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sylvie-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Dr. Husband

word count: 5278

pairing: doctor steve rogers x wife reader

warnings: talks about heat exhaustion? there’s nothing graphic, but if the hospital theme bothers you, then this isn’t the fic to read!

prompts (from @/fluffyomlette): “Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” and “You’re not supposed to pick favourites, doc.” “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

a/n: this just popped in my head about a month ago and i had to write it for no explainable reason. i really couldn’t think of a title oops. if you all have a better idea please tell me so i can change it lol.

please excuse any mistakes!

Summer was finally in full force, blazing sun rays beamed down on the dry ground and once gorgeous flowers drooped in dire need of water. Sounds of children playing outside, pool water splashing as a result of cannonballs, while lawnmowers whirled to life and laughter from the watching wives resounded this afternoon. In your neighborhood, it was tradition that the women would get together every other Saturday and have drinks in the cul-de-sac while their husbands had unsaid competitions of manicuring their yards. Unfortunately for you, your husband was a doctor and that meant little time for him to do the yard, and you didn’t have children at the moment that could go play with the others. The women who were your neighbors were a bit too picky choosy for your taste. They only seemed to bond over their children and sitting around home, two of which you didn’t have or do, so you weren’t ever truly invited to their day-drinking. It was actually fine with you as these people were so hot n’cold and you were just tired of trying to fit in with faux friends. You had plenty of true friends and then your husband who was a child of his own.

For three weekends so far, Steve had told you he’d cut the lawn and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew that he was so exhausted from work and being on call a majority of the time, that he would never find the hours to do so. That was okay with you because what he did was important and you weren’t gonna be on his ass like the feds about the yard when you could easily do it yourself. It wasn’t like he was just sitting around, no, he was working so you just decided to cut the lawn yourself, something you’d done plenty of times before.

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Unfortunately the day you chose to do so, the sun was out blazing and a simple walk out the door was a trip to an off-brand hell. Instead of making a wise decision and waiting to cut the grass in the evening, you chose the latter and decided to cut the grass at noon, the very time the sun was in full shine.

Dressed in attire for yard work and having already eaten a sandwich for lunch, you headed out the garage door to tackle the mess there in hopes of finding the push mower within. Steve’s father, Joseph, had given you both a lot of his lawn equipment, but the riding mower was broken at the moment and you (again) stupidly decided to push mow the almost two acre lawn. It took a good half hour to get the darned thing out on the driveway and while doing so, you noticed that your neighbors, the wives to be exact, had decided to come out for one of their occasional and somehow spontaneous get-togethers which consisted of unattended kids drawing with chalk as their mothers sat a few feet away dipping their feet in the small splash pool. You often found the idea both inventive and funny.

For only a second more did you let your attention linger on the group before returning back to fill the lawn mower with gasoline. After doing so, you tossed on a pair of sunglasses and went full steam ahead with cutting the grass, disregarding the rising, and very unsafe, temperature.

About an hour in, the temp had already risen to be above 100 and something no one should have spent any longer than half an hour in. Steve had always said you were stubborn at all the wrong times and boy was he right. You had just finished up half of the front yard and quarter of the back yard. It was mad that you were actually thinking about pushing mowing two acres, especially in this unruly weather.

You were so determined and when your mind was set on something, you let all other matters slip away, including regards for your own health. The unusual amount of sweat on your skin seemed to go unnoticed by you as well did the growing headache.

Finally, about half an hour later, more of the backyard was finished and your inner saboteur continued to influence your goals.

“Just finish this half and you will be close enough to the end,” translated into “Just finish the whole yard, you might as well since you are this close.”

This was the worst mindset to have, especially with the given circumstances as you had been out here for at least two hours, no drinks of any sort, no real breaks aside from fueling the lawn mower, and no cares to the worsening symptoms that now included noticeable dizziness.

The lawn mower eventually ran out of gas and you went to refill it once more. Making your way through the front yard, your unknown adrenaline rush came to an end along with the machine’s power. It wasn’t until your vision started to star and blur that you finally noticed your decline in health, but by then it was too late and you were on the plush and groomed grass of the front yard. Ironically, you noticed the fruits of your labor since you were currently laying on it.

Five minutes had passed since your drop to the ground and one of the ladies out in the court, Genevieve, noticed your figure, quite the contrast to the viridescent grass. Despite that she thought you were “demented” for cutting the grass yourself, she knew you weren’t unhinged, so to say, that you would just lay on the grass as it would serve no purpose to do so. She didn’t take you for a nature lover either so this was not normal.

Genevieve squatted down in the lawn, her sparkly sandals reflecting in the sea of green. Unknowing of what to do, the woman in a panic threw the back of her hand to your forehead and you burned hotter than a metal kettle. By time she stood, the other ladies had gathered around and were now circling in mass hysteria as if they were staring at a dead body and not your unconscious, yet breathing frame. Many long seconds later, Priscilla, who was Genevieve’s closest friend and who despised you as much as you did her, decided to call 911. The other moms then left to go usher their children away from what they described as a “traumatic experience” and back to their large homes for some sort of last minute luncheon.

Eventually, an ambulance arrived in your usually quiet neighborhood, something that was clearly displayed as almost every neighbor popped their heads out of their houses in sheer curiosity. Their nosey nature often bothered you but was normally put behind some sort of service act such as a baked cake or bottle of wine just to be invited into your house. You didn’t miss the way your neighbors would study your house when they were finally welcomed in. Steve was much better at hiding his cross nature and would return some compassion of his own while you struggled to bottle your annoyance and sealed it with a forced smile. As luck would have it though, you were knocked out and couldn’t give them a piece of your mind for staring because heavens know this would’ve been the last straw and no one could have stopped your rant.

It was when you were in the red wagon and being attended over by paramedics that you noticed you were on the way to somewhere that wasn’t home.

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At the hospital, the doctor and nurses hydrated you back to reality and suddenly you appeared in a bed, a doctor standing at the side with a clipboard in hand allowing your mind to draw up a million conclusions before you remembered what you had done last.

The doctor spoke a fast introduction and he then moved on to fill you in on what had happened as confusion still painted your face although when he told you Genevieve’s account of what led up to your ultimate passing out, you visibly cringed at such carelessness that ended up bringing you here. Hundreds of falls, burns, and bruises thanks to your clumsy nature, but this had to be the one thing to send you to the hospital. Some sort of twisted joke it sure was.

Moving to roll a stool to your bedside, the doctor passed you a cold bottle of water before bringing his eyes to give your IV a quick check as a nurse had put it in not too long before you awoke.

“Luckily, Mrs. Rogers, your neighbors found you in time and you only experienced severe heat exhaustion. Had you prolonged your exposure anymore you could have experienced a heat stroke. For now, I ask that you rest and I’ll come back to release you.” The doctor expressed his reassurance with a kind grin before walking out of the plain and boxy room that could make one go insane with its lack of liveliness.

Staring out the open doorway and into the empty hallway, you knew that Steve worked on this very floor, but honestly what were the chances that he’d see you? At one point he’d eventually find out about today’s mishaps, but that was a problem for later when you were more conscious and caring. Letting your worries temporarily go (something that was only happening thanks to your fatigued mind), you slightly shifted into a somewhat “comfortable” position on the stiff bed and rough cotton sheets. Albeit that there was an IV uncomfortably stuck in your arm, you fell into a much needed slumber.

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Lunch break at last.

That was all that had been on Steve's mind for the past three hours which had been extremely hectic. Granted, he was used to this fast-paced workplace having worked here for almost a decade, but today was absolutely out of control with injured patients coming in left and right. It wasn’t some sort of bad omen, rather just an unlucky day for many Steve had assumed. He had just finished up with a pediatric case and was now on his way to enjoy the leftover baked chicken salsa that you had made just for him last night and packed for his lunch this morning. You knew how busy his week had been and you took the liberty to make his favorite dinner dish to compensate for the work that had left such a toll on him. A smile immediately overtook his face when he walked in the house last night and that’s when you decided that you would gladly cook anything he’d like over and over again just to see that look of adoration. As Steve held you in his arms at that moment, he kept thinking how he really didn’t deserve you and little did he know, the same thought ran in your own mind. Yet, in reality, you both went together like a puzzle piece to a puzzle. Without the piece, the picture would never be completed and without the other, you and Steve would have never enjoyed life to the fullest.

Strutting down the never ending hall, Steve passed many doors, some he had been in just a mere hour or two ago. As he walked past an open door and did a double take as he saw a patient asleep, but no sign of anyone else in the room. If he were that patient, he’d want the door shut for some privacy, something which the man highly valued, so he crossed the short distance and closed the door. He didn’t mean to look at the patient for so long as they weren’t in his care and that would be awfully creepy, but Steve could help but do a double take and noticed that the familiar face was, in fact, you. From first glance it didn’t even look like you and that was coming from the man who had studied your face just to commit it to his memory. In a loving way, of course.

He slowly walked in your room, taking in the image before him of you lying in a hospital bed. His mind had assumed that the worst thing had happened to you and for a moment, Steve’s breathing ceased and his legs were glued to the ground. As his eyes scanned over your body again, his fears were calmed when there were no visible wounds and you just seemed to be resting. Although as a doctor, he unfortunately knew anything could be possible.

Hunching over the top half of the bed, Steve smoothed your stray hairs away from your forehead and placed an awakening kiss there. You were a light sleeper a majority of the time and your spouse knew that this small action would wake, but not startle you. Every night he’d come home from work and do the same thing except then he knew you were safe and sound. Now, he was just filled with uncertainty.

“What happened?” Those were the only words he was able to get out and you gave him an answer, just not one that he was looking for. You were already getting defensive and he could sense it.

“Genevieve saw me pass out in the yard and overreacted, Steven. You know they all don’t exactly have good track records with medicine.” You rolled your eyes at the last statement remembering how your neighbors have often nonchalantly tried to get Steve to diagnose them when it came to something as simple as a scrape. Then again, all of your neighbors were in the business industry so that explained their lack of medical knowledge or at least that is the excuse you drew up for them.

“Nice try, (y/n), but you do have a medical chart and it’s over there,” Steve pointed over his shoulder and towards the doorway where a plastic chart holder sat mounted on the cream wall. “You didn’t just pass out, and the neighbors did not overreact. They did the right thing despite how much I know you hate that. Now, either you tell me the truth or I go read that file.” His tone was serious, but not condescending. Hidden in his eyes was a tad sprinkle of mischief.

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t respond and folded your arms over your chest in a form of defiance.

Against what is probably legal, Steve picked up your medical chart to read what had happened as you wouldn’t disclose the information to him. Your husband was a worry-wart sometimes and while you appreciated how he doctored you when you were sick, he could be a bit overbearing. A great example would be the time when you were cooking dinner and burned your forearm when taking the casserole out of the oven.

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“Babe, dinner is ready!”

The timer on the oven was currently beeping and you walked towards it. Turning off both the oven and the timer, you grabbed a short oven mitt and reached in to grab the casserole dish off the top rack. As you did so, you lifted your arm a bit too high and hit the side of your forearm on the interior roof of the oven. The temperature was ridiculously hot and the pain was immensely strong that you immediately pulled your arm back, the casserole long forgotten.

Steve came running in at your string of curses and came in to see you holding your arm and hissing a bit as if that would relieve the pain. He walked closer to you as you leaned up against the island. Your husband delicately took your arm in his hand, raking his eyes over the burn that was soon to blister.

After a short inspection, Steve placed his other hand on the small over your back and led you to the sink, flipping on the cold water and running it over your burn. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see you squeezing your own eyes shut in pain.

“I know, sweetheart, it hurts, I’m sorry.” He continued to rinse your scalded skin, but turned his head to sweetly kiss your temple.

A few minutes passed and Steve was content with the rinse job as you had finally opened your eyes, even engaging in some of your jokes that were always said at the wrong time. From the kitchen, the man guided you down the hallway, through your bedroom and into your joined bathroom. He sat you on the edge of the bathroom tub while rummaging through your unorganized medicine cabinet. It was barely ever touched and when it was, it was often in a state of panic hence the messiness of it. Fortunately, Steve found a tube of bacitracin and some cotton dressings from God knows how long ago. At this point he could care less and would rather have you cared for.

You curiously watched him as he dug through the cabinet and a loving smile grew on your face. How lucky were you to have this man. You were really appreciative of him in times like these especially.

Said man returned and crouched before you, distracting you from your thoughts as he softly grabbed your hand once more.

The doctor worked his magic and in no time was your arm wrapped up and lathered in ointment.

“Wow Doc, you did a great job.” Steve was still holding your hand as you quietly giggled in content. He placed a kiss on top of your knuckles and peered up at you with those gorgeous (and borderline seductive) sapphire eyes. Chuckling, Steve murmured against your skin, “Only for my favorite patient.”

As always, you decided to play along with Steve’s playful banter. “You’re not supposed to pick favorites, doc.”

Your husband knew your clumsy nature and seemed to have the perfect response, “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

With your non-injured hand you went to hit his shoulder and he grabbed it in faux hurt.

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“You know, Dr. Rogers, that is a violation and I can actually report you for it.” You lifted your line of sight to see Steve who looked back at you with his lips pressed in a fine line. He shook his head disapprovingly after reaching the end of the report and now looked like he was going to sit back in the seat beside your bed.

“Hey, what are you doing? They already examined me and I am about to get released.” The man ignored you and instead leaned over the flimsy bed railing. Steve rubbed his hands together in a warming manner before placing two fingers on your next in an attempt to find your pulse. He unfortunately carried that common trait among doctors of having hands that were colder than that of a penguin’s ass. You knew very well this pulse check was useless as you were in conditional health and that he was probably doing this to annoy you.

“Well I like to do a check of my own. It never hurts to get a second opinion, darling.” Blue eyes squinted at you and you returned the patronizing gesture.

The free hand that was not on your neck had found its way to hold your own hand and when your husband pulled back, he wore a smug smirk on his lips.

“Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?”

“You know, your shoulders must hurt from carrying such a big head all the time.” Steve had the nerve to laugh at your elementary grade insult and even though you weren’t really mad, your face would have said otherwise to anyone else.

“So I’ll take that as a yes then, wifey.” He then quickly dropped to press a chaste kiss to your lips before releasing your hand and sitting down in the chair.

Looking to the clock on the wall, you focused your vision on the distant numbers to read that it was most likely Steve’s lunch break.

“Are you spending your lunch break with me?” Your tone was now sweet and soft as it usually was towards Steve and his heart leaped at the progress being made.

“It seems that I am. ‘Was really looking forward to that chicken salsa, though.” A heap of blonde hair rested on your hand that Steve had now laid his head against, still holding tight with both of his own hands. You giggled at his dramatics and ruffled a free hand through his greasy hair.

“I haven’t eaten anything, you think you could spend your lunch break with me?” His head popped up at this and his face held the eagerness of an energetic puppy.

“Of course, sweetheart. We can head to the cafeteria. Hopefully they have something good for my girl.” It was now your turn for your heart to swell at his words. Not even a second later though, the sentimental moment was replaced with Steve’s usual sarcastic humor.

“See, I love you so much that I am willing to sacrifice my precious chicken salsa just to have lunch with you. You should be grateful to have me as your husband.” Steve’s pearly whites beamed at you in a cheesy smile and you gave a dismissive wave of your hand.

The two of you talked and enjoyed the rare time together for the next ten minutes until Steve noticed you shifting to sit up against the pillows. He thought nothing of it until suddenly you were throwing your legs over the side of the bed and making to get out of the so called cotton prison.

Waving a finger, Steve tutted you and hurriedly scooped your legs back onto the bed. You looked absolutely peeved and Steve knew it was from the way that he was treating you like a child or better yet, a patient. His wife, the fighter and he, the doctor. Two unlikely personalities but ones that worked best together nonetheless. This made Steve laugh whenever he thought about it.

“You can get up the minute you get released by the doc, okay?” Caring eyes now gave you a pleading look and you felt a small tinge of guilt crawling up your chest at how mean you had been to your husband when he has only been trying to help.

A knock on the wooden door signaled a visit from the one person you had been waiting on for what seemed to be ages.

“Speak of the devil.” Muttering the phrase so only Steve could hear you gave him an “I told you so” kind of look.

The Doctor looked up from the same clipboard as earlier to greet you once he made it in through the doorway, but he was surely surprised by the figure sitting in the chair beside you.

“Oh Dr. Rogers, what a surprise! So this is your wife I presume? I guess I should have put two and two together,” Your doctor of the moment laughed with Steve who added in a chuckle or two of his own.

“Yep, this is Mrs. Rogers!” Steve didn’t look at you, but lovingly squeezed your hand that was resting against his, “We are quite the handful so I am surprised you couldn’t tell that she was my other half.” A snicker ended his words and you couldn’t help but do the same.

Once the short introductions were over, the doctor walked over to do a speedy final exam on what was necessary as Steve watched from the sidelines still getting used to the idea of not being the one doing the examination. He hadn’t been in any other position in the hospital for such a long time that it took some time to get used to the fact that he wasn’t the one diagnosing and rather waiting for the diagnosis.

The doctor pulled away from hovering over you and now sat back on his rolling leather stool, scooting his way over to the computer and desk.

“Well I must say, (y/n), that you definitely live up to some of the stories your husband tells.” The other man in the white coat finished up his typing before turning back around to face you and his colleague.

“Ah, I hope he’s giving me some good street cred,” You teased and from the side you saw Steve shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

“I assure you that they were all good things.” With that, the doctor formally released you, walking out of the room to give you some time to redress and such.

You went to get out of the bed for the nth time, but finally succeeded. Your legs felt a bit wobbly upon the first step, and Steve noticed this. He came up to stand beside you and placed a hand on your lower back with the other out in front in case you did fall. Placing your own hand on his scrub clad chest to steady yourself, you silently thanked him with a tender pat.

With Steve’s guidance, you went to change out of the wretched paper gown and into your shorts and shirt from working outside. It wasn’t exactly the most flattering outfit but at this moment you could care less for the only thing on your mind was getting out of this room.

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The ride in the elevator seemed to move slower than a snail and almost stopped on every floor. You were so crammed by the time you were only on the fifth floor that you used this as an excuse to lean up against Steve. He rubbed your arm and enveloped you in a side hug and planted a kiss on your head. The two of you never cared for PDA but neither of you had realized the onlooking eyes.

You found it mildly comedic when some of your fellow passengers seemed disgusted that a doctor was handling a patient in such a way. It was definitely gonna be a joke for later on.

Eventually you made it to the first floor and begrudgingly pushed yourself out of Steve’s warm embrace when the smell of garlic bread hit your nose.

“Huh, they never cook spaghetti around here. They must know we have a special guest today.” Steve pressed his lips against your ear to jokingly whisper to you as he ushered you out the elevator doors.

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Standing in line with a plastic tray at the cafeteria made you have flashbacks to middle school lunch and you shuddered at the thought. The memories played back in your mind like a movie and were interrupted (much to your relief) when Steve tapped your shoulder.

“You want this?” Steve held one of the plastic salad containers in hand, the white sleeve of his lab coat draped on top of the other stacked bowls in the open air freezer.

You nodded and he placed it on your tray, slightly bumping your hips as he walked past to grab a drink.

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For a good twenty minutes, you and Steve sat in comfortable silence in one of the booths until clicking clogs came closer and closer. So close that a shadow loomed over your table conveying that someone was here to speak.

“Dr. Rogers, I don’t think it’s entirely wise of you to have lunch with your patient. Actually, it’s quite inappropriate.” The older woman in burgundy scrubs pointed her gaze to the hospital band on your wrist and both you and Steve started laughing upon noticing. So that explained all the weird looks.

“Oh no, Dr. Williams! This is my wife (y/n),” You politely beamed up at the woman and set out your hand for a handshake. At this, her unenthusiastic expression changed to one of apologetic and she shook your hand with much grief as Steve continued on with his introductions.

“(y/n), this is Dr. Williams. She is the medical director for my department.”

“Wow! I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Dr. Williams.” She went to return the praise before a beeping in her coat pocket signaled the time for her departure.

“Duty calls, but I’ll have you know this one here never shuts up about you. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, (y/n),” You glanced at Steve and noticed he was sheepishly grinning and turning redder by the second. So much so that he was hiding his face in his palms.

““I hope you have a quick recovery as well, hon!” The standing woman gave you a nod of her head and then turned to your husband whose face had finally regained its color. “As for you Steven, I will see you later. You have another resident to deal with today.” Dr. Williams sighed at the thought, waving you both goodbye and soon enough she was out the double doors of the lunch room.

“Ooh babe you’ll have to tell me how all of that goes.” Spooning some spaghetti into your mouth, you goofily raised your eyebrows at Steve.

“Trust me, it is not fun at all. When I was a resident, I would have never acted like some of the people I’ve trained!”

You snorted, “Uh huh. Sureee.”

“No really,” Steve’s eyes widened and he leaned over the table like he was sharing some sort of secret with you, “The audacity of some of these people.”

“I think you are just an old man now, Stevie, and can’t keep up with the times.” The blond screwed up his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you.

“Oh hush and finish your food, Miss. ‘I am soooo young’.” A napkin flew at Steve’s chest and the two of you laughed at the childish antics that had just ensued.

Just as both of your styrofoam containers became empty, an unpleasant ringer sounded in Steve’s pocket, just like the one of Dr. Williams’s departure. Once he gave the screen a swift peek, he looked back up at you with a long face.

“You gotta go?” Golden strands bobbed up and down as Steve nodded and you grabbed his hand.

“It’s alright! Thank you for spending the time with me today, though. I really appreciate it. Thanks for putting up with me, you know how I am sometimes.”

The larger hand encompassing yours gave a sympathetic squeeze.

“Oh darling, anytime, you know that. If you need anything, call me okay? I will try my best to answer.”

The temporary silence that filled the room was now replaced by annoying buzzing from the device that Steve had silenced for the moment. He irritability took it out and shoved it back in his pocket. Normally this didn’t bother Steve because this was his job, but since you were here, having just been sick, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and focus on you. Knowing that was impossible, he tried his best to juggle both yet it seemed that the world wasn’t gonna wait on him.

“Do you want me to call Ma to come get you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Her and Dad love your company.” For the moment, Steve appeared to look like he was ignoring the constant beeping, but you knew internally he was already out of the cafeteria and sprinting down the halls.

“No no, I’m fine, honey,” The doctor stared at you as if he didn’t believe you. “I mean it, Steve. I am fine. Now shoo.”

Dr. Rogers shared another laugh with you before pecking your lips and running out the room shouting, “I’ll see you later!”

He really was too good for this world.

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a/n: i really enjoyed writing for doctor!steve, so if anyone has any ideas that involves him and that you’d like me to write, send it in! <3

taglist (is open!): @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #doctor steve rogers #doctor steve rogers x wife reader

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stardusthhj · 3 years ago

Text

We fell in love where the sun never rose - 01

TW: mention of death, weapons, bruises. Reader’s discretion advised.

Genre: mafia au. Gang au. Revenge au.

WC: 2,3k

Wrath is a feeling that could push anyone to extents they didn't think they could go to. And wrath is what pushed you in front of the black door, adorned by mildew and brownish cracks. You half expected a prestigious mansion. But after a second thought it was all the more logical that underground businesses were hiding- taking place underground. You softly chuckled at your own stupidity. The man next to you stretched his hand towards the door - or what was left of it- motioning you to push it open. You looked at him as his black hair fell to his eyes. His locks were thick and long, his hairstyle very trendy -just like the rest of him actually. He had the kind of face that would let anyone struck in awe. It would have affected you as well, hadn’t you be blinded long ago by everything you now longed for. By the sheer reason for which you stood before the door next to Hyunjin. His playful smirk wouldn't leave his lips. You observed him for a long time before and never had you seen his lips falling down. Whatever this smile was hiding it was probably more pain than a human could take.

You focused your attention back on the door, pushing it open. The light was flickering inside, as a long dark corridor took pride of place. You side-eyed Hyunjin, waiting for his signal. He walked in first, walking straight. As you crossed the seemingly never-ending corridor, you couldn't help your eyes from wandering to the countless doors on each side of the corridor. The air was heavy, or maybe was it your steps which finally came to a halt when Hyunjin stopped in front of a giantic door. It was none like the others, adourned in brown and gold. The door was beautifully decorated, like in the many novels you read about arabian architecture, with all the arabesque and gems. But something, right in the center of the door, took pride of place. The head of a lion, which paws were clunched. Its mouth hang open showing countless teeth, through which a red gem could be seen. Whoever carved this majestic animal in the door was insanely talented. "Are you going to stare at the door for more time? Because last time I checked you came all this way to become part of the gang." The sickening sweet voice drew you out of your thoughts. You shook your head ever so slightly, finally looking at him, waiting for the moment he’d push the door. Surprisingly he bent forward until his breath caressed your right cheek in a way that would make anyone blush. "I am not going to do it for you, dear. Push the door or run away, but be quick." You could hear his smile growing at the end of his sentence, voice dripping with honey. You exhaled, trying to get back your composure. You sighed one more time - maybe you were standing before Death. But you decided to keep Her close the day you decided to get your Revenge. You worked too hard for cowarding away now. And at that, the door flew open, letting the inside of the room be seen. Two luxurious brown couch were face to face, a small glass table in the middle. Under it was a white rug, hiding for some centimeters the marble floor. To your left could be seen a vase adorned by pristine drawings. Beyond the apparent living room, an open kitchen could be seen. It was all white, from the tiles on the wall to the furniture, next to which was a door. A black one. Very simplist given the room it was in. On the right side of the giant room a staircase could be seen. As pristine as the other items in the room. Not so idiot, after all, you thought. Hyunjin put his hand on your right shoulder, envelopping you, though his arm didn't touch your left shoulder. "Someone's eyes are constantly astray, it seems. The person you're looking for is that way." He said, his demeanor never-changing. He led you to the black door, the one behind which your future would be sealed. You knew the second your eyes wandered on it, that beyound it took place the most macabre ambiance. You understood by now, that whatever doors you crossed were the doors to your future, and that Hyunjin would let you open them yourself. He didn't want to seal your future, you were foolish enough to do so yourself. And so did you. You opened the black entrance, standing in the threshold of what seemed a normal study. You scanned the room, eyes narrowing. Book shelves were on each side of the walls. In front of the door was a brown desk on which messy papers were scattered. Behind the study was a window, letting enter little to no amount of light. Seated behind the desk was the black haired man with which you would probably trade your life for your goal. He eyed you intensely before motioning you to sit on the chair in front of his desk. You slowly walked, not even paying attention to Hyunjin leaving the room behind you. You sat, now seeing the man from very close. The first thing you noticed was his eyes. They were glassy. Not in the sense of looking teary, no. Glassy like glass. Thick, white, void. Almost as if a veil was drawn before his pupils. He seemed so cold, so cruel. "So?" he said, his voice not as rough as you expected it to be. You found yourself wordless. How? You prepared for this moment for at least six months. You knew what you had to

say, yet you couldn't bring yourself to say these words now. Were they too cruel? But to whom exactly? "I have a goal. I came here to accomplish it." you managed to say , surprised at your voice which didn't betray any of your feelings. You mentally gave yourself a head pat. "Revenge, am I wrong?" You looked up to him, astonished. Your reaction amused him, and he chuckled softly. "Do you think you are the only person that ever crossed my door asking for revenge? Let me tell you something; every Stray Kids member first joined to get revenge. Even the leader himself." He smirked in an arrogant way. "If you want your revenge, prove me your worth. Let me allow it to you."

"I do not intend on telling you the story of my life." you said, harsher than you intended.

"Cold eyes, cold words, cold demeanor. I never expected you to narrate me your little story. I don't really care about it. I only need you to prove me with actions. You know what we say? Actions speak louder than words." He said, adding a wink at his last word. "But before you do anything, you'll receive a little training. Just so that you don't die." He leaned over, both elbows on the table and his head supporting his head. He starred at you for a little before shouting "Rhino". A boy with brown hair immediately appeared. The place was huge, how did he hear him and came so fast? You wondered. Was he ready all this time being? You eyed the man as he stood before you. His eyes were very pretty, and unlike the two other men, alive. His pupils were black, feathered with long eyelashes. His nose was long and sharp, and his upper lip was a bit bigger than his lower. He looked pretty, just like the two other men you met. His gaze fell on you and you found it hard to breathe. His eyes were surely alive, but they sent daggers through your whole being. He made it clear in one gaze that he was less than happy with your prensence.

"There's no going back, now" Said the man with glassy eyes.

The first steps you took were hesitant. You felt like being entirely swallowed up in the giant training room. Weapons were organized on shelves; guns, knives, and some wood-looking swords. You wondered why swords were present in the first place. On the ground were discarded thick rugs which you remembered using in high school. You didn’t notice your mouth was so wide open until the brown haired man next to you mentioned it. You looked at your feet, embarrassed. Now is not the time to be embarrassed! You thought. The man -Rhino, if you remembered it well- stepped first. He climbed up the rugs, heading towards the wooden swords.

“We’ll start with this. It’s convenient; you’ll learn how to many something else than a gun. Plus you won’t hurt yourself.” The first words he spoke to you were void of any feelings, just like his eyes were. But it didn’t matter; you weren’t here for acquaintances but to get to your goal. You stepped on the rugs as well, taking one of the wooden weapon he lent you. It was surprisingly heavier than it seemed. And so was his gaze. He was judging you, evaluating you through your very movements. It made you nervous to the point you wondered if he could read in your breath. “Revenge” he said, “did a relative got murdered by a gang?” You stiffened. How could someone be so insensitive? You chose to hold his gaze, frowning. Well, if he can read you so well, he should be able to read your anger. “It has nothing to do with you. You are supposed to train me, not talk to me.” You spat, venom dripping from your words. If he didn’t mind hurting others, he might as well not mind being hurt himself.

The right part of his upper lip lifted in what you supposed would be the closer of a smile you’ll ever see on him. “Sure. Be it. But then don’t expect me to tell you your wrongdoings. Find out by yourself.” His tone had nothing to do with the so called smile. He was mad. Mad at you. “So big boy likes to hurt others but can’t stand a simple remark? Is the poor boy hurt?” You feigned concern as you leaned closer to his heart, pretending to listen to his heartbeats. In a second, your back encountered the rug in a way that would sure bruise you. When you opened your eyes, a growl escaping your lips, he was right on top of you, his eyebrows closer than possible. His face was mere centimeters away, his breath fanning your own. Now that he was so close, you could see his eyes well. They weren’t black, they were dark brown, with some yellow and red tint here and there. “You surely like to talk back. In a real fight, you’d already be dead. Talk less, act more.” He said before standing up, straightening his white shirt in the process. You were speechless. All this time you thought you were at least good at fighting. You stood up yourself, your back hurting more than it should have. Damn it, you mentally cursed.

Rhino looked at you over his shoulder “get up, we have a long way to go.”

Weeks passed and the least you could say was that you significantly improved. You also noticed a slight change in Rhino’s demeanor. He would from times to times bring water bottles, and sometimes would even patch the handle of the sword you were used to many. You figured out it was his way of caring. Through very small things. And it was fine by you. Even if the only words you would exchange with him were about work. He even taught you a handful of laws, such as always protecting the leader, not doing anything that would put the whole gang in danger, sacrificing yourself for the well-being of the gang… all these rules you couldn’t care less about. For you would not give up on your life and your goal for a bunch of men you did not even know. It had been weeks, yet the only persons you ever encountered where Hyunjin and Rhino. You wondered where the others were. But it didn’t matter, you had to get ready to the day of the test. The rest was a mere concern for you.

Resting on the small bed of the room you were assigned to, you mentally replayed your last training session with Rhino. The way he held his gun, the way he effortlessly never missed any target. You wanted to be as good as him. No. You wanted to be better. A knock on your door drew you out of your thoughts. You opened it, revealing the brown-haired man you were so accustomed to. “Chan told me to inform you; tomorrow you are going on a mission with us. It’s as simple as handling a drug deal. There’s really not much to do, but have this.” He put in your hands a bulletproof vest. “Am I allowed to…” “As long as he doesn’t find out it’s fine. Wear it under your clothes. Wouldn’t it be a shame if you died before you’d even join?” He cut you off. You frowned. Why would Chan ask you to come help in a mission when you didn’t have enough training? Why would Rhino give you a bulletproof vest? It just didn’t make sense. You politely thanked him, sending him away. You slumped back on your bed, eyes fixed on the white ceiling. They really thought you were dumb. Soon enough, you were going to pass the test you prepared hard for. The exam they disguised as a mission. You thought about it for a long time. It was most likely they would test you on your loyalty, ability to apply the rules Rhino taught you and on the way you can use weapons. You clenched you fists, sitting on the edge of the bed. Whatever it would cost, you were going to pass the test. Not because you wanted to be part of Stray Kids, but because you needed to. It was your only way to get to your revenge. And your revenge was your it. It came before anyone’s life. Including your own.

#skz #skz angst #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz high school au #skz au #skz mafia #skz mafia au #stray kids mafia #hyunjin series #hyunjin angst #hyunjin au #hyunjin #bang chan #bangchan scenario #minho imagines #shade of evil

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illuminatedquill · 3 years ago

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Extracurricular, An Analysis

Oh Ji-soo and Bae Gyu-ri

“Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won’t adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is sign on as it’s accomplice.” - Tom Robbins

You know the story. You’ve heard it before, right?

Boy meets girl.

Girl finds out that boy is running a side protection business for prostitutes.

Girl decides to blackmail boy into letting her join his business.

Classic high school criminal shenanigans ensue leading them into more dangerous situations where they are forced to make desperate decisions to stay alive.

Oh, and they fall in love along the way.

Oh? You haven’t heard this one before? Then let me introduce you to this delightful kdrama called Extracurricular.

I watched this one while waiting for the newest Hometown Cha Cha Cha episodes to drop and ended up binging the whole series in two days. There are many remarkable parts of this series: it’s a crime drama, first and foremost, that showcases high school teenagers caught in a cycle of violence and crime, abandoned by the society and adults that are supposed to be protecting them. There are no clear good guys and bad guys in this drama; everyone is cast in shades of grey. Our main leads, Oh Ji-soo and Bae Gyu-ri, run the prostitution business, and are both from broken family backgrounds. Their actions are morally questionable at best, but the top tier performances from Kim Dong Hee (you might remember him from Itaewon Class) and Park Ju Hyun make you cheer for them anyway. You want them to have a happy ending, despite the horrible things they do. The audience is always reminded that despite how clever they are in staying ahead, their actions have consequences, and they’re just high school kids. The drama never pulls it punches.

But, weirdly enough, it’s also a love story. And that’s the part the really sticks with me until now. (The chemistry between the main leads is absolute dynamite and I could watch ten episodes of them just verbally sparring with each other. They don’t even kiss. They’re that fantastic when together on screen.)

I’m writing this because this is undoubtedly one of my all time favorite kdramas and I have a lot of feelings about our main pairing, Ji-soo and Gyu-ri. I can’t call them a couple (wait, didn’t I just say they fall in love) because their relationship can’t be labelled simply as that. Think of it as something similar to the main leads in My Ahjussi. Two people who should have become soulmates, yet met at the wrong time.

This kdrama is not particularly happy, and while I do encourage people to watch this, I am warning that the subject matter is extremely dark. If you’re sensitive to scenes depicting sexual assault, graphic violence, or anything in that zip code you’ll want to steer clear.

Also, I’ll be diving into spoiler territory in this analysis. So if you want to go in clean, then stop reading here.

Still here? Awesome. Let’s dive deep into the messy, amazing pairing that is Oh Ji-soo and Bae Gyu-ri. First, let’s do a brief character background on our two main leads, starting with Ji-soo.

Oh Ji-soo is one half of our main pairing and this story starts with him. He lives by himself and has been essentially abandoned by his only parents; his father is a failed businessman who gambles whatever money he acquires on scams and his mother ran away. His apartment is small, sparse, but functional. He owns only a few outfits aside from his school uniform. The only unique item he owns is a pet hermit crab that he takes care of. His life outside of school is non-existent; he has no friends, no one to hang out with and do typical high school teenager activities with. He takes care of himself and lives only for himself and his “dream”: to graduate, attend college, get married, and have kids like a normal person.

But to do that, he needs a large amount of money. He has no other financial means to do so (his father is largely absent, as is his mother), so he decides, at some point, to start up this protection business for prostitutes. The drama doesn’t go into detail about the how and why he came to this conclusion that this was the best way to make a lot of money in a short amount of time, so you’ll have to suspend your disbelief from the get go. Considering the themes of the story (how youths abandoned by society tend to act out in extreme ways to make it in this world), it’s not hard to believe his desperation would drive him to make such a decision.

Ji-soo, despite his shady business, is actually a decent person. There’s a streak of humanity that exists inside him that refuses to go out, despite the increasingly dark and bleak events that start to overtake his life. He’s attached to his hermit crab, cares for his “employees” outside of them being tools to make him money, and doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt. He goes above and beyond what’s required to help out people at the risk of his own life (in particular, Gyu-ri, and we’ll get into that shortly).

What we learn from the first few episodes is that Oh Ji-soo is extremely smart and methodical in how he approaches his life. At school, he is known as a model student - quiet, top of the class in terms of grades, doesn’t draw any attention to himself, always follows along with what the teachers ask of him. Only his homeroom teacher, Mr. Cho, seems to consider his quiet style of existence to be concerning and tries to make him less socially awkward by pairing him up with another student in a new extracurricular club. This leads to the introduction of Bae Gyu-ri, Ji-soo’s longtime crush and future partner-in-crime.

Meet Bae Gyu-ri, the other half of our dynamic duo. Her introduction into the story kickstarts the entire plot, as one of her earliest actions leads to a domino effect that spells increasing doom and tragedy for our main leads. She messes with Ji-soo’s operation at a critical moment and she spends the rest of the drama doing her best to make up for the consequences that follow.

In my personal opinion, she is probably the best main female lead I’ve ever seen in a kdrama. Hands down, no other character exists (currently) that rivals her sheer cunning, wit, and badassery. Gyu-ri is Crazy, capital C, and is the chaos to Ji-soo’s control; the fire to his ice. Despite being the direct cause of half the events that happen to Ji-soo in the drama, he can’t help but need her because of what she offers. They make an incredible team. Her competitiveness, her need to win no matter the odds, helps them survive time and time again.

Gyu-ri is from the opposite end of the spectrum of Ji-soo; he’s dirt poor and she’s insanely rich (always nice to see a reversal of typical kdrama tropes). Her mother and father run a successful entertainment company. Gyu-ri is popular at school, friends with seemingly everybody, pretty, cheerful and gets along well with her teachers. Ji-soo, and the audience, believe from the beginning that she has the perfect life. It’s not hard to believe that she’s just involving herself in Ji-soo’s business because she’s bored and needs an outlet, at first.

We soon learn otherwise. Gyu-ri has more in common with Ji-soo than he initially realizes, in that they’re both trapped in circumstances beyond their control - it’s just that Gyu-ri’s cage is gilded, whereas his is not. Her parents are strict and have her life planned out for her, all without her consent or input, leaving her feeling frustrated and powerless despite her rich lifestyle. A suicide attempt hasn’t done much to change her parents attitude towards her, only serving to further their control over her life.

So, when she learns of Ji-soo’s operation she immediately seeks to angle her way into it. First, she tries to rip him off, believing that he’s an evil “pimp” and thus deserves it. But after spending some time with him, she changes her mind last second and decides to help him out instead.

And, now, let’s get into their relationship, which is one of the best (if not the best) aspect in the entire series.

I need to be upfront about something: the relationship between Ji-soo and Gyu-ri is not exactly healthy. I wouldn’t describe it as toxic - the circumstances surrounding them aren’t exactly the best environment to encourage open and honest communication - but it’s definitely not what should be considered ideal, especially for young adults, and especially for young adults who are dabbling in crime instead of studying.

So, why do I love them so much? If you’ve read some of my previous posts, you know that I loathe toxic relationships in kdramas, so I understand if you think I’m coming off as hypocritical here. Why do I like Oh Ji-soo and Bae Gyu-ri when I didn’t like, for example from recent history, (oh boy, here I go again on my Nevertheless BS) Park Jae-eon and Yu Na-bi?

First, Ji-soo and Gyu-ri are way cooler than Jae-eon and Na-bi ever could be. They run a criminal enterprise that involves having a high amount of intelligence, cunning, and daring to do so. Do Jae-eon and Na-bi run a criminal enterprise as a side business? No, they don’t, because they’re boring art students.

Secondly, Ji-soo and Gyu-ri actually progress in their relationship and change their views as they learn from each other. Now, granted, that progress isn’t towards becoming better versions of each other - quite the opposite. But at least they have progress. Jae-eon and Na-bi stayed in the same stupid cycle for the whole series and then decided that it was better staying that way as opposed to trying for something else.

Last, but certainly not least, Ji-soo and Gyu-ri are actually interesting to watch for me. The chemistry between Park Ju Hyun and Kim Dong Hee is explosive and they way they spar, exchange looks, and just generally exist around each other on screen is something I can watch forever. I’ve said this before but Han So Hee and Song Kang’s on screen chemistry, outside of their intimate scenes, really didn’t impress me.

Okay, back to Extracurricular. This relationship, man. It’s all I can think about (other than HomeCha’s Du-sik and Hye-jin, but that’s another post). Ji-soo and Gyu-ri are so good together.

I’ve noted before that Ji-soo is methodical in how he approaches his life; he plans out everything ahead, and rigs any situation as much as he can in his favor. It’s brilliant, but when a crisis happens, he doesn’t know how to deal with it effectively. He panics and flounders; becomes indecisive at a time when clear, decisive action is required.

Enter Gyu-ri. She quickly becomes the partner he never knew he needed. When there’s a situation, she becomes invaluable in her quick thinking and wit, coming up with solutions on the fly. It’s not perfect, but it keeps them just one small step ahead of whatever is coming their way.

The only thing preventing them from becoming unstoppable is the lack of communication and trust they have with each other. A lot of that has to do with how Gyu-ri entered Ji-soo’s business - she blackmailed him first, and, when that failed, she strong armed her way into getting him to accept her help. It’s implied in the drama that Ji-soo has had a crush on Gyu-ri for a while (since ninth grade, I believe) and in the first episode he actually gets the chance to spend time with her outside of school on a sort of quasi-date.

It goes sideways pretty quickly because of some shenanigans from his business, but not before she gets to know him and says some pretty touching words regarding his situation. Poor guy is head over heels - even after finding out that she’s the one blackmailing him, his feelings are only dampened, not extinguished. When he catches a glimpse of her family’s situation, he gains a deeper understanding of her and why she acts the way she does. Even more importantly, Ji-soo treats her the same after finding out this information which, to someone like Gyu-ri, means more than if he comforted her about it.

If you want to see a physical representation of how he feels, other than paying attention to his actions, you can see it in him keeping mementos from Gyu-ri. She has an interesting habit of folding bags into origami shapes and giving it to him. Even after the blackmail reveal, you can see that he continues to keep these in a container on his desk. It’s really cute that he keeps these, when it probably doesn’t even matter that much to Gyu-ri.

Towards the end of the drama, Ji-soo prepares to turn himself in to prevent Gyu-ri from being implicated in the crimes they committed. And it costs him almost everything to protect her. Ji-soo, the quiet, nerdy kid, puts himself on the line time and time again to protect Gyu-ri, knowing that it puts his life and his dream at risk to do so. And all for what? For some girl that he thinks doesn’t even like him in return?

Well, let’s talk about that. Because I’ve seen some comments that Gyu-ri was only using Ji-soo for her own selfish gain. And I can agree that was how it was at the beginning for her; she definitely was only interested in acquiring money, like Ji-soo was, in order to achieve her own goal of being free from her parents.

But, oh man, that is not what is motivating her at the end.

It’s actually pointed out relatively early by some of her friends that it’s obvious that she likes Ji-soo more than he likes her. Understandably Ji-soo is keeping her at arms length from him given the whole recent blackmailing, so it would make sense that it looks that way.

Further questioning reveals what she likes the most about him:

“It’s not like I’m crazy about him. He’s fun. And amusing. He’s smart. And there’s a certain charm he has. He also has a wolfish side to him. But he thinks he’s a puppy.”

- Bae Gyu-ri

But, as she gets to know Ji-soo better, you can certainly see that she starts to fall hard for him. As a cover story for why they hang out so much together during and after school, Gyu-ri states to everyone that they’re dating. The reactions across the school definitely imply that this is a shocking development, which means that Gyu-ri hasn’t dated anyone before. So why Ji-soo other than the reasons she herself states?

He challenges her, just as she challenges him. Gyu-ri may be the more dynamic, quick thinking of the pair but Ji-soo is every inch her intellectual equal - just in different ways. She doesn’t seem to be the type to be easily impressed, but you can tell that she’s definitely impressed by Ji-soo’s operation and how thoroughly set up it is. When Ji-soo is frustrated at the beginning by his setbacks, he blows up at another student (knocks him out in a crazy punch) and immediately walks over to Gyu-ri afterwards (who saw the whole thing) to inform her that she is now his partner in crime.

The look in her eyes, and the small smirk she has speaks volumes about her attraction to him in that scene. Smoldering.

And, oh yes, she’s prone to jealousy. Another classmate, Min-hee, gives Ji-soo a present out of the blue (it was supposed to be for her boyfriend, Ki-tae, but that’s another sub-plot) - all within view of Gyu-ri. It’s hilarious how she tries to brush it off. Later, for plot reasons, Ji-soo has to spend more time with Min-hee which only furthers Gyu-ri’s annoyance.

And her motivations stop being entirely about the money and more towards helping preserve the dream that she and Ji-soo share about being free. There’s a scene in episode 8 where it’s revealed that, due to a business partnership with a local gang (set up by none other than Gyu-ri herself in a desperate move), Ji-soo would have to drop out of school permanently to work on their behalf. Gyu-ri overhears this and, despite badly needing the gang’s help in sustaining their own business, immediately terminates the partnership.

All because it would interfere with Ji-soo’s dream.

Man, if that isn’t love.

In the following episode, Gyu-ri, and later on Ji-soo, is kidnapped by the same gang in retaliation for terminating their partnership. Ji-soo comes to her rescue but Gyu-ri is already almost free (again, she’s really, really badass) and is demanding that they bring Ji-soo to her instead of running for her life.

Surviving this latest attempt puts the two in a reflective, vulnerable mood and Gyu-ri asks Ji-soo why he keeps saving her. Ji-soo asks later on why she keeps risking her life to be with him. They don’t say the answer in words but in an almost kiss (yeah, you read that right - almost).

And then, if you aren’t already convinced, Ji-soo crosses his one last remaining line in an effort to keep Gyu-ri safe; he accidentally pushes a fellow classmate down some steps and, instead of helping her, leaves her to die after grabbing the evidence she has on him and Gyu-ri.

Extracurricular pulls off quite the magic trick here, hiding this well done love story in the middle of a serious crime drama.

The real tragedy is that Ji-soo thinks that Gyu-ri views this whole business, and by extension his life, as one big game. It’s something that she takes offense at, visibly becoming upset when he says that.

But even if that were true, he should be assured since Gyu-ri doesn’t like to lose.

As they hurtle towards the end and face up to the consequences of their actions, Ji-soo and Gyu-ri undoubtedly lose sight of their original goals and dreams. They do some fairly horrible things to stay alive and ahead of the police who are close on their trail. You can’t really blame them for doing what they did; in the face of a society that has abandoned them, what they’re doing is a logical outcome to gain what they want so desperately and deserve so much: the chance to be free to live like normal, care-free people.

I can’t say for certain that they achieve that. The drama is serious in consequences and, at the end, the net around them is drawing tighter and tighter. I won’t spoil the ending scene for you, because I highly encourage you watch this drama yourself but I will say this: Ji-soo and Gyu-ri seem stuck in an impossible situation with nowhere to go, and no one to help them, with a clock ticking down towards either death or discovery by the police.

But, all the same, I’m always the optimist. They’ve gotten through situations like this before and they can certainly do so again. Maybe not as bad as this one, but not too far out of their league. And, like I mentioned before, Gyu-ri doesn’t like to lose. Especially when it comes to Ji-soo.

Their relationship is truly dangerous, as Ji-soo himself notes. Them being together is the source of their problems; they’re too much alike now, as opposed to the beginning of the drama where he stated that they’re too different. Their love is the kind of love where both of them are willing to burn the whole world down if it means keeping each other safe.

I’m a real sucker for those kind of love stories. No one’s a hero here. They’re just kids in high school, doing the best with what they know.

Who are we to judge what is right and wrong? Especially when the one committing the acts are high school kids who don’t know any better and just want to save each other?

Do we have that right?

Do they really deserve that punishment? Shouldn’t we be pointing fingers at the society that forced them to act this way?

Extracurricular really makes you think about that. Is it really so outlandish and terrible what Ji-soo and Gyu-ri do to survive when the adults who are supposed to be protecting them, teaching them better, have failed in their duty?

Maybe they really did win at the end. Not so much in succeeding in their goals but in gaining something that not even regular people are likely to find - a partner, a soulmate, someone who will stand by you no matter what.

If you do watch the ending, and are not an optimist like I am, then all I can say is this: whatever happened, they were together at the end.

They were together.

#extracurricular netflix #human class #netflix #kdrama #oh jisoo #bae gyuri #park joo hyun #park ju hyun #kim dong hee

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

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Lifetime of Love

Pairing: Suga x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Overstimulation, Mythology AU, Demi-God!Suga

Prompt: Mythology

Summary: As the son of Aphrodite, Suga knows more than most when it comes to beauty and love. But knowledge and experience are two very different things. OR Suga finds true love.

A/N: This is my contribution for the HQHQ NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. As always, thanks for beta-ing @sawamooora

Being the son of Aphrodite has its perks. Even as just a demi-god, Suga is borderline ethereal, naturally drawing men and women to him with his dazzling silver hair, enthralling hazel-brown eyes, and coquettish charm. It’s effortless, the way he wakes up looking just as radiant as ever, the way his hair is naturally shaped and styled even after tossing and turning in bed. Clothing is just a technicality, just fabric he wears to not risk indecent exposure. Why waste time and effort thinking of putting an outfit together when he could wear a burlap sack and still have admirers flock to him?

It’s not a bad life and he knows others stare at him with envy, wondering what it’s like to be so beautiful, so loved, so wanted, so desired. Never an off day. Never a hair out of place. And truth be told, maybe more of his mother runs in him than he likes to admit, if the swell of pride and satisfaction he gets from having everything in life handed to him on a silver platter is anything to go by.

Life is easier for beautiful people. It’s a hard pill to swallow for the masses, but a reality that Suga has no qualms taking advantage of. After all, he might as well get some benefit from being a goddess's son, even if his mother and him don’t always see eye to eye.

Suga can appreciate beauty and love. Aphrodite has taught him to have an eye for the finer things in life. He’s not stubborn enough to deny that he enjoys waking up entangled in silk and satin sheets, surrounded by a beautifully decorated apartment, to reject the ecstasy he feels when he has one or more playmates in his bed.

But love of the flesh is different than love of the heart, and he wonders, despite how blasphemous it is to question a deity, if his mother truly understands what love is.

Aphrodite’s love is a seemingly fleeting and fickle thing, a fire that blazes bright and strong, only to burn out just as quickly as it had risen. And he judgmentally watches as she bounces from man to God to man to God again and again, grimacing whenever he meets his “family”, knowing how she’s slept with most of the other gods in Olympus.

He has no doubt that in her own way, she truly has loved each entity she’s slept with. But he wants something different, something less promiscuous, something less shallow. He wants true love, a love rooted in something much deeper than superficial appearances, a love rooted in a connection of souls, a love rooted in the bond of two people truly seeing and knowing each other’s flaws and strengths, yet still determinedly pursuing each other.

So he steadfastly continues on, searching for the one.

There’s no end to the line of people who practically throw themselves at his feet, desperate for a chance to catch his attention. He goes on endless dates, entering and leaving countless relationships. Some attempts are longer than others. Some partners have hope churning inside of him, have hazel-brown eyes sparkling in interest. But in the end, they’re all the same and the flutters of his heart become anchors of disgust inside of him when he sees their leering eyes, the lust driving their actions, the way they never see past his handsome face and attractive body.

No one sees Sugawara Koushi. They only see the body of a man literally blessed by the gods.

Maybe it was naive of him to believe that he knew more about love than the goddess of love herself. Maybe sleeping around with other attractive bodies is all his life will amount to, can amount to. And as he watches the people around him break-up, divorce, chase after some happy ending that seems more and more unattainable, he gives up his rose-colored dream of a fairytale romance.

But life has a funny way of dropping something in your lap just when you’ve given up all hope.

Aphrodite had not been amused when Suga had told her he was going to be a teacher at a local elementary school in the countryside. Children and parental instincts have never been her forte, and he remembers the long winding back and forths they had as she implored for him to rethink his decisions, flaunting modeling and acting opportunities in his face, anything to have his handsome face plastered on televisions and magazines.

But he had remained steadfast in his decision and she had finally relented, shaking her head and letting him know that she’d be ready to help him when he’s done wasting his gifts and time.

“You’re only part-god, Koushi. Your beauty will only last so long.”

He knows there’s no malice behind the words. It’s just a cold hard fact, a reminder. And he simply nods in response, secretly wondering if that would be so bad, letting age take its toll and put him on the same playing field as the rest of the world.

But he has years before he crosses that bridge and he dedicates himself to finding fulfillment in life by caring for and teaching the children in his class. A megawatt smile spreads across his face as he watch them play and excitedly call his name, politely ignoring his fellow teachers who parade themselves in front of him for an ounce of his attention, never entertaining the married mothers of his students who try to lavish him with unnecessarily exuberant gifts and woo him with fluttering lashes.

It’s a tiring never-ending dance, so when he hears about the arrival of a new female colleague, he internally sighs, no doubt in his mind that you’ll be just like the rest. So imagine his surprise when you just casually smile at him when you’re introduced, no interest in your eyes, no lingering gaze, before turning your attention away from him without a second glance back.

He wonders if it’s a fluke, hopes and prays that it isn’t. It’s almost comical, complete insanity, how his heart races, his eyes blow wide, just from your sheer nonchalance. And for the first time, it’s Suga who’s left wistfully staring as his eyes trail after your figure even long after you’ve turned the corner of the hallway.

He’s seen his mother’s work, seen the way humans pursue their love interests with almost fanatical effort. But he had never understood, not until now.

It’s an intoxicating feeling, addictive, the thrill of the chase energizing him in a way he’s never felt before. It’s hard, meticulous work finding reasons to visit your classroom, finding ways to weave himself in conversations you’re a part of. But it’s always worth it when he sees the genuine fondness in your eyes, the way you look and really see him, the way you care about the man underneath the shiny facade, in a way no one ever has before.

And when the two of you go out for a friendly lunch one day, when you order his favorite dish that he’s only briefly mentioned to you once in passing, without even missing a beat, his heart stops. It’s something no other partner has bothered even taking note of, too busy trying to impress him with high-end meals and fine dining. And just like that, he blurts out his confession, heart hammering, fingers nervously twitching as he awaits your response.

For many years to come, the two of you will debate whether or not that lunch counts as your official first date as a couple.

Dating you is everything he’s dreamed of and more. And for once, Suga feels like just another regular man, a normal human being as he holds your hand in his, giggling and sharing stories, feeding each other bites of food, lazing around on his sofa watching TV.

But as a romance movie runs in the background and the main couple kisses after the male lead raves about how stunning his lover is, he turns his attention to you, curiosity nagging at him, a tiny tendril of lingering fear squirming inside of him.

“What do you like about me?”

There’s silence as you owlishly blink and look up at him, surprise and confusion flitting across your face as you try and process where this question is coming from. But when you see the worry, doubt, and insecurity muddling your boyfriend’s eyes, you interlace your fingers with his and cuddle into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you continue gazing at him.

“I like the way you always insist on getting the highest spice level at every Chinese restaurant we go to that serves mapo tofu, even though you complain about your mouth burning all night long afterwards.”

Suga chuckles, unable to deny the truth of those words.

“I like the way you act like a clueless angel even when you’re wreaking havoc and chaos, you big trouble maker.”

This time Suga does try to plead innocence, although all he can do is sheepishly grin when you start listing off event after event of mischief he had instigated and encouraged, much to Daichi’s and Asahi’s dismay.

“I like how patient and gentle you are with your students and your old underclassmen. I like the way you nurture them, mentor them, encourage them to keep on going, keep on trying even when the going gets tough. And I like how you instill that belief in your own life. If we have children of our own one day, I know you’ll be the father I’ve always wanted for my future kids.”

The weight of your last sentence hangs heavy in the air, the meaning, the hope of a lifetime promise has Suga’s jaw dropping. But when you shyly look away, nervously biting your lip as he just dumbly stares at you, he jolts back to reality and you yelp as lips suddenly crash against yours.

Sex with Suga is always sweet, with a hint of spice when your lover is feeling particularly mischievous. But it’s never been like this, full of desperation, untamed desire, a want so deep that it leaves both your minds in a hazy disarray. You gasp as you’re firmly pushed down, until your back hits the couch and you’re moaning into the mouth pressed against yours, your tongues tangling with each other in an attempt to taste every crevice.

The wet sounds of your lips connecting and disconnecting over and over again, the frantic sounds of fabric being rustled and tossed off, they all mix in a passionate symphony punctuated by breathy declarations of love, by whimpered names.

You throw your head back as a hot wet mouth sensually carves a path down the column of your neck, to the delicate swoop of your collarbone, sighing in bliss as they end in the valley of your breasts, two hands gently tweaking and rolling your nipples. And then fingers are replaced with a tongue, with lips, and your back arches, body writhing, seeking more, more, more as you wildly grind against your lover’s body.

Usually Suga likes to take his time with you, unwrap you piece by piece, unravel the strings that tie you together, coax the prettiest sounds out of you. But today something more carnal, more desperate, more raw spurs him on, and he feels more beast than man as he devours you, plunders you, marks you as his for all eternity.

“Koushi!”

You wail as he wastes no time in quickly snapping his hips, filling your slick walls with his cock. There’s an urgency behind his pace you’ve never felt before and you dig your nails into his shoulders, eyes rolling back in your head, lewd moans echoing in the room as you wrap one leg around his back, the other dangling off the couch.

You’re not sure exactly what the trigger had been for this, but you’re not complaining, pussy walls only clamping down even more when you see the feral hunger in his eyes, the drag of his cock against your insides even more pronounced.

He can feel your end approaching, sees it in the way your head tosses side to side, the way your eyes glaze over, and he brings a hand between your bodies, toying with your clit, circling it, rubbing it, never losing his rhythm as you begin to convulse, body thrashing, nails scratching his skin, a debauched version of his given name rolling of your tongue. Only when you begin to whimper, shaking hands trying to grasp his fingers still playing with your oversensitive nub does he relent, smiling down at you as you entwine your fingers with his as he continues to thrust in and out of you.

Suga’s been told he looks like an angel time and time again, but as he stares down at your completely ravaged and exhausted form, the way your chest heaves up and down, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the after tremors of your body, the duality of how you cling onto his hand despite your wanton state, he thinks you’re the true angel here. Maybe a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless and he can feel his balls tighten, the last shreds of his endurance ripping apart at the seams as he takes in your breathtaking appearance.

But he needs more than that, needs you, needs you here and with him, and he meets your lips in a bruising kiss, a silent demand for your attention, adjusting his hands until your fingers are interlocked on either side of your head.

“Look at me.”

He patiently waits, peppering your face with butterfly kisses, slowing down the rocking of his hips. You’re so tired, heavy eyelids wanting nothing more than to close, but you’re still in a rocky ocean of pleasure, body still registering and reacting to every touch, every move. And when his soft voice makes its way through the fog, you know you need to listen, you want to listen. So you turn your eyes until they lock with hazel-brown, a weak smile plastered across your face when you see the love and affection pouring down onto you.

“I love you.”

Both of you grin as the three words unanimously exit your mouths, but the smile is wiped off your face as he resumes his pace, tempo beginning to stutter, his own head being thrown back in ecstasy as he approaches his end. Your overstimulated body is barely hanging on by a thread, pathetic mewls dripping from your lips, and you keen when sticky spurts fill you, Suga’s cock buried balls deep inside of you as he breeds you, coating your quivering walls with his essence.

Suga gently lowers his body on yours, capturing your mouth in another kiss, one much gentler as both of you catch your breaths, bodies feeling soft and pliant as post-coital bliss wraps around you like a fluffy blanket.

Beauty is a fleeting thing. His mother’s not wrong about that.

But love? Love isn’t nearly as fickle as beauty, he thinks, as he holds you in his arms. And he smiles, letting himself be lulled to sleep by your rhythmic breathing, dreaming of the long and full life still ahead for both of you.

#haikyuu smut #suga x reader #sugawara x reader #suga smut #sugawara smut #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fic #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader

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gravegroves · 4 years ago

Note

Can I ask about 2 and 8 for the wip tag game?

I've already talked about 8 (search #tag game in my tags and you'll find it).

But omg thank you for asking about 2!!

2. Like a Bat Out of Hell, Indiana

Oh man, oh man. This. This right here? This is my baby. My precious. The one I wrote so self indulgently that even if no one else likes it, I LIKE IT. And I'm completely okay with that.

El and Hopper fail at closing the gate at the end of s2, Billy appears at the Byers' house just in time and so begins a mad dash across the country, trying to outrun the end of the fucking world.

Tw: death (no one we care about though)

Excerpt:

The sound of a car roaring into the driveway has Steve's heart crashing up into his throat and they all turn to watch as headlights dance across the living room walls, sharp and blinding, like a goddamn beacon of hope.

And Steve doesn't have time to think about why the deep rumbling of the engine sounds so familiar.

He moves the kids now or they die.

"Get to the car, now!" Steve screams, just as the window at the end of the hall explodes inward.

Max gets to the door first and tears out of the house, sprinting toward the high beam lights with the boys hot on her heels.

"Billy!" She screams and goddamnit she can't mean--

She reaches the car, yanks the passenger side door open and pushes the front seat forward, shoving Dustin, Mike and Lucas into the back before diving in herself, righting the front seat in a practised move just in time for Steve to jump in after her.

And yep. There he is.

Hargrove's expression would be hilarious if they weren't seconds away from being overrun by a horde of carnivorous monster dogs.

"What the fuck do you losers think you're doing?!" Billy roars, eyes bugging slightly when he recognises Steve.

"Harrington?!"

Steve grabs him by the collar and screams into his face: "Just fucking drive!"

A loud crash has them both snapping their heads to the side just in time to watch as a hundred Demodogs or more come rushing out from behind the Byers' house, heading straight for them.

Without another word, Billy yanks the car into reverse and accelerates before hitting the breaks. Steve's stomach swoops as their momentum lets the wheels slide over the gravel to land perfectly on the road.

He grabs Billy's arm, yanks on it like it might shake some urgency into him.

"Hargrove, go!"

"Seatbelts! Get the seatbelts" Max yells at the others.

That's what she's worried about? Steve thinks, even as he reaches over his shoulder to strap himself in.

Then Billy puts the car into gear and guns it forward and they go from 0 to 70 mph in ten seconds flat, zooming down old, twisting back roads and Steve honestly can't believe that Hargrove's insane, wannabe NASCAR driving is gonna be what saves their asses tonight.

"What the hell are you doing all the way out here with my sister, huh?" Billy yells, taking his eyes off the road to look over at him and Steve might seriously have a fucking heart attack.

"Eyes on the road!" He exclaims, foot searching the footwell for a break pedal that isn't there, "For real, man? You want to do this now?!"

"Or you can get out and fucking walk, amigo," Billy snarls, swerving around another Demodog leaping for the hood of his car, "What the hell is up with these dogs?"

"Billy, stop it! Can you jus-- look out!" Max shrieks, her arm shooting between them to point straight ahead and the kids all begin yelling as the flower-in-bloom-faced ugly fuck grows larger in the windscreen at an alarming speed.

Smooth as butter, Billy avoids the gaping creature in their path, not taking his foot off the accelerator for even a second. Steve's heart beats a drum solo against his adam's apple. His fingers feel fused to the edges of the seat, holding on for dear life.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that?" Billy turns to look behind him and Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw hurts, barely restraining himself from yanking Billy around to face forward again.

"Hargrove, I swear to God--"

"Oh god, look."

Steve turns his head the slightest amount to see Lucas pointing out of the window at the treeline to their right.

Demodogs.

Lots of them.

So many slimy, greyish bodies that the forest floor has all but disappeared and transformed into a churning sea of dark, slick oil.

More worryingly, they're all running in the same direction as the Camaro.

Fuck.

"What the…" Billy falters when he looks out of the window at the treeline, then seems to shake it off, placing his undivided attention back on the road for once.

He speeds up to pass a whole group of the beasts trying to cross to the other side, narrowly misses being cut off entirely by the mass of Demodog bodies. Steve releases a hand from the seat only to clutch at the grab handle on the door. He closes his eyes, swears he can feel his stomach fall out of his ass when the wheels on his side of the car lift into the air for half a beat.

"Shit, we're gonna die!" Dustin wails, voice wobbly as Billy jerks the wheel again to avoid a creature charging straight for them. If the kids weren't already packed in like sardines they'd be sliding around back there, seatbelt or no. "We're definitely gonna die! This psycho is gonna kill us before the monsters do!"

Billy scowls into the rear-view mirror and grits out "Hey kid, you're welcome to get out and walk."

"You literally tried to run us off the road a week ago--"

"Not the time, Dustin!" Max snaps and shushes him.

"We need to get to the gate!" Mike blurts out, leaning forward to speak directly at Steve. Demanding. "We need to help El!"

Steve doesn't even have the faintest idea of how to begin doing any of that.

"Dude, we can't just go back there, are you crazy--" Lucas pulls him back and they continue to argue in harsh whispers.

"If you losers don't shut the fuck up, I'll crash this goddamn car just so I can take you all with me." Billy barks, knuckles white on the wheel.

"Oh my god, see! What did I tell you?" Dustin exclaims, "He's dangerous, Steve!"

Yeah, well, he's all that we've got, Steve doesn’t say. "Shut up, Dustin."

They turn into the first proper residential street and Billy misses a tree by an inch as he tries to avoid colliding with five demodogs hunched over something on the road.

Oh god, was that a body?

"Harrington, where the fuck am I going?"

Steve closes his eyes, overwhelmed and completely out of his depth. They might have been the B team, but there hadn't actually been a plan B--

"Fuck, fuck! I don't know--"

"Billy," Max pleads, voice shaky with terror, silencing them all, "My mom…"

Billy sighs explosively before turning down a side street, barely slowing down.

"Shit."

*****

It's not just Max's mom, but Dustin's mom, too. Lucas's family. Mike's family.

They reach Old Cherry Road first and Billy barely allows the car to come to a full stop, Demodogs further down the street are taking notice of them already, stalking forward, mouths blooming excitedly. Steve eyes them warily until a garbled oh fuck from the back seat draws his attention to the other side of the street and--

It's bad.

The porch light sets the stage for a grizzly scene at the Hargrove residence. A woman lies directly beneath it, like the opening shot to a fucked up play, her head of red hair spilling over the top step.

She's very obviously dead. Steve can see where she must have tripped on the welcome rug -- awkwardly stiff and upturned between her feet -- and he can only hope she got knocked out in the fall and didn't feel a thing that came after. There isn't much left between her head and her knees except for a dark patch of gøre.

The headless body of a man lies slumped against a truck parked in the driveway, one arm stuck through the open car door, half torn off within his jacket. Blood still running down the concrete incline, pooling in the roadside gutter.

"Oh, you Bastard," Billy spits, barely a whisper.

The longer Steve stares, the more horrifying the scene becomes.

He doesn't want Max to see this. Or Billy.

Max doesn't make a sound.

Billy slams his fist against the steering wheel a couple of times, then peels away from the curb before the Demodogs can get too close.

*****

Dustin's house is dark. There's no car in the driveway.

"I told her Mews had been seen in Loch Nora. She must still be out looking..." Dustin trails off quietly. Shellshocked.

It's almost midnight. Steve doubts she's still out looking for a cat. And if she is...

"I wanted to keep her out of the way."

No one says anything.

They drive.

*****

The Sinclair house is dark, too, no lights on except for the motion sensor activated ones over the empty carport.

Billy doesn't bother slowing down. The area is absolutely swarming with creatures already.

"It's so late. Where..." Lucas falters, scanning the houses they pass, like he made a mistake and his home will appear any minute now. "Where did they go?"

"I'm sure they're okay, man," Steve tries, but it feels flat, false, "If they're in a car they could make it out. Your mom too, Dustin."

Billy grimaces, but says nothing.

"What?" Steve demands.

"I was just here looking for Max. They were home."

He keeps a laser focus on the road now, on avoiding the monsters spilling out onto their path, growling when he's forced to change down a gear before aggressively working his way up in speed once more, jaw clenched tight.

"You probably caught them on their way out." Steve insists.

Billy looks doubtful, but he nods anyway. Neither of them enough of an asshole to take a kid's hopes away like that.

They move on.

*****

"Let me out," Mike says, quietly. Trembling. Hands pushing against the back of Steve's seat like he'll be able to bend it out of the way through sheer force of will.

No one moves.

The front door to the Wheeler home is open, door splintered where the deadbolt held, but the wood didn't. The car is parked in the carport. All the lights are on.

Karen Wheeler's corpse lies forgotten and half devoured on the front lawn.

In the driveway, a tiny yellow sock lies next to bloody drag marks disappearing into the grass--

Oh god...

"Let me out."

Steve's lips move, but he can't seem to draw breath enough to produce sound..

Billy seems to shake himself out of a daze, takes a deep breath beside him. "Nah, kid."

And Mike just snaps.

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" He screams, punching and kicking the seat in front of him.

Steve leans forward out of the seat and puts his head in his hands.

"Let me out! LET ME OUT!" Mike shrieks, begs.

"No." Billy says again, evenly.

Mike's voice breaks on a wordless scream.

Steve wants to do his own bit of kicking and screaming, but someone needs to keep their fucking head in the game or they're all going to end up dead.

By some twisted turn of fate that someone is turning out to be Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hysterically, he remembers hearing about Billy abandoning Carla Green to walk home alone from the quarry after she'd scratched the Camaro's dashboard with her fake nails by accident.

Mike kicks the back of the seat again. Billy says nothing.

All the kids are crying, now.

Mike's screams eventually taper off into babbling sobs and Dustin does his best to comfort him through his own half-choked cries. Lucas is whispering to a sobbing Max, his own breaths hitching and heaving uncontrollably, on the edge of breaking.

Steve's eyes sting, hidden behind his hands.

He lifts his head up and glances over at Billy, still tracking the side of the road, the edge of the trees. He looks so normal that it almost throws Steve for a loop. He wants to grab Billy by the collar again. Shake him. Scream: what part of this aren't you getting?

"The fuck is going on?" Billy hisses, almost to himself and oh, right.

"Later," Steve promises, hoarsely, digs the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to see stars.

"You know what they are?"

"Yeah." Steve says after a great deal of swallowing past the lump in his throat.

If Hargrove's voice betrays even a hint of emotion Steve knows he's gonna fucking lose it. Luckily, the guy keeps his shit together so Steve can keep a lid on his.

"You know what kills them?" Billy continues.

"Heat," Dustin says, voice thick, "And, like, bullets."

Billy nods, "Alright, how warm are we talking?"

"They don't like warm weather or daylight, but I don't think it kills them. Weakens them, maybe. Sends them underground."

"Fire will." Steve says, pulling at his hair until it hurts, dragging himself out of foggy despair and into the present where he's needed. He accidentally runs his gaze past Karen's body and tries not to dry-heave.

Mike is still crying behind him and god fuck, they should get out of here. The kid shouldn't be seeing this.

"Where do we go?" Max whispers, like she read his mind. She sounds as lost as Steve feels.

Billy revs the engine and turns to Steve, "Any requests?"

Steve thinks about the huge empty house waiting for him, a gaping nightmare at the edge of the woods. He balks at the thought.

Where the fuck do we go?

"Just get us out of Hawkins."

#anon ask #tag game #my precious #gravegroves writes #harringrove

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

Text

I was gonna put the Spy Kids quote here but then I’d probably get an ask if they or Sharkboy & Lavagirl are pulp heroes.

Okay, jokes aside I can’t put it into words just how much I appreciate the feedback and reception I get from you guys, never in a million years did I think I would ever get the notes I get or the amount of asks I receive. I can’t believe I’m nearing 200 followers as is, that’s insane to me. I am eternally grateful that this place lets me finally put out my essays somewhere people will read them and that you guys actually humor my ramblings, and frankly I don’t think I’m ever going to find an outlet like this elsewhere. Please don’t hesitate to send questions.

But I’m gonna have to start rapid firing a couple of those 50 questions so they don’t pile up more, and for these “Is X a Pulp Hero”, I’m gonna start off by pointing that I made a chart specifically to address this question, to try and at least give the cat I let out of the bag a structure to work with so it doesn’t destroy the furniture (not that it ever stopped my cat). Although again, the chart is just a basic attempt to put this on working order, sometimes it really is just a particular vibe that a character or property gives off.

Anyhow, on a case by case basis:

Santa Claus: Not a pulp hero, waaay older than those, but has appeared in pulp stories (I mean, it’s Santa). There have been pulp stories that featured Santa, there’s a murderous Santa Claus in the canadian pulp Guy Vercheres, the Jimmieboy short stories had him meet Santa, and The Shadow’s killed at least one criminal dressed like Santa as well as posed for a holiday picture with the real one in Edd Cartier’s final drawing before he passed away, which is as official as a crossover could possibly get.

Samurai Jack: Maybe. The most directly pulp thing Genndy Tartakosvky’s done yet is Primal, that is just 100% cartoon pulp, the Conan/Lost World stuff bleeds through the screen. Samurai Jack is kinda near that ballpark but that’s because Samurai Jack has a zillion influences and pop culture references, most of it seems taken straight from comics. Pulp stuff is in there but that’s because pulps run in the blood of everything, and it doesn’t make everything pulp. The whole premise of Samurai Jack is designed for the contrast between an old-fashioned samurai coming to face and adapting to whatever wacky future nonsense and pop culture archetypes Aku’s throwing at him that week because that’s what they felt like doing for the episode. There’s gangsters and Lupin and Star Wars and historical fantasy and robot violence and...shit, it really is pulp, come to think of it. Still not gonna say a definitive Yes to Jack being a Pulp Hero but the vibe is definitely there and maybe that’s all that really counts.

The Belmonts: Maybe. There’s definitely Simon, because Simon is Conan. Julius Belmont also gives off a strong old-school adventurer vibe. The others are a lot more distant but they are definitely a lot closer to that ballpark than most videogame heroes, characters like Richter and Alucard wouldn’t look that out of place fighting monsters next to The Spider or Elric. Again, there’s not many actual connections to pulp properties or periods, but the whole point of Castlevania is that you get to cartwheel through graveyards and whip your way through exploding skeletons and Frankensteins so you can give Dracula a wedgie. So I’m gonna actually say a Yes to this one.

Scrooge McDuck: Yes. He’s in the chart already, and really I probably could have placed him in the True Neutral section considering Scrooge was created in the 1900s-1950s time period and was pretty explicitly modeled after a pulp magazine kind of adventurer.

The Joestars: No. I don’t consider Joseph a Pulp Hero in the first place, it’s really more Battle Tendency having an Indiana Jones globetrotting vibe than Joseph himself, I put the characters in the Radical Pulp Anarchy section as extreme examples to show how far you can conceivably stretch the term based on superficial connections. But I don’t get neither much of a pulp vibe from any of the Jojo parts besides Part 2, and pulp material has never been within Araki’s influences, and I obsessively catalogued all of them in my Jojo phase. You could maybe make an argument for Jonathan since he’s the old-school adventurer of the bunch, and maybe Jotaro since he’s both the wandering warrior type as well as Clint Eastwood in a school uniform, but at this point you gotta separate what’s “genre” and what’s “pulp”, and they can intersect without being the same thing.

Fast and the Furious: No. Pretty hard no, actually. I don’t think there’s even much of an argument there other than I guess they both have a reputation for being trashy low-class entertainment, but that kinda goes for way too many things to ever be placed under an umbrella term. The terms “high class” and “low class” don’t even really see much usage anymore in media discussion, they died and it’s a good thing we killed them.

Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys: The Stratemeyer Syndicate was pretty specifically centered around hardback publications of juvenile adventure series, which means they could not be considered pulp characters in their time despite being from the 1930s, and in fact were pretty specifically defined as being the opposite of the pulp publishers of the period. Still, that distinction hardly matters much once people started talking about serial and radio and comic characters as pulp heroes, and currently a lot of what it takes for a character to be considered a pulp hero is just being from any kind of 1930s fiction. I wouldn’t include them in any listings but, you do you.

Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction: I mean, it’s kinda the big thing you get when you even look up the terms “pulp” or “pulp fiction”, by sheer osmosis it’s replaced the things those terms were created to define in pop culture popularity. It’s been forever since I watched it and I don’t particularly have any interest in watching any Tarantino movie, but I guess the fact that this is a movie with several different stories interconnected on crime drama and doomed love affairs and philosophical hogwash and bantering men of action is very much structured like a typical pulp magazine, which usually consisted on an anthology format that I suspect is what the movie may have been homaging. Either that, or it’s just named Pulp Fiction because it’s sleazy and gorey and shamelessly excessive and those are terms that are very much associated with the pulps, for better or worse.

#replies tag #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #jojo tag #jjba #scrooge mcduck #santa claus #samurai jack #tf2

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vilevampire · 4 years ago

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“Falling Apart” (One Shot)

Thank you @reesiereads for helping me beta read/edit this. Ily <3 Rating: Teen and up audiences Trigger Warnings: Self-harm, cutting, gender dysphoria, transphobia, deadnaming Pairing: Louie Duck x B.O.Y.D Summary: Boyd uncovers Louie's most well-kept secrets. 2.110 words Ao3 Link

Louie stared at himself in the mirror.

He was the same height as his brothers.

He had the same face as them.

They shared the same eyes.

The same feathers.

The same bill.

He moved his attention over to his hair.

It was short now, but it hadn't always been.

He reminisced about the time he got his first haircut years ago. He vividly remembered the rush of adrenaline that came over him one night. But most of all, he remembered that feeling. That disturbing, nauseating feeling of wrongness.

The same feeling he always had whenever he looked at himself in the mirror.

That was the first time he had recognized that feeling, and it was the reason he decided to cut his hair on a whim. It brought him some temporary relief, but…

He shook the memories away, looking at the other parts of his body and shuddering.

It was wrong.

Nothing was missing, per se.

Everything was in its proper place.

All of his limbs were still intact.

His five senses were all still working, too.

And, yet, something was wrong.

Deeply, irrevocably wrong.

A recurrent, nauseating feeling of despair engulfed him.

He closed his eyes forcefully and grasped the knife in his pocket. The familiar handle was the only thing helping him maintain his connection with reality. He opened his eyes again, staring over at himself one last time.

This time, he couldn't stop the tears from flowing out.

—————

A big family dinner; they had those fairly often.

Sometimes Uncle Scrooge would be too busy, or Uncle Donald would be working overtime, but they still tried their best to reserve some time off for spending quality time with their family. And with Christmas right around the corner, the mood was bright and merry. Even Louie was feeling pretty good, all things considered.

He enjoyed the time spent with his family, the holiday cheer and (best of all) the presents that came along with it.

Plus, he got to stuff himself with food.

It was the first time in a while that he actually looked forward to something.

This time, Huey had invited his friend Boyd over for dinner.

Louie had been friends with Boyd for a couple of weeks now, and in all honesty, he was crushing hard on him. Boyd was sweet, caring, and adorable. Somehow, he could always tell whenever Louie was feeling down and helped him cheer up. He laughed at all of his jokes, broke into the most beautiful smiles, knew about all kinds of amazing things; and gave the best hugs. Plus, he was a super cool technologically advanced android.

It was no wonder Louie fell for him in a matter of days.

Despite being Huey's best friend, Boyd got along just as well with the rest of his siblings. Right now, they were discussing the possibility of spending Christmas together this year.

"I would love to," Boyd admitted. "But I really want to spend the holidays with mom and dad this year."

Louie shuddered at the mention of the Drakes.

"Understandable." Huey nodded. "Let's see, maybe you can come over again after the holidays?" Huey shot a questioning glance at Della and Donald, who looked over at Scrooge, who was currently busy reading the newspaper.

"Hm? Yeah, yeah whatever." He gestured vaguely, most of his attention still on the paper.

The kids all cheered.

"Wait, can I invite Lena and Violet too?" Webby spoke up abruptly. "We can make it into a sleepover! I'm sure Lucy would appreciate having more girls to hang out with as well, right Lu?"

Louie bit down painfully on his tongue. None of the people at the table noticed his pain, however. The only thing they saw was Louie offering them a sweet smile. "Yeah, sure."

Once again, they turned to Uncle Scrooge in search of approval… with no response. It seemed he wasn't listening, so Donald pulled the newspaper out of his hands. "This is the first time in weeks we're getting to spend time together with the whole family and you keep looking at that newspaper! Can't you at least talk to them a bit?" Donald hissed.

He was a family man through and through.

Scrooge huffed, a sour expression on his face. "That's because ye haven't seen what's on it! The sheer amount of baloney they can fit in a page is insanity!"

Donald raised an eyebrow, straightening up the paper to read what was on it.

"...Transgender activism?"

Louie's heart stopped. His fork slipped out of his hands and onto the plate. He stuck his hands inside his pockets. Nobody noticed this though, for they all had their eyes set on Scrooge now. Even Della stopped devouring her food to look around the table for the first time.

"Yeah, whatever ye wanna call it." Scrooge rolled his eyes. "It's just a bunch ah crybabies, that's what they are."

Louie closed his eyes forcefully, trying not to freak out.

"Back in the day, we didn't have any of that garbage." Another scoff. Another stab of pain in Louie's heart. "I mean, love whoever you wanna love and be whatever you wanna be, but this is just too much—"

Louie pushed back from the table.

Eyes all around turned on him at that moment.

He didn't care.

All he wanted was to run away.

"Sorry, I'm… on that time of the month." He lied through his teeth. That was his go-to excuse for when he needed some time alone.

It always worked.

Without saying anything else, he stormed out of the dining room without looking back. Had he only stayed for a minute longer and listened to the conversation, he would have heard his friends and family scolding Scrooge over his ignorance.

But he didn't.

Instead, he ran up the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom.

—————

Louie made a cut.

It was swift but precise, yet not at all deadly. His breathing turned haggard from the pain. His body ached, begging him to stop. Instead, he simply made another one, drawing patterns on his skin.

He never learned any kind of self-defense techniques, but he was still as skilled as a butcher with his knife. His whole mind focused on the sharp pain that seared around his arms and wrists in bloody lines.

It put him at ease.

Suddenly, quick steps resounded down the hallway.

Louie immediately covered his arms back under his sleeves. Sweating bullets, he tried to hide away the knife inside his pockets as well, but the door burst open before he had the chance to.

Boyd's android eyes easily caught a glimpse of the blade Louie was trying to hide. He stared down at Louie, completely horrified.

"Lucy, you—"

"Go ahead and judge me!" Louie cut him off before he could finish speaking. "I don’t care what you think of me."

That was a lie. It was a lie and he knew it.

He cared far too much about what Boyd would think now that he knew about one of his secrets.

But he couldn't afford to show it.

Louie closed his eyes forcefully, afraid of seeing the expression on Boyd's face.

He already knew what he would find anyway.

Shame.

Disappointment.

Disgust.

A familiar, nauseating feeling of fear ran through Louie's entire being. He tried to stop his body from shaking but found that he wasn't able to. At first, only silence reigned. Louie had no idea what Boyd was doing or if he was even still in the room.

Suddenly, he felt something cold touch him.

Boyd had pulled him into a hug.

"I’m so sorry." He sounded devastated. "I’m sorry I couldn't notice your pain sooner."

Boyd's metallic arms wrapped around him felt much more comfortable than he thought it would.

Louie tried to hold back his tears and failed.

Slowly, what were only supposed to be quiet sobs, increasingly grew into louder and louder crying that reverberated throughout the whole room.

"I—"

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to say anything. You don't have to explain yourself or justify your actions. And you don't have to tell me what you're going through if you don't want to." The more Boyd spoke those gentle words to him, the more Louie could feel his heart rate peacefully go down. "I love you, you're my friend, and I'm here for you whenever you need me."

Just when Louie's weeping had started to diminish, another wave of tears burst from his eyes and onto Boyd's shoulders. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, so he simply hugged Boyd back and let the warm tears flow down his face.

Eventually, Louie pushed him away. He rubbed his face, trying to get rid of any signs of tears. That would be impossible since his eyes were red and puffy from the crying, but he did the best he could anyway.

"Um, Lucy? Can I ask you something?"

Louie nodded.

"Why are the bandages out of the cabinet? And why does your breathing sound… constricted?"

Louie's heart stopped.

He forgot about the bandages.

"I… injured myself." it was the best lie he could come up with on the spot.

Boyd might have actually believed that if it weren't for the fact that he was a highly sophisticated robot with more than enough capacity to determine whether somebody was injured or not.

He carefully scanned the room. There were no traces of blood anywhere, nor did Louie seem to be in pain; maybe only mild discomfort. Since he couldn't see any bandages wrapped around Louie's cuts on his arms either, he guessed that they must have been concealed by the hoodie.

Boyd's eyes widened as he connected the dots.

"Hey, by any chance are you… binding your chest?"

Louie's heart dropped to his stomach.

He couldn't answer, but that was enough confirmation for Boyd.

"That's… not good." Boyd started saying, and Louie steeled himself for rejection.

But it didn't go the way he expected it to.

"If you bind unsafely, you could severely damage your ribcage. You should only use professional binders that you can order online."

Louie stared at him in shock.

"...Or are you not actually binding? Did I get that wrong?"

Louie almost caught himself nodding to that subconsciously before he could stop himself.

He was used to lying.

He had been doing it his entire life.

He was good at it, too.

But…

He looked up and down at Boyd, who was still waiting for his answer.

"Hey, can you keep a secret?"

He decided to trust him.

A part of himself was panicking inside of his mind. It was scary, new, terrifying. He hated going through situations where he couldn't safely predict the results. But another part of himself knew this was probably the right thing to do. This part of himself was tired of hiding, tired of lies and tricks.

Goddammit, he just wanted to be accepted for who he was.

Why was it so difficult?

Boyd nodded at him. "Of course. I won't tell anybody."

Louie fiddled with his knife, building up his courage to speak up. "I'm trans," He hesitated. "and I prefer… I prefer to go by Louie, actually."

He did it.

He said those words out loud for the first time.

He told somebody about his true identity.

"That's… amazing, Louie. I'm so proud of you." Boyd offered his sweetest smile. "Have you told your family yet?"

Louie shook his head. "You're the first one I'm telling."

"Really? I'm glad you felt like you could trust me." Boyd blushed a little. He really did seem happy about it. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

For some reason, Louie felt like he was telling the truth.

Louie couldn’t remember when the last time he felt this comfortable around somebody else was. Most of all, he was just glad to be able to get that off his chest.

"Actually, can I ask you something as well?" Louie brought up suddenly. He had been curious about something for a while now.

"Of course Louie, you can ask me anything."

Louie felt euphoric, not only at the mention of his preferred name, but also at Boyd's display of trust.

"...How did you know?"

Boyd blinked innocently. "How did I know what?"

"How did you know I was… cutting?" The last word came out as barely a whisper.

"Oh! Easy. Robot super-hearing." Boyd grinned impishly as he answered.

...Louie made a mental note to never underestimate Boyd again.

In the future, he would have to come out to the rest of his family.

That wouldn't happen today though.

He made progress. For now, this was enough.

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seaswalllow · 4 years ago

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((now, our next prompt is, funnily enough, a badlands-centred request, specifically around pandora’s vault. how fitting, eh?))

((....this got away from me again. and a little bit away from pandora’s vault, which i want to explore later in greater detail, but right now, a v v sam-centric and punz-centric fic LMAO))

you would’ve have had to be deaf and blind to have missed the explosions that had ripped through the night air.

sam and bad had exchanged looks; punz had said preparation when they’d quizzed him on the copious stacks of dynamite he’d packed alongside his tomahawk. they hadn’t known any of the details about dream’s request; only that punz had quietly shown them the diamond blocks the night before. only that they’d seen a festival, once before, and while they were hoping that l’manburg’s new era would break prior patterns...

...well.

it’d been sam who’d nearly broken down punz’s door after he’d heard about the botched execution and ensuing rescue attempt, and it’d been bad who stood guard while sam fussed over the burns.

so suffice to say that they weren’t surprised.

<dream> meet me at pandora’s vault.

...not surprised in the slightest.

“i’ll meet you back at the vault,” bad says, and sam watches as he becomes little more than yet another glittering speck in the sky, hurling towards where the fireworks had quieted. then he wheels himself around, and sets off for the massive obsidian vault.

it isn’t even a race. a party with two hostages against a creeper hybrid with a trident; sam has time to check over the entrance and ready the portal before he sees four figures loom in the distance, a dim red against the cool blues of the night.

three, he amends, squinting. the fourth is slung over the shoulder of who he can only imagine is techno if the sheer size is anything to go by.

“sam,” dream greets. despite the mask, despite the distance, his voice echoes without a single issue.

“dream,” he returns, quashing the prickles rippling through his fur. the smell of copper and poison lingers in the air around the approaching party, and the closer they draw, the better that sam can see the blood drenching the two gods.

the two l’manburgians are weaponless, and when sam takes a closer look at tubbo, he notes that the younger is just barely suppressing his shivers.

gunpowder sits, acrid and accusing, on the back of sam’s tongue, even as he softens his voice. “found your first use for the vault?”

the grinning mask tilts, ever so slightly.

“for their own safety, and ours.”

sam steps to the side, and inclines his head to the portal. he doesn’t say anything to tubbo, but gently, he squeezes his shoulder before he follows them through.

there’ll be time aplenty to explain his sins later.

“there’ll be time to talk to him,” he repeats, to punz and bad’s quiet company. “it’s not like there’s much else to do in there.”

“sure, there will be,” bad says, absentminded from where he’s messaging skeppy, and punz cracks an eye open from where he’s sprawled across sam’s flank.

“still bothering you?”

“one of them’s a kid, punz,” sam murmurs in reply. “a kid, and now he’s going to be staring at the same block of obsidian for 24 hours a day, completely isolated.”

“for a kid, he sure didn’t hesitate to make the decision to take an axe to dream, or anybody who stood in his way.” a soft rumble echoes through the small room, and sam catches a flash of bad quietly sidling his way out of the room, a flash of dark, dark blue against a film of gently pulsing orange. “he’s made his decision to play in the big leagues.”

sam tilts his head back to stare at the glowstone lamps above them. redstone ticks away quietly in the walls, and he counts his heartbeats against the heartbeat in the stone.

“how much of that is you, and how much of that is the money?”

“why don’t you tell me the difference?”

sam falls quiet, thinking of stacks of diamonds hidden away in a chest lined with obsidian, and of sleepless nights with redstone burning in his eyes. then he shuts his eyes, and sighs.

“it was so much easier before. when it was barely half a dozen of us just goofing around. none of this political warfare, none of these ghosts.”

he hears a hum in response.

“was it as satisfying?”

sam opens his mouth, ready to rebutt with there’s nothing satisfying about the amount of blood we’ve spilled, and... pauses. pauses, as he thinks about the warm weight of punz against his side where there used to be none, and the memories of bad and skeppy piled up against his shoulders.

he knows punz hears his silence for what it is when punz laughs softly, under his breath.

“less to reach for, less to fall for, right?”

opening his eyes, sam reaches down to ruffle punz’s hair with a toothy smile he doesn’t quite feel. “right.”

punz makes an aborted grumble, and stretches before he sits up. “whatever happens, we’ll be alright. they haven’t got shit on the badlands.”

“you sound like tommy,” sam snorts. punz gasps, and sam only laughs more as punz swats his shoulder.

“an insult of the highest order. i’m gonna have to take a hit out on you for this slander.”

that’s a challenge if he’s ever heard one, and sam lets his smile stretch out to bare his teeth as he unfolds himself. he knows a distraction when he sees one- and for once, he’ll welcome it to the uncertain tides.

tipping his head for a moment, sam listens for the faint sound of raindrops against the mountainside.

“you’ll have to catch me first.”

“not a damn problem with that, i think.” punz is matching his movements, both of them reaching for their tridents, strapping on their armor at an even pace.

“haven’t we established i’m the fastest one here?”

“right before we established six limbs means two more limbs that can get caught.”

more hissing laughter bubbles out of sam as he sets off at a trot for the entrance. “big talk for the man who’s about to eat dust.”

“all i have to do is channel some of dream’s batshit insane strategy and i’ll be fine.”

they’re both laughingly mimicking the manhunt tune when they step out into the rain, and then both just as abruptly stop as lightning strikes the horizon. exchanging looks, sam takes one moment to delight in the sudden wariness that crosses punz’s expression. the mercenary knows what a thunderstorm holds in store for them, kindling the adrenaline in their veins.

he snaps off a salute, before his trident hurtles him forward and he hits the ground in full gallop.

tomorrow can wait, for just a few hours.

#awesamdude #badboyhalo #dreamwastaken #technoblade #punz #tubbo #dream smp #kit writes #yes i hc that creepers have heat vision and as such sam does too #you see those creeper colorings? camouflage babey and exploding is probably a last resort to the claws and teeth #heat vision would probably be Very Handy in the various biomes- eg the caves and darker forests #his night vision tho? sucks #aNYWAYS #love the badlands and i personally adore their dynamics

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clockworkouroboros · 5 years ago

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I’m in a The Amazing Devil Discord server and have been going wild with crazy insane theories about just about everything, drawing connections that probably don’t actually exist, and generally losing my mind over both Love Run and The Horror and the Wild. That being said, I do have a theory about THatW that, if it’s not true, at least merits me a tinfoil hat, I think. Just be warned, this post will be long, and yes, I will include receipts.

So here’s this theory and Joey, if you read this, just know that I’m impressed either at how much thought was put into this, or the sheer number of coincidences that make this work if it wasn’t planned. It’s turned me into a conspiracy theorist for the past four days or so? And it’s severely affected the amount of sleep I’ve been getting.

My basic theory here is that Joey and Madeleine aren’t singing as themselves throughout this album, they’re playing characters, and those characters are old gods. Joey is the Wild, Madeleine is Time. (Alternatively, she’s Horror, fitting with the album title, but as she’s never explicitly referred to as such, I’m not insisting on that point.)

Now, where am I getting this silly idea from? None other than the title track, of course, in which Joey sings, “witness me, old man, I am the Wild, and Madeleine sings, “And I am Time itself.” And yes, they are both capitalized like that in the lyrics.

So they explicitly refer to themselves as such. But Emily, you might be saying (or not, depending on how much you care), that’s one song! This is hardly an album’s worth of proof! Sure, they might be gods in this song, but what about the other eight? To which I say, hoo boy, I’m just getting started.

Before I continue, I’d like to add something about how their characters are depicted throughout the album: Joey is more cheerful, Madeleine is not. (see: Wild Blue Yonder, Marbles, Battle Cries.) Joey is whimsical, Madeleine is practical. (See Battle Cries especially, but you can also see this in Wild Blue Yonder.) Madeleine is referred to multiple times as being stronger than Joey, and appears to assume a more protective role over Joey’s childlike. This fits in with my theory, by the way, in a roundabout sort of way that involves some squinting. Joey is the Wild, which is...well, wild. Think of little kids: cheerful, whimsical, in need of protection. Madeleine is Time. She knows what has been, what is, and what will be. Of course she’s going to be more mature, practical, and pessimistic.

And why is this important? Well, it’s kind of how I’m tying together a lot of the rest of the album. (Not all of it; Farewell Wanderlust is a notable outlier in many ways, and some of my connections are tenuous at best, but we’re going to ignore that and pretend it’s all rock-solid. Rockrose-solid. I’m sorry, I’m very tired.) I’m ignoring The Rockrose and the Thistle a little bit in this post, not because I dislike it (it’s gorgeous), but because it’s stubbornly eluding my attempts to tie it into anything other than Elsa’s Song, which isn’t even part of this album.

The vast majority of what you need to know about these two characters is in The Horror and the Wild (the song), so I’m gonna copy/paste some lyrics, and go through them. (Actually, the copy/pasting is nonexistent, these lyrics are imprinted on my brain at this point. That being said, if there are errors, lmk and I will edit the post and fix them!)

So we’ve got Madeleine starting, singing about Joey, with “You were raised by wolves and voices, every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed, they said it all comes down to you.” Aside from the fact that I have no clue why “it all” comes down to Joey, or anything with that last bit, maybe a few more late nights with a tinfoil hat will do the trick. That being said, the first line of the song references childhood specifically in relation to Joey. Notice also how wolves are referenced in Wild Blue Yonder (“we don’t know what’s out there/could be wolves”) and That Unwanted Animal (“‘What’s the time, Mr. Wolf,’ but you, you’re blind, you bleat, you bear your claws”). The whole “howling” thing and “deep beneath your bed” both pop up in That Unwanted Animal, too: “and on the wind it howls,” for one. And for the other, there’s “you [presumably Joey] make the bed up silent on the floor so no one hears us,” later followed later in the song by “and the door below us splinters, and the creature creeps inside.”

Following this, Joey sings about Madeleine: “you’re the daughter of silent watching stones, you watch the stars hurl all their fundaments, in wonderment at you and yours, forever asking more.” First of all, I’m gonna say that this is Joey’s point of view; later on, Madeleine will refute the daughter thing (“I’m not a drunkard, a daughter, a preacher”.) Anyway, “silent watching stones” could reference Wild Blue Yonder: “every stone you threw, I stood on to better see the view.” The view being the stars hurling all their fundaments?

(Incidentally, I knew vaguely what “fundament” meant, but I looked it up to make sure I had it right, and learned that, among its other meanings, “fundament” can mean “butt.” But I don’t think that’s what Joey had in mind with this. I just think y’all should appreciate it.)

Anyway, we’ve also got in Battle Cries, “With you I could summon the gods and the stars, make them dance out the plays that we wrote from the heart, and we’d laugh at the ghosts of our fears,” with Madeleine singing, “Come on, love, please don’t start, sing your notes play your part,” and then the part that gets me every time: M: “we were gods,” J: “we were kids.” Which is a whole other can of worms involving their personalities, which I’ve already briefly outlined. My point is the whole “gods and the stars” bit.

I could (and have, on Discord) done a full, in-depth analysis of this track, and I don’t want to go all over it again, but “I promise you, they’ll sing of every Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child, witness me, old man, I am the Wild” has both Time and Wild as proper nouns in the lyrics, plus reinforces Time’s view of the Wild as a child. No clue who the old man is, though.

In verse two, Madeleine sings, “you [Joey] are the son of every dressing-up box, and I am Time itself, I slow and let you play, I steal the hours, and turn the night into day.” Again, this reinforces Joey’s childlike aspects (which will later be hinted at in That Unwanted Animal, with the “god-child,” who’s clearly Joey), but also shows, as in the refrain, the fact that Time has a sense of protectiveness over the Wild, at least sometimes.

That being said, although I’ve obviously referenced other songs, I still have mostly focused on the title track. So. I’m going to go through some of the other songs real quick.

The songs on the album (again, excepting Rockrose, because my attempts to tie it in have been frustrating and not gone anywhere, Mr. Batey please explain) can be grouped into categories: songs outright referencing gods (THatW, Farewell Wanderlust, That Unwanted Animal, Battle Cries), songs about their relationship, (arguably all of them, although Welly Boots is a bit confusing), and songs that refuse to allow me to classify them (Rockrose).

I would argue that this entire album is about the relationship of two old gods, but I’m not quite sure what the chronology is of the album, because it seems like it can’t be straightforward. (Farewell Wanderlust, although its placement makes sense in the setup of the album, doesn’t make sense in the chronology of this theory.) Another important note in some way is that every song on the album, with the exception of Farewell Wanderlust, is about being there for someone, or steadfastness in some capacity, while Farewell Wanderlust is about abandonment. It’s an outlier in a lot of ways. (Though not as many ways as frickin Rockrose.)

I have been talking about this at great length (and almost incessantly) on Discord, so unless you want this post to get even longer, I’m going to run by some lyrics real quick to try and show a little bit my thought process.

- “He watches her get dressed as though she’s hurtling through time” (Fair)

- “And she is stronger than he has ever been, he knows” (Fair) versus “Without you, I’m stronger, I’m no longer filled with wonder. How wrong you were” (Wild Blue Yonder, Welly Boots)

- J: “Place your hand in mine” M: “Hold the hand of the god-child, they said, as he falls from the sky” (That Unwanted Animal)

- “I’m the saint of the paint that was left in the pot, I’m your angel ellipsis, your devil of dots” (Farewell Wanderlust)

- “the fluttering of all your wings” (The Horror and the Wild) versus “when you think about him, my wings start to flap” (Farewell Wanderlust)

- “come, devil, come, she sang, call out my name. Let’s take this outside, ‘cos we’re one and the same. Our gods have abandoned us, left us, instead, take up arms, take my hand, let us waltz for the dead” (Farewell Wanderlust)

There are even more lyrics, and I’m going to be completely honest with you, I’ve gone totally insane with all of this, but this post is way too long already, so just let me know if you want any clarification or something.

Tldr: The Amazing Devil’s album The Horror and the Wild is about two old gods, one being Time, and the other being the Wild, or the god-child. The album is primarily about their relationship and steadfastness they show each other, even in tumultuous circumstances.

Now go excuse me while I attempt to take off this tinfoil hat that appears to be stuck on my head.

#music #the amazing devil #joey batey #madeleine hyland #the horror and the wild #long post #i’m...so sorry #i needed some sort of record #because enough conversation has passed on discord that those posts are now lost to time #anyway here y’all go #man joey if you read this pls don’t judge me too hard

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ziracona · 4 years ago

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Hi! I just realised I havn't popped in in awhile. Do you have any headcanons u feel like sharing about the newer survivors?? (I love them all, they're so cool but I think imma have to say cheryl is my bby gurl. she's tired. let her rest.) also. i am. going insane. from a toothache :) - Sleepy

Hey! Hope your tooth pain clears up! I’m so sorry—that’s one of the worst. : /

Hmmm, I do, but I’m trying to think of ones I haven’t said in asks before. 😬 Unfortunately my memory of fictional characters is great, and my memory of what I said in asks is shitty. :’-]

I don’t know the newer survivors—except Nancy and Steve—as well as I do the older ones, because I’ve never written them, and I haven’t played Silent Hill. I like Zarina, Yui, and Cheryl a lot though. Poor fkn Cheryl can join Quentin in the “Please God, just one good day?” Existence. Rip to them both. 😭

Poor kid gets out of hell once, and ya throw her back in. :’-]

Let’s see—headcanon I am fairly sure I haven’t already shared. I think Yui and Min would get along really well, and Jane and Zarina would too.

Yui hates the serial killers especially, from her own personal experience, and goes to bat hard against them every time.

Ash flirts with everyone to a point it’s even more than Ace does, and for a while it becomes a competition between them to see who can flirt more and better than the other (not in a shitty way—everybody knows they have the competition going on and it’s more a ‘I can act better than you’ than a ‘I can win more hearts’ one.) Ace is declared the winner in class, Ash the winner in sheer quantity he’s able to churn out, and they agree to call it a semi-draw. It’s actually a really fun week for everyone, because they’re all constantly being complemented and flirted with in a way they know is performative and seeks 0 real actions from them in return, so essentially they are just showererd with ‘drunk girl in a bar bathroom’ levels of praise for seven days.

Felix and Nancy are the only two with significant others waiting back home, and they bond over talking about their wife/boyfriend and sharing stories and having someone around who understands that specific brand of pain and can encourage them that they’ll make it back home.

Tapp is a dad, so he gives Felix a lot of advice on stuff since he was an expecting father. Not so much “do this” advice, since his relationship with his family didn’t go so well, and he feels like he’s in absolutely no position to teach—more like “It’s okay. Women have been giving birth for thousands of years. She’s gonna make it just fine even if you’re not home yet, and you’ll get back to them. And I’m gonna teach you some of the tricks so you’ll be ready when you do. You can even surprise her by already knowing how to change a diaper and warm a formula bottle. I’ll show you how to do it,” and talking him through some of the stuff he would have been able to learn from infant care books. It’s sweet, but Tapp almost dies when Jane says its “Very heartwarming” and teases him, so they cut him some slack. Felix is really appreciative. Laurie has taken care of a ton of kids, and gives him some advice too, and so does Nancy, who had two younger siblings.

Steve is a disaster who suffers from “I like you and you are a girl, so *pigeon meme* Is this falling in love?” syndrome. Gets shot down hard by Laurie, who is ridiculously pissed at him for bringing it up during a trial when their lives are on the line, but after he gets over being super awkward around her, and she reaches out to be like, ‘Look, dumbass, why did you even like me?’ And he’s like ‘...because you’re, uh, really cool? A-and pretty? And...’ and eventually she’s like ‘Buddy, you don’t even really know me. You’re just lonely. You’re not in love with me, you just want to be, because you want to be in love with somebody, and that’s not gonna cut it, for me, or anyone. Be in love with a person—not with the concept of being in love. And for that to happen, you have to know them first.” And since Steve is good af self-improvement, he realizes she’s got a real point, and tries to find his worth outside of needing a girlfriend, and becomes both a lot happier, and one of Laurie’s closer friends. (Side note—this extends probably only to my initial Steve ideas. I had the idea batted around that in that universe, Stranger Things /is/ an existing show, but it’s based on a mix of urban legend and history from the 80s, and Nancy and Steve are the version from the actual 80s, and I think in that pitch Steve is dating Barb, who is still alive, and already worked through this specific issue, because many things happened differently for wild comedic ‘But in the show’ effect, becuase both them repeatedly going “WELL REALITY WAS A LITTLE DIFFERENT” when like, monster hunting shit from the show won’t work on the Demogorgan, and *Spit take* “THEY HAD ME HIT ON ROBIN?” “Ewwww” “YEAH ewww! She’s basically my lesbian little sister! We’ve been best friends since grade school! What the fuck :’-]” make for amazing joke potential. )

Cheryl starts having nightmares where she sees things from the Entity’s eyes she was never meant to see, and finding out dangerous amounts of information this way. The Entity decides at some point this is too big a threat, but because it’s proud, it doesn’t want to just kill her, as that would be admitting a human is a threat, so it starts having killers gun for her mercilessly to try to get her to give up, and the poor girl is in agony.

Zarina documents stuff form the realm constantly, and has a careful scrapbook collection of all notes and paraphernalia from past survivors. She also keeps conspiracy pages tacked together trying to figure out who they were becuase they deserve at least the justice of people somehow knowing how they died and what they went through. Laurie is a big help with this, and so is Claudette, who has been keeping stuff for a long time.

Yui is very no-nonsense, and protective. She gives off strong big sister vibes. She especially also loves board games/puzzles/other games like Shogi or Go and such, and Dwight and Adam create game pieces for her to play Go with when she mentions how much she used to like that kind of thing, and Yui is incredibly touched, and makes several other ones for people to play with too, and it becomes a very enjoyed pastime between trials. It’s engaging and competitive, but much more relaxed and low energy than sports or training or going for a run, so it’s a great alternative. Meg gets super into making puzzles, and all the artists do too, and take turns painting pictures on boards, cutting them into puzzle pieces with extreme painstakingly slow care, and then doing puzzles together. Jake is invaluable in the actual cutting pieces out area, but actually enjoys to do it.

Felix knows a lot more than anyone else about the Entity when he’s taken, so he spends a bunch of time with the research team trying to recall whatever he can from his childhood and sharing any information he has, then just stays on it because he wants to. He’s desperate to meet Benedict Baker someday himself, becuase that man seems to get around, and he really wants to know what happend to his father.

Everyone becomes protective as fuck of Cheryl when the Entity starts targeting her, and someone—I think Kate and or Meg—probably both together—as a one-off joke call themselves her knights at some point, becuase they’re running such dedicated protection detail, but it becomes a whole thing, and several more start to do it. They’ll like ‘fist clasped arm across chest at attention, quick bow’ when they see her, and it’s goofy as fuck, but it helps a lot making Cheryl’s reality more bearable. Plus, it’s really sweet. Nea gets in on this and comes back one day with a little daisy chain she made cause she was bored, sees Cheryl, it clicks, runs over and offers it as a ‘favor’. Zarina sees and comes back later that day from a trial and kneels and presents Cheryl with a rescued toolbox with a brand new part. This becomes increasingly common and extravagant, and Cheryl /cannot/ deal, but it’s like, genius, becuase it takes exactly this level of surreal goofy friend bullshit to distract from the hell she is living. She ends up just regularly having someone come back from a trial or trip to the woods, salute with an arm across their chest, bow, and present her with anything from a pinecone or pretty rock, to flowers or a medkit, to a salt statue or key, to a painting or hand made bracelet, to a makeshift weapon or a pillow. Everyone always tries to outdo each other, so the gifts tend to be extravagant. Zarina considers herself Cheryl’s righthand woman/personal knight by chocie, because she wanted a cause to fight for and has found one she truly loves, and she makes Cheryl her favorite gift so far, coming up to her at the end of a long day, after a very bad trial where Cheryl was mercilessly and slowly killed by the Pig, kneeling, and offering a thick shard of stained glass from the chapel, made sturdy and held in place with a few chunks of soldered and wrapped iron along the blade and down the grip, forming a razor sharp and reinforced stained glass knife.

#ask #Sleepy #headcanons #dead by daylight #dbd

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multifandomhaven · 5 years ago

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Tip V

Pairing: Nacho Varga x OC

There is one Spanish word in this chapter, and I'm painfully white and don't know anything other than hillbilly English, so I apologize if I butcher anything from this point forward. I did use Google translate and I know sometimes it's a little wonky, so please don't flame me too hard if it's complete nonsense.

As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Nacho didn't know whether to be concerned or furious at the hysterics he found Sarah in when he pulled into the parking lot across the street.

She stood in the grass, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, shoulders quaking as she sobbed. Her head was bowed, but even from the road he could see the tears streaming down her face. She stayed still as he pulled up in front of her, unflinching as the headlights bathed her in their harsh, artificial light.

Nacho cursed, quickly throwing the van in park before he jumped out and ran over to her. His hands shot out before his mind could catch up, frantically inspecting her for any visible sign of injury. When he found none he breathed a sigh of relief and placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing lightly, trying to soothe her cries. "Hey, what happened? What can I do?"

Sarah stayed silent, her tearful gaze still trained onto the ground by his feet. Nacho crouched slightly and bent his neck in an attempt to meet her eyes. She sniffed and shook her head, mumbling so low he could barely make out her words. "T-Take me home. Please."

"Okay," Nacho agreed. "Okay, come on. I'll take you home."

He led her to the passenger side of his van, his hands hovering just by her sides, ready to catch her if she were to stumble. He buckled her in, glancing between her face and her hands, his confusion only growing when he saw how they violently trembled. He gingerly caught one between his own hands and lifted it to his lips, pressing a small kiss to her knuckles.

Sarah offered a forced, tearful half-grin and the action threatened to tear his heart straight from his chest. What the fuck happened to her?

Nacho gave her hand a light, reassuring squeeze before he dropped it back onto her lap and shut her door. He jogged around the van, made quick work of his seat belt and then pulled out onto the road, Sarah's plea of 'Take me home' droning in his mind.

The pair made no attempt to fill the silence with meaningless words - Nacho could still see the fear in her eyes as clear as day - but the urge to comfort her nearly consumed him. He slowly reach hand over to her, gauging her reaction through the corner of his eye, and when she didn't flinch away from his touch he let his hand fall to rest on her knee. Sarah sniffed loudly and leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes and taking in slow, barely controlled breaths.

The rest of the ride to her apartment was uneventful. Sarah's tears had finally subsided, but Nacho kept his hand on her leg, his fingers always grazing or squeezing - anything to let her know that he was still there. That he would protect her.

He pulled into the spot designated for Sarah's car and killed the engine. With a final squeeze of her knee he got out and walked Sarah to the door.

Sarah tried to open the apartment, but her unsteady hands only proved to frustrated her further. She dropped the key on the third attempt to push it into the door and Nacho bent to grab it, sliding it in and holding the door open for her. As they stepped into the living area they were instantly greeted with Lola's whines and pleas for attention. The small dog jumped around them with glee, pawing and yipping with excitement. Sarah bent to grab her and placed a kiss to her ear and rubbing her hands along her back and clutching her to her chest.

Nacho watched them patiently, and after she placed the dog back on the ground, he guided Sarah into her small bedroom.

"A shower might help you feel better," he suggested as he rifled through her dresser, pulling out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt he thought she might be comfortable sleeping in. If it were a different time he'd laugh at the insane amount of graphic t-shirts she owned. Instead, he simply tried to tidy what he'd torn through in his haste to find a change of clothes.

He felt her hand on his shoulder before her voice, strained and distraught, called out to him. "Nacho."

He lay the clothes on the top of the dark dresser before turning to face her. He opened his mouth to respond, but instead felt her hands grip him and pull him against her with a strength he didn't know she possessed. She kissed him urgently, pressing her lips against his with a bruising force. Her hands caressed the sides of his face and neck, desperate to touch and feel him. Nacho sucked a breath in through his nose and kissed her back just as urgently.

He felt her hands reach frantically for the buttons on his shirt and he brought his own up to grip her wrists, halting her efforts with a gentle squeeze. He pulled away from her, holding her glassy gaze.

"Let's get you into that shower," his voice was soft. "Then we'll talk. Is that okay?"

Sarah looked betrayed, or angry, he couldn't tell. "Y-You don't want to?"

"Have sex with you?" He clarified.

Sarah's facade faltered a bit, but she straightened her back and nodded. "Yes."

:Sarah," Nacho brought his hand to the nape of her neck, staring into her eyes with unwavering sincerity. "Of course I do, cariño. I'd be crazy not to. But right now I want to take care of you. Is that okay?"

Guilt flashed over her face before she hung her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Nacho, I'm so sorry."

Nacho sighed softly and pulled her into him with the hand that rested on the back of her neck. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face into his chest. He felt her fist his shirt in her hands, pulling him further against her, her tears soaking through his shirt in a matter of seconds. He tangled his hand in her hair, his fingers rubbing along her scalp as he whispered soothing words into her ear. His other hand made it's way up and down her back softly.

Sarah pulled back after a while, her eyes puffy and lined with red. She frowned down at the wet spot on his shoulder, "I didn't mean to-"

"Shh," Nacho shushed her. "There's nothing you need to apologize for."

Sarah nodded and lay her head back on his shoulder.

"Now," Nacho began again. "You go take a shower and I'll make you something to eat, okay?"

Sarah nodded and leaned up to press a chaste, quick kiss to his jaw. She grabbed the clothes he'd picked for her and disappeared into the bathroom.

Nacho ambled around the kitchen, opening doors and searching through the fridge to no avail. Eventually ended up throwing a tv dinner into the microwave, wrinkling his nose at the smell as it heated - it never failed to bring him back to his childhood. His father always did the best he could with the resources he had, and sometimes working long hours meant that he didn't have time to cook a complete meal, so the pair depended on the convenience meals from time to time.

Nacho never liked them much and it made him miss his Mama's cooking even more, but he always ate them without complaint.

He stirred the sauce into the dry looking noodles with a sigh, and then sat the plastic tray onto the table. He found a couple of glasses in the cabinet beside the sink and filled both with water, then sat down and waited for Sarah to return.

It wasn't long before he heard the soft padding of bare feet on the floor and he glanced up from his folded hands to see Sarah coming back toward him, drying her hair as best she could with a fluffy towel. The black shirt he picked for her was loose and very clearly well worn, one side falling to expose her bare shoulder. Her darkened, damp hair hung loose, plastered to the side her neck, and Nacho couldn't help but admire her, red nose and all.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Sarah asked as she sat in her seat.

Nacho shook his head. "I'm good."

"Okay," Sarah said quietly, pushing the food around the plastic container with her fork. "And thank you, for everything."

"Of course." Nacho offered a quick quirk of his lips in response. He watched her twirl her fork around, never taking a bite of food, for what seemed like an hour. She made little conversation with him, obviously avoiding the elephant in the room for as long as she could, and he allowed it until the conclusions he kept drawing in his head nearly drove him to insanity. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for her response before he bit the bullet and asked, "You want to tell me what happened?"

Sarah inhaled shakily, halting her movement completely. She dropped her fork and mumbled her response. "Doug."

Nacho blinked, soaking in the single word. Rage burned his chest and he untangled his hands and leaned further onto the table, trying to catch her eye. "The owner's kid?"

"Yeah," Sarah confirmed quietly. "He... he-"

Nacho waited patiently for her to elaborate, but instead she simply stared ahead, her face completely void of emotion. Images of the man back at the diner forcing unspeakable things on Sarah clouded his mind and he suddenly had the urge to drive back down there and take matters into his own hands. Nacho raised from his chair, the sheer force of his movement caused it to clatter to the floor on it's side, but he paid it no mind.

Instead, he stalked around the table and knelt down beside Sarah, his hands finding hers in her lap. "Are you hurt? Did he-"

"No. No, he didn't - I wasn't," Sarah closed her eyes and sighed. "There's just some bruises... on my hip."

Nacho released her and pulled her shirt up her side gently, zeroing in on the small splattering of bruises just above her hipbone. He traced his fingertips over them, his touch feather light. "What'd he do to you, Sarah?"

Sarah turned her body toward him, putting her hands on his shoulders before she started to speak. "Before I tell you you have to promise you won't do anything."

"Sarah," Nacho warned. "That piece of shit put his hands on you."

"I know," Sarah admitted quietly. "But Nacho you have to understand, I need this job. The diner is my only source of income, if I lose it I don't know what I'll do. I'll lose my apartment! I won't be able to pay for school or food."

Nacho shook his head. "Let me worry about that."

"Nacho - "

"I'll find you another job," Nacho offered quickly. "I know a place."

cariño - sweetie, honey, dear. A sweet term of endearment.

#nacho varga #nacho varga x oc #nacho varga fanfiction #better call saul #better call saul fanfiction #ignacio varga #ignacio varga fanfiction #ignacio varga x oc

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riverboundao3ff · 5 years ago

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Riverbound, Chapter 1

Your name is MSPA READER, and you are currently vibing outside of the known multiverse.

Well, you don’t really use that name anymore, on account of it not actually being a name. Names sound something like Emily, or Muhammad, or Patrick, or Shamita, or a million other put-together syllables and sounds.

Names are something personal. A title is anything but.

You do have a new title, though, one you like much better.

The Guardian.

Because that’s what you became when you yoinked the timeline away from the control of Ultimate Dirk and that Director lady, whoever she was. You looked Canon-With-A-Capital-C in its ugly face, spit on it, and then bent over to wipe your ass with the fabric of reality itself. Out of desperation, love, and most importantly sheer spite, you took it upon yourself to defy fate so that there is at least one timeline where everybody gets to live happy lives. This was victory at its finest. This is what it felt like to finally get everything you wanted. Your friends? Safe. Multiverse? Secure. Hotel? Trivago.

In the vast and rich history of pro-gamer moves, you believe you might have made the most powerful move of all.

After using the Green Sun- no, sorry, the Green Sun to make your own timeline, you did what any other person would do and took a big fuckin’ snooze, curling up around your universe like a mama cat protecting her kittens. You earned it.

And, if you were being completely honest with yourself, that’s how you would have spent the rest of time.

It’s not like you didn’t want to live. No, living was good. It’s just… you were so damn tired. You’re tired of always running from place to place, person to person, era to era. You’re tired of being injured, scared, and alone no matter how many friends you made. All the gods of the Furthest Rings know you’d gone through more in like a year than most people go through during their entire lives. Couldn’t a bitch just enjoy eternity in the void?

Apparently not.

The dreams began innocently enough. Playing video games with Dave, John, and Karkat. Exploring Jade’s island with Jake and Bec. Baking with Jane. Kanaya teaching you and Sollux how to sew. FLARP-ing with Vriska.

Laying side-by-side with Roxy as you two watched the sun rise. Role-playing with Nepeta. Movie night with Eridan. Getting high off your ass with Gamzee and scaring the shit out of some teal visiting their kismesis a few hives away. Discussing politics with Feferi.

Escaping that hellhouse the Soleil twins called their home. Watching those eerie lights in the corpsefield beside Fozzer. You and Remele beating a purpleblood to death.

You barely realize how nightmares had invaded your mind until you woke up with Karako’s yowls of terror in your ears. You didn’t have ears anymore, though, or a physical form, so it just sounded like your favorite clown son was screaming all around you in the abyss.

Okay. This was fine. This was fine, you kept telling yourself. After everything that’s happened to you, you were bound to develop PTSD at some point. That was completely natural.

Except this wasn’t just PTSD. This was something else entirely, because even when you were awake you saw the faces of your oldest friends burning in your mind’s eye. Something churned in your gut, ancient and primal. It was a feeling you knew well, and was usually accompanied by you launching yourself into whatever stupid shit you found next. The longer you tried to ignore it, the stronger it became, until you were permanently wrapped up around yourself like the most pathetic ball of Guardian that had to have ever existed.

You knew long before you actually put words to what was going on.

Of course. Of course it wasn’t over, because why would you ever get to have anything for yourself? Why would you ever get to just rest? For the first time in… who even knows how long, you sob hysterically into the sleeves of your hoodie.

A galaxy twinkles in the outer shell of your universe, lighting up the zig-zag sign on your chest. Mallek’s lazy smile fills your thoughts. If at all possible, everything hurts even more, until you can’t even cry to let out the pain.

Did he miss you? Did all of them miss you?

Oh, God, Daraya. You promised her you’d take her to Earth sometime, and then you just totally fucking vanished from the face of Alternia. What a fucking dick move. Granted, you hadn’t meant to do it, but still!

Your traitor-asshole brain reminds you of the fact that all of them are dead now. As in, Tyzias tried to lead a rebellion against the Alternian Empire, and then they all got killed. Your traitor-asshole brain also notes that it’s all your fault for encouraging those kinds of ideas.

Way to go, you absolute tool.

Except… they don’t have to be gone. You are the Guardian of your universe, and you make the rules. It feels so wrong to even think about it, but… yeah. You’re basically a god now. You can do what you want and nobody has the power to stop you.

Which brings about a whole new plethora of fuckery. If you were to go back, if you were to rewrite history… are you any better than Ultimate Dirk? Granted, you’d do it out of love, not because you’re a power-hungry bastard, but still. Shenanigans of this level are not to be taken lightly, even by sad Guardians with absolutely nothing better to do.

You sleep on it, which of course results in you waking up bawling like a baby as you remember the best roleplay sesh of your life, which was when Wanshi proudly gave your Soldier Purrbeasts OC her full name: Twinklemoon. You had a Soldier Purrbeasts OC named Twinklemoon. That’s why you were crying.

That’s it. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You need advice, and you know exactly where to get it.

You find her on the 8rigantine, furiously scribbling something down on a chart with a bunch of little figurines in the middle of it. You know better than to just haul your little friendslut ass up there while Vriska Serket is in the zone, so instead you knock on the hull and call up to her.

“Hello! Lady Spinneret, an old friend is in dire need of some advice!”

It takes about two seconds for a familiar spiky head to poke over the side of the deck. Vriska’s one dark eye lights up upon meeting your gaze, followed by a toothy grin that’s both menacing and completely genuine. She reaches back to grab something behind her. A rope ladder drops down and nearly nails you in the noggin, just like it did whenever you dropped by to FLARP with her.

“What the hell, bitch! I missed you!” she yells. Despite everything, you can’t help but smile. Vriska’s wild personality and no-bullshit attitude was just what you needed.

You’re very proud of yourself when you scale the ladder with ease and scramble up onto the deck without getting too much out of breath. With the amount of insane shit you’ve gotten yourself into during your travels, getting into shape came pretty easily. You’ve been told by several reliable sources that your legs are to die for.

“The 8-ball foretold your arrival. I brought snacks.” Vriska points to a bag next to her chart, not looking up from where she was drawing an impressively detailed kraken-looking thing. “Eat something before you start gabbing.”

That was sound logic, so you drag the back closer to you and start rooting around for something good. You find a bag of stinkroot chips, open that bad boy up, and start munching. Damn, did it feel good to eat something, and to also have a corporeal body to eat things with.

As you gather your thoughts, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle with the sensation of somebody’s eyes on you. You instantly look up to see Vriska staring at you. Her expression is blank, but her good eye held all the energy of a thunderstorm.

You swallow your chips. “What is it?”

“You look… different,” she says, setting down her pencil. “It’s like I can really see you now.”

“Huh?”

Vriska huffs, but she still doesn’t take her eye off you. “Before, you kinda looked like… I dunno, like somebody cut out a whole in reality and shoved the silhouette of a person inside? Like, I know what you looked like, but I couldn’t tell you the color of your hair, or what facial structure you have, or, like… dude, you have freckles.”

“I have freckles?” You reach up and touch your cheekbone, feeling the soft skin. Oh, hey, there’s some acne. Dammit. “Are they cute?”

“Sure? I think freckles are more of a human thing, so you’d have to ask John or Jade or whatever. Also you’re blonde, like Rose,” she tells you, thoughtfully scratching at her chin. “You’re still short as fuck, though. I could probably punt you off the poop deck.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Congrats on not looking like a hole in reality.”

You finish off your chips and flop back to stare at the night sky. With all the time you’ve spent on Alternia, you can now name a lot of the constellations. Right now, the Empress’s Trident poked up at a forty-five degree angle behind the pink moon. “I think I know how we can overthrow the Alternian Empire.”

Vriska’s pencil falls out of her hand.

You continue. “Have you read any records on a rebellion that occurred about… like, fifteen sweeps ago? I don’t know the exact date.”

Vriska’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and then she nods. “I sure fuckin’ did. Sollux did some of his mumbo-jumbo and got me some documents. He called it an early wriggling day present, but I know he wants to help my little… agenda. How do you even know��?”

“Because I helped encourage the right people to do it. I was there, Vriska. Those kids were my friends, and now they’re dead.”

She’s silent for a moment. “The leader was a teal named Tyzias.”

Your eyes are hot with tears. “I knew her. We met because she tripped on the sidewalk while carrying a shitload of her homework, and I helped her pick it all up when it went everywhere. She had a matesprit named-”

“Stelsa,” Vriska mutters. “Holy shit. She worked closely with some jades who lead their little army. They caused a hell of a lot of damage to the Empire before it all went down, I’ll give them that.”

Neither of you speak for a long moment, which you appreciate as you try and hold your messy self together. The longer you think about your old friends and all the good times you had with them, the more you’re certain about what you want to do.

They deserve to be here.

Your blood pressure spikes just thinking about it.

It’s Vriska who puts your thoughts into words. “You want to go back and help them win the rebellion.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking crazy.”

“Yeah.”

She scooches over to you so she can stare down into your soul. “If we combine our resources and collaborate back and forth between the past and the future, we can make it so less people die. We could even take out that pathetic bitch of an Heiress they had back in the day. With your powers…”

“It’s possible I could compact time itself to create a world where we… where we can make things right. We could even help Feferi…”

You can’t bring yourself to say it in case you jinxed something, but by the look on Vriska’s face, she knows what you mean.

“It could work,” she breathes.

Slowly, you sit back up. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt it in your skull. “How do you think the others would feel about it?”

“Oh, they’d shit themselves,” Vriska snorts. “A full-scale rebellion across time and space?”

“True.”

“But it could work!” she repeats, staring into empty space.

“And they’d have a huge advantage they never had before. Me,” you say, talking to yourself more than to Vriska. You’d created this universe with your own power. It was time to protect it. “Vriska, I need to go before I chicken out. Tell the others what’s happening and that I’m sorry if this all goes to shit.”

“Wait!”

You look back at her as she grabs your arm, claws digging into the fabric of your hoodie. “I… you need supplies. No frickin’ way you’re going anywhere without at least a hydration flask.”

You know what she’s trying to say, and your chest fills up with all the warmth of a bonfire. God, you love this absolute bitch of a kid.

Vriska drags you to your feet, and then you’re both sprinting for her hive.

Amazingly, you don’t die trying to keep up with the cerulean as you charge up the stairs to her respiteblock together. You’re still out of breath by the time you reach the top, though, but Vriska’s already grabbing a backpack and tossing shit into it.

“Get me that jacket off the door,” she orders as she tosses in what looks like a small medical kit. You obey and throw her the jacket, the black leather one with the bright red hood.

She then waves you over, and you slip around her desk to see what’s up. In her hands is a black sheath, with a matching handle sticking out at the top.

Vriska pulls the sheath off to reveal the blade: a brilliant silver-blue metal that nearly glowed in the darkness. It’s incredibly beautiful and very scary to look at.

“I’ve had this thing forever, so I’m giving it to you, okay? Don’t fucking lose it. Press that little gray button at the top of the handle to heat up the blade. Good for starting fires and cauterizing wounds.” She shoves the jacket into the backpack and hands you the dagger.

“Vriska, I don’t know what to say,” you begin, but she smacks you.

“Shut up and strap it to your belt. You better come back soon. I want a detailed report on everything. Single-spaced,” she snaps.

You grin. “Yes, ma’am. I should be back, in like, ten nights. Maybe eleven.”

“Ten,” Vriska growls. “I’m coming for your ass otherwise.”

“Noted. Tell everybody I said hi.”

“Obviously.”

You reach into that little part of yourself, which in turn reaches back out into that chaotic river that is the flow of time. You throw the anchor down and wade upstream. It’s a little rougher than usual, but you won’t let that stop you. There was no turning back now.

Time travel is always like trying to hit a moving target, but you have great aim, and when you find what you’re looking for you feel your face split into another huge smile. There’s nothing different about this part of the river than any other, but you know. When it comes to the people you care about, you always know.

Everything feels more real to you than it has in years. Two moons shine even brighter in the sky, the chilly air stinging your face, and you’re no troll but it still feels like you’re going home.

You open your eyes.

“Ten nights,” you say to Vriska, and you let yourself fall through the current.