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ceranovis · 2 months

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Some musings to do with this celltw pic

As a fandom I feel like we could be doing So Much More with Other Side Elements being canon + all the connected Ordem worldbuilding it introduces by association.

Canonically, Cellbit chose to align himself with the knowledge element. So I hopped on over to the ordem wiki page for Knowledge to look for things to put in the paperwork on the table. Then I realized there's a memory alteration ritual (accidentally pulled the wrong ritual circle image for the art though oTL ...let's just pretend Cellbit identified the right one at some point).

The [Change Memory Ritual] can erase all or only some specific memories of the victim. In both cases, if the victim comes into contact with people, places and certain objects that were part of this past erased, it will begin to gradually recall some elements and have quick flashes of some moments, being able to recover its memory completely after a while.

Now listen. If there's one thing I think of as core to q!Cellbit's character, it's that as far as he's concerned the ends always justifies the means. This includes doing things he knows people he loves will hate him for because he thinks it will be better for them in the long run.

In the regret arc letters, he told Tazercraft he loved them, that Cell was dead & he didn't want them to think he was reverting to that type of monster. While there were a few moments where he brought up clearly unresolved feelings of anger and betrayal/abandonment regarding how things went with Fuga, I do think at that point he cared for the Favela crew as a found-family, and was making decisions he felt were in their best interest (usually without consulting them, or like...running those ideas by anyone else ever...)

If he discovered a way to erase specific memories, I could fully see him using that to 'make things better' for Pac. I doubt he'd try to erase all the Fuga memories (especially as he'd have to also erase Mike and Felps) but I also don't think he'd feel like he had to go that far anyways.

Earlier on in the Quesadilla timeline, Pac seemed to think of Cell as basically dormant and was relatively comfortable with having a fairly close and positive relationship with Cellbit. He only grew paranoid about Cell re-emerging when he saw signs of Cellbit snapping, and he first responded by actively trying to keep Cellbit in a headspace that wouldn't lead to that. There have been multiple instances of Pac extending a bit of grace, an unspoken offer not to forgive or forget but to move forward. He wants Cellbit to be a good man, not a monster.

So I think Cellbit would use the ritual to smooth over events that put a strain on their current relationship. Things that made Pac scared he was turning back into Cell. And he'd probably justify it as 'helping' Pac, but there's also a selfish element there too, of him desperately trying to keep hold of this new start and family he probably doesn't deserve but somehow got anyways.

It's small things at first-- just wiping away little instances that put Pac on edge around him. Pac is prone to glossing over Cellbit's red flags anyways, so even if other people remember what Pac doesn't, it wouldn't set off immediate alarm bells. Nobody would catch on to the manipulation.

Pac himself would write off most of the weird, vague flashes he gets sometimes. It feels sort of like deja vu but with an extra helping of uneasy dread. He's not very self-confident when it comes to his brain; he's just being unreasonably paranoid because of his memories of Cell-- those half-memories are so foggy because his brain is panicking and conflating the past with the present, right? More importantly, wants to trust Cellbit.

Now, there's a clip of Pac (which I can't find now but it lives in my head rent free) where he implies that, if Cellbit and Roier hadnt been introduced, he and Cellbit would have been together.

There are a few points in the canon timeline where guapoduo could have been derailed. Cellbit may never have even gotten to that point with Roier if he and Pac were already a little bit closer. If he was fucking with Pac's memories in a way that made Pac less cautious of him, I think it's entirely possible their relationship would have had a chance to develop in place of guapoduo's.

Cellbit didn't start erasing memories with the intention of getting Pac to fall for him though. He wanted the olive branch Pac extended. He wanted Pac to not be terrified of him. But it never occured to him that Pac might be capable of falling in love with the man who ate his goddamn leg. So it completely blindsides him when Pac does, in fact, very deliberately step over the line between platonic and romantic in their relationship.

It feels a lot more morally dubious to be manipulating Pac's memories once that happens. But he's in too deep. He knows Pac would hate him if he found out the truth. But isn't it better this way anyways? Pac, somehow, impossibly, wants to love him-- it's not like he's forcing Pac feel anything about him, right? He knows how terrible betrayal feels-- and he doesn't have to make Pac feel that way, doesn't have to hurt him like that! All he has to do is omit the truth. It's not even a lie, really.

He wants Pac to be happy, wants to preserve the warmth Pac looks at him with now, and if holding his tongue is what assures that... well he can swallow down the guilt gnawing at him and bear that mental burden for both of them. Theres so much in their history for him to feel guilty about anyways, what's one more thing?

Unfortunately for Cellbit, he's never used the ritual on people prior to this, and the books he got it from were light on details as to how it works. He has no idea that the locks on Pac's memories start to slowly erode as soon as he encounters a trigger. And since all of the erased memories are of Cellbit, their time together is just speeding up that process.

Eventually, Pac regains a memory he can't just brush off. And he has to come to terms with the fact that something is very, very wrong between them even if he doesn't understand exactly what's happening to him. He'd figure it out eventually, go through Cellbit's notes in secret and piece things together. When he does he's horrified and angry and heartbroken. But he's torn too because it's not like he can just forget the relationship they've built either, even if he now knows the foundation is half rotted.

He still loves Cellbit, despite every fucked up thing Cellbit has ever done to him.

The question is really whether Pac loves himself enough to pull the plug on this unhealthy dynamic.

#musings #canon divergent au #qsmp au #celltw #qsmp shipping

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spacegaynsfw · 1 year

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OK Ok ok ok ok so LAST night. Ok. So. Lots of impact play. And bondage. I was. Like listen there is something almost therapeutic to me about bondage I just. Like. Being tied up and not able to move around.

Also. I was laughign bc Miss described this guy as “tall and stocky” and when he showed up at my hotel room at like 6’4” and built like a football player I was like. Well. She wasn’t kidding when she said tall

Thankfully he was overall fairly average in the meat department so I wasn’t struggling Too much with that given that he was. The first dick I’ve ever actually physically interfaced with which is kind of wild to think about but regardless

Things I learned:

1) Tickling, while unpleasant, is not the literal hell level of awful I thought it would be. It’s ultimately something that I am overall ambivalent to, but not something I’d put on a limit list.

2) Gagging is actually kinda hot oh no rkgnrjfdj like it’s a lot but it’s . Like it’s one thing when I do it to myself right but for some reason when I got someone sticking their fingers down my throat or shoving my head down on their dick it’s like. Hello. Also resisting for a split moment at first then having them calmly correct you and tell you to take it ????????????????????

3) I am not vocal almost to a fault LMFAO like he checked in on me so many times and I was checked the fuck out (in a good way) but he was like. “You sure you’re doing okay??” and I was like “trust me if you were hearing me speak coherent words to you that would be far more concerning” fjgjdndksn

Anyway. I had a really good time and I’m very sore and y’all wanna see my bruised as shit tiddies? Since tiddies are legal now and tumblr shut up I think this is art!!!!!!!!!

Obviously the right tiddy got a little bit more beaten up as shown in exhibit b there. And wow wearing a shirt around today was a little rough since I don’t wear bras. But hoo

Y’know what and while we’re at it here’s my booty

Also! Pretty bruised!! I just took that like an hour ago and it’s been more than 24 hours! I will say though (and I’m sure this is true for most people just bc like. Anatomy) the ass wasn’t as intense as the tits. Like, even vis a vis the marks left, I feel like he went pretty ham on my ass and thighs and stuff but it didn’t feel quite as intense and clearly didn’t leave quite as dramatic of marks, and he definitely was pretty hard on my tits but not as much?? Idk man it was wild.

I felt kinda bad because I was in a weird headspace and I wanted to cum and he was clearly trying really hard to get me there but I just like couldn’t ?? And I was like. Well. I mean. Oh well I guess. I think it was part position at the time and just that there was so much sensory input at that exact moment my brain was like . Absolutely not. But LATER he did actually get me to cum and then had the audacity to continue to use my hitachi on me ON HIGH and I was,,, dying. It was a lot. Good a lot! But a lot. And all that before HE got off (✨in me✨ nonetheless)

Anyway. In conclusion. 10/10 would recommend had a great time

#tori says things #max says things #my stuff

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spacejammie-eimmajecaps · 2 years

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heyo spacejammie i noticed you write a lottttt and Sprout, Grow, Bloom is set to have 35 chaps right but i see you also mention chronic illness and sick days which makes me worried abt your health 😟 no need to share more than you feel comfy with but like how do you power thru the sick days? do you have any self care type stuff that helps? it makes me worry you need to take care of yourself and be careful with your health pls..

Hello anon :)

That's right, Sprout, Grow, Bloom is 35 chapters (though there is a chapter near the end that I may cut or just combine with another chapter), and based on the word count of the first draft, this fic will likely be around 400,000 words once it's done. My longest project ever! (Daunting and exhausting, but also quite exciting!!)

I do have multiple chronic illnesses, and I do get sick a lot (cold and flu season is always rough)

As far as powering through sick days, I am not always able to do that. If I have a fever or brain fog, I usually don't try to push through it, but there are times I've drafted when I have a fever.

When I'm in pain, I can usually ignore it to a certain extent (I'm always in pain haha). But if it's too bad, it becomes distracting, and I don't write on those days.

Same thing for fatigue. I'm always tired, but it's worse some days, so I don't push myself on those days.

Heart episodes only slow me down for a few hours, though if it's bad enough for a hospital trip, it might set me back for a few days (mostly because being at the hospital triggers my ptsd and it puts me in a weird headspace for a while after going there). Luckily, I have not had to go to the hospital yet this year (knock on wood)

But overall, I am getting better about not pushing myself when I shouldn't. This was actually a problem during the first year I was writing. But now I've learned to take breaks when I need to, and I've accepted that I can't always put out my maximum effort for writing.

So anyway, while my health is not good, there is no need to worry about me. My chronic illnesses are disabling and unpleasant, but I'm not going to just keel over any time soon. I will be okay :)

Also, even if it takes a while for me to get a chapter out, it will still happen eventually. I've put a lot of work into getting this fic well set up, and I'm being mindful about avoiding burnout as I continue to work on it. I still hope to maintain about 1 chapter a week, though there will probably be times that it takes an extra week or so (which will be the case for chapter three. I'm still not recovered from getting sick last week, and I expect it will take me a few more days to be able to resume my efforts, and maybe four days after that to finish the chapter)

Sorry for the ramble haha

But yeah, thank you so much for your concern. That's very kind and thoughtful of you 💜

#thanks anon!#so nice of you to think of me :")

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urdearestmom · 3 years

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I'll Walk With You

hello everyone shocked to see me posting yet again???????

i said after i posted that oneshot rehashing 3x06 that i was going to one day write something where mike and max have an actual conversation.... and here it is!! for your reading pleasure :)

i think i did them and their dynamic justice with this and i'm super proud of how it turned out. we're unlikely to ever get something like this in the show but i'm hoping s4 at least gives us them being actual friends so that i can infer that something like this happened between seasons lol

Max’s house is silent as the grave. She isn’t surprised, it’s been like this nearly all the time since the summer. Her stepfather will drink himself back to sleep on the couch, and her mother will say nothing. Max won’t say anything either. The day has barely begun and it’s already shit.

Most of the time she escapes the horrible atmosphere inside her house by going to school, but it’s Spring Break now and she has nowhere to be. She’ll be stuck with her thoughts all day if she doesn’t find something else to do, so after nearly two hours of trying in vain to entertain herself, she decides to head out and see if Lucas is free. She knows Dustin already left town with his mom the night before, and she’s not willing to have Mike third wheel her and Lucas, so she hopes he’s down to go do something with her. He’s good at distracting her from the inescapable cycle of guilt and anger she feels constantly nowadays.

Except when she gets to his house, his parents are in the garage putting things into the trunk of the family car. She stops at the sight. Erica is nowhere to be seen but Lucas is standing in the front doorway and sees Max coming right away. He meets her in the street.

“Max, hey,” he says. “What’s up?”

Max gestures to his house. “I came to see if you wanted to hang out, but it looks like you guys are going somewhere.”

Lucas frowns. “I thought I told you, we’re going to visit my cousins in Chicago for a few days.”

Lord, a few days? Lucas must see it on her face because he scrambles to assure her it’s not for the whole week.

“I’ll be back Wednesday,” he promises.

“Today’s Sunday,” she protests. She knows there’s literally nothing to be done about it, but it still sucks. What’s she going to do all week?

“I swear I told you,” Lucas repeats.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Max answers. “You probably did. I’m sorry, just… forgot.”

He frowns again. Max has been forgetting a lot of things lately. She’s not sure why, it just feels like everything in her life is too much and her brain can’t handle it the way it should. Freshman year has not been the greatest so far.

“You okay?” He asks her, reaching for her hands, and his concern makes her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. He’s probably the only person who actually cares about her well-being, seeing as her mom clearly doesn’t.

Max nods. “Yeah. I just didn’t want to be at home, but I guess I’ll find something else to do. Bye, Lucas,” she says, squeezing his fingers gratefully before turning away to bike off back down the street.

“Hey!” He calls. She turns back. He motions to the big house next door, equally familiar to her. “Mike’s still home, maybe you can ask him?”

Max crosses her arms. “Like he would want to hang out with me,” she scoffs.

Lucas sighs. “Look, I know he can be a bit of an ass sometimes-”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“-But he’s not a bad person, Max, you know that. He’s dealing with a lot right now,” Lucas finishes.

Max rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s not the only one,” she says bitingly. She has never gotten along with the third boy in their group and at this point she isn’t sure she ever will. She’s also not really in the mood to look at his stupid face today, considering it’ll more than likely start an argument and she doesn’t have the energy for that.

“I know,” Lucas says. “I know. But you’re both my best friends and I think you guys are more alike than you think. If you just gave each other another chance, you’d get along.”

Max doesn’t reply. She doesn’t really know what to say because she knows Lucas is only trying to help her with what he thinks is the current best solution, but she doesn’t want to agree with him either.

“Just think about it,” he continues. “He’s the only one not going anywhere so if you really need to see someone…”

She gets what Lucas is implying, but really? “He’d probably laugh in my face if I showed up at the door. I’d rather stay home.”

At that, Lucas raises his arms in surrender. “I’m just saying he wouldn’t turn you away. We don’t lie to each other, alright?”

Max shrugs in response. “Whatever. I’ll figure something out.”

Lucas steps forward quickly to hug her. Pulling back, he keeps his hands on her arms. “I wrote my cousins’ phone number on the back of your math worksheet yesterday if you need it.”

She gives him a tiny nod and he returns it with a small smile, dropping his arms back to his sides.

“I’ll see you first thing Thursday morning,” he adds.

“Thursday,” she repeats, putting one foot back on her bike pedal. “Got it.” What’s she supposed to do until Thursday?

The answer, as it happens, is absolutely nothing. For the rest of Sunday afternoon, Max rides around town with no destination. She stops in a park for a while, sitting down and pulling up blades of grass and sprinkling them around her. A man walking his dog gives her a weird look and she flips the bird at his back. That action feels oddly satisfying, even if he didn’t see it. In the evening she makes her way back to her house, and everyone pretends like she didn’t just spend the entire day gone.

Monday dawns looking and feeling exactly the same, except Max decides to get a start on some homework. This way when Lucas comes back she’ll be free to hang out with him without the thought of her assignments hanging over her head. Her mom leaves to go to work and all it does is make Max hyper aware of Neil’s movements across the house. He’s supposed to go to work too, but Max isn’t sure he will. In fact, she sort of suspects he’s either quit or been fired. He’s missed too many days.

When she’s tired of writing and the lines of her character analysis of Mercutio are starting to blur into the equations on her algebra worksheet, she goes into the kitchen to find something to eat. Neil’s gone, so she makes herself a ham and cheese sandwich and stands by the sink to eat it. She feels exhausted, and it’s barely afternoon.

Hours later, she wakes up from a nap to the sun near setting and the noises of her mom puttering around the kitchen making dinner. The first thing her gaze lands on is the clunky walkie-talkie sitting on her desk, and her thoughts spring to the boys. Specifically, what Lucas said to her the day before.

Maybe it has more merit than she first gave it. It’s true that she doesn’t get along with Mike at all, but she might be willing to try again at some point, if only to appease Lucas. She had wanted to when they all first met. She liked the other boys just fine, but she could tell from the get-go that Mike was their ringleader and his opinion could sway the others. If she wanted to truly feel like a part of the group, they all had to be on board. Even after that, things weren’t so terrible between them; at least until summer and all the drama with El and then everything else that happened. Now, Max’s headspace is too occupied by other problems to care much about trying to repair her somewhat-friendship with him, and Mike has become more and more reclusive by the day. She even thinks she saw him smoking once, down at the far end of the field, which, although she isn’t an expert, she feels is extremely uncharacteristic.

Everything’s just weird now. There’s too many empty holes in all their lives.

Dinner is mostly quiet; nobody in this house ever says anything that has any true meaning anyway. Maybe it’s better this way. Neil ends up on the couch joined by his bottle of whiskey and Max’s mom shoos her away after she’s cleared the table, so Max retreats back to her room. The silence is almost deafening, and she wishes that dumb walkie-talkie on her desk would crackle. What she wouldn’t give for someone to say real words to her.

She considers calling Lucas, but she doesn’t want to bother him with her problems when he’s supposed to be having fun with his cousins. She also doesn’t want Neil to ask who she’s calling. In the end, she ends up tidying her room, gathering up all her comic books and folding the clothes she has on the floor before placing them on her chair. The walkie seems like it’s calling out to her as she glances at it every five seconds, and then finally lets her frustration out on it by snatching it up and launching it at her bed. She doesn’t want to break it, but she did want to throw it. Why does she keep looking at it? It’s not like anyone’s going to call her on it. The only people who might are both out of town.

Her emotions war inside of her. On the one hand, she knows what she wants, what she needs. She needs to talk to someone freely so it has to be someone who relates to what she’s seen, because being stuck virtually alone inside her house for the next few days until Lucas gets back is going to drive her insane. Unfortunately the only person she can think of is someone she isn’t on good terms with, which makes her angry for even having the thought. Is she really desperate enough to potentially embarrass herself?

Damn Lucas for putting the idea in her head. She’s sure she never would’ve considered it on her own. Damn Lucas and his stupid advice, damn Dustin for ever speaking to her that day and getting her involved in all their mess, and damn Mike for hating her from day one.

Damn her for going to talk to him anyway. She sneaks out her window, just as she has done to meet Lucas so many times, except it’s after nine and it’s dark out. She brings the walkie with her.

On the way, she wonders why she’s even doing this. She supposes it would make it easier for Lucas and Dustin when they all hang out together (which is getting rarer every week) if she and Mike aren’t constantly at each other’s throats about something or other. She also remembers something El said to her on the phone a while ago that she had forgotten about until this very moment. El had heard enough complaints from both of them about each other and was just wishing they would stop fighting. Max had scoffed at it and been about to launch into another rant about just how much of a jerk Mike was when El had said she didn’t care if they weren’t friends, she just wanted them to stop being so mad all the time.

Max kind of agrees with her. Being angry all the time is exhausting, and there are way worse things in her life to be angry about than Mike Wheeler and his dumb attitude. If she can make peace with him, maybe she won’t feel so out of place around her own friends. And maybe, if they can get over everything that’s happened between them, it’ll give her hope that the rest of her life might look up one day, too.

It’s only when she gets to his house that she realizes she doesn’t know what she wants to say. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a whole conversation, maybe just seeing each other for five minutes will give her enough stability to stay in her house until Lucas returns and she can talk to him instead. She just needs to be around someone who knows the things she’s been through since she moved here, someone who looks at her and knows why she is the way she is. Her mom can never know and will never understand, and Neil is too scary to ever think about approaching him with anything at all.

She drops her bike in the grass by the back of the house, making her way to the basement door where she knows the boys like to be. He’s probably in there still. Her stomach is roiling with nerves, scared that he’ll open the door and glare at her like he usually does, but she remembers there’s another way he looks at her sometimes. There are moments at school, when she passes the gym or sees the basketball team, where Max gets overwhelmed at the memories of her dead stepbrother. It’s almost like she can smell him, the way he used to get up in her face when he yelled at her and the way he looked when he died apologizing to her. It’s moments like that when Dustin and Lucas will be distracted with some petty disagreement that she looks to Mike and his gaze contains solidarity instead of hostility; reassurement that he knows what it feels like to be reminded at every turn of someone you cared about who is gone. He was there, too, and saw Billy sacrifice himself at the last moment just as she did. It’s not an image either of them can forget.

It’s this that gives her the courage to rap her knuckles on the glass pane of the basement door and wait for an answer. When she waits ten seconds and nothing happens, she frowns and knocks again. He wouldn’t know it’s her, why would he ignore it?

She pushes her face up to the door again and tries to see inside, her breath fogging against the glass, and then realizes all the lights in the basement are off.

“Shit,” she says quietly. She doesn’t want to show up at the front door at this time of night. His mom will probably answer and Max doesn’t want to explain herself. She wanders around to the front of the house anyway, looking at which lights are on. There’s one on the ground floor that flickers and seems like it might be a TV, and there’s one on in a room on the second floor. That room has pink wallpaper, though, so Max decides to assume it’s not the one she’s looking for. The middle upstairs window is dark, and the one on the left has the blinds pulled halfway down, but she spots a familiar figure walking past it in the half second her eyes jump to it. Bingo.

She takes a breath to steel herself before bringing the walkie-talkie out of her jacket pocket and pressing down on the button. “Mike, do you copy? It’s Max. Over.”

The walkie crackles with static for a few seconds, and then clears up as an answer comes through. “Yeah, I copy. What do you want? Over.”

“Can you come outside?”

It crackles again in the silence, and Max thinks that maybe this was insane and she should just go home. Then, “You’re outside?”

The blinds lift all the way up and Max sees Mike’s expression change from confused to surprised, like he didn’t actually believe she was there. In a second, he has the window pulled up too and his head sticking out of it.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, his tone of voice anxious, and Max realizes he probably thinks something horrible has happened. In his head, there’s likely no other reason she of all people would show up at his house at close to ten at night.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says, glancing away from him above her and noticing she’s standing in front of the front door. This is not a good place to be. “I just- didn’t want to be alone.”

She looks back up to find him staring at her like she’s grown another head. “So you came to me?”

Max huffs and crosses her arms. “Well, there’s no one else to go to!”

“Keep your voice down!” He hisses. “Do you want my mom to hear you?”

She glares. She’s starting to think that this was a bad idea after all.

After a few seconds of mutinous eye contact, Mike puts a hand to his forehead exasperatedly. “Give me a minute, I’ll meet you at the basement door.” He shuts the window and pulls the blinds down without another word, so Max heeds the order and circles back around to where she left her bike. A few moments later, he comes out the door shrugging on a jacket over what looks like-

“Are those Star Wars pyjamas?” She asks, her mouth twisting into a teasing little smile. What does El see in this guy? As far as she knows, Lucas isn’t this completely nerdy.

He gives her a flat look. “Why do you have to have a problem with everything that I do?”

She frowns. “It was just a question. Relax, jeez.”

In response, Mike puts his hands in his pockets and looks at her. “So what do you want to do?”

Max balks for a second, awkwardness taking over her. This is so weird. She’s never willingly chosen to spend any of her time alone with Mike, and now she doesn’t know what to do.

“Um… just- walk around, maybe?”

He shrugs at her answer and starts walking toward the line of trees behind the house, where there’s a little path that leads off to the next street. Max follows quietly, a little moonlight shining down on them, and she thinks that the silence between them doesn’t feel as explosive as it usually does.

Somewhere along the way, after they’ve crossed another street and gone down a path between two houses, Mike takes something shiny out of his pocket and starts playing with it, and Max sees that it’s a lighter.

“What’s that for?” She asks.

“Lighting things up,” he says.

“You smoke?”

“Only sometimes.”

“So what’s it for the other times?”

He looks at her and his eyebrows furrow for a quick second, seemingly surprised that she inferred something about him correctly.

Mike shrugs again. “Sometimes I go out to the woods and set dead leaves on fire one at a time just to watch them burn. It’s weird how something that was alive once can just disintegrate right in front of you.”

Max isn’t sure what to say to that, but she offers something anyway. “Sometimes I steal my stepdad’s Bowie knife. Use it to stab trees,” she says casually. “Sometimes I even carve that I hate him into them.”

She’s never told Lucas that. Something in her knows that he wouldn’t relate, that his way of dealing with his anger is much calmer and reserved, but Mike’s admission of low-level violence makes her feel less crazy for her own. Maybe Lucas was right in saying they’re more alike than they think they are.

They come out of the trees behind the houses, and the path continues down a hill to a small playground area. There's a swing set that Max sits down on, the cold rubber biting through the fabric of her jeans and making her shiver. The chains creak when Mike sits in the one next to her. He’s digging through his pockets for something.

Max is almost surprised when he pulls out a box of cigarettes and plucks one from the pack, lighting it, but given what he’d just told her two minutes ago it’s not that shocking. He takes a pull from it and then blows the smoke out into the air slowly.

“You want some?” He asks, turning to her.

She remembers the choking sensation she’d felt that time Billy had offered her a drag from his cigarette, and then her mom’s reaction to it.

“Yeah, why not.” Maybe if she still smells like smoke tomorrow, her mom will care enough to ask where she’s been.

Mike hands it to her and the tips of his fingers are warm. “You’ve smoked before?”

“Once,” Max says.

He nods and watches her, and she tries not to let the hot, ashy air she breathes in make her choke. She holds it for a few seconds and then blows it out, and it makes her feel less nervous than she was before about this whole situation.

The pair of them sit there in the darkness for a few minutes, sharing the cigarette in silence, before Max thinks to ask a question she never got a real answer for.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Mike doesn’t look at her, sucking in another breath of smoke. “I don’t hate you.”

“You sure act like you do.”

“Oh, and you don’t?” He says sarcastically, still not looking at her. “If I hated you why would I be here right now?”

“Well, if I hated you, why would I have come talk to you?” She retorts, trying to restrain the irritation she knows is probably written all over her. If she doesn’t rein herself in, she knows this is going to go south quicker than she wants it to.

He laughs dryly. “You said it yourself. You only came because there’s no one else.”

Max bites back the anger that’s trying to rise. He does have a point there, but she’s not going to tell him that. He’s also not answering her question.

“Fine. Maybe you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“What’s your problem with me then?”

He hands her the end of the cigarette to finish and grabs onto the chains of the swing, dragging the toes of his Converse through the grass.

“You’re always starting shit with me for no reason and it makes me so tired,” he says. “Like, we’d be friends just fine if we didn’t argue every other day.”

“And whose fault is that…” Max murmurs under her breath, dropping the cigarette stub to the ground and putting it out with her foot.

Mike turns to her sharply. “Uh, yours? You made El break up with me! How am I supposed to forget that?”

“I already told you I didn’t make her!” Max says loudly. Why is he still on this? As far as Max is aware, they’re basically back together anyway so it’s not like it made a difference. “And how am I supposed to forget how shit you made me feel the first week I was here?”

He looks away again. “I was pretty rude, I’ll give you that.”

She scoffs. “That’s underrating it. You were a total asshole.”

He pushes himself forward a little bit and then lets himself swing back. “I guess I never really apologized for that. I do regret it.”

Max stays silent and waits for him to continue. He’s slumped over in the swing, looking smaller and sadder than she’s ever seen him look, and her heart twinges. She recognizes the defeat present in the way his shoulders are hunched, the complete and utter exhaustion at the state of their lives painted on his face. It’s what she sees every day when she looks in the mirror.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like you, or something,” he tells her. “I was jealous that Lucas and Dustin seemed like they were moving on when I was so…”

“Messed up?” She offers.

Mike shrugs. “Yeah. And part of it was out of concern for you, too.”

Max furrows her brows in confusion. That’s new. “Concern?” She asks, shaking her head slowly. Her hair swings around her face like a curtain, blocking her vision, but she wants to look at Mike and see how he explains this. She tucks it away behind her ear.

“Yeah,” he says again. “I could see how fucked up Will was, and I knew how fucked up I was. And Dustin and Lucas are good at pretending stuff doesn’t affect them but I know it did. It does.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t want someone new getting mixed up in our shit, okay?” He bursts out, meeting her curious gaze once again. “I didn’t want someone else to have to experience the stuff we did. I thought if I made it obvious that I didn’t want you there, you would leave. You know now, but when Lucas told you we couldn’t tell you stuff for your own safety it was the truth.”

Max thinks about that. She supposes it makes sense. She has noticed that Mike tends to be the guy that worries about everyone else’s safety, and always wants to get to the bottom of the problem before anyone gets hurt. Lucas is the same and it’s something she admires about him, but it’s overtly obvious in Mike when he’s always the one stressing about coming up with plans. Lucas is a little more go-with-what-the-adults-say.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Mike finally says, and his expression is earnest. He’s a bad liar anyway, so Max knows that he means it. Speaking of his lies… she has something to apologize for too.

“I’m sorry too,” she says. “For judging your relationship too fast.”

He makes a weird noise when he registers what she said, almost like a laugh but kind of mad, too. “Yeah, and for making my girlfriend dump me.”

Max reaches out towards him and smacks his arm, a spike of irritation fuelling her. “Mike, how many goddamn times do I have to tell you I didn’t make her?”

“Well, what the hell did you say to her to make her do that?!” He exclaims.

The peace of the previous moment is gone and Max crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “From what she told me, it sounded like you were just lying straight to her face so you didn’t have to see her. All I did was tell her that if you did it again, she should dump your ass. You did it to yourself.”

Mike throws his arms up. “Hopper made me lie! He told me if I didn’t, he wouldn’t let me see her anymore. You seriously think I wouldn’t want to spend time with her? After everything we went through?”

She thinks for a second about the way he’d looked when El had walked back into their lives; the way he had seemed to drop all the negativity he’d been carrying around the second she came through that door. Max remembers thinking she’d never been so sure about someone’s presence in her life.

He’s still on a roll. “What, is that why you’ve dumped Lucas, like, seven times? You just break up with him the second he does something you don’t like without even letting him explain himself?”

Bringing that up is a sore point. Max feels incredibly guilty for the way she’s treated Lucas in the past, and she’s trying to be better. She’d told him once that she knew she could be a jerk like her stepbrother sometimes, that she was angry just like he was, but that she didn’t want to be like him. And then she turned around and behaved exactly like him, manipulating Lucas’ reactions and dumping him over and over because she knew he would come back. It made her feel like she was in control, the dominant one, the complete opposite of what she saw in her mother and what she felt in her house every day.

But she had come to a point where she realized that one day, Lucas would get fed up with her. There would come a day when he wouldn’t stand for it anymore and he’d leave her permanently, and Max didn’t think she could live with that. From then on, she had decided to try harder with him and make things better, to talk about her feelings more. It’s always going to be difficult for her, but Lucas is worth it.

“Don’t say that like you know anything about why I did that,” she says sharply, gripping so tightly onto the chain of the swing that the cold metal feels like ice in her hand.

Mike glares back at her, indignant. “Oh, that’s rich! Like you knew anything about me when you said that shit to El!”

Max stands up suddenly. “I’m tired of the lies, Mike! Do you know what it’s like to live in a house where your mom will watch your brother get beat up and leave the room so she can pretend it didn’t happen? Where she doesn’t care where you go or how you feel or what’s going on with you because if she doesn’t ask, she doesn’t have to lie to herself that it’s okay? Where we all just don’t talk about anything and pretend it’s all fine when it isn’t?”

She’s breathing hard and he’s staring up at her with wide eyes, accustomed to her outbursts by now but not like this. Max sits back down on the swing, hard.

“I broke up with Lucas a lot because it made me feel like I had control,” she admits. “I needed to feel like I was in charge of the situation. I get enough of being treated second-class at home, and I don’t want to be like my mom, ever.”

She looks back at Mike on the other swing and he doesn’t look mad at her anymore, only like he’s processing what he’s just heard. It lets her own anger drain out of her.

“When El told me what you said, it reminded me of my mom,” Max continues. “She seemed so confused on why you would do that and to me it looked like you were just using her when you wanted her and dropping her when you didn’t. My mom kind of… disappears into whoever she’s dating and just goes along with whatever they do, and it looked like that for me,” she finishes.

“I get it,” he says, and Max raises her eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t get it personally, my parents aren’t like that. I just meant I get where you’re coming from. It makes sense why you would think that way.”

“I didn’t want the same thing that happens to my mom to happen to El,” Max adds. “She is her own person, and she of all people deserves the chance to be that.”

At last, they find common ground. “I agree,” Mike replies. “She’s been through enough in her life. And I’m happy you and her are friends now,” he adds. “Seriously. It was kind of weird to imagine her having girl problems or something and talking to my sister about it. I’m glad she has you.”

“I’m glad she has you,” Max says, and Mike looks shocked to hear her say it. “I might not get why, but I know you make her happy somehow. Even if you do wear Star Wars pyjamas.”

“Hey!” He says, offended. “You recognizing it means you’ve seen it too. And I know for a fact you read comics, so you’re just as much of a nerd as me.”

Max shrugs, giving him the point. “At least I can beat you at arcade games.”

“Is that a challenge?” He asks, swinging closer as if to intimidate her.

Max laughs, and it’s a real laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’re on.”

“Tomorrow,” Mike suggests. “Twelve o’clock. I’ll meet you there.”

“Bring painkillers,” she warns him. “You’re gonna need them after I’m done kicking your ass at every. Single. Game.”

“You won’t beat me at Galaga,” he says proudly.

“Wanna bet?”

They stand up and shake hands, and his feels pleasantly warm. It’s a nice change from the frozen chain she was holding onto.

“Loser gets us fries,” Mike adds, and Max agrees to it. As if of one mind, they both turn back up the path they came from.

They’re back across the two streets they crossed and almost all the way back to Mike’s house when Max speaks again.

“So are we good?” She asks. She feels good about having aired out all the conflict she had with him, and he’s had this dumb smile on his face the whole time they’ve been walking back, which she’s choosing to take as a good sign.

“Yeah,” he says, looking at his feet. “We’re good.” He smiles wider.

It brings a small smile to Max’s own face. Having friends feels nice. “Why are you smiling like that?”

He coughs a little, scratching his head. “Just thinking about how happy El will be when she finds out we’re not enemies anymore.”

Max rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You are so whipped.”

He shrugs as if to say, what can you do?

“I think Lucas and Dustin will benefit from having us not trying to kill each other every five seconds, too,” she says.

“Definitely.”

“Although I’ll probably still be annoyed by half the things you say.”

Mike makes a face like he’s not surprised to hear that. “Don’t worry about it. You’re still annoying, I just like you now. No more actual fighting.”

“Good,” she replies, feeling happier than she has in days as they arrive back in his backyard. She can faintly see her bike lying in the grass.

Mike has the door to the basement halfway open by the time she’s sitting on her bike ready to ride away, and at the last second lays a hand on her arm.

“Hey, anytime you need somewhere to go… I’m usually home,” he says, looking at her directly. It’s a simple thing to say, but she knows what he means by it. He’s telling her that he understands that sometimes her house is not a home, and that she’s always welcome in his if she needs it.

“Thanks,” she responds, and for once she is truly thankful for Mike Wheeler’s existence.

“Well, good night,” he answers, and awkwardly salutes her out of nowhere.

Max squints at him confusedly for a second. “I’ll... see you tomorrow,” she says haltingly.

He looks kind of embarrassed and shuts the door quickly, and Max rides off back to her house. That was random.

However, she is looking forward to tomorrow. She has a feeling Mike’s going to be the type of friend she’s constantly competing with, ribbing back and forth to see who can be worse just like they usually do, but this time knowing they’re both forgiven for their mistakes. It’s different from her other friendships for sure, but she thinks it’ll be good. Lucas is going to be pleased.

Maybe the wait until Thursday won’t be so bad after all.

#YALL please let me know what you think of this #i have so many thoughts on this pairing #SO MANY #also if you liked it please rb to share so more people can read it!! <3 #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things fanfiction #urdearestmom

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majesticartax · 4 years

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HELLO EVERYONE!

i am indeed alive :D i had to take a bit of a break from social media and writing to get a handle on myself and my emotions and mental and physical health. WAY TMI beneath the cut :3

Early last month I was called some very terrible things by some people in the hq fandom - it was only a couple ppl and no one I knew or had interacted with before, but it was enough to leave me shaken and terribly sad and feeling betrayed, unsure of whether I really wanted to be a part of the fandom anymore, and with quarantine still ongoing and now the protests and my country again proving that it as a whole doesn’t give a shit about civil rights or human lives, i’m just...spent. the month of May is already triggering and a difficult time of year for me as well (bc trauma) and to top it all off my physical health has been utter garbage for a while and my doctor has been less than helpful. so i’ve been taking a break from everything and trying to take more time for myself and exercise as much as my body allows, but it has been a struggle. i’m tired all the time, i can’t think well most days, my memory is terrible, i HURT, i have episodes where i can’t get enough air, i recently had a sudden weight gain that goes against the body shape i’ve had since i grew into a human, and last but not least, a couple weeks ago my thyroid was swollen to the point where it became hard to swallow. so yeah. something obviously has been very wrong with me. I’ve always been a physically healthy person, so everything that’s been happening has been wearing away at me for a very long time and I just figured that feeling this way was something I’d have to accept and live with from now on.

BUT!! just this week i was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. FUCKINNNNG SKJSHSHDKSJAG FINALLY. i was so relieved and happy that i teared up when I read my blood labs. i started meds yesterday and i can’t wait to finally feel right again after TWO YEARS of weird symptoms that my doctor just shrugged her shoulders at. i know that i’m finally going to feel better and like myself again. Every. Single. Symptom. That has been killing me points to a thyroid disorder. What the fuuuuuck ahhhhh I’m so so so happy 😭😭😭😭

so anyway. that’s what’s been going on for the past month. i haven’t quit writing! i still think about it every day, but honestly it has become a source of anxiety for me since i know people are waiting for updates. no one has been unkind and i appreciate every single ask and comment and message i get, but, shit, i want updates too!! it’s been extremely exhausting and distressing to sit down to write and have all these ideas but not be able to coax them out of me, not being able to think clearly enough to string two sentences together and being on the verge of tears thinking that i lost the ability to write.

but i can already feel the fog lifting - just knowing that i’ll be okay again after years of unpleasantness and feeling like a nuisance and a disappointment has done wonders for my headspace. i already have a healthy lifestyle so all i have to do is wait for my meds to start working and i’m PUMPED. i’m not going to give an exact date as to when i’ll start updating my fics again because it’s been hugely depressing for me not being able to hit that deadline just because my brain won’t operate, and i’m sick of letting myself and my readers down, so I don’t want to jump the gun and get all jazzed when I still might have some residual brain fog to kick.

but seriously, don’t worry i’m not going to stop writing! thank you to everyone who’s shown me kindness and concern over the last few weeks, to those of you who have asked if I’m okay 💕 and ENDLESS thank-yous to everyone for your patience :))

I’m going to start working on replying personally to asks and messages in a day or so (they’ve been piling up for so long i’m so sorry 😫) but i figured you guys deserved an explanation for my quasi-disappearance. I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe, and I look forward to joining you all again very soon ❤️

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chatsanova · 4 years

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Have Another Go At It: Chapter 2

AO3

When La Grande Paris and Chloe collapsed, it seemed like nothing Chloe ever did would matter ever again.

Every snap at Pierre, every name-dropped or rule bent in the name of Chloe getting what she wanted, none of it would ever matter again. It didn’t matter before either, Chloe had just tricked herself into thinking it did. Her thoughts went like this: grief, guilt, regret, distraction then denial.

Chloe had always loved being center stage. It was where she thrived her whole life. Sure, her father was always busy, and sure, her mother was always gone, but to everyone else, she was the most famous, the most beautiful, the most worthy of their attention.

Occasionally she’d use her status to make things work in her direction, but Chloe just saw that as using her resources.

At her lowest points, she’d use it to humiliate others, but negative attention was still attention.

To those around her, dare she say, those that care about her, it seemed her reign of boisterous claims and attention-seeking would never end. She’d assumed they thought the worst of her, that she would fall into more destructive means, and slowly she’d become too much for her Pierre, for Sabrina, for Adrien. She’d never deserve them and it seemed most stuck around for employment. Her father paid well for friendship.

Adrien always insisted that he never accepted money as there was no point for him to do so. And well, he was in the same boat. Adrien was the first person that understood her, that knew why she was always clinging to her fame. He didn’t always agree with it, but he understood it. At that point, it was all she could ask for.

Plus, for a long time, she had Adrien’s undivided attention. He didn’t know any other kids, he was homeschooled, and Chloe was the only option for companionship. Maybe Adrien was never paid, but the sentiment of sticking around simply because there were no other options had plagued Chloe as well.

Then he came to school with her. It had taken some convincing, but Adrien’s mother thought it would be good for him, as long as he kept up with modeling.

Adrien’s attention wasn’t undivided anymore. Adrien became fast friends with Alya, also new at school, and Nino seemed attached to Adrien’s hip merely two days in.

Alya and Nino tolerated her but had a nasty habit of trying to stop Chloe from picking fights with Marinette. Adding pure, soft, can do no wrong Adrien into the mix didn’t help.

She’d been forced to mellow out in order to keep Adrien around. It was a lot easier to do so after the incident. Picking fights with Marinette stopped instantaneously, though she could feel Marinette’s irritation at the prospect. Marinette never wanted pity, but it’s what she received, even from Chloe.

Marinette had sort of snapped in a weird direction.

It was like she suddenly felt the need to grow up all at once. She wasn’t at school for 2 weeks and when she reappeared, she looked completely different.

She stopped wearing handmade clothes, she stopped putting her hair into pigtails, she just stopped. Her grades slipped, though the teachers also took pity on her.

Marinette waffled in between efforts for attention and not wanting anyone to notice her.

The new clothing style said attention, Chloe thought, recognizing it in herself.

She got looked at more often for tight-fitting jeans, mesh shirts, and dark lips extenuating her blue eyes. But then her closed-off attitude, her snappy remarks, those were defense mechanisms to push people away.

Chloe realized a long time ago that looks were something you can control. Attention is something happily given to pretty people, and sometimes when you can’t control what sort of attention you’re given, looking a certain way gives you a way to drive your own narrative.

Being in the papers for being pretty is more fun than being in the papers for being a bitch. Chloe and Marinette understood that if you’re going to be a bitch, you might as well be an attractive one. People are more willing to forgive a pretty bitch.

These thoughts occurred to Chloe during her distraction phase. It was easy to be distracted by a girl who was sitting right next to her, silent but present, especially one dressed for attention-seeking.

Neither of them wanted attention right now, and they were both sitting with the precisely right person to avoid it, but Chloe allowed herself to be distracted by Marinette. It was better than the alternative.

Chloe didn’t speak; Marinette didn’t speak.

Maybe it didn’t matter if people noticed you, as long as they kept their mouth shut about it.

She couldn’t remember why they had fought so regularly. They seemed so distant, those arguments. She assumed she had done something entitled and Marinette had done something condescending and they’d argue until someone got involved and they’d part ways until their next encounter. Maybe at that point, both had each other’s attention.

Around Marinette, Chloe felt seen. Not in a positive way but definitely in a way that allowed Chloe to feel better about herself for a few quick moments. They both fought for the moral high ground and both won in their own eyes.

Occasionally, Chloe’s thoughts would circle back around to her parents, but she quickly pushed them away. She had to, otherwise, she’d break down again.

So she studied Marinette’s hair, her eyebrows hidden beneath her bangs. Her eyelashes. Her eyes stared into nothing, or maybe into something deep in her brain. Those tended to be the same. She wondered what she was thinking about.

Chloe had wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face in her knees. At some point, was it two? three? hours of sitting on the ground, Marinette said something.

“Do you,” she cleared her throat from disuse, “Do you need a place to stay?”

Chloe looked up sharply. Marinette also seemed surprised at the suggestion, despite the fact that she had offered it.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking... if you needed to...you could stay at my house…”

Of all the things Chloe had thought about, her physical things hadn’t even crossed her mind. Her physical home. Her home had collapsed. She’d cared so much about her shoe collection 12 hours ago and now she couldn’t be bothered.

“Oh…” Chloe lowered her face back into her knees, “I hadn’t thought about it, I guess.”

“Well, If you do…” Marinette trailed off, the offer hanging in the air. It was the official olive branch.

They hadn’t been fighting, but they weren’t friends by any means. It seemed like this was saying, “I’m willing to move on if you are.”

Maybe it wasn’t the right time, or maybe it was the best time. Maybe they desperately needed someone in their corner. Maybe Adrien hadn’t understood Chloe for a long time. Maybe Marinette and Chloe had always understood each other.

Maybe seeking attention meant seeking those that were willing to give it.

“Thank you.” And they fell back into silence.

If Chloe had thought about it, which she hadn’t, she’d probably assume that she’d stay at Adrien’s. But Adrien was in his own headspace now.

Then her thoughts shifted to the denial. This denial was justified, Chloe felt, because Adrien had practically been saying it all day.

“None of this is right.” Which in Chloe’s mind translated to, “None of this is real.”

She had felt the wrongness before but now couldn’t attribute it to anything but grief. People always tried to bargain, right?

What if none of this is real? What if my parents aren’t dead? What if I can get them back? But Adrien hadn’t lost anything. What excuse did he have for making up shit in his brain? This is what Chloe said to herself in order to decide that whatever Adrien needed to do to “fix” things, she’d do it. Because maybe, just maybe, the madman was right. That her parents shouldn’t be dead. That this was fixable.

Nino and Alya had explained their dreams to Marinette. They were more than dreams, they all understood that, but Marinette was having a hard time latching on.

“We just need to know what you think feels wrong,” Nino said. Marinette scoffed, not out of malice but out of frustration. Her arms crossed defensively against her chest, her head shook bouncing hair on her shoulders, her mouth struggled to form words. Adrien understood that frustration, as he was currently feeling it as well. It was not being able to find words that should feel so normal, and knowing something is wrong but not anything else.

“I don’t know! I don’t know what feels wrong! Everything feels wrong!”

It occurred to Adrien that you can’t really feel water when you’re surrounded by it.

Everything about Marinette’s life was wrong, as far as he could tell. He wouldn’t be able to tell you what was correct exactly, only that if you squint really hard something about her was familiarly incorrect.

It wasn’t easy to explain, and he wasn’t the best with words anyway. He glanced at his friends, who returned his glances, each with a tinge of sympathy. He couldn’t tell who the sympathy was directed towards but suspected it wasn’t mutually exclusive.

Adrien was obviously more affected by this phenomenon. Dreams were one thing, but Adrien’s mood had been violently swinging all day. It was to be expected in the midst of a national crisis, but this had begun before the building fell.

He cried when there was nothing to cry at, both in happiness and grief. He felt as though he were living two days simultaneously, one very different, but maybe not much better. And to him, Marinette was at the epicenter.

Feelings around her thrashed like waves against a rocky shore. He tapped his foot impatiently and crossed his arms, becoming jittery. He paced around the hallway.

“Adrien?” Chloe sounded more concerned than she really should have been. Adrien felt guilty for not being the one next to her to deal with her parents. And then ashamed of his guilt and then ashamed of his own self-pity.

He was so caught up in his own bullshit that he had stood to the side while Marinette, of all people, comforted her. It was bizarre, wrong, and also the best thing to happen today.

“Sorry, I’m just...confused.” His mental failings shouldn’t be a priority right now. People have died.

It wasn’t his place to be more distraught than those around him. His parents were still alive and well, his home unaffected, his life unchanged. That felt incorrect too, somehow. He felt as though his life had changed significantly, just in a way that was unplaceable. Like pointing at it would be pointing at air.

The news outlets and websites said that outside wouldn’t be safe until the next morning so everyone camped out in the main gym. There were a scattered number of teachers that had arrived before the collapse but apparently most had been stuck in a Ladybug induced roadblock.

They instructed students to stay calm and a few reached out to Chloe specifically, checking in occasionally, but Chloe made it clear that the teachers should focus on the other students. They looked surprised at this sentiment, but continued to try to help those who seemed more visibly distraught than Chloe.

They had been advised to stay put until the next morning, so the teachers gathered yoga mats and the school’s few sleeping bags from upperclassmen camping trips. A few blankets scattered the floor. There wasn’t enough for everyone so some used jackets or backpacks as pillows. The students gathered together, select laughter echoing through the gymnasium. But otherwise, it was about as quiet as an entire school of 14-18 years could be.

They struggled through another explanation, but Marinette remained unconvinced. Chloe explained her dream, eerily similar to Nino’s about a purple butterfly and not being in control. They watched her carefully. When she was done, she looked over at Marinette, who looked sympathetic and maybe a little confused.

“I’m sorry, this all seems odd, I’ll give you that, but I just don’t recognize it as familiar.”

They all turned to look at Adrien. He’s the one who needed this, he’s the one with the next step. He had no answers. He hadn't told her his dream yet. He wasn't sure he could.

“No, I’m sorry. Maybe...maybe it’s nothing. Maybe nothing is going on.” he pressed his palms into his eyes, rubbing away a headache he didn’t know he had. “Maybe I’m going crazy.”

“How can you say that?” Chloe glared, “How can you claim, how can you...give me hope that none of this is right, that maybe we’re in some sort of dream, and then just toss it aside like it’s nothing? What if my parents are supposed to be alive right now, Adrien? Do you want to just ignore it? You want me to live a life I’m not supposed to be living?”

“Chloe, I never claimed this world isn’t real, just that it’s wrong.”

“Then that’s what I’m saying. This world...isn’t real.”

“Chloe…” Alya reached a hand out to her.

“No.” Chloe stood, turned, and walked away, leaving Alya’s hand suspended in the air.

For the first time in months, Marinette slept in a building with other people in it. More people than she ever had, really. She slept on a blanket, sharing with Alya and Chloe, who had come back only when she realized she didn’t want to be alone.

She didn’t say that, of course, but no one commented on her return either. They didn’t talk about the feeling for the rest of the night, instead opting for silence or half-hearted plans for the next day.

Adrien said Chloe could stay at his house. Chloe didn’t even have to ask. Marinette and Chloe shared a glance before Chloe agreed.

Marinette had a dream on the gymnasium floor. She wasn’t lying when she said Alya, Chloe and Nino’s dreams didn’t sound familiar, but this one was not unfamiliar .

She stood on a rooftop, wind-battered her skin, and she was cold. She couldn’t possibly be really cold, it wasn’t real, but she shivered. She felt the chill on her arms. It wasn’t right.

When she looked down at her hands she was surprised to see them. She felt as though something was missing from her skin. Her hands bolted to her ears and felt nothing.

In front of her, the scene was incomprehensible. There were two people, wearing garishly ridiculous outfits. It didn’t seem like they should be a threat, but in her dream, her pulse quickened.

One of them had a gun. It wasn’t pointing at her but to an empty spot next to her. Panic ran through her spine all the way down to her bare fingertips. There’s someone missing. Where...where was he? For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to look downwards. She knew something was just below her vision if she could move her neck every time she pulled, her vision remained stiff, forcing her chin to remain level.

The woman with the gun, she sauntered to them, Marinette and the Something. She dipped into her blind spot and came up with a ring. The man, he looked grief-stricken, panicked, and angry.

“NATALIE.” his voice boomed in the quiet city. It...shouldn't have been quiet.

“Relax, boss, once you have the miraculous everything will go back to normal. You’ll have your family back.”

“Then give me the ring”

“Hold on a second, I want to talk to the girl.”

“No, enough of this. Give me the miraculous.”

Then she held up the gun to his chest. Marinette couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything. She was hopeless. She was helpless. She was weak.

“Give me the earrings, Gabriel.”

“Nat-”

A click of the gun, “I’m not asking.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll get you your family back Gabriel, but I want something too.”

“How do I know you’ll bring her back?”

“Because I don’t want you causing me trouble on the other side. Gotta keep you fat and happy. The earrings.”

He held them out. She turned around and walked where Marinette couldn’t see. A shining light sparked into her field of vision. And then a stronger brighter one a few seconds later. And then...and then there was nothing but light.

Marinette woke up her arms tight around Chloe. She gasped (from the dream) and made eye contact with the back of Chloe’s head. She’d gotten so tense during her nightmare that she’d pulled Chloe against her chest.

Okay, I’m big spooning Chloe Bourgeois.

She couldn’t even think beyond that. She felt another body on her other side, Alya sleeping peacefully.

She needed space. Room to breathe. Sitting up proved to be easier than standing up. She managed to get free, grab her backpack, and flee into the hallway, still buzzing with public school lighting. She aimlessly walked the hallways. A teacher stopped her once, she quickly rambled about going to the bathroom and they let her go. She took deep breaths trying to remember everything about that dream. The names. The faces. The location. It already began to blur in her mind. She remembered the gun and the earrings and the ring and the chill on her skin and how wrong it felt. She felt something, someone, missing from her field of vision.

She sat and drew everything she remembered. Her hands, the roof, the gun, the earrings and the ring in the hand of the wrong people. The flashing in the corner of her eye, the grief stricken angry face of the man in purple. The cruelness of the woman in blue. She couldn’t quite remember her face.

Adrien wasn’t going to sleep, he knew that when he woke up this morning. So when he saw Marinette grab her backpack and run, it wasn’t a large leap to try and talk to her. Problem was he couldn’t find her.

“Mr. Agreste, what are you doing up and about?”

“Bathroom, ma’am.”

The teacher narrowed her eyes.

“No fooling around, Mr. Agreste.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He couldn’t remember what he had done to receive a reputation of tomfoolery but apparently word had spread. That wasn’t even his teacher. He almost asked if she had seen Marinette, but that wouldn’t have helped.

He found Marinette on the roof.

“What the fuck, Marinette?”

“GOD! Fuck, Agreste, you scared me.”

“You’re on the roof.”

“Well spotted.”

“Why?”

“Needed some air.”

“Toxic, debris-filled air?”

“That warning came down hours ago.”

“What are you doing?” he gestured to her notebook.

“Drawing, Agreste, what does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re on the ROOF during a traumatic NATIONAL CRISIS. Please just come down.”

“Oh. OH! No, Agreste, I’m fine. I’m good. I just needed to…” she trailed off.

He looked around. From here, you could see where Le Grand Paris used to be.

“The world is fucked,” he ran his fingers through his hair and sat down next to Marinette. She flipped her notebook closed. She was drawing a pair of hands.

“Well spotted.”

“Marinette, I think it’s my fault.”

“Full of yourself, are we? Center of the world Adrien Agreste? The only one who realizes the world is fucked?”

“Jesus, I’m trying to,” he sighed, “Fuck, Marinette.”

They were silent for a while.

“Marinette, your life is wrong.”

"You keep saying that."

"I mean it, I don't think this is how things were supposed to go."

"You can't just brush off things you don't like with denial, Agreste. At least, that's why my therapist says."

Adrien laughed, "Watch me."

"Blondie, I can't help but want to believe you, and that's why I can't do this. Whatever it is you're doing. I can't let myself believe that nothing is permanent. I can't just go along with it because I think I'll see my parents on the other side."

"No, I know that. Of course, I know that." Adrien uses his hands to push himself off the ground, spinning that he's sitting across from her, "I just...Marinette I'm going to tell you my dream."

"Ooookay."

"No, my literal dream, the dream that I had last night, not like, my existential drea- ya know what, never mind."

"No, I get it," Marinette smiles, and it's good to see.

"Alright, I'm on this roof."

His dream starts on a roof. Of course, of fucking course it does.

"And there's something next to me that I can't see. And I'm looking at this roof and there's a guy in purple, with, like, this butterfly brooch on it. It's a ridiculous fucking outfit." Marinette has to smile. "And he's talking some big game about something miraculous. And I'm pissed. I'm angry as fuck. And then this equally gaudy bitch pulls out this canister that's got my MOM inside which is wild, and then I'm cussing this guy out. Just screaming at him. I honestly don't remember what I said. Then he moves to that place I can't look, ya know, that blind spot? And comes back with earrings. Then the bitchy lady comes back and I wake up."

"Wow, that's quite the dream." If Marinette hadn't experienced what she just experienced, she would have thought that's a fairly normal dream dream.

"Now, I know how that sounds."

"Sounds like a dream," she lied.

"No, I know, dreams are crazy in general, but I swear more happened than that. I just, it felt so weird, like I was actually on the ruth, filled with rage. I just need to know who was next to me."

Me. Adrien was next to me.

#ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #fanfic #tw parent death #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #chloenette #chloe bourgeois

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drawing079 · 4 years

Text

Exception On Line 129

Chapter 5: Not So Strange

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

A Human AU SCP-079 x SCP-682 Fanfic

Warnings: Violence, Alcoholism, Brain damage/trauma, Police brutality

Description: Zero is a reclusive computer science major, floating by in college with the help of vodka by his side. His only human interaction seems to be from his distant father, who abandoned him as a child but now is trying to make a bit of effort to be back in his life. And after a failed virus he sends to a Cray supercomputer gets exposed, he is forced to pay for the consequences of his cyber crimes in more ways than one.

During an unnecessarily violent arrest, he suffers a brain injury and anterograde amnesia, damaging his short-term memory. But during his time detained, he meets a violent man with an infamous short-temper, who takes a surprising interest in him.

(Read it here on Ao3 or continue below)

Exception On Line 129: Not So Stranger

By the time the sedatives have wore off, the prying nurses and noisy cops were long gone. They had originally wanted to question Zero, and so did his doctor, in order to gauge the extent of his head trauma; but all parties concerned were informed he was incompetent for questioning due to his sedation, and deflected until tomorrow to pester him later.

And incompetent indeed; when everyone had left, Numin had attempted to ask how he felt, only to get a slurred ‘what’ back at him, to which he assumed it was best to wait for Zero to be back in a sober clear mind before attempting conversation again.

Sometime in the afternoon Zero slipped under, falling asleep in the same position looking up at the ceiling, with the only indication of sleep being the closure of his eyes, and his already slow heartbeat growing even further apart in tempo on the beep of the heart monitor.

By the evening of that day, when he awoke, his head was finally clear enough to think straight, and the headache was fainter as it ricocheted inside his skull.

Shifting, the most movement he’s made since morning, Zero sat up in a daze, blinking blankly around the bright fluorescent room. Outside he noticed it was dark behind the paper-thin blinds, yet the unnatural lighting in the hospital room kept the room too bright for it to feel like evening. An uncomfortable discrepancy, especially considering how he had fallen asleep during daylight with only a hazy recollection of the day, only serving to further his ongoing confusion.

“Lucid now?” A familiar voice pried, surprisingly gentle, despite the unhidden harsh edge it innately carried. Turning to face the voice, a bit delayed in his reaction due to the lingering effects of the sedation, Zero faced the stranger in the bed beside his own.

When he met his eyes to the other man’s soft green ones, a sudden intrusion of memories flooded in.

His roommate. Zero couldn’t recall his name, but he felt fondly in his recognition of him, even though their interactions were hazy to retrieve.

Actually, not hazy; they were basically absent. All he knew was that this man was one he was familiar and friendly with.

“Barely lucid… god, my head feels like cotton.” He groaned, bringing his hand up to rub his temple, only to find the texture of soft gauze at his fingertips, bits of it snagging at his short jagged nails. “I… I was asleep for a while, but we met earlier today, right?”

The green hue of his roommate’s eyes darkened, in a melancholic transition that somehow made his next words seem despondent. “Yes, we’ve met. Do you remember me, Zero?”

The pressure to take away that undying anguish in his expression made Zero stressed to probe his memories for an answer that would sate his roommate.

“I remember… you… wrote something on my hand, I think?” Not even confident in his own foggy recollection, Zero knit his brow at the other man, as if silently asking for confirmation.

The other man let out a short sigh, almost in relief but not quite there just yet, at the sign of even a sliver of working memory in Zero’s head.

“Yes, I wrote my name down so you wouldn’t forget. The nurse put your IV back in but it should still be visible.”

Tilting his head down at his hand for confirmation, surely enough he found a name printed on the back of his palm in neat lettering, alongside his IV line buried deep into a superficial vein.

“Numin. Oh, that name does ring some bells.”

His roommate chuckled, albeit still tensed in the manner. “It should. You needed to be reminded of it quite a few times.”

With a couple blinks, Zero tore his eyes off the print on his hand to look up at Numin. “It’s weird, it feels like I met you years ago. Like the memories are so far back in my head that I have to focus to try and retrieve them. Did I really just meet you today? We didn’t have, like, a class together or anything?”

He ended his inquiry with a little cock of his head to the right, like an honest signal of innocent curiosity, and Numin consciously wondered if he was trying to be a little cute on purpose.

He stopped that thought right in its trail, though; since when does he think of others as cute?

“This morning, when you woke up for the first time since your accident, we met,” he hesitated, just slightly, remembering bitterly how badly Zero took this information last time, “you’ve been in a coma for several days now.”

Although there was an undeniable widening of Zero’s eyes in surprise, it quickly waned, as if the knowledge had awoken within him the fact he had heard that before. Nevertheless, his heart did start skipping a beat faster on the heart rate monitor, and Numin noticed Zero began biting his lower lip. Centered both above his top lip and below his bottom were two pierced holes, so Numin deduced that he must’ve had a habit of biting a lower lip piercing; although, regardless of its presence, Zero seemed to chew his lip anyway. Made Numin wonder if at some point he just got it pierced to have something to bite at.

“Ah. Yeah, I think I remember something about that.”

In his palm, Zero had a handful of his bedding’s blanket gripped tight, anxiously holding onto anything that could ground him. A sore pang clawed in Numin’s chest; he wished he could go over there again. Almost yearningly, he tugged gently at the handcuffs keeping him in place, a deep inner part of him imploring himself to just break it off again like last time.

“Is there anything else you remember?” Prying in order to keep his thoughts from getting him in more trouble, Numin looked back up to face Zero. He was sitting off the edge of his bed, fist still full of his paperthin hospital blanket, looking up in almost a bit of a daze. Numin couldn’t tell if it was because he was lost in thought trying to remember the events from earlier today, or if the Valium was still lingering a bit in his system. Nevertheless, it was enough of a daze to leave him oblivious to the slight drop of his hospital gown off one of his shoulders, exposing his collar bone, as well as a small written tattoo beneath it. In black lettering, it marked: ‘Print (“Hello World”)’, a basic one-line computer program, leading Numin to infer he must know how to code.

Although placid, the exposed skin had that word bubbling back up into Numin’s mind again. Cute.

Was his face just hot or is he now blushing over the visible collarbone and that tattoo?

“I remember, you were talking to me, but I can’t recall what about,” Zero finally spoke up, breaking Numin’s distraction on his slightly exposed shoulder, and with his headspace back to reality Zero absentmindedly tugged his gown’s collar back up, none the wiser that Numin was growing red in the cheeks as he stared at it.

As if to compose himself and continue on as if he wasn’t lost tracing his eyes on that soft skin beneath Zero’s gown, Numin swallowed, continuing the conversation.

“We talked about a handful of things. None of them come to mind?”

Blinking thrice, Zero looked down from the ceiling back at him. “Maybe, I don’t know…”

Awkwardly, his fumbled with the slack of blanket in his hand, crumpling it anxiously. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but… did you say something about being gay?”

Startled, Numin let out an unexpected laugh, amused as Zero’s bashfulness to address it.

“Bisexual, but yeah. You got the gist of it.” And, almost teasingly, he added, “Seems like you made that information top priority to recall. Are you always that good at remembering sexual orientations, or am I just special?”

Adding fuel to the fire of Zero’s embarrassment, now he was the one blushing. However, keeping his usual front, he managed to bite back with his own quip, despite the rouge color of his face betraying his actual thoughts.

“I don’t often forget when an interesting man tells me he likes men.” As if in an effort to divert the subject matter, he continued, “besides that… I think I remember you being here?”

He made a pat to the side of the mattress, on the bed where Numin had sat with him during his anxiety attack. And although he didn’t remember too clearly the details to which Numin was beside him, Zero does recall a warming comfort. Even if the actual memory was absent, it left a fond afterglow, and even through the frightening awareness of his amnesia he felt the sentiment they must’ve held.

“I was. Got in quite the bit of trouble, too.” Numin agreed, with a sigh, dejectedly giving his handcuffs another clank. As if maybe they’ll just phase through the bar if he moved them enough.

Regardless, they were symbolic anyways. If Numin wanted to keep out of anymore trouble at this point, he’ll have to allow the cops to have their illusion of control over him.

Even if that’s all it was. An illusion.

“If… if it’s proper to ask, what are you here for?” Meekly, Zero gestured vaguely at the hospital room around him. He’s never been detained before himself, and he wasn’t too sure if it was an appropriate question to ask.

But instead, Numin offered a little shrug, nonchalant.

“Shot in the forearm. Very minor surgery to remove the shards, but it didn’t do any major damage.”

The casualness of his tone threw Zero off, and he gave the other man a noticeable wide-eyed look.

“You were shot!?”

The shock in his tone made Numin chuckle. The cavalier nature he had about his injury was unnatural, like violence was something he found ordinary and injury was something he found unthreatening.

“Yeah, cop tried handcuffing me, so I stabbed him in the stomach,” at that, he made a gesture to with his free hand towards his own abdomen, lightly tapping below his ribs as if to indicate where the cop had taken his knife before continuing, “but the bastard was able to reach for his gun and got a shot in before I knocked it out of his hand.”

Still appalled, Zero blinked thrice in bewilderment, as if trying to process the exact capabilities Numin had. The energy he had was commanding and all-consuming, and it seemed he was way more than just a front in that regard.

“What... happened to him?” Zero barely managed to get out on the border of a whisper, quiet in almost a careful way, in case this was a question that could provoke a negative reaction.

Hearing the breathless nature of his question, Numin drew a toothy and predatory smile. The look of it almost seemed like he was reminiscing on fond memories, but his green eyes were festering with a darkness that betrayed a more sadistic delight to his face.

“Dead. I shouldn’t have even let him live long enough to get a shot in. Disgusting little maggot...” the last part of his sentence road his vocals on almost a growl, with each word dripping with abhorrence.

It sent a chilling shiver down Zero’s spine.

Aggression and violence wasn’t a surprise from his roommate, not in the slightest considering his demeanor. But something about the idea of actually killing someone, taking a life and having no regret, was absolutely bone-chilling.

There was a soft voice in the back of Zero’s head, warning him if his acquaintance with this man was dangerous. It begged him to withdraw from the conversation, to stop entertaining his roommate lest he accidentally got on his bad side. However, there was an even louder voice fighting that reasoning, and drawing him to continue.

It was at first terrifying to learn Numin had murdered someone. A deep, unsettling seed of knowledge that is now embedded into Zero’s brain, and it felt like he was watering the seed with every passing moment he dwelled on that unnerving idea. And as with any seed, it grew, and changed, and the more Zero thought about it the more his feelings about it were fuzzier than originally anticipated.

And after dwelling on it for a few moments, Zero can’t exactly lie that the idea wasn’t now also alluring, interesting in a way he can’t describe. Like a mixture of morbid curiosity to know more, with the knowledge it was bad to be interested but undeniably being drawn to it nonetheless.

His roommate had murdered someone.

And somehow, he wasn’t afraid of Numin for it.

“Is that what you’re in trouble for? Stabbing a cop to death?”

As if intrigued by Zero’s lack of fear, instead finding just shock and interest, Numin narrowed his eyes curiously, holding his dark smile. But it was no longer in glee to his lurid memories, instead it was in growing fascination for Zero’s interest.

“He was arresting me for something else, but his death is added onto my charges at the moment. However, my civil defender said something about being able to claim he shot me first and I stabbed in self-defense, but that’ll be a tough story to sell.” There was a taste of annoyance in his tone, as if reluctant to peddle the idea of being shot first before stabbing the cop. As if it strangled his pride too much for his liking, that he would allow another to harm him first.

Or, perhaps, that he would allow another to dare harm him at all.

“Wait, so he was already arresting you for a different crime at the time?” Suddenly, as if the thought of more charges was an alien concept, Zero’s eyes noticeably widened at his revitalized surprise.

Unbeknownst to him, it left another doe-eyed astonished look on his face— albeit still probably due to the lingering drug— that had a bit of warmth suddenly rising to Numin’s cheeks again, subtly but still nonetheless present through a hazy rouge ghosting his complexion.

Cute. He couldn’t tell if he hated himself for thinking that word at all or if the feeling was just frustration from yet again noticing how attractive he thought Zero was. Either way, the surfacing of that word bothered him.

Numin hadn’t the slightest clue why he couldn’t quite shake the idea from his train of thought. The idea that Zero was being cute right now.

“Yeah. I was being arrested for a separate murder charge at the time, so I thought, hell, what’s another?” Although there was a jesting tone in his voice meant to convey a bit of humor, the tension he was carrying found itself laced among his words and inwoven with his expression. Tension only aggravated by the newfound evasiveness Numin’s eyes took on.

Zero noticed the reddish hue on his roommate’s face now. A quick smirk rose onto his lips before he stifled it, killing it as fast as it was born— he’ll pretend he doesn’t notice, but he’s well aware that Numin knows he definitely did.

“Makes sense. What’s one when you can have two.” Despite the topic at hand currently being murder victims, Zero continued with a cadence that was surprisingly cavalier. Guess when someone is noticeably blushing and growing a bit hot and bothered when they’re speaking to him it really takes the fear out of talking to someone with possible murder charges. After all, a cold hard murderer showing a bit of sheepishness like a nervous teenager talking to their classroom crush?

Oh, dare Zero even think— it might be a bit attractive.

Someone so calloused and violent, coming undone ever so slightly in his presence. Even if the undoneness was painted in just a faint blush of attraction on the other’s face, or slight tenseness in their words.

It made Zero feel a bit special, in a way.

“Two? Ah, I forget how many, but it’s well over two.” Although still collecting himself a bit, breaking his eyes back down to his handcuffs as if to hide the unspoken redness in his face, Numin’s voice composed itself with his next line, as if more thought would distract him from that word he kept trying to ignore whenever he looked at Zero. “Definitely more than two, it’s maybe… Maybe around a dozen or so? Although however many I’m charged with is beyond me. I’m certain the cops aren’t aware of all of them.”

The shock momentarily got to Zero for a split second, just at the sheer number. Or perhaps the shock was over Numin not even knowing the exact count; both were equally something to raise his brow in surprise at.

“Damn. Well, spoiler alert, I’m not here for murder myself.” After saying so, the memory of the officer pounding at his apartment door over an arrest warrant bubbled up into his consciousness, giving him an involuntary shiver when it popped at the surface.

Like old film flickering in his head with how vague and out of focus the memories were, he felt it more so than saw it.

Pain zipping up and down his back as he was knocked to the floor. Frail legs desperately kicking to keep the officer off of him. Hard boot connecting with his temple once, and the world darkening as everything slips away for a split moment into sheer pain and confusion. The second kick he doesn’t remember, but only assumes must’ve hit him after those memories cut short, hitting a blank wall as the world around was stolen away from him.

Unexpectedly, he noticed his mouth was a bit drier than a moment before.

“Come to think of it… I-I’m not all too sure what I’m arrested for, exactly.”

There was an unsteady shake in those words. Numin felt that deep part in his chest ache for him again, and without even thinking there was an audible jingle as he tugged the handcuffs yearningly again, subconscious desire turning into subtle action.

He wished he wasn’t confined.

“You can’t remember?” Softly, despite the gruffness of his voice, Numin verbally acknowledged Zero’s amnesia again.

Giving a weak half-hearted shrug, Zero blinked twice blankly, as if his eyes were focused on an absent memory. Or, at least the spaces where a memory may have been.

“I don’t know if I can’t remember or if I never knew in the first place. It’s weird, but somehow… even when I think I forgot something, I have the feeling that the information was once there.” A couple more blinks calibrated his eyes back to the dull hospital room around him, before continuing. “Like I noticed that I can’t recall your name again. Although for certain, I’m sure I’ve been told it more than once.”

The start of a weak and curious frown ghosted Numin’s lips. “Do you remember where to find it?”

There was another nervous bite on his bottom lip from Zero. Hesitant, as if taking a fifty-fifty shot at where he could possibly find his roommate’s name, he shakily raised his hand and checked the back of it.

And sure enough, confirming his hunch, there was a name in neat lettering there.

“Ah, the name Numin does ring a bell.”

His roommate chuckled deeply. “You said that last time.”

Tossing a perked brow up at him, Zero narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Well, then… let’s hope this time it’s louder bells.”

He ended his own retort with a slight chuckle of his own, almost distracted enough to not notice when the door opened for a nurse to hurry in. Numin recognized him as the one who injected the Valium into Zero’s veins this morning, and the viridescent hue of his eyes turned stygian and dark in bitter spite towards a particularly guilty party who Numin saw at blame for this morning’s fiasco.

“Oh-- Mr. Novem, I didn’t expect you up.” Tense, perhaps giving a few cautious glances at Numin to ensure he was still properly restrained, the nurse made his way for Zero’s bedside, only to have his patient narrow his eyes at him in distrust and sit up tensely in his bed, body language insinuating that his memory still recalled the face of who injected Valium into his veins earlier today.

Or perhaps, it was less of the memory of who Anderson was, and more of the innate emotion that seeing him evoked. Not a name, nor face, nor even incriminating action to seed a taste of discontent on Zero’s tongue when he saw the man; rather, it was a raw and visceral recoil, like how one would instinctively recoil from a bee’s sting before they had even realized they have stepped upon one.

Simply put, it was a knee-jerk reaction, memoryless by nature. Yet, the reaction his mind and body naturally had towards the nurse told Zero enough of the story; he was not a friend, nor was he one to be trusted.

“Yeah, I’m sure you would’ve liked not dealing with me for a few more hours, huh?” Leveled as to not betray enough defiance that could warrant another injection, Zero hissed at the nurse ever so begrudgingly.

A few flecks of guilt surfaced in the nurse’s soft umber eyes, uncensored and uninhibited. They gave his patient a genuine look of remorse that both Numin and Zero were surprised to see.

“My apologies for this morning. Things were, um, out of hand… in more ways than one.” Despite him reaching for Zero’s chart and making a few routine recordings of heart rate and alertness, the actions seemed more methodical and habitual rather than cold. “You had sustained quite a bit of damage from your arrest. Your coma was expected to last much longer, and finding you awake and lucid in addition to your roommate being unrestrained probably wasn’t the best atmosphere. The sedation was a tragic necessity to get things under control.”

Audibly in the background, Numin scoffed. But, perhaps in a more complacent state of mind considering his physical circumstances, Zero leaned more towards the believability of Anderson’s words— at least, if only noticeable by the slight release of tension knitting his brow in distaste.

He decided to entertain that the nurse was being truthful. At least, because he had no memories to contradict Anderson’s story of how this morning went.

“How long was I out for?” Inquiring through a hesitant tone, as if to attempt to gauge how serious the nurse actually was on his remorse, Zero pried for some answers.

Or, at least he tried to, if Numin didn’t interject almost immediately.

“A few days. I told you earlier already.” As if they were the only two in the room, Numin shot Zero a stern look, conveying a level of seriousness and intimidation in the darkness of his eyes that wasn’t quite there a moment before in their lighthearted words. And, nestled in the shadows of that darkness was a condensation to the nurse; he wasn’t even going to grace the guilty party with recognition, instead speaking only to Zero.

“A-ah, so have I been… under arrest? I’m not handcuffed to the bed like he is.” Words feeling thick and off balance on his tongue, Zero stuttered them out gracelessly, but not out of meekness to the nurse’s presence; he was instead nervous from the obvious cue from Numin that he wasn’t to continue addressing the nurse.

And, without even looking in his direction, Zero could feel the cold darkness in Numin’s eyes bearing down on him, festering in what the best case scenario is frustration, and worse case anger.

Noting the atmosphere himself, the nurse seemed meek to pique up. It took a few moments before he could muster to.

“You’re temporarily detained, not technically arrested. Your injuries and coma seemed severe enough to not warrant restraints, but if you pose a danger to others or a risk of escape—“ he made a curt yet polite nod towards Numin, signaling his example, “— then, you may also be handcuffed as well.”

“Ah. Makes sense. Guess I’m not complaining, then.” Zero replied back, albeit without complete presence in his own words. There was an obvious distraction hovering over his cadence, perhaps a voice inside him asking if the questions were worth Numin’s irate stare burning through his skin.

“It’s for the better. Honestly, if I’m being level with you, your charges might even be dropped.” Continuing the conversation between short scribbles and readings he was recording, Anderson’s nerves seemed to have ironed out a bit. Perhaps the reality of Numin being confined was comforting. Perhaps the irate glances being the most hostility he was expressing reassured him.

Zero could only guess the nurse has seen him in quite a rage state to be so initially cautious.

“Dropped? Dropped how? Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what my charges even are.” His words were strained, their delivery being just a bit faster than his previous reply, exposing his underlying urge to hear what he was actually arrested over.

Anderson peaked an eyebrow in slight surprise, looking over his clipboard of vitals and notes at his patient.

“You were charged with cyber crimes for breaching the Cray Incorporation’s computers. I don’t know the details, but I’ve been told it’s not exactly a grave offense,” there was a gentleness in his eyes, softening a bit in sympathy, “but, due to the brutality of your arrest and the injuries you sustain, I’m no lawyer but… I don’t exactly see the charges going through.”

A short catch of his breath exposed Zero’s relief and surprise— he honestly didn’t even register his hack as major enough to even be noticed, let alone criminalized.

“Finally, some words from you that have actual meaning: you’re no lawyer. So why don’t you stop talking to him and stringing him along on these guideless assumptions?” Sharply, like the irritation towards Zero was being snuffed out and instead ignited onto Anderson, Numin diverted his attention.

Zero blinked, taken aback but also secretly relieved he was no longer under those threatening eyes.

“I-I’m just saying, that’s what it looks like at the moment. Were you even aware of his charges, Mr. Belua?” Without much confidence underlying his reply, Anderson noticeably tightened his grip on Zero’s chart sheepishly. Nevertheless, his dominant hand still continued their short and purposeful scribbles, as if to hide the idea his nerves around Numin may be preoccupying him.

The restrained, dangerous man chuckled. Zero has never heard someone laugh with both darkness and irritation enveloped together, intertwining in an unnerving way as to coax goosebumps from those who heard. Surely enough, confirming with a quick glance, some bumps were already decorating Zero’s exposed forearms.

“Doesn’t matter what he was charged with. I knew it wasn’t a violent crime, that’s for sure.” Giving his chained fist a quick pound against the bed’s side rail to rattle his handcuffs, Numin made both a show of his aggression and a show of his containment. Nevertheless, there was a bit of a sadistic gleam in his eyes that Zero saw, a noticeable delight Numin took when the poor nurse jumped at his threateningly loud hit against the side rail.

“You know, those handcuffs aren't just for my protection-- they’re for his, as well.” Anderson gestured to Zero, pen still in hand as he pointed, before turning to said patient. “I’m sure for your consideration, you might want to hear he’s a danger to his roommates. He put his last one in the ICU.”

“Don’t you dare!” Numin growled, straightening up in his bed but unable to do anything more than yank threateningly at his cuffs.

“W-what are you talking about?” Zero squeaked back at Anderson, almost meekly at the news.

“I’m talking about why he was put with you. We put him with a comatose patient on purpose… He kept breaking out of his restraints and assaulting the other ones.”

“Because they were disgusting! I couldn’t stand to listen to anything that came out of their worthless mouths!” Numin nearly shouted back, seething with so much irate that it dripped off each syllable like venom. His unshackled hand came down to grab the side rail that he was cuffed to, tightening around the metal in a white-knuckled grip, and he gave another violent shake that sounded close to breaking it. The jarring noise of it made Anderson drop his chart, recoiling with a startled step back.

“Mr.Belua, calm yourself or I’ll have to call in the head nurse.”

“You want me fucking calm!? Then get out of here! I’ll rip your tongue out if you wanna stay and keep talking!” Like an animal in a cage, he thrashed savagely, clanging the handcuffs around in his fit. The bed rattled with it, loud and unnerving, hinting his threat was going to be fulfilled if Anderson dared stay any longer.

Even though the words weren’t even directed at him, Zero found himself curling up nervously, tucking his knees under his chin and holding onto his legs like a surrogate security blanket. Whether between the room’s atmosphere or his surfacing anxiety, the wound on his head throbbed deep with his heart rate, fast and heavy. The air was getting too thick to breath in smoothly.

Weirdly enough, that tone and anger reminded him of his father.

Even the nurse seemed shaken. His eyes only parted off Numin to make a glance at his clipboard and pen on the floor, rethinking his decision to aggravate such an infamous patient. Although it only took a few mere seconds, the racy thoughts in his head to finish his rounds and leave this room was apparent on his face. A few beads of sweat made a constellation of fear on his brow, and rather than make a deal out of this and call in the head nurse, he decided to pretend this didn’t happen.

After all, if worse comes to worse, he didn’t want Numin breaking loose; Anderson already knew he could. And he didn’t want to be the guilty party who had provoked him.

Without much other words, Anderson gave a sorry glance at Zero, before reaching for the chart on the ground. After hastily clipping on the pen and returning it to Zero’s bed post, he turned heel and left, stumbling slightly in his hurry and shutting the door quickly behind him.

It took Zero a few moments before he realized his body was shaking.

He could hear Numin’s quick, frustrated breaths from across the room. Almost like the breathing of a wolf about to growl. Like an impending attack was coming, that maybe if he stayed still and quiet he could avoid. Meekly, Zero slouched into himself, as if trying to not be there.

He’s used to not being there. He’s used to trying to pretend not to exist. If his dad has taught him anything, it was that.

Numin didn’t say a word. Just kept breathing, deep and upset. Angered.

Zero wanted to remember something about his roommate to trust. To fall back on as reassurance that this man wouldn’t vent his anger upon him now that the nurse is gone.

But aided by his anxiety, his memories all seemed distant and fuzzy.

His head was pounding.

All he could feel right now was fear for him. It felt like his father across the room. It felt like that was the last time he had been sober and so afraid of someone before.

“Zero. Are you okay there?”

It was Numin speaking, anger still laced in those words but concern still surfacing. Yet it wasn’t his voice Zero heard.

It was his father’s.

“Say something. P-pl…” hesitating, as if reluctant to cede his pride, the voice dropped an octave lower before continuing, “p-please, just say something, Zero.”

It sounded like his father’s voice. Not him, not Numin-- It was his father.

The memories burned in his head, blistering with the searing pain of his headache. He can’t remember this roommate. For whatever reason, in this godforsaken bright white room, he only remembers his father.

A few sparse tears beaded his lashes, barely held back from rolling down his hot red face.

“Please… I-I didn’t mean to scare you, just… Just tell me you’re okay, Zero.”

The words didn’t even register.

Zero was already gone.

#scp #SCP Foundation #SCP 682 #scp 079 #scp 079 x scp 682 #human au #human scp 079 #human scp 682 #human 079 #Human 682 #scp containment breach #scp fandom #scp fanfiction

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tinalostgirl · 4 years

Text

A Sad Wank | Alexina

Who: Tina Cohen-Chang & Alexis St. James @alittlebit-switchlexis

Where: Alexis’ Suite

When: Sometime during Bingo

Notes: Unfinished Due to Muse Concerns

This was probably going to be the weirdest goddamn scene she had planned all week. Who the hell put 'sad wank' as a square? And why was she so keen on getting it done? Either way, she was glad that Alexis was willing to help her. She arrived at the other's suit, only a small part of her brain urging her to turn away. But she ignored it and knocked on the door. The best thing to do for all parties was the get this over with. "Hey boss, sorry I'm late," she greeted, getting right into character. "I'm not in trouble am I? I promise I'm doing my best to get sales up."

It was a weird week for Alexis for many reasons, but she was grateful that she had some of the more ridiculous side of weird to distract her. She had managed to get all of her laughter over watching Tina 'sad wank' during the process of the scene as she got ready for it, wearing more office-appropriate clothes; namely a pantsuit, but shirtless, wearing instead a lacy black bra, and a pair of louboutins. Sure, Tina had a thing with her sister, but she liked a bit of dress-up. Tina walked in and she refrained from smiling at her friend, instead scowling at her instead. "Don't you mean, hey boss, sorry I'm late again?" Her voice unfriendly, her sentences clipped. "Honestly, Cohen-Chang, this is the third time this week. You better have a good excuse."

It was starting to be a mindfuck slipping into all of these different roles and headspaces. Her mind was mush at this point but that was a probably a good thing making herself more likely to fall into any role she needed to be in. At least Alexis was game to partake in this weird scene with her, getting right into character. It definitely helped Tina get into the correct head space, especially when she looked up to see Alexis dressed in a pant suit, radiating boss energy. "Yes, sorry I'm late again. Fuck. I just had this thing, I got here as soon as I could, promise. The bus was running late and I left my wallet on the bus. It won't happen again. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Alexis rolled her eyes at Tina’s excuse, flipping through her file she had in her hands as a prop. “If I wanted to hear flimsy excuses like that, I’d let my husband waffle on with excuses on why there’s lipstick on his collar, and why he is too tired to satisfy me in bed.” She didn’t know why her boss character had an apparent unhappy marriage, but she was channeling her inner Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada and was just rolling with it. “You can tell me the real reason you were late for starters. And then your punishment can fit the crime.”

Tina huffed, falling in line with whatever fucked up character she was making up on the spot. To do what they had planned, her character really had to have something wrong with her. A sex addict maybe. "I was having sex," she huffed out, sighing with embarrassment. "I just needed to get off before work you know? Please don't hold it against me."

At Tina's reason, Alexis raised an eyebrow. "You needed to get off?" She asked incredously, as if she had never heard that phrase before in his life. "You needed to get off....on company time?" She punctuated the sentence by snapping shut the file. "Well, go on then. You have the floor." She gestured to her employee. "You want to be late to work because of your hornines, you can deal with it here, right now."

Tina was ashamed almost at the way her boss called her out. That's what she got for being so honest. She sucked in a sharp breath and looked at Alexis with wide eyes. "You... want me to... what?" Tina's character was sure she was hearing things. There was no way she was actually asking her to do the thing she was asking her to do. "You're not serious. There's no way." Tina would respond with anger, but her character responded with fear and embarrassment.

Alexis crossed her arms, almost amused at the way Tina acted simultaneously amused and embarrassed at the order. “Deadly serious,” She responded curtly. “If you have any chance in hell working in this town again, you’ll strip for me, and get off. It’s what you were doing anyway, and if you’re going to waste my time, I might as well experience how you waste it.” She checked her watch. “Come on now, we don’t have all day.”

Tina thought about her options. Or pretended to at least. Then answered with her actions, moving to strip out of her clothes, leaving her bare in front of her boss. She knew what she needed to do but her character took her time as if testing if her boss was serious or not. When it was clear Alexis wasn’t budging, she moved her hand to rest on her clit, slowly circling as her eyes focused on the floor.

She felt like hurrying up Tina for wasting her time as she stripped, but waited for now, to see if she were going to argue back. When it clear she wasn't, and she began to touch herself, Alexis stood up straighter. "You know, it's rude to not maintain eye contact when in a conversation." She pointed out, noticing that Tina wasn't looking at her, wondering how far she could push her without the fake tears of the sad portion of this wank turning into real ones. "Look at me."

#( bingo 2020 )#alexis #para: alexis #para: a sad wank

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ellaenchanting · 5 years

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Beguiled Recap

Every year writing these gets harder. Because I can only go to con about once a year it ends up feeling less like a normal convention and more like visiting a town where you grew up. There are so many people to see and they've often changed so much since you've last seen them. People have broken up, people have gotten closer, people have gotten more connected to the community at large, people have started or ended a conflict, people have exciting changes in their real life, people have joined, people have brought their friends, some people aren't there. You’ve drifted apart, you’ve drifted together. It's dizzying taking in the new dynamics and just feeling really connected and disconnected at once. There are quite a few hypnofolks that I would happily spend an entire weekend with one on one so it's hard to split time and attention to connect to everyone that I really, really want to spend time with. There are always a ton of people who seem awesome and who I would really like to know better but probably never will. So many hypnokinksters are magnetic to me- I try not to get pulled so hard that I end up drained of energy or time or behave unkindly to folks I'm already committed to*.

It's a balance.

I fuck it up.

We all do- there's probably no way to be connected meaningfully to a plethora of people and not fuck up the balance of time and energy. But- one of the things I'm most happy about from this weekend is that I got to spend at least a little time with a bunch of people who I feel connected to and who I really care about. I hope others had a similar experience (as loose and fast and chaotic as it all can be).

TMI ABOUT MY FUCKING FEELINGS (aka the skippable part):

- I’ve had a rough 2019 in terms of mental health and I was really worried about con leaving me worse off (like it did last year). I was trying to be really mindful about eating and sleeping enough as well as not over-committing myself. I had the full range of difficult experiences and emotions for bits of time- tired, lonely, rejected, jealous, angry, sad, guilty, ashamed- but I never quite felt like I fell into a hole that I couldn’t get out of. I had a bit more fight in me this time. I don’t know quite where that came from but I’d take riled up over despair any day. I generally only really get to hang out with hypnokinksters once a year - I’m glad I could fight to stay present for it.

-I felt more toppy this con than I have in a while- sometimes in low-key ways and sometimes in ways that felt much more aggressive than I’ve experienced in a while. I’ve had a lot of times recently where topping felt inauthentic and hard- like I was pathetically pretending at something I’m not talented enough to achieve. (Hell, I felt like that for most of Heart of Texas.) It’s hard to reconcile the helplessness of depression with a good confident hypnotist headspace. It was nice to get back into an extended toppy groove this weekend. Thanks to everyone who was nice to me around this and who was excited to see that side of me.

A Jangled Tangle of What I Did (In Roughly Chronological Order):

My con was much more about connecting with individuals than doing big public things that would make an interesting recap. I'm going to write some details below but they'll be really vague. If you think I'm talking about to I probably am. :) :

-Topping is for Everyone was so good. Excellent participation and beautifully given. I’m so happy about how it went- and would love to actually join you next year (if you want to do it again).

-Playing around with visual hallucinations and just hanging out for a bit during a con that I know was busy for you. Hopefully helping a bit? I’m happy for all of the positive things you experienced this weekend and all the support you received. :)

-Thank you for the picture. It's beautiful. :)

-A rude interruption of my nap. Harumph. :P Clearly I hated it.

-Not bringing nearly enough clean clothes.

-Femme flirt had some problems this year but I'm still very happy about it as an event and grateful to everyone who came out. Thank you to @daja-the-hypnokitten and @sex-obsessed-lesbian for co-organizing.

- I've already talked to you about this scene but- I like you so much. :) Light sensitized touch (especially lip touching) and just the perfect tone. Also fun with blankness. Additionally- lots of random little talk and play throughout the weekend. You're the best and just being around you always fills me with happiness.

- Thanks for letting me cuddle with y'all. :) Sorry I was half-asleep.

- Demo bottoming for Setting Your Subject Up for Success. I've been through this class 3 or 4 times now and have learned something every time. It's such a useful class and so well taught. @sex-obsessed-lesbian has an amazing style that I always really really enjoy.

- Getting lunch and catching up.:) Also getting some time to do mutual "I like you" trances and play with rope. (Rope! Who knew you were so kinky! :P ) Also co-topping! Twice! :) That was fun. I know schedules are weird and you've got a lot of stuff going on but- I want you in my life as much as you're reasonably able to be there? Don't be a stranger. :)

- Also- hey thank you for thinking of me as a co-top! I enjoyed it a lot- and you have lovely reactions. I hope your weekend ended up being everything you hoped for. It looked like you were having tons of fun! :)

- Fear Play Lounge- I never thought I'd be particularly interested in doing fear play but the opportunity came up to join a fear play group before con and- apparently I've been storing ideas because all of a sudden I could think of a ton of things I wanted to try. I still don't think of fear play as being particularly sexy, necessarily, but kind of fascinating and really fun to think about logistically. (I may have a logistics kink.) Had a very sexy Killing Eve inspired scene, did kind of a two parter brain parasite/helpless passenger thing (HOOOOOT- you were a beautiful partner), and did a Madoka Magica-inspired soul gem scene. All were VERY fun- some of the favorite things I did at con with fabulous scene partners. I also loved watching what other people were doing and their mutual creativity (like in the “bugs on the floor” scene). Thank you to everyone from the lab for making such a cool atmosphere and especially to my scene partners for letting me experiment with something new.

-More unexpected co-topping was unexpected! But nice! (Not always co- but- sequential topping?) I'm sorry for crashing y’alls time together (I didn’t quite realize that’s what I was doing)- but was really glad I got to spend more time with both of you and do some light casual trancing. Y'all are cute. :)

- Nice deep trance with some fun cleverness around finding My Unconscious. Have I told you recently how much I love your voice when it gets soft and gentle like that? Mmmm. Also hot mirror things with a little bit of switchiness. Love you. ♥️ You're incredible.

-Dinner and a scene :) Thank you for finally letting me take you out. And- hmmm- boots. Deconstruction. Fuzzing out the unimportant words and thoughts. That thing where you do something so attractively that I have to see it over and over again. So grateful for you and your trust and your friendship. Thank you. (Also for Tuesday morning was an additional, unexpected hotness. Don’t think I haven’t gone back and reread or that I don’t have plans. It doesn’t really matter which thoughts are originally mine and which are originally yours when yours will all eventually be mine anyways, right? )

-Didn’t think so

-You probably shouldn’t think about that too much either, hmm? <3

- Killing Eve things again! That was my second scene with no hypnosis (you know, -ish) and it was different but really exciting to do. You’re devastatingly hot. Still trying to decide between doing and being done to- being a switch is confusing. :P Thank you for asking me and for taking time for me and for trusting me with something a little dark-feeling (and also for the beautiful dress). Let’s do more of all the things, yeah?

-It was lovely seeing you look adorable in pretty dresses all weekend. I was so happy about our gentle and fun Sunday morning scene. I really liked your happy purr- and I had a happy purry feeling myself after we were done. Thank you! :)

-Don’t Drop Yet was such a fun class to participate in. I’m glad that I actually made it this time. Y’all are great. :) I still haven’t figured out quite how resistance play works for me as a bottom but it’s a fun thing to explore.

- Teasy fuzzy handcuff things were really fun. :) I didn’t do a lot of concentrated bottoming during con (see above re: headspace) but I’m glad I got some of that time in with you. I also appreciate your care and concern later in the weekend. Things work themselves out- but I appreciate you thinking about me. I won’t tell anyone how sweet you are (who doesn’t already know). :P

-Thanks for going to dinner with me. :) I did genuinely enjoy hearing your thoughts and theories. Also- I think i owe you a text message and an amnesia rant (which I also apparently owe to @daja-the-hypnokitten and @spiralturquoise). Thank you for taking out the time to spend with me.

- @sebsteerpike- I really like talking with you. I just want to note that here. Consider it officially noted. :)

- Sunday night didn’t turn out exactly like I planned, but the positive side of that was that I got to see a socialize with several people I hadn’t really seen all weekend (and some since my first con). Also got to be a “victim” of my own breast induction (and see it done way better). Also had someone tell me I would make a wonderful vampire- which is the True and Proper way to flirt with me. Thank you. :)

- Thanks for lunch on Monday. Like I said- it was an absolutely perfect way to end the con. And- I’m so so excited for you- both the adventures you've had and the ones you’re about to have. :)

- Thanks for letting me hang out a bit in y’alls room on Monday. You’re both lovely. Also re: sliding into my DMs- yes please? I know mutual time/energy is a thing (especially during con) but- could be fun. :)

- @ultinath made me blush randomly all weekend. Again. I am working up an absolutely devastating counter-flirt that you will be helpless against when we next meet. Beware.

-Concom did an amazing job. I don’t know Tumblrs but- thanks! :)

-If I saw you this weekend, you added to my experience and I really valued the time we spent together. This is a not-at-all comprehensive list but: @ab0ut---blank, @andsleep @arihi, @brainbound @bylineloislane, @carneggyblog, @dancercoder, @daja-the-hypnokitten, @darthkyra @enscenic,@hypnoricebunny @hypnoobiwan @lily-ackerman, @kitty-sylvie @jungle4566@minddiver @hypno-moon-gazer @mr-ackerman, @ragezdasta @sebsteerpike, @sex-obsessed-lesbian @spiralturquoise @silentstream9@ultinath @zanydanger @a lot of y’all in the fear play room that I don’t know the Tumblrs of @also a lot of you femme flirters @everyone I’m leaving out. Thank you for being in my life.

*And "committed to" does not just mean romantic here but- generally if we interact frequently I'm committed to our relationship in the way that we have it

#beguiled #also I loved the Bewitched theme #a theme after my own heart

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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San Francisco (Branjie) - Poppedthep

AN: Spoilers for the finale! Brooke and Vanjie the night [spoiler] wins. Slight AU of seating positions if you’ve seen the top four queens reaction video.

This is my first time posting here! If you enjoy this will likely be more on my AO3 account soon, under this author name. But wanted to come join in and post on AQ at least once as I enjoy the fic from everyone on here! Hello :)

Brooke is holding Vanjie’s hand when they find out Yvie wins.

Brooke is on the couch with the four, right hand on Yvie’s knee, Yvie’s on hers, both squeezing tight.

Jose is perched on the arm next to them with a drink, in boy clothes. He managed to blag his way in there with them, of course. No one says no to Vanjie.

He’s kept his distance all night, showing love to all the girls equally, but in the last second as Ru says “the winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race, America’s next Drag Superstar is…” Brooke feels Jose’s hand slip into her free one, linking their fingers and squeezing. She squeezes back, grateful, and doesn’t look away from the screen, tells herself whatever happens she’ll be okay.

And she is. Jose screams and hugs Yvie with the rest of the four, and then hugs Brooke longer and tighter, leaving an arm around her waist, waiting until everyone is following Yvie out and no one is looking at them to catch her eye and mouth “You okay?”

Brooke nods and forces her smile even bigger, just to reassure him. She is. Of course she’s a little disappointed, that’s natural, but she’d sort of felt it coming. Suspected it. She’s made her peace with it.

Everyone goes out to the viewing party to watch the crowning, mingle, take photos. As soon as they get out there Brooke is hugging Courtney, who can’t stop crying. Jose runs off to shop his Levis freebies, floating around in those red plaid pants like a snack.

Brooke Lynn smiles graciously, makes the rounds accepting hugs and drinks and congratulations and compliments, as beautifully poised as though she is wearing the crown. A pageant-perfect good-natured runner up.

Brock is proud of what he’s done. He’s grateful for everything. There are good things ahead and he’ll be fine.

“Look at you,” Jose comes over and perches next to him on a bar stool later, when most people have left, plopping his big Levis bag on the bar. In this position his head is above Brooke’s and he leans down and says,

“You my winner,” against her cheek.

“Don’t tell none of them other hos,” into her ear.

He links his hands around Brooke’s neck and Brooke turns her face into Jose’s collarbone, smiling at the familiar warmth, resting her arms around his waist in their easy cuddle.

“Look at him,” Jose says to apparently no one, gazing at her fondly, possibly tipsy.

Jose looks down and back up quickly, mischief and invitation in his eyes.

“Want me to make you feel like the winner tonight?” he flashes a conspiratorial smile, all teeth and cuteness, speaking low enough the people passing on their way out can’t hear.

“Don’t you even worry baby,” he growls, wicked but soft, “I’m bout to make you feel like the real queen.”

He’s definitely not sober but aware of what he’s doing, shades of comforting and caretaking making his eyes soft beneath the mischief, even as his hand slips down the open back of Brooke’s gown to squeeze the top of her ass under the padding.

They’ve done it plenty of times when they’ve spent time together since the break up. More often lately since they’ve been seeing each other a lot. Now they’re on tour together it looks like there’ll be more ahead.

But Jose is sick today. Sore throat, stuffy nose, congested head, medicated and powering through it. No one could tell, he’s looking like distractingly fine trade in tight red plaid that leaves nothing to the imagination, but Brooke knows he’s not feeling his best.

“No, you’re sick, you don’t have to do that,” she protests, indignant on his behalf.

“I’m fine Mary,” Jose insists, “My pussy ready to pop twenty four seven, you know that. Don’t got to get ready if you stay ready,” he winks.

But he also sniffles and he smells like menthol throat sweets and he doesn’t insist very hard. Brooke can tell it’s more about being there for her in case her ego needs it than Jose really wanting it tonight.

“No, you rest up, get your beauty sleep,” she teases and she already knows what’s coming when Jose clicks his tongue and quips,

“Bitch I don’t need no beauty sleep. Look at this mug! Born beautiful, catch that” and snaps his fingers above their heads.

“That leopard catsuit though,” Brooke grabs his hip and gives him what she knows is a dangerously appreciative look but she just spent an hour rewatching how good Vanjie looked in that skin tight leopard print.

“Yeah?” Jose smirks proudly, pursing his lips, popping a shoulder.

“Yeah,” Brooke laughs, “And you know it,” she teases, “My best dressed.”

Jose tilts his head and purses his lips again smugly.

“Damn right I know it. Your best drag queen. Winner of Season Eleven. Cut the check, bitch!” he snaps the air again and Brooke laughs instinctively.

“Right. This tired old lady needs to get to bed,” Brooke detangles herself before they get any further into flirting.

She gives Jose a big kiss on the cheek and says, “Thanks though. Love you,” only avoiding his lips because she doesn’t want to get sick.

Jose says “Love you too,” tilting his head and watching her leave from the bar stool with the same tipsy, fond gaze.

He’s very cute. It blows Brooke’s mind how Jose can look like such trade out of drag when he’s such a pretty woman as Vanjie.

Brooke waves “Feel better,” blowing another kiss over her shoulder and heads back to her room to listen to Nina’s album on Spotify again with Courtney.

Hours later it’s two am. Courtney left at eleven and Brock is in bed but can’t sleep. He stares at the ceiling, his thoughts racing with what’s to come next. It’s hard to plan for. It’s so unknown. It’s all good things on the horizon but he feels a looming dread for no rational reason. The crown would have given more structure and certainty to his post-show path. Things will still be good, he knows they will, but there are so many unknown variables now.

He really needs to sleep. They’re flying early, have Vancouver tomorrow night. He can’t make his brain turn off. The dread is growing, forming into anxiety.

He needs a distraction from his racing thoughts. The best distraction he knows conveniently happens to be staying a few doors down.

Brock doesn’t want to bother him at two am when he’s sick. But he did offer earlier…..

He tries to sleep for twenty more minutes before he gives in and texts Jose:

Hey, are you awake?

Am now bitch. Whats up?

Wanna come visit for a bit?

Minutes later Jose knocks his door. Brock answers shirtless in sleep sweats, not bothering to turn on any lights other than the bedside lamp.

Jose is in boxers with a robe loosely around his shoulders and raises his eyebrows when Brock opens the door, running his eyes down Brock’s chest to the v above his sweats.

“Change your mind?” he smirks.

Brock opens the door wider to let him in before answering, wary of not giving anyone the chance to spot him there and get even more involved in their personal lives than everyone is already.

Jose scoots past him smirking, keeping eye contact, their hips brushing with just sheer cotton between them. Given that they mostly touch in drag these days, it’s overstimulation. His dick twitches involuntarily and for a moment he’s overwhelmed with wanting to grab Jose, run his hands all over him.

But he really didn’t ask him to come over for sex. Jose is sick. He’s in a weird headspace. Neither of them are really in the mood for it. He just knows the spirit that is Vanjie will be able to distract him from his thoughts, lighten his mood.

“No,” he laughs, “I didn’t change my mind.”

Jose’s eyebrows shoot higher, doubting.

“I swear,” he protests. “I just couldn’t sleep. Wanna talk for a bit?”

“Okay,” Jose nods warily, getting softer and more serious, waiting to see what Brock needs from him.

“We can get in bed if you want. Then you can fall asleep if I’m boring you,” Brock says.

Jose huffs a laugh and says, “Okay,” again, and gets in the left side of the bed, the side he always used to take, putting his phone face down on the bedside table.

Brock slips in the other side. They lie down on the starchy hotel pillows and turn to face each other.

“So how you feelin?” Jose asks softly, looking him over.

“Good. Weird,” Brock shrugs.

Jose nods and sniffles, suppresses a cough.

“Are you okay?” concern makes Brock’s voice soft.

“Mmhmm,” Jose answers, shifting on the pillow, sniffling a bit more. Brock reaches to the bedside table and hands him a tissue.

“Thanks,” Jose blows his nose.

“Sorry to get you out of bed when you’re sick,” Brock’s voice is naturally soft and gets softer with worry. Jose never doesn’t look good, but he’s starting to look noticeably sick. Brock will feel bad if he’s sicker tomorrow because of him.

“We in bed now, ho,“ Jose has a small smile. “Anyway I don’t mind. Wasn’ really sleeping.”

Brock feels an involuntary smile spread and he was right about his choice of distraction.

“You better keep them nasty toes over there, though, or I ain’t being held responsible for my actions,” Jose jokes, pleased when Brock properly laughs.

He lasts all of two minutes on the opposite side of the bed before he scoots over to Jose like a cat for a cuddle.

Jose opens his arms and Brock shuffles down and rests his head on Jose’s smooth chest, feeling arms wrap tightly around him.

He just breathes there for a moment, calmer, safer, comforted already.

“Don’t freak out. You did so good. I’m proud of you. Everybody proud.” Jose says soothingly. His hand strokes across the tired muscles in Brock’s back.

“You gonna be fine. You’ll get so many gigs. People love you.” His hand strokes through Brock’s hair, scratching at his scalp and Brock leans into it, rubbing his cheek against Jose’s chest.

“Thanks,” he sighs softly. “It’s just not knowing. Everything starts now and I want to make the most of it, do the best I can. I don’t want to miss anything or fuck anything up or…” he exhales his perfectionist frustrations with himself in a sigh.

“You won’t fuck anything up. You’re amazing,” the rhythm of Jose’s hand in his hair and the lull of his voice is relaxing. The certainty in it makes him feel strong, makes him believe him. Something about his energy just oozes positivity around them, even when he’s not making jokes.

“Take it one thing at a time. Gotta slay this tour first. You will, you’re fierce. Keep doin them Lives talkin it up with the fans. You good at that.”

The pads of Jose’s fingers draw circles on Brock’s scalp and he feels like he could purr.

“Then we going to Europe with Miss Nina West. Girls on tour. Girls gone wild! London baby!” Jose’s voice gets playfully raucous and Brock looks up and sees Jose looking down at him hopefully, trying to make him smile, so he does. Jose blows him a kiss in the air. Brock blows one back and settles his head back down.

Jose plays with his hair in silence for a while. The hotel mini fridge hums. As though he senses Brock’s intrusive thoughts starting to creep back Jose starts talking again softly,

“You not on your own. You got an amazing team. You got Steve and Courtney and your mom. You got Plastique, Nina, Rajah, Tynomi. Gia, Brynn, Farah, all your friends,” his breath hitches slightly before adding, “And me.”

“Thanks, Big Guy,” Brock sighs again, softer. The nickname slips out accidentally, he feels Jose twitch involuntarily at it beneath him. He presses a kiss into Jose’s chest and feels Jose kiss the top of his head.

“We all believe in you. You a winner baby. And I done this shit before. I’ll help you.” Jose’s fingertips smooth over his brow, flattening out invisible lines before dipping back into his hair.

“Thanks,” Brock murmurs again, truly grateful. “You’ve already helped me so much already,” he says on a yawn.

His thoughts are finally quietening down and allowing him to get sleepy. He yawns again into Jose’s warm skin.

“Get excited, bitch. This gonna be a good year,” Jose sniffles again. Brock feels his chest shake as he suppresses a cough.

“Yeah, it is,” Brock wills himself to believe it. He stretches to the bedside table to hand Jose another tissue. The air away from Jose is so much colder, even just those few inches of bed, and he feels immediately relieved to snuggle back down close.

“It’s gonna be good,“ he repeats to himself.

"Gonna be real good, bitch,” Jose is yawning now too.

He falls asleep not long after on Jose’s chest, lulled by gentle affirmations and gentle fingers on his scalp.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #poppedthep #submission #canon compliant

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getallemeralds · 5 years

Photo

Right. He was just on the other side of the door. All he had to do was knock, and start talking, and then maybe he wouldn’t implode.

Leo swallowed hard and lifted up a hand. This wasn’t gonna be too hard, right? Just… talk to Edd. Give him some answers. He’d surely picked up on it by now anyway. He just needed to knock, and walk in, and explain. Explain why he’d been acting so weird. Explain why his interests were so inconsistent. Explain why sometimes he used different words or a different tone. Explain why he couldn’t always remember what he had and hadn’t done. He just… needed to explain.

His head was empty. There was nothing but the hammering panic that had been building up in him for the past week. No other thoughts, no other feelings, just emptiness and impending doom. It was like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to break. Like he was.

He just needed to knock. Just knock, and say hello, and walk in, and start talking. So why couldn’t he move? Leo had experienced loss of control before, of his body moving without him being the one behind it, but this time it was like whatever connection between his brain and his body had ceased to exist. To an outsider, it was like he’d been turned into a statue. ‘Damnit, not now..!’ Leo tried desperately to get himself to move, to talk, to do anything besides just stand there like a deer in headlights. He just needed to push through his fear, push through all the nightmare scenarios knocking around inside him, and—

The door opened and Edd walked straight into him. The physical contact jolted Leo out of his fear-induced dissociation and he squeaked; he wobbled a little, about to topple, but Edd grabbed him by the arms before he could fall over and helped him regain his balance. “Leo! Hello! You’re here early!”

“Hi,” Leo responded weakly. Edd let go and the redhead trailed behind him into the apartment. “Yeah, I… I…” He stammered a little, unable to get the words to line up in his head. Edd didn’t seem to notice.

“Tom and Matt are still deciding what food to order,” Edd informed him cheerily, “and Tord said he’ll be a bit late tonight. Funny, you’d think he’d rush here as soon as he heard there’s a new movie from that director!”

Leo raised an eyebrow as Edd picked up the DVD case. “You mean that ‘evil’ director you told me about? …The one that cloned you?” Edd beamed at him. Leo opened his mouth, thought about all of the questions he could ask, decided none of them would get him anywhere, then dropped the subject. “Right, um, okay. Is it… is it any good?”

“It’s the first movie to ever get a MINUS score on Rotten Tomatoes!” Edd looked positively thrilled at the prospect. Leo badly wanted to ask how that was even possible, but instead lingered awkwardly as Edd chatted to him about how good (how bad?) the previous movie in the series was, and how he was so happy that Bingbong was back to directing, and…

“Edd?” Leo’s voice came out as a tiny squeak. Edd screeched to a halt and looked at him. Right. Now or never. “…can I talk to you?”

Edd gave him a somewhat concerned look, but kept the smile on his face. “Of course! What’s up?”

Now or never.

Leo moved to sit down on the couch and drew his knees close to his chest. He could feel himself starting to freeze up again. No, he had to do this. He came all this way, and if he went ‘oh, it’s nothing’ now, Edd was going to get suspicious. The redhead cleared his throat and started playing with the drawstrings of his cyan hoodie. “Okay, um… you know how sometimes I act… weird..? Like, um… like I’m not always myself?”

Edd sat down on the couch as well, leaving a space between himself and Leo. “I guess?” This sounded pretty serious, he decided. Maybe Leo was about to tell him he was a werewolf, or part demon, or an alien, or possessed, or all of the above! You could definitely be all of the above. It wasn’t really out of the question. Secretly, he put his money on ‘werewolf’. “You can tell me anything,” he added on, a bit hasty but trying to hide his excitement.

Leo stuttered a little. How was he going to say this? “It’s… I’m… I have a… a condition,” he forced out. “An… a problem. A problem with… me.”

(‘Definitely werewolf’, Edd thought.)

“Do you remember when I ran into your apartment and started singing, and then freaked out and ran away?” Edd nodded. “And when you asked me what my favourite Pokemon is and I changed my answer back-and-forth for like five minutes? And when I punched Tord in the face? And how I keep changing hoodies—”

“Yeah, that’s weird,” Edd interjected. “How many of those do you own?”

Leo winced. “…more than I should, I think. Um. There’s… well… there’s an explanation for all of that. And it’s that I’m not… I’m… there’s more than just ‘Leo’ in here.” He tapped the side of his head nervously.

Edd changed his vote from ‘werewolf’ to ‘possessed’.

“B-By which I mean,” Leo continued, trying desperately to keep himself on-rails, “I… I have something called, um, Dissociative Identity Disorder.” Okay. He said the hard part. The rest came easy, hopefully. It usually did. “What that means is, um, you might have heard it as ‘Multiple Personality Disorder’. Someone undergoes trauma and their brain creates another full-fledged identity to cope with it. The new person can take control of the body and has their own interests, name, identity…”

Edd listened with an expression Leo couldn’t place. The world around him seemed to fade, everything getting farther away, but he kept talking even as he felt like he was falling away.

“And, um, despite what the media usually says, we’re not like… serial killers or anything? We’re just normal people, and it’s like— it’s like having roommates, except the apartment is your body. We argue, we disagree, but we also get along and do fun stuff together… and we all really, really like you and the rest of the boys. You’re our friends, and… and we’re scared of, of losing that, because of being… crazy.” Leo’s voice cracked a little. “I— I can try and, explain more if you want, I know this is very sudden— there’s four of us counting me, you’ve met four of us I mean, I’m the ‘main’ identity and usually people only meet me but Pat and Mae and Summer really like you guys…” Leo shut his eyes tightly and scrunched up. In his headspace, he could sense the other alters huddled up around him, every much as worried and afraid as he was.

“Oh.” Edd looked unsure. Leo’s eyes darted from him, to the door, and back to him. Okay, this was the nightmare scenario. Edd was uncomfortable, he was going to tell him he didn’t want to be around them anymore, Leo was going to lose all of his new friends and— “I- I mean, it’s awesome! It’s like getting four friends for the price of one! But, uh, you’re not gonna like the movie, then.”

Leo’s train of thought derailed with several explosions and 500 civilian casualties. “Huh?” Edd handed him the DVD case with an apologetic look. The redhead flipped it over to read the summary blurb on the back, then let out a groan and slammed his face into it in disappointment.

#img #leo chirps #eddsworld #eddsworld system overload #leodoodles #leodrabbles #is that my writing tag? i dont remember #this is a scene ive had in my head for a while and i wanted to write SOMETHING

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gorogues · 6 years

Text

Fictober ficlets

Day 6: “I heard enough, this ends now.”

The heat and cold guns powered up simultaneously with an ominous whine, and Mick and Len stared each other down.

“I’m sick of you treating me like some kind of secondary Rogue!” Mick bellowed, at which his partner in crime snorted derisively.

“I give you more than you deserve, and we all know it.”

“For cryin’ out loud…” James complained from across the table, though a glower from both men quickly silenced him.

“So you recruited me, big deal! I pull my own weight around here, and you take a cut of my share just because of that. It’s not right,” Mick grumbled. He lightly pulled at the trigger of his gun, causing a few flames to flicker out of the muzzle, and the other Rogues shuffled their chairs back a bit.

“Then shoot me if you’ve got the balls,” Len challenged him. “But you don’t. You’re weak, and that’s why you’re in the lower tier of Rogues. It’s pathetic.”

“I’ll show you balls…” Mick growled, grip tightening on the gun and trigger, and that’s when Sam shoved the table against them and jumped to his feet.

“I heard enough. This ends now.”

“Dammit, Sam! If we don’t get this outta our system it’s just gonna keep happening,” Len protested, but Sam held a small mirror towards them with a stern glare, and the implication was clear.

“Don’t care. Have your dick-measuring contests outside Rogue territory,” Sam said forcefully, his gaze never wavering. He was usually an easy-going leader and a good man to get along with, but could always be counted on to push back when necessary.

“Fine. This isn’t over, Snart,” Mick muttered in a low voice, though one sharp glance from Sam reminded him to keep it to himself until they’d left the hideout. But Sam didn’t notice Len’s returned glare and nod, which told those who had seen it to maybe avoid bar-hopping with Len or Mick for a while.

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

Day 7: “No worries, we still have time.”

James liked to make an entrance and locks were basically optional for him, so he swung open the door to Hartley’s apartment with a theatrical flourish.

“Piper? There a reason you didn’t show up at the Bureau’s meeting today?” he called.

“Leave me alone, James,” came a distinctly irritated reply. The voice was emanating from the bedroom, so James walked in with a hand covering his eyes in comedic exaggeration. This would normally get a few exasperated chuckles from Hartley, but today he was silent. So James dropped the hand and the humour, and now looked sincerely concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Don’t concern yourself with it, and I’ll be back at the office tomorrow.”

“Hart, it doesn’t take a conman to see that something’s truly bothering you. Try me, I’m a really good listener.”

Hartley let out a pained grunt and fixed James with a frustrated stare. “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”

“Of course,” James assured him, fingers obviously crossed behind his back. Hartley knew it, but decided to unburden himself anyway; it wasn’t like he had many people to talk to at this point in his life.

“So today’s the anniversary of my parents’ murder,” he began, and James’ eyes widened. He couldn’t believe he’d missed such an important event, as it was the kind of thing he took pride in remembering and was even a professional requirement for a confidence man who liked to know everything about everyone.

“We often didn’t see eye-to-eye,” Hartley continued, “but they were the only parents I had, and I know they loved me. I loved them. And I can’t help but feel partly responsible because Mirror Master murdered them just to get at me…it makes for weird feelings of grief, guilt, and confusion. I’m not in a good headspace right now.”

“That’s completely understandable and you can take all the time you need,” James said with concern, his face a bit pale. He spent some time in thought, and then brightened. “Do you think it’d help to visit their memorials, to maybe pay your respects and think about what’s going on in your head?”

“It might,” Hartley conceded, “but their graves are in Central City and it’s getting rather late. Maybe it’s not worth it, and maybe they already think I’m a bad son for not showing up.”

James cast him a sympathetic look, feeling almost heartbroken by the downcast look on his friend’s face. “Don’t worry, we still have time and we’ll get there. And Hart, not only are you a great son, but I know your parents are so proud of you.”

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

Day 9: “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Lisa had been paralyzingly lethargic for the last day or so, showing little interest in meals and even less in exercise or recreation. She hated prison, and her brother seemed content to let her stay there for a while; he might have been too busy to spring her, but she assumed he was angry at her for disobeying his counsel not to harass the Flash. How could he understand her feelings, anyway?

“Dinnertime, Snart,” one of the guards called as she slipped a meal into the cell, though Lisa completely ignored the woman and the food. Roscoe was dead, she’d failed to hurt the Flash as he’d done to her, and the world was passing her by as she languished in that cell. Rage could only drive her so far when she was completely powerless to do anything, and the melancholy of grief had set in.

“Where did it all go wrong?” she asked softly under her breath, and there was a familiar chuckle beside her.

“I’d think it was when my brain overheated.”

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Roscoe, you’re not real. I’m imagining things like the last time.”

“Well, not in the flesh, as it were. But I’m here to keep you company in your hour of need…I wish I could do more to help, but I’ll need a body first.”

“If you’re real --- and I’m not saying you are --- tell me something I couldn’t possibly know to prove it’s you.”

The voice paused for a few moments before speaking. “I left a diamond bracelet for you under your bed before I died, and you haven’t found it yet.”

She flushed. It suddenly occurred to her that she couldn’t know if it was true until she was out of prison, but seemed like the kind of thing he would do and so he had to be real….or maybe she might be hallucinating him saying it because she expected that of him. Her head was so muddled, and she was having such difficulty thinking straight.

“You shouldn’t have come here. I’m not at my best right now,” she admitted quietly, still not lifting her forehead from her slump on the table.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he replied, and she could hear the tender smile in his voice.

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

Day 10: “You think this troubles me?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re completely out of burgers,” the employee said politely, a concerned look on her face. The customer in front of her seemed like the type to be difficult.

“You think this troubles me?” Dr Alchemy announced with an imperious smile. “Let my Philosopher’s Stone transform those soggy French fries,” --- he gestured towards another customer’s order --- “into glorious beef patties so there will be burgers for all!”

“Sir, that’s really against Health and Safety regulations…” the employee began, but there was a bright flash of light from the weird rock he held.

And a puddle of goo where the fries had been.

“Um,” Al said nervously, all gravitas lost. “Just a second.”

Another flash of light, and now the goo was a different colour. But with chunks.

“What the hell happened to my fries?!” the other customer demanded, staring in disbelief at the horrible remains of his order.

“That should have worked!” Al exclaimed in frustration. “It always works! One moment, please!”

Now the chunky goo looked vaguely like cottage cheese.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the employee said firmly, and Al scowled.

“You can’t throw me out! Dr Alchemy takes his leave,” he sniffed with all the renewed dignity he could muster. He flipped his cape over his shoulder, and began stalking away in a manner befitting a supervillain.

And then slipped on the puddle of soda another employee was diligently mopping up.

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

Day 11: “But I will never forget!”

Axel and Evan cackled together. They didn’t typically spend much time with each other and very little of that involved socializing, but there was one life-threatening activity which united them as a duo.

“Okay, so you have to make sure to angle the portal just like this,” Axel instructed as he sketched a rough outline on a piece of paper, and his colleague nodded.

“Aye. It’s nae tricky,” Evan said confidently, possibly unaware that he’d just suitably punned. Axel himself nodded approvingly at such a quality reference. Sometimes Scotty’s an okay guy, he mused silently.

“Just make sure ya do it right in the heat of the moment, bro! You only get one chance. And I’ll have the ammo ready.”

They exchanged another good laugh and a high five before splitting up to take their positions and to wait for their prey….

….who soon walked in whistling a (classical, pretentious) tune.

Evan opened the mirror portal in just the right place and aimed it precisely as he’d been told, while Axel let loose the weapon.

“What the flying fuck?!” Mark shrieked furiously as a Boston cream pie came out of nowhere to splatter all over his face, and the conspirators laughed hysterically. The two of them had to hold each other up because they were laughing so hard.

“You…you…” Mark sputtered as he wiped cream filling out of his eyes. His perfectly-coiffed hair was ruined, and he’d be damned if the others found out about his extensive moisturizing regime because of what they’d done. Lightning began to crackle ominously around his eyes, and Axel realized it was time to go.

“Let’s jet, yo!” he called, and the duo disappeared instantly via another mirror portal. Mark, however, was now literally steaming, as it turns out that pie cream begins to cook when exposed to large quantities of electricity. Len was confronted with a puzzling sight when he came running in to find out what had happened.

“You jerks think you’ve gotten away with this. But I’ll never forget!” Mark vowed angrily. He promised to be ever-vigilant and to never let them prank him again.

Which didn’t help the next time.

#fictober18 #Captain Cold #Heat Wave #Golden Glider #Mirror Master #Weather Wizard #Pied Piper #the Top #the Trickster #Axel #Evan #Dr Alchemy #fanfic #Liscoe #queue

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midnightsorciere-blog · 5 years

Text

Our System: Introduction

So, this is something I’ve wanted to do for a while, but have been sort of putting off. In case you'd didn’t already know, I am part of a multiple system. Now I’m not professionally diagnosed or anything, so I don’t know whether we have DID or OSDD, but if I had to guess I’d say it’s more likely OSDD. Having a label for it isn’t terribly important to me, but I figured it might be helpful in getting a basic understanding of how our system works in general.

But I’m not going to go into detail about all that right now (though I might later if anyone’s interested). Today, I just wanted to do some basic introductions for all of us here! Partly so people can get to know us a little better, and partly because it fulfills some of my therapy goals. I’ll put it under a cut in case it runs a little long (sorry mobile users, you’re still screwed).

Our system name is the Arcadian System. I wish I had some grand reason why we chose this, but the reality is that none of us could agree on a name, so we all just decided to go after our town name in Animal Crossing, which is Arcadia. For a very long time we never had an actual identity as a system, but after a recent crisis which involved some alters disappearing for a time, others being shoved to the front and being ‘stuck’ there, and then others switching way more often than we ever have before, we figured it was necessary. I of course can’t speak for every system, but for us, having a group name-something we can all identify as no matter who’s fronting-really helped our internal communication.

Now, when we went through and tried to create a system map, we found that some of us already had names, and some of us didn’t, and some of us refused to pick one. What we ultimately decided on was assigning each of us a color. So in our little bios, if you only see a color as a name, it’s either because they don’t have/want any other name, or because they don’t want to share their actual name. Anyway, let’s get on with it!

Name: Green/JayDee

Age: 17

Gender: Nonbinary

Orientation: Ace, Grey Aro

Fav vine/meme: Hewwo Mr. Obama

Description: Green’s the one who originally got us into Tumblr. They used to be @woodlandprincen, but then they deleted that one and moved to @starbound-solivagant. They try to be very compassionate and understanding, and I think they were the most concerned out of all of us with making friends. They’re highly sensitive, which makes them very empathetic, but also prone to getting hurt most easily. A very black and white thinker, but also idealistic in nature.

Name: Blue

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Orientation: Demisexual, 90% gay, 10% ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Fav vine/meme: Adam!

Description: Blue is the one who actually discovered Tumblr first, but he never actually made a blog. He just went through and screenshotted posts he liked, so now we have a folder with literally hundreds of photos in it. Still bitter about how Pepe the frog was co-opted by nazis. He tends to be the most chill and responsible out of all of us, but he’s also a bit of a control freak. He thinks he runs our life the best, so he despises relinquishing the front spot once he’s up there. But, that makes him very prone to burnouts. Equally as likely to be reading all the nonfiction on the internet as watching the 30th vine compilation at 3 in the morning.

Name: Red

Age: 31

Gender: Female

Orientation: don’t fucking try it

Fav vine/meme: pretty much anything by Sarah Schauer

Description: The oldest of all current alters, and also the only alter mentally older than the body. Considers herself ‘retired’, and has absolutely no interest in fronting. Generally pretty snarky, and very low empathy. Kind of a bitch, but she's gotten a lot better. Whereas she used to be incredibly antagonistic during our teenage years, she’s now mellowed out and functions as a sort of protector for the system. Is an excellent writer, and she doesn’t even have to try very hard, and I’m incredibly jealous. She’s a heavy smoker (although we switched to e-cigarettes), and would be the most likely to try drugs if she didn’t think they were too expensive. She runs on spite and a general ‘fuck everything’ attitude.

Name: Clear

Age: N/A

Gender: Agender

Orientation: N/A

Fav vine/meme: N/A

Description: Clear is a bit of a strange one. They have a very hard time focusing, so they don’t go on the internet much. From the outside, they could easily be confused for a little-they’re mostly nonverbal, they have a hard time reading, and their vocabulary is limited. But rather than being young, they’re just very much withdrawn. They live mostly in their own little world, which is fine for the most part, but causes problems when they front for long periods of time. And because they only front for a few hours, or a day at most, they’ve never needed to develop much of a personality outside the headspace. Their thinking patterns are also very abstract. They’ve thought it might be closer to how an animal experiences the world. They live a peaceful semi-existence, and they seem happy with that.

Name: Indigo

Age: 24

Gender: Demigirl

Orientation: ?

Fav vine/meme: Doesn’t have one yet

Description: She’s the second newest alter we have. She’s high maintenance, and extremely selfish. She’s also not one to be trifled with. While she can generally put on a nice front long enough to get her way, internally, she’s already thought of several ways to ruin/blackmail you. But only if she thinks you deserve it. Because of how confrontational and vengeful she can be, she’s generally kept from fronting by all the other alters. When she is allowed to front, it’s only during times where she either can’t do any damage, or her temperament is needed to protect the system.

Name: Black/Midnight

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Orientation: Sapphic (mostly)

Fav vine/meme: Gandalf Sax

Description: It me! :D I am the currently fronting alter, and also the newest (kind of, it’s complicated). I’m actually not entirely my own identity, but rather a combination of several other alters: Green, Blue, Clear, Purple, and Indigo. If you think of alters as their own paints, then I’m not my own paint, nor am I all those paints mixed together. Rather, I am a box that has all the paints inside. So I’m just one alter, but I’m always in communication with the other alters, and I can break down into those separate components if need be. I don’t know if this is considered integration, or co-conciousness, or what. But it’s what I am right now. Personality-wise, I’m this weird combo of trying too hard to be relatable, and also trying too hard to be mysterious and cool. So I’m just generally super awkward. Plus my brain acts like English is my second language and I don’t have a first, which is why I can’t fuckin read and I say things like ‘I got gangbanged by skeletons’. But despite that, I’m still trying to be a writer cause I actually like writing (or the thinking about stuff part, anyway). It’s just the getting it out intelligibly part I struggle with.

Honorable Mentions

Purple: Oldest alter any of us can remember, gone. None of us has been able to communicate with Purple in years, so it’s assumed that she either integrated, or otherwise just stopped existing. However, I’ve been getting some of Purple’s memories back, bit by bit these past few months, so there’s something of her left.

Orange: No communication, presumed no longer existing. The only memories we have of Orange’s are of the abuse we went through during their relationship at that time. Everything else is incredibly sparse.

White: Persecutor, no longer existing, thankfully. Was incredibly cruel, continuously goaded Purple into self harm and several suicide attempts, always made their mental health worse. I don’t remember what happened to her, and Red doesn’t share those memories.

Pink: Succesfully integrated into later alters. Used to be a troublemaker. Got Purple and Red into dangerous situations for the ‘fun’ of it, then would bail and leave them to clean up the mess. Really just wanted attention and validation, but didn’t know how to go about getting it correctly.

And that’s it! I’ve had several more alters in the past, but I don’t remember them, and I don’t think any of my current alters do either. We have almost no memories of anything before age 11. But hopefully, you know a little more about us, and ergo about me. This was helpful for me, anyway. Sorry for the long ass post, but this deserved the space. Anyway, I wish you all well!

#about me #mulitiple #system #did #osdd #multiplicity #alters

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marmelade-sky · 7 years

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Here's an angsty prompt idea for ya if you're needing one. Andrew is having a rough day and Neil is trying to help and Andrew says something uncommonly cruel to Neil. Even to Andrew it's horrible. Neil is hurt and just doesn't speak to Andrew for a while. Cue Andrew trying to make amends later that day/next day/whenever and Neil still won't speak to him. A fluffy ending would be nice but angst is so lovely for the core story I think. Please and Thank u so much love! ♥️

Pro Tip: to achieve Maximum Angst™, combine two angsty prompts. Sorry in advance, I feel awful to torture you like this

Also, can someone please tell me how to insert a fucking Readmore that works on mobile too?! I tried, but nothing works? :(

Prompts will be reopened tomorrow (Mon., July 3rd)

(holy shit this is so dramatic and angsty and sad and shit damnit)

They should have known better.

Andrew should have known better.

Neil should have known better.

But they did it anyway.

It starts with both of them being in a weird headspace. It’s some days before the anniversary of Neil’s abduction, and both of them are feeling antsy. Andrew wakes from nightmares about finding Neil dead on the street instead of finding his bag, which progress into nightmares about Drake abducting Neil.

Neil dreams about people burning marks into his skin, about Lola’s voice and his father’s axe.

They are like zombies with dark rings under their eyes, limbs heavy and brains clouded.

Neil knows Andrew doesn’t want to be touched, and so he tries to hold back.

Andrew knows Neil is craving touches and cuddles, and so he tries to give too much.

They lose themselves in the desperation to be there for each other, and it doesn’t end well.

They’re on the roof and smoking, and Neil keeps giving Andrew those little looks he thinks Andrew doesn’t notice. They’re sickly desperate and cute and it makes Andrew want to shove him off the roof. Neil is stupid, so stupid, to look at him like this. He could kill him any moment, or act like Drake and the others had towards him, and Neil wouldn’t stand a chance. Bee would call that pathological thoughts, but Andrew can’t fucking help them. Fuck Bee. Fuck Neil. Neil could easily find someone else, even though he says he doesn’t swing. What if it’s a lie? What if Neil notices that it’s not true one day, and wants to expand his horizon and fuck other people? Andrew would have to kill those people. The thought makes his throat clog up with rage. But someone else would be much healthier for Neil. Andrew can’t give Neil what he needs, like right now. He can see it in Neil’s eyes that all Neil craves right now is bodily contact, kisses, hand holding. And he’s right, oh so right, because a moment later, Neil leans over and asks in a small voice, “Andrew…? Yes or no?” and his pinky touches Andrew’s.

Andrew stubs out his cigarette and pulls Neil into his lap and into a rough kiss that makes their teeth clank together. Neil pushes at his chest lightly, but not hard enough to shove him away. Andrew knows exactly that this kind of kiss isn’t the one Neil wants right now. He wants it soft and sweet, both things Andrew can’t give because he’s not worthy of anything soft and sweet.

He flips them over so Neil is on his back and Andrew is hovering over him, hands holding on to Neil’s arms. Neil looks up at him like a deer in the headlight.

“Trying to forget your nightmares?”, Andrew asks, his voice dry, feeling like sand in his mouth.

Neil’s eyebrows furrow and he looks confused and Andrew just wants to punch him.

“I heard you, last night. You said my name.”, he goes on and no, he needs to stop because Neil’s eyes dart over his face insecurely, “Andrew, Andrew, Andrew. You were waiting for me to rescue you. Even in your dream.”

“Andrew-”, Neil starts, going limp under him, but Andrew doesn’t let him go.

“Shh.”, Andrew shushes him, “…why do you trust me so much? Huh? I let you down. I didn’t get to you in time.”

Neil now looks like a deer in the headlights again, and whispers, “No, you did, Andrew-”

“You’re stupid, Neil. You left a dangerous place and came running right back to me. You know, I could be like your father if I wanted to.” Darkness was throbbing in Andrew’s chest.

Neil is staring up at him in shock. “Andrew-”

“I’ve killed people. And I could do it again, who knows? Maybe I’d even enjoy it? I know the right people to start a fucking mob on my own. Don’t you think that would be fun?”

“Andrew, stop saying things like this.”, Neil whispers but Andrew pushes himself lower down on Neil, putting more weight on the hands which are holding Neil’s arms down.

“I could cut off your legs too, if I wanted to.”, he says, and reaches down with one hand quickly, grabbing Neil’s knee.

That’s what it takes.

“No!”, Neil pants out and uses his free hand to push hard at Andrew’s shoulder, bringing him off balance. And Andrew wants him to, he wants Neil to hit him and scream at him and leave to never return again. Pipe dream.

He rolls to his back, so close to the edge of the roof that he almost falls, and watches Neil take several steps back from him, arms wrapped around himself, expression hard and closed off.

“Fuck off.”, Andrew whispers with a smile.

Neil can’t forget it. He can’t forget the cruel way Andrew talked to him on the roof. He knows it’s because the time of the year, and he can tell himself it’s because Andrew’s in an awful headspace right now, but so is Neil, and instead of looking for Andrew right after the incident, trying to make up with him, he doesn’t.

Andrew doesn’t go to practice and ignores his phone.

He tells Bee what happened. She asks him how he thinks Neil is feeling right now, and if he thinks they can talk this out. Andrew doesn’t say anything for the rest of the appointment.

Neil feels like shit.

In practice, everything goes wrong. They lose their game on friday, and Neil storms off without a word to anyone.

Everyone is concerned.

Something else happens some days after.

Andrew decides to go to the roof to smoke at three in the morning, because he can’t sleep anyway, and maybe he can just jump off the roof. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt enough to momentarily forget the pain in his chest which has been eating a hole through him since the day Neil stopped talking to him.

He goes up, climbs through the window, and halts in shock when he sees Neil perched on the edge of the roof. He’s smoking, too. Andrew is frozen, until he hears soft sniffles and sees Neil wipe at his eyes.

He turns around and bolts back inside. He punches the wall hard enough to break his middle finger.

Abby sends him to Bee for emergency councelling the next day.

Andrew is quietly sipping his hot chocolate, finger in a bandage, while Bee rambles in her soft voice, about nothing in particular, like she sometimes does when he doesn’t talk at all.

Halfway through the session, there’s a loud, heavy knock on the door. Bee looks surprised and slightly confused, noone ever interrupts her appointments.

Andrew turns his head to look who’s bold enough to disturb them.

Hot cocoa seeps through his pants when he drops the mug.

“You fucking idiot.” Neil storms into the room and falls to his knees in front of him. His hands hover over Andrew’s injured hand, not touching him, but clearly wanting to. “You fucking shitty idiot, Andrew Minyard.”, he repeats, and for the second time ever, Andrew is speechless. Neil’s brows are furrowed and his nose is scrunched up and he looks so angry, so angry that Andrew hurt himself. Andrew can’t look at him longer than a few seconds, because Neil is concerned for him with so much passion.

Bee smiles softly into her own mug and leaves them alone.

“I hurt you.” Andrew’s voice is hollow.

Neil nods and looks up at him, cold fire in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have asked you. I knew you weren’t feeling well. I hurt you just as much.”

Andrew shakes his head and wants to object, but Neil doesn’t let him. “I was mad at myself, more than at you. I should have known better. You, as well, but neither of us is innocent here.” Neil’s jaw hardens and he slowly stands up. “We’re going to deal with this. I won’t let either of us pull out of this-”, he gestures between them, “because we’re scared of ourselves and our past.” He turns to face Bee, who looks at him calmly.

“Are you able to have both of us?”

Andrew’s hand clenches around his mug. Bee smiles happily and nods. “Yes. Just come with Andrew to his next appointment.”

Neil gives one short, hard nod and then flops down on the chair next to Andrew.

In the end, they work through it.

It hurts, it hurts so fucking much, but they manage.

Two weeks after the incident, they hold hands again.

Two months after the incident, they kiss again.

Three months after, Andrew comes up one morning and hugs Neil and Neil goes rigid in shock for a second before melting into the hug.

The team is collectively breathing again.

They win their next games.

They get better together.

The two of them.

#andreil #angst #angsty prompt #tw: violence #aftg #neil/andrew #the foxhole court #this is so angsty holy shit #angsty angst #mywriting #prompt me #neil josten #andrew minyard #they have baggage #sad sports gays

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