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ahkaahshi · 3 years

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1:32 AM [hirugami sachirou x reader]

pairing: hirugami sachirou x fem reader

genre: fluff with sprinkles of angst

warning(s): descriptions of catastrophic thinking/anxiety, brief mentions of death, swearing

word count: 2.5k

overview: when hirugami’s old habits of rumination come back to haunt him, there’s only one person who can bring him peace

By the time it’s 1:32 AM, Hirugami has spent no less than a half hour staring at the digitized numbers of the alarm clock cutting through the darkness, watching the precious seconds and minutes of sleep tick away before his eyes. A strange haze hangs over him, and it’s as if his ears have been stuffed with cotton, amplifying all the thoughts pounding against his skull. For a moment, there’s an eerie silence in his head, during which he can hear the leaves whispering in the breeze outside of his window, and he thinks he’s finally falling asleep, but the quietude is painfully temporary.

With a heavy sigh, he turns on his back and stares up at the ceiling, giving his thoughts a moment to surface individually, like bubbles rising to meet the daylight shining down on a body of water.

When will what I do ever be enough?

Did I really choose the right path in life?

Would I still feel this way if my life had played out differently?

When will these thoughts stop?

Rumination is nothing new to him. Despite being able to keep the habit tucked away for a majority of his high school years with both yours and Hoshiumi’s help, he finds that it often comes back to haunt him at the most unexpected times. His week at work had been as smooth as it could be given he was a busy veterinarian, yet he’d felt a knot of something—uncertainty?—forming within him over the course of the past few days. Where it had originated from he had no clue, but it was proving to be a formidable opponent now, in the late hours of the evening while the rest of the neighborhood slept.

The journal on his bedside table catches his attention, and as much as he knows he should take a moment to pen down his troubles in an attempt to put them to rest, his hands feel too heavy to move. Just making the simple trip from his chest to the table feels like the most effortful task in the universe. He does, however, find the strength and motivation to reach for his phone lying beside him where he’d tossed it in agony after realizing he was using it far too long after bedtime.

His eyelids instinctively narrow at the sudden influx of light that spills onto his face from the screen when he turns it on, even though the brightness is at its lowest setting. Lazy drags of his fingertips find him face to face with your smiling contact photo, and sluggish taps compose a more to-the-point text message than he usually sends asking if you’re still awake. Gray dots appearing, then promptly disappearing along the bottom of his screen proves that you are—and in an instant, he’s answering a call from you.

“What’s up, Sachi?” you ask, voice more chipper than he’d expect at this hour.

“Nothin’ much,” he lies with a yawn. Hearing his voice weighted so heavily with fatigue makes your heart sink in your chest. “What’re you up to?”

He can hear rustling through the phone as you readjust the blankets ensconcing you to pull them up to your shoulders again. Gazing at your glowing computer screen, you respond, “Just watching a movie,” before asking, “Everything okay?”

“Just having trouble getting to sleep, is all,” he explains, the words leaving his mouth in another exasperated groan, “So, I thought I’d talk to my favorite person if she was still awake.”

Jokingly, you comment, “I won’t tell Kourai you said that, yeah?”

He chuckles. “Thanks.”

A comfortable moment of silence passes, during which you shuffle your feet beneath the covers to warm them up and he allows his eyelids to flutter shut so he can focus his full attention on the sound of your voice when you speak again. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Don’t you get tired of it, (f/n)?”

“Of what, baby?”

“Of listening to me talk myself in circles when I’m like this and hearing about the same issues over and over again?”

Though there’s a hint of irritation laced in his tone, you know it’s directed at himself rather than at you. “Sachi, you can talk about whatever you want as much as you want. I know how much you keep to yourself, so it’s okay. I just want to help, since I know how exhausting it must be for you to deal with.” There’s a short pause, and you know from experience that his mind is most likely distorting your words, forming them into daggers he sinks into his own heart. “I promise, it’s okay to talk to me about it. Trust me.”

He blinks slowly, takes a deep breath, and agrees, “Okay.”

Pursing your lips, you glance around the darkness of your room until your eyes settle on the bag you’d already packed, ready to take to his house for your scheduled weekend visits. “Would it help if you could see my face?” you wonder, your mouth curling up into a small grin regardless of the fact that he can’t see it.

“Well,” he hums, dragging his long fingers through his chestnut brown hair, “you know I’d never turn down the opportunity to see my gorgeous girlfriend, but you’ll have to give me a minute to touch up my makeup.”

With a snicker, you retort, “You’ll have plenty of time to pull yourself together if I just come over instead.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, sweetheart. Not at this ungodly hour.”

“And you didn’t,” you reaffirm, “but I want to, so, will you let me visit a whole—” you interrupt yourself to check the time before continuing—“eight and a half hours earlier than we’d originally planned?”

“I would love that,” is his answer given without hesitation despite his initial, intrusive thought of being burdensome to you by allowing you to drive over so early in the morning.

And even though he feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into the spiral of negative ideas swirling around him like the raging waters of a whirlpool, he doesn’t regret accepting your invitation when you arrive about twenty minutes later. Upon opening the door to your car for you, he’s greeted by your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close for a tight hug that instantly engulfs him in a warm feeling of comfort that he can’t liken to anything else he’s ever felt before from anyone else. He holds your body flush against his—even after he’s felt your grip loosen in a signal to pull away that then tightens once more at realizing he’s not quite finished yet—and acknowledges the guilt that suddenly rises within him.

How could I ever want to know how things could’ve been different when I have her?

“Thanks for coming,” he whispers, craning his neck to press a kiss to yours before finally releasing you and slinging your bag over his shoulder. The wave of cold air that rushes between your bodies at their separation nearly makes you reach for him again, but you settle for latching onto his hand instead while the two of you make your way up to his apartment. “You made it here in record time, speed racer.”

Chuckling, you joke, “Drove like I was answering a booty call.”

“I’m truly flattered.”

The gentle smile across his lips has your heart skipping a beat in your chest but doesn’t hide the fatigue clearly present on his handsome features. His hand on your back gently ushers you inside the familiar warmth of his home when he unlocks the door, and you make a beeline to his bedroom once you’ve kicked off your shoes. A look of amusement glimmers in his eyes at how quickly you settle yourself down in his bed and bury yourself under his comforter and blankets.

As he climbs into bed beside you, your hands move to the sides of his face to pull him towards you for a gentle kiss. “What’s going on, Sachi?” you murmur after your lips part. He sits on the mattress beside you, and the sinking of the bed naturally draws you closer to one another until your arms are wrapped around his torso and his draped over your shoulders.

“Just the usual,” he sighs, fingers absentmindedly grazing the fabric of your sweater, “You know, the whole wondering if I’ve done everything right bit. My mind just loves reminding me of my mistakes and going through how I could’ve handled things differently, even if the thing in question happened, like, five years ago.”

You hum understandingly and nod, focusing on his words to keep yourself awake—which is a challenge when his body feels like a lullaby.

“I’m still hung up over that dog we couldn’t save last month. Every day, I find myself thinking of the moment when his heartbeat just… stopped. And the look in his owner’s eyes when I told her he hadn’t made it. And I just wonder, what could I have done differently to keep him alive?”

He swallows thickly and breathes out a somewhat frustrated sigh. “And I replay the arguments I’ve had with people—and with you—in my head, wondering what I could’ve done to prevent them. But I know that hindsight’s twenty-twenty and that if I’d have known the answer or what was to come beforehand then it never would’ve happened to begin with. It’s so frustrating because I know this, I’ve been able to accept mistakes and let them go, yet I still beat myself up really badly over things every now and then.”

Moving away from him slightly so you can look up at him, into his weary but kind and welcoming gaze, you place your hands on his shoulders and give him a small smile. “Baby,” you say with an affectionate squeeze to his muscles, “these shoulders of yours are so strong, but they’re meant for carrying backpacks, me when I want a piggyback ride, or any kids we may or may not have in the future; not the weight of the world.”

He tilts his head to the side so he can lower his cheek onto one of your hands, spreading heat across your skin. With the way he’s watching you so intently, you can tell how much he values your words as well as the fact that you’re here, sitting in front of him instead of gazing at him through a screen.

Slowly, speaking as the thoughts enter your mind, you assure him, “It’s okay to fuck up. How would we learn if we didn’t?” You stroke his cheek with your thumb before your fingers move to his head of waves tousled haphazardly from whatever restless sleep he’d been able to get.

“Just remind yourself of the way you usually deal with mistakes. Acknowledge them, say yeah, that happened, and it sucked ass, but I’ll do better next time, and let go of them. I mean, I know it’s way, way easier said than done, but you’re really good at it. Remember all those times in high school I came to you, freaking out over the smallest things that I’d done? Who am I kidding? I still do that; but, anyway, it’s always been you who’s helped me. Give yourself the same permission to mess up.”

Your boyfriend of many years heaves a deep sigh as he lets the truth of your statements pass through his internal filter that does a fine job, unfortunately, in this case, of sifting through only the ideas he wants to believe. Though they’re met with initial resistance that only manifests as a defense mechanism, all your words manage to remain after the process like the smallest pieces of gold hidden amongst layers and layers of sediment.

Taking your hand in his, you tell him, “There aren’t really any right or wrong decisions, and I know you know that. They’re just choices you make. Mistakes are gonna happen no matter what, but you’re gonna be okay. I know you, Hirugami Sachirou, and I know how strong and determined you are. You can do what you set your mind to and with that smile on your face some people find annoying—” the grin in question appears on his lips, making you laugh—“Yeah, that one. So, get it into that big brain of yours that you’re doing your best or I’ll have to rough you up a bit.”

“I’m shaking in my boots.”

“As you should be.”

In an instant, the heavy layers of worry that had restricted him before unravel at your definitive statement, and he’s laughing while he pulls you into his arms once more. As always, his laughter is contagious, and it’s not long before you’re doing the same, body shaking against his. “Don’t unleash your wrath on me, baby; I’ll listen, I promise. And I’ll make your favorite for breakfast tomorrow,” he concedes with a teasing tone, a yawn whisking some of his words away.

“We have a deal,” you chirp, “Now, let’s go to sleep. It’s way past your bedtime, gramps.”

He complains, “You callin’ me old?” as your bodies sink down onto the soft mattress, his head pausing in its natural course towards your chest so it can hover above yours. “’Cause I found more gray hairs than I’d like to admit when I was doing my hair yesterday, so I’m actually really self-conscious about it.”

Sticking out your lower lip in a sympathetic pout, you comment, “I said you were old, but I didn’t say that you weren’t hot.”

“So, I’ve still got it, huh?”

“You’re basically a silver fox.”

A soft hum of contentment rumbles against your lips when he presses his to them to shower you with a few, affectionate kisses. Eventually, he pulls away and pecks your chin on his way to your neck, where he nestles his head as your arms readjust to accommodate his body coming to rest against yours. “Thanks, (f/n),” he mumbles, voice suddenly heavy and lethargic compared to how it had been moments earlier, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Your fingers card through his hair softly as he takes a deep breath and slides his palm along the back of your thigh to coax it around his waist so he can move his body even closer to yours. While the two of you lie together, surrounded in warmth, feeling the gentle beating of each other’s hearts against your bodies, Hirugami finds he has nothing left to worry about—no thoughts left to disturb him. And, because his mind is finally quiet and still, the ruminating beast within him quelled by your honest words and gentle touch, sleep finally comes just as easily to him as loving you does.

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finalfantasy7 · 3 years

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Letting go

Despite all the crying, all the pain, all the disappointment that came from that little bookstore, I’m still scared of letting it go. Honest to god afraid of allowing it to become a distant memory where I can barely make out most of the details.

Little did I know going in I would barely register as a real job, strictly viewing it as a seasonal gig, only to leave it with bleeding heart strings.

I remember how at first I didn’t allow myself to see it as a long term gig, not after only staying as a seasonal at a previous location (a decision that admittedly ended up being a strike against my confidence). And yet, as the holiday season came closer to ending, the more anxious I became about being kept on passed the holiday season. It only became worse as I started to bond with the team there. Everyone and everything seemed to click. I very quickly found myself in a new “comfort zone” and much like love, it’s beautiful to experience and even scarier to lose.

What I failed to realize until now, was I had personally laid down the structure of the home I now associate with that environment. Yes, my colleagues were each as warm as they were individuals; each carrying a back full of personalized arrows and hearts full of dreams and fears alike. But looking back, so many of them highlighted how their kindness was not cheap and for some, certainly wasn’t free.

I now understand what [redacted] means when she says I seem to be the “glue” between people. A substance whose sole purpose is to hold things together and tightly at that. That being said, there are few cases of universal glue. No, in fact there’s specific types of glue for specific materials. I am nowhere near being a universal glue but I seem to be a decent brand for people…or at least those who can afford to be a bit vulnerable and honest.

To this day I will rave about my former coworkers, even more so about the ones I still keep in contact with today. But I’m now starting to see that the bookstore was home to me for a bit BECAUSE I made it home. I could have come in day in and day out and never looked back but I didn’t, at the time it almost felt like I couldn’t. How could I? When a small, insecure being was being suddenly labeled with tags and titles they had never heard before.

I wasn’t “[dead name]” when I stepped through those blue doors but “Finn Acosta”. Nor longer was I this lost entity, a ball of failure, fears and anxieties. No, I was now “Finn”; an attractive, fashionable leader who always seemed to “really see” people for who they were. But even at the time these words read hollow, not because I didn’t believe the genuine sentiment behind them but simply because I didn’t see that person looking back at me in the mirror. They unfortunately went from compliments to a heavy mask I felt I needed to wear, to proudly carry and maintain lest I seek to disappoint everyone.

There was a time period when “life was good” at work. I had recently been hired and I was hungry. You wanted to teach me how to make a table? Let’s do it. Need help with overnight inventory? Something I’ve never done before? I’m game. Wanna teach me how to rearrange every decorative piece on a table? Can’t wait. I suppose this time period could accurately be labeled as “Finn was bubbly” here or at least that’s how one manager described it when discussing how much I had changed by the end of my bookstore career. Managers seem to like this time period as much as I did. I used to think I was happy here and I suppose I was and yet, looking back it all seems so Illusionary? Perhaps our image of happiness changes more throughout our lives than we’d like to admit. But here I was in a relationship which I believed at the time was perfect, was in a workplace I believed was perfect and was starting to carry a new outlook of myself I had, you guessed it, deemed as perfect.

I sometimes wonder if I had the opportunity would I go back in time and warn that version of myself about the storm that was starting to brew? No, I don’t think I would. Even with the knowledge I have now, nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold, not really. Plus, who am I to rip off those rose coloured glasses off my past self- she was genuinely as happy as she could have been. I feel weirdly maternal towards that person. I know they were doing their best….unfortunately their best would soon be crushed by reality, more specifically, the flaws and beauty of what it means to be human.

Now going into my second year of psyche I can confidently say reading about humans and experiencing them are very different. To read about projection and have it’s description neatly grouped in small bullet points is very different from someone angrily shutting down your greeting because they’re having a bad day. I experienced a lot of projection at work and equally threw in my own.

It’s fascinating to think I experienced both appreciation and questioning of personality all at once in the same environment. I would be commended on how understanding I could be but equally questioned on how I couldn’t view things as more black and white the same people. How could you see only grays, is what I’d heard in my mind. Where was the fire? Where was the anger? Did it mean I didn’t care? Perhaps I simply didn’t give enough thought to these topics? But that wasn’t the case at all. For months on end I would ruminate about work; everything from issues of health and safety, union processing, to the well being of my coworkers.

This was my pack and I needed to care for it as best as I could…so I did. Someone didn’t feel comfortable addressing concerns to management? I’d do it for them. Let me check in with everyone I saw to see how they were. You look tired, allow me to buy you a coffee. Let me send out feedback forms to see what people need. Remember, each and everyone one of you matters and deserves nothing but care. Oh wait, management is also made up of human beings so I should also extend all this to them. Let me do this, let me do that, I will do this, I will do that. Eventually I became a husk of the person I started off at the beginning of the year. I felt bitter and broken. To put it frankly, I was exhausted.

I’ve never broken down so much in a place of work. I would sit in the corner of the washroom and cry (not too much so we couldn’t stop but enough to get a good sob out). No one ever knew. I know because I’ve now highlighted this to a few former coworkers and they each wear the same look of surprise, sadness and empathy. But why the tears? It was just a part time job and it was…until it wasn’t. Somewhere along the way this part time job truly became something else. I went from clocking in and out, to bringing every person who worked with me home. I packed up their fears in a precious bag and wore it around, how couldn’t I? They were afraid and I was used to carrying around people’s emotions with me. I was even better at wearing a bright toothy smile that hid my own emotions.

At some point I stopped being a CER and started to be..well..I suppose glue. But remember what I said earlier about different types of glue for different materials? Well, you see- management wasn’t particularly fond of the type of glue I was, at least a majority of them didn’t seem to be. You see in the eyes of my leaders, I WAS someone who was just clocking in and out and they weren’t happy with this. You see, the company preferred the type of glue that bonded workers and the company’s “vision”. Workers that were so bonded with that vision that it became almost indistinguishable of where the person started and the sales pitch ended. They wanted you to take work home with you, just not in the way I did. Ironically, because of this I was rated as a low performer; because I didn’t care enough, when all of my peers were telling me the opposite.

But there it was, the other shoe had finally fallen and little Finn isn’t as sturdy as they seem. No, in fact, I remember running out of the performance review in tears, rushing past my coworkers as I digested being told I was a failure (another notch to add to the belt). It’s true when they say, sometimes it’s not the information itself but how it’s delivered. I felt ganged up in the review; mine being the only that required the GM to be present (more like be the one who conducted it but I digress). My mind had completely shut down as my superiors watched me shrink into myself, using the little energy I had to not break down and cry. The surrealism of them joking around about not being able to find a seat in the mall to conduct the review as my mind turned into static. They told me I had “really up days and really down days”, a sentence that may as well be a death sentence if you deal with a form of mental illness. They noticed, they noticed I wasn’t neurotypical, that I was different and not in a good way. You know what hurts the most? These two women were part of a moment of trauma for me and they didn’t even try- for them it was just another day at work. They’ll never know how I spent the next few months psychoanalyzing myself, speaking with professionals to help me find “what I did wrong?”, “why was I a failure?”.

After months of pouring every bit of energy I had towards my team I was told I wasn’t good enough. A part of me wishes I could send this letter to those women, to show them “look what you did to me”. But I feel it would give them another opportunity to dismiss me when I’m most vulnerable, a moment similar to when they glossed over my anxiety disorder, chalking it up to, “I think we’re all anxious right now”. At the end of everything I’m more hurt than bitter. I’m not a manager, I’m not a leader but I know I would never put someone in such a situation and at the very least I can sleep at night knowing that.

To say my time at the bookstore was a learning experience would be an understatement. One day I was at cash dealing with a customer who clearly wasn’t having a good day and I decided then and there, I needed to leave. So, I finally ripped the rose coloured glasses off and decided to give my two weeks. Those two weeks were the least stressed I had been the entire year. Ironically, I had to leave the bookstore to finally take to heart the kind words that were told to me in it. I remember how I was told at my previous location how incredible it was of how many interpersonal relationships I had made in the short amount of time and it looks like here was no different….but it was. I’m now permanently leaving this company behind and realizing if this is what I can do with a few months, a year, imagine what I can do in a permanent career setting? I think I’ll be just fine; not because I’m “Finn”, not because I’m glue but because I try and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

#mine #letting go

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themissinggenius · 3 years

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Part 2/2

Another conversation was coming, but it was avoided for the time being. Clarice showered in the guest bathroom; earlier, she had tried peering around the house—still mad but a bit embarrassed by the outburst. The door had been put back into place since she showered, and the water had been cleaned off of the floor. Hannibal was nowhere to be found. I really did it this time, she thought. Her body relaxed, and her face softened. She didn’t think it was appropriate to laugh, but the thought still surfaced, prompting a sad smile. I pushed around the violent centerpiece of the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list. And he just cried. Shithouse mouse. The smirk dissipated as she ruminated further... She had hit him. Being a domestic abuser wasn’t just rude; it was boringly common.

She moved the thoughts about violence to the side and shifted her attention to the cause of the scuffle. I don’t know what he expected. Hannibal knows the depth of my old relationship with Jack, as much as he hated him. He told me to say goodbye to my father, so why not Jack?

Your daddy and Jackie Boy aren’t the same, she reminded herself. At this moment, she was both grateful and resentful that her internal voice of reason was that of her husband. At least it was helping her see his view. Okay, so the relationship isn’t necessarily comparable. But why would he think I wouldn’t come home? Did he really read my intentions so incorrectly?

Clarice laid awake in the guest bedroom for hours.

Hannibal Lecter relies on his intuition; it may just be his most famous attribute. On rare occasion, though, his cunning will fail him. On the day that Jack Crawford died, it most certainly did.

However, he doesn’t know that yet. Instead, he is reclined in repose at the seat of his harpsichord which he does not play. As he is off in one of the ill-visited quarters of the home, Clarice would be unable to hear the notes carrying from her position in the guest room; even so, he does not play. Hannibal gleaned a look of disgust and frustration from her earlier, and thus, he was certain his Starling would take flight by the morning for reasons known but difficult to accept. There is no reason for him to play.

Poised on the bench, he disappeared to his memory palace without struggle. The difficulty came when he walked down the halls, closing each door that had belonged to her. Hannibal contemplated as he walked: There is a certain symmetry to this—an appreciable one. Clarice’s hotheadedness had been a defining feature of hers, whereas he relied on coolness. He chastised himself for his own emotional outburst; it was unlike him to breakdown, and though he had allowed himself to become vulnerable to his wife, with her likely departure, he had to withdraw from all this fragility. He had to shut down. He had to be the ice to meet her violent fire.

Thus, he closed her doors, sealing the emotional ties within each.

Hannibal emerged at the sound of her voice. He had not heard her approaching in nor had he smelled her.

A few paces away from the harpsichord, Clarice stood. Hannibal had been contemplating whether to address her as Clarice (Perhaps too informal at this point...), Agent Starling (But even when she goes back, she won’t be an agent...), or Miss Starling (Ummmm, I don’t like this one very much...) when she interrupted.

“Hannibal,” she started.

“Ah.” He paused but spoke again before she could continue. “I see you’ve finally decided to join me. Had enough tossing and turning up there, or did you come down to use me as your personal punching bag again?”

“No, no. I just think-”

He cut her off again. “You know what I think, Ex-Special Agent Starling?” Oooh. That works, he thought. “Well, actually I wonder. I wonder if that was how Daddy took care o’ Mommy when she wouldn’t shut ‘er yap.” His imitation of her accent—which she had long abandoned—made her flinch. “If Ma didn’t have dinner on the table at five-o-clock, yes siree, she’d be in some kinda trouble. And boy, does Clarice still wanna be like her Daddy! No matter what,” he emphasized with a drawl, “she’s gonna stand by him. It sure do seem that way tuh me!” Hannibal smirked, and his face betrayed no warmth.

The room had felt colder to Clarice when she had walked in. She had expected him to be upset, but she hadn’t expected this. The woman paused and considered the implications: her musings were correct. He really did misread her, and now he was trying to drive her away. Well fuck that.

In their years of marriage, the couple had picked up on a few of each other’s traits. For one, Clarice was not going to allow a bit of intimidation break her. He came close to doing so in Baltimore, but he would not again. She steeled herself, adopting a bit of his icy demeanor.

“No, Hannibal. My father did not hit my mother. I think I would’ve told you by now, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away; rather, he just pursed his lips and smiled.

Then, he began: “As you know, I don’t try to predict you because it often proves fruitless.” He looked off before setting his gaze squarely on her. “However, considering these... outbursts of yours and the contempt plain on your face, I have bought you a ticket back to Arlington in time for dear Mr. Crawford’s funeral. For my safety, I will also be leaving, but not to Virginia. I know how much you must miss Jackie; please, give him my regards when you go. Maybe if you scream and pound on his grave hard enough, someone will hear and they’ll finally find you... Three years after you were reported as a missing person.” Lecter’s eyebrows shot up, and he shrugged. “Though I doubt you’ll be reinstated, as you haven’t kept your resume up to date. It will be no problem for you, though, Clarice.” He gave her a kind, patronizing look. “You’re a very smart girl. When you rediscover that the FBI has no use for your intelligence, try showing off your trophies from the firing range. Maybe even tell them about your skills in hand-to-hand combat... I could write you a glowing reference!”

Hannibal was perfectly still in his seat with his wife just beyond him. He waited patiently for her to break. He wanted no end to be left untied when she left. Your turn.

“I see you still try and lick tears after you’ve tired of tasting your own.” Clarice took a slow step toward him. She needed to crack his facade quickly. “Fortunately or unfortunately, I have no intention of moving back to the States. I find that I’m quite happy right here.”

Only she could have noticed the slight twitch of the doctor’s right eye upon this admission. And she did.

Starling inched closer. “Now, about this ‘contempt plain on my face’...” She mirrored his voice and flat expression; her imitation was even better than his had been. “Did ya happen to consider that it’s because you just tried to tear me apart—unsuccessfully, I might add? Let me tell you what I know, Doctor.” She hammed up the formality in her tone. “I know you’re not comfortable feeling worried about another person. I know that you felt vulnerable when I was gone, and I know you didn’t like that.”

She paused, remaining collected. She raised her voice a tad for this last bit. “Lastly, I know that you ASSUMED. And if there is one—just one!—good thing that goddamned Jack Crawford taught me over the years,” she laughed, “it’s that, when you assume, you make an ASS out of U and ME. Trust me, baby, you did just that. And despite what your intuition told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

She did it. The true stoic’s face had broken, and Hannibal the Cannibal sat, dumbfounded. He opened his mouth and then closed it. She continued.

“I’m sorry that you misread my motivations. I spent yesterday reflecting on how I had gotten to this point, and I had come home feeling glad. I was planning on going upstairs to find you, drawing a bath for the both of us, and then dancing later on in the evening. Your assumption got us a bit sidetracked, though.” Looking down at her watch, it was 2am. Holy crap. She focused back on him and noted that he was still unmoving but appeared less rigid than before. The room felt like it had finally warmed up.

Clarice took a last step towards her husband. Now above him, looking down, she said, “I am sincerely sorry for hitting you, Hannibal.”

Finally, he stirred. “Clarice, I have not once so much as laid a finger on you in anger...”

“I know. Ironic, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

His wife smirked at that, and he returned the favor. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. Anyway, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. You know what else won’t happen again?” She held his chin and spoke softly. “You doubting us. I’m with you for the long haul. Where the hell did you even think I was going?”

“Ummmm. To be candid, I’m unsure of what I thought your plan was. I assumeddddd,” he looked up at her teasingly, “that you were leaving because of a change in heart.”

“My, Dr. Lecter, you didn’t have every one of my steps planned out before I could even think of them? What have I done to you?”

“I can now definitively say that you bring out the worst in me.”

Clarice laughed and sat down next to him. “Crying? And worrying?” She was feeling more relaxed, placing her hand on his leg as she started laughing harder. “Why am I not surprised that you consider that to be Hannibal Lecter at his worst?”

Her husband just smiled back at her. She saw his cheeks blush almost imperceptibly, which then prompted a further fit. It wasn’t long before they were both laughing.

“You had better... go back... into that memory palace of yours... and open up my doors ASAP,” Clarice ordered while catching her breath.

“And how did you—?”

“You were sitting on that bench for quite a while before I called out to ya. Try not to forget about me so soon, huh?”

“I wouldn’t even think of it.” Never again, he added silently. “But I must ask... Would I be incorrect in assuming you still want to dance?”

Clarice smiled widely. Hannibal shifted in his seat and began to play.

#fluff+angst=whatever the fuck this is #THE FLUFF IS UNREAL OMG #it went from 100 to 0 so quick #clannibal #Clarice #clarice starling #hannibal #hannibal lecter

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Blue Neighborhood Series: THE QUIET + DKLA (Jackie-centric) - Mac

AN: Thanks a million for the feedback on this series! It truly means the world to me. Thank you so much, guys. I hope you enjoy this part as much as the previous ones. As always, thanks to the incredible Meggie for putting up with me and beta-ing this work, she is a superstar, send her some love!

Summary: Jackie is doing her best to keep her head above water. But with a stressful home life and a stressful school life, the walls feel like they are closing in.

Jackie was a social floater. She could twist her skin into whatever people wanted her to be. Most of the time they just wanted her to be quiet, sit back and listen to their problems. Which Jackie was fine with. It meant no one was asking about hers.

Jackie’s family life was… complicated to say the least.

Her father and mother both knew she was gay.

But they pretended like they didn’t.

Where they would pester her older brother about girls every chance they got, they sat stone-faced when she mentioned she was taking Gigi to Homecoming. Well, not completely stone-faced. Her father coughed.

Jackie had given up the chance of exploring her sexuality in high school. Content to let bygones be bygones until college. That’s when she would really get to shine. Away from judgment from her peers and parents and teachers. She would be free then.

For now though, she was standing outside Gigi’s door. The younger girl appeared a moment later, long blonde hair up in a high ponytail clad in flared jeans with a crop top that definitely wasn’t up to dress code. Jackie rolled her eyes internally, knowing that there was virtually no way Gigi would get called out on it. She supposed there were just perks to being the skinny white femme of everyone’s dreams.

The two walked in relative silence over to Brita’s house.

Then they walked in relative screaming to school. Brita was going on and on and on about how horrified she was to hear the news and how terrible it was that Jan thought she couldn’t share the sordid details of her personal life with her friends.

Gigi didn’t comment much, other than a small nod of agreement here and there. Jackie just steamed quietly to herself.

She had her own thoughts about the whole endeavor. Which she happily kept to herself, thank you very much. It wasn’t any of their business if Jan was gay. It wasn’t any of their business if she was getting it on with the captain of the varsity basketball team.

Yes, they had been friends since childhood and yes, Jan had been there when Jackie came out, and yes Jackie had told Jan every possible detail about her life because she trusted her. And no, that kind of trust wasn’t easy to come by.

So maybe Jackie was a little confused. A little hurt even.

That must be why she felt so weird.

“Have you seen her at all this week?” Jackie asked, knowing the answer hadn’t changed.

Gigi gave her a weak smile. “Not since Wednesday, no.”

“Is she okay?” Brita asked.

Jackie rolled her eyes. “Well, considering she had the flu last year and came to school anyway to protect her perfect attendance record, I think it’s safe to say no.”

Gigi spoke softly, calmly. “Jacks, I know you’re stressed with the whole Jan thing, but—”

“I’m just tired.” Jackie cut her off. “It has nothing to do with her. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Brita and Gigi dropped the subject for now, but Jackie could see on their faces that they didn’t believe her.

Jackie bid her friends adieu at their lockers and headed up the stairs to her own. She tried to shake the feeling of unease that accompanied her, but it wouldn’t dissipate. It sat in her gut and ate at her through the morning. Her classes passed in a haze. At times it felt like she wasn’t even real.

The pit in her stomach only grew as the bell for lunch sounded.

She headed toward the art room, hoping to find some sort of mental reprieve from the strange feeling.

She had no such luck.

Nicky and Crystal were flirt-fighting again. Or at least that was the term Heidi had given it. Nicky would pick something, anything to complain about, and Crystal would evidently rise to the bait and the two would bicker and one of two things would happen. Either they would eventually fall into a fit of giggles, or one of them would say something a little too flirtatious and they both would look away and poorly hide goofy smiles.

It was so sweet it was sickening at times.

Heidi was torturing Aiden by recounting her date with Jacob the other night, going on about how it’s only been three months but she really thinks he’s the one. Normally, Jackie would sit back and laugh. Watch as Crystal and Nicky danced around each other. Watch as Aiden got closer and closer to strangling Heidi with every word.

But today, today she felt like she was drowning. Usually, the art room was too warm in a good way. Cozy even. The breeze from the propped door offering a bit of relief from the stale air. But today it just felt stifling.

Jackie sat and ate in silence, letting her thoughts ruminate over the events of the past few days. The infamous picture. Jan’s weird behavior. Jackie’s weird feelings about Jan’s weird behavior.

“Are you okay, Jackie?”

“Hmm?” Jackie looked up at the sound of her name.

Nicky smiled softly, “I asked if you were okay. You seem quieter than usually.”

“Is it Jan?” Crystal chimed in.

Jackie scoffed, “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Why would Jan have anything to do with—”

“Because you’re in love with her,” Crystal answered simply.

Jackie’s stomach lurched.

Oh fuck.

“I’m not—”

Heidi cut her off, shouting from the other side of the room. “No, girl, don’t lie. You’ve been head over heels for Jan since we could talk.”

Jackie’s brain was still trying to compute. The pit in her stomach felt like it had swallowed her whole and her heart was beating a mile a minute. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe.“But I’m not… not in love with her.”

Her shock must have been apparent, because her friends’ expressions shifted suddenly from condescending to shocked.

“I thought you knew,” Crystal spoke quietly.

“How do you not know you’re in love with someone?” Aiden whispered.

“You’d be surprised,” Heidi murmured back in response.

Crystal elbowed Heidi in the ribs.

“Hey! I didn’t ask-”

“Shut up!” Crystal whisper-shouted. “Clearly she’s going through something and you wanna talk about—”

Jackie didn’t hear the rest of Crystal’s statement; she was too busy focusing on her feet hitting the ground as she ran out of the art room, down the hallway, and through the double doors at the end to gulp the outside air.

It didn’t help.

She still felt sick.

Love.

What a tricky little word.

Farsi has over 80 different ways to say love.

Eighty different ways in a language she had been speaking since birth, and yet Jackie couldn’t wrap her head around a single one that encompassed how she felt about Jan.

Love seemed too pedestrian. Too cliché. Too plain.

Maybe that’s why it never occurred to Jackie that such a simple sounding word could be related to Jan.

Jan wasn’t cliché or plain, the opposite actually.

But Jackie… Jackie was simple. She was cliché. So cliché in fact that she had apparently fallen for her straight best friend like the stupid lesbian stereotype she so tried to keep herself from becoming.

So she guessed it made sense.

Jackie shook her head to clear it. And when that didn’t work, she found her eyes searching her surroundings for anything else to focus on. Her gaze landed on two familiar faces in the distance.

Dahlia and Bryce sat close together under the bleachers. Jackie went to turn away, to shield her eyes from whatever shenanigans they were getting up to, when she noticed the open books in their laps.

Dahlia was pointing to a paragraph and talking with her hands. Bryce nodded along. He said something Jackie couldn’t make out and Dahlia nodded excitedly. She continued pointing out different sections of the textbook and Bryce went on to ask questions.

It looked like she was… tutoring him.

Huh.

Jackie couldn’t help her morbid curiosity, so she approached the two as quietly as she could. She ducked under the bleachers and inched ever closer to the pair until she could make out what they were saying.

“So, what you’re saying is I’m stupid and all I had to do was flip the fraction?” Bryce asked.

“Exactly,” Dahlia said.

Bryce chuckled and tried to sound offended, “Hey, you weren’t supposed to agree with that first part!”

Dahlia shook her head and barely hid a smile. “It ain’t about agreeing, it’s just facts. You pretty stupid. You lucky I’m not.”

“I really am,” Bryce said genuinely. Dahlia looked up to meet his eyes and Jackie could see something brimming under the surface. “I feel like I don’t thank you enough for this. But I really appreciate it.”

Dahlia broke eye contact with him and waved her hand as if to break the tension, “Yeah, yeah, I heard it before, you wanna impress your girl.”

So that’s what this was about. He wanted to be good enough for Jan.

And dammit if that thought didn’t hit Jackie in the chest. She knew the feeling.

Bryce sighed and ran his hand through his unkempt hair. “She’s really fucking pissed at me right now.”

“I would be too.” Dahlia nodded. “If you were my mans and I saw you comin’ back from somewhere with the school slut, I wouldn’t be too happy either.”

Bryce winced at her words. “Don’t say that.”

Dahlia gave a bitter laugh. “It’s true. They see you coming from the bleachers with the whole football team and assume you sleeping with ‘em.”

Jackie tried to inch closer but completely missed the giant tree branch right in front of her. She caught her foot on it, which caused her to trip and fall, letting out a curse as she hit the rough ground.

Dahlia and Bryce looked over at her with wide eyes and had the decency to even look a bit guilty. Dahlia was the first to come back to herself, snatching up her backpack and practically sprinting back into the school building.

Bryce lingered and offered a hand to help Jackie up, which she took gratefully.

The two stared at each other a moment. It seemed like Bryce wanted to say something, but he ultimately shook his head and settled for, “Hey, Jackie.”

“Hey, Bryce,” Jackie said.

Bryce coughed to try and break the sudden awkward tension and motioned to the still open text book behind him. “I’m not cheating on her.”

“I know,” Jackie said simply.

She never thought he would. Bryce wasn’t cheating. Didn’t have the brain power to cope with the guilt that came with cheating.

“Dahlia and I were—”

Jackie cut him off, “Studying, I know. I saw.”

“Can you tell her? Jan?” he asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his words. “I’ve been trying to call her but she won’t answer.”

Jackie shook her head. “She’s not answering me either.”

Bryce looked shocked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jackie said simply, suddenly fighting back tears.

“But you guys are…” He trailed off.

Yeah. Jackie wanted to say. Yeah, they were. And they had been that way for so long that now, now that they weren’t, she didn’t know what to do or think or how to breathe.

Bryce just stood there. Looking at her.

Jackie just stood there. Looking back.

Until he rallied the courage to ask what she knew he had wanted to ask since they had locked eyes.

“You think it’s her? In the picture?” Bryce asked.

Jackie nearly screamed.

“No,” she answered truthfully.

She didn’t think it was Jan. Hadn’t even considered the possibility that it could be Jan until Wednesday. And even then, Jackie still couldn’t wrap her mind around it because Jan was straight. And Jan was Jan.

But even still, Jackie couldn’t stop her mind from running away with the alternative. The alternative being that it was Jan in the picture.

And that alternative made Jackie’s stomach twist up like a balloon animal.

“Me either,” Bryce spoke softly, pulling Jackie from her thoughts.

The two sat in relative silence for a few more moments before Jackie mentioned that they probably should be heading back.

Practice after school went about as well as expected, with Jackie, Brita, Gigi, and the rest of the seniors taking turns leading the team through exercises and routines. Jackie couldn’t help but pick up on the feeling of defeat. They had already been pushing their luck with one flyer down and no coach, but now that Jan wasn’t there it just felt hopeless.

Jackie asked her mother later that night if they were coming to regionals.

Her father coughed and her mother danced around the word ‘no’ for half an hour or so.

Jackie just rolled her eyes at her mother’s antics. Taarof, the Persian word and Iranian principle of not saying what you truly mean, but the group understanding what is actually being expressed. Her mother meant no, but she never said it outright.

By the time Jackie finished dinner and her homework, it was nearly midnight. She sighed at her clock and willed that it would turn back. Willed that it would turn so far back that it would undo whatever weird spell she seemed to be under.

She had no such luck as the clock ticked on and on, and Jackie’s mind only got more cluttered. After twenty minutes of staring at her ceiling and praying that her mind would empty, Jackie gave in. She grabbed her car keys from the kitchen counter and left her house without a second thought.

Jackie got in her car and just sat for a moment. She stared at the radio and the steering wheel and when she blinked, she was outside Jan’s house, not remembering having driven the short distance across the street.

It was raining, Jackie noted after a minute, pretty hard actually, and if Jackie were in her right mind, she would worry about how her tires really needed replacing because she kept hydroplaning. But Jackie clearly wasn’t in her right mind because before she could think too hard, she was calling Jan.

The younger girl finally picked up after the third call.

“Come outside,” Jackie said firmly.

Jan sighed, and it spoke volumes. “Jacks-”

“Please.” Jackie startled herself with how broken her own voice sounded.

She heard Jan inhale slightly on the other end before she hung up.

Not a moment later, the blonde’s head appeared, and she ran from her front door to Jackie’s car, holding the back of her jacket up to shield herself from the rain. She threw open Jackie’s car door and settled down in the passenger seat. If it were any other day, Jackie would lament about her seats getting ruined, but with Jan sitting beside her, hair thrown up in a messy bun with no makeup and not a trace of a smile on her face, Jackie really couldn’t give a damn about her seats.

Jan sat in her passenger seat and just looked at her for a moment, taking her in almost.

“Hey,” Jan said finally.

Jackie’s heart hammered in her chest, as it normally did when Jan was around. Only now she recognized the pounding for what it truly was.

“Hey.”

I love you. Jackie thought.

Jan sighed and broke eye contact.“I’m sorry everything has been so crazy recently.” She looked back over to Jackie. “I’ve just not been feeling well, but I promise I’ll be back soon, and the team has my full attention and I—”

Jackie stopped her, “You don’t have to explain anything, okay?”

I love you. Jackie thought.

Jan nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Jackie cut her off again.

“But don’t lie to me and act like everything’s fine.”.

Jan looked down at her feet on the floorboards, then to the window where the rain was making patterns on the glass.

Jackie didn’t know what else to say. So she just drove.

She drove and drove and drove and let her hands and feet do the thinking. Traffic was light, the rain was heavy, and the silence in the car was loud. They passed stores they used to spend all day window shopping at, houses of their classmates that they didn’t talk to now, the old library they never got any studying done at, the roller rink where Jan broke her arm, the neighborhood basketball courts they used to lay on until the sun disappeared and the ground got too cold.

They drove for so long that Jackie surprised even herself when she came to a stop.

She looked up and realized she was in their school parking lot. It was empty, save for the lone golf cart in the far parking space.

Jackie unbuckled her seatbelt, driven by some force that she couldn’t all together name. She opened her car door as the wind and rain beat against it.

“What are you—”

Jackie didn’t wait to hear the rest of Jan’s question, instead focusing on her steps, careful and measured as she got a good distance away from her car before letting her mind shut down and her body recoil as she let out a long and impossibly high scream.

The storm around her did a good job at mostly covering the intensity of her voice, but Jan still heard and came running at the sound.

“Jacks, are you okay?” Jan had to practically shout to be heard over the storm.

Jackie shook her head. “No,” she answered as honestly as she was able. “But that felt damn good.”

Jan looked at her concerned. “You can’t do that you’re gonna—”

Jackie cut her off with another ear-shattering scream.

Jan’s entire body winced at the sound, but Jackie could see something in her eyes simmering just under the surface. A fire. Envy almost.

“C’mon, give it a try,” Jackie yelled over the thunder crashing closer than before.

Jan shook her head. “I’m not gonna—”

Jackie screamed again. This time feeling her throat constrict and the sound fighting to get out. She sounded crazy. Broken and insane but Jackie swore she had never felt more alive than she did right now.

“Jackie!” Jan scolded.

Jackie just screamed again, louder, and couldn’t help the manic smile from spreading across her face. For the first time since they had known each other, Jackie felt her chest lighten in Jan’s presence. She felt a weight being lifted like she could finally breathe.

Jackie looked over to Jan who still looked hesitant, but after a firm nod from Jackie, Jan let out her own scream. It wasn’t nearly loud enough in Jackie’s opinion. And she said as such.

“Louder! You’re a singer you can do better!”

Jan shook her head and Jackie could barely make out a bitter laugh Jan gave at the notion. Jackie just shrugged and opened her mouth to yell again, when Jan stopped her with a hand. “Fine, I’ll do it. Just give me a second!”

Jackie mimed looking at a watch that didn’t exist and Jan bit her cheek to hide a smile.

Jan let out another scream, louder this time, a bit more unhinged.

It still wasn’t right.

Jackie walked closer to Jan so that she didn’t have to shout as loudly as before. “Everything that’s happened,” Jackie said, breathing heavily, “everything that’s made you fucking crazy, this week or your whole life, channel it. Right now. Let it out.”

Jan nodded her head in understanding.

Then she let out a scream so loud, Jackie swore the lights at the football stadium should have popped. She let out a scream so powerful Jackie was surprised she wasn’t knocked back by the force. She let out a scream so guttural that Jackie’s heart nearly broke in two at the sound.

Jan looked up at Jackie with wide eyes, shocked by her own pain almost.

Jackie just beamed at her. “That’s more like it,” she chuckled.

After the initial shock passed, Jan could stop from falling into a fit of laughter. Jackie couldn’t help but do the same.

They spent an immeasurable amount of time laughing and jumping around like idiots in the rain until a flash of lightning struck a bit too close for comfort. They screamed at the proximity and bolted to the car, still laughing and out of breath.

They collapsed in the seats and fell into another round of giggles until their stomachs tired and their jaws ached.

Jackie looked over at Jan, with her head thrown back against the car seat, mouth upturned for the first time in what felt like ages, and Jackie’s heart soared in her chest.

And for a brief second, Jackie thought that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to turn out fine.

#rpdr fanfiction #jackie cox #jan sport #gigi goode #brita filter #nicky doll #crystal methyd #high school au #cisgirl au #lesbian au #angst #hurt/comfort #blue neighborhood series #the quiet + dkla #mac #s12

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haledamage · 4 years

Text

Epiphany

Continuation of this prompt here. Can be found all together on AO3 here.

@queen-scribbles and @rannadylin this is your fault :P

Darling, Kai thought, for at least the hundredth time. What was I thinking? Am I flirting with Rekke? Have I always been flirting with Rekke? It would be a little dramatic to say she was panicking about the idea that she’d been flirting with him for months and hadn’t realized it, but to say that she was alarmed by the idea would perhaps be an understatement.

It wasn’t like she didn’t find him attractive, of course. She was reserved, but she wasn’t blind; it hadn’t escaped her notice that she always felt a little warmer when he smiled at her, or that she sought his company more often than might be considered proper. But there was a difference between finding someone attractive and being attracted to them. When had one become the other?

“Cap, all due respect,” Serafen grumbled from where he half-leaned, half-lay against a bench in the dimly-lit ship’s hold they found themselves in, “but if you don' find somethin' else t' think about, I'm liable t' mutiny.”

Kai glared in his direction, but since his eyes weren’t open it was lost on him. “If you don't like what I'm thinking about, stop listening.”

“Wish it were that easy.” He opened one eye just long enough to give her a sour look. “I wouldn' be confounded if the lad can hear you mooning over ‘im from ‘ere.”

“I’m not mooning.”

“Course y’ain’t,” he said. “An’ I’m the fuckin’ May Queen.”

“An honor to make your acquaintance, your majesty,” Kai said dryly.

Serafen didn’t take the hint and stop talking, unfortunately, but he never did. “There ain’t no shame in wantin’ to find a bit o' comfort in a pretty lad.” He smiled at her, all teeth. “And your lad be mighty pretty.”

“That's not… it isn't… we aren't…” She scowled as if it would somehow make her more eloquent. “I think you've got the wrong idea.”

“Protest all you want, Cap.” He chuckled and tapped his temple. “I can see what's in your head.”

“Well, stay out of it,” she snapped. Without another word, she turned to walk away. She didn’t get very far, the hold small enough to feel crowded even with only five people in it.

“What is all the yelling about, I say?” Tekēhu stood near the doorway, the tallest part of the hold. Even still he had to bend down awkwardly to keep from scraping his head on the rough wooden ceiling. The look he gave her told her plainly that he knew exactly what the yelling was about, but wanted her to answer anyway.

“Oh, you know,” Kai said, voice still a little sharp in annoyance. “I said something to Rekke before we left and now I'm rethinking every conversation I've ever had with him for clues to how I ended up here. As one does, I suppose.”

Tekēhu laughed, the sound seeming to echo in the small space. “Ekera, you are as bad as he is, Captain.”

She stared at him, startled and confused and intrigued in equal parts. “What do you mean by--” she cut herself off, shaking her head, “no. No. I don't want to know. I don't have time for this. Stop meddling.”

“As you say, Captain,” he said, still amused.

Kai stormed away from him too, toward the other end of the boat. It was a short walk. Can’t a woman have an epiphany in peace?

She sat on a bench next to Ydwin and the Devil of Caroc, who were both silently glaring at nothing in particular and basically ignoring each other. “Are either of you going to try to give me advice?”

“No.” Ydwin said, sounding mostly bored.

The Devil added in a hollow voice, “We don’t care.”

“Good.” Kai sat back, letting her head thunk onto the side of the boat. She couldn’t hear anything beyond it, not even the ocean. “Thank you for coming along, Devil.”

The Devil of Caroc made a motion that was probably supposed to be a shrug, metal shoulder jerking stiffly. “Got nowhere better to be. And I still owe you.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes. I do.” Devil finally looked at her then. For all that her face couldn’t show emotion, she was obviously rolling her eyes. “It ain’t up to you what debts I do or don’t pay, Kiki.”

“Eyes up, Cap,” Serafen called suddenly. His eyes glowed a deep blue-violet. “Looks like them assassins took th’ bait after all.”

Kai closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing her ruminations about Rekke out of her thoughts and reaching out with her senses. She could feel the minds of her companions, each as different mentally as they were physically, and above them on the deck of their boat, eight unfamiliar figures with minds full of suspicion and violence.

When she opened her eyes again, they flickered with violet fire. Next to her, Ydwin’s eyes glowed as well, a cold lavender. “Tekēhu,” she said, both aloud and in their minds, “if you would be so kind as to get the door for our guests.”

-------

The hatch opened and Xoti stuck her head below deck of the Defiant. Her hood mostly obscured her face, but did nothing to hide the enthusiasm in her voice. “Hey, Rekke, you busy? Edér and I were just gonna get some shoppin’ done, you wanna come with us? Watcher said you were on babysitting duty.”

From somewhere behind her on the deck of the ship came Edér’s voice, tired and annoyed. “I’m gonna tell you what I told Kiki: I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

Xoti disappeared for a moment, but Rekke could still hear her easily enough. “It ain’t up to you. Unless you wanna be the one to tell Kai you got yourself killed because you were too stubborn to use the buddy system.” There was a quiet clank, like a tiny, bossy priestess had just poked an armored farmer in the chest. “And you can be damn sure I’d keep your soul in the lantern long enough for her to yell at you about it.” She reappeared in the open hatch, smiling once more. “So whaddya say?”

Rekke chuckled, already reaching for his sword and armor. “Ta. Yes. How can I say no, when you put it this way?”

“Alright, c’mon then. Daylight’s burnin’.”

It was a relatively quiet day in the marketplace, just busy enough to keep the three of them on guard but not quite enough that someone could sneak through the crowd to catch them unaware. Rekke took the opportunity to think back to his conversation with Kai before she left on her hunt, as he’d been doing for most of the day.

He should have probably been embarrassed by how much he dwelt on how it felt to have her in his arms for that brief moment, how her hair smelled like woodsmoke, how tiny she was. The Watcher was larger than life, hunter of gods and saver of worlds; it was easy to forget sometimes that the elf behind the grand title was so small, so delicate.

Mostly, he thought of the look she gave him right before she left. Surprise and then panic, as if he had said something wrong… or she had.

Xoti elbowed him in the arm, bringing him out of his reverie. “Somethin’ on your mind, darlin’?”

“That!” he said, too loudly. Xoti looked at him like he’d grown a second head. He ignored it. “That word. What does it mean?”

“Darlin’?”

“Ta! Kiki called me that before she left.” On Xoti’s other side, Rekke saw Edér turn and look their way, suddenly interested in the conversation. “She seemed… upset. Or confused. She left very quickly.”

“Oh.” A sly smile spread across the priestess’s face, like she knew something he didn’t; he suspected that was very likely true. “Well, it’s a term of endearment. Like a… a pet name, I guess. Like ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’ or…” she paused, but she couldn’t think of any others offhand. “It’s not one I hear her use much. She mostly just calls everyone ‘dear’ like she’s some sweet old lady or somethin’.”

��Yukag? So it is a good thing?”

“Yes, I’d say so. Dunno why she’d be confused by it, though.” She thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. “Might wanna talk to her about it when she gets back.”

“I agree,” Rekke said slowly, mind already wandering. Trying to figure Kai out was like trying to work a puzzle while blindfolded. He knew all the pieces were there, he just couldn’t see how they fit together yet. Lucky for him he enjoyed a challenge.

“You and Kiki’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, huh?” Edér said suddenly, dragging Rekke out of his thoughts once more. The soldier stared at him like he was trying to read his mind. Rekke didn’t think he actually had that ability, but he couldn’t be sure.

“I suppose that is true, ta,” he said carefully. He had a feeling that if he said the wrong thing here, it could mean bad things for him. Still, he couldn’t help adding, a small smile spreading over his face, “She says that I make her laugh. I like to make her laugh.”

“Uh-huh.” Edér didn’t look like he liked that answer. He sighed and scratched at his beard. “Just… be careful, alright? She’s been through a lot the last few years. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

Rekke tilted his head curiously. He knew that Edér and Kai were as close as family; if he didn’t know better, this sounded a lot like the ‘break her heart and I’ll kill you’ speech - if perhaps a little less threatening than he’d heard it in the past. He liked the idea that he and Kiki were close enough to elicit such a warning. “I think you misunderstand. We are friends. She only sees me as a friend. That is all.”

“Is that all you see her as?” Edér waited for an answer, but Rekke didn’t say anything. He also made no effort to stop either the blush blooming across his cheeks or the besotted grin on his lips. Again, Edér said, “Uh-huh. Just remember what I said.”

“I will. Thank you, Edér.” He didn’t know why he thanked him, but it felt like the right thing to say.

“Hey,” Xoti called from a few steps ahead of them. She had her sickle in her hand. “Do y’all remember when you said you didn’t need a babysitter? Did you tell your assassins that?”

-------

“I suppose it was too much to ask that we’d lure their leader out here and be done with it all.” Kai sifted through the meager belongings they’d found on the assassins. There wasn’t much more than a handful of coins, a single sheet of paper, the writing on it smudged into illegibility, and eight crude, wooden human effigies, one found in each of the assassins pockets. Just what she’d been afraid of. She shoved all of it into her bag.

“Probably. At least they told you where to find him. Sort of.” The Devil of Caroc glanced warily over her shoulder at Serafen. She didn't like ciphers even on a good day, but the mindhunter's little show of power had clearly made her nervous. “Want me to take care of it?”

“Tempting, but no.” Kai always felt guilty sending Devil out to do her dirty work for her, though she’d never tell her that. Just because the construct said she wanted to do so didn’t mean she should keep taking advantage. “I’ll take care of it myself. I’ve got a few questions for him.” Quietly, she added, “But thank you.”

The Devil did that jerky, stiff shrug again. “Ain’t no brass off my back either way. Got to see the ocean and kill a bunch of people on it. You’ve sent me on worse jobs.”

“You could stay with us, you know.” Kai knew she shouldn’t say it, but she always did.

Devil shook her head. “Don’t ask. You know what my answer is.”

“I know. But the offer stands.”

“I know.” The Devil of Caroc started walking away. She stopped on the edge of the boat and lifted a hand in her version of a friendly wave. “See you around, Kiki. You know where to find me.” Without another word, she stepped off the side of the boat and sank below the waves.

Kai shook her head, chuckling to herself. The Devil did love her dramatic exits.

Serafen leaned over the edge, staring down into the depths as if he expected to see a bronze construct swim by. “Well, she was charmin', if you like ‘em cranky and rusted.”

“What’s her story?” Ydwin asked, something that almost resembled curiosity in her voice.

“Not mine to tell.” She tried not to feel too smug about the hint of annoyance on Ydwin’s face and turned to start setting the sails and getting the ship moving again. “Come on. Let’s go home. Looks like we’ll have to finish this hunt another day.”

The return trip was quiet and uneventful. The whole trip had been, really. As far as assassins go, these were barely professionals. The only problem was how many of them there were, but they'd take care of that next.

Kai hoped things were just as uneventful back with the Defiant. The idea that she'd gone hunting for the hunters only to have one sneak around while her back was turned made her uneasy. Better not to think about it, or else she'd drive herself mad before they made it back home.

She sighed. Was it too early to try to get some sleep? They'd travelled light, so she had nothing on board to keep herself entertained while they sailed; she wished she'd brought a book or something.

“He's a good lad, y'know,” Serafen said suddenly, because apparently the fight wasn’t enough to get his mind on a different subject. “Your stowaway. Weird, but which of us ain't.”

“Serafen, stay out of my head,” Kai snapped, sharper than intended. She knew his meddling was well-intentioned, but she had enough well-meaning would-be brothers trying to give her advice. She didn’t need another one.

He shrugged and laid back on his bench again, looking for all the world like he was sleeping. Kai knew better. “Weren't in your head, Cap. Don't take no mind reader to know you're thinkin’ ‘bout ‘im. Cipher as strong as you should know how t’ hide her thoughts better anyhow.”

“I can hide my thoughts just fine, thank you. Just not from you, for some reason.” She had very good mental shields, in fact; the problem was that, since Serafen had no formal cipher training, he had ways of seeing around them that she didn’t know how to compensate for. “And I wasn't thinking about him. I was thinking about sleeping.” She knew it would have happened sooner or later, though, as it had been with alarming frequency.

“Don't see what you're so bothered ‘bout,” Serafen said, answering her thoughts as if she’d said them aloud. “He obviously fancies you. Always has done. If you weren’ so fuckin’ uptight, ‘e might’ve already told y’ so.”

She thought about denying that she was uptight, but she was too self-aware for that. Instead, she just said, “Well, that's certainly news to me.”

“He's always flirtin’ with you.”

“So are you.” She shrugged. “Doesn't mean anything.”

“Heh. It could've.”

“You don't have a single romantic bone in your body.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.

Serafen, predictably, grinned at her. “Just the one, aye.”

“Charming,” she said sourly, but she smiled in spite of herself. She looked away from him at the others, but Tekēhu was above deck and Ydwin could have been either sleeping or dead as still as she was. There was nowhere she could go to escape this conversation.

“Life be short, Cap,” he said, tone unexpectedly somber. “Even when you live as long as elves do. Ain't no point wastin’ time on 'someday'.”

Kai looked back at him, surprised, but he still looked like he wasn’t even paying attention, lazy and half-asleep. “That's… unexpectedly wise, coming from you.”

The seriousness in his voice was gone just like that, replaced with another sharp-toothed grin. “I be full of surprises. I'm willin’ t’ share a few others, if you ask real nice.”

She scoffed. “I ought to set you on fire.”

“You’re the one that has t’ live with the burnt fur smell,” Serafen said, chuckling when she scoffed again.

-------

“Captain on deck!”

Rekke quickly tried to look casual, like he hadn’t been waiting anxiously since the crew had first spotted the boat that Kai and her team had taken. He picked up a book from a nearby shelf and started thumbing through it. He recognized the sound of her boots on the deck above, steps measured and purposeful, and then a moment later she strode through the open hatch and down the stairs. She spared him a quick glance before turning to Edér and tossing something toward him. He scrambled to catch it before it hit him in the head.

“Skaenites,” Kai said, as if it explained everything. Maybe to her and Edér it did. “It’s your Skaenites again.”

“I guess I should have expected that,” Edér said, looking at whatever she’d thrown at him. He rubbed a hand over his chin in thought. “I’d hoped they wouldn’t follow me all the way out here.”

Kai smiled, but it didn’t look the least bit friendly. “Lucky for us they’re as ineffectual as they are stubborn.”

Edér sighed. He dropped the mysterious object onto his bunk. “God of resentment and covert plots. If they’d given up, they wouldn’t be good Skaenites, would they?”

“I guess…” Kai ran her fingers through her messy mane of curls, leaving them messier. “But assassins? I’d expect that more from Magranites. Or Galawain’s hunters, maybe.”

“Piss off a lot of Magranites, Kiki?”

“Just the one.” Her smile widened, triumphant, and Edér chuckled like she’d said something funny. “Right, well, we should have a couple days reprieve before they send more. Long enough to resupply.” She poked Edér in the chest. “You don’t go anywhere alone for a little while. Xoti told me about the market.”

“Of course she did,” Edér grumbled, but he didn’t argue.

“Oh please.” She poked him in the chest again, but less forcefully. Rekke was reminded abruptly of his sister. “Like you’ve ever been able to keep a secret from me.”

Edér put his hands on Kai’s shoulders and lowered his voice. “Kiki, you don’t need to do all this. It’s my mess, not yours.”

“No. That isn’t how this works, my dear.” Edér was going to have a bruise from being poked in the chest even with all that armor, if Kai and Xoti had anything to say about it. “You carried my empty husk halfway around the world to get my soul back, the least I can do is protect you from territorial Skaenites.”

Edér hugged her and she froze before hugging him back. Rekke looked back down at his book, trying not to intrude on what felt like a private moment. He heard a whispered exchange between the Watcher and the farmer, but tried not to pay attention to it.

“Your book is upside down.”

“Ta. I find them more interesting this way.” He looked up and there she was, smelling like fire and sunlight and the sea and looking at him a bit like he was a crazy person. “Hello, Kiki.”

“Hello, darling.” Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “Xoti tells me you had an interesting day at the market yesterday.”

“Did we? We bought some fruit, we fought some assassins, Edér found another cat. Another beautiful day in Neketaka.” He set the book down, presumably on a table or bunk but he didn’t look to see where it ended up. “I wish it rained less here. It makes my hair…” he paused, but he couldn’t think of the Aedyran word, “eshibiz.”

Kai laughed, bright and warm. “Indeed. That’s a good word for it.” She looked like she wanted to say something else but she didn’t, an unfamiliar hesitance in the set of her shoulders, the way she absentmindedly rubbed her palms together, nothing like the cool, confident woman he had come to know.

Shy. She looked shy. Rekke didn’t know she knew how.

He took a step forward and reached out to her, resting his hand on the curve of her shoulder, just wanting to stop the overthinking he could see behind her eyes. She looked up at him, surprised and momentarily unguarded, and in a rush, he said, “Take me with you next time.” He wasn’t sure if he’d said it in Aedyran or Seki. Maybe both.

Kai raised an eyebrow at him, amused at the demand in his voice, but she looked more like herself, less lost. “I intend to. I know better than to leave you to entertain yourself for too long. You’ll end up doing something… how was it you phrased it? Something noble or stupid.”

Rekke blushed at the way her eyes followed the scar across his face when she said that. She looked like she wanted to touch it. He wished she would, but she kept her hands firmly to herself, contained and controlled as she always was. “I am very good at noble and stupid. Mostly the second one. I am told it makes me charming.”

“That’s one word for it, I guess,” she said with a smirk.

“You do not find me charming, Kiki?” She blushed scarlet all the way to the tips of her ears and he grinned wickedly. “I will have to try harder then, ta?”

She stared at him, searching his face, though for what he didn’t know. He just kept smiling at her and slowly she started to smile back.

Above deck, someone called “Captain!” and Kai took two large steps back. She drew herself up to her full height, such as it was. It was like watching her put her armor back on; Rekke couldn’t recall when exactly she’d taken it off. “I should go,” she said quietly.

“Gigideb ke tahun. I did not mean to keep you from your work.”

Rekke watched her closely as she walked away, then listened until he couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore. Only then did he collapse back against the side of the ship, running his hands over his hair. He made no effort to stop the smitten smile he wore.

He became aware of eyes on him, and turned to find Serafen sitting at one of the tables in the mess hall, staring at him through the open door. He stared back for a moment, but the orlan didn’t so much as blink. He called out, ��Ku? Is there a problem?”

“That remains to be seen, lad. You tell me.” Serafen didn’t wait for an answer, though, just walked away, leaving Rekke confused and feeling like he was being judged for something he hadn’t done. He shrugged the thought away and left to find something to occupy his time.

#pillars of eternity deadfire #kai cirdani #kai/rekke #otp: a nearly criminal amount of freckles #rekke #they're probably going to keep pining for a year after this #kiki's never met an emotion she couldn't suppress into submission #kai shows interest in a boy one (1) time and suddenly she has half a dozen protective older brothers #yes I know I didn't need to bring DoC along but I needed a reason for Kai to know where the assassins were #and DoC is her red right hand #I also wanted the ambush party to be all rogues and ciphers #except teke who's mostly just there for a good time and to make sure they don't die #writing rekke's pov was a fun challenge #I don't usually write about kai from an outside perspective #and I enjoy how smitten he is compared to kai's panic about it

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kendrixtermina · 7 years

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Cold Hearted Girl Blues

The “Cold Hearted Girl Blues” Anthology, & associated story ideas.

Just to be safe, TRIGGER WARNING for Disturbing Content and unhealthy attitudes that are in no way representative of reality.

Depiction =/= endorsement.

(Final order may vary)

Part A: Avoidant Attachment Style

Indifferent Girl Playlist - “The expression ‘I don’t feel so well’ makes no gramatical sense. It should be ‘I don’t feel so good’, unless you mean to imply that your ability to feel is hampered.”

Cold Hearted Girl Blues - “One Day she won’t love you either.”

Barren Heart - “The hypocricy of writing about things you know nothing about.”

There Was Nothing In Gauf’s Room - “It’s not her fault, either. What you get is what you see. ”

Failure to Manifest - “Sometimes, this situation has her feeling like she doesn’t exist.”

Cold Hearted Girl Gothic - “Just this single, isolated Conciousness.”

LEERE IST EIN PRIVILEG - “#Introvert Pride.”

Dweeb Life - “Ah, the obscure Joys of bein a shut-in”

Heroin Chick - “Involving no actual heroin.”

You're in a laundry room - “There has been a bit of a failure to connect with this world.”

Biology / inertia - “Even her happiest relationship didn’t go over without being compared to a robot at least once. Balancing extreme introversion with a live-in boyfriend.”

Diffusion - “She has no idea what she looks like. It always surprisesher what people say about her.”

Cold Blooded - “It’s a style of communication, apparently.”

Crazy Headphones Girl - “What could he possibly see in her?”

Cold Hearted Girl Erotica - “Her Kink is compartementalization, but she also dabbles in questionanble sex on drugs threesomes with a hooker.”

Cold Hearted Girl Tumblr - “Preempting the Discourse(TM). I was done with the 2010s when they were a new thing.”

Cold Hearted Girl Musings - “She tries to avoid the common pitfalls, at least in theory.”

Cold Hearted Girl Adventures - “She realizes that she’s the sort of person who breaks people’s heart; She’s like this asshole boyfriend from all these lovesongs.”

Cold Hearted Girl's Lament - “She’s usually the one who has to take it upon herself to be be the rational one and tell you ‘No’.”

Cold Hearted Girl Challenges - “Even the Best of her relationships involved her being compared to a robot at least once.”

Life is Gross - “Including the bits of it that are commonly accepted to be loveable and cute.”

Indifference II: Emotionally unavailable morally ambiguous chick - “There are character flaws, ppl. Being an asshole is generally a bad thing.”

Cyborgery I (the becomming) - “Even when she’s right with you,she’s so far away”

The Minimalist's Wet Dream - “She leads her life with a bare minimum of human contact.”

Alphabet Girl - “It would be one thing if you were competing with the universe, but it’s really her ingrown, self-absorbed world you’re playing second fiddle to.”

Peel - “You thought you could find a normal person underneath, didn’t you?”

Part B: Maladaptive Daydreaming

Endzeitromantik - “No one wants to admit these days that they ever liked NuMetal but she sees no reason to do the same.”

Unapologetic - “She’s not romanticising what she thinks you think she’s romanticising. Or so she thinks.”

Luciferosis - “She’s in love with the Devil and is planning to leave in order to be with him. Of course, she will be missed, but of course, she doesn’t care about it. She’s the sort of asshole who’d fall in love with the Devil.”

Opheliac - “There are multiple ways to be in love with the void. The most relevant ones are not featured in this piece.”

Lone Diggin' - “Going to restaurants on her own.”

The Girl In The Tower - “To preserve something valuable in safe, protected garden... that is not what you did.”

Bizarro Self - “She’s put some thought into this, actually.”

Dreamer Things - “That’s what she calls them, anyway. ‘Dreamer’ may be an euphemism here.”

Make Me Wanna Die - “She just wants to be special, probably because she has no idea what real suffering is. Words mean things, you know?”

Favorite Love Songs - “Though her real life is barren and deprived, she has a rich inner life. Well, then again, how ‘rich’ can an ‘inner life’ be that only ruminates tiny indirect tidbits of information?”

There Is A Little Harley Quinn In All Of Us - “Unpacking the Whole Badboy Complex. It’s not what you think it is.”

Strange Little Girl - “You really should be going.”

Abstract Dreams - “She doesn’t think they mean anything but she’s willing to indulge the thoughts.”

Joy, Joy, Joy, the Melancholia Rolercoaster. - “She likes to think she has feelings.”

Immortelle - “Involving no Actual Immortals.”

I Feel Personally Victimized By Those 19th Century Romanticists - “Even I am not sure what she’s trying to rove here.”

My Fantasy - “Her kink is apparently freezing to death.”

Cyborgery II - “She envies people whose calloused hands show their dedication to their passion.”

Reality Death - “Silly Rabbit, of course the world keeps turning when you’re not there to observe it anymore.”

Dandelion - “The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all. But sometimes it’s better to be the Dandelion, which can take root anywhere and everywhere.”

Plunge - “If there’s some A grade deaster going on, she obviously won’t miss out on watching.”

Fairytale Ending - “My favorites were Sleeping Beauty and ‘The Salt Princess’. Go on and psychoanalyze me.”

Recontextualizing - “She has different words for it now.”

Peeping Tommie - “It’s at it’s purest where it belongs the least. Or perhaps she just grew the fuck up.”

Paper Flowers - “She’d like to think they mean something.”

Part C: Exercises in Counterdependency

The Butthurt Electra Playlist - “She’s got enough self-awareness to call it that, but not enough to realize it was a bad idea.”

She Will Have her Revenge - “She’ll come back as Fire/ To Burn All the Liars/ Leave a Blanket of Ash on the Ground.”

Hate Poems - “Or: Giving yourself Headaches over people who aren’t worth it”

Pavlov redux - “If you can’t understand like a human, you have to be beaten like a dog” - “Actually, Daddy Dearest, you’re not supposed to beat dogs, either.”

Im Real Good At Hating - “Honestly! I’ve got to have some talent somewhere. ”

Fuck You Specifically- “Her Lips: Fuck You. Her Hair: Fuck You. Her Clothes: Fuck You. Her crippling self-motivation issues: Fuck You.”

My whole existence for your amusement - “And that is why I’m here with you.”

Sick & Tired - “Yes I know what you think of me, you never shut up.”

Been A Son - “Why does she spend so much time searching for some kind of reason for what you did? Even if there was, it wouldn’t justify your actions.”

Make a list - “It’s supposed to be a therapeutic excercise.”

choice - “It’s the Morton’s Fork of emotions.”

gross girl - “FAART. FAART. She picks her note and eats it. ”

BratFactory - “She outright heard her mother say that she has no value to that man except as a mother to make children.”

AntiStar - “Back in the day, I became obsessed with the thought of a lightless Luminary, an existence that is the very opposite of light.”

Adaptation - “It’s amazing how much a human can twist themselves into a pretzel. It was a matter of survival at the time, you see.”

Emotional Abuse Checklist - “BINGO!”

Remember That We Suffered - “You have no idea what pain is.”

Cyborgery III: We can Rebuild Her - “Perhaps these vagrant years were simply the means to piece herself back together.”

Idetifikation mit dem Aggressor - “Apparently she looks just like him.”

Es Kocht Die Eifersucht - “A parent is supposed to protect a child from the bad experiences of their youth, not inflict some creepy reenactment of them upon you.”

Curmudgeon (Long Way Home) - “She’s that thing you go to when you want to have a cheap laugh.”

Visibility - “Your Father Loves you! why can’t you see that?”

Touchy - “You bet she is.”

Light - “She thinks she used to be Light once, but she can’t be sure.”

If I Die, I can be replaced - “I will leave you all behind, move to spain and adopt some children who actually deserve my time and money. Perhaps they will finally appreciate me, unlike you ungrateful wretches.”

My One Mistake Was That I Couldn't Let You Down - “Turns out she wasn’t quite Cold Hearted enough.”

PART D: USELESS, USELESS, USELESS CHILD

Fuckyeahmedicalgrossness - “In my humble opinion, the human brain is way too squishy.”

Something in The Way - “You can always find something.”

Unbirth - “Barely Functioning Lump of Human Flesh. Except no, that’s unfair to the people with real problems. I suppose ‘asshole’ will do.”

Donald Duck Volcano - “I’m not gonna sugarcoat her this time.”

My Wretched Soul Desires Violence - “It’s not pretty, but it’s true. It shouldn’t be but it is.”

Verbal Disclaimer - “I’m not claiming I’m perfect either.”

Useless Child - “How was she supposed to learn if you never let her do anything?”

Madwoman in the Attic - “And they always knew she would be the family spinster.”

Unfair Existence - “At the risk of sounding like a millionaire campaigning for a tax on poverty.”

The Mutant - “Way to make that 9 year old feel like a freak of nature... in the end it’s probably a kind of arrogance.”

Green Grunge - “It’s her jam, except not really. She sure can’t claim to be an expert.”

In Defense Of That Legendary Divorce - “The whole concept of ‘stay for the children’ is utter bullsh*t”

My Fantasy II - “I’m gonna kill all yo fuckers. That’s what quiet people who keep to themselves are supposed to do, right?”

Cyborgery IV – Plastic Death - “My Fetish: All the weak parts of the real me, cut away and dumped in a bucket of medical waste.”

Schreckschraube - “It occurs to her that she’s terribly gross to them.”

Nemo, or as my father lovingly calls me, "Chiquilla de Mierda" - “It’s Spanish for ‘Shit Brat’.”

Hasmereir - “Some of the cruelty is lost in translation, but it basically means ‘Make-Me-Laugh-Thing.’”

You Stink - “Bullies aren’t known for being very creative people.”

Sweet Sweet Reality - “She’s not completely out of touch with it.”

Is there More To Lose Than Gain - “Apparently yes, but she’s not sure how to get it anyways.”

Alraune - “Always with the legends and the soulless children. I think she has a type.”

Confession - “I plead guilty. Mostly to existing.”

Way Too Old For This And F****ing Bored Of It - “Even she is sick of all her emo bullsh*t.”

EPILOGUE: WHATS THE USE OF FEELING BLUE? - The next step, apparently, is crying.

#chgb #writing #baby tries to art #trigger warning

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skellylicious · 7 years

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Sasster Snippet

I’m seriously so high right now. Uh if you guys wanna see the first four pages of the story I’m writing where Sasster is kidnapped, here it is. *whispers* I’m so high...

@stealthnerd I’m so high.

The door slammed solidly behind him, the hard clunk of a metal bolt sliding into place further deepening his misgivings. Had he really just been kidnapped by what appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, two alternate versions of himself? Oh, he had suspected for some time that alternate timelines must exist, including copies of himself and the monsters he knew, but to have it confirmed shortly before being abducted was a difficult thing to wrap his brain around. And where was he? He had been roughly carried, manhandled really, before being ripped through the void, appearing in what seemed to be a large home or mansion of some kind in a secluded forest. There was no way of telling if he was still in his own timeline, let alone where he was geographically.

A faint rustle of fabric behind him alerted him to the presence of another, and he rapidly turned, coming face to face with a rumpled, sleepy human girl. She was dressed in a nightgown, tucked under several soft looking blankets on a queen-sized bed. Had they really locked him in some human’s bedroom? Feeling all too much like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, he paused, reluctantly meeting the gaze of the girl. She seemed unsurprised to see him, and he wondered whether she had been aware of the apparent plans to abduct him, and was in league with the two monsters who had left him here, before remembering the lock on the door. Perhaps she was a prisoner as well.

“Are you going to do something, or can I go back to sleep?” she asked rather abruptly, startling him out of his thoughts. Her hair was mussed, and there was a decidedly grumpy expression on her face, he realized belatedly.

“Do something…?” he inquired with confusion, lifting his broad shoulders in a slight shrug. Was she expecting him to rescue her? He was hardly in a situation to be doing favors for other people.

“Yeah, like are you going to take off your clothes and bend me over the bed?” Her face was unreadable, her tone impatient.

He stared at her, quite certain he had misheard. “I don’t even know you, do you make offers like this to every stranger you meet?” She startled him by laughing, tossing her hair back out of her eyes as she sat up, propping her back against the headboard. “It wasn’t an offer, it was a question. Who are you, anyway?”

This was very unsettling. He had intended to demand answers himself, yet here he was being questioned by a human who had some very interesting expectations that he had very mixed feelings about. “And who are you?” he responded, determined to take control of the situation as much as he could. This human wasn’t the slightest bit intimidating, but she also didn’t seem to be intimidated by him, which was...unusual.

She grimaced, pulling the covers up to her chest and folding her arms. “Spot.” Whatever he had expected, it hadn’t been that. “Your name...is Spot?” he said finally, after a long pause in which he attempted to determine whether she was being serious. The slightly mocking smile on her face told him she recognized the ridiculousness of her answer, which in turn told him nothing of whether she teasing him or in earnest.

“My name is Spot,” she repeated solemnly, mirroring his earlier shrug. “I had a name before that, but I don’t remember it anymore. Spot is the name they gave me.” Ah. A fellow prisoner indeed. Well, quid pro quo, he decided. “My name is Gaster.”

She frowned at him. “How many of you are there?” Ah, perhaps not as ignorant as most humans he’d come across. “I haven’t the slightest idea,” he replied with a small shrug. It really wasn’t important anyway, and he certainly had more pressing matters to consider right now. There was a window in the room, and he examined it cautiously, briefly ignoring the girl, who had now gotten out of bed and was standing beside him.

“That’s locked too,” she commented, rather to his annoyance. “And I’m pretty sure G has installed alarms since the last time someone broke in here.”

“People actually break into this place?” He couldn’t begin to fathom why. While the home itself was certainly charming and well kept, the occupants were decidedly unsavory, save for the girl, who while not dangerous, was not particularly interesting either. She smiled grimly, clearly ruminating on some unpleasant memory, and shrugged. “Just the one time. Didn’t go too well for them.” He assumed she meant the burglars, and didn’t inquire further. Maybe if he didn’t encourage her, she wouldn’t talk quite so much.

A brief silence followed, where she perched on the edge of the bed, watching him methodically pace and examine the rest of the room. Clean, expensively furnished, and deceptively secure, he finally decided with a tinge of despair. He finally turned back to ‘Spot,’ and she tilted her head, as if reaching a decision. “If you want,” she said hesitantly, not moving from her place on the bed, “You can sleep on the bed. But only if you stay on your side, and no weird stuff.” He could only imagine what she meant by that, and tried not to.

“Unlike some, I don’t have boundary issues,” he grumbled, recalling with distaste how easily the taller monster had slung him over his shoulder. She chuckled at that, and he liked her a little better for it. The bed was certainly large enough to contain them both without any awkwardness, beyond the fact that he was sharing a bed with a human to begin with. If he couldn’t escape, rest was the most logical step to take next. He was surprised to find that he was tired, exhausted actually, but wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep at all. Still, there was nothing to be lost by trying, and it he was more or less obliged to try, since he had clearly interrupted this human’s rest. “Very well,” he sighed with ill grace, awkwardly seating himself on the other side of the bed, and watching as the girl cuddled back under the blankets.

He had fallen asleep in his clothes more times than he could count, often too focused on his work to care, but now the lack of a better option irritated him. He may rarely change for bed, but he still enjoyed having that choice. A small freedom that he realized might come to seem pitifully irrelevant as the days passed. Kicking off his shoes, he tugged the blankets over himself, ignoring the slight but forceful return tug of the human reclaiming her share of the bedding. He lay on his side, certain that he wouldn’t get any sleep, but as he stewed, his thoughts became slower, and he eventually drifted into a more or less peaceful slumber. ***

The next morning, the click of the lock being undone startled him awake, and he blinked sleepily at the door, then at the girl slumbering peacefully beside him. Frozen by the sound, he waited cautiously to see if his abductor would appear, but after several moments passed, it appeared not, and he relaxed slightly.

Outside the door, G shook his head irritably, sighing as he walked away. Voidster had to stop locking the girl in her room. While she was, technically, a prisoner, she had made no attempts to escape, and it was needlessly cruel to keep her confined to one room. His memory of the previous night was somewhat lacking, due to the copious amounts of scotch he had downed to quell the frustration he felt that his mate had wandered into another timeline...again. It was tempting to put a leash on him, if he wouldn’t enjoy it so much, G thought sourly to himself. Scoffing, he wandered away to the kitchen, starting the coffee that he drank as part of his morning routine.

He was interrupted by a broad heat at his back, muscular arms curling around to embrace him from behind. [Good morning,] his mate purred, rubbing his cheek against G’s like a satisfied feline. Irritably, the lich tilted his head away. “I’m still angry at you,” he stated plainly, trying and failing to coerce his voice into sternness. His half-hearted attempts to pull away did nothing to dissuade Voidster, who frowned and tilted his head. [Why?]

“You were experimenting with drugs again, weren’t you?” The lich inquired in a flat tone, rolling his eyes. That explained his partner’s apparent lack of memory of the previous night. Laughing softly, Voidster released him and stepped back, shrugging. [How will I know which drugs to use on the test subjects unless I try them first?] G sighed, turning to face the incorrigible monster. “You realize that’s the absolute opposite of how experimentation is supposed to work, yes? You try the drugs on the test subjects first, that’s why they’re called test subjects.”

[Well, no harm done,] the taller monster rumbled, folding his arms. [Although I am curious why you’re upset with me.] “Forget it,” the lich muttered, turning back to his coffee to pour a cup. Black and bitter, just the way he preferred it. “As you said, no harm was done. Luckily. Stop developing experimental drugs and testing them on yourself. Is that so much to ask?” Voidster contemplated his words for several moments, mulling the request over in his head. Finally, with a slight sigh, he acquiesced. [Fine,] he murmured, approaching G once more to run a tender hand down his shoulder. [Only set aside the coffee for now, and make love to me. It’s easily been a day since we last lay together.]

Ah, so that was why he was being so cooperative. Only to his mate would a single day seem such an unbearable amount of time. Smirking, G set the mug carefully on the counter, about to tease the other man for his impatience, when he was interrupted by a rough, heated kiss. Hard, muscular arms pulled him against his mate’s broad chest, trapping him there as Voidster’s tongue ravaged him. When he finally drew away, G gasped for breath, trembling slightly with lust and surprise. He hadn’t necessarily expected to make it back to the bedroom, but the unbridled passion of his partner was overwhelming at times.

Roughly, he was shoved up against the table, trapped between Voidster’s body and the furniture. The taller man smirked and placed his clawed hands on either side of the lich, leaning forward to brush his clothed erection against G’s thigh. The lich felt himself stiffening in response, and panted, a feral growl weaving into his short bursts of breath as he fastened his jaws against the throat of his lover. Eyes half-lidded, the beast allowed himself to be bitten, his claws hooking under G’s buttocks to lift him onto the table, their groins pressed hard together.

It came as a shock when his mate’s violet eyes widened, his hands releasing the lich so that he overbalanced, and fell off the table. The distance was too short for him to correct his stance, and he fell painfully on his hip, snarling up at Voidster, who was staring in confusion at something behind him. [Who are you?!] the taller man growled suddenly, taking a menacing step forward. Lithely twisting around, G climbed to his feet, sudden memories rushing forward to assail him at the sight of the stranger. Fuck, that was what had happened last night. He closed his eyes and pressing his fingers to his temple, warding off what promised to be an unpleasant headache.

“Are you joking?” a leaner and less bestial version of themselves demanded in an outraged voice.

#tsm bonus stories #sasster in distress #sasster #gaster #undertail #gaster x gaster #spot #voidster #lich gaster #fanfiction #my writing #gastercest

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