#better than bad!!! but i can still do better. eventually. ugh. FLASHING LIGHTS TOO HUH? U LIKE ANIMATINGB FLASHING LIGHT? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lu-undy · 3 years

Text

Chapter 48 - SBT

Here it is!

Mundy parked the van about a mile away from the palace Duchemin lived in. It was the end of the afternoon and the sky was turning orange. The endless desert ground was hard, dusty and brown where the few cacti would cast their growing shadows.

"It's all on me now."

He slipped out of his van and shut the door.

"Right. Let's find the bloke."

The Aussie adjusted his rifle on his back and climbed on his van's rooftop before scoping in to watch over the impressive mansion. There were guards patrolling and…

"Sick bastard…"

Mundy had to do a double take at the impressive number of lightly dressed females lounging in the gardens, the same French gardens him and Lucien had been in back when -

"Ugh…" He sighed but shook his head. Those days were over. The days where his heart would feel warm at the sight of the expensive suits and the alluring man wearing them.

Mundy focused on his scoping again. The ladies weren't a problem in itself, no, the problem was that they looked young, very young, no doubt even... illegally young.

However, Duchemin wasn't with them. So Mundy moved the scope to align it with the windows and tried to get a glimpse of what was happening through them.

"More guards… More goons… Ugh… Where the hell is he…?"

He followed one of the guards going down a flight of stairs until -

"What the hell?! Where is he gone to?"

The man had disappeared underground.

"Wait, so there is an underground to this place? Alright…"

Mundy stayed a bit longer, counting the number of guards and watching them patrol around.

"Right, I won't see more without getting closer. But there are cameras… I hope those bullets will do the trick…"

The Aussie loaded his rifle and one by one, the CCTV cameras went off.

"Perfect, now the guards…"

Mundy changed his bullets for his double-chambered sleeping darts and started shooting. Thank God for the suppressor, no one heard him shoot and the guards fell limply one after the next, starting from those on the rooftop. When he was done with the dozen or so, the Aussie came down his van and got closer to the gardens. He found the young girls next to the pool, where he had first seen them.

"Hey - Ssh! No, don't shout, don't scream! I'm here to free you up!" He took one as a hostage to make the others obey. The poor girls were scared to the bone in their bikinis. He released the little girl that he had in his arms and looked at them earnestly. "Listen, if you run that way for about a mile, you'll find a van.. It doesn't have much space but you can hide there until I come back and take you somewhere safe, ok?"

"What about Arthur?" One of them asked. "He'll find you and kill you and us for it!"

"Nah, I'm here to kill him and look around you, no guards, no alert, nothing. You're safe. Besides, this might be your only chance to get free. Now, tell me anything you know about where he is."

"He must be underground… I heard him say that something important would happen today…" A young black-haired girl said, in tears.

"Yeah, he's about to move his merchandise someplace else…" Another added.

"Alright, how do I get underground without being seen and what's my best bet to get to him?" Mundy asked.

"There's a… A sewer pipe, it's actually a whole network of them… He uh…" The poor girl couldn’t continue.

"That's where he gets rid of the corpses." Another one explained and Mundy's pupils shrank.

"Bloody sick bastard… Alright, where does it lead? If I find the end of it, I can just work backwards to him, yeah?" Mundy asked.

"You'll have to go around the house, look down and you should see a manhole."

"Alright, I'll do that. By the way, are there any others like you?" He asked.

"There were."

Mundy gulped down hard and frowned.

"Alright. Go to my van and stay there, ok?"

"Thank you so much! Be careful!"

Mundy left them and followed their instructions. He walked in the maze of hedges that he knew from that time in the party. The only difference was that this time, the sunlight was enough to see and…

And Lucien wasn't there.

"No!" Mundy said to himself and shook his head.

No, Lucien wasn't there and that was the whole point of it. Mundy would find Duchemin and kill him such that his goons would go after him and not after the Frenchman. He had a cat to raise and someone he longed for.

Mundy finally found the manhole. He moved it with great effort and took the ladder down until his heeled boots hit the floor.

"Bloody hell, that's some stench…!" He winced and switched on the light on his little keyring.

Mundy wasn't surprised by the existence of the bad smell, after all, he was now walking in the sewers. No, what surprised him is the nature of the stench, he could clearly identify rotting flesh in the air…

"Sick son of a whore…" He mumbled to himself as he progressed in the tunnels.

He had no idea where he was going exactly or where he should be going. But as long as he kept moving, he was bound to find something. Eventually.

"Fuckin' hell, that bloke has a thing for mazes or what…?"

Those sewers proved to be another kind of mazes, just like the hedges in the French garden; only this time, the visibility was extremely low. The little flashlight on Mundy's keyring wasn't powerful enough to help him greatly and the Aussie started to regret not having taken a torchlight with him. But how could he have known that he would end up travelling in some disgusting and no doubt highly contaminated sewers?

Mundy sighed and put his hat in front of his face like a mask. The lingering smell of his soap in his old, leather hat was better than the filth floating in the air.

He walked and walked, wishing he had something to mark his way, just to make sure he was not going in a circle…

Mundy let the little light explore left and right around his feet and the sight wasn't one he wished to remember. In the dirty waters he could clearly see remnants of what used to be living beings. Sometimes animals, sometimes not. He winced in disgust and pulled the light higher up in front of him.

The cracks in the walls spoke for the age of the building Mundy was exploring, the rats too, although he didn't meet that many of them.

"That's always a good sign, isn't it? If even the rats don't want to live here…" He grumbled and kept walking.

He had no idea how deep the network of undergrounds ran, or where Duchemin would be with respect to them. And even if Mundy wanted to spin on his heels and make it back home, where the hell would he go…? Through which tunnels…? Every fifty metres or so was a junction and with it came multiple possibilities not to find the damn criminal, but to get lost entirely!

However, Mundy didn't lose patience. He thought about his parents and carried on. His parents were not shown any mercy and they were put through hell itself. There was no reason why Mundy wouldn't do the same, as penance, to pay for his absence on that day, ten years ago.

He went on, walked, and with each junction came a choice and with each choice his rage grew.

"Oh bloody hell, no, not now!"

The battery on Mundy's light decided to die, leaving the Aussie in the dark. He took a deep breath and waited a minute or so, for his eyes to get accustomed to the darkness. There, that's a bit better… And he went on.

"Huh?"

There was a metallic clinking noise. It came from his left. For lack of any other clue, Mundy went in that direction. He walked further but the noise had died and there was no way to see where it had come from either.

"Hm…"

Mundy put his ear on the walls.

Rumbling.

Distant but continuous rumbling, a bit like a boiler maybe, or a power generator. The Aussie tried to walk towards the noise, his ear always probing the walls left and right. And the rumbling grew louder and louder until he managed to identify what it was.

"Oh bugger…"

It sounded like a waterfall. The sewers actually went in small cascades lower and lower down in the ground. Mundy sighed.

-- Meanwhile, in town --

"Richard!"

Lucien had barged in the tailor's shop throwing politeness and courtesy out of the window.

"L?"

"Please, I need equipment urgently!"

The tailor nodded.

"Paul, occupe-toi de la boutique!"

[Paul, come and deal with the shop!]

Both Richard's sons came out of the workshop and shut the front window.

Fortunately enough, there were no customers that afternoon. Richard nodded to Lucien and jumped to the wall with the fleur-de-lis handle before pulling on it. The secret wall opened and both slipped in.

"What will you need?" He asked as Lucien ran to the display cases.

"This gun," Lucien pointed right. "With a suppressor, please..."

"Ammunition?"

"Both non lethal and lethal, please."

Richard opened the display cases and collected the items as fast as Lucien was listing them.

"Do you still have watches?" The spy asked.

"I'm afraid they are a bit outdated and modern agents don't use them much anymore nowadays…" Richard answered.

"Do you have them?!" Lucien exclaimed, furious. "There is no time to lose!"

Richard got startled but he nodded and opened a drawer that was connected to the wall.

"Here there are."

Lucien jumped to them.

"I will need this one."

He pointed at the one with the silver strap.

"Of course." Richard gave it to him and Lucien fastened it around his left wrist in a flash.

"Do you have earpieces?"

"Yes, we do, how many do you need?"

"Two, please."

Richard opened another drawer and tossed them over to the Frenchman.

"Merci… I will also need a balaclava… this one, here." Lucien pointed at the black one.

"Do you need a matching suit? I have a few black ones in stock, one of them should suit you…"

"Oui, please, and hurry!"

After a few minutes, Lucien exited a changing booth dressed in a black three-piece suit: jacket, vest and trousers, even the shirt was black.

"Parfait, merci Richard!"

[Perfect, thank you Richard!]

"Here, a utility belt with throwable knives and additional ammunition. And this is a special pair of garters with an additional hidden blade in…"

Richard threw the items above the curtain of the changing booth and Lucien caught them with ease. About a minute later, he exited the booth.

"I don't have much time, Richard. See you!"

And the masked man ran out. He hopped on his motorcycle and dashed out of town. He drove as fast as he could through the desert, not even on the asphalt itself. He needed to get to Duchemin's palace as fast as possible.

What on Earth did Mundy think he could accomplish on his own? Find Duchemin, in broad daylight and then what? Kill him then and there?! That would for sure end up in Mundy's death!

The Frenchman saw the van in the distance and switched the motorcycle to silent mode. He parked next to it and turned it invisible before dismounting it.

"S'il vous plaît, mon Dieu, faites qu'il soit encore dans son van ridicule…"

[Please, Lord, tell me he is still in his ridiculous van…]

"Mundy…?"

Lucien approached the van and heard some muffled noises coming from the inside which fell completely silent after he called for the Aussie.

"Mundy, I can hear you are in there, come out and I promise to stop punching your idiotic self before you die."

Nothing.

"Bien. You have chosen poorly, for if you do not come to me, I will come to you!"

Lucien took his blade out and forced the lock open before slamming the door wide open. His jaw dropped as he saw a group of young teenage girls in bikinis, scared to the bone, trying to all hide and fit in the van. They all screamed with their high-pitched voices at the sight of the man with the mask.

"Mon Dieu! Mais qu'est-ce que c'est que ça?!"

[My God! What the hell is that?!]

"Don't kill us, please!" One of them cried.

"I will not kill any one of you, what are you doing here?"

"Fuck! Duchemin's gonna kill us…!" Another one said, sobbing in her hands.

Lucien jumped in the van and they all gasped. He knelt down and put a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Listen, my… friend is the owner of this van. He is off to kill himself and I am trying to save him. Have you seen him?" Lucien asked.

"He saved us… We were Arthur's girls…"

"His girls? I thought he had no children?" Lucien asked, confused.

"N-not his children…"

"What do you - ? Oh mon Dieu…"

[Oh my God…]

Lucien couldn't be more disgusted if he had wanted. "Don't tell me that…"

The girls grouped around the sobbing one and hugged her.

"I am truly sorry for what you have lived with that man. But please, tell me where I can find him. My friend, you see… He is my best friend. I can't let him die."

There was a kind of honesty in Lucien's eyes that the young girls understood without really knowing what it was.

"He is off to kill Arthur. He freed us and asked us to hide here until he comes back."

"Do you know where I can find him?"

"Your friend or Arthur?"

"Both."

"Your friend is going through the sewers to find Arthur. His offices are-"

"Underground, oui, I know. Stay hidden here. I will call someone who will pick you up and hide you."

"How will we know that it's not one of Duchemin's men?" One girl asked and Lucien looked in her eyes.

"Ask them who sends them. If they answer L, they are an ally. If they answer anything else…" Lucien looked around the van and saw a few kukris hung on the wall. He pointed to them. "Use them and do not think about any consequences. You are now under protection from the French government."

"French?" One the young ladies asked.

"Oui, in coordination with local authorities. But you do not care about this nonsense. And remember what I told you: a friend of L is your friend. Anyone else…" Lucien took the three kukris and gave them to the girls. "No hesitation. It's you or them. Understood?"

They all nodded.

"My friend will be here shortly."

Lucien exited the van and shut the door. He pushed a button on his watch and put the earpiece in his ear.

"Richard…? Yes, it is me. Call Maurice and ask him to send a van or a minibus here. There are young girls who need to be evacuated. They are safe in a van so far."

"Will do immediately."

Lucien pushed the button on his watch again and headed for the gardens. The sun was below the horizon now and the Frenchman took advantage of the dark to make very fast progress.

When he arrived in the maze of hedges, he was only half surprised to find Duchemin's guards down, all struck by a double-chamber dart to the head or the neck.

"Hm. The guards are still here and asleep. No one has found them yet and I hope that the same can be said about Mundy."

Lucien headed for the house and switched a button on his watch. He looked at his reflection on a window and couldn't see any.

La bonne vieille montre d'invisibilité.

[The good old invisibility watch.]

He nodded to himself and entered through the window.

Ah, la bibliothèque…

[Ah, the library…]

The Frenchman was standing in a wooden room filled with endless rows of books. No guards there. He went to the door and peeked through the lock before slipping out of the room. He found himself in a corridor with doors left and right.

He walked through it until he met a guard and passed him without being seen.

Je ne comprends vraiment pas pourquoi les agents actuels n'utilisent plus ces montres, elles sont divines!

[I really don't understand why modern agents don't use these watches, they work wonders!]

He thought to himself as he soon found the stairs. He took them and spiralled down, stopping at each level and trying to find any way to see where the sewers could connect with him.

Lucien was on the third level underground when he overheard a conversation between a group of guards. They were sitting around a table with drinks and playing a game of cards.

"The bloke stinks like there's no tomorrow…"

"How long has he been in the sewers?"

A card was placed on the table and the guards frowned, planning their next moves.

"No idea, but when Russel found him, he got a decent beating and his nose is broken now. Thank God I arrived in time with Jimmy to help."

"The Boss knows about it?"

"Of course, we told him, he might be with him now or something, I don't know."

Another card and another second of thinking.

"Jimmy told me the bloke was weird, I mean, apart from the smell."

"Yeah, he was carrying weird stuff. When we searched him, we found a blowgun, some darts, a sword of some sort, like a machete, and some bullets."

"Just bullets?"

"Not just bullets, they're a rifle's bullet, a big one, like a sniper would use. I've seen some like that back when I was serving."

"Bloody hell… And what did he want?"

"Finding the Boss and killing him."

Another card landed on the table and the guards burst out laughing at the idea that a single man had gone through the sewers to try and get the most protected man in the whole of Oz at least.

Lucien frowned.

"Oh, God, that's a funny one, mate…" One of them resumed the chat as he laid another card on the table.

"Yeah, I know. Well, I guess the boss is gonna kill him and throw him with the others, eh."

Lucien's pupils shrank. The others?

"Yeah, I reckon he'll just scare him off a bit before killing him and poof, back to the sewers but this time, dead."

They shared a laugh around the table as they raised their glasses and had a drink.

"Oh I don't know about that, he took him down to cell 1."

Lucien frowned. Cell 1.

"Cell 1? For a dude fished out of the sewers?"

"Yeah, the Boss asked us to do that after having had a quick chat with him."

"Might be more serious than that then, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but the bloke's alone and smells of rottin' shit. He can't do much."

Lucien had heard enough. He needed to find Cell 1, which he felt was a bit of a special one, from what the guards said. He took a quick look at his watch and slithered against the wall back to explore the place.

One of the guards had said 'down to Cell 1', so presumably Lucien had to go down some more stairs…

And he did until he came across a very useful plan of the place. Finally! He had been looking for it! As secret as a place might be, there always is a fire escape plan somewhere on the walls, finding it reveals a lot of information on the building.

Lucien stared at it and studied it carefully. He was looking for a floor with cells, so presumably, a row of small rooms… Hm…

Ah! There! Two levels below him! Those must be cells!

He thurtled down the stairs as silent as a shadow and went through a few doors before finding that he had been right. He found a corridor with cells left and right and in front of him, at the end of it, was a larger cell with a man chained to the wall from his wrists and his ankles.

Lucien winced. He passed a table on which was Mundy's blowgun, his darts and a few bullets. He came closer to the prisoner and, after making sure no one was around, he tapped on his watch. Out of a thin cloud of smoke, the silhouette of the Frenchman appeared in thin air.

"Ugh… Spook…? Oooh, you look like a burglar, dressed all in black like that…" Mundy was sitting against the wall limply, he was speaking comically slowly and Lucien guessed he had been drugged.

"Ssh! Bushman, I will get you out of here but you must stay quiet!" Lucien whispered as he took his cigarette case out. He flipped it open and took the pins concealed there to pick the lock.

"Eh… Spook…? You came here through the sewers too..?"

"Non, but I can clearly smell that you did. Now, keep your mouth shut!"

Lucien managed to pick the lock and entered the cell before shutting its door again. He went straight to Mundy's wrists and ankles and started picking the locks there too when a door opened in the corridor. The spy tapped his watch again and turned invisible.

"Woohoohoohooo Spook…? I thought only yer bike could do that…!"

Lucien didn't move and just watched the guard approach.

"Eh… Eh mate? See the Spook? Hey! Can you see him?" Mundy drunkenly asked.

"Shut up in there, will ya?" The guard shouted back. He looked in the cell and judging that everything seemed normal, he left.

Lucien waited for the man to be completely gone before reappearing and dealing with the cuffs.

"Bushman, keep your mouth sealed. If they learn that I am here, we are both doomed."

"Yeah but at least I'll get to be… I'll get to be with you, eh? I mean…"

Lucien blushed but kept on trying to free his stinking friend. The ankles were free, time for the wrists.

"Ssh, Bushman."

"No, no… Listen… I mean… If we both die here and now… I mean… No… That's not what I mean… Pearl needs you…" Mundy raised an index finger and stared at it. The poor man was seeing double under the drugs he had been fed. "And there's this bloke you like… Ah, damn him… Damn him to hell and back…!"

"Oh for that, I couldn't agree more. Damn him because he can't keep his mouth shut!"

"No, not for that, Spook…" Mundy missed the meaning entirely. "Damn him cause you… you like him and that's a problem, see?"

One wrist free. Now the other.

"It's a problem cause… See, I like you…"

Lucien stopped his picking of the lock on Mundy's wrist and raised his eyes to him.

"Bushman. Stop talking before I make you."

"No… But seriously… I like ya… You're…"

Lucien expected a compliment.

"...weird." The Frenchman rolled up his eyes. "But a good kind of weird, eh…?"

"Bushman, listen to me."

"Huh?"

"If we want to make it out of here you will have to stay quiet. We can't afford to be spotted, especially you, running free outside of your cell. How often do these guards come and check on you?"

Lucien helped the Aussie up and Mundy naturally put an arm on the Frenchman's shoulders. The spy realised that he had been beaten up quite badly when Mundy started limping. They moved to the table and Lucien took Mundy's equipment that he stuffed in the poor man's pockets.

"I don't know, mate… Quite a bit of time… Gets lonely here y'know… So I just think of my parents… Heh, keeps the motivation goin'... And I think of you too… Keeps me warm inside… Can't help it…"

"Listen here. Let us make a bet, shall we?" Lucien tried another strategy to make his rescue shut up.

"Yeah, alright, anythin' for you…"

Lucien rolled up his eyes again.

"I bet that you cannot remain quiet until we reach your van."

"What's in it for me…?"

"If you succeed, I will owe you a dinner. If you fail, we will however both end up back in this cell before getting killed and thrown in those infamous sewers you went through. How does that sound?"

"Dinner… with you?" Mundy asked.

"Oui. Dinner with me."

"Just you and me…?"

"Just you and me."

"Like… a date or something?"

Lucien sighed.

"Oui, Bushman. Now, do you take the bet, yes or no?"

"Right, I'll uh… I'll shut up until we get to the van… Easy…"

"Good."

Lucien tapped his watch and both turned invisible. They went to the stairs and started climbing them. To his honor, the Aussie stayed silent even though he looked like he was suffering immensely while taking each step up. His gait was slow and heavy but Lucien was patient.

When they finally made it back outside and on ground level, Mundy tapped his friend's shoulder and asked for a break. Fine, Lucien stopped pulling him and gave him a moment.

They were in the middle of the maze of hedges and no one was around them except the bodies of tranquilised guards.

"Huh…" Mundy frowned. His vision was blurred and seeing double did not help, especially in the middle of the night. The lights from the lanterns in the garden waved and danced before his eyes and his whole head was spinning. "Ugh…"

"Mundy?!"

The Aussie collapsed but thank God Lucien caught him before he hit the floor. He carried his limp body over his shoulder all the way to the van. When he arrived, Lucien went straight to the passenger's seat and laid Mundy there. The Aussie was only unconscious, thank God.

Lucien fastened his seatbelt to secure him before going to the back door.

He opened it and the girls had gone, the kukris were all back on the wall as well. Good. Lucien rummaged through the Aussie's belongings before he found some deodorant. He grabbed it and went outside again. There was one detail to arrange: the motorcycle.

Lucien double tapped it and it appeared. He fiddled with its dashboard for quite a long time before he managed to make it understand that it had to follow the van. Once it was done, the Frenchman went back to the van, on the driver's seat this time.

"Oh…!" He winced at Mundy's smell and sprayed some deodorant on him. There, that would do, at least momentarily. For now, the Frenchman raced through the desert back to town. He needed to get Mundy to the Doctor's.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

11 notes · View notes

brilliantpride · 3 years

Text

[ ]’s eyes adjust to the dark as the light from the surface gets further and further away. Her footsteps echo as loudly as the scrape of wood against rock, her mentor’s presence getting further away from her with every step. She looks behind her, at gleaming red eyes, at the outline of a staff’s carvings. A murderous pressure builds around her neck. You’re scaring me, she wants to say. You look so serious.

"This is... for training, like you said, right?”

“Yeup, it sure is. I’m really gonna try to kill you, though. What, you thought you could take it easy? No slackin’ off for you, kid. But I’ll give you a head start. Ten... nine... eight...”

[ ] sprints desperately through the cave, clutching a glowing runestone etched with a poorly-drawn rune, flickering faintly like a candlelight. Every part of her body screams at her to stop, to go, to lie down and let it happen, to get out as fast as she can. She trips on ledges and scrapes her knee on stalactites, slips on underground pools, feels desperation claw at her neck as her ragged breathing echoes on the walls,

The path forward is a thinner squeeze. It’s tight enough that she could get stuck, and there’s only more cave on the other side. She glances behind her. Her light glints off the eyes of wolves that slowly approach her, cornering her, and the leader of the pack behind them who swings his staff over his shoulder like a blunt weapon, his face hidden under the hood of his cloak.

There’s nowhere to run. Submission means certain death. So what else can she do...?

She freezes. She can’t fight. Fear takes over her body. The sympathetic nervous system kicks in, adrenaline pumping, muscles tense, but she can’t run. Her brain blanks out. Wolves tackle her to the ground, and a wooden staff meets her neck...

[ No, that’s not right. Of course I would’ve stood up to the challenge. There’s no way I would’ve frozen. ]

[ ] grips her only light, and with the tip etches a rune into the earth, sparking embers that grow into an inferno. With the strength of her determination, she’s able to make it out triumphant...

---

[ a ] pouts, encircled by wolfdogs twice her size, all trying to curl up next to her like she has any body space left to give them. She’s in a sour mood, still sore and exhausted.

“If I hadn’t held back, you coulda died for real. Monsters ain’t gonna be as easy on ya.”

“I know! I know I screwed up! But you could’ve gone easier on me! It’s not like I really know magic yet or anything, that’s what you’re supposed to teach me! Man, why couldn’t I have summoned a real Caster instead of a jerk pretending to be one?”

The Caster goes silent, turning back to his desk, shoulders hunched with a long sigh. He rolls another smoke. [ o ] makes a face. If you’re going to smoke, go do it outside! Ugh! ...He doesn’t reply, though. His expression seems more vexed than before. Eventually he stands up from his workspace and wanders outside, throwing his staff over his shoulders.

[ Wait a minute. That’s not how it happened. I couldn’t have said something so cruel. ]

[ Y ] blinks. Caster is sitting in his desk, feet kicked up on the table. He’s smiling lazily, his head leaned against his shoulder.

“Good job today, kid! Ya really showed me! Hell, I barely even have to train ya. You’re a natural at this! Let’s keep at it tomorrow, yeah?”

"...Oh. Right...”

She rests her head against a wolfdog’s chest, deep in thought.

---

Moments from Singularities flash before [ ak ]’s eyes.

The Fourth Singularity, witnessing the true strength of the King of Mages and how outmatched she truly was. The Fifth Singularity, getting caught during a material-gathering mission and, for the first time, nearly meeting her death. The Sixth Singularity...

...watching a village get wiped off the map in an instant. There was nothing she could do. She was too far away, engaged in too many battles at one time, getting overwhelmed by sheer numbers when...

[ Y ko ]’s heart seizes. She remembers the horror she felt. She had known those people. She’d played with the kids. They all lived such horribly sad lives, but they were still people! And yet...

...and yet...

She’d run in. No, she stayed behind. No, she wasn’t there at all? No, she remembers running, trying to... do something... anything. What was there to do? How could she help? How could she---

A hand covers her eyes. Whose hand is this? It’s soft and smooth, not at all like her Caster’s hand. She stops in her tracks.

[ That’s right. I was able to save that village. I evacuated the village. Even if I couldn’t stop it, I had to have done something to save those people. ]

[ Didn’t I? ]

[ a o ]’s heart catches in her throat as she narrowly avoids the blast by just a few tens of meters. The heat wave crawls up her back. She stays standing as someone holds their hand over her eyes. Don’t look. Don’t look. You saved them. Don’t look back.

That’s right. She’s a hero.

She, and...

...who else stood beside her?

---

She dreaded this the most.

[ ako K zu i ], Chaldea Master, placed on indefinite leave of action following [ RECORD DELETED ]

[ RECORD DELETED ]

to working in the Command Room with [ RECORD DELETED ]

[ Wait, stop--- what are you doing--- what’s going on--- I want to see their faces--- ]

to observe the [ RECORD DELETED ] at the Absolute Demonic Front

...

it will be all right.

entrust your memories to me.

you regret being unable to save others. unable to fight when you needed to.

i can give that to you.

that happiness. that satisfaction of a job well done.

that year of your life, rewritten.

[ Who are you? Who am I? ]

[ RECORD DELETED ]

at the Timeless Temple, Solo[ RECORD DELETED ]

the death of [ RECORD DELETED ]

suspension following investigation of the Mages Association for the duration of [ RECORD DELETED ]

unable to help [ RECORD DELETED ] when they fell comatose in another reality

unable to help [ RECORD DELETED ] when the Christmas illness befell Chaldea

unable to help [ RECORD DELETED ] when the Crypters attacked Chaldea

[ Wait, stop! I need those! Those are irreplaceable--- ]

all you have to do,

for your own happiness,

is entrust these memories to me.

you will not even notice they’re gone.

all you will know is a past full of adventure and accomplishment.

you will be the hero you have always wanted to be.

[ Full of... accomplishment... ]

that’s right.

don’t worry. i will take good care of your memories.

i will store them away.

you will no longer need them.

so enter a dreamless sleep, and when you wake, you will forget all about...

---

Yako wakes up slowly. Had she... fallen asleep in the middle of the road...? Why does everyone look so worried? ...Reines? Gray? Ritsu? She’d just been napping for a little bit...

She jolts up with a sudden burst of energy. “Ah! That’s right! What about that scrap!”

“We recovered it... and that’s about when... you fell asleep, and Ritsu spaced out,” Gray answers.

“Talk about bad timing! We had to deal with all these delicious ghosts by ourselves!” Add chimes in. Gray jostles it. “Hey, stop it, you’re gonna make me nauseous!”

Yako dusts herself off. “Guess we’d better get moving, huh! Although...

“...why do I feel like I’m forgetting about something...?”

#event comm.#drabble.#long post /

2 notes · View notes

anomander-dragnipurake · 4 years

Text

Haunted Castle Chapter Three: Rhythm

The castle was dark enough that Luigi soon gave Bowser Jr. the spare flash light for some added illumination and so he could stun ghosts if needed. It meant if the one currently attached the Poltergust malfunctioned or broke, there could be some issues. It was unlikely though, the Poltergust had come a long way from that first shoddily built repurposed vacuum E. Gadd had given him for his unwanted debut as a ghost hunter. And he could always take the flashlight back if it did, not to mention Gooigi’s flashlight couldn’t break because it was part of them so it would probably be fine. And besides the added light made it easier for him to vacuum and tidy up as they started exploring the castle properly.

“Are you two really… cleaning right now?” Bowser Jr. finally asked after longer than expected.

“Yes,” Luigi replied not looking up. After taking out the three ghosts in the room, he’d taken to tidying one side of the room – probably – sleeping quarters for Bowser’s minions based off the bunkbeds evenly spaced out that filled the room – while Gooigi took the other side. They’d learned from him so naturally they did what he did while ghost hunting even if they might not know exactly why Luigi did things this way. But regardless the two of them made a good team and had coordinated wordlessly on this.

“Why?” Unsurprisingly Bowser Jr. was not very happy.

The main reason was because it eased Luigi’s nerves to tidy up a little as he went, making the spooky place slightly more bearable though it did serve a practical purpose too even if he’d rather it didn’t. “It brings out any ghosts that are hiding. King Boo shouldn’t be expecting us so we don’t want to be seen and have our presence reported back to him.” And the room was a mess, cleaning it up a little was relaxing. Also, ghosts liked to hide money and precious gemstones in things, so Luigi could justify it from that angle too even if he didn’t need the money. So far neither he nor Gooigi had found much but if needed he could still use it as another excuse to justify his actions without anyone trying to tell him that it was a waste of time because he needed this. Saving Bowser and company was important but he couldn’t do that if he was one bad scare away from having a panic attack.

“Um… okay then, I guess that makes sense, sort of anyway.” Good, Bowser Jr. was dropping it. He even adjusted his flashlight to help illuminate the room better. “Why are we even stopping here though? We need to rescue my dad and… everyone else and they’re clearly not here.”

Checking every room was another one of those things that just made Luigi feel better. Knowing what was in every room meant no surprises and lessened the chances of a ghost coming up behind him that had been hiding in an unchecked room. Bowser Jr. had come to him for help and he was going to do things his way. “Got to root out all the ghosts. They could sneak up on us otherwise or go tell King Boo we’re here. Also, King Boo likes to leave his paintings in various places for decoration.” Though it was often guarded by a big strong ghost, dealing with them always sucked. “So we should look around for them.” He didn’t like it but he’d proven himself capable of handling said big strong ghosts. … He really was a professional ghost hunter at this point, huh? He knew what he was doing and had a system for it that worked. Now if only he wasn’t afraid of ghosts, then it’d be a viable career path.

“Well… you’re the expert so, okay. Hurry up though.”

That only made Luigi want to take longer but… he wouldn’t do that. He wanted this to be over with sooner rather than later and even if it wasn’t his brother he was rescuing this time it was still an important rescue mission. So having not found any ghosts or anything else, they quickly moved on.

The next room, another midsized room filled with bunkbeds, they checked had another small group of low tier ghosts loitering within and a couple more hiding in various places; scary but quick and easy to handle. Bowser Jr. as promised, hung back and stayed safe out of the way, letting Luigi and Gooigi take care of it. Having him along still wasn’t ideal but at least he wasn’t going to get in the way or do anything more dangerous than just coming along was. … Which honestly was more than could be said of some of the Toads Luigi had had to escort to safety during his previous ghost busting ‘adventures’.

After that, Luigi quickly fell into the rhythm of going through, checking everything, and sucking up any ghosts that showed up or popped out of things – money too because it was there so he might as well. So far there was nothing new and thus now that he was in the thick of it, he was about as fine as he could be in this situation. Gooigi being there the whole time and Polterpup popping in every so often helped a lot too. Heck Bowser Jr.’s company and not wanting to embarrass himself in front him lest he get laughed at again helped a little as well. He almost maybe didn’t need to do the normal cleaning routine to ease his fears but he did anyway because it was familiar and rooting out hidden ghosts was a good thing no matter what.

Eventually Bowser Jr. broke his rhythm though. “Up ahead a little is a closet to the right.” he said after a long period of silence, making Luigi jump a little before turning to look at him. “In it is a secret passage that leads to the basement. Which is where Kamek’s lab is. From there are more secret passages and stuff which will let us quickly access my dad’s room which is where King Boo defeated him and turned him into a painting. I don’t know if the painting Papa’s trapped in is still there but we can check, right?”

Luigi would’ve preferred to keep going on his level, they seemed to be exiting the barracks part of the castle, and clearing it out entirely before ascending to a new floor. But also, Bowser being the biggest prize gained from this venture meant King Boo most likely kept his painting close by which meant if they found it, they’d find King Boo. It wasn’t an encounter Luigi was looking forward to but defeating King Boo would end the adventure and the sooner that was done, the better. It was unlikely King Boo’s portrait would still be there but… “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to look.”

With no further words needing to be spoken, they resumed going down the hallway. And soon there was indeed a door to the right. Inside was a broom, a bucket, a dustpan, and a single bottle of a cleaning spray with its label partially peeled off. There wasn’t a single thing about the tiny space itself or any of its contents that implied that there was anything secret hidden in it. Luigi almost didn’t believe it because normally when he found a hidden thing, there was something about the area that seemed off. This just seemed like a forgotten closet.

Bowser Jr. strode inside and gestured for Luigi and Gooigi to join him. It was a bit small but they all fit reasonably well. If Gooigi was bothered by being squished into the door a little, they didn’t show it.

“Don’t watch,” Bowser Jr. said, facing the rare wall. “You don’t need to know all of the castle’s secrets.”

Luigi didn’t bother arguing and just looked away. Gooigi, ever compliant, did so too. There were a few seconds of silence followed by a click and then the sound of stone moving. Luigi waited until it was done before looking over. The entire back wall had moved, revealing a tiny room with a wooden trap door taking up most of its floor space.

“You go in first in case there are ghosts on the other side,” Bowser Jr. said as he pulled it open, revealing a dark hole and a ladder leading down into it.

To his credit, Luigi only trembled a little as he tiptoed closer to shine his light down into it. There wasn’t much to see, the hole didn’t allow for much view of the room below. There certainly didn’t seem to be any ghosts immediately present though so… He carefully holstered the flash light onto the side of the Poltergust and started down. There was just barely enough room for him to fit with the Poltergust on his back.

The ladder was old and rusty. He didn’t trust it one bit as it creaked and groaned every time he put weight on a new rung. But somehow, he made it to the bottom without mishap.

Stepping away from it, he hurriedly pulled out the flash light again and switched it on. He was in a bare stone room not much bigger than the closet above. There was no visible exit or means of opening one; another secret for sure then.

Gooigi made a sound from above. Before Luigi could even glance up at them though they splatted down on the floor in front him. Apparently, they’d chosen not to bother with the ladder and just jump down instead. The impact was enough that they lost some of the form in their legs but they quickly shook it off, even giving Luigi a thumbs up.

Luigi almost wanted to scold them for being reckless when they were so fragile. But they were made of goo and thus it’d probably take a much longer fall to damage them. Instead, he looked up to watch Bowser Jr. descend. Which took maybe a grand total of five seconds because not even quite halfway down he decided to jump off too, giving Luigi another spike of anxiety because who did that? Luigi of course reached out to catch him but was a bit too slow and a bit too far away.

It didn’t matter though because Bowser Jr. stuck the landing. He even did a little satisfied giggle before turning to one of the bare stone walls. “Turn away again,” he said, his tone that of someone used to being obeyed without question; a bit annoying but not unexpected.

“You shouldn’t jump off ladders,” Luigi said as he obeyed. “It’s dangerous.”

“Ugh, you sound like Papa and Kamek except worse because all I did was jump off a ladder.”

“It’s dangerous.”

Bowser Jr. didn’t reply. If Luigi had to guess, he was probably rolling his eyes. Whatever though, he was only Luigi’s responsibility until at latest Bowser was saved and King Boo dealt with.

A few seconds later there another sound of grinding stone. Turning back around to look once it was done revealed that it led into another closet, this one completely empty. Stepping around Bowser Jr. and past Gooigi, Luigi took the lead once more.

The closet exited out into… what had to be a store room judging based off the wall of crates in front of him a lot of which had the Bullet-Bill logo printed on the side facing him. Meaning this was likely a room full of explosives. Great, another thing to be anxious about. It’d probably be fine though, right? They’d been fine down here this long after all.

On the other side of the wall of boxes indistinct noise could be heard. Motioning for silence from Gooigi but mostly Bowser Jr. as the two of them fell in behind him, Luigi tiptoed over to where the wall of crates ended, allowing him to peek around them at the source of the noise.

Ghosts, naturally; a bigger group of them than any Luigi had had to deal with so far on this adventure but far from the biggest group he’d ever had to take out. They were all turned away from him, seemingly looking at and perhaps arguing over something on the wall that Luigi couldn’t quite make out through them. … He could easily sneak past them to the other side of the room.

He shouldn’t though, right? He didn’t want them sneaking up on him later and they needed to be cleared out. But… he was just trying to pass through right now to whatever secret passage led to Bowser’s room. So maybe he could justify sneaking past for now and coming back later? …

There was a bark at his feet. It was Polterpup. Where he’d suddenly come from was unknown but… looking back up, Luigi flinched and maybe even squeaked a little; all the ghosts were looking at him and they weren’t happy to see him.

[Pretend the first boss fight is written here. It starts as a group of ghosts and then the boss comes out. It isn’t difficult or all that special, the first boss never is.]

Turns out the thing the ghosts had been looking at on the wall was a portrait. Which wasn’t unusual by itself, the stronger ghosts tended to either be put in charge of or gravitate to the portraits, but the fact that it was a portrait of boos was very odd. There were five of them, the foremost of which had a flag on its head.

It was strange and didn’t make sense. Why would King Boo turn some of his boos into a portrait? I didn’t really matter though as long as they stayed in the portrait. Luigi had no desire to investigate further lest it be trap. But as he turned away…

“The boo squad!” Bowser Jr. said as, the cost clear, he was able to come out from behind the crates. He ran over to join Luigi and Gooigi standing near the portrait. “They’ll be a great help. Now how do you work the dark light thingy or whatever you called it?” He looked down to start fiddling with his flashlight, quickly finding the right button because there weren’t many.

“No, no, no,” Luigi said, quickly stepping between him and the portrait. “Don’t do that!”

Bowser Jr. gave him a genuinely confused frown. “Why not?”

“They’re boos!�� A whole group of them too. With Gooigi he had a good chance of being able to handle them but he’d rather not if he didn’t have to. “They’re what we’re here to fight.”

“They’re Papa’s minions though. They’re loyal to him and thus me too. If that wasn’t the case they wouldn’t be in a painting. Trust me, I know them.”

“I’m not risking it. We can free them after we deal with King Boo, okay?” It was far too much to risk and Luigi would rather have nothing to do with boos regardless of who’s minions they were.

Bowser Jr. scowled. “I didn’t ask your opinion on the matter. They’re basically my minions so I’m going to free them.”

Luigi had to physically grab the flashlight to keep him from switching on the dark light and stepping around him. Bowser Jr. unsurprisingly didn’t let go though, yanking back on it with a growl instead. Luigi was going to stand his ground though and yanked right back. He was the professional ghost hunter here, he was calling the shots and Bowser’s minions or not, he refused to risk freeing the boos right now.

“No,” he said, proud of how firm he was in it. “Not happening. You came to me for help so I get to…” A boo laughed behind him, making him cut off with a small yelp. And he surrendered his hold on the flashlight as more boos swooped in to surround him and Bowser Jr.

He snapped around to confirm that yes, they were from the portrait. Gooigi was just switching off their dark light, turning to face him and give him a thumbs up. Of all the people who’d disagree with his stance on this, he never would’ve suspected Gooigi. They had indeed come a long way from the near mindless blob they’d been when E. Gadd had first introduced them. Which made them all the more mysterious.

“Thank you for coming to rescue us Young Lord,” the boo with the flag, clearly the leader of the group, said.

“You’re very welcome.” Bowser Jr.’s smug filled voice matched his grin as Luigi turned back around to face him. “Now uh… report. Yes, report to me about what happened.”

“King Boo invaded the dungeons. When we approached him, he asked us to betray Lord Bowser and join him in taking over the castle. We didn’t of course, we would never betray Lord Bowser. There wasn’t much we could do against him since it was only us and one other unit there at the time and thus, we got turned into a portrait. However, we were aware inside the painting so we sort of know what happened but not all of it.”

While he spoke, Luigi very carefully sidled his way out of the ring of boos. The fact that they were loyal to Lord Bowser and therefore technically allies here didn’t make them any less scary. And in his opinion it still hadn’t been worth the risk. He glanced at Gooigi, intending to give them a disapproving look but… he couldn’t mad at them. They had to have their own reasons for trusting Bowser Jr.’s promise that these boos were worth freeing and their judgement on it had turned out to be right.

“My dad’s been turned into a painting,” Bowser Jr. said in reply. To his credit, his voice barely faltered. “So have most of if not all the minions in the castle, all of the Koopalings, Kamek and all his Magikoopas as far as I know. I had to go out to get help from a professional ghost hunter. I know he doesn’t seem like much right now but Luigi’s beaten up King Boo three whole times now which is why I went to him. Now you guys are going to help us. Stay hidden and find where King Boo put all the paintings and then report it back to us so we can save everyone. Also, if you find where King Boo is hiding out, report that to us too. Same with anything else that you think might be good for us to know.”

“Understood!” Flag Boo lifted one of his little arms in a military salute. “You guys heard the Young Lord,” he said, addressing his squad now, “it’s time to help save Lord Bowser again.” He then sprouted off quick orders of who was going to search what floor/area. As soon as he was done, the boos scattered, zooming off in different directions.

As soon as no trace of them remained Bowser Jr. stuck out his tongue to blow a raspberry at Luigi, even lifting a hand to make an L by his head. After how competently he’d just commanded his dad’s underlings, it was almost kind of funny.

Not in the mood to deal with him right now, Luigi looked away as he shook off the chills being around so many boos had given him. Wordlessly, he started for the general direction of he hoped would be the store room’s exit, trusting the other two to follow him.

Sorry for skipping the boss fight but I just couldn't write it. Like I said though, I'm hoping the finale will at least sort of make up for it.

#My writing #super mario bros #Luigi's Mansion #Luigi #Bowser Jr.#captain boo

12 notes · View notes

psycho-slytherin · 4 years

Text

Strangers ch. 38

Surprising the boys for dinner doesn’t quite go as planned.

Pairing: Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 2k

Genre: fluff, angst

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

Yoongi clears his throat, leaning against the doorframe. His hair is messy, his pale cheeks tinged red. “I mean… What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“Th-the door was unlocked,” you breathe, feeling as though you walked in on him doing something a lot more intimate than recording. His appearance does not help. If you hadn’t just heard him rapping, you’d think he was, well… “I- you said we could do dinner.”

“And you said probably not, so we figured you were busy. We have the night off, the guys are all out…” Yoongi looks around as though hoping one of the members will pop out of the woodwork.

“Oh.” You get the hint– clearly he wants you to leave. “Sorry. I’ll be going, then–”

“Ah, shit. Sorry, no, you don’t have to.” Yoongi scratches his head. “I just wasn’t expecting- I mean, I look like a mess-”

You laugh, reaching up to ruffle his hair further. “You look like you’ve spent hours in this studio. It’s a cute aesthetic, though. Your fans would go crazy over it.”

“Does that include you?” Yoongi replies, now back to his teasing self.

You feel your heartbeat quicken. “Nah. Anyways, I should be going–”

“Hey, wait.” Yoongi tugs at your arm as you turn to leave. “Stay. I don’t mind. Maybe you’ll inspire-” he shuts up, pressing his lips together.

“Maybe I’ll what?”

“Nothing. Are you hungry? I’m starved, let’s order pizza.”

“Sounds good,” You reply, following him to the living room. “Hey, are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” Yoongi raises a brow. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I mean, we’re alone…”

Yoongi laughs. “Are you worried about the paparazzi? They can’t get up here, it’s okay. Besides, we are supposed to be dating.”

You relax a bit. In truth, you were nervous that he’d think it improper to hang out alone, especially now that you’re single again. You should have known– of course it wouldn’t be an issue, he only sees you as one of the guys. Almost to underline your insecurities, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the living room mirror: bundled up in all your layers, you look like a potato with legs. Of course. Surrounded by beautiful idols every day, it makes sense that Yoongi would barely consider you a girl.

You blink hard, forcing yourself back into Friend Mode.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” You race to snag the comfiest armchair, Yoongi’s favorite, for yourself. “A girl needs her pizza!”

Yoongi orders and returns to the living room, sticking his tongue out at you when he realizes where you’ve sat. “So how have you been?” he asks, stretching out on the couch.

You yawn. “Since I last saw you? Just did some Moon Over the Sea filming and the cologne shoot.”

“Oh yeah, how’d those go?”

You think of being brought to tears during filming at the thought of Yoongi being gone from your life. Of Jeongyeon commenting on how you and Yoongi would never stay together, how you’re hardly a couple at all. Of sitting on Wonho’s lap, half-clothed, your lips brushing his skin. “Fine. How about you?”

“Pretty good. Promotions went well, our Japanese fans really liked the new song. We won three awards, which is nice.”

“Wow, we stan global superstars,” you laugh, and Yoongi draws himself up.

“No need to sound so sarcastic.”

“I’m your friend, darling. I’m literally the only one allowed to sound sarcastic. Y’all are killing it, everyone knows that.” You flop upside down, letting your legs dangle off one arm of the chair while your head rests on the other. “Hey, what were you recording just now?”

Yoongi freezes. “What? You heard it?”

“Not the whole thing, just a bit of your sixteenth or seventeenth or whateverteenth take,” you snicker. “And it was good, really good.”

��Oh, thanks.”

“Can I listen to the rest of it?”

Yoongi coughs. “Nah, I don’t think you’d like it. I don’t know if I’ll include it in the mixtape anyways; I think I was just venting into the mic.”

“Isn’t that how all the best diss tracks are made? I remember listening to Cypher 2 and just about dying during your verse.”

“It’s not really a diss track…”

You sit up. “Really? It sounded so angry.”

“Yeah, well, I was feeling angry.”

“Why?”

A knock at the door interrupts your conversation. “Oh, pizza’s here,” Yoongi says, rising. He returns a few minutes later with a large veggie pizza. The smell makes your mouth water– you didn’t realize how hungry you were.

“Fucking yes. Ugh. Food. Yes. Give.” You reach out and take Yoongi’s offered slice, almost moaning when you take your first bite. You’ve been on edge all day– and if anxiety burned calories, you’d be on par with the Flash this week.

“No need to sound so turned on,” Yoongi laughs. “You’re worse than Seokjin hyung.”

“You’re just jealous that the pizza’s getting more action from your girlfriend than you are,”

Yoongi coughs. “Keep talking like that and we’ll forget that this whole relationship is fake, y/n.”

“Heh, my bad.” You were just joking, but the discomfort in Yoongi’s voice… did you take it too far? Your friendship has always been dumb, and a little flirtatious, but now that you’re actually supposed to be together, it makes sense that Yoongi wants to draw a few hard lines in the sand. He’s right, things can’t get too blurry. He’s right, you’re not really dating. He’s right.

It’s not real.

And hey, why would you even want it to be real? If you fell for Yoongi, it would be like admitting that all along, you really were just a fangirl, just another ARMY obsessed with BTS’ Suga.

Besides, even if I did like him, you think ruefully, he probably wouldn’t believe me. It’s not like you have any trust left in the bank. Man, you’ve gotta work on being a better friend.

Speaking of…

You look around and click your tongue. “Dammit. I was hoping to see Jimin tonight, Lisa wanted another video of him.”

“He can just send you something later.” Yoongi turns on the TV and tosses you a blanket. “Here, I know you’re cold. And hey, are you sure Lisa’s not posting those videos anywhere?”

You shake your head. “I follow her on all her socials. I definitely would’ve seen it if she had. Besides, I trust her.” Sure, she’s been a little absent these last few days, but she’s still Lisa, your best friend. Now that you think of it, her birthday is coming up– maybe you’ll arrange a video call with Jimin for her?

“Aight.” Yoongi flicks off the lights and grabs for the remote. “What do you want to watch?”

You chew on your pizza crust thoughtfully. “La La Land?”

The rapper snorts. “Really?”

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for well-spoken pianists. And fast rises to fame.”

“And here I thought you would’ve wanted a happy ending. I mean, the musician doesn’t even end up with the actress.”

“Happy endings are for suckers.” You press a hand to your forehead, dragging out your words dramatically. “You don’t understand me, Mom. Emotions aren’t real. Nothing matters, life is meaningless.”

“Oh god, you usually don’t bring out Emo Y/n until you’re at least two drinks in,” Yoongi groans good-naturedly.

You laugh, sitting back up. “Just play the damn movie, dumbass.”

The opening to Another Day of Sun starts playing, and… is it your imagination, or is Yoongi tapping along, as though it’s his hands at the keyboard?

Dork. You allow yourself a small smile in the dark room. If someone had told you, just a year ago, that you would be having movie nights with BTS’s Suga, acting alongside your ultimate idol, and– even just in character– kissing said idol, you would’ve thought they were batshit insane.

But now… Yoongi’s so pretty, in a thousand ways you never noticed through your screen. The timber of his voice when he wakes up with a hangover, the surprised delight of a particularly good pun, the sleepy whispers during your late-night phone calls. You would never have known that when he’s stressed, he clenches his fists so tightly his nails leave crescent moons on his palms. You could only have guessed at how much he swears in real life, how when he’s recording in his studio he leaves his phone in his room to avoid distractions.

The members are good at meshing their onstage and offstage personalities, sure. But Yoongi and Suga are like day and night to you now.

“I’m so lucky,” you murmur, as Emma Stone twirls happily in her yellow dress.

“Where did that come from?” Yoongi asks, tossing a pillow at you. You bat at it lazily, only half watching the movie.

“It’s just pretty crazy, huh? How far we’ve come?”

“Psh, that it is. Thank goodness your shoe broke that night.”

You lift your hand to your throat, rubbing the Starry Night charm on its new chain. “Thank goodness I told you the truth eventually.” And in that moment, with the movie on and the lights low, with your belly full and nighttime settling on the city, you feel equal parts strong and vulnerable. It’s always the dark with us, isn’t it?

“Fame, flashlight– gi-give it to me!”

“Gah!” You jump and fumble for your phone. Shit. Shit. Why wasn’t it on vibrate?

Yoongi, of course, bursts out laughing. “You’re kidding me. Y/n, that’s your ringtone?”

“Shut up,” you hiss, answering the call. You don’t like picking up unknown numbers, but it could be a job offer. “Hello?”

A deep voice you don’t recognize responds. “Hello, may I speak to l/n y/n?”

“This is she.”

“My name is Detective Kang, with the Seoul Police Department. I need to interview you here at the station at your earliest convenience. Would you be able to come in tonight, or perhaps tomorrow?”

Your heart seems to pause. “Police?” You immediately think back to all of your recent actions– you definitely paid for your groceries, and the rent, and the medicine for your injured leg. Hell, you haven’t so much as jaywalked in the last week. Did you accidentally break the law somehow?

On hearing your voice, Yoongi sits up. “Y/n? Is everything okay?”

“You’re not under any suspicion, ma’am,” Detective Kang continues. “We believe you may be able to contribute to a case. This will just be an interview– you’re not legally required to come in.”

“A case? But, um, how can I help?”

“Well, I’m with the Missing Persons division, and–”

A sense of dread fills your stomach and clouds your mind at the detective’s words. Missing Persons? What?

“-We hope you may be able to provide us with some insight as to the recent disappearance of Lalisa Manoban.”

Your heart, which was pounding hard in your chest, now seems to have left your body entirely.

“Lisa’s… missing?”

122 notes · View notes

fauveshumankaiju · 4 years

Text

Jet Jaguar stops a crime

Nothing - no sound - except for the rumble of the patrol car's engine and the crunch of tires on gravel, as the station wagon headed down the street that demarcated downtown Monsuta from the beachfront. Gigan's head was pounding, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the wedge of pain pressed against the inside of his temple. He leaned his head against the window, cool from the night air. There was hair in his mouth, and blood in his mouth, too.

The cop sitting behind the metal net hadn't spoken to him since he'd cuffed him and gallantly invited him into the back seat to take him down to the station. Gigan joked that he needed his frequent flier card stamped, since it would be the third time he'd spend the night in the closet-sized holding cell for getting into a fight during which Jet Jaguar appeared, like magic, to intervene in other people's business yet again. The cop couldn't take a hit worth a damn, but he had a wicked left hook and a police baton that really left a mark. Gigan used to mock him about it before they started grappling - buy me a drink first before you pull out the toys, big boy - but tonight they'd just gotten right down to it. Fights were always fast with Jet Jaguar, he didn't showboat like Goji and Gigan. All business, no play.

Do you ever take a night off? Iron your underwear? Darn your dickies? Gigan'd sneered. Then he'd gotten knocked out for, like, five seconds, with a club upside the head. He didn't even remember that Megalon'd been there when he came to. He’d been left alone against fucking Goji, the human grain thresher. Megalon was a big guy, he'd grown up in Monsuta and he knew how to protect himself, Gigan knew, but still, it was always the two of them against Goji until Gigan had let himself get distracted by his favorite new toy. And Megalon? he'd do whatever Gigan told him to. As usual.

Gigan looked over at the seat next to him, empty, flashing as they passed by streetlamp outside.

"Did you see where Megalon went?" He asked. His mouth was flooded with thin coppery blood and stinging pain again. He'd bitten his cheek. "After you arrested me, you know." Silence from the front seat. Gigan exhaled through pursed lips.

"Hey, it wasn't his fault. I dragged him into this shit. I just hope he didn't get piledrived back there. Do you ever get bothered knowing that Goji's better at keeping the peace round here than you ever will be? Huh?"

More silence. Oh, this was the game he was playing. Gigan was in a mood, though, and he was pretty good at getting what he wanted.

"What are you even here for, man? We never had any cops here when we needed them, now as soon as we're cleaning up our act they stick the most useless pig in the bunch here to slap us around. And you can't even do your job! You got taken out by fucking Megalon! If you meant business, you could have cleaned up this whole city by now! How many times have you taken me in then let me out with fucking community service? Jesus christ, when are you gonna suck it up and do something about all of us monsters, the villains, the ghetto, illiterate unworthy - the scum that you were sent here to put in jail so that you all can lead your perfect little bougie lives and forget about the people that got beaten down and left behind? But you're not gonna do that, are you?"

Still no comment. The heater in the front seat hissed quietly.

Gigan continued, leaning back into the chair vituperously. "You're too nice. No, you're too weak, Jaguar. You wanna get kittens down from trees and shit, eat donuts and get fat, get a nice cushy job where you can forget the guns and tasers and batons that keep you guys in power, but god forbid you actually have to get off your ass and use them. You're just going to keep letting Goji do your dirty work because you're too precious to do it yourself. You're never gonna get our town's respect. You're never gonna get her respect. You don't deserve it. But thank god, you can die alone and useless knowing that you got to be nice."

He let that hang in the air. His cheek was bleeding again, staining his gums with the taste of salt. Jet Jaguar moved, behind the metal screen, and Gigan saw him slowly adjust the mirror above him, fidgeting with it so that he and Gigan could see each other's eyes. Gigan still had his visor on, glowing faintly in the night-time darkness, and he could just barely see the cop's face. He shifted back into his seat, feeling anger and bitterness clawing at the inside of his chest.

"What?" He spat.

A moment. Then, "Do you feel any better now?"

"No. I think you concussed me. I need to get medical attention."

Jet Jaguar's eyes flicked forward and he continued driving. Gigan licked the front of his teeth. "Did you hear me?"

"... Megalon's okay. Goji doesn't have a problem with him, she'll leave him alone."

"Don't fucking talk about Megalon."

"You asked, Gigan."

Gigan rolled his head back. The leather headrest was cool and tacky against his bare scalp. ".. Yeah."

"If you want, I'll call him and have him pick you up at the station if you can make bail."

"Doubt it."

They stopped at an intersection. The rest of the street was completely deserted, illuminated by the ghostly red glow from the streetlight. The adrenaline was wearing off, and as it slipped out of his veins it took that inchoate anger with him, too. He was tired, now, aching all over. His head rang, his meat-arm was bruised, his prosthetic arm needed to be sanded down.

"He must really care about you."

Gigan blinked. "Megalon?"

"Yeah."

"Mm."

"Good friend."

Gigan closed his eyes. "Don't talk about him."

"Why?"

"Because!" he snapped. "You don't - ugh!"

"I don't deserve too?" Jet Jaguar asked, softly and with no accusatory inflection. Like it was a normal thing to say.

Gigan pursed his lips. "You don't know how it is, man."

Silence from the front seat.

"You just don't. I don't either." Another moment, more rasping breaths. "He's good. He's a good person."

"Yeah?"

"Not like, not like - nice, you know. You're nice. He's good. There's a difference." Gigan gesticulated, rattling the handcuffs. "The main difference being that he doesn't piss me off nearly as much as you do."

Jet Jaguar huffed in what Gigan thought might possibly be amusement.

Gigan looked out the window, watching the telephone poles roll slowly past. The cop sure wasn't burning rubber on the way to the station tonight, was he? "I mean, he gets on my fucking nerves sometimes. He's not the brightest, book-wise - or street-wise, either, really. I dunno how he's survived this long with nothing going on up in the old skull. I guess he always found assholes like me to hang out with and keep him safe."

"It doesn't seem to me like you're keeping him safe."

"Hey, don't start with me," Gigan grumbled. "You're the one who beat us up."

No response. "Sure, we were committing a crime, but come on."

Jet Jaguar didn't respond.

"Okay, yeah. I don't always keep him safe. But this is Monsuta, nobody's safe. Even the people that are supposed to keep us safe -" he gestured to Jet Jaguar, clinking his cuffs together "-are more worried about knocking us down than helping us up. You've got to be smart and tough and he's only kind of tough."

"He's good."

"N-yeah, I mean, he's a good person. I think he wants to do the right thing, he wants to help people, but that's not really possible here. Not that I make it easy for him." He thought for a moment, looking out the window at the streets he'd stalked through so many evenings. "I don't think I'm a good person, you know. Megalon, he wants to help people. He wants to do his thing at Seatopia and keep all his animals safe, I don't know, teach people about aquariums and shit and keep to himself. He doesn't want to hurt people. I just-" he sighed. "I'm not like that. I like hurting people. I'm a bad person. I don't always wanna be, even though it keeps me safe here it makes me feel like shit when I get him into trouble." He tried to say it in a matter-of-fact tone, but it came out a little warbled, a little raw. He'd thought it plenty of times before; it was a mantra in his head, you're a bad person, you're a bad person, but he'd never said it out loud like he meant it.

"You don't sound happy about that," Jet Jaguar said conversationally after an awkward amount of time had passed. Gigan blinked.

"What, should I be proud of the fact that I'm a monster that ruins everything in my life?" He wiggled his prosthetic fingers weakly. "I can't even keep myself in one piece, man. I don't know why I keep trying to hold onto things, hold on to people, when I'm just going to destroy them eventually. Useless."

"Seems to me like a bad person wouldn't be worrying about whether or not they're a bad person, right?"

"Oh, fuck off it," Gigan sneered.

"Just saying."

Gigan picked at one of the scratches across his prosthetic arm, worrying at the edge of a tear in the plastic. "I want." He took a breath, then started again. "I wish I could be better. I don't care about being nice, niceness never did anything for anyone. But I wish I could've been born a good person. A better one."

The car rolled to a stop. Gigan was still looking at the ceiling, wondering why the hell he was having a heart-to-heart with the police officer that knocked him out and arrested him (again) at three in the morning. He looked out when he heard rustling. Time to get out and head to the cell for the night. Ah, he could already feel the metal bars of the cot there digging into his shoulders from under the wafer-thin mattress. Thank god there was only one cop in town, who only had enough time to arrest one person per night.

Jet Jaguar was looking at him, framed by the heavy metal mesh, barely visible in the low light. He looked tired, a little resigned.

They weren't at the police station, Gigan noted.

"Did you take me out here to kill me?" he asked, annoyed. They were by the beach; the concession stand was only a few yards away.

"You aren't born a good person, Gigan," Jet Jaguar said, with the tone of voice that an exhausted parent would use for their inconsolable baby. "It's not genetic, and it has nothing to do with where you grew up. Megalon grew up here - Mothra grew up here - and they're good people, Gigan, right down to the very core. And it's not because they were born that way."

Gigan wanted to interrupt, but something about the cop's tone - how it was sad and a little desperate instead of how preachy it usually was - quieted him.

"You make choices every day, little choices, big, life-changing choices, and you have two options. You can to the good thing, or the less good thing. You get to decide what rules you use to tell which one's good and which one's less good, the golden rule, some kind of religious scripture, but you get a choice, and the good one's almost always harder. Good people are just the people that look at that choice and decide to do the thing that's a little more good and a little less easy, or less pleasant, or less remunerative. And you keep doing that over and over until you don't have any more choices. Most of those choices aren't ever going to count for anything, but if you practice with the little things - recycling your coffee cup, that kind of thing - then the big hard good choices are easier. That's all it is. Choices. Making the good choice as much as you can."

He turned back to the steering wheel. "Birth doesn't have anything to do with it, thank god. You've got your choices, Gigan, you can choose the better thing whenever you want. Any time you're ready to start.

Gigan rubbed his eye. His hand came away with a streak of motor oil. "Hate that, chief."

"It's the truth." The cop turned back around and undid the latch to the door of the screen separating the two of them and leaned into the back seat, grunting with exertion.

"Seriously, are you gonna kill me?"

"Nope." He held up his little key so that Gigan could see it glinting red in the light from his visor. "Hands." Gigan presented his handcuffs, holding them up so that Jet Jaguar could fumble for the keyhole in the darkness and unlock them with a deafening click.

"What's this?" Gigan asked. Everyone in Monsuta knew that gifts like this didn't come without a price, especially from cops. Jet Jaguar took the handcuffs and maneuvered himself back into the front seat, still facing Gigan like he was peering through a little window.

"This would be your third felony physical assault on a police officer. You'll be tried in the state court instead of the local one this time, and I can tell you, they don't look very kind at all on violence against the force. You're looking down the barrel of 10 to 15, more, if they decide to make an example out of you for your preexisting record. There's nothing any of us could do to stop it if you got booked for it tonight."

Gigan looked out the window. He vaguely remembered being warned about the three strikes policy last time he was brought in, but he was too worked up about Megalon leaving his precious Suzuki in the middle of the road when he'd gotten arrested that he didn't pay much attention to it.

"... Yeah, that sounds about right."

Jet Jaguar sighed. "See, this is my choice. Jail's not going to do anything good for you. It'll make me feel a hell of a lot better, but really, you didn't do 10 to 15 years' worth of damage to me. You might hurt other people in the future, but.. I don't know." He shook his head. "It'd be a lot easier to put you in jail and forget about you. It's what I'm supposed to do. But I don't know if it's a good thing to do. I think - and I'm not trying to be your youth pastor or anything - I think you could give the whole being a good person thing one more real, good try. It'd be a lot better for the world to have you out here trying than in jail, failing."

There was a click as Jet Jaguar unlocked the cars' doors.

"So go on, get out. I need to go home and ice my head."

Gigan gave him a long look, clenching his sore jaw, torn between spitting this aching, condescending pity back in his face, and taking what scraps of decency he'd been thrown and running with it. He deserved to go down. He'd committed enough crimes to warrant jail, definitely. It'd be an honorable way to go, in Monsuta, put in jail for the rest of your life for punching too many cops. But that would be the easy choice. Easy to give up, because bad people could never change and it wasn't worth the extra few weeks he'd scrape by with before he got his third strike. Easy to accept that petty thievery and violence was the best that his life was going to come to; honestly, who expected any better from him? Not Gigan, that's for sure.

Would it be the good choice to make, though?

Oh, for fuck's sake, he was already starting to think like Jet Jaguar. You beat a guy up a couple of times...

He leaned over and snapped the car handle defiantly, heaving up a leg to kick the door open and lurching out into the cool night air. Jet Jaguar had driven them up to the curb on the beach - Gigan could see Goji's house from here, the lights inside flickering in the distance, Monsuta spread out beyond Jet Jaguar's patrol car. He slammed the door closed after himself.

"Hey," Jet Jaguar said collegially, rolling down the window an inch and peering out. He was smiling. "Have a good night. And don't do anything Megalon wouldn't."

The cop rolled up the window and started the car, rolling off down the driveway and back onto the street. Gigan watched him go, not entirely willing to believe that he wasn't going to turn right around and pick him back up again once Jet Jaguar realized what he'd done. But he didn't, and Gigan was left out on the beach next to the darkened concession stand, listening to the waves lapping at the shore.

Megalon would be making his way back to his apartment now, if he wasn't back already, Gigan thought. Probably waiting for Gigan to call him from the holding cell asking for bail again. He thought of his open, eager face and his soft broad shoulders, his soft broad decency, and suddenly wanted to bury himself in the fuzzy lining of his oversized jacket. Don't do anything Megalon wouldn't.

Okay, he thought. I think I can do that. Okay.

#gigan quietly: what the fuck what the fuuuuuck #alt name: sorry about the blood in your mouth #alt alt name: gigan JJ buddy cop heart to heart #writing #I'm sorry this is COMPLETELY UNBETAD except for the spellcheck on this computer sdhkjdhf #just take it... I'm tirèd #ok im a lil proud of the ~2 hrs of work that went into this illustration-story combo #gigan #JJ

16 notes · View notes

frickfracksnatchisback · 5 years

Text

Craving Soul Food

This is the “snippet” I’ve been working on! (It turned into like 10 pages which is just typical of me) The whole premise is that Snatcher’s hungry and he tries to get some food. Funny shenanigans happen and soul eating is weird. Hope you enjoy!

***

As Snatcher stood at his full height the owl beneath him cowered in fear. It’s small, feathery body shook like a leaf as blue fire erupted in a circle around it. The fire was a bit unnecessary, Snatcher thought to himself, but it added way more dramatic effect. Not to mention it made the owl’s pleads for mercy much more entertaining!

“P-please! I swear I’ll never come back ever again!” it whimpered as the fire grew taller around it.

“Sorry, a deal’s a deal! Besides, you didn’t really think I was going to let you go did you?” Snatcher cackled, delighting in the owl’s dread and fear. “This is MY FOREST, MY TERRITORY, AND MY RULES! If you thought you were going to get out alive you’re a FOOL!” He yelled, his voice making the owl tighten into a quivering mess on the ground.

“But...but I’ve never done anything wrong!” the owl begged again.

“Oh I know that, I know that all too well.” Snatcher said as his expression quickly changed from happy to annoyed. “But the innocent get no say in the matter, we all die eventually.” his voice was sinister and bitter, as if the owl’s words offended him. “Whether by natural means or…by force, we all meet our cruel end at some point.” Snatcher grumbled, his mind trailing off to other things. A certain time to be precise. A time were things were so pleasant and simple...

The owl looked up at him, confused as to why it wasn’t dead yet.

“Anyways” Snatcher said as he cleared his throat. “Where was I? Oh yes! I was going to get to killing you and devouring your soul!” he continued as his grin grew wider. The owl screamed and started to sob uncontrollably. And before the owl could make another attempt to feebly beg for its life, Snatcher snapped his claws prominently. A bolt of purple lightening struck the poor bird, the deed was done.

The nightmare realm dissolved around Snatcher and the lifeless body of the dead owl. Snatcher clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. I had been awhile since he had a good meal, and he was starving! People didn’t come to visit his forest too often, probably because it was the most haunted place on the planet. But that also meant that food was scarce and Snatcher was dying (haha) to get some souls in him.

“C’mon, c’mon! Any minute now...” Snatcher watched the owl’s body with unbridled anticipation. And, as if on cue, a bright flash of light erupted from the owl’s body. The soul was beginning to take shape, Snatcher could barely control himself. His eyes widened with glee as out of the owl’s body floated-

A disappointment.

Snatcher’s grin fell swiftly as the soul of the owl floated up a measly few inches. The soul was a cold, unforgiving, light gray. A shade gray that felt like a smack in the face to him. The soul’s face was depressed with the movements to match. It simply floated in spot, not caring enough to even test its boundaries.

“Noooooo...” Snatcher whined as his arms fell to his sides. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” he groaned as the owl’s soul looked back at him pitifully. Snatcher grabbed the soul by the tail, it didn’t even seem to struggle. He lifted the soul up until the two were face-to-face with each other. “You’re absolutely useless, you know that?” he growled at it. The soul kept quiet, not like it was able to respond anyways. “I suppose you do.” Snatcher answered for it, utterly disgraced at what he was dealing with.

Souls were fickle things, this much Snatcher knew. They came in all sorts of different shapes, sizes, even flavors. They were what made a person, but that didn’t mean they were said person. They were more like...memories. Bits and pieces of a person’s life glued together into one, small ball of power. And, depending on who you were in a past life, your soul would vary. And if you so happened to meet a tragic enough fate, your soul could manifest and come back as a spirit. A completely new being stuck with the memories of their past life and an infinite lifespan. Which, in hindsight, sounds pretty bad when you think about it for too long. But you get used to it.

That wasn’t true for most souls, though.

Other people, who weren’t as lucky, would simply have their souls float out of their body with no where to go. They had no body to control anymore, which made the outside world very disorienting. And they couldn’t do anything that a ghost could since they weren’t powerful enough to come back as one. Usually a normal soul would act like a whole different creature. Floating in every direction, spinning in circles, wailing like baby separated from its mother. It was a rather entertaining sight to watch!

But not this time, unfortunately.

Snatcher rolled the soul over in the palm of his hand. It didn’t even let out so much as a peep as he squeezed it with his claws. “You couldn’t have been at least a tint of blue?” he said rather forlornly. Blues souls were that of pure-hearted people, people who only did good deeds in life. They were hard to come by, not many people were born innocent after all. But they tasted sweet like the mortal equivalent of candy. He didn’t really have a sweet tooth at the moment, but it would be better than this sad thing. Maybe this soul was just a very light shade of blue and he didn’t notice?

He looked the soul over again, hoping he was wrong about its color. Nope, it was still gray. He flicked the soul out of his hand. It shot away, held itself in the air for a little bit, and sunk down. He grabbed the soul back, and squeezed it again in spite. He then sighed the heaviest of sighs, looked like this was all he was getting for now. How could it have come to this of all things?

“Pathetic, really. Were you that boring of an owl?” he asked it one last question. It continued to stare back at him with a look of Please eat me already. “Fine, I get it. We all have to eat eventually, I guess.” he droned on before reluctantly opening his mouth. He hesitated before popping the soul inside, wanting to get it over with quickly. He swallowed fast, the soul sliding down his throat with ease. He gulped it down and stuck out his tongue in disgust.

“Yuck.” he said with his tongue still out, he didn’t expect it to taste that bad. The taste of souls were hard to describe by humans. But if he had to describe this soul’s taste? It was defiantly bland, like a cracker without salt. Souls would at least give him a surge of power afterwards, this one didn’t even have an ounce. But food was food, not like he had much of a choice anyways.

“Well that was absolutely revolting.” he said plainly, still trying to get the taste of of his mouth. He looked back down at the dead owl. “Eh, the minions will take care of it.” he reassured himself and began to float away to some other place. He didn’t really care about where he was heading in his forest. Just anywhere away from that failure of a “meal”.

A low growl stopped Snatcher dead in his tracks. He frantically looked around for any attackers. “Who’s there?” he demanded, immediately summoning blue fire magic from his hands. He scanned the area, being wary of anything that might pounce at him from the trees. Being a shadow helped tremendously, his vision was razor-sharp when it came to the dark.

“I swear if it’s one of you little gremlins...” he grumbled under his breath. But he couldn’t see anything except the trees. There were no minions hiding in the bushes, check. No spiders hanging down from the trees, double check. And not a pair glowing yellow eyes in sight. Well, except his own that is. He squinted his eyes just in case there might be... Nope, not even a pair of glowing red eyes. At least that was quite relieving to know. Snatcher’s magic fire died down and, after a few more minutes of looking around, he turned to leave again.

He heard the growling again, much louder this time. He whipped back around, a stern expression on his face. “Okay, I know I heard that.” he said. “Listen, I’m not here to play games. Come out from wherever you hiding and maybe, just maybe, I’ll make your death less painful.” he smiled evilly as his eyes darted back and forth between the trees. He really wasn’t in the mood for this. After that little “snack”, if one could even call it that, he was in a particularly foul mood. Not to mention he was starting to get a headache and his sides were killing him for some reason. Probably because he was still sleeping in that old armchair-

The growling came back again, this time Snatcher knew what is was. He held his sides in pain as his stomach continued to growl loudly. He felt unbelievably hungry, even more than he did before. “Well that figures.” he said as his stomach finally calmed itself. “I guess I need more than a ‘snack’ to satisfy me, huh?” he said to himself. “Hmm, I’m craving something but I just can’t think of it. And it’s at the tip of my tongue as well...” he pondered as he tapped his claws against his teeth. “Ugh, it’s like I can taste it but I don’t even know what ‘it’ is!” he huffed.

Snatcher realized he was biting his claws.

“Wait a minute...no.” he said as he finally it figured out. “NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!” he shouted and shook his head relentlessly. “I’m not going to, I swore I wasn’t going to! T-there has to be something else!” he said and quickly took to sky.

He soared past the dark, swirling clouds of Subcon’s sky at a frightening speed. The sliver moonlight shone down on him and the stars twinkled in the night. It was absolutely breath-taking, but Snatcher didn’t have time to take the sights in. He was too busy looking for something, anything to have for a meal. Lest he resort to- No! Best not to even think about going there. There had to be at least one poor victim who had gotten stuck in one of his traps again.

He stopped mid-air as he noticed something strange happening below. There were spiders...a whole group of them. They were circling around something, climbing on top of one another in a cluster. He couldn’t see what they were fighting over, they were all blocking his view. As he came closer he could hear the collective scuttling of spider legs. And...chewing noises? Huh, sounded like the spiders were eating something they had managed to catch for themselves. They were defiantly doing better at getting a meal than he was.

Wait a minute...WAS THAT ONE OF HIS TRAPS?!

Snatcher growled in anger as he noticed the broken trap next to the feeding spiders. There was nothing left but a heap of smashed parts on the ground. He was infuriated, he had spent so much time putting that one up! Did they just forget who’s forest this was and who made the rules here? If so, they we about to get one heck of a reminder from him. He landed on the ground, ready to knock some sense into those bug-brains.

“ALRIGHT, PARTY’S OVER!” He spoke up, alerting the spiders to his presence. The spiders turned and hissed at him, angry that their meal had been interrupted. He quickly ignited his hands, this was going to get messy. “Did one of you pests do this?! WHO BROKE MY TRAP?!” he yelled, pointing at the trap in question. The spiders glanced at one another, as if they were trying to put the blame on one of their own. “You know what?! ALL OF YOU ARE DEAD ONCE I’M THROUGH WITH YOU!” he yelled in rage and began to attack the group of spiders.

It was not a pretty sight. Spiders were running in every direction, blue potions were falling and exploding on the ground, and fire was spreading everywhere. Snatcher was burning spiders left and right without any hesitation. They had made him extremely angry and he wasn’t planning on stopping until every spider was dead or he tired himself out. But it didn’t take long before the spiders had either retreated or were nothing but a pile of ashes. The area was a total mess before he finally managed to stop attacking.

“AND STAY OUT!” Snatcher screamed before stopping to catch his breath. He huffed and puffed, feeling absolutely drained of energy. No surprise there, he wasn’t getting his daily dosage of souls in him. And no souls meant less power, and less power meant he would tire very easily. He took a moment to investigate the spot where the spiders had been feasting. There was barely anything left except for a few wet patches on the ground, a few human bones, and some scraps of blue fabric here and there. The fabric was also attached to a few branches on the tree directly in front of him. Striped, blue fabric that looked oddly familiar…

Snatcher froze as he noticed the soul of a Mafia man was hiding from inside the tree-hole.

He dared not to move a muscle as the soul slowly floated out from its hiding. It was a deep, dark gray with piercing red eyes. It looked around and floated here and there, checking to see if the cost was clear. Once it felt safer it began to float closer to the ground, making unintelligible noises as it moved around aimlessly.

This one looked like a much more promising meal. Dark gray souls were that of bad people, much better than the light gray ones. Whatever this Mafia man had done in his life, he had been one tough guy. Not to mention he looked...and smelled delicious. Snatcher’s eyes were locked onto the soul’s movement, like a predator watching its prey. His mouth was watering as he slowly raised his claws up. The soul hadn’t noticed him yet, which gave him the perfect opportunity to attack.

“GIMME!” he yelled as he lunged forward and clamped his claws around the unsuspecting soul. He grinned mischievously as he slowly opened his hands to reveal his catch. But when he opened his hands, there was no soul. He frantically looked around to see where it had gone.

The soul was already flying away from him.

“Wh-WAIT! COME BACK!” he yelled and quickly gave chase. The soul looked back, shrieked in fear, and flew away faster. The two dashed through the forest, ducking and weaving past the trees of the forest. Snatcher was having trouble keeping up with it, the soul getting faster and faster the farther they went. But as low as his strength was, his hunger was much stronger. He felt like he could almost taste sweet victory as he hunted it down. His stomach was growling angrily as he came closer, and closer, and-

Throughout all the chaos, Snatcher noticed that the two were heading towards the swamp.

“NO! No no no-” Snatcher repeated as he quickly tried to catch the soul. He tried grabbing for it, but all he caught was air. He pushed himself to go faster before it reached the outskirts of the swamp. If it got anywhere closer to that place, all hope would be lost. He was right behind it, the soul screaming as it zipped through the air. He reached farther, stretching his hand out to where he could almost-

Snatcher went face-first into a tree as the soul made a sharp turn to the right. He stood stiff for a moment before sliding off the tree and falling flat on the ground. His eyes where dizzy swirls and he could almost see stars. Or where those souls? He groaned as he stood up and rubbed the top of his head.

“Ow...” he said as he shook his head, getting the twigs and leaves out of his hair. He then remembered the soul he was chasing after and scrambled back up. He looked left and right for it, he had lost track of the darn thing. He flew past a few of the trees, this time being careful enough not to bump into them. He did, however, whiz past a group of his minions playing a card game. His speed interrupted them as the wind caused the cards to go flying in every direction. Snatcher could’ve of cared less as he immediately saw the soul floating towards the swamp.

Snatcher watched, horrified, as a giant purple hand raised itself from the murky swamp water. He could do nothing as the hand grabbed the soul out of the air and sunk back down into the depths below. A few large bubbles came up to the surface and popped with a sickening noise. His face was grim as stood he there with his arms hanging limp at his sides. That was his only chance of getting a meal, and now it was drowning in that wretched swamp.

“Hey Boss? Are you…okay?” a voice asked from behind him. It was one of his minions, specifically the one that was part of the card playing group. The rest of the group was farther behind, watching from behind the trees or in bushes. “B-boss? You there?” the minion asked again, keeping their distance. Snatcher was silent, his eyes glued to the spot were the soul had been dragged down. He clenched his fists and started to shake in anger. The minion quickly noticed this, and ran for cover. When the boss blew up, he really blew up.

“AAAUGH!” Snatcher screamed out in anguish. His voiced ran throughout the forest causing the trees to shake and scaring off a flock of birds. Fire magic seems to erupt from his hands, his face, his hair, every part of his body was on fire. “WHY?! WHY DO I NEVER GET SO MUCH AS A MORSEL WHEN I NEED IT?!” he raged, tugging on his hair tussles. “EVERY! SINGLE! PECKING! TIME!” he shouted, throwing the worst fit any of his minions had ever seen. He picked up a boulder from the ground and, with great strength, launched it into the swamp lake. It made a huge splash that reached a few feet in the air. The swamp water made terrible screeches and a few hands were crushed by the weight of the boulder.

“OH YEAH?! YOU DON’T LIKE IT DO YOU?! WELL TOO BAD!” he screamed back at the swamp before finally managing to calm himself. The minions, a few Dwellers, and even a handful of Fire Spirits had all gathered to watch the whole tantrum unfold. One incredibly brave minion stepped away from the group and went up to Snatcher. He still had his back turned to the ghosts behind him and was giving death glares to the swamp.

“U-um, Boss?” the minion plucked up the courage to ask.

“WHAT?!” he whipped around to yell at the poor minion. It cowered in fear, it’s legs shaking and shuddering.

“Y-your on f-f-fire Boss!” it stuttered. Snatcher stopped, noticed he was on fire, and let out a hefty sigh. And with that his whole body seem to put itself out. Smoke came off of him as he patted down the small flames on his hair. He was completely unharmed, of course. Fire magic wouldn’t burn or scar him so he was perfectly safe. However, it was still a dangerously bad habit he had picked up while using his magical attacks. Snatcher looked up to see all his subjects looking back at him.

“What are you all staring at?! GO ON, SHOO! GET BACK TO WORK!” he ordered his subjects. The whole group split up in a frenzy, bumping into each other as they all ran back to their posts. Snatcher huffed, he had never been more fed up than he was right now. Lucky for him though, he was rather close to his home. However, that didn’t stop him from grumbling all the way to his tree-home.

“One soul. Just one soul. That’s all I ask for really.” he complained as he as he marched on through the entrance. “I work hard setting up my traps, making my contracts, I rule this whole forest for pity’s sake!” he kept on, flying over the pond of water surrounding his home. “But do I get a soul? Noooooo! I get to sit here and starve while fate throws every little inconvenience at me and drives me INSANE!” he said as he punched the wall of the tree, making the whole structure shake and rattle. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and sighed.

“Maybe I just need a rest. I’ve had a long day.” he reasoned, making his way over to his armchair. His stomach protested by tightening itself, making him wince in pain. “Quiet you.” he said as he squeezed his sides. He looked around his home for something to distract him from the pain. His eyes darted to the grandfather clock, the table, the carpet, the closet.

The closet...

His eyes stayed on the closet for a few minutes. There was something stored in there...something he had been saving for a long time. Something he had recalled craving a few moments ago. Something full of power and energy. Something delicious...delectable...scrumptious...savory! He found himself moving away from the armchair and closer to the closet, as if he was hypnotized. He raised up a clawed hand and was reaching for the handle. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if he had just a little bite-

“No! Get a hold of yourself!” he snapped out of it and quickly grabbed his own hand before it could get any closer. “I promised myself I was going to save it. I’m not going back on that promise now!” he scolded himself, turning away from the closet and heading towards his armchair. “I’ll simply sleep through this hunger, I’ll forget about it!” he said as he plopped into his armchair. He conjured up a fluffy blanket to wrap around himself and a small pillow that fell into his lap. He shifted in his covers until he felt comfy and hugged his pillow close to him. He took one last looking glance at the closet.

“I’m not going to open it.” he said to himself, hugging the pillow tighter and cuddling his face against it. “I’m not going to open it. I can do this.” his eyes grew heavy as he repeated himself. “I’m not...going to.” his body started to relax as he let out a big yawn. “I’m...not...going...to...” he murmured, closing his eyes. And with that, he fell asleep in no time. His breathing was calm and steady, with a few quiet snores here and there. The tired soul-stealing spirit could finally get some needed rest.

***

He laid on the ground as he looked up at the starry sky. The cool breeze made the leaves of the purple trees fall swiftly and the soothing sounds of nightfall were all around him. He smiled and sighed happily as he rested with his hands tucked behind his head. This was the life! No worries, no work to do, no annoyances to ruin his day. It was a nice change of pace for once.

But what the heck was he doing out here?

“Huh, how did I get out here again?” he said as he slowly sat himself up. Wasn’t he in his home a few seconds ago? How did he get all the way out here? And where was “here” anyways? It felt like his forest but...calmer. There were no minions, Dwellers, Fire Spirits, not even a single spider! It was actually rather nice...but also alarming. Where had they all gone to? “Oh, well. I suppose I should go looking for them.” he reasoned as he stood himself up and dusted himself off.

Snatcher perked up as he heard a noise close to him. A pair of bushes shook and rustled in front of him. A blue soul popped out of the bushes, spinning in circles as it tried to get its bearings. It steadied itself, shaking off the leaves it was covered in. It looked around before it saw Snatcher and cocked its head in curiosity. He looked back at the soul and smiled.

And then licked his lips.

The soul’s eyes widened as it let out a small whimper. Snatcher straightened himself up, towering over the little soul. The soul shook in fear, he delighted in its look of despair. He leaned closer to the soul with his claws stretched out above his head. He glared at the soul, grinning maniacally.

“Boo.”

The soul screamed and quickly flew away. But Snatcher wasn’t upset, he knew he would be able catch it this time. He laughed as he chased after the soul. The area was much clearer this time, giving him the upper hand in this deadly game of cat-and-mouse. His smile grew wider as the soul kept looking back and panicking as he came closer. He snapped his teeth awfully close to intimidate it, and he was not disappointed with its reactions. This was almost too easy!

He decided to slow down a bit to give the soul a fighting chance. He wanted to give it hope before he snagged it for himself. The soul kept going, not daring to look back this time. It ran past the trees and dived into a large pile of bushes to hide. He stopped where he was and looked at the soul’s hiding spot, highly amused.

“Oh no! I lost it! I wonder where it could be?” he said sarcastically. The pile of bushes shook violently, he chuckled to himself. “Come out, come out wherever you are! I just want a small bite...or maybe two!” he said before bursting into laughter. He creeped closer and closer to the bush, readying himself to catch the soul. “Oh, What’s this? Are you hiding in here?” he grinned as he laid his hands on the bush, ready to expose his prey. “AHA!” he shouted as he pushed the bush apart. But their was no soul in sight. He stared at the spot, puzzled. He crawled inside the bush, perhaps it was deeper in? He squeezed past the leaves until he came out onto the other side.

Snatcher’s jaw dropped as he looked up.

Standing before him was the largest soul he had ever seen, even bigger than him! It was a bright yellow-gold, shimmering with beauty. Power radiated off of it in waves and wisps of magic emanated from its surface. Snatcher eyes were filled with wonder and amazement. His smiled in awe, he felt like a kid in a candy store. He could barely contain his excitement as he squealed happily.

“Yes! Jackpot! Hahaha!” he thrilled as he jumped into the air. He laughed as he pounced onto the soul and embraced it affectionately. It was surprisingly soft and warm to the touch. He could hear a steady droning noise coming from inside its core, oddly calming in a way. He nuzzled his face against the soul, purring quietly. He rarely ever purred, it was only when he was truly happy. And right now, he was the happiest ghoul on the planet! “Such a wonderful specimen, I’ve never seen something as stunning as you.” he hummed, staring dreamily at his own reflection in the soul’s surface. He started dragging his claws against it, giggling as the soul wailed in pain.

“Well, that’s enough chit chat! I feel positively famished!” he laughed as he rubbed his hands together, ready to sink his teeth in. He made a show of licking both of his fangs and digging his claws deeper into the soul. He opened his mouth wide and chomped down into the soul. He could feel the warmth of the soul in his mouth, like biting into a freshly baked pastry straight from the oven. His mouth watered, but he didn’t care that he was drooling. He was more concentrated on the flavor of that tasty soul!

And it tasted...fluffy?

***

Snatcher snapped awake as he realized he was biting into his pillow. He spat out pieces of cotton and stuck out his tongue. He looked at the pillow, it was absolutely ruined. It was covered in bite and claws marks with cotton sticking out of every tear. Good thing that he wasn’t going to keep that pillow, it was practically tore to shreds. There were also wet spots where he had drooled on the fabric. He then noticed that there was still drool on his mouth and quickly wiped it off.

Snatcher stared at the pillow for a few minutes, and began to rip in into pieces.

Cotton went flying everywhere as he tore it apart with his claws. He was fuming, not to mention embarrassed at himself. He almost ate a pillow...a pillow! He was so delirious with hunger that he was seconds away from swallowing a sack full of cotton! He threw the remains of the pillow onto the floor, the pieces of cotton and fabric all dissipating into puffs of smoke. He tossed the blanket off of him and it did the same as it hit the wall.

“I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I’LL GO MAD IF I DON’T EAT SOMETHING!” he shouted as he got up from his armchair and lunged for the closet. Every part of his brain was telling him not to do this, he was being impulsive! But the more agreeable part said to heck with that! He was too hungry care if he was acting stupid. He swung the closet doors open and began searching for it. After tossing through a few things, he finally managed to find what he was looking for.

He held up a large, glass jar bound with chains and a magic lock. Inside the jar was a light purple soul, bouncing and shaking inside. Purple souls were his favorite type of souls, they were the souls of very powerful people. But they were even rarer to come by than blue souls! And this soul was from the last lackey he had made a contract with. After that man met his...unfortunate end, he put the soul away in the closet to store it. He had been saving it for a special occasion, swearing to himself that he wouldn’t open it until then. Shame it had come to this, but he need food and he needed it now!

He went back to his armchair with the jar in hand. If he was going to eat this soul he was going to be comfy while doing it. He sat down and looked inside the jar, the soul taking one look at him and shrieking in fear. Snatcher was pleased to see that through all this time this soul was still brimming full of energy! He quickly summoned the key to the magic lock and began to unlock it. The chain, lock, and key disappeared in a cloud of magic smoke once he popped the lock open.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this!” Snatcher chuckled as he took the lid off and reached inside for the soul. He grabbed it, it squirming ever so lively in his grasp. As he pulled the soul out its screams became louder and louder. He waved away the jar and it disappeared like the rest. The soul struggled to escape, but he kept his grip tight. He started to play around with it, satisfied by its yelps of pain. He poked it, prodded it, pulled it, pinched it, happily torturing it with his claws.

“I know, I know. It’s a shame I couldn’t save you for later, isn’t it?” he told the soul as it sobbed fearfully. “But what a fine meal you are going to make!” he cackled, licking his sharp fangs and sticking out his tongue. He pinched the soul’s tail, lifting it up closer to his mouth. He opened his mouth wide like a snake, extra teeth growing in next to his fangs. The soul could see his mouth as a large, glowing, bright yellow abyss. It swung left and right, trying to avoid Snatcher’s gaping maw as best it could. But before it could, Snatcher dropped it straight into his mouth.

He quickly closed his mouth shut, the soul’s tail still sticking out from between his fangs. He slurped it up like a noodle and started chewing. He didn’t swallow just yet, he wanted to savor the soul’s taste in his mouth. The soul wriggled and squirmed, trying to escape from its deadly prison. He chomped down on it, feeling the warmth and power of the soul invading his taste buds. He relished the taste for a few moments before finally swallowing it whole.

“Mmmmmm!” he hummed, hugging himself gleefully. His entire body glowed with power as magic emanated off of him. He seem to grow in size, his form pulsing and rippling with power. His form stopped glowing after a few minutes and the wisps of magic died down. He let out a blissful sigh and slid down deep into his armchair. He felt happy, his stomach warm and full of food. He purred lightly, he needed that.

“Ahhh, that hits the spot.” he sighed again, closing his eyes and snuggling deeper into his chair. He felt much better, his strength instantly brought back to normal. He felt like his old self again! Powerful and all mighty, like he should be. He felt like he could fight anyone and beat them without even trying. But for right now, he was more concerned on relaxing after a good meal. “Is there possibly anything better than eating souls?” he asked himself, cuddling the arm of the armchair.

“Well I think it’s a rather barbaric practice.” a strange voice said.

Snatcher eyes were wide open as he shot up from his armchair, as if he was caught doing something shameful. He knew that voice all too well as turned his head towards the back entrance. Standing (well, more like floating) there in the entrance was a red-coated visitor. A very unwelcome visitor who looked back at him with disgust and judgment. A certain blue skinned ghost whom Snatcher loathed with every passing second.

“Moonjumper...” he hissed, his claws digging into the arms of his armchair. The fancy ghost nodded and smiled back at him.

“Likewise. May I ask what you’re doing here?” he asked, floating inside and picking up a book from the table. “Besides...eating. That much I could tell.” he cringed at the word “eating” before opening the book’s contents. Snatcher glared at him, he absolutely hated it when that corpse came into his home and acted like he owned the place.

“That’s none of your business. Why are you even here?” he groaned, face-palming as Moonjumper started to flip through his book. Moonjumper kept flipping through, as if he didn’t hear him. “AHEM!” Snatcher cleared his throat loudly.

“Hm? Oh sorry, I was busy reading this. I haven’t seen it in ages!” he grinned, making Snatcher glare daggers at him. “Also what do mean ‘why am I here’? You’re telling me you forgot all about the racket you made earlier?” he said, closing the book and setting it back down. Snatcher’s face flushed in embarrassment, recalling his sudden outburst. “Honestly, you can be such a hot-head.” Moonjumper sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

“I was hungry, okay?” Snatcher mumbled.

“I don’t understand how you could do something so...grotesque.” Moonjumper said, shuddering.

“Oh yeah? You know what else is grotesque? Your face!” Snatcher retorted, making Moonjumper gasp in offense.

“Oh, that’s very mature of you.” Moonjumper said, appalled.

“Then maybe don’t stalk me while I’m eating you piece of rot.” Snatcher insulted. He then realized something that made his skin crawl. “By the way, how long were you watching me?” he asked worriedly, afraid he might be right.

“Long enough to watch you chew on a pillow.” Moonjumper waved a hand. Snatcher face fell and he covered it to hide his blushing. “By the way, I had no clue that you could purr! It’s rather adorable!” Moonjumper said, snickering. Snatcher stopped covering his face and shook in anger.

“OH YEAH? I’LL SHOW YOU ‘ADORABLE’ WHEN I BURN YOUR FACE OFF!” Snatcher shouted in rage, his hands igniting with fire. Moonjumper stopped smiling and quickly regretted his decision. Uh oh he thought and quickly sprinted out of the tree.

Snatcher chased Moonjumper throughout the whole forest. Moonjumper feared for his life as he barely dodged Snatcher’s fireballs. But thanks to a good meal, Snatcher could keep this up all night!

#i thought it was a funny idea #snatcher being hangry #that's the whole fic #please don't judge me #ahit #a hat in time #ahit snatcher #a hat in time snatcher #ahit moonjumper #a hat in time moonjumper #ahit fanfiction #a hat in time fanfiction #ahit fanfic #a hat in time fanfic #snatcher #the snatcher #moonjumper #frickfrack fic

156 notes · View notes

demonicpiano · 5 years

Text

Cold-Blooded

RusCan Sprite AU

Everything is just a normal human AU except these guys called sprites are running around. Snow sprites manipulate the cold, heat sprites do well in the hot weather...yadda yadda. Our boy Canada isn’t doing so well. He keeps shivering but gets nauseous if he tries to warm himself up. Maybe it’s just a second onslaught of puberty. Either way, he’s not the only one.

Check it out on my AO3!

~.~

"It's a little chilly, eh?"

"It's winter, yeah."

Matthew gave his coworker at the next desk over a long look. No acknowledgement. He turned back to his own computer screen with a light sigh, flexing his stiff fingers before going back to compiling these ungrateful bastards'—oops, lovely reporters'—findings into a somewhat presentable column. He wore a thick turtleneck. He still shivered.

A glimpse around the cramped clumps of desks and lost souls bent over in their seats foretold nothing of sharing his blight. That guy was wearing goddamn shorts in the middle of winter. Matthew gave him a subtle shake of the head, although the tough guy wouldn't notice - he was too worried about bending over some newcomer's work and shaking his buttocks at her.

Matthew whispered to his adjacent sufferer-in-arms, "I'm going to get something warm to drink. I'll be right back, in case one of the bosses comes by."

No reply.

Matthew rolled his eyes, saved his work, then pushed from his chair. The only reason there were cocoa packets for the taking in the break room was because they were leftovers from a manager's party, and nobody wanted cocoa without marshmallows. And milk. Water would (very unfortunately) have to do. It was something warm.

Chilly hands clutched a cheap Styrofoam cup, shaking and sloshing around cocoa powdered-flavored water as Matthew slowly lifted it to his face. Instead of a nice wash of steam opening his nostrils, a slap of sweaty, undesirable muck came over him. He jerked away, waggling his tongue at the sink tempting him to dump the rest of the watery abomination out, but he decided to take it back to his desk and use it as a hot pack.

Matthew set the cup down, curling and uncurling his fingers. The cocoa's spell backfired; instead of relieving numbness, his fingers turned into noodles. At least those were supposed to soak in hot water. Not cocoa. Yes, this ruined the whole point of a steamy beverage. He was raised with standards. At least for hot chocolate. And men.

His shivering lessened to a nauseous quivering. Matthew crammed a lump back down his throat before tacking on his keyboard. He tossed more cocoa back as he started to get toasty under his sweater, regretting doing so as the taste washed over his tongue, but persevered through the rest of the dull day.

On the walk back home, Matthew tried to remember what he did for eight hours, but could not think of anything besides white walls of text. The snow banks seemed to give extra cold to the air, like Canada was a giant refrigerator and God just turned down the temperature dial.

Matthew eyed their grayed, gravel-infested lumps along the sidewalk, imagining too easily how the cold drifted and curled over his skin. Even under three thick layers, it was as if the cold was inside of him, posing as miniature ice cubes in his veins.

An uneventful walk, an uneventful handful of hours before bedtime. His flat was quiet. He kept the TV set low as news reporters poured over anything wrong with the world. Oh, and a local puppy adoption. Hey, puppies were the best.

Matthew violently shivered on the couch. He sent a weird look to the thermostat before relenting and hobbling over to give it a nudge for warmth. Back to the couch. Shivering. Thermostat again.

Oops, too warm now. Matthew shed his blanket and turned down the temperature a little. Back to the couch. Blanket intact. Weather time. It was going to be cold all week. Then a snow storm by the weekend. He bet the school kids were excited at the sound of that. He would muster up a smile at the thought of pretty sparkling flakes before relentless feet stomped it to pity if he weren't shaking in some kind of fit.

Matthew decided to keep the thermostat down, as he could always add more layers and more blankets, as opposed to shedding his skin when it got too warm. Under five blankets—yes, five thick comforters—he shivered. Of course he shivered. As if the blankets weren't going their job. Or he wasn't giving them warmth to give it back to him. Huh.

Matthew glared in the direction of his bedroom wall, twitching and shaking and quaking so much his darn muscles started to get sore. He plucked his cell phone from the nightstand, trying for the weather again, but this was so damn ridiculous, especially without his glasses, and the screen was just a blur of light jumping back and forth. He slammed the device back on his nightstand and flipped himself over with a growl.

He couldn't shiver all night. Eventually, he would pass out.

~.~

"Agh! Ow, oh, what...?" Matthew pulled his hands from the covers, gawking at his bone-white fingers. He was white, but not that white. He whipped his blankets away, putting his icicles-for-legs to the floor and hobbled around his room like the cold from the floor seeped into his feet.

"Ooh, man, this is bad," he spat between trembling teeth. "Just how freaking cold is it? This is starting to get ridiculous."

Matthew grabbed for a pot for tea or even more damn cocoa-water, something warm! Okay, he managed to fetch some milk from the fridge, hissing at the cold coming from there, like there wasn't enough in the world. He stared at the milk gently steam like an insane person would, tempted to stick his fingers in the flames below.

Hey, there was a good idea. Matthew lifted his hands, holding them a little ways to the fire warming his milk. He smiled and nodded to himself as the almost-non-metaphorical sheet of ice against his skin started to melt. Then it burned. He yelped and jerked away.

Matthew was not even close to the stove. Not that close. He twisted the knob to lower the heat, grumbling at his own stupidity. He had a roof over his head; he'd warm himself with his heating bill, not the stove top, for crying out loud.

~.~

However, Matthew did not get warm. He got ready for work with stiff fingers. Ate some doughnuts with hands made of ice instead of muscles and what not. Shivered some more. Sometimes the quiet flat was too quiet, but not in a suspicious-spy movie way. It was quiet in a 'damn, I need a boyfriend or a dog in here' kind of way. The teeth chattering filled the silence and rattled his nerves.

Surprise, surprise! It was a cold walk to work, too.

Matthew has been cold many times in his life. Sometimes it was fun. Other times, the snow or freezing rain soaked his socks, and that wasn't as fun. But he never, ever got freaking sore from shaking so much. He wondered how much of a workout was shivering. Maybe he burned (or froze off) plenty of calories from those two donuts he ate that morning.

"Oh, Mister Williams!" A middle-aged 'Can I speak to the manager' woman strode to his desk with too bright lipstick for the sorrow in her eyes. "Hey!" She nasally brayed, "How's the column going? Did you get my e-mail?"

"Um...the one about the cat pictures? Yeah..."

"Yeah?" She smiled, parting the sea of pink that shouldn't be on someone's face. "You like it? Don't lie, I can see that you do. Everyone's gonna love it. They all love cats. They better, anyway, providing you do your little keyboard magic, and move everything just right...!"

Matthew just blinked as this lady went on and on how one of the previous programmers left a stray code in the middle of her article last quarter, and they received a bunch of angry letters from people that had nothing better to do than complain that they saw 'greater than' and 'lesser than' symbols outside of a school classroom. He let out a shaky exhale, trying not to bite a chunk of his tongue off from his teeth trying to rattle up a band.

"Oh, honey!" The lady cried in a decibel that would make dogs whine. "You look so pale! Are you sick or something? Oh!" She pulled her scarf over her mouth. "I hope you don't give me anything!"

"Mm, n-n-no, I d-don't think s-s-so."

"I'll see about turning up the heat a bit for you, okay? Just...make sure you cough into your sleeve! I'll come by again to see how things are working out! I can't wait to see those kitties on the front page!"

That was new. Asking how Matthew felt. Usually the quick, 'Hey, how's it going?' did not warrant an actual response. Yet if he didn't toss a fast, 'Fine, thanks,' then he would seem rude. What a cruel world.

Matthew managed a stiff nod. Words were improbable.

His neighbor gave him a long side-eye, like the chills were contagious. Were they? Matthew didn't know. He almost started to type in the search bar, but his hand quaked as it hovered over the keyboard. A jumble of letters. He could hardly get himself to press the proper keys.

"Ugh," Matthew bemoaned his blight. He sat in his chair, glaring down his keyboard as his glasses slid down his nose. If only the keys would tell him they had everything and not to worry about his work; they got it. Another shudder grabbed a hold of him, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stay sane through its hold.

"Uh...hey," his neighbor leaned forward to eye him up. "Are you...going to be okay?"

"No."

"I think you should go home."

"I just got here."

A long look.

Matthew wanted to say his colleague didn't want to get sick, that's all. He twisted, planting his heels flat to the ground before pushing himself from his chair. A slap of heat came over him. He grunted, and a sticky sheen of dampness poured from his, well, pores. The world and the bewildered faces of journalists swirled around and around and around. "Oh, maple."

The carpet came for him in a flash of ugly stained blue.

~.~

Murmuring. Beeping. Constant beeping. Brightness. Matthew groaned at it all as his head lolled to the side of a...pillow. He was lying down. His eyes flew open.

"Oh...fuck!" He spat to himself in a hospital. A damn hospital. "No, no, come on..."

Matthew was surely sick, but not that sick. Jeez, those reporters are so dramatic. They probably clutched their pearls and flapped their hands in front of their faces at the sight of him passing out. He had to have passed out. How would he have gotten there?

"Oh, God, oh, no," Matthew warbled as a strong shudder griped his body. His teeth snapped together, and he let out a furious hiss of breath. "Damn it with the shivering!"

A pretty nurse came into the room, poking around, and tossed a glance toward him looking and feeling miserable on the bed. "Oh, you're awake!" She sang. "Hi! How you feeling?"

"Cold."

"I bet!" The nurse had her best service smile on, but her eyes screamed terror. "Your body temperature was down to thirty-five! Everyone's amazed how you were still up and about like that! So...just take it easy, and the doctor will be right in to...ahem, discuss things with you."

She left in a hurry. Matthew gawked at the ceiling as his insides were shivering now, too. "Thirty-fucking-five degrees."

(Ninety-five for Americans.)

"It's getting colder," he let out a whimper. Grown adult or not, he hurt. He was freezing from the inside out like someone stuffed ice packs under his skin when he wasn't looking. Maybe they did. Those bastards.

The vent in the ceiling kicked to life, slapping his face with a wave of heat. He moaned, squirming to get away without getting anywhere. "No, no, no, turn that off, please-!" Another sickening quake grabbed him and would not let go. He doubled over and gagged. The warmth kept coming.

Matthew drew in a sharp breath, snapping, and yelled in annoyance, pain, anger, anything cold-blooded inside of him, it needed to come out. A noise from the side of his bed crinkled. Then the IV bag leading to his arm burst, raining icicles on the floor. He lifted his arm up to gawk at the tube flailing uselessly from his skin.

Okay, kids, nobody is supposed to do this, yet everybody in movies does - however, instead of ripping it out like some kind of grunting barbarian, Matthew slowly wiggled the needle out of his arm with a little 'Ooh!' and 'Ouch, ouch!'

The tube started to fog in his grip, and he went to peel and detach anything between him and the monitors. Then he was free. Now Matthew could panic.

"Agh!" He ran to the window and smacked his palms to the glass. It was snowing. Wait, snow wasn't called for days. How long was he out?

"Mr. Williams?!"

"Sir, sir! We're going to need you to come back to bed right now!"

Matthew gazed at frost etching from his fingertips, fanning icicles into crystal white designs along the glass.

Nurses approached, "Mister Williams?"

One grabbed his shoulder. The man immediately recoiled with a cry of pain, grabbing his arm as his fingers throbbed against blue-purple skin.

Matthew slowly turned around, arms held up as ice peeked from his pores, running freezing water down to his elbows and dripping to the floor. The entourage of medical staff gawked with wide eyes, breath catching in warm puffs of fog as they met the chilly air. "I think I know what the problem is," he started as the window behind him crackled with frosty intrusion. "I'm made out of ice."

A moment before the window shattered, pouring over the sill as the winter wind flung itself into the hospital room. The staff screamed, throwing their arms over their faces and ducking for cover. Matthew turned to the gray sky, to the white mercilessly pelting the streets. The ice encasing his arms reveled in contact with the biting wind. He was so cold.

"We need the E.R. team in here, stat! Mister Williams?!"

Matthew stepped toward the window. His feet crunched on the glass shards, poking harmlessly against the thickness edging along his skin.

"Mister Williams!" The nurses screeched as he pulled himself through the window, and let himself be blown into the breeze.

~.~

"I can't find the coffee stirrers. Over."

Bssch, "They're in the upper cabinet, left hand side. Over."

A man sat at a desk, in a room completely to himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose before snatching the radio off his desk. "Toris! Eduard! The intercom system is for important calls and emergencies, not your personal hand-helds!"

A voice murmured from one side, "But it was important..."

"Hush!" One of the men hissed. His voice grew closer, "Uh...sorry, D-Detective Braginsky."

Ivan slammed his radio back on his desk, giving his head a shake before flicking a page of his magazine.

Various murmurs resonated through the radio, calls from around the city. He turned the dial down by a smidge. Just a smidge.

"A stray dog..."

"...my leg got stuck in a snow embankment...in front of the woman I was supposed to be writing a ticket to..."

"Not to sound stereotypical, but I could go with some doughnuts right now."

Static.

"...at the hospital. Some kind of, uh...icy intrusion."

Ivan picked up his head from his magazine.

He turned the dial back up in time to hear another cop relaying, "Yeah, like, some kind of artic blast busted into the medical center. A couple of people have frostbite and cuts from the shards."

"I hear you," Ivan said. "Wait, I'm on my way."

"Detective?"

"Yes. Hold on."

"Oh, the head detective's coming with us?"

Ivan threw on a thick wool coat and stormed out of his office. Various men and women hovering over desks and pouring over bulletin boards hunched and skittered away from his path. Their eyes pricked his broad backside on the way out.

A snow storm was well underway. Two cops popped their heads over their cruiser at his approach. "Sir! You, uh-"

"Move," Ivan said. "I'm driving."

"Uh, yes, sir! The keys are already in the ignition."

Ivan gave him a stupid look, as the vehicle was already rumbling with life and sputtering hot fumes into the air. Once situated, the pair gave each other mirroring looks of shock through the bars blocking the back seats. Worried murmurs and static came from the radio, but other than that, it was a short but extremely thick silence to the medical center.

Another cruiser and private cars haphazardly parked before the entrance, and as soon as the keys left the ignition, Ivan stormed the place just as icily as the building storm outside.

Medical staff bustled around, trying to help confused patients that crept from their rooms to investigate the disturbance. A frail old lady held up a shaky hand to a nurse and complained, "Dear, it's so cold! Won't you turn up the heat?"

Ivan pressed against a wall and snuck around the pair.

"Oh! Is that the police?! Oh, oh! What are they doing here?"

"Ma'am, please, calm down, there was just a mild disturbance..."

Another officer jerked his head to a certain room. "Over here!"

Ivan followed.

Glass decorated the tiled floor, blowing from the grand window lining the furthest wall. Warm breath came from his teammates' faces as their wide eyes scanned the perimeter. One asked, "What could have done this?"

"Who?"

A weird look.

"I spoke to the witnesses. They said a man by the name...Williams approached the window, and it burs into icy shards."

Ivan asked, "Are you sure of that?"

The officer gave him a good gawk. "Based on witness accounts! The nurses that weren't injured by the flying glass."

"And this Mister Williams escaped?"

"Yes, sir, they said he jumped right out this window."

"Well, there's no body there."

"Yes, sir. He ran off."

"He ran off? After jumping out a window?"

"Apparently."

"So you're implying he is responsible for the window shattering?"

"And injuring the staff members, yes."

Ivan curtly turned away. "Stay here and get the full story."

"Sir?"

"I'm going to bring this Mister Williams into custody." His fellow officers trailed after him. He barked, "Alone!"

"But there's a storm on its way!"

"I won't be long."

Another officer hushed, "Just...let him go. He's the only one that can handle-"

Ivan was already down the hall. Of course, the eyes of medical staff and patients hooked onto the scarf flapping against his back, waving goodbye to the place when he wouldn't. A gust of cold air and snow pellets slapped his face, pulling his coat from his legs as soon as he stepped outside. Dusk was approaching. He needed to be quick.

Shoe-marks stamped the light dusting of snow in the parking lot. Ivan paced until he lined himself below the shattered window. Glass crunched under his boot. His eyes followed down the side of the building, a two story drop, and across the parking lot. The streetlights shimmered against clumps of ice leading across the car pack.

Further, toward the street, the icy dimples morphed into foot-prints. A shallow snow bank, but someone must have fell into it and struggled to get up. The steps led down the sidewalk. Ivan darted down the road, eyes steady on the distant field still covered from the previous snowfall.

The field remained virtually untouched, except when Ivan plowed himself through the ever-deepening sea of white the further out he went. He slowed as struggling leg divots in the snow intersected with older trails until he finally stopped, glancing around sparse trees and a metal baseball cage some distance away.

Before Ivan could step forward, something snagged one of the tail ends of his beige scarf. It tightened against his throat, and he let out a quiet gasp. He twisted around to snatch the cloth away, but icy claws protruded from the snow and kept a firm hold.

"Mister Williams?"

The snow shifted.

A snow-caked head of what should be blond hair emerged. A bone-white face. Wide, hallow lilac eyes. Ivan felt his own face try to pucker into distaste. Pale lips cracked open, and the man hoarsely whispered, "What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Are you Mister Williams?"

The man was deathly still - a statue frozen to the ground. Until he barely moved to answer, "Yes."

"Mister Williams," Ivan started, fishing a badge from his coat. "I'm the head detective for this town's police department. I'm going to get you out of this storm and get you warmed up, but I need to ask you a few questions-"

"No, oh, no, no!" Mister Williams released Ivan's scarf, but his arm stayed stunted into the air, claws of ice wide apart and poised to the darkening sky. "No, no, I'm in trouble, aren't I?" His voice stretched thin as ice grasped his throat, "I hurt those people! Oh, no, no!"

"Mister Williams-"

"I'm a monster! You need to get away. B-b-before I hurt you, too!"

Ivan's eyebrows fell. Less enthusiastically, "Mister Williams, you are not a monster. Do not say that. We just want to-"

"I said...get away!" A hiss of strenuous pain, and a roar of wind poured upon Ivan's head. He threw up his arms as a fury of snow burst from the ground, swathing him in cold, unforgiving white. He shook the clumps off his coat, and Mister Williams' backside peeked from his hospital gown as he clumsily scrambled amongst thick plows of snow.

Ivan sighed, flexed his fingers, and rolled his head. "Okay, then. Hard way it is."

He swooped to the ground, planting his palms into the snow. Mister Williams had not gotten too far, lunging about in a straight line. Icicles shot over the embankments and under his hands and knees. He yelped as his nails scratched onto the sudden layer of slick, and he fell forward, rump going into the air.

Ivan straightened and approached with slight urgency.

Mister Williams pushed himself up with a delirious shake of his head, tossing a frightened glance over his shoulder, and yipped. It was a short warning before he smacked a hand to the ground, and spikes of ice lurched for Ivan's face.

Ivan's arms cut through the night air, and a sheet of iced-over snow emerged from the embankment to catch his assault.

"What the..." Mister Williams cried in shock and fright as everything crumbled to the ground. "You're...you're...!"

"Mister Williams," Ivan dully sang as he came closer. The carpet of ice withered beneath his boots, "You should try to make this as easy for yourself as possible."

Mister Williams scrambled backwards against the weakening ice. He gasped as it melted, only to clamp in a frozen lock around his hands, gluing him to the dead grass. "No! I don't want to go back! I'll only hurt more people!"

"Oh? Because you think you're a monster?"

Wriggling intensified. Mister Williams managed to burst one of the clumps of ice around his hands and flail his free arm in the air. "Yes! Look at me! What else would I be?!"

Two waves of snow rose from the ground, but Ivan swished his hands. They harmlessly crumbled into loose sentiment. He fell on top of Mister Williams' legs, much to the other man's horror, and clamped icy fingers over his head.

Mister Williams wreathed and put his own palm to Ivan's face. "What are you doing?!"

Ivan took a deep inhale as cold sank into his skin, freezing his veins, and a smile played with his lips, "You shouldn't say that! Because if you're a monster..."

Spikes of ice protruded from his pale hair, and Mister Williams could only watch as frost etched across the detective's body...

"Then what does that make me?"

A sharp breath to scream, but nothing came as the entirety of ice encasing Mister Williams receded, right into Ivan's pores. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped into the snow. Unmoving, the whiteness to his skin morphed into a slightly more healthier pink.

Ivan released his clutch, and left Williams on the ground to rise to his feet. He tipped his head to the sky, and let out a long sigh, dispelling dragon's breath of ice into the air. The frost against his clothes melted, dripping back into the ground, and he, too, looked unlike a 'monster' anymore.

Ivan dug around his coat for his hand-held. "Unit one, this is Braginsky."

His radio crackled and hissed. He held it from himself until it died down. "Unit one, do you copy?"

Hissing. A disconnected, "Sir?"

"I found Mister Williams. I said, I found Mister Williams!"

"Is he alive, sir?"

"Yes, although unconscious. He will need medical attention right away. I'm bringing him in." Ivan tucked his radio back into his coat without waiting for a reply. "Monster," he mused with a scoff. "Just for shivering and blowing out a window? That is child's play."

It was a cold, nightly walk back to the hospital with Mister Williams in tow.

~.~

Beeping.

Oh, no, heart monitor beeping!

Matthew's eyes flew open.

Just as he shot to sit with a horrified gasp, something clamped onto his chest and shoved him back down. A hospital room. Of course he was back in a hospital room. His wrists were free, however, not tied down like some wretched creature's would be. His fingers gripped the stiff fabric of his cot as he zoned on another man dwarfing a visitor's chair beside him.

"Stay down."

Matthew complied with a skittish gulp. The man's hands seeped cold back into his skin, a moment before he relinquished himself back to his own personal space. "Aren't you with the police?"

"Yes. You remember me?" Almost lightheartedly, although the big man's smile did not meet his eyes, "We had a little bit of a romp in the snow back there."

Matthew awkwardly grunted, gluing his gaze to the ceiling. He was in so much trouble. He was probably going to get life behind bars. If evil science people did not get to poke him with lots of sharp tools, first. Ice picks, probably. He was made of ice. Or at least, it felt like it. A little less. Maybe his veins were filled with slushy ice water instead.

The man raised his strong eyebrows. "Mister Williams? Are you feeling okay?"

Stinging. Tears pooled in Matthew's eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know...I didn't mean for anything bad to happen." He scrunched his nose and turned his face away so he was not bawling in front of this near-stranger, "Ugh, my entire life is ruined. Ugh, it wasn't even impressive in the first place-"

A cold palm eased against the back of his hand. Matthew's fingers twitched against subtle prickles etching along his skin, "You are not a criminal, Mister Williams. You are a troubled man."

"I'm in trouble."

His company retracted his hand again with a sharp sigh. "Let us start over, okay?" He gestured to himself, to his soft cheeks yet cold eyes, "I am Detective Ivan Braginsky from the Police Department. You are in the hospital because you need help. Not because you are a monster. You are not a criminal. You are confused. That is normal. You just shot ice from your fingers. Again, that is normal. I will tell you why. We will help you."

Matthew lolled his head toward Braginsky. "Okay." He probably already was headed to the can. Minus well get answers. In a small voice, "Why?"

Perhaps it was his imagination, but a light clap of chill ghosted Matthew's cheeks as Ivan leaned forward, much less jaded and annoyed with the world. In near wonder, "You are a snow sprite."

"Um, what?"

"They are a species of humans that can manipulate and are manipulated by the cold-"

"I know what a snow sprite is."

Ivan stared.

"I've read up on the different kinds of sprites throughout my life. My brother's a heat sprite."

Ivan's eyebrows crunched together. "Ah. A heat sprite. Yet you...hm, that's odd. Are your parents...?"

"Both are rain sprites."

"Mutts?"

Matthew almost smiled. "Yeah, you can say that. Got a whole bunch of mixed blood in me, I guess."

"And out came the ice instead?"

The cold permeating the room didn't feel so bad. It almost felt warming, but not warm, in a kind sense. Matthew let out a long, easing exhale. "Yeah. Looks like it."

"You never...gave off any indication that you have these sorts of abilities?"

"Nope. Well, my brother always felt too hot to the touch. Like, if he hung on me too long, I would always sweat, and-"

"That's normal for heat sprites."

"Oh."

"Maybe it was simply years' build up. Or a late onslaught of growing up?" Ivan leaned against his chair, dragging his hand over his chin. Then a slight uplift to his lips, "You are an enigma, Mister Williams. When I got that call that some lunatic threw himself out a window in the middle of a snow storm, I was not expecting this."

"You were expecting some crack-addict, were you?"

"In kinder words."

Matthew found his own face pulling to a smile. "Thank you, Mister Braginsky. You're much kinder than the impression your stories give off."

Short lived bliss. Ivan fell solemn. Some haunt behind his eyes, "My stories?"

"I compile reports from around town for the local newspaper. I remember your name popping up a lot." Matthew tapped a finger against the bed, nonchalantly goading for attention, "There was a fire at the nearby quick stop last year. You were there. A generator, I think, overheated, and you...you 'sucked' the cold out of the air, and literally cooled it with your hands. It was amazing reading the reports. What you said about it. I could never imagine being able to do something like that. Amazing."

Ivan dropped his gaze to the hands folded on his lap. "Oh, that."

"Just 'that?'"

"I got into trouble from that. Mostly a slap on the wrist, but people say what they want to say in those kinds of situations. You're not supposed to make a big speculation of your powers around other people. Especially our type." Ivan's prominent nose curled as he hissed the words, "'Public disturbance.'"

Thoughts of getting thrown in a stony jail plagued Matthew's mind again. Scientists, with big, sharp scalpels-

"It's a solitary life," Ivan murmured. "Not enough people know much of anything having to do with us. Not enough people want to know anything. Our touch can and will hurt them. Who would you blame but yourself for your own loneliness?" He blinked, and picked up his head. A slight slap of cool air dusted Matthew's cheeks. There windows were not open. "Ah, that was a little bit too sad, yes?"

Matthew couldn't help a little laugh. "Yeah, that was real freaking sad. We are monsters."

"Now that was sad. I suppose even monsters feel it, too, yes? Does that really make us monsters, compared to those who deny it?"

"Ugh, stop it, you're making my head hurt."

Ivan let out a giggle. A giggle. The grin cracking along his pale face attracted eyes more than that gloom hanging over the room. "It is not all bad news, Mister Williams."

"Really, you can call me Matthew. And what is it?"

"Matthew. Matvey. No, Matthew. Yes. Uh, you're most likely going to get charged with the cost of window repairs."

"I knew that. That's not good news, anyway."

"You also hurt people."

"Detective, I thought you said you had good news."

"You're not going to get arrested, or tossed in some spooky prison."

Matthew's eyes went wide. "What?"

"The hospital is not pressing charges, as long as you cover the damage. Not as a criminal, at least, but there was nothing I could do to dissuade them from seeing it as an onslaught of mental health issues."

Matthew fell back against his pillow. "They probably are, anyway."

"Don't say that."

"Whoops."

Ivan scrunched his face for a moment, before it fell back into a sly grin. His hand breeched the mattress, crinkling the hospital sheet, "You live in a good place. People will take care of you. Maybe...when you come back...if you find yourself without a job, the station is always looking for honest people to share our stories. Journalists. Reporters. Programmers, too. Those are always in demand."

"What?" Matthew gasped, "Mister Braginsky, no. You can't. You shouldn't-"

"I'll put in a good word for you."

"Why?"

"I like your stories." Ivan almost said he liked Mister Williams. That would have been a bit too soon, wouldn't it? He just tackled the guy to the snowy ground and knocked him out, after all. Usually people don't make friends that way. Usually he didn't make friends at all. He decided to go with, "I always read my stories coming back to me, from you."

Matthew's hands curled over his own face. "Oh, no..."

"I think you even called me a 'hero' once-"

"No, no..."

Ivan grinned, "I actually don't live an impressive life, Matthew."

"Says you." A ripple of cold air drifted across the cot. Matthew shot the detective a look that was supposed to be threatening, almost as if goading him to 'Try me.' "I think...what you did...I thought that was impressive."

"Do you mean, what I did a few hours ago, or just in general?"

Matthew lightly smacked Ivan's shoulder, grinning, "Shut up."

Ivan found himself copying the mingling chills in the air. "I'm going to have to ask you a few questions about what happened."

After some thought, "Okay, Mister Detective. Ask away."

It took some guts to reach over and put an icy palm to another.

At the end, Ivan stepped out of Matthew's hospital room, realizing his interrogation was something more of a self-indulgent questionnaire. Snow sprites live solitary lives. Maybe this one didn't have to.

#oh hell yeah my dudes I like me some #RusCan #THE SIN BIN #hetalia au #hetalia fic #hetalia #hws RusCan #hws Russia #hws Canada #my fic

15 notes · View notes

s3tracha · 5 years

Text

Paranormal... activities ?

Am I capable of naming my stories ? Probably, if I tried. Do I try ? Absolutely not.

Hewwo evewyone, I usually never post my writing on sideblogs and such but look, this sideblog is for the boys, there’s a challenge specifically for the boys, I’m not about to post it on my writing sideblog. Nobody follows it anyway and I’m not a fool

I know I’m not posting this in time. :3c

Summary: in short, the adventures of Minho and Jisung in the abandoned house.

Content warning: I don’t think there’s any warning to be given ? It’s supposed to be spooky month but it’s more humourous than anything ! I guess there’s some cussing though. And maybe bad English, redundant phrasing, #notanativespeakergang.

Reblogs are very much appreciated - and if you wanna add commentary in the tags or replies you’re more than welcome to do so !

[4:12 pm]

“ You know what ? This is going to be so much fun. No, really, we’re about to have a great time - why would we not enjoy it ? We’re paranormal investigators ! Surely, it can’t go wrong. “

[11:43 pm]

“ This is the worst thing we’ve ever done. “

“ Mh. “

“ This is so, so not fun at all. “

“ Mh. “

“ I hate everything about this. I wanna go home. Can we go home ? “

“ Mh. “

“ … Are you listening to me ? “

“ Mh. “

With that last response, Jisung frowned and looked back at his friend. … Silence. Minho was completely silent. Mouth agape, eyes kind of glaring at everything and nothing at the same time, his hand holding onto Jisung’s arm pretty tightly now that he was paying attention to it… What, really ? He was going to have to be the driving force here ? Not that he wasn’t already aware of that, but… ah, geez. The younger teen took a few seconds before exhaling a soft sigh and looking around them again.

Minho’s reaction was understandable. The house wasn’t only abandoned, it looked awful ! Like the walls were rotting ( and he was pretty sure that wasn’t something walls usually did but he couldn’t attest to this if questioned about it ), the floor was much dirtier than any damn house floor should be… Weird, unsettling paintings everywhere, clothes here and there, so many broken glass bottles he couldn’t count them - some of them hadn’t been finished and the liquid which he could only assume to be alcohol had given the place quiet a stench. Terror was a pretty appropriate reaction to a place like this. He’d seen places that were less scary to sleep at.

Maybe sending them both together hadn’t been the greatest idea but he hadn’t considered the cons hard enough before agreeing. And even if he hadn’t agreed, he couldn’t have changed it.

As a full team, they were nine, rotating in two pairs each time and trying to not send the same two people all the time. The two who’d investigate were chosen randomly and, sometimes the same person could go twice in a row… As a result, this was Minho’s third time this month. Needless to say, going with Chan and then Hyunjin hadn’t been very beneficial to his already very pronounced fear of… pretty much everything. When it wasn’t the ghosts and demons and whatnot scaring him, it was the other boy present with him. With Hyunjin it wasn’t necessarily intentional, Hyunjin was just… loud at the wrong time.

Maybe agreeing to being paranormal investigators along with their entire friend group had been a mistake in itself… Couldn’t really back out anymore.

Now Jisung wasn’t exactly the most reassuring presence either but for an entirely different reason: though not as scared as himself, he was just… more pressure. He wasn’t scared as much as he was stressed and tried to play it off like he wasn’t, obviously and maybe that made it worse. Either way, Minho was both terrified and spacing out.

Great. Truly, the most fun they’d have in their entire life.

“ Uh, so, about the occurrences… Seungmin said we should be able to hear footsteps and some whispers here, the whispers would come from a crying man, and maybe he can move stuff too so… “ Jisung spoke again, his voice shaking slightly as he tried to bring himself back on the right track. The track of not being scared for the sake of his poor friend who clearly still wasn’t listening to him.

“ Poor guy passed of heartbreak after his wife took the kids and left… Maybe he’s not that mean. Maybe– maybe he won’t try to scare us, y’know… “

He trailed off, eventually just keeping to himself. Kind of forgot where he was going with this anyway. He was more focused on observing their surroundings while Minho was seemingly finally coming back to his senses - and with a small gasp and his other hand now holding Jisung’s arm as well, he shook his head to make sure he was, at last, processing things right.

“ Great, so, what’s up with the footsteps then ? “ He immediately asked, trying to take a look around as well. The least he could do.

“ Oh, dude had a pet dog that let itself die after his owner passed… “

“ A dog ? “

“ And a cat. But dog footsteps are louder than cat footsteps. “

“ Of course they are. “

Minho rolled his eyes, shaking his head again with a sigh. That earned Jisung another frown. “ What ? It’s true ! “

“ Mh. “

Ugh, great. The boy stared for a few seconds before sighing in his turn. Was there really no way to put the other in a good mood ? Well, the setting probably didn’t help either, but now that was just getting upset over a problem that didn’t even exist. So he was afraid of ghosts but cat ghosts are fine ? Ridiculous ! For one, he was scared of both equally.

Still, as much as he hated doing this - and especially doing this with Minho -, he at least wanted the atmosphere to not be tense for no reason at all. He had to fix it. He had to make something up on the spot and then the others would make fun of him for it when they’d hear about it. Yup.

“ W- well, I’d forgotten about that but… Um, Seungmin also said that… that you can– I mean, sometimes, rarely, you can hear… uh… the cat ! You can hear it ! “

An admirable attempt. Maybe the other’s face lit up a little at the words, too.

“ He said that ? “

“ Yeah ! If we’re lucky… I mean, maybe lucky isn’t the right word but we can hear it meow ! And… purr… and scratch the walls…? “

“ You’re kidding, of course lucky’s the right word ! Okay, where do we start ? “

The sudden enthusiasm from his previously mortified friend sure managed to throw Jisung off. Once again staring for a few seconds, time for him to think of something to answer with and to deal with how easily his lies had been eaten up, god he’d hate himself if Minho found out he lied, he eventually seemed to gain all of his confidence back and flashed a bright smile. One of those smiles that make it seem like he’s not only confident, but cocky about it as well.

“ I suggest we… go separate ways to visit ! So we can get it all done fa– “

“ Pass, next. “

“ Wha– Why ? I thought we were good ! “ Jisung exclaimed, visibly taken aback once again. Was this ever going to make any sense ?

“ So long as I haven’t heard the cat I’m not gonna be any good and I certainly don’t wanna be left alone here,” Minho retorted, his grip on Jisung’s arm not loosening. “ Chan tried. I left the building. “

“ But Chan’s an ass when we’re investigating, and I’m not ! “ He knew he wasn’t changing anybody’s mind. “ Ah, fine. But we’re gonna have to stay awake muuuch longer. “

Minho shrugged. “ Fine. I got snacks in my bag. “

“ Well, cool. “

“ Yeah. “

Silence. Jisung was pulling a face. Minho was looking around, though this time probably more avoiding Jisung’s face than actually looking around. Jisung considered the possibility of them doing standup comedy rather than paranormal investigation in the future, with how comical every situation they got into ended up being, but that probably wouldn’t really pay bills… not that paranormal investigation did though. Oh, and they had all of this on tape, right. He’d kind of forgotten they had cameras.

The silence kept on going before Jisung of course it’d be him gave in and gestured vaguely. “ I guess we’re gonna start with… downstairs. That’s not where the guy died apparently so we shouldn’t see anything but we can still hear the footsteps, and the sobs. But we’d hear them better upstairs so for now– “

Cut off by a door slamming, followed by the both of them screaming and Jisung almost dropping the camera he was holding. And silence again. Two weak hearts needed some time to calm down and assess the new state of things, which was different in one way: a door, they did not know which nor where it was, was now closed.

This time, rather than talk, Jisung went and started walking again, Minho being forcibly dragged along despite how reluctant he might’ve been had he been able to be a little more responsive. The lights strapped to his and the other boy’s foreheads were probably the things he was most grateful for at the moment…

Their quiet investigation kept on going until after they’d gone around the kitchen. It had been quick, given the putrid smell they really wanted to get away from as quickly as possible.

Then Jisung laughed.

“ That sure was something, huh ? “ Not an ounce of confidence in his voice. Definitely faking it still though.

“ Sure was, “ Minho muttered, nose slightly scrunched up from the smell still, “ and also I don’t think I wanna see what the restroom’s like so let’s skip it. “

“ Yeah, okay. “

He’d already avoided some rooms with Jeongin once. They just pretended they lost the footage when asked about it. Surely that didn’t only happen when he was part of the investigation, right ? Eh, whatever. He’d just cut off the footage they already had so it’d seem like they opened the door.

“ Okay, anyway… Hello, ghosts ! I am incredibly NOT scared of you, and you can’t do anything to me ! “ Oh, here’s the bravado. “ Let’s just talk and have some tea, and maybe some snacks and– “

“ No, wait. Shh. “

He raised an eyebrow but complied. Something he had feared was Minho being the one to notice something, because who knew how Minho would react to anything ? If he noticed something first he could at least anticipate his reaction. Not his own, but… that was less of a problem, as surprising as it might’ve been given he wasn’t too relaxed either.

And then it came… the footsteps. Jisung felt not only himself going stiff, but Minho as well - his grip tightening on the poor boy’s arm who ended up wincing in pain instead of focusing on the noise.

“ Does… Does the dog attack ? “ Minho whispered, voice shaking slightly.

“ I… No, “ Jisung answered just as quietly, “ please don’t cut off my blood circulation. “

“ Does the dog go upstairs ? “

“ I don’t… think s– Hey, stop ! “

Here they were, rushing to the staircase, and it was Jisung’s turn to be forcefully dragged there since Minho wouldn’t release his arm.

“ Come on, that’s crazy ! There’s a dead man’s ghost on this floor, it isn’t any better ! “ Jisung tried to argue, mentally attempting to rationalise anything they would do in the next eight hours aside from sleeping very uncomfortably and complaining about it.

“ I don’t care, if you don’t know a dog you never know how it can react, everybody knows that ! “

Jisung groaned. Why did things have to be this way ? He’d almost dropped the camera again, if this kept on going like this he’d definitely lose it.

“ … Besides, I sure hope you can’t find any… alive people’s ghosts, “ Minho continued. “ What’s a “dead man’s ghost” ? Redundant. That’s what it is. “

“ Oh, whatever - you got what I meant ! “

Silence should be the third main character given how often it appears but here it is, the silence. More looking around, and kind of… trying to walk around as well, though Jisung wasn’t very into it despite the brave act he’d put on just a few minutes ago.

“ So now that we’re here… Um, we’re supposed to sleep in the kids’ room, “ he explained, trying to figure out which one of these equally dull doors led to the room in question. “ The guy’s ghost never leaves his room but he makes stuff move, so… if you hear chairs moving in the middle of the night… “

“ Yeah, I get the gist of it. “ Pause. “ And I don’t like it one bit. “

“ Guess it’s good you’re with me then, “ a response which prompted a nervous snort. “ Hey, what does that mean ? “

“ Nothing. Let’s get going. “

The next minutes were spent visiting the rooms, trying not to touch things and remaining careful of any noises they might hear. Nothing just yet, aside from the footsteps from before, and even the man’s bedroom seemed pretty okay ! Well, aside from the smell, once again. The kids’ bedroom didn’t smell as bad from what Jisung could remember of the maybe two minutes they’d spent ‘visiting’ it.

“ Hey, look at this, “ Minho called out from the end of Jisung’s arm. “ There’s a journal on the desk. It was left open. “

“ Oh, sick, let’s read it. “

And with this, the two boys jumped onto the journal. Perhaps that wasn’t the best call though ; a few seconds into it and the chair was suddenly thrown into them, reminding them they were kind of invading the privacy of an actual ghost… and yes, they ran out of the room.

Next step was locking themselves up in the kids’ room, quickly setting up their sleeping bags all while remaining glued to each other, each whispering a different list of swears and prayers before Minho spoke up with a desperate “ Man, what the hell ! “, and Jisung responding as desperately with “ I don’t know, dude ! “.

They let themselves plop down on Minho’s sleeping bag. Panting, Jisung dropping the hand-held camera to hold the other just as tight as he was being held, overall looking very comfortable with the situation they were in.

“ It moved. Right. “ Minho asked, though it was more of a statement.

“ Rammed into my legs, yes. “

“ I should’ve been the one to take it, I pointed to the journal... Sorry about that. “

“ Nah... It’s good. I shouldn’t have tried to read it. I could’ve left it alone or something... Not your fault we’re both kinda stupid. “

Jisung trailed off again, slowly resting his head on the older boy’s shoulder and giving up. That was what it was, giving up that act he was putting on so Minho would relax more, now he just wanted to…

“ Didn’t you say something about going home ? “

“ I did… I mean it more now though. “

“ Thought so... Me too. “

[2:37 am]

“ Okay, so… the cameras are set up, with the audio recording. “

“ Correct. “

“ The door and window are closed even though there’s this uh, kind of inconvenient hole in the wall here. “

“ Uhuh. “

“ And you got snacks. “

“ I do. “

“ Then does that mean we get to sleep now ? Shouldn’t get much worse than that… “ Jisung’s sentenced ended with a yawn.

“ Guess you’re right. “ Minho’s voice was as disheartened as it could possibly get. It hadn’t been much but the both of them were drained.

Jisung sighed and took the frontal camera off along with the light, setting it next to the sleeping bag then looking back at his friend, waiting for him to do the same. And he didn’t.

“ … You won’t take it off ? “

“ You never know what can happen - and in case something does happen I need to be prepared. “ Minho turned the frontal light back on as to prove his point, blinding Jisung in the process. “ Dude, you didn’t have to. “

“ Did too ! I let you get hurt once, what am I gonna look like if you get hurt a second time and I do nothing about it ? I’d rather die. “

“ No, I meant... You didn’t have to flash it in my eyes like that. “

“ Oh. “

Silence is back.

“ Sorry. “

“ I’m not mad, don’t worry. “

Minho hummed softly, turning the light back off before slipping into his bag, and all Jisung could do was… watch.

“ Thanks for what you said though. I’d rather you don’t die if possible, three ghosts is enough for one house... “

That earned Minho a small chuckle as he looked back at his friend. He had that sleepy smile on his face but, as comforting as that smile was, he didn’t find it in himself to smile back truthfully. Something about this place just made him sad, he didn’t really like it and the prospect of sleeping in a bag by himself wasn’t really something he fancied either.

The other boy just waited. They were staring at each other for a few minutes with very different thoughts crossing their minds. For Jisung, it was a weird form of separation anxiety despite them sleeping in the same room ; for Minho it was a 13 minute long cat compilation. No thoughts, head empty… only cat. Jisung didn’t move, neither did Minho, but Jisung seemed much more inconvenienced sitting next to the other boy who was arguably comfortably lying down ready to sleep.

More silence. Then Jisung slipping into Minho's sleeping bag as well, snuggling up to his friend - warmth was truly the best way to feel safer. Minho said nothing. Instead of words, he responded with an embrace. A lazy one. He wasn't holding tightly onto Jisung anymore, it was rather relaxed... For the first time of the evening, Minho had relaxed, which only comforted his friend more.

" Night. "

[3:54 am]

... " Minho. Minho ? Hey, dude-- please wake up. "

" Mh... What ? It's late, why won't you let me... "

" I'm feeling something on me. Something that I don't think is your leg. It... it vibrates a little. Oh god. It’s a demon. There’s my sleep paralysis demon sleeping on me. I’m going to die. I’m sorry, Minho, I’m gonna have to leave you- "

Flash. A small noise came from the... mass that was lying on Jisung, then two tiny ears perked up, followed by a meow. Quite the terrifying demon.

“ ... It’s a cat, “ Jisung observed, slowly coming down from his panicked state, while Minho had already sat up to pet the small animal.

“ If your sleep paralysis demon’s a cat, I’m willing to get sleep paralysis. “

“ No, no ! It’s... fine. I had no idea it was a cat... “

Great way to make a fool of himself but it wasn’t like it was the first time, nor did Minho really seem to mind now that he had something to hold onto to keep calm.

“ I wonder how it got in, we kept the door and window closed... “

" Ah, uh. Maybe the small hole. "

" I guess that’d make sense. Well, now that’s settled... We should just go back to sleep, yeah ? “

" Yeah... " Jisung muttered.

That wasn’t something he’d expected. A cat... Maybe that was just how Minho was ? Capable of attracting nearby cats ? He’d never thought that’d be something he’d one day be grateful for, and yet here they were. This cat would be the key to a good night’s sleep, guaranteed, with the purring soothing him and the warmth... Again, warmth helping him feel safe. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

[5:26 pm]

“ You lost all the footage ? All of it ? “

The seven boys were glaring. Ouch, that kind of hurt, didn’t it ? While not all of them were as serious as Chan, it was kind of hard on Jisung... Lying to everyone like that, could they do it ?

“ Oh, we sure did, “ he responded with that good ol’ fake confident smile, maintaining eye contact to the extreme, “ we’re all out of footage for the day ! “

“ Yeah, cameras said there was no space left before we were done filming and deleted everything stored in it. Sorry. “

Apparently, Minho could do it better than him without much trouble.

“ But instead, I’ve got something even better !”

Lo and behold, there’s a fucking cat in his coat ! Gasps coming from the younger boys and Changbin, Woojin aww-ing and Chan having to give it to him, getting a cat out of an investigation was pretty cool, the proud look on Minho’s face could not be more relieving to his more anxious friend.

“ I’m taking her home by the way, but I’ll let Jisung pick the name with me - don’t be too jealous, I’ll send you videos of her. “

They’d gotten one good thing out of this night. Jisung had gotten way with lying about the ghost of that cat. And... well, they’d gotten away with deleting the footage themselves, though they didn’t review it before doing so. How unfortunate that they didn’t see the man’s ghost petting the cat while they slept - that would’ve made their day !

#stayshub #han jisung #lee minho #lee know #stray kids #stray kids drabbles #tho idk if 3k+ words really count as a drabble...#minsung #fuck if i know how to tag fics i don't !! i do not !!!#it's my first time writing as them so i'm sorry about... everything T_T

7 notes · View notes

bladekindeyewear · 5 years

Text

Boots Reads Homestuck Epilogue(s) Part 14 - Candy Page 27

==>

Alright, back from a brief excursion. I really, REALLY wanna fucking finish this. I want to see ROXY UNZOMBIFIED goddamnit, or at least get a REASON for her zombification, even if it’s just some Dirk-like villain who just cliffhangers himself away like a fucking asshole.

Also, comment on John’s whole rant... I guess John DID kind of want to be important. Or... well, not “important” per se, but rather at least impactful in his friends’ lives. It feels like they’re all walking dead through their own unsolved problems, trying to put on a pretty face, and nothing he tries to do matters, even attempted kidnapping. He feels as useless as Dirk THINKS he is, but he never really was. Gosh, I wish he’d pulled off that absurd kidnapping. Freeing people from this sort of thing is supposed to kind of be his jam?

Okay, reading the new page.

FUCK. TEN YEARS???????

Pff, John’s kid and sorta!Vriska. Yeah I can buy that.

Also I love how they type out “Harry Anderson” every single time as his full first goddamn name.

--God damnit, how is Gamzee still fucking things up ten years later? Hasn’t someone considered killing him?

Karkat and Meenah, also unsurprising. Too bad Dave has to die unsatisfied. >:(

Hm... this sorta!Vriska also has a weird Capitalization Quirk for Important Words, huh? --Oh right, Kanaya raised her. That might do it.

Hm, eyepatch?

Alright, the world’s falling into chaos. Did the world HAVE to fucking fall into chaos in BOTH TIMELINES where these supposedly-went-through-a-successful-journey heroes managed to eek out victory despite opposing reality’s greatest tyrant? Pfuh.

--and right. Alt!Callie reinforces the idea that even though this possibility “wasn’t canon” -- which... means Meat is?? D: -- that the lives within still matter when looked at within their own bubble.

JADE: while abstracted heavily, and fully freed from all forces of narrative gravity, these events still represent possibilities that slept within the hearts of all who reside here.

Mhmm, part of an extension of themselves, their uniqueness, their hopes and dreams and... whatever WHOEVER did to fuck Roxy over. Jesus DICK what’s happened to her I need to know you’d better fix this.

And somewhere within that mess, John Egbert is the best man at Jade and Dave’s wedding. He lasts nearly two hours before he gets a ruinous case of the sniffles.

Maybe they worked it out into ALMOST full mutual love? Even if Dave’s 70% gayness goes totally unsatisfied? I mean, I can hope, right? :(

Dammit, Jade, couldn’t you have done this properly? :C

and everyone knows that John has lost his family to Jane Crocker.

What the shit?!???

What drove Roxy away was him being depressed and just an all-around huge wet blanket who was impossible to live with. John is totally ready to own the fact that he was a bad husband, but maybe not the fact that he was a bad enough husband to drive his wife to passively support a brewing genocidal dictatorship. She looks happier, though, whenever he’s caught sight of her behind Jane—Calliope faithfully at her side—in any of the propaganda broadcasts that Jane passes off as business press conferences. By the time Roxy finally cut things off between them, he hadn’t personally seen her smile in years.

WHAT. THE. SHIT.

WHY DID ROXY DO ALL THIS THEN. WHY DID SHE OF ALL PEOPLE, ONE OF THE MOST FORCEFUL AND SMART AND COOL--- GUHHH SHE JUST VOIDED HER WILL JUST OUT OF OBLIGATION TO JOHN OR SOMETHING?????????? WHAT THE FUCK WHYYYYYYY

Characters choke. Characters make bad decisions. That’s fair. Andrew’s said that before. But John was VISIBLY RECOGNIZING HOW OUT OF CHARACTER ROXY WAS ACTING. WHYYYYYYYYY DID IT HAPPEN, WHY SUDDENLY DECADES OF MISHANDLED RELATIONSHIP WITH ABSOLUTELY NOBODY POINTING OUT THE OBVIOUS WHAT THE FUCK. AND ROXY WAS THE ONE WHO STARTED IT AND PUSHED INTO JOHN UNTIL HE ACCEPTED. WHY.

WHY.

Read. Calm down. Read. There had better be. A FUCKING. ANSWER.

Hi military rebellion leader Karkat.

KARKAT: OH MY GOD JOHN, STOP BEING SO FUCKING PATHETIC FOR JUST A MINUTE. COULD YOU DO THAT FOR ME? JOHN: i don’t know. that’s a pretty big favor you’re asking me there, karkat.

heheh

JOHN: i dunno. it doesn’t seem responsible, really... to dedicate my life to something so important when i’m in a place where i can’t even find the energy to think that getting out of bed in the morning is “important.”

Depression stuff, yeah.

John really needs a psychologist who isn’t just Rose.

pff, yifftrain.

That’s how the years pass. Faster and faster the longer it goes.

What. The. Fuck.

We’re not going to get any answers are we. Roxy just acted out of character for no reason, didn’t she. This is-- no, Andrew’s too GOOD at this for that to-- I mean-- is there a big answer he’s just not telling us-- FUCK!!!! D:

AAAAAAAA

This sucks. This sucks this sucks this SUCKS. But I’ll keep reading. I have to know. If I’m ever going to be able to stand, like, i dunno... homestuck rp i guess? i should probably keep reading. and hope i recover. eventually.

But that’s only part of it. Above this Earth, the dead cherub is still meditating, waiting for the day when she can have her own heroic apotheosis. Waiting for the day when she can confront the one she calls the Prince. And on this Earth, John is just waiting for the day that feeling finally stops. That feeling that he’s still waiting for something, and the even worse feeling that years ago, he missed his only chance to put an end to it. If you stand on a very high hill at dawn, you can watch your shadow move in an arc around you.

Yeah, reinforcing that John would be happier in the timeline where he did something and -- at least temporarily, since there’s hope of future revival -- “died” because of it, even if he wasn’t clear on why what he was trying to do even really mattered in the whole scheme of things.

...which is pretty weird when you consider the ending of Homestuck didn’t try to express that messa-- no, wait. I guess it did?

Yes, everyone went to the post-victory planet to live out indefinite lives, but there WAS still the stage play. Proving that John, at least, WOULD eventually step outside the happy ending to instead risk his life doing something important. They earned both possibilities, really, to choose from at their will.

...Aren’t there another dozen pages or so left in this Candy segment, though?? Are we gonna follow their kids or something?

==>

...Okay so stuff still needs to happen here, plotways. Good. I think.

A flash above the clouds catches John’s attention: another ghost, falling down from wherever it is they come from. John follows after the light with an exhausted sigh. The novelty of dead trolls falling from the sky has really worn off over the years. But he might as well go warn the new arrival that they’ve landed in the middle of an imminent warzone. He sets down at the edge of the crater and peers through the smoke.

He recognizes the ghost immediately, because he sees a younger version of her almost every day.

JOHN: vriska?

Vriska’s face snaps up, eyes blazing. Eyes. Actual eyes, with expression, color, pupils, and everything.

JOHN: wait. you’re... JOHN: alive??

PFFFFFFhahahahah!

That’s pretty hilarious. Vriska fell into the singularity and popped out here.

...Yeah, you can’t stand having missed the most “important” bit, can you. Too bad. You didn’t have the spotlight in the end.

==>

JADE: it is the one i have been waiting for all these years. JADE: we have run along parallel lines for what may as well be eternity, but my gravitational well has finally ensnared him. JADE: and now he is due to fall into this world.

Uhh, who? Davebot or something, from the postscript? Couldn’t be Gamzee, unless it’s, like... a different Gamzee.

“Chaos war”? That’s a dramatic title.

==>

Hmm, reading reading...

Will Dad’s passing knock any sense into you? Probably not.

...yeah, it wasn’t going to be that easy, was it?

Of course. Of course Dad died saving the President.

Although, she’s going to assign fault to Karkat and then want to start a full bloody war over it, so, the opposite of having sense knocked into her then.

JANE: UGH! JANE: That... that fool!! JANE: I can’t believe that he would do this! JANE: How could he do this to me!?! JAKE: Janey... JANE: The human president could be anyone! JANE: My dad can’t be anyone but him!

Jane, you’ve become a real asshole. :(

...Fuck you Gamzee.

GAMZEE: hEy. GAMZEE: Do YoU tHiNk ThAt MiGhT bE a BiT mOtHeRfUcKinG xEnOpHoBiC?

PFFFFHAHAHAHAHAAHAHhhh oh my GOD :’D

JANE: What? You think appealing to me with your disgusting little addiction is going to sway me?

Oh Jesus Christ that’s horrifying. THAT’s what’s been going on. I don’t want to visualize it, dear lord.

==>

Hahahah, catching Vriska up. She’s practically curling up in a ball like Squidward in future shock.

PFFF PUTTING PARENS AROUND HER NAME SHE CAN’T STAND BEING IRRELEVANTIZED LIKE THAT

JOHN: i was supposed to go fight lord english, but i didn’t. so now we’ve gone beyond, like, the event horizon of canon. (VRISKA): What the fuck does that even MEAN????????

Wait, shouldn’t YOU know exactly what that means, Vriska? Like, better than most people at least?

JOHN: all i know is that all of this is my fault.

JOHN: it’s been turning around in my head like this for a while. i thought... JOHN: why does everything here fucking SUCK so much? JOHN: how the hell did we even make it from point A to point festering clusterfuck? JOHN: it doesn’t follow any kind of logic i understand, or any sort of basic sense i have about who we are as people... JOHN: and why? why have we all ended up so unhappy and... twisted up?

Yeah, a BUNCH of people have acted really goddamn out of character and it’s unclear why.

JOHN: i got everything i wanted. everyone got what they— JOHN: what i thought they wanted. JOHN: and that’s just it, isn’t it? JOHN: the more i think about it, i’m the only factor that matters to anything.

--What?!? No!!! You could SEE that this wasn’t what you thought they wanted right from the get-go. It couldn’t have been YOUR imagination that this realm of alternative possibility was drawn from, could it? D:

JOHN: whatever i did, or didn’t do, just... destroyed reality’s ability to, like, substantiate itself, or whatever. JOHN: like there’s a bug in the operating system of whatever force in this world that regulates cause and effect. JOHN: everything’s been unraveling. nothing that happens makes sense anymore. JOHN: and now i’m the only person out here who’s even real at all! JOHN: hahahaha.

That’s certainly an idea at least, that people started acting out of character as we went further from “canon”. In fact, it’s kind of a slam at fanfics, maybe? Acknowledging that they distort the characters by understanding them in different ways, sometimes, and.. hm.

(VRISKA): Hahahahahahahaha... Wow, I’ve never seen a guy get his 8ulge all the way down his own swallow chute 8efore! JOHN: wait, what? (VRISKA): Good fuck. Do you actually think reality gives that much of a shit a8out you? (VRISKA): Get real, Eg8ert. (VRISKA): It’s not like you’re me. JOHN: ok, well. JOHN: that’s fair i guess.

Heheheh. ...Yeah, Vriska might pep talk him out of this self-deprecating theory of his. Besides, I mean... is that the ONLY cause for this whole fucking situation? That Roxy’s will got eroded to nothing arbitrarily either at random in a glitching non-canon timeline or because John kind of maybe thought something was going to happen and reality decided to run with it??

...heheh, “batterpanzers”.

I’m pretty sure caring what “c8non” is supposed to be is EXACTLY the thing you’re freaking out about, Vriska, whether you realize it or not.

Oooh, Gamzee. Do we get to see Vriska kill him?

Yeaaah... redemption ain’t for THIS sp8der. The ghost version of Vriska got the closest thing to redemption she’ll ever get; THIS version never learned any damn lessons and is not going to accept that she ever NEEDS to. Also, you said her name in relevance-reducing parentheses. Bad move.

==>

Yaaaay here’s the bunch of indigo blood we were promised!! :D

Where’s the nudity though? Maybe that’s coming.

He yowls as if he had actual testicles to be mauled, and for all anyone knows, maybe he really does.

It’s reassuring to see that while Andrew is more than willing to give us WAY too much genital detail in some cases throughout this epilogue, he still knows how to deftly exploit the parts of anatomy that still AREN’T explicitly characterized and remain intentionally vague for their impactful resulting humor. :)

She lunges at Gamzee’s catastrophic face lips-first, and practically dives into his mouth, ramming her tongue into his

NOOO FUCK HE WAS ABOUT TO DIE AAAAAA D’:

FUCK :(

Okay, back on to anything but this.

==>

Oh shit, double Vriska. This might be bad.

...Phew. Nice save, John.

JOHN: ha ha. yeah, right. because this is real life, right? JOHN: i guess reading narrative relevance into a bunch of dumb and totally random events is kind of lame and childish. ROSE: No, that isn’t what I meant at all. ROSE: By all means, apply a narrative to our lives. Up until a certain point, it would have been perfectly accurate to do so. ROSE: But not anymore. JOHN: because... it’s not canon, right? ROSE: Do you remember what I told you years ago? About the three pillars of canon?

Wuh-oh.

ROSE: As I explained to you on that morning sixteen years ago, there are three critical features of canon: essentiality, relevance, and truth. JOHN: yeah. ROSE: We have been untethered from the mooring of “truth” for some time now. ROSE: So while we, in our subjective experiences of conscious perception, feel in this moment that we have known each other for a very long time, technically it’s not true at all.

...Okay. Okay.

So. Were, like.

Roxy and Calliope affected by the, like... “untruth wave” of his choice not to go the hardest, because he made it in their vicinity? And that turned Roxy into a hypnozombie with minimal apparent free will? :C

...Oh wow. She’s thanking John that she got a chance to be happy in this side timeline, even if so many other people suffered. Because of the fucking hell Dirk was about to unleash on her in the Meat timeline. Fuck.

ROSE: In the silly wizard story I wrote when I was a child, ROSE: The realm most comparable to heaven existed in a state of subliminal conditionality, dependent on the inscience of the individual experiencing it. ROSE: Which is to say that it would cease to exist the moment you realized what it was. ROSE: And so, those with knowledge could never truly be happy.

Oh wow, huh. Yeah, knowing you’re just in a fanfic kind of screws your appreciation for life around you, huh. So John got fucked over a bit by his metatextual awareness. :(

And... Rose was, like, cut off by his choice from her own metatextual awakening, maybe? Hence her ability to appreciate a life somewhere disconnected from anything “canon”?

ROSE: But that isn’t me anymore. ROSE: I am blind against the veil of this world. ROSE: It’s all ambrosia to me. ROSE: I don’t care if it’s not true. I care even less if it’s not canon. ROSE: I have a beautiful wife who I love more than I thought possible, and a daughter who I am immeasurably proud of. ROSE: It can all be senseless, ephemeral noise that dissolves in the void. A whisper swept up by the wind before it’s uttered. ROSE: I’m still grateful to have felt this way.

:’)

Alright, this might be a pretty good way of accepting their potential happiness in different timelines as a potential substitute for Dirk’s mess. I’m not sure HOW well I’ll be able to internalize it to stop the stomach cramps, but we’ll see.

We still have a little bit more left, though. Next post.

#Homestuck #Homestuck Epilogue #Upd8 #Homestuck Liveblog #bladekindeyewear #BlastYoBoots

20 notes · View notes

myrainydayloves · 5 years

Text

Can You Adopt a Mom?

I have been adopted as a mom for this poor child.

Annaka sneaks Rayfa out of the palace to enjoy the delights of both rebelling against your overbearing older sibling and hanging out with a friend. Through out the night however, Rayfa realizes Annaka might mean more to her than get her older brother’s girlfriend. More like the mom she didn’t get to have.

This is fucking L O N G. Like 2k+ long. I love Rayfa, she’s my daughter.

Rayfa was sick of her older brother. Sick of being a princess. Sick of everything. Even now, Nahyuta guided her to her chambers at eight pm sharp claiming she needed rest.

“I’m not a baby!” She cried as he closed her bedroom door. With that declaration, she flung herself on her bed. Rayfa let her pillow have it: screaming, crying, the whole shebang. In the dark of her room, she knew only loneliness and tears.

Outside were the sounds of people. Some event she would never be able to see or participate in where girls were allowed to dance however they wanted and eat candies apples and other sugary treats without having to hear someone yell at them for getting their clothes dirty. None of them were in onus to a queen or had their mother, or at least the mother they knew, use them and abuse them for so long.

Cursing everyone and everything around her, she grabbed the glass of water next to her bed and threw it outside before burying her face in her pillow again. Eventually, she knew she would have to turn off the lights, that Nahyuta would come check on her and scold her for still being awake.

And when her door opened, she assumed it was too late.

“Psst, Rayfa? Are you awake?”

The princess looked up to see a mischievous and familiar face smiling at her.

“Annaka?! What are you doing-“

“Shush!” Annaka clapped a hand over Rayfa’s mouth. “You’re gonna alert Nahyuta!”

After confirming Rayfa understood that she couldn’t yell, Annaka stepped back.

“What are you doing here? I’ll have you know, no matter how much sway Horn Head has around here, you can’t just go barging into people’s rooms!”

“Relax, I’m here to spirit you away! There’s a festival going on!”

Rayfa paused. “Braid Head says I’m not allowed to go. That I’ll be up to late or get hurt.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here! Don’t you want to go?”

“I...no,” Rayfa said, looking at her blanket and tracing the silk pattern with her finger. “I shouldn’t.”

“Do you really not want to go...or is it just Nahyuta?”

When Rayfa didn’t answer, Annaka began searching through her drawer. After a few seconds, she produced a pair of shorts and a less fancy dress.

“Last chance.”

Rayfa took the clothes.

After she finished changing she saw Annaka sat in front of the full length mirror. Annaka patted her lap.

“Come ‘ere. I gotta change your hair.”

“Okay...but just don’t make me look bad.”

Rayfa cautiously sat in Annaka’s lap and undid her swooping braids. With a brush, Annaka began to comb out her long black hair.

“Are you tenderheaded?”

“Huh?”

“It means like...if I catch a knot will it hurt?”

She thought about all the times Ga’ran had brushed her hair. It had only happened once or twice but the way she yanked the comb through still made her scalp tingle. So she nodded.

In nothing but the glow of a small candle and the moonlight, Annaka began to brush her hair. Slowly, gently unraveling knots and guiding the brush through.

So this is why people let their mother brush their hair, Rayfa thought, relaxing and leaning back against Annaka.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep on me.”

“K.”

But her eyes closed, just listening to Annaka hum and gently brush her hair. After it was to her satisfaction, Annaka began to pull it back into a ponytail and bobby pin stands into place.

“Ready to go party, kiddo?”

“We’re really going?” Her eyes shot open and she stared at Annaka in the mirror.

“If you wanna.”

“I do! I just…”

“Hey don’t worry about Amara or Nahyuta. I’ll take all the blame if we get caught.”

Rayfa nodded at both herself in the mirror and Annaka’s relaxed smile.

They carefully made their way through the darkened hallway, pressed up against smooth stone walls that sent a chill up Rayfa’s spine. Annaka held onto her hand and peeked around the corner. She muttered an ‘all clear’ and pulled Rayfa through the corridor. They bobbed and weaved through the quiet halls without alerting any servant.

“You’re too good at this,” Rayfa commented once they were hidden in a little corner. Annaka giggled in response.

Out through the garden gate and down the steps to the city in a flash, they ran. Rayfa couldn’t even remember the last time she ran for fun. But here she was, bumbling down the steps with Annaka tugging her hand. Something inside her felt light, like a burden was being lifted off her shoulders. She could just run up and down these steps all day as long as Annaka was there.

They stumbled into the middle of the festival, awash with colors of pink and gold. People danced, laughed, sang. The air was warm against her skin and the beat humming through the stone under her feet made her want to dance. Smells of fresh cinnamon and ginger assaulted her nose. Rayfa could smell the faint scent of a beer her father used to like and felt her stomach turn.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“You okay, kiddo?”

Rayfa pulled the shawl Annaka had draped around her shoulders earlier a bit tighter. Highlighted in the golden lanterns was her guardian’s gentle face, concern written all over her features. There was no anger or malic clouding her thoughts, just pure concern.

So it was gonna be okay.

She nodded and took Annaka’s hand again. They glided through the crowd like a dance that Rayfa quickly learned the moves to. Stopping in front of a small booth, she saw a bunch of tiny goldfish swimming around in a tank. With a tug on Annaka’s hand, they stopped.

“Oh? You wanna play?”

“What is it?”

The old man smiled and pointed to the fish. “All you have to do is catch the fish with these little nets. Then you get to keep it.”

Rayfa nodded. “I want to play.”

“That’ll be two ten coins.”

“But I’m-“

Annaka squeezed her hand. “I’ll pay, kiddo. Don’t wanna blow our cover do you?”

She sipped the net in the water, quickly trying to scoop up a fish but the net disintegrated as soon as she thought she had the fish. So she tried again. And again the net broke.

“Hey!” Rayfa cried. “This net is paper! You could never catch any fish with it! You’re running a scam!”

The old man laughed. “I never said it would be easy, girl!”

“How dare you speak to me that way! I am-“

Annaka scooped up a fish.

So amazed was Rayfa that she totally forgot she was angry. There, now swimming in a little bowl by the pool, was a goldfish.

Annaka twirled the net in her fingers. “I used to date a guy who was really good at these. Taught me the trick.”

“What’s the trick?”

“You got move fast as hell and try to get on against the wall or by the corner.”

Rayfa took her last net, waited until a fish was in the right spot, then plunged her net in the water.

And it broke.

“Ugh! This sucks!”

Annaka laughed at her face but instead of feeling insulted, Rayfa felt like she had just told a good joke. Like this laughter was something to be proud of. So she started to laugh too.

Softly but then growing into a full on snorting fest, which made Annaka laugh even harder. The two were laughing with each other like no one was watching and Rayfa was pleased no one really was or she might feel embarrassed.

“What other games are there?” She asked after they began to relax.

So they toured games and Rayfa found Annaka was very good at all of them. The shooting gallery, the clown knock over, the milk bottle throw, and even the basketball shooting. But she was god awful at the ring toss.

“Damn, I kinda want that plush snow leopard,” Annaka muttered, watching yet another ring bounce off.

“Let me try,” Rayfa demanded, taking the last ring. “Oh Holy Mother, guide this ring to a prize desired by Annaka who has served to better this country.” And then Rayfa flung it.

Flung it way too hard.

It sailed over the bottles, forcing the gamemaster to duck and shot into the crowd. Someone yelp as they were undoubtedly smacked by a plastic ring.

“Hey, watch where your- Anni?” Apollo appeared out of the crowd. “I thought you were gonna stay in and get some rest? And who is that holding your hand?”

“Run!”

Laughing again, Annaka ran through the crowd with Rayfa. The girls lost Apollo almost immediately but continued to sprint through the various stalls selling anything from clothes to honeyed pastries. They gasped for air after ducking behind a curtain.

Fun, Rayfa realized, she was having so much fun. She suddenly understood why people seemed to stay around Annaka despite her somewhat gruff nature. This was fun. She was fun.

“Apollo’s gonna grill me tomorrow, for sure,” she breathed, standing up.

Rayfa looked up at her. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Pfft, no. Not with Polly. He loves me too much to scold me.”

“Oh.”

“What’s up next, kiddo?” Annaka asked.

Rayfa thought for a few seconds before she pointed to a cart selling puffy flower crispy things. She and Annaka walked over, bought a bag, and watched the vendor pour the contents of the bag into a sizzling pot of oil. The flowers exploded to three times their size with just one toss in the oil before being scooped up and handed to them in a paper bag.

“Shrimp chips,” Annaka mumbled, biting into one.

“Let me guess. You had an ex-boyfriend who liked them?” Pride shot through Rayfa again as Annaka laughed. As they walked through the festival, stopping a various booths, Rayfa asked. “Have you dated a many men before Horn Head?”

“Yeah. But none of them ever lasted as long as Apollo.”

“What were they like?”

“Oh characters, all of them. I dated the boss of the L.A underground for a bit. Didn’t work out. He was too serious.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

Annaka smirked at her. “I’m a dangerous woman.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s why you are so drawn to Horn Head. The danger.”

“You’re a mean little girl, you know that?”

Rayfa giggled until Annaka slipped something into her hair. She carefully untangled it to reveal a piece of blue glass wrapped delicately in gold, set in a hair pin. Before she could ask about it, Annaka was already moving on to the stage.

Shorter than most, Rayfa couldn’t see over the towering crowds even though the stage was elevated. Annaka pushed through the crowd with her so they might have a better viewing of the stage.

Only to find a disaster of a play happening.

Perhaps it was a spin off of the Plumed Punisher but what mattered was the way Rayfa saw herself reflected in the lead actress. Huffy and spoiled, she stomped around the stage much to the laughter of the crowd.

“Don’t you know who I am?” The actress playing her cried.

The male lead shrugged. “I do, I just don’t care.”

“How dare you, I-“ The actress tripped purposefully and the crowd cheered, alight with the joys of mockery.

“For such a clumsy priestess, one would wish you at least had the body to match.” More laughter.

Rayfa shrunk next to Annaka, tears pricking her eyes and threatening to roll down her cheeks. What must Annaka think of her now? That she was just a spoiled little girl? That her body was lacking? That would always be annoying and foolish and naive and-

“How pathetic.”

She looked up and saw Annaka scowling. “S-Sorry-“

“Not you, dear. You’re a child. They have no right to mock you. Just a pathetic cry for attention,” Annaka mumbled before she kicked a pole holding up the stage. It rocked back and forth, sending the actors onto their butts and causing the audience to roar with laughter. “Now that’s funny.”

Her hand found Rayfa’s and pulled her away from the stage. They returned to the game section, hands full of tickets to play with. For every game, Annaka told a story about an old love interest and she soaked it up.

There were stories of breaking into abandoned building to graffiti the insides, knife fights in woods, water balloon fights in the heat of summer. All of it fascinating and just out of Rayfa’s grasp.

“I want to do those things.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I am a princess. I have a duty to uphold.”

“Well,” Annaka crosses her arms and looked up thoughtfully. “No one said you have to be a princess every night. I’m having plenty of fun. We can sneak out again and get into trouble anytime you’d like.”

For a second, Rayfa couldn’t believe her ears. “But Braid Head-“

“Do I look like I’m scared of Nahyuta?”

“No. You’re not afraid of anything,” Rayfa said, disappointed in herself for not having that same fearlessness.

Annaka knelt down. “That’s not true. I have lots of fears. I just hide them well.”

Rayfa pondered about all the things Annaka could be afraid of as they snuck back into the castle, a bag of candy floss tucked under her sweater. She was still thinking about it when Annaka tucked her in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, got all maternal there for a sec,” she said.

Rayfa looked at her for a long time, thought about everything that had happened over the past month, and said, “That’s okay. I could use a mother.”

As Annaka turned to leave, she whispered just loud enough to hear, “...and a bedtime story too.”

She snorted, crawled into bed, let Rayfa snuggle up to her so she could pet her hair, and took a breath. “I didn’t really have a mom either.”

“Really?”

“My mom was an...well...we had a bad life. My father was...a terrible man and she drank to cope. Drank a lot to cope. So it was always just me, looking out for me.” Annaka hummed thoughtfully. “Then later in life, after she got sober, she started to lose her mind. Really started to be disconnected from reality.”

“What did you do?”

“Joined a gang. Not my smartest move, I’ll admit. But it was good to have a family that really wanted me. Then I met Phoenix...then I had a whole new family. One that I had to protect.”

“And then?”

Annaka paused and Rayfa looked up to see her eyes closed and a smile on her lips. “Then I met Apollo. And now...he protects me. And now what with all that’s happened, I’m gonna protect you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You’re my lil sister now. Maybe even my daughter. I don’t know.”

They eased into a comfortable silence with Annaka gently brushing her fingers through Rayfa’s hair until they both started to fall asleep. Happy, protected, and loved.

—

When Rayfa woke up, her new guardian was standing over her with a sharpie and admiring her handiwork. She gasped and ran over to the mirror to see her cheek sporting a new heart tattoo in permanent marker. Instantly, Rayfa grabbed the closet soft object and hurled it at Annaka.

“You!”

“Ow! Relax! It’s washable-Ow!”

#writings #the wright ruling #rayfa is a honorary wright #and my daughter

13 notes · View notes

youaremynewdream · 6 years

Text

Until The Light: Ch 4

Chapter 4: You Owe Me

Fandom: FFXV Rating: T Pairing: Promptis Summary: Noctis and Prompto have been set up as roommates by their parents to try to get by living in downtown Insomnia. But when Noctis starts noticing Prompto’s strange habits, they both discover a secret that Prompto didn’t know he was hiding. (Vampire and Roommate AU)

Chapter Summary: Prompto visits Cor in hopes of getting some answers.

Thanks to @emeraldwaves again for being twelve levels of awesome (aka putting up with my beta shit)

Read on AO3 here!

Fic Playlist here~

The setting sun still stings as Prompto exits the subway station.

Nothing like that morning, no blinding lights or white hot pain, but more like an irritating prickle across the skin he couldn't cover on his face.

Prompto sighs. How irritating.

Thankfully, Cor's place isn't too far of a walk from the station. A wave to the doorman, up 3 flights of stairs and the familiar succulents outside of the door. Home.

Or at least it used to be, he supposes. He should start referring to his new place as his home, but old habits are hard to break. Pausing before knocking on the door, Prompto isn't sure exactly why he is so nervous. Hasn't Cor always been the most understanding parent he could have asked for? How is this any different?

Before he can hesitate any longer, the door opens for him. "Hey kid." Cor stands there, stoic as always yet with a welcoming grin. Prompto must have looked confused as Cor waves him in, "I saw you heading up from the window. Come on in, I made some of those old deep fried meat pies you like, extra rare for ya."

Prompto licks his lips as he follows Cor inside. Inhaling, he takes in the scent of the meat pies mixed with vanilla and leather. Yup. Smells like home. Prompto sits down and wastes no time beginning to devour the meat pie before him.

Cor laughs, "That good, huh? Glad I still have that old recipe laying around." They both eat in relative silence, waiting for the other to bring up the reason for them being there.

Eventually, as last of the pie is swallowed by Prompto, he gives in. "So... Um, you wanted to talk to me? About this weird... sun stuff or... whatever?" Ugh why does this have to be so awkward. He hates having other people worry about his health. Why couldn't have normal allergies? Like... pollen or peanuts or dogs... wait no, not dogs, he'd much rather be allergic to the sun than any dog.

Cor puts down his fork and folds his hands together on the table in front of him. Steadily, he asks, "What are your furthest memories, whatever you can think of."

Prompto sighs, "Cor... you know I..."

"Reach back. As far as you can. Try for me."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Prompto attempts to force his mind to remember... something, anything.

"I... All I can remember is when you found me, there were bright lights and you telling me everything was going to be alright... keeping me calm." Prompto opens his eyes. Shaking his head, he continues, "I can't remember anything before that. Nothing solid. There are... flashes, I remember pain... some places, but nothing I can put a name or a face to. I'm sorry..."

Cor nods slowly, reassuring him, "You have nothing to be sorry about. I was just hoping... well it makes sense anyway. When I found you... I honestly didn't think you were going to make it. You were in agony. The screams alone... I knew I had to do something. You were hidden in an alley downtown, I barely heard you over the sounds of the traffic."

Standing suddenly, Cor makes his way to the kitchen window. Looking out, he continues, "You hear of these things on the news, but seeing someone in such bad condition in person... Nothing can prepare you for that. You kept trying to stand, but there were gashes all over your body, it looked like some kind of wild animal had tried to destroy you. It took everything out of me trying to keep you calm while the paramedics came...

"And this was all in broad daylight. Noon. On one of the hottest days of the year. Your clothes were in tatters, and you kept saying the same things over and over again, 'It's too bright, I'm on fire, Put out the fire'. It was horrible. I remember... at one point you looking at me directly in the eye asking me to end it all. I think... that was when I knew I was sticking with you. You needed someone at that moment, and damn if it wasn't going to be me."

Prompto stares at a spot in front of him on the table. He can't remember exactly what happened to him that day, but if what Cor is describing was correct... "So... it was the sun that I was in agony over, not the injuries."

Cor nods, turning back around to face Prompto, "I thought that couldn't be it... but ever since that day you refused to go outside during daylight. Especially on sunny days. I thought at first maybe it was just from the trauma you experienced... but I don't think that's exactly the case."

Cor thinks for a moment, then asks, "Do you remember being hospitalized? Or anything after the day I found you?"

Nodding, Prompto fiddles with his napkin, trying to remember, "Just barely. I kept going in and out of consciousness. I remember they wouldn't tell me a lot about what was wrong with me, but they kept trying to figure out who I was. I only knew my first name... And then they said you were going to be my caretaker."

Cor smiles and slides his phone across the table. The picture shows Prompto in bandages over most of his body, but he was smiling from ear to ear. Next to him was Cor, with his usual reserved smile, one arm around Prompto, the other holding what looked to be adoption papers.

"I never thought I wanted children." Cor's face softens as Prompto swipes through photos of them together, at parks, concerts, or just in their home. All of them with as little sunlight as possible.

"Although I suppose you never really counted as a ‘child’, but choosing to adopt you, son, was the best decision I ever made. I can't imagine... If I hadn't taken the long route home from work that day... what could have... what might have happened..."

"Dad..." Prompto stops him, handing him back the phone as he scoots closer. "You don't have to..."

Cor smiles at the photo left on the screen: A simple picture of Prompto at a lookout over Insomnia, taking his own photos in the sunset. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, we both needed each other. I don't like the word 'fate' but it’s hard to find a better way to describe the feeling."

Clicking off his phone he puts it back in his pocket as he folds his hands in his lap. "But you're not here to listen to me gush. When you called I could tell... you're still in pain, aren't you?"

Prompto shifts in his chair, furrowing his brow. "Yeah. I tried going outside again, and it’s like... everything was on fire. Like every nerve was being struck by lightning at once. This isn't just something in my head, Dad, it can't be."

"I know. Well... I know you've heard the story of my finding you many times. But I haven't always told you everything."

This makes Prompto sit straight up. "Wait, what? There's more?

Cor sighs, "Your doctor, Regis, wanted me to keep this quiet. He seemed to think that-"

"Wait wait wait, Regis? As in, Noct's father the doctor Regis? As in my roommate's dad?"

"Ah... yes. That... plays into it. See... when you were healing from your wounds, traditional medicine was not working on you. Not that you didn't heal, in fact you healed so quickly it was unheard of. They kept you in the hospital longer than necessary in order to not alert anyone to the... strange circumstances. They couldn't get any accurate readings from any tests they did on your blood, and your skin healed too quickly for them to do any biopsies. Honestly, it was lucky I had called Regis in the first place. We both understood each other, knew if you had gotten in the wrong hands, you could have been tested on, treated as some sort of experiment, especially as someone without any memories or family to speak of."

Prompto stares at him, jaw wide open. "I'm sorry, what?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing, how could he not have known any of this?

"I'm sorry to have kept this from you. We felt it best to observe you in a safe environment, to let you have a normal life, but also protect you from someone who might try to hurt you. And since we found you in the way we did... it was a possibility we couldn't rule out. We... I did this to make sure you were safe."

Getting up suddenly, Prompto walks to the window. "So, when did you think you were going to clue me in on all this huh? Did you experiment on me? Don't you think I should have known about this? And now... why let me go now?"

Cor closes his eyes, breathing deeply, "I was getting to that part. When Regis's son wanted to find a roommate downtown... well it seemed like the perfect opportunity to let you leave without being too far away from us... or with someone untrustworthy."

Prompto looks at the darkening city through the glass, trying to keep his emotions in check. He thought being independent was his first big decision, that for once he was in control... "So. Is Noctis in on this as well?" Is he just one more part of his life that was a lie?

"No. He knows nothing. When I said we kept this quiet, I meant it. It’s... a need to know basis. We just thought... this way at least you could live with someone your age, if not make a new friend or two."

Prompto grabs his coat and keys from the side table and shoves it on. Before he can make it out the door, Cor calls out, "Prompto!"

Stopping in the doorway but refusing to turn around, he replies, "What."

"Son... just know that I would never make you do anything you wouldn’t want to do. You can choose your own path. You can always choose."

Hiding the few tears that have spilled from his eyes, Prompto mutters under his breath, "That's what they always say."

He slams the door behind him before Cor can say ‘I love you.’

#ffxv #prompto #promptis #ffxv fanfiction #promptis fanfiction #prompto x noctis #noctis x prompto #ff15 #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #my writing #mine

5 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 6 years

Note

Hi Jen

Sequel to Lie Back and Think Of Obi | Out of Context Part 1

Suzu knows it’s a terrible plan.

“So you don’t have to tell me,” he slurs, hovering. “I got it.”

“I haven’t said anything.” Obi’s fingers don’t even slow. “Yet.”

The lock clicks, door swinging open beneath Obi’s capable hands. He sweeps an arm out, welcoming. “After you.”

He’s been in Yuzuri’s room – loads of times, honestly; enough that he could probably find things better than she could – but never without her. There’s something missing when he steps in, something that is everything that makes these four walls hers. It’s just some room when she isn’t here, a place to keep stuff.

Ugh, he is way too drunk to be thinking. He’s gotta stop before he passes out.

“So where are you planning on putting this thing?” Obi asks, shaking him out of contemplation. “Just…on the bed?”

Suzu stares down at the flowers in his hands, slightly crushed in their brown paper wrappings. “I feel like the bed has…connotations.”

Obi give him a long look, the kind that says, isn’t that half the point? “There’s the desk too.”

Suzu considers it. “But isn’t that too work-related?”

The silence in the room is deafening before Obi says, “Consider that you’re working to get out of the dog house.”

“Oh.” That’s not a bad point. “Right.”

The flowers slap down on the hard wood, losing a few petal in the process. He really doesn’t know his own strength like this. He must be ten times stronger drunk or something. “Done.”

Obi stares. “Just the flowers?”

“Jewelry seemed a little steep,” he explains, patting the packaging. “Also it’s really expensive. One little topaz and you’re out –”

“I meant a card.” Obi peels back the paper, brow furrowed. “How is she going to know who it’s from?”

“Huh.” Good question. “I figured it would be obvious. Do you think she gets a lot of bouquets?”

Obi’s eyebrows inch towards his hairline. “I think you better act like she does.”

“Yeah, good thought.” There’s a journal right on her desk, it’s nothing to just rip a page out –

“What?” Suzu blinks. “Something wrong?”

Obi removes his hand from his face. “No. By all means, just…finish what you’re doing.”

Suzu turns back to pick up a pencil – they’re scattered across her desk, some of them still rattling, can’t imagine how that happened – when the doorknob jiggles, like a key’s being fit into a lock.

“Oh,” Yuzuri says through the door, “did I leave this open?”

For entirely too short a time, his life flashes before his eyes. Wow, he really needs to finish that thesis.

“Get over here!” Obi’s hand closes around his bicep like a band of steel, and then everything is movement. He barely has a moment to realize he’s being dragged across the floor before Obi’s broad shoulders crowd him back, back, until he twists to close the closet door behind them.

“Ooh,” he murmurs, hands pressing the page to Obi’s chest. “It smells like Yuzuri in here.”

Obi’s shoulders hunch over him, like somehow the black of his clothes might keep them from detection if the door gets opened. “Great. Be quiet.”

His mouth snaps shut, just in time for Yuzuri to spill into the room, and through the slats he makes out red trailing after her.

“Shira–!” A hand claps over his mouth.

The name escapes him on a hiss, and it’s just light enough in the closest to see the question it Obi’s eyes: do I have to shut you up?

Suzu wants to complain, but he’s saved the trouble by Shirayuki offering, “Maybe you just forgot.”

Obi’s eyes pulse wide, and it quickly becomes clear that no matter how he contorts, Obi is stuck with his back to the door, unless he would like to take a rack of Yuzuri’s coats with him.

Not that it bothers Suzu any. It’s fair now – both him and Obi are equally invested in not getting caught.

By Obi’s face, he doesn’t seem to agree.

“I don’t –” The words end abruptly, like Obi’s taken one of his knives to them, and – “Suzu.”

He almost doesn’t hear the crinkling of paper over the pounding of his heart. He’s a dead man. Dead.

Obi’s head tips back, eyes screwed shut, like he’s appealing to some higher power. Suzu doubts he’s asking for divine intercession for both of them.

“What –?”

“Suzu.” He can’t see through Yuzuri’s back, but he can hear the sound of paper rhythmically hitting skin. “He left flowers.”

He taps Obi’s chest, grinning. Paper crinkles under his fist. “Guess I didn’t need a card after all!”

Obi lets out a thin breath. “Great.”

“Oh.” Shirayuki’s expression crumples in confusion. “An apology, maybe? For a few days ago. You can’t really think that he thinks you’re – you’re stupid. Suzu thinks the world of you.”

Thinks the world of you. That’s what he should have put on the card. The card he didn’t write, because they’re trapped in a closet.

“He has a funny way of showing it,” Yuzuri huffs. “And don’t tell me he’s interested. I know it, but the closest he’s come to doing anything about it he was pretending to be Obi, so –”

“Pretending to be Obi?”

Shirayuki is the only one in the room who doesn’t tense.

“Oh, uh, well.” Yuzuri coughs. “We got carried away, looking in Obi’s room. For you know, birthday hints.”

“And he almost kissed you?”

“Well…” Yuzuri sounds like she wants to be saved from this conversation as much as him, though perhaps not as much as Obi. “I was pretending to be you at the time.”

He can see her skin flush through the slats, painfully red. “O-oh.”

“Shirayuki, listen –”

“It’s not fair,” Shirayuki says, slightly put-out. “Everyone else gets to play at being at someone else besides me.”

Yuzuri lets out a laugh. “I mean, we can if you want to.”

“Ooh.” Shirayuki is the very picture of consideration. “Could you show me what you and Suzu did? For me and Obi?”

“Uh…” It’s impossible to move Shirayuki once she’s made a decision, only distract her, and it’s clear – even with her back to him – that Yuzuri has realized she alone is not enough to manage it. “Well, you’d have to be Obi, since you can’t be yourself.”

“All right!” She sweeps up a scarf hanging from the edge of the bed, winding it around her neck so that it half obscures her face. “I’m Obi! I have aliases and many secrets.”

It’s an effort, not laughing, Especially with the gruff drop in her voice, the conspiratorial tone she takes, the way Obi’s eyes blow wide at the sound of both.

Yuzuri doesn’t have to, of course, so she does, a high bell-like noise that makes something in his chest resonate. “That’s – that’s good.”

She sashays a little closer, entirely too close for propriety, and tries to look up under her eyelashes at someone a good three inches shorter than her. “Oh, Obi, you don’t have any secrets from me.”

“I don’t sound like that!” Shirayuki squawks, giggles overtaking her.

“Well, you don’t sound like me either!” Yuzuri deadpans before pitching her voice even higher. “Now if you’re done trying to seem impressive, I need you to lift something heavy.”

“I wouldn’t say that!”

“Stay in character!”

Shirayuki huffs, trying to affect an air of mystery. “Well, Miss, I…have to do do…guard…ly?…things?”

“Guardly things?”

“He does them a lot!”

“You’re terrible with this.” Yuzuri lifts the scarf from her neck, wrapping it around her own. “Here, I’ll be Obi. You can be you.”

“Well, all right –”

“Miss.” Suzu blinks. Out of the three people in this room who have pretended to be Obi but were not him, Yuzuri’s manly rumble is the best. She crowds Shirayuki, leaning a hand on the bedpost as she looms. “How many times have I told you to lock the doors?”

Shirayuki squeaks, a noise somewhere between amusement and dismay. “I do!” she protests, a little cross. “He makes that up!”

“Miss!” Yuzuri even has his stern-and-scolding tone down. “I tried the knob just today, and it came open!”

“It did not!” Shirayuki huffs. “And no one would know if it did, if you weren’t going around testing it all the time!”

“That isn’t safe,” Yuzuri pushes, bending her elbow to lean closer. Suzu’s glad that Obi can’t see it; he’d probably die on the spot. “What if someone was waiting for you?”

“N-no one would do that!” Yuzuri must be a prodding a sore spot; Shirayuki’s half-forgotten they’re playing. “And I always lock my door –”

“Not to my room.”

Suzu could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed.

“I trust you,” Shirayuki says, firm.

Yuzuri purrs,“You shouldn’t.”

“Then maybe you should take the invitation.”

He was wrong, this is silence. Obi’s not even breathing.

Yuzuri jerks away, shock in every line of her body. “What?”

Shirayuki looks like she’s half on fire. “I didn’t – I didn’t mean it like –”

“Shirayuki –!”

She moves so quickly Suzu doesn’t even see her leave, just Yuzuri lurch after her, and –

And there’s no reason for Obi to look so bereft, not when Shirayuki just said she wanted him to use that open door, and Suzu shakes at him to tell him so –

They spill out onto the carpet. Right at Yuzuri’s feet.

For a moment, she looks as red as Shirayuki, but then it turns to a different sort of flush entirely.

“You,” she intones, grim, as she points at him. “Don’t move. You –” her finger jabs at Obi, then the door – “don’t screw this one up.”

#youseimanami #suzuri #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #Rare Pair Promptathon #Lie Back and Think of Obi #my fic #ans #listen guys #you know Shirayuki would be HURT people were playing pretend without her #how come she doesn't get to play??#she's very playful!#Yuzuri: I think you misunderstand exactly what's been happening here

25 notes · View notes

pasthuz · 7 years

Text

Rough Arrival - Gregg x Reader [Night in the Woods]

Chapter Two - Band Practice

You were lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, while letting all the events of today flash before your eyes. Gregg had to leave after you two had the chance to conversate casually for a while, getting to know each other a bit better. You couldn't deny the fact that you really liked Gregg. Hell, he was the first person here to treat you like a human being, of course, you'd like him. For some reason, your mind doesn't want to shut up about him, and the over function of your brain is really not helping you by trying to sleep, either. You turn your face to the wall, for what feels like the millionth time, and try to relax. You silently mumble to yourself: "Black leather jacket, gray turtleneck, navy blue eyes, blue jeans, black boo-.. ugh, fuck!", you rub your face in frustration. Memorizing details about Gregg won't really help you at this point. "Stop. thinking. about. him.", this keeps echoing in your head. Why is he so stuck in your head? Trying to shake off the thought, you shove your face in your pillow and pinch your eyes shut.

-next day-

Slowly, you open your eyes that are still adjusting to the sudden bright ray of light. Seems like, after hours of struggling, you did manage to fall asleep. Slowly, you sit up and stretch yourself while making some ungodly noise. Looking at the window, you think about what you have planned for this day... Huh.. Oh right. - Unpacking. Well, it's not like you can avoid the inevitable forever. Also, you unpacked most of the necessary things, so it's not that tragic. "Let's get it over with..", you say to yourself, while standing up. After a few minutes of dressing yourself you "sleepwalk" into the kitchen, desiring something to eat, in order to fill your starving stomach. But instead of being greeted by a full fridge, you just get to see a sad and empty little cooler. Confused, you look around your kitchen. Haven't you gone grocery shopping yesterday? Yeah, of course, you can still recall every item you've bought. Suddenly, you remember. - After talking to Gregg for a long time you kinda.. forgot what you were actually doing there. Well, getting to know new people better comes with its sacrifices. You rub your eyes and let out a disappointed sigh. Knowing that you cannot change anything about this miserable situation, you trudge towards your bathroom.

-later-

A bit out of breath you finally arrive at the snack falcon. "So much stress in the morning doesn't really treat me well...", you think. At least you had the time care about your appearance. Good thing that you already unpacked all your bathroom utensils the day before. Starved from all the exhaustion, you slowly walk into the little shop, where you are being greeted by someone familiar. Surprised by the sudden sound of the door shutting, Gregg looks at the entrance. His eyes instantly light up as he sees you entering, and his neutral face goes to a big smile. "Yo, Yo, Yo! [Y/N]!~", Gregg shouts. Happy to see Gregg, you smile and walk up to him. "Morning Gregg.~" - "How you doin'? What was your first night in Possum Springs like?~", he rests his head on his hand, smiling cutely. You just simply couldn't get over his adorableness, even though it was hard to admit. "Er.. had trouble sleeping, and I kinda.. don't have anything to eat..", you look to the side a bit embarrassed. He looks a bit confused at first, but then he seems to remember something. "Ah, yeah you forgot your stuff here yesterday. I actually wanted to, like, tell you but that's kinda hard without having a way to contact you, ya know.", he laughs a bit. "Yeah, sorry... I was a bit distracted..", you chuckle nervously. "It's okay. - Here, I've kept all the stuff you wanted to buy. I, like, kinda figured you'd come back.~", he says while vanishing behind the counter for a while. "Wha..? Really?", you ask in disbelief. Gregg slowly raises again from behind the counter, holding several items. "Yup, I think that should be everything.", he says, handing the things you've wanted to buy over. Surprised by his caring action, you look at all the stuff. It was really everything you picked out the day before, you look at him, smiling. "That's so nice of you, thank you so much!~", you quickly shove your paw in your pocket and take out your wallet. "How much does this cost all together?", you ask, looking at him. "Nah, it's okay. Just take it.~", he answers while taking your wallet and shoving it back in your pocket. "Uh.. but, like.." - "It's really okay. Not like anybody would notice that you didn't pay for it. Like, my loan stays the same, so it's fine with me.", he grins. You couldn't really help yourself and just jumped up to hug him. - He's a bit taller than you. "Thank you, Gregg!" - "Don't mention it, it's really not a problem.~", he answers, laughing softly. You slowly notice, that you just hugged somebody you just met yesterday. Embarrassed, you pull away from the hug.

"Sorry, my emotions just overcome me sometimes..", you utter, scratching your head. In response, Gregg just laughs at your over apologetic nature. "You know, you don't have to apologize all the time, you didn't, like, hurt me or something." - "Yeah, it's a bad habit, sor-", you vigorously shake your head. "I'll try my best to change it.." - "Why do I have to be so awkward?" Suddenly, your stomach grumbles in protest. Oh, that's right, you wanted to eat something, that's why you're here. "Err.. I really think I should go now. Thank you again, Gregg! Hope to see you soon.~", you begin, walking towards the exit. You place your hand on the handle, but before you could open it, Gregg interrupts you. "Uhm, do you just have a second?" - You turn around, facing towards him. "Yeah, sure, what is it?", you answer. - "So, uh, an old friend just, like, returned to town, after dropping out of college.. and we kinda have this band together, and we planned on practicing later that day." - "Oh god, I can't even play any instrument nor sing if that's what you want.", you quickly throw in the conversation. "Nah, don't worry, we have enough members, that's not it." - "Thank god.." - "I just figured that you'd maybe like to come with me. I could introduce you to everybody. You could meet some new people, and I thought you might be into that." You couldn't really believe him at first, you never thought that he'd wanted to actually spend time with you. Trying to suppress your happiness, you just calmly reply: "Are you sure about that, wouldn't I like, just disturb you guys?"- "Naw, I'd be really happy if you'd be here. You could, like, give your honest opinion on our music." You still weren't completely sure, but you just came to the conclusion: Ah, fuck it. Why not have some fun? - "Well, if it's like that, I'd gladly come!", you say, smiling happily, kind of bobbing up and down. "Great, then let's meet here at 4pm. I'll wait for you, don't be late." - You smile at him once again, before leaving the little store finally. "Okay, until then!"

-later-

Excitedly, you run out of your house, ready to meet Gregg for band practice. Well, technically it wasn't band practice, for you at least. But you didn't care about that. It was really hard to keep calm until 4pm, it felt like an eternity. You really spent a lot of time, trying to look as good as possible. Of course, you wanted to leave a good impression on him and his friends. Or mostly just him, but you repressed that. After a short walk, you eventually arrived, and already see Gregg in the distance, standing in front of the shop. You walk up to him and grin. "There I am.~" He musters your whole body, then smiles at your face. "You're on time, what a surprise.", he chuckles softly. "Let's go, I'll show you the way, it's not far from here.~" You just nod in response and follow Gregg as he slowly walks in some direction. "You look really good by the way.", he mentions silently. Surprised, by his compliment you can't really help but blush. Good thing, he turned his back to you. "Thank you..", you respond, shyly. You could sense at this moment how he peeked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of your red face, which causes him to grin widely. Trying to ignore his stare, you just look in some random directions. "Why does he make me so nervous?..."

-not long after-

You bump into him, as he suddenly comes to a halt. "Fuck.." - "There we are. Told ya it's not far from here.",he says. You look up to see some kind of warehouse in front of you. Gregg opens, with a bit off struggling, to be fair, a really heavy and big iron door. "Come on in.", he says, smiling. Quickly, you follow him as the door behind you slams shut. Everybody else was already here, and they were looking at you with confused stares. "Hellooo!~~", he greets, while walking behind the stage. He comes back with some kind of bass, and hands it to a black cat. "Aghh!~ It's so good, seeing you with your bass again!~~", Gregg shouts in a happy tone, while wildly flailing his arms around, making him even cuter. You laugh a bit. Noticing, that everybody was still staring at you, he proceeds to actually introduce you. "Oops, almost forgot.", he walks over to you, and lays an arm on your shoulder, looking down to you, then to the others. "This is [Y/N]!~ He/She just moved here, and I thought that, like, he'd/she'd like to meet some new people! You know, as a good start in a new town." You could sense all the judging stares and Gregg's touch didn't really make it better. Unwillingly, you blush. "Welcome [Y/N], I'm Angus.", begins a tall bear, standing on the stage, at the microphone, in a low voice. "I'm Mae, I just came back to town, too.", continues a little black cat, standing in front of Gregg. "..Are you the old friend Gregg's told me about?", you ask. - She nods in response. "Indeed!", she replies, lifting her arms. - "Bea. Hello.", you look at the crocodile, standing behind you. She must've just arrived. "Thanks for having me here!", you say, smiling at everybody. They seem to be really nice, let's hope this won't just be your first impression. "Okay, like, everybody's here now, let's start!", Gregg voices, and jumps up on the stage. "And [Y/N], be honest, okay?" - You nod, and wait patiently, as you look at them with excitement in your eyes. "I, like, literally don't know the song we're about to play, and I haven't played the bass in ages.", Mae complains. "Eh, don't worry, it's not that hard.", Gregg quickly replies, already prepared to play the guitar. Before she could say anything against it, they all begin to play.

-one song later-

You clap loudly as the last sounds of the song slowly fade out, echoing from the walls of the room. "Wow, that was great!", you exclaim, excitedly. Gregg looked like he was in complete harmony with his instrument, wiggling with the rhythm of the music. It was kind of beautiful to look at him like that. You felt mesmerized. "You're sure? I kinda made a lot of mistakes.", Mae said. - "But it was still great, you'll get back into it!", Gregg replies. "True, it was hardly noticeable.", you agree with Gregg, which causes him to smile at you. "Whatever, I'm hungry.", Bea says, jumping down from the stage and lazily walking towards the exit. "Is the diner still around? Let's eat there!", Mae suggests, following Bea. "It is. Dude, I'm up for some pizza!", Gregg joins in the idea. Everybody agrees with Gregg's suggestion, heading for the door. Thinking that you weren't invited to their "private band practice dinner", you were about to leave, but Gregg prevents this from happening by taking your hand. "Where are you going? You're invited, too.", he says, beaming. Not knowing what to say you just walk next to him, while he was still holding your hand. The warmth of his hand drove you crazy. It felt like the softest and warmest thing you've ever had the pleasure of touching. You're pretty sure that it'd be easy to mistake you with a tomato, at this point. To your luck, it didn't take long until you arrived at the diner everybody was so excited about. Gregg looks over to you, where he's being greeted by your completely red face. "You don't have to be nervous.~", he whispers, smirking at you, and squeezing your hand. Suddenly, he seemed totally different... "Come on, I'm hungry!", he kind of pulls you in the restaurant, unable to wait any longer, like a kid on christmas eve. Now he is just like before... Trying to not think too much about it, you just follow him and sit next to him.

-later (the last one, i swear)-

Not long after you've ordered, a waitress comes back with a big pizza, just enough for five people. She gently places in the middle of the table and walks away. Quickly, everybody grabs for a slice, like its a competition deciding over survival or death. After everybody has taken a bite, you see their unimpressed faces. "Dude, this pizza sucks.", Bea complains. "Yeah, we should've gone to Pastabilities.", Angus agrees. "Fuck it. Pizza good.", Mae throws in, while taking another bite. "Dude, haven't I told you about the pizza scale?", Gregg begins, while pointing in random direction with his half-eaten slice of pizza. "Yeah, you tell us about it everytime we go eat pizza.", Angus responds. "But [Y/N] hasn't heard about it yet!" - You look at Gregg, a bit confused. - "Well, it's like this. On one end, there's horrible Pizza. But like everything above that is really good.", he explains. - "And on the other end?" - "Then it's like way too fancy." Enlightened by this sudden realization, you proceed to munch around on your pizza slice. You could sense, how Gregg was occasionally looking over to you. You don't really know why, but it was really obvious. Still, it made you a bit shy, he just had something about him, that managed to completely fuck with your mind.

The evening slowly comes to an end, as all of you finish eating and casually talk about some past events, helping you in getting to know everybody better. It was really refreshing to meet so many new people. Filled by the massive pizza, everybody leaves the small diner. It didn't really take long until everybody has said their goodbyes and left. Bea drove Mae and Angus home, but you two decided to stay and walk together. The awkward silence lasted for a while, until Gregg decided to break it. "Have anything planned for tomorrow?" You really would've wanted to say no, but you just simply couldn't avoid it forever. "Uh, yeah.. I still haven't, like, unpacked. I actually wanted to do it today, but band practice was, like, way more fun. So yeah.." He seems to think for a while, until he answers: "Should I help? It'll be over faster." You look over to him, baffled. "N-No.. I don't want to be like the reason, you can't spend time with everybody else..." you look away shyly. "Naw, really! Dude, I really want to help." Was he really being serious? You couldn't quite tell. "I mean of course, it'd be nice, but are you really sure?", you reply. Suddenly, Gregg stops, which causes you to stop, too. He deeply looks in your eyes, looking as serious as ever. "I'm really sure." You just stare into his navy-blue eyes for what seems like an eternity, ignoring everything around you. "T-Thank you..", you manage to utter. He just smile sweetly in response, before he slowly grabs for your hand. Very softly, he locks yours with his hand. "Now let's go.", he says, grinning.

-end of chapter two-

AHHH THIS CHAPTER IS SO FUCKING LONG, HOLY SHIT. Anyway, let's end this another tease! Leave some criticism, since this chapter took ages to write. Thanks!~ See you soon!

NEXT CHAPTER

#gregg #nitw gregg #greggory lee #greggory nitw #gregg x reader #greggory x reader #night in the woods #nitw fanfic #fanficiton #gender neutral #night in the woods fanfic

14 notes · View notes

fanfic-shiz · 7 years

Text

Truth or Dare- Poe Dameron

Pairing: Poe Dameron/OC

Request: A Poe request for you: on the odd quiet night, in the wee hours, drinking games are played among pilots and mechanics. Someone starts handing out “truth or dare” styled challenges (whether that’s a game that exists for them or not is up to you). Tipsy and overly-honest first kisses ensue.

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: Ugh I loved this. I would love to write more Poe <3

I opened the hatch of the X-Wing and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air, expelling the stale cockpit air from my lungs. Despite having landed more than a full five minutes ago, my nerves were still tingling, a childish grin plastered on my face. It was always amazing to me how that feeling never changed…I must have flown a thousand flights since I’d first started flying, over a decade ago, and that feeling of adrenaline never grew old. I hoped it never would.

I carefully climbed over the side of the cockpit and dropped to the ground, landing on my feet. I could feel my hair sticking beneath my helmet and pulled it off, running a hand through my tangled locks.

“Nice landing!” A familiar voice shot through my thoughts, the light, playful tone instantly erupting my stomach into a swarm of butterflies. Damn him.

Trying to maintain an air of total calm and coolness, I tucked my white helmet beneath my arm and turned to see none other than Poe Dameron, leaning against the side of his own ship. He was giving me a cheshire grin, the very one that had made me fall into his trap in the first place. It was one thing for him to be an amazing pilot, but he was also annoyingly handsome. And also sweet and charming, and funny, and-and…I cleared my thoughts. Oh hell, there I went again.

“Nice of you to notice, Dameron.” I quipped back, pleased when my tone came off just as casual as his.

He pushed away from the ship and sauntered toward me. “Hard to miss. Can’t help but feel I better watch my back, or the title of best pilot in the resistance might find a new owner.” His tone was still playful, his brown eyes warm and friendly as always. Yet another thing that was impossible not to notice. He seemed almost oblivious to all the things that made him irresistible to me. And I was sure I wasn’t the only one.

“Would it be rude to say I’m looking forward to that day?” I teased back, and his grin grew even more, if possible, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

For as long as I’d known Poe, there was one thing I was even more envious of than his skills as a pilot…his optimism. There was so much bad in the world. So many things that were wrong and seemed unchangeable, yet he never, ever doubted his belief that change was happening. I both envied and admired that about him. Optimism was such a rare notion anymore.

I felt my breath catch as he reached out and tugged at a strand of my hair. “Not at all. I love a good competition.”

I swatted his hand away gently, the corners of my lips curling into a grin that could’ve rivaled his own. “As do I, Dameron.” I poked at his chest, and his eyes danced with amusement. “I’m sure you recall the night last week when—“

He let out a groan, closing his eyes. “How many times are you gonna bring that up, huh?”

I laughed. “How can I not when you’re still such a sore loser?”

It’d been during one of our late night drinking escapades, a ritual where all the resistance pilots and mechanics gathered for a night where war, battles, and the resistance in general, seemed not to exist. We were just a group of friends, spending time together and laughing. The games were consistently changing, though I was still the champion of the game Coins…where you bounced a coin off of a flat surface in an attempt to make it into a glass. I was normally terrible at drinking games, but for some reason, this was my niche. Poe and I had battled it out the week before, and while it’d been close at first, by the end of the game I’d wiped the floor with him. He’d been very adorably drunk by then…smiling lopsidedly and eventually falling asleep with his head in my lap. We hadn’t spoken about it since, but I could still remember being considerably tipsy myself and running my fingers through his hair.

Maybe that was why my pulse seemed to suddenly have a mind of its own whenever he was around. Although that wasn’t the entire truth. Poe Dameron had always had a significant effect on my vitals whether I wanted him to or not.

“I’m planning on redeeming myself one of these days. You coming tonight? I gotta flask full of whiskey with your name on it.” He offered.

I pretended to look thoughtful. “Hmm…I suppose I could be persuaded.”

“I’m going to take that as a resounding yes.” Poe said with his crooked smile, taking a few steps back from me. “Duty calls, but tonight?” He asked again, still walking backward away from me. I could see the nose of the nearest X-Wing in his path, but just smiled, waiting to see if he would miraculously side-step it or bump into it.

“Tonight!” I agreed, and couldn’t help but laugh as he did bump into the ship, stopping short. A frown appeared on his face as he looked over his shoulder, as if to see what the hell had dared get in his way. When he looked back at me, there was a sheepish smile on his face. He shrugged, before turning around and disappearing among the rows and rows of ships. I watched until his back had disappear and then shook my head, unable to dispel the embarrassing giddiness I felt after one simple conversation.

I’d been warned about Poe Dameron. Handsome, charming, sweet. And I’d been so certain that those three words weren’t enough to effect me. Then I’d met him, and I could instantly see why people were drawn to the pilot. His charisma was contagious, his smiles impossible to ignore. And while his passion for the fight was unmatched, he was also the first one to insist that the fight be forgotten during their nights of games and relaxation.

And then there was the way drunk Poe had so easily laid his head in my lap. Looking up at me with his dark eyes, smiling sleepily. And it had been impossible to resist the urge to softly drag my fingers through his hair, despite the fact that I knew whatever happened would be forgotten in the morning.

And still, it was a trap I wanted to get stuck in all over again.

I wasn’t until darkness had settled across the planet, and the night had gone cold and quiet, that I’d heard the voices and laughter. At first, it had seemed like such a strange thing. That anyone could laugh or even smile when there was entire war raging outside. But I’d quickly learned, as we all did, that if not for the occasional bit of laughter, hope was nonexistent. I wanted to believe there was a world that could exist outside of the orange jumpsuits and calls to battle. Maybe one day, I’d even live to see it.

I trailed down the dimly lit quarter until I’d reached the landing bay, where tucked in the furthest corner from the wide doors, was a corner filled with mismatched chairs and smiling faces. A couple of familiar voices called out my name as I approached, my cheeks turning pink as I shrugged them off and sank down onto a stool near the edge of the gathering.

Immediately, though I didn’t want to initially admit it, my entire being was on alert for Poe. Looking for his easy smile, and listening for his laugh. I found him almost immediately, our eyes meeting for a fleeting instant before looking away. It was ridiculous, how aware of him I was. There were at least a dozen other people there, but I felt his presence as if her were standing right next to me. My eyes were drawn to him like a magnet…

“Nice of you to finally show.” Jess said, giving me a sideways smile.

I rolled my eyes and held out my hand. “Come on, don’t be stingy. Who has the booze?”

Of course it was Poe who leaned across the circle toward me first, handing me a silver flash. “I did promise you whiskey, right?”

He flashed me a smile, and I felt myself automatically smiling back before pressing the bottle to my lips and tilting my head back. The warm liquid ran down my throat, burning its way down to my stomach and filling me with warmth. I made a face before handing it back to Poe, who was looking at me with amusement. I wasn’t sure if my cheeks were burning because of him, or because of the liquor.

“Alright,” I began, clapping my hands together in anticipation. “What’s the game tonight?” I said, looking around at the small crowd of mechanics and pilots. A motley crew to some, but one that had become somewhat of a family to me.

“Not coins!” Someone chimed in, and the rest of the group broke out in laughs.

I rolled my eyes, leaning forward and resting my forearms on my knees. “Fine, fine. So what then?”

Another pilot, blonde with a mischievous smile, grinned. He looked around the circle before eagerly declaring. “Truth or dare?”

This suggestion was followed by a chorus of groans and cheers. I was one of those groaning, shaking my head. “Oh come on! What are we? Teenagers?”

“Might as well be, with all the damn rules around here!” Someone hollered, and it was followed by a chorus of laughter.

Tash, the young pilot who had suggested the game, stood. “Hands up if you’re in agreement?”

I looked around curiously, and raised my eyebrows when almost every hand went up. After a few seconds, the rest of the hands (including mine) slowly followed.

“What are the rules?” Jess asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tash shrugged. “Suppose we’ll find out along the way. Who’s first?”

Almost automatically, I felt myself shrink back. Truth or dare was not my choice of game. Too bold, too honest. The wrong question could lead to trouble, as I’d witnessed far to many times before. Thankfully, someone else bravely volunteered, raising their hand high in the air.

“Truth or dare?” Tash asked the mechanic, auburn haired with bight, kind blue eyes though her name escaped me.

“Dare.” She said with ease, and a chorus of “ohhhs” responded.

I chuckled under my breath, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. I heard my name being said quietly beneath the chatter and glanced up to see Poe smiling knowingly at me, holding out his flask again. I took it from him and had another drink before passing it back. His eyes held mine, our fingertips brushing as he took it from me. I tried not to let my gaze linger on him too long, worried what I felt would become more apparent. And even I wasn’t completely ready to accept what that meant quite yet.

I turned my focus back on the game, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, cheering when someone accepted their dare or truth, and chanting for them to drink when they refused. Reality seemed to drift away for a little while, which is why I was so sure we had cemented these kind of nights into existence.

Poe and I continued to pass the flask back and forth across the circle, until I felt a pleasant warmth. I felt tingly from the tips of my toes, to my fingers. Tipsy, but not drunk. Buzzed but still aware enough to be nervous when it was finally my turn.

“Truth or dare?”

My heart thudded against my ribcage, feeling every pair of eyes on me. A few voices shouted out suggestions, but I just grinned, shaking my head.

“Umm…dare?” I finally said, uncertainly.

It was another pilot, Zolan, who smirked at me from across the circle before leaning forward and asking. “I dare you to…” he paused for a moment, carefully looking around the room as he made his decision. “I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room.”

This was followed by laughter and whoops of excitement. I felt my eyes grow wide. “Didn’t we just agree to nothing sexual?”

“It isn’t sexual,” Zolan said with an innocent smile. “It’s romantic. Much different.”

A few people let out shouts of encouragement. I swallowed hard, my heart pitter pattering nervously against my ribcage. My eyes very purposely avoided Poe. Who was, in my opinion, by far the most attractive person on the planet.

“And what if I say no?” I asked tentatively, lifting my eyes to Zolan.

He grinned and lazily shrugged his shoulders, knowing I was caught. “Then it’ll be truth. Which could potentially be much much worse.”

And judging by his mischievous smile, I knew he was right. I inhaled a breath and let it out slowly, letting my eyes wonder around the small crowd of people. As if I was carefully making my decision. My hands twisted nervously in my lap.

“Are you sure I have to? This seems silly.” I muttered after a moment.

Jess laughed next to me, elbowing my side encouragingly. “Come on, it’s just one kiss. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

She didn’t know it, but she was wrong. If I did what Tash asked, and kissed the person I found most attractive, it would mean something. Oh lord, it would mean a lot of something. I cleared my throat and wiped my palms on my pants as I stood. I could feel every single eyes following me. Including Poe’s. I inhaled deeply, trying to expel some of my nerves with it as I crossed the circle of people.

Poe was sitting on an overturned bucket, flask in hand. I refused to meet his eyes until I was standing in front of him. And when our gazes locked, his brown eyes went wide. With disbelief, amusement, or something else, entirely, I couldn’t be sure. I knelt on the ground in front of him, hesitating a moment before reaching out and resting my hand against a cheek. Someone behind me let out a low whistle, making my cheeks burn.

I hadn’t fully admitted it to myself. Even now, it was difficult. But I liked Poe. He made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. The idea of kissing him now, in front of everyone, felt foolish. Yet the idea of kissing anyone else, seemed like a waste. So every so slowly, I leaned in. His dark eyes flickered across my face. My thumb brushed across his cheek, and before I could chicken out, I leaned in the rest of the way and pressed my mouth to his.

Immediately, my stomach dropped. My heart was pounding loudly in my ears, his lips soft and warm against my own. I meant for it to be nothing more than a quick, brush of lips, but it was suddenly hard to pull away. I felt his hand slide into my hair, keeping my pressed against him as his tongue brushed over my bottom lip. Tentatively, I parted my lips and let his tongue caress my own, sending my heart soaring into my throat. For a moment, I almost forgot where we were, or who was watching. Too caught up in the honest feeling of his mouth against mine.

There was suddenly a series of low whoops and cat calls, quickly bringing me back down into reality. I abruptly pulled away. My skin on fire, no doubt the color of a ripe rose.

Poe caught my eye, looking at me in a way that seemed both curious and awed. I ducked my head before swiping the flask from his hand and taking a drink. I didn’t mind the burn of alcohol as it slid down my throat. By the time I was back in my seat, the whistles and teasing had subsided. There were gazes, though, that lingered Especially one in particular. I hesitated a moment, lifting my eyes. He tilted his head softly to one side, his expression one of hope, giving me a rush that made the world around my tile, even without the alcohol. The game moved on, but I suddenly found it impossible to look away from him, and all the reasons why scared me half to death.

The game went on until the liquor bottle in the middle of the floor was empty and everyone’s flasks were dried up.

“Oh come on, that can’t be it. Can it?” Tash asked with a frown.

A tipsy giggle escaped my lips, causing him to eye me with an amused smile. “Sorry.” I said, though wasn’t sure exactly what I was apologizing for. Members of the group began drifting off in groups and pairs, headed off to bed or more private conversations. I was still very much aware of Poe, sitting across from me. I snuck a glance, seeing he was distracted, in conversation with one of the mechanics.

“I think I better be off too.” I said, standing suddenly and stretching my arms over my head. Tash began to protest, but I waved him off, heading in the direction of the wide open, landing bay doors.

Outside, it was dark. Dozens of stars and planets glittered in the sky above, almost teasing and beckoning. There were night I could sit outside for hours, craning my neck toward the sky and creating a mental map of all the places I wanted to go before my time was over. I just hoped I had enough of it left. I was standing in the middle of the runway, head tilted back, when felt someone sidle up beside me.

“Anything interesting out there?” He asked, his shoulder brushing against mine.

Poe. My pulse leapt as I immediately thought back to my dare, to the feeling of his lips against mine. I swallowed hard, wondering if I should try and make a joke or pretend it never happened.

“Lots.” I answered finally, smoothing back my hair. “Probably more than I’ll ever get a chance to see.”

“You can’t know that for sure.” Poe said gently. I felt him press something into my hands and realized it was his flask. I gave him a suspicious look and he shrugged. “No one ever asked if it was empty.”

I took a sip before handing it back to him, though there was already a pleasant buzz that had taken hold of me. Maybe that was where my boldness was coming from as I suddenly took his hand and started towing him along the walkway.

“Come on, the night’s not over.” I said. “Me, you, a flask of whiskey. What could go wrong?” Even I recognized the blatant teasing in my voice and whatever small sober part of me that remained had the decency to feel embarrassed.

Poe just laughed, though, his eyes crinkling in the corners in that adorable way. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly. “Somewhere else.”

I bravely slipped my hand into his, something I knew I’d never be brave enough to do sober. His fingers curled around mine, squeezing my hand and making my heart lift. I led him to the end of the runway, before veering off the solid, concrete path and onto the soft grass. I plopped down onto the ground in a space in-between a few small, newly grown trees, a huge expanse of black, star scattered sky in front of us.

Poe sat next to me without complaint, long legs stretched out in front of him and leaning back on his hands. “Truth or dare?” He asked after a moment of silence.

I felt myself smile through the contentedness of my buzz, only the slightest of nervous feelings rippling through me. “How in the world does this game work with just the two of us?” I asked curiously, sending him a sideways glance. He was watching me with such intensity that my stomach dropped, my heart flinging itself against my ribcage.

He nudged his shoulder gently with mine. “Just answer…say truth.”

I perked an eyebrow curiously, but didn’t argue. “Alright…truth.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

I felt myself freeze for a moment, the unexpectedness of his question stilling every muscle. He was watching me so earnestly. In a way that made me both terrified and excited. My mouth felt dry, secretly terrified. “Well, it’s difficult to say… I mean we were playing a game and—“

Poe’s hand suddenly found mine in my lap, his fingers curling around my own. “Was it just the game?” He asked in a low voice, filled with tentative hope.

My heart swelled, lifting my eyes to look at him. His gaze was filled with the kind of honest hope that would’ve made anyone crumble. And yet it was me he was looking at. No one else. My heart hammered as my tongue twisted and tried to form the right words.

“It wasn’t just the game.” I finally admitted.

Poe’s eyes lit up, a boyish grin lifting the corners of his mouth. “Knew it.”

I rolled my eyes, hoping maybe that would hide the fact that I was blushing. “Cocky much?”

He ignored the question, angling his body to face me with his hand still clutched in mine. “Truth or dare?” He asked again, although after a moment he added, “Say dare.”

Giddier than I’d thought i’d feel, i answered the way he requested. “Dare.”

He cupped my face in his hands, leaning closer to me. “Kiss me again.” He whispered, his breath whiskey sweet against my skin.

A shy giggle erupted from me and I clapped a hand over my mouth. Poe looked merly amused, giving me a smirk. “Or should I kiss you?”

I shrugged, ducking my head, feeling the full effects of the alcohol rushing through me. I felt his fingertips on my jaw as he gently tilted my head toward him. Our eyes met for a fleeting moment before mine were fluttering shut. His breath was warm against my face, his lips teasingly hovering over my own before gently kissing my nose, both cheeks, my chin, until I let out a groan.

“Poe,” I murmured.

“Just teasing, love.” He said with humor before I felt his mouth on mine. Warm, inviting, making everything else in the world feel so utterly insignificant compared to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer to him. His hands cupped my face, kissing my more deeply, more slowly. He kissed me with the kind of slow intensity that had every inch of me begging for more.

When we finally pulled away, I was dizzy and lightheaded…and sure it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He brushed his nose against mine, capturing my lips in another quick kiss before pulling away. For a moment, I was caught in a daze, caught up in the handsome face, the jawline, the thick, wavy hair, the…everything basically.

I kept my eyes closed a minute longer, feeling the world tilt underneath me. “This is real, right?” I asked.

He chuckled, his hand curling around my thigh and pulling my legs across his lap. “I hope so. If you don’t remember this in the morning, I feel I’m obliged to remind you. With more kissing.”

I grinned, a tipsy, happy grin. When I opened my eyes, he was smiling back at me. “Poe Dameron.”

“Yes?”

“Nothing. I just like how it sounds.” I shrugged, waving my hand in the air absentmindedly. I giggled, letting my head fall against his shoulder.

“You, are something else entirely.” He murmured, though his voice was fond.

“What’s that mean?” I asked, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck.

His arm came around my shoulders, pulling me even close.

“It means where the hell have you been hiding all my life?” He asked in a husky voice.

The breath was stolen from my lungs momentarily, and it was with sudden, drunken shyness that I pressed my lips to the soft skin beneath his ear.

“Here, I think.”

He groaned in response, wrapping both arms around me and pulling me completely into his lap. “Truth or dare?” He asked again.

I wrapped my arms around my neck, my entire buzzing with a pleasant warmth as I curled into him. “Does it matter?”

“Maybe not.” He murmured, nuzzling his face into my shoulder and trailing kisses up my neck. “As long as you say you’ll be mine. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this…how long I’ve wanted you.”

My heart beated wildly against my ribcage, a thrill rushing through me. Imagining all the times he’d walked with me to my room, only to dismiss me outside the door, all the time he’d waited for me after a mission to make sure I was alright, and all the time we’d left a game night together, wandering the halls and paths of the base, trying to make the night last as long as possible.

“I think I have an idea.” I murmured, cupping his face in my hands and admiring the strong line of his jaw and the softness of his lips.

“You know, I had half a mind to give you the cheek in there.” He said suddenly, a soft smile pulling at one side of his mouth. When I looked at him in surprise, he went on. “I was hoping when I kissed you, it wouldn’t be obligated…or dared or any of that. Just something you’d let me do when the time was right.”

His words were teasing, but sweet and caused a giddy smile to form on my lips. “Maybe that was the right time. Although I didn’t like everyone watching.”

“No one’s watching now.” He murmured, his hands sliding around my waist and pulling me close.

I grinned, though the mischief in his eyes made me flush. “Dameron.”

“Poe.” He corrected, pressing his lips to my temple.

“Poe…”

“Enough talking…” He muttered, his breath warm against mine.

My eyes fluttered shut as I tilted my head to meet his lips, his name echoing in my head, knowing without a single doubt that this was something I’d remember in the morning…something I would never, ever forget.

#poe dameron #Poe Dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron one shot #poe dameron one-shot #poe dameron x oc #poe dameron x reader #star wars #star wars fandom #the force awakens #star wars fanfiction #the force awakens fanfiction #reader insert

790 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 7 years

Link

Summary:

Just days after Balem returned to his adult self, Jupiter is thrown head-first into another adventure - one she, frankly, really doesn't have the energy for. But when has the universe ever taken her desires into account? Mysteries, promises, and desperate moves forward; bees, splices, and awkward family dinners. It's enough to make even her seasoned head spin.

...which doesn't even include the chance to play at 'Mother' once more. Only question is: will Jupiter take it?

(DIRECT SEQUEL TO "ROCK THE CRADLE")

Fandom: Jupiter Ascending

Words: 9,779 so far

Warnings: Will eventually mention previous neglect/abuse of children

Pairings: Jupiter/Caine

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 recommended for formatting)

Chapter Six

“This went from ‘kind of cool’ to ‘seriously annoying’... oh, twenty minutes ago?”

Jupiter irritatingly swatted at another cloud of bees (careful not to actually hurt them) as they made a desperate dive to try and burrow into her hair. Another batch was settling in all the crooks of her body (collarbone, beneath her chin, in the hollow of the backs of her knees), while still others seemed to seek actual skin contact, bypassing her already covered arms and legs to flit up beneath her shirt. Jupiter grit her teeth at the feeling of foreign bodies crawling everything, stupidly glad that her skinny jeans didn’t allow them to burrow anywhere else.

“Enough of you,” Caine growled, mimicking her swat with a lot less patience. Jupiter caught his hand and brought it into her lap instead.

“It’s fine,” and no sooner had she sighed it than the bees were back, landing wherever they could and taking whatever she was willing to give. Jupiter wondered if she looked somehow regal like this—or if she was just a cheap monster out of some low-budget horror flick.

Kiza’s expression suggested the latter. Her phone click-click-clicked as it took a million, horrible photos. No way was she buying her a better phone. This girl did not need more storage space.

Jupiter thought about pointing out the obvious though, that there was no photo album to fill anymore. Or there was, but it was gone, and she doubted Balem wanted her to send updates. The mere thought of him painstakingly adding pages to the back of the book and gluing in new photos was so ridiculous it had Jupiter releasing a slightly hysterical laugh.

Kiza slowly lowered her phone. “You okay?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah. Yeah I feel that.”

The whole party was largely off kilter and a massive swarm of bees invading the living room was only part of the problem. Jupiter was high-strung of course, and Caine had a tendency to follow her in all things, even emotions. Same with Kiza and Stinger now that she thought about it, some hereditary loyalty rising to the surface as they honed in on their queen, and okay, shit, was everyone in a bad mood just because she was?

Three pairs of eyes stared at her intently. Huh. Maybe “I feel that” was less a common phrase and more a literal expression of truth. Jupiter mustered up a smile.

“Whoooo’s gonna explain what’s going oooon?” she sang.

Stinger sighed, throwing up his hands. He obviously needed to do something with them though, and without a weapon to point at a concrete enemy he just ended up fiddling with everything in reach: the throw draped across the couch Jupiter sat on, the edge of his shirt, a pencil he’d stuck haphazardly behind his ear. In the end Stinger settled on pouring her another cup of coffee even though Jupiter had barely touched the first.

That done he spread his arms. Whole strings of bees followed the movement.

“You’re more equipped to answer that than I am, Your Majesty. You say you were visited by a fox splice?”

Caine nodded. “One sent by Kalique. You think there’s a connection?”

Kiza snorted. “Between her suddenly changing the game and an attack on our house? Absolutely. Though what the hell would she want with our honey?”

“Nothing,” but Stinger’s hands made fists just thinking about it. “She has the resources to pull off a theft like that of course, she could hire any group she’d like, but why the hell would she want to? There’s no commercial value to it—at least not compared to her own vast wealth—and as for personal reasons...” he trailed off, shaking his head. “It makes no sense.”

Jupiter scoffed. “When has anything involving Kalique ever made sense?”

“The fact that she’s actually the most logical and methodical of the three is kinda sad. And by ‘sad’ I mean hilarious.” Kiza dodged Jupiter’s whack to the head.

“You didn’t hear anything?” she pressed. “Earlier?”

“Nope. Slept in, did my chores, went to do more chores outside—” Kiza sent a nasty glare her dad’s way. Stinger challenged it stiffly—”finally got to the hives out back, called you, and discovered... that.” ‘That’ was clearly the missing honey, though Kiza made the absence sound like a foul addition instead. Like an enemy. Or no, something that grew. A cancer.

Jupiter felt Caine shifting on the couch beside her. She gave his hand another squeeze and was relieved to feel him doing the same.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “I promise. And not to make light of that situation, but...can we focus on one emergency at a time?”

“Dinner,” Caine said solemnly.

“Politics,” Stinger countered.

“Food,” Kiza finished. “Wasted. Which I am very happy to eat for you anyway.”

“You’re welcome to the steaks,” Jupiter sighed, like she didn’t already know that Kiza had squirreled them away for a late night snack sometime. The girl’s appetite was easily the most alien thing about her. “You’ll all come then?”

Stinger’s hand settled on her shoulder. “Don’t be foolish, Your Majesty. Where you go, we follow.”

She actually wanted to say something appropriately thankful in response, but the movement was—once again—ruined by a flash from Kiza and an exaggerated “Awww.” She raised her phone in the air as Jupiter rubbed at her eyes.

“I like this one,” Kiza announced.

“Good for you,” Stinger said. “Caine. With me. I won’t be going into another Entitled’s lair blind. Not again. Kiza? Entertain your Queen.”

“Sir, yes sir,” she said and as the two boys went off to discuss super cool space weaponry she threw herself onto the couch beside Jupiter. A massive cloud of bees rose up like a wave.

Jupiter carefully extracted a bee that had gotten caught in the belt loop of her jeans. “Can you make them go away?”

“I’ve tried.” Kiza actually sounded apologetic about it. “They’re really... just...” she blew out a slow breath. “They need this right now.”

“...and so do you,” Jupiter said, realizing the words were true as soon as she’d said them. Kiza was pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Jupiter, much like how the bees themselves were seeking her touch. If Jupiter focused, she could feel the lightest tremble running through Kiza’s body. She lifted an arm and settled it around Kiza’s back. The younger girl nestled there, vulnerable.

“It probably seems stupid to you,” she muttered, face now pressed into the fabric of Jupiter’s shirt. “Just honey, yeah? Got plenty of that. And sure, sure the bees themselves are fine, which is the important thing, but... it’s an invasion, you know? Someone was here. In our home. They took something that didn’t belong to them!” Kiza was trembling harder now and it had little to do with disquiet. “Ugh. I sound like dad. I know he’s super mad too, even if he’s better at controlling it. I’m a second generation splice. I love our bees, alright? But even I’m not connected to the spirit like he is.”

Jupiter’s fingers had found their way into Kiza’s hair. She paused there before resuming her slow, soothing movements. “Spirit?”

Kiza hummed. “It’s not really a religion, like you have here on Earth. You gotta remember its all tied up in our biology too. It’s more that we understand all the layers.”

“Like onions,” Jupiter intoned and was relieved when Kiza shoved her lightly.

“Don’t quote Shrek at me. But yes, layers. Or—or connections. Like how one bee isn’t just a bee. They’re part of a hive, an ecosystem; they’re connected to you and to me. It’s the same with honey. It’s not just a food source, it’s something they made. It’s exploration and life and they always create more than they need so we can have some too and—” Kiza drew in a massive breath. “It’s just important, okay?”

“Okay,” Jupiter agreed. She sometimes forgot just how young Kiza was, not only compared to her but their group at large, everyone either in a genetically enhanced middle age or outright ancient. Kiza was the little sister Jupiter had never, but who she was thrilled to have now that she was here.

She also felt a little like a daughter.

Jupiter twisted her earring.

“Good talk,” she said, because Jupiter was nothing if not awkward when it came to heart-to-hearts. There was a little part of her mind that whispered, ‘I love dogs’ and she firmly stuffed it into the deepest, darkest pit she could conjure up. “So… whatcha got there?”

Still curled against Jupiter, Kiza had her phone out again, though for once it wasn’t pointing and clicking. It looked like she was online, though what website needed such a violently blue background, Jupiter didn’t know. She shooed a bunch of bees out of the way to get a better view. Kiza helped by tilting the screen.

“Tumblr,” she said, like that explained anything at all.

“Tumbling?”

“Tumblr. Don’t you ever waste your life online?”

Jupiter considered. “Yes, but you’re talking to the girl who grew up in a poor, super large family that always monopolized the one desktop. Also, excuse you, but I’ve been busy. Saving the world? Or did you forget?”

To Jupiter’s horror, an unexpectedly evil grin stretched across Kiza’s face. “Oh, I didn’t forget, Your Majesty. I documented it.”

“You—wait what?”

Over the next mind-boggling ten minutes Jupiter got a crash course in current social media, complete with the distinction between those parts of the website that humans had access too, and the sprawling, galaxy-wide network that catered to everyone else. Scrolling through pictures, news articles, and GIFs of funny cats was one thing, finding out that Kiza had been blogging about Queen Jupiter on the equivalent of Space Facebook was something else.

“You’ve made me kind of famous,” Kiza said, sounding infuriatingly smug about it. “My follower count skyrocketed when I started posting these pics. I mean sure, we get the stupid anon or two, but pretty much everyone else is supportive. They want to know you, Your Majesty. It’s the classic rags to riches story, plus you’re the first Entitled in, what? Ever, who isn’t a dick? You should totally start your own blog. Provided I help, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Jupiter whispered. Her finger felt numb as she scrolled through an endless stream of stories, questions, and, yes, pictures of her. Most of them were candid, shot when Jupiter had been otherwise engaged. There was one of her upside down on her bed upstairs, a half-piece of toast dangling from her mouth. She couldn’t even remember when she’d done that, let alone how Kiza could have gotten a pic without her noticing. The ones of her and Caine were particularly popular, at least according to the number of ‘notes’ each one had. Jupiter was torn between flattered and mortally embarrassed.

She scrolled down further and found a picture of her holding Balem. Jupiter snapped her hand back.

“You’d be good at it too,” Kiza was saying, oblivious. “You’re pretty, famous, and rich, the trifecta for getting a good following. Plus half of what you say is basically shit-posting, so.”

“Kiza—”

“I can—”

Whoom.

Too late for talk: at that moment a massive crash sounded from somewhere outside; too short to be an earthquake, not quite large enough for an explosion. Still, it knocked Kiza back into Jupiter’s shoulder, the both of them slipping halfway off the couch and their cloud of bees scattering with worry. The two filled coffee cups splattered onto the carpet. The throw fell down across their backs. Jupiter ended up jarring her hip and watched as Caine and Stinger store sideways into the room.

What now? was her first and completely justified thought.

Jupiter pushed up quickly, righting the boys in her vision. They looked ready to take on a whole army together. Which tended to happen when you carried whole armloads of weapons into the room.

“What the fuck?” Stinger growled. He’d already hefted something large and glowing blue over his shoulder, marching towards the door. Caine stopped only long enough to pull Jupiter to her feet.

“My thoughts exactly,” she grimaced.

“You’re okay?”

“Fine, fine. Do we know what—?”

Whoom! Again, but closer and with a bit more... solidity. This time Jupiter felt the foundations of the house shake.

“Oh, but it’s never boring with you, Your Majesty,” Kiza breathed. Jupiter watched with a mixture of disbelief and respect as she began composing a new post.

“We’re talking about this later,” she said and grabbed them both by the arm.

Careful of what they might find, Jupiter, Caine, and Kiza followed Stinger out of the house.

#JA #Jupiter Ascending #Rock the Cradle #When the Bough Breaks #JAfic #its been a productive fic day!

4 notes · View notes