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rhinotheamazing · 3 years

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One side, Two lives

Chapter ten

Is he ok?

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Warnings: slight gore, panicked attack, and mention of eating disorder

Where the heck am I? Virgil thought as he took in his surroundings. He couldn’t see anything except himself, as I he was standing in a pit of nothingness. He tried to to walk around but the blackness seemed to go on forever so he started to panic. Where a I? How do I get out of here? Where are the others?! Are they here two? I have to find them!

Suddenly the anxious side heard a scream from behind him in the darkness. That sounds like Roman! He thought. He turned around and there stood Roman, on his knees and grasping at his stomach which confused the other side. Why is he grabbing at his stomach? Never mind I need to get his attention.

“Roman!” Virgil shouted to the other, but the prince didn’t acknowledge him, he didn’t even seem to hear him. This in no way helped Virgils anxiety.

“Roman! Princy can you hear me!” He shouted again, but just like before the creative side didn’t seem to even know he was there. Out of no where Virgil heard a dark chuckle.

He turned his gaze away from the prince and towards the noise. The shape of a person had materialized from the darkness, glimmering in a golden light and having what seemed to be a cape dragging behind him. The whatever it was approached Roman’s fallen from, laughing the whole time.

“You see? Your nothing but a weakling, and theres no place for anything like that here.” Virgil watched in terror as the person drew a sword and used it to tilt Roman’s head up to look at him. The side had tears running down his face and blood leaking from his mouth. Why is he crying? Why is he bleeding!? Virgil thought.

He looked back down to the prince’s hand and saw that the normally pure white outfit was now stained in blood, the red liquid was still spreading rapidly. Virgils eyes grew wide with horror. The golden being ‘tsk’ at the downed side and kicked him in the stomach making him cough up blood. No! Stop! You’re going to kill him! That’s what Virgil wanted to say, but as soon as he tried to scream black tendrils wrapped around his mouth and kept him quite.

Never the less the anxious side tried to run forward to stop everything but he couldn’t. He looked down and his feet where somehow stuck to the ground. He tried to pull himself free but it became clear that it was no use. He looked back at the scene in front of him and saw the figure start to raise his sword.

“You really are worthless. You’re just a pathetic excuse for a side, a useless nothing, and you’re especially no hero.” As the thing said that, it swung it sword down.

“ROMAN!”

Virgil jolted up from his bed, his hand outstretched like he was trying to reach for something. His forehead was covered in sweat and he was sure that if he looked in a mirror his face would be whiter than a ghost’s. He brought his hand to his chest and he found his heart was beating faster than he thought it ever had. Virgil took a deep sigh and tried to calm down, it didn’t work very well. He looked over at his clock and saw that it was around 3 in the morning.

What the heck was that? Virgil wondered to himself. He couldn’t remember much of his nightmare but he remembered that he was more scared than he had ever been in his life. Just trying to remember what happened made the side start hyperventilating. Ok. I need to calm down or else I might give Thomas a panic attack. Virgil started taking deep breaths and began to calm down as he repeated his 4 ,7, 8 breathing exercise.

Once he was calmed downed he realized that he probably wasn’t going to be able to go to sleep for a while and flopped back onto his bed in frustration. The one night I actually tried to get more sleep. Just great. The side pulled out his phone from under his pillow and grabbed his headphones from his bed side table. This wasn’t the first time he was woken up by nightmares, but this time had definitely been the worst.

He put on his headphones and picked up his phone. He went though a few different playlist before he finally settle on just clicking shuffle on My Chemical Romance. He ended up on Mama and smiled. This song was slightly calmer than most of the groups songs. He went to tumbler and started scrolling though it, humming the lyrics as he looked at post. After about an hour of looking at memes and funny videos Virgil found himself starting to dose off, the residents of the nightmare going to the back of his mind.

When Virgil woke up it was too Patton calling him down for breakfast. He groaned as he got out of bed and change into his usual style. He pulled on his signature jacket as he went out the door even though he knew that it was crazy to wear a jacket on almost any day in Florida. Virgil walked down the long hallway eyeing every corner suspiciously in case Remus decided to just pop up or something. Because of this he wasn’t looking where he was going and ran straight into someone’s back and fell down.

“Virgil? Are you ok” a familiar voice said. The anxious side looked up and saw that it was non other than Roman who he just happened to run into. The memories of his dream flashed in his mind and he looked at Romans stomach glad to see that there was no kind off blood staining on the t-shirt he was wearing. He shook his head a bit to clear the image of the fallen prince in his mind.

“Yah, I’m fine Princy.” Virgil said. Roman extended his hand to Virgil and pulled him up.

“You need to watch where your going, wouldn’t want you falling down the stairs or something.” Roman said with a chuckle. The smaller side smiled softly at the sound but pretended to cough into his sleeve when Roman looked back at him.

“Kiddos! Come get your breakfast before it gets old!” That had snapped Virgil out of his embarrassed fake coughing fit and the two started heading towards the kitchen. When they entered they found Logan at the table reading a comic book? Roman turned to Virgil and raised an eyebrow in question. The anxious side shrugged and went to go sit down at the table. He took a closer look at the cover and saw that it was a horror comic and that only confused him more.

“What are you reading Lo? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you pick up a comic book before” Virgil asked. Logan finally looked up from his book and he seemed kinda embarrassed.

“Well um, technically it’s a graphic novel and uh Remus asked me to read it over for him.” Logan said while he adjusted his glasses, and if Virgil wasn’t mistaken, he was ever so slightly blushing. As the gears in his head spun the smaller side started to smirk. It definitely seems like this guy has a crush Remus. Although it may not look it, Virgil didn’t actually hate the duke. They in no way got along, and Virgil didn’t trust the creative side as far as he could though him, but he didn’t necessarily hate the gremlin of a man.

So, with this in mind, the mischievous raccoon in a jacket decided that as long as he was here, he might as well mess with people.

“I didn’t know you and Remus where such good friends.” Roman, who had sat down after getting a plate of food for himself from the kitchen, tried his absolute hardest not to burst out laughing as Logan stuttered and rambled to try and explain himself.

“He simply assisted me in conducting some research the other day and I wanted to return the kind favor.” Once more the prince and emo character shared a look. Virgil decided that was enough teasing for now. You have to spread out the torture to make it effective after all. So instead of continuing to make fun of his friend he decided he should finally grab some breakfast.

“Whatever you say Lo.” The former dark side walked into the kitchen to see Patton serving up a plate that he assumed was for Logan.

Today Patton had made some scrambled eggs, a few links of sausages, and some toast he was currently adding crafters jam to. Patton turned around to face his dark strange son and smiled widely.

“Hey kiddo! I made a plate for you if that’s alright. If theres anything you want to change about it go right ahead!” The fatherly side said in his usual cheerful tone. Unfortunate this kinda made the smaller of the two freak out a bit.

What if I don’t like whats on the plate? I can’t just mess with it Patton already put in the work to make the food and if I put any of it back it will look like I don’t like his cooking which of course into true but what if he thinks that? Luckily his worries were put to rest when he saw his plate had equal proportions of everything just how he liked it. He breathed a sigh of relief and went to go sit back down with the others.

When he got back to table Roman and Logan were arguing about some sort of play but the conversation was now going too fast for Virgil to actually pay attention to it.

“Don’t you dare say Hamilton wasn’t a good musical in my presence!”

“I’m just saying its historically inaccurate! For one thing the Skylar sisters did have an older brother so the part in the musical where Angelica sings about having to bring the family glory is false. Also she was already wed to a man before she met Alexander so she couldn’t marry him if even if she wanted to.” Logan reasoned in his calm yet frustrated ‘everyone-is-being-an-idiot-except-for-me’ tone of voice.

“Of course it isn’t entirely accurate to the real character. In theater you have to add a bit of drama to express the characters feeling in the scene better!” The royal side tried to explain while he waved his arm around in the air, surprisingly not hitting anything or anyone. Luckily before the two could continue Patton walked into the room carrying both his and Logan’s plate.

“Ok kiddos I think thats enough arguing for now, go ahead and eat instead of bickering please.” Patton said in a hopeful voice. The two sides grumbled a bit to themselves but did start eating . Virgil looked over at Romans plate and saw that he once again had a lot less food on his plate than the rest of them. He had about two mouthfuls of eggs on his plate, one small sausage and half of a jam covered toast.

Doesn’t he need to eat more than the rest off us? I mean he goes adventuring all the time so he probably burns all the calories he gets from the meals Patton makes. Virgil pondered all this while he ate. If he was being honest he didn’t think he had ever seen Roman get seconds unless people insisted on it. Thats kinda concerning, what if he isn’t eating right because off stress? But why would Princy be stressed he’s the living personification of having a dreamy good life. Could something be wrong and we just haven’t noticed it yet?is he ok? Luckily he was broken from his thoughts as someone called his name.

“Virgil? Are you ok? You’ve been so pacing out for a while now, everything alright?” Roman said as he put a comforting hand on the anxious sides shoulder. Virgil gave the royal a small smile and took a deep breath. I’m just overthinking things. Roman’s fine, he would have come to us if he had a problem.

“Yah I’m fine Princy, just got lost in thought that’s all.” The creative side smiled at that and went back to eating his small plate of food.

After everyone was done with breakfast they all went back to their own rooms, Logan still reading the graphic novel as he walked. Once Virgil got to his room he threw himself onto his extremely messy bed and was about to pull up something to watch on YouTube when he heard a knock on his door.

What the, I was just with everyone, if they needed to ask me something wouldn’t they have asked me then? The purple side sighed and got up to open the door, only to find the hallway completely empty?

“Um, ok, anyone there?” Virgil said while he stuck his head out the doorway.

“Yup! I’m right here!” A choice shouted from behind him.

“Ahhh!” The smaller side screeched and accidentally slammed the door shut. There now sitting on his bed kicking his feet, was Remus. He wasn’t wearing his usual outfit for videos but instead a ripped up tank to and some black sweatpants.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” The anxious side said in an accusing tone.

“I was bored and decided that I might as well annoy you for a while.” The taller of the two said with a shrug.

Virgil groaned and destroyed any hope of having a peaceful day from his mind.

“Why in the world did you knock? You haven’t had any real manners since we were kids.” The purple clad side said as he sat down on a beanbag that he had in the corner. The duke shrugged.

“It was part of my grand plan to distract you so that I could scare you even better.” The insane side said with a sharp tooth smile. Before Virgil could make a retort the door burst opened. There stood Princy in a t-shirt and shorts, his hair looking slightly disheveled and with a sword in hand. He for some reason also looked a bit bigger than normal but Virgil discarded the thought as the lighting being weird.

“Virgil! What’s wrong! What do I need to fight!” The red side exclaimed.

“Hey Ro! I just scared emo over here and he screamed like I had ripped out his guts or something.” The duke said as he threw his arm around his brother. Virgil was kinda surprised. Last time he had seen the twins interact Roman was out cold in seconds but now they were talking like they were best friends. Well I guess they are siblings after all. The smallest in the room said.

“Oh, ok then. Virgil do you need any assistance?” Roman asked. The former dark side thought for a minute and figured that he could handle Remus by himself, he had enough experience dealing with his craziness growing up.

“Yah Romano I’ll be fine.” Virgil said with a wave. Roman nodded but not without a sigh at the nick name and walked out.

“Oh but before I go,” the prince turned around and glared and the both of them, “if you two kill each other I will find a way to somehow resurrect you and get you both scolded by Patton.” And with that Roman left with a royal wave. The two remaining sides gave each other a look, Virgil’s one of distrust and Remus’s one of mischief.

“Sooooo,” Remus said as he jumped back onto the bed, “you like my brother huh?” Virgil’s face turned bright red.

“I-I don’t know what your talking about!” The now highly nervous side shouted. This only made the duke chortle.

“Chill out, I’m not gonna tell him, it will be a lot more fun that way.” Remus said with a grin. The hoodie wearing side breathed a sigh of relief.

“However you now owe me a favor.” The dark side said. Virgil grumbled to himself but agreed and asked what the favor was. The royal smiled widely.

“You have to help me beat Deceit’s high score in Mario cart.” The anxious side was surprised at first but then smirked.

“Sure, I’m not going to pass up the chance to piss off the snake.” The smaller jumped onto the bed as Remus summoned his switch that was nearly covered in stickers except for the screen.

After a few rounds of Mario cart Virgil still hadn’t won once and he was getting annoyed, especially since Remus wouldn’t stop saying how he was the ultimate champion of this game. In this round they where nearing the finish line and Virgil was in second place while Remus was in first. He had dodged all of the shells Virgil had thrown at him but he still had one more.

There’s no way I’m letting this rat man beat me again. Suddenly Virgil had an idea and a dark smile formed on his face.

“So Remus,” the purple side said as he lined up the shot, “how did your date with Logan go?”

“What?!” Remus was so surprised that Virgil somehow knew about his sorta kinda date with Logan that he fell off the bed. Meanwhile Virgil threw a green shell at him and finished in first.

“Yes!” The smaller side exclaimed.

“How in this wide terribly gruesome world did you find out about that?” Remus said from the floor. Virgil shrugged.

“Logan said that you helped him with some research or something while blushing so I figured you actually took him on a date.” The emo said while he leaned back on his pillow. He looked over at Remus who was now sitting on the bean bag looking slightly startled.

“Well I didn’t technically ask him on a date, I just offered to take him and give him a tour of the imagination.” The duke said while he messed with his white streak of hair. “I haven’t actually told him that I like him.” Virgil was surprised that Remus looked actually embarrassed saying this.

“I never thought I would see the day that you were nervous.” Virgil said honestly. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Logan if you aren’t ready to tell him.” Remus gave him an incredulous look and started laughing like a mad man which slightly scared the smaller side. He suddenly stoped and got up.

“Thanks emo, I got to go or else De is going to get mad at me.” While the dark side walked to the door he messed up the purple wearing side’s hair until it defied gravity. “Wanna help me beat the record tomorrow since that slippery snake has such a freaking high score that we couldn’t beat it today?” The crazy side asked.

“Sure.” Virgil said, surprising even himself.

“Cool! Se yah tomorrow emo.” Remus said as he slammed the door loudly. The anxious side relaxed on his bed with a sigh. Even when just hanging out with the others being social was exhausting for him. He remembered that Thomas had some sort of event for tomorrow but Virgil doubted that he would need him for anything. As he was starting to drift off to sleep for a nap he had one last thought. Isn’t the wedding tomorrow?

Well I hope everyone if ready for some angst to come. Hope you guys have a good next 24 hours, bye!

Tag list:

@lovelivingmydreams

#sander sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #pride!roman #logan sanders #intrological #patton sanders #slight mention of eating disorder #mention of gore #mention of panic attack #my writting #one side two lives

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

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Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence.

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos.

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.”

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him.

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table. He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop.

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock.

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really.

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in.

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit.

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill.

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom.

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT” /end ID]

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin.

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left.

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left.

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand.

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID]

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #kye writes

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granddaughterogg · 4 years

Text

The day Death forgot something - part 1

Soo, guys, this was supposed to be a short story. Ya know, an itty bitty one. But it has grown to such a degree that I see no point in putting it here in its entirety. After all no one wants to read my long-ass posts.

This is mostly domestic fluff with a slice of life feel to it. Found family, sibling interactions, Reader being both Death and War’s girlfriend (not yet Strife’s, it’s Complicated) as a background and all that jam. Includes my headcanon that War hates spiders, because I find it hilarious. Perfectly SFW.

It seems that whichever chaotic deity stood behind those incidents, they’ve saved their best for War.

It all started with a leaky roof.

The Four have bought themselves - and you - a house. They did so with coinage looted in countless different realms. You'd always treasure the facial expression of the bank clerk. Poor guy squirmed in his seat while explaining to four freakishly tall, fiery-eyed, fully armoured individuals that Makers' hacksilver (mere 26 pounds apiece) doesn't register as "money" in those parts.

Most interesting day in his career, that's for sure.

The house in question was old.

Not dilapidated; just run-down enough to justify the low price. It has soon become obvious that it will have to be torn down and then rebuilt to fit the non-standard sized tenants. Poor War always felt so despondent among tiny human doorframes, their pitifully brittle walls and dainty knickknacks, prone to shattering at the slightest nudge.

You know, like tables and such.

Strife could navigate among those just fine; despite being the noodle of the pack, he’s got the proprioception of a seasoned ballerina. Still claimed that all this hunching makes his back hurt.

Death and Fury could fit into a human-sized environ without much problem.

Yet she bristled at the thought of wearing lower heels, and your beloved would loathe admitting that he’s a short Nephilim. One thing is to know something; another altogether is to put it into words.

Death has a recurring problem with this sort of thing.

So you didn’t make him. This house needed revamping anyway.

And it has been done. After countless trips to the local Home Depot, after summer weeks full of construction work - while you lived in a tent in the overgrown garden and the Four camped under the stars like they’re accustomed to. After amazing feats of Horseman cooperation and as much squabbling (Strife and Death had opposite opinions on anything), the house has been finally ready to be lived in.

Under the latter’s lead, your boys displayed adeptness at carpentry, even if they didn’t pay much heed to the decorative side of things. War etched some protective sigils into the walls, the doorstep and the ceiling joist - and that was it. You had no idea what those exactly mean, but they sure glowed pretty in the dark.

The house turned out to have a raw, pioneer aesthetic. There was a rustic stone hearth and lots of stained wood everywhere. You thought this starkness to be rather fetching.

Fury - who couldn’t be bothered to work with wood, but did care about them comforts and frills - made Death undertake another shopping trip. This time towards IKEA.

You enjoyed your first night spent in a proper bed like nobody’s business. Only partially because this was also Death’s bed.

And then the roof started to leak.

It was a slow leak at first. One morning Strife would drag his long ass down the stairs for breakfast, yawning and scratching, tendril hair pointing every which way, and claimed that he’s woken up to water splashing on his face.

„Maybe a bird relieved itself on you”, said Death flatly.

„In my own bed?!”

„Must have been a dedicated bird”, was the uncharitable response, followed by a swig of coffee. (Black, no sugar.) Fury rolled her eyes to high heavens but said nothing. You on your part couldn’t help but titter; even War’s dour Morning Expression gave way to a snort. Strife shot him a side-eye.

„Don’t you neigh, my square-shaped brother. Birds don’t poop on your head cuz they can’t find it.”

The Big Guy harrumphed and focused on his cereal. Strife slumped on a chair with an annoyed puff, stuffing his face with two toasts at once.

Next time is was Fury who fell prey to the stealthy leak. One day you dropped by to chat. She was brushing that awe-inducing mane of hers while sitting in front of a large mirror. Fury had a proper vanity installed in her bedroom; a sturdy, antique-looking affair, covered with lots and lots of little bottles. As far as you knew, all of them contained some sort of magic. Fury took this whole beautifying thing to the next level.

So there she was, styling her coif with a self-indulgent smoulder when – PLOP! - something fell from the ceiling and landed precisely on the top of her head.

Fury shrieked.

„WET!” she cried out, eyes bulging, hands frantically pawing the ruined hairdo. „What was that, Little One? WHAT WAS THAT?!”

You suspected that the disgrace of having bird droppings touch her precious hair would cause someone as vain as Fury to shave it all off. And to remain bitterly bald while never, ever disclosing the reasons for doing so.

So it was with relief that you could state what you just saw:

„Oh, it’s just water.”

„Water?” She eyed the ceiling suspiciously, both hands still submerged inside the fluttering blue flame (Ice Hollow was the look du jour). „But...how?...”

Both of you glared upwards like two paranoid magpies. Still, nothing else has happened.

It seems that whichever chaotic deity stood behind those incidents, they’ve saved their best for War.

It happened during dinnertime, too. You’ve just cooked a new dish – garlic butter shrimp pasta – and proudly displayed it to the Horsemen. The twins were already munching in abandon. Death excused himself politely. He seldom ate at all but would stay at the table nonetheless, sipping his extra bitter coffee or as unforgiving tea. You knew he did this entirely for your sake.

Meanwhile, the established big eater of the bunch seemed to have his reservations.

You watched the Red Guy pin his eyes to the full plate in front of him, fighting to retain his stony expression. The corner of his mouth twitched.

„What is it, baby?” You teased. „The shrimps are well and truly cooked. They ain’t gonna pounce at you.”

War exhaled. „Don’t misunderstand me, Little One...” he said, eyeing the dish with comic seriousness. „I would never dare to question your, eh, cooking abilities. I am just not that fond of food with tiny legs. It reminds me of many a thing I had to slay...”

„War’s afraid of spiders!” Strife chimed in, his mouth full.

The Big Guy sputtered in indignation.

„I am not afraid of anything”, he stated, accosting his enfant terrible of a brother with a glare. „I just don’t like things that...walk like that.” He made a crawling gesture with his good hand.

„Too bad”, Strife licked his long fingers. „This shit’s delicious!”

War crinkled his wide nose and said nothing.

„So it’s about the visuals, huh?” you said, struck by an idea. „Would it be okay for you to try it just a little bit - if you couldn’t see it ?”

„Huh?” War clearly didn’t follow.

„Please don’t make our brother eat with his eyes closed”, murmured Fury between slurping in more pasta. „He makes a fair mess as it is.”

„Wouldn’t dream of it”, you grinned. „What I mean is: just close your eyes and I’ll hand feed you.”

„...Okay.”

Death cocked an eyebrow - his lip curving upwards - but he said nothing.

„Uh-oh,” said Strife. „Here comes the lovey-dovey stuff. Excuse me while I go and puke.”

„And put all this food to waste?” Fury taunted.

The gunslinger shrugged in defeat and went back to munching.

You picked a decent amount of food on the fork, lifted it and smiled at War, who stared you in the face with that endearingly earnest expression. He must’ve really hated arthropods in any shape or form, you thought. Yet he was willing to overcome his disgust.

For you.

„Close your eyes.” He did, and suddenly there was much less light at the table. „Open wide!”

That he also did. You placed the shrimp inside his mouth with a jeweller’s precision. Strife sniggered.

„...Well?”

War’s snowy eyelashes fluttered while he pressed his jaws together, focusing on the taste. You saw his Adam’s apple bob a little.

You loved this big lug of a man so much.

„How is it?”

„Mmm. Good.” Those lightning blue eyes were looking at you again, wide and smiling. „This was really good.”

„Well then, ready for another round?”

War nodded, pressed his eyelids together and gaped, willing and trustful in that childlike way of his which always turned your cynical heart into jelly.

PLOP.

Suddenly many things happened at once.

Strife howled with laughter, while Fury’s face became a picture of slack-jawed bewilderment. Death, always the quickest to react, was already standing up, one hand pushing his chair aside and the other outstretched protectively towards War. Who was clearly choking.

You watched the Big Guy wheeze and gurgle as if glued to your seat, paralyzed, motionless, the shellfish on your fork like some absurd sceptre.

You didn’t do this.

Death kicked War’s chair out of the way and held his brother in some Nephilim rendition of a Heimlich Maneuver, shaking him unceremoniously through the coughs until the latter went slack in his grasp.

Finally, War stopped wheezing and did a dog shake.

Only then you were finally able to move.

„Oh, fuck. War. Are you all right?”

„I seem to be.” The Big Guy shot you a dizzy half-smile. Flyaway strands of hair covered his reddened face.

Death cautiously let him go and taxed you with a somewhat less-than-tender stare.

„I didn’t do this!” It hit as hard as a spoken accusation. You waggled the fork with the shrimp still on it. „I didn’t do anything!”

„Then what in the Nine Hells was that?” Fury wanted to know.

„Water”, gasped War, pointing upwards. „A lot of water fell into my mouth at once...I think.”

The four of you suspiciously eyed the ceiling.

Except for the lanky one, who was still guffawing.

„Strife. Did you see that happen?” Death’s voice was perfectly level. Focusing on the task at hand. You felt relief washing all over you; the Reaper clearly didn’t think that you just tried to choke his favourite brother.

Which was a good thing...your bond notwithstanding.

And out of the Four D might’ve been the fastest to react, but it was the gunslinger who had the perfect eyesight.

„Y-yeah!” Strife wiped the tears of mirth away. „Like, at least half a litre at once – boom! Hilarious.”

„What is so damn funny?” You could do with less of Strife’s sense of humour right now.

„Aw, come on there, pumpkin pie. It’s not like he could die from that. Or from anything else.”

You rethought this statement. „Right...yet D reacted!”

„Death used to do this all the time when we were kids”, Fury said softly, tilting her head in your direction. „We’d choke on anything, really. And back then, before we were anointed Horsemen we could have actually died, you know.”

„I guess old habits die hard”. Strife put on his shit-eating grin.

War nodded at his eldest and that was it. The whole „thank you for caring” compressed into one curt gesture.

You smiled at War and then at Death. He caught your kind, appreciative stare, pressed his lips together and looked away.

PLOP!

(to be continued)

#darksiders #darksiders fluff #darksiders war #darksiders death #darksiders fury #darksiders strife #horsemen/reader #polyamory as background flavour #domestic fluff #Horsemen as siblings

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years

Text

Goodnight, Aaron (Aaron Hotchner x OC) Chapter 4

Summary: With Hotch’s blessing, Sebastian begins to assimilate into the Hotchner household.

Tagging: @sunlight-moonrise, @clean-bands-dirty-stories, @genevievedarcygranger, and @davidrossi-ismydad

Chapter 3 // Masterlist // AO3 Link // Chapter 5

Dropping Jack off at school proved to be the easiest thing in Sebastian’s day, despite not waking up past ten o’clock for the past few weeks.

Packing his possessions only took two hours in comparison to the literal hellscape that was the cleaning up. His tiny bedsit hid plenty of nooks and crannies that hoarded dust and grime. On his hands and knees, Sebastian scrubbed away with anti-bac spray and wipes in hopes that he would get his deposit back.

He really fucking hated cleaning. It always took him way too long. Probably because he got putting on a video for background noise – it had to be something he found interesting to help pass the time but not so interesting that he would be pulled into watching it. A fine wire to walk and Sebastian had terrible balance to match his attitude. There was also the fact that he would often put off cleaning with the excuse of doing it all in one big go.

Past Sebastian was a bitch and Present Sebastian was suffering because of it

After a quick lunch of his leftovers, he lay back on the floor and dialled for his best friend. She picked up after three rings and he whined loudly to her.

“Bellamy, help me. I’m drowning in used wipes in my shitty shitty bedsit.”

“Hmm, delicious,” and Bellamy hung up.

Sebastian didn’t bother ringing up to see if she’d appear in the room. He decided that he would find out if she was on her way or not in the next hour.

Turns out it only took twenty minutes for Bellamy to push the front door open with the tip of her wedges.

“Why’d you call me to help you clean? Sexist pig,” and she swung her leg over his head.

Sebastian didn’t bother trying to dodge, letting the air shoot past his ear, a few stray hairs fluttering in Bellamy’s wake, “Because Klaus would make more mess, and I love your scintillating company – did you bring anything?”

“I got me coffee and you Haribo’s.”

Just another reminder as to how all that kerfuffle with his work visa was worth it.

He clasped his hands together as if in prayer, “I adore you; I owe you my life.”

With a grin, Bellamy tossed the packet his way, “Give me a cloth and tell me about your new boss then.”

Another thing Bellamy brought was the tunes. She was mumbling lyrics as she scrubbed away at the skirting board, Sebastian harmonising in terrible ways. The tasks didn’t get completed much quicker, but it was much more entertaining for Sebastian. Who knew what Bellamy was up to before this, she didn’t tell him.

Bellamy tossed a bag into the garbage can and peered in despite the smell, “Somehow still better than my flat.”

“When are you moving out by the way?”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll move into your bedsit.”

“Don’t, landlord’s a prick.” And Sebastian looked over his shoulder, a belated measure

“Still better than mine.”

Bellamy stayed right up until all the belongings were crushed into Sebastian’s car and the door was locked by them for the final time. It was a very unemotional time when Sebastian tossed the keys through the letterbox, and they left down the murky stairwell together.

To say Jack enjoyed the sight of all Sebastian’s bags pilled together in the backseats was an understatement. The drive back, he was more elated by the tracks leaking from Sebastian’s stereo. His chatter on the drive back about the games in the playground filled the time, and Sebastian was drawn into the world of spies Jack had created.

The energy dipped when Jack and Sebastian had to carry all of Sebastian’s belongings inside. The lift worked, thank God, but Sebastian was still weighed down with his bags for life. Plus Jack could only carry so much. He was only somewhat eager to drag Sebastian’s wheelie suitcase down the corridors. And even less so was Jack to get on with his homework once the car was clear of baggage.

Sebastian sneaked a sly glance at Hotch’s list of Jack’s preferred snacks before he made up some apple slices with peanut butter. Gotta trick the kids into eating their five-a-day.

Somehow, after that snack break, Jack transformed his mood into “very understanding” about doing his science work - especially for an eleven-year-old. He listened to Sebastian’s reason, one he wished he’d thought about and listened to when he was Jack’s age, was heard.

The Lego break was greatly appreciated too. Especially since it was coupled with the front door opening at quarter to seven to reveal Hotch.

“Hi, Daddy!” Jack trotted over and hugged his middle.

“You’re home early,” Sebastian cheered from the kitchen counter.

“On time for once,” Hotch set his stuff on the side, and his gun into the drawer swiftly after. “Don’t expect it to happen often.” Then, as Jack went back to the dinner table, Hotch knelt down and removed a second gun from an ankle holster. Sebastian didn’t comment. He must have just missed that last time.

“What you doing, buddy?” Hotch joined Jack at the table, subbing in where Sebastian left off. He brought his own pile of paperwork with him. But it stayed in his briefcase.

“Math.”

“Let’s have a look.”

Sebastian’s cooking playlist continued with its lyricless songs. But it was turned it way down and Sebastian felt more self-consciousness about each song still coming up. Towards the final seconds, he would hover over the skip button before deciding that it wouldn’t be so bad if it continued.

One of Sebastian’s favourite songs came on, but he had very little time to enjoy it.

When Jack heard that it was playing, he bounced on his little butt with excitement, “Sebastian wants to get married to this song!”

Looking between Jack and Hotch, who was looking expectantly for an answer with a little grin, Sebastian noticed his jaw was slack and promptly shut it.

“I would like to have my first dance to this song,” He explained, a little slower than Jack who continued:

“We listened to it in the car! But he doesn’t like a bit in the middle so he’s going to change it.”

Sebastian bit his cheek and got back to stirring the cabbage around in the saucepan in a triangle.

“Is this it?” Hotch tapped his pen against the homework, “The part you don’t like?”

“Not yet,” Sebastian replied, “There’s a change from three to four beats per bar in a sec first.”

And, as if he wanted to make things even worse for himself, Sebastian began to wave out the time signature with the fork he’d been using in the saucepan. Hotch and Jack watched the movement the movement change from a triangle to a lightning bolt as the song shifted into its denouement.

“So maybe I’d have to get it edited,” Sebastian finished, his voice fading out the more he spoke.

He didn’t point it out when they reached the moment of upbeat, just before the closing bars that didn’t fit with the traditional wedding idea. Who knows? Maybe he’d be unconventional if he got married, jam out with his significant other on the dance floor.

But he wasn’t about to discuss that with Hotch - or continue it with Jack for that matter. And he didn’t look up from his cooking until it was done and ready to be served.

Hotch ate with them, sat beside Jack while Sebastian was opposite. Jack gave an enthused rehashing of this spy game’s narrative beats. His fork was his baton as he orchestrated a rich tapestry of how he and his friends crept about the playground together. Interjecting appropriately, Hotch offered him tips of the trade, like some hand signals to use while sneaking underneath the windows of the classroom.

“Did you move in alright?” He suddenly addressed Sebastian.

Prayed none of his food was stuck in his teeth, Sebastian replied, “Yeah thanks, I’ll probably be unpacking for some of tomorrow though.”

Jack helped Sebastian load the dishwasher after dinner while Hotch disappeared into his office. It didn’t go unmissed, the way Jack’s behaviour slumped as soon as his father turned to walk away from him.

However, when Hotch reappeared sans suit jacket and tie, Sebastian bit back his laughter. Not because he thought the sight was funny, but he was just so pleased for Jack as the two began setting up a film. It was such a beautiful event to watch unfold from the kitchen table, where Sebastian was flying his Minecraft avatar about the server in search of something to do. He wanted to ring his mum, but by the power of time-zones, he was rendered incapable. So instead he punched a tree until it fell.

“Sebastian! Are you going to watch with us?” Jack said, his neck craning as far as he could go to look at his nanny while he pulled the puppy eyes on him.

“Um,” Sebastian threw a glance at the horrendous clock tower besides Bellamy’s mansion, “I’m gonna work for a bit, sorry Jack.”

The puppy dog eyes grew wider – how that was possible, Sebastian didn’t know – but Jack accepted the answer with relative grace and settled with Hotch on the couch, his legs buried beneath a blanket.

Sebastian decided to start building, something productive. But the further he got into his project, the further he wanted to jump into the ocean because of how ugly everything he made turned out to be. The booming opening titles of a Star Wars film brought him back to the apartment, where Hotch was retrieving something from the fridge, barely giving Sebastian just enough time to switch tabs to his email before he walked behind him.

But then he stopped beside him and spoke under his breath, “You live here too now. You don’t have to worry about bothering us.”

“Ah, I don’t wanna encroach on your time with Jack. And I was just gonna go to the shops. You want owt?” It all came tumbling out of Sebastian’s mouth pretty quick.

“‘Out’?” Hotch repeated.

“Owt, anything, it’s slang for anything.”

“Oh, no thank you. We’re all set,” and he held up the chocolate bar in his hand with a little smile. Sebastian’s stomach tensed but he returned the smile and closed his laptop lid, off to his room to get his rucksack.

Hotch’s arm rested around Jack on the back of sofa. They took turns breaking a square off the chocolate bar, Jack occasionally going for another between

“It makes sense that ‘owt’ is ‘anything’, if ‘nowt’ is ‘nothing’,” Hotch remarked, his head falling back on the couch to look at Sebastian. He shot him back a single finger gun.

“Now you’re getting it.”

“You don’t have to keep your shoes by the door either.”

“Oh, your poor carpets,” Sebastian let out a laugh at his oh-so-very-lame comment, making eye contact with the dress shoes that rested beside Hotch’s feet in pewter grey socks on the floor.

The shop was only a ten-minute walk away and he knew what he wanted. Sebastian still looped around the aisles as if he did not know where his next minute would be spent on this mortal coil. Eventually he settled on a slice of banoffee pie from the bakery. He answered the phone at the till, not so subtly bringing up the subject of their Minecraft time to Bellamy on the other end:

“Have you been on the server yet?”

“No, I’m marking some homework. Why? You wanna hop on tonight?”

“Ah, I’m gonna wait until Jack is off to bed first.”

“I’ll keep you posted on how the little buggers do with their homework.” And there was a clink of a glass in the background, “But I’m telling you, if I read one more ‘Curly’s wife’s nails are red because red means danger’.”

“Make it a drinking game! Don’t, don’t do that.”

Sebastian just missed the rain on his walk back. Thankfully so because his hoodie wouldn’t provide much protection for himself or for his pie. Upon re-entering the apartment, he was greeted by Jack and Jack alone.

“You alright, bud? Where’s ya Dad?”

“He had to get the phone.”

Speak of the devil, Hotch returned to the sitting room with his tie neat in place and suit jacket returned on his back. As he collected his belongings from his safe, he caught sight of Sebastian, “I gotta go to the office, shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”

He kissed the top of Jack’s head and nodded goodbye at Sebastian before leaving. It was then Sebastian saw that the movie was paused and Jack was eating the last square of chocolate.

“Do you want to finish the film, or wait until your dad comes back?”

“Finish it, please,” Jack drooled a little and Sebastian grabbed a tissue to mop it up.

He poked away at the pie before eating it. The pair watched in quietude before Sebastian remembered the last of his snacks at the bottom of his bag.

“You want a Haribo?”

They went through the usual routine: the Millennium Falcon speeding away with the gang barely intact before the credits rolled, teeth brushing, Sebastian reading Where The Wild Things Are until Jack was dozing off and not fighting his nanny easing him lower into his pillows.

The ugly-as-hell clock tower was demolished in favour of making a little paddock for the cows. Bellamy joined the server and insisted on an extension to their little home.

When he realised how dark his room had gotten, Sebastian checked the time.

11:03.

He closed the lid of his laptop. Then he lay down on his bed with his eyes open and listened. Just his breathing and the beating of his heart were heard, slow and steady for Lord knows how long.

Then the front door creaked.

Footsteps padded across the floor, and the hall light snapped on. A shadow beneath the door passed by. He heard Hotch go into Jack’s room. Then the light went out again and a bedroom door closed.

Sebastian turned over and closed his eyes, now that he was ready to sleep.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #my writing #wc: 2k+#r: male #series #goodnight aaron

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hyttesanger · 7 years

Text

Upon regaining consciousness, Mijoo feels surreal.

Is that my ceiling? That abstract, soggy, yellowish spots looks familiar... Her limbs hurt, her whole body feels like one giant wound. There's something cold and hard pressed against one of her cheeks. Everything is blur, mixed with hazy fragments of memory from last night; sledgehammer hand struck her, she was sent flying across the stage, shadow of a woman mouthing something intangible... "Oh. She's awake." Mijoo jolts upright as soon as Soojung's face comes to her vision, clear and real and only few inches apart from hers. They collide hard, ice pack flies down Mijoo's cheek, the smaller woman falls off the edge of the bed, both scream in pain. "Fucking fuck do you really like to smack or throw something at people's head when they're sleeping?" Mijoo screams, rubbing the blue skin around her left eye which has bloated badly. "It's you who got up without warning!" Well, Sooujung certainly has a point here. "Hold on. Why are you even here?" She gives a quick once over, and yep, this is her house; a large room functioning as both bedroom and living space. Mijoo doesn't have actual kitchen, the stove, small fridge, and various cooking utensils are all dumped in wooden table which looks ready to collapse any time. Couch, stools made from wood and plastic materials, the furnitures aren't matching with one another, like they were picked from different wasteyards. Her entire place smells like combination of nicotine and whatever dinner Mijoo had yesterday thanks to jammed windows. The roof is leaking badly especially in rainy season, hence stains all over drywall. To sum up, it's not a property one would proudly show to their guests. Why would a rich woman give a visit to this kind of place? Before Soojung ever has chance to open her mouth, a guy who's been half asleep the whole time on a ratty single couch placed right in the middle of the room - introduced himself as Son Hyunwoo last night - already beats her to it. "She showed up when we're about to drag your ass off the stage and insisted she wanted to come with us. Friend of yours, she said..." "Oh right, Hyunwoo-ah! The match! Did I—" "Yea. I hate to be one who always announce bad news.." He says while yawning. "But I think we would have to stick to being vegetarian again this week." "Shit! I was so close to get a million with my record last night!" Mijoo wails, punching the wall beside her in frustration, then belatedly realizes her forearm is also injured. Soojung watches in amusement as she yells another cuss and Hyunwoo mumbles something that closely sounds like idiot child. "It's okay I was just kidding about the vegan part, Hyunseung hyung and I managed to secure enough for us to endure." Hyunwoo waves his hand calmly to dismiss the worry sprawled on his friend's feature. He gets up lazily from the couch that is too tiny for her huge built. "Now if you would excuse me, I have part time job awaits and I kinda not want to disturb you and your.. Uh.. Friend." It is when Hyunwoo makes his way towards the door they catch the sight of three other heads peeking behind the decayed, unpolished plywood; one is male and the other is female with shoulder length, jet black hair. They are people who were with Mijoo last night. Comes another voice from the third person behind them, the woman is first to turn around. Both Mijoo and Soojung cannot quite make out the conversation, but it sounds pretty much like someone inquiring something regarding last night and that woman replies with playful scandalous tone, "... she ran up to the stage right away even before us and tried to take her to hospital! Oh if only you'd been there to witness.. It's like a nauseating tearful scene from romance drama..." "Yah Yoon Bora quit spreading non-sense, you rotten bitch!" Mijoo barks from her bed, and the not-so-discreet giggling breaks into crass laughter. "Lee Mijoo has a suitor!" Now Yoon Bora shouts deliberately loud, followed by racket of people cackling and shuffling about narrow corridor of the flat, right behind the door. Mijoo is so resigned that by this noon everyone in the whole neighborhood will hear the news she has a suitor. "I'm sorry my friends are bunch of looneys. Don't mind what they say." She huffs. The ruckus has finally quieten down. Mijoo flounders into proper sitting position, re-adjusting pillows and cotton blanket so there's space for Soojung to be seated. The bed itself is rather big, enough for two people to occupy. "But, uh, is that true? You tried to take me to hospital last night?" Soojung only gives quick embarrassed nod. She reaches out to get the ice pack from the floor and passes it to Mijoo before plops down the bed as well. Legs crossed in polite manner, healthy amount of distance between them. "We don't go there, they will ask hundreds questions. That Bora might look like campus delinquent but she's aspiring medical assistant, so she's in charge of our... Health. But hey, thanks for the thought." "I got to see her in action last night. She's cool." Soojung comments awkwardly. "So, that was who you are? An underground fighter?" She tilts her head to steal a glance at the taller woman. "Yep. A good one!" Hint of narcissism is in Mijoo's voice. "Last night wouldn't turn that way had your pretty face never showed up in the crowds out of nowhere." "Huh? What did my face do with you losing?" The short haired woman scoffs. "All I've done was just stood in the audience." "And why would a high-class, refined lady like you come to such dirty place?" "What if I might or might not be..." She trails off, as though searching for the right words. Something that isn't I like you, I fucking like so much I've gone crazy thinking about you. "Taking a slight interest in you?" Unexpectedly, Mijoo stiffens at that. "So that's why you came to the park the other day? It wasn't coincidence but you were doing like... A survey about me?" "Wait— What?" "You don't need to lie." Mijoo snaps, unawarely scooting away from the short haired woman. "I know this game of you uptown people who fancy venturing into slightly darker side than merely placing your money on betting table, have seen the like of you coming and inspecting us one by one like giggly kids in pet store. But we are no fluffy puppies nor circus lions, we are feral beast. And I absolutely despise the idea of being some sponsors' girltoy!" "I have no idea about this idea you're talking about, honestly." "Then what do you mean with 'interested in you'?" "Just exactly as I said, you dense." Soojung chuckles the whole time where Mijoo's expression morphing subsequently from deep scowl, to utterly befuddled, then flushed pink as it slowly dawning to her. "You... Have a crush on me? Like, want us to date seriously? Candle-lit dinner, movie night, theme park, cheesy stuffs like those?" "You can say so. Though I ain't so sure if I want to date you. Yet." "No shit. Why me? I mean.. We have quite a discrepancy in social status here, which was the reason I didn't openly hit on you the other day." Mijoo asks bluntly, and gets another soft laugh in response. It sounds really nice. Maybe she's beginning to take a liking of it more than she should. "Don't ask, I don't know how this chemical things in my heart works." Soojung says, shaking her head. "But I know I don't care about status when it comes to choosing friends or girlfriend." "Still, one important thing you have to know, I am so not gonna throw any money supporting you to do such extreme thing." She continues, suddenly back to her stern self. "If anything, I'd love to see you quit. It's dangerous, you could be killed, or being arrested.. Have you never heard police are after underground fighting lately? So many risks and it's not worth fighting for." "Probably not for you. But this is the only thing I've been doing my whole life." Mijoo says, sounding frustrated. "I dunno what am I gonna do without underground fighting. Though admittedly I'm tired and want a change in life. " "Find normal job." Mijoo makes a ridiculous face at the suggestion. "Listen, I didn't even go to high school. Which company would hire me?" They go silent, Soojung gnaws at her lips, looking like she's thinking hard. "Alright." She begins again, clapping her hands one time. "Since it's a little more complicated than what I've thought, guess we need to take few detours here. First, you have to sign up for GED programs to earn certificate equivalent to secondary education." "I'm half-fifty and you want me to go to school again?" The blonde rolls her eyes. "Yah. It's never too late for study. There's people over thirty years old still going to college. You only fail when you stop trying, so don't give up." Those caring nags... Soojung reminds Mijoo of an imaginary mother she often daydreamed to have during her childhood. Though she didn't conjure up her mom would look this marshmallow-soft and squishy and sugary. "Hey. Do you perhaps have any career in mind that you'd like to pursue?" "Astronaut!" Mijoo shouts, both hands raised to heaven. A distressed look paints itself across Soojung's face, like silently screaming are you half-fifty or actual five? "Okay, sorry, I'm just joking. No, I never really give it a thought." "Think about it from now on." Soojung pats her shoulder lightly then stands up, getting ready to go home. "I suddenly remember one place which have opening, they may want to hire you. So prepare your resume, something decent to wear, and come with me once that golf-ball-sized swell on your eye get fixed." ——————— Nothing like Mijoo had expected before, on the next several days they are back to the park where they had met for the first time - at the burger stall, to be exact. Soojung’s small hand slaps the back of her neck, pushing her to do ninety-degrees bow to a woman in her early 40s, most likely the owner or manager in charge of that store. "This is my friend who wants to work here. Her name is Lee Mijoo, she's twenty five this year." Mijoo's eyes instantly widen upon hearing what Soojung just said. She steers themselves away from the burger lady before whispering, "You know that I can't fucking cook anything without causing casualties, don't you?" "Ha. I knew it." Soojung snatches a manila folder from Mijoo's hand, containing the woman's resume she had told to prepare before. "But don't worry, I didn't apply you for that position." At first, burger lady hands Mijoo pairs of brown, fluffy paw gloves and shoes. Then a piece of furry jumpsuit in same colour, with huge burger picture embroidered on its chest part. Then bear-head-shaped mask. "Repeat after me. Welcome to Burger Bear! Rawr!" Mijoo, now in the jumpsuit but without the mask, does as instructed, eyes shooting daggers towards Soojung, who's watching them beside the burger lady with lips pressed hard, holding in big laughter. "You sounded like a bear who hasn't eat for three days!" The middle-aged woman scolds. "Let's try again, more energetic please!" ——————— "I'm going to maul you, disassemble your limbs, and feed your flesh to real bears in the zoo. See if I don't." "Hm. This will do for awhile." Seated neatly on a chair in the dressing room, Soojung attentively reads the employment contract paper like a smart financial expert she is, ignoring huge bear in front her cursing and roaring childish threats. "If anything goes according to my plan, in half a year you would be able to rent a better place, eat regularly three times a day, and have small savings. From there we will decide whether you want to get your GED and learn new skills in any field of your choice. Or continue being professional mascot." "I can't believe I'm really doing this shit." Mijoo takes off the heavy mask and gloves, then dumps everything to the floor. She takes crushed white and red box from the front pocket of her backpack, pulling a cigarette out of it. Just right when she's about to light it, Soojung quickly seizes the stick from her fingers. "Do you know that by quitting smoking you can save up to 25,000 or 30,000 weekly, which means significantly lesser time for you to reach the goal I've planned, which means you can wriggle out of this bear costume sooner?" "There's no way for me to just abruptly stop like this! Normally people take it slow and reduce the consumption per day little by little, y'know?" "If you feel like smoking, just do this." Soojung promptly leans closer, and for a split second, Mijoo has thought she would slap her, or do any sort of savage acts - Mijoo has always been thinking this woman got somewhat evil traits hidden inside her deceptively tiny figure afterall. What she's never expected is Soojung would kiss her. It doesn't last long. Soft, wet lips presses lightly against her chapped ones for barely a second, yet enough to make Mijoo feels like her heart has jumped to her throat. When Soojung pulls away, she almost chases her lips out of reflex. "Fine. Square deal." The tall woman breaths out, still feeling dizzy. "But what if I feel the urge to smoke and you're not around?" "Wait until we meet, and you can kiss me as much as how many times you have wanted to smoke." Soojung replies without hesitation. "You're crazy." "I have one other request." Mijoo stares directly at Soojung's eyes, waiting to get more scold, their faces still only few inches apart. "I want to hear you say rawr again. It's cute." In one, two, three seconds, Soojung lets out distorted cackles instead of her signature shy giggle, leaping off the dressing room. Mijoo bear hot on her tail, before tripped over her own stupid, oversized shoes and falls head first. "Fuck you Lee Soojung I'mma murder you!" ——————— At the afternoon on the first day Mijoo working for Burger Bear, Soojung has received at least twenty messages, the contents ranging from impolite letter of complaints, curses, and the last one she just receives five minutes ago in the middle of yet another meeting, picture of a certain bear holding up its middle finger. 'If you get fired for slacking, I have another job interview ready for you.' Soojung sends the reply along with an image of job vacancy ads as mascot in popular fast-food chain serving fried chicken. Thin smile tugs up the corner of her mouth, but Soojung holds in, for the sake of reputation she got to uphold. Not long after, her phone vibrates again with another message - that bear's now holding up finger heart sign. Soojung sets it as her phone wallpaper, smile’s involuntarily getting wider. ——————— "I have never seen you smile before." For the first time in their entire respective career, Soojung's secretary makes a comment that isn't related to work at all. "You have a pair of very beautiful dimples." Soojung blinks at the other woman in genuine astonishment. "Oh— I apologize for being rude, Ma'am." The secretary bows very low, afraid of making eye contact with her boss. "It's just, you looked really happy." "It's okay. And thank you." Soojung says, tone non-chalant. "Was those messages from..." "Miss Han, where's the paper you said need to be signed again?" ——————— Soojung gets a special delivery on the second day of Mijoo working for Burger Bear. The delivery boy who comes to hand over two sets of burger Soojung never ordered looks very much terrorized after 30-floor ride up to the manager's lavish office, trying so hard not to touch any single thing he knows he would never be able to afford with his earnings for a lifetime. There is a note sticked onto the box, handwriting on it surprisingly clean. 'The first double cheeseburger is regular one, made by our chef. The second is made by me. Choose which one you like! <3' It doesn't require Soojung to actually think to guess which is which. Mijoo's burger is wrapped carelessly and its patty slightly burnt. "Can I ask you a favor?" "Ye— Yes, sure." The delivery boy reflexively straightens his back in similar fashion of a low-ranked soldier receiving call from their superior. "On your way back, please drop by a bookstore and get a book titled 'How to Grill Burger for Dummies', then hand it to Lee Mijoo." Soojung fishes her wallet out of desk drawer. "Here's the money, and tip for you." He flies out of the office in lightspeed, partially wants to leave as soon as possible and another part wants to scream in exultant rejoice because he just got a tip as much as his weekly wage. (Later, Soojung gives the regular burger to her secretary and eats the burnt one heartily. Only love could tolerate such awful taste like that.) ——————— Despite her infinite protests in all sorts of form, Mijoo actually does enjoy her work. Soojung learns it after a week when Mijoo starts sending photos of herself and people she serves in the park, mostly little kids. There's even short clip of her dancing with them - this one nearly causes Soojung bursting with squeal during her inspection visit to a hotel branch in Busan. Soojung replies with 'Stop sending stupid pics ffs you're not getting paid to send messages! >:( ' It's contrasting the jovial expression she's struggling to hide behind stack of financial report documents. Within an hour, the amount of messages sent to her has increased twofold. Her bear apparently doesn't know how to shut up. But this bear surely does know how adorable she is in the clip she'd sent just now; playing chase with four kids, stumbling onto the grass and letting all of them to pile over her giant body. Soojung excuses herself to go to bathroom. For laughing, you know. ——————— 'I dyed my hair black.'That single message without picture attached leads Soojung to ditch work before 5 PM and go straight to Burger Bear. Which she belatedly regrets, because, fuck. Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck— dark haired Mijoo is hot. The badly ventilated dressing room is hot. Everything's hellish hot especially after the younger woman comes out of the shower stall with sport bra and spandex short, droplets of water pooling on her collarbones before trickling down her upper chest. How could she easily switch from yesterday's fool bear to irresistably hot lady now?

Aside from the defined clavicles and wide shoulders, she also has ripped abs - Soojung just gets a good look at this today. Mijoo's whole figure resembles Greek goddess sculpture and someone should build an altar for her somewhere inside Parthenon. This woman is work of pure art and needs to be worshipped.

Of course, Soojung doesn't speak out loud about that thought. Heck, she would deny it until her last breath. For a good minute Mijoo's padding around the room gathering her belongings and getting some clothes from the locker, all she does is only stare boring hole into the bear mask left on the bench.

"If you really like that costume..." Mijoo starts, smirking and purposely taking time to slide a plain white tee over her torso. "I can bring it home with me so you can eat a bear tonight. Or be eaten."

Furry gloves smoothly lands right at Mijoo's face.

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