving his son a fond smile before heading back to the bleachers.

Bailey finishes the animal crackers and starts to pick the crumbs out of her father’s hair, eating those as well.

“Bailey Grace Kaneko!” Colt admonishes. “You are not a monkey, don’t eat crumbs out of my hair!”

Bailey laughs and starts making monkey noises as she continues to do as she pleases, munching on the crumbs. Colt takes her off his shoulders when they reach Ellie, handing the toddler over to her mother.

“Your daughter is out of control.” Colt tells her.

“When she’s being bad, she’s your daughter.” Ellie retorts before placing a kiss to Colt’s lips.

taglist: @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicesarehard @lovehugsandcandy@desiree-0816 @regina-and-happiness @iplaydrake @hazah @maxwellsquidsuit @eileendannie @liamzigmichael4ever @lady-dianelewis @client-327 @cora-nova @umiumichan @angrypainterfarmopera @badchoicesposts @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @sparklinglilac @pixel-thirsty @mrskaneko @lovemychoices

#colt kaneko #colt x mc #ride or die #choices fanfiction #playchoices

68 notes · View notes

copias-thighs · 5 years ago

Text

Ignore me, I’m just complaining again as always. For the past month and a half I’ve been pressured into painting a wall for my sister in law and I mentioned before I don’t want to do this at all. Well anything artistic in general for her since she and her younger brother can be rude about it all some times. When she first found out I was artistic, she asked me to do a jungle mural on her wall for her daughter (who was 5 months about at the time) in her house she lived in during that time. Sure, no biggie. I didn’t mind. I was being paid for it, it would be done in time for Christmas, and was being given everything I needed for it, best of all I had no specific date to have it done by. She told me to do what I want, as long as I had 4 monkeys and a tree from the photos she sent me. That being said, I did what she asked and proceeded to draw on the wall she wanted on. Mind you, it’s the first time I’ve EVER painted a whole piece on a wall. I wanted it to be perfect and wanted to take make sure I drew it all correctly. She has a younger brother who was about 13 at the time and he is very, extremely vulgar and rude. He won’t care who you are, he’ll verbally harass you and feel no guilt. Even if you haven’t done anything wrong to him or anyone else. When I started drawing, he yelled, “So this masterpiece of yours is going to be a year long ordeal? Great.” Rolled his eyes and left. I knew what was going to happen, so I started showing up at her house with my noise cancelling headphones to tune him out while I finally started painting. A month passed as I was close to finishing the wall. I was tired, sore, I had a headache, and I had a lot of stress on me because I had so many personal issues eating away at me during that time. I just wanted to finish. My playlist started to buffer a little as I was finishing up painting what needed to be green. Grass, leaves, flower stems, that kind of stuff. I heard my sister in law go “Shhh! Cut it out! She’ll hear you!” Confused, I paused my music and tuned in out of curiosity. So much for noise cancelling, am I right? Her brother begins to get louder screaming, “I don’t fucking care. I don’t see why you’re paying that girl to fuck up your wall! She flat out ruined it! Hell- if you wanted to ruin your wall, I could’ve spread my ass cheeks open and shit all over your walls! You can pay me for it too!” I wanted to hide in a hole and cry. Have I really messed her wall? Was my first time painting something this huge a major fail? I felt horrible. I gathered up what was mine and ran out of there. My fiancé had to be the one to finish it. I got paid for it though, but for what? I didn’t want the money anymore, I wanted an apology that I never received to this day.

A couple of months later, her daughter’s first birthday began to approach. She was born in the summer and my sister in law had a set theme for it. A water theme to be more clear. She had a fancy camera and decided to have a special feature at the party. A backdrop with props. Which seemed pretty cool. She asked me for ideas and I told her some. Making fish using their handprints and glueing a fishnet on the backdrop, things like that. Well she replies with, “Oh cool, I didn’t know you knew how to make those! You’re doing the backdrop for me, right?” Well she never asked me, she just threw it at me.. so I said sure Ig... she told me that she needed the fish and all the backdrop stuff done before the 2nd of June. It was early May so I had plenty of time. Nope. Out of nowhere she calls saying that she needed them within the next few days, and I was nowhere NEAR done. She still demanded it and I scrambled to get it all done. I had to put the wall up on my own and it was barely the middle of May at that point, with the party still set for the 2nd of June. Didnt get paid for it and I literally had no money to buy what I needed since I didn’t have a job. I had to scrimp up about $5 for what you see that she couldn’t spare. At least she kept the decorations. She claimed her 1 year old daughter was upset that there was only ONE dolphin, even though that’s my sister in law’s favourite animal, and was she and her little brother were upset there wasn’t much done for the backdrop.

A year later, summer was rolling back in again and her daughter was turning two. Cute, happy, yay, happy feels. I was at my sister in law’s for a little get together, and she comes up to me, with me feeling dread as I knew what was going to happen. “Ohhh, I cant wait until she turns two! I have such a cute idea! I’m going to have a Mickey Mouse Club House theme with a backdrop saying “I’m TWOdles! Isn’t that cute?!” I uncomfortably smiled and nodded giving a weak “yeah” as a silent anxiety attack started kicking in. She stood there for a good few minutes as if she was waiting for me to ask to help her, which I obviously didn’t, getting flashbacks from how she demanded things to be done last second last time. So she huffed and said, “I need life size cut outs of Minnie, Mickey, Goofy, and Toodles. Do you think you can do that?” I really didn’t know how to, I honestly didn’t. I told her just that, but she didn’t let it go. She ended up telling me to make her just their heads and the words “I’m TWOdles” and how she needed them by June. This time I had a whole month. I wasn’t as anxious, I had time to figure out how to get it done. Well two weeks later she calls demanding it to be done before the day after. I panicked, seeing that I was having trouble colouring the heads nicely without being judged on how you you can see marker lines and such. And when I showed her what I had done, she was upset because it wasn’t enough to cover up the wall. She wanted more things to fill it up. So I hesitantly said large balloon flowers. She can make those on her own, while I finished the heads. NOPE! I had to be the one to do that too. I’ve never worked with balloons, I’m afraid of the sounds they make, I can’t stand them unless they’re the foil ones. I have a huge ass phobia about them and nearly cried as I made the balloon flowers. I flinched, winced, and the threw the balloons with each nasty rubber rubbing sound it made. My fiancé had to literally fucking hold me each freak out I had with those damn things. Well I had to get it all done because it’s my fault for suggesting balloon flowers to begin with. which I did. The day of the party, her family was wowed by it. Her little brother however, was angry I was getting compliments. So he began shouting that he did it all, and he worked really hard on it all. My sister in law was mad too that I didn’t get her daughter a present. Ig the wall wasn’t a good gift.

Now here I am currently, stressing over a wall plus more. My sister in law moved to a new home recently, and needed help painting walls. I painted all 3 rooms. I thought that was the end of that. WELL BUCKLE UP because she said some, “Oooo, guess what! My daughter has been asking for you to paint her walls! She really wants monkeys, lions, and elephants on her wall!” At this point I had enough. I asked, “SHE wants the animals? Or YOU want them?” She went quiet and said, “no, she’s been asking for you!” Pretty damn specific for a 3 year old to want, considering she can barely say anything. She can’t even say her own name. Here I am, sketching on the wall, with my sister in law coming right up to me telling me that she wants fish to be painted on the walls of the toy room after I’m done with the jungle crap. I got really annoyed and said she can easily use the fish stuff from her 1st birthday. She ignored that. After I drew all the crap on the wall in pencil, she stops me in the hall and adds, “Hey! So my hallway looks so bland! Any ideas on how to make it prettier? Like a tree with squares for photos?” I told her she can buy a tree decal on Amazon for cheap, but she cuts me right off screaming “Checked already, they’re $200.” I practically live on Amazon and told her no, they aren’t that expensive. Only to be cut off by her screeching “They’re $200, I don’t have $200! Give me ideas!”

Wow, ok.

So I said to do this: Put a large photo of her and her kids with neatly organised smaller photos of family moments around it. Like this:

Nope, she told me that it was “too messy and too thrown together.” Agitated, I told her it’s getting late and that I had to leave. She then started following me around when I gathered all my pencils and erasers, asking when I was coming back over to paint and if I could bring my own paint. I kept calm and said I didn’t have much money to spend to buy paint (I quit my job around November the year before) and that I’ll come over the next time she’s off work. Which turned out to be Mother’s Day. I told her I’m not coming in because I wanted to spend time with my own mom and she tried telling me all these “gifts” her 3 year old daughter was eyeing for her. Joke or not, I got annoyed because I stated multiple times that I have no job and little money to be spending on paint. I have to take care of my mom and siblings back home, buying food and house supplies with what I have. Well my dumbass absentmindedly said “This- This wall is your Mother’s Day present.” She gave me a face and said “I didn’t ask for this! This isn’t for me, my daughter wanted this!” With and eye twitch, I said that this is something SHE asked for and how HER DAUGHTER can barely speak. She can’t even say a full sentence, her name, my name, and if it’s hER DAUGHTER wanting this, what was requested for the wall was oddly specific for her to want. I told her bye and tried to leave as quick as I could to avoid any new “favours” she might have for me. As I start heading to the door, she yells after me, “come up with more ideas for the hallway for me! We’ll talk later!”

Another fun bit is that now she has a son. And for his first birthday photo shoot, she’s going to dress him up as a dinosaur, breaking out of an egg. Problem is, she doesn’t have a huge egg. She comes up to me and says, “So I need I giant egg, you can figure out how to do that, right?” I couldn’t even say no because her family was watching me, waiting for me to say “yes” even though I wanted to say no because I don’t know how to. Hell, I still don’t! I’m beyond scared to make it! When she decided for me that I was going to make her a giant dinosaur egg regardless, mother fucker adds in “Oh! I also need a life size Forky, Mr. And Mrs. Potato Head, Slinky, etc for my daughter’s birthday!” I WANT TO FUCKING CRY SHE NEEDS THE TOY STORY CRAP NEXT MONTH AND I DONT HAVE ANYTHING THAT BIG TO DRAW ON FOR IT AND I KNOW HER ASS IS GOING TO BITCH FOR IT THIS MONTH AND I KNOW IM NOT GETTING PAID FOR ANY OF THIS FUCKING SHIT FUCK ME

3 notes · View notes

realm-sweet-realm · 5 years ago

Text

Defining Memories, chapter 7

Alright, this is the last one before we get to Henry and Joey. And will be dogs! (I like this chapter.)

---

The memory showed Wally walking home from work on a rainy day, looking maybe five or ten years younger than in present. He heard a whine coming from an alleyway and went to investigate. What he found was a golden retriever puppy taking shelter in a cardboard box. It was trembling. Wally wasn’t sure what to do, but he couldn’t just leave her.

“Oh, come here,” Wally cooed, bending down to gather the dog up in his arms. No collar. Huh. He carried her home to his apartment. About a block before he arrived, he hid her under his jacket. All the squirming made this a very unconvincing disguise. “Shh... simmer down,” he whispered, “I’m not supposed to bring you in there.” Somehow, that actually seemed to calm her down a little. Enough, at least, for him to sneak her into his apartment.

“Hey, girl,” he said to her, finally letting her out to explore her new surroundings, “You’re stayin’ here for the night.” The puppy sniffed around and began chewing on a discarded plastic cup she found on the floor. Yeah, you’d never know I clean for a livin’.” Then he noticed the little paw prints she’d left on the floor. He couldn’t have those giving him away, so he immediately picked up the dog and took her to the bathroom for a wash. It was one heck of a mess as the puppy didn’t want to be bathed and jumped out twice before Wally figured out he had to hold her down. Still, Wally was able to laugh over the situation.

The scene shifted to Wally sleeping with the puppy, then to him smuggling her out. He returned to the alley he’d found her in, let her out, and said. “Alright, girl. Sorry I can’t keep ya. Run along.” The puppy cocked its head adorably and whined a little. “You’re makin’ this hard, but it ain’t my choice. Good luck out there.”

Wally turned away and walked another fifteen feet before realizing the puppy was following him. Wally sighed. “Alright, you win, you little bugger.” He loaded the dog back into his jacket and headed back to his place. “Goldie. I’m callin’ ya Goldie.”

The scene changed to what must have been a few weeks or months later. Goldie was a little bigger, and Wally’s apartment had dog bowls and a couple chew toys in it now, and had the trash picked up off the floor so that it wouldn’t end up in her teething mouth. The doorbell rang. Wally, as though by habit, picked up Goldie and her toys and bowls, and put them in another room, putting a cardboard box over them just for overkill.

He opened the door. His neighbour was hanging back, with a little girl in a Girl Guide uniform in front of him. “Wanna buy some cookies?” The little girl asked.

“Aw, of course. Just let me get some money and I’ll be right back.”

The click-click noise of dog claws on linoleum could be heard making their way across the floor now, along with the sound of a cardboard box dragging across the floor. Wally realized then that he must have forgotten to shut the door when he moved Goldie into the other room.

“What’s that?” the little girl asked.

“It’s uhh... my toy train!” Wally answered.

His neighbour rolled his eyes. “Wally, do you really think we’ve never heard that thing bark?”

“Oh.” Apparently his secret was not as well-kept as he had assumed.

“Can I pet him?” the little girl asked.

“Alright, sure. Come on in.” Wally took the box off of the dog and watched as she licked her face.

“So, uh. Are you going to tell on me if I keep her?”

“Nah. She’s not causing me any issue. And hey,” the neighbour leaned in, “I actually know someone who needs a home for their dog. They’re moving in a week, and they’re hoping to find someone to take him in so they don’t need to leave him in a shelter. What do you say?”

“I guess I could take him for a while, if he’s clean and quiet. If the dogs ever cause problems with the neighbours, that’ll be the end of this.”

“You’ll have to talk with them. I know it’s a pug, and he seemed pretty quiet to me, but I wouldn’t know.” The neighbour took out a piece of paper and wrote down a phone number.

The scene shifted to show Wally receiving the pug, shifted again to show him welcoming a third dog into his home, and shifted a third time to show him passing on the pug to a new owner.

The scene changed. Wally was checking out a bulletin board in the lobby of his apartment. One poster in particular caught his eye: it read, “A note to residents from your landlord: I have decided to, out of the goodness of my heart, look the other way on Wally Franks’ dog rehoming hobby. THIS IS A ONE-TIME EXCEPTION. OTHER RESIDENTS ARE NOT ALLOWED PETS OR OTHER ANIMALS. A ps to Wally Franks: if you don’t want your landlord to find out about your dog rehoming hobby, refrain from hanging posters about it with your name and phone number in public spaces. I will be over on the first Monday of each month to see that your apartment is being kept sanitary. If the other residents complain of noise, I will also be forced to have you let go of your dogs. Thank you.

The scene changed a final time. Wally was arriving home to his apartment, and was greeted by three dogs: a border collie, a toy poodle, and a fully-grown Goldie. “She took her!” Wally announced proudly to his dogs. He made his way over to a corkboard he’d hung up. On the corkboard were several pictures of dogs, the one in the upper-left corner being the pug he’d first rehomed. Looking as proud as anyone there had ever seen him, he added another picture to the board, of his most recent rehomed dog. The scene faded back to mist.

After a couple of minutes of Allison, Lacie and Tom (the biggest dog people in the room, aside from Wally himself) asking questions about the dogs, the light appeared by Wally’s shoulder again, blue this time.

The scene took place in a bedroom that looked just as disastrously messy as Wally’s apartment had been. Wally was there, and amazingly enough, he looked even more lanky and boyish than he did in the present. The acne and shoulder-length hair didn’t help his appearance any, either. He was leaning over a math textbook, idly doodling a tree. What looked like a college-aged Henry came in. “Hey, Wally. Make any progress since last time?” he asked.

Wally looked pained. “I think so. But I couldn’t finish it. Is this right?” He passed Henry a sheet of paper. Now Henry looked pained.

“No. Look, you need to look things up in the textbook when you don’t understand things. Just leaving them off until I’m here to tutor you isn’t going to make you enough progress to pass.”

Wally scrunched up his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand a word of what goes on in the textbook. It’s like my brain is allergic to it.”

Henry took a deep breath. “Well, I’ll explain it again. Alright?”

“Okay. Henry? Do you think I can still pass? The school’s not gonna hold me back again. If I can’t get through this, I’m outta there. Flunked out. But that’s not necessarily what’s gonna happen, right?”

Henry paused. “No, you’re going to pass,” he said, staring down at the textbook. He sounded utterly defeated and not at all genuine.

The scene changed to that of a classroom in which Wally was taking an examination. He was leaving a solid third of the questions blank, even taking the time to draw in one of the blank spaces to give his overtaxed brain a break. He knew at this point that he needed almost 80% to pass (assuming his own calculations were correct, and that point he felt stupid enough that he didn’t trust as much, even for something so simple). There was no way he knew enough to get that. He glanced over at the person beside him for a few seconds, then flipped to the question his classmate had been working on and scribbled down as much as he could remember. He repeated the process a couple times before a hand closed over his wrist. It was a teacher. “You’re doing the rest of the exam in the hallway,” she whispered sternly, “and afterward, I’m taking you to the principal’s office so we can decide on a consequence for this.”

The scene changed again. Wally has come home from school. “Wally. How was the test?” his mother asked him.

“I failed,” he said, dropping his backpack and heading to his room.

“Hey, we can’t know that yet.”

“I do know, okay? Look, I don’t wanna snap at you, ma. Please just leave me alone for a while.” With that, he shut himself into his room. “And it’s probably not the only subject I’ll fail, either.”

The scene shifted to later that evening. Wally heard an angry-sounding knock on his bedroom door and all but froze.

“Wally, open up!” It was his mother. Wally sat down on the floor. A gentler male voice followed.

“Oh, calm down. Wally, we just want to talk.”

“Come in,” he groaned.

The door creaked open. “You cheated on an essential fucking test? What were you thinking?!” his mother yelled.

“I wasn’t,” Wally cried. It was the truth. He’d fantasized about doing it, sure, but he hadn’t thought he’d actually do it until it happened.

“Well, at least the school decided to let you off easy,” His father said. “If they’re just docking the test 20%, there’s still a chance you passed, right?”

Wally just stared up at him.

“You needed quite a bit on it, I take it?”

Wally just nodded. A couple tears ran down his face.

“Oh... I’m sorry. You know we have to ground you for cheating, but I promise it’s going to be okay.” His father knelt down to get on his level.

“Okay? Where is he going to get in life if he’s flunked out?”

His father turned to glare at his mother. “Quit! Don’t you think he’s miserable enough over this?”

The scene faded back into mist. Wally had a pained smile on his face. Deep down, he was trying to hold on to the pride and joy from his best memory.

“You okay?” Henry asked.

“Wha? Yeah, I’m fine. I’m used to makin’ a fool of myself, honest! You just have to learn to laugh at yourself.”

Bertrum laughed. “Well, it seems that you would certainly have the practice.”

Shawn glared at him. “Ya’d best take that all the way back, laddy.”

Bertrum shrugged. As though some random worker could hurt one of the if not the most important people that Mr. Drew was partnered with, and while he was in the room, no less.

“Isn’t your worst memory one of the last ones left?” Henry asked. He wasn’t one for confrontation, but it would be nice if Bertrum realized what a glass house he was living in.

As though on cue, the light, blue this time, appeared by Bertrum’s shoulder.

The scene changed to that of a field in which a whole bunch of college-age boys and girls were having a party. Bertrum was basically impossible to pick out from the crowd, both because of how dark it was, illuminated only by the light of a bonfire, and because of how much younger he would have been. “Where are ya?” Shawn asked irritably.

��Oh, I er... don’t know! Wait, yes. I was in the bushes. Let’s go check in the bushes.”

“Are you sure you’re not just doing what I did?” Grant grumbled. Now that he’d heard Bertrum's laugh again, he was sure that Bertrum had been the one to laugh at him for having a panic attack, something he did not appreciate in the slightest.

“Yes, I’m sure, I-“ Bertrum was cut off by the sound of a car pulling up. A man that looked quite similar to present-day Bertrum stepped out. His face was comically puffed up with anger.

“Bertie!” The man boomed, in a voice loud enough to rival Bertrum’s own. The group of youngsters, largely amused, split to reveal Bertrum, who was looking like a terrified little sheep.

“Y-yes, Dad?”

he stuttered.

“Get into the car at once. There’s something I need to show you.”

“My father always was a drama queen. It’s nothing as bad as he makes it sound,” Bertrum explained to keep his dignity together as his past self was dragged by the arm into the car. They took off, and the scene changed so that everyone could see what was going on during the ride.

“Bertrum Piedmont, you irresponsible, idiotic, ill-conceived little cad, what did I tell you to do the night that your ride began operation?!”

“Stay available in case something went wrong,” he said, utter submission in his voice.

“And what, pray tell, did you do?”

“I thought for sure that it would be fine.”

“Well, you were wrong. And now that I've finally found you, you're going to personally explain to the public, which will get back to my stockholders, I remind you, that this is your fault, that I had every reason to trust you, and that you failed me horribly. Really, do you know how much of a risk I was taking, letting you design a ride before you were even licensed? You begged me for that. You have no idea how high your bail would be if someone had gotten hurt. No idea. Do you hear me, Bertie?"

"Yes."

"Well, thankfully, the ride broke down before anyone was even on it."

That seemed to shock Bertrum a little. "It broke down that quickly?"

"Yes. That quickly."

The ride continued in silence, allowing present-day Bertrum to do some damage control for his dignity. "You know, the good thing about having a forty-year legacy is that you don't have to worry about little mistakes you made early on like that. My father practically begged me for that one ride design."

"That's not how he made it sound," Lacie quipped.

"Yes, well, he always was a drama queen. But anyhow, I've made far better since. And what was wrong with it truly was minor, and it wasn't really my fault anyway, and-"

"Bertrum, desperation is dripping from your voice like candy off an apple and you're about as red as one. Do yourself a favour, and just shut up and take this like the rest of us."

Bertrum looked annoyed, but he did shut up. Lacie was, after all, rarely wrong about this kind of thing.

Finally, the car came to a halt. The two of them got out in the parking lot of an amusement park. They made their way to the malfunctioned ride. Parts had flung off of it. "Alright, Bertrum. Explain to them why the ride failed."

Mercifully, that is when the scene faded back into mist.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #wally franks #bertrum piedmont #my fanfiction #defining memory au #dog

3 notes · View notes

ortegatrash · 5 years ago

Text

The Farm Sucks

Name: Léon Bellandini | Puppet: Simba | Villain name: Pride

Daring/arrogant/fighter/lots of contacts/gang leader.

Warnings: Mentions of animal cruelty/death, mistaken for suicidal, implied past sexual abuse and general abuse, memory problems

You were always a bit more defiant than the rest.

It got you punished, and you reveled in it. Because any attention was good. Because it stopped them treating you like you were nothing to them, you would rather being scorned and hated than to be nothing. They were everything, they were your world because you had nothing else and you wanted so badly just to matter.

Every time you tried to escape, they would take you and wash you down with a hose. They took pleasure in forcibly shaving your head and branding you where people couldn't see, like livestock. To prevent lice, they said. There's a patch at the back of your head that doesn't grow hair anymore because of the way they hurt you for their amusement.

A toy isn't satisfying if you can't get emotionally invested in it, after all.

You hate them for everything they've done to you, all the ways they used you and took joy in your suffering. You're never going to be a nobody again.

To complete your transformation you had enlisted Ortega's help in picking out a wardrobe. It meant enduring his delighted teasing and questioning about if there was someone in your life you wanted to impress but you think it was worth it. If he's going to be vain, you might as well take advantage of his expertise.

You're gonna dress well and look good in it, dammit.

And look good you do. Even Ortega was impressed, you certainly have cleaned up nicely since you started working out again and taking care of your appearance. Sharp tailored suits and tasteful, bold signet rings, just the tiniest hint of something a little wicked and dark lurking under the surface.

Now you look like someone worthy of respect. Someone dangerous. Someone who has the money and power to make life very difficult for people who dare crosses you.

Maybe it's a little over the top, but you even got a nice throne gilded with gold leaf put into your base to lounge upon. What's the use of having everything if you can't indulge?

Besides. All the gold and velvet makes your inner child happy.

You certainly look the part of a mob boss by now with treasure hoard of jewellery and enough jewelled rings on your fingers for your minions to kiss they can choose from every colour of the rainbow.

You've got decades of being a tool to overcompensate for and really indulge your vanity. Growing your hair long in a middle finger to The Farm- no more uniform military cuts for you, no exposed barcode on the back of your head.

No more denial of your individuality.

---

It's not all easy. Los Diablos is built on suffering and you refuse to be the victim any longer.

If they won't fight fair, why should you?

...It shouldn’t bother you. Doesn’t, really. They mean nothing to you, these people. They exist only to be something to envy - didn’t someone say once that ignorance was bliss?

It must be nice to be so thoughtless and empty-headed that you can’t see the poison that runs through the city. It’s in the streets, the very veins of Los Diablos - this whole filthy place is sick.

The footbridge creaks as you step upon the rusted metal panels, otherwise deserted. Humans like mindless ants swarm the trains below, a steady flow, a pattern that goes unbroken and unquestioned.

It makes you snort.

How easy it would be to crush them all, just like the ants they look like.

How easy it would be to find someone unscrupulous enough to rig up a bomb with your contacts. How easy it would be to talk your way into restricted areas and plant them all under their very feet.

You’ve had enough experience to know that while explosions and destruction are amazing and fun in the moment, somehow the victory feels hollow. Because it doesn’t matter in the end. There’s just no real point in the short-term serotonin rush that comes with petty destruction, especially if no one of actual worth is watching.

Besides, you...you have standards. You’ll only kill those who get in the way, not innocent civilians.

There’s a strange feeling of dread when you think about it. Making your first kill. Makes you hold your breath as you lean against the shaky railing and watch the giant metal murder machines go by underneath you. Or, well, trains, but they could run someone down just as well as you could just because someone got in the way.

And yet. And yet all you want to do is ravage the world that fucked you so hard.

Who knew it would be so hard to remain cool and collected with power when all you want to do is bring the city to ruin and delight in its ashes?

To see them bow and cower before you as you take over this hellhole?

Fuck, that’s a sexy thought.

“Hey, you doing alright, man?”

You’re startled out of your thoughts. Who?

A man stares at you, dark hand extended out and barely visible in the fading light. He’s treating you like a stray cat that he doesn’t want to scare off.

Oh.

He thinks...he thinks you’re going to jump.

The sigh that escapes you doesn’t fail to catch his attention. “I know life can be hard, but this isn’t-”

It’d be so much easier if he weren’t trying to help. That’s why you swallow your annoyance and impatience and paste on a charming smile. It’s almost reflexive by now to twist his confusion and concern into remembering he was going to be late for his train, why did he just stop just now?

You watch the man sprint down the stairs and miss it by seconds, cursing his inattention. Something in you drives you to reach across mentally, to push that frustration aside. Push it into awe and surprised appreciation at the setting sun behind you, it’s been so long since he stopped to appreciate the world, he knows how it feels to feel hopeless and alone, that’s why he stopped to help-

Help who?

-A silhouette bathed in red, gazing down at the tracks below-

No! you frown and push harder, concentrating on a proper distraction. Fix this problem you just created for yourself. Send out your senses - who could you use? Hm, there’s a young lady by the ticket machine, failed her nursing exam and doesn’t know how to break it to her family. Yes, strengthen that thread - what is she going to do with herself, they’re going to be so disappointed in her. If only she had someone to talk to, a friendly ear, someone who didn’t know her, wouldn’t judge.

Tears, she visibly droops and starts trembling. There’s no one else around except the retiree who’s fallen asleep and the cleaner who’s already disillusioned enough with life that he would just tell her to suck it up.

Yes, that’s right. Sob loud enough for him to hear. He blinks, suddenly taking notice of the girl behind him and losing hold of the muddled confusion that he’d just forgotten something.

There’s something very satisfying in being able to do something like this, you think, watching the girl break down in tears as the man comforts her. As they both are strengthened ultimately by the interaction despite the circumstances that brought them together. The way she tearfully leaves her number in the phone of the blushing man.

It’s all played out just like you imagined.

How...predictable.

---

4am is perhaps more familiar to you than 4pm.

The world is quiet. A still moment in black and white, just like out of those film noir clips.

You breathe in the smoke and imagine your life was as romantic as the films made it out to be.

You have the tailored suits. The tattoos on your knuckles, the underlings to do your every command.

They don't talk about the messiness of seeing life leaving the world in your hands, evaporating like the heat of a cooling body in the snow. A morbid picture, painted in red.

They don't talk about the distasteful things, like evacuating their bowels, the frightening things people will stoop to when brought to their lowest. When you see what people are when you strip away the veneer of civilisation from them and you're left only with a terrified beast.

The way their bodies jerk to the ground reminds you of it, sometimes.

Snowball, you called her. You'd been curious, wary of her at first. Her twitchy nose and soft ears fascinated you but the handlers were watching and you didn't want to risk messing up so soon after last time.

Your mission was to take care of her. A trial bodyguard mission for a defect-filled asset that wasn't much of an asset at all. They were starting to get impatient with you, you know - it was a thin line between daring enough to get away with it and ending up being made 'redundant'.

So you just stood there. Stared at her, munching contently at her carrot.

"It's not going to bite you." The new handler is different from the others. You call her Red for her hair, it's not like they ever identify themselves to you. She doesn't scream at your uselessness when you don't react to their satisfaction, she doesn't get distracted by a colleague and leave you abandoned in a dark room for nine hours because she forgot to put you away.

You still hesitate - does she want an answer? Does she want you to take the initiative? Does she just want you to follow only her stated orders, is this just a test?

You can't tell and that frustrates you.

Reading their minds is forbidden unless expressly stated, but she's tapping her pen impatiently like she's expecting you to draw the real orders from her brain.

What to do. What to do?

Remain obedient and only react to what she commands you to do? Or make a move, taking the guess that it's what she actually wants from you? It's a gamble on what will get you punished.

...To hell with it. You don't care anymore.

Wordlessly, you step over to the rabbit and kneel down.

Looking back up at her gives you no clues - no changes in expression that would reveal approval or disapproval. That...you're probably okay for now, it seems.

Probably.

Her fur is so incredibly soft under your hand. It feels like you could break her if you accidentally mishandled her.

It's the first thing you ever have for yourself and you love this little creature that is so dependent on you and looks up at you with such dark, trusting eyes.

---

Red encourages you to get familiar with the clients.

So you make sure to practice her orders. And, well, if you spend more time than you need brushing her fur and calming her when she's stressed, that's confidential information between you and your 'client', isn't it?

---

The newest training mission briefing reads as follows:

Your client is revealed to be a mole working for the enemy. Dispatch of them personally.

You're punished severely for acting out and getting caught in the middle of the night sneaking out of the facilities, but Snowball gets safely past the fence once you distract the dogs into attacking you instead of her.

---

For your disobedience, you're made to dispose of newborn rabbits while they watch.

---

They punish you for sobbing afterwards.

---

They also punish you for assaulting Red for putting you through that.

---

The dogs always get you when you run. You're not as fast as a rabbit.

---

You lose track of the punishments.

---

Sometimes you forget. You can't help it, they teach you lessons and you keep forgetting and they just get so angry at you

It's better than the darkness

It's better when they're mad, because it's better than being forgotten

You hate being forgotten and you hate forgetting, one day you are going to forget yourself and that's the worst thing of all

You don't even know why they're angry with you but you wake up one day with dried blood on your hands and that handler that touched you never appears again

Red is so pleased with you though that it doesn't matter. "That's right, little one, you are mine," she tells you. "No one else will ever touch you in my care."

No one else.

---

She makes sure of it.

---

They keep teaching you lessons for all your disobedience and you, you keep on doing it all over again

---

Red's not so new a handler anymore, but they never give you their names. Why would they introduce themselves to a thing?

She's still just Red. She says she loves you and asks you to say it back.

It feels weird on your lips.

---

She gives you a kiss on the forehead for following orders and being good for once.

You despise her. You love her. She's the first one who ever cared about you as a person - even if only to be cruel to you.

---

You're not a rabbit. You can't run.

No. You are a lion, you will be the one others run from.

Red's the first one you ever kill, you let her live up to the name you gave her and she is just as red on the inside as on the outside

And you cry, cry, and keep on crying because you're so relieved and so heartbroken and you will never understand why you still love her. You don't even know her real name.

"I didn't mean to," you whisper into your pillow, because without her you're so lonely.

But you do. You did. You still do, because you hated her as much as you adored her.

---

You let yourself forget. Let yourself smile, smirk, put all your ruthlessness and charm that they taught you to good work.

You don't want to remember and yet. You still don't want to forget.

---

Your past seems to be catching up to you these days. This time you won't ever be so weak as you once were. They broke you, reforged you, made you into a weapon of their choosing.

And now that very weapon will be turned back on them.

"So. Pride. You are newest rising star in town, I hear."

You let yourself paste on a serene, pleasant smile. "Oh? Have people been talking about me?" you inquire. That's good to know, it pays to know your position within underground circles so you know where you stand. Where you can bargain from. "Why, I'm flattered."

His own answering grin is too cruel, too rough, unrefined. Not as proficient in the whole act of it like you are. "They also mentioned you were a vain narcissist who talks too much."

Your mood shifts to irritated annoyance internally; your face is placid. Friendly. It wouldn't do to show any weakness to a potential enemy. "How strange," you murmur. "Perhaps they have me confused with someone else."

"Yeah, I don't think so, buddy." And now to the threatening tone already. How predictable. "You see, we wanted to give you a little welcome, from us locals here. Want us to be good neighbours, yeah?"

Your noncommittal noise encourages the guy to continue. "Just wanted to let you know that we're the ones in charge of this good ol' neighbourhood here, but we're a little old and traditional. Don't want anything shake up what's nice and settled."

"I see."

Because you do. They're warning you not to mess up the status quo.

Too bad you were always a rebel. "Was there anything else you needed, or were you just going to drone on about your Master's stale old knitting club?" You drone out the words, bored of this already.

The smile he returns to you is a little stiff. "Look. We were hoping you were going to join our... Homeowners Association. You'd have to contribute a small monthly fee, but I assure you it'd be worth it. To keep our front gardens lookin' all pretty, see."

"Not really," you tell him, because this little game of coded words and phrases is beginning to bore you.

There's something of a twitch in his eye when you glance over, but the man actually tries to just pretend you didn't say anything and continues. "Right, so, as our newest member of our little association-"

"I didn't say I was joining."

That truly takes him off guard. "I- What?" he blinks. "Mr Pride," he begins, and you have to laugh at the way they haven't even been able to find out your actual name. "You agreed that by moving into this neighbourhood that you would join the , erm, housing association. It's not optional."

"I did no such thing."

You actually manage to break the man's composure. "You do realise if you don't go along with this, there will be consequences?" he hisses.

"I'm not stupid," you tut, peering at your manicured nails. "I'm aware. I just don't care."

The man ends up leaving with a thunderous look on his face as you greet Ortega. A genuine smile to match Ortega's wave.

"What's that? Are you actually talking to people other than me now?" he teases.

"Just a business associate. He kept trying to sell me a scam." You frown a little. "But that doesn't matter. Let's go have lunch, shall we?"

---

They make good on their word.

You aren't going to roll over and show them your belly like their pet dog. Let them think you're nothing but an arrogant little upstart. Let them think they can put you down on their command. Just because you’ve never killed someone personally doesn’t mean you’re not a threat to contend with.

They see the man at the top with the smart suits and the rumble of purred threats, deep and low. The King of the Lions, Pride.

They won't be suspecting the panther stalking the shadows.

---

Simba isn't loud or boastful or broken like Léon is. Not so angry, not so easy to fall to passion.

Simba watches. Simba is patient. Once he's got a target in his sight, he never stops hunting it.

Your mind is quieter when you are Simba, and so are you. You don't need to keep talking to drown out the thoughts in your head.

Silence suits Simba. He doesn't need words to assemble his sniper rifle, his dark skin blending in with the shadows. Doesn't need feelings to peer down the sights and wait for your moment.

Now the only question is, is Simba the puppet here or Léon?

Because you're not sure if you know anymore. You're starting to become unsure of who you really are. In the end...are you nothing more than what you made you?

You really don't know. But Simba doesn't care. All he needs to do, is, well, his job.

A man walks in front of your vision and seals his fate.

You fire.

---

It wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to be visiting her boyfriend.

---

There is a distant gunshot ringing in your ears but you are the one holding the still-smoking pistol.

Which would be all good and well if you could remember why you're here. You try and keep the confusion from appearing on your face as you take in the scene in front of you.

A neat little bullet hole straight to the heart. The woman is scrambling wide-eyed as she attempts to plug the hole. Unable to comprehend what's just happened.

With the amount of blood pooling, it'd be over soon enough from blood loss. But you're not cruel and because of that, you aim your gun once again at her head. At her frozen face, mouth wide open to beg-

And fire.

She falls to the ground like a rag doll.

You don't even know who she is. Was. But you must have shot her for a reason, right?

Couldn't let her suffer. Had to finish the job. You don't feel any hatred for this woman, she must have just gotten in the way. Somehow the blood on your hands doesn't look real when you're wearing your puppet. Simba's hands are darker, more delicate, more slender than yours. Shake less.

Sometimes it bothers you, these little gaps in time. You keep coming back to awareness like this and it's starting to get a little frightening.

You're not supposed to be the one losing control.

It makes your head hurt. You've fought so hard to be something, be a person and then…

You can't even remember half of the things that made you, well, you. You have emotions and fragments and half-remembered bits stripped of their context. A man without a past, like you were plonked down in the world one day half formed.

A puzzle with all the most important pieces missing.

But for now, you have a mess to clean up. Dirty work for a dirty man like you, but Simba doesn't hesitate like Léon does. Doesn't mind the blood crusting under those ragged fingernails, so unlike your own polished, clean hands.

---

You keep waking up in a sweat. Terrified and with no idea why.

There is-

There is blood under your carefully manicured fingernails.

---

The dog park is quiet this early in the morning. Just stare down at your book. Headphones on. Classic 'don't disturb me' look.

It's been ten minutes, you should probably turn the page.

The dogs keep away from you. Maybe they notice your heart rate spiking when they come near. You're not...you're not afraid of them anymore. It's fine.

It has to be. Just...just take in their pure thoughts. There are no dogs, just thoughts, just-

Your first thought is that you're being attacked when you feel something make rough bodily contact with your knee and your body just reacts.

Spoon gives a surprised whimper as your foot makes impact, you’re just trying to stem the panic. It's okay, it's just Spoon, he's not the giant German Shepherds that haunt you.

"Spoon!" Chen barks out, alarmed, a little bit angry. You're not usually this jumpy, you're not usually this bad, you should have seen him coming.

This is too raw to be able to show your face to Chen. That's why you leap up and back off. "Leave me alone, Chen!" you shout, and you hate that you can't control the way you genuinely sound terrified. The unusualness of it makes even Chen frown and look slightly taken aback.

"Léon, what was that just there?"

This is no time to have a panic attack. This is no time to break down. "Just leave me alone, Chen!" you shout. "Stay away from me, keep him away from me!"

You don't turn around to look if he actually does as you ask. You're just trying desperately to flee, over and over and over again, just waiting for the teeth to grab on and bite harshly down on you.

---

You're still waiting for those jaws a few hours later.

---

It's better when they hate you. It's better because you can hate them back, you can lash out and hurt them because you hurt and you just want it to go away

That's why you push them away, because they care. You keep on hurting the people you care about and you're too proud to say you're sorry.

Ortega with his worried eyes and questions left on the tip of his tongue.

Herald, little fly-boy, oh-so-trusting and oh-so-oblivious.

Your crew, your little family you've built up all on your own.

Smirk. Tease. Twist them around your fingers and move them as your pawns. That's how you keep from getting hurt.

You will never, ever, let someone control like that again. Not unless you had planned for them to, not unless you could trust and predict them.

...Stop thinking about Ortega. Stop thinking about how betrayed he'll look if he ever finds out. Stop thinking about how it should serve him right for betraying you and leaving you to die.

Stop thinking about how everything Daniel knows about you is a lie. That you only agreed to train him for your own ulterior motives before he wormed his way into your heart.

Stop thinking about Anathema and the disappointed look on what was left of Themmy's face after…

No.

No, don't.

---

Anathema’s stupid, dumb face won’t leave you alone. Not in your waking hours, not in the silent hours.

Fuck. Fuck’s sake, Themmy. Will you go away if I go and visit you?

No answer. You don’t know what you expected.

---

Anathema’s grave is well tended. The flowers are still fresh.

Your grave is next to his, you know. Your name looks so solemn engraved in such a sober, formal font. Like you were some sort of honoured pillar of the community instead of awkward smiles and messy emotions that spilt out everywhere. Before even those attempts at smiles faded away and all you were left with were the sharp edges that cut into other people’s skin.

The rush of fury at all, all, all this - whatever this is - drives you over the edge. There’s a certain satisfaction in stomping over to your grave and kicking over the flowers. Crushing them underneath your feet.

The same way they crushed you. The same way your bones were crushed on impact.

You’re only vaguely aware of a sense of unease as you pant, too out of it all to focus. There shouldn’t be anyone here to notice you making a scene, what does it matter that you lost your temper?

The mangles mess of stems and petals feel like your life. Something about about it makes you stare. Pause.

Lilies. Your scowl fades away into a genuine frown. Who…?

Ortega knows you’re alive.

That just begs the question, a painful realisation on the tip of your tongue. Who could hav-

-Someone is watching.

Someone is watching you.

The flash of alarm and shock screaming through your brain is the only warning you get.

They knew you were coming-

---

…

….

…..

Anyone watching Simba sleeping wouldn’t notice anything amiss to signify his awakening, no change in breathing pattern, no facial twitches to give him away. For all intents and purposes still all but dead to the world.

The sound of the magpies fighting again outside is too familiar - you recognise them. Feed them on occasion, it gives Simba a reason to be sitting around outside watching the world.

So. Unmoved from his apartment then. Unless they’d gone to the trouble of kidnapping the exact same birds, you recognise their own distinct bird calls by now. The one with croak you named Harry. Harry is currently arguing with his rival, Barry, and isn’t as distressed as a bird would be if someone had indeed taken him from his home by force.

Your breathing is steady, keeping your ears peeled for any signs of an intruder. Letting Simba ‘wake up’ naturally like any other day.

...Good enough.

Fling the bedsheets aside and walk to the window, to the blackout curtains. Stop for a moment to observe. No visible threats - but that doesn’t mean anything in this day and age.

The skies are too blue, it makes Simba’s forehead crinkle. Take in the position of the sun, consider the implications of it all.

This can’t be allowed to let stand, after all.

No one will ever get the best of you again.

#fallen hero rebirth #fallen hero retribution #spoilers #fanfic #Léon Bellandini (OC)#character study #fic #Pride (OC)#mob boss #what are titles pffft #FH:rebirth #fh:retribution

33 notes · View notes