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pet-genius · 3 years

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A complex and many-layered thing

But Harry’s anger at Snape continued to pound through his veins like venom. Let go of his anger? He could as easily detach his legs. . . .

This is the first Occlumency lesson. Harry is right, of course. Feelings don’t go away because you want them to. To let go of them when they’ve not been addressed or validated can be as hard as detaching a leg. And yet, it’s what Dumbledore asked Snape to do, and it’s what Snape had to do to survive the first war as Dumbledore’s spy. You have to ask yourself… how?

Trapped animals chew off their own legs to escape. It’s a sacrifice they make to survive.

If there’s one thing in a fic that turns me off it, it’s the idea that Occlumency shields are a thing, that Severus was so gifted at it because he’s got some power like Second Sight or being a metamorphagus. I always preferred to think of Occlumency and Legilimency as skills that can be learned, even if some have more aptitude for it than others.

Severus entered Hogwarts with the kind of life experience that primed him for developing these skills, and left it with even more. Occlumency is magical dissociation, a post-traumatic coping mechanism, and Severus has C/PTSD. More under the cut; tw: just general angst.

To survive, he would have had to develop a knack for telling how explosive and unpredictable people feel. Over his life, he faced at least two egregious examples of what Pete Walker, author of “Complex PTSD” calls “the Charming Bully”.

Especially devolved fight types can become sociopathic. Sociopathy can range along a continuum that stretches from corrupt politician to vicious criminal. A particularly nasty sociopath, who I call the charming bully, probably falls somewhere around the middle of this continuum. The charming bully behaves in a friendly manner some of the time. He can even occasionally listen and be helpful in small amounts, but he still uses his contempt to overpower and control others. This type typically relies on scapegoats for the dumping of his vitriol. These unfortunate scapegoats are typically weaker than him. […] He generally spares his favorites from this behavior, unless they get out of line. If the charming bully is charismatic enough, those close to him will often fail to register the unconscionable meanness of his scapegoating. The bully’s favorites often slip into denial, relieved that they are not the target. Especially charismatic bullies may even be admired and seen as great.

These would be James Potter and Tom Riddle, who are distantly related, I might add. Harry inherited the tendency to default to the fight response, but since he grew up the scapegoat and not the golden child, he never becomes quite as appalling, and after all, a fight response is normal when they are after you. Even so, Harry, who has both James and Voldemort inside him, triggers Severus to no end. It’s not a coincidence that the memories Harry sees when he is with him are largely horrible, and vice versa. There had to be happy or at least neutral or even boring moments, but these two detest each other, and they know they detest each other. Negative emotions and associated memories are so close to the surface they can’t be contained. This is the purpose of the Pensieve in this context - to contain the emotions. Since Severus knew what was in there when he pulled Harry out, my theory is that you don’t suddenly forget the memories you placed there, but rather you make them less fraught with emotions.

“Get up!” said Snape sharply. “Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!”

Harry stood up again, his heart thumping wildly as though he had really just seen Cedric dead in the graveyard. Snape looked paler than usual, and angrier, though not nearly as angry as Harry was. “I — am — making — an — effort,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I told you to empty yourself of emotion!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m finding that hard at the moment,” Harry snarled.

“Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!” said Snape savagely. “Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!”

A lot to unpack here.

“Memories you fear,” “weapons”, “easy prey”.

Fearing your own memories, viewing your own lived experiences as weapons to be used against you, being easy prey… Severus could not be speaking louder of himself here. He is the one whose mind had been penetrated with absurd ease, he is the one who handed weapons to Voldemort, and he is the one who had to do the psychological equivalent of detaching his own leg – again and again – to survive.

I’ll argue that Severus developed a fawn response and a flight response, as fighting had never really worked out for him if it was possible at all. He had at least two more people I’d describe as bullies in his life, Tobias and Lucius.

Again from Pete Walker:

These [fawn] response patterns are so deeply set in the psyche, that as adults, many codependents automatically respond to threat like dogs, symbolically rolling over on their backs, wagging their tails, hoping for a little mercy and an occasional scrap. Webster’s second entry for fawn is: “to show friendliness by licking hands, wagging its tail, etc.: said of a dog.” I find it tragic that some codependents are as loyal as dogs to even the worst “masters”.

Remember what Sirius called him? Lucius’s lapdog. Bellatrix called him Dumbledore’s pet, Dumbledore said he dangles on Voldemort’s arm, the narrative compares Snape to a rabbit in SWM and Harry compares the Half Blood Prince to a beloved pet who had gone feral (yes, this does mean a lot to me on a personal level, yes my username is not a coincidence).

His unconscious fawn response might have been his undoing, drawn as he was to figures like Lucius and Voldemort. As an adult, I think he utilized the skills he had developed to survive in order to stitch these people up, and involuntary dissociation and fawning became Occlumency, which to me, is his signature magic. Harry needed only to banish Voldemort from his mind; Severus could not settle for this. He had to give Voldemort something, and knowing how to fawn meant knowing what to give him and how to draw himself in such a light that Voldemort would believe it. We see how he wanted to be seen by the Death Eaters: a self-serving coward who sought to hide behind Dumbledore’s apron, playing his pet. But that’s Pettigrew, not Snape. Imagine the self-immolation, the self-violation, it must have taken to convince everyone that you’re an ersatz Wormtail! Snape is a man and a prince, and the text recognizes this as Harry calls him, in the end, Dumbledore’s man, the bravest man, and as that chapter is called “The Prince’s Tale”. Voldemort thought Snape was nothing more than a “good and faithful servant,” and that his last words were “My Lord”.

But Severus had an unequaled gift for Occlumency, specifically against Voldemort, because Voldemort could not legilimens what he couldn’t feel; and he couldn’t feel love, grief, guilt, and remorse. This was Severus’s secret weapon, which would not have worked against Harry - who can feel these things, and who is also Lily’s son. I can prove it. The first time Harry gets the hang of Occlumency is after Dobby dies:

His scar burned, but he was master of the pain; he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate Harry now, while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out . . . though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love. . . .

Harry learned to dissociate, though fortunately in a healthier way than many of us ever get to.

Of course, Snape was a good and faithful servant… to Dumbledore, which brings us to the flight response. The chapter wherein he escapes after killing Dumbledore is called “Flight of the Prince”. He should be fighting, he had just proven that he can cast a killing curse, and yet he flees. He can literally fly, in fact: He, Lily, and Voldemort are the only ones we see pulling this off.

As a child, we see this too: He copes with his home situation by reminding himself “it won’t be long and I’ll be gone.” He is thrilled when he imagines Hogwarts, his escape; he follows Lily out of the carriage instead of confronting James and Sirius head-on (which might have saved them all a lot of pain eventually). But this doesn’t work out, we see that in terrifying detail. The next attempt at an escape is joining the Death Eaters, but this too doesn’t work out.

He can’t flee anymore.

“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it —”

“Then flee,” said Snape’s voice curtly. “Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Shortly thereafter:

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .”

“I am,” said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

He was ready, and he was prepared. He didn’t fly; he walked toward what might well have been his end with open eyes, armed only with the strength of his mind. Before Voldemort killed him, he looked pale, again, and terrified.

“I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore.”

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape’s face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

I ask myself if this was the moment he realized he had been betrayed, that by giving Dumbledore a painless death he had secured his own. Maybe he wasn’t pale because he was scared; maybe he was pale because he was shocked. He was at his absolute limit, Occluding with all his might when he could have easily saved himself. The dam is about to break. All the memories he feared, all the weapons, the entire content of his heart is about to spill through - literally.

He fawned for Voldemort, the worst of all possible masters, but in the end, he was Voldemort’s undoing. All the ways in which he was weak and powerless against Tobias, James, Lucius, et al., proved to be part of goodness and source of his power. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that Snape is so loved. I’ve never actually seen such love for any other fictional character. He represents a kind of courage that many of us need to get by, lest we simply become evil or give the fuck up (“I wish I was dead”). A kind of courage rarely celebrated. The more time I’ve spent in the fandom in general and in the Snapedom in particular, the more I am convinced of this.

#pro severus snape #snapedom #snape meta #snape love #severus snape #psychology #complex ptsd #I'm not qualified to diagnose anyone #But like #come on #sometimes JKR writes brilliance she doesn't seem to comprehend #snape #occlumency #harry potter

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darthmaulification · 3 years

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boba fett NSFW alphabet

A/N: boba fett is just... *chef’s kiss* 😍😍 i want to hug and smooch him on the lips and have him absolutely rail me 🥴🥴

this is for post-sarlacc/mandalorian boba fett as well, and does primarily assume fem/afab!reader.

nsfw under the cut!!😘

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

Boba’s positively soft after sex. He takes care of you so so well, especially after particularly rough rounds, and will make sure you’re safe, warm, and comfortable. This usually means he cleans you up, either by running you a bath or wiping you down with a damp cloth, and massaging away any aches you may have obtained. Boba is also uncharacteristically talkative while he tends to your needs, and it’s all praise like “You did so well, cyare” and “Such a good girl” alongside clarifying questions like “Do you feel sore anywhere?” and “Would you like me to run a bath?”. Boba makes sure you are completely taken care of.

B = body part (what’s their favorite body part of their partner? what about themselves?)

Boba doesn’t have a favorite part of your body, because he’s easily able to mark it all up and he’s never been one to pick favorites, but I suppose he’s like any other man and does enjoy your... feminine curves, so to speak. He particularly likes your hips, ass, and thighs, if not only that he’s able to spank them, nibble on them, grab onto them while he’s fucking you silly... it’s also because he loves watching them sway as you walk. There’s a certain perfect sashay mixed with a slight jerk in your gait that Boba loves to watch, how your thighs ripple slightly with each step, how your ass does the same, and how those perfect hips of your rock side to side... Yeah... there’s something perfect there.

If Boba had to chose a favorite part of his body and not say “The whole damn thing!”, he’d pick his arms and hands. They’re what he does everything with, how he handles his blasters and jet pack, how he handles fighting, how he handles you, etc etc. Boba’s hands and arms are where every skill of his is practiced and carried out, the limbs that can do anything. He finds a slight pride in that. Also, Boba knows you also enjoy his arms, so he finds it very amusing to flex for you every once in a while to get you blushing.

C = cum (basically anything to do with cum)

Boba Fett cums a lot, and he makes sure all of it ends up inside you. He finds it incredibly satisfying to dominate you in such a way, being able to paint your insides white, to claim you and your pussy as his. Boba also has a slight breeding kink, so he makes sure none of his cum goes to waste, sometimes pushing it back into you when it leaks out.

D = dirty secret (what’s their dirty secret?)

Boba will probably never tell you this explicitly, most likely you will pick up on it with every breadcrumb he leaves, but Boba loves you so fucking much. He has so so much love for you it makes his heart bleed with the intensity. He’s never loved someone with all his being before, never cared this hard in his life. Boba may not even be able admit it to himself, love is a word that has brought him so much pain. But he loves you, he loves you, he loves you... Cyare, mesh’la, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum...

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced. Boba has had many many sexual partners over his lifetime, so he knows exactly what he’s doing and his way around your body. Having the “tall, dark, and handsome” allure as a bounty hunter really helped him with this.

F = favorite position (what’s their favorite position?)

Boba has a couple positions he usually defaults to, all of which he enjoys. They are:

Leap frog. This is a close one for being his favorite position. Boba likes to keep you beneath him, for control, and when your flat on your chest, arms either trapped under your body or above your head, hips hitched up just enough to allow him access... well, that gives him all the control he could dream of. When you’re like this, Boba fucks the life out of you, draping over you to kiss your back and neck all while one hand is nestled around the front to toy with your clit. He also loves how desperate for more friction you get with this one.

Doggy style. He likes the control this position gives him, how he’s able to command you into it, set the pace, decide when you are allowed to come undone. Boba also likes being able to grab your hips and knead your ass as he rails you, leaving fingerprint bruises on your skin. He also likes spanking you and pulling at your hair. He also keeps a couple firm, large fingers against your clit, rolling that sensitive bud between them.

Missionary. Boba enjoys basic missionary because A) you’re smooshed under him, B) it gives him the ability to kiss you as he pounds into you, and C) he’s able to be versatile. He also likes how personal and intimate missionary is, being able to see your face and watch your facial expressions as you orgasm for him again and again. Boba also gives your breasts a lot of attention when he’s got this perfect access to them, kneading them and pinching and tweaking your nipples.

G = goofy (are they the more serious type, or more humorous?)

Boba is 100% about making sure that you are receiving the pleasure you deserve. He is giving you everything he’s got during sex, so there’s no room for being silly. The most “goofiness” that he partakes in is lots of teasing and dirty talk, which isn’t all that goofy to begin with, just as serious and commanding as he is.

H = hair (how well-groomed are they?)

Boba is a functionalist, so he’s pretty well groomed below the belt. Of course, of what he has left to groom. The Sarlacc pit’s acid wiped out pretty much all his body hair, including his happy trail and about a quarter of his tuft (Boba genuinely thanks the Maker every day his penis remained untouched), so there’s only a little bit to take care of.

I = intimacy ( how intimate are they during sex?)

Boba is intimate in a very domineering, overpowering way. He gets you so close to the edge so quickly, so torturously that there’s nothing but this overwhelming closeness that occurs, this performance of worship. His hands and mouth on your body, his voice in your ear, it’s like you become one, when he’s steady above you, your bodies interlocked, fingers laced in your hair, tugging gently. It will feel like Boba pushes you to the limit, that the intensity is like a thousands stars burning over you at once. Boba’s presence is like that.

J = jack off (do they masturbate?)

When he was a younger, more spry, more sexually unruly man? Yes. Everyday, probably. Now when he’s older, has more self-control, and you by his side? Not so much. Rarely ever, to be honest. the only times he finds himself with the itch to yank it would be if he’s been gone from you for a while or if it’s a mutual masturbation type of situation.

K = kinks (any kinks?)

Boba is such a fucking sexual deviant and kinky bastard it’s no wonder he decided to be a bounty hunter, because only a bounty hunter would act up the way Boba does. He has quite a few kinks, but here are the main ones:

Daddy kink. Boba is the physical manifestation of the “Your daughter calls me daddy too” meme. He derives such a smug pleasure from you calling him Daddy. He also likes it for the position of authority it is.

Dom/sub dynamic. Boba is a bonifide top/dom and nothing is changing that. He’s the one in charge, who makes the rules and breaks the rules, and he isn’t relinquishing that anytime soon. Boba thrives in that position of power, and loves having you a submissive, moaning mess beneath him. If you are naturally a quieter, maybe introverted person, Boba would go near rabid because that softness is just what he’s looking for. If you’re dominate like him, he sees that as a challenge... Prepare to be dominated.

Praise/degradation kink. He really just loves to hear himself talk, huh? This man is constant, non-stop dirty talk during sex and he’ll be saying downright delicious things to you. He’ll be giving you all the pet names in the book, “cyar’ika”, “pretty girl”, “mesh’la”, etc etc. Every time you react the way he wants to, or you pleasantly surprise him with your response to him, you’ll be rewarded with utmost praise. He’ll coo to you about how well you’re taking his cock, how perfect your body is, how good your wet pussy tastes... everything. Boba also likes balancing the good with the bad, so he may use a bit of degradation, usually in the form of backhanded compliments or ruder nicknames. However, if you don’t like degradation, he will simply avoid it, easy said and done.

Innocence kink/virgin kink. Woo hoo boy... Boba loves if you are or act all shy and bashful with him in the bedroom. It really goes hand in hand with his dominate role, you being a submissive, blushing mess while he’s all big and intimidating (not in a fear way). He likes being the one to corrupt you by marking your body all up with love bites and small bruises, making your tight pussy his as he rails you. If you tell him you’re a virgin the first time y’all have sex, Boba might go feral.

Breeding kink. Before meeting you, Boba didn’t really have this kink. His younger years were spent angry and vengeful and full of sex that was meaningless at the end of the day. But after the Sarlacc, and snagging the Palace from Bib Fortuna, and meeting you, Boba kinda starts getting an inkling of wanting a little something extra... or a little someone extra. He starts genuinely contemplating and liking the idea of having kids, and it partly manifests in his dirty talk where he’ll say stuff like “Gonna let me fill you up?” and “Got to keep your pussy full. Womb too”. Boba likes the idea of you mothering his children.

L = location (favorite place to “do the do”?)

Boba’s favorite place to positively ravish you is anywhere that he has full control over the safety of the room. So this usually applies to the bedroom, where Boba has set up so many security measures that no one is getting in, but also to more public places. When Boba was younger, he was much much more into exhibitionism and would’ve been down to fuck like... in front of a crowd, to be honest. But he’s older now (and wiser too) so he values the concepts of safety and security, much unlike his past self. So while Boba may still fuck you in an alley or in the throne room, he makes sure that literally no one is around. He does this less out of the potential embarrassment, but more so because he knows he has a huge target on his back.

M = motivation (what gets them turned on?)

If you start being a little tease, or show him a bit of sass and being overall more mouthy, his pants are definitely getting a bit tight around the crotch region. Boba loves it when and if you try to talk back to him or if you get all snarky.

On the opposite hand, Boba also loves it if you’re easily flustered, all pink-faced and bashful at something he says. He really finds a smidgen of shyness to be really, really enticing. It strokes his massive Dom Complex.

N = NO (what’s their turn offs?)

Boba has a few hard turn offs that he would never do, full stop. They’re age play/regression, consensual non-con/rape play, and extreme sadism. While he does have a daddy kink, it’s really only for the name and position of power, not the age factor (so he’s not into DDLG). And despite Boba being a big ol’ bastard, it’s never sat with him well to play the role of “rapist” during sex. Also, Boba likes a bit of punishment and being rough ‘n tough with you, but he has a limit of how far he’d go. He never wants to actually hurt hurt you. Even if you’re a full masochist and you asked him to do it, said it’s okay and everything, Boba would still never harm you and would probably get fully turned off.

O = oral (do they have a preference in giving/receiving?)

He doesn’t really have a preference, because he’ll go down on you and if you give him head, he’s all game, but fuck, does Boba like going down on you. He gets an immense amount of satisfaction from making you cum using only his mouth, having you completely undone and writhing just from his face between your legs. He also really loves your pussy??? Like it’s so perfect to him, the aroma, the taste, the slick, wet feel, the way it clenches and quivers around his tongue, etc etc??? Boba loves it.

P = pace & PDA (are they soft, sensual, rough, or feral? are they open to displaying the relationship?)

Boba fucks hard and rough and slow and with a purpose. He wants to give you (and himself, of course) as much pleasure as possible for as long as possible. He paces himself very well, the master of self-control he is, and he will have you orgasming and edging for ages before he finally dicks you down. Boba finds great pleasure in having you cockdumb by the end of it.

Sometimes though, Boba gives you that same purpose in a slightly different way. he still fucks you good, but he’ll be a bit more sensual, a bit more gentle. Often, it’s because you ask to love make, but occasionally it’s because Boba really really wants you to know just how much you mean to him.

PDA is very very lowkey and subtle with Boba. This is mostly because he and you know that if your relationship, especially with how deep it is, were to become too much of common knowledge, someone is bound to use it against you, specifically to get back at Boba. So, Boba doesn’t often even have a hand on you in public, or show any outward affection. What he does do though, is stand close to you or have you close at his side. He keeps you in his line of sight always, and it’s become a sort of dance you to have. Boba and you orbit each other in a way, never growing too distant nor too close. Though, its perfect for you.

However, if someone starts making moves on you, Boba may physically step in, cutting whoever it is off from you. He’ll make sure they know that your off limits, untouchable. Usually, this also brings the gentlest yet firmest of hands to your lower back.

Q = quickies (what’s their opinion on quickies?)

Yes. Just yes. Boba loves quickies. He might be addicted to them. It’s a mix of he is always Ready To Fuck and he just finds you so damn desirable and beautiful. Though he will always prefer having you for a few hours opposed to a rushed ten minutes. But don’t think he does any less of a good job.

R = risks (are they okay with experimenting? do they take risks?)

In his younger years, this would’ve been a hard, enthusiastic “yes”, but nowadays Boba won’t really actively experiment. If you have something you want to try, odds are he’ll go along with it, but he won’t ever bring up something new. He’s very content with his abilities, that are admittedly very very successful.

S = stamina (how many rounds can they last?)

Boba can last a long while, considering his age. He’s got years of experience and a whole lot of self-control under his belt, so he’s able to work you for at least a couple hours before he starts feeling it. He’ll having you cumming over and over again, working you with his mouth, hands, and cock. Boba also is very good at pacing and has this uncanny ability to restrain himself in a way that the pleasure for him doesn’t build up unless he allows it to. So don’t expect him to cum, even in light of your best efforts.

T = toys (do they own/use any toys?)

Again, used to when he was younger. But now he doesn’t because he knows he’s too damn good with his hands, mouth, and...y’know... to need any toys. Though, if you have any toys or you ask him to try one out, he’ll humor you and oblige. But he’ll tease you about it a ton, saying stuff like “Ah, but don’t you want my mouth instead?” or “I bet you’re missing my cock”. Boba will always make sure that you know he’s better than any toy that you’d introduce.

U = unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Boba is such a smug shit. He teases so much and is so unfair that it borders on being cruel and he enjoys it, the fucking guy. If you’re into that, he’ll get you begging and in tears before he lets up and gives you what you want (read: need). But if you’re not into it, he has a base, “normal” level of tease, but he’d never take it too far. If he does push it too far, he’ll make it up to you however you want him to, because the last thing he wants is you too upset because of him.

V = volume (how loud or quiet are they during sex?)

Boba spends most his time during sex teasing the life out of you so he is vocal in that respect. He talks the talk, saying stuff like “You take my cock so well, little girl” and “Use your words, mesh’la, tell me what you want”. His constant dirty talk is sometimes broken up by growls from the back of his throat, heavy grunting and groaning, and the occasional low moan— all from the slick, hot heat that is you.

W = wildcard (what’s a random headcanon?)

Boba struggles with pain sometimes, the aches left behind from the wounds he received from the Sarlacc pit. It usually flares up if he’s stressed or been overworking himself, making his skin feel tight, like there’s a constant pull in all directions. He also gets pain from age and overuse of his joints. Often, it’s only his knees and ankles that act up, but sometimes he gets it in his back and wrists. And though he never says anything about it, and never asks you for anything, he really does appreciate it if you take the time to give him a massage or run him a warm bath, despite how grumpy he gets when you do.

X = x-ray & x-tra (what’s underneath those clothes? any more random headcanons?”)

Boba is built like a fucking tank, an absolute hunk of a man. From a life of training, bounty hunting, fighting, etc etc, Boba has a body type akin to a powerlifter, he never built muscle for show, only functionality. He’s all broad-shoulders, stocky, and thick muscles. Unlike the beauty standard, Boba doesn’t have the ever-desired six pack abs or pinched waist, he has a hefty barrel torso and a slight, squishy tummy. His arms and legs are equally, if not more, strong and muscled like the rest of him, and Boba is very easily able to lift you up whenever.

Now, of course, Boba is very heavily scarred. He has scars of varying sizes, shapes, and ages, some being that shiny white while others are still pinkish, all over his body from bounty hunting and getting into tiffs. The Sarlacc also completed ravaged his bronze skin, leaving this impressive and tight web of scar tissue near everywhere on his body, though it’s most heavily condensed on his left side.

NOW HIS PENIS. Boba has a Nice Cock on him, that’s for damn sure. He’s not exceedingly big, but he is girthy. And weighty. Boba’s penis is 6 inches (15.25 cm) in length and just under 2.5 inches (6.35 cm) in diameter. He is uncut, and a prominent vein runs on the bell end of his cock. His balls are also very impressive and are fairly heavy.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. Astronomical. Boba suffers from Horny Derangement Syndrome™. You touch his shoulder as you pass by him? His cock is hard. You give him a kiss out of the blue “just because”? He’s dry humping against you. You give him a cheeky smile and flirt with him? His pants are off. Boba is in a constant state of Wanting To Fuck. But, of course, if your sex drive doesn’t match his or if you’re not in the mood, he literally will not care or hold it against you.

Z = zzzz (how fast do they fall asleep after?)

Boba does not fall asleep until you have. Period. Full stop. It’s a bit of a machismo thing of his (he sees himself as the “protector” in the relationship) but it’s also because he just genuinely likes watching you fall asleep. Boba likes when you get all sleepy and droopy, melting against him, feeling all your muscles relax as your body starts to slow down. It makes him feel strong, comfortable, and most of all, loved. You falling asleep next to him, the Boba Fett, is almost the biggest exercise of trust you can show him, and he loves it.

#star wars #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #star wars boba fett #post-sarlacc boba

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nightowlwriting · 3 years

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summary: fjord takes care of the mighty nein. you take care of fjord. (part 4/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of self-hatred, bullying, lack of self-confidence

note: idk why this one took me so long and, honestly, it was almost super nsfw lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Fjord is a man who appears to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You’re not so sure. You tend to hang back when the group talks to people, or finds jobs for coin, just to watch. That’s what you like to do - get information, tuck it away, use it later.

It just happens that sometimes you end up watching Fjord. There’s no reason, not really. He’s the leader by default, no matter how much Nott will say that it’s Caleb. He does most of the talk, smiling all coy and leaning against things to charm the party’s way through whatever Gods forsaken situation you end up in. It mostly works, with some exceptions. There are things you begin to notice in the nights after Fjord has failed to charm someone with a well-placed wink, or a sir or a ma’am. He makes the fire just a little bit larger, stacking logs and kindling and using his flint so that Caleb doesn’t have to use his magic. He cooks heartier food, sometimes even disappearing and coming back with a skewered animal from the forest to add to the pot of simmering soup. He takes the first watch and doesn’t wake anyone until halfway through the second watch so that everyone can sleep longer, even if it makes him crabby the morning after.

You come to a conclusion. Fjord takes care of people when he feels like he’s not enough. He overcompensates in his acts of kindness when something he does fails - but why? To make you all stay? To make sure you know his worth in the group? To make up for whatever he sees as a downfall? Honestly, you’re worried it’s a little bit of all three. You’re not really sure about how the mind works - that would be more for Molly, or Caleb honestly - but growing up in an orphanage with children who pick and prod at your every physical characteristic cannot be good for a person. Especially with Fjord insisting that he doesn’t have a last name, despite the times that he introduces himself and you see it die on his lips before he can say it. There’s something there, but you won’t pry. People deserve their secrets. They deserve to keep something for themselves.

If he wants to keep his last name, that’s fine with you. If he wants to keep the self-loathing inside of him until he explodes, well, that’s not fine with you. That’s why when you realize that he decompresses by making himself useful, as if the group might dismiss him just because a few people were immune to his charms, you decide to do something. No amount of reassurance from anyone will convince him otherwise and the rest of the group tends to shrug away from his slightly overbearing kindness when something goes south. Caleb, Beau, and Molly are just uncomfortable with it while Jester is usually too engrossed in journaling, Tusk Love, or talking to the Traveler. Nott is somewhere between Caleb and Yasha (uncomfortable and straight-up not around to be doted on.) And… Well, that leaves you.

It’s not that you mind Fjord’s constant doting after he perceives something to have gone wrong, but it’s hard to let him in. Your life before the Mighty Nein wasn’t exactly peaches and cream, either, but you know that he needs this. He needs to feel like he’s doing something for someone or he’ll break. You only notice that, though, after a particularly rough, rainy day of trying to get information out of people for a job. Fjord had forgotten something important which threw off the communication and sent everyone you were working with into an angry tizzy. By the time you make it back to the tavern, everyone is soaked to the bone and cranky, even you - and you tried your best to avoid getting out in the rain. What you really want to do is go back to your room and change out of your wet clothes and then go to fucking bed, but you hold back. The group disperses one by one until it’s just you and Fjord left at the bar, and before you can make your leave you see his hands shaking. His hands, which are large and calloused and strong, are shaking like a leaf in the wind. There’s no other outward sign that he’s feeling stressed or upset, and that surprises you. It also worries you. This is not how Fjord acts when something goes wrong. He doesn’t sit at the bar and brood over an ale - he mother-hens his friends until they’re sick to death of hearing his deep, drawling voice.

The combination of these things is probably what makes you pause halfway out of your seat, eyes narrow and trained on him. He makes eye contact for a brief second before looking back down to his drink. You know that approaching and asking him if he’s okay will get you nowhere but you can’t leave him alone at the bar, not when you know he’s stewing on every mistake, every misstep, whether they really happened or he’s just overanalyzing his movements. He’s your… He’s more than a friend to you, despite the fact that he doesn’t know that and you don’t show it outwardly. Fjord means too much to you to be able to let him sit and spiral into a funnel of self-doubt. You know that it will be weird to put your pride to the side and ask for help, but you also know that you don’t really need help.

But asking Fjord for help means that he’ll feel better and you think that’s a very good reason to shelf your pride for a night.

He barely looks up at you when you approach, still dripping all over the tavern’s floors and hesitant to speak. He doesn’t speak, either, just takes another long pull from his ale to bide his time until you leave. (Probably.) You take the leap first and say his name. “Fjord.” He doesn’t look at you. “I know we’ve all had a bad day,”

“You can say that again,” He snorts.

“We have,” You stress, one hand finding the hilt of the dagger on your waist for some sort of comfort. You’re wildly uncomfortable and can feel the urge to run, get away, flee building up in your gut. If you’re not careful, it’ll spill out your mouth and you’ll be forced out of the tavern for the night in humiliation and self-preservation. “It has been one hell of a day today. I do not want to be alone.” Your sentence cuts off briskly and Fjord looks up in surprise. Your face mirrors his - untamed surprise. You had really opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to find a table and listen to your vent but what came out was I do not want to be alone. You blink and think what the fuck? Before Fjord is shaking off his surprise and standing.

“I suppose I can give Molly the room for the night.” He extends an arm towards you but doesn’t look at you. He’s doing a much better job of hiding how strange you’re acting than you are but still, you’re not going to let this opportunity pass. You wrap your own arm around Fjord’s and he begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Anything specific bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” You hum as you respond, hoping that by allowing him past your walls that it will help him, “Today is just a bad day.” Fjord halfheartedly agrees and your nerves shoot through the roof when he leaves you at your door, explaining that he’s going to warn Molly that he won’t be in the room tonight. You nod at him and slip into your own room, leaving the door cracked so that he won’t feel awkward about entering. Your laundry is everywhere and you grit your teeth, doing your best to hold back a scream. God damnit, you’re about to have the man that you have a crush on in your room and today is the day you threw your laundry all over?

It doesn’t even matter that he’s traveled with you in carts where there is no possible way to not overlap on laundry slash unmentionables. You still dash about, shoving your laundry into a pile in the corner and covering it with your weapons and shield just before Fjord raps his knuckles against the door frame, calling your name. You shiver and invite him in, wringing your hands as you stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “Are you okay?” He’s so earnest and it makes you feel… A little bad. You don’t want to say no to having Fjord be with you overnight because his presence is so calming, but it’s also… He’s not in your room because…

Ugh. “Fjord,” You say before you can stop yourself, “Okay, so, you can’t be mad but I noticed when things go wrong you’re really, really hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be. And I also noticed that when you’re hard on yourself you dive into taking care of other people because, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re doing something good? I’m not sure, but I really meant to ask if you wanted to talk but then that came out instead but I can’t let you stay in here if you don’t know why I asked.” He stands there, taking in what you’ve said, and then shakes his head. Your room is dark - too dark for you to see whether or not the small smile on his face is actually there or if you’re imagining it. When he chuckles, you’re more apt to believe that Fjord is actually smiling even after the day he’s had. “Um,” You finally cut the silence, “Please say something.”

“You mean to tell me,” He drawls, stepping slowly closer and removing his chest plate. It’s like his mood has gone a full 180 from where it was when he left you outside of your room, “That you looked so awkward and like a li’l kicked puppy because you wanted to help me feel better?” He sets his chest plate on the table, coming into your sight as your vision begins to adjust. You don’t get a good look at what’s happening on his face because you look away very quickly, setting your jaw.

“Well, when you put it that way,” You grumble and cross your arms, “You just like to help people - it makes you feel better.”

Fjord comes to a stop in front of you and sighs, but doesn’t say anything. Your hands begin to shake and honestly, you regret your stupid fucking decision to try and help Fjord out. You wouldn’t be here, standing in front of him and purely humiliated, if you didn’t look at him and notice so much. He finally responds, one of his hands coming up to touch at your bicep and then trails up until he’s cupping your shoulder. “I do like to help people,” He’s speaking more from his chest than his mouth, and you can almost feel the rumble through the grip he has on your shoulder. It’s not tight but it’s there, heavy and comforting. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice a lot,” You supply, tugging your chin away when Fjord tries to use the other hand to make you look at him. It’s only after he says your name in a soft voice that you look. You’re surprised to see that he looks soft… Soft and fond. “Please,” You whisper, uncrossing your arms to grab both of his wrists. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for but the way that you whispered please is the closest to begging that you’ve ever gotten.

“Please?” Fjord says, sounding incredibly confused but soft at the same time. You shake your head, trying again to look away from him. He ducks down, catching your eyes again, “It’s just me, remember? This is why you asked me here, isn’t it? To help you feel better?”

To your horror, you feel yourself mist up. “I invited you here so you could feel better, Fjord. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself, and the only time I’ve seen you calm down after a bad day is when you’re taking care of one of us. I thought… Even if I don’t really need to be taken care of, that would help you. I just want… I want you to feel better.” He steps closer toward you, caging you into the rough stone of the fireplace but doesn’t speak. You’re almost worried that Fjord is going to cold clock you, but then he does something that you expected even less.

He surges forward and kisses you. Every part of him nearly engulfs you - the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while he groans deep in the back of his throat. Your hands scramble for some purchase to express your surprise, landing on his hearty shoulders, clenching in the fabric of his shirt. You sigh into Fjord’s groan, and press as close as possible to his body heat. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been craving this: closeness with another person, pressing tight against their body… You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that when you thought of that, of intimacy, that you pictured Fjord. You just didn’t think he pictured you.

Fjord surges forward again, and you feel the soft scrape of tusks against you when he opens his mouth to breathe, keeping his nose pressed tightly to yours. “I didn’t think,” He says, accent thinner than you’ve heard previously, “I never dreamed that you would feel…”

“Oh, I feel,” You tell him, slowly moving your hands until you can intertwine your fingers behind his neck, “I feel so much, Fjord.”

“You never said…” He sneaks another kiss between his words, dropping his hands to squeeze at your waist, “You never even let on that you see me this way.”

“I do a lot of looking and not a lot of showing,” You remind him - it was something he had said to you when you first joined his group. I always catch you lookin’, but you never show. It’s terribly funny because he’d said it while the Mighty Nein were all naked, sudsy, and sharing a bathhouse at Molly’s insistence. The group had a field day with that and still does. The memory is apparently still fresh in Fjord’s head because a blush creeps high over his cheeks and he looks away, flustered. “You’re strong and pretty and beautiful and you take care of us so well. Even when you’ve had a bad day. I look up to you so much, but at the same time I want, perhaps selfishly, to take care of you in ways that you might not take care of the group.” He almost looks surprised at what you’ve said, but then it melts into a look of soft adoration. Fjord kisses you again and then drags his lips lightly over the arch of your cheek before he rests his head on your shoulder where he inhales deeply, his breath tickling your throat. You can feel his hands contracting against your waist, like he wants to touch and feel but is settling for keeping them where they are and feeling the soft give of your flesh. You know your heart is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour, and you know that he can probably hear it, too. You can’t find anything in you that cares, though, because you’re so close to Fjord. He smells like saltwater, you realize. Not in a way that it seems like he’s been coughing it up again, or in the ocean, but just sort of… Naturally. Like he’s always smelled that way. Like you’ve always known he smelled that way. Like you were always meant to know and to find comfort in it. You pull yourself closer, relishing in the way that you hold each other, and Fjord sighs. You can feel the way that he relaxes underneath your hold and you relax, too.

This… This is the way that it’s supposed to be. This is how you can do for Fjord what he’s done for your team - except different. Except more.

#critical role imagine #c2 imagine #cr imagine #fjord stone imagine #fjord imagine #fjord stone x reader #fjord x reader #fjord stone / reader #fjord / reader #campaign 2 imagine #critfic

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grumpyhedgehogs · 4 years

Text

Nameless

Virgil never uses Deceit's real name. It doesn’t have to be a thing. It’s not a thing.

It’s not.

They don’t actually call on Janus that much in the beginning. He supposes he understands, in a bitter sort of way; Roman is still smarting from letting him into the fold and Patton is trying to soothe everyone’s ruffled feathers and Janus is pretty sure Logan is at least a little upset that he’s been pushed to the fringes of two videos by Deceit.

Janus carefully does not think about how Virgil is taking things.

So he’s startled, just a little, when Patton rises up in his room one night. He looks just as out of place as he actually is, and Janus has a hard time not hissing at the intrusion. This is totally not his private space.

“Patton, it’s such a pleasure to see you. Please, come in, invade my personal domicile.”

“Oh thanks--wait, are you actually happy to see me? I can never tell with you.”

Patton is wringing his hands. Janus takes pity on them both and tips his hat further back to survey the other side clearly. He’s nervous, but not overly so. Not like a certain other side could be once upon a time, when he wasn’t sure he was welcome in Janus’s room. Not that Janus is thinking about anyone in particular or anything.

“What do you need, Patton?”

Morality blanches for a second before drawing up his courage. He has a very expressive face. Janus does not acknowledge the tiny swell of warmth that curls in his chest.

“I wanted to know why you aren’t coming to the videos more often.”

Janus stares. Patton blinks back.

“What?”

Patton goes back to wringing his hands. “Is it-- is it something we did? If it’s about Roman, he’s--well he’s working on it, but it’s safe for you to come down now, I just...I want everyone to be okay.”

“I--” Janus clears his throat which seems too tight suddenly. “I was unaware that you would have liked my presence so often.”

“I meant my apology, Janus,” Patton says. He looks so soft Janus wants to hiss instinctively. He refrains, but only just. “Everyone is welcome. Everyone.”

Janus nods woodenly. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t really know how.

Maybe that’s okay.

He doesn’t come to every video, and he always makes them wait for his dramatic entrance when they call his name. Just because they know it now doesn’t mean Janus will come like a trained dog.

Still, Logan almost never calls on him, so when he hears the logical side scream for him with more desperation than he’s ever known him to possess, Janus comes running.

“What.”

Something’s been off for a while now, but Janus’s room is farther away from the common area than the others’ are, so he’s managed to ignore it. It was just Virgil doing his job; he’d felt the roiling in his stomach and the ache in his chest but Virgil hadn’t introduced a panic attack for months, so he’d thought it would pass. Janus had assumed it was something innocuous, an audition he’d forgotten about or a new friend coming over when Thomas hadn’t cleaned in a while.

He should have known what happened when he assumed.

“Janus, you’re right on time,” Logan says. He’s so dry Janus still isn’t sure when he’s joking, but he takes one look at Logan’s face--pale and wan and more than a little gaunt--and straightens his back in reaction. He looks around for the source of what’s disturbed Logan so.

The common room is in shambles.

The couch is overturned, the television is cracked and fallen on its side. The blinds are ripped. There’s cobwebs everywhere and shadows lick at the corners of the ceiling.

On the stairs, the three other sides huddle, looking like a particularly ragged bunch of kicked puppies. Logan is the only one standing, his hands woven through the bars of the stairway to clutch at someone’s sleeve. He’d turned his head towards Janus when he’d appeared but hadn’t gone to greet him. Roman is sitting on the bottom stair, katana across his knees; his knuckles are white around the hilt and his eyes are darting. Patton is half hidden behind Creativity, crouching with his back to Janus. He’s whispering reassurances and doesn’t pause when the others speak. He’s reaching out to something--someone--but Janus can’t see what.

“It’s Virgil,” Logan says tightly and Janus’s throat constricts.

He shakes it off, though, and steps up beside Logic to get a better view. Virgil is curled in on himself, so much so that only his purple bangs show. His hood is up and his head is buried in his arms. He’s shaking and small and Janus can hear his breath rattling from here.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil flinches and Patton squeezes his arms where he’s gripped them just below the shoulder, cooing. His eyes are wide and scared when he looks at Janus, but Janus just holds up a hand. “What’s happened, Virgil?”

There’s a small, sharp gasp, and the side looks up. Janus catches his hiss before it can crawl up his throat, but it’s a near thing. Virgil is always pale, but his skin is translucent now and his veins show black against his face. His eyes are glowing above shadows black as the pits of hell.

“Thomas is being followed,” Virgil tells him, voice reverberating so much it shakes the walls. “No one would listen to me all morning but he’s there, he’s on the bus, he moved two rows up to sit behind Thomas, I can feel his breath on the back of Thomas’s neck. He’s going to trap us, he’s going to follow us home.”

Roman and Patton open their mouths, maybe to ask for more information, maybe to deny involvement, but Janus cuts his hand through the air and clutches at the banister next to Logan. “When did you notice him?”

“He followed Thomas for ten blocks before we got on the bus.” Virgil’s eyes flick to the side, checking on their host. He refocuses on Janus and his irises have been completely swallowed now. Janus suppresses a wince; it hasn’t gotten this bad in a long time. “Please, Deceit. You have to help Thomas.”

Something in Janus squeezes and twists, but he slaps on a smirk anyway. “It’s what I do best, dear Virgil. Leave it to me.”

Deceit convinces Thomas to get off the bus early. He advises Thomas to call Joan and wait in the Starbucks next to the bus stop until they can walk with him. He makes sure the man with the baseball cap stays well away in the meantime and that Thomas never puts his phone down in case he needs the police. It’s a close thing, and Janus’s teeth are on edge the whole time, but Thomas is safe and sound at the end of the night and Virgil has calmed when he gets back.

“Hey, Deceit,” Virgil says when Janus goes to sink out. He’s still curled up on the stairs, but his influence has died down a bit and he’s not hiding his face anymore. The others have wandered back to their rooms, now that the uproar is over, but Janus knows Virgil will stay to keep an eye on things, just in case. The words he says next sound clunky and wrong in his mouth. “Thank you. You saved Thomas.”

Janus smiles and it feels strange on his face, so he sinks out instead of answering.

The second time Janus notices it is vastly less dire. Somehow, that makes it worse. More noticeable, perhaps. No danger for either of them to focus on.

Patton has instituted a weekly family dinner. They’re only just now inviting Remus to every other week’s dinner, since Roman can only recreate the common room’s furniture so many times before getting exhausted. Janus, apparently, has a standing invitation but he can’t deny that it still feels strange, popping in like he’s not going to be attacked if he shows his true face. To combat this awkwardness, Patton sends a new side to get him every time. Logan has had the most success in easing Janus’s mood, due in no small part to their shared interest in debate. He must say combating Logic is a fulfilling challenge. Patton himself, of course, simply does not take no for an answer and so he is Janus’s second favorite by default.

Roman is...not ready yet for more than a sharp rap of his knuckles on his door, but Janus appreciates the effort it takes the other side for even that. It’s a work in progress.

So when there’s a light tap on the yellow wood, he assumes perhaps Patton himself has decided to greet him slightly less boisterously than usual and pulls it open without ceremony. (Well, not much ceremony. He is part of Thomas, after all.)

Virgil takes a startled step back. His hands are shoved into his pockets and his head is down. Janus can barely see his eyes through his fringe.

“Oh.” Janus says. “You..are Patton.”

The corner of Virgil’s mouth twitches. He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “Dad says dinner’s ready.”

Janus raises an eyebrow just to be contrary. He can’t capitulate to every request just like that; he has appearances to maintain.

Virgil rolls his eyes. “You’re supposed to be there, Deceit.”

Janus grits his teeth, looking away. “Right. Well. Thanks.”

When he looks back, there’s a strange expression on the other side’s face, like he can’t quite figure Janus out. He shrugs and turns, ambling back down the stairs.

Dinner is not as quiet and awkward as it was at first, but with Roman still sulking and Virgil’s natural propensity for silence, Logan and Patton are hard pressed to make up for Janus’s current lack of enthusiasm. He spends the night with something not quite angry, not quite sad, and not quite resigned twisting in his gut.

Janus nearly doesn’t stay for dessert, but pauses when a slice of lemon pie is shoved under his nose. He blinks for a moment before looking up at Patton’s smiling face. “Virgil told me it was your favorite?” He asks hopefully.

Janus blinks and looks at Virgil. Virgil hunches his shoulders up to his ears and shrugs. “It is,” he mutters to the floor. The pressure in Janus’s chest doesn’t go away but it does recede. A little, anyway.

Janus eats the pie, more confused than he was before.

“Janus,” Roman says, a little stiffly. Janus leans against his door jamb and arches his eyebrows. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting.” He sinks out before Janus can ask what, but that's alright. He already knows, and if anyone (Remus) asks, he is definitely not smiling as he sinks out.

With family dinner nights comes movie afternoons and marathon days on the weekends. Thomas has never quite gotten over ABC Family discontinuing Harry Potter Weekends. Janus can’t really blame him, to be honest.

“You’re supposed to be wearing a onesie,” is the first thing out of Virgil’s mouth when he pops in to watch Marvel movies that afternoon. Janus snorts at him, disgruntled, and sits primly on the edge of the couch when Thomas pats the space beside him absently. Roman has taken a place on the floor and Logan has the armchair, apart but still near. Patton smiles brightly from where he lays with his head in the prince’s lap, waving his hand excitedly before letting an explosion on-screen tear his attention away. Virgil is on Janus’s other side, pressed against the armrest with one knee drawn up to his chest. There’s a careful three inches of space between them that Janus is hyper aware of.

“Logan isn’t wearing a onesie.”

Virgil shrugs, seemingly uncaring of the side sitting next to him. After a second there’s a lull in the action on the television and Janus catches him moving out of the corner of his eye. Not that he was looking at Virgil, of course. He just. Noticed it.

He tilts his head a little, glancing at the other side out of the corner of his eye--it’s his snake eye, does it still scare Virgil these days?--to find Virgil has a little smile on his face. He leans his temple on his knee and, miracle of miracles, winks at Janus and whispers conspiratorially. “Logan’s weird.”

Janus snorts. He pulls his gloves off absently, setting them, his cape and hat on his knees before leaning back into the cushions gingerly. “You can say that again.”

“Falsehood,” sounds at the same time as Patton’s “That again!” and Janus does not smile.

Virgil shifts a little. It’s so small it could be nothing but--but if Janus just leans a little further back they could be touching shoulders.

“Come on Deceit.” Virgil says, eyes on the screen again. “Live a little.”

Janus’s stomach turns to stone. He doesn’t stay for the whole movie.

“Hey Janus!” Thomas says brightly. How he can have so much energy after shooting a video all day, Janus may never know, although he does think maybe it has something to do with Remus convincing Thomas to spike their coffee with Red Bull all morning. They’re all going to pay for that tonight, Janus just knows it. No one sane puts Remus in charge of their digestive tract.

“Thomas,” Janus inclines his head, “you called?”

Thomas called him. Thomas wanted to see him. Him. Janus. Sometimes Janus still can’t believe it.

“Yeah, hey, listen.” Thomas scuffs the back of his neck and Janus narrows his eyes. Oh, this had better be good. “I’ve got some more shooting to do later, it’s for another video after this one but…”

He trails off, and they’re left standing in a very awkward silence. Janus crosses his arms and waits. And waits. By God, this is where he gets his flare for the dramatic, isn’t it?

“What’s wrong, Thomas?” Janus asks drily. “Snake got your tongue?”

“No sorry.” Thomas laughs but nerves still tinge it. “I just--this new video, it’s not gonna have you in it. Okay?”

Oh. Okay. It’s the most recent video that’ll have no place for Janus in it since his name drop but that’s fine. It’s fine. It’s not like they’re going to replace him. Janus can handle it.

Janus narrows his eyes. “You’re not going to ask Leslie Odom Jr. to come back, are you?”

“What? No. I mean, that’d be so cool, but no. He’s got, like, other stuff to do.”

Okay, Janus can definitely handle this. “Well I’m completely devastated, Thomas. I can’t believe you’d do this to me. After all we’ve been through too; really, I’m wounded.”

His host rolls his eyes and chuckles at him. Janus feels warm and content and he can maybe see why the Light Sides want to do this all the time. Maybe. He’s not gone all the way soft, after all. “Yeah, okay, drama queen. If it makes you feel better, Virgil’s gonna be hanging back too. You two could hang out!”

Janus thinks back to the times before all this, when he’d let Virgil into his room and rest an arm around him during the panic attacks and cook him dinner and share a blanket with him on movie nights. For a second the old, familiar ache is gone, his heart is whole and he is light as a feather.

Then he remembers the sound of “Deceit” leaving Virgil’s mouth at the drop of a hat and shoves it all away before it can hurt him again.

“Yeah right, that’ll be the day,” Janus says and sinks out before Thomas can ask what he means.

“Deceit! Hey, Deceit, stop for a minute.”

Janus does not stop. In fact, he takes the stairs two at a time and barrels down the hallway.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Janus hisses air out between his teeth, seething. He’d almost managed to get into his room unnoticed. Almost. Damn Virgil and his skill of popping up where he’s least wanted.

He turns, dread making his stomach go cold, and there Virgil is, hands curled in his sleeves. He’s hunched over again, worried and trying to hide it. If Janus didn’t feel so cornered or hunted or goddamn tired of this, he’d take pity on the side.

“Whatever do you mean, Virgil? I’m not doing anything like that.”

Virgil shifts on his feet, worrying his bottom lip before seeming to steel himself. “That’s bull and you know it. Thomas said you were running away from me for some reason and I’d like to know what it is.”

“Yeah, well, turnabout’s fair play, isn't it?” Janus snaps.

Virgil looks--surprised, Janus supposes, but it’s more than that. Lost, a little afraid. He’s still so young. Janus can remember when he was small enough to fit in Janus’s arms, when he’d left him onto his shoulders and let Virgil wear his hat on his tiny head--

Those days are over.

“What--what’s that supposed to mean?”

Janus laughs and it’s nearly as ugly as anything Remus could come up with. Virgil flinches. “I think you know exactly what it means.”

“Uh, I really don’t.”

“Well maybe you should figure it out.”

“Hey, what the hell man?” Virgil scowls. “Stop treating me like an idiot just because I don’t know what’s going on with you. At least I’m asking.”

“Oh you--” Janus whirls on him. He strides forward, one step, two, three. He’s nose to nose with Virgil but the anxious side doesn’t take a step back like he would have years ago by reflex. He’s grown so much and Janus was never there to see it. “You, you want to know what’s wrong, huh? Well, congratulations, now you're part of the club.”

“Deceit, what--”

“I asked you a thousand times!” He screams at Virgil. “I asked you what was wrong and I had Remus ask you what was wrong and I tried to understand you but you didn’t let me!”

Virgil gaps at him, staring, but Janus can’t stop now. The dam has been broken.

He throws his hands in the air, gesturing at nothing, mouth working against a silent scream. “I wanted to help you, Virgil, and you left! You never even gave me or Remus a chance to help you. You ran away from me and you didn’t look back.”

Something in Virgil’s eyes hardens now and he snaps his jaws shut with a click. “Deceit, that’s not fair.”

“Fair? Fair? You wanna talk about fair? I fucking raise you, I was there for you, and you turned your back on me. You dropped me like a rock and now that you can’t avoid me, you can’t even use my real name!”

“I didn’t know I was allowed to!”

That stops him, trips Janus’s words up on his tongue. He steps back instinctively, like Virgil’s just punched him. He feels winded. “Wh-what?”

Virgil’s hands are clenched into fists but they stay at his sides. His eyes are burning and the shadows underneath them are darkening rapidly but he stands his ground. His voice wavers but carries. “I-I left. You’re right about that. And I know, I know I could’ve handled it better. I just--”

Virgil breaks off, huffs, drags a hand through his hair. He looks away, impatient, like he’ll find the words he wants scrawled on the walls. “I just didn’t know I could reach out to you, okay? I didn't--I didn’t learn that. I never knew how to lean on people or trust people or be kind until I came here because-- because you never seemed like you could get hurt. I didn’t have to learn that with you because I--I didn’t know I could hurt you like that.”

Janus opens his mouth, but Virgil plows on, picking up steam. He has both hands in his hair now, tugging harshly and Janus almost reaches out to gentle their grip before stopping himself. “I didn’t realize that you-- you were my friend.” Virgil sniffles now and Janus feels his heart thaw and break at the same time. “I--you were my family and I left and then the Light Sides taught me what that meant and by then I’d been gone so long. How could I go back? What right did I have to do that to you after I left how I did?”

He pauses but Janus can’t seem to find words for the first time in his life. For a moment there is silence and then, very slowly, Virgil drops his hands. He nods, not quite meeting Janus’s eyes, and sniffles again. His face is turned away now but Janus can see the tear tracks on his cheeks. “You came in here and you’re--you’re here, you know? And the others are trying, like they did with me but you told them your name, not me. So I just-- I didn't think you'd want me to use it.”

“You already knew my name.” It’s all Janus can think to say.

Virgil looks up.

Janus steps closer, frowning. But his chest feels light, like he’s finally slipped a metal band he didn’t know was around his lungs this whole time. “You knew my name before--before you left. So, why not use it? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Virgil furrows his brow. “It wasn’t my choice; it was not my secret to tell. It was yours. And you told Patton and Roman, and Logan’s kind of a package deal with them, so. You chose to give it to them. You just got stuck with me in the beginning.”

“And you aren’t a part of the package deal? Not even after all this time?”

Virgil smiles and it is like cracked glass in a mirror. “I guess I don’t really belong anywhere.”

“Yes you do,” Janus says. “ You always did. You always will.” The heat in his chest is boiling now, rising up his throat and into his face and spreading to his fingertips and he reaches out before he can stop himself. He reaches out and Virgil reaches back and suddenly they’re there. Together. And Virgil buries his face in his shoulder, and Janus shudders and curls closer and they both don’t mention how wet their faces are and they’re both laughing, maybe, or crying but it doesn’t really matter.

And Janus says, “I missed you, Virgil.”

And Virgil says, “Welcome home, Janus.”

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fraidy-farfelle · 3 years

Text

This is my attempt at the Fluff ABCs for Frankie the Undead. Please be gentle with criticism because I cry easily. I’ve taken some ideas from @lovestruck-lasagna.

Taglist: @writingfromthetomb @beebubb

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Your dry sense of humor. It perfectly matches his insults and he doesn’t have to go out of his way to make you laugh. He just says what he’s thinking and you laugh and agree.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Frankie appreciates a good smile, and for many reasons. He learned to read smiles (fake vs real) early on and uses it to gauge people, so he pays particular attention by default. He’s a sucker for cute dimples, and loves the way your nose scrunches and your eyes close.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He loves late at night when you share the couch and he can read a good book, sip on some whiskey, or puff on a cigar. He really doesn’t care what you’re doing, he can tune out the TV or you prattling on about your day and make comments to show he’s listening. Put your feet in his lap, lay on top of him, make yourselves mummies in blankets, so long as he can reach his glass he doesn’t care. He just wants to be with you.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Stay in date nights are his favorite. He doesn’t really like to “share” your attention. He likes to either cook a meal together or order takeout and watch a movie. Particularly black and white gangster ones, or older horror films. Likes to tease you if you get scared and grab onto him. He’ll pat your head and say something like “oh there there, don’t be scared! I won’t let the big, bad monster getcha!” (Like your neighbor isn’t a 7 ft tall children murdering clown demon) If you go out, he prefers less crowded places outdoors.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He’s a spitfire and he knows it. He tends to explode and then after a few minutes apologizes gruffly and explains himself. “WHY WERE YA OUT UNTIL MIDNIGHT, THATS SUCH A STUPID THING TO DO!” “Sorry, Frankie.” “…… ugh just, please get home earlier from now on. It’s dangerous and I worry about you.” Definitely doesn’t hug you close so you don’t see the relief and worry on his face. Nope!

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He misses Amy desperately. He wants a little girl in his life again, although he’ll never ever admit it. He’s hesitant to make relationships because he doesn’t want to be hurt again. But, if you go out with him to the living world, you’ll catch him staring longingly at parents and daughters when he thinks you’re not looking. If you ask him what he’s looking at, he’ll shake his head and spit out a line about children being obnoxious but you can tell he’s blowing smoke.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

If the underworld wasn’t so dangerous, he’d love to drape you in the finest silks with diamonds and rubies dripping off of you. However he doesn’t want you to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. So, he settles for things you don’t really see in public. He also doesn’t like to be found out about it. Your gas tank is filled, the bill you were worried about has mysteriously been paid, your favorite ice cream is in your freezer when you know you ate the last of it yesterday, and hey, didn’t you spend this $20? Why is it in your wallet? If you ever bring it up he’ll just shrug and say “How strange!”

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He’s torn about PDA because he doesn’t want you to become a target because you’re associated with him, and people stare at him enough because of his appearance. But on the other hand, he wants to show the world that someone as worthless as him (don’t say that we love you Frankie) has such an amazing person that loves him. Will absolutely grab you and passionately make out with you with one hand on your ass and the other flipping the bird to the cheeky bastard that told the broad beside him to watch out for the zombie.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Panic. Sheer panic. He’s so afraid to lose you, any injury is serious and cause for alarm.

Frankie:*bursting into a hospital lobby, screaming to be taken to f/n l/n immediately**running in the opposite direction the nurse pointed in panic**bursts into exam room 30 seconds later* “Y/N!!!!! I came as soon as I got the message, WHATS WRONG!!!”

You: *sitting on the table, reading phone* “Oh, I have a sprained ankle and they don’t want me to drive so can you give me a ride?”

Frankie:*slowly blinking* “Uh, yeah no problem…”

You: “lemme guess, you heard my name and hospital in the same sentence and ignored everything else.”

Frankie:*hanging his head* “go wait in the car, I’ll go apologize….”

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Not actual jokes, but he loves to sit with you and insult people. He’s an incredibly sweet person to you, but no one else. (Except service people, like nurses and waitresses. Just the general public) he doesn’t think pranks are funny or practical, which is one of the many reasons he and LJ butt heads. If LJ or Will prank you or him, he’s raising hell.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Love kissing your lips. He’s actually really self conscious about his mouth stitches and constantly frets they feel weird to you. Neck kisses are another favorite and are extremely private to him. He also likes to hold the back of your hand against his lips and tell you what he’s thinking, no matter how mundane. Kiss his stitches. Please. Just do it.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

He has trouble saying it to your face. He’ll whisper it to you when he thinks you’re sleeping, and he’s been known to leave little notes around for you to find. He thinks protecting you is the best way to show he cares.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

The day you finally broke down and told him you loved him. He knew as soon as he looked into your eyes and saw your smile his goose was cooked. He was very abrasive and hoping against hope that you’d leave him be. He knew you deserved better. He was so afraid to build a relationship and love again, he wanted to distance himself and if he was an asshole to you, it would be justified and you’d do it on your own. What he didn’t expect is for you to be so kind to him. Upon your initial meeting, he had been a little harsh, but helped you (if there’s enough interest I’ll do a fic about it) and so when he subsequently was a jerk to you, you were curious and determined to find out what he was hiding. He finally had been mean enough to make you cry. He had never regretted something he did before. He immediately wanted to cradle you to him and beg your forgiveness. Normally when he insulted you, you’d have a snarky retort in reply. But not this time. You fell to your knees and clung to his legs and demanded to know why he treated you so poorly and proclaimed your love for him. It was probably by accident and you were so distraught you didn’t even know it flew from your mouth, but hearing it, he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care about the consequences, he just wanted you. Hearing that you loved someone like him made him so happy, he knew he’d treasure the memory forever

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Losing you. Period.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

What ISNT odd about this man?! A cute one is he always winks with his green eye.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I HC that he was born in the 30’s, so he calls you “doll” a lot but only in private. He uses your name otherwise so it’s not as obvious to people watching you’re together. He will absolutely refer to you as “the dame” to others. The equivalent of “the boss” or “old lady.” “William! The Dame is trying to take a nap, so shut up or I’ll shoot you!” You call him stitches to tease him in private and are the only person allowed to do so.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?) Either taking naps or couch potato time. Also, low key likes to cook with you. He can’t cook for shit, but likes to “help” by handing you things or chopping things for you. Is a super good taste tester, self appointed.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Stitches by Shawn Mendez (PLEASE DONT HURT ME!!)

We don’t have to Dance by Andy Black (referring to how he can’t really show you affection in public but he loves you)

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He’s open about himself and what he’s thinking, and will always take what you say into consideration. He doesn’t like to keep things from you, but he does omit some detail about his jobs if you ask about them. He just feels like you don’t need to be stressed about it.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

LJ picked up on Frankie’s fondness of you almost instantly. He and Will decided to do what they could to get you together in the interest of making Frankie less of a grouch. If it hadn’t been for them insisting that he was good guy to you, you probably WOULD have let Frankie’s prickly nature drive you away. It took a year or so for you to break down.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?) A powder keg of insults, foul language, and bullets. Has actually never called you a name outright, and would absolutely never physically hurt you. When he was deliberately being rude to you, he’d insult your actions rather than you. “Stop acting like a dumb broad!” Vs calling you a bitch to your face. He usually calms down quickly, and is hardly ever angry at you, only when you put yourself in danger.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He likes that he’s scary and tough looking so that when you’re with him, other men scatter pretty fast. Has had many occasions where he stepped away and someone came to flirt with you and he came back and had the pleasure of scaring them.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

You are not allowed to do anything dangerous, ever! Will teach you how to use a gun and how to counter things like chokeholds, so you’re less vulnerable. Will absolutely lose his mind if he learns you’ve put yourself at risk. He will shoot someone so fast for you. Takes every person as a threat to you and will pick fights with somebody that accidentally bumped into you. Do NOT test this man.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

You are an open book to him. He’s learned to read people well, and he takes his time studying you. Can tell if you’re getting sick before you can. More than once he’s handed you a bottle of Tylenol, leaving you bewildered, and shrugged and said to take them because you’ll have a headache in a few minutes. He can pick up on your emotions easily and has learned what to do to handle them.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Honestly, marriage isn’t that important to him. He’s not opposed to the idea at all, but like you’ve been together for this long, you love each other, is it really necessary? You’d have to tell him you want to be officially married. He’ll buy you a ring, to show that you’re taken, if nothing else, but he’ll wear his around his neck under his tie so it’s not obvious he’s attached to anyone to discourage his rivals using you to get to him.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

The smell of your perfume. Holding you in his arms and taking deep breaths makes all of his troubles go away.

#frankie the undead #frankie creeps #creepypasta

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Text

look me up and define me (please remind me) (part 1/2)

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

Janus has never minded the fact that his identity is fluid, ever-changing. He acts as whoever Thomas needs him to be in the moment, and if that means he doesn't know much about himself as an individual, well. It's never been a problem for him.

Until he gives away his name, and then it very much is.

Chapter Warnings: identity issues, non-graphic panic attack, references to self-harm

Chapter Word Count: 4,493

Pairings: platonic TDLAMPR, implied Moceit (though you don’t have to read into it)

Notes: This fic started as a oneshot but ended up being more than 10k, so I’m dividing it into two parts, the second of which will hopefully be posted Friday. Also, this fic as a whole was inspired by the awesome ‘The Record Player Song’ animatic by @turbovickii, which, 10/10 would recommend if you haven’t seen it

Chapter one podfic by @titheinironside

(part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

Janus isn’t his name.

Or rather, it isn’t, and it is. He’s never had to think too hard about it before, has never had to struggle for the words to put it all into context. Janus is his name, yes, the name he chose for himself back when Thomas was young and they were all bright-eyed, foolish children, and his preferred moniker wasn’t Deceit but rather something entirely different.

Janus. Roman god of beginnings and of ends, of transitions, of doorways, of passages that lead on and on. God of time, and god of duality. He thought it a fitting descriptor for himself; he is sweet lies, lies that soothe and lies that heal, and he is bitter truths, truths that no one wants to hear, that he must keep to himself lest they do more harm than any lie could. If that is not duality, he doesn’t know what is.

But he is, at his core, whatever Thomas needs him to be. He is fluid in a way that the others are not, able to shift and change depending on the day, depending on what Thomas requires of him at any given moment. He is Thomas’ ability to lie, but only when it benefits him; when a truth would do the most good, he suggests that, instead. He wants Thomas to succeed, to do whatever it takes to better himself, to pursue his ambitions, but only until he pushes himself too far, works himself into exhaustion or questions himself too much. Then, he is the voice that tells him to relax, to take time for himself, to put his health above his goals.

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He plays the part of the others, too, whenever it is necessary. They are used to it by now, so used to it that by the time he reveals himself to Thomas, they react with anger rather than surprise or alarm. But what they do not know is that for every time they catch him out, there are five more times he goes undetected, slipping in amongst them, a snake in the grass. He mediates arguments as Morality when the real Patton is nowhere to be found, uses Logic to pull them down to earth when Logan is too buried in his books and theories to realize there’s an emotional problem, uses Creativity’s bravado to advocate for Thomas’ dreams when Roman is busy dreaming himself.

He keeps the mindscape running smoothly. And when he is not one of them, when he wears his default skin, scales and all, he is known to them as Deceit. Nothing more, nothing less. A convenient villain, uniting them all in their distaste. It makes him sick, sometimes, their naivety, the knowledge that without him here, they would run Thomas into the ground all while professing their love for him. But he swallows it down, hides it within himself with all the other truths he hoards, and he carries on another day.

He is Janus when he is alone.

But even that is not true, not really. He is Janus in the snatched moments he has for himself, when there is no pressing crisis, nothing for Thomas to be doing or saying or making, when he can sit alone in his room with the jukebox crooning soft melodies. He is Janus, but only sometimes, because even alone, he draws on the traits of the others. Logan, when he needs a clearer perspective; Roman, when he needs an ego boost; Virgil, to indulge in his worries; Remus, to indulge in darker thoughts; Patton, when he is feeling weak and lonely and wanting, when he wraps his arms around himself and wants to pretend that he does not stand in solitude.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

The Roman god Janus has two faces, one to look to the past and the other to the future. None to look to the present, and that is how he feels, most days, like there is none of him-as-Janus present at all, like every face that he wears is a false one, and his namesake has only two but he has far more than that.

He’s not sure he even knows who Janus is, besides the name, what he likes and what he dislikes, how he feels and how he acts when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. He likes chess and philosophy, but he only ever plays as Logan, only uses that knowledge when he’s wearing the necktie and glasses, because otherwise he can’t get anyone else to listen. He dislikes surprises and stupidity and the ever-present knowledge that nothing in Thomas’ life is guaranteed, due to a society that actively works against most of its members, but are those his concerns or Virgil’s? He only indulges in stronger emotions when he takes Patton’s form, so who’s to say that the feelings are Janus’ at all?

And he almost never gets to act when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. That pressure is always there, has always been there. Without it, who would he be?

In the end, Janus is just a name. Whether it’s his or not is difficult to say. And that has never been a problem for him; he exists to benefit Thomas, after all. He doesn’t feel the need for a solid identity beyond that, not like the others do. He only picks a name in the first place because everyone else does, because Creativity-that-is-Remus needs someone he can look up to, because Anxiety-that-becomes-Virgil needs to know that not everyone is out to get him. It’s a display of trust, in a way, but trust only leads to disaster, to angry two-toned words and pounding footsteps and a blank space in the wall where his best friend once lived, so really, what is the point?

Janus is his name. But he’s not particularly attached to it, and he’s content to leave it there.

But then, there is the callback, and the wedding. But then, he fights for Thomas’ desires harder than he has ever fought before, and when that turns sour, he returns to fight for Thomas’ failing mental health. He does so as Logan, and as Deceit when Logan’s form no longer suits the goal, and he’s not expecting them to listen but he still tries.

But then, everything changes.

But then, Thomas says, I don’t know that we are, and he believes for a moment that he is imagining all of this, that he has slipped into Roman’s face and has allowed a daydream to get just a bit out of hand, because to hear those words out of Thomas’ mouth is something he has fantasized about for so long.

But then, he has a chance at acceptance, a chance to change it all so that he no longer has to struggle to make his voice heard, a chance that all depends on using the right words at this exact moment, and in the split second before he begins to tug his glove from his hand, he panics. Because he is Deceit right now, and the amount of sincerity that he has allowed to spill from his lips has already been taxing. What else can he possibly say to earn their consideration, to earn a place among them?

And then he remembers the importance they place on names. From there, the decision is practically made for him.

He says the words as if on autopilot, an odd mixture of nervous and numb, and he has to check to make sure he has not accidentally shifted into Virgil’s hoodie rather than Deceit’s capelet as his fear thrums though him. Roman laughs, and he lashes out in return, though more due to offense at the idea that the name is stupid rather than because of a personal connection to it.

When Patton says it back to him, he can’t stop himself from flinching, just a bit, can’t stop the widening of his eyes, the stilling of every muscle. He should be glad, he thinks, because this shows that Patton, at least, is willing to give him a chance, is willing to let him in just a little. But all he can feel is a pervasive sense of wrongness, because he isn’t supposed to be Janus here. Here, he is Deceit, is acting as Deceit. Janus is for isolated, personal moments, and for the life of him, he cannot change that, cannot draw out what little he knows of Janus while there are others here, while Thomas is here.

It’s all wrong. And it only gets worse.

Patton wants to spend time with him, after that. Mostly, he’s glad to accept, is glad of the opportunity to endear himself, to cultivate a relationship that once would have been impossible. Patton invites him to bake, to watch movies, to play games, even to debate morality with him, and he does, and he finds himself enjoying both the activities and the company. But every so often, he catches himself, happiness curdling and souring, because these are all things he enjoys when he is Patton, when he is filling in the cracks that form in Morality’s absence. He has never done any of this as Janus, and every time Patton calls him by the name, he feels dirty, feels like the worst kind of imposter, because in these moments, he doesn’t feel as though he is acting as Janus so much as acting like a reflection of Patton himself, and if Patton knew that, knew that the person he thought he was befriending barely exists at all, he would be devastated.

For some reason, he thinks he would do just about anything to avoid that. For the sake of Thomas’ mental health, surely, and not because he cares about Patton as an individual. To do that would be to open a door that he wouldn’t know how to close. Better to leave it shut and locked, and to ignore the fact that the knob is already turning.

“You okay there, kiddo?” Patton asks him. “You seem a little distracted.”

He manages a smile, and he knows it comes off well, because that is what he is practiced in. “Perfectly fine,” he says. “Sorry about that.” He sniffs the air. “This batch definitely won’t burn if you leave it in any longer.”

And Patton gasps and bustles around, pulling the cookies from the oven, the redirection working perfectly.

Leave it shut and locked? Please. The door is open, he thinks. Perhaps it would be a disservice to both of them to pretend otherwise. Because he finds himself almost unbearably fond of Patton, these days, and guilty for feeling so. As soon as he has a moment alone, he has to shift into Patton’s form to get his emotions under control, to abate the itching tightness of his skin. Deceit isn’t made for these pleasant interactions, and Janus is about as tangible as mist, but he can hardly be Patton in front of Patton, so he wears a mask of scales and speaks past the acid burning in his throat.

The smart thing to do would be to stop. To retreat, to cut off these developing ties before they can do him any more harm. But for all the cognitive dissonance this is causing him, he doesn’t want to lose Patton’s friendship, his smiles and warmth. He’s not sure how he used to live without it.

The door is open so wide that it might as well be hanging off its hinges.

He can grin and bear it when it’s just Patton. For a while, it seems as though it will remain that way. Roman, at least, doesn’t want to see him, and when Virgil isn’t avoiding him, their interactions are far from cordial. And when he is tired, he can sink back into the dark side of the mindscape where Remus awaits him, and Remus, at least, has never expected him to be anything that he is not. He never calls him by his name, either, instead blurting out whatever obscene nickname pops into his head in the moment.

He has never been so glad of that.

But then, Logan invites him to play a game of chess, and for a full three minutes, he is overjoyed, because he loves to play chess, and Logan is the only one who could possibly give him a challenge, and the fact that Logan voluntarily wants to spend time with him is nothing short of amazing. The euphoria lasts until the board is set and they are facing each other, and he catches himself just before shapeshifting into Logan’s form. And he remembers: he has only ever played chess as Logan, learned to play in the first place so as to better imitate Logan. He has played against everyone in the mindscape but Logan at one point or another, providing a distraction and logical advice when Logan himself was unavailable, and none of them were any the wiser as to just who commanded the opposing set of pieces.

Except Remus, but he just thought it was funny.

It is all he can do to focus on the game. All he can do to put up a decent showing, though he loses. All he can do to prevent himself from mirroring Logan’s mannerisms by mistake, out of habit.

He doesn’t know how to do this as Janus. His face is frozen, but his hands are fidgeting, seeking release. Normally, he would copy Logan’s calm, his professionalism, but he can’t do that when Logan is sitting right across from him, sure to notice anything odd or out of place.

“It was a good game, Janus,” Logan says when they are done, and he wants to scream, because Janus doesn’t belong here either, doesn’t belong sitting by a chessboard. That has always been Logan’s place, and it disturbs him somewhere deep inside to be playing Logan’s game, wearing Deceit’s face, being called Janus. So much so that once the game is completed, he retreats to his room and stays there for a week, refusing to answer the door.

It should help. He is not Janus often, but when he is, it is here, in the sanctuary of his own room, his own bed.

It doesn’t help. If anything, it unsettles him even more, because the lines that hold his identities apart have been blurred so far that he spends the entire week uncomfortable in his skin, unsure of who he’s trying to be at any given moment. He shifts into the others, stares at their reflections in the mirror, but that doesn’t make things any better.

He needs help. He has to admit that, at this point. And there’s only one other he can think of to go to, only one other who might have experienced anything close to this tailspin.

He knocks on Virgil’s door.

Virgil opens it promptly enough, though his expression morphs from neutral to pissed off immediately upon seeing him. “Fuck off,” he snaps, and slams the door shut in his face.

He knocks again. And when he gets no reply, he keeps knocking, knocking and knocking and knocking.

“Don’t worry, I definitely couldn’t do this all day,” he calls airily, and Virgil jerks the door open again, face now firmly set in incandescent rage.

“What the fuck do you want?” he spits, all nerves and anger, all fight and no flight at all.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks.

Virgil stares at him, wordless, eyes narrow. And then, he holds the door open, allowing him to step inside.

“Make it quick,” he bites out, closing the door behind him. “What the hell do you think you and I have to discuss?”

He raises an eyebrow at that, because really? They have everything to discuss, and the longer they put it off, the more difficult it will be to start. Their relationship as it stands now is untenable; left to rot much longer, and it will begin to actively harm Thomas, which is something he absolutely cannot allow.

But that is not what he is here for.

“For both of our sakes, I won’t answer that,” he says. “I just have a question for you.”

Virgil glares. In his hoodie sleeves, his hands are balled into shaking fists. It hurts in an odd sort of way, to see how much he hates him. “Then ask it and leave,” he says, his voice threaded with trepidation. He already knows that he won’t like what he hears.

Well. That makes two of them. He knows he isn’t going to like asking this question.

“After you first told the others your name,” he says, “how long did it take for you to like hearing it?”

He has the dubious pleasure of seeing shock, pure and unfiltered, pass across Virgil’s face.

“How long--” Virgil starts. “What are you even--? I don’t know, I've never thought about it. I… I never disliked hearing it. I mean, I told them in the first place because I trusted them.” A barb, though not an undeserved one. “It was weird, but I wouldn't have told them if I didn’t want them to know it. Why are you asking me that?”

It’s exactly the answer he didn’t want. He knew that Virgil wouldn’t understand what he is going through, that Virgil, at his core, is exactly what and who he appears to be, unlike him. But he hoped that there would have been an adjustment period, at least, that there was a time when Virgil, so used to being called by his function, deemed the monster under the bed, would have found it disturbing or at least unnerving to be named so casually.

“Absolutely no reason at all,” he says, and turns back to the door. “Thank you for your time.”

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil catches him by the arm, and he freezes. “You’re not leaving.”

He breathes out slowly, tries not to show his growing fear. The effects of Virgil’s room are beginning to take root, but in his heart of hearts, he knows that’s not the only reason for the erratic pounding of his pulse.

“Oh?” he says, and fights to keep the tremor from his voice. “I thought you wanted me to ask and leave? Do continue with the indecision, it never ceases to delight me.”

“No,” Virgil says, voice hard. “You don’t get to do that. Not until you tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

He should never have come here. He draws on Deceit like a cloak, like armor to protect him, armor woven of sarcasm and misdirection and misplaced confidence. Be what he expects, and he will never see anything different; that is a lesson he learned years ago. But the persona is shaky, muted by his confusion and by the bleed-through of every other guise he’s ever adopted. To give ground in front of Virgil is like diving into shark-infested waters with an open wound, but the smoothness he seeks to emulate slips through his grasp.

“It’s a question I need answered,” he says. “No more than that.”

“Bullshit.” Virgil tugs on his arm, and despite himself, he turns his head to face him. There is something odd flickering behind the irritation in Virgil’s eyes, something strange in the tilt of his head that he cannot place. It puts him ill at ease; to be unable to read Virgil is inviting danger, especially in Virgil’s own territory. “If you don’t like them saying your name, then why did you tell them?”

Caught.

He can feel all the blood draining from his face. His vision tunnels, focusing on Virgil’s face, on the expression that is anger and something that cannot possibly be concern, because they burned their bridges far too thoroughly for that. His head throbs, his breathing hitching, and he knows that he needs to leave, now, before he spirals further, because showing weakness in front of another is reprehensible but far, far worse if that someone is Virgil--

“Janus!” Virgil says, alarm threading through his voice, and that is absolutely the last straw. He rips his arm from Virgil’s grasp and sinks directly out, falling through the mindscape until he is in his own room, gasping for breath. His pulse races, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, and when he turns to look in the mirror, he finds that he has wrapped himself in Virgil’s form as his fears threaten to overwhelm him, hoodie and eyeshadow and all.

He curls up on the floor and tries to remember how to breathe.

It takes a long time for him to calm himself, and when he manages to look up again, it is Patton staring back at him. He likes being Patton, likes it more than being any of the others, because Patton is warm and soft and for all his flaws, fundamentally good in a way that used to repulse him but no longer does. Being Patton feels like the closest thing to a hug that he will ever get.

He forces himself to shift again, forces himself into Deceit before stumbling from his room and into the commons. Remus is laying on the couch, half-naked, watching some gory anime and eating ice cream straight out of the carton. He pauses for a moment, watching him, taking comfort in the familiarity; everything changes, but Remus, at least, is a constant, like the north star if the north star showed its love by threatening violence at random intervals. For the briefest of seconds, he shifts into Remus and then back to Deceit again, and for once, feels steady.

Remus takes notice of him eventually, sitting up and baring his teeth in a grin.

“How’d it go with Virgey?” he asks.

He decides not to question how he knew where he was.

“Right, because I want to talk about it,” he grumbles. “Can’t you tell?” He strides over to the couch, keeping as much dignity intact as possible as he shoves at Remus’ legs until he moves them, providing room for him to sit. “What are we watching?”

“Parasyte,” Remus offers, but there is an odd tone in his voice. When he looks, he sees that Remus is watching him now, rather than the screen, and something in the strangely level gaze is discomfiting.

“What?” he snaps.

“Nothing,” Remus says, raising his hands. “Just, are you good? I mean, we can switch it to something you wanna watch, if you want. Like, uh, that one show where everyone’s dead? You like that one, right?”

“The Good Place,” he mutters. “No, that’s alright. You’d be bored to tears.”

Remus frowns, but doesn’t respond. It takes another full episode-- he thinks; they must be in the middle of the plot, because he has absolutely no idea what’s going on-- for him to speak again, which is strange in and of itself. A quiet Remus never bodes well, because a quiet Remus means that either he is hurting, or he is seriously contemplating hurting someone else. No jokes, no disgusting gags, just a desire to inflict pain for pain’s sake. It doesn’t happen often, but it is never pleasant when it does. All too often, it is Remus himself who becomes the victim of these tendencies, Remus who tears into his own flesh rather than harming another.

But then, the silence is broken, and he almost wishes that it weren’t.

“If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right, Dee?” Remus asks, and he swallows, hard.

“Of course,” he lies, and of course it is a lie, a lie hissed out between his teeth, because there is nothing that Remus can do about this, so what would be the point in telling him about it? Remus cares, even if he shows it in odd ways, and it would only hurt him to be presented with a problem that he can do nothing to solve.

“Good,” Remus says, settling back in. “‘Cause you know, if anybody was hurting you, I’d smash their skull in. Like a watermelon. Bits going everywhere. Hey, have you ever seen those videos of people crushing watermelons with their thighs? Do you think I could get someone to do that to my skull?” He shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, speaking around it. “I bet it’d be real juicy.”

“I bet,” he murmurs. He doesn’t have the energy to respond further.

What is he supposed to say? He has no doubt that he could set Remus on any of the others easily; all it would take is a sentence, a white lie, and perhaps not even that. Oh, so-and-so was a dick to me, Remus, don’t you think they would like to be introduced to your mace? Remus would jump at the chance for a bit of sanctioned mayhem.

But no one is hurting him but himself. He wonders what Remus would do if he told him that. Could he get Remus to bash his head in, to hit him until whatever is broken in his brain comes loose? Or until he can’t feel anything at all anymore, and wouldn’t that just solve every one of his problems? No more confusion, no more angst, no more churning in his stomach whenever someone calls him by a name or a label that feels no more like his than any other.

The idea is more attractive than it should be.

He excuses himself not too much later, and Remus’ eyes bore into his back as he returns to his room, telling himself that it’s a strategic retreat, that he’s not running away.

He knows it for the lie it is, little though he wants to admit it to himself. And as he stands there in the center of his room, trying to decide whether it is worth it to continue with the day or if he should go to bed now, avoid the world for a little longer, his reflection in the mirror catches his eye, and he turns to stare at it. A face stares back, and he supposes that the face must be his, but he doesn’t feel like it. It looks as though it is mocking him, taunting him with his unreality.

He shudders and turns away, but the name rings in his head. Janus Janus Janus. A person he should know but that he can no longer find, even here. Once his room was a safe haven, but now it feels like a prison, trapping him between identities that he no longer knows how to escape.

He has his back to the mirror, but the reflection is still there, he knows, and a shiver creeps down his spine, filling him with something like anger and something like fear.

He turns off the lights.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones

#sanders sides #ts sides #platonic tdlampr #janus sanders #ts janus #patton sanders #ts patton #logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil #remus sanders #ts remus #long post #my fic #this is essentially 'janus has an identity crisis: the fic'#and boy oh boy is it a doozy

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magpie-of-a-birb · 3 years

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@paint-the-ravenclaw tagged me in on sorting Sanders Sides characters (that post is here), and I decided to make a whole new post for it. Here we go-

Editor Magpie here! It's a good thing that I made this a post of its own, cuz boy is it long. Patton's section took up three pages hand-written, if that tells you anything.

(Also, beware spoilers. If you're not up-to-date, I may reference things you haven't seen yet)

Patton

I'm starting off with Patton because, quite frankly, what he's got going on is fascinating. Sad, but fascinating.

He's a very obvious badger primary, but he also has a badger performance layered over top of it. If you've seen The Good Place, or listened to the @sortinghatchats podcast episode where they sorted TGP characters, you'll be able to see that this is the same as what Tahani did.

Patton's primary is for his community, but he also has an idea of what his primary should be. Not "should" as in aspirational, but "should" as in expectation. So he makes a badger primary performance, something that says "look at me! I'm a good person!" but creates self-loathing because he believes that he isn't living up to that performance. And here's the kicker:

His performance is exploding.

He thinks that, to be a good person, he (and Thomas, by extention) has to sacrifice everything for others. That is the badger primary performance that he thinks he should be.

Disclaimer: this is an unhealthy example of badger primary. No house is inherently healthy or unhealthy. There are many healthy, thriving badger primaries, and they are beautiful, just as every other house is.

And his exploding primary put a lot of strain on his badger secondary (he's a caretaker and loves courtier badger). He has to work hard and show up for everyone all the time and he... can't. It's not possible.

The fact that he cannot humanly live up to his own expectations makes his secondary start to burn. You especially see that in the courtier aspect of his secondary. He feels like he should be the "optimistic, goofy dad-friend" and he loves using courtier badger for it. But he burns out from being there for everyone, that face becomes unreliable in courtier badger because he can't feel it all the way down, he's not happy. So his badger starts to burn, and what does he do?

He takes up an actor bird model to handle the strain. He's used to the "happy, goofy dad" mask that it's easy for him to shift it from courtier mirroring to an actor role.

And whew boy, is that actor bird obvious in Selfishness vs Selflessness Redux. When it's clear that the others aren't siding with him, Patton isn't able to shift to match the change to make a stronger argument - as a snake or mirroring badger could - so he doubles down on his role.

"Remember, guys, I'm morality. My role is to make correct moral choices. Look! This is my good and helpful mask! I'm good and helpful!"

He does that all the way until he's sure that it's a lost cause, and that's when he snaps. But his snapping isn't drawing what he knows of the others, it's not using things that he knows will hurt them, not as we expect him to (especially since he uses similar tactics to manipulate Thomas into doing the right thing).

He transforms. Because he can't be angry. He's not allowed to be angry. Being angry is wrong. If he's angry, according to his exploding primary performance, then he's not a good person.

So he transforms. Because he can only be angry if he isn't himself. Patton chooses not to be Patton. He chooses to be a monster. Instead of translating his thoughts to fit the role (like with his dad role) he's using the role to justify the feelings.

Another disclaimer: like with primaries, no secondary is inherently healthy or unhealthy. There's even an example of healthy actor bird later in this sorting.

Logan

First off, his bird secondary is obvious. He loves collecting and using things. He loves lists and plans. His insecurity stems from his tools not being enough. He is a bird.

His primary is a bit more difficult because he doesn't usually make decisions from a moral standpoint, that's not his job. It's clear that he's not a felt primary, and due to the lack of intensity in general, I think snake can be ruled out. So, bird primary.

Virgil

His system is very lion primary. His gut says that something is wrong and he acts immediately.

His tactics are very bird secondary, preferring to construct a reasonable argument about why Thomas should be anxious over forcefully shoving panic at Thomas (which he does do when he sees the situation as an emergency and he needs Thomas to stop/do something now, but it's not his preference).

On top of that, Virgil has a birdy mask up at the beginning of the series. It's one born out of duty (lion primary), so he embodies the role that he's expected to play as anxiety (a bad guy who's goal is to make Thomas scared) instead of being himself (someone who's trying to keep Thomas safe). So he plays the role until he's shown that he doesn't have to.

Also, look at how he acts in the debate between him and Logan. All of his snap-back retorts are of the same type: general, playground insults. They're predictable and formulaic, like a default response a bird may have when they don't know how to respond while in a given mask. Basically: he's falling back on pre-set common phrases that the character he is embodying would say when he's not "translating" his thoughts into those of his character fast enough.

On a side note, I think that's how you differentiate between actor bird from the other forms of masks: playing a role with a tangible name.

Anyways-

Roman

LION BIRD LION BIRD LION BIRD

He hoards music, plays, movies, and musicals like a corvid and references them like nobody's business. His quick wit is in wordplay ("panic at the everywhere" much?) which, while not indicative of a bird secondary, is bird-flavored icing on the cake.

He lives in actor bird, and while his role isn't always applicable, I think that Roman is an easily-visable example of healthy actor bird. He loves and takes pride in his roles and doesn't solely use them as a shield (like Patton and, to a lesser extent, early Virgil).

He's a bit of a glory hound, he's attracted to the glamor that being a well-known creative and a hero entails, and that feeds into his default Hero/Prince in Shining Armor role. But it's wrong for him to pursue that at the expense of those he loves being miserable (see: Selfishness vs Selflessness).

Remus

Remus shares his primary with his brother. However, he's a horizon/fey lion. Everything that is fun is good which, when combined with his loves-to-mess-with-people snake secondary, spells pain for everyone else in a garish neon-green sign that smells vaguely of a landfill and intentionally leaves glitter everywhere.

Janus

Janus is a double snake. His person is Thomas, and anything is okay (especially deception) if it's to protect him.

Bonus sort: Thomas

Thomas is an interesting character. Because he is a character, within the context of Sanders Sides, that is. Sanders Sides!Thomas is not the same as Real Life!Thomas, even if the former is heavily inspired by the latter. As such, I think that there's enough to sort Character!Thomas.

Character!Thomas is very much a badger primary. It makes sense that he'd match primaries with Patton, his morality, but more so, the entire premise of the show has heavy healthy badger messages. Most episodes are about choosing the right thing to do, and Thomas makes that decision depending on what his community (the Sides) think. He's clearly a felt primary, but if he were a lion, then the "get input from others" aspect of the show would not be as effective.

His secondary is less obvious, but I have to go with bird. Most of the Sides have bird secondaries, and as they're aspects of Thomas, that would logically reflect his secondary to some degree. And he has many of the same hoards as the others, joyfully drawing on and pointing out references to things.

There may possibly be a badger (particularly courtier badger) model in there, but I can't confidently say that it's the case.

In Conclusion:

Patton: badger primary with an exploded badger primary performance. Semi-burned badger secondary with an unhealthy bird secondary model (specifically actor bird)

Logan: double bird

Virgil: lion bird

Roman: lion (glory hound variant) bird

Remus: lion (fey/horizon variant) snake

Janus: double snake

Thomas: badger bird with a possible badger secondary model

#magpie speaks #magpie sorts #sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #thomas sanders #long post #tw long post #sortinghatchats

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dastardlydandelion · 3 years

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medium luci

ao3 link

content warnings: homophobia, comphet, child abuse, abusive relationships

It’s rare that Susan and Neil have the same weekday off. Neil typically works five days a week and she three or four, depending who’s on staff, being that she’s only part-time. But he’d had a dentist appointment midmorning so he’d taken today off and decided to make his hours up by volunteering for a double next week.

Susan doesn’t typically care to spend any extra time alone with her husband. They have so little to talk about these days, now that he doesn’t try to butter her up or feed her honey sweet lies as much as he used to. Now that Neil doesn’t care to talk much at all unless ranting or complaining about the various things he doesn’t like, his son’s style of dress, women who sit with their legs open, cab drivers who don’t speak English. Susan doesn’t even remember the last time Neil had to take a cab but he has strong opinions on them nonetheless, and the list goes on and on.

He thankfully hasn’t done much of that today, however. He’d parked himself in front of the television after coming home from his appointment and simply nodded when Susan announced she was going out to garden. She only comes inside when she hears the phone ring and by the time she’s walking up the back steps, Neil’s already answered it.

She watches his expression change as he converses with whomever’s on the other end, nervousness fluttering in her chest as his eyes widen, then harden.

“I’ll be right there,” Neil concludes as he hangs up, turning those hard eyes onto Susan. “That was the school.”

“Oh dear…what’s Billy done this time?”

“Not Billy.” Neil shakes his head and Susan’s heart drops with the realization her husband isn’t just irritated but seething, knuckles blanched as his hands ball into tight fists. “Maxine. Did you know the Sinclairs have a girl around her age?”

“N-No, I didn’t. I’m not very familiar with them, Neil.” Susan never had much luck getting close to anyone anymore, not in the least because of Neil himself.

“Apparently Maxine is,” he declares icily. “A teacher caught her and the Sinclair girl fornicating under the bleachers.”

Susan’s heart turns to stone and sinks into her stomach.

No.

Please, no.

Neil has very strong opinions about sexuality in general and homosexual conduct in particular, and Susan can practically feel the outrage radiating from him. It crackles in the air like the promise of a lightning storm. Neil’s fists are still clenched and his posture goes taut like it always does before he explodes.

“W-Well,” Susan begins, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

She hates herself for what she is going to say. She says it anyway.

“Well, you know where she learned that kind of b-behavior from, don’t you?”

Because if Neil is going to explode, Susan can’t stop him. But she hopes she can at least encourage the worst of it away from Max. She watches Neil’s eyes flicker and knows they’re both remembering the day they came home early from the short vacation they’d taken for their fifth anniversary, a girl and a boy sneaking out of Billy’s bedroom window, neither particularly clothed. She watches the angry bulge of the vein pulsing in his neck and knows they’re both thinking of that short young fellow with the skateboard who worked at the used car lot during the day and spent his time with Billy during the night.

“Yes, I know exactly where she learned it from. I’m picking both of them up and we’re all going to have a family discussion.”

“I should come with you.”

“No.” Neil holds up his hand. “Stay here, Susan. We’ll be back soon enough.”

Neil has gun powder in his gaze and she dares not argue. She lowers her head and steps aside when he walks past to fetch the truck keys from the hook. He stomps down the steps and slams the backdoor shut behind him.

Susan watches through the window as he gets into the truck and pulls out of the driveway, feeling dreadfully ill. She doesn’t mean what she’d said, of course. There are a number of behaviors that Max has picked up from Billy, but that isn’t one of them. If anyone is to blame, Susan supposes it’s herself for passing it along intrinsically.

She has her own secret desires locked away within the chambers of her heart. Desire she dares not confront for her own sanity, for her own safety. She’s never acted on her wants, always chose to play private games of hide and seek with them in her head instead, those insidiously innocent wishes of hers. Never spoken aloud let alone pursued those urges that flush hot beneath her skin when she finds her eyes drawn to other women’s lips, hips, breasts.

Susan gave it to Max and unlike her, Max is brash and bold and brave. God save her, Max does what she wants to do and doesn’t care what other people think. Susan would admire her for it if it didn’t scare her to death.

Because Neil does care what other people think. He cares very much. And Susan’s seen him annoyed with Max in the past. She’s seen him frustrated with Max, displeased, exasperated. But never has she seen the silent stirring of a reign of rage to come where Max is concerned, never has she known that particular look in Neil’s eye to be directed Max’s way. She can only hope—

Oh, it’s such a despicable thing to hope for. Susan has poison in her soul, she swears she must. But Billy isn’t remotely hers and Max very much is.

* * *

Susan doesn’t know if it was actually her remark that spurred Neil to turn the blame on Billy or if this was the conclusion he would’ve come to anyway. Neil often blames Max’s mishaps and mischiefs on Billy. Billy being the older sibling meant to lead by example. Billy being the older brother, meant to keep his younger sister out of trouble to begin with.

Her remark or Neil’s default thought process, in any case, it’s Billy he’s glaring at in the living room. Angrily dictates that Billy take off his shirt, belt in hand. Susan grabs a very pale Max’s shoulders and begins to usher her down the hall.

“Where are you taking Maxine?”

Susan freezes, mouth going dry.

Neil’s looking their way now, brow arched, stern and skeptical.

“I-I—“

“She isn’t going to learn if she doesn’t watch, Susan,” he declares with no room for argument. “Bring her back.”

Susan swallows, hands tightening on Max’s shoulders. Something dies inside her when she turns her daughter around. She buries it silently as she’s buried so many other pieces before and avoids Max’s eyes boring into her as she marches her back to the living room. Neil motions for them to sit on the couch, sunlight glinting off the metal buckle. Billy doesn’t bother to disguise his disdain, glaring murder, nostrils flaring like an ornery bovine. Susan suspects he’ll pay for this too.

“Your behavior today was beyond inappropriate, Maxine,” Neil tells her coldly. “Unnatural, disgusting, absolutely unacceptable.”

Max squirms next to Susan, hands tucking under her thighs. She is stone faced but this close, Susan can feel her shaking.

“Now, I know it’s not all your fault. Big Brother here’s taught you—“

“I didn’t teach her shit!” Billy cuts him off, sharp and acidic. “I told her to steer clear from Sinclair, this isn’t on me!”

Neil punches his son in the stomach with all the affect of swatting a fly, once, twice. Susan flinches. Billy’s gasping, breath knocked out of him. He staggers and Neil viciously shoves him to the floor.

“She saw you with that faggot’s tongue down your throat, don’t think I don’t know! I know you, I know the kind of shit you think you can get away with behind my back!” Neil roars like thunder. “Well, now it’s my turn to teach her a thing or two! Pay attention, Maxine!”

Max stiffens beside her. She opens her mouth to protest and Susan grabs her arm, sinking her nails in. Startled, Max's eyes dart to her. Susan gives a tiny shake of the head, urging her not to speak. Max bends her elbow like a chicken wing and jerks her arm out of Susan’s grasp. Ire flares in her gaze but she holds her tongue. She does not challenge Neil as he begins beating Billy with the belt.

Susan can’t watch. She lowers her eyes to the floor. She can see the movement in the shadows, Neil’s rapid whipping of the improvised weapon and Billy’s form jolting with the blows. Susan shuts her eyes to the shadows but she can still hear it, thick, hard leather striking bare flesh.

“Don’t turn away, Maxine,” Neil barks at some point between the sounds of violence.

Billy doesn’t cry out. Eventually it’s over. Susan raises her head and cannot bear more than a glance at her stepson braced on his hands and knee. The belt now rests at Neil’s side and still, her stomach is churning.

“If there is ever a repeat of the conduct you displayed today, there will be consequences. Is that understood, Maxine?”

Max looks to Susan. Her eyes are wavering. Then they glean whatever it is they were searching for from Susan’s and harden.

“Yes,” she mumbles.

“Yes, what?”

Max clears her throat.

“Yes, sir,” she corrects, louder and clearer.

“Both of you to your rooms,” he commands. “I want both of you to reflect on your actions until it’s time for dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Billy answers this time, climbing to his feet in the corner of Susan’s eye. She remains on the couch as her daughter rises and plods down the hall, cheeks as red as the cherry atop a sundae. Flushed as red as the welts on Billy’s back that have Susan’s stomach in ropes even though she only spares a brief glance.

Neil sets the belt aside and plops down in his armchair. “Can you get me a beer, Susan?”

She nods and rises, quietly fetching one. Pops the tab and then passes it to him before she excuses herself. In times like this, Susan wants to leave more than anything. She wants to grab Max and take her far, far away. But she can’t imagine they would get anywhere, truly.

Neil controls the finances. Susan makes less money than he does and every cent she does earn inevitably winds up under Neil’s attentive purview. In a distant, ostensible kind of way Susan understands there are shelters for women in her situation. Shelters out there, somewhere…aren’t there? For her situation?

Neil hasn’t actually put his hands on her. Not yet. Not like what he just did to Billy. Hasn’t actually done so to Max, although the threat of that unfolded in the living room in a way that could not be more crystal clear. The threat alone feels like a fist to Susan, invisible fist clenched tight around her insides and squeezing so hard she's nauseous.

Is the threat enough? Would Susan and Max be accepted on the basis of threats alone?

Provided she could ever find such a place to begin with. Susan doesn’t have the faintest clue of where to look for what feels more like a nebulous fantasy of a sanctuary than a tangible reality. A shimmering oasis in the desert. Even if she were to locate such a place, what if it were at full capacity?

What if she and Max got turned away?

That would mean choosing between being homeless or going back to Neil. Going back to Neil after a failed escape would certainly mean him making good on all those threats of his, the ones verbal and non. The examples explicit in his words and implicit in his actions. Above all, any failed escape would certainly ensure there would be no second escape.

Susan isn’t going anywhere. And neither is Max. The very notion is abstract and distorted, floating just out of reach in a gaussian blur of a wish. Their home isn’t a good home. But it is the home they have and so, Susan will simply have to do her best to make sure Max never does anything like this again. That Max never does anything to get Neil’s attention like that, nothing to stoke the coals always smoldering in his choleric soul. That as painful as it's sure to be, Max learns to keep certain parts of herself under lock and key.

When dinner is in the oven and Neil is engrossed in his program, Susan slips off to Max’s bedroom. She knocks quietly and lets herself in. Her throat knots up at the tear tracks on her daughter’s cheeks, far more gutting than the way she bristles as Susan steps closer, the sheer hurt in her eyes.

“What do you want?”

The same things as you, Susan thinks irresistibly. And I’d go after them too, if I didn’t know better.

“I’m sorry, Max.”

Max huffs and turns away. “Whatever.”

“I am.”

“No you’re not. You’re just like Neil, you think I’m disgusting,” Max spits, hiking her legs up on the bed and hugging her knees to her chest. “You think Billy’s disgusting too, you couldn’t even look at him.”

“No, I don’t…oh, Max.” Susan swallows and lowers herself to a sit beside her on the bed, gently placing a hand on her knee. She swallows her heartbreak when Max’s eyes flash as though the touch scalds her. “Neil and I disagree about many things. This is one of them.”

“Then why didn’t you say that?” The blaze in Max’s eyes dies down, voice softening to cinders. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

“Oh, he’s so much bigger than me, Max.” Susan sags with familiar defeat. “And I— I don’t think it’s wrong, you and this girl.”

“Lucy.”

“I’m sure Lucy is lovely,” leaves Susan’s lips, this fragile whisper she dares not tempt fate to speak above. “I could never think that you’re disgusting. But I’m just me, Max, and Neil is bigger, and the world…the world too, is so much bigger than I am. You can’t— never, ever in public.”

Max’s eyes widen. Susan shifts on the bed and moves her hands, finds both of Max’s and squeezes tight.

“You cannot be open with feelings like that. You can’t take girls to your school dances, you can’t kiss them where other people could see.”

Max lets out an angry growl even as her eyes well up.

“It’s not fair!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good enough!”

“I know.” She knows, oh, she knows, she’s never not choking on it.

Max chews her lip, scarlet and fuming. Susan halfway expects her daughter to headbutt her or holler right in her ear until she deafens. But after a moment it’s almost as if Max can decode all the things she cannot say because her hands twist under Susan’s and intertwine their fingers.

#my fic tag #susan hargrove #max mayfield #neil hargrove #billy hargrove #kinda an inversion of that one fandom trope #ig

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sepublic · 3 years

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G1 Starscream Ramblings

The interesting thing to me about G1 Starscream, specifically the one from the cartoon is… He very much gives me ‘young upstart vibes’, the hot-headed rookie that’s fresh into war, just graduated, and is eager to fight and prove himself. Especially with his line about how ‘his time will come’, I get the vibe that Starscream sees Megatron as almost being outdated hardware, some crankety old-timer whose come and gone and outlived his prime (eventually literally as of the movie), which fits with how Megs was around since the beginning and founded the Decepticons from the start.

And it’s this disrespectful, irreverent attitude, that constant questioning because he lacks experience and assumes it’s way simpler and easier than it actually is… It all just (star)screams new, fresh recruit who thinks he’s all that, wide-eyed and idealized and thinking he can take on the entire world, instead of being a battle-hardened veteran who’s been humbled and is more prone to the realities of war and its complexities. It’d play into Starscream being so power-hungry, wanting instant gratification and glory, and always being impatient about this sort of thing without really thinking things through, he’s an impulsive brat.

Maybe he’s even the Cybertronian equivalent to a rich brat who got where he did thanks to his family’s high-end connections, and so there’s always that judging from more experienced soldiers about how Starscream is clearly operating on a lot of privilege, wearing shoes multiple sizes too big for him, and generally making a fool of himself as he parades around, treating the whole situation like an opportunity for fame and adulation, like he’s some celebrity indulging in the fun, and not a general and a commander who has to keep fighting for the cause, make the right and mature calls, all that.

Because it’s worth noting that a lot of times in G1, he ends up acting out-of-line and doing costly maneuvers that hinder the Decepticons- Most notably, trying to bury the Autobots and accidentally awakening them in the process. And it’s this eagerness to get into fighting and prove himself that leads to Starscream short-sightedly wanting to focus on attacking the Autobots because they’re right there, picking a fight- When Megatron, who is older and more level-headed, has to steer this brash new kid in the right direction, set him on track with the proper agenda and mission. Maybe whip him into shape a bit, and this could all play into Megs’ patience because Starscream is just a dumb kid, so he’s willing to give him some more doubt- Give Starscream some time to actually cool down and taste reality and he’ll surely fall into line.

He’s like some kid who grew up on military propaganda and bought into a bit too well, saw himself too much in those glamorous posters and manufactured, idealized images; So he’s pretty disappointed that it doesn’t turn out the way he expected it to. Starscream is like that popular kid in high school who always had a clique trailing behind him, and he kind of took it for granted how much he meant to these people because clearly their worlds revolve around him, which makes him all the more blindsided when he turns for help and his ‘friends’ immediately abandon him at the drop of a hat.

All of Starscream’s ‘friends’ and social situations were blatantly manufactured and brought up by somebody else, but he thinks it was all him so he’s in for a real shock when Starscream is by himself- And people don’t immediately fall in line at his beck and call, so he falters. He’s out of his environment, just graduated all of his usual tricks don’t work, try as he might to stubbornly reapply them like a hammer with anything that looks remotely nail-shaped. It’s this kind of idiotic hypocrisy that makes Starscream not realize that people who do put up with him only do so because they have to, and/or they’re opportunistically kissing up to his façade the way he does with others. Starscream’s grandiose imagination and outlandish, fantasy ‘ideas’ straight out of fiction and films that clearly don’t work in real life, clearly need to be reined in.

I also like to think that similar to that comparison I made earlier, he DOES have connections- Maybe it’s a Team Rocket situation, where the character is incompetent… But they had a parent who the leader greatly respected, and so they begrudgingly put up with their kid’s foolish antics and incompetent failures out of respect for that posthumous minion’s last wishes. Kind of like Hopper from A Bug’s Life really wanting to kill his brother, but because his mother explicitly told him NOT to on her deathbed, he kind of has to force himself not to because he still feels beholden to her- But there’s certainly no warmth on his end just because that person he respects, was fond of this dude he hates.

It could factor into Megatron constantly tolerating Starscream as a thorn in his side… And really, Starscream seems to be even more of an idiot at times than Megatron, what with Megatron going into a spiel that one time about how Starscream lost because he lacked strategy. Perhaps Starscream is, like, SUPER skilled in combat, a beast and a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield; And if he’s doing so well and he’s so strong, then surely this means he’s fit to be leader, because obviously the Decepticon who’s the best fighter should lead, right? It’s a gross oversimplification of a narrow-minded worldview… And I imagine Starscream also somewhat got where he was because of privilege, so he kind of takes a lot of things for granted here about how the Decepticon faction works and its hierarchy and rules.

Perhaps Starscream being an utter beast in combat contributes to Megatron keeping him around- He IS useful, he just needs some proper guidance and a good head to productively channel that ability. He’s confusing fighting ability with actual tactical leadership and charisma, but beyond that, Starscream clearly knows how to get out of a scrape, and has no reservations about playing dirty to add to his already potent combat skills as-is. So Megatron still has some hopes for Starscream, while sternly warning him not to make him regret his decision in further tolerating his nonsense- Because Megatron likes to think he’s a forgive and forget kind of guy, but only to people who justify themselves in his eyes as being strong and powerful, traits he actually respects.

Maybe Megatron even sees a little bit of his young self in Starscream, and so there’s that hope for a pay-off; That if he just gives Starscream a chance and proper guidance, that if the kid has someone who can set him on the right track and help him figure things out- Then he can really live up to his potential! Because that’s what Starscream is- Potential. Raw, untapped potential, clumsily thrown about and unrefined… But it’s there and Megatron would hate to make a waste of it, especially since this whole conflict is about resources; Even the hedonistic Decepticons have to be mindful of how they use things, how efficient they are.

Of course, having his constant patience and mercy, his tolerating, waiting in eternal hope for his investment into Starscream to finally pay off… Megatron is tired of giving him second chances, tired of how ungrateful this brat is, and how his failures keep adding up. So when Starscream straight-up throws him out to die, coupled with his reformatting into Galvatron… And Galvatron’s had about enough of this, he’s done and sick and tired of Starscream’s antics. After having people put up with him for so long, Starscream really begins to overestimate just how important and useful he is to them, that eventually he’ll reach a point where his negatives outweigh his positives, but he never considers this and believes he’ll always be allowed back into the fold after each betrayal…

Literally everything about Starscream’s coronation yells in-over-his-head kid who really has to compensate for his lack of leadership and respect from others by playing up the adulation and the glamour, but… If he HAD been given a chance to actually lead, his reckless impatience and short-sightedness would’ve definitely led the Decepticons to ruin, and someone would’ve had to stage a coup. Even Starscream’s use in combat would stop paying off for him as he becomes too much of a liability.

And it’s this inexperienced, clearly insecure demeanor that makes Starscream impatiently yell at the Constructicons to get to the point. He really can’t make up his mind and stick to it, so even though he has this music being played in the first place, Starscream just as quickly regrets and finds it annoying because he’s not particularly deliberate nor thoughtful about what he does. He knows what others think of them, that they don’t respect nor take him seriously, and it gets to his head and makes him irrationally angry because he doesn’t know to handle this, he expected this to be so much easier, to be as simple and done as THIS. Starscream really isn’t equipped to handle actually navigating around people from a charismatic standpoint and earning their trust, especially given his history as backstabber who has no concept of loyalty and bonds because he’s arrogant enough to think he can do it all on his own.

And when faced with genuine adversity and reality, as we see… Starscream very immaturely fumbles and trips, and then defaults to begging and pleading because he hasn’t built up much of a spine, and he’s still an idealistic kid who clearly hasn’t built himself up and his fortitude all that well. He’s promising with snot dribbling down his nose that he won’t screw up this time, please give him a second chance he didn’t MEAN it, he seriously did not expect nor consider the consequences of his actions, nor how they could backfire and blow up in his face.

Starscream is an upper-class snob who doesn’t really get it, he’s eager for approval because he’s young but also clearly selfish and ungrateful about it, because he’s always entitled to that thing and so when it DOES come around, it both means a lot, but also it’s about time, he was waiting for so long just to get the bare minimum he was owed, don’t pat yourself on the back for doing what you’re already meant to. And when things go wrong, Starscream blunders and starts to doubt himself because he was pampered, privileged, and sheltered, constantly told he was amazing- And so he doesn’t actually know how to handle failure and was always used to things coming easily to him on a silver platter, while having someone else to clean up the mess for him and protect him from the consequences. Starscream doesn’t appreciate the actual work that it takes for things, he’s basically spoiled and out of his environment in this military setting where nobody is having it.

Of course, when Starscream IS spared and recovers, he then silently fumes because he totally would’ve succeeded had THIS happened, or if this other person hadn’t screwed up- And then he fails to learn any of his lessons and keeps trying to take over and take charge, because obviously he knows better and he thinks all of his ideas are the best in the world. When faced with past failures, he doesn’t learn he just denies them as soon as they’re not being shoved in his face anymore, like a child who wet the bedsheets and is now frantically hiding them. He has no real clue nor idea about what he’s doing, but as soon as it’s over he again takes for granted the safety net that his fellow Decepticons begrudgingly provide, and wants again continues to test their patience and resources.

So, when Galvatron DOES come around and kill Starscream- The Decepticons are clearly elated, and if we’re being real here… They were all probably thinking of ways to assassinate or depose Starscream, or at least play to his ego so he could remain a figurehead who occasionally goes out into battle doing the one thing he’s good at, while his oh-so-loyal lieutenants do the dirty, unglamorous work of actually being a tactician and leader for hm. Starscream wants all of the power and fame, but like- NONE of the actual work and responsibility, that’s too much for him to actually work on so he just stamps his foot frustratedly when others don’t treat him with the respect he deserves, because he DOES recognize his own potential and expects other to revere Starscream for what he could be, VS what he actually currently is… And because he’s so caught up in the idea of what he thinks he’ll inevitably be, he never works on his current self so he can actually get to that point.

Like I said- Galvatron killing him saved the Decepticons a LOT of much-needed stress and headaches. It got that young brat and upstart out of the way so they could all get to business and not have to deal with his nonsense anymore, because he ain’t getting any deader! There was some hesitation about what COULD be lost if they did away with him, but now he’s gone and so all they can do is just reap the benefits of Starscream’s death! It’s almost relieving- Like YEAH, we were prepared on how to handle this… But then Galvatron came and made things so much easier, he got this off our hands and he’s clearly bold and decisive and knows what he’s doing, taking out Starscream made him VERY popular, in addition to basically being Megatron with a new coat of paint;

Up until his lava-bath fried his circuits… And then Galvatron basically became the Decepticon Leader Starscream that everybody feared, ironically enough. And then it was Cyclonus who had to do the job of looking after this dude, who was less a reckless young upstart and more like a senile old veteran gone mad and blindly waving his cane around; And then complications get worse when Starscream somehow returns as a GHOST, because why not? Sure, let’s go with that, we already have Galvatron seemingly saving us from Starscream, only to become the new one… Let’s compare him with the original and see what happens, why not? There must’ve been a lot of collective groans of exhaustion at each and every new development.

The Decepticons must be so exasperated, it really feels like they’ve been on a downward slope, outlived their prime and golden age since the Battle of Autobot City… Yet despite Megatron’s failures they remember him fondly because he did a lot of other things right, was otherwise charismatic, and seemed pretty close to actually winning, all things considered. And so the Decepticons are too caught up in their delusional nostalgia and what-ifs, the way Starscream is about his own future, to really remember that Megatron kind of screwed them over with that risky, costly maneuver that clearly didn’t pay off.

#transformers #maccadam #starscream #transformers g1 #g1 starscream #megatron #decepticons #ramblings #meta

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

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A Steven Universe AU

Hello all! Today, I am going to document an AU I had for Steven Universe! I would like to personally thank my friend Flamestar50 for the help I received to build this AU. I am going to mark down the information for the AU I had discussed with Flame when discussing this AU, so here I go! To note, the information will be about the questions Flame asked me, and my responses.

Okay, I talked to Flame and they are okay with this. Enjoy fully.

ALRIGHT!! Basically, assuming you know who Doctor Priyanka is hopefully, before Canon starts, Greg accidentally says something to Rose while they are talking after she got back from a particularly stressful mission, and it causes all the repressed pain and guilt, along with a not so healthy dollop of self-loathing, to come surging to the forefront.

To better process her feelings, Rose heads to the Beach and, well, ends up lamenting to herself, attracting the attention of a visiting Priyanka Maheswaran (Hope I spelled that right), who decided to approach the giant gem and get her to talk about her feelings.

Flame: huh, how does that go

Me: Well, because Rose has a LONG history of not thinking things all the way through and often not being able to see the full picture accurately, she ultimately decides to just spill it all. To vent every little thing about herself, all her actions, all her choices, all her mistakes, to a total stranger, because she genuinely cannot TAKE IT anymore!

Surprisingly, or probably not, Priyanka is moved, and understandably worried, by Rose's pain, and makes a point of comforting her, with Rose herself having shapeshifted back into her Diamond Form for the first time in CENTURIES.

Priyanka is genuinely in awe of all that Rose has done, and all that she has been through, and decides it is her duty as a medical professional, albeit not one licensed in psychology, to take on Rose as her patient, as the Gem is clearly not in a healthy or safe emotional state. Oh, and the other Gems and Greg all ended basically overhearing the whole thing while the two are none the wiser.

Flame: oh no, how did they react

Me: Well, shock for the most part. Amethyst and Garnet are, understandably, angry at being lied to, yet they can't bring themselves to be angry because, unless you've got a serious callousness to you, it is hard to be angry at someone who so clearly loathes themselves so completely and utterly.

Pearl is mostly shocked, and a touch despondent, that Rose had withheld all this hurt and inner turmoil from her. Greg? He doesn't know how to process what is going on, but what he does understand is that Rose, the person he loves more than anything else in the world, the one who finally made him see his own value and worth and could never even try to judge him, is hurting, and in need of comfort. They basically decide to shift the discussion back to the Temple for the rest of the initial event.

Flame: How will this effect Steven in the future?

Me: Well, I haven't finished describing the set up just yet, but it will have its effects on his future (HA! Snuck in the reference!). After moving back to the Temple, Priyanka in tow, the Gems (and Greg) basically hash out everything they can. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl are all understandably distressed and hurt by the secrets Rose has been carrying, but the sheer pain and hurt she clearly feels about herself convince them to work through it together.

For Amethyst, it partially convinces her to stop bottling up her insecurities, not after seeing what a wreck it made of Rose. Garnet knows she will have to fully confront her feelings on the subject later, but decides to be there for the others now. Pearl just wants to finally help Rose the way she feels Rose helped her. And Rose? She just feels such intense, unconditional joy and love at the fact that they don't see her as a monster, that they still love her, flaws and all, that she doesn't have to run away anymore.

The revelation of her feelings acts as a catalyst that causes her to involuntarily shapeshift into a new default state that merges her Diamond and Quartz forms, a symbol of her finally accepting herself completely, taking the name Rose Diamond; she isn't going to pretend she is something she's not anymore, she's going to show the whole world the entirety of who she is, flaws and all, so she can finally start to grow.

And then they realize that they never got Priyanka's name, and everyone starts cracking up at the sheer absurdity of it all, Rose included! I got more, but that is the initial intro to the AU.

Flame: what else ya got

Me: Well, because of her sense of obligation, and the fact that she honestly enjoys Rose's company, Priyanka more or less becomes the Gems' therapist, and often silently screams in her own head that she isn't trained for this. One of the things Rose does once she comes clean is to try and make amends for the things that came about due to her lies; for starters, she releases Bismuth, after she tracks down Lion that is (that crazy feline does whatever it wants, I swear).

Much like in canon, Bismuth is snapped out of her hyper-blood-rage once she is exposed to the Corrupted Gems and figures out that the Corruption partially came about due to her giving the idea of faking her shattering to Rose. Bismuth is MASSIVELY uncomfortable around Rose, and often adopts a loose, battle-ready stance whenever around her, but, partially due to working with Priyanka to help treat her PTSD, is gradually coming around.

Bismuth more or less does her own thing, but makes an effort to be there when needed, like when the Gems find an experimental Warp Pad. The Warp Pad, according to the notes Pearl finds, is supposed to be the ultimate escape system, allowing any being to enter the warp stream and proceed to a pre-determined Warp Pad across the Galaxy, and the next time that corresponding pad is used it will automatically bring them back.

Upon discovering that information, and seeing that the Warp Pad hasn't been set yet and still can be, Rose, without actually explaining to the others, uses the warp to rescue Spinel. I'm gonna leave it here for you to process and ask questions before I proceed.

Flame: Oh god, how is spinel gonna react to this version

Me: Well, considering she is still near-totally innocent, she basically asks if she won the game. Yeah. Rose basically cries her eyes out, and tearfully says that, yes, Spinel, you're the winner, and gets an ecstatic hug that feels just a little too tight.

Upon noticing that Spinel is subtly shying away from the plants, and that the roots of some have actually started growing over her, Rose carefully picks a weary Spinel up, and carries her over to the warp pad back to earth. When Spinel asks where they are going, Rose simply says they are going home, getting a content smile in return. Upon returning through the experimental warp, Rose is bombarded by a storm of panicked shouting from the other gems, only for them to calm down at the ragged Spinel in Rose's arms.

Rose attempts to brush off the danger of using an untested piece of potentially lethal tech, only for the warp to blow up behind them; none of them were hurt, it was more like a collapse, but the implication that that could've happened while she and Spinel were in the warp stream causes all the gems to shoot Rose looks that scream "We told you so." I'll let you process this while I gather my thoughts.

Flame: oh dear

Me: Yeah, Rose doesn't like to think things through when there are people who need help she can give. After carefully explaining who Spinel was and the situation surrounding her, which involves Pearl face-palming, Garnet pinching the bridge of her nose, Amethyst a little shell-shocked, and Bismuth pummeling a concrete pillar into gravel in anger, they take the sweet gem back home.

After making sure Spinel is situated comfortably, Rose breaks the news; she never planned on coming back. As Spinel freezes up, whether from shock or hurt is up to debate, Rose explains that she had never understood Spinel, always seeing her as a silly doll that the other Diamonds gave her to be a toy who couldn't take things seriously, with each word causing Spinel to slowly shake her head, shuddering more and more, before Rose apologizes for being a bad friend.

Before Spinel can completely LOSE IT, Rose, tears of shame, regret, and heartbreak, pulls Spinel into an impromptu hug, begging, pleading, for the chance to let Spinel be happy. After calming down enough not to lash out in out of control pain, Spinel, shaken but not broken, asks as calmly as she can to be alone for a little while. They give her her space. And another pause point!

Flame: I thought she was gonna lose it, I sure would have.

Me: She came VERY CLOSE, but Rose's presence, which she still associates with good things and happier times, manages to keep her just stable enough to go off the deep end. Spinel quickly becomes a regular patient for Priyanka, who makes a point to try and help the child-like gem to grow and develop as an individual like it's her personal missions.

Over time, Spinel gradually manages to come to terms with her situation. Spinel developed a phobia of plants due to her time in the garden, but also enjoys gardening, seeing it as a representation of her happiest memories, as well as a way to conquer her fear by leveraging control over the plants.

With prompting from Priyanka for the both of them, Rose and Spinel make an effort to rebuild their old relationship into something healthy for the both of them; for Rose, it is a chance to finally befriend and learn about Spinel as a Gem, and not the toy she treated her as, and for Spinel, it is a way to come to terms with her past and start making new friends in the present and future.

The two manage to reach a mostly amicable bond, but things occasionally get tense between them; Rose's past actions left deep scars on Spinel's heart, as while she still acts like her happy-go-nuts self, albeit tempered with proper emotional reading, she now holds a deep disdain for other gems and gemkind as a whole, making an exception only for those who've also been burned by Gem Culture and her friends, often acting similar to her initial debut self when communicating with gems who don't meet this small criteria.

Spinel genuinely loathes the fact that she is a Gem now, and finds human company effortlessly more enjoyable than any time she spends with other gems, no matter how much she views said gems as friends and family (Spinel very much enjoys the concept of family, and sees it as one of the many ways organic beings are superior to Gems in her eyes).

Flame: awww,poor spinel

Me:Yeah, she's a sad bean, but she wouldn't change herself for anything in the universe! Did I ever give the name for this AU? If not, the name is Here For You. One of the biggest divergences from canon in this AU? Rose lives after giving birth!!

How you may ask? When you are good friends with a doctor, and you suddenly spring on them that you, a non-human, non-organic alien plans to have a half-human child and you most likely won't survive the experience, you can expect them to put their foot down and help with the situation.

Priyanka essentially grills Rose on everything she knows about her race's biology, such as it is, her understanding of human biology, and makes her research methods to create gemstones and such; Priyanka isn't willing to have Rose relapse into her suicidal impulses again, even if it is to bring a child into this world, and is dead set on finding a way for them both to survive.

With Priyanka's help, and some scavenged Gem Tech from the Kindergartens, Rose manages to conceive (HA!) A method to have a fully half-gem-half-human child without killing herself. It largely involves artificially mixing her own gem essence with that harvested from old injectors and eating. SO much eating. Rose essentially is ingesting and absorbing the needed materials to build a human fetus and Diamond Proto-Gem together as one, without sacrificing her own gem in the process. And it works!! Mostly.

Flame: what do you mean mostly

Me: Well, the process was completely experimental, and they had no actual clue what they were doing, just making their best guess. The process worked, but it left Rose horrifically weakened. Her Gem's internal structure was dangerously demineralized, as in it lost a lot of minerals that compose its structure, and became insanely fragile and delicate as a result.

Giving birth essentially permanently crippled Rose; she can no longer shapeshift at all, her bubbles have a high chance of popping after forming and she can no longer teleport them, and a lot, if not all, of her powers besides her healing tears have been hamstrung to near uselessness.

She is now both weaker, and slower than any human, and constantly falls unconscious at random to conserve her compromised energy reserves. But it was worth it to bring her twins into the world!! ...Maybe that had something to do with it...

Flame: wait, twins!?!

Me: YES!! ULTIMATE SURPRISE REVEAL!! Yeah, in canon, before they settled on whether they were having a son or a daughter, Rose left two tapes behind for whichever gender her child ended up being, Steven Or Nora. So, in this one, she ended up giving birth to Twins!! Nora and Steven Diamond Universe!!

To clarify, Rose would've been weakened no matter what happened, but giving birth to twins nearly shattered her and permanently affected her abilities, not that she'll ever regret it, though she grows frustrated with how frailly she is treated by the others. You wanna hear about the twins next?

Oh, and in case I forgot to mention it, the twins were only partially an accident, as Rose didn't intend to have two kids, but is fine with it, she just overdid it on the eating and stuff needed to create the children and had just enough left over to jumpstart the development of a second child. Yeah.

Flame: go on and tell me about the twins!

Me: YES!! Due to Priyanka's influence, both twins end up actually, you know, GOING TO SCHOOL. Steven is, well, basically exactly the same, and still heavily takes after both his dad and Rose's Quartz form, but being around other kids his age has improved his social skills and given him a larger group of peers and pals.

Nora is a bit of the opposite, polite, a little standoffish, neurotic, snarky when stressed, with a vicious temper towards anyone that hurts or messes with Steven, she basically looks like a miniature, human Pink Diamond in terms of appearance. Nora has a natural knack for her gem powers, and more easily manifests those powers more closely associated with Pink Diamond as opposed to Rose, with her Gem Weapon being a MASSIVE Two-Handed (Zweihander) sword whose foremost section resembles the shield everyone thought it would originally be, whilst still possessing her family's flower motif.

Nora is the younger of the two by about five minutes, but is much more mature as compared to Steven, not helped by him still having his aging problem while she ages more normally, and people are often shocked at both her age, as her height and attitude give her an older feel, but that she is also both Steven's TWIN and the technical younger of the two!!

It kinda mindblows people. (I was considering shifting some of Steven's personality, but I couldn't bring myself to do it)

Flame: any last points

Me: Well, Spinel basically becomes Beach City's premiere part-time employee, as she works on and off at literally every place in town at some time or another, and she bluntly refers to Greg as "The Deadbeat."

Spinel adores the twins, often serving as their babysitter, as well as a babysitter to most of the other kids in town, and basically acts as their bodyguard whenever she goes on missions. Oh! I also have special plans for Lapis, as well as some other Homeworld Gems, but I'll save those for tomorrow.

Due to their parents being friends, Connie basically grew up with Steven and Nora, and is currently entering the phase of life when people start to develop more mature crushes, and has shown signs of crushing on both of them. Yikes.

#steven universe #connie maheswaran #priyanka maheswaran #greg universe #rose quartz #pearl steven universe #garnet steven universe #amethyst steven universe #bismuth steven universe #spinel steven universe #crystal gem spinel #crystal gems #the crystal gems #Here For You AU #steven universe au

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brooklel · 3 years

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my thoughts on worlds end club, under the cut because it’ll probably be long and also spoilers

so i bought the game today at around 9am and played it until i beat it at around 11:30pm ish? so ha uh yeah it took a little while but i was very enthralled in the story

the story and characters are hands down the best part of the game. compared to literally any of the danganronpa games, i like the cast of characters so much more. like there’s always one or two in a danganronpa games group that i just don’t like but in wec i loved all of them. i’d usually dislike chuko’s tsundere character type but i actually ended up liking her. my least favorite is probably dragon power ranger kid whatshisname but i don’t hate him or anything i just found him to be the weakest character tbh. but i do really like his character design

speaking of the character designs OOF they’re all so good. i didn’t realize until looking up stuff on the characters but they’re all based on the animals of the Chinese zodiac which is cool and the design elements are subtle and it’s not narratively important but i mean they didn’t need to be. there’s a few offhand remarks here and there like comparing kansai to a tiger and chuko to a rat but they’re not really shoved in your face which is nice

oh also i wanna compliment pai in particular. she’s the boar character which first of all i feel like people would usually make male, and if they made her female, then she would be angry and stubborn and probably not conventionally attractive but she’s not any of those! also she’s a little heavier than the rest of the girls which 1. makes her even more adorable, and 2. no one in the game brings up or makes fun of her for which is nice. mowchan sadly didn’t get exactly the same treatment he was still the fat comic relief character. he deserved so much better.

the art is all so pretty as well like i already loved the art style from pokemon and in wec it’s even more exaggerated and i live for it. i also like the movie they’re watching at the beginning has more realistic humans that’s just kinda funny.

the humor is pretty good i guess but what i’m really here for is the fun childish but realistic portrayal of friendship and emotions like it does kinda take me back to my own little group of friends in elementary school, where sometimes there would be disagreements, but we were still always friends

i loved reicho as a canonically mute protag and how none of his friends ever minded or even brought it up like that’s so cute. but the reveal that reicho was basically just a big puppet kinda just made it feel a little different... like idk how to explain it but yeah

ANYWAY here’s my obligatory paragraph about pochi because he’s my son now. the writers knew what they were doing by making him a kinda shy gamer kid bc they knew people were gonna relate to him even when he had a somewhat smaller role in the story before turning into the full fledged protagonist. anyway this robot puppy boy is my son i will protect him

the scene where pochi basically gets dunked on by the rest of the team is weird to me like idk it just feels out of character for most of them to be like lol yeah pochis useless RIGHT after he drove an entire train to one of the specific places that those special mushrooms grow and now they can all see vanilla

also kinda unrelated but this is my second game in the past few months where i correctly guessed one of the characters was voiced by megumi ogata because dang i just love her voice. this time it was pochi and the other one was the protag in the famicom detective club games. i legit heard one line and was like HOL UP and googled it lmao

i’m still confused on why the story takes place in the 90s. it doesn’t have a particularly 90s aesthetic and most of the technology just doesn’t match up with 90s tech. like i feel like it works better if it takes place more near present day. if there’s more cultural reasons then i’m not sure what they are but i’m really curious about this. the game is very reliant on japanese culture and locations, which isn’t a bad thing but i’m an ignorant american who was also born after the 90s so im wondering if there’s some specific reason why it’s SPECIFICALLY 90s japan

oh yeah i haven’t even talked about the gameplay yet. it’s.... shitty. maybe i’m a little biased because i’m not a big platformer girl but even so it’s just not.... good...... i kinda got myself soft locked one time because a big snowman guy was blocking my way and i had no way to kill him or get around him, luckily you can just restart from your last checkpoint but still. some of the special abilities/attacks just didn’t feel that good to use, like dragon boi’s and chuko’s felt too short range at times and jennu’s and aniki’s felt a little too slow. the rest were fine i guess. the only one i felt like was done well was kansai’s.

i played on easy mode cuz it was the default one that was highlighted and idk if it effects the platforming sections or the “puzzles” but the puzzles were way too easy. most of them just felt like they were checking that you paid basic attention to the story. the ones at the end are somewhat harder but i still didn’t have any problems with them. the stuff the outright tell you would have mad better puzzles like the xxy thing but at the same time were you even supposed to realize that? the otherworlder aka you i guess says it like no big deal but like i guess the middle x looked slightly different? but not enough to be like OH OBVIOUSLY ITS X TIMES Y. on the flipside i solved the heaven map puzzle before i even had all of the pieces. i guess i have to give it some slack though because it would probably be a bit harder if you didn’t really know english kinda like the danganronpa 11037 thing

also am i just stupid or how were you supposed to know the year the phone displayed was the y number in that puzzle? i forgot to get it before trying to solve the puzzle so i knew it corresponded to the y because it was the only clue i didn’t have so i didn’t have to think about it that hard but like did the phone have something to do with the letter y or was it just like a what clue haven’t i used kinda thing

anyway apologies for the super long post if you read the whole thing then wow thanks i guess? anyway in conclusion pochi is my son

#bud says stuff #i liked the game but i have some opinions™#worlds end club

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osomagine-san · 4 years

Note

Matsu bro’s dealing with the death of their S/O? How would they cope?

Well, we already know that Osomatsu has some mild problems with dissociation.

They probably skyrocket after his S/O dies-- they made him feel like he was a real person, not the “default” sextuplet. They helped him realize so many things about himself and grow, and he couldn’t picture himself without them. He jumps back and forth between going back to how he was before you-- nosing in on his brothers’ lives and trying to insert himself as much as possible-- and shutting himself alone in a room for days on end without contacting anyone.

It’s primarily Choromatsu and Todomatsu that help him snap out of it the most. Todomatsu has a no-nonsense and cutthroat approach, which forces Osomatsu to be honest while he talks about how alone he feels even in a room with his brothers, and how he hates that he’s gone back to who he was before without you, but he just doesn’t know how to act anymore, and he’s so tired. Choromatsu provides a surprising amount of emotional support, and lets his oldest brother cry a bit on his shoulder. He suggests that Osomatsu maybe see a therapist about this, and Todomatsu has the connections to set that up.

He’d hurt a lot at first, but he’d eventually be okay. He probably wouldn’t seek out another proper S/O for at least a long time, but he has needs. He knows that you wouldn’t want it to hold him back forever, so he does his best not to let that happen.

Karamatsu is rather lost, but he’s quick to realize that he’s better for having known his S/O. He’s a bit more self-confident in a real way, embracing his dorkier side and using English half as a joke and half because he just likes it.

It’s hard at first, because he keeps reaching out for their hand only to find that they’re not there. He checks his voicemails, hoping that they’ll have called to explain why they aren’t around, but there’s nothing there. His brothers tread a little too lightly around him, and that upsets him, too. He just wants things to go back to normal, but “normal” is different. The change is hard, too.

He ends up mumbling to you under his breath every so often. When his brothers are rude to him, a small, “[S/O’s name], are you hearing this?” before he sticks up for himself. It’s really hard at first, but he can look back on the time they spent together and tell people (mainly Chibita, while drunk and rambling) how great his S/O was before they were taken from him.

It’s not very noticeable, at first, how Choromatsu grieves, but it soon becomes apparent that he’s a lot more particular. He keeps the house immaculate, cleaning over and over and over and never letting his mind rest for even a second. He somehow, finally, manages to land a job-- he isn’t coming off as over-eager because he’s trying not to let his mind wander.

It isn’t any particular moment that triggers the sudden breakdown in front of his brothers. They were just talking, and Choromatsu didn’t have enough to do with his hands while they did, but his face was suddenly wrinkled up with tears liberally pouring. He tries to apologize to his brothers, because of course he would only break down when all of them were present. Of course something like this couldn’t happen when he was alone, again, in bed, waiting to fall asleep.

“I feel like it’s my fault,” he cries. For not being there with them. For not knowing sooner. For making it to the hospital too late. Not saying goodbye; not being good enough, yet, for God to decide that he deserved someone like them, and taking them away to punish him. He can’t articulate this, because he knows it doesn’t make any logical sense-- but feelings don’t very often, do they?

A lot of the brothers breathe a sigh of relief when he starts to cry-- they were worried about him. They could all tell that he was bottling up his feelings, but they’re glad that he’s letting them out, now. They’re there for him. They’ll make fun of him a little bit, but when they do, he smiles a bit. That’s just how his brothers are.

It takes a while for Ichimatsu to be found after his S/O dies. He ran away from home, and lived on the streets with the alley cats for almost a month. He was bone-thin when he came home, with the darkest bags anyone had seen on him.

It was actually, surprisingly, Iyami that convinced him to go back home. There were a lot of motivations behind it, such as, as soon as Ichimatsu started living on the streets, a lot of the garbage food became much more scarce; and Ichimatsu was always so depressing-looking, it really brought down the already-sad vibe of underneath the bridge. Either way, the surprising wisdom that Iyami held came in the form of laughter.

“It’s my fault...” Ichimatsu had been saying, to finish up his story. “I should have been there... they were my S/O, and I couldn’t even...”

It was then that Iyami burst out laughing.

“Why are you laughing?!” Ichimatsu drew more into himself. He needed some sympathy, but he should have known better than to confide his truest feelings in someone like him...

“How could you possibly think that?!” Iyami responded. Tears poured from his eyes-- this was so funny to him. “How could you think that [S/O’s name]’s death was because you didn’t do something?!” He calmed himself down, wiping tears from his eyes, but couldn’t stop the occasional snicker. “How would you have known that would even have stopped it from happening? Karamatsu, you’re stupider than I thought.”

“I’m Ichimatsu.”

What a horrible way to phrase something like that, he thought. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Somehow, it was exactly what he needed to hear to face his family, again.

The next morning, the few things he’d had with him were packed away and gone.

It wasn’t the first time Jyushimatsu had lost a S/O, but by god, was it the worst. The sunshine boy had little sun left in him-- it had turned into a raging fire. His high school self would be envious.

Despite the newfound and juvenile anger he now held, he found that he no longer had an outlet for it. Everything reminded him of his S/O, and unfortunately, that included baseball. He spent his pent-up energy breaking things. It started small with glasses, plates, vases; Matsuyo chastised him for this, which only made him feel worse and angrier. He knocked them over onto the ground, like a cat, but sometimes when he just needed to feel something, he would use a little more force. Nothing particularly scary-- it became an annoyance after a while.

Of course, he would never hurt anybody. It came close, though, when he came into a confrontation with Choromatsu (who was sick and tired of checking the floor for glass shards before walking anywhere). Todomatsu stuck up for Choromatsu, saying that they wouldn’t take being bullied anymore. They all got it, he was upset, but the way he’d been handling it was totally unhealthy. He needed to get help or get out. A vase flew right past Todomatsu’s head, not because it had been thrown at him, but because it had been thrown at all. Todomatsu’s front came crumbling down, and he started crying.

“Get your shit together.” Choromatsu glowered, and the glare shot through Jyushimatsu.

That was when Jyushimatsu also started crying. He almost hurt someone-- he’d almost hurt his little brother! How could he do that? It was absolutely the first time he had ever come close to hurting someone, and he never, ever, ever, wanted it to happen again.

Totty muttered something snide about how crying wouldn’t get him out of this situation, but Matsuyo came running. She watched her baby boy, her happy Jyushimatsu, turn angry and act out. Hearing him cry triggered all of her motherly instincts and she held him tightly. She wouldn’t take his breaking things sitting down, but she knew why he was upset and didn’t know how to help him get better.

As a family, the eight of them sat down and talked about how they could better support Jyushimatsu during this difficult time. And slowly, Jyushimatsu got back to smiling and swinging his bat in the park again-- starting and ending with a few small words to honour you before getting to it.

[TW: Mentions of suicidal thoughts. Also I’m so sorry that this one is so much longer than the others-- my Todomatsu Boy is showing ;;]

Two-faced Todomatsu, on the outside, seemed like he refused to accept your death. When his brothers, or anyone, asked about his S/O, he pretended like he had no idea who they were talking about. Sometimes he’d let small things slip like, “They sound really cute... Maybe you’d set me up?”, but otherwise, radio silence from him about it. Even his sleep didn’t seem to be too disturbed.

The first hint to getting through to him about the incident was the fact that Choromatsu noticed that he was no longer being woken up at night to help Todomatsu to the bathroom. When Choromatsu brought it up, the other four said that they hadn’t been asked, either.

The second was that suddenly, Todomatsu was always on his phone, and never let his brothers peer over his shoulder. Him and Osomatsu used to often watch videos online, and that was a habit that Todomatsu not only cut out, but pretended as though it never happened in the first place.

The third was that he started leaving the house less and less. He stopped going to mixers with Atsushi (to the point he even came over to their house to see if he was alright), and gradually started doing less and less until he pretty much never left the house.

It went on for months like this. Soon, most dropped the idea that there was something wrong with Todomatsu. Other than those behaviours, he was acting totally normal, if not a little bit stir-crazy.

Osomatsu caught him one night, though. Todomatsu had tossed and turned a while in their futon, and eventually gave up sleeping and got up and went to the bathroom. Osomatsu hadn’t gotten any sleep at all, and suddenly remembered that Todomatsu used to always ask for help with that. He kind of assumed that he’d started holding it overnight, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

Osomatsu followed Todomatsu quietly, and leaned his ear up against the closed bathroom door.

“...[S/O’s name]?” A sniffle. “I hope your day was good. I didn’t leave the house, again. I... I know I should, I know you want me to, but I can’t, yet. I don’t know when I’ll be able to. I’m sorry.” His voice broke as he continued. “I miss you so much. I hope I get to see you again, soon. I’ve been thinking about it again... I don’t think I’ll do it, but who can tell the future?” A sob. “I miss you so much. I wish you were here. I wish we were together.” He cried for a while, to himself. Even Osomatsu felt like he was intruding. With a sniffle, Todomatsu finished. “...Okay, well... I won’t keep you any longer, tonight. Have a good sleep, wherever you are, okay? Goodnight. I love you.” Aishiteru.

Osomatsu should have left. He felt intensely like he should never have heard that, and he was aware that if even he knew that, then maybe all the more so. Todomatsu remained in the bathroom for a few more minutes-- Osomatsu heard the sink running a bit-- before he stepped out.

The eldest sextuplet had been frozen in place, so he was right up close to the door. The pair stared at each other for a long time.

“O-Osomatsu-niisan...” Todomatsu said quietly. His tone was indecipherable.

“Todomatsu.”

The pair of them didn’t speak, but moved silently together. Neither of them really knew what the other wanted, but they found themselves sitting on the roof, together.

Osomatsu didn’t quite know what to say. He wasn’t any good at this kind of thing... Literally any of their other brothers would be better off in this position, or would be able to say something helpful right then.

“Did you... How much did you hear?” Todomatsu finally asked. His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“All of it,” Osomatsu replied. Totty flinched back at that. “Or, um, none of it. I just had to take a dump.”

Another silence passed between them. It was like the pair of them were sharing a mind, because they both were thinking, That was a stupid-ass thing to say.

The silence went on for so long, that eventually Todomatsu stood.

“We should get back inside before they notice,” he said. He grinned at his oldest brother the way he always does.

“Is that why we don’t watch together, anymore?” Osomatsu asked. This was probably his only shot at seeing Todomatsu so real, right now.

Todomatsu’s face fell, and he sat back down.

“You don’t... want me to see... the voicemails?” His voice comes and goes as he tries to puzzle it out.

“No, I just... I mean, yes, that’s part of it.” The wind blows through their hair. The night is completely quiet, as if it, too, was waiting for Todomatsu’s heart to pour. “I don’t want... to be seen. I don’t want you to see what I’m doing, or what I’m watching, or who I’m following or who’s following me. I just want something all to myself. I want me all to myself. Not that you could ever understand that.”

They talked for a while. Though his voice wavered, Todomatsu didn’t cry. The topic of conversation started at that night and ranged through the skies and the heavens before making its way back down to Earth. Todomatsu didn’t really say how he was feeling, but Osomatsu offered his ear if he ever needed to talk.

“And I mean it,” he said, “say the word and I’m there. I’ll lose one hundred thousand dollars at pachinko if you need me.”

“No, don’t do that!” Todomatsu shoved him playfully. “If you’ve got that much money in pachinko, I can wait!”

“Nope, if you need me, I can be drowning in the middle of the ocean, but if you need me, I’ll cut that shit right out and I will be there.”

“You’re so mushy tonight, Osomatsu-niisan!” Todomatsu laughed, something real that he hadn’t heard in a while.

“So are you!”

They laughed a bit, together.

“But seriously. If you need me, I’m there. This is not a request. Got it?”

Todomatsu laughed a bit. “Got it.”

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Soulbonds and Fairy Dust

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite) CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 25/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in. Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name. Also on AO3 here

Sigyn vanished her book as they got closer to the gate. She could sense the fae better than any of the others and she was on alert for danger. “Will we be facing any resistance, darling?” Loki asked when she noted Sig’s concerned expression as she focused on their surroundings.

“Yes, but not how you mean,” she told Loki, her eyes unfocused as she focused instead on what she was feeling. “You’re going to argue, but I have to deal with this one. She would kill you all on sight otherwise,” she told Loki firmly. Her tone left no room for negotiating.

“Darling? What are you talking about?”

The group was close enough by then that they could see the gate and the lone figure standing in front of it. A fae child, or so she appeared. “She’s who I’m talking about,” Sig replied, pointing to the girl.

“And she is?” Loki asked impatiently. Sig wasn’t being particularly clear or helpful and Loki wasn’t fond of unknown danger.

Sig rolled her eyes and huffed just as impatiently. “She’s the realm I’m sealing away,” she told Loki too patiently. “I did mention that she’s sentient. That is her. To name her is to give her power,” she reminded her that there was power in the name of things. Especially when said in front of one of the fae.

Loki nodded her understanding once Sig had spelled it out for her. “Are you sure I cannot help?” she asked. She didn’t want to leave Sig in danger, though she accepted that Sig knew the fae better than she did.

Sig considered that, considered her options. “You can come. They cannot. The soulbond should protect you, but there are two conditions,” she told Loki firmly. There could be no deviating from her conditions and she would leave Loki behind if Loki couldn’t agree to her terms.

Loki nodded while the others looked like they wanted to protest. They were supposed to protect her, not let her go into danger alone. “What do you require of me?”

“Don’t speak to her unless she asks you a direct question. If she does. Do not lie,” she told Loki firmly. Loki was the goddess of lies and sometimes her default was to lie or fib. She couldn’t do either in front of Underhill. Sig hesitated before she added. “I won’t stop you from coming with me, but the other condition is that you cannot go before her with any kind of illusions. Any. She’ll see through them and take it as an insult. I can face her alone and I won’t ask that of you,” she added the last gently. She wouldn’t ask Loki to strip her last illusion.

She couldn’t do that to her.

Loki shifted back to his male form. “No illusions. I may be the god of lies, but I know how to tell the truth, Sigyn,” he told her firmly.

It broke her heart what she had to do to get her point across. He hadn’t understood.

“No, Loki. No illusions, not even this one,” she told him gently. She knew what it would cost him to strip the last illusion. “I told you that I won’t ask it of you. You can guard from here with the others. I won’t ask you to strip the last illusion in front of them,” she indicated the others, reminded Loki that they were there. They would see, if he went through with this. They would see his true form.

Loki sighed heavily once he understood what she meant. “Is this the only way I can come with you?” he finally asked. “I do not wish for you to face her alone,”

Sig nodded firmly. “It’s the only way. She takes great insult at any who come before her under illusion. And she is the one who enforces the rule that the fae cannot lie,” she explained. Then she added. “She likes me, I’ll be perfectly safe. You don’t have to come the rest of the way.” Sig wouldn’t ask him to strip his last illusion in front of the others. She knew how he felt about the Asgardians seeing what he actually was.

He sighed again and hesitated, but dropped the last illusion, appearing in his Jotun form with his beautiful sapphire skin and scarlet eyes. He looked sheepish and afraid to be seen like that, but Sig just gave him a warm smile. He was her Loki no matter his form. “We do this together. We’re soul bound. You don’t have to do anything on her own anymore,” he told her firmly, determined to see this through with her.

There were gasps of shock from the morons. Sif and Thor were more polite about their curiosity. They’d all been told Loki was a Jotun, but none of them had seen his true form until now. Sig stood on her toes to kiss his cheek and he blushed purple. “Thank you,” she told him, though the words were hard for her to say. She saw his nerves and anxiety at the reaction of the morons, but he was more shocked by her kissing his cheek. She concentrated a moment and her own illusions faded. There were more gasps from the morons as they saw the scars all over her body from duels in the seelie court. She hadn’t told anyone about them.

Loki would grill she about them later. For now, Sig took his hand and the pair walked down to where Underhill was waiting for them. Sig dropped Loki’s hand a few steps in front of the girl and took another step forward alone, leaving herself as the focus of conversation in order to protect Loki. Sig dropped to one knee to be on the girl’s level while Underhill looked over Sig and Loki with ancient eyes that didn’t fit the form she wore. “Hello Tilly,” Sig greeted her gently.

“Siggy!!” she replied happily and Sig prayed to any god who would listen that Loki wouldn’t pick up that particular nickname. Underhill looked at Loki. “Who’s he?” she demanded suspiciously. She didn’t like strangers.

“He’s my soulmate,” Sig replied carefully, answering her question without naming Loki. She also carefully spoke the truth to Underhill. It was a very delicate balance. “and my other best friend, besides you of course.” Loki wisely remained silent while Sig spoke with the child-shaped realm. He was immensely curious, but he wouldn’t put Sig or himself in danger.

Underhill nodded, accepting the answer. “The Seelie Queen said you’re trying to seal me away. She knows better than to lie to me,” she accused Sigyn sounding hurt and angry.

Sig smiled kindly. She could deal with Underhill if the person-shaped realm continued being reasonable. “Seal away my friend? Not at all. The queen must be confused. I’m only closing a few gates that are in inconvenient places. You don’t want more sad children like I was, right? The Gray Lords like taking children like me, and these gates are too close to places with lots of children. I want them safe,” Sig explained to her. She was careful to tell her the absolute truth, just twisted in her favor. The fae were good at such truths and Sig was no exception. Loki was quite proud of her for it.

Underhill thought about that for a terrifyingly long time. “Stealing children is bad,” she finally agreed and Sig nearly breathed a sigh of relief. “You’ll come visit me again?” she asked softly.

Shit.

Sig had to agree. There were no other options. She also had to be careful about it. “I will in the future. When it is safe,” she replied, making the promise since she had no other choice.

Underhill hugged her. “Then you can close the doors,” she looked at Loki and Sig could see that she was looking not at him, but into his very soul. She was a realm of magic and could do such things. “I like him,” she finally said and Sig breathed another sigh of relief. It wouldn’t be good if Underhill didn’t like Loki, or decided he needed to die. Neither of them couldn’t take on an entire realm and hope to win. “He can take care of you for me,” she added before she bounced back through the doorway to her realm.

Sig sighed heavily in relief. Loki brought back his Asgardian illusion once she was gone. “Are you alright, darling?” he asked, knowing how difficult that conversation had been for her.

She nodded and stood again. It was emotionally draining to keep up that conversation with Underhill, to be so careful not to offend her. “One must tread carefully around her. It’s a good thing she likes me and was being reasonable today,” she told Loki.

He nodded and Sig got to work on closing the doorway. Loki stayed at her side, wary of Underhill and not trusting that she would keep her word. That doorway was even harder to close than the others. Underhill said she could close it, but she wasn’t making it easy on her. Sig managed, but the color seemed to drain from her when the doorway was closed. Her hair had lost its vibrancy, her eyes dulled. She swayed, fighting to keep her feet under her. Loki’s arms were around her in an instant, holding her on her feet. She held onto him, exhausted, letting her head rest on his chest for a moment. “Tilly didn’t have to make it so hard…” she grumbled softly.

“She said she could close the doorway. Why did she make it so hard?”

“Because she can? Because that’s how the fae are and she rules all of them? Because she still doesn’t like that I’m closing them?” she whined too exhausted for existential questioning. She couldn’t answer why a realm did whatever the fuck it wanted, even pretending to look like a child.

Loki sighed. “Come on, darling. Let’s get back to the palace,”

“No!” she protested, looking up at him horrified. “There’s still two more gates, we can’t go back yet!!” she continued protesting, distressed by the suggestion that she was failing and needed to go back home.

“Darling, you can barely stand on her own,” he told her gently.

“I’ll sleep it off and we can close the last two tomorrow,” she insisted. She didn’t want to fail Mama Frigga and she didn’t want the Asgardian children in danger.

“One gate at a time, darling. Two nearly has you passing out,” Loki insisted, horrified by her condition and terrified for her.

“There’s only two left. I’ll be fine,” she tried to reassure him. “Then we can go back to the palace,”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“I want this done,” she told him softly and stood on her own again. “Once it’s done then we can go home to a hot bath and comfortable beds,” she added wistfully.

Loki sighed, but gave in, knowing it was no use arguing against duty. “Alright. But let’s head to an inn so you can eat and rest.” It was the best he was going to.

#Loki #Submitted fic #submission #Soulbonds and Fairy Dust #rewrite #chapter 25 #nekoamamori

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warsmith-38 · 3 years

Text

How I would do RWBY pt. 7

War Arc.

Season Seven.

The Cabal is standing room only and Salem is enraged at recent turn of events.

Complains loudly to Myrmidon.

Myrmidon assures Salem that the current plan is not only progressing smoothly but Ozpin still has no idea what it is.

Salem calms down and her mind turns to Cinder. Particularly the fact that Ozpin has captured Cinder.

Salem wonders if she ever told Cinder about the current plan.

She realizes that, yes, yes she did.

Salem is once again angry.

RWBY and JN(P)R are enjoying relative peace as next moves are planned.

Neo is the most cooperative with authorities out of team CEMN.

Due to being, more or less, just hired help she isn’t all that helpful.

Emerald and Mercury are in a similar situation due to being Cinder’s direct underlings and not Salem’s.

All they know is what Cinder told them, which was only just enough to keep them compliant.

Cinder is the one that would have information but is quite tightlipped about things that aren’t insults.

Ozpin wants answers but Ironwood draws the line at out and out torturing a teenager.

Cinder is just waiting in her cell with one arm cuffed to a chair.

WBY and JN(P)R all have a go at trying to make her talk. (Ruby isn’t allowed near her)

Blake tries empathizing with her situation, formerly being one of the bad guys herself.

Cinder says that Blake was an easily swayed idiot who didn’t know what she was actually doing.

Ren and Nora try good cop bad cop.

Cinder calls both of them morons.

Weiss tries bribing her with money and medical help for her missing bits.

Cinder tells her to eat shit.

Jaune tries a ‘you’re a deranged psychopath, prove me wrong’ approach.

Cinder taunts him by talking about killing Pyrrha.

Not only does Jaune have to be pulled out of there, Ren and Nora have to be talked down from cutting the cameras and shank-rushing her.

Ironwood offers her a plea bargain. Spill on Salem and don’t get hanged for heinous war crimes.

Cinder rebukes all of it to varying degrees of profanity.

Penny’s turn.

Penny doesn’t ask her any questions or try anything.

All she says is that she forgives Cinder, that someone should even if no one else ever would.

Cinder is a little unnerved but remains uncooperative.

Everyone calls it quits for the day.

Ruby sneaks into Cinder’s cell when no one is looking.

Cinder almost has a heart attack out of fear of what Ruby will do to her.

Gives her an emotional speech on how Cinder and Salem ruined her life and the worst part is that it was her new best friend that did it.

Ruby is found and escorted out of the cell.

Cinder, having slightly awakened her long ignored heart, says that she did consider Ruby a sort of friend.

Ruby tells her to go to hell.

Yang notices that Cinder’s veneer is peeling.

Decides to take her shot.

Yang surmises that Salem was involved, to a degree, in raising Cinder.

Cinder confirms but also is insulting.

Yang talks about how she knows a little something about parental figures who don’t give a crap.

Cinder gets angry, says that she knows that Salem cares about her.

Yang says that if Salem cared then why did Cinder have to go to Atlas to try and get her attention again?

Cinder starts flinging insults about unloving mother figures.

Yang flings back better ones.

Cinder brags that they’re all dead anyway.

Says that Salem’s big plan is to set off a special bomb-like grimm that will turn another chunk of the planet into grimm land just like the territory around her sanctum.

Ensuring a lack of stability that will force the rest of the world to adapt and evolve.

She doesn’t know where Salem is planning to set it off though.

Everything across the previous seasons was trying to maximize chances of it going off without a hitch.

Weakening potential target areas, providing distractions, eliminating threats, things like that.

That or it was just another attempt to kill Ozpin. Sometimes both. Mostly both.

That’s when she realizes that she just told Salem’s master plan directly to her greatest opposition.

Says that her talking won’t matter and will enjoy watching Salem kill all of them.

Yang tells her to stop being such a chuunibyou.

Ozpin’s Council (Him, Ironwood, Glynda, Qrow, Winter, RWBY, JN(P)R, Ciel, mad scientist) start trying to deduce where Salem will set off the grimm nuke.

Atlas is too militarized, even with the troubles there. Vacuo is too close and wouldn’t provide much strategically. Menagerie and Mistral are both too out of the way to be of use.

The target is Vale. A centralized zone that still has yet to completely recover from the events of the school arc and will further fragment the free peoples of the world.

Not to mention that it’s Ozpin’s personal favorite kingdom. Just another insult on a very long list.

Everyone packs up and heads to Vale for a very somber return home.

Emerald, Neo, and Mercury offer to properly switch sides on the grounds that they had no idea about the whole ‘fuck over the world’ thing.

They only signed on to cause a little trouble and get paid.

They want to help stop Salem now, especially if they’re probably considered expendable collateral.

Offer is appreciated but the handcuffs stay on.

Upon arrival in Vale, Ruby and Yang are immediately accosted by Tai.

Tai is upset with Ruby for running off and not doing so much as ever calling him and he’s upset with Yang just for not calling ever.

He’s proud of his girls for doing so much to help the world, but still.

Raven is there too and offers Ruby a hug from her new stepmother.

Tai and Raven reveal their wedding rings, showing that they have in fact tied the knot (Tai’d the knot).

Yang BSODs for a moment.

Raven has a moment with Yang and Ruby, saying that she took the scolding to heart and realized that, yes, she was a piece of shit.

Came back to Tai to try and start making up for things.

It took a little work but Tai is no longer a depressed, overprotective, neglectful, sad sack of crap, so maybe it’s not the worst thing that she’s back.

She’s also given all the intel she acquired while part of the Cabal.

R+Y are skeptical but intend to burn that bridge when they cross it later.

Cinder sneaks out of her cell.

Tries to bust EMN out too.

They rebuke her, saying that they would rather not help permanently fuck over a continent and by extension the world for no real reason beyond ‘because you said so’.

They would rather live in the world, not destroy it.

Cinder leaves them to rot, finds her gear, and steals a new robo-arm for her trouble, doing everything she can to stay under the radar while she thinks of what to do next.

RWBY + JN(P)R have trips down memory lane as they walk through the ruins or the rebuilt versions of their old haunts.

Remembering the good times and the bad.

The trials and tribulations as well as the warm memories that they keep dreaming about returning to.

Then they get to work.

They scour the recovering city of Vale first for any sign of anything grimm or Salem related.

Team CRDL, who stayed in Vale as volunteer workers and security, say that aside from a few more grimm raids, nothing special has happened in months.

CRDL assist as much as a team of jobber jabronis can.

Surprisingly, they don’t act like cunts.

Ozpin realizes that the only places that haven’t been searched were the places he’s kept secret.

Reveals his illuminati style cave with monitoring equipment that has tabs all over the world.

It has cameras and stuff in places that Ozpin has absolutely no right or need to know about.

Low and behold, grimm have tunneled into it.

Myrmidon is in there, checking up on things.

She introduces herself to the main characters and then cheeses it, leaving a distraction force of grimm.

After they’re dealt with, they turn their attention to the big fucking elephant in the room.

Massive, bulbous, monster of a centipede grimm is right in the center of the chamber. The grimm nuke.

They’ve found it, sure, but now what do they do?

The Council has a brainstorming session to try and come up with a solution.

Can’t just kill it, it’ll go off.

Raven’s portals only go to people she’s bonded with in some way and it would still fuck up wherever it was teleported to.

It’s a living thing so disarming it like a conventional bomb is not exactly possible.

EMN are questioned on what they might know about it but aren’t able to help much.

This is when they realize that Cinder is gone.

Search effort begins to stop her from fucking everything up.

Yang and Jaune eventually find Cinder.

Keep up the browbeating even as they fight her.

Cinder says that even if she wanted to help, Salem would kill her if she did.

Yang calls Salem a bitch.

She says that Salem’s about to kill her anyway when the thing goes boom.

Cinder relents and says that she’s not sure but Ruby’s white fire is probably the key.

Salem had Summer killed out of fear of her semblance potentially interfering with this exact plan.

Cinder about to am-scray while Yang and Jaune are distracted by putting plan together.

Jaune stops her.

Punches her in the face, hitting the side that can see.

Says that that was for Pyrrha.

Cinder runs off rubbing her jaw.

Begin white fire surgery.

They cut small, precise, holes in the grimm and Ruby burns the resulting goo deluge.

Plan is working shockingly well. Grimm is losing explosive fuel by the truckload.

Takes some time, but eventually all that is left is the monster itself and the explosive trigger.

Trigger goes off in a pathetically emaciated whiff.

Everyone celebrates.

Then they realize that they still have a massive centipede grimm monster that is in the top ten largest ever recorded grimm underneath Vale.

Said massive centipede grimm turns on default mode. Default mode being rushing towards the nearest living thing and killing it.

Said grimm bursts into downtown Vale with more grimm coming behind it.

Right when they had just finished cleaning it up.

Season final boss time.

RWBY, JN(P)R, CRDL, EMN, and the living elements of STRQ fight the grimm.

Professors of Beacon are also helping as well as The Council in general.

Cinder, in her attempt to get out of there, gets caught in the fighting too.

Fuck it. CFVY and SSSN show up from Mistral on Ozpin’s request for backup.

All. The. Warriors.

EVERYONE gets a hit or two in on the grimm.

Big final hit with everyone involved.

Grimm is dead.

Salem is back in her sanctum watching this on a crystal ball or whatever.

Her own rage and frustration at what happened spawns a whole new horde of grimm.

Screams loud enough to break all the glass in her sanctum.

Ruby and Cinder have stare-down after grimm is dead.

Both silently decide that there are bigger fish to fry and go their separate ways.

Big celebration party. World saw RWBY kick absolute ass.

Cinder is out of options so she is now on her way back to Salem.

Myrmidon is sharpening her spear/sword/rifle.

She can’t wait.

Season seven done.

#RWBY #Rewrite #Ruby Rose #Weiss Schnee #Blake Belladonna #Yang Xiao Long #Team JNPR #Cinder Fall #Emerald Sustrai #Mercury Black #Neopolitan #Ozpin #Salem #Myrmidon #How I would do...

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