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skost-skribbles · 4 years

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The Shore

AKA, Sad Dad Takes Son on Depressing Roadtrip, AKA I can’t think of good titles I’m not sorry

More OC nonsense with our ( @bogglebabbles and myself) characters in a scene that happens before the story even takes place but consider the following: so what

What was she like?”

The soft but endlessly inquisitive voice of his son rose above the clatter of the train storming along the tracks. Faramund turned his head so slightly downward, met immediately with hazel eyes, staring solely at the older gentleman. Already he could see the striking slivers of grey seeping into the hazel.

“I…” Faramund licked his lips, adjusting himself upright on the bench. “I can’t say much for certain. She…”

She was in so much pain, and we were powerless to help.

“We didn’t have many opportunities to talk on the ship, y-you see,” he mumbled, hooking his fingers along one of his cufflinks. “Everyone rather kept to themselves.”

The uncertainty was not caught by the young boy. He leaned closer, hands pressing firmly into the wool seating. “Did she look like me? What did she sound like? Did she have a pretty voice?”

Desperately, his fingers searched for a loose button or even a thread to pluck at. Finding that the tailor’s immaculate work lived up to its infamy and neither were found, he prayed for a distraction among the blurry scenery outside. The country landscape offered nothing.

“I don’t…” Faramund paused, gulping down the hesitation trembling in his voice. “I, ah, I don’t recall. It was risky to go out on deck during the day, and even at night any trace of light would have alerted us to unwanted eyes. On the chance I did see her before… I wouldn’t have remembered.”

“Oh.” Sotiris sank into the seat, shoeless feet dangling and swinging to and fro off the bench. Lips pursed, and suddenly his head lifted with a wide grin. “Maybe she was really nice…! And she sang as good as you do!”

A small, somber smile played on Faramund’s face and he chuckled. “You’re far too kind, son. If you believe my singing is good, then hers would have been the voice of angels! You certainly got your generosity from her.”

The younger beamed, throwing a brief look to the empty seat across the way. “How come Da didn’t come with us? He said he loves traveling!”

“A-ah, he does, yes! It’s, well…”

I worry he’s done what he always does with things that put him in great distress: he avoids it at all cost. He’ll always tell me he’s fine, but it upsets me to know how much he’s allowing to build on his shoulders. I fear it will be too late for me to pull him free when it collapses on him.

“He thought it better to stay at home to oversee the factory’s remodeling. But, I know any other day he would have loved to join us.” His smile broadened and he mussed the curly mess that was Sotiris’ hair. A moment later, the smile dropped. “Are you certain you want to do this now? We can always come back when you’re older, no one will fault you for that.”

When I can be stronger for you. When even I can accept this.

Sotiris was quiet for a passing minute, then leaned against Faramund. He pulled his knees to his face and lowered his gaze.

“I do; I don’t want to wait. I… I want to see my mom.”

~ ~ ~

In dreams, he would see the beach.

He saw the same shoreline, walked along its eerily perfect curve over and over, to the point where he could spot even a grain of sand out of place. He would see the same waves roll and crash along the shore leading to the forest on overseeing hills. Sometimes, the sky would be as blue as the ocean’s surface, with nary a cloud to be seen; sometimes, it would be hidden by the dark blanket of the moonless night.

For a moment, Faramund would hold a hand in the air, running his fingers through the incoming winds, and in that moment, he believed all would be well.

Truly, what a fool he was.

It would happen so quickly, so suddenly that he would stumble and fall on the rocks. The flames swelled high from the scattered ruins, a sickening odor of smoke choking his lungs. In both the distance and within an arm’s reach, he heard the cries and pleas of the faceless, nameless passengers before they succumbed to silence, swallowed by the fire, or the dark waters. Tomas was nowhere to be seen, and his own hands began to burn to a ghostly heat. Somewhere, elsewhere, a woman -- no, a child cried for help…

In a blink, the calm waves returned below a gray sky, the melody of crying seagulls echoing far away. Faramund’s hands started and he threw a panicked glance downward. Uneasy relief in the form of a gentle breeze slithered past him; they were not burning, but shaking.

A small voice calling for him pulled his head upright and he turned. Sotiris stood at his side, hands grabbing the back of his heavy coat. His eyes followed the child’s sight, spotting the barren, skeletal remains of a vessel lodged in the shallow waters. A hand cupping the boy’s head, they walked towards the looming, metal wreckage. Perhaps a curious passersby would mistake the sight for an unlucky ship running aground, never to make it back to the vast waters; perhaps the House of Gilroy succeeded in wiping the ambush off the face of the beach to mask their crimes on innocent lives before one became wise.

Sotiris tightened his grip on the coat, taking a cautious step forward towards the waves. They sputtered to a stop before his feet and retreated in haste. One, both hands slipped away from the safety of the thick wool and he edged around the coming of another wave, eyes wandering up the bare frame trapped within the sand and ocean.

Softly, Sotiris spoke. “Is this, is this where...”

Faramund nodded, his voice wavering slightly. “Her and many others, yes.” He forced a swallow and exhaled faintly. “We were to dock in a small fishing mill down the coast, go about our new lives.” A shell crunched beneath his foot as he stepped towards his son. He rubbed his thumb in circles along Sotiris’ hair. “Had they mistaken us for the enemy, or they simply despised the idea of newcomers, I’ll know not, but… it won’t change what they did. What they stole.”

The last words lingered in the air; like a hot knife, they poked and prodded at invisible wounds thought to be healed years back. Across the waters, he spotted the protruding, smooth rocks of the foreshore making itself known; at the hitch in his breath, day swirled into night, and he stood, rooted in place, watching a scene so utterly familiar to him play out.

Two obscure silhouettes pull themselves upon the rocky outcrop, towing along a single lifeboat. Through the roaring flames, the crashing water, the whimpers and gasps of a young woman are barely audible. One slumps to their knees, the other scrambles to grab hold and gently ease her out of the boat, immediately dipping and catching as she collapses upon setting foot on land. She shrinks closer into herself, and a sharp, keen sound of shock breaks into the night sky.

The cry is not from her.

“I don’t see Mom.”

Night flashed back to day in a fell swoop, wiping the tidal pools clear of any beings, of any boat. Faramund started in place, shuddering at a swell of goosebumps riding up his arms and neck and a patch of cold sweat breaking across his neck. Shaking his head, he rubbed furiously at his eyes with the heel of his hand before catching a trail of footprints leading away from him, aimless in their journey as they stopped in numerous directions in the sodden sand, stopping at the foot of marram grass atop a small mound further from the shore. There, he saw Sotiris, head and body twisting and turning for a destination he knew not.

“What was that, Sotiris?”

Sotiris wrung his hands along the hem of his capelet, frowning slightly. “I don’t see her. All the people in the cemetery had graves and headstones, and so did the people in the churchyards back home. How come there’s not one for her, Dad? Or for the others?”

“O-oh,” Faramund whispered, his heart sinking like a stone. “I,” he continued, louder, his own hands now pressing tightly against one another. He feared both would break under the mounting pressure any moment, and he forced them to latch onto his coat. “I’m afraid… I’m afraid there aren’t any.”

Sotiris turned quiet, eyes downcast. “Why?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but Faramund found his voice to be dry, bare. What could he say to the child? That their attackers likely held no interest in granting the passengers a proper burial, for doing so would bring to light their crimes?

Faramund’s head drooped, his gaze at his sand-coated shoes. “I’m sorry, Sotiris, but… I don’t know.”

The distant lapping of waves turned heavy to his ears, accompanied with the howling of winds that were once faint and soothing. Above, the gray clouds split apart to reveal blue skies, and rays of the summer sun found their way to the crescent shore and waters. The warmth it delivered, however, was but a fleeting touch to the man.

“I wish I could tell you so much more.” Faramund exhaled heavily, his eyes settling upon the tidepools. “I wish I could tell you with certainty that her voice was soft and surpassed those of the angels. Of what she looked like, of how you have her eyes, her smile. I…” Heat bit at his eyes, and tears trickled freely down his cheeks. “I wish I could say why there’s no grave for your mother. I wish… And knowing that I can’t, knowing that my memory is as dark as that night… I-”

He found himself at a loss of what to say when a cutting, sudden sob broke into the air. His head snapped up, panic written across his face before, trembling, guilt swept over him in a landslide.

Rooted in place among the marram grass, small fists clenched at the capelet’s hems, Sotiris stood, his own tears brimming and rolling wildly downward and disappearing within the grassy sea. Immediately, Faramund stumbled over to the mound and rested his hands lightly over Sotiris’ arms, kneeling as he gave the boy’s arms a reassuring squeeze.

He opened his mouth to speak, to freely utter words of comfort.

“I’m sorry,” Sotiris choked out. He shut his eyes and tugged at the capelet, shaking. “I-I’m sorry!”

Rigid, he furrowed his brows. “Sotiris, wh… what are you…”

“I, I…” The boy sniffled sharply, raising his hands as if to wipe away the tears before they fell limp at his sides. “Y-you’re supposed to r-remember all the good times you had with s-someone before they died, and you’re supposed to know wh-who they were when you visit them. But, but… I don’t remember Mom. I don’t kn-know, know anything about her. I thought if y-you o-or Da knew, seeing Mom would...” His breath began to hitch between deep, heaving sobs.

All Faramund could choke out was a shuddering “Oh,” and with it came a devastating realization that gripped his soul. “Oh, Sotiris-”

“I… I…” He threw himself at Faramund and buried his face within the man’s shoulder with a mighty whimper, his small arms wrapping tight around his torso as his fingers dug and twisted into the coat’s fabric. Though muffled, his voice rang clear as day. “I wanted h-her to see I was a go-good son and m-make her, her proud! How can I do th-that when I…” His voice cracked and devolved into hoarse, sharp sobs, each one a striking flinch through the child’s body.

Faramund absorbed each snivel, each flinch with the same countenance one would find on a prisoner facing the judge. The persistent questions shot at both he and Tomas to the point of exhaustion; pressing requests to return to the island, a land once home to them all, hidden over the ocean’s horizon. These questions were not to fulfill a child’s curiosity; they were to earn sole gratification from those of the past, from those whose voices were as silent as the night stars.

Both arms easily took up Sotiris in a warm embrace, pulling him closer with a gentle squeeze. “My dear, sweet boy,” he said slowly. One hand trailed up and rested upon the boy’s hair. “You’ve nothing to apologize for. Not for this. You can’t fault yourself for something far out of your control, out of anyone’s control. You were much too young when she passed; it would be maddening to think she or anyone else would condemn you for it.”

He shut his eyes, exhaling shakily. He fought to keep his voice steady. “I know it hurts, Sotiris. I know it hurts to have your mother’s image as nothing more than a blank slate, and the memories you would hold close to your heart are vague details told from others. But, she did not leave you stranded. What she left you is something that surmounts everything else, something no one else could provide or take away.”

Sniffling, one teary, reddened eye peeked from the shelter of the coat, staring upward.

“Your mother… she loved you more than anything the world could have given her. When the ship was attacked, through the destruction she made certain you were safe, e-even when it meant risking her own well-being in doing so. She…” He stilled, swallowing down a growing break in his throat. “It didn’t matter to her that she was hurt, how far she had to pull that lifeboat through the cold ocean waters that night. Nobody or nothing else mattered to her. Only you, Sotiris. The love she had for you, even in her last moments… Try as your father and I might, there’s no such affection or obstacle that can master it.”

His gaze flickered back to the tidepools, and through half-lidded, misty eyes, he saw her.

It’s a challenge to keep her head upright, to stop herself from completely slumping over and away from the lifeboat. In slow, harsh gasps, she puts on a rueful smile and stares at the crashing waves along the rocks. It takes minutes for her to gather her bearings, more to utter a pained request. There’s no hesitation from the two figures at her side, and immediately a small bundle is set in her shaking arms. Her smile only grows, the tranquil demeanor along her face a stark contrast to the grim injury stealing her life. She lowers and presses her forehead into the bundle, holding off the trembles that took over her body a short while ago as she murmurs a hushed promise to the infant wrapped snug in the dry blanket.

‘You’ll protect him, won’t you?’ She breathes out. Her eyes don’t leave the bundle. ‘Please, he deserves what I can’t give him anymore. My Sotiris, he…’

He found himself nodding, an anguished, silent reply to her plea that night. Neither he or Sotiris moved or pulled away from one another, and it wasn’t long before a growing wet patch broke through his coat and seeped past his shirt. His hand lightly rubbed circles into the boy’s back as the sobs rumbled against his shoulder, dying off into sputtered coughs before a spell of stillness fell over them both.

After a long while, sniffling, Sotiris withdrew from Faramund, the heels of his hands rubbing at his eyes. Faramund wasted no time, fishing out a small, green handkerchief decorated in red holly leaves and carefully taking hold of Sotiris’ arms in one hand, dabbing away tears fresh and old along the child’s eyes and cheeks with the other.

He mustered a small, melancholy smile. “One does not require memories to mourn the loss of a loved one, Sotiris, and let no one tell you otherwise. You’re allowed to grieve for your mother, now and forever.” He paused to wipe a new tear from the corner of Sotiris’ eye. “Her love for you, you carry it wherever you go, and it will stay strong through your own love. I know… if she were here now, she would be proud to see how far you’ve come. To have such a bright and passionate child as her son… she’d be honored.”

Sotiris’ voice was meek, croaky. “R-really?”

“Of course.”

Sniffling again, his eyes bloodshot, Sotiris glanced to the tidepools. “Can we stay here for a while longer? Please? I don’t want to go back to the inn yet.”

Faramund blinked in surprise before his face turned somber, patting the boy’s shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you’d like. Come, the tide’s still low, and we can look at all the little plants and creatures nestled in the pools…”

~ ~ ~

He found himself thinking of her.

With the exception of a single candle fluttering in an ashen-coated lantern in the corner, the inn’s room was completely dark. Outside, the clouds returned in hordes and hid the stars and moon from curious onlookers, much to one’s displeasure outside their window. Much to Faramund’s relief, their outcries of vexation did not disrupt the sleeping occupant in the bed across the room, curled halfway into a ball beneath a patterned quilt.

In the dark, his back and shoulders pressed along the headboard and hands wringing themselves, Faramund thought of her.

How would she react, knowing he brought her child to not only her unmarked grave, but to the grave of the other passengers? He came to the only reasonable conclusion he could think of: furious. No doubt she would have berated him for such a foolish action, and he wouldn’t have blamed her had she decided to strike him.

Children should be basking in the care of their parents, running around and exploring imaginative worlds.

They should not be led to an area once clenched in death’s cold grasp.

Ah, a voice sang in his head, but the boy was in those cold hands once not so long ago. Is he not already familiar with its ways?

He winced at his fingers nearly choking one another, prying them away with some hesitation. He shook his head, shutting his eyes closed with a shaky breath.

What was your name?

Quiet.

Why were you on the ship? What were you running from?

Nothing.

Had she survived, he wondered what would have become of her and Sotiris. Would she have gone the way of her unknown goal, possibly to be never seen again? Would she have accompanied him and Tomas to Amaranthine, perhaps extending a branch of friendship and camaraderie?

He shook his head again, shifting his position on the mattress. He had all these questions and more, questions to answers that will forever be out of his grasp.

“Dad?”

A sudden creak of wood against pressure snapped him from his thoughts and he started, his hand nearly slipping from the bed and almost throwing him to the floorboards below. He righted himself, fumbling with the ends of his undone necktie when he turned his head. In the dim light, Sotiris’ outline wrapped in the quilt stood out clear.

“Dad?” he repeated, hushed. “How come you’re not asleep?”

“Ah, unfortunately it’s one of those restless nights I picked up from your father. Did I wake you?”

He could barely make out Sotiris shaking his head. “I can’t sleep. I did all the suggestions you and Da say to do and I can’t. I don’t feel tired.”

“Given today’s events, I’m not wholly surprised to hear that.” There came a moan from the bedframe, and Sotiris’ mattress dipped from the newfound weight shifting on the edge. “It was a lot to take in, I’m sure.”

A moment of stretched silence crept through the room.

“I suspect, however,” Faramund added, slowly, “that today isn’t all that’s currently on your mind.”

“No,” came the shy response. The quilt rustled faintly in the dark. Then, “Da said you were an orphan, and… a-and you didn’t know your parents, either.”

His brow knit, Faramund said nothing at first. His hands took to tugging at his cufflinks once more, and he swallowed. “He is correct. Why… How did he come to tell you this?”

“I asked,” Sotiris mumbled. “I was asking him about his family, and then about yours, b-but he didn’t say anything else after it. Da wouldn’t talk about his family, either.”

“That… sounds like your father. But don’t take it too hard, Sotiris. He…” The corners of Faramund’s lips flickered downward. “The less he’s asked about that particular subject, the better.”

The fabric of the quilt continued to swish in Sotiris’ grip. “Did you miss them? Your parents?”

Were the lantern closer to them, a shadow would have fallen over Faramund’s eyes. “Truthfully, I did not think of them with pleasant thoughts growing up. I was about your age if not younger when th… When I lost them.” He licked at his lips, pinching his fingers deep along his cufflinks. “I didn’t miss them.”

“Oh.”

The candle sputtered out its last flames, then the once feebly lit corner turned black.

Sotiris’ voice was barely above a whisper and he shuffled closer to Faramund. His head rested along his father’s arm and he said, “Dad?”

“Hm?”

“Is… is it okay if I miss Mom? Even if I can’t remember her?”

Against the window, faint droplets of rain tapped and splattered along the glass and shutters, falling to a rhythm lasting seconds before it unleashed a mighty torrent to the inn and streets. For but a moment, Faramund feared some had broken through the ceiling, as the sleeve of his shirt became damp. His heart sank at the reality, but he shifted and closed his arm around the child’s shoulders with an assuring squeeze.

“Absolutely.”

In the distance roared thunder. Neither seemed to notice, nor care.

“I miss her.”

Faramund closed his eyes tight at the brimming heat poking at them.

“So do I, Sotiris.”

#skost scribbles #i started this thing like 2 months ago and my one braincell wanted to keep this sht going why am i like this #more OC writing sht

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nightklok · 3 years

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Why hello it's time for me to be a nuisance and post my detailed Picklegail manifesto after a year of keeping this hidden underground, now it will be raised upground as part of my revenge plan-Under the cut is how I would've wanted their relationship to progress throughout the series-I converted a twitter thread i had into something readable so apologies if some things still don't make sense sdflkj

I like the challenge of trying to keep key elements of the show the same so Abigail won't be introduced until season 4 because I am like this. However, she would be mentioned in passing throughout the series by Pickles. The scene where Nathan mentions wanting to be a regular jackoff in Dethdoubles would probably have a few more lines by Pickles about 'settling down with that nice person you still think about' though the rest of the guys would think it's weird to think that. This would officially start in Snakes N' Barrels Part 2, the scene where Pickles began describing LA.

"Oh yeah, here's where I hosted my first concert in this small club. Got to meet a lot of fans and stuff. Especially this one girl, shit, wonder where she's at now."

This would also kinda explain why Pickles never even seemed to show interest in finding romantic partners throughout the series; almost everyone had an episode where they had a crush on someone even if it never went anywhere in the end. Pickles just never bothered dating because he knew that finding someone genuine as a celebrity was tough and he knew he wouldn't be connected as well as he did with that girl he met back in the 80s. There might also be a scene in Rehabklok where the doctors mention 'letting go of the past', which could also mean both letting go of his trauma from his family and letting go of the idea that he will get the relationship he really missed.

Season 4 comes around and now they all meet. Nathan notices how Pickles looked at Abigail like you would with trying to figure out if you recognize someone.

Nathan: "oh hey was she the chick you went out with back in the 80s?" Pickles: "Ehhh I dunno she is familiar though"

Will it get addressed by the characters? Probably not. Will it instead be painfully dragged out long because the readers will know? Yes, as per the MTL way :D

The two do eventually get some alone time. Abigail interacts with Nathan, Skwisgaar, and him one on one since they're the brains of the band and she wants to get through to them to help get progress on the album. Pickles and Abigail would get more one-on-one time; he especially becomes her translator when it comes to trying to understand what the boys are talking about when brainstorming.

They end up warming up to each other, making jokes, and probably the first time they really did comfy with each other was when Abigail asked Pickles to read the sheet music and he says seriously “I can’t read music”. she laughs thinking it’s a joke (he’s really not)

Abigail: “You know, I met someone back in the 80s who wanted to be a musician but didn’t know how to read music.”

Pickles: “Really? That’s crazy haha wonder if I met em too”

(this is in fact to piss readers off. There will be more dialogue to describe how oblivious the two really are.)

In the background of this, Nathan would be trying to impress Abigail. Her mistake would be beating around the bush instead of telling him upfront, causing very minor miscommunication.

But overall, the progress in the album is coming faster than ever thanks to Abigail's efforts. Though once again Nathan gets the dreams telling him the album isn't ready.

Pickles and Abigail pull an all-nighter to finish one of the last tracks. They get to talking a lot more about their personal lives, finding themselves having quite a bit in common. Abigail mentions meeting a singer back in the 80s who had inspired her to take up music production. After all, it would've been very hard for her to go to college at the time but the man had his own secrets too (being LGBT+ in the 80s) and he somehow managed to be successful. They don't kiss despite the tension but they do fall asleep on the couch together. Nathan sneaks into the recording studio while they're asleep and assumes they're dating which made him quickly back off on trying to flirt with Abigail. It would also make Nathan feel guilty as he realizes that Pickles is still mad at him if he won't tell him about his relationship. However, he wasn't there for that.

He catches the glow of the monitor and sees the album is almost finished. It isn't ready. He quietly attempts to delete it but the light of the monitor changing for him to delete the files slowly wakes Pickles up. He is groggy but then he realizes what's going on and attempts to stop Nathan but once again he's too late.

Abigail wakes up and quickly snaps out of her grogginess when Pickles explains frantically what happened. They both yell at Nathan for destroying their months of progress but Nathan only says, “it’s not ready. We need a better album. Trust me.” But since he doesn’t give a thorough explanation it’s hard to trust him.

Now is Going Downklok. They are in the submarine, Nathan is trying to fix things between him and Pickles but Pickles won’t have it. So he decides instead to let Abigail and him have as much free time as possible.

Nathan just talks about how great Pickles is to Abigail, accidentally dropping hints that she may have known him as the guy from before. And he does the same to pickles though he doesn’t talk to him much anymore and ignores him.

Pickles and Abigail are once again alone at the recording studio, both ranting their frustrations over working with the album once again. Eventually, it carried over to their own personal lives. And finally, they have the braincells to realize that maybe they did meet so many years ago. The room is so stuffy it feels like a sauna and only adds to the growing tension between. It only increased when they tried to leave the studio to remain as professional as possible but one of them instead locks the door. They both end up making out and eventually having sex in the recording studio.

Years of pent-up frustration, loneliness, and overall everything that had led up to the moment washed over. They decide to keep a secret relationship afterward because even though they did find each other, much like in the past, they found each other at the wrong time.

The dinner scene comes up. The two sit feet apart just to make sure no one would be suspicious. Nathan is at his height of frustration because he knows he had to delete the album but everyone is mad at him. He gets a little too drunk, and like the friend he is, outs their Relationship like a drunken wedding speech. Pickles quickly refutes that, instead he screamed at him over broken trust, deleting the second album that Charles had made sure the public wasn't aware and finally decided to quit the band. The news spreads like wildfire.

Abigail is quickly put to blame however it lasted very short since there became other conspiracies surrounding it. Nathan did say quite a lot after all to the point where it’s clear Abigail wasn’t part of the equation. But of course, some people blame her still and she decides to lay low. Pickles has to deal with his own consequences too so he decides to stay at her parents’ place with her as they wait for the news to blow over. While he’s happy to finally be with her, he does miss music terribly. Specifically, he misses playing with Dethklok.

She reminds him he can always talk to Nathan to sort things out but he knows Nathan isn't the type to apologize. The day of the concert comes, things happen as expected in the show. He doesn’t come home because they are in the submarine and he has to explain everything to her through a phone call where he’s beginning to break down, saying he has a terrible feeling that things will never be the same. She tries to calm him down but given how Selacia’s appearance is all over the news, she has the same feeling. They reunite briefly before the funeral.

I haven’t decided on the official ending so here’s ending one:

Toki offers to give up his seat so Pickles can sit next to her. He accepts as he doesn’t want to sit anywhere near Nathan. Magnus seems bothered but doesn’t say anything. There would be a funny scene of them just recreating 'Hello Magnus' 'Hello Pickles' once again.

But Magnus' tension quickly dies down when he hears them whisper to each other. He sees them hold hands discreetly and relaxes.

Magnus: "So I see the rumors are true between you two?"

Pickles: "I-yeah. What are you gonna fuckin' do about it?"

Magnus: "Nah, nothing. Just happy for you, is all."

Magnus does gain Pickles' trust enough to let his guard down by just sharing small talk. When the service begins, MMA texts Magnus over why Toki is sitting so far and how the plan is ruined. Magnus is hesitant to respond for a few moments (regret over what's to come, perhaps?) but he goes through and texts back that there is a change of plans but this plan would be better.

Well, couples would do anything to make sure the other is safe in such extreme circumstances.This plan could be much better, after all.

Ending two: pretty much exactly as canon. Pickles probably a lot more emotional- The end :D

#metalocalypse #pickles the drummer #abigail remeltindtdrinc #picklegail #my writing #I am surprised i managed to get this down #was it wise to post this when the big talk is the movie?#maybe but its part of the plan I think fskjl #gonna @ this to brendon small as my cover letter to let me be a writer just wait fdjld

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between-two-fandoms · 4 years

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Who We Used To Be (Ray/Rose/Trevor)

As told by myself and @thesevenumbrellas tag teaming the whump in the 18+ JatP discord. Sev I swear we operate on the same braincell levels, we do be clowning. @bobbywilsonsupremacy let us know what you think of this! I know you and I both hardcore ship Raybse.

Cover was created by @thesevenumbrellas. Please don’t steal it.

This post got long so fair warning.

We wrote this in a discord server over the time span of hours so there’s some mistakes but i’m too lazy to go back and fix it all. Basically we tag teamed on a Raybse Trevor Wilson-centric whump story and can destroy a fandom with a single touch.

You’ll understand once you click the cut.

Don’t Steal Our Writing (but please reblog this to spread it around).

Trauma Time.

major whump warning

(Ren) Okay so if we're gonna be starting at 90's ot3 my children ray/bobby/Rose know that Ray is a panic bi and loves both of these humans very much with his whole ass heart.

(Ren) He takes pictures of his girlfriend and boyfriend while they’re on dates because he wants to capture the moments he was happy the most. Bobby always shed away from the camera burying his face in Rose's shoulder or leaning in for a kiss. Anyways as time goes by Ray notices Bobby's change in behavior. From being his go-happy-trauma boyf to being caught up in the music scene, often out at all hours to parties and label meetings only to come to to sleep on the couch, not even sharing the bed like he used to. It reminds Ray of the time when Bobby was grieving his boys. Ray hates it, but he loves bobby so he pushes his feelings aside to try and arrange more dates for the three of them to go on together.

(Sev) Ray waking up to only Rose in the bed and not Bobby, and it feels too cold in bed without him. So he'll try to call him, because it's 3am and he's supposed to be home and he's not. And Ray remembers what happened to Bobby's bandmates, and he can't admit it out loud but he's worried. Because what if that happens to Bobby? He knows it was a freak accident! What are the odds of it happening again?? But he can't shake that feeling when Bobby doesn't come home at night and Ray stays up all night worrying. Anyway he tries to call Bobby and Bobby doesn't answer. He'll leave loads of voicemails, trying not to be pushy because he knows Bobby doesn't respond well to that. But he's worried. He'll say "hey please call me when you get this." and then ten minutes later try again "hey just text me that you're safe okay?" He can't sleep because Bobby still isn't home. It's 5am. He has to go to work in two hours. Rose keeps telling him to go to bed but he can't.[2:58 PM]Bobby finally texts back. "I'm okay! Was playing with some friends, the gig went over time and then we went to party." Ray wants to be angry because seriously? No phone calls because he was at a party? But he knows that'll just push Bobby away more!

(Ren) And so Ray has all of these festering emotions that boil down to worry and concern at the core but he's just so scared hes losing Bobby cause he never really had his own family to begin with and then one day when Ray comes home early from a photoshoot he can hear Bobby and Rose fighting over Bobby signing the contract that says he wrote Luke's songs but Ray just hears yelling before he even opens the door with his name thrown into the mix and then he gets even more scared because what if he loses Rose and Bobby? if he lost both of them he'd be destroyed. So he doesnt knock. He doesnt go home. Instead he walks around the city until he was supposed to go home originally and he opens the door and there's a sort of eerie silence in the air.

(Sev) Trevor’s unable to shake the feeling that something terrible will happen to Rose and Ray because he's with them. His entire family were killed in 1 night because he wasn't there with them. So at first he's clingy as fuck to Rose and Ray because what if something bad happens when he's not there? What if what if what if... But as time goes on the thinking flips. Maybe it's the music industry that's the problem. It's these weird connections in his head of if he's too successful, bad things might happen. But he can't quit music like that, he can't give up on Luke's dream. He owes his boys to become successful. So instead he distances himself from Rose and Ray. That way they won't be caught up in whatever bad thing is going to happen to him. He distances himself and he waits for it all to drop. He waits for the universe to punish him again.

(Ren) And the universe punishes Bobby when the tension between him and Rose tightens so much he knows there's no going back from it but he's not admitting to stealing the songs because he didn't. He helped Luke write all of the songs more than Alex and Reggie ever did, staying up late with Luke after fights with his mom and Bobby didn’t want Luke to be alone so yeah, he wrote the songs. Maybe not as much as he claimed but he sure as hell made sure his brother wasn’t alone so that counted for something right? And it did. Until Rose kicks him out of bed because she's pissed he'd even consider stealing music and he cant tell Ray because of the NDA the label got him to sign at a party when he was drunk and the only reason Rose knows about it is because she was there when he signed the damn thing and so Bobby pulls away from Ray because isnt it going to be easier in the long run? If he doesn’t attach himself to Ray who'll just get angry at him like Rose did?

(Sev) It's the guilt that grows inside of him every passing day. They're my songs too he tells himself over and over again. But during the dark nights, three glasses of whisky in when the world is getting hazy... even he can't believe the lies he tells himself. He fucked up Sunset Curve. He fucked up his friends' memories. And now he fucked up the only good thing he'd ever had. Ray texts him nonstop. He doesn't understand why Rose kicked Bobby out and he doesn't understand why Bobby listened. Bobby can't take Ray away from Rose. He's fucked up and a terrible person, but even he can't do that. He doesn't give Ray his new address. He refuses to meet up even for Ray to give him his stuff back. All Bobby can do is hold onto Ray's sweatshirt he stole away and a bottle of perfume the same brand Rose always wears. He cradles these things in his arms and cries.

(Ren) And that's the last he sees of Ray for all of 5 years, 20yr old puppy-dog eyed loving precious ray who Bobby would run to the second Rose says its okay. But rose never does. And then Bobby meets a cute blonde and six months later the barista shows up on his doorstep shoving Carrie into his arms calling her a bastard child. Carrie is not a bastard child Carrie is his and he loves her the second he sets eyes on her and so Bobby turns into Trevor when the new year rolls around and he starts his own album. It doesn’t do as well as Luke's his first album did but it was his. And then one day Trevor signs Carrie up for dance because Trisha from first grade made fun of her for not being able to do the splits and on the way out of the dance studio Trevor bumps into Ray, a terrified looking girl clutched to his leg. Carrie doesn't miss a beat. "Hi! I'm Carrie let's be friends!" and Carrie drags Ray's daughter off and Trevor shifts awkwardly and is suddenly 17 again but Ray's eyes still twinkle like the did when they were kids and he's still wearing eyeliner so Trevor almost missed it when a flicker of recognition crosses Ray’s face and a smile quirks at the corners of his lips and he says, "hi im Ray, thats my daughter Julie. Wanna go out for a drink?" With that same mischievous glint in his eye that made Bobby fall in love with him in the first place.

(Sev) Trevor almost stops breathing. He should say no. He knows he should say no. He's an awful person. He doesn't deserve someone like Ray. He never deserved either of them. He knows that. But can't force himself to say no. Maybe it's the twinkle in Ray's eyes. Maybe it's the soul crushing loneliness he's felt ever since he left them. Or maybe it's the way Carrie and Julie are giggling in the corner like they've known each other all their lives. He says yes. The drink ends up at a family friendly restaurant with both the girls in tow.

(Ren) Rose shows up because Ray the asshole apparently texted her while he was in the car saying he met one of Julie's friend's parents and wanted to go out on a date (keeping things pg ofc) aklsdf. And when Rose does show up Trevor sees how... sick she looks. How much paler she looked than she did all those years ago how - he still knew he loved her even if she still decided she hated him.

(Sev) The mood drops quickly. Trevor wants to ask about Rose, but not in front of the kids. Ray wants to ask about their past, but not in front of the kids. Rose... Rose who holds all the answers... doesn't know where to start first. She had never regretted not telling Ray the truth. She never wanted to change Ray's perception of Bobby like that. Ray who looked at their boyfriend as if he'd hung the moon. Ray who stayed up worrying all night until Bobby came home. Ray who held Bobby through countless nightmares... But that makes the truth staring them in the face so much harder. Because she never gave Ray the choice. She realized that a few years too late after she catches Ray staring at old pictures of Bobby in their photo albums. She'd made the choice for him. And then there's Trevor... still beautiful, staring at her with so much concern her heart breaks all over again.

(Ren) The tension doesn't fly over Carrie's head like he hoped it would, she talks to Julie about My Little Pony and Pokemon and High School Musical and their mutual hatred for Trisha from school but Carrie's hand never lets go of his and he finally plucks up the courage and stretches his arm out and says "we're vegetarian for the most part, hope that's okay." And a smile quirks at the corner of her lips and she asks "for the most part?" and Trevor nods and Carrie pipes up from her seat saying "daddy hates hot dogs,” in that blatant fact kind of way kids say things without realizing how problematic it could be. It wasn’t her fault though, Trevor has yet to tell her about her uncles, about how he was in a band, about how they were going to be legends.

(Sev) Rose and Ray both freeze at Carrie's voice. He doesn't know if the girls notice, because he's too busy trying to fight back the panic in his throat. It's been a long time since anyone had brought up ... what happened. It's easy to pretend it didn't happen when his name is Trevor and no one knows him. But these two people know him. They know him more than anyone else ever has. Even the boys. The truth hits him hard at that moment. A truth he'd been avoiding for almost two decades. Ray and Rose know him better than even he knew himself. Maybe that was why Rose had been so furious with him, or why Ray continued to chase after him even months after he moved out. Trevor hides the building panic and sudden realization with a smile. "What an I say," he said as causally as he can. "I'm a picky eater." A few hours later they end up back at the Molina's house. Bobby has no idea how it happened. -No, Trevor has no idea how it happened, he scolds himself. He's Trevor. He has to be Trevor. Trevor got him this far, Trevor made the difficult choices. Bobby was the one who got his friends kill and destroyed the best relationship he ever had. Still, it becomes harder and harder to remind himself of that. To stop himself from slipping into the comfortable shoes of Bobby, boyfriend of Ray and Rose as if the past 17 years had never happened. He finds himself on their sofa, a sofa that brings back memories both good and bad... he finds himself in a familiar home, his old studio just a short walk away, his ex's giggling in the kitchen as they make his coffee the way he's always liked it without asking for a reminder.

(Ren) Trevor can remember the day he stopped drinking the coffee Ray made for him, the morning after his first fight with Rose, when he wakes up cold because Rose basically cocooned herself around Ray's body, keeping her back turned to him and as much as he wanted to reach out to Ray, to hug him and comfort him and tell him it was all going to be okay... everything was too stuffy and too tense and deciding he just had to leave because he was going to suffocate otherwise.

(Sev) He should leave, just like last time. What was he even doing here? He should take Carrie and- Then Ray's in front of him, pushing a hot cup into is hands. "The girls are playing upstairs," he says. His voice is so calm, so understanding. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to." Trevor almost laughs. Because that's so like Ray. Almost a decade without answers and he's giving Trevor the option to ignore it all. To pretend like nothing ever happened. But he can't be that selfish again. So he shakes his head. "I'd... like to talk to you... to both of you."

(Ren) And then suddenly rose is eyeing him sus but he's been putting this off for to long and honestly fuck his label because they screwed him over one too many times for him to still even consider their relationship anything other than employee-client1[4:06 PM]and so Trevor takes a sip of Ray's coffee holy shit how did go so long without it?! and he explains it. he explains everything.

(Sev) Ray doesn't speak as Trevor explains. He never interrupts or even look surprised. His face is completely unreadable. He doesn't move until Trevor's done. And then once he is, he only stands up to start pacing the room. Trevor's oddly reminded of Alex as he does so, and the memory is enough to make him flinch. "This... this is what you two have been hiding from me for so long?" he asked, voice brittle. "This is... this is what cost us... I mean..." But he can't finish. Ray just shakes his head, back to both Rose and Trevor.

(Ren) Suddenly he's seventeen again. Seventeen and a mess in Ray's arms burying his face into the man's chest finally feeling the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders and suddenly Rose is hugging him from behind, her too-skiny bone arms snaking around his chest and hugging him tightly threatening to never let him go saying "amour," and pressing a kiss to the back of his head, "amour we never stopped loving you."

(Sev)It's like no time has passed by the time he's done crying his eyes out. They're all huddled on a sofa that was always too small for three. Trevor's in the middle, clutching at them both as if they're going to disappear on him. Ray sits with his legs underneath them, his arms pulling the both of them into his chest. And then there's Rose, suddenly so much more delicate than Trevor remembers. She sits half on his lap, curled into them, her fingers knotted in his hair. "I can't believe you two kept this from me," Ray whispers. There's no anger. He doesn't think Ray's ever been capable of being angry. "I'm sorry," Trevor whispers, throat raw from tears. Ray answers with a firm kiss to his temple. "We wasted so much time..."

(Ren) Trevor just lays between them in their bed, nothing sexual and nothing tense it’s just them being together and Rose playing with his now-long hair, braiding it right down the middle despite it being too long for others to braid. Her fingers feel nice as they tug at his roots, familiar and a sense of calm washes over him. He lets ray fop on top of him like they used to, burying his head in his chest just listening to his heart beat, his steady constant breathing because Ray used to be afraid one day he'd wake up and Bobby would be dead too. Rose humming lightly, soft lullabies that chased away dark thoughts and Trevor just finds it so comforting, a feeling of home he hasn't had since the day he left and so he wraps his arms around Rose and Ray tight, promising himself he won't screw up his second time around.

(Sev) It's a few hours later when he speaks again. The girls are asleep in Julie's room (delighted at their surprise sleepover.) Ray's almost nodded off, head resting against Trevor's chest. But Rose is wide awake. She's laid out, tangled between them, eyes focused on something far away. He can see it more clearly now. The tremble in her hands, the way she's so still, the circles around her eyes. He takes her hand in his. "What is it?"

(Ren) And Trevor wants it to be a prank, he wants the sinking feeling in his gut twisting around his heart, the same feeling he had the morning of Sunset Curve's Orpheum performance coiling up his spine to go away. He wants everything to be okay, that he told the truth, that he was forgiven, that the universe was finally on his side for once but of course it's not because when has it ever been. Rose's fingers run lightly over his knuckles and Ray wraps his arm around him from behind, his hands resting against Trevor's chest, something solid for him to focus on and as a tear starts to roll down Rose's cheek he reaches up to brush it away, running his hand through her hair only to pull out a clump as he pulled away but he couldn't run when his instincts to run kick in like they always used to do when situations turned emotional, bury it in his mind and lock up his worries like he always did but this wasn't going to be something he could run from.

(Sev) Life is not the fantasy or a fairy tale. There are no happy endings, only happy moments. He'd like to say they picked up right where they left off, Rose lived until a ripe old age, and they never fought again. But he'd be lying. It was hard to fold their lives back into place again, especially with Carrie and Julie. To just pick up after their seventeen year old selves was an impossible dream. But they could do breakfast. And breakfast became dinner. Dinner became one date which became two which became many. It took trouble and care, but they slotted themselves back into each other's lives again. There were lunch dates, and movie nights. There were late night wine dates and early morning coffee dates. They found their happy moments. A decade of separation had smoothed out the rough edges. If Trevor stormed out after a harsh argument, he'd return the next day with flowers and apologies. If Rose snapped and lost her temper, she'd take herself off for a walk to cool down. If Ray was bothered by something, he'd speak up instead of pushing it all down. They found their happy moments. And when 1 month became 1 year, they celebrated with moving boxes and a new, bigger couch. When 1 year became 2, they celebrated with promise rings and whispers of a better future between light kisses. 3 years became 4, became 5, and so on... They found their happy moments. But life is not a fantasy or a fairy tale. Their story ends in a hospital. Rose dies with both her husbands at her side, with both her daughters and son clutching on her hands. She dies with a smile on her face, knowing she is not leaving them to suffer alone. Ray and Trevor grieve together.

(Ren) And this time the girls are the ones who get into the fight but Trevor and Ray are there for Julie and Carrie no matter what they're fighting over carrie told julie she liked flynn but julie said flynn was hers first and doesnt understand how she can feel squishy love for two people. And this time the girls are the ones who get into the fight but Trevor and Ray are there for Julie and Carrie no matter what they're fighting over carrie told julie she liked flynn but julie said flynn was hers first and doesnt understand how she can feel squishy love for two people. They stick to their daughters through the worst of it but they don’t let the girl’s fighting rip into them too. It’s not what Rose would’ve wanted for them, it’s not what she would’ve wanted for Julie or Carrie either.

(Sev) And when Julie plays with her ghost band, it's much earlier that Trevor recognizes who she's playing with.

(Ren) Luke’s mad at first, ofc he is but after everything is explained and out in the open Trevor finds himself at home in a building that never felt like home despite the fact he grew up in it.

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umihoshi-art · 4 years

Text

Urges (Fugo x Narancia)

Perhaps Fugo had known it all along. The moment he had seen this boy rummage around in a garbage can, it had pulled all his heart-strings. And it only went down hill after. In the way how the boy exceptionally loved pizza and orange juice. How he couldn't sit still when hearing music. How he couldn't sit still to start with. His complete incapability to solve simple math problems. His wide grin and boisterous laughter. Narancia was the biggest dumbass he had ever met. He wanted to punch him so bad. Every fiber in Fugo's body was practically screaming when Narancia so much as moved.

He couldn't keep his eyes off of him.

And that was what absolutely terrified Fugo. He knew himself, he knew that with one wrong comment, he'd absolutely butcher the other teen. He had kept this feeling with him for months now, just like how he had wanted to take the urge of stabbing his parents to his grave. But this was different from the feeling he had at that time. He couldn't place it. But it felt.... Good. Trusted. Comfortable. And oh so alarming. And because he hadn't told anyone about these feelings, not even Buccarati, he now found himself alone with said alarming person.

“boooooored...” Narancia moaned loud and obnoxious. It was raining outside and they were sitting house while Bucciarati, Abbachio and Mista were out on mafia business. In all honesty, the rain wouldn't have stopped Fugo from leaving post-haste, but Buccarati had asked him to keep an eye on Narancia, who was shot in the leg before. By the sound of it, the other boy was doing just fine, though. Fugo had retreated on the couch with a book. He lay slummed against the armrest, his long legs sprawled over the seat, giving off a big 'don't talk to me' aura that he had recently learned from Abbachio. But Narancia, being an absolute star in reading the mood, hated being ignored more then anything. “Fugo, I'm bored! Let's play a game or something?” he hung over the back of the couch, close to Fugo's face. Fugo clicked his tongue and moved his head aside to stay clear of staring at Narancia's disarming face. He pointed. “There's cards, go play Sollitaire. It'll teach you independence.” Narancia grunted annoyed. “you're in a bad mood, no fun.” And it looked like that was the end of the discussion, as Narancia backed away. “c'mon, I'm sick of sitting around all day. Let's go get pizza? It's just some rain and my leg's fine.” the boy moved around the couch and did something that made Fugo freeze over completely: Narancia sat on top of Fugo's hips, leaning over, trying to get his attention. “what.....are you doing?” Fugo heard himself say without breath. The letters in the book were dancing in front of his eyes. His knuckles turned white. This was bad.... “Own fault for hogging the couch~ I'll only make myself heavier if you're gonna be a wet sock.” Fugo didn't reply right away. He barely moved. All he could think about was.... the time this had happened before. “Get off...” he spoke darkly. But Narancia didn't get the message. “Feeling like doing something yet?” in the spirit of 'making himself heavy', he hopped his hips up and crashed them down on Fugo's. It took every ounce of self-control for Fugo to keep his retort at only grabbing Narancia by the throat and giving a good squeeze. “Get. Off. Now!” he was panting heavy. Gritting his teeth, his eyes unfocused, his hand was sweaty and shaking. Even Narancia noticed this was worse then Fugo's usual fits of rage. He replied more docile: “o-okay, okay... geez...” and got off him slowly, to not make any sudden movements. Both were silent for a good few minutes. “Sorry....” Narancia muttered in the end. Fugo swallowed, not looking at him. Still shaken, he got up. “Gotta shower...” “huh? You showered this morning..” Fugo ignored the other and paced over to the bathroom.

This was exactly the problem. If it had been anyone but Narancia, Fugo was sure it wouldn't have triggered anything.... probably... Then again, in their small company only Narancia would be enough of a clueless dumbass to sit on top of another guy. Taking a shower, he made sure to clean himself vigorously, until he finally managed to stop panting. In the process, the mirror received a good 3 punches and was broken beyond use. Fugo looked down at his hands. 'Disgusting....' he thought to himself. His mind was in turmoil. Because even if he tried to push it away with all his rage: it had felt good. He had wanted Narancia to stay. No... even, get closer. And a most disturbing thought haunted Fugo: It's happening again.

Fugo had never talked about what had happened in school to anyone, except for Bucciarati. He doubted if any of them would really understand it. It had never been about him beating up the teacher. It was more complicated then that. 'Justified self-defense' is what his parents had bribed the court into concluding. And so there never really was any examination of the case. Fugo hadn't been able to find closure of his feelings. And so he made a conclusion many abused youths would pull: 'It was my own fault...'

He finished up in the bathroom after just a little under 2 hours. But when he returned, Narancia still had visible marks on his throat. He was sitting on the ground, against the couch and was hugging his knees. His eyes looked rather misty. Fugo felt a flush of guilt and gulped. “I.....sorry, Narancia. I went too far.” Narancia looked up with a jolt. Fugo would have preferred him to look angry, or even scared. But the look on Narancia's face was filled with worry. He got up. “What are you apologizing for?? I'm the one who's sorry! What the hell happened? Did I do something bad?? Did I mess up?” Fugo felt his chest tighten and looked off. “it's... nothing, never mind it. Just don't do it again.” “Don't be like that! I won't understand if you won't tell me!” Narancia paced over, that worried look didn't leave his face. It really troubled Fugo to see that face from up closer, only increasing his violent urges again. He turned away. “Forget about it! I'm not mad at you, so don't bother.” “FUGO!!” Narancia clung his hands in the back of Fugo's jacket. He sounded beyond worry: he was desperate. His voice was pitched and shallow. “Please.... don't shut me out? Not you..... Slap me or punch me or choke me, that's all fine. Just, don't brush me off? Please? You always confront me, you look straight at me and you face me head on... that means a lot to me. I like that about you. A lot. So don't-.... don't act like I didn't hurt you when I did! I'd rather have you tell me to my face and give me a good punch to get it over with, then to hide it!”

It was happening. It was too late. Fugo's mind would go pitch black. If he'd come to, would he find Narancia's bloody corpse beneath him? But he felt strangely light. As if a weight had been lifted. As if he had crossed a line he had been so afraid of crossing. But now that it was crossed, there's no more point in fearing it. Fugo's mind was clear. And he knew exactly what he was doing. He stretched his hand out to Narancia, holding his face. And what he had been sure would have resulted in him beating the boy's lights out was anything but that: Fugo crushed his lips against Narancia's. It felt like the most natural thing he had ever done. It was vivid and mindblowing. The boy's lips were slightly rough and dry. There was a faint taste of the strawberry he had nicked from Mista some time ago. And it felt like they could bruise from the sudden impact. It were the longest 2 seconds in Fugo's life before his mind caught up with his body and he backed away, realizing what he had done. Both stared at each other, perplexed. Fugo covered his mouth with the back of his hand in disbelieve. And the most disturbing thought crept on him: 'Oh god. I forced myself on him.'

Fugo looked absolutely mortified. Narancia felt another large pang of worry, but... processing what had happened and how it had led to this, his face flushed and he laughed a bit. “oh-... was that.. why you were uncomfortable, huh? Pft.. Okay, that makes sense~” “I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to--” “wow, wow! What are you apologizing about now? I'm not mad!” But Fugo stepped back, lost in his own mind. Thinking fast, Narancia grabbed hold of his arms and kissed him back. Faster and more clumsy, but sincere. “There! Now we're even, right?” It calmed Fugo down slightly and he looked back at the other, remorsefully and unsure of himself. “It's okay. Don't worry.” Narancia tried to reassure him, but he had completely lost what could possible be going through Fugo's head. Narancia took a deep breath. He wasn't exactly used to being the responsible one with the braincell. “Let's sit down? Okay?” he took Fugo's hand and took him along to the couch. Fugo followed reluctant, absentmindedly staring at their linked hands. As they sat, Fugo hesitated: “I.... I don't want to shut you out...just, I.... don't know where to start. It's embarrassing and pathetic.” Brushing off the immediate link of kissing him equals embarrassing and pathetic, Narancia shrugged. “Let's face it. You and I both know I'm not the smartest. You've gotta help me out here.” Fugo showed a rare slight smile. Then took a deep breath. “There..... used to be a person I looked up to.” he spoke, but his voice sounded uncomfortable. “He... well... did something similar...” Narancia blinked a few times, trying to figure what the other meant. “What happened to him?” “I killed him.” Fugo stated, surprisingly matter-of-factly. “Okay, rewind that for a bit. How? Why?” “You know how I get violent, right?” “Yeah, but never without a reason!” Fugo frowned for a moment. He wasn't quite sure if he was worth of that trust. Narancia hadn't worded it as being a 'good' reason. That would have just sounded fake. But...... Fugo refused to believe it. He knew himself. He knew what he did. And he knew what he's capable of... He sighed, trying to brush off how heavy the topic actually was to him. “He came on to me.” He didn't look Narancia in the eyes. “So, considering I just came on to you, I felt bad and apologized. The end.” Against popular believe, Narancia wasn't entirely stupid, though: “But you were already acting off before you did that.” Fugo took a deep breath and closed his eyes. There was no way out of it now, huh? Perhaps..... he should put Narancia to the test. Despite himself, he felt a slight shimmer of fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, someone would understand. But he also braced himself for that hope to be disappointed. That was alright. Nothing would change. “a teacher at my school... he invited me over and-” his words stocked, trying to find the right way to describe it enough to make Narancia understand, but not to make it more dramatic and have Narancia throw pity at him. “-and approached me.” Narancia's face told him that wasn't going to cut it. “....sexually.” the other boy frowned, only producing a soft. “Oh....” Fugo quickly continued. “After that, he came to me again, suggesting we'd do the same thing. And then I beat him to death.” Fugo had rehearsed the reply people would give him in his mind over and over. 'it's not your fault, it was self-defense, you're the victim'. And maybe there had been a slight chance he would have believed that, if it hadn't been the exact arguments the court had been bribed in.... and.... “But..then why-...” Narancia's mind was racing, like there was something he couldn't quite lay his finger on. Fugo waited, patiently. But Narancia's conclusion startled him: “Holding yourself back...” it dawned on Narancia. “You were holding yourself back from killing him for all that time.” Fugo's shoulders sank. Yes.... that's what was eating away at him. If it really was something he didn't want, why did he let it happen? If he was going to kill him, why didn't he do so right away? He remembered the malicious whispers of his peers, saying he had been the one who was close to the teacher, he had been the one to seduce him, he had used the teacher to get good grades. And he believed them.... “That's right. I let it happen. I allowed him to do it, even though I could have stopped him.” Narancia stared intensely at Fugo. There was no judgment on his face. No pity. No disbelieve. Fugo had trouble reading that expression and so he continued: “And yet I mindlessly killed him. Just like I planned to mindlessly kill my parents, many times. You see? I don't actually need a reason. It might actually be that the people I care about have the highest risk.” Narancia grabbed a hold of Fugo's both cheeks, moving his own head back for momentum and headbutted the other as hard as he could. “YOU ABSOLUTE BRAIN FART! Isn't it obvious???” Narancia raged, trying his hardest not to wince at his own dumb action. “Auw, what was that about, you brat?!” Fugo took a hold of the back of Narancia's hair, just about ready to repeat the same dumb action. But Narancia yelled in his face before he could. “It's because you're A NICE PERSON!! no one in their right mind can just kill another person so easily! You held yourself back, cuz you're gentle! You're a better person than that piece of shit deserved you to be! What's wrong with that?!! You didn't want to hurt anyone and he used that against you!!” Tears started streaming down Narancia's face. Angry. Frustrated. But also a sense of adoration for the other. “Don't be a dickhead, saying you don't need a reason! You had it pent up more and more, over and over, until you couldn't take it anymore! Even when they took a running leap across the line. Damnit all, if that guy wouldn't be dead, I'd go out there and hunt him right now!” Fugo stared at him for a while, losing the girp on the other's hair. He sighed in slight defeat. Narancia's thinking was so simpleminded. But... he did feel better. It might still take some time for himself to believe it... but it was comforting to know that someone else believed in him.

“But! But that was that and this is this!” Narancia continued. “hm?” Fugo blinked, not quite following. “You said you were coming on to me. And I made it even.” Fugo looked off and nodded a bit. “You also said you were sorry about it. You dun want to?” “That's not it! I just-” Narancia grinned. “...so you want to~?” “.....” Fugo's stomach stirred from the coy look Narancia gave him. He was slowly starting to differentiate the urge of punching someone from this urge of kissing the other. “Yeah...” he admitted and leaned in slowly. “If you're still bored, I know something.”

#pannacotta fugo #narancia ghirga #fugo x narancia #jojo no kimyou na bouken #JoJo no Kimyō na Bōken Ōgon no Kaze #jojo part 5 #Vento Aureo #jojo's bizzare adventure vento aureo #jojo's bizzare adventure #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #team bucciarati #passione #I'm a mess since Fugo's gone #fugone #fugonara

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danny-williams · 4 years

Text

in sickness and in health

set immediately after s8.6, because i think Danny being worried about Steve’s health is literally the most married thing ever

1. change his diet

It doesn’t happen overnight. It doesn’t happen overnight because Danny knows that it can’t happen overnight - otherwise Steve will notice and all of his efforts into our sneaking the SuperSEAL will go to waste because he and Steve will fight, and Chloe made it very clear that he and Steve fighting was not good for Steve’s health.

Even if it significantly improved Danny’s mood everytime he got Steve riled up. His serotonin levels could take a hit for a bit (he’d just finagle more time with Charlie from Rachel).

It takes a lot of back and forth, and a promise to let Kamekona buy into their restaurant (currently un-named because he refused to have an italian joint named Steve’s) but Kamekona finally agrees to reduce the amount of butter he puts on his shrimp.

“But only for Steve’s plate bruddah,” he says, a frown on his face, “I’m not changing my recipe for anybody else. This is prime shrimp you’re messing with here - I hope you know that. This shrimp won me awards.”

Danny grimaces, “Technically, Chef Morimoto sabotaging your competition won you that award, but we’ll go with your version of things. As long as you keep this from Steve. I do not need him knowing that I’m messing with his food.”

“You got it bruddah.”

Everything else after that is slightly easier. Even with Junior home, Steve still comes over to Danny’s a lot - so Danny starts shopping smarter; buying low fat food and including more greens in his diet.

The jersey in him is crying, weeping for some good grease - the kind that slithers off the meat and onto your fingers, but he reminds himself it’s for a good cause. Besides, it’s not like he isn’t still eating good food - he’s just eating it less.

That’s not a terrible thing.

2. to do list

He’s in his office, finishing up the last reports of the drug bust they made earlier that day - when there’s a sharp rap on his door. Danny looks up to see Steve standing on the other side, clutching a piece of paper in his hand.

He waves him in, and Steve slams the paper against his desk. “What are you, some sort of caveman? Did they not teach you how to politely put things down in the Army -”

“ - Navy - “

“Why do you gotta,” he gestures at the paper, “now my ink is all smudged.”

Steve ignores him, which is par for the course at this time, “What is this?”

Danny looks at the paper, and then back at Steve, “What do you mean, what is this? How should I know? You’re the one that brought it in.”

Steve points at the paper aggressively, “Look at it, and explain to me what it is.”

He smoothens out the paper, “It’s looks like a to-do list. Are you getting old babe? Do we need to take you to an eye specialist, maybe get you fitted for some glasses? Reading goggles?”

“Danny I don’t need -” Steve cuts himself off, and honestly, Danny is really enjoying how worked up Steve is about this whole thing, “I mean, what is it doing on my desk?”

Danny bites his lips, spreading his hands out wide, “I don’t know maybe you uhh, maybe you decided that you needed to make a list, make sure you know everything you had to do for today. Did you hit your head or something during our drug bust today? Maybe get a concussion - lose a couple of braincells?”

“I didn’t write this Danno,” Steve says in a frustrated tone, “Lou sure as hell didn’t write it, Tani’s too new to even think of pulling something like this - and we both know Jerry doesn’t have the balls for this kind of thing. That just leaves you. So I’m gonna ask you again, what is this doing on my desk?”

“Okay look, we’ve both been really busy with the restaurant right?”

“Steve’s.”

“No, not Steve’s because I’m still undecided on the name - but the point is, we’ve both been busy. So I thought you might you know, benefit from having a list of things that we had to do for it. So that you could plan your day better.”

Steve opens his mouth and shuts it again, furrowing his brows at Danny.

“And that’s all this is? Making sure I keep up to date with the restaurant?”

“That’s all it is babe.”

“You’re up to something,” Steve grabs the paper, pointing a finger at Danny accusingly, “I don’t know what you’re up to - but you’re up to something.”

“Just making sure our restaurant doesn’t fail!” Danny calls after him, but waits until he’s out of sight to pull open his drawer and pull out the pile of unfinished to-do lists.

He’s going to have to be sneakier about them this time.

3. less bickering

Danny ponders over this one for a while, mainly because Steve expressly told him not to change. It would defeat the whole purpose of sneakily managing Steve’s stress if he notices, so Danny’s careful about it.

Mostly because after her day with Steve, Chloe pulled Danny aside and gave him enough of a scare to last him ten lifetimes.

“Look,” she’d said, “I don’t mean to tell you how to manage your relationship with your partner. From what I hear, you guys have been together for close to seven years, and I’m sure you worked out some sort of rhythm. But from what I can see Detective, you fight him on everything.”

“What do you mean I fight him on everything, I,I, I let him drive my car, I let him eat at my house, he even sleeps at my house on occasion - and what do I get for it? I get shot at and almost killed three times before lunch.”

“You guys don’t have an easy job, I agree. But I don’t imagine that for the Commander, someone who’s come from the Navy and is used to absolute obedience, that it’s easy when you question even his smallest actions.”

She had a point, which is Danny is now trying to figure out how to organically stop fighting with a man he literally punched just hours after they met.

“Okay here’s what’s going to happen,” Steve says, just as they pull up at the suspect’s house. They’re chasing the kidnapper of a twelve year old girl, so everybody’s a bit ramped up, especially Danny. He hates cases with kids. It makes it easier to take a backseat and give up control to Steve on this one.

“I’m going go through the front door,” he gestures with his hands, “Lou, Danny - I want you to get the back. Tani? I want you out here, in case our perp tries to make a run for it?”

Danny has to physically swallow back the words on the tip of his tongue, because asking Steve if they should wait for back-up would be questioning his actions - and Chloe said that was bad for his health.

Steve gives him a look, like he knows that’s something’s wrong - but before he can say anything there’s shot fired inside the house and everything goes to shit.

Danny and Lou turn the corner as quick as possible, just in time to see someone run outside the back entrance and jump across the fence.

“Lou, get back to the truck, see if you can cut him off like that,” Steve jumps after him, panting into his ear-piece, “Danny?”

“Right behind you buddy,” he says, even as he aims and shoots at the two guys who wander out behind their perp, clearly looking for him, “our friend over here had company over.”

Thankfully, there doesn’t appear to be anyone else coming out of the house, and when Danny makes his way in - 12 year old Danielle Rodriguez is tied to the radiator, shivering despite the constant sweltering heat that is the fine island of Hawaii.

“Hey hey,” he swings his gun behind his back and lifts his hands up, “my name is Detective Danny Williams okay? I’m with Five-0. I’m one of the good guys. Now how about I get you out of this and back to your parents?”

Later, when they’re back at HQ and Danielle has been reunited with her teary-eyed parents - Lou mutters to Danny, “so how come you didn’t ask Steve to wait for back-up?”

“I’m trying something new.”

4. well bred social behaviour

“Danny!” The door swings open, even though Danny is fairly certain that he locked in, but he doesn’t reach for his gun, because there’s only one person on this entire island who walks into his house like they own it.

“In here!” he calls out, and sure enough, Steve walks in a couple seconds later with coffee and a brown bag.

“Are those malasadas?” he asks, reaching out for the coffee in one hand, looking up briefly from floor plans to ensure that there’s contact between his palm and the coffee cup, “Did you bring me malasadas?”

“No I bought myself malasadas, but since I’m generous I’ll give you one or two.”

“What’s this?” he asks over a mouthful of malasada, peering over his shoulder and Danny bats at him because he’s dripping sugar all over the plans, “Is this Steve’s?”

“For the last time, we’re not calling the restaurant Steve’s I don’t know how many times I have to go through this with you. But yes, to answer your question, these are the tentative plans that our interior decorator drew up for the restaurant.”

“Interior decorator?” his voice comes out all muffled, and Danny sends him a withering look, “You’re disgusting you know that? Can you finish chewing before you talk? Please? Is that too much to ask for?”

Steve swallows obnoxiously, and grins at Danny. He’s got cream on the edge of his mouth, and it should disgust Danny - instead he’s thinking about leaning up and licking it off.

“Thank you, for the coffee by the way,” he says instead, “I appreciate it. That was a nice thing to do.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve replies, and Danny can hear the surprise in his tone, but he resolutely ignores it - instead pulling Steve into a conversation about the booths.

5. sex

There’s probably a code of conduct somewhere, Danny muses, that involves something about not having your ex-girlfriend spy on your partner. Well, spying might be a bit extreme.

He and Melissa split months ago, because it was clear after two disasterdly Valentine’s Days, that it just wasn’t working between them. Her exact words were, and he quotes, “You’re never going to love me the way I love you. Not when Steve occupies all the real estate in your heart.”

She wasn’t wrong, was the thing, and after they’d gotten past the initial awkwardness that the fact that Danny was in love with someone that wasn’t her - they actually fell into a good friendship.

It helped that Melissa didn’t know a lot of people in Oahu except Danny, and that their relationship had been a lot like a friendship in the first place. Except with more sex.

Like a lot more sex.

Honestly, given that Steve was the reason they broke up, Melissa was surprisingly gamely when Danny asked her to stay in touch with Lynn, and let him know how things were going with her and Steve.

(He thinks it’s pity, but he doesn’t actually ask because then she might actually answer)

“They broke up,” Melissa says with little fanfare, over their weekly coffee, “Lynn won’t tell me much. But they split about a week ago. Guess she got tired of waiting around for him too.”

It might also be the fact that Melissa is convinced that Steve is just as much in love with Danny as Danny is with him, nevermind the fact that Steve has never showed interest.

“What do you mean they broke up?”

“I mean they’re over. Ended things. Done.”

“Huh,” Danny says, over his coffee, trying to figure out the best way to convince Steve to let Danny take him out for a guy’s night to get over Lynn without revealing how he knows that Steve needs a guy’s night to get over Lynn.

In the end, he doesn’t even have to be all that sneaky about it, because Steve comes to him - asks him out for drinks; so all Danny really has to do is play the dutiful wingman.

“I’m sorry about you and Lynn,” he yells over the music, after the alcohol has sufficiently loosened his tongue, “you guys were good together.”

“It was never going to work out,” Steve yells back, and gives Danny a significant look, “bit like you and Melissa.”

“How do you - how do you know about that?”

“What you think that you and Melissa are the only ones who engage in pillow talk? Lynn talks too, on occasion. When we weren’t you know, busy with other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” Danny chuckles, “Is that what we’re calling it now? You can say sex Steve. This must, must put a damper on your whole two or three days a week thing. Oh wait no sorry, how many days did you say it was? Five?”

“I’ll have you know,” Steve says, staggering on his feet as he and Danny stumble outside the bar, “that me and Lynn had a lot of problems. But sex wasn’t one of them.”

“Well -” he furrows his brows, and stops suddenly, pulling Danny close to him, “Sex might’ve been one of them.”

“What happened? You need tips in bed? Smooth dog?”

“I am very good in bed!” Steve says, affronted, “It was not my skill that was the issue here.”

“Then what was it? No come on don’t clamp up on me now, I have to hear this. What was the issue?”

Steve turns bright red, “I might’ve - I might’ve said the wrong name in bed, a couple of times.”

“Babe, you are unbeatable. No really, you are. First you, you leave the engagement ring that you were going to give Catherine just lying around - then you take off with Catherine in the middle of a romantic dinner, and now you’re yelling her name in bed? Buddy I’m surprised she didn’t break up with you sooner.”

Steve’s giving him this look, like he can’t for the life of him understand what Danny’s saying. “No it wasn’t Catherine why would you think it’s Catherine. No it was - “

And that’s about as far as Steve gets, because a second later, he’s retching their dinner all over the side of the road.

+ 1: love him

They’re all out on his lanai: Danny, Tani, Junior, Kamekona, even Duke’s made it out - and Steve’s got the grill set up just a couple feet away from the chairs. Half his attention is on the grill, the other half is on Danny - the way he’s stretched out on the old chair; loosened from the beer he’s been nursing, and smiling at something Tani said.

“Keep an eye on that meat,” Lou says, startling Steve, “I don’t want my dinner burning.”

“I’m not gonna burn your dinner Lou jeez, have a little faith. When have I ever burnt your dinner before?”

Lou looks over at Danny, and back at Steve with raised eyebrows, “you’re a bit distracted today. Forgive me if I’m cautious.”

“He thinks I don’t know what he’s doing,” Steve says in lieu of a response, “but I found his list the other day. All the things that stress management specialist said, Chloe or whatever her name is - he’s got it all written down. He’s driving himself crazy, worrying about this thing.”

“Have you ever stopped to consider why he’s so worried?”

Steve turns to Lou with a frown, “it’s not that hard to put together Lou. He’s worried about my health. I get it, I am too - but I’m not running myself into the ground thinking about it day and night.”

“Look man, I’ve been with you guys for a couple of years now, and let me tell you something about Danny. Now I’m not pointing fingers or any of that, but I’ve seen that man care about a lot of things - but nothing the way he cares about you Steve.”

Steve opens his mouth to reply, but Lou just holds up his hand, “you didn’t see him Steve. The day you got shot? The day you almost died? You didn’t see him that day.”

“Danny was - he had broken ribs, and scratches all over his face. They told him to land the plane in the water did he tell you that?”

Steve shakes his head silently.

“The people in Air Control or whatever you want to call them, they told Danny that his best chance at survival was landing the plane in the water, swimming to shore. But he knew that landing the plane in the water meant that you might die, and it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. He didn’t even stick around long enough to watch you get taken in for surgery, he was already on his way out looking for the sons of bitches that shot you up.”

“And I’ve never seen anything like it Steve, I’m telling you - I didn’t know he was capable of that kind of violence. There was this one guy, their ring leader, who managed to limp his way over to the helicopter. When me and Kono got there, Danny was standing over him with his gun out, and he had this look on his face - I was worried if I stepped in, he might shoot him just to get to this guy.”

“And after all that was done, he marched right back into that hospital, barrelled right past all of us, and offered up his liver. There wasn’t even a second’s hesitation. Apparently he’d already had the blood-work drawn up, in case anything like this happened.”

Lou claps him on his shoulder, “I love you man, I do. But I don’t love you the way Danny does. I don’t think anybody does.”

“Would you -” he gestures at the steaks, “would you watch over the grill for me? Just for a bit. There’s something I gotta do.”

He doesn’t wait to hear Lou’s reply, just stalks over to Danny and grabs him by his elbow - hauling him up.

“Hey where are we - why’re we going inside, you Neanderthal I was in the middle of a conversation what’re you tugging me around for like I’m some sort of -”

The rest of Danny’s sentence gets lost against Steve’s lips, as Steve turns him around and braces him against the nearest vertical surface. His mouth is already open, which Steve uses to his advantage; pressing his full weight against Danny and licking into his mouth; memorising it with his tongue.

They break up with a wet sound, and when Steve opens his eyes, Danny’s pupils are blown black.

“What was that for?” Danny whispers between their lips, and Steve half smiles at him, “that was me saying thank you. I know what you’ve been doing, trying to manage my stress for me. This is me saying thank you.”

“Huh,” Danny slides a hand around his neck, squeezing, “Why don’t you run that thank you by me again one more time?”

Fin

#my writing #mcdanno #hawaii 5 o #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #developing relationship #5+1 #danny is worried about steve's health #fluff #taking care of each other

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lookimtryingmybest · 3 years

Text

“How to accidentally die, meet a shady ghost and become a half demon” A story by Logan Freud.

Part 1 Part 2

CW for discussions of blood, needles and digging up someone's death body and using it for weird magic stuff. Also a few graphic descriptions of injuries (Janus's) and a brief scene where Remus almost cuts himself that might be considered self-harm. And casual conversations of murder because yes. This is the weirdest shit I've written so far.

Janus waved his hand over the TV. He just had to get it right enough, and he could turn it on to watch something. It’s not like he had something better to do.

“You’re running out of time.” A husk voice reminded him.

Janus rolled his eyes, not bothering to turn to the voice. He could see its silhouette reflected on the TV’s screen.

“I know.” He said. “I won’t take much longer.”

“You know what will happen to you if you fail.” The voice warned him.

Janus waved it off. “Yeah, yeah, I know, now fuck off, I wanna watch Buffy.”

“I will come by the next full moon. If you haven’t finished by then, I’ll take both of you with me.” The voice said.

“Wait.” Janus frowned. He turned to face those orange eyes he hated. “Both?”

“You.” It said, smiling at Janus. “And your new friend.”

“Logan.” Janus realized. “Leave him out of this, I’m the one who made the deal.”

The demon smiled. “Someone’s coming home. See you around, Deceit.” It said, before dimming out in the shadows.

“Bastard.” Janus said. He turned back to the TV. A month. He had a month. He could get everything right before the month ended, right?

He heard the front door opening.

Logan entered the living room, followed by Virgil. He smiled at Janus.

“I thought you’d be here.” He said.

“Yeah, wow, congratulations. You have braincells.” Janus said, floating above his level. He noticed Virgil holding the wooden triangle to his eye. “What’s he doing? Apart from looking like an idiot?”

“Rude.” Virgil said.

“He can see us.” Logan said. “And hear us.”

“You could’ve warned me about the face” Virgil said.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry my face upsets you, I died in a fire what the fuck did you expect?”

“Sorry.” Virgil muttered. “Anyways I’ll, eh… be in the kitchen for a while.” He said putting the triangle in his pocket. “I’ll talk to you two later.”

Janus waited for Logan to speak. Logan just looked uncomfortably around for a while, before speaking.

“I… apologize for snapping earlier.” He said. “It was out of place.”

“Damn right it was.” Janus said. “What are you going to do, hug me over it?” He asked, floating near him. “Good luck touching me.”

“I did not mean what I said.” Logan said. “Do you want to go back with the others and talk to them for yourself?”

Janus contemplated his options. He didn’t have many. A month was so little time.

“Fine.” He said. “I’ll go get Virgil.”

He floated through the walls into the kitchen. Virgil was unashamedly eating ice cream out of the container. Janus looked around for something to knock over.

He pushed Virgil’s phone. It barely moved. He tried again, and again, and again until it fell to the ground.

Virgil cursed and grabbed it, placing it back on the table.

Goddamnit, he was an idiot.

Janus took another five minutes to push it over the edge again. This time, Virgil grabbed it midair.

He grumbled, leaving the ice cream on the table and pulling the triangle out of his pocket.

He stared at Janus. “Asshole.” He said.

Janus shrugged. “I want to speak to the others as well. Grab a notebook or something, I’ll need you to make a list.”

“A list for what?” Asked Logan appearing through a wall. “Wow. That was so weird.”

“You get used to it.” Janus said. “A list to get shit going, I’ll explain once we’re there.”

Virgil placed the ice cream back in the fridge. “Let’s go. They’re probably waiting.”

“Got any kings?” Patton asked.

“Apart from myself? No. Go fish” Roman said. He was holding three kings, and he refused to let them go.

Something pulled the king of hearts out of his hands, throwing it to the cards pile.

Patton gasped. “You were Lying!”

“Pat, the game is called ‘go fish but we lie about it’” Remus said. “Got any threes?”

Patton grabbed the king as Roman grumbled, grabbing another card from the pile.

“Nope! Go fish” Patton said. A card flew from the pile and hit Remus in the face.

“Rude.” Remus mumbled, grabbing the card.

Virgil entered the room, holding the triangle to his face. “Janus, stop messing with the game.” He said. He received a card to the face seconds later, when he had already sat down at his pillow. “I applaud your determination to hit me with a card.” He turned to the others. “He had to try five times until he managed to lift the card.”

“So he can touch physical objects” Roman said. “That’s creepy.”

“He can, but he has to try over and over cause most time his hand just passes right through.” Virgil said. “Wanna see him yourself?”

“Sure.” Roman said. He left his cards down and moved to sit next to Virgil.

“Here ya go.” Virgil said, giving him the wooden triangle.

Roman inspected it. Something in the back of his mind told him he’d look stupid with the triangle in his face, but he pushed those thoughts away.

He looked through the hole, and nearly screamed.

The ghost, Janus, it was horrible. Skin falling off his face and blood splattered on his clothes. Roman had to hold a gag back.

Virgil looked at him and gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, maybe I should’ve warned you…”

“That would’ve been ideal.” Logan said, appearing in Roman’s field of vision. He looked the exact same as he had in the funeral. “Hi, Roman.”

“Hi, Lo.” Roman said, feeling a bit sick. “Hi, erm… Janus?”

“Yep.” Janus said, floating to his level. “You ok there, princey?”

Roman nodded. “Yeah, perfectly fine…”

“Ro, you ass, let me see as well.” Remus said, nudging his brother.

Roman passed him the wooden triangle. “All yours. I need a, fuck, a bin, please.”

Patton stood up to the corner of the room and brought the bin to Roman. Roman didn’t have time to thank him, as he double over it and emptied his stomach. Patton grimaced and rubbed his back.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Virgil said, offering Roman water once he had finished.

“Jeez, is he that bad?” Remus asked, before putting the triangle to his eye. “Oh… He is!”

A pause. “It’s not rude if it’s the truth. Also, you’re that kid from the house fire fifty years ago?”

Another pause. “How does he know about this stuff?” Patton whispered to Roman.

“Look, I’m not one to judge Remus’s weird hyper fixations.” Roman whispered back. “He likes crimes and death.”

“So… what’s your plan to get back from the dead?” Remus asked. He listened for a few seconds before turning to Roman. “Get the pen and paper, I’m making a list.”

“A list?” Virgil asked. “For what?”

“For the ritual, duh.” Remus said. “We’re bringing these two idiots back.”

“Ok, ok, we got the incense and the bowl and Virgil and Patton are getting the candles.” Remus said, ticking the things off the list. “Can you get the salt?”

“Yeah, we have to mix it with something else, right?” Roman asked, opening the cupboard.

“No, that’s the weird mix of sulphur and other shit.” Remus said, ticking off the box next to ‘salt’.

“What do we have to mix it with?” Roman said, leaving the salt next to the bowl. He looked over his brother’s shoulder.

“Eh… ivy’s leaves, honeysuckle petals, although those have to be added after burning the other stuff, the incense and…” Remus squinted to read his messy handwriting “virgin’s blood.”

“Wait, blood?” Roman asked. “I thought you said the stuff was easy to get!”

“Well, Janus spoke fast and I copied fast, I didn’t remember the blood part. Nor the virgin.” Remus said. “Besides, the other stuff like a chalk and blackboard are pretty easy to get. We already have one.” He pointed at the blackboard and chalk he had left lying against the wall. He ticked the box next to those items.

“Ok, does it have to be a female virgin? A dead virgin? Cause I’m pretty sure all of us are virgins.” Roman said, taking the list from Remus. “It just says virgin’s blood, didn’t Janus give more details?”

“Not that I remember, let me ask again.” Remus said, taking the wooden triangle again.

“Hey, J-anus.” He said, looking at the space above Roman. Roman shot that space a death glare and hoped it got to Janus. “Yeah, you heard? Anyone’s? What about masturbation, does that count? Good, ok, I can do that. How much do we need? Oh, I thought it was more. Well, I mean, the human body can lose to up six litres of blood. Although you pass out after three or four.”

“Remus, not that I want to interrupt your lovely conversation,” Roman said, taking the triangle from Remus “but we have to keep going. How much did Janus say we needed?”

“Just enough for the bottom of the bowl. Not even a tenth of a litre.” Remus said, moving to one of the drawers and pulling out a knife. “We should put it in the fridge so it doesn’t form clots. Those are nasty.”

“Wait wait wait.” Roman said, practically yanking the knife out of Remus hands. “The fuck you think you’re doing?”

“Getting the blood.” Remus said, trying to get the knife back. “Duh.”

“Not like that!” Roman said. “You’ll need stitches and none of us know how to do them.”

“Well, then, how?” Remus asked.

Then his phone started ringing.

Patton pushed the shopping cart down the aisle. He looked at his phone, at the picture he had taken of Remus’s list.

“Ok, so candles first. Then there’s another few plants needed, which I think we can take from the Twins’s garden.” Patton said “or maybe we have o go to the botanic garden…”

Virgil pulled the cart towards him. “I think the candles are over here.” He said. “Let’s deal with those first. Does it specify how many they need to be?”

Patton read the list. It said ’12 fucking candles’. Of course Remus would be too lazy to write twelve, but would still write ‘fucking’ as if it was necessary.

“We need twelve, but it doesn’t tell me which kind.” Patton said. He grabbed a random candle and smelled it. Lavender. “Will Janus mind if they’re scented?”

Virgil grabbed a black candle. It smelled like chocolate. “I think it doesn’t matter, didn’t it say we also needed sulphur and incense? That should block anything else.”

“You sure?” Patton asked.

“No, but I’m not even sure this isn’t a wild fever dream, so…” Virgil said, getting more black candles.

Virgil’s phone got out of his phone and fell to the ground. Virgil cursed.

“Really Logan?” He grunted as he picked it up. “What are you trying to say?”

“Maybe he wants us to call Remus and ask?” Patton guessed.

“Maybe.” Virgil said. “I’ll do so. Don’t put back the black candles, those are mines for my aesthetic.”

Patton snorted at that, as he watched Virgil dial Remus’s number.

“Hey, asshole, it’s me.” Virgil said. “Yeah, quick question, do the candles need to be scentless?” A pause. “Oh, ok, great, that was all. Thanks.” Another pause. “Why do you need that? Virgin’s what? Never mind, why am I surprised? I should’ve seen this coming. Sure, yeah, I’ll get that as well. Anything else? No? Great, tell Janus he owes me money for this.”

Having said so, he hung up.

Virgil looked at Patton. “He says scentless just in case. They’re probably cheaper anyways.” He took a dozen of candles in his arms and dumped them in the shopping cart. “Now, we need a syringe.”

Patton frowned. “What do we need that for?”

“For the blood.” Virgil said. “Now, where do we get a syringe?”

Patton blinked confused. “In the pharmacy…?”

Virgil nodded and started pushing the cart.

Remus was in the garden grabbing the ivy’s leaves, wearing gloves just in case they were poisonous. He wasn’t sure if they were, but he didn’t want to deal with the consequences in case they were.

Roman was in the kitchen still, making sure they had everything else. And waiting for the other two to arrive.

Remus shiver when he felt something going through him. “Janus?” He asked, barely above a whisper. “What do you want?”

He took off his gloves and grabbed the wooden triangle in his pocket. He placed it to his face and stared at Janus. He was going through the plant in front of him.

“What do you want?” He asked.

Janus floated above his head. “There’s something else I need. It’s right over here.”

“Over where?” Remus asked, pushing his gloves and the bag of ivy’s leaves into his bag pack. He stood up to follow Janus.

“In Virgil’s backyard.” Janus said. “Just follow me, I know a shortcut.”

“That’s not right over here.” Remus complained. “I’ll go get the others.”

“No!” Janus exclaimed, reaching out and passing right through Remus. Remus shivered. “Not for this.”

“…Ok…” Remus said. “If I get murdered I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me, now follow me.” Janus said.

And so Remus did. Janus led him through the garden, surrounded two houses and crossed the road, right to Virgil’s garden.

Virgil’s garden wasn’t as pretty as Remus’s. His parents didn’t care as much, and just left it to grow as it pleased, only mowing the grass once per month. The grass itself was yellowish and half dead.

Remus liked Virgil’s garden. You could always find cool fungi in it.

“Right over…” Janus said looking at the ground. He pointed at one spot with less grass than the others. “Here. Dig here.”

“I don’t have a shovel.” Remus said.

“There’s one in the shed.” Janus said, pointing at the small wooden house in the corner of the garden. “And they never lock the shed, so…”

“Fine.” Remus said. He pushed the wooden triangle to his pocket for a moment and went to the shed. It was indeed unlocked, but the door was heavy and Remus had to push with his whole body just to open it a few centimeters. He sticked his hand inside and grabbed the shovel that was conveniently near the door.

He went back to the place where Janus had been floating and started digging. It was harder than he anticipated.

At one point, when he had dug a meter, the wooden triangle fell from his pocket and floated in front of him. He grabbed it to stare at Janus.

“Did I dig enough? I still don’t know what we’re searching for.” He asked.

“Ditch the shovel.” Janus said. Remus threw the shovel away. “And grab a handful of dirt. The one at the bottom best.”

Remus sighted and grabbed another plastic bag from his backpack. “Why are we doing this again?”

“I need these, ok?” Janus said. “Now continue digging. With your hands. If you keep using the shovel you will break them.”

“Break what?” Remus asked, as he struggled to open the plastic bag with just one hand.

“My bones.” Janus said.

Remus stopped to stare at Janus. “Your bones.”

“Yes, my bones, can you hurry up?” Janus said, crossing his arms.

“Why the fuck are we digging up your bones?” Remus asked.

“I need something from them.” Janus said. “And I need you to trust me, ok?”

“You’re literally a ghost, how the fuck am I supposed to trust you?” Remus said. “What do you want to do with them? Tell me or I’ll fucking leave.”

Janus grit his teeth. “I’ll only tell you if you promise not to tell.”

Remus sighted. “Fine. Tell.”

Logan followed Virgil to the Twins house again.

He passed through the wall into the kitchen, closing his eyes for a moment. He didn’t like looking at the insides of the walls.

In the kitchen, Roman was placing everything in order as he made sure he hadn’t missed a thing. Remus entered through the door and unceremoniously dumped a bag of ivy’s leaves and honeysuckle petals in the counter. Roman gave him a death glare and colocated them in order.

“Hi Lo.” Remus said. He had taped the wooden triangle to his face. Roman looked at him weird and ignored him.

Janus appeared behind Remus. “So, did they get everything?”

“Yes. Although, may I ask, blood?” Logan said.

Janus raised his hands defensively “hey, I don’t make the rules about rituals, I just follow them.”

Logan rolled his eyes just as Virgil and Patton entered the kitchen.

“Hey, crackheads,” Virgil said “why the fuck do we need blood?”

“Ask Remus.” Roman said, taking the shopping bags from Virgil and dumping the candles on the table. “Why are there extra candles?”

Virgil didn’t reply, only taking the candles and shoving them back to the bag.

Patton laughed at that and pulled out the syringe. “So… blood, huh?”

“Yep!” Remus said. “Janus said it doesn’t matter who the virgin is. Like. We’re all virgins, right?”

“Yeah…” Roman said, looking away and blushing. “Right…”

“Do I want to know?” Logan said, mostly at himself.

“No.” Janus said. “You really don’t want to know the things I’ve seen.”

“You’re just saying that to make me second guess things I’ve done.” Logan said.

Janus tsked. “Touché.”

“…I did not ask for this information.” Remus said, staring at both ghosts. He looked at his brother disgusted and Roman only blushed harder. “Nope, didn’t need to know. I’m gonna go get the final details with J-Anus. You three see if there’s any virgin left among us. Horny fuckers.”

He ignored Roman’s offended noises and went upstairs, grabbing the chalkboard on the way. Janus waved Logan goodbye and followed.

Virgil and Patton looked at each other and erupted in laughter. Roman groaned and hid his blushing face with his face.

“I hate you all.” He said.

“Ok, ok, but I must know, which guy was it?” Virgil asked. “Cause you’re hella gay and can’t deny that.”

“I’m not… look, it doesn’t matter.” Roman said, grabbing the syringe and the cup. “Who’s gonna donate their blood to the cause?”

“I’m not… a big fan of syringes.” Patton said. “Do we even know how to draw blood without fucking up?”

Roman showed him his phone, with a YouTube tutorial on it. “There’s a tutorial for everything.”

“So we need something from you because of your connection to the demon.” Remus guessed. “What about Logan? Do I need to go grave robbing?”

“No. He’s connected to me.” Janus said. “If I succeed, so does he.”

“Why si he connected again?” Remus asked. “Last time I checked, he didn’t even believe in ghosts, nor deal making demons.”

“Yeah, well, now he’s a ghost.” Janus said. “I can’t say for sure, but he saw me before dying, and now he can’t move on, so he must be connected to me, or to someone else from this plane of existence.”

“Oh. Cool, I guess.” Remus said. “And you’re connected to…? Apart from the demon.”

“The demon. And my murderer.” Janus said.

“Wait you were murdered?!” Remus said. “You said you died in a fire.”

“I did. I was murdered. In a fire.” Janus said. He ran a hand through his hair. “Blow to the head, a lot faster than burning alive.”

“You know who it was?” Remus asked.

“Yep.” Janus said. “Not gonna talk about it, cause they died ten years ago.”

“Understandable, have a great day.” Remus said.

“Talk about what?” Logan asked, entering through the wall and shivering for a second. “It’s still weird.”

“It took me a year.” Janus said. “And talk about the ritual. We’re almost finishing reviewing it.”

Remus grabbed the chalkboard where he had written the instructions and showed it to Logan. “See? Resurrection in five easy steps!”

Logan scoffed. “Should I tell the others to go carrying the utilities to the basement?”

“Yes.” Janus said. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

Remus watched as Logan disappeared through the wall again, before turning to Janus. “So… anything else we need?”

“A knife.” Janus said. “That should do.”

“Are you going to leave it there like the shady bitch you are, or are you going to elaborate?” Remus asked.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Hide the knife and hand it to me when I ask you to. Quickly. Also, drop the mixture into the fire at the same time, or the knife won’t do a thing.”

“Ok.” Remus said. He got up and grabbed the chalkboard and his notebook. “Also, I find it disturbing that you watched my brother shag.”

“I didn’t do that.” Janus said. “And about everything related to the situation, that’s what’s disturbing? Not the whole digging my bones out and grinding them to dust?”

“That was… weird, but hey, it was a very educational experience.” Remus said, as he made his way downstairs. “Come on, we have a demon to slain.”

Remus had taken off the stupid wooden triangle of his face by the time he made it down to the basement.

The basement, as creepy as it sounded, was used mostly for storing the old stuff none of Remus’s parents wanted, but were too lazy to throw out.

The four of them had cleared up enough space, pushing the old boxes to the back and cleaned the space.

Remus guided them as they made the salt circle and place the candles, lighting them all on. Virgil volunteered to mix the ingredients, as Roman was still pale from seeing blood and Patton’d rather not get close to poison ivy.

And Remus, of course, set the mix on fire.

As Roman reluctantly read the meaningless words Remus had scribbled on his notebook, two figures started becoming more clear.

Then Roman finished, and both of them fell to the ground.

Logan was able of keeping his balance for a few seconds before slumping against the wall, heaving. Right. Car crash. Broken bones. He should’ve expected the pain. He groaned and looked at the others.

“Hey.” He said oh, so eloquently. “It worked.”

“Not yet.” Janus said, still kneeling on the spot he had fallen. He was panting heavily, grimacing at every little movement he made. He raised his hand to his hair and noticed the wetness. “Concussion, right, I can deal with that.”

He moved to stand up on wobbly legs and Patton made a move to get out to help him. Virgil held him back.

“We stay in the circle. Those were the instructions.” He looked at Patton for a few more seconds before letting him go. “What’s the next step?”

“Next step is” Remus said, “do not panic.”

“Easy for you to say.” Roman said. “This whole experience is going to end me.”

“Roman, shut up.” Janus asked. He looked at the flickering candles. “It’s here.”

“What’s here?” Logan asked, trying to move from the wall.

Janus opened his mouth to answer, when the candles were all blown out. The burning mixture kept going, making everything smell horrible.

And then it stepped in, horns grazing the ceiling as he made his way towards were Janus was standing. And it smiled.

“So the little liar finally came around.” It said, smiling in that way that made Janus shiver. It looked over the four kids in the circle. “Which one of them will it be, Deceit?”

“Wait.” Logan said. “What’s happening here?”

The demon turned to him. “The little snake didn’t tell you? He made a deal. A soul for a soul.”

Virgil was the first to realize what that meant. “You piece of shit!” He yelled, and Janus didn’t even have the decency of looking at him. “I did not agree to this!”

“Stay in the circle.” Janus said, voice barely over a whisper. “It can’t get you if you stay in the circle.”

“One of them will have to come out, if you want to go back to life.” The demon said. “Well, two, if you want your friend to live as well.”

“You set us up?” Patton asked. “Was this your plan all along?”

“No.” Janus said, turning to them. “It was not.” He turned to face the demon again. “I’m not giving you a single thing.”

“Then you’ll die, and so will your friend.” The demon warned.

Janus clicked his tongue. “I don’t think I will.”

The signal, Remus thought, before pulling out the mixture he’d made and dumping it into the fire. He didn’t wait to see how the fired reacted, too busy pulling out the hidden knife from his pants and throwing it at Janus.

Janus tried his best, he really did. But there was only a maximum effort a newly undead body could make. And it wasn’t fast enough.

The demon grabbed his wrist just as the knife was left inches from its face.

“What’s this?” It asked, knowing fully well what was happening. “The little snake thinks he’s strong enough?”

And having said that, he bent Janus’s wrist in an angle that wasn’t supposed to be possible.

Janus screamed as the knife fell from his fingers.

Remus found himself running without second thought, as he did everything in life. With no second thought. And so he punched the demon in the face, making it release Janus.

And stepping out of the circle.

And hurting his wrist.

Then the demon grabbed him by his shirt and threw him against the wall. He heard someone scream his name, probably Roman, as they rushed to his side.

His head ached as he opened his eyes and tried to make sense of what was happening. Roman was fussing over him, talking to him too quick for Remus to understand.

He shoved his brother to the side and tried to focus on the scene in front of him.

Virgil and Patton, both paralyzed with fear, still inside the circle. Both of them trying to protect the other against that thing.

Janus, that little shit, being raised by his neck, struggling with the little strength his damaged body provided.

And Logan, who probably had several broken bones, being the only one to move.

He grabbed the knife from the floor. Without more hesitation, he thrusted it through its eye, straight to where the brain should be if this creature was biologically similar to human beings.

Janus felt to the floor, gasping for air. The demon stumbled back, dissolving into dust.

Logan looked around him, still panting. He could hear his heart beating on his ears.

“Is it… Is it over?” Patton asked.

“No.” Janus rasped. “No, you fools, I told you to stay in the cir–”

And then there was light.

Back when Patton had been five, he had fainted for the first time.

It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, getting sick to the point where you fainted. He had those memories buried in a sea of other, much more pleasant, memories. But he hadn’t forgotten how it felt waking up after fainting.

Waking up after this was fairly similar, only something seemed odd.

Very odd.

He pushed himself to his knees. He was in between boxes, as if they hadn’t moved them in the first place. And he felt… wet. Like he was drained in cold sweat, after a long run in the park when it was freezing outside.

He made it around the corner of the big box, probably containing the twins’s old bunk bed, and came face to face with Virgil.

Or he thought it was Virgil.

His face was a bit more angular, more sharp than before. He had a purplish tint to his skin and bright purple eyes. Eight of them, three smaller ones underneath each ‘normal’ one.

And fangs, Patton discovered, once Virgil screamed and backed away. Patton couldn’t help it and he screamed as well, stepping back.

Once both of them had stopped screaming, which took a few more seconds, Patton stared at Virgil.

“You’re purple!” He said.

Virgil gestured to Patton’s body. “Well you’re green! And frog-like!”

Patton stared down at his hands, noticing the green tint they had acquired. And the fibers between his fingers. And that explained the wetness.

“Oh.” He said. “Oh.” He turned to Virgil. “Do you think this has to do with the ‘killing a demon’ thingie?”

“Maybe? I dunno.” Virgil admitted, inspecting his skin as well. “Where are the others?”

As if on queue, they heard two very distinct voices screaming.

They walked to the back and found what they assumed was Roman and Remus, screeching at each other.

Both of them were on the ground, staring at each other as they screeched. Remus, or whom they assumed to be Remus by the white streak–now more prominent– on his hair and the mustache, had tentacles coming from his back, about six of them. Roman, on the other hand, had bat like wings, plus the spiraled horns that appeared from his head. Both of them seemed to share some characteristics, like pointy ears, sharp teeth, and really loud screeching.

Virgil groaned. “Ok, SHUT UP.” He yelled, his voice becoming louder than he had expected. He shot his hands to his mouth, clamping it close. Both the twins stared at him. “Sorry. But really, you were being too loud.”

“You– you’re…” Roman stuttered, for once in his life lost for words. “You’re… that?!”

Patton rubbed his temples. “Ok, ok, calm the fuck down.” He said, ignoring the gasps that came with him cursing. “There has to be a reasonable explanation for this.”

“Yeah, well I don’t see any!” Remus said. His tentacles shot up in frustration. He grumbled and tried to put them back down. “Why do I get the slimy tentacles and you get the cool wings?”

“Why do I get the horns and he gets the cool voice amplification?” Roman asked, gesturing with his head towards Virgil.

“This… this has to have to do with the whole… demon? Thingie.” Virgil said, running a hand through his hair. “Patton said it, and this whole shitshow went down after Logan killed it.”

“Wait.” Remus said. “Where’s Logan?”

Everyone looked around, as the twins got up from the ground, stumbling thanks to the new difference of balance.

“Logan?” Patton called. “LoLo?”

Then Roman’s phone started ringing.

Logan woke up and looked at the sky. He blinked for a few moments, frowning when Ride’s melody made his way to his ears again.

He sat up, taking off his headphones. He didn’t remember putting them on. Where was he?

He looked around. Oh. That’s where he was.

He got up and ran to the pavement before he got run by a car. Again.

Looking around once he was safe from the cars’s wrath, Logan noticed where he was. In the street in front of the park, where he had agreed to meet up with his friends. Where Virgil had been waiting for him.

He looked to the other side of the street. No one there.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket when he realized. His skin was different.

He might have dropped his phone in shock. He couldn’t exactly tell, staring at his skin as he was.

His skin was like a crystal container where gasses roamed free. No, not gasses. Nebulas. Entire galaxies were spiraling inside his skin.

Logan knew better than to panic right there. Panic could wait, until he was out of sight.

He grabbed his phone from the floor and started going to the Twin’s. That wasn’t the closer one, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, they’d still be there from the ritual. Or whatever that had been. It had not gone as planned.

He checked himself on the camera of the phone as he walked. His eyes seemed to be filled with stars as well, and his hair might have been the only thing that remained like before. Good. He didn’t like changing his hair.

Logan was about to knock on the Twins’s door when he realized they were not likely to answer themselves. Not wanting to scare their parents to death, he pulled out his phone once again and started calling one of them.

“Logan?” He heard Roman say, right after picking up. “Where are you? What happened?”

Logan sighted. “I’m outside your home. Would you mind coming to open the door? I do not wish to startle your parents.”

“So you’ve changed as well?” Roman asked.

“We’ll talk about it when we see each other.” Logan said. He was not willing to have this conversation over the phone.

Five minutes was all he had to wait until his friends came out of the house and tackled him into a group hug.

Logan endured the hug from the ground for five seconds before starting trying to squirm away from it. He sat up and looked at the others.

“So…” He said, noticing their inhuman characteristics as well. “You too, huh?”

“YES!” Virgil said, exasperated. “If you ever dare die in front of me again, I will murder you personally!” To emphasize this, he punched him in the shoulder. Logan pouted.

“Why does Logan get to look pretty.” Roman said. “I wanted to look like a pretty star deity too.”

“At least you can fly.” Patton said, getting up. “Let’s get inside, someone might see us.”

As Logan watched the others made their way back inside, noticing their new… aspect.

Then he noticed, as he entered through the front door.

“Where’s Janus?” He asked.

The others looked at each other, eyes widening with the realization.

“Don’t look at me!” Remus said, when everyone turned to him. “He didn’t tell me this part of his plan, only the stabbidity stab one.”

“Well… where did you wake up, Logan?” Roman asked. “Cause it wasn’t here either.”

“In the middle of the road next to the park.” Logan said.

“Oh, well, then Janus must be at Virgil’s house.” Patton said. Everyone stared at him in confusion. “What? Remus said that Janus died there, in a fire.”

Remus couldn’t help smiling, as he bounced up and down. “You were listening to me?!”

“Eh… yes?” Patton said. “I thought everyone was.”

“I usually tune it out when Remus starts talking of death.” Virgil admitted. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok” Remus waved his hand, dismissing it.

“Well, let’s go to Virgil’s then.” Roman said, grabbing his coat and keys. He stared at the coat for a few seconds and then at his new wings. He then glanced to Remus. “How did you hide the tentacles?”

Remus shrugged. “Just will them to go away, or something.”

“Really helpful.” Roman muttered. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Then opened them. “Nothing? Well, great.”

“Just, I dunno imagine them disappearing or something?” Remus proposed.

“Right.” Roman said. He seemed to concentrate for a second.

The wings disappeared. Roman cheered.

They found Janus asleep on Virgil’s room, laying on the floor.

Remus nudged him with his foot. “Is he… alive?”

Virgil pushed him away. “Of course he is, that’s what the whole ritual was there for.”

Logan kneeled to the ground and pushed Janus to lay on his back.

Janus looked better than he had expected. Yellow scales littered his body, mostly on his left side, were the burnt skin had once been. Apart from that, he didn’t seem to have changed as much, which destroyed Logan’s theory of why he had changed more than the Twins and why the Twins had changed more than Virgil and Patton.

If Janus had changed as much as he did, it would be because they were closer to the centre of the explosion of light, while Patton and Virgil where in the circle, protected, and the Twins were outside but farther from the centre.

He shook Janus gently. “Janus. Janus. Wake up.”

“You sure he ain’t dead?” Remus asked. “The ritual did go shittily, after all.”

“Shittily isn’t an adverb.” Roman said.

“It can be if I want it to be.” Remus said.

Janus groaned, blinking his eyes open. Logan noticed one of them was yellow now.

“What?” He asked. “Where am I?”

“Hey, you’re in my roo–” Virgil started saying, before Janus interrupted him screaming. “Shut UP. Yes, we look different, that’s your fault, now stop overreacting.”

Janus stared at him, then at the others, then at himself. “Scales. Great.” He said, and then grimaced. He sticked out his tongue and stared at it. It was forked. “Snake. Great. Just what I wanted.”

Logan snickered. “Well, none of us could chose anything, you just got unlucky.” He said. “Come on, get up.”

He grabbed Janus’s arm and immediately let go when he yelped in pain. And shoved Logan away. With three arms at the same time.

“Wow, wow, he gets several arms?!” Roman complained. “And pretty scales?! This is so unfair…”

Virgil elbowed him. “Stop complaining, dramaqueen.”

Roman pouted.

Remus rolled his eyes, ignoring his brother and approaching Janus. “Give me your wrist.” He said, crouching in front of him and shoving Logan away.

Janus eyed him wearily, hesitating before accepting. His extra arms seemed to disappear.

Remus gently rolled up Janus’s sleeves and held his bloody wrist in place. He stayed like that for a few moments.

“Is… Is anyone gonna say anything, or…?” Patton whispered, leaning towards Logan.

Janus pulled back and massaged his hand. He looked at Remus and frowned. “How did you do that?”

Remus shrugged. “I dunno, I just repeated what I did earlier when I healed my concussion.”

“Wait, you had a concussion?” Roman asked. “I was worried! You could’ve told me!”

“For what? To worry you even further?” Remus asked. “I’m fine now, so why bother?”

“So… Remus can heal people, Virgil has the weird voice amplification thingie…” Patton said. “We all got powers?”

“It seems so.” Logan said. “Well, now that we are together, we should figuratively tackle the most prominent issue here.”

“You don’t have to say figuratively.” Virgil said.

“Shush.” Logan said, and continued with what he was saying. “Our… new appearances. Might be not so warmly welcome as me coming back from the dead.”

“Honestly I don’t think you coming back from the dead is going to be easy to explain at all.” Virgil said.

“Ooh!” Roman said, bouncing up and down. “I got an idea!”

“Oh, god, I’m scared to ask.” Virgil muttered.

Roman sticked his tongue out at him. He then turned to the others. “Ok, so, if we have cool powers, maybe we can like… hide it? Illusion or something, I dunno.”

Everyone looked at each other for a moment, expecting someone to do some magic trick that would save everyone. Nothing.

“Don’t look at me, I did my healing trick. That’s all I’ve got so far.” Remus said.

Logan sighted, rubbing his temples. “Allow me to try.”

He closed his eyes, and imagined them all, back to how they were. It was hard imagining Janus, without the injuries he had carried as a ghost, but he tried his best.

He felt dizzy for a second, almost losing balance. Janus helped him steady himself, and he opened his eyes.

He stared at his friends, all back to their previous forms. Human. Even Janus.

“I did not expect that to work.” Logan said.

“It didn’t.” Janus said. “Your eyes are different. They’re blue now. Not brown.”

“I think it worked great!” Patton said. “I’m sure no one will notice.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think, Pat.” Janus said. “People will notice.”

“We’ll manage.” Virgil said. “And since when do you get to call him ‘Pat’, huh?”

“VIRGIL? DID YOU INVITE FRIENDS OVER WITHOUT WARNING AGAIN?” A voice yelled from downstairs.

Virgil blushed and turned to the door. “WE’LL LEAVE IN A SECOND MOM.” He glanced at his friends, blushing, and gave them a death glare.

Roman elbowed Patton to stop giggling. He didn’t.

“Ok, darling, don’t stay up late! You’ve got school tomorrow!” Virgil’s mom shouted back.

“Wait. School?” Virgil said.

Logan checked his phone. “It appears to be Sunday again. Eccentric.”

Janus shrugged. “Weird magic doing weird shit.”

“I thought you knew what you were doing.” Roman said.

“I knew. Mostly. I improvised.” Janus said.

“Ok, normally I would care, but you need to get the fuck out of here.” Virgil said. “And figure out a way for Janus to exist now that he doesn’t have any legal documents.”

“Fuck you’re right.” Janus said. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me sleep here, will you?”

“No, we don’t have extra beds.” Virgil said.

“This was my room.” Janus pointed out. “So it would be an extra bed for you, not for me.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “I don’t care if it was your room, it’s mine now.”

“I’d invite you to my place, but my parents don’t like me having over friends they don’t know about…” Patton said.

“You might come to mine for the night.” Logan said. “I doubt my parents will mind.”

“You mean you doubt your parents will notice?” Janus said. “I’m not a particular fan of your parents.”

“Ok, could you please stop implying you’ve seen every aspect of our lifes?” Roman asked. “You’re creeping me out.”

“Let me think… nope.” Janus said. “Also, that guy? Out of all your options?”

Roman blushed, letting out a series of offended noises. “How dare you?!” Janus only laughed. “Stop it!”

“Ok, as much as I enjoy teasing Roman, Imma have to kick y’all out of here.” Virgil said. “I’ve got shit to process, and y’all ain’t helping.”

“I’ll take a look into getting Janus official documentation.” Patton said. “See ya guys.”

“See ya losers.” Remus said. “Don’t murder anyone with the new powers.”

Janus followed Logan home. As he had predicted, Logan’s parents didn’t even notice his presence. It was like being a ghost again. Only now he had to walk.

“I did not come back to life to do math homework.” Janus complained, looking at the equations in front of him.

“Well, too bad, this is what you get for making deals with demons.” Virgil said. “Math homework.”

“I hate you.” Janus said.

“No you don’t.” Patton said. “Now stop complaining and do your homework.”

“Or, in other words.” Remus said. “Suffer.”

“You’re all so dramatic, it’s just maths.” Logan said. “Maths are easy.”

“Shut up, math gay, you don’t count.” Roman said.

Janus groaned again, considering the option of just knocking himself out. That way he wouldn’t have to do homework.

#sanders sides #fanfic #oh boy there's a lot of tags #janus sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #blood #demons #weird magical shit with no actual reason behind it

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sylveondreams · 3 years

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now that i think about it i should actually pretend im writing bc ive been on a bit of a kick this past week (not that yall would notice... i am so bad at Finishing Things)(also i say A Bit Of cause i worked half the days and i get tired) so here’s a list of my current wips and their status. the sheer number of them is a red flag. i should probably do these more often to get me off my ass and pretend i’m a fic writer. ask me about them if you want! lol. in no particular order:

- fairy fic (currently untitled i had an inkling of an idea for the title but i FORGOT IT) - it’s got a start and i keep writing Scenes but since i changed the setting i need to rewrite one of them and i’m dreading making people Meet each other! gerard and mikey are fairies and have a frank who tags along with them and they’ve met ray who is unhappy with the direction of his life and he sorta falls in love

- vampire fic (currently untitled) - i’m having a bad time with this one i . am having a bad time with this one. i might just write out scenes i was excited about and post those but i didnt make a plot and that was a mistake. so it’s probably going to be abandoned with just those scenes ever seeing the light of day (metaphorically...) what is it? its about vampires. surprise!

- curse breaker fic (currently untitled) - this has a whole plot and i love it. i came up with it one morning while listening to maya the psychic. now i just have to write most of the thing... this one is going chronologically apparently! so there’s still a lot left to write. gerard is a curse breaker. ray has a really sticky curse. yep

- ‘so say goodbye to all my friends, i fell in love with her again’ - I JUST FINISHED THE PLOT OUTLINE this one is again, looking good plot wise. however i keep thinking about it and not actually writing it. first mistake. this is jennifer’s body fic! alternate movie ending! it’s a sequel to ‘darling, tonight could be a beautiful night to die’ but much longer

- rocky horror fic (currently untitled) - this one is actually looking like it will get posted at some point! wow! i’m at a Bump right now but i’ll get past it next time i’m not ace. yeah its pwp whaddya want. polyamory occurs.

- sequel to ‘a motel in the middle of fucking nowhere’ (currently untitled) - this one i think is going to get dumped... it’s been in my drafts for a year and i havent worked on it....

- ‘errare humanum est’ - this has literally been a wip for 5 years so dont expect it anytime soon! it’s dan and phil fanfiction cause i was into them the most 5 years ago when i started it. cyberpunk. very cool. has a plot but i dont have braincells xo

- secret 1 (currently untitled) - it’s going poorly but i want to finish it. again next time i’m not ace it’ll hopefully get picked up. ive been ace for at least 2 months though...

- secret 2 (currently untitled) - going better. still not so great. the main problem is that i actively don’t want to finish it. if i do finish it it will be published anonymously so i will simply not share it <3

- original work - i literally dont even have an outline but i keep daydreaming about their fucked up little town. i came up with the pov character’s name 2 days ago. i need to write an outline bc i still cant figure out who killed the group’s mentor who also doesnt have a name. im deeply in love with these characters and their world though i want to finish this SOMEDAY

#writing #mine

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h-sleepingirl · 4 years

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EEEHU + Scenes From A Hypnotic Skype Call 3/29/20

This is a writing about my weekend. This is a writing about EEEHU, and a writing about a Skype date. They are very different in tone, but inevitably interconnected. This is a writing I debated on doing -- on how to express it, and whether or not I should share it.This is a writing that starts very hard, but gets easier.

I was a part of two classes on Saturday. I thought that would be easy; I had been kicking myself for not submitting more and was very close to deciding to put on an unconference class.

It was not easy.

I didn't sleep well that night, and haven't been sleeping well in general. Since shifting my work, I felt like my sleep should be pretty stable, since I work on my own schedule now. But I've been staying up late and waking up early. It's a bad pattern, and it was the second day in a 5hr sleep cycle.

I was already drained, and I had a lot to juggle to get everything running smoothly Saturday morning. It was taxing and I was exhausted. I was snapping at stupid things, uncharacteristically. I kept saying, with forced glee, "It's just like a real con! I'm sleep deprived and stressed!"

But once we got started, the first class with MrDream went well, and I enjoyed it. The audience was incredibly generous towards both him and me. I was so pleased at how many people were getting information and how many people said that they loved my trance face, although I had to force down a little bit of juvenile bitterness that we couldn’t just monopolize the class with play and go as hard as we usually do. There were 140ish people in the class -- a lot. We did Q&A to wrap up, and then I had to run to do tech testing for the podcast.

What I couldn’t do was give MrDream a hug after the class. What I couldn’t do was walk down the hotel hallway to see him and decompress. What I couldn’t do was hang around and chat with attendees in the lobby and in the con spaces.

I felt that immensely, stinging, but I had to push it down, because I had more to do.

The podcast, despite some inevitable technical issues, went well enough. By that point, I was feeling incredibly drained, and hadn’t been able to eat more than some yogurt for the majority of the day because of feeling crappy from not sleeping. It went for 2 hours -- very long, and we had no breaks. I was on autopilot. I had a good time, but felt almost dissociated, far away from myself.

I turned off the meeting, and I was suddenly in my bed, alone, just with cc, waiting for the audio to save.

I could not go see MrDream. I could not go see my friends. I could not get a hug. I could not text someone to ask where the party was and then stay up until 4am doing hypnosis and talking bullshit.

I started crying -- not weeping, not choking out tears, but wailing, hard crying.

It was the build-up of nearly a month of not processing that life, right now, is different. I cannot see my loved ones. I cannot see my community. EEEHU was a monstrous effort by its organizers which I applaud, and am so dearly happy that so many people enjoyed it, but for me, it was a harsh reminder that it was not a con in the way that I needed, and that I will not get that in the foreseeable future.

And I can’t see MrDream.

Our 2-year dating anniversary was just over a week ago. We would have had a date, riled up from not seeing each other for a month, meeting near the vernal equinox, the change of seasons having become important to us. And then we would have seen each other at NEEHU, a week later.

Now I don’t know when I will see him again.

After keeping that fact so distant from myself, taking one day at a time, I was slapped in the face by it.

I cried. I cried so hard. I have not cried like that in months, maybe a year. It was the rawness of isolation, the feeling of tragedy, of separation.

After a few minutes of it, I stopped, because I didn’t want to dig myself into a hole I couldn’t get out of. I saw myself in a mirror, and saw the mascara running in streaks down my face -- an effect I’ve tried hard to achieve for kink and in scenes for my partners who enjoy tears.

I took out my phone and snapped a picture -- the picture I take for MrDream every day of myself when I feel particularly brainwashed. If this wasn’t such a clear sign of how brainwashed, how dependent, how addicted, how in love I am, then I don’t know what is.

He responded well.

I went to bed early, feeling like I had immensely screwed up in everything the entire day. Again I had trouble sleeping, but I was comforted by the knowledge that I would talk to MrDream on Skype, and woke up feeling still drained, but less raw.

Our call was, of course, what I needed.

It was not the kind of call where we dove headfirst into trance. We spent time decompressing and talking, the sort of relaxed conversation I’ve missed so much since not having long time together.

But when he shifted his tone, when I saw his eyes change so subtly, I felt it all, and I felt everything melt away, helpless to it.

This trance is so overwhelming, the lowness of his voice, the feather-light touch of it makes me feel as though this is so much more powerful than aggression, as though I am a fluid which yields so much more softly when given the most gentle pressure, and how weak I feel to that.

He talks about how I can feel myself melting into him and suddenly I feel it, I feel the way his body feels. How much he wants me. How much when even I think about him from far away, he feels it, unconsciously, the force of our connection, we can smell each other, we know the weight of each others’ bodies.

Sinking into him. Filled with him. Empty. Deep.

Going through vivid memories of us together, flashbacks to dates that I suddenly am able to access more effectively.

I weep in trance at how precious that is. I weep while aroused as he controls me, even as I feel myself totally slipping away. The tears stop quickly, leaving me with his control.

He is calling back to the podcast that I know he was there to listen to, using my words, using my ideas, the recognition that he is always paying attention.

When he snaps me up, I am a hypnotized wreck, I can’t talk. He has to snap me up again.

“My shoulders are doing the thing,” I say, smiling, finally. “My brain is doing the thing.”

Loosened, relaxed.

We talk about how much we miss each other. He future paces gently about what it will be like when we finally see each other. I cry a little bit again, and it’s the first time I’ve acknowledged this thing with tears in front of him.

We banter Erickson at each other -- our ultimate love language.

I’m amazed how quickly I fall away when his flirting shifts intent just slightly. I have been going deeper, I have been going away so much further and faster.

He turns me into a cow, all body, no brain, taking over everything. Dumb cow braincells making me all mouth, all pussy, all tits. Calling back to my fey memories, how holographic they are.

Flashback to his apartment and cumming on top of him.

“Feeling the way the light feels,” he says, and it triggers the exact memory of my thought, in his room, when he took something away from me permanently -- ‘I will never forget the way the light looks in this room at this moment.’

“And then fading away even from this much comprehension into the deepest trance.”

Just hypnosis, just mind control. The absolute feeling of that, the way it drugs me.

I am so close to nothing, he is draining me away… Again I have that sense that if he just pushes a little more, I would go, something would happen, I would be totally gone forever… Again, I flash back to another date, the solstice that I did not share, and how close I was…

“You’ve always been a dumb little girl, wanting this so badly…”

Another flashback…

And he wakes me up, and I just stare at him. He makes a whooshing sound.

“Boy, do I miss this,” he says, all low, so turned on. “Gonna shred you so bad.”

I say his name.

“I’m… somewhere,” I manage, softly.

“Me too,” he says.

I’m so completely focused on his face, so completely keyed into his expression, his eyes, just like I would be if we were together, just like I’ve been learning how to do over Skype after all this time.

“Are we just going to spend 15 minutes staring at each other now?” I whisper, locked onto him.

“If we were alone, do you think we would?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say quietly.

We fix on each other, silently, and it is just like we are.

He makes another whooshing sound, and it breaks, and we both laugh a little.

“Well,” he says, “that was two minutes.”

“As if a candle can tell that it’s melting.”

I become an object, melting itself, lit by him, finally no longer a person, finally even more easy to exist as a vessel for his control.

“As if you are a candle in the dark night, dripping wax into your hand, thinking about spells and magic…”

Flashback to Samhain, and the frustration.

“Who we are when we are alone, when we are together, even if there are people around, no matter where, we are always in this other world where magic is happening to us both. Knowing we are always connected, knowing we always have this thing, and no one can stop it.”

Flashback to DMDW.

Flashback to flashbacks of DMDW.

Weeping, again, in deep, deep trance, feeling the magic bubble in my body and bubble where the air meets my skin, just for this one moment, so long since I’ve felt it and never over distance like this -- the magic that I will always question, the magic that seems unquestionable when I feel it and then dreamlike, it fades...

He counts me up, and I feel a tightness, and before 5, I whisper his name and ask to stay here, at 4.

I have looked at the picture of myself ever so often. The enormous emotional outpouring feels more distant now, and more manageable, but I don’t ever want to forget how hard that day was for me. I don’t ever want to take things for granted ever again.

It makes me so happy that I was able to have meaningful conversations and input at EEEHU, and help people learn, and watch people having fun. I wish I could have been more present, but I know I was doing the right thing by being at home, and not “at the con."

The hypnosis community is so incredibly important to me. I dedicated my first book to it, and surely I will do the same with my next. I believe I was meant to be here. If I believed in destiny, which I do not, I would say that it has been my destiny since I was a tiny little girl, confused and barely conscious of myself.

All I have to say is this: Take care of yourselves. Stay strong, but know you will fail sometimes. Cry. Laugh. Keep in touch.

I will be here.

@hypnokinkwithmrdream

#my writing #eeehu #neehu2020 #hypnosis #hypnokink

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knoxhq · 4 years

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► ( rudy pankow & cis male ) according to the school’s records, knox drury is a 22-YEAR-OLD senior studying political science, and he lives over in moriarty. he is a gemini, so that must be why others describe him as dignified, humorous, cowardly and naive. when i see him, i’m reminded of walking into class an hour late with sunglasses on, the feeling of anticipation as you wait for a firework to fully blossom, the sound of party music leaking through the walls of a bathroom. ( gibby, 20, they/them, est. ) ◄

hello everyone !! so i won’t even lie to u guys, i am NERVOUS and it’s literally only bc this is the first group i’ve joined in so long like dfdhkjsfjad the last group i was in was almost a year ago but i ended up having to leave due to personal reasons and didn’t get to write so like !!! idk i’m excited !! anyways w that in mind, pls bARE with me bc i have like one (1) braincell and i forgot how to write intros. anyways enough of me rambling, lemme give you knox !!

also this is a bad intro pls dont judge me im trying 2 like. rewrite what i had b4 the storm took it out n like, i lost the braincell

basics.

full name: knox hale drury.

nicknames: drury.

age: twenty two.

gender and pronouns: cis male and he/him

sexual & romantic orientations: bisexual, biromantic, femme leaning.

major: political science.

housing: moriarty.

backstory.

triggers: implied bullying, police and incarceration ( dw i didn’t make him jj 2.0 ).

nobody gets to pick their beginnings. it’s something that people tell knox all the time, hell, it’s plastered in every stupid coming of age movie, book, film, everything he’s ever seen. you don’t pick who your born into, you don’t pick who you get to be. and to an extent, he does think that this is true but he can’t help but wonder if maybe, if people could pick, if they’d pick differently. because he knows he certainly would pick differently.

it’s not that he even came from a bad home - hell no, he had the most loving family ever. his mother was a saint, a warm sensation bubbling up in his chest when he thinks about her warm cookies or the way she tried to still tuck him in even as a teenager. his father had his flaws, we all do, but he was a good and honest man. hardworking, he showed knox what that stupid american dream is that everyone likes to preach about.

no, it had nothing to do with them but rather the overall opinion on him and his family. see, the drury’s weren’t well liked - they were seen as lowlives and as shady, the kind of people who you’d only go to if you wanted to get stabbed in the back. generations of drury’s fit this narrative but no, his father was determined to change that. and so was he, even if nobody around him seemed to want to give him a chance.

knox would go throughout school with this name attached to him like a dagger to his throat - whisperings in the hallway of, “oh, my mom said the drury boy might be steal things if you let him over,” and other random, rude remarks. of course, the people that get close to him know better - they see him for who he really is.

that person is knox. he’s a golden light, often more selfless than the rich pricks who run that small town. he’d give his jacket or umbrella to people even if they didn’t ask if it just so happened to be raining outside, and despite the fact that his family didn’t have a lot, he’d still go out of his way to try to give when he could.

he eventually graduated high school - one of the top people in his class due to his father’s encouragement, and after a lot of debate, settled on attending haddon university - miles away from that sweet, small little hometown he knew, but a fresh start where he didn’t have to work for anything. he could just go in being him, with nobody attaching a new narrative to him. it was what he wanted, what he dreamed of.

and he loved it. his first semester there was memorable as he found himself surrounded by new friends and people he even considered family. back home, however, things were slipping.

the drury family was never rich, ever by any means, but business was low. nobody wanted to go there, fearing that his father was just as shady as his grandfather. as things got worse, his father had to resort to other needs - stealing, lying about taxes, and doing everything he could to try to make it by.

it finally caught up to him when knox came home for spring break - red and blue lights flashing outside as loud noises went on throughout the house, until finally someone swung knox’s door open and briefly blinded him with a flashlight, demanding to know where his father was. by the time knox got a grasp on the situation, his father was being rushed off in the back of a cop car.

he plead guilty almost immediately and for the next few months, knox did school from home to stay with his mother. it was then that he switched his major from what had initially been just a vague, business degree to political science in hopes of going into law after getting that degree - a way of changing things, of helping people so they never got to that point.

for now though, he’s gone back to haddon’s campus where he study’s away and occasionally finds himself slipping and partying, glasses always covering his eyes as he slinks back class, getting almost nO sleep every night.

study.

so i need u to know right now... knox is baby, FDSHJDFSHAJK

like he’s not by any means like he’s kinda a gross dude like, absolutely randomly burps n is like lol oops n shit, very little manners, will grab clothes off of the floor to put them on kind of man BUT LIKE as a whole ?? he means very well FDSJFAHJ he’s very gentle and will sit there and admire flowers on a bush and then get mad if u pick one bc ur hurting it like. he’s baby.

he also is very loyal to the ppl he’s friends w tbh like. damn he will never leave ur side

that also makes him kinda... super, actually, naive. you see, while knox is incredibly loyal, he often finds himself ignoring signs of toxicity for the sake of preserving a friendship - he fights for people who won’t fight for him, he lets people back in too easily, he just. he sees the good in everyone, even if there isn’t any good.

regardless, he’s not easy to just... manipulate to an extent. while he’ll fall for you being innocent, you can’t ever try to make him think he’s something he’s not - he knows his intentions and he knows they’re usually pure and he’s not gonna fold for anyone if it comes down to him or them.

bt like again he’s baby

like i dont think he ever gets mad but damn when he does its probs scary as shit like bc he nEVER gets mad !!! hes like. a golden retriever ig

if u cannot tell im trying really hard not to make him too much like jj bc i realize that might be a big thing ppl do n i dont think jj is baby bt like. knox? knox is baby DSFHJKFDHKJ

he’s just. idk. he’s very protective and cares about his friends a lot and will walk you home even if you went to HIS place and like is always ready to give you a jacket if it’s raining and he’s just lowkey a big, kinda dumb at times, teddy bear and i think that’s valid tyvm

wanted connections.

friends. — please. knox will lOVE ur muses just let him be their friend tyvm plus he’s a bit of a social butterfly now and i think he’d honestly have a lot of friends.

best friend. — i’m gonna keep this to one muse bc idk i think it’d be really cute if knox got to have his own like, ride or die where they care abt him as much as he cares about them and they’re always there for each other and like !!! that’s cute !!! also found family trope bc i think that is.. again, kyoot, ty

frienemies. — so these are always like, super fun to plot out and i think there’s a lot to work w here... like give me ppl who are happy that knox is loyal and would defend them but would push knox to the side n not do the same for him... also friendships where knox fucked up ?? where knox, despite his goodness, couldn’t keep his mouth shut and revealed a secret to their friend group bc u see he can kinda be a gossip fsjfdaskj. idk there’s a lot u can do n i’d love to brainstorm!

enemies. — pls. like. we can brainstorm this too so i dont just ramble but pLEASE?? please.

flings. — honestly romantic ships are not the point of rps but romantic flings and stuff can be really fun to plot and i love getting soft about them so like ?? idk dude lets fling it up n have muses date for two weeks n then break up like thats swexi, dramatic, 10/10

exes. — i mean this is kind of like flings but i have an idea... give me an ex of knox’s who really was like. everything knox wanted. hell, the two had a really good relationship - they were in love and etc etc gushy details but they ended up breaking up bc they just. they weren’t meant to be! as sad as it is like it was as simple as that! and then the angst comes in after they break up bc god they still love each other so much but they just aren’t meant to be and they see them with other people and oh it just hurts but like, bonus points if they manage to become good friends even after this !! (sidenote, idk i wouldn’t want this to be a full ship tht gets back together bc idk i think there’s a bittersweetness in stuff like this n its just. like. its ok !!! idk !!! )

roommates. — and they were roomates- fdshjkfdsahjk

other things. — honestly these are half assed plots but i’m down for anything !!! i’m still fleshing out knox a lil too bc i really did make him on the spot so pls bare w me :)

#had:intro #bullying tw #police tw #arrest tw #incarceration tw #again i did nOT make him jj dont worry dfsahjfd #also this intro is bad pls do not look at me #alcohol mention

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sentfromwolves · 4 years

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oc prompt game . ( queen of the meadows. uselessness / mars & laurel )

< hoes b4 bros >

hwa: mom

starmom: son wuat the fuck its 4am

hwa: o fuck i forgot timezones again

hwa: wait

hwa: why r u up ! !!

hwa: MOM

hwa: go 2 SLEEP

starmom: no now im here and awake and alive enough whats up son

hwa: mom we need an intervention (go 2 sleep)

starmom: jesus christ

starmom: for who

hwa: mars said he wants 2 marry the dude from his plant class (seriously!! GO. TO. BED)

starmom: that class started literally 2 days ago

hwa: I KNO!!!!! (pls, mom, for the love of everyone around u and also me, get some sleep)

aspen groans and rolls over in his bed, peeling himself away from his sheets and staring groggily at his phone. it’s not unlike mars to get fleeting, would-be crushes on other green witches in his classes. usually he’ll ogle them for a day or two, wax poetic about their ass, and then move on. he’s a tall kid with a heart of goddamn gold, and wears every single emotion he ever owns on his sleeve. it’s caused trouble more than once, but generally he’s pretty good about loving, and realistic expectations, and knowing that you can’t marry a guy you met two days ago. frozen proved that much, if nothing else.

still, he cracks open the door to his room and sidles down the hall and peeks up the stairs. there’s no movement, but something clinks in the kitchen that connects to the living room, and he ambles in that direction, wondering what he’ll find. maybe yonghwa had also been texting cobalt, who is a habitual night owl. maybe cobalt is also in on this intervention thing too. after all, their witch bonds are stronger than most. when one of them feels something too strongly and doesn’t clamp down on it, often times the others will feel it too. and aspen knows that most of them have been feeling pretty ecstatic over the last few days, the stress mitigated by the unbridled adrenaline and raw energy of diving back into classes, into a sea of new faces and old as the new semester cracks open like an eggshell suspended above all of their heads.

what he finds isn’t cobalt hunched over the fridge with three popsicles sticking out of his mouth (a regular occurrence during summer). what he finds is mars draped over the living room couch holding his hand over his forehead dramatically, a spoon hanging from his fingers and a half-empty jar of gelato (his gelato, aspen realizes with a little bit of exasperation), looking like he’s ready to be painted by a young leonardo dicaprio.

“um,” aspen says, “you okay in there, buddy?”

“aspen,” mars says. “can you marry a guy you just met?”

goddamn it. they really do need an intervention.

“no, mars,” aspen says with all the patience of a man who just woke up at 4am because his witch family are being dumbasses. “you can’t marry someone you just met.”

“fuck,” mars says, and sits up. “okay, plan b.”

“plan b?”

“i’m gonna ask him on a date.” mars looks fiercely determined. so determined, in fact, that aspen breaks out into a laugh that threatens to wake cobalt up from his dead slumber upstairs.

“what?!” mars demands, his voice pitching high. “what’s so funny?”

“it’s just,” aspen says. “no, you know what? i’m not even going to say it. okay, so you’re gonna ask - “

“hot greenhouse man,” mars says dreamily.

“you’re gonna ask hot greenhouse man on a date,” aspen says. “cool. and how are you gonna do that?”

mars face drains of all color. because for all of his open-hearted adoration for people, his poetic compliments, his easily obtained sincerity, mars has never asked a person out before in his life. in the realm of dating, he’s as good as useless, and aspen’s gonna let him flounder a bit in the blind, desperate hope that he learns how to swim.

“i’m,” mars says, sputters, and says again, “i’m gonna figure that out. right. now.”

“cool,” aspen says, planning for the inevitability of mars chickening out by the time the sun has risen in the sky. “i’m going back to bed while you do that. wake me up when there’s breakfast being made.”

mars, in fact, wakes him up later on when breakfast is (rather poorly) made.

he also tells him that he knows hot greenhouse mans name courtesy of one of his rather nosy, gossipy friends.

his name is laurel. and aspen is worried he’s going to break mars heart.

***

aspen doesn’t have to worry for long.

the moment he meets laurel, he knows that this is as good as fate crashing into his living room floor and starting a forest fire. laurel has the fucking heart eyes of the century every time mars back is turned, and for all of their early floundering, he’s a good soul with a cute smile and (currently) light blue hair that fluffs up to minty green whenever he gets excited or happy.

however, there is one big problem. the biggest fucking problem in aspens world. something that keeps him up late at night, staring at his ceiling, asking the universe how two people can be so stupid that it’s almost funny for everyone involved except it really isn’t because how is he, the good samaritan stuck between a rock and two love-struck people so dumb about the feelings of the other that they don’t even know how to act, supposed to sleep soundly when he can’t knock the minute amount of sense into his best friends head to do the right thing?

the right thing, of course, being to ask one another on a date.

“three months,” yonghwa says on the phone with him one night. “aspie, it’s been three months and neither of them have asked each other out?”

“i know,” aspen moans, hitting his head against his desk, hands in the air. “i know! they’re both like, oh wow, look at this beautiful friend i made. and then mars waves him out of the house, turns around, and starts screaming because he’s so fucking in love! how can he not just - just ask him out? how is this hard?”

“listen,” yonghwa says, “i’ve seen one whole picture of them together and i don’t think i’ve ever seen someone look at mars the way laurel looks at mars. that guys whipped. and he’s not even gonna ask him out?”

“they’re dense, hwa,�� aspen bemoans, lifting his head. “dense as bricks. denser than bricks. it’s like the cauldron gave them all the good looks in the world and then was like, hey you know what? good looks? well then i guess you can’t have any braincells around each other!”

“could you,” yonghwa asks, “could you like, give them a nudge? a push? a kick in the ass? throw them off a cliff.”

“i’ve tried everything,” aspen says, and looks up at his computer screen. yonghwa is bent over, painting his toenails as he speaks, the glittery polish he’s using apparently magically scented with blackberries and vanilla. “i straight up said, now is your chance mars, go ask him out! and he just looked at me like this deer in headlights. what if he says no, he said. what kind of bullshit!”

“useless,” yonghwa says, blowing on his big toe. the enchanted blow dryer aspen had sent him for christmas dances around his head, drying out his recently dyed silver-purple hair. “i wish i was there. i would just do it for them.”

“i wish you were here too,” aspen says, breaking from his complaints to let his words flow with genuine fondness. “i’m excited for when i can finally have you back here for real. i miss you.”

“i miss you too, aspie,” yonghwa says, and smiles up at him through the camera. “it’s only a while longer. and then the whole family will be together.”

“not quite,” aspen grumbles. “laurel should be part of this family. hell, he spends enough time over here that he should be on my chore wheel.”

“ah yes, the chore wheel,” yonghwa says sagely. “you should just add him. maybe they’ll finally get the hint.”

“no,” aspen says. “they’re both fools in love. i really don’t know what to do.”

yonghwa tilts his head thoughtfully.

“maybe,” he says, “they just need to suffer a bit more, and then they’ll figure it all out.”

“maybe,” aspen replies, but he really doesn’t think so, but he pulls all of his blind hope and shoves it into that one, tiny word.

***

one month later, aspen snaps.

it starts on a friday afternoon, when he hears the door bang open and closed, and a wail reaches his room where he’s trying desperately to finish a lit essay while talking with emerson about latin translations and books that he wants to set on fire.

“i gotta go,” aspen says, glancing behind him at his door.

“gotcha,” emerson, “wanna come over and dramatically recite shakespeare with me while i pretend to care about grading these papers?”

“please,” aspen says, “i think i’ll need it.”

“cocoa or tequila?” emerson asks knowingly. “or do you want some sort of bliss tonic? I think we have some leftover from the party.”

“cocoa,” aspen says, “i love you. talk to you later.”

“doors unlocked!” emerson calls after him before he ends the call.

in another life, aspen thinks, he’d ask emerson out on a date. but harper is madly in love with him, and aspen is madly in love with harper, and so he stays out of both of their paths, knowing better than to get in the way of something that could be wonderful for the two of them.

sighing, aspen closes his laptop, stands up, and prepares for the worst.

mars is on the kitchen floor.

aspen fights two spontaneously grown thorn bushes, a snapper plant that descended from the ceiling to eat his hair, and three rows of angry, bushy cactuses that have since surrounded the open dishwasher and its surroundings with all the grace he can muster.

mars doesn’t so much as move or bat an eyelash at him when he comes to stand at his head. he’s face down on the granite, arms splayed out in front of him, and he looks, quite frankly, like he’s just keeled over and died in the middle of the day.

aspen does the nice thing.

he kicks him (gently) in the head.

mars lets out a pathetic cry.

“what happened,” aspen says, and it’s not a question.

the only other time mars poisoned the whole kitchen with toxic plants, it had been because someone had called him a giraffe and he’d cried all the way home. he’d been seventeen at the time.

mars rolls over onto his back and stars up at aspen. he’s on the verge of tears.

“oh my god,” aspen says, crouching down. “baby.”

“aspen,” mars croaks. “i’m a dumb person.”

“oh my god,” aspen says. “no you’re not, mars. tell me what’s wrong.”

he sits down gingerly, ignoring the cactuses around them, and mars scoots up a little so he’s laying with his head in aspens lap as aspen brushes his fingers through the boys hair.

“i really like laurel,” mars says, like it hasn’t been painfully obvious for four months now. “like, really, really like him.”

“yes,” aspen says. “i know.”

“cool,” mars replies, staring glassy eyed at the ceiling. “so today, i go into the greenhouse early because like, i’m planning to give him this cactus i found down at the gardens to laurel, because the needles don’t hurt at all and make little bubbles when you tickle the head.”

“okay,” aspen says.

“and there he is,” mars says, lifting his hands to the ceiling like he’s looking at heaven and laurel is up there somewhere too. “beautiful. haloed in light. perfect. the most amazing guy i’ve ever been blessed with. and he’s getting kissed by some other dude.”

okay, that’s a hold up. laurel? kissing another man?

“are you sure?” aspen asks.

laurel has been madly in love with mars for months. this story doesn’t make any sense.

“yes!” mars exclaims. “like, the cutest fucking gesture and he’s just sitting there, laughing as it happens! and i’m sitting there with this stupid cactus like, oh! that’s why he never asked me out. he must’ve been like, dating this hot dude this entire time and was just taking - what, i don’t know - pity on me or something! i look stupid.”

mars actually wails at this.

“i’m a dumbass!”

aspen frowns.

“no,” he says, leaning down to kiss mars forward. “you’re absolutely not a stupid person, mars. you’re the best, sweetest, greatest person i know. and if that’s really true - which i’m not saying it is - then laurel is missing out on something incredible.”

“but i don’t want him to miss out,” mars says, and sobs.

“i know,” aspen says, immediately planning either murder or the biggest fucking Mom Talk he’s ever going to have in his life. “i know, baby. you’re the best thing i’ve ever had in my life. and you deserve the stars.”

***

the stars hiss at aspen the moment laurel makes it into their front garden, telling him hurriedly that the boy he’s been waiting on to arrive is finally here.

aspen checks his watch.

cool, three hours since mars breakdown.

enough time for aspen to school all of his emotions into neat little lines and prepare for whatever the fuck is about to happen downstairs. as requested, cobalt is diligently distracting mars upstairs with video games and an ongoing call with yonghwa, who’s hollering memes at them while dancing to the ponytail song aggressively.

aspen goes downstairs and opens the door.

laurel is standing on his porch looking wildly out of breath.

“is mars here?” he asks, all of his words blending together into one massive slur.

“amazing,” aspen replies. “you’re both useless.”

laurel freezes.

“um,” he says, very eloquently. which is great, because aspen doesn’t have time for him to go on any sort of ramble that dodges the point. aspen’s nonexistent love life might be a hot garbage fire that he’s given up controlling, but he’s not about to let mars go down in flames over what he hopes and prays is a misunderstanding of cosmic proportions.

“no,” aspen says, shutting laurel’s mouth with an audible click. “nope. don’t talk, laurel. it’s my turn. i get to talk now. mars is upstairs, by the way. my kitchen is a nightmare. and if this conversation doesn’t go right, i’m going to make you clean every single cactus out of my dishwasher before you leave.”

“what?” laurel asks, dumbly.

“listen to me very carefully,” aspen says. “mars likes you a lot. he might even love you, and for mars, that’s a monumental thing. he’s wanted to ask you out since he met you. he’s so far down the rabbit hole of affection for you that i don’t think his heart has room for literally anything else.”

laurel sits there gaping like a fish out of water. jesus christ - had he really been so dumb?

aspen tries to boil down every strand of exasperation in him.

“today,” he says, “even after months of friendship, you kissed someone else in front of him.”

“i - what?”

“don’t ‘i - what’ me, mars was crying on my kitchen floor for two hours because of this,” aspen says. “if you really didn’t notice that he was madly interested in you and you were just wanting to be friends, then i might be able to forgive that when mars recovers. and that’s a big if. but if you were leading him on, thinking it was cute to have him fawn over you while stringing him along, i will personally - “

“waitwaitwait,” laurel says, loudly, holding out his hands. “wait, aspen! please!”

aspen frowns at him, in what he hopes is his best scolding mom stare.

“you have five seconds,” he says, “go.”

“this is a whole, big, wild misunderstanding!” laurel says, so loudly his voice has to carry out through the whole house. “the guy that kissed me was one of my old frat brothers! he was just coming by to say hi! he’s got a girlfriend and a boyfriend for godsake! it was just - just platonic. i don’t feel that way about anyone but mars! i’ve wanted to marry that guy for months now. literally marry him! i’ll even get down on one knee - “

laurel is jumping down onto the ground before aspen can stop him, even as he rushes forward, trying to stop this mess of a man from also destroying his house with blooms of crazy fucking plants. he can already see the dirt around his front yard sifting, little tendrils of greenery poking on through.

“laurel!” aspen says, loudly. “laurel, please - “

“i love him!” laurel shouts. “please, aspen. i really love him! can i see him? i can explain it all, really, i just want to see - “

“laurel?”

aspen turns around.

mars is standing in the hallway, illuminated in the soft gold of the fairy lights floating around the ceiling, swimming like snakes above their heads.

he looks stunned and a little bit awkward, his massive cardigan slouching off of his shoulders, hair a mess, eyes tear-streaked and nose rudolf-red.

“mars,” laurel says, from his kneeling position in front of aspen. “mars.”

he stands up and aspen moves out of the way. laurel crosses the hall to mars and without hesitation, takes mars face in his hands and kisses him hard on the mouth.

aspen feels like he’s part of a korean drama. he thinks he must be at the season finale, because how could anything in his life get more dramatic than this?

“oh my god,” cobalt says from the stairway, holding his phone up and videotaping the entire thing. “they really are useless in love.”

aspen knows he should say something, because the whole hallway is filling with cherry blossoms and red roses, massive lilies and blooming sunflowers. but for a moment, he just sits down hard, and agrees with cobalt’s assessment. mars and laurel are useless in love.

but their love is more gorgeous and brilliant than anything aspen has ever seen before.

and how could something so beautiful be useless at all?

come ask my flower prompt questions here!

#long post #my writing #writeblr #wip: saturday sang your name #oc: mars #oc: laurel #oc prompt game #please validate me i loved writing this #i love my boys #come ask me things!

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