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sammy8d257 · 3 months

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In the Week that Follows - Chap. 2: Day 1 - Cleaning (part 3)

An AvM fanfic Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series

Cover Art / Day 0 / Day 1: 1 - 2 - 3 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8

Chapter Word Count: 4740

Characters: King (He/Him), Purple (They/Them), (Only mentioned but Gold uses They/Them)

CW for this Chapter Part: Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Self-Hatred, Minor Swearing, King's Anger Issues, Poor Mental Health, allusions to unhealthy eating habits

[AO3 vers. (Full Chapter)]

(BRO I SWEAR I DID NOT MEAN FOR IT TO TAKE THIS LONG TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER. God I'm just happy its finally out now. I can't believe Day 1 is almost 4x the size of Day 0. alkslgjsdkgdls [head in hands] I hope you guys enjoy this!)

= O = o =

It was a little past 2 pm by the time they both were done eating.

King finished last and took the initiative to add their bowls to the pile in the sink. He made a mental note to rinse off the dishes and throw them into the dishwasher later. Turning back towards the table, King watched Purple place the now empty container back into their pink tote. A satisfied smile was on their face and King could feel it mirrored on his own.

"Sooo…" Purple glanced back at him as King spoke. "What now?"

"Now?" The younger stick said as they straightened and fully turned to face the other. "Now it's time to do the second part."

King tilted his head in confusion. "Which is?"

"I'm going to help you clean your house."

"Oh," The orange stick paused, the statement not fully registering. "Wait, you are?"

Purple nodded. "Of course. I can't just leave you to clean your entire house by yourself."

And at that, King just nodded. Really, he should have expected this to be Purple's response. With how dedicated they were to helping him, he should have assumed it would also extend towards his home as well.

"Yeah, okay that's," King stole a glance at the full sink at his back. "That would be nice. Thank you."

A smile so bright, King could have sworn the entire room got lighter, lit Purple's face at his words. After a moment, the younger stick figure coughed into their fist, their expression returning to something more neutral, but King could see the corners of their mouth were turned upwards.

"Right, ahem- So, I was thinking we could start by clearing out the easy stuff first," Purple made a hand wave gesture in the air. "You know, like all those books and stuff on the ground? We should organize those first before we clean anything else."

King nodded slowly as Purple explained their thoughts. Overall, it was a solid plan and a pretty easy one at that. Although the effects of the painkillers have since kicked in, King was still pretty tired and sore from the previous day. And Purple was right. The main room of the house was a mess of failed experiments, boxes, papers, and books. It would need to be cleared out first before any additional cleaning could take place. And really, it wouldn't take that much physical effort to organize through what could be kept and what could be discarded. At most, it would take a bit to gather everything.

With a final nod, King loosely crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "That sounds like a great idea."

Again, a grin broke out on Purple's face and they patted their pink tote once before taking a step towards King.

"Then let's get started."

Armed with a plan, clearing the main room goes incredibly well with various jobs being split between them. While King gathered all the discarded staff prototypes and welding tools, Purple went around the room collecting any easily picked up items. These ranged from small boxes to books to stacks of paper. Luckily for the two of them, objects like the daggers and the welding equipment that were strewn about the floor, were previously stowed away during the time Purple spent under King. The blanket that originally housed the pile of medical supplies was cleared away (King's bed becoming its temporary holding spot) and the piles of metal and books took its place.

From there, the pair set about organizing through their respective piles. The staffs were sorted into reusable scrap metal, sellable scrap metal, and trash. Although Purple had no knowledge of experience in the field, King occasionally asked their opinion on the viability of some metals.

"What do you think about this one?"

"Oh! Um, it's a very nice blue color! If you can't reuse it for anything, maybe you can get more for it because it's pretty?"

"Hmm… Probably not, unfortunately. It's painted aluminum. It might not sell as well but it should still be worth something."

Likewise, from their seat on the floor, Purple sorted through the stacks of books King had collected throughout the year. Originally, Purple had planned to just gather all the books and then place them on the bookshelf for future King to sort through, but upon picking up a book with a very clear library sticker along its spine, a separate pile was quickly formed.

King to his credit, looked incredibly embarrassed as Purple held a library copy of Welding for Dummies in the air.

"In my defense, I forgot I went there."

"Uh huh, and how long have you had these for?"

"Uh-"

"King."

"Only a couple of months-"

"King-"

"-to maybe a year?"

"King! That's a really long time!"

"I know! I know! I mean, hopefully if the book is still fine, we can return it and only have to pay the late fees and not the replacement costs!"

"Hmmm… let's just see how many there are."

By the time both of their original piles were gone and sorted, a couple of hours had passed. The afternoon sun still shone through the window casting the room in a warm glow.

King's pile of sellable scrap was not as large in comparison to his other piles of trash and parts that could be reused in future projects. Those piles contained bits of combined metal that King created in his attempts at making the perfect staff, so it made sense why the scrap yards probably wouldn't buy it from them. Though, despite the sellable pile being smaller, King reassured both Purple and himself that it would be enough to sell for a decent sum of money.

On the other side, Purple ended up with a stack of about 9 returnable and two damaged library books (turns out oil and burn marks are hard to get out of paper). Next to it was another stack of books that King owned and two boxes that Purple used to hold all the research paper found in the room. It was decided that the library books needed to be returned regardless of their physical status and to get their fees paid.

The two of them sat back and took a moment to admire their work.

"Huh, well that wasn't too bad," King remarked, stretching out his back to release some tension. "And it only took us until… 6:30?!"

King's mouth hung open in shock. True to his words, the clock's keys pointed a little past the half hour mark.

"Huh… I guess so," Purple squinted up at the clock before turning towards King. "I'd say it's about dinner time, right?"

The older stick figure blinked, taking a moment to register the other's question before nodding. Despite having eaten hours ago, all the manual labor had worked up an appetite in him.

Purple tapped their chin. "We already finished all the food I brought. So how about you wash up and I can get started on something to eat?"

A noise of protest sounded from King but was almost immediately shushed as Purple stood up. They had a sheepish look on their face.

"Don't worry about it. I like cooking! Plus uh…" Their eyes landed on King's hands and grimaced. "You've been touching metal for the past few hours. I don't think you should be handling food right now."

An embarrassed blush crept up his cheeks. Lightly, King wiped his hands along the bandages on his stomach, only to wince when it left a coppery brown stain.

"Ah."

"Yeah…"

"I should probably go clean myself up."

"It would be for the best."

Purple shot him a small smile as King hissed out a breath and stood up. Turning on his heels, King made his way towards the hallway bathroom as Purple headed towards the kitchen. Once again back in the bathroom, the formerly royal stick took a moment to reassess his bandages. Aside from metallic markings along his midsection, the rest of the wraps looked fine. He figured he probably didn't need to change them yet and instead opted to use a slightly damp paper towel to clean up the residue.

He had just finished his clean up when a call caught his attention.

"Hey uh, King? I think there's a problem."

King frowned. He stepped out of the bathroom door to find Purple poking their head out from the living room archway. They looked nervous but also slightly annoyed.

"What's wrong?" King asked. Purple stared at him, eyes narrowed, as he walked down the hall.

"You don't have any food here," They replied. "Or rather, the only food you have are boxes of instant macaroni and cheese, and ramen packets."

King raised an eyebrow at the younger stick figure's words. "Do you… not like mac and cheese?"

Purple huffed, the frustration growing on their face. "I do, but why are these the only sources of food in your house? You have a half quarter of milk in your fridge but you don't even have any cereal to go with it!"

King shrugged. "I'm not much of a cook."

And Purple sputtered as he sidestepped them to enter the main room.

In all honesty, King didn't really know why Purple was getting so worked up over this. Sure it wasn't ideal, but food was food. The easier it was to make, the easier it was for King to dedicate more time towards his goals. Though that was in the past, right now he was more focused on just getting something to eat.

From behind, Purple caught up with his walk towards the kitchen and fell in step. "Has that all you've been eating?" They asked quietly.

King shrugged again, taking a moment to glance back at the other. Their mouth was a hard line. "I also get takeout a lot."

Purple's face pulled into a scowl.

"What was the last thing you ate?"

King blinked. "Aside from that thing you brought? Um… "

He squinted at the pile of dishes in the sink, trying to remember if the last thing he consumed was cooked or bought. "You know, I don't remember but it was probably ramen."

A hiss of air escaped Purple's mouth as they mumbled something under their breath. After a moment they sighed. "Let's just… order something."

"Alright," King said as he made his way to the kitchen counter.

From one of the drawers, King pulled out various takeout menus. There were menus for pizza, Italian, Mexican, American, and Chinese cuisine, all of which looked worn from use and sporting little golden stars next to specific menu items. He handed them to Purple for them to look over.

"Pick something, I don't really care what you want," he explained, pulling out his phone. "Just let me know what you want and I can order."

The kitchen was quiet after that as Purple shifted over the pamphlets. After a moment, they silently handed the menu for a local Chinese restaurant over to King and told him what they wanted.

One phone call later and an order of vegetable lo mein, sweet and sour chicken, and a side of white rice was set to arrive in 30 minutes.

With that taken care of, King turned back towards Purple. Said stick figure was staring at his fridge with an unreadable look on their face. The orange stick chewed at the inside of his cheek. Was having an understocked fridge that bad? Sure it wasn't ideal but it never really bothered him. He didn't have time to go to the store that often and he was doing fine eating what he had on hand. Caring about food gets a lot harder when it's only yourself you're caring about.

Still, the stare that Purple gave made him uneasy.

"So… um," King said, breaking the awkward silence. "Let's say that I did have ingredients. What would you have made?"

Purple blinked in surprise. They brought a hand up to their chin and hummed.

"It depends on the type of ingredients you had on hand," King watched as they glanced around the kitchen. "Probably would have made something easy on the stomach. Maybe a soup?"

"Oh! Like that porridge thing you brought for lunch?" King asked. A small smile formed on Purple's face.

"Lugaw, it's called lugaw. It's a rice porridge dish," They said softly. "My mom used to make it for me whenever I got sick."

"Aw, that's actually really sweet-" And not for the first time today, King felt like ice water was dumped down his back.

Mom.

He jolted from his spot against the counter. "You're not a desktopper?"

Purple flinched, on guard from the sudden tone change. "What?"

"You're not a desktopper?!" A roaring panic rose in King. "You have a parent?"

"I mean-"

"You were born?!"

Whatever Purple said in reply drowned in the sea of King's racing thoughts. If Purple wasn't a created stick from someone's desktop or from some other media, then that meant they were born. And that meant they had a parent or guardian.

That meant he almost killed someone's kid.

"KING!"

Purple had his arms in a tight grip. They were trying to coax them down from their place at the sides of King's head. Huh, when did they get there…

Just like before, they were gentle in their actions, voice soft and calming even if he couldn't make out what they were saying.

Eventually, panic subsided and all that was left was a hollow numbness in his chest. Purple had settled themself next to him.

"King… are you-"

[DING DONG]

Two pairs of eyes shot up at the sound of the doorbell.

King startled, moving to push himself off of the counter but Purple shook their head.

"The door, the food-" King rasped. Purple only shook their head harder and pushed him towards a kitchen chair.

"Sit," They commanded. "I got it. Where's your wallet?"

King gestured towards the main room. "At my desk. Top left drawer."

The younger nodded. "Okay. Stay here. Focus on your breathing. I'll be right back."

And with that, they turned and hurried out of the kitchen.

Slumping into his seat, he could hear the faint sounds of Purple talking to the delivery guy. King groaned and buried his head into his hands. His mind was a mess of guilt and embarrassment. Guilt over the thought of nearly inflicting the same lonely torment he endured on to an innocent mother, and embarrassment because what the Flash was wrong with him?

Having the occasional breakdown every couple of weeks (or days) was fine but multiple times in one day? That was absurd.

Purple probably thinks I'm a nutcase.

He felt pathetic. But before he could spiral further, Purple strode in with a brown paper bag in hand. King lifted his head to watch as they gently placed it on top of the table. They shot him a glance with a question clearly forming on their lips but King paid them no mind. The smell of noodles and chicken was already distracting him from his previous thoughts.

"I used one of your 20s. The amount was $18.48. The change was $1.52," Purple quietly said and placed King's wallet within his reach. "You can check to see it's all there."

He glanced down at it, taking a moment to gauge Purple's own stare, before picking it up and tossing it onto the counter.

"Thanks," He muttered before turning back to open the bag. The other end of the table was silent as he pulled out the cartons of food and chopsticks. King could feel Purple's eyes on him but he ignored them, instead focusing on arranging the food out on the table. After a moment, he heard Purple sigh and move towards the dish cabinet.

They arrived with two plates, two forks, and a spoon as King finished opening all the takeout containers. They stuck the forks into the lo mein and sweet and sour chicken, and the spoon into the rice. With that they handed King one of the plates and settled into their seat across the table.

It was quiet as the two sticks added food to their plates and it stayed quiet as they began to eat.

King chewed on his chicken as he eyed Purple. The younger stick wasn't looking at him but he could tell that they had something on their mind. He cringed. No doubt Purple was going to ask him about his whole "freakout" over learning they had a parent. He gnawed on his chopstick. He hoped Purple didn't ask him too many questions. Frankly, even he didn't know why he reacted so viscerally and he did not want to explore those feelings at this moment.

From across the table, Purple took in a breath and King mentally prepared himself for the confrontation.

"Do you know of any places that buy scrap metal?"

He blinked. That certainly wasn't what he expected Purple to say. Though, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved that the topic of conversation was about the future and not the past. If Purple didn't want to bring up what happened in the last half hour then King was more than happy to sweep it under the rug.

King stuck his chopsticks into his noodles, "There's a few places we can head too. Copper and Steel is the closest one but Mety's has better prices."

Purple nodded. "Which one is closer to the library?"

"None of them are close per say, but C&S is on the same side of town at least," King chewed thoughtfully. "Why? Are you planning on checking some books out?"

"Well no," the younger stick answered. "I just thought that since we'd already be out, we could also get the rest of the errands done at the same time."

King paused, mulling over what Purple suggested. "Hmm… You know, that's not a bad idea. Nice thinking Purple!"

They beamed at him. "Thank you! So it's settled. We'll go to the metal place, the grocery store, and the library."

King nodded along. "Metal, grocery, library… That sounds good- Wait grocery?"

The orange stick looked over to Purple in confusion, second-guessing whether or not he heard them right. Purple, to their credit, held his gaze and blinked almost innocently at him.

"Well you did say we could go run some errands while out," Purple said nonchalantly. "Wouldn't it also make sense to get some groceries?"

King slowly blinked at Purple, taking in that little bit of sleight of hand. A disbelieving smirk formed on his face.

"You sly little stick," King shook their head and chuckled. "Alright, I get it. I need more food in the house. We'll go get some tomorrow."

The grin sent his way could only be described as self-satisfied as the purple stick hummed and took another bite of noodles. King couldn't help the snort of laughter at the younger's action as he shook his head again and continued to eat.

With plans for the next day sorted, the two started chatting about how to continue cleaning. It was decided that King would work on finding some sort of means of transportation to help carry the metal and books for tomorrow. Once that was done, he'd start sweeping the floors. Purple in the meantime, would focus on putting the remaining books onto King's shelf. After that, they would organize the rest of the papers and miscellaneous boxes on the floor for King to look through in the future.

Over food and conversation, the outburst from before slowly slipped from their minds and neither of them were too sad to see it go.

= O = o =

Nearly half an hour later and their Chinese takeout dinner was done. Just like before, King grabbed the used dishes and placed them into the sink while Purple gathered the leftovers and placed them in the fridge. With their meal complete, they made their way to the main room where King rummaged through his storage closet in search of bags big enough to hold pieces of metal. Purple busied themself with reorganizing medical supplies left out on King's bed.

By the time King had found a couple of sturdy yard bags, Purple had deposited the various items into one of the empty boxes from the floor. As he approached them, they carefully scooted the newly christened medical box to the head of the bed by the shelf. From there the pair started going about their assigned tasks to tidy up the main room. They worked in a comfortable silence with only the occasional comment or question interrupting their work flow.

This is nice, King thought to himself. How long had it been since he had another person in his space like this? Sure, Purple was there to help with the Minecraft plan but that felt different. He paused his sweeping to watch them work.

They were short, a whole head shorter than King and that left them on their tip-toes as they slotted some books back on the top shelf. Despite the inconvenience, Purple had a look of determination on their face. It reminded him so much of the antics Gold would get up to…

A feeling akin to fondness bubbled in King's chest and he shook his head to clear it. He turned back to his broom and he continued sweeping.

It was nice to have someone around again.

It wasn't until the sound of an alarm broke the quiet within the house, causing King to jump and Purple to scramble for their blaring phone. With a quick tap on the screen, the room fell back into silence.

King shook his head, a hand on his chest. "What was that?"

Purple, with their phone still in hand, blushed and rubbed at the back of their neck.

"It's my bus alarm," They said sheepishly. "It takes about 10 minutes to get to the nearest bus stop so I set it so I'd have enough time to get there."

"You're leaving?"

They nodded. "It's already almost 9. I'd like to get some sleep for tomorrow."

"For tomorrow? Yeah! That's right! You're coming back tomorrow?" Of course they'd be coming back. A few hours ago they made plans to meet back up the next day but that still didn't stop the hopeful lift in King's voice. If Purple noticed it, they didn't say anything.

"Mmhmm. I promised to help you, didn't I?"

"I mean, yes, but-" He stumbled over his words, a previous concern pushed itself to the front of his mind. "But, you also have to help yourself. Or, at least let me help you too."

The younger stick had started gathering their belongings into their pink tote but stilled at his words. Their eyes darted to meet his before darting down towards the medical box. For a moment, King thought they were going to protest like they did before but after a moment, they sighed and reached to pull out a roll of bandages and a bruise cream tube. They tossed those items into their bag.

"Okay."

"Cool."

"So… I'll see you tomorrow then?" A goodbye posed as a question, a small awkward smile formed on King's face. Purple readjusted the strap on their bag and hauled it over their shoulder.

They locked eyes with King and with a look that could almost be considered fond, replied, "I'll see you in the morning."

Then without a word, Purple turned and left the house, the door closing with a soft click.

A second passed, then two, then three. There King stood, staring at the closed door. Slowly, he turned around to face the rest of the room. It was silent again, but for once, it didn't feel as oppressive as it once did.

Maybe it was because for the first time in a while, the house was clean. Well not clean but it was as organized and tidy as it could be given the circumstances. Maybe it was because of the food King ate. He hadn't eaten that fully in a while. Or maybe it was because he wasn't alone anymore. Sure his house was empty at the moment, but Purple had promised to come back tomorrow morning. Even if they were… weird (and they were, a voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably assess those comments and actions he had filed away) but their help equaled companionship and who was King to complain?

Whatever the reason was at the moment, it was lost on King as he shuffled quietly towards his bed. The events of the day had well and truly begun to hit him. He was tired but it was a good tired. A satisfied tired. One that reminded him of trips spent camping from years ago.

Dimly, he knew he probably should clean himself up before going to sleep. He needed to brush his teeth, wipe the dust off himself, recheck his bandages…

But as soon as he locked eyes with the bed, he knew what his main priority was.

He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

= o =

Purple pressed their forehead against the bus's window, its coolness doing wonders for easing the tension in their head.

They were… content, for lack of a better word. King had a smile on his face when they left so they must have done a good job.

The closest bus stop to their apartment was on West 9th street. Glancing at the screen near the front of the bus, told them they had just turned on off of 5th Avenue. Purple closed their eyes. They had 10 more stops left before they had to get off.

Today went well. Not as smoothly as they had hoped it would but they were always ready to roll with the punches. Maybe they were just rusty when it came to this type of helping.

9 stops left.

A series of giggles and poorly hushed laughter brought Purple out of their thoughts. Cracking an eye open, they watched as a group of nicely dressed stick figures passed by their seat and took some of their own seats near the back. They looked to be around Purple's age and were excitedly discussing a new club that opened up. Purple closed their eyes again, letting their chatter fade into the background.

8 stops left.

King had been right. And that meant Purple had been wrong. But that was fine. Purple was wrong about a lot of things. That just meant they had to try harder to learn what was right for King.

7 stops left.

Today they learned that what they say can come off as condescending, even if that wasn't the original intention. King is more than capable of helping himself. Purple is there to only aid in his recovery and to make things easier. They owed it to him.

6 stops left.

Don't assume to know what's best, even if it worked well with their mother. King is not the same. Similar but not the same. Purple couldn't forget that.

5 stops left.

One of the stick figures for the group had pulled the cord, signaling for the bus to stop. Purple blinked and watched as they filed excitedly off the bus. One stick, lilac in color, met Purple's gaze. They smiled at them, giving a curious but confused stare back before a friend pulled them towards the nightlife. For one brief moment, Purple felt a pang of jealousy.

4 stops left.

They shook that thought out of their head and refocused their eyes out onto the familiar lamp post lit streets. Going out to "party" was not important.

3 stops left.

Two old men climbed onto the bus and sat in the front, quietly chatting about their day. Trying to get friends was not important (at least not yet, a smiling green face flashed across the back of their mind).

2 stops left.

A mother cradling a sleeping toddler walked off the bus. The child snuggled closer as the summer air hit their skin. Helping King was important. And by proxy, so was Purple. The bandages felt tight on their skin.

1 stop left.

The tired stick lifted their head from the window. They had a job to do. Nothing else should matter. They just needed to keep their priorities straight.

Purple pulled the cord and the bus slowed to a stop.

#Sammy8D writes #AvAM In the Week that Follows #AvM In the Week that Follows #AvM fanfic #alan becker #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #animation vs minecraft #avm shorts #avm #King stick figure #the King #AvM King #AvA King #purple stick figure #ava purple #avm purple #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

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kiddzyslimevs · 9 months

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xmassamurai · 4 months

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Before the fight in the Shaolin Trap Dungeon arena. Kuai bored: You know, if you put my head in the mouth of a shishi three times, it will turn completely red. Hanzo: Ooh!

A few moments later

Hanzo: Why are you looking like that? You won! What? What kind of face is this?

#xmas_art #subscorp #kuai liang #hanzo hasashi #kuanzo #kuaizo #mortal kombat #mk11 #scorpion #sub zero #short haircut Hanzo my HC #and Kuai with short hair too #one day the subscorp put on their classic skins and they decided that they were simply not comfortable with long hair #i love classic ninja skins very much #and I love skins where they look young #say no to Hanzo and Kuai's beard #don't blame me for the blood #let's pretend it's chocolate on them #illustration for another gaming session with my sister

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brewstersbru · 10 days

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A little comfort continuation of my riz 💚character study (aftermath w/ jawbone to the rescue!! hes such a dad 🐺)

Riz meant to go back inside. He did. He was going to heave himself up and amble back in, wedging himself between Fabian and Fig (if they hadn’t already filled his space with their flailing limbs in the short time he’d been out).

He was going to do it. Just as soon as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Just as soon as he got a handle on things.

It can’t have been longer than twenty minutes after Pok hung up when the door behind him creaks open. Shit. He thought he had more time. Riz swallows and blinks frantically as if that will somehow cover the puffiness to his eyes, the tear tracks that- despite excessive scrubbing- won’t completely go away.

“Riz.” It’s Jawbone. There’s relief in his voice, but something else too. A yawning kind of drowsiness. Riz takes a deep breath, ignoring the sinking ball of guilt in his gut.

“Hey, Jawbone, sorry. Did I wake you up?” He almost surprises himself with the calmness in his voice, but is glad of it, nonetheless. What an inconvenient time to find out he actually can lie convincingly.

The door creaks again and there’s a sharp click in the silence of the night as Jawbone shuts the door behind him. There are a few moments of scuffling before a weight settles over Riz’s shoulders- warm, fluffy- and Jawbone sits next to him on the steps.

Riz looks down to find that he’s been wrapped in a blanket, one of the nice ones from the linen closet. Had Jawbone known he was out here? How much had he seen? Did he hear anything?

Riz pulls the blanket tighter against himself, suddenly aware of how cold he is.

“Thanks.” He mutters. Jawbone hums and turns to look at him.

“Course. Saw you shivering, didn’t want you to catch a cold or nothin’.” Maybe this is something to do with guidance counselors, or faculty at Auguefort in general, but Jawbone’s gaze is piercing. Riz feels at once flayed open and carefully examined.

He coughs, curling further into himself.

“I can go back in now. Was going to, in a second, but…” He can’t finish the thought, everything that comes to mind is either childish or worrying, neither of which he wants to be in front of Jawbone. He swallows thickly.

Jawbone leans into the railing behind him, getting comfortable. “There’s no rush, Riz. I mean, I do think you need to sleep at some point tonight, but that can wait a little. At least until your tail stops swishin’ like that.” Riz immediately tucks the thing under one of his legs, embarrassed at being betrayed by his own biology. His face burns.

“I’m fine. You’re right, I need to get some sleep before the exam tomorrow, or I’ll be totally useless to the party.” He doesn’t turn to look at Jawbone as he speaks, simply stares resolutely at some of the loose brick in front of him.

“Now I didn’t say that last part, kiddo. You need to sleep ‘cuz it looks like you haven’t gotten a proper eight hours in a while, and I can see it weighing on your shoulders with the rest of it.” Jawbone says, gently. Riz bristles, almost wants to hiss at him. What does he know about what Riz carries on his shoulders?

“I said I’m fine, Jawbone.” He grits, standing. “I should go.” Jawbone curses.

“Wait. Please.” Riz pauses, finally meeting his eyes. They’re as sharp as ever, but soft, too. If that makes any sense. Jawbone continues, “It kills me seein’ you like this kiddo. I feel like a broken record sayin’ this, but I really do mean it, I’m always here to talk if you need to. Or, even if you don’t want to talk I just- it just seems like you could use somebody, is all.”

Riz feels like he’s glitching. His mind is screaming at him to keep walking, to get back in the house, lay down, and close his eyes tight until the sleep takes. But he’s so warm. And he kind of wants to cry again and Jawbone would give him a hug, probably, if he asked for it. Right?

At war with himself, all he manages to do is freeze in his tracks and utter an intelligent, “Um.”

Jawbone smiles and pats the stone next to him.

“Come on. You don’t gotta say anything, but at least sit down. And- oh, here,” He reaches into one of his cardigan’s pockets and produces a small mini chocolate bar. “A little pick-me-up.”

Riz settles gingerly next to him, closer than before but not close enough to touch. He reaches over and takes the chocolate, movements slow as he raises his eyebrows.

Jawbone shrugs. “I always keep a few on me, just in case. Never know when you might need ‘em.”

Riz smiles, small and to himself, for the first time in what feels like hours. Jawbone grins back.

“There he is. If you want another, just ask, I should have one or two more on me.”

Then it’s silent for a good, long while. Riz stares into the pitch black that pushes up against the safe halo of light surrounding the house as he chews on silky chocolate. He can’t help but replay the conversation with his father over and over again in his mind. Jawbone’s head is tilted to the stars.

For all he knows- for all Riz ever knows- that could be the last conversation he is able to have with Pok until he dies again. The watch is what allows them to talk across planes and it, like everything else Riz is and owns, is breakable. It’s unlikely that the watch will break tomorrow (Riz is a ranged fighter, he never gets close if he can help it, nothing should get near enough to him to get to it…), but not impossible. Never impossible.

Something warm and wet drips down his chin and onto his fist, where its clenched around the blanket. Riz brings his other hand to swipe at his eyes. Fuck. He shouldn’t be crying like this. He thought he was cried-out.

Jawbone’s voice rings out from beside him, tender, “Kiddo.”

Riz shakes his head, curling further into the blanket as if the fabric might protect him from this mortifying situation.

“Sorry.” He mumbles. “I thought I was done with this part.”

It’s quiet for a moment.

“It’s okay to need to cry, Riz. Definitely nothing you need to apologize for.”

Riz shivers, somehow cold again, even with the blanket. He wants to burrow into Jawbone’s chest, to cling like he used to, to his mom before he grew out of it and became a man (he was so young, then; he should’ve given it more time, he could’ve given it more time). He doesn’t want to ask, though.

Doesn’t know if he can ask.

Jawbone looks down at him- shivering, hunched underneath a thin cotton blanket- and he must see something that Riz doesn’t mean to betray because his breath catches, and he does the asking for him.

“Can I hug ya, kid?”

Riz nods once, sharply, as soon as the words are in the air. Jawbone reaches out and gathers him up in his arms. Pressing him firmly, but gently, against his chest. Riz buries his face into his cardigan and allows himself a minute of foolishness.

He hiccups.

“I miss my dad, Jawbone. I wish he wasn’t dead.” His voice breaks on the last word, all he gets out is the ‘de’, and he leaves the rest to hang in the air with his sobs.

Jawbone’s hand comes up to rub lightly over his back. He doesn’t say anything, just allows Riz to cycle through his emotions.

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he’s gone and me and mom just have to deal with it.” Riz takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“Sometimes… I know it’s stupid and illogical, but sometimes I get mad at him. I get so furious with him. Because he’s not here. He didn’t do what he needed to do to be here for his son. And I know that’s wrong and he couldn’t help it and if he could choose to be here, he would, but it doesn’t stop the anger. I don’t like it. But I don’t know what to do with it because it’s not fixable. I can’t put it anywhere, so I just push it down and hope it goes away, eventually. It never goes away.”

Jawbone hums, and Riz can feel the vibration of it against his cheek. It reminds him of a cat purring, almost. If the cat smelled like dog.

“It’s okay to feel upset that your father was taken from you before you got the chance to know him. That’s not stupid or illogical. I’m sure he beats himself up about it just as much, if he’s anything like his son.”

Riz, despite himself, laughs.

“It’s nice getting to know him now.” He sniffs. “It’s just- I feel like I’m playing a game of catch-up every time we talk. Like I’m late to the race. Most kids know what their dads do for work before high school.”

“But it’s not a race, Riz.” Jawbone’s voice is low, but vehement. “No one is judging you for not knowing these things about your father, because you thought he was unreachable up until a year ago. The fact that you’re taking every opportunity to learn about him, that you spent so much time- even before you knew what he did for work- visiting his grave and updating him about your life, and still do, sometimes. It’s a testament to how much you love him. I think he knows that.”

The silence following those words stays for another minute or so before Riz huffs.

“But I don’t love him enough to bring him back, huh. There’s magic in any strong emotion, Kristin told me that, once. And I just started messing with magic stuff, but you would think that it wouldn’t be impossible. Not if the love was strong enough.”

Jawbone sighs, brings a hand to Riz’s hair and begins to card through it, almost absentmindedly. Riz freezes, then melts into it. It’s been so long since anybody played with his hair like this. His mom used to do it, when he was younger, but then the bills got higher, her shifts got longer. It fell to the bottom of the priorities list.

“You can’t do that to yourself, kid. You can’t. You think if Ms. Barkrock wanted it enough, was rageful enough, she coulda expelled the demon from her chest earlier?”

Riz shakes his head, slightly, afraid to dislodge jawbone’s hand. “Of course not. But that’s different-“

“Not really.” Jawbone cuts in, gently. “Point is, magic don’t work like that. Emotions are a factor, yes, but there’s so much else that goes into it. You love your dad so much, Riz, anyone can see that.”

Riz sniffles. “Thanks, Jawbone.”

Jawbone smiles where Riz can’t see, and ruffles his hair before allowing him to pull away.

“Anytime, kiddo.”

#short and sweet #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #just in case #riz gukgak #jawbone o'shaughnessey #dad feels #jawbone is a counselor and it shows #also just realized this but i he gives chocolate to riz like fucking #remus lupin #god ive stereotyped werewolves #im sorry werewolves #anyways riz is so The fucked up little guy #love him #character study #brublurbs #abuse of italics #fantasy high

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amartelo · 9 months

Text

╔╦╦

╠╬╬╬╣

╠╬╬╬╣ I ♥

╠╬╬╬╣ Chocolate

╚╩╩╩╝

┊┊┊┊⋆ ✧　　 · 　 ✧　✵

┊┊┊☆ *

┊┊★ *

┊┊* . * ✦

┊☆ ° ✧

★*

#angel ♪#short bios #kpop bios #messy bios #twitter bios #instagram bios #old internet #old web #coquette #dollcore #chocolate #random layouts #aesthetic #symbols #text art #cute pixels #ascii art #cute aesthetic #cutecore

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sixcupids · 1 year

Text

https://www.instagram.com/p/CphJKTSSW7L/

#dessert #short bread #chocolate chips #chocolate chip short bread #miffy #cute #white #brown #aesthetic #uploads

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blooming-cecilia · 1 year

Text

secret valentine ft. diluc and venti

today’s date is something that becomes even more painfully obvious to you as you walk the path towards your first class of the day. there are more people scattered around the campus grounds, peers and couples alike exchanging gifts, the spirit of love and giving in the air.

you smile to yourself as you glance down at the extra bag of gifts you brought with you today. it’s valentine’s day today, and while you might not have a special someone in mind to spend the rest of the day with, you did plan to hang out with your friends after classes today, and you might have prepared a little something to give to each of them too. you don’t care much for the occasion itself, but it’s always nice to put smiles on the faces of people you hold dear to you, and give a little thanks for their companionship.

you continue walking to your classroom, the small smile still on your face at the nice weather and the lighthearted mood. when you arrive, you greet your classmates with a good morning! and a happy valentine’s!, thanking those who hand you any presents. you turn to your desk, finding some of your friends surrounding your desk, chattering amongst themselves at what seems like a present sitting on your desk. curiously, you approach, and they part to let you see the mysterious gift.

diluc

all of your classmates have been wondering about the big wrapped gift on your desk. your friends were anxiously waiting for you, waiting for you to finally get to the classroom and open that giant gift.

you were immediately dragged into the room and to your desk once they saw your head peeking out from the staircase, and when you finally opened the gift, everyone gasped.

it's a basket full of your favorite food, the really expensive kind. those pricey chocolates you'd only get as gifts from wealthier relatives? imported snacks from various countries? there’s several of those in the basket. some of them are even unfamiliar to you, which makes it all the more exciting.

you can tell that whoever this mystery person is, they took great care in ensuring the snacks they give you are ones you really liked, or at least for the unfamiliar ones, they thought hard to think if the snack would be up to your taste.

you can also tell that this person wanted to provide you with only high-quality items. the packaging does not have any sort of damage, each of them carefully arranged to look appealing and to avoid damage in transit.

there is no sender or any sort of indicator as to who this mysterious person is. they're careful to cover their tracks, as the card that comes with it is a simple printed graphic for valentines. included are well wishes of, i hope you enjoy my simple present. have a wonderful day., as well as your name at the end, still printed at the back. no handwriting to be seen.

despite you not knowing who this stranger is, part of you is sure that this person’s intentions are truly genuine, to only share what they could with you—despite it being more than you’ve ever been given by anyone—it was not a show of wealth as some of your friends have suggested. after all, if it was, why is their name not plastered all over the gift?

your friends bounce off students they know of in school that may fit the bill of a mysterious rich admirer, to which you mostly tune out once they became annoying, focusing instead on the yummy snacks this person sent you. you're curious as to who this is of course, but with how many students there are in this school, it's going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.

still, you hope that one day they find the courage to reveal themselves to you. it's only right that you give your personal thanks, and perhaps, a little something of your own to gift to them, too.

(you and your friends fail to notice the red haired man sitting at a table farther away from yours, discreetly peeking towards your seats to see you munch on your treats. he smiles to himself seeing you so obviously delighted by the tasty treats, and his mind starts to plan for yet another basket of treats…or perhaps, this time, he can give you trinkets that remind him of you now, too?)

venti

your eyes look down to your desk to find a small but quaint gift box. it’s a cardboard gift box that's dyed in your favorite colors, and has a rather elaborate design all over it. it’s secured together by a ribbon, tied into a rather complicated and intricate bow, a small tag on it with the valentines greeting, your name, and nothing else.

whoever this person is, they’ve got an eye for style and aesthetics, and clearly paid attention to the kinds of designs you liked.

you delicately untie the bow, almost a little sad to ruin their work. you take off the lid of the box to see…

…a mixtape?

well, no, not literally of course. nobody owns a functioning cassette player anymore these days. but this person seems to be rather old-fashioned still, to gift you with two cds, along with what seems to be a worn notebook?

you shift your focus to the two cds, setting down the notebook for now.

you observe the cd cases, the doodles and hand drawn typography on it immediately catching your attention. it seemed to have been drawn on with permanent markers, in a variety of colors too. the cds are also written on with what each cd contains.

each case also comes with a little handwritten letter inserted in the inner part of the case. you find that there’s no name written on those letters either, just some sweet notes (perhaps the sweetest you’ve ever gotten in your life! quite the poet this one is…), and a tracklist scribbled in for you.

you safely tuck away the cds into the box when your professor walks in, the rest of the class rushing to settle down into their seats, and you try not to let your curiosity take over your mind as you turn your focus onto your professor.

you were, in fact, unable to keep your curiosity at bay.

and neither could your friends, as they crowd around you and your ancient laptop at your usual spot outside your building. they urge you to insert the first cd into your disk drive, and you mumble to yourself about how thankful you are to yourself for keeping around the same laptop you got when you were sixteen—or rather, for being too broke to afford an upgrade.

a folder pops up when your pc processes the contents of the cd, and a list of mp3 tracks pop up, matching the tracklist written on the note in the case.

the first cd is a collection of songs that remind this person of you. it turns out to be quite a lengthy playlist, the first couple of tracks make you think that it's just some kind of prank with how generalized the songs are, but the more you listen to them, the more you find yourself in them, lyrics that apply to you and melodies exactly the way you like them.

your friends giggle and nudge you as they listen too, singing along to ones they are familiar with.

(“hey, is this admirer of yours too broke for spotify premium? is that why they went with a cd—hey!” “c’mon it’s sweet someone did that for them! you’re just jealous your girlfriend won’t do that for you!”)

the second cd is a bit more special, as it's an album of songs this person has personally written for you, and about you. you find it a bit hard to believe that a stranger can make this many songs about you—especially when you're sure you don't have the slightest clue as to who they are. however, you're once again proven wrong when you listen to the songs. each one blows you away with how beautiful the melodies are, and the lyrics touch you so much, you can hardly believe someone even thinks of you as such.

(this of course, causes your friends to tease you even more… you’re rather flustered by both the thoughtful songs and your friends’ jokes.)

you all part ways soon after, and you only get the chance to take a peek at the notebook that comes with the cds when you get back home. you observe the worn notebook and skim through it, feeling the paper creases and indentions from the writing on each page. you quickly note that this notebook is actually your secret admirer’s thoughts and insights, both for their playlist of you and the album they wrote for you.

each track has commentary. they truly have a way with words, and you already feel so connected with this person by the stories they share about their song choices and their song writing. you smile and laugh at most of them, and even manage to tear up at some of the behind the scenes of the songs they’ve written for you. this mystery person is able to drag out such emotions from you despite the fact that you’ve never met… and now you’re certain you’ve fallen for them. or at least, you’re definitely much more intrigued by them now; you want to know more about them.

so you spend the next weeks listening to both cds over and over again. no, i’m not obsessed, you tell your friends when they notice. i’m simply enjoying the thoughtful gift this mystery person put together for me. they have good taste in music.

you import all the songs into your phone to listen to them wherever you go, and on days you do bring your laptop, you still listen with the cds in the drive, as if it makes any difference. you constantly checking the cd’s folder like a new file will just pop up, perhaps a notepad file of more details about them…?

you feel sillier the longer this goes on. you really hope this isn’t just some ridiculously elaborate prank. the sheer audacity of this person to just drop you the most thoughtful gift, writing such wonderful stories and melodies and omit their name, aka the most important detail of all?!

you're going to find this person and give back everything they've done for you, if it's the last thing you do!

but for now…

perhaps you'll relax again and listen to that one song from their album. it's the perfectly calming track for a quick lil nap in between classes...

(you fail to notice a head peeking behind a tree a little bit away from the one you lean against. eyes full of mirth and mischief, he giggles and coos to himself seeing you nap to one of the songs he's prepared just for you. with one last look at your peaceful sleeping face, he smiles and saunters away, slipping away before you can wake and notice him there. he's eagerly awaiting the day you'll find him, but for now, he enjoys sneaking around you and watching you pine for him.)

happy valentine's everyone! hope you enjoyed diluc and venti's gifts for you <3 if you'd like to give me a present too, perhaps a reblog would be nice? 👉👈

#tulip writes #venti x reader #diluc x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #venti the bard #venti genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #diluc genshin impact #i would like to apologize to the diluc likers for such a short part #you can clearly see where my bias lies #DFGSJH #another round of dm brainrots i just polished and actually posted for once #valentines is actually over for me but it isnt for half of the world so it still counts #also put images at the last minute #i dont have the energy for more polished and nicer looking ones but the dividers i found were cute and simple :D #this is also inspired byyy my vague memories of valentines at school #i didnt really give to my friends nor did i get that much #but sometimes i did get a couple chocolates n trinkets from classmates #which is always nice #i wish something like this^ happened to me though #i want a super special gift from a super secret admirer :(

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