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wisecrackingeric-2 · 1 year ago

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‘Mourning Doves’

Summary:

Despite the fact that it had been years since Valdelobos- years since Leon saved Luis from that knife to the back- Leon still can’t help but remember that day. He still can’t help but get triggered by the smallest of things and dissociate as a result.

But luckily, Luis is always there to comfort him, hug him, and offer him a distraction. Oddly enough, in the form of Mourning Doves

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,000

Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks, dissociation, depression, anxiety, derealisation

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff and angst

A/N: UHHHHHHHHHHHH SORRY FOR NO FICS IN SUCH A LONG TIME TUMBLR EXPLODED MY ACC!!!!!!!!!! BUT HERES A MEW SHORT ONE FOR YOU GUYS YIPPEEEE!!!!!!! Go give it some kudos or something idk!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fic under Cut!!!!

Leon sat on his unmade bed. Completely motionless. He had his legs crossed and arms folded tightly against his chest in some vain attempt of self-soothing; not too nonadjacent to a young child forcing themselves out of a panic attack.

Except Leon had nothing to be upset over. Nothing tangible or real, at least.

But that didn’t stop the horrible, yet ever-familiar grip on his chest from tightening its claws around him even firmer. That didn’t stop the sickening, ill, and all-consuming pit of anxiety to worm his way deep into his sternum; pulsating like a virus Leon was familiar with destroying.

Leon could deal with Bioweapons. He could deal with viruses and plagues and whatever manmade horror the sick freaks he fought against could think to create.

But his own mind? He wasn’t trained for that. He was never taught how to deal with his mental health in a way that seemed healthy. He was never taught how to deal with his problems without the use of alcohol- Which led him to where he was right now.

Sitting on his bed, effectively paralyzed, staring out the window while internally screaming for his brain to stop replaying the same series of events over and over again like some kind of sick and twisted form of torture.

Leon couldn’t think about anything else. He couldn’t think about how the sheets under his hands felt or how the breeze from his window smelt like early-summer; he was trapped in his own mind.

So much so, that even when Luis silently slipped through their shared bedroom door and sat down on the bed beside him, Leon didn’t even notice the weight dip beneath the both of them. He hadn't even noticed Luis was there at all until a familiar hand crept up his shoulder.

“ Mi amor,”

His voice was soft. Characteristically so. He

spoke like Leon was made of fragile porcelain. Which, in that moment, he felt like he was.

Luis paused, waiting for Leon to respond. A sign of life from behind those distant blue eyes. Something, anything.

“What’s got you so upset, ¿mi vida?”

And oh, how Leon was so easy to break down by just a simple question.

He turned to Luis with big, watery blue eyes and a trembling lip- trying his damned to not shatter right then and there- but the second he came face to face with Luis’ kind, ever-understanding and patient expression, he had no choice but to break down in his arms.

He sobbed as Luis held him. He sobbed like he’d never cried before; like a baby taking their first breaths and finding the world too overwhelming. Everything felt overwhelming to Leon. His body felt like a prison of fear and relentless anxiety and all he could do to remedy that was to cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and-

“ Ssssshhhhhh… está bien, mi amor… te tengo, te tengo…”

Luis ran a hand through Leon's hair, keeping him grounded- protecting him from his own memories. Like the tried and true knight in shining armor he was.

He was so patient. So comforting and reassuring that it only served to make Leon cry even harder. He waited for what felt like ours for Leon to stop crying- and was right there to dry his tears with his thumbs once Leon had finally gathered the strength to sit up from his curled-up position on Luis’ lap.

“I-I’m s-sorry-“

“Don’t be,”

Luis kissed him on the cheek.

“You don’t ever need to be sorry. I just worry for you, cariño-“

“I-I k-know you do… I just…”

Leon trailed off, sighing like an old dog. Words were hard to express, especially when Luis already had an idea of what was coming.

“What’s got you so upset, mi mundo?”

Leon’s lips tightened as he pressed them together. He could feel his own heart thump against his chest- sickly and repetitive.

“….I don’t know”

“You don’t know?” Luis cocked his head. Leon shook his own, sinking further into his partner’s arms.

“I don’t know why I’m so upset. I don’t know why I’m so anxious. I just… am.”

“Do you know if there was anything that, ah, what’s the word-“ Luis snapped his fingers, “triggered it?”

Leon paused.

He knew exactly what had ‘triggered’ this train of emotions. He knew exactly where it had started; but part of him didn’t want to admit it out loud.

The thought had come to him early in the morning and left him feeling rotten all day.

How on earth was he supposed to explain to Luis that a single, made-up scenario in his mind had left him practically glued to his bed like this? He felt pathetic, to say the least.

“…. You can be honest with me,”

Luis whispered into his ear, as if he were able to read his mind.

“ I promise, I only want to help..”

“ I know you do,”

Leon mumbled back, burying his nose in the familiar fabric of Luis’ jacket. It smelt like cigarettes and leather.

“ I jus’ dunno how to explain it…”

“Take aaaaaaaaall the time in the world you need, mi vida,”

Luis pressed a kiss to the crown of Leon’s head and began rubbing circles into his back. Slow, repetitive and comforting.

“ I’ve got all the time in the world for you.”

And true to his word, Luis didn’t pry. He didn’t try to coax anything out of Leon when he remained silent for god knows how long; he just… stayed with him. Holding him. Being the pillar of comfort Leon so desperately needed in his life right about now.

God, where would he be without Luis?

That thought made him shudder.

“…¿Amor?”

Luis must’ve noticed it, too.

“I was thinking about what would’ve happened if you died,”

Leon blurted out. Rather ungraciously. The panic that teetered on the edge of clawing at his chest and ripping his ribcage wide open was far too threatening for Leon to stay silent over any longer.

“T-This morning,” Leon managed to collect his words best he could, voice shaky and uneven.

“I-I w-woke up- a-and y-you weren’t there- and- and- and I thought to myself- w-what would it have been like if- if I didn’t help you? If I- I- I- if I left you there to-“

“ Oh, mi amor…”

Despite the very-much-so-alive Luis’ gentle voice being audible in Leon's ears, the mental image of his bloody body strewn across the floor with Krauser’s knife lodged firmly into his spine was too much for the anxious man to handle.

So Leon cried. He cried and he cried and he cried. He sobbed so loudly his own ears rang and his knuckles went white from grabbing onto Luis’ leather jacket so tightly. He cried so hard he thought he might vomit.

It was awful. He felt trapped in his own body with no way of escape. All his mind would let him do was replay that same imaginary image of Luis’ corpse sitting lifeless against the wall like a Ragdoll; cruel and taunting. No matter how much Leon tried to break away from that picture in his head, it just never left.

He wanted it to stop. He’d do anything to make it stop. He’d drink he’d throw himself in front of a van he’d bash his head against a wall he’d-

“Oh, huh, would you look at that…”

“ W-What??”

Leon was broken out of the sickly and unending grasp of his brain for just a moment when Luis spoke up; his voice weirdly lighthearted and… distracted?

The brunette was staring at something on the opposite end of the room with an expression of mild curiosity.

“¿No puedes ver? Look,”

Luis ever-so-gently grabbed Leon’s chin and gingerly tilted his head towards the window;

Where, sitting on the sill that had been overgrown with weeds at this point, were two mourning doves- preening each other and cooing into the sky.

“Doves”

“Y-yeah…”

Leon sniffled, a little confused.

“Oye, I wonder how long they’ve been there”

“I haven’t seen them before,”

Leon mumbled against Luis’ chest, instinctively sinking against his body weight a little as his attention fastened entirely on the two birds sitting on the windowsill. They fluffed up their feathers and began to nestle down into the thick ivy, and silently, Leon thanked himself for not ripping it out earlier. Their little eyes closed in comfort as they squished against one another.

“I wonder if they’re building a nest”

“I hope so,” Leon mumbled again, suddenly feeling oddly… calm?

“I’ve never had, like, a bird nest on my window before”

“My old home used to be a paradise for birds,” a smile was evident in Luis’ voice as he spoke,

“They’d nest in the attic, in the windowsills, in the chimney- anywhere you can imagine, they’d be there.

“My Abuelo used to help me feed them, too. We’d tear up bits of bread and feed the crumbs to the sparrows outside…”

Luis began to trail off, recalling a memory in which as a little boy he slipped off the roof of his home while trying to throw the baby birds sitting on the chimney some bread crumbs- and Leon listened to every single word that left his partner's mouth. All the while watching the doves slowly nestle their way to sleep.

It was as if the bird's exhaustion rubbed off on Leon, too; because in mere moments, the poor man was slowly starting to struggle keeping his eyelids open, let alone make out the convoluted sentences that left Luis’ mouth.

It was like he had suddenly become so very aware of the way his body sat in his partner’s arms; the way his jaw ached for clenching it for hours on end and the way his limbes screamed as though he’d just run a marathon. The way his eyes stung and the way the puffiness clogged up the little amount of vision he did have left.

Leon’s brain felt thick; foggy, heavy and swimming with emotions so fickle and impossible to grasp- like fish in a pond- yet so impactful it left him rotting in his bed for hours on end. Funny how the mind works like that, right?

What was Leon worried about again? He couldn’t even remember. It was as if his mind couldn’t fathom a world beyond the methodical melody of Luis’ familiar pattern of speech and the low purring the doves outside cooed. It was as if Leon had been snapped back down to his reality and could finally feel the sheets beneath his fingers again and-

Oh.

Ooooooooooooohh.

That’s probably why Luis pointed out the birds. That’s why he started talking about something totally unrelated.

He was trying to provide Leon a distraction. Some semblance of relief.

Leon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the realization.

And even if he wanted to, he felt far too exhausted- emotionally and physically- to bring his body to do either of those things.

What he could do, however, was sink even further down into Luis’ lap; resting his head on his chest, which was characteristically showing through an unbuttoned shirt just how he always wore it.

That was one thing Leon was grateful for; that no matter what life threw at him, little habits like that never changed with Luis. Little habits that Leon learnt to adore so thoroughly over time made him feel overwhelmed. Little habits he wouldn’t trade for the world.

Leon instinctively nuzzled his nose against Luis’ chest hair and practically melted the second his partner ran a hand through his hair- cold rings clinking against his scalp was a welcomed replacement to the way his skin burned and stung from his tears.

Luis’ heartbeat reverberated against Leon's ears and the rumble of his voice soothed his already tired body down to a mere puddle of exhaustion. It was repetitive. Comforting. Real.

Luis was real. Here was right here, holding him, talking to him in time with his beating heart. Telling him stories of a time long-gone while simultaneously pointing out all the little things that still remained.

Speaking of, the doves on the windowsill had fallen asleep a long time ago now. And Leon wasn’t far behind.

Maybe Luis didn’t notice it. Maybe he did, but still kept talking just to be safe- but Leon had fallen inbetween the cracks of wakefulness and sleep long ago. His mind was still active yet there wasn’t a chance in the world he could be moved from his position anytime soon.

And if Luis didn’t notice it earlier, he certainly had now with the way he so delicately kissed the crown of Leon’s head, mumbling into his ears;

‘‘ Go to sleep, Amor,’’

Luis kissed him again. This time on the forehead.

“ I’ll be right here when you wake up. Te amo.”

Leon trusted him. By god, he trusted him more than anyone else in the entire world; and he loved him even more than that, too.

So he trusted that Luis would be there when he woke up.

He trusted that he wouldn’t leave him- that he wouldn’t stop holding him in his arms like this. Safe, quiet, and loved.

Leon didn’t have to listen to the cruel torment of his mind anymore- and, yes, saying that was easier than done- but he at least knew that if did fall down that sick, dark and neverending rabbit hole ever again;

He’d have Luis by his side to help pull him back up.

And Leon would do the same for him in a heartbeat, too.

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alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years ago

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Of Wolves and Witches

Pairing: Werewolf!Bishop Losa x Witch!Reader

Word Count: 3088

For: covers the monster square for @adarafaelbarba 's moodboard fall bingo

TW: violence and accidental death via a nightmare/flashback sequence, brief mentions of mental, emotion, and physical abuse, PTSD, and covering up a crime scene

Author's Notes: The Mayans Werewolf AU that no one asked for, but i wrote it anyway. It starts out dark, but ends with fluff, I promise. This is my first time writing for Bishop, so please go easy on me... a big thank you to @itsjustmyfantasyroom for letting me run this idea by her and reassuring me that it wasn't crazy, and for encouraging me to write it.

Tags: @madamsnape921; @prurientpuddlejumper; @thatesqcrush; @welcometothemxdhouse; @raulesparza4eva; @teamsladsandgents; @rosequcrtz

He stormed into your living room, rage storming in his eyes. His aura was a swirling void of red and black. He shouldn’t have been able to break the locks on your front door, he shouldn’t have been able to walk right through your magical wards, but here he was. You straightened your posture and stood your ground, determined to not let him see how terrified you were.

“How did you get in here?”

“Really?” He pulled a glowing amulet from out of his shirt. “Not that hard when you have a little help. Benefits of having hunters for friends.”

Your eyes went wide as you realized what you were looking at. It was an enchanted amulet, one strong enough to get through your warding. You could only hope that it wasn’t strong enough to dampen your powers.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he smirked. “I know what you are. Makes me a wonder what else you haven’t been telling me.”

“Alex, get out! I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

“You little bitch!” he spat back. “You think you can just break up me? You think you can just walk away?

“I can and I did. We’re done, Alex, it’s over. You don’t get to hurt me anymore. It’s not my fault that your fragile, insecure male ego can’t take a fucking hint.”

“Bitch, I’ll fucking hurt you whenever I fucking want to! And I don’t see your little biker friends here to protect you.…”

Then he charged, and suddenly you were on the ground with his hands around your throat.

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!”

You could feel the murderous intent radiating off him, and put your hands on his chest, trying to push him off you, but then you felt the release of kinetic energy through your palms, and Alex was flying across the room. He hit the wall, and you prayed to whatever goddess was listening that the sickening crack you heard was just the drywall breaking behind him. But then his eyes rolled back in his head, and his head lolled to one side, at what could only be described as an “unhealthy looking” angle. His lower body twitched a few times before going limp. He hung there for a moment, suspended in the air, pinned to the wall by your invisible force. Still shaking in terror, you finally lowered your hands, and Alex’s lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud.

*********************

“No!” you cried out, sitting bolt upright on your couch. You were covered in a cold sweat and your whole body was shaking. Your lungs gasped for air and your eyes darted around the room, searching for Alex, but he wasn’t there. You weren’t even in your old house anymore. You held your hand in your hands and took deep breaths. You were in your apartment, in Santo Padre, Alex was dead, and you were safe. The Saturday afternoon sun streamed in through the window, and the TV was still on, a marathon of Guy’s Grocery Games playing at a low volume.

“I must have fallen asleep,” you said softly to yourself, “it was only a nightmare.”

You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and checked the time. It was only 3:30, plenty of time to shower and freshen up before Bishop would pick you up at 6. You stood, and after checking your locks and wards, made your way to the bathroom.

***********************

Despite your best efforts to push them down, the memories of what happened next came flooding back as you stood under the warm shower spray. You had been in shock, understandably so, but you were now exposed as a witch, and had to protect yourself. The logical side of your brain kicked in and you got to work. After verifying that Alex was dead, you had used your telekinetic abilities to rip the amulet off his neck. A quick examination verified that it had only been enchanted enough to allow Alex to breach your magical wards without getting zapped, but not enough to block your own powers. The enchantment was also crude and amateurish, probably done in haste by someone with limited knowledge of witchcraft. He had mentioned having hunters for friends, and you cursed yourself for not sensing that sooner. He hadn’t been one himself. You would have read that in his aura the moment you met him, but you also hadn’t sensed his dark side. The mentally and emotionally abusive and manipulative side, the one that turned violent during an argument when you had tried to call him out on his bullshit and break up with him the first time. You had ended up in the hospital, and when you confronted him the second time, you had friends with you to back you up. And after destroying the amulet, those were the friends you called on for help with your predicament.

The Blood Moon Motorcycle Club was a found family werewolf pack, led by Jack Reynard, a fearsome and intimidating Alpha. But Jack was fiercely protective of his friends and allies and didn’t hesitate to show up with four of his most trusted lieutenants when you called and tearfully explained your situation. They got to work cleaning up the scene and going through Alex’s phone and wallet. They found a business card for an elite and dangerous organization of hunters, and the contact’s name and number on the card matched up with one of the contacts in Alex’s phone. Jack told you to start packing your bags and to make sure that you included any magical artifacts that you had. You would spend the night at their clubhouse under round-the-clock security, and in the morning, they would get you out of town. Anything that couldn’t be packed that night would be shipped to you once you were settled elsewhere. They would dispose of the body; it wasn’t the first time they’d had to do so.

Jack had called Bishop Losa, president of the Mayans Motorcycle Club in Santo Padre, California. Jack and Bishop had served together in the Marines in their younger days, and the Mayans and the Blood Moons were allies as a result of that friendship. The Mayans were another found family werewolf pack and protected Santo Padre alongside the Galindo Pack. The town was a safe haven for all supernatural beings and the humans who lived there were none the wiser.

And now you had been here for six months. You worked in a bookshop owned by another a witch, Matilda, and lived in the apartment above it. In addition to the books, you also sold your homemade herbal teas and did Tarot card readings in the shop. 2-3 times a week you would bake cookies and muffins and sell those in the shop. Your teas were so popular that you now did tea making demonstrations on Saturday mornings. You were thriving but were still plagued by nightmares and PTSD and attended therapy once a week to help you work through your struggles.

And then there was Bishop. At first, the Mayan president and Alpha had been your friend and protector. You had been too traumatized to even think about pursuing a relationship, and so you both denied the unquestionable and inexplicable attraction. The more you got to know each other, the more you were drawn to each other. Two months ago, he finally made a move while the two of you had been outside getting some air at a party at the Mayans clubhouse, asking if he could kiss you. You’d been a couple ever since.

*********************

You had just finished lacing up your boots when you heard the sound of a familiar motorcycle pull up to your building. You ran to the window and looked down to the street. You saw Bishop getting off his bike and removing his helmet. You exited your apartment and ran down the stairs, meeting him at the entrance at the side of the building. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed his lips. His arms encircled your waist and pulled you close.

“Hola Querida, you look beautiful.”

“Thanks, you’re not too bad, yourself, handsome.”

That got a chuckle from the Alpha. He removed one of his arms from around your back, revealing the bouquet of roses in his hand. “These are for you.”

“Bish, they’re gorgeous, thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

“And pass up the opportunity to surprise you? Not a chance.”

“Come on up. I’ll put these in water, grab a few things, then I’ll be ready to go.”

Bishop nodded and held onto your hand as he followed you up the stairs.

************************

You held onto Bishop as the two of you went speeding down the back roads, away from Santo Padre. You loved dates like this: just you and Bishop on the bike, heading somewhere unknown, away from all the stress and bullshit of the day-to-day. His torso felt warm, sturdy, and safe. You could feel the vibrations from bike rattling through your body as you watched the scenery fly by. You’d been on the road for at least half an hour now.

“Almost there, Querida,” Bishop called back. “You’re gonna love this spot, I promise.”

After a few more minutes he pulled off the road and the motorcycle slowed to a stop. Bishop turned off the engine and stored the keys in his pocket. You both got off and removed your helmets. You looked around at the small, wooded area and smiled, breathing in the fresh air.

“This is nice, babe.”

“Oh, this isn’t the spot, “he told you, unlatching the soft fleece blanket and cooler from the back of his bike. He handed you the blanket. He took the cooler in one hand and grabbed your free hand with his other, interlacing his fingers with yours. “It’s this way.”

You walked for a few minutes down a short path before finally arriving at a grassy clearing. The view was breathtaking. You could see everything from your elevated perched; Santo Padre, the valley, green leafy trees swaying in the breeze, fields of wildflowers. A sense of calm settled over you that you hadn’t felt in months. You didn’t jump when Bishop came up behind you and slid his arms around your mid-section, instead relaxing into his touch and leaning against his sturdy frame. Bishop softly kissed your shoulder.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “this is perfect, this place in perfect. The energy here is so peaceful, and so alive. I love it.”

“I’m glad. I was thinking we could eat dinner, watch the sunset? And wait until the stars come out…You can show me all the constellations?”

You turned and slid your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his.

“You would have thought that you were such a romantic?”

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? Gotta maintain my tough guy image, you know?”

“Mmm…your secret is safe with me.” You pecked his lips once, twice, three times, each kiss lasting a bit longer than the rest. When you finally pulled your head away you noticed that the blanket was laid out on the ground with cooler sitting on top.

“Come on,” said Bishop, directing you over to it. You both sat down, and Bishop opened the cooler and started setting out its contents: sandwiches from the local deli, fresh strawberries from the farmer’s market, giant cupcakes from the gourmet bakery, a bottle of beer for each of you, and bottled water. He popped the caps off the beer bottles and handed you one. “Cheers.”

The two of you sat and ate, completely at ease with each other, and the conversation flowed easily. Bishop told you about the day’s antics down at the scrapyard, and you told him about the business plan you and Matilda were working on to expand the bookshop into the empty café next door.

“The theory is, that having a space to sell food and drinks will drum up more business. I can sell my tea and baked goods and do my demonstrations there. We would obviously need to hire some extra people to help, but I think we can make it work. We can’t tear down the wall between the buildings and expand without the proper permits.”

“I’m sure the town will approve whatever permits you need. They’re not going to say to ‘no’ to something that will bring more business into Santo Padre.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the sunsets,” you said, gazing at the red, orange, and purple hues of the evening sky. “How did you find this place?”

Bishop laid down on the blanket and you stretched out next him, placing your head on his chest.

“Me and the guys had just come back from a run,” he began, “Things didn’t go so well, and I was pissed, needed to blow off some steam so I just rode around for a while. Next thing I knew, I was here. I shifted, ran around for a while until my head was clear. I come back whenever I need to get away from everything.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Thank you for bringing me here. I needed this.”

Bishop caressed your cheek with his fingers. “You’re welcome, Querida. I’ll bring you up here whenever you want.”

“Bish, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course, Querida, you can ask me anything,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Can I see you in your wolf form sometime? There’s no pressure, only if you want to…”

Bishop mulled the question over in his head. You had caught him off guard with the query. None of the women he’d ever been with had asked to see his wolf form, not even his ex-wife. These days, he only shifted when it was absolutely necessary. There were advantages to being an older and more experienced wolf. He could shift at will and didn’t have to worry about losing control. But what if you didn’t like what you saw? What if he scared you away? He’d never forgive himself if that happened. Your soft, sweet voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Bish, I’m sorry, forget I said anything- “

“No, it’s okay,” he kissed your forehead, “I just wasn’t expecting that question. I’ll do it if you want me to, but just be prepared, okay? I promise I won’t hurt you, but it might not be what you’re expecting.”

“I trust you completely, and I promise, I won’t be scared.” You looked at his aura and saw the hesitancy there. He was scared. “You’re not going to lose me.”

He cupped your face with his hand and his lips found purchase with yours. He had a way of kissing you that made your mind go blank and get lost in the moment, and you loved every minute of it. You kissed him back with equal fervor, hoping that somehow you were able to convey the trust and faith you had in him. The smile on his face when you broke away seemed to indicate that you’d been successful.

Bishop rose and walked a few feet away.

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused by his actions.

“Shifting is a lot easier without clothes on,” he replied with a wink, beginning to undress.

“I’ll close my eyes and give you some privacy then,” you giggled, shutting your eyes, but occasionally cracking one open to steal glimpses of his increasingly naked form; and damn if you didn’t like what you saw!

Bishop finished disrobing and crouched down on the soft grass. He breathed deeply and cleared his mind, focusing his intention. He felt his muscle start to ripple and his joints and bones shift. It didn’t hurt at his age; it was just slightly uncomfortable. All his senses sharpened. Body hair became fur, his hands and feet morphed into oversize paws with razor sharp claws. Even his teeth changed shaped, becoming longer and more pointed. A few moments later, he stretched and shook out his fur. He looked over towards you, still sitting there with your eyes closed, and cautiously padded toward you.

************************

You could hear the footfalls of his paws, and then felt his large wet nose nudging your arm. You opened your eyes and saw a massive wolf standing before you. His fur was brown and black, with specks of gray in various places. His legs were strong, and his paws appeared large enough to take out a person with one blow. But his eyes, his eyes were gentle, and you would know them anywhere.

“Oh, Bishop, you’re beautiful!”

He sat and cocked his head to one side, appearing confused.

“Yes, you heard me correctly. May I?” You held out your arms to him. Bishop bowed his head and leaned forward, allowing you to embrace him and bury your face in his fur. “Your fur is so soft!”

He put his head on your shoulder and let out a contented groan when your fingers began to massage the spot right between his ears. You giggled at that. “I take it you like that, huh?” Bishop lifted his head and licked your face in response, making you laugh even harder. You massaged his head for a little while longer before resting your forehead against his. “Thank you for letting me see you like this. I love you, Bishop.”

There was suddenly a very naked, human man in your arms. Bishop’s hands cupped your face, his eyes scanning it for any indication that he might have misheard you.

“Bish- “

“Say that again, Querida.”

“I said, I love you, Obispo Losa.”

Bishop pulled you into his lap and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with more intensity and tenderness than he ever had before. Any doubts that you may have had about him not feeling the same quickly melted away. It went on for what felt like forever before the two of you had to pull away and come up for air.

“I love you, too, mi reina.”

You held onto one another like that for while before Bishop got dressed and rejoined you on the blanket. You spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other’s arms and gazing at the night sky. And when a shooting star passed overhead, you made a wish that you could stay this way forever. No more looking over your shoulder, no more nightmares; just you and Bishop, ready to take on whatever the future might hold.

#adarafaelbarbaseptmeberbingo #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa #mayans #mayans mc #mayans fandom #mayans fanfic #bishop losa imagines #werewolf au #my writing

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crescentsteel · 4 years ago

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Keeping a Secret - Prologue

plot: ehehe lemme leave this blank for now as this is only a prologue genre: fluff, crack, slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, angst at some point wc: 2.7k

[a/n]

I am reeling just from finishing this one because Tsukki is my boy (Kuroo ily too i swear)

Who writes 2.7k words of prologue? lol me

I’ll set up the masterlist when I’m done with the 1st Chapter.

Thank you so much @oii-sugasan and @haikyuu-is-for-lovers for the betaread! :)

Let me know if you wanna be tagged

Chapter 1 || masterlist

You aren’t just annoying. You’re a fucking menace. Every time he goes to the gym, your presence is like a plague. You're just a manager, but sometimes he thinks that you think you’re the assistant coach. There’s nothing he’d love more than to shower you with the nastiest, most off-handed comments, just to shut you up and wipe the cheery grin that taunts him every time he sees you.

Seriously, you’re all over the place -- you talk to all members of the team as if you’re a player yourself, you nag everyone to take care of themselves outside training like you’re their older sister, you hand out self-gathered information on upcoming matches as soon as matchups are announced, you scamper around the gym tossing balls, assembling the net, doing whatever the hell you can get your hands on, all the while wearing those stupid shorts that distract the majority of the team, especially the new members.

As his eyes follow you, you suddenly turn around to face him, breaking him from his reverie. Even when you’re halfway across the gymnasium, he can see the sharp playfulness that you always exude whenever you talk to him.

“Tsukishima!” You wave at him with that disgustingly sweet grin. “If you’re done staring at my sexy back, you can start your blocking drills, okay?!” you shout with a voice loud enough for everyone else in the gym to hear. Tsukishima feels multiple sets of eyes glance towards his direction and he ‘tsks’ in annoyance under his breath.

He immediately walks away. He refuses to hear more of the unnecessary and untrue prattles directed at him by you.

He hears footsteps follow him. Judging from its pace and heavy strides, he already knows its Kogane without even looking

“Oi, Tsukki. Do you like our manager?”

He doesn’t understand why Kogane is whispering when you’re half a court away from them. More than that, he doesn’t understand why Kogane assumes he likes you. For one, you were wrong: he wasn’t even staring at you. He was staring randomly at nothing while thinking about how irritating you are and you just happened to be at his line of sight.

“I don’t see anything to like about her,” he replies passively.

“What? Why? She’s super helpful -- and pretty too.” Kogane, just like the rest of the team, believes so. Even Kyoutani is fond of you because of that one time you received his spike on full force. You rolled on your back from the sheer power of it but you were able to receive it perfectly, making the whole team go wild when you did, with him as the only exception as he found it inane.

“If you think so, go confess or something then.”

“You know we can’t!” Pink stains begin to surface on his teammate’s cheeks, obviously infatuated with you. Then again, this is not new to him. It was a basic reaction from anyone whose dick is more functional than their brain. Maybe it’s because you’re the only female so close to everyone else. Honestly, he really doesn’t know. But one thing’s for sure. Kogane has 0 chances with you, and neither does every player of Sendai Frogs.

He remembers the conceitedness you displayed even in your first year as a manager. You two became part of the team almost at the same time. He was two months in when the former manager introduced you to the team. As she finished introducing you, you whispered to her to add something. It went something like ‘oh, umm. y/n-chan also said that no one from the team can’t date her.’ Even the former manager looked at you weirdly but you were just there beaming as you bowed to everybody.

They thought it was a joke, but when you became a full-pledged manager in less than six months, you announced it yourself.

‘I know I’m kind of cute, but I won’t ever consider dating anyone from the team. Okay?’

You announce it with a sickening smile every time there are new members, reminding everyone else that you’re untouchable.

It’s fucking atrocious, to him at least. Unlike the other players from his team, he’s not shallow enough to fancy you just because you’re not disgusting to look at, or that you did your managerial duties so exceedingly well.

He grits his teeth. He hates it. How can someone so chaotic as you be so effective in managing the team. What grinds him even more is that you go to the same university he does, and even there, your presence stinks. He once had a class with you only to find out that you’re not as dumb as you make yourself out to be.

It’s infuriating. He can’t wait for the day you mess up -- only then would he finally get the chance to diss you. He’ll turn that shit-eating smile of yours upside down.

Man, nothing boosts your mood better than bugging Tsukishima. When you felt his sinister stare boring at your back earlier, you just couldn’t waste the opportunity to say something about it. He just ignored you, but the scowl on his face was enough response to satisfy you.

The truth is, you have nothing against Tsukishima. Yeah, he has a sharp tongue and a vile attitude, but hey, he’s a good team player. He doesn’t speak much, but he gets shit done in matches. Despite his foul personality, he’s actually manageable: he listens to you and he rarely shows up late. He’s not particularly motivating to look at, but he still does what’s asked of him. For some reason that you don’t know, he still hasn’t spat out his usual, rancid remarks towards you. You know he’s itching to, and honestly, you’re kind of curious of what he’ll throw your way.

Still, for the last three years he kept his mouth shut even though he looks at you like you’re the most unpleasant being he’s ever laid eyes on.

“Y/n!”

You jog towards the team coach, Coach Mira. “Yes, Coach?”

“Do you like Tsukishima?” she asks curiously. The question is funny to you but you hold back the laughter and smile instead.

You like Coach Mira a lot. She’s more like an older sister than a coach to you. You’re free to share a few laughs with her, and she values your input to the team. Maybe it’s because you’re both women drowned in a sea of male athletes that you sort of have that innate connection.

“No, Coach. Why?”

“Cause you pay attention to him the most.”

“I don’t see what’s to like about him,” you veer your gaze towards his direction, watching his scowling face as he walks away, Koganegawa following closely behind him. You can’t hear them, but the sight is already amusing as it is. “I just like putting him in place whenever he’s being extra nasty,” you add.

“If you say so, y/n. Honestly, I don’t really care if you go out with one of them.”

You wave your hand back and forth like you’re swatting a fly. “No way, Coach. They’re like little boys I’m taking care of.”

She sweeps her gaze behind you, scanning all the players present in the court. “Can’t say they feel the same way though.” Then she looks at the same person you’re looking at. “Well, maybe except for Tsukishima.”

“That’s why I like messing around with him the most,” you admit with mirth as you watch Tsukishima get away from Kogane.

Everyone in the gymnasium is staring as they enter the arena. If there’s one thing opposing teams remember about the Sendai Frogs, it’s their female tandem of a stone-cold coach and a ‘hot,’ bubbly manager who walk side by side in front of the whole team, not the players.

It’s not really an issue for Tsukishima. He doesn’t really care. Shimizu had the same reputation back in high school. But you? You’re not Shimizu. You aren’t even close.

And you, being the chaotic mess that you are, you milked the attention. Whenever someone blatantly gapes at you, you’d wave at them. You’d even entertain those who openly flirted with you. In retrospect, he should find it despicable. Rather finds it entertaining. So does the rest of the team.

When the Sendai Frogs reach their spot, a guy wearing a Tamaden Elephants jersey approaches you shamelessly. A brave (maybe a little bit foolish) act, considering you’re with the whole team.

“Hi!”

You turn around and greet him just as enthusiastically, maybe even more.

“I just want to say, great game from last season, he says as he scratches the back of his head.

Liar.

If the guy really wants to acknowledge the team’s play from last season, he’d approach one of the players. He also wouldn’t have that stupid blush on his awe-struck face.

“Thank you! Great game indeed,” you return the compliment.

As soon as the guy starts fidgeting, Tsukishima can already guess what comes next: it’s either a date or your number.

“If you don’t mind, can I get your number?”

Tsukishima sneers at how predictable the scene is, and he can’t wait to see what comes next.

You beam at the guy. “Sure! It’s number 1.”

He still smiles even though he’s obviously dumb-founded. “Sorry, what?”

“My number, right? It’s 1. Cause we’re number 1 in the district,” You say with that fake innocence that isn’t really fooling anyone.

“...Uhh.”

“Go Sendai Frogs!” You cheer out of the blue and as if an automated response, the rest of the team, even Tsukishima (though lifelessly), answers.

“Sendai Frogs fight!”

The loud baritone of deep male voices drew the attention of other people in the area, brightening your face up even more as you focus on the guy in front of you again. He looks scandalized by what just happened.

“How about you? What’s your number?” you ask, pushing the guy to a mental corner as Tsukishima and his team glares at him while waiting for how he’ll answer. An embarrassed blush replaces the previously infatuated one as he realizes that he shouldn’t have made the mistake of hitting on you.

“I-I’m not really sure,” his voice loses any shred of confidence it once had.

“Oh. That’s too bad,” you feign sympathy.

“Yeah.” The guy looks down. “Guess I’ll see you around,” he adds before retreating defeatedly.

“Bye! Nice to meet you,” you wave cordially. ‘Whoever you are, newbie elephant,’ you say to yourself as you watch the unfamiliar member of the Elephants go back to his team, a team you wiped the floor with last season.

Until now, you don’t understand why people still even bother. You welcomed the flirtations, but never really went out with anybody. You’re not really opposed to getting in a relationship, but like -- Gooood! They’re all so uninteresting. Rejecting them is more fun than the mere prospect of dating them.

You feel a familiar touch on your shoulder.

“Good job boosting the team morale,” Coach Mari says in a volume that only you can hear as she pats you.

“Thanks, Coach!” You grin at her praise.

You turn around to check your players and your eyes instantly land on Tsukishima who had just put on his white headphones and began scrolling at his phone. Around him, everyone else has already started stretching.

You bounce your way to him, knowing that you’d instantly get his attention even without saying anything. But even with you ogling when you stopped in front of him, he still doesn’t budge.

“Tsukishima.”

No response.

‘Heh,’ you snicker internally. He never fails to amuse you when he tries to ignore you.

“Tsu~ ki~ shi~ ma~” You bob your head sideways, popping at the opposing sides of his phone so he’ll notice you.

You don’t miss the minute twitch of his eyes as he drags his phone closer to him in an attempt to shut you out.

Tsk tsk. He should know better by now that you're not the type to back away.

You go beside him instead, tiptoeing so you can see what he’s so busy looking at. As soon as your arms touch his, he puts down his phone and irritatedly removes his headphones.

He’s shooting daggers at you, making you giddy with excitement as he looks like he’s about to say something you. You hold his gaze with a raised eyebrow and subtle smirk that you couldn’t suppress. Did he get fed up already? Is he finally going to say something?

‘Do it. Do it. Do it,’ you chant in your head.

He takes in a painful deep breath instead. “What?” The single word contains so much disdain that you want to cackle so bad.

“Shouldn’t you be stretching?” you query.

“In a bit.”

You leisurely shake your head with disapproval. “I know you’re a lazy ass fucker sometimes,” you begin. “But you always help us win. You’re our meanest, tallest, best blocker.” Your gaze drops down to his ankles and travels up.

“So,” you continue, dropping your voice amusedly, “stretch those gorgeous, God-given, legs you have.” Your eyes linger on his thighs before landing up to his face to smile sweetly at him. “Will you?”

This is one of the moments you’re pretty sure he won’t dare talk back at you. Why? Because you’re one hundred percent right, and he knows that too.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate it.

He glares at you for one second and walks towards the rest of the team to join them.

Playing at the professional level, he always considers one match to be a big win already, even if it’s just the first match of the regular rounds. Ever since he became a starter for Sendai Frogs, he was not allowed to slack off even for one rally. He could take the lecture if it’s from Coach, but he couldn’t stomach it if it’s from you.

Even before the match started, you were already on his grill, pestering him just because he wasn’t warming up yet. He was pissed the whole game and put extra effort than usual to make sure that you won’t have anything to say after.

“Um, excuse me.” A girl from Red Rabbits blocks him on his way to the restroom. “Tsukishima, right?”

He can tell that she is trying her best to look nonchalant, but the familiar tint on her face is telling.

Tsukishima had never understood girls who approach him for anything remotely romantic. Does he look like he’s interested? It’s not that he’s not open to the idea of dating, but he finds it unpleasant when people go after him because they like how he plays. Worse, for some obtuse reason like him being ‘cute.’

“Yes. Why?”

She smiles at him bashfully with her arms crossed behind her. “I’m also a middle blocker. I was really inspired with how you read block so well. If it’s okay with you, can you teach me how you do it?”

Why would he do that? He’s already a senior college student who’s also a professional athlete. He has no reason to go out of his way to teach someone read blocking. Especially someone who’s already supposed to know it since (as she claims) she’s also a middle blocker. Judging from where they currently are, someone from Division 1 no less.

“Sorry. I’m really busy,” he says bluntly.

“Oh, okay. Sorry for bothering you.” She bows then takes off immediately.

He watches as the girl from Red Rabbits scampers off as quickly as humanly possible. Did she really think he’d agree to it?

He is too occupied to notice the faint sound of footsteps behind him, and only when you speak does he notice your presence.

“Aww, poor girl going out of her way to ask you out.”

He groans. Why are you even here? You’re supposed to be checking on the team since their match just ended.

You fall into step beside him as he brushes your comment off and continues heading for the rest rooms.

“I didn’t ask her to,” he calmly responds despite your irksome presence.

“How are you going to get a girlfriend like that?” you ask exaggeratedly as if not getting in a relationship will lead to his ruin.

“I don’t need one.”

You gasp. “Damn, Tsukishima. Men your age are all about raging hormones. Where do you put all that raging testosterone?”

He purses his lips in a corner, his jaw tensing at your remark. Men his age? You talk as if you’re older when you’re in the same year he is.

Also, what the fuck?

Now you’re nagging about his personal life too? You’re already aggravating as the team manager. Now you’re even sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.

His blatant irritation must have shown in his face because you suddenly let out a giggle. “My bad, my bad. Don’t look so scary. Geez. Where you get action is none of my business. I just followed you to let you know that we’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

You turn around, about to go back but stop before you make the first step. “Oh, and we have a meeting later. I did the stat sheets of the game and gave it to the coach already. Great blocking, Tsukishima!” You pat his shoulder twice with a proud smile, then saunter off back to the arena.

Damn it. If only you aren’t so good at being a manager, he would actually be able to dislike you to the fullest. Not only that, he wouldn’t feel that silly, tiny contentment he felt upon hearing you.

Chapter 1 || masterlist

Taglist:(those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai @babythotshq

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima crack #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima angst #tsukisima series #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu crack

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toxicityriot · 3 years ago

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Shishigumi Family AU Drabble:

Summary: Ibuki is up late at night, trying to wrap his head around the recent events of his (formerly) missing boss. Louis is awake too dealing with his own struggles and the lion comes to grip that he doesn't just see the young and stubborn buck as his boss or friend but as something more: family

Disclaimer: I've only seen the anime once and skimmed a few random manga pages to try and learn about characters (currently making slow progress on reading the whole thing online). I'm sorry if I butchered personalities and/or backstories in canon so I guess anything messed up would just be part of the AU lol.

Things were beginning to look like they were heading in the right direction. It only took about two months for things to start moving slow once more. Tensions have fallen and eased back into the normal casual lifestyle of the Shishigumi-or whatever the ‘norm’ for a ragtag group of lions keeping a rather taboo location in check. It was their norm anyway and they frankly did not care if anyone thought different.

Despite the feeling of calmness washing over the rundown tower of a mansion, Ibuki could sense the underlying troubles that shook the members of the Pride down to its foundations. Even though the future was looking pretty good as of now, it had only just started to calm down after a rather devastating event that had even him sick to his stomach. He did not allow this feeling to really present itself publicly but he was still a bit shaken from the events that had unfolded a couple of months ago.

It had started when the Shishigumi boss had run off, ordering his lion followers to stay behind. That it was his duty to help a friend. Normally, the lions would not care to meddle with high school drama or fighting students but with one of their own running straight into the snarling jaws of carnivores, it had them all worried. Ibuki could recall the sheer power and determination that blazed like orange flames in his boss’ copper colored eyes, mingled with the heavy scent of fear that radiated off his body like a furnace. A few of the lions almost broke their ‘promise’ to try and give their boss bacup after hearing about what this fight was about. But in the end, it was not their fight and they respected their boss too much to go against his orders.

It had been a nerve wracking waiting game as the sun had slowly risen over the streets of the Market. They patiently waited for a sign.

No calls, no texts, no check ins, and not a single letter.

The Shishigumi boss had gone off the radar. Being an herbivore thrusting himself into a fight between two apex predators and had not returned, hope was slowly fading. By night three, the lions began to schedule patrols to keep an eye out for their horned friend, just in case. They kept their eyes and ears open in the market as well tracking any shipments of deer meat in the market just in case.

By the end of the second week, there was still no sign of their missing boss and Ibuki had taken the role as the new leader of the Pride. It was heavily suspected that their friend had gotten too close to the deadly fight and had been devoured. It sickened Ibuki. He had grown fond of the deer and it devastated him to think of the outcome of that fight.

Ibuki removed his glasses from his face with a sigh. It had only been about a week since Louis’ return and reassignment as boss once more. He could tell that whatever happened at that fight was troubling the boy. He never spoke of the full story in detail and that was his choice. He would respect that. The others did as well when they haute their poking and prodding but Ibuki had noticed that their were more changes to the former high school student than just physical. He noticed that he had slowly started to take better care of himself and was a lot more open on his thoughts and feelings than before. Even though these changes were not necessarily bad, it still left him in questions as to why. Louis had even halted his newfound carnivorous diet in favor of the much healthier greens he was supposed to be eating and gained a couple of pounds back in the process. He was still poorly underweight and underdeveloped for his age and species but Ibuki was proud to see the small glimmers of improvement in the field of self care.

Small tap like thuds drew the old lion out of his thoughts as he redirected his attention to the flight of stairs. He had been so lost in his own head that he failed to realize that Louis was almost at the bottom of the staircase. He watched calmly as the deer slowly inched his way down, step by step with a hand on the wall for support, occasionally whispering small mutters to himself. Quite possibly cursing the terrible night vision he had as an herbivore. It was also good to see that Louis did not seem on edge at this hour of night as he seemed to have full trust in the Pride to not attack him when he was basically blind. A louder tap and a metallic thump let the deer know that he had made it safely down the stairs and with a flick of an ear, he adjusted his loosely fitted white shirt. Ibuki decided to make his presence known as he slowly strode towards the deer, making sure his footsteps were not light so as to not startle him. Wide unseeing copper eyes looked up and his head turned to the general direction of the footsteps. “Hey,” he greeted softly.

Ibuki noticed the tiredness in the young buck’s voice and gave a small nod of his head. “Louis,” he returned the greeting warmly. “What are you doing up? With all due respect, i thought you would be asleep.”

Louis strugged a shoulder, not caring that the hem of the shirt has slipped over his shoulder. The lion could see the small white spots dotting the brown fur. He frowned slightly. He had only seen the fawn spots once before. Being brought up in the Market did its damage on the boy in more ways than one. “Couldn't sleep.” Louis slowly limped towards the kitchen, keeping one hand slightly away from his body to feel around his surroundings. “I could ask you the same thing.” The lion followed, impressed by the boy’s navigation skills. Even though he was relying on the sense of touch and his memory of the mansion’s layout, he seemed to be doing quite well in the dark.

Being an herbivore living with a group of lions certainly had some of its perks.

Ibuki observed the way Louis tended to keep most of his weight into his left leg with each step, putting only a small amount of pressure onto his prosthetic while he limped. He could tell the deer was trying to hide the limp but his efforts were not working well. He hung back a bit as he opened the fridge, squinting his eyes a bit to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness that flooded the kitchen with a white glow, just standing there as if debating what his next move would be. The lion glanced down and noted how his left leg hovered about an inch from the ground and how he gripped onto the fridge for support. His ears twitched and his tail swayed slowly. "Does it hurt, boss?"

Louis did not reply. In fact, he made no indication that he heard the question but it seemed to snap him out of his trance when he grabbed a bottle of water. He closed the fridge and leaned his back against the door, twisting the cap off and taking a drink. Ibuki wondered if he hit a nerve.

"Yeah." Louis responded after another sip. He sighed and looked down, slowly moving his right leg as if observing it. "Sometimes it's like I can still feel my hooves on the ground. Sometimes it burns. Sometimes its just numb. Sometimes it's a little bit of all." Pushing himself off the fridge, he screwed the lid back on the now empty bottle and placed it back in the fridge in a drawer that held his own personal food items and drinks. "I try not to think about it too often. Thinking about it only makes the pain worse."

There was a long silence that fell between carnivore and herbivore. Ibuki, just standing near the doorway of the kitchen and Louis, leaning against the fridge with his head down, antlers making soft scraping noises as they accidentally brushed against the fridge door. He could see the boy's ears were drooping, his tail low, and his eyes nearly closed with a sorrowful expression on his face. So many thoughts must be lurking in his head, so many questions about life in general. It was one of the many things that had changed since Louis’ return. He seemed to be more readable than ever yet so unpredictable. In fact, he was always unpredictable, especially from the start when he took the first bite of meat at the table, asserting his growing authority over the lions who had watched his every move with wonder and some disbelief.

Ibuki ran his hand through his mane as Louis straightened himself a bit. The deer came closer, keeping his eyes downcasted as he seemed to follow the sound of the lion’s breath. Ibuki watched with concern that melted into confusion as Louis hesitantly leaned his head against his chest, careful not to accidentally impale him with the sharp ends of his antlers. He stood there, immensely unsure about the gesture. It wasn't until Louis’ smaller arms held onto him that he realized he was seeking comfort from whatever was plaguing his brain. Inuki slowly lowered himself to kneel on his knees to reduce the massive height difference and returned the embrace gently, hoping that his act of affection and care would sooth the boy. It was just another thing that made its way onto the unpredictable things to come from the smaller animal. Hell, he never would've thought that he even liked hugs but this interaction proved him wrong,

“I'm sorry,” Louis had whispered as he moved his head to rest his chin on Ibuki’s shoulder. “I was harsh on you guys. All you wanted to do was help and I turned your offers down. I should have let told you that i was still alive and-”

“With all due respect boss, i'm going to stop you right there.” Ibuki gently pulled Louis off on him and laid his hands on his shoulders, a soft look from his eyes even if he couldn't see it. “You don't need to apologize for anything. You were loyal to your wolf friend and helped him out when things got ugly. You put the ones you cared about first before your own needs and that says something about a person.” The lion smiled, gently scratching the fur behind the deer’s left ear. “You might have antlers instead of a mane, hooves for claws, and flat teeth in place of fangs but you damn well have the heart and soul of a lion. I dont think ive ever heard or witnessed another herbivore like yourself doing what you did back there. I know you made a remark about me not being your father but Louis...im proud of you, as if…” he trailed off, studying Louis' expression for a sign to continue. He could not see any negative thoughts or maybe even a furrowed brow of disgust. Hell, if anything, his expression was completely unreadable.

He could not bring himself to say it, at least not yet. He just simply gave a small nod and a smile. “All that I'm trying to say is that I'm glad to have you back with us, Louis. You're always welcome here as our Boss, friend, and a part of our family.” Ibuki slowly raised himself back to his feet, giving Louis a playful rub between his antlers. “It was nice talking with you, son,” he added. He saw Louis’ ears perk up straight at the nickname. “ I'll let you get back to whatever you were wanting to do. I'll see you in the morning. Try not to stay up too late. You need your sleep.” As Ibuki made his way out of the kitchen, he could still feel the deer’s eyes on his back, following the movement of his departure as he made his way up the stairs for the night.

Night had fallen and the morning had come. Ibuki was greeted to a rokous in the dubbed ‘recreational room’ as he watched the lions chat amongst themselves as they played a video game. He could pick out Agata and Free sitting on the floor in front of the television, Dope behind Free, Dolph a few steps away, Hino and Jinma watching every now and then as they spoke about their own thing, and Sabu crouched near Dope. Between Free and Agata sat Louis, the three of them going head to head in a heated game of Claws Of Duty on the TV. Ibuki did not exactly have the same interest in the video game but he took amusement in the younger members competing on who can score the most kills or who slaughters who first. He faintly heard Dope exclaim “kick his ass, boss” just before one of the sections of the screen displayed a kill animation for a round of bullets to an avatar's head, followed by Free’s groan of defeat in his loss and Agata’s laugh before he looped an arm around Louis’ neck in a celebratory semi embrace.

The eldest of the lions smiled. Things were indeed looking good for the Shishigumi, the band of mischievous lions and a theater performer of a young buck. He could not ask for anything better.

#shishigumi fam au #beastars #beastars au #shishigumi #beastars ibuki #beastars Louis #riots writings #beastars fanfic #father/son #found family

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inorganicone2230 · 5 years ago

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Purity (Part 1) Yandere!Overhaul x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Summery: Overhaul meets a quirkless foreigner who holds some very interesting views on his way of thinking. The more time he spends with her, the more he wants to keep her and her purity for himself. And he has no problem with falling to the depths of obsession if it means getting what he wants.

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Kai Chisaki certainly considered himself to be, above all else, a visionary, a Messiah meant to save the world from itself. He saw the world for what it truly was. A vile, rotten cesspool, filled to the brim with filth and ugliness, and plagued by a disease called quirks. Despite possessing a powerful one himself, he never considered it to be the blessing that other people did, not that he felt above using it to achieve his goals of course. He was going to be the one to set the world right again, and rule the underworld with an iron fist, so he begrudgingly realized that he would need the power of his quirk to accomplish said goal. No matter how much it sickened him.

Some might call him insane for his beliefs. That quirks were a sickness, infecting the populace with Hero and Villain Syndrome. But he knew the truth that they were all just blind to, that’s why they needed him to be their guide and show them the way to purity.

Perhaps that’s why he found you, you were meant to be his reward for all the good he was doing. It’s only been a few weeks, but he’s sure that it’s a day he won’t ever forget. Not ever, he thinks, gazing down at your form spread out over the sheets in sheer, manic glee as he recalls the all too vivid day…

—————

In hindsight, pulling you out of the way of that moving vehicle could be seen as the starting point to the chain reaction that sent him down this long and winding road of obsession. Not that he would change it for anything in the world.

He had merely acted without much thought when he reached out his white gloved hand to pull you out of the way, touching you as little as possible. He simply wasn’t in the mood to get himself soiled with your blood that would go flying everywhere should you get hit. Touching your shirt seemed like a small price to pay if it meant avoiding being covered in bodily fluids.

You turned around, your (e/c) blown wide in shock and blinking up at him stupidly. Your features were obviously that of foreign descent, not that cared enough to guess what country you came from. It was far too beneath him.

“Umm… thank you. That definitely would have been horribly messy.” You said, your Japanese was relatively decent, if a bit too formal.

He glared, noting with quiet contempt that you didn’t seem affected by it, probably because you were too stupid to know when to be afraid. “The only reason I did it was because I’d rather not get covered in blood and gore. If I could have avoided it, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

You seemed more amused than perturbed by his attitude, and he was beginning to wonder if you were very brave or just hopelessly stupid. “Well thank you for the assistance nonetheless, even more so considering what a hassle it was for you.”

If there were just a few less people out and about he might have decided to use his blasted quirk on you, consequences and mess be damned. Instead he turned on his heel. “Perhaps next time, whatever filthy quirk you have will be able to save you.” He fully intended to walk away and never think about this incident again, however, what you said next was more than intriguing enough to make him stop and give you a second glance.

“That would make sense, if I actually had a quirk. I’ll be sure to ask for one in my next life.”

He turned around to look at you, you were already walking away, but it looked like you were lost, you kept looking at your phone and then back to the street signs and buildings as if you were trying to translate the writing.

“You were born quirkless?” He’d never actually met someone who was genuinely born quirkless, only those that had lost their quirks due to his drug. He could only imagine what it must be like to feel so clean and pure.

You only gave him a brief glance as you continued to scrutinize your surroundings, more than likely surprised that he was still standing there, let alone talking to you. “Yup. No special power for me, unless you count my extraordinary ability to walk a straight line in platform heels while drunk a quirk that is.” You chuckled, the sound not nearly as annoying as he thought it might be.

“Then you’re one of the lucky ones.”

It seems that was the comment that got him your full attention, your head lifting up to stare wide eyed at him. “Lucky? That’s certainly not the word most people would use when describing a quirkless individual. Do you have something against them by chance? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but now you’ve got my curiosity peaked.”

Kai thought about it, why he was still here, why he was still talking to you, and the only answer he could come up with was that he was interested to see what your reaction would be to learning his views. Would you agree? Look at him like he was insane? He wanted to know, so he figured there couldn’t be any harm in enlightening you.

“Have you ever heard the theory that quirks were caused by a strain of virus carried by rats?” You gave a quick shake of your head, (h/c) strands bouncing around your face as he continued. “Quirks are a sickness, they ravage humanity with Hero and Villain syndromes and people seem content to go along with it. It sickens me that the world has fallen so low as to rely on abilities and deformities that we were never meant to have in the first place. It’s unnatural and disgusting.”

He was expecting some kind of reaction from you, he didn’t think you’d jump right into agreeing with him, that would have been too perfect. His best guess was that you were going to think he was crazy, most outside of the Shie Hassaikai thought he was, why should one quirkless girl be any different. The reply you gave him definitely didn’t fit into either of those categories.

“That’s certainly an interesting way of looking at it, from an evolutionary standpoint at least. I’ll admit that when looking back on human history and development, quirks are definitely not what I would have expected human evolution to progress towards. So perhaps your rat theory does have some merit. Almost like a second coming of The Black Death or something.” You said, having moved closer to the wall of a building while the two of you spoke.

“You don’t think I’m crazy for thinking this? Most people would have stopped listening after I used disease and quirk in the same sentence.”

“No.” You chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with having an opinion that differs from the norm, sometimes it’s what we need to progress and move forward. Culture and society are constantly changing and adapting to new things as time goes on, but we wouldn’t be able to do that if it wasn’t for someone else stepping forward and saying that something needs to be done or fixed if we are to ever move on from the ways of the past. Your views may be a bit extreme, but definitely not crazy. After all, no one ever said passion was a bad thing.”

You couldn’t have possibly known how pleased he was by your words as you looked up into his eyes, eyes that even his underlings flinched at when attempting to hold his gaze for too long, but you just stared right at him, unflinching with a small smile tugging at your lips. It set his pulse racing pleasantly, and if he didn’t already know that he was in top physical health, he might have thought something was wrong with him.

“You looked as if you were lost, perhaps I can help you find your way.” He honestly felt like taking apart his own brain when the words left his mask covered mouth, but it was too late now, you were already agreeing.

“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be amazing! I can speak Japanese fairly well, but reading it is another story entirely.” You said pulling out your phone to show him an address for a local hotel, he took note of how soft and clean your hands looked, not a speck of filth to be seen. “I’m here on a study trip with a group of classmates and I went wandering off to look around, ended up getting lost along the way and was too embarrassed to ask for directions.”

“It’s three blocks away, follow me.” He ordered, turning on his heel. He didn’t bother to see if you were tagging along behind him or not, he knew you would obey.

The walk was kept silent and he was pleased that you didn’t seem to want to fill the time with pointless chatter as most people would have, but a small part of him was a bit disappointed as well, he wouldn’t have minded hearing you speak more of those intellectual views of yours. He wondered what else you might have to say about his views on the world. He might have even asked if the two of you had not just reached your destination.

There was someone rushing over, a blonde girl with blue scales around her yellow eyes was marching over to you. “Where in the Nine Circles of Hell did you run off too?! We’ve been worried sick! Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” She said, pulling you into a tight hug.

He wanted to obliterate the annoyance as soon as she touched you. It was blasphemous that this piece of garbage would even think to touch someone as clean as you with their dirty hands. He was even more annoyed that you didn’t seem bothered by this, just reached up to pat her filthy head.

“Sorry Nell, I went for a walk and got a little turned around. But this guy helped me out!” You turned around, to say thank you one last time and maybe get his name, but he was already gone.

Nell just gave you a look, like you had lost your marbles. “What guy (Y/N)? Don’t tell me your seeing ghosts again like you did in elementary school. Was this one at least hot?” She jeered with a barking laugh, bumping her shoulder against yours and motioning for you to follow her towards the hotel entrance.

“That was one time! And you know it was only because Mike was hiding in the attic of that old house to purposely try and scare us. What ten year old wouldn’t have been terrified.”

“Right… sure that’s all it was.” She teased.

“I swear to God, he was right there not even two seconds ago!” You were amazed he managed to slip away in so short a time span. “But he did seem pretty antisocial so he probably didn’t want to hang around longer than necessary. Still though,” You look back over your shoulder one more time to see if you can spot that green jacket. “kind of cliche to just up and leave like that without a word.”

“You didn’t answer my question though, was your mystery man easy on the eyes?”

You did have to smile a bit at that. “He did seem pretty handsome from what I could see of him. He was wearing a black dust mask over his mouth and nose, so all I could see of him were his gold eyes. It’s a shame I didn’t get to find out his name, he was interesting to talk too.” You sighed. “But oh well, it would be a miracle if I ever ran into him again in a city this big.”

From up on the roof of another building, Kai watched and listened, a plan already forming in his head. He had to agree with you, it was a shame you couldn’t have spoken more. He found himself pleased with the sound of your voice and wondered what his name would sound like rolling off your tongue, the thought had him shuddering in pleasure. He was not one to question himself on anything, if he wanted something or had a goal, he would find a way to accomplish it. And he most definitely wanted to interact with you again.

“I’ll come find you again soon (Y/N), then we will both get what we want.”

This was my first time writing for Overhaul, so please let me know if you thought I did his character justice! Thanks and please enjoy!

And a special thanks to @talpup for helping me brainstorm this and all my other stories!

#yandere!overhaul #yandere!overhaul x reader #kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #fem!reader #reader insert #bnha #yandere bnha #typical yandere behavior

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stefciastark · 4 years ago

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“I Don’t Want To Go” ~ Webpril Day 2

A/N: Here is Part 2 (of probably 3 or 4) of this storyline! Based off of the prompt "I don't want to go", we continue to make our way through the mines, but not everything goes as smoothly as Peter hoped it would. The Sterling Hill Mining Museum is a real place, and although I have taken some creative liberties with it having never been there myself (and needing certain things to work out for plot points), you can check out some pictures of it to help visualise :) I write these daily, so apologies for any errors in spelling, grammar, etc. Life is crazy and hectic, but I just love being able to put these short stories out xx

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------This isn’t so bad.

That’s what Peter had begun telling himself halfway through their tour through the mines. They had first passed through the Zobel Hall Museum that used to be the Change House for the miners, but it was now filled with mineral displays including a really cool periodic table filled with actual samples of each element. Sam was a good guide; his excitable energy reminded Peter of a young Labrador puppy and almost made him forget about where they were. Almost.

Next, they entered the ‘mine’ portion of the tour. It was cool and damp, and Peter was glad May told him to bring a hoodie ‘just in case’. He had pulled it on not long after they began their walk through the tunnels, where he wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or the temperature itself that was turning his insides to ice. His only reassurance was the hard edge of the eyepiece on his suit that his fingers brushed against at the bottom of his backpack. Since Vulture, he’d started packing it regularly on the off-chance that if anything did happen, the Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman would be there. Sometimes he felt silly and naïve; after all, he was still just a kid from Queens. But he was part of something bigger now, and a grave sense of responsibility sat on his chest during every waking moment.

The thing about being underground was that the further they went, the thicker the air got until Peter was almost sure there had to be no concentration of oxygen down where they were at all. Of course, if that were the case, they would all be hypoxic by now. Then again, the early symptoms of hypoxia - anxiety, confusion, and restlessness – aptly described Peter on a good day, so who was to say for sure.

They walked through more tunnels in which they could only fit single-file, “I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for this portion of the tour!” Sam led them into a more circular and open area, fluorescent shades of lime green and flaming orange licking up the walls and snaking along the ground. Peter and Ned gaped at the sight before them, almost in sync with the way they spun on the spot, tilted their heads up and down, trying to capture as much beauty behind their irises as they could. “This is the Rainbow Tunnel. Appropriately named for the crazy fluorescent lights these rocks throw, although between you and me, I prefer to call this place ‘The Rave Cave’,” Sam finished melodramatically, eliciting a few chuckles from the class. “Anyways, long story short, shortwave ultraviolet light causes the minerals in the rocks to glow. The green is willemite, which is a minor ore of zinc, and the red is calcite. Now, feel free to have a look around, and we’ll regroup in a couple of minutes before heading lower.”

Peter was still in awe at all the colours surrounding him, and he felt like the rocks should be dancing, all things considered. His anxiety hadn’t plagued him for a little while now, and he was finally beginning to relax. Naturally, that would have been too good to be true.

“It’s like you haven’t seen rocks before.”

Peter started at MJ’s voice, too lost in his thoughts to notice her coming from behind. “Oh my god, MJ,” he breathed, hand clutching at his chest, “don’t sneak up on me like that.”

In response, she only lifted an eyebrow, sending him a questioning glance that asked more than could be said in words. To her credit, she didn’t begin her sleuthing into what had him so tense and nervous, instead opting for a conversation start that made everything oh so much worse in Peter’s brain at that moment. “You know, ironically if an earthquake hit, the roof’d be way more likely to collapse in a room like the one we’re in than if we were in a small passage.”

Sam cut back in before Peter got a chance to ask MJ to elaborate, if not only in the hope that he could prove her wrong and calm the racing that had begun in his heart once more. “Alright, if I could please have everyone checking the straps on their helmets, make sure they’re all secure! We’ll be heading back around now, so please form a line again and follow me out.”

Peter had been frozen in place since he’d heard MJ. The nerves that he had so tightly kept control over had started to fray, and he could feel his pulse rising, his breath quickening, and his knees trembling ever so slightly. Incidentally, because he noticed himself begin to panic, the panic came all faster and all the harder.

Vaguely in the periphery of his mind he noticed that most of the class had filed out of the cave room, and soon himself and Ned would left to take up the rear. That was if he could get his legs to move. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was in public around his classmates (particularly in front of MJ) that he felt he was keeping himself from absolutely losing it right then and there. It was different than any other anxiety attack he had ever experienced. Before, he felt as if he were reliving specific memories and he had the urge to run, to pump his legs like he never had before and just escape; he usually did, with varying levels of success. This time, he was glued in place, his mind racing and imaging scenarios that probably wouldn’t happen, but he was convinced in that moment would happen. It was a level of catastrophising he hadn’t experienced until that moment.

“Hey c’mon man, let’s go, we’re going to be left behind,” Ned said, pulling at Peter’s arm. When Peter’s eyes met his but it looked like he didn’t quite see him, Ned pressed again. “You okay? We gotta go.”

Peter’s eyes shifted to the long and thin tunnel before them that led back to the main lobby. He knew that the only way to freedom and the fresh open air he desperately needed was back through there, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Onwards it extended, stone deposits shaped like teeth closing around his classmates one by one. He felt more than heard himself say, “I don’t want to go.”

“What do you mean you don’t want to go? We can’t stay, we gotta stick with the guide, remember?” Ned nervously glanced back and forth between Peter and the exit.

It was MJ’s voice that finally cut through the haze in his brain, calling out from the mouth of the tunnel. “Hey losers, aren’t you guys coming?”

“Y-yeah!” Peter called back, voice quavering slightly.

In that moment, all the anxiety and sickening unease culminated into a crescendo, and then finally at its peak had all the hairs on Peter’s arms attempt to rise straight up through the fabric of his hoodie. It sounded as if a faraway aircraft was passing overhead and was slowly but surely becoming progressively louder and lower in pitch. He felt his stomach drop as he felt the ground beneath him tremble and dip.

Adrenaline flooded his veins rapidly and he grabbed Ned’s arm, yelling at him to “go, go go,” as he pulled them both towards the tunnel. Pieces of stone fell like crumbs all around them, and it was only thanks to Peter’s gifted (or maybe it was cursed in this moment) eyesight that he saw a micro-fissure appearing in the ceiling.

And then that micro-fissure wasn’t so micro anymore.

He managed to yank Ned back from where a portion of the ceiling completely gave way before them, a large cloud of dust invading Peter’s airways and he had to turn his head to cough. Rock fragments snowballing in size were falling with increasing speed from every angle. Every step Peter pulled them towards, they were cut off once again by what were now becoming boulders crashing from above.

There was no way out.

He heard an ominous metallic groan from beside him as one of the large steel support beams bent at the centre before beginning its descent towards them. He decided in that moment that he never wanted to see that look on MJ’s face again. It was one of such profound horror and helplessness that he promised himself if he made it out alive, he would make it his personal mission to make sure she would never have to feel that way again.

Rapidly finding a small clearing he hoped would stay clear, he pushed Ned and threw himself to the ground as the beam above came to a grinding halt in a triangular position along the opposite wall. The roar of the earth beneath him had decreased to a faint rumble, but too soon he let relief flood his heart.

Mother Nature had one last gift to give, and with a resounding clang, an immense boulder slammed itself along the length of the steel, where it proceeded to slide down the wall, carving with it weakened and deteriorated portions of the cave wall.

With little support left, the rest of the cave walls came thundering down.

#marvel #webpril day 2 #webpril 2021 #prompt challenge #mcu fandom #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #irondad fanfiction #webpril #oneshot #emotional h/c #h/c #h/c fanfiction #writing challenge #whump writing #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

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xoruffitup · 5 years ago

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The Report & Marriage Story: Adam Driver at TIFF

(If you just want to skip down to one/both of the film recaps, scroll on down to The Report and Marriage Story bolded headings. :)) There are some pics and vids down there too!)

So my friend Sarah and I spent just over 24 hours in Toronto, and it’s no exaggeration to say that during those 24 hours Adam made us feel the entire spectrum of every single possible human emotion. The Report was a nerve-wracking, intelligent, quick-witted political drama set at a break-neck pace of horrific headline after shuddering truth after sickening revelation. Marriage Story was nothing short of a masterpiece - delivering laughs, heartbreak, emotional turmoil, tears, and aching poignancy. I’m not usually one for romantic or real-life dramas like Marriage Story, but damn if that film wasn’t literally one of the most moving and powerful pieces of cinema I’ve seen in recent memory. The Report rises to the same standards, but for completely different reasons.

The films themselves are so incredibly well made in terms of writing and production, but seeing Adam in two major leading roles back to back that couldn’t have been more utterly different in tone or persona was nothing short of flooring. I know this, and of course most of you reading this also know, but GOD it isn’t even possible to fully describe the breadth and sheer force of Adam’s talent. The performances were light years apart, and yet both seared with completely unique energy that just radiated off the screen. I’ve watched almost everything Adam has appeared in, I know he’s the best actor of his generation, and yet he still manages to completely stun me with his seemingly never-ending ability to reveal an entirely different way of being in a new role. Beyond simply an accent or posture, Adam has this unparalleled ability to not only embody a completely novel persona each time, but to then completely naturally reveal that persona’s deepest, truest essence with the smallest facial twitch, turn of his head, or break in his voice. Watching him in a fresh role is literally like discovering a new facet of the human experience.

Watching these superb films in a setting like this massive film festival, where the audience was riveted and excited to engage with the content, elevated both of the viewing experiences to monumental heights. THEN, there was the fact that before and after each screening, Adam and the rest of the main cast members would come on stage with the director to speak about the film and answer questions. This of course meant – being me – that even the slightest glimpse of him would send me into silent fits of glee and awe. So combine being in Adam’s presence repeatedly and for rather long stretches of time with the emotional hurricane powerhouse of not just one but two film epics, ANNND yup it was a recipe for Biggest Emotional Rollercoaster Trainwreck Ever Known To Man. :’)

I did (somehow) manage to keep myself together! Enough so that I asked Adam a question during the Marriage Story Q&A! ;_____; (Sarah was trying to film covertly so needed a second to achieve that zoom action!)

vimeo

I couldn’t even tell you how it’s possible to string two coherent words together while speaking to 6’2” of well-dressed Talented Babe who’s fucking radiant in person, because it’s literally like an out-of-body experience where some alter ego screaming ‘TALK! TO! HIM!’ just takes over my body while the rest of me is floating off into the stratosphere!!!! (Skip on down to the Marriage Story movie analysis for more info on what I was asking about.)

Okay so let me back up and go through the day chronologically so I have SOME organization for my fangirl thoughts!

I got into Toronto from a 14-hour bus ride at 8:30 AM; Sarah got in on a flight at 9:30. We met up at our hotel and went straight to the theatre where the premium screenings would be taking place. We were able to get front barrier spots along the street and who soon arrived but none other than….!

Our lord and savior Rian Johnson, all hail! He directed the movie Knives Out that was playing at 11 AM in the same theatre. We took turns grabbing coffees because brrrr the Toronto morning was a bit nippy. The Report screening was scheduled to start at 1:45, but none of the cast had shown up yet as of 1:00. Shortly after, big cars started to pull up and Annette Bening and Jon Hamm arrived! We started nail-biting a bit at this point, because we needed to get into the theater 15 minutes before the movie started otherwise they might give our tickets away to people in the Rush Ticket line, but Adam hadn’t arrived yet and there was a chance he would sign for the barricade when he did. But once it started ticking below 15 minutes and still no sign of Adam (tension was real – the whole crowd would go quiet every time a car pulled up, then all sigh in disappointment when someone other than Adam got out), we called it and went to join the Ticketholder line to enter theatre.

WELL, good thing we did! Turns out Adam arrived late and had to rush inside right away, and we had the very serendipitous timing of walking past the secret elevator entrance up into the theater RIGHT when the elevator doors opened and Adam appeared, walking out and into the theater auditorium!! My heart slapped me in the face a bit (a lot) when we caught that glimpse of him so close up. I know there are plenty of pics now but he looked sO striking and sleek in that understated, classic blue suit. He’s SO taLL and still so massive when he’s a few feet away, don’t worry guys he looked plenty healthy even if without the Kylo Ren bulk <333 IT WAS GREAT. I COULD CRY ABOUT JUST THAT MOMENT. God help me with everything that would follow :’’’’’)

Before The Report started, Director Scott Z Burns came on stage to give a brief introduction. This was the first time the film was screening outside of the US and he was very much looking forward to the response and a wider dialogue about the issues raised in the film. He introduced the cast, and was joined on stage by the producer, Jon Hamm (who came on stage in a very silly fashion – see vid below), Annette Bening, and then Adam. And damn if that man didn’t look even MORE drop dead beautiful up there in stage lights. Be still, my heart.

…fat chance of that happening, because my heart was about to rev up into breakneck pace for the following 2.5 hours of the film.

The Report (We’re about to get very spoilery, fair warning!)

Movies are often called “important.” This one is more than that; it is imperative. The tragedy that will plague this film is that much like the staffers of the Senate and CIA that bicker back and forth throughout the decade chronicled in this movie; unproductive bickering will continue between those who appreciate a difficult truth-seeking film like this, and those that will disparage it knowing only the bare minimum of its premise. The latter will do so because of their unswerving understanding of American Patriotism to mean that America comes first, that there’s no justification more ironclad and unquestionable than national security, and America wins no matter the cost.

But. If by some miracle, the people of that latter group could be corralled into watching this film, it just might change their minds.

This movie is difficult. It is horrifying, at times nauseating. It challenges you as the investigations and counter-investigations build over each other, as the conflicting characterizations of the Enhanced Interrogation Techniques (EIT) program multiply, and yet even for all that, its takeaway hits you with clarity that is both sobering and impartial.

“National security” rationales were a chimera for barbarisms that achieved nothing. The US government tortured, degraded, and murdered prisoners at its mercy for no demonstrable reason or result. One of the most on-the-nose scenes where all the many moving parts of this complex, dirty history come together is when Dan meets with a New York Times journalist in his car towards the end, as he debates giving his report to the press to release when he fears government red tape will never let it see the light of day. The reporter asks him something like, “Why did the CIA keep doing it, if it wasn’t working?”

After two head-spinning, sickening, revelatory two hours, Dan compresses it all down to something like: “After 9/11 everyone was scared, and the CIA used that fear to act with impunity. They resorted to illegal means to try to keep some control of the situation. They knew it was wrong, and they knew it wasn’t working, so they became more desperate for results to justify it. And it was easy, because the detainees looked different than us. They spoke a different language than us, with different values.”

And so it spiraled to darker and darker depths, in which one failure to produce information by dubious means was taken to justify the next escalation in interrogation techniques.

This is where I need to warn everyone that this is not easy viewing. This film doesn’t let you shy away from what these interrogation techniques really meant. It doesn’t sanitize. You will see waterboarding happening. You will see people naked and chained in cells. You will see glimpses of even worse depravities. And then you will see the psychologist contractors who came to the black sites and claimed with utterly clueless, infuriating impunity that no, they’d never interrogated a terrorist before; no, they didn’t know anything about international law or the rights to trial and legal counsel. (“You think he’s getting a trial?” one said skeptically when his techniques were questioned.) But what they did know was the human brain and how to break it down. Then, you will see the CIA top brass back in DC who never saw with their own eyes even an instant of the abuses they were blithely and sanctimoniously sanctioning.

This film poses the question of how one defines American Patriotism. Chances are, you’re not going to be much moved by the CIA staff’s understanding - who say in defense of their tactics, “It’s only illegal if it doesn’t work.” Then when it doesn’t work, who go on to baselessly credit their EIT program with the intelligence that led to Bin Laden’s capture.

Then, we have Dan Jones/Adam. Dan Jones, who spent literally five years of his life in a basement bunker researching and scraping details together about a program the CIA did everything they could to keep under lock and key. He persevered when the CIA refused to provide any documents, communications, or witnesses; when the CIA denied that they themselves internally questioned the effectiveness of the program; even when they accused him of stealing the documents he finally managed to get his hands on. When the real Dan Jones was brought on stage after the film ended, he received a minutes-long standing ovation that couldn’t have been more deserved.

Most of the audience would probably find it difficult to identify with that understanding of patriotism that claims “It’s only illegal if it doesn’t work” and “Shouldn’t we be grateful just for the fact that we live in a country where a report like this can be written?” (claimed by Jon Hamm as Obama’s Chief of Staff, when pressed by Bening’s Diane Feinstein about releasing the report before the mid-term shift of the Senate going Republican.) What’s much more moving is Feinstein’s rejoinder that “I want to live in a country that publishes this report.” Or the coup-de-grace scene towards the film’s end that incorporates real footage of John McCain’s speech on the Senate floor against the EIT program, when he introduced the McCain-Feinstein bill that would ban the practice. When McCain called on the US to be better than its enemies, and to maintain a standard of honor worth defending.

Dan puts it painfully aptly in the full monologue teased in the trailer: “They say they saved lives but what they really did was make it impossible to prosecute a mass murderer, because if what we did to him ever comes out in a court of law, the case is over. The guy planned 9/11… (continued from memory) … but instead of spending the rest of his life in jail, we turned him into the strongest recruiting tool for our enemies.”

These moments of Dan’s desperation to make others see the truth so glaringly, shamefully obvious to him are when he delivers his most biting rejoinders. As he questions John Yoo’s legal justification in the Torture Memo of the interrogations not amounting to torture so long as they don’t cause “lasting harm”, Dan points to the detainee who died under the conditions of his confinement and demands, “So how long is he going to be dead?!”

Okay so FINALLY, here’s where I turn to Adam’s oh so stellar performance. Adam mentioned in both the Q&A after this screening and in a previous interview that he had to learn the appropriate sense of “decorum” from Dan Jones that would befit a Senate staffer. Adam nailed it. He was playing a relatively low-ranking staffer, grappling with issues of abuse and mismanagement that would have incriminated all manner of public figures miles above him. He had no real power to do anything about the horrific truths he was unearthing, and yet there were too many moments when he seemed to be the only one who truly understood or cared for the truth. Adam played this tight-knit, occasionally fraying sense of necessary professionalism with just the right amount of restraint and understatement. His performance was never boisterous nor melodramatic. And yet, the ever more desperate edge to his dedication couldn’t have been more palpable. Adam’s performance delivered every bit of impact commensurate to the towering gravity of Dan Jones’ investigation.

And yet, for every bit that Adam’s performance remained appropriately understated (it never felt like anything but a true-to-life depiction; hardly ever making you aware you’re watching a dramatization), the depth and nuance in its subtlety was nothing short of masterful. His brief but singeing moments of frustration are short-lived but strike deeply. What really struck me though were two particularly powerful #King of Microexpressions moments.

When the threat of criminal charges for hacking into CIA records is raised against him and he sees a lawyer for the first time to assess his options. After he has to face the fact that this is more complicated than his repeated assertion that “I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it.” He’s quiet for a moment, then asks in a soft, defeated voice, “How long could I go away?” The camera zooms close on Adam’s face when the lawyer responds “twenty years.” Adam’s face barely changes, and yet you can see that number settling into him with pained horror alongside incomprehension. It’s one of those moments where without saying anything, without barely even a gesture, Adam renders his character so desperately empathetic. As the viewer, you realize at that moment you’ve been building an irresistible and compelling emotional connection to him since the second you saw him the first time, and he didn’t even make you aware he was doing it.

The shot in the trailer of him sitting at a desk between the two giant stacks of his report papers. This is when the Senate Intelligence Committee is taking a vote whether to recommend the investigation for further action. I’m pretty sure Adam didn’t say a single line in this scene. Senator Feinstein called the Committee to vote, and as the voices around the table chime “aye” or “nay,” the camera does a slow pan on Dan sitting there, listening with his hands folded. You can barely trace the shifts in his expression. You can barely see anything discernible in his face, and yet simply by the way his shoulders move, the way his jaw shifts every so slightly, and the way he blinks – you’re right there on the edge of your seat with him. You can feel in your very soul his repressed, barely-controlled sense of desperation as the report that’s become his life’s work is put to a vote of either life or death.

Guys, just in case you didn’t realize this by now… Adam is a wonder and it simply defies my understanding how everyone in the whole world hasn’t come to consensus by now that he invented acting and everyone else can just go home and let him play every role ever.

Okay now the one kind of amusing bit in the film! Sadly most audience members won’t get the same kick out of this that we will, but Joanne is in the film playing a CIA staffer. She and Adam share one scene, in which she walks up to him and says, “Your face and your report are bullshit.”

INCREDIBLE. Roast your man, Joanne.

Although the movie tries to tie things up with the McCain-Feinstein anti-torture amendment that ended the EIT program and shows a quote by George Washington before the credits (in what to me seemed a bit of a forced attempt to put a comforting lid on everything) what left me feeling most helpless and frustrated was seeing how partisan politics repeatedly derailed meaningful action against the EIT program throughout the entire span of the film, and knowing full well that that’s exactly how DC still operates. There’s a scene where the timing of publishing the report is being debated. (“If we push this now, the Republicans will pull gun control. What if they pull healthcare?”) And to me, the most infuriating part is seeing the ethics by which our government runs constantly reduced to mere bargaining chips.

It seems there are no absolute lines of the permissible and impermissible. As we see, the CIA got away with torturing unarmed prisoners for years because they disguised it behind code words, wrapped it in nonsensical legal jargon to authorize it, engaged in some serious doublethink and called it a day. Constant debates that twist and manipulate the issues at stake can reduce every law to subjective application. Fallacies in logic and gruesome vengeance disguised as national security measures are defended without shame. The same modes of thinking that started the EIT program and sustained it for year upon shameful, unsuccessful year continue spinning the wheels of today’s destructive and shortsighted policies of self-interest and American exceptionalism.

OKAY, I’m off my soapbox now. Promise.

But last thing. Think about this for a crazy minute: Dan Jones’s report in full was some 7,000 pages. The only version that was ever published was heavily redacted down to a few hundred. What an incredible feat of scriptwriting that a five-year investigation that produced 7,000 pages worth of text was condensed down into a 2 hour movie.

((Also – I kept thinking at regular interviews during the film that holy shit this is giving me such strong vibes of my Presidential staffer Ben in my modern politics AU and I LOVED IT. I’m so extra inspired to press on writing!!))

End Spoilers: The Q&A afterwards! After the audience spent a few minutes giving Daniel Jones his much-deserved minutes of applause, the panel moderator started with a few questions, and here Jon Hamm and Annette Bening immediately started messing with Adam. (It’s clear they’re all buddies who love each other and I appreciate it so much :3) Whenever questions were posed generally to the cast, they would both immediately start passing the microphones down the line towards Adam, knowing full well that he wouldn’t want to talk but nudging him to do so anyway >:)) At one point he wound up with two microphones at the same time and started desperately shoving one back at Annette! For one question, before the microphones could be thrust upon him, as soon as Jon looked over towards him Adam sidestepped back behind the group and turned to start feeling the screen like he was looking for a way out. Lskdjflaskj DORK <3 Annette immediately teased him like “There’s no door, Adam!” and then on a later question that was also posed to “the cast,” Jon and Adam both started pretending to look for a door together. :’)

When responding to a question about what drew him to the role, Adam made a really interesting comment about Dan as a character who “gets the instructions for something to build, and it turns out he was building his own gallows.” (Video below!) He also spoke a bit as to the fact that he was intrigued to create a clear depiction of the internal effort to fact-find and implement accountability about such a contested, tangled issue for which a whole PR campaign existed to defend, even with misinformation.

vimeo

Have I mentioned how GOOD he looked in that suit?! Somehow he looked extra tall, I thought. And again, I know people are concerned about how thin he is right now, but he really looked fine!! His face is definitely a bit thinner, but his face shape has often changed along with his physique whenever he’s buffed up or down. He still looked plenty solid and very very damn pretty. >:3

Being the adoring fangirls we are, we’re well familiar with Adam’s ~discomfort or stiffness when he’s forced to be in public and speak at things like this. (We love one (1) awkward antisocial man.) During this panel, even though his answers had his usual introspection and self-deprecating, unconscious charm, he seemed to have an extra air of seriousness/attentiveness to him when listening to others’ comments or to audience questions. While he was giving the serious topic every bit the gravity it deserved, he also seemed to be conscious of not seeming partisan to any particular political outlook? I mean, the audience would often clap when someone on the panel said something about how the takeaways from the film are still relevant to the dysfunction and hypocrisy in today’s political climate. Adam would join in the clapping, but something I’ve always respected about him is that he never infuses his persona opinions – whatever they may be – with discussion of his work or his approach to it. I think it takes a lot of hubris and self-awareness to maintain that distinction, and resist the temptation to use a public platform to advance your own opinions. But he never seems remotely interested in any such thing. AITAF advocacy is maybe the closest, but even in that context he remains very restrained.

Did I mention he looked Beautiful like a damn vision? ;____;

Okay so leaving the theatre, my and Sarah’s heads were reeling. There was SO much to process and discuss from the film, we were grabbing onto our favorite lines and moments to recall, which launched us into discussion about political affairs today, interspersed with the occasional “Can you BELIEVE Adam’s Power in that one scene?!” and basically it was my absolute favorite kind of impassioned conversation ever. <333

Time was ticking though, and just before 5 we needed to head back to the theater entrance before Marriage Story started at 5:30. Okay and here – as if we hadn’t already endured enough emotional walloping today – came two massive emotional rollercoasters right after the other! With how little time we had between the films, it was difficult for us to get into the red carpet crowd just beforehand. But as we turned the corner, we heard shouts of his name and !!!!!! there he was outside signing!! Bless his heart, he was across the street from the theatre signing for the long line of people on the other side who I hadn’t seen anyone go over to that morning. :’) Sarah and I ran over to try to join the end of the line and he almooooost got down to us, but it was a little too dicey with the line being kind of chaotic where the barrier ended. But WE WERE SO CLOSE TO HIM. HE WAS RADIANT EVEN WHILE LOOKING ADORABLY SLIGHTLY GRUMPY WHILE HE UNCOMPLAININGLY TOOK PHOTOS AND HE’S THE BEST AND MOST EXQUISITE EVER

I can just imagine in his head like halfway down that line: “oh god this was a mistake. Adam what did you do.” <3333

Emotional rollercoaster moment #2: Because Adam and ScarJo were both out signing, the sidewalk right in front of the theater had been barricaded off. This meant that we weren’t allowed to enter the theater until they both went inside, which only left us a few minutes to spare! We rushed to the entrance, but alas there was a problem with scanning our tickets, so we were told to go to the Box Office to get them reprinted. We’re already on edge, afraid we’re going to miss the beginning of the film, when the woman at the Box Office tells us she can’t reprint the tickets because the name on them doesn’t match ours. (We bought them from a resale site so of course it didn’t…)

Even after showing her every email we had documenting payment and that the tickets were transferred through an official sale site, she remained adamant it was policy that she couldn’t print the tickets. Clearly, we were kind of devastated for a moment there, thinking we’d just paid way over face value for these tickets that weren’t even going to work. But Sarah, bless her soul, had the idea to leave, then go back in through a different door with a different ticket scanner person. The tickets still didn’t scan correctly, but we told the woman scanning that we’d already ambiguously “checked” with the box office, and honestly I think she was just a very nice person and could sense our Desperation, so SHE LET US IN. Woman – wherever you are right now, know that we love you and are forever indebted to you. ;___;

By the time we got to our seats, Noah Baumbach was already on stage introducing the film. But luckily we were in our seats, we had caught our breath and clutched each other in rejoicing relief before Noah introduced the cast and brought Adam and Scarlett on stage. Queue lots of enthusiastic applause! Someone in the audience yelled, “We love you Scarlett!” There were some whoops through the theater, then someone else yelled, “And we love you too, Adam!” and he did an adorable awk wave of appreciation and have I meNtiOnED this giant of a man is the softest and most precious being to ever grace this world????? And I’m not sure if it’s come up yet or if maybe I haven’t mentioned? But I really really really love him? ;____;

Thank gosh Sarah caught it! Painfully presh video of our painfully presh man!

Marriage Story: (Again, there will be spoilers)

Oh god, okay. This one was a beast of massively epic proportions that I was not nearly prepared for. It takes you on an intense fucking ride that spans every possible angle of passion between two people, ranging from love to hatred. To be entirely honest, I had gone into the day more excited for The Report because the subject matter was of such interest to me, and because I’m not usually one to really enjoy real-life dramas all that much.

But this fucking movie was Exquisite from the very first shot. The film opens with the “What I love about Nicole / What I love about Charlie” voice overs, and within the span of mere minutes you already feel deeply for these characters. You already feel as if they’ve been your close friends all your life, and instead of just entering your awareness abruptly – they’ve lived entire lives with ups and downs, mistakes and successes for as long as you can remember.

The movie is a sweeping epic, and yet remains achingly resonant and relatable. Charlie and Nicole’s relationship is passionate, fiery, and riddled with both miscommunications and repressed resentments. You rarely see a (doomed) love study played out with such complexity and fireworks. And yet, their frustrations, desires, and victories/losses both large and small are completely credible. Relationships are messy, and this film doesn’t shy away from their absolute darkest and even cruelest corners - even while maintaining sparkling moments of human connection that somehow survive alongside even the most difficult challenges.

The film is a brilliant study of contradictions. As Charlie and Nicole move through the divorce process, their control over it and the very narrative of their own lives becomes appropriated by their respective lawyers. The beginning of the film showed us the tenderness and deep understanding that exists between these characters, so the stories the legal teams spin seem ridiculously far afield from reality. The beginning of the film brought us into a rich world between these characters that was natural and so effortlessly believable (long, uncut monologues of dialogue; characters wandering from room to room as they talk – It’s masterfully and deceptively purposeful filmmaking that completely hides all trace of itself). Then later, listening to the lawyers concoct disingenuous legal narratives to “win” rather than tell any truth of reality is a towering contrast. The lawyers seize on the smallest tiny things Nicole or Charlie did in previous scenes (Nicole finishing a bottle of wine in one night with her family; Charlie forgetting to strap in their son’s car seat once) to paint them as habitual alcoholics or neglectful, absent parents. As the divorce proceedings escalate, things become distorted past recognition – twisted into abstracted and even absurd depictions of these two characters, between which we simply can’t decide whom we feel more sympathy for.

And then, following a gloves-off divorce hearing couched in legalese where neither side gives any quarter, you have a scene that’s quiet and effortlessly heartwarming. Nicole calls Charlie because the power’s out at her house and could he try to fix the power box in the front yard? He comes over, he works on the box, they pass their sleeping son between them (“Maybe he should just sleep here?” “But it’s my night.”), and then they both have to manually pull the gate on the driveway closed from either side – Nicole inside, Charlie outside. They look at each other as they pull the gate, perfectly in sync and their gazes locked, until the gate slides closed in the inches just between their faces. The movie is littered with these tiny gorgeous moments that just tear at your heart.

Or, the moment in the middle of negotiations between their lawyers when everyone decides to pause and order lunch. Charlie is handed the menu and he simply stares at it helplessly, uncomprehending because he’s still trying to work through the shock of their new reality that was just being argued over by the lawyers with such casual cruelty. Everyone stares at him for a long minute, until Nicole gently takes the menu from his hands and says, “I’ll order for him.” She knows just what to order – a salad with a specific type of dressing – and he quietly, almost absently agrees, “Yes, I’ll have that.”

The film takes pains to be even in presenting both sides of the story, and giving Nicole and Charlie equal screen time. I spent the entirety of the movie switching my sympathies back and forth between the two of them. By the film’s end, I understood both of their positions and experiences completely, as well as how much their perspectives on all they shared had come to oppose each other. Even though it’s impossible for either us or the characters to understand how they developed such divergent perspectives on their marriage, all parties involved have to face just how irreconcilable their grievances have become and how differently they each view the fundamental shortcomings of their marriage.

Being the annoying feminist viewer that I am, I was completely absorbed by Nicole’s monologue early on, the first time she meets with her lawyer (Laura Dern). She comes clean with the whole account of how she feels no control over her own life, and the longer she spent with Charlie and living in Charlie’s world, the “smaller” she was becoming. She felt that he didn’t respect her interests or her undertakings, when they weren’t connected to his theatre company. In essence, she feels she never got to be anything other than what he made her.

With that background of her position, I absolutely wanted Nicole to build her own life apart from him and find her own sense of personhood. One where she makes her own decisions and follows her own passions. In her recounting, she keeps saying that she’s used to part of her feeling “dead inside,” in terms of not feeling truly engaged with or in control of what she’s doing with her life. Taking a television acting job in California – separate from Charlie’s theatre company where she was the star under his direction, where he called the shots and she supported “his genius” – was the first time she did something bold for herself. This was also after repeatedly expressing to Charlie that she wanted to spend more time in California (where her family live), and Charlie never seeming to seriously consider the idea. Nicole felt she didn’t really have a voice, living shrouded in Charlie’s shadow.

But also being the annoying Adam fangirl I am, I was drawn in by Charlie’s charisma, by his effortless and guileless charm. I may have “sided” with Nicole towards the beginning of the story, resenting the small ways we could see that Charlie might have unconsciously been controlling (“Did you change your hair? I like it better long.”), but as the story progresses, so does Charlie’s unraveling. His world begins to crumble and fall apart before his very eyes, and even though he tries his best, he’s unable to do a single thing to stop it. Once Nicole gets her high-powered, cutthroat lawyer involved, things escalate beyond all control at breakneck pace. Suddenly he finds himself having to hire lawyers he can’t afford just to prevent the possibility that their 8 year old son Henry might move permanently to California with Nicole and Charlie might not get any custody; or that Nicole will take most of their shared assets and he’ll have nothing left to fund his theatre company with.

Neither of them mean for the negotiations to reach some vindictive heights, but suddenly they both find themselves fighting just to be able to live the life they each think is theirs.

Charlie finds himself having to move temporarily to California and rent an apartment so he can see his son and so Nicole’s lawyers can’t try to depict him as neglectful. We know he’s anything but. The first scenes in the film showed him being so patient and good with Henry that we could just about cry at the injustice.

(There’s the most darling scene at the beginning where little Henry comes into their bedroom, pokes Charlie saying “Dad? I had a nightmare.” Charlie gets up and comes to lay down in Henry’s bed with him. When he tries to get up, Henry asks him to stay, but there’s not really enough space for both of them in the bed so Charlie shifts to sleep on the floor. Queue a shuffling sequence where Henry goes to sleep on the floor next to his dad, Charlie goes up into the bed when it’s empty, then shortly thereafter Henry climbs up on top of Charlie so they both fit in the bed and fall asleep there. Yeah, MY HEART.)

As the accusations start flying when things are on the line during the divorce proceedings, this huge element of performativity comes into play. In a way it’s fitting, since they both work in theater, but these roles of enemies they suddenly have to perform is also terribly heartbreaking. (Also going back to the contrasts I mentioned earlier between the true essence of their relationship and their easy, ceaseless intimacy; vs the cold-hearted narratives forced on them both through the divorce proceedings.)

But in some ways, they’re not just playing the roles. There are two sides to passion, and just like they once cared about and loved each other so intensely (in some ways, they still do), there is also a shadow side to emotions of that intensity. In a catharsis that is much-needed after the austere, inhumane ways their relationship problems were discussed through their lawyers and absolutely devastating to watch in its destruction, their belated attempt to “talk” escalates into all-out war. “Talking” was the route Charlie first wanted to take – no lawyers involved – but which Nicole spurned. I was frustrated with her throughout the film for never fully communicating with him her expectations regarding their separation, but upon further reflection I understand that she might have feared that if they managed it on their own, it would turn into him managing it and her voice would once again disappear. Something along these lines rushes out during this scene of purging their demons and years of budding resentments and secrets all in one near-fatal blow.

(I’m about to quote a few sporadic lines I remember, but I have to say watching this scene with no idea of the savagery that was coming delivered absolutely lethal power, so I kind of advise not knowing the specific lines? Plus they’re a hundred times more powerful on screen, with these top-tier actors delivering them with every bit of feeling they possess. Skip to after both sets of ///// if you don’t want to know! But quoting here for those who don’t know if/when they’ll see the film ☺ These are definitely not in order and they jump around but whew, every moment when they were screaming these lines is simply unforgettable.)

/////////////////

Charlie: “Oh you just like to play the victim. We were happy. YOU were happy. Until you decided you weren’t anymore.”

Nicole: “You are just like your father!”

Charlie: “Don’t you EVER say that! Don’t you ever compare me to my father. You’re the one just like your mother. And your sister - you’re the worst of all of them combined.”

Nicole: “You slept with Donna!”

Charlie: “One time! Because you stopped having sex with me! For a whole year you shut me out and I didn’t know what to do. And after I gave up so much for you.”

Nicole: “Oh what you gave up?!”

Charlie: “I was in my 20s! I had my first solo work, I was successful, I wanted to fuck everyone but I didn’t. Because I loved you and I didn’t want to lose you. But I- I missed out on so much.”

Nicole: “You are SO selfish, you can’t even separate anything else from your own self-interest! You can’t even see me as something separate from yourself!”

Charlie: “So you hate me! You wish you’d never married me, fine, but god this last year it’s like you hated me!”

Nicole: “And I did! I do! (Screaming helplessly) I can’t believe I have to know you for the rest of my life!!”

Charlie: (Savagely snarling) “Maybe you don’t because I hope you get sick and die. I hope you get hit by a car tomorrow!”

///////////////

This scene escalates and escalates until they’re both in these uncontrollable, violent piques of rage. Charlie punches a hole in the wall, and things simply get uglier and uglier until they are screaming at each other the most horrible things each can think of with every bit of vitriol they can possibly muster. The build up in the scene is masterful, and the performances are simply stellar. You can feel that they are pissed as all hell at each other – that this is literally years of unspoken, repressed feelings all being torn out. But you can also feel that both of them are in such awful pain. Both of them are actively bleeding as the scene progresses, but it’s because both of them still care so much. It’s because there are still feelings there, and there always will be no matter what either of them do. That’s why the emotions are so desperate and searing off the screen.

After Charlie spits the final horrific line in her face, he sinks to the floor and weeps for it. It ends with her comforting him, and him putting his arms around her knees.

And – just fuck me up completely, why don’t you – if you thought that scene was the biggest beating your heart would have to take in this movie, THINK AGAIN BUDDY.

Because. Whew. My god. Words are going to fail me in describing this scene but I’ll do my best to go for it.

Months have passed since their fight, and grab every box of tissues in existence, because here’s the rumored scene where Adam sings “Being Alive” from Company. Now, I had somehow completely forgotten about this going into the film. So when Charlie stands up in the cabaret restaurant with his theatre group back in New York and starts jokingly singing the words when the pianist starts the song, I was just like ‘oh haha he’s singing! Wow!’

Charlie moves to sit back down after the first verse, still mostly fun and games…. But then the words draw him back as the song continues. He gravitates towards the small stage and the microphone, and little by little the joking edge melts away. Emotional gravity rises behind his voice little by little, until suddenly the words are loud and ringing and gorgeous, and there is palpable heartbreak in his eyes as the words begin to take the exact shape of all he has lost.

Now, we’ve heard snippets of Adam singing in Hungry Hearts and Inside Llewyn Davis and even briefly in Burn This. But. People…. You have never heard or seen anything like this. I don’t even mean from Adam. I mean… in your life. I mean: This scene literally stirred such a profound reaction in me; I didn’t know it was possible for an actor to evoke feelings like this. And imagine, this was on-screen performance. The entire theater applauded when the song ended, and I was in tears.

The song encapsulated in truly heartbreaking beauty the revelation Charlie was having of all he once had – every part of love that is both good and bad; cherished and difficult. And in possibly the most tragic contrast of the whole film: He is singing about love making it worthwhile to be alive – of how he’s now essentially left searching for what will now make his life worth living; while across the country Nicole is finally feeling “alive” for the first time, after years of being plagued by the feeling of part of her being dead beyond reach.

Yeah. I could spend thousands of words just trying to describe the devastating power and beauty of this scene, but no matter what words I use or how I phrase it, I’m going to come up short. It’s simply beyond description. Adam is beyond description. You’d think because I literally couldn’t love him more if my life depended on it that I couldn’t be so stunned by new demonstrations of his talent??? But jesus CHRIST. This man is a force that defies comprehension. To my ear, his voice sounded strong but untrained, and that was what made it so heartrendingly magnificent. In the held notes, his voice will crest into the gentlest vibrato as his emotions build, and I couldn’t tell you whether it’s the song that Adam disappears into, or if it’s Adam purposefully weaving every single element at play here into the most moving minutes of performance you’ve ever seen. Either way: The scene will ruin you utterly, and you will love it beyond comprehension.

I know a clip of this scene will certainly hit the internet as soon as the whole film becomes available, but god I almost wish that everyone has to watch it in context with everything that’s come before it. Because knowing every bit that Charlie has suffered along the way, understanding the way his heart is continuously breaking with each of the words-…. God, it’s too much.

Next up on Adam Driver Eviscerates Your Heart And You Thank Him Profusely For It: The scenes where he cries are just as painful as you think they’d be. Probably even more so, because he’s a talented jerk like that who takes no pity on us at all.

The first major crying scene is when he and his lawyer go off into a side room during a break in the first meeting on divorce terms. It’s just dawning on Charlie that Nicole probably has no intent to bring Henry back to New York, and unless Charlie does something serious, Henry might never live there with him again. While the lawyer’s talking, Charlie silently lowers his head, and suddenly the tears just rise up over him. It’s quiet and he only shakes slightly, but god do you feel for him.

The second time is…. lord, yet another moment that’s utterly heartbreaking and yet one of the most beautiful moments of film you’ve ever seen. This is the final scene in the film, and it references back to one of the first, where Charlie and Nicole try to go to a divorce counselor, who requests that they each write down the things they love about the other and then read them aloud. These are the lists each of them voiceover in the trailer and that play at the film’s very beginning. But during this session, Nicole refused to read her list aloud, because she didn’t “like what she wrote.” So Charlie never heard her list about him.

In this final scene, Charlie hears Henry reading something aloud in his bedroom. Henry had been struggling with reading, so Charlie immediately comes in to listen and help him. Charlie sits down on the bed with him, and realizes what it is Henry’s reading. Charlie helps him with the words he can’t pronounce, and then halfway through Henry hands him the list. “You finish reading it, Dad.”

Charlie continues reading the list, and it goes on much longer than the version we heard in Nicole’s voiceover. As Charlie’s reading aloud, Nicole appears in the doorway and begins to listen without Charlie realizing. He manages to read it all relatively evenly… until he reaches the end.

“I fell in love with him…” Charlie stops suddenly, and in an instant his mouth is trembling, the tears are brimming over, and he is fighting desperately to hold back the onslaught of tears in front of his son, even as it overtakes his entire body. Finally, he is able to finish: “I fell in love with him seconds after I saw him, and I’ll always love him. Even if it doesn’t make sense.” In the door, Nicole fights off her own tears.

This film is cinema at its very best. I know this is an incredibly bold statement, but: It just might be Adam’s best role to date.

End Spoilers: Q&A!

I WAS STILL SO STUNNED BY THE SINGING SCENE THAT I ASKED ADAM ABOUT IT AND JUST TO ROUND OUT FROM THE HAND TAKEN VIDEO ABOVE THIS IS THE OFFICIAL ONE AND THAT’S ME YOU CAN JUST BARELY HEAR AT 17:45!!!!!

youtube

CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT HAPPENED??? BECAUSE I CAN’T AND I WAS THERE. BYE I think I’m having an out of body experience taking in the fact that I’m watching this vid of Adam WATCHING ME OMG HE WAS SQUINTING INTO THE AUDIENCE TO SEE ME AND LEANING FORWARD TO HEAR ME SOMEONE HOLD ME I’M WEEPING HE WAS TALKING TO MEASKDFJALKSFJ

Ahem.

From Noah’s comments throughout the panel, it was amazing to hear how much of this movie was truly a collaborative process between him and Adam. In many ways, Noah built this role and film around Adam. He said that he and Adam had focused on the scene of him performing “Being Alive” very early on, and Noah structured the script to work towards that vision. Though he already had the idea of working in themes of performance and theatre, it was Adam’s idea to make Charlie a theatre director. I absolutely love hearing that Noah essentially wanted to make a film where elements of who Adam is in real life or his interests in what he wanted to play in a character were built into the heart of the script.

Someone asked Noah why he likes dysfunctional families so much and he replied “What other kind are there?”

Most of the other things said during the Q&A had already been echoed in other interviews. Plus I sometimes have trouble processing memories while Adam’s talking/standing in front of me because slkdjflsakjfdklsf just taking in the sight of him is a fucking lot to process :’’’’’’’)

“A fucking lot to process” is actually a perfectly apt summary of the day in its entirety! When Sarah and I got back to the hotel, we discovered it had a jacuzzi on the rooftop! That was truly the best soak ever, to soothe away the emotional overload and talk through all of our many, many thoughts on the two stellar films we’d just had the privilege of seeing.

Writing through this entire massive thing was also a huge help to work through all my complex feels about these films. As you might have gathered, I can’t recommend them highly enough. And as you also might suspect – Adam is an absolute force to be reckoned with in both. Seeing two of his most powerful performances ever back to back (and then getting to hear him talk about each in person!) was truly an experience I’ll never forget.

A massive thank you to anyone who persevered through reading all that!! I love writing analyses not only to work through my emotional response to sweeping works like this, but also to remember every bit of the impact. Give it a share if you don’t mind helping a girl out? :) I’m not on twitter at all so it’d be much appreciated!

(...have I mentioned I love Adam and I’m in awe of every single thing he does? Shower this man with Oscars already?!)

#Adam Driver #TIFF #driverdaily #Toronto International Film Festival #The Report #Marriage Story #TIFF 2019

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kiruuuuu · 5 years ago

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Thanks to these two wonderful anons, I finally wrote more recruitverse! Thank you both :) 💗 In this one, they meet Shay’s girlfriend... and as usual, chaos is involved. (Rating T, humour + a whole lot of pining, ~5.1k words)

Meet my recruits! Find the other #recruitverse pieces under the tag or here on my masterpost 💙

Jojo has never seen Ivan Ivanovic this delighted. There are a few things which spark a grim smile, like being complimented on an exercise well done, or offering him food he adores, but nothing so far has managed to plaster a grin this wide and persistent on his stoic Russian face. His joy is contagious, and both Gian and Jojo himself mirror his expression with glee in between silent pointing and suppressed giggles. Even the blasted snake curled up in its tank seems to smile.

On top of Valenti’s forehead, Jojo’s phone comes alive with an alarmingly loud buzz, nearly toppling the group of chess pieces gathered on the display. The other three freeze comically, Ivan mid-step and his foot left hovering uselessly, Gian about to balance a ruler on the Frenchman’s toes and Jojo with his hands in his pockets, looking for his wallet. A few seconds pass. Nothing happens.

Valenti continues to sleep peacefully.

It’s Ivan who breaks out into quiet laughter, slight hysteria colouring his relief, and then they all have to hold on to something to not burst out into Frenchman-waking guffawing. They’re not even sure why Valenti is sleeping like the dead, but they sure as hell are taking advantage. He’s showcasing several stacks of various paraphernalia on all his body parts, the highlight being a literal chair precariously resting on his limbs. Jojo went where the other two didn’t dare and placed one of Shay’s ubiquitous containers of glitter on his friend’s crotch – closed, of course – and at this point they’re struggling to even procure more items to add to the impressive piles.

As Jojo gingerly places his opened wallet on top of one of Gian’s boots, Ivan Ivanovic, the madman himself, begins building a house of cards on the chair’s seat. Now and then, they whisper ideas back and forth and struggle to keep quiet in between the hare-brained suggestions – we could get Ying, was Jojo’s contribution, and Gian: I would like to try to put as many socks on him as possible. Eventually, it became absurd, with ‘an online coupon’, ‘a pottery course’ and ‘a trip to Italy’ marking the point where they had to stop or risk getting too loud.

A bag of water, Shay might’ve suggested, or if we distribute the weight equally, I bet we could put Dante’s tank on him.

But he’s not here, and Jojo isn’t even too sad about this fact. He’s been spending quality time with the other three, learning chess from Valenti, exercising with Ivan, discussing books from their childhood with Gian – they’re a friend group, after all, so he enjoys time alone with any of the four. Besides, when they get going, Shay’s absence is hardly noticeable anyway; Valenti’s and Jojo’s ideas are ridiculous enough and their motivation to set them in motion stronger than Ivan’s silence and Gian’s gentle disapproval. They don’t need him.

Which isn’t at all to say that he’s glad Shay has been frequently meeting up with his girlfriend. Of course not, Shay is wonderful – as wonderful as a good friend can be, in any case. Yet he’s not necessary for their group dynamic. Jojo can wait until the end of the day to share gossip and random events with him, sure. Shay isn’t the only thing that keeps him going each day. He’s not the first person he thinks about after waking up, though he’s usually the first to hear about Jojo’s convoluted dreams, and they usually text a little before drifting off to sleep as to not disturb the others. Even so, he’s not all Jojo can think about. He’s a big oaf, likeable yet with decidedly more stupid moments than any of them, gullible to a fault, easily entertained by pretty much anything – and now he remembers how Shay realised that the yellow flower called dandelion and the fuzzy one he called blowball are one and the same plant, and how amazed he continued to be by this fact for days and then Jojo told him that ‘dandy’ was derived from it as they, like the flower, tended to change their outfits drastically, and Shay actually believed him and excitedly told his sister who was merciful enough -

Gian is looking at him. Maybe because he’s been motionlessly staring at nothing again and Jesus fuck this is a recently acquired habit he could do without.

I don’t even want that much, he thinks and knows it’s untrue, he’s asking for a whole lot without finding the words and should move on. He should. He really, really should.

With a bang, the door to their room flies open, causing their heads to snap towards the two people in the doorway: Shay is unmistakeable, beaming like he won the lottery, and judging by his companion, he did. Brittany is by his side, close enough to touch and displaying a friendly, inviting smile which – to Jojo – looks fake. He recognises her from the endless photos Shay showed him, though she’s shorter in person, less attractive, even plain. If she didn’t use photoshop outright, she must’ve applied a beauty filter of sorts to maybe move her eyes closer together or reduce the size of her nose. Like this, Jojo just can’t see the appeal.

“Howya lads”, Shay addresses them, evidently not having noticed the snoozing Valenti, “this is Brit. What are we doing?”

We. Jojo suppresses a scoff.

Before any of them get a chance to react, there’s movement on top of the bunk bed they’re surrounding, sparking instant panic: Valenti is waking up.

As soon as the Frenchman notices the raccoon socks dangling right in front of his face, he jerks in surprise and sets a domino effect in motion: the chair topples, dragging Jojo’s and Gian’s phones as well as the old-fashioned wall clock they stole from outside with it, and while Ivan skilfully snatches the chair in mid-air before it can crash into Dante’s tank, the clock shatters on the floor (but at least breaking the phones’ fall), prompting another twitch from Valenti and before they can actively think about it, Jojo and Gian are suddenly scrambling to catch the cascade of assorted objects toppling down.

Ivan Ivanovic manages to prevent another catastrophe by grabbing the container of glitter with his free hand, making all of them breathe a sigh of relief.

There’s a small silence once everything has either gone splat on the ground or been cradled safely in their arms. Confusedly, Valenti eyes the mess either still in his bed, in Ivan’s, Gian’s and Jojo’s hands, or littered on the floor. “Are you serious?”, he mutters and yawns heartily. Then, after spotting something in particular: “You used your phones? Please tell me you at least took pictures beforehand.”

“We are no amateurs”, Ivan shoots back and nods to where his smartphone is sticking out of his pocket. “Of course we take pictures.”

“Can I see?”, Brittany bursts out excitedly. She looks way too entertained anyway, as if they’d orchestrated this chaos purely for her sake. “In college, stacking things on sleeping people was my favourite thing. Oh, and writing on them.”

“A classic”, the Russian agrees and readily pulls up his gallery after having set down the chair to show her, “I have photo of writing too somewhere.”

“Don’t show her that”, Valenti protests immediately. “You drew all over my chest, that’s not appropriate!”

“If my memory serves correctly, there was an instance of Shay exhibiting various pro-England slogans”, Gian joins the conversation now too, “proclaiming his undying admiration of the Queen, for example.”

“I told you they’re ruthless”, Shay dejectedly addresses the only woman among them, making her chuckle and quietly urge Ivan to show her said photos as well.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you lot!”, she erupts once more, apparently remembering where she is. “I’ve heard so much about all of you. Please call me Brit.”

And thus commences the general Fawning Over A Female. It’s a ritual Jojo has witnessed countless times in his life and as time progressed, it only became more sickening. Beginning with a funny introduction – nothing major, either a self-deprecating detail (I’m generally responsible for the trouble we end up in) or an allusion to an anecdote (I threw him over fence, don’t know if you have heard story) –, then followed up by desperately trying to include her into the group (Shay briefly mentioned a potential interest in video games, would you be willing to dare an attempt at playing some time soon?). Her laughter is suddenly more contagious than the plague, and there’s no doubt she’s drinking in all this attention lavished onto her like an alcoholic.

The lack of girls among the Rainbow recruits must’ve gotten to them. Even Ivan Ivanovic is being courteous, there’s no other word for it. Boot-licking maybe. If you can even call knock-off Uggs boots. Valenti is going cross-eyed with how much he’s trying not to ogle her and even Gian of all people seems dead set on winning her over.

Pitiful.

“Yeah, hi, I’m Jojo”, he interrupts her before she can get the words out (and it took her long enough to turn to him, the only guy in the room not beaming at her like a lunatic), “and I got a mess to clean up.” With that, he turns away to pick up the shit off the floor which Valenti kicked everywhere. He’s not known for tidying up, especially not voluntarily, but no one bats an eye.

After all, he’s not known for flirting with girls, either.

Brit hardly counts as a woman; with her freakishly large eyes, overdone expressions and exuberant behaviour, she’s infantile. Pretty? Maybe. Perhaps under all that make-up not so much. But pretty enough to melt his friends’ brains. She’s delighted over that stupid snake and pretends like nothing’s more interesting than hearing all about Valenti’s piano lessons, and they’re eating it up as if she was a date they snagged despite never expecting to.

Then, all of a sudden, something dawns on him. Something which has him freeze instantly and turn back to the giggling posse.

“How did you get in?”, he asks loudly, not bothering to apologise to an irritated-looking Valenti for talking over him.

Abruptly, the noise dies down. They get what he’s asking – except for Shay, whose grey cells might’ve been sucked out of him by this doll and dear fucking God, that’s a mental image for which Jojo only has himself to blame. “She parked outside and we walked in”, Shay clarifies, pointing in a seemingly random direction. “By the skip, you know. Why?”

Gian looks positively horrified. “They – they merely allowed you entry?”

The happy couple exchanges a glance, nonplussed. “Yeah? I mean, they know me.”

“What did you say you worked as? A waitress?”, Jojo can’t help but ask with a sickly sweet smile. “Shay, you fucking moron, you brought a waitress into an SAS base. She’s a civ!”

“Oh, is that what this is?”, Brittany clarifies cheerfully. “I was wondering about all the security.”

Jojo’s no longer wondering why these two airheads ended up together. By now, he’s only clueless as to how they found each other at all with how much they’re bumbling through life. “Yeah, you gotta go. Your man’s getting eviscerated if they find you.”

Despite the shocked faces around her, she’s still perky. “Ah, it’s not going to be that bad.”

Valenti pulls a face which Jojo feels in his guts. “If you think that, you can’t be very aware of our reputation.”

And this is when they suddenly notice boots stomping down the hall. Familiar boots. On the way to their room.

“Goodbye cruel yet magnificent world”, Gian mutters, already accepted his fate, whereas Shay and Jojo exchange a single glance – enough to ensure they’re on the same page. Which hurts. Despite all the mayhem and impending doom, Jojo has the brain capacity left to realise he’s never been this in tune with anyone else he’s ever met.

They grab the nearest blanket – Valenti’s, causing even more items to topple to the floor – and hold it up in front of Brit and Ivan, trapping them between two bunk beds yet shielding them from the door. Well, to be exact, it’s only Brittany who can’t be spotted anymore. Ivan’s eyes are still peeking over the edge.

Sledge barges in without so much as a knock (which is fair enough as it’d only give them more time to hide any evidence), and finding himself in front of five recruits staring at him, unmoving, doesn’t seem to quell his suspicions. Oddly enough. “Which one of you clogged the showers?”, he barks as a greeting and Jojo doesn’t even get that usual pang of I wonder if he orders Maestro around like this at home. He doesn’t know when the Scot’s broad frame became less attractive than gangly limbs and a crooked grin.

“First of all, I find it very disrespectful to assume it was one of us”, Valenti starts with as much indignation as he can muster while nearly shaking in his boots, “you can’t just default to us every time something goes wrong, it’s unfair and -”

“Shut up, Jean.” The Frenchman’s mouth snaps shut. “Who was it?” Sheepishly, Gian, Jojo and Valenti raise their hands. “Bloody knew it. If it’s not in mint condition by supper, you won’t be getting any. Now drop the blanket and let me see what else you broke.”

“Ivan’s indecent”, Shay quickly butts in, earning himself a withering glare. There’s movement now, and instead of standing stock still, Brit is sliding under one of the beds while trying to make as little noise as possible.

“Come on. Let me see, lads.” They manage to dodge Sledge’s hands until he eventually rips the duvet out of theirs to face the explosion caused by Valenti’s awakening earlier. The Scot eyes the mess suspiciously. “That’s it?”

“I really was indecent”, Ivan replies, deadpan. “We were comparing. Would you like to -”

Sledge’s face contorts in vague horror. “God no. I’ve heard enough. I better not catch any of you causing more trouble for a week, there’s only so much nonsense I’m willing to take.”

With that, he storms off, leaving them to gather around an extremely dusty-looking Brit with cobwebs in her glossy brown hair. Her muted expression soothes something in Jojo.

“Now we just have to get you out of here and we’re good”, Shay announces, sounding hopeful and pointedly ignoring the disbelieving looks of his friends. “Got any ideas, lads?”

The Frenchman is the only one looking contemplative instead of bleak. “I might have one.”

“Do we, uh”, Valenti begins hesitantly, fidgeting when attentive eyes shift over to him, “do we have blueprints of Hereford? Somewhere? Just out of curiosity? Maybe you’ve heard of a secret passageway to the Outside? A path theoretically possible but no one dares to use it?”

Jäger examines them, visibly fighting a smile. They approached the German engineer for no other reason than his involvement in their highly successful weapon of Christ-mass destruction and the fact that he didn’t rat them out, quite the opposite. They’ve discussed alternatives, a conversation Brittany followed with increasing entertainment, and decided against Smoke and Mute despite their love for mischief and support for anything threatening Sledge’s and Thatcher’s composure: the two are simply too unreliable and would indubitably sell them out for a Curly Wurly. There’s no love lost between any recruit and most of Rainbow, and the operators who do actually care about them are the ones who’d chastise them for causing any kind of trouble.

So they’ve snuck into the workshop, hoping their usual invisibility works in their favour.

“Gustave told me not to interact with you five anymore”, Jäger replies, though his lowered voice implies the opposite. “But you seem very polite. And reasonably desperate. Why do you ask?”

“We might be wanting to smuggle something out”, Jojo explains. It’s odd to talk to his fellow countryman in English and not his mother tongue, but he vividly remembers the previous time he tried to converse with Bandit in German. If he’d thought the man’s swearing and threats couldn’t get any worse than what he produces in English, he was sorely mistaken.

“Like what?”

Girlfriends, Jojo thinks. “Live cargo?”, he offers. Shay pulls a face.

“Oh. Did you adopt a stray animal?”

When he makes a pensive expression, he earns an elbow between his ribs. “Listen. We can’t talk about it. Can you help us?”

“Not without seriously upsetting my boyfriend, no. I’m already on thin ice after I accidentally helped Dom spike the afternoon coffee.”

That’s fair enough, thinks Jojo. So maybe they need something more… straightforward. He suddenly has an idea.

“Is it theoretically possible to use a trebuchet to catapult someone?”, Jojo wants to know interestedly and almost regrets asking the moment Mira’s face lights up.

“Of course! Do you have one at the ready or would you need to construct one first?”

The five of them exchange uncertain glances, so the Spaniard enthusiastically begins sketching out all the materials needed, complete with dimensions and tools. In fact, it’s a tad concerning how easily she outlines all the necessary steps and has Jojo wonder about her past – this sort of thing seems to come naturally to her. Engrossed, they follow her instructions with nods and mental notes and eventually accept the several sheets of construction paper with elaborate thanks. Consulting her was Jojo’s idea and he based it on Mira’s helpfulness and general spirit when it came to building… anything, really.

“Now have fun and don’t be afraid to use your hands. Making things is incredibly rewarding. Good luck!” It doesn’t seem to bother her that she can’t even remember their names as she’s too focused on a task well done. Before they can turn around, however, she stops them with a last afterthought: “Wait – you didn’t need the person to survive being launched, did you?”

Before Shay even has the opportunity to get more upset than he already is, Ivan speaks up: “Never mind. I have idea.”

Kapkan is sharpening a knife, with Fuze next to him cleaning a gun. The two Russians raised their gazes the moment they stepped outside and haven’t lowered them since, favouring a cold hard stare to intimidate over inspecting their own handiwork, which admittedly ends up being flawless despite the lack of attention. Otherwise, the two of them are unmoving.

Four of their expressions basically scream this is the worst fucking idea and only Ivan Ivanovic seems at ease. He nods curtly as a greeting and receives likewise, but when the rest of them attempt an equally cool gesture, they’re scrutinised even more closely as a result. Jojo is genuinely anxious; being in the same room as any other Spetsnaz always causes an uncomfortable itching just below his skin. Except for Ivan, of course.

“Why are we here again?”, Valenti whispers while trying to hide behind Shay, and winces when Kapkan’s eyes flick over to him.

“Guard on entry”, Ivan says, clearly not beating around the bush, “who is it today?”

The two operatives glance at each other. “Perkins”, Fuze replies, and Kapkan adds: “Pain in the ass. Why?”

“He could have accident. Two minutes.”

Holy fucking shit. Jojo feels all colour drain from his cheeks.

“Yes, he could have”, Kapkan concurs. “But it would cause a lot of attention. Potentially. Sounds like it’s not worth it.”

“It is”, Ivan emphasises and that’s the moment Valenti finally snaps out of his disbelieving stupor and drags the Russian away while muttering what could be either French swearwords or a bread recipe, Jojo isn’t sure.

“Thanks anyway!”, he yells over his shoulder as he quickly follows the others, their ranks breaking down more with every passing second. “No hard feelings! We won’t tell!”

“I cannot shake the feeling that this has ensured our demise”, Gian mumbles and Shay, just as pale as Jojo feels, simply nods.

“To be honest, I don’t mind spending some more time with this cutie”, Brittany waves off Shay’s concern the moment they’re back in their room. “I’ve never even touched a snake and Dante is a real gentleman, so don’t worry about me.”

“Are you out of your mind?”, Valenti hisses in the background, audibly furious. “No matter whether Perkins is a piece of shit, he’s SAS and we’d be dead meat!”

“They would have tied together shoelaces”, Ivan unsuccessfully tries to appease him. “Or something like it. Better idea than hoping Hereford is Hogwarts, with secret tunnel.”

The Frenchman turns a lovely shade of dark red which almost matches his scarf. “Really? You call involving the Russian mob a better idea? At least I didn’t try to turn her into ammunition!”

“Hey, no need to lash out just because you didn’t get your letter when you turned ten”, Jojo chimes in, feeling his own annoyance spike.

“My suggestion was reasonable at least and wouldn’t have ended with her splattering into giblets.”

Thankfully, Gian steps in before the two of them can get into yet another shouting match: “May I propose the simple yet effective art of social engineering?”

Oh. This sounds like it could actually go somewhere.

“But we already talked to Jäger”, Shay speaks up, confused, and Jojo doesn’t know whether to hug or laugh at him.

“A tried and tested example of this involves carrying a ladder into various establishments”, Gian explains. “The key is to seem so average, everyone else’s eyes glide right past.”

Shay is still frowning. “Don’t call her average.”

“Darling -”, Jojo begins to set him straight, but is interrupted by Brit: “No, he just wants me to carry a ladder.”

It’s immensely satisfying to have Ivan raise an eyebrow and then, very quietly, murmur into Jojo’s general direction: “Match made in a very chaotic heaven.”

“Fairly sure we can find a recruit’s uniform that fits her”, Valenti picks up Gian’s idea and has the happy couple react with an intrigued ohh.

“Doesn’t look too bad”, Jojo decides as he inspects the sixth recruit in their group. Brit is noticeably too thin and the make-up peeking out through the holes in the balaclava aren’t reassuring, but she might just pass. “Are you a decent liar?”

“About as good as I am”, Shay replies in her stead, prompting the others to exchange glances clearly spelling out we’re doomed.

“In that case, just don’t talk. Leave it to us. If you’d be forced to answer, maybe pretend you don’t understand English.”

“Why can’t I be mute?”, she asks, making Shay shake his head.

“He’s much taller than you are, Brit, that would never work.”

Bless him. To hell and back. This is the same guy Jojo trusts with his life, and he knows Shay would never let him down in a mission. Yet he’s so child-like in the most charming way, wide-eyed and curious, gullible and excitable. And, at times, really really dim. Not that it matters as their continued survival rests in his girlfriend’s hands right now, and she still doesn’t seem to have grasped the severity of the situation. While Jojo isn’t sure of the repercussions to inviting a civ unannounced, they can’t be great, especially with their history of either demolishing or disrespecting anything that’s not nailed down (and even some of what actually is).

Trying to appear nonchalant, they saunter through the corridor like they belong, naturally crowding around Brittany so it’s less obvious she has no idea where she’s going and hoping they don’t meet too many eagle-eyed operators. Female recruits are few and far between, so it’s indeed possible someone like Montagne or Doc, who interact with them often enough, would raise an eyebrow.

Fortunately, the first person they run into is Rook. Not only is he well-known for being sociable and friendly, he’s also comfortable with English and French only. Brit can easily claim being Russian and avoid any questioning with a thick accent.

“Hey, guys”, Rook greets them cheerfully. “Who’s your extra? A new recruit?”

“Yes, but unfortunately her English skills aren’t -”, Gian begins just as the masked woman blurts out: “Ah oui, pardonnez-moi, je suis française.”

Oh.

Well.

The panic in her eyes is visible as Rook, delighted, starts babbling to her in rapid French before Valenti replies with a few curt sentences and then drags her with him accompanied by excuses as loud as they are insincere.

So far, the plan is working beautifully.

“I’ve never met an American who could speak French!”, Brittany whispers in her own defence as they leave the building. “I thought it was a safe bet.”

“You have something more exotic?”, Ivan wants to know. They’re not far from the gate now, with a bit of luck they’ll make it.

And then they’re greeted by another familiar voice, a voice at which Gian’s ears perk up almost visibly. If there was ever the equivalent of a friendship crush, this would be it – Gian would give his right arm to be able to bask in this man’s presence, which says a lot as the ginger makes sure not to play favourites. But Castle? Castle is his celebrity. Castle is to him what Sledge is to the rest of them.

Unfortunately, Castle is also well-armed when it comes to languages.

Jojo already sees himself ejected straight out of Rainbow as soon as Castle realises the new recruit in their midst is a fraud, which will be incoming in a second or two, as soon as Brit chooses Spanish or maybe German or even Latin -

What comes out of her mouth, however, is nothing Jojo has ever heard. It sounds so unfamiliar that his heart soars, even if there’s a shred of doubt still – it’s so foreign she might as well have made it up despite how confident she seems. It’s perfect. Whatever it is, maybe Arabic or Nigerian, who knows, will definitely throw Castle for a loop.

His confidence lasts for all of a heartbeat. Because the operator, momentarily baffled, responds in the same odd vernacular.

To everyone’s bewilderment, Brit doesn’t seem to mind as she continues, exchanging a few phrases with an increasingly jolly Castle and then waving goodbye before strutting off towards freedom, leaving the boys at her heels.

“That wasn’t Korean”, Valenti mutters. “What did you -”

“I can’t believe it”, Shay pants, and for once, he’s breathless, “you speak Klingon?!”

“You do too?! buy’qu’ ngop!”

Holy shit. Jojo isn’t sure whether his eyes can roll any further into his skull. This is so fucking in character for everyone involved he should’ve seen it coming a mile away.

While the two nerds continue gushing, to Valenti and Gian’s amusement and Jojo’s frustration, Ivan Ivanovic breaks off from the group, in the direction of the small office by the gate.

“I will tie shoelaces together”, he announces quietly.

That evening, when they’re all huddled together for warmth in one of their secret hideouts – the attic of one of Hereford’s practise houses –, the atmosphere feels different. Where just a week ago, Shay would’ve spent several hours typing on his phone, wholly engrossed in whichever inane conversation he was having with his paramour, today he’s much more involved. Not that he’s participating in the impromptu Smash Bros. tournament Valenti put together on the spot as soon as Ivan mentioned being able to beat him (though neither of them have ever touched the game prior to this), but at least he’s looking up whenever one of them hoots. Now and then, he relays Brit’s opinions about the evening, making most of them laugh: once they’d successfully jailbroken her, they all went to a nearby café to allow for some time to pass (and the poor barista thought she was getting robbed for a moment). Brittany must’ve really enjoyed herself nonetheless, inquired some more about Dante and those ‘weird polyglot Americans’.

Yes, Shay’s attention is slowly shifting back to them now that both bubbles have come into contact, and he’s probably hoping they’ll merge with time. Valenti and Gian seem relieved by this change, they must’ve missed him too, whereas Ivan Ivanovic is his usual inscrutable self. He gave nothing away, though he must’ve noticed Jojo has bummed quite a lot of cigarettes off him recently.

Jojo hates it.

He hates the way Shay’s entire face lights up when Gian comments on one of Brit’s remarks, hates how the others have just… accepted her. Because it doesn’t involve him. He didn’t fall for her womanly charm and he seems to be the only one who’s not picking up what she’s putting down. The others laugh and it almost feels like an attack. If he wants to keep being a part of this group, he has to like her, it implies. He better make an effort.

Even if he really doesn’t want to.

“Shay”, he addresses his former best friend during a brief lull, “how come you didn’t contribute any ideas earlier?”

The idiot either hasn’t noticed Jojo’s gloomy mood or has chosen to ignore it graciously. His smile is genuine, like someone whose faith in his so-called best friend is unshaken, and Jojo’s heart throbs. “Honestly, I was so happy about her being here that I didn’t even think. At all.”

“That is utterly endearing”, Gian replies, and Valenti goes awww and Jojo thinks: I’m gonna throw up in my mouth.

After Valenti has K.O.’d Ivan using Jigglypuff (something about which he’ll brag for at least a year), Jojo requests another cigarette break and only narrowly resists asking for a hug first thing when cold air hits them. The Russian is watching him closely, probably expecting an outburst of some kind and normally wouldn’t be far off. But Jojo’s feeling too pathetic to conjure up his trademark anger, and so they stand in silence for a while. “Is it just me or is she a bit of a slag?”, Jojo eventually bursts out when he can’t take it anymore.

Ivan isn’t smiling now. He takes his time answering. “Just you”, he says calmly.

“So you want to get into her undies as well, Ivanko?” The silence stretches on long enough so Jojo can berate himself mentally for voicing his thoughts out loud.

“No. She is nice. I like her.” The simplicity of his statements drives home just how true they are. With a pointed look, he adds: “We all do.”

And this we, again, doesn’t include Jojo.

#rainbow six siege #recruitverse #fanfic #jojo you biased idiot don't be so harsh #also I watched the great british bake off and basically imagined alice from season 10 for brit #just as lovely and all over the place #I have a gameplan for the next parts but god knows when I'll get around to writing them

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fuckyallbitches · 4 years ago

Text

Hey Dante

I feel like a black cat sometimes, like I’m only bad luck

All my friends and family always stress over dumb shit

Grandmother’s losing her mind, not sure there’s any wit

I wanna be able to solve every single problem in the way

Dumbasses are always trying to fuck everything up for us

After stabbing in the back they act like we’re the bad guys

Goddamn, does it always gotta be their shit everyone buys

After dealing with all the retarded shit I have tried to kill myself

Sometimes I think that I was cursed by someone, I fear that

The worst has to always happen when I’m near, I just wanna go

Why after all that they help me while I’ve sunk so fucking low

I’m sick of what others put others through ‘cause they’re pissed

Hey Dante, did you write me into your inferno

Hey Dante, did you write those I love in so

Hey Dante, I swear up and down you did too

Hey Dante, hey Dante, hey Dante

All the mind games gaslighting, I hate manipulation

People will try to fuck you up to get what they want

Hate when people frame others then tease and taunt

Bet our names are written on the gates that lead to Hell

I wonder why I always have to worry so much, it kills me

Like how it’s always to the liars making good guys look bad

People listen to negative shit, when proven wrong they’re mad

Nice people can betray and assholes can be the loyal ones here

Let’s not forget about the unpredictability of our futures here

The constant inconsistencies that plague our lives so much

Those committing crimes could be anywhere, anyone as such

Getting attached and trusting too ‘cause I don’t wanna be ruined

Hey Dante, did you write them in the inferno in scripture

Hey Dante, does the text you wrote even also include her

Hey Dante, from your inferno is there any available cure

Hey Dante, hey Dante, hey Dante

I hate people, they give me anxiety so I avoid them dude

I hate how people make others feel like a waste of space

Sickening when others don’t know their motherfucking place

I’m kinda sure I lost my mind but it doesn’t need to be found

Sorry not sorry, I’m also trying to put things blunt as possible

Sometimes I wonder how few brain cells that other people own

Stupidity is so popular in society and it’s so commonly shown

I’m sick and tired of living in fear of all kinds of bullshit like fear

Fuck you and your damning inferno, it causes bitches pain

I’m tired of those who make me feel like I have got insanity

I’m sick of you causing hell because I’m pissed at the pity

I wanna die right now, I’m just so sick of waiting and failing

#song #lyrics #dante #hell #dantes inferno #fuck you #im pissed #family and friends #bad shit #worst luck #when im around

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whumptasticwednesday · 5 years ago

Text

The Mind Of A Mutt (Hunger Games - Mockingjay)

Alright guys, As promised, Whumptastic Wednesday has returned.

Just some background, this fanfic takes place during Mocking Jay Part One. I do reference some stuff from the books that weren't in the movie, so if you haven't read the books and you are confused, then read the damn books because they are incredible (AND VERY WHUMPY!!!) That’s all for now. Please enjoy, and don’t forget to give me some feedback. I would love to know what you guys think.

-Jimmy

Word Count- 2,299

Warings- violence

The cold floor of the cell sends goosebumps crawling up my arms. My hairs stand on edge, and every couple seconds my whole body twitches. The tracker jacker venom runs thick through my veins from the last "session." That's what they call them: President Snow and his team of doctors and nurses. Their only objective is to keep me alive long enough to torture me, to damage my brain and fill my head with artificial memories meant to brake me. Day in and day out, they show me pictures of Katniss, her voice rings through my head as they beat me. I have violent hallucinations of her doing unspeakable things to me. I feel every second of it. Why can't they kill me? Send my conscious mind into a desolate never-ending state of nothingness, because that's too easy. Nothing in the capital is easy. That's why twenty-four kids are sent to the Hunger Games every year. Because somewhere in Snow's sick distorted perception of reality, watching kids slaughter each other and celebrating the victors whos lives will be forever plagued with nightmares and flashbacks, is the only way to keep the districts in line. The only way to hold off the rebellion. Well, not anymore.

Katniss is the rebellion, the Mockingjay, and President Coin has got her. She's the reason I'm tortured in a cell in the capital. Katniss is the rebellions weapon, and I'm the capitals weapon. The only difference is never-ending suffering experienced by those saved by the capital. They are turning me into a Mutt, wearing me down little by little till I snap. Until my mind reaches depths of madness incomprehensible by a sain human. This issue is, it's working. Every day I feel my self becoming angrier and angrier. With every injection, every beating, every drop of my blood spilt, my anger grows. I can feel it festering in the back of my mind.

I try to sit up, but my arms feel week and numb. My vision begins to look fuzzy, and my eyelids feel heavy. The black polished shoes of President Snow standing in front of me is the last thing I can remember before I finally let my eye's close. In seconds I'm overtaken by sleep.

I inhale sharply as my eye's shoot open. Where am I? How long was I out? My breathing quickens as I try to move. My arms and legs are strapped into a chair. My heart begins to rase in my chest as I thrash violently, trying to escape.

"Don't struggle," I shoot my head up. President Snow is standing in front of me, two doctors wearing all white at his side. "You will only make it worse."

I grit my teeth. I've been here before. I know what's going to happen. I'm so tired, so fucking tired.

"Please." I plea, hot tears well up in my eyes. "Please, not again. I can't take this anymore." My voice cracks as I look up at President Snow. His cold face is unnerving. His dead stare sends a shiver down my spine. He nods, signaling to the doctors that its time. The doctors in their clean white coats approach me. I close my eye's, hoping that maybe if I think hard enough, this might all have just been a bad dream. I could wake up in a cold sweat, next to Katniss in our house in the victor's village. We could spend the morning talking about my nightmare like we always do when one of us has a distressing dream.

The prick of the IV being inserted into my arms knocks me back to reality. Reminds me that I'm not in my bed, I'm strapped to a chair in the capital, and I'm definitely not dreaming. I hold my breath as a cold liquid fills my veins. Suddenly my head feels like it's a thousand pounds. I let gravity do the work as my head goes limp against my chest. All at once, my ears begin to ring, louder, and louder, and louder. I squeeze my eyes shut. I think my eardrums might burst. I bring my knees to my chest and my hands to my ears, my throat letting out a blood-curdling scream. As abruptly as it began, it was over. Replaced with a silence that's equally as uncomfortable. I open my eyes, my arms and legs are free, I'm not in the capital anymore, I'm in the cave, from the first games. I prop my self up on my elbows; I look down, my wound is as bad as ever. Blood and pus seep out of the jagged cut — my whole body aches. Sweat drips down my face, and I have to bite my lip to stop from screaming.

"K-Katness," I pant, the pain is worse than the first time I experienced it. "Katn-ness, p-p-please!" I call out, where is she? Why isn't she here with me? Abruptly she appears beside me.

"I've brought you a treat. I found a patch of berries a little farther downstream" she says, brushing the hair from out of my face. Not again, I am not falling for this trick again. Katniss brings a spoonful of the mashed berries up to my mouth. This time they look different. Not red, and they don't smell like the sleeping syrup my mom used to give me. The mash is jet black. NightLock. Katniss is trying to kill me. I back away, dragging the lower half of my body with my arms. A malignant smile creeps onto Katness' face as she traps my neck under her arm. I choke and scream, trying to kick her off of me.

"Shhhhhhh, it will be over before you know it," She whispers, prying my jaw open like its nothing. I cringe as the sour taste of the nightlock berries hit my tongue. I heave as Katniss lifts her arm from off my throat. My relief is short-lived as she instantaneously clamps her hand over my mouth and plugs my nose. "This doesn't have to be difficult. One swallow. One swallow and all this pain will be over."

Nightlock, dead before it even hits your stomach, I remember. I fight underneath her. My lungs burn; they are screaming at me for oxygen. Black spots start the cloud my vision. I'm going to die. Whether that's from asphyxiation, or nightlock was my choice. I finally give in. My throat burns as I swallow. Katniss releases her hands from over my mouse and nose, and I gag and choke. My limbs start to feel heavy; the world around me begins to spin. I can see Katniss mouthing words to me. Why can't I hear her? I can feel her brush my hair out of my face. The pain I once felt begins to splinter away into a raw numbness. Soon the only thing I can discern is my heartbeat. Slow and unnatural. Like the heartbeat of a mutt.

Catching me off guard, the pounding in my ears begins to quicken. As I come back to my senses, I can hear my self gasping for breath. My vision returns soon after my hearing. I see the world speeding past me. More specifically, I see trees speeding past as I sprint through the forest. I feel like I'm not in control of my body. My lungs are on fire, and my muscles feel like they are threatening to snap. But I keep running. Suddenly my head shoots backward, and I know all too well what I'm running from. Mutts. A huge wolf-like creature is sprinting close behind me. But there is something different. I remember the mutts who chased after me in the first games. How could I forget? But this wolf was different, but at the same time... familiar. The smooth brown coat and piercing stern green eyes were all I had to see. This mutt was Katniss. Similar to the wolfs the capital made from the dead tributes in the first games. Katniss was hunting me. And I bet anything, that one stumble, and she wouldn't hesitate to rip me limb from limb. The forest floor becomes a minefield of sticks, rocks, and other things I can't identify given my current situation, but would undoubtedly lead to my inevitable demise if I were unable to avoid them. I feel in control of my body again. The first thing I notice is that the adrenaline that kept me running fast enough to stay ahead of the mutt has warn off. I'm starting to fall behind. Humans weren't built for this kind of physical exertion — my whole body cramps with every wheeze of my exasperated lungs. I feel my eyes begin to roll back into my head. My brain feels like static. Any minute my body is going betray me. I'm knocked back to reality as my foot gets caught on a rock, sending me tumbling down the steep hill. A scream tears through me as the mutt's teeth sink into my leg, dragging me down the hill. Blood smears the dirt behind me as the wolf finally slows down, stopping in the middle of the forest. Pained sobs erupt from deep within my chest. I scream through clenched teeth as the mutt's jaw opens, releasing teeth that were buried deep within my leg. Without warning, it lunges at me, teeth showing, ropes of drool cascading down its chin. I hear a sickening crunch as it jumps on me with all its weight. Hot tears spill down my cheeks as blood bubbles up my throat, leaking out my mouth. I kick and thrash, trying to release my self from under its weight, but I'm too weak. It snarls and snaps at me. I put up my arms in defense, trying to cover my face. Within minutes, my arms are a blood bath. Full of bite marks and cuts. I wail as the rabid dog rips me to pieces. I begin to lose feeling in my limbs, and my vision starts wavering in and out. I'm too weak to defend my self. Deep lacerations scatter my body. It's Tearing into me like I'm nothing but it's next meal. All the while, I stare into its eyes. Katniss' eyes. I feel my mind begin to deteriorate. Please end this. Please end me. I can't take this anymore. My body slowly slips into an empty numbness; this feeling isn't new. This is how most of my hallucinations end, with a numb body and a broken mind. My vision abandoned me a long while ago. Leaving me alone with my thoughts. It's hard to describe how I feel in these moments. When my body is numb and my brain has shut off anyway for me to identify where I am or what's going to happen next. My mind is in such a drug-induced haze; it's forgotten how to perceive the world around me. My eye suddenly shift as sporadic visions of Katniss and Gale flash into my brain. No, please, no. Like my own private movie under my eyelids, I watch Katniss and Gale laughing and smiling as they touch each other in a lust-filled haze. Please make it stop. Every touch, every kiss, fuels a fire buried deep within me. I can feel jealousy brewing in the pit of my stomach. This isn't real. I try to distract my mind, but the hallucinations win every time. I can't stop them. They start to get faster, flashing in and out of my mind like strobe lights. I see visions of my mom, of my family. Of the bombing of District Twelve. I watch as bombs rip them apart — peacekeepers making sure to put a bullet in the heads of anyone who survived the initial explosion. I feel sick to my stomach. My brain is moving at a mile a minute. This isn't real. I repeat it over and over in my mind. Start simple; start with what you know is true. My name is Peeta Malark. My home is District Twelve. I was in the Hunger Games. Katniss was saved. I was left behind.

My eye's open. Fluorescent lights blind me. Where am I. My arms and legs aren't strapped down? I look down; I'm wearing a clean white hospital gown. I look up. A group of people wearing gray jumpsuits are conversing around a clipboard. District thirteen is written on the back. I'm not in the capital anymore. They saved me.

"Should we bring her in?"

Their voices are muffled; I can almost make out what they're saying.

"Are you sure he's ready?"

My head begins to pound, and I lay back down on the bed. Coving my eye's with my hands, taking deep breaths. I'm processing a lot right now. I feel adrift of cool air as the door to the room opens. Looking up, suddenly im staring into those familiar green eye's. I feel my chest begin to swell with anger. My mind flashes back to everything that happened to me in the capital. All the pain I endured. All that emotion, all that damage, it's all because of Katniss. I looked into her eye's as she stabbed me, kicked me, mauled me, drugged me, burned me, killed me. I let my anger control me as I lurch forward, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her down onto the porcelain floor. The look of shock and horror spreading across her face only makes my desire to watch the life drain from her powerless body grow. Hot tears stream down my face. I don't want to kill her. But the resentment I feel needs an outlet. I don't know how to stop it. The need to strangle her feels compulsive. Just a side-effect of a damaged mind. The mind of the capitals weapon. The mind of a Mutt.

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pancake4848 · 6 years ago

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Too Soon

Female version of chapter 1 blue exorcist x male reader!

Everything felt…. Light. (Y/N) couldn’t see anything. Her body felt like a feather, almost like she didn’t even have one. ‘What is this? Where… ‘ (Y/N) trails off as she hears a dull muffle, the sound soft but faint.

‘Someone’s speaking, what are they saying? They sound… angry..’ The sound grew louder, hearing it ring in her ears.She tried to make sense of the muffles, but it was as if she was underwater. She tried to move but found no success. She couldn’t feel her body.

(Y/N) began to panic, confused as to why her senses were gone. The moment her panicked thoughts began to grow so did the voice. A few more voices joined, and chaos ensued.

But just as quick as the voices grew, everything stopped. The light was gone, replaced with a deep darkness. She couldn’t see anything but could now feel her body. She flexed her fingers, her breaths uneven. She felt her feet on the ground but looking down she saw nothing but black. (Y/N) saw her bare feet seemingly on flat ground, her brain having trouble making sense of any of this. “Where am I..?” Her shaken voice echoed off invisible walls.

Whispers. (Y/N)’s head whips around, looking around with fear as she hears quiet whispers echoing around her. Her hands reached up towards her head, covering her ears as they grew in numbers.

“Stop…” (Y/N) weakly whispers with her eyes screwed shut.

“I said stop!” She shouts into the dark abyss, silencing the low chorus of whispers. She slowly opens her eyes, staring down at her feet. Color drains from her face, seeing a red glow shine on her legs. Her breathing became uneven as her hands trembled. Her mind begged him to not look, fearing for what would be revealed. Her eyes slowly inch up from her feet to meet two glowing red orbs, the eyes pierced her soul, a chill running down her spine. Her heartbeat races, creating a harsh thumping in her ears. Sharp glistening white teeth stretched into a sickening grin, giving her awful images of how they could easily rip her body to shreds.

(Y/N) trembles before the creature as it began to let out a spine-chilling laugh, her mind screaming at her to move but found her body frozen in place once again. The creature made steps for her, their sadistic laugh growing in volume before lunging for the female.

“No!!”

(Y/N) bolts up into a sitting position, her chest heaving while her eyes were wide open. Sweat shined on her (S/C) skin and dampened the roots of her (H/C) locks, is hands gripping tight to the heated sheets beneath her. Her eyes strained in the dark to scan the room, searching for the red eyed beast that taunted her mind. (Y/N) looks down to her hands, releasing the sheets to run a shaky hand through her hair.

Once relaxed a soft groan rumbled in her throat, pulling her legs over the edge of her bed and letting her feet make contact with the cool flooring. The teen looks towards her desk, seeing the bright red blocky numbers of her alarm clock which displayed 7:48 AM. (Y/N) willed herself to stand to her feet, scratching the side of her neck while she moved towards his door. She definitely needed a shower. Both to relax her muscles and to wash away the now cooled off sweat adorning her skin.

(Y/N) was glad that her father was gone at work because she didn’t know if she could come up with a lie as to why she looked like she ran a marathon and why she had shouted ‘no’ in his room. She scratches her head a bit, glancing at her father’s door before turning into the bathroom.

She was met with her reflection when she flips the light switch on, now able to see her physical appearance. Slight bags under his eyes, bedhead hair matted together by sweat and pale skin to bring out her tired eyes.

Dreams like this have been going on for quite some time, starting just the beginning of last year. First it was a onetime thing, one nightmare thought to never come back again. That was until three months later she had a different but related dream. Nightmares soon became frequent, telling her father about it once or twice but never telling what her dream was about. She figured she should keep it to herself, hoping they would go away eventually.

‘A year later and they’re still here...’ (Y/N) sighs through her nose and began to take off her clothes, ready for her shower before work.

She only worked on weekends, the only time she had off due to classes. What irked her was that her father worked every day of the week, weekends included. Being an accountant, (Y/N) didn’t understand why he wouldn’t have any sort of days off however she never questioned it, thinking that was the harsh adult life.

A nice calming shower later, (Y/N) emerges from the bathroom while drying her damn (H/C) locks from any water. She quickly changes into her work clothes, grabbing her wallet phone and keys before rushing downstairs. She planned to head straight out the door until a small orange note caught her attention from the corner of her eye. She glanced over, reaching towards the small paper to pluck it off the fridge.

“I’ll be back earlier tonight than usual, work let me off early. Make sure to eat and if you do not eat then don’t think I won’t find out young lady. Love dad.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the note but a small smile growing on her lips. She figured she would eat once she got to the store. ‘At least dad will be back earlier.’

————

(Y/N) opens the door to the small store causing a soft little bell to go off, announcing her presence. A few people were inside looking around and she could see two of her coworkers were still there.

“(Y/N)! About damn time! Thought you might have been dead.” (Y/N) snickers to hear the voice of Bill, another teen who was a good few years older than her.

“Oh shut up I’m on time!” (Y/N) strolls over behind the counter and hung her bag on a few hooks for the employees. She plops down onto a stool, watching and Bill helped out a customer at the cashier a few feet next to her. There was another woman, Lisa, in her mid-thirties who also worked there, always fixing things in the back or helping customers around the store.

“So, anything new?” (Y/N) question and stares at the male who waved to the woman leaving the store.

“Nope. Not much goin’ on over here. I did finish moving though,” the green-haired male turned to (Y/N), “how about you? Any chance at getting a date?�� (Y/N) blushed brightly and waved her hand with a nervous laugh. “Of course not, no sane person would dare come in a twenty-mile radius of me.”

(Y/N) has never been the best at dating others. She often had crushes, falling for many and going on a few dates. But once she dated them for anything longer than a week, they would always come back the next day bruised and shaken up. They would break up with her, scared half to death and giving no reason before avoiding her like the plague. She never understood why no matter how hard she tried to figure it out and eventually stopped going out, keeping her crushes a secret so they wouldn’t leave her a week later.

Needless to say, she wasn’t doing so great in the dating department.

(Y/N) shook off the conversation and changed the subject, beginning to take a stack of clothes and placing colored sale stickers on each one. The rest of the day was filled with some work, the occasional customer and charting with Bill.

(Y/N) opens her mouth to speak once again to Bill, wanting to continue their conversation on Bill’s fears of Bakemono and him explaining why he hates cats but stops when a female walks up to the counter.

“Hello! Can you help me? I want this shirt but there aren’t any in my size.” A short female with long brown curls spoke, holding up a plain black tee. Bill was currently helping another customer at the cash register so (Y/N) smiled, standing up from her stool to hep the pretty girl.

“Of course! Follow me.” (Y/N) says and gently took the shirt, checking the tag and brand before she began to walk to the back where the storage room was directly across from the break room. She takes out her keys and unlocks the door, going straight to one of the many boxes along the walls, with her back turned towards her. She knew where most of it was by heart, having come back there all the time for sizes clothes not on shelves or to check for extras. She took out a small stack, looking through them all.

“So what size were you looking f-“ (Y/N) turned back around to face the female only to be cut off by a rather strong hand around her throat. A choked gasp left her lips, dropping the clothes in shock when her head and back collided with the wall.

There in front of her stood not the short cute girl from before but black shadowy being with black mist radiating off of it. It had no facial features or no features of any kind, just a shadowy humanoid figure. What sent chills of terror down her spine was the deep glowing blood red eyes with no pupils and a razor-sharp toothed grin that unnaturally stretched across it’s face.

(Y/N)’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates as she gripped and clawed at it’s arm that kept her in such a tight grip, her feet just centimeters above the ground. If it weren’t for it’s inhuman grasp cutting off her air circulation she would be hyperventilating.

“(Y/N)~” The voice that left the thing’s lips sounded deep and guttural, a man’s demonic voice, different than the sweet voice she previously had as it tightened her grip on her neck. (Y/N) began to kick and claw at its wrist, using every bit of strength she had to try and pull the thing’s hand away as dark spots slowly fill her vision. The deep laugh left it’s mouth, but she could just barely hear any sort of sound, the female grunting as she lifts her foot and delivers a rough kick to it’s stomach.

This made it grunt and stumble away, releasing her neck from its harsh grip. (Y/N) fell to her knees, taking in large gulps of oxygen while her hand held her burning throat. She looks up, seeing the creature stand up with the same sickening grin.

Though her mind screamed to run and shout for help, her trembling body reacts on its own, a new surge of adrenaline pumping through her veins.

(Y/N) pushed herself up and lunged at it, roughly shoving it out the door way and into the hall. When the demonic being gripped her arms, digging it’s nails into her skin, she ripped her arms away, leaving red scratches. In a motion one would use to try to ram a door, her shoulder collides with its body, effectively knocking it down and into the break room. In the spur of adrenaline, she didn’t wait for it to get back up and slams the door shut, locking it faster than she could even process it. She steps back, heavily breathing while her wide eyes stare into the window of the door, seeing the thing now lying on the ground. The black mist that previously surrounded it began to pour off its body, revealing the short brown-haired girl from before.

“What...?” She whispers in disbelief, her body beginning to feel sluggish while his neck held a throbbing pain. Her breathing was uneven, staring at the unconscious girl through the door. ‘Was she possessed...? It was that thing... It was the-‘

“Hey (Y/N) darling, could you get me a size medium in the black jeans for me? (Y/N)?” (Y/N)’s head whipped towards Lisa who stared at her in growing worry. She saw that the poor teen was clearly shaken up, fear evident in her eyes, looking as if she just saw a ghost.

“(Y/N) darling what’s wrong?” She asks and comes closer and gently placed her hand on her shoulder only for the female to flinch. Her frown deepens, looking into her eyes.

“Why don’t you go home (Y/N). I can tell you have trouble sleeping so it’s best you get some rest okay? Me and Bill can close up the place for today.” (Y/N) looks at the female, too scared to move but glances at the break room. The brown-haired girl began to sit up, brows furrowing in pain and confusion as she reached a hand up to hold her head.

(Y/N) nods slowly, offering a weak smile to which she returned. She walks down the hall quick, grabbing her bag and leaving the store. Her hands held a tight grip on the straps, (E/C) orbs staring down at the concrete ground beneath her feet.

Thoughts and questions bounced around her mind, each making her head thump with a dull headache. ‘That was a demon...it had to have been right? Is it the reason I have those nightmares? Am I going crazy? Did anyone else see it? What if it’s my imagination? ‘

(Y/N)’s hand reached up, gently touching the skin on her neck where the thing had grabbed her and flinching when she felt pain. ‘It couldn’t have been.’

The female shook her head, walking faster to get home but glancing over her shoulder every few steps. Paranoia settled in her mind, but she pushed it back, relaxing her hold on the poor bag. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have stayed up watching reruns..’

——

By the time (Y/N) got back home she was a lot calmer then before but that didn’t stop her stares going off into the distance, thinking of the millions of questions filling her mind.

She opens the door to his home and was seconds away from making a B line to her room when a familiar voice stopped her.

“Hey (N/N), you’re back early.” (Y/N)’s dad stood in the open kitchen connecting with the living room, smiling at his daughter. Upon closer inspection a frown settled on his lips.

“You okay sweetheart? You look...exhausted..” He mumbles and reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. (Y/N) shook her head and flashed a grin towards the black-haired man.

“Yeah! Lisa let me off early, store was slow. I’m just gonna go take a nap ‘kay?” Yoshi frowns while he looks at (Y/N), his hand lightly squeezing her shoulder before pulling away.

“Alright then.. Just don’t sleep for too long, I will be making my famous rice cakes for dinner.” (Y/N) nods and sets her bag down onto the couch, leaving for her room quite quickly in hopes to sleep this day off if her nightmares could graciously not plague her dreams once again.

Yoshi watched his daughter leave, staring for a few moments before turning back to continue making dinner. His brows were creased, his steal grey eyes staring down at the stove. He turns towards the counter and grabs his phone, beginning to shift through many contacts. He glances over his shoulder for a second before dialing, holding the phone up to his ear. He waited as it rung, his stern gaze looking to the ground once the phone picked up.

“Well if it isn’t Yoshi Sukiyaki~ It’s been quite some time hasn’t dear old friend?” Yoshi didn’t waste any time, not caring to make conversation with the flamboyant man.

“It’s getting worse. She’s been attacked by one of those things.” Yoshi’s voice held pent up anger, saying ‘things’ with poison in his mouth, scowling at the very thought.

With these words the male on the other line went silent, soon followed by a long sigh.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t have come to this so soon but I guess there’s no helping it. You leave by tomorrow. The longer you wait the more will find and come after her.” Yoshi was shocked, his fist clenching at his side but reluctantly huffs. ‘That’s too soon...’ His thoughts echoed but he shook his head.

“I....Fine. I rather have her hate me for a few days then in danger...or even dead.”

“Marvelous! I’ll see you very soon Yoshi.”

@realdwalton

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aniimeziing-blog · 7 years ago

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Adrenaline Chapter 7

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/aniimeziing

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/~aniimeziing

Iida's head rung.

It was a deep pounding that smashed and crashed against the walls of his mind, colliding against the fleshy walls with a fierce brutality that manifested throughout the rest of his body – his hands were coiled in on themselves, nails gripping and digging into his hardened skin while he paced and dashed around the room he was confined in, locked like a prison he entered of his own free will. If the boy was to identify and relate the sensation to anything... he'd relate it to running with his Quirk.

A harsh jet of air would shoot out, ricocheting from wall to wall in a burst of energy and aggression that tore and ripped at his head in clean and precise shots. A rough pounding and dragging urge grated and splintered the floor of his mind, kicking and sprinting all over his fragile state with careless abandon and reckless authority. A shocking blast of explosive heat shattered and caused a cataclysmic retreat within Iida, ambition and pride drying out and shrivelling up as they lay dying bathing in pride.

Guilt. Guilt and pride. That was all Iida's mind-set boiled down to; every key state, every emotion and action could be traced back to the all-consuming status of pride that ate away at his sprit, or the sickening companionship that guilt granted him, absorbing and indoctrinating the teen into a deprived cycle of shamed friendship.

Even now, the trainee Hero could feel the pulsing and breathing heart of his Quirk shudder and shake, rattling and flaring up against the fabric of his clothing like. Now that Iida heard it, the shallow palpitations and shuddering sounded like a wounded creature, like a dying animal – it sounded as if his Quirk was choking on his ambition, was being smothered by his guilt and forced to swallow his pride.

Iida was the wounded animal, a sick and disturbed individual whose brain was eating itself as his body decayed into a mess of metal and flesh.

However... deep inside, he knew he didn't have the right to feel this way, to feel hurt and injured.

Not while his brother was sat right behind him.

Stealing a breath from the air and forcing it inside himself, Iida turned from the open expanse of the hospital window and shifted back to meet the unopened gaze of his older brother. Tubes and wires prodded and branded Tensei, stabbing and draining him of the humanity he once held as a powerful and influential Hero – to see him laying here, coddled in medical equipment and cradled by the soft beeping of his heart monitor, robbed him of that humanity in a world where the definition of human no longer meant what it used to, it was no longer the straight line it once was: he was having the life and reason he built up for others snatched from him in a cruel instance of madness of followed by machinery.

Iida's rage and anger bubbled over, sinking and melting into the puddle that was his emotional state, mixing with his sadness and tragedy that overflowed his body. The boy could feel his body quake in self-destruction and terror, his teeth mash and grind together in fury and fear, his eyes narrow and sharpen in desolation and retreat... yet he knew he could not blame the machinations that shackled Tensei here – in fact, the slithering snakes of science that bit and injected his body with venom were some of the only things keeping him alive.

No... the one to blame for his brother's suffering, for his brother's pain and absolution, for his brother's imprisonment was one man... a man plagued by the artificial tyranny of a villain, shroud in the cloak of a Hero.

The Hero Killer: Stain.

Eventually his brain overloaded, sparking and breaking as it was flooded by immediate thoughts of vengeance and retribution for his role model, to claw and claim back the life that was robbed from his brother. His eyes shook, leaking and brimming with tears as his hands gripped and dug into his shirt – only the soft sound of quiet whimpering and the steady pulsing of the heart monitor echoed and shook throughout the room.

"Big brother..."

"Raise your head T-Tenya."

Iida's eyes exploded open, his lids shooting into the excess of his skull. Cautiously, he glanced up. Staring back at him, face and body obscured by masks and repulsions of medicine, was the battered and smiling form of Tensei Iida.

His eyes were lulled, his entire face looked tired and like well-worn stone: eroded, damaged and cracked by fatigue. His hair was matted by sweat and blood, staining his creed and attention with impurity. His mouth was chocked and caged in by a plastic prison that siphoned and drove air directly into his collapsed lungs. His body was restrained and regulated by foreign agents, that stabbed and tore into his flesh with reckless abandon and unrelenting force. His legs... Iida did not dare look down at his legs for it might entirely crush his spirit and damn his soul into subjugation if he even dwelled on the grievous wounds that fostered during Tensei's apocalyptic encounter.

He was a mess, a complete an utter mess of a man.

A mess of a Hero...

Shaking his head free of those insidious thoughts and breaking the branches of tears that streamed down his cheeks, Iida forced his brother a smile.

"Hello brother: I am very glad you are well."

An exasperated sigh left Tensei's mouth, tiredness and pain oozing out through his breath. It was physically painful to watch Tensei move and act. Sucking in a breath, he tried to lean up, shoving his pillows below his stagnant form, before slowly rising up to meet his brother eye-to-eye – he barely made it a few seconds before he started spluttering into the insides of his mask, blood and spit fogging up the plastic. Panic sprang up over Iida's form, the teen dashing forward to help his relation.

"Tensei!"

"I'm- *cough cough* I'm fine Tenya, sit back down."

Pushing his body back against the steel railing, his breathing stilled with the rapid beating and pulsing of the heart monitoring shooting throughout the room. Sighing, Tensei shot back a strained smile to his younger brother.

"So then Tenya, how's school been going for you this week – we haven't had much time to talk lately."

Sucking in a breath he didn't know he had let go, Iida pushed a hand to his chest and sighed. Rounding the side of his brother's bed, he sat down on the wooden chair that sat there.

"It is going very well my brother. Everyone is just recovering from the Sports Festival and the class seems to be in correct form."

"Ah well that's very good. I've been catching up on a few of the fights after I woke up – you did really well little brother, I'm proud of you."

Suddenly, the tainted pride that had been eating away at Iida dispersed, instead being swallowed by a positive influence of pride. A large smile beamed on his face as he nodded at his brother.

"Yea brother! Thank you very much! It is a great honour to be complimented by a Hero of your calibre brother!"

"Hehe well... ex-Hero now remember?"

Suddenly a permafrost shrouds the room in cold.

It was hard to breathe, the sudden exclamation of remembrance emerging in a horrid malformation of memory and forcing itself down each boy's throat, Tenya more than Tensei. Even after it had warmed up, even after the ice had thawed, making way for familiar conversation, Iida couldn't pull his head out of that statement.

"So, I'm not sure I've told you this yet Tenya, but I met this really cool Hero a couple of months ago – smart guy too. His Quirk was super unique, something about Gliding I believe. Anyway, I met him when we were on a jog and it was- "

Even as Iida nodded and motioned that he was listening, he wasn't. His head was numb. His mind was numb. His body was numb. Every word Tensei was spitting at him was just deflected by those words that cracked open his maw before.

"Ex-Hero... Ex-Hero..."

It just kept bouncing and shooting through his head like a rocket. His brother, the great and influential Ingenium, was no more – his empire of Heroes would be passed on, his position as an amazing and incredible Hero would be noted in the history books, his title would be... would be relinquished. To hear him say it again, that he was paralysed, meant that it was actually true and that it was a fact he had to face.

Ingenium was dead.

And he was supposed to be his successor.

That very fact shook Iida so much that he almost felt like cracking, scattering his shattered shards all over his brother's feet – a testament to the complete and utter failure he would be as the next Ingenium. It shook and disturbed him, the amount of longing and trust that was being imbued into his legacy: why was he being chosen to succeed? Compared to so many others, people like Izuku and Uraraka and Bakugo and Todoroki, his achievements were minimal and his judgement poor – he may act brash and brazen, authoritarian and smart, but in reality, he was merely the shell of his brother and everything he had come to be.

It was so maddening and so insane of an idea that Iida just couldn't comprehend it. And the entire reason all of this pressure, all of this judgement, all of this pain and suffering was being placed upon his family was all due to one sick and deranged man... Stain.

Gritting his teeth and clenching his fist around his leg, Iida's mind ignored all outward though and reason, all calling.

"-ida?"

He sacrificed his focus and logic of the current moment to dictate his reasoning and his attention on the Hero Killer completely; a mad psychopath that placed his brother in hospital and him doubting his place in society as a Hero, a psychotic murder that trampled around Japan wreaking havoc on the innocent and the worthy, an absolute crazed maniac who feels as though his ideology and reasoning will triumph above those of the Heroes!

"Iida?"

Iida's entire head swarmed and swam in the bloodlust of the Hero Killler, rivers and rivers of blood pouring and dashing throughout his skull just to cement the abominable and horrific acts of a man whose loyalties lay in the tactics of war and death. Stain reaps and commands death where he wishes and when he wishes, punishing those who would stand up to defend this country for what, they're bravery? Why did the actions of Heroes not matter to Stain? Why did his brothers actions to Stain? Why will his actions not matter to Stai-

"IIDA!"

A cool, calming force struck down on Iida's coiled fingers, the warm and comforting presence of family leaking deep into his bones. Releasing himself from his rage, Iida slowly turned his face towards his brothers, panic and shame shining deep within his eyes as he gazed towards Tensei. In response, his brother just gave a calm and collected smile.

"You haven't taken up the name, yet have you?"

Iida sighed – Tensei always had a trick to figure out what he was thinking.

"No, not yet brother."

"Any particular reason why?"

He was poising a question but from the tone of his voice, the brief sprinkles and dips of serenity that littered his tongue, it was as if he could assume what Iida's answer was going to be - that his brother would not able to take on the mantle just yet. Hanging his head, Iida just sighed.

"I just do not know if I'm ready yet. I'm still in school and it's so soon after your attack that I just don't think it'd be appropriate at this time. And then there's also th- "

Midway through his rant, he heard another coarse sigh emerge out of Tensei. Then, in a swift movement, the same hand that had been used to calm and relax Iida's turbulent spirit, jolted up to meet his head in a soft pat.

"It's okay little brother, you still have plenty of time to become Ingenium."

Ruffling his hair, he offered his brother another kind and heart-warming smile, one which showcased the pure radiance and passion that Tensei housed for his brother and his future career as a Hero. He understood the burden that Heroic actions bought, the torturous acts and recluses that the mind would wander to in tomes of pain and times where they were supposed to be strong – sometimes Tensei even thought that maybe people forgot that Heroes weren't just idols or advertisement or figureheads, that maybe they forgot that Heroes were people too and that people were allowed moments of weakness and strife as well as those they may protect. He knew that burden... and he understood that this is what awaited Tenya in the future.

So, he needed to shelter his fall, even ever so slightly.

Pulling his hand off of his brother's head, he continued speaking.

"Living up to the name of a pre-established Hero can be tough, let me tell you. It's a uphill battle that throws rock after rock after rock at you, never ceasing not even when you reach the top. However, there is always an advantage to being a successor – you get the equipment and the tips and the tools from the predecessor to help you with the tough bits, yea? So, in time, when you're ready, I will teach you how to climb and give you the tools needed to become Ingenium, Tenya. I promise."

A moment of silence passed the two. Then, an emergent look of awe and joy overcame Iida's eyes, glazing over in the sheer relief and the sheer amount of pride that Tensei's words has imbued him with. The growth of corrupted pride that had earlier sat upon his heart had been cut away, its roots and branches torn from their sockets and left to burn. Now, he felt renewed, he felt empowered and he felt enlightened by this new discovery and the lights of his very soul were set ablaze. Shooting his hands up to his face, Iida began to gesture and command the air like a conductor.

"Yes brother! Thank you for your kind words and guidance! I will surely grow and become a far greater Hero with your words and wisdom!"

Tensei let out a hoarse laugh.

"Whatever you say Tenya, just don't forget to follow your own words now and again. Plus, if you aren't going to become Ingenium anytime soon, maybe I can pick it back up – Ingenium: The Wheelchair Hero!"

Striking a dynamic and fluid pose as he moved, Tensei managed to elicit a few automated chuckles from his brother before his throat ceased up and a riot of coughs and splutters shot up out of his mouth and all over his face mask – the harsh pings and clicks of the heart monitor bounced with disturbed excitement around the room to follow the tune of Tensei's suffering. Once again, panic broke through the flames within Iida, but a quick wave of his brother's arm paused his onslaught. The moment paused, the shuffling of cables and the creasing of plastic followed the agonising smothering of Tensei's breath.

Glancing downward at the floor, Iida's guilt began to eat away at him once more, being able to do nothing while his brother sat suffering – there was nothing he could do, no great plan to eradicate the damage inflicted to him, no victorious charge to lead a revolution against the perpetrator, no anything!

Then... sin galloped into Iida's mind.

Although he couldn't relieve Tensei's agony, take away his suffering, he could still find the man who committed this pain.

He could find and take down Stain himself.

Fury and vengeance ran over the teens body, digging their stained claws into his feeble flesh and shattered mind to puppeteer his body like a marionette. Turning towards Tensei, Iida spoke up once more.

"I have to go now brother, I have school work I must complete for the due date."

Tensei quirked an eyebrow, the finale of his coughing fit finally subsiding.

"Hm? Well okay then little brother. Knowing you the due date probably isn't for a few weeks is it Tenya?"

"Yes... yes you're right."

Straining his head to look directly at his confused brother, Iida gave him a wide smile reminiscent of Tensei's own.

"But do not worry brother, I will sort it out in time."

However, to the man who so regularly gave out such smiles, something was... off about his brothers; it was as if it had been warped, twisted and conjoined to some sickening part of fate that twirled and morphed the happiness on his face to rage, his teeth were grinding and mashing against one another in a way that seemed like a battle of cartilage, one set hammering down and bringing catastrophe to the ones below it and his eyes were pulling against his skin, poking and dragging heavily along Iida's flesh in an uncontrollable and almost feral way. Something was off... Tensei just wasn't sure what.

Pushing himself off the chair, the UA teen began to collect himself and compose his things. Every now and again, Tensei would catch him when his facade dropped, making way for an icy cold face of malice and torment that thawed and froze anything it looked at simultaneously, stranding everyone Iida looked upon in a blaze of burning cold. To what he was having such a heavy reaction to, to why he had to trap himself between a shell of ignorance and the true scale of his plummeting emotions, that fact was unfortunately lost on his brother. Finally, Iida had reapplied his blazer and collected his bags, making his way towards the door. Swiftly spinning on his heel, Iida put on another manufactured smile for Tensei.

"Goodbye Tensei. I'll be back to see you soon."

As he went to open the door, he was halted.

"You have that Hero experience thing soon right, Tenya?"

A pause. A shuffle.

"I do, yes."

"Okay. Well good luck on it and thanks for coming, little brother. Just... just don't do anything stupid."

Bending his neck to look back at his idol, at his role-model and the person who influenced his entire life and desire to become a strong and great Hero, Iida told him the first lie he had ever uttered.

"I won't Tensei. I hope you rest better tonight. Goodbye brother."

"Goodbye Tenya."

Throwing open the door and storming out with renewed vigour, Iida collapsed as soon as he was out of sight; he deflated, his cogs and machinery slowing to a halt as he supported his malfunctioning body with the concrete walls off seclusion. His head was spinning, pounding even more then it was inside of Tensei's room. It was full of thoughts that stretched and breached the surface of his skull and brokered a fierce treaty of pain across his entire being. So many things swirled and swarmed his soft mind with poison and charms, so many things grew and imbedded their glossy roots and tainted branches into his veins and arteries in the hope to drain his entire being of life and of reason, so many things pulled his body around he was a puppet on the strings of his ideals. He felt unclean in his own skin yet at the same time, Iida felt... liberated. He felt free and unshackled by the same biology which once bound him.

Lifting a fist to meet his eye line, Iida felt a surge of action and a rush of adrenaline rocket throughout his frame. Whatever convictions and whatever doubts he had were nullified and disintegrate by the sheer effect and divination of his exaltation. Iida's prize was concrete, it was finalised and cemented to the foundation of his bones and mixed eternally into his blood where it could imbue and grant a fullness to his condition.

Tenya Iida felt absolute and total clarity in his mental track – he was going to take down the Hero Killer, punish him for his neurotic and damnable actions and then claim back a piece of his life, of Tensei's life.

This was his design.

Picking himself up off of his supports, the inner working of Iida's gadgetry began to spring back to life and the automated metal man began to trail off into uncertainty, a haze of vengeance and wrath leaking from his twitching and breaking body of steel. Iida vowed to destroy the ideology of the Hero Killer, to wipe clean Stain from society... yet the branches had grown deep, and his pride had become corrupt once more, pumping heartlessness through his bloodstream alongside victory.

Iida had been poisoned by pride.

On the other side of the solitary cage, Tensei sat bathed in silence.

In the Ex-Hero's mind, something swarmed. He had witnessed something before Iida had left, he had seen something he had never wished to bear witness to – his little brother, the only person he ever wanted to look up to him and follow in his footsteps, was drenched in bloodlust and fury. Iida's face, contorted and bent into a snarl, pitted tooth against tooth in a grotesque and deadly machination of injury while his fists were clenched so tight they looked like snowfall on his knuckles.

Yet it was the maelstrom that brewed in his eyes which concerned Tensei most of all.

A whirlwind of hate and animosity grew and festered in the whites of Iida's eyes, decaying and devouring them until it left nothing but a husk of his younger brothers shining light, one which had been snatched and stolen to make way for his rage. Buried deep below all of that hatred sat sympathy and empathy... which was what Tensei feared the most.

It meant that Iida wasn't fighting and rebelling for his own fate – instead, he was fighting for Tenei's robbed life.

A sudden chilling fear overcame Tensei as he thought about the implications and consequences of this revelation. Looking over to the window side, he let out a shaky sigh into the frosty air.

"Be safe Iida... please be safe."

Izuku understood pain.

To him, pain was no longer the sinister monarch that ruled and reigned over the biology of his condition, it had no throne nor crown to build its standing upon or to command his actions from. After only having One For All for a few months, Izuku had managed to unshackle himself from the tyranny of pain, unbolt and free of his confines through sheer force of will and utter agony – he had the scars, the trophies and the mistakes, from previous escape attempts and breaches of torment to showcase his devotion to the empire but now he had to carry those burdens past him. He had outgrown agony.

Now, the physical strain of cracking a bone or splitting skin, the vast outpour of dripping blood or tearing sinew, was dwarfed to him – he had kissed agony and been bit by suffering so much that it was a trivial experience now, one Izuku felt more flustered by then one he dreaded.

Despite this, the Quirk Inheritor didn't revel in pain, he didn't wish it on others or wish to dive headlong into such a feeling. To Izuku Midoriya, the anatomy of pain was like being thrown into cold water – icy, freezing, burning and suspenseful all at the same time, drowning in surprise and tension yet in a burst of relief, the strain begins to swim and float in a bed of contentment. All for the greater outcome, and if he needed to trade blows with injury and suffering in order to break free of more restraints and to be greater than he ever could be on his own, then Izuku would take every hit head on.

However, the cruelty about pain is that it's branches don't just imbed themselves into one person – they're nature is to suck the triumph from multiple hosts.

And it was this fact why Izuku despised pain.

Breaking out from his head, Izuku was bought back to reality by the wailing in the air and the wetness on his shirt. Glancing down at his chest, a mop of familiar green hair sat thumping itself against Izuku's body in rapid succession.

Inko Midoriya, crying her eyes out into her son's chest.

"IZUKUUUUUUUUUU! I-I WAS S-SO WORRIED, I THOUGHT Y-YOU MIGHT HAVE D-D-DIED! WAAAAH!"

"I-It's Okay Mom, I'm fine see?"

"WAAAAAH! MY BABY BOY!"

Giving his mother a light smile as she still cried and sobbed into his chest, he watched on as her tears dropped and branched down his body, dripped and grew like leaves all over his pale flesh, crystalline roots and flowers springing up everywhere from the cracks and fissures in his skin- Izuku's eyes specifically followed the twisting roots that trailed over his scars and laceration. These were his rewarding for indulging in pain. The grooves and curves in his hands were an eternal reminder of his partaking in agony, the constant act reminding Izuku of all the damage he's caused himself... and the pain that was then inflicted onto other people because of him.

More specifically, to people like the crying woman in this arm.

Wrapping his arms around her, Izuku felt a few of his own tears pool at his eyes and drop onto Inko's head. Why did his pain have to screw with the lives of other people? Why what he did with his body or his ambitions hurt those who cared about him? Why did the selfishness that lay in his heart, his desperate desire to become a Hero, his fulfilled love and want to help people, have to in turn mess up things up for a bunch of other people who are just on the side-lines?

Sucking in his held breath, Izuku sighed and sniffled.

"Hey mo- "

Before he could utter another word, Izuku felt a fierce stinging hit strike his face. Wide eyed he recoiled slightly, gasping with an open maw and crimson skinned cheek – before him, the shaken, whimpering form of Inko stood with columns of streaking tears the dripped and sprayed the floor, her eyes full of a flood of shame and embarrassment, waterlogged freedom caging her eyes while a blazing fire of fury and maternal protection coated her entire being in the fires of motherhood.

She stuttered and swayed as she spoke, drunk on her emotions and tears.

"I'm so sorry Izuku, but... I HAD TO WATCH YOU! I h-had to sit in our living room, in o-our house, watching you on our T-TV as you beat yourself silly! I had to watch my son, my darling baby boy, break his body an-and beat himself up not only once, but twice! I had to watch you Izuku, stand up and destroy your body twice! And what was it for, huh? Tell me, what was worth you breaking yourself Izuku?"

Stumbling forward into the setting sunlight, Inko leaned forward, took the streaming and tearful mess that was her sons face, and began to thumb his cheeks and his eyes and any piece of skin she could come across. She imbued her entire body and her entire soul into those touches, all the care and warmth she was able to exude from her being into those few precious moments.

"Please Izuku... tell me."

To that question, the UA student truly had trouble conjuring the words. Why had he done what he did? How did he summon up so much courage and energy to not only force Todoroki to accept his hatred and self-loathing the way he managed, but also to push past his own feelings of hatred and agonising dystopia to continue fighting? What had helped him summon the strength and the reasoning to follow through with his preconceived goals which, by all means, should have crashed and burned into cinders – only instead, resulting in cracked cartilage and an empowered spirit.

An easy answer to his quandary would be the power fuelled by One for All: he had seen the eyes and been resurrected to enact more, to push himself even further then he had gone before, to be Plus Ultra. Izuku couldn't refute this fact. However… it wasn't just that. Perhaps it was some sort of lust for combat that drove him, an underlying euphoria which set off his senses and caused him to lose himself in his Quirk and the powers vested in him by his predecessors, perhaps it was an 'in the moment' kind of experience where he felt ethereal for a few fleeting moments, where each shot of pain was like a bullet of enlightenment and understanding to his fragile soul, perhaps…

There was an even simpler answer to his question.

"I-I think… I think it may have just been pride, Mom."

Glancing up through his bleeding eyes, Izuku peered at the shaken form of his mother, her head quirked, and her eyes squinted.

"P-Pride? But you've never been a prideful person…"

"I know, I know… It was just that in that moment, surrounded by the crowds and all the Heroes and all my class mates and after witnessing what Todoroki could actually do and how powerful he was, I guess I just needed to prove myself. He really is just so strong, and I knew how strong he would be if he used the full extent of his Quirk – I suppose I just wasn't really prepared for how strong he could be. A-And if he was going to use the full power of his Quirk, then I was going to use the full power of mine… even if that meant I have to hurt myself."

Peering down even further, a drop of liquid drifted from his eyes and splattered against the uneven, fleshy pavement of his scared hands, once again reminding him of the pain and agony he put himself through and the outcome of it.

"I'm really sorry to make you or anyone else worry, I-I never ever want to do that… but if I'm going to be a great Hero like All Might then I need to always fight at full power and go above 100% effort, no matter what. I need to learn how my Quirk works and control it, and that is going to take time and effort and maybe even blood and sweat and tears, but Mom I need to do this – I just need to. I've been given this powe- I-I mean… it's a blessing I even got this power so late that now I have to catch up to everyone else. I am going to make you and everyone else proud, I'll do it."

A moment of silence passed between the two.

Then, the chubby hands of Inko shot up to wrap her sons head in her arms, shrinking to the floor with his head cradled in her arms. She began to stroke his unruly curls, massaging and going over his scalp as tears dropped and wetted his hair.

"Oh Izuku… I'm already so proud of you… I just want you to be safe and happy okay? I don't like seeing you get hurt but I-I'll try and push through it: but I need you to promise me that you'll try your hardest to get stronger without resorting to hurting yourself all the time."

A sniffle and a dry chuckle lit up the air.

"I-I promise Mom… I promise I'll try my hardest."

Squeezing her son into a tight body lock, the pair openly wept at each other. A certain aura washed over them as they conveyed their care and emotional ties to one another, the shackles and confines of pain and torment that had been crushing and carrying the pair over the last several ties were suddenly shattered into dust below the might of a mother's love.

Although, Izuku understood why this happened. His pain. His suffering. That was the catalyst for this intervention, this cry for help and worry from the person he could consider himself closest to, for it was the scars that littered his body and the scars that littered his soul that forced Inko to go through this torment.

This is what Izuku hated about pain.

Pulling his face out of the crook of his mother's neck, Izuku spoke up.

"So… Mom?

Inko pushed her watery face away from her son.

"W-What is it Izuku?"

"You know how I'm going on that Hero experience course in a few weeks... well I need a new costume for it since I ruined my old one, so I thought that maybe y-you could help me design it?"

A light, airy laugh danced through the skies.

"Of course, Izuku, however I don't know if you really need my advice anymore."

"W-Well you did really well designing the last one, s-so I thought if we worked on it together then maybe we could come to a middle ground maybe…"

"Hehe yes son. Now come inside before you catch cold."

This was what Izuku hated about pain – and he was going to make sure, he minimised the pain he dealt to others.

One way or another.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fanfiction #fanfic #writers #writing #midoriya izuku #deku

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minijenn · 7 years ago

Text

Broken Swords and Broken Promises

When Connie Maheswaran opened her eyes, she expected to wake up in her bedroom. Her parents had still insisted that she continue her violin practice, despite the fact that she had pretty much mastered the instrument by this point. That combined with hanging out with Steven and the twins, she was considerably tired by the end of the day. The last thing she remembered was practically leaping into her bed and clonking out for the night. Which is why she was surprised to find herself in the Sky Arena. She was in her normal combat training garb rather than her sleepwear and with a normal sword that had somehow appeared at her side.

The Sky Arena was still as magnificent as she always remembered it. The puffy, roving clouds and tall, pristine pillars always gave her a sense of nostalgia. It was here that she and Dipper trained together under Pearl’s tutelage to master swordsmanship. While the training was difficult, it no doubt improved her skill with a blade. It was also here that Steven finally convinced her that she would never have to face the oncoming dangers alone. They would always be together side by side and, if she was being honest with herself, that was when she felt the most comfort and confident. Indeed, the Sky Arena did hold a special place in her memories.

Unfortunately, tonight it would hold a special place in her nightmares.

She was about to contemplate more about how and why she was here when the wind appeared to swirl around her. This was rather odd considering that it hardly got this windy this high up in the Arena. Then two of the columns that were behind her inexplicitly tipped over, colliding into one another. The girl was confused at first, but then slowly realized that the leaning columns almost made the shape of a triangle. Soon enough, a bright light began shine in the middle of said shape and she had to shield her eyes from its intensity. When she uncovered her eyes, she saw a figure that she had burned into her mind from references in the journal, and she heard a laugh that she was all too familiar with.

Bill Cipher ceased his deranged cackling and floated down to the battle-ready girl. “Well well well,” he began. “If it isn’t Sword Swinger herself! I believe we’ve only met when I was test driving Pine Tree! So, this would be my normal body, what do think, pretty snazzy huh?” the Demon asked while adjusting his bow-tie.

“Bill!” the young knight scream. As if she were driven by instinct, the girl grabbed her sword and immediately lunged toward the demon for a lethal attack. However, Connie only seemed to phase right through the triangle; landing right behind him. While the girl was still confused about what just happen, Bill just turned around looking rather amused.

“Yeesh Sword Swinger, have a guy say one sentence and you’re already trying to kill him! Talk about paranoooooid!” the dream demon said. He then snapped his fingers and blue, ghastly chains appeared and shackled Connie by the ankles. The girl tried to use her sword to slash the chains, but the blade simply phased through the chains much like how it did with the dream demon. Bill then took this opportunity to swipe the sword from Connie’s hands. “I’ll take that! I don’t think that a girl like you should be wielding something so pointy!”

The sadistic triangle decided to take a good look into the eyes of the chained girl. Connie was staring daggering at the demon. She would not let this demon get the best of her. She was strong; Pearl taught her how to be brave and how to stand up to threats like Bill. “You know, I think there’s something missing about you. Oh, I know!” Bill exclaimed as he suddenly slapped his hand onto Connie’s face. “There we go, that’s much more fitting for you!”

Connie hesitantly lifted her hand to her face to see just what Bill did to her. Her hands brushed against something that hadn’t expected to feel on her face again: her glasses. Connie had stopped wearing her glasses back when her parents found out that her eyes were magically healed. It was a sign of the new chapter in her life with Steven. When she tried to remove the glasses off her face, but she just couldn’t. It was if the glasses were glued to her face no matter how much she struggled to take them off. “Why…why did you put these back on?”

The dream demon simply chuckled at the girl’s suffering. “Oh, I just thought you’d prefer to be what you really are. A meek, nerdy little girl instead of some idiot playing with swords. Besides, glasses are suppose to make you smarter right? Well, you’re gonna need to be for the little topic that we need to discuss.” Bill then summoned something into his hand with flick of a wrist: a Rose Quartz gemstone.

Connie knew exactly who Bill was talking about, and she became livid about it. This psychopath would dare invade her sleep just to taunt her about one of her closest friends? Well, she would have none of that. No way would she let this demon get to her by threating the boy that had changed her life and gave it new direction. “You leave Steven out of this!” she yelled out. She was no damsel in distress, she was a knight; she was Steven’s knight.

“Yeah, afraid I can’t do that, Sword Swinger,” Bill said as he spun around the sword in one hand while tossing the gemstone up and down in the other. “You see, your ‘Jam Bud’ has been a real annoyance in my plans as of late. He’s a lot like his dear old mom in that sense. Anyway, I think it’s about time I finally deal with him and Pine Tree once and for all. And if you were smart, you would stay out of my way that you don’t get hurt!”

“Over my dead body!” Connie blared out. She was not going to intimidated by a sadistic geometric shape. “I don’t care if I have to stop you in my mind or in the real world, you are NOT going to hurt Steven! Pearl told me a knight always stays by her liege and always protect him. Well Steven is MY liege, so if you want to get to him, you have to deal with me! Got it?!”

At first, the dream demon seemed just stare at the girl, betraying no emotion. However, he then started to laugh as if he had heard something rather hilarious and stupid. “YOU, a knight?! Don’t make me laugh,” he said as he floated down in front of her. “Bird Brain has been filling you and Pine Tree with some complete nonsense! You think that just because you can swing a piece a metal around that you can protect anybody? How can you protect Rose Bud when you can’t even stop me from doing THIS!”

At that, the dream demon suddenly thrusted the sword right through Connie, giving the allusion that he had pierced right through her heart. The sadistic triangle let go of the weapon and backed away to admire his handiwork. Connie could only just stare down at the hilt of the sword that had just been embedded her chest in complete awe. Dark red blood was oozing out of the wound; soaking her outfit in a sickly velvet. Her first thought was to scream in complete agony from the pain that would undoubtedly arise from this injury. However, she was rather surprised to find that there was no pain that followed. She put her hand to her injury, cringing slightly when she felt how warm the blood had felt against her skin. Even without the pain, the experience was able to completely shake the girl’s fortitude.

“Yeah, I might not be able to physically harm you here, but can sure as heck give you a preview on what to expect when you pretend to be something you’re not! You can flail around Quartzy’s girly butter knife all you want, but it’s not going to prevent you from getting skewered by someone who really know what they’re doing!” Bill told the girl condescendingly. He then floated above her; holding out the Rose Quartz gem. Connie’s eyes widen and prayed that Bill wouldn’t do what she thought he was going to do. “And while you’re lying there, life draining from your eyes, you’ll see Rose Bud just staring at you and realizing that it was all his fault. He’ll be so overcome with grief that he won’t even see his pathetic existence suddenly getting…..CRUSHED!” The dream demon forcefully closed his hand around the gemstone; making a sickening crushing sound.

Connie felt like it was her heart in the triangle’s hand that had been crushed into dust. She was smart enough to know that wasn’t really Steven’s gemstone, but that didn’t stop the image of the pink stone being destroyed hurt any less. Throughout the summer, there was a tiny thought that was always been in the back of her mind. Sometimes, it would only pass for a few seconds, other times it would keep the girl up all night. Whether it was short lived or not, a single situation always seemed to plague her mind: What if she failed? What she failed to keep Steven safe from all the supernatural dangers that they and the twins have faced? What if she failed to make it to him in time, and Steven would pay the ultimate price for it? What if she failed and then had to face his father and his guardians about her fault in his demise? What if she failed to tell him how she really felt and how much of an impact that the young Gem had made in his life?

All of these scenarios were playing through her head as she watched the demon essentially crush her entire life. To add insult to injury, Bill opened his hand and slowly let the dust rain down on the girl. Connie simply bowed her head, unable to witness what was happening above her. Small, sparkly bits of pink glitter appeared to float softly down from the sky. It would have been strangely pretty if didn’t represent the end of one Connie’s closest friends. Hot tears were started streaming down her cheeks. Here she was, glasses back on her face, a sword right through her chest and kneeling down under a snow of Steven’s shattered gem. A complete failure.

Bill then float back down to Connie and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder. “You see Sword Swinger?” Bill began. “All Rose Bud is going to lead you to is pain, regret and suffering. I would say that this is surprising, but Quartzy pretty much did the same thing to Bird Brain back in the day. If I were you, I would just go back to the way you used to be. A sad, quiet girl who just kept to herself and understood her place. But don’t worry though, I doubt that Rose Bud will even realize that you’re gone. Seeing how he’ll probably be in a million little shards when I’m done with him!”

Just then, something inside of Connie just snapped. She opened her eyes with an intensity that she had never experienced before. She had decided that enough was enough. She then used both hands to grab the sword hilt that was embedded in her chest and pulled it out of her in one swift motion. She still didn’t feel any pain, but it was still rather unpleasant as she finally removed the sword from her wound. The tip of the sword seemed to be caked with her blood, but that hardly mattered to her. The girl then pointed the bloody sword toward Bill while glaring right into his singular eye. “You listen to me right now. I will never leave Steven’s side, and Steven will never leave my side. He makes me feel strong, he makes me feel brave and he makes me feel appreciated! Maybe I was weak before, but I’m not anymore! I AM a Crystal Gem, and I know that one day: Dipper, Mabel, Steven and I will stop you for good! I swear on my oath as a knight to Steven Quartz Universe!”

At first, Bill appeared to be rather surprised at this. He wasn’t expecting the girl to bounce back from this so quickly. However, he managed to put on a rather unimpressed expression. He was about to let this girl think that she had caught him off guard. “Pfft, whatever you say, Sword Swinger. I’m only telling you what’s going to happened to you if you keep this up. You think you Mystery Twerps are going to stop me? Don’t make me laugh. Greater men have tried and utterly failed at it! If you’re not going to listen to sense, then I’m out of here! So long Sword Swinger, I’ll be seeing your corpse on the battlefield later!”

Bill Cipher gave a snap of his fingers and him, Connie and the Arena were enveloped in a bright light.

Connie rose up from her bed with a slight gasp. She quickly recollected what had happened with Bill and quickly examined her chest. She confirmed that there was no bloody wound from the sword and put her hand to her face in relieve. Only for her heart to skip a beat as she felt that her glasses had somehow managed to be put on her face. Terrified, she immediately ripped them off her face and through them across the room. Once she realized that was no long dreaming and calmed down, she slowly laid back down onto her bed. Her mind was swimming with what Bill had said to her in the dream. The vision of Bill crushing the pink gem in his hands still made feel queasy.

“I’ll protect you.” The knight whispered to herself. “I’ll protect you, Steven. I won’t fail you.”

#universe falls #sumbission #submission #AH FUCK #DAMN #THE IMAGERY HERE WAS INSANE WOW #YOU JUST KEEP FUCKING ME UP WITH THESE IMO DONT STOP THEM I LOVE THEM #WHAT HURTS THE MOST HERE IS THAT CONNIE WONT BE AROUND FOR THE EVENTS OF R/M/D #AND SHE'S GONNA FEEL HELLA GUILTY AFTER ITS ALL SAID AND DONE FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO DO ANYTHING TO HELP #SO THAT MAKES ALL THIS 1000 MILLION TIMES MORE PAINFUL #FUCK #uf fan fics #blazer's onshots

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thatgirlkennedie · 7 years ago

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A Darkness Unheard Of

My latest FFXV fic in which I make Prompto suffer some more.

Rated M: Suggestive themes, Depression, Self-Harm

Summary: Life is but a misery in Prompto's eyes. Unnecessary really and it's not like he matters to anyone. No one cared about him. Only time will tell if he will get better. It's a long rode for him especially if all he's ever felt was darkness.Or Prompto's journey of a depression episode. (Or read here on AO3)

His sleep was deprived. His thoughts have been haunting him more recently now. Prompto isn't sure why all of a sudden but it's been awhile since he felt this way. Not since a year ago when… he almost, almost… He doesn't want to think about that time of weakness. Now, Prompto never really had an amazing life. His so called parents were too busy for him so he always felt neglected, he had a lot of insecurities and self doubt; Never really feeling highly of himself and he never thought that he truly belonged amongst others. Back then, that bridge was his escape. His sweet release from his life. He had hit such a low point. He felt bad though. Not a lot of people knew about his problems and he hid it so well behind that fake sun-shiny attitude of his. But when he was alone, he'd cry himself to sleep at night and those thoughts would plague him. He was having too many restless nights now. Back on that bridge, a good samaritan talked him out of it. He didn't know who it was but they told him how he was worth something to this world just like all people are; that he should continue living his life to the fullest. That was probably the first time Prompto ever felt like someone actually cared about him. He broke down crying and ended up calling his friends about it. They were all shocked and so worried for him; no one saw this coming. He immediately got help. He couldn't feel so low anymore.

That was a year ago.

He's been good for a while now, or at least for a year now. He was diagnosed with MDD or Major Depressive Disorder as soon as he started seeing a psychotherapist. It's depression in which one is in a state of feeling normal until they go down to major lows. It's a cycle of feeling decently normal to feeling extremely sad; the depressive state. The therapy sessions were good for Prompto and they actually made him feel a lot better. It was a rocky start with him always insisting that he was okay, but soon he was able to open up to his therapist about what his feelings were. Throughout the year, with a lot of one on one talks, group therapy (which was the worse), and a mild dose of antidepressants, Prompto actually felt normal again. No more fake smiles or laughs but genuine happiness. He soon ended the sessions after he felt like he didn't need those anymore but kept up a low dosage of his antidepressants. He never felt so free, so happy. Self healing was what he needed now. The rode to natural recovery was upon him-

It… didn't last long.

Like any other depressive disorder, it never really goes away. It comes back. Some of the time, unfortunately, it tends to come back worse than before. The symptoms hit Prompto all at once. For a few weeks now, he couldn't sleep, eat, or he just felt exhausted. His motivation to get out of bed most days were low and sometimes he didn't get out of bed. The idea of food sickened him. His low dosage of antidepressants weren't working anymore and he's beginning to feel so worthless.

So drained.

So… Sad.

Not the sadness that one feels from upsetting things. This was something more intense that persisted with each passing day. It's distressing and near disabling. He’s only had a negative mindset on things lately. He's cried himself asleep more often than not and ends up laying awake thinking not the best of thoughts. That god forsaken low episode was coming on; making an unwanted appearance once again. He begins to ponder on a world without him in it on those sleepless night. It's not good for him, he knows it, but he thinks the world wouldn't mind losing a person. The world would be better off without him. No… He can't think that, but- that's all he's been thinking as of late.

He's pretending again which probably isn't his best move either. He's gotten too good at the whole ‘fake it until you make it’ attitude. He honestly doesn't want to worry his friends about his mental state. They'll get too worried and he doesn't want to be babied by them or be a burden for that matter. He should have consulted someone or called his therapist again but he believes he'll make it through on his own. He's done it once and he'll do it again. He could get through this.

But…

Prompto feels worse almost. He's dreading each day now and those negative thoughts are cycling through his head constantly telling him how useless he is. Who knew thoughts could be so terrible and detrimental? He feels awful. He feels weak. Worthless. It's been so long since he's been so low and all that self doubt, that he hadn't dealt with in a long time, was back. He began to believe that he truly was an incompetent nobody that will not amount to anything in his life. A mess of hang ups. Those thoughts were degrading him. He wished he could just stop over thinking.

He's trying to control those thoughts, he really is, but he can't. They hurt him too deeply every moment of every day and the emotional toll that comes from them are too much sometimes. It's a constant nag to his conscious that yes, he is worthless. Without resorting to… certain actions and circumstance, he relieves his pain with something else which again, probably isn't a good idea: cutting. Okay, it's a very bad idea but he's become desperate and the thoughts are slowly shrinking his rationale to actually get help again or seek out a friend. Only one cut and he won't do it anymore. Just to calm his thoughts down.

He started cutting more frequently; practically each day now. He just can't seem to shake those nasty thoughts out anymore without a little something to distract him. A little something to take the edge off. That small pocket knife had became his best friend over these few odd weeks turned months. It's almost like a rush goes through him when he makes the first slash to the wrist. The slight physical pain ebbs away his mental pain for the time being. In hindsight, it made him feel better.

Sometimes it doesn't help.

Prompto begins to contemplate his life as a whole and overall, it's always been so shitty. His friends, they don't really need him. No one ever needed him before. He just a waste of space really. So weak, so useless, and he just doesn't know why he's on this earth anymore. No… He can't think this. His mental state is definitely regressing but he doesn't want to admit it. He smiles with his friends all the time or at least tried to. It was becoming harder to do so nowadays. The guys never questioned him about it and Prompto just kept up his facade. They didn't ask if he's okay because they don't know what he's dealing with or, as his brain wants him to think, they simply don't care. No one cared. Those small spikes of anxiety began to flare up. He would clam up when spoken to along with just staying more quiet than he usually was around his friends. That’s when they would jokingly ask why he was so quiet some days and Prompto put on a very forced smile responding that he was just tired. That wasn’t necessarily a lie. He’s been so exhausted as of late and he just couldn’t sleep at all. Not with his thoughts spiraling out of control.

Things… only worsen.

The idea of taking his own life was a thought in which he pondered more on than he should. It’s been so long since he pondered this thought of simply ending all of his pain. The sad part was, that he could do it so easily; so quickly, quietly, and no one would even know, or care for that matter, that he was gone. When one feels so worthless, does living even matter anymore? Prompto doesn’t think so. He trying his hardest not to repeatedly think of the many, quite intriguing, ways he could possibly end his life. He writes these idea down actually in a small notebook and keeps it hidden. If anyone found it, well… they won’t find it. He hides it well just like he hides all of his emotional turmoil.

More weeks go by and Prompto stopped talking to his friends all together; completely closed off. He doesn’t mean to really, completely unintentional, but his anxiousness was through the roof and any sort of communication would put him into panic mode. The whole ‘I’m busy/tired’ excuse wasn’t liable anymore. His friends notice something was different about him but they don't press it. Prompto doesn't know if he should have been glad or sad that they don't. The sense of guilt hangs over him since he hadn’t told his friends about his issues but in true, they wouldn’t care anyways.

Probably one of the more heart wrenching reasons he’s so depressed is dealing with feelings that he knows would not be returned.

An unrequited crush.

It's really stupid but it just pains him even more; eating at his mind persistently. Every time Prompto saw his crush he just felt even worse because he knows the feelings weren't mutual. Why would they be? Who would like someone as fucked up as he was? Who would want someone so worthless, useless, weak- the list goes on but in any rate, no one would like him. If anything, they’d probably treat him as a liability. The prince, after all, would definitely not want to deal with Prompto and his mental problems. They were closer friends than the others and Prompto still believes that Noctis is just pretending to like him. A rational thought would be that Noctis was always there for him when he felt so low. His first episode was easier to go through because Noctis would help him through it while also keeping his spirits up. That rationale was shot. His thoughts were increasingly clouded with unforeseen darkness that could possibly never be fixed. He would never truly see the light of happiness.

The many times Noctis would call him, he’d put on his rehearsed, happy voice and say all was good. He’s acting avoidant. Another reason to feel guilty because he wants to think that Noctis is worried about him and yet, he doesn’t explicitly voice his concern. Or, maybe Noctis just isn’t interested in him. He believes that the latter is the honest truth. They haven’t hung out in a long time and Noctis brings it up that maybe they should do just that. Prompto is hesitant at this. His blundering mind comes up with only negative outcomes one after the other and Prompto almost denied the request. Getting out of bed was too difficult enough as it is but he goes along with it anyways regardless.

Even when it’s just him and Noctis, his emotions are going haywire. He hides it though. He’ll smile and even keep up regular conversation but his mind repeatedly tells him that he’s nothing more than an inconvenience. It wasn’t a smart thing to do but when Noctis left to go to the bathroom, Prompto took the time to do just one small cut. It’s quick, a bit painful, but it calmed him down. The blood flowed down his arm slowly, intriguing. He had to clean it before Noctis got back even if it was interesting to watch. It’s a sick, twisted, ideology. It made Prompto want to cut more but he can’t, not right now at least. He patched his arm up and retrieved a jacket to cover all the scars he had scattered up his arm. Noctis returns and Prompto pretends that nothing ever happened; Just like how he's been pretending on everything recently; His smiles and laughs, it's all false emotions.

His heart begins to ache. He so much wanted to tell Noctis that he’s been pining for him for years now but a las, Noctis would probably think he’s joking or even laugh in his face about it. He keeps it to himself nonetheless. When their hang out session was done, Noctis leaves with a reassuring smile and a comment that he’d always be there for Prompto. That Prompto could tell him anything. The blonde forced a smile and nodded his head in response, but Noctis just had to make one small comment that made Prompto’s heart shatter.

“I'll always be there for you. You’ll always be my best friend. Don’t ever think otherwise.” Noctis spoke gently and Prompto had to hold it together until he finally left.

He screams.

He crumbles to his knees onto the floor, crying out his unwanted feelings. This was what true pain felt like. He doesn’t take that comment lightly and it only rang even louder in his head. Just a friend… Nothing else. He doesn't realize it, but he's taking those words too seriously. He's overreacting but his brain makes him think that Noctis doesn't like him at all. Shouldn’t he be ecstatic that Noctis saw him as a friend at all? He should, but his feelings just left him heartbroken. Noctis hates him. He clutched his chest as if he had a hold of his heart; it hurt so much. His crush was just that, unrequited. He doesn’t know why but this revelation was setting him off so much. This only made him feel more worthless, useless; a liability . If Noctis didn't care for him, who else would actually care for him? His whole body began to ache. Physical pain, emotional pain; he wanted it all to stop. He's self-destructing; completely shutting down. He let's out another scream. He couldn’t take this anymore.

He couldn't live like this anymore.

Prompto never knew comprising a note such as this would be something so difficult to do but he had to do it. He had a lot of people to thank and commend along with a few special thanks. He feels bad because his parents don’t even know anything about his mentality since they were so busy but they neglected him nonetheless so it’s not like they’d care. Again, no one cared which was why he had to do this. He waited a while. What he was going to do had to be commenced in the late hours of the night so no one could see him. He packs a small bag that held his camera full of memories, his personal notebook, and a single note for Noctis’s eyes only. It was just about the right time to leave. He says one last goodbye to his apartment before heading out his door. His strides to his destination were slow, almost as if apart of him is trying to prevent himself from doing this but the major part of him screams that yes, this was the only answer to all his troubles. Why deal with your pain when you can just stop it all completely? Prompto was about to have no more troubles, no more pain or intrusive thoughts. He will finally see the light.

He sits looking out over the quiet city. A little over a year has passed and he was back at this same spot; The Insomnia Bridge. It’s his safe place, or as it should be noted as, the place that’ll be the cause of his fateful death. No one was around and it proved to be the right time. He won’t be talked out of this. He sits close to the edge and looks down. He winced because the bridge was extremely high up but he puts on a sad smile. It was perfect. He closes his eyes just to bask in the cool air around him. It’s quiet, tranquil even, but Prompto was far from feeling anything close to serenity.

He isn’t sure why he hasn’t jumped yet. He doesn’t want to psyche himself out but he still has that small part in him that faintly tells him that this was wrong. That thought alone was nowhere near as overpowering as the thoughts that were engraved into him already. It'll be so quick just to jump. He resisting though and he doesn't know why. Maybe that small thought was more overpowering than he thought. It tells him that he should go see Noctis. It's funny because Prompto knew Noctis wouldn't get up to see him; definitely not at this hour.

He humored that thought. He thinks it as a one-last-time to say goodbye to Noctis officially. Maybe he'll just slip the letter under his door and walk back. There's no stopping his motive tonight. Prompto reluctantly goes to Noctis’s house. He unaware of the time but knew it had to be very late. He can't believe this would be the first time, in a long time, that Noctis would see the person Prompto has been hiding from him, from everyone. The person Prompto had become. Upon actually reaching Noctis’s house, overwhelming dread spread all over him. Why was he here when he could have just been gone already? He rang the doorbell nonetheless and waited before knocking on the door. A few minutes go by and he soon accepted that Noctis won't come to him. He makes it an incentive; if Noctis doesn't come, it's all the more reason for him to go back to the bridge. Remember, Noctis doesn't like him.

He waits a bit longer before he deemed it not worth waiting any longer and began to walk away. He freezes when he hears the door beginning to open and he turns back around tentatively with his head hanging low.

4:17am was the time on the clock when the doorbell rang loudly throughout Noctis’s apartment. Noctis tossed and turned in his bed trying to ignore it but it rang again. He hates getting woken up at all let alone in the middle of the fucking night. He honestly hoped that whoever the fuck was there would leave. It's quiet for a while before his door was being knocked on. Who would be up at this hour and why did they have to come and bother him? He shuffled out of bed, threw on a shirt, and headed towards the door. This better be fucking important if this person really was at his apartment at this hour. He reached the door and looked through the peephole. It was night obviously so it was hard to see who it was and it didn't help since this person was wearing a dark colored hoodie that covered their head. He thinks for a moment that what if this was a burglar? He pushed the thought aside simply because a burglar would probably just break in instead of knocking on his door. Well, unless he was being baited. Nevertheless, he sighs and finally, slowly opens his door.

Noctis is met with blue eyes briefly that immediately looked down and a bit of blonde hair can be seen out the hood. This man was slouching, hands in his pockets looking down.

“P-prompto? Why the hell are you here so late dude?” Yeah it was Prompto. It sucked because now it's almost 4:30am and Noctis really wanted to go back to bed. The yawn was a dead give away on how tired he was.

“C-can I come in?” Prompto asked and his voice was small, almost strained; distant. Now Noctis wanted to say no but it's his best friend and he seemed a bit off from when they hung out recently that day.

“Uh yeah sure…” He said reluctantly with a sigh and gestured for Prompto to come in. Prompto stepped in and Noctis closed the door and turned on the lights. Prompto walked in, with his backpack on, towards the couch with his head still hanging low and sat on it laying his head in his lap. This was a bit weird for Noctis. Was Prompto just going to sleep here? Why didn't he call and ask to come over and why come so late of all times? Prompto's apartment wasn't that far from his place. About a 20 minute walk which never bothered Prompto before. Noctis wondered why he didn't just walk home. The air seems so thin and way too quiet. Prompto is never this quiet. Their early hang out seemed fine, fun even, so why was Prompto so… silent? He even ensured the blonde that he would always be there for him. Moreover, Prompto just seemed… different; more reclusive. Noctis sat down next to Prompto and let out a long sigh that may have sound more annoyed than intended.

“Hey so dude, why are you here? You're welcome anytime but… It's almost 4:30am. Not the most ideal time to drop by.” He tried to joke but the atmosphere still felt stale. Prompto remained silent. He didn't even budge from his position. Noctis began to feel a bit worried and uneasy. Why was Prompto acting so strangely? Noctis decided to pry at him.

“Hey are you… okay? Did something happen? You're usually smiling and joking about something ridiculous.” Another lighthearted joke and Prompto still didn't move. Noctis placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder and he felt him tense up immediately. Prompto soon looked up at him and- he looked… different. His skin was pale, too pale. Noctis got a better look at him and noticed that his eyes were glossy, empty looking; It almost looked like he was crying recently.

“Prompto you have to talk to me. What happened? Are you okay?” Noctis said this time more seriously. The air was suffocating and he just wanted Prompto to say something, anything. Prompto let out a weak sigh and sat up so his elbows were on his knees. He shook his head slowly, giving a weak, sad smile.

“I-I’m… just so, totally fine…” His voice cracked the slightest in a whisper tone. Definitely not fine at all. That statement cut through Noctis and something clicked inside him. Prompto was in one of those mindsets. It's been a long time since Prompto was like this. Noctis knew of his depression and he did everything he could to make sure he was happy and okay when those dark thoughts resurfaced full forced.

Usually Prompto was a happy person or at least tries to be happy. It's been a little over a year since Prompto's last episode and at that time he wasn't at his best. He shut himself out from everyone including Noctis at one point, but Noctis continued to help him. Probably the worse thing Noctis ever had to hear able was getting a call from Prompto himself telling him that he almost killed himself by jumping off the bridge. Noctis had never felt so bad for not seeing the signs even more. Prompto got immediate help and since then, things were good. Or at least Noctis believed things were good.

About a few months back, Prompto stopped seeing his therapist since he actually felt good. He still took his medication though out of precaucion. He felt like he was finally, genuinely happy again, and he was. Noctis knew when he was faking it and over the past few months, he seemed actually happy. Now though, Prompto was just like he was a year ago. As Noctis thinks about it, Prompto did seem a bit avoidant when they hung out earlier; Even so with all of his friends. Fuck, how long has Prompto been like this?

“Talk to me.” Noctis spoke. Prompto let out a short laugh. Noctis couldn't possibly care about him. He felt near psychotic right now. He wants to laugh at this whole bitter situation. He looked towards Noctis straight into those blue eyes of his. Prompto always loved those eyes. Those eyes alone, when looking in his direction, would make him swoon but now those eyes, in which Prompto thinks, are filled with unmistakably pity. He doesn't want Noctis’s pity.

Is it worth telling Noctis that this would be the last time he'll see him or should he keep it as a fucked up surprise? Telling him straight away would probably cause major problems and Prompto, again, won't be stopped this time. He honestly doesn't want to deal with this. Noctis does looked highly concerned about him but Prompto waves it off. Again, it has to be pity. Noctis thinks you're a liability . That phrases pounded in his head. Prompto let's out another weak sigh and cracked a forced smile.

“The Insomnia Bridge is beautiful at night, ya know? It's pretty high up. Looking down… It's memorizing. The concrete looked especially… impenetrable tonight.” He paused and saw Noctis’s expression shift from mock concern to mock surprise. He laughs at this change.

“Prompto-”

“Don't even pretend that you care. After all, I'm just your ‘best friend and nothing more’, right? Even then you were pretending. Everyone has been pretending to care!” Prompto interrupted with a heightened voice. There was a hint of anger there. He wasn't exactly sure why he was angry. His emotions were just running everywhere now. Definitely something due to his psychosis. Noctis had placed both of his hands onto his shoulders firmly and began shaking him.

“What the hell? Prompto I care about you so much. Why would you even think-” His question was cut off by yet another sad laugh.

“Pity. I don't want it from you. I just wanted to say goodbye is all.” He began and saw Noctis’s eyes grow wide. “I think I've spent enough time here…” He spoke and shrugged Noctis’s hands off his shoulders. Noctis, himself, was paralyzed in disbelief. Prompto was… suicidal again? When had this all started? Why hadn't Prompto talk to him about how he felt? Noctis especially felt bad because he could never tell. Even earlier today seemed nice but, as Noctis now notes, it was a ruse. Prompto began to stand up and Noctis immediately grabbed him. The blonde retracted his arm and made haste towards the door. He had to get out of here. Noctis immediately tackled him to the ground causing Prompto to scream and struggle.

“Please calm down. Everything is okay.” Noctis voiced slowly, soothingly, but Prompto continued to struggle.

“N-no! Get off me! I c-can’t live like this anymore! You don't care. No one ever cared!” He screamed out. “Th-the bridge… I have to go back…” He's becoming more hysterical. He's crying because he's in so much pain and laughing sadly because it's hilarious hearing Noctis sound like he cares. Noctis had a strong grip on him. His own mind was racing too fast with this situation. Prompto was not in the right mind at all.

“Prompto listen to me. There's so many people who care for you.” Noctis began and Prompto just shook his head.

“It's a lie. I'm worthless, I'm useless… Just a waste of space. Nothing more than a fucking inconvenience. The world is better off without me.” He stated. Noctis couldn't believe this. Prompto has grown worse to his condition right under Noctis’s eyes. Noctis kept him pinned down but the blonde continued to squirm. He's never heard Prompto sound so broken; so deprived of self-worth that he'd take his own life. He can't let Prompto do that. He can't let Prompto go.

“Prompto, listen to me. You aren't none of those things. You are so special to me.” He tries to get through to Prompto but the struggle was only getting harder.

“Please don't…. D-don't say that to me. I know what I am; y-you don't have to lie. Why won't you j-just let me go? I'm better off not being in a world I'm not wanted in. I'm better off dead!” Prompto only cried and struggled harder but Noctis had a firm grasp on him.

“Prompto… I can't. I can't have you walking away to your end. I can't watch someone so close to me, so important to me end their life. You mean so much to me and-

“Fuck you! I don't want to hear this! If you were really my friend, you'd let me go! Don't you want me to not be in agony anymore? My heart hurts Noct… Everything hurts so damn much and I-I can't deal with this pain anymore. Quit making me suffer!” Noctis was so baffled by all of this. Seeing Prompto teetering so low on the spectrum of depression was worse than Noctis could ever imagine. He's never seen Prompto so sad, so uncaring about anything let alone his own life. Prompto needed help and Noctis was going to be the first step towards helping him.

“Prompto, you're my best friend. And… and I like you so much more than that. I want you to believe me. You're everything to me. I've liked you for so long and I want you to know that. I truly care for you and everyone else does too. P-please… please don't take your life. I need you so much.” Noctis was pleading with tears streaking down his face.

Prompto’s struggle slowly subsided.

In true, he was exhausted right now. It was already late plus all his struggling just made him wear himself out. He couldn't put up a fight anymore but… He feels a little different. He couldn't fathom it but part of him, that was becoming more prominent now, was telling him that Noctis was telling the truth. It's been so long since he had an actual good thought cross his mind. It's too good to be true. He so much wanted to shove the thought aside deeming it false but it rings in his head. Was it true? Did Noctis… actually like him? The phrases ‘Just and friend’ and ‘He likes you more than that’ cycle through his head. The latter was growing stronger.

Realization hits him. It hits him that he was making a terrible mistake. His actions were unjustified. It's hard though. His brain is so fucked up that even he doesn't know what he could have done. He began to sob softly; body going completely slack. Noctis was skeptical but he soon released him. When he met no resistance, he sat up and brought Prompto into a hug which only made him cry harder.

“I… I-I’m sc-scared Noctis.” He spoke broken through his sobs. Noctis only held him tighter.

“It's okay I got you. I will always be here for you.” Noctis said softly and Prompto actually hugged him back.

“It's… so, s-so h-hard to b-believe you.” Prompto spoke softly through his tears.

“Please believe me. I like you too much to see you do something so damaging. My life would be incomplete without you. I want you to know that. I want you to believe me.” Noctis reassured him and that just made Prompto cry even harder.

It's been awhile since Prompto felt like this . He feels his mind increasingly easing from his usual doubtful thoughts. His thoughts are more gentle to him right now. He was beginning to believe Noctis’s words and that makes his heart swell. He was… liked. Prompto never knew anyone could like him but seeing Noctis; hearing Noctis say how his own life would be incomplete without him was a nice realization. It makes him smile even and it's the first time in a long time it's not fake.

“I'm s-so sorry.”

“It's okay. I'm gonna make some calls in the morning for you. I'm going to be there with you every step of the way through to help you. I'm not going to let you get so low again. I will be by your side in this. Always.” Noctis said serenely. He pulls back from the hug to let out a yawn and Prompto does another thing he hadn't done in a long time, genuinely at least; Laugh.

“Sorry for waking you and keeping you up so late with… all of this.” Prompto stated but Noctis waved him off.

“Don't be. You had a lot on your mind and wasn't in the right state of mind. Your wellbeing is more important.” Noctis began and stood them both up. “Let's go to bed. I'd put you in the guest room but… I kinda wanna watch you so I'd like you to sleep with me.” Noctis rushed the last part out and a small blushed formed on his face.

“I… I get it. It's fine.” Prompto accepted and they soon retire to Noctis’s room.

Prompto feels sleep come upon him easier than usual. It's been ages since the last time he had a decent night of sleep. His thoughts aren't intrusive or awful and he falls asleep fairly quickly. He was finally at peace. The greatest feeling ever was the feeling of mutual attraction between him and Noctis. Coming here was the right decision after all.

Noctis is still shaken up by everything. He puts some blame on himself for Prompto’s conditions only because he should have known. He was really going to watch over him from now on. He doesn't want to see Prompto like that any more, ever again. It's unintentionally but Noctis wrapped his arms around Prompto. It's… safety reasons really but he feels Prompto lean into a bit more which makes him smile. Noctis ponders on the time and yeah, it's was almost 6am and he was so tired. It crosses his mind about a scenario in which he didn't get up to his doorbell or knocks. He definitely didn't want to think about that outcome; it's too painful to think about. He's glad he got up though. He may have lost some sleep but he's even more happy that he didn't lose someone so special to him.

He saved Prompto’s life.

Waking up and not feeling Prompto next to him sent Noctis into full panic. He shoots out of bed, scanning his room for any signs of the blonde. He let's out a sigh of relief. The shower was running. He was still worried though and it showed when he went to the bathroom door. He knocked on the door and hear Prompto respond with a ‘Yeah?’ and Noctis smiled. Good, Prompto was actually still here. Noctis went back to his bed deciding he'd wait for Prompto to make the calls. He noticed the bag Prompto had brought with him last night. Now, Noctis shouldn't be snooping but he feels like he had to see what Prompto was bringing to his death.

He opens the bag revealing only a few items. His camera, a notebook, and an envelop with Noctis’s name written on it. Noctis goes for the notebook first and scans through each page in horror. There were… very descriptive and disturbing things written in here. It looked like it started as a diary that slowly morphed into various ways of death in general to ways of killing himself. It's… terrible to say the least. The last few pages had the word ‘Bridge’ written on them with the last two pages being a complete suicide note. It pains Noctis to read this. Prompto had been going through so much turmoil and seeing it written only made it more real. These were Prompto’s true feelings. Depression in a nutshell.

The camera, Noctis figures, is just old photos that Prompto had taken. Old memories that, at one point, Prompto would have never saw again. Noctis instead goes to the envelop addressed to him. He opens it slowly. It's a lengthy note but Noctis begins to read it carefully.

Hey Noct. So, this is really hard for me to do but there isn't anything else I can do. You're probably confused but by the time you read this, I'm gone from this world. I've finally ended my agony. My body will lay at the bottom of the Insomnia Bridge until someone finds it. Most likely tomorrow morning. You're probably asking yourself, why did I do it? Well it's not as hard to explain as you think. It's simply, I hated myself so much. I was nothing to this world and no one cared about me. I went each passing day pretending that I was okay and I never was. I've spent so many months being sad. I wanted to tell you and the guys about my problems but I knew you guys didn't care about me either. I didn't want your pity, even more, I didn't want you guys to laugh in my face at how pathetic I was. I am pathetic aren't I?

Now I know you don't care but I should let you know a secret I've been keeping. I liked you. Actually as I write this, I might as well say that I loved you. I loved you so much. I've been pinning for you for years and hid my feelings away from you. It's a waste telling you now since I'll never know how you feel. Well I could take a guess. You probably feel nothing for me. I can't believe you've been pretending to be my friend to make me feel better. Jerk move dude. But it's fine because now I'm out of your way. Apart of me wanted to think that you did like me back but I know that's far fetched. You wouldn't want someone like me, I'd just ruin your life with my problems anyways. A prince doesn't need someone so broken like me.

I guess I should say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being strong enough to handle this but it's gotten so difficult that I can't live in this cycle of pain and suffering anymore. I love you Noctis and I always will.

Until we meet again,

-Prompto

Noctis was so completely rattled by this that he begins to cry. He still can't believe Prompto had been feeling this way for so long without his knowledge. Prompto was so close to killing himself and Noctis wouldn't be able to get through his own days without him. Noctis couldn't even think about a life with Prompto not present in it. It pains him. He doesn't want Prompto to ever feel like he's worthless or anything bad ever again.

“Oh y-you found my note…” Noctis jumped at the voice. He looks up and immediately spots Prompto with a towel around his waist. His arms… Noctis sees the scars that littered up both of Prompto’s forearm. His expression change to exasperation upon seeing those faint, some recent, scars. Prompto flinches at the look and quickly grabs one of Noctis’s shirts and sweats retreating back to the bathroom. Noctis sighs and puts the note down and waits. Prompto comes back with clothes on, slowly making his way toward the bed and sits down. He doesn't speak at first and Noctis didn't give him the liberty to.

“I'm sorry for snooping through your bag. I just-” Prompto cut him off.

“It's fine… I… I'm sorry for everything. I've never felt so… so low. Last time this happened, I was talked out of not jumping so easily. This time… I don't think I would have been. I-I was just gonna slide the note under your door and… well…” Prompto looked away. He feels weak right now but he knows Noctis has some care for him, or at least he wants to believe him. It's a finicky situation. Noctis hugs him immediately.

“I'm so happy you didn't jump. I meant everything I said. People care about you so much. Your parents, your friends, me; We all care for you. Always remember that you're liked and that you're worth something to this world.” Noctis held him tightly. He feels Prompto choke out a sob.

“I can't believe I did this again. If I-I didn't come here… I… I…-”

“Shhhhh everything's fine now. You're still here and I'm going to help you. I do want you to promise me something.” Noctis pulls back from the hug to look into Prompto’s watery eyes. “Promise me if you ever get this low or feel unwanted, please talk to me. Don't ever think I won't listen.”

“I'll… try. It's s-so hard to talk about my feelings when I think everyone is against me. But… I feel better knowing that you'll listen to me.” Prompto paused and let out a sigh. “I… meant everything in that letter. It's morbid at first but… it's all true. My thoughts, my pain, and… my love for you. It might seem like a moment of weakness, but I've loved you for so long. You don't have to love me back but it's good to get that off my chest. Being your friend is enough.” Prompto gave him a sad smile. He's starting to feel a bit better the more he hears Noctis’s sincere words. Noctis said he liked him but even then it hard to believe it, but Prompto is actually okay with that. He's content with just being his friend. Noctis eyes widen at the words before he pulled Prompto in for another hug.

“I never really thought about my feelings towards you. I know, for sure, I really like you more than a friend and with everything that just transpired, I could not live without you. I… I feel the same way as you do about me. Believe me when I say this: I love you too Prompto.” Prompto’s eyes widens at the words. His emotions were still heightened. The happiness he feels is overwhelming almost just because he's hasn't been happy in a very long time. What he does in response to those words is an impulse but he hoped Noctis wouldn't change his mind about him.

He kissed him briefly.

He pulled back almost immediately because it's probably not the right time to do this. He's blushing and stammering out an apology only to be silenced by Noctis’s lips. It's a sweet, short kiss; One that Prompto had never thought would happen to him. They pull back from each other both blushing. Prompto gives Noctis the warmest genuine smile he's ever seen.

“Thank you for everything.” Prompto said softly as he brought Noctis back in for a hug. They stay like this for a while. Neither of them wanted to ruin this moment. Prompto has never felt so warm and fuzzy like this, not with his dark thoughts but now, the darkness that had clouded his thoughts were slowly drifting away little by little. He knows it won't be an easy journey to go on but he will do what he can to be and stay truly happy. Noctis would be right by his side.

Prompto had always thought that his life would only be covered in a shadow of sadness but he now feels like there is something to live for especially with Noctis being with him. Things will only get better from here. He's glad he came here last night.

Noctis was the light he needed in his life.

#promptis #ffxv #Noctis x Prompto #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #this is angsty af #there's no happiness i'm sorry #poor prompto #fanfic #misssweetywrites

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