#rosa absolutely losing her mind is me as hell | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alstroemeriadissonance · 2 years

Text

Weekend Lessons with Dr. Richter: On Love, Sex, and Apologies (Part 1 - NSFW)

Direct sequel to NXX goes to hell, literally (see Masterlist)

After sending her new paramour to an unintended hell camp that ultimately broke his mind, Rosa sets out to apologize to him, using any means necessary.

"Rosa, what are you doing here?" Vyn asks, as soon as you open your eyes. There is no sweet morning greeting, nor a silent kiss. Only a question and an implied accusation. There is not much warmth--whatever flame was fanned a week ago in the kitchen of the NXX Headquarters has been cooled and extinguished by the absolute zero cold that you yourself subjected your new lover to.

...if he is still your lover, that is.

You slowly straighten yourself to a sitting position. It is hard, peeling yourself off from Vyn's bed and its luscious silken bedsheets. No wonder he is known for sleeping in. But this detail is neither here nor there, and you muster your sleepy thoughts to focus on the man sitting in front of you, regarding you with the champagne-gold eyes that you love so much, eyes that have sadly gained a jagged, jaded edge that was not there when he claimed your kiss a week ago...

"I..." you swallow the nervous lump in your throat. You have rehearsed the apology several times in your mind but they never ever seem to turn out the way you intend them to. "I'm sorry Vyn," you finally tell him. "Luke told me everything. You defended me. I didn't know, and I am sorry."

Vyn's lips go taut as he looks at you--silently judging you--with his poker face. Then he breaks his silence. "So, if I indeed understand you correctly, you would rather listen to someone else, other than me, other than my words. You would rather--" he bites his lip; an eyebrow twitching, "Not hear my explanation, my side, and not even giving me a chance to speak up before you so graciously sent me to die along with those utter clowns out there, in the cold."

You gasp at his interpretation of your words--but you have to admit, he is right, in a way, and weaseling out of it will not be easy, even impossible if he is correct. But you simply did not think of things that way...

"Vyn, no," you protest. "I got caught up in the heat of the moment, I got caught up with what I saw. I..."

Vyn's withering gaze makes you falter, and you stop speaking.

Clearly he is not buying anything you say. And to make things worse, he seems to have already judged you, that you have betrayed his trust. That he has given you his heart only for you to smash it to pieces the very day you accepted it.

It hurts.

"It is not appropriate for a lady to be in a man's bedroom," Vyn says, quietly. "I suggest you go home now."

"But--"

"Rosa, no," Vyn says, turning his face away from you as he wraps his arms around himself. "Please. I need some time for myself. It was only for four days, but It was horrible. Terrible. I..."

Emotional walls, you realize. Vyn is now erecting emotional walls. Distancing. It has been discussed during one of his classes that you have audited; and Vyn is now becoming the textbook example of what he had discussed a couple of months ago.

Desperate to not lose what you had, you decide to force yourself through those walls.

Without much thinking, you throw yourself at Vyn, wrapping your arms around his neck as you claim his lips with yours. The kiss is clumsy--it is nothing like the sweet, fluttering, romantic kiss that he had initiated in the kitchen as he snuck up to you while you were cutting yourself a slice of his cake; this particular kiss is desperate, needy, and demanding. Your lips nudge and slide against his closed ones begging, begging to be let in, and eventually your prayers are answered and Vyn opens his lips slightly, passively receiving your probing, pleading tongue in his mouth. You share the same breath but not the kiss--the kiss is one-sided, and he does not return it.

"Vyn, please," you plead against his cool lips. "Give me a chance. Let me make it up to you. Please."

"A chance, you said?" A weary voice asks. Vyn's fingertips, at least, start roaming your body. You feel them tentatively touch your back...

"Yes." At this point you would take any chance you can get.

Vyn takes a deep breath.

Then, what next is totally unexpected: his face changes--his expression turns almost feral; his passiveness turns fierce, the glimmer of life in his eyes turns dark--and he roughly grabs you by the arms only to throw you down onto his bed. He pins you down with the full weight of his body as he snarls, "A chance? The little lady who abandoned and almost killed me would like to have a chance. Why yes, let us give her what she is asking for."

Vyn bites your shoulder--teeth digging into your tender flesh, sending you tearfully wincing in pain, his hot breath making it sting more but you take it--as his hands roughly pull and tug at your nightclothes: pajama pants slide down your legs; the top sliding off your arms after his fingers make quick work of the buttons.

Eventually you are left with nothing but your panties on.

All throughout his teeth never lets you go, like a predator not letting go of his prey's neck to let it die a slow, painful death, and yet you lie there, pliant and not making any move to extricate yourself from his painful hold.

"V-Vyn..." you whimper, "It...hurts..." His teeth that you are sure to have left deep marks on your skin finally let go, and Vyn smooths over the indentations he had made with his tongue. The soft, wet sensation of his tongue kneading the searing hurt inflicted by his incisors eventually turns your pleading into needful moans.

You then feel his palms squeeze on your breasts, his long fingers grabbing at the edges of their swell. Eventually his lips graze across your collarbone, up your neck, and it is there where his cool lips find purchase and sucks on your tender skin, seeking to mark you his.

"A chance," he murmurs against your skin, the old tenderness in his sweet voice now nothing more than a mere echo. "When she has slept so well in her warm, warm bed, while leaving me in the stark cold, with not even a decent sleeping bag to sleep in. Having to withstand such indignity in slumber, just to get a smidgen of life-preserving warmth in subzero cold." A hand leaves your breast and snakes onto your back, where his fingernails dig deep in your skin sending you yelping in pain. "Imagine that," he hisses into your neck.

His nails dig in deeper. A sharp hiss of pain escapes your lips.

The sheer misgiving in his voice finally clues you in that this is not lovemaking at all, but Vyn lashing out--you can feel the palpable bitterness, his hurt poorly disguised behind cruelty in his voice--as he ravages you not only with his fingers but his lips hungrily sucking at random points on your skin, leaving you with several marks that indicate just how much he has pillaged your body with his cruel, bitter, angry touches.

The way Vyn handles you so roughly leaves you unsteady, chasing your breath, your upper body still radiating with stinging pain...By the time he is done you are left with more than a dozen marks on your skin, a mixture of teeth, nail marks, and an assortment of bruises.

You do not sob, but a few tears still trickle from your eyes as you look at his dull gaze head on. "Are you satisfied?" you ask.

You fancy seeing a hint of tenderness, of concern, flicker slightly back into his face but it disappears just as quickly when he answers, "No. I am not." He licks his lips. "That is far from satisfying, and I do not think this alone can assuage my. Hurt."

"Then what would?" You have an inkling what the answer could be, but you want to hear it straight from him--and since this is Vyn you are talking to, his answer may prove unexpected.

Vyn pauses as if in thought, lazily looking at you with hooded eyes. Then, "If I tell you, little Rosa, then you will have no choice but to satisfy me in that way." Another pause. His voice turns quieter, more menacing. "And yet that is not a guarantee that it would satisfy me, and you could leave my bedroom empty-handed and defeated."

"...is that a challenge, Vyn?" Your voice shakes, but full of determination. You sniffle, and that is what is left of your crying earlier.

"Take it as you will, pet," Vyn stares you down, his gaze so unflinching and emotionless that it takes every bit of your will and strength to not turn away. "Well?"

You have gone this far now. There is only one answer: "Yes," you say, even as your voice trembles. "Yes, Vyn, do your worst, whatever makes you feel better. I'll take it."

In laying down your pride, you get resolve. A blazing, single-minded resolve to take your chances in getting back what you had so foolishly tossed aside. He requires something, and you will give it to him, with no expectation of equivalent exchange. You will keep on giving until your cup has run out, and even then you would give your cup afterwards.

Pride for resolve. A fitting price, you think.

"You have asked for it," he says coolly as he grabs you by the thighs, slipping your panties off your legs and pulling you closer to him. His hand unties the belt of his silk robe, and as he tosses it you see that underneath the silk he is already hard. Everything could have been a preamble for this moment, you realize, and this is when it dawns upon you:

You are about to lose your first time in such an angry, cold manner.

You sigh, resignedly, and Vyn is in too deep in his all-consuming lust to notice.

Karma, you think. Then again, romantic first time sex is only for romance novels and movies.

Vyn proceeds to wrap your legs around his waist, his hooded golden eyes devouring your body as he does so. "I wonder how you feel," he murmurs in a voice so soft you barely hear him over the room heater. You feel his considerable length nestled on your slit as he adjusts himself between your legs.

You close your eyes, expecting the worst, but when several seconds pass by with nothing happening you flicker your eyes open, only to see him look at your body as he bites his thumb, as if caught in an indecisive moment.

Then it comes: Vyn grasps his cock and rubs the tip along your entrance. At this point whatever is to come is finally imminent and you close your eyes, bracing yourself for what is to come...

He starts to push inside, and you feel your iiner walls present moderate resistance. A whimper escapes your lips as Vyn slips out, only to thrust back in with such force that you cannot help but cry out his name. There is no pleasure to be found for you here; only the feeling of being stretched and torn and pain as Vyn thrusts inside you over and over. A small sob escapes your throat and you suppress it with a knuckle between your teeth, and even then his repeated pummeling inside you forces your sobs out...

And then you hear him, his breathing coming faster, his once cruel voice turning into moans and grunts of pleasure as he steadily, strongly chased his release. "Nnnh...Rosa," he whispers urgently. "Fuck. I have waited, waited for so long for this...Hahaha..."

Still thrusting in and out inside you Vyn gathers you into his arms and pulls you up to him, letting you straddle his lap while his lips gain access to one of your breasts. His tongue swirls around your nipple as he sucks upon your teat, and you cream yourself, for once Vyn does something that brings your such pleasure unfiltered by pain or discomfort. Unconsciously you push his head closer to your breast, silently begging him not to stop.

His hands grip your waist to bounce you up and down on his stiff cock--at this point you feel a little used, but no matter, you asked for this--his long, slender fingers digging to your sides that you are almost sure they will be leaving bruises that would fully develop and be visible tomorrow.

"Yess...I am coming, pet," Vyn purrs directly to your ear, never missing a beat of his thrusts. "Do whatever you have to do to--haahh-make yourself come."

"That is--ah--fine," you say in between his thrusts. Somehow all you want to happen is for this to end, to see if this proves enough for him. "Go--ahn!--ahead. Knock yourself out."

"Heh."

You then feel the movements of his hips pick up more speed; his cock railing into you so hard and fast that you cannot help but cling to his neck as you bounce on his lap. The dull ache only intensifies inside you and you wince, the sounds slipping out of your lips turning into sobs...

And Vyn, moaning your name out loud suddenly pulls out, letting his white, hot fluid form ropes onto your abdomen.

He lets you catch your breath in his arms, at least. And then you push away to let yourself rest on the cool, silken white bedsheets.

You close your eyes. A nap would not hurt, at least not as much as the dull sting between your legs does.

As your eyes are closed you do not see Vyn's face slightly change expression as he sees the bright red spots of blood on the sheets. Comprehension dawns upon him, and he finally understands just how much you have offered at his feet.

But he does not say anything about it, even after later on when he personally sees you off to your waiting taxi ride home.

===

As her taxi recedes and fades into the distance Vyn slips back inside his Victorian mansion.

After he locks the main door behind him Vyn punches the nearest wall, hard, a dull thud sound matching the searing pain that spread through his knuckles. Rosa had literally given her everything, Vyn berated himself, and that one experience that can never, ever be taken back, utterly wasted--

I wanted her. I wanted her so much. Yet what she did to me was terrible, reprehensible. A whirl of thoughts converge in Vyn's already troubled mind into a maelstrom. How she discarded me. How she thoughtlessly cast me aside. But still, I want. I want. I need...

He punched the wall again. This time, a faint smear of blood smudged the elegant forest green and beige wallpaper.

She hates me. She is sure to hate me by now.

It would take Vyn a long time to process and take apart whatever he would be recording into the dictaphone that night.

...Yet later, when she sent him the usual text message to let him know she got home safely, she told him "I will be there next weekend. If it is alright with you, Vyn?"

To which, his swift reply went: "Yes. That is perfectly fine."

#tears of themis #tears of themis smut #tot smut #mo yi #vyn richter #vyn richter smut

97 notes · View notes

gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Relighting A Flame // Part Two

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: After meeting with Ron, things change between you.

Warnings: mentions of death, grieving and guilt, break ups, brief anxiety, fluff, kissing

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This is the second and final part, I hope you enjoy! Thank you to my lovely Soph @loony-loopy-lupinn for helping me out with this one 🧡

(gif found on pinterest, credits to the maker!)

It was a perfectly sunny Thursday afternoon, almost too perfect in comparison to the way you felt in the current moment. The nerves bubbled away in your stomach as you approach Rosa Lee Teabag, and you were strongly considering turning in the other direction and high-tailing it out of there. But you didn’t, you took a deep breath and you carried on forward through the busy and winding walkway.

The little bell over the small door had rung out when you entered the little shop, and you almost winced at the attention it pulled to you. More specifically the redhead who’s eyes were now on you as a blush stains your cheeks.

“Hey,” you greet with a soft smile when you approach, spotting a steaming cup of tea already waiting at your seat. The familiar scent of lemon was immediate and so was the widening of your smile at the simple gesture. “You remembered?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck as his cheeks stain a rosy crimson. “I did.”

You nod as you take a seat across from him, a quiet settling over you both in the crowded little cafe. It was terribly awkward and you hated it, you wanted desperately for things to go back to how they were.

“Thank—”

“I just—”

You spoke at the same time, cheeks reddening deeper as you laugh softly, gesturing for him to go on. He chuckles, taking a deep breath as if to gather himself for what he’d wanted to say. Though he’s not quite sure which to say, he’s got a million things on his mind.

“I’ve never been in here before, have you?” He asks, taking a sip of his tea.

He was skirting around what he’d really wanted to say, that much was obvious. You knew Ron Weasley well enough to know when he was avoiding something, but you let it go for the time being in favor of answering his question.

“I’ve been in here a handful of times. It’s a nice little place, especially on a rainy day. Though I have to say, I do like Madam Puddifoot a bit more,” you say, your smile returning.

“Harry said that place is horrid on Valentine’s Day, he’s quite insistent on that,” he says, meeting your gaze and matching your grin.

You laugh softly, nodding at his words as you look away for a moment. “Her choice in decorations may be a bit over the top—well they definitely are, but she can make a remarkable cup of tea. And her desserts are really good too. You’d like it.”

He nods, picking at the napkin as he fights to think of something to say next, anything to avoid the obvious that was waiting to be spoken about. But the lack of conversation was becoming increasingly apparent, and he can only busy himself by looking around the small shop for so long without looking like a fool.

When the laughter and light conversation had died down between you both, you resorted to stirring your spoon around in your drink. You tried to ignore the fact that your heart was still beating wildly, and tried focusing more on your intricate little teacup and it’s matching saucer. At the impossibly delicate and hand-painted flowers adoring it. It felt as though you were on a first date, though the more you thought about it, you were quite sure not even that could match this very moment.

“Y/n,” he started, much less humor in his voice. You look up, his smile having long since faded by now. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrow slightly, wordlessly telling him to continue on.

“For pushing you away, I mean,” he says, looking down at his cooling drink as the very tips of his ears burn redder than the hair that covered them. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. You were only trying to be there for me and I shut you out.”

You slumped a bit in your seat, your expression softening as you looked at him. When you opened your mouth to speak he held up his hand, a silent gesture to tell you he wasn’t quite finished.

“Losing Fred, losing my home, I—I mean…I don’t know. I almost lost you in that bloody war. It was too much to deal with everything all at once...not that I had to deal with you, that’s not what I meant,” He stammers, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I know what you mean, Ron,” you say with a soft smile, reassuring him only slightly. “It’s okay.”

He could tell by your faltering smile that it absolutely was not okay, that you were hurting regardless of his reasons. You were just about as discreet with your emotions as he was, and the pang that struck his heart hadn’t gone unnoticed by him.

You weren’t angry with him, his reasons were perfectly valid. But missing your best friend for six years, someone you deemed to be the love of your life, was one of the hardest things you could have been through. It was quite like how you missed him when he’d begun to date Lavender Brown; you couldn’t bear to be around him, for you were far too hurt and too in love to subject yourself to witness their affections. You couldn’t blame her, she was a girl love, but the very way you missed your best friend had left you miserable. So, it was a similar feeling but different all the same.

“Bloody hell, this was way easier in my head,” he chuckles humorlessly, looking out the window. Anything was easier to look at than the look on your face, he felt he might crumble if he looked at your frown a moment longer. “I didn’t want you to feel like I didn’t love you, or that I didn’t care. Because I did, I still do. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You nod even though he didn’t see it and you watch the way his jaw tenses, his gaze bouncing around the scenery just outside the window as he tears another piece off his napkin. The silence was thick and all-consuming, not even the conversations and clinking of dishes and silverware around you could help it. You fumbled with a packet of sugar pinch between your fingers, a million different words sitting on the very tip of your tongue.

“I’m sorry too, you know,” you manage, swallowing thickly as his gaze returns to you in a narrowed stare while yours remains on your hands for a minute longer.

“Y/n, don’t.”

“I left, Ron. I...I feel just as guilty as you.”

You look in his eyes again, biting the inside of your cheek in a valiant attempt to keep your tears at bay. You wouldn’t go into specifics on just why you had eventually left, it wouldn’t be fair to him. It’d only make him feel worse when it had been your choice to do so in the first place. You could have stayed, he wouldn’t have isolated himself forever. But it’d hurt too much and that was something you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him.

“If I hadn’t been so distant you wouldn’t have needed to. It really is my fault,” he said, and you could see he’d started to get worked up.

“Ron.”

You offer him a pleading look in hopes he’d calm down, for any more anger towards oneself was not necessary for either of you. There had been enough of that in the past few years to last a lifetime. He settled down after a moment or two, a small yet sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he nods.

The following minutes were silent and almost the rest of the time spent there for that matter, and it was much less awkward though the tension was still very much there. But conversation had ceased nevertheless, and it was more so a quiet agreement to enjoy the other’s company even if neither of you would admit it. Company you found yourself needed more than you could have imagined. It certainly hadn’t gone how you had expected it to go, whether it be a good or bad kind of unexpected, you weren’t sure. But sitting there with him hadn’t felt as miserable or awkward as it may have looked from an outsiders viewpoint. It was a mutual feeling that maybe things would be okay after this, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

8 Months Later

Eight months had passed since you’d gotten that tea with Ron, and things had changed drastically since that day. There was plenty more that had gotten sorted through, and plenty more lengthier talks were had in order to clear things up and move forward. It hadn’t been remotely easy at first, but Ron Weasley wasn’t someone you could stay mad at, he never was. He may have been stubborn but he cared deeply for you, that much was certain. It had taken a good month or two for things to feel somewhat how they used to or at least as best as they could, but everything good happens in time, you suppose.

You’d spend more and more of your free time with each other, until any and all of that free time had been taken up. He’d given in to your suggestions of going to Madam Puddifoot’s, and he did in fact love her pastries just like you thought he would, even though he would never admit it. You were a month away from completing your training as a healer, and he’d graciously offered to help, though he’d helped more than intended with the handful of quidditch accidents he’d gotten himself into at home. Perhaps the most notable was the way you still missed him, the way he’d missed you. It was an adjustment being friends once more, but friends were better than strangers.

Currently, it was the long awaited spring holiday at Hogwarts for students and professors, one that delightfully coincided with your time off of work. Therefore, you’d bought up a handful of books from Flourish and Blotts, and accompanied Ron for a week at the Burrow.

The first time you had been at the family home wasn’t unlike every other visit you’d had, much to your surprise. Despite not having seen any of the Weasley’s for a considerable amount of time, it felt as if it’d been just yesterday that you’d seen them. They welcomed you with near suffocating hugs to make up for what surely would have been millions of embraces, and they had swept you away into about ten different conversations at once. It felt as though no time at all had passed, as if you hadn’t been separated from the welcoming family for just over half a decade.

It was a relief to your relentless nerves that they hadn’t held any animosity towards you for leaving. That very guilt had been weighing you down the moment you had made that decision. But you suppose it would be rather hard for the Weasley family to think ill of most anyone; they were wonderful, more love in their hearts than anything.

You had spent the better part of the warm spring day in a spot you and Ron had declared your own the very moment you had found it as teens. It was perfect. It was nestled within a clearing of trees and foliage, a small body of water settled in the very midst of it all. This time of year, the wildflowers were in full bloom to douse the area in its colorful floral beauty. Birds chirped and sang high up in the trees, the sun’s golden rays weaving in and out of old and twisting branches. The trees were perhaps your favorite part. They were older than you could imagine, covered in winding vines and moss that swirled up their trunks, their knotted roots perfect for nestling in with a good book. That is exactly how you’d been spending your afternoon.

It was a place that housed many fond memories amongst you and the Weasley family, and you were overjoyed to be able to take in its beauty again.

“Are you going to read all day?” Ron complains, mouth nearly full with a bite of his sandwich.

“You know, I just might now that you mention it,” you jest, laughing as you watch him let his head fall forward, his hair dangling out of his face and sticking every which way.

“It’s almost sunset and you’ve spoken what, three sentences to me? Three, Y/n,” he complains, huffing out a sigh as he narrows his eyes at you playfully.

You peer over the edge of your book to see the sky was in fact filling with orange and pink hues the more it’d dipped down into the horizon, effectively dissolving your argument against his words. You sigh softly, folding the corner of your page and tucking your book away.

“You’re a pain. Have I ever told you that?”

“Yes, Y/n, you have,” he says, his attempts to sound displeased quickly failing as a smile pulls at his lips.

“And rightfully so.”

You rest your head back against the tree, gazing up at the expanse above you. A flock of birds had been flying high overhead, the breeze blowing gently over your face. His scoff at your words was well heard beside you as you let your eyes fall closed, a soft laugh leaving your lips at the way he’d been acting. In your moment of bliss you’d missed quite a lot, his attention settling on you once more while he had the chance to do as such.

The hair tangling with his lashes and tickling his skin was of no importance in that very moment, nor was the fact that the very tree root he’d been leaning his hand on was poking into his palm rather uncomfortably. You were too enchanting to care about much else. You always had a way of stealing his attention yet still being so blissfully unaware of it. Perhaps that was for the better that you weren’t privy to his admiring, perhaps sometimes he found himself wishing you weren’t.

He wanted to reach out and brush the stubborn strands of hair out of your face, tucking them away behind your ear. He’d done it countless times before. It was awfully hard for him to enjoy the beauteous world around him when he’s got you sitting before him, making even the most enamoring of sunsets pale in comparison to you.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you move to stand to your feet, and he just barely manages to tear his eyes from you. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t felt him staring, you could always feel it, you had caught him gawking plenty of times and each ended with incredulous scoffs and awkward laughs. Regardless, you chose not to say anything, the pink staining his cheeks enough of an indication.

You leave his side and walk to the waters edge, dipping your feet in as you hear him sigh behind you softly. You smile to yourself, laughing quietly at the thought of him.

“What are you doing?” He calls out, and you turn to face him, finding him squinting against the evening sun as he stood to his feet.

“Enjoying the water, not reading. What’s it look like?” You quip with a raised brow and a smirk.

The water wasn’t quite as enjoyable as it may have been in the summer season, it still had a brisk coldness that nipped at your skin too much to fully swim in it. Though that didn’t mean you couldn’t have your fun.

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, so much so that you had to turn away from him before it became much too evident that you had been up to something. Unfortunately for you, Ron was rather observant and had caught on to such things fairly quickly, but not quick enough.

You crouch down and stick your hand in the cool water, drawing up a considerable wave to splash him with. His mouth fell agape at the near icy shock of your antics, a laugh leaving your lips that soon turned to a squeal as you took a few steps back from him. The very same mischief had begun to dance in his eyes as he dipped both hands in the water, scooping out a much larger handful before sending it cascading over your skin.

“Ronald Weasley, that was way more than I did!” You shout, his laughter immediate at your reaction.

“Was not!”

Your frown hadn’t lasted very long as you bit back your smile. He looked away as he continued with his soft laughter, shaking his head. It wasn’t long before you too had found yourself staring, it was hard not to with the way water droplets had been falling from his hair and rolling down the bridge of his freckled nose. More so when those very droplets had dripped over the curves of his lips in a way that was almost too irresistible. You had to look away before you got yourself in trouble, instead focusing your attention on the way the stars had begun to twinkle just above you both.

It was perhaps your favorite time of day, for it was when the sky held the most color, and when the world had started to slow down. Any cloud that hung in the sky was pigmented with the prettiest oranges and pinks, and the fireflies were starting to make their reappearance with the warmer weather. The crickets began to chirp and the breeze had blown across the overgrown grass.

Unbeknownst to you, Ron had picked up where you left off, his eyes falling to you when yours return to the setting sun. You looked radiant to him, with the way your hair glimmered in the glowing orange hues, or the way your smile had been brighter and more enamoring than the very view before you both. He found himself admiring you as a friend that was too in love for his own good once more, the same way he did when he was a teenager. He didn’t want to be your friend, he wanted to be yours. He wanted to tell you he loved you because he’s never stopped, he didn’t want to blow it this time as he’d done once before.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You say. You pull your attention back to him after a few silent moments had passed without response.

“Yeah,” he smiles, and it was clear he’d been far too busy looking at you. “It is.”

You grin at him before shaking your head fondly, exhaling a laugh at his distracted words, unaware of the nerves fluttering around within him. He was always too caught up with you too pay attention to seemingly anything when you were around.

“Is it wrong that I want to kiss you right now?” Ron asks, swallowing thickly as he lets his hands fall to his sides.

You look up then, the look on his face filled with hope and the underlying regret of even speaking in the first place, fearing he may have messed things up by being too bold for his own good. The seconds had quickly felt like hours and he felt like he may just melt if his cheeks burned any redder. Regardless of his obvious inner turmoil, you find yourself smiling softly as you shake your head.

“No, I don’t think it is.”

He stood there, stunned as his eyes widen a fraction. He wasn’t entirely sure if he’d heard you correctly, or if he’d just conjured up the answer he so desperately craved to hear. The very thought was one he found himself playing in his mind ever since the day you had gone your separate ways, and now that it’s here he doesn’t quite know what to do. Doesn’t quite know how to handle himself around you; it’s as if it’s his first time ever seeing you, like a bout of new love came cascading over him and became all that he had known. Except it wasn’t new. It had been the same undying love he’d felt for you for the past nine years, and that was something that would never change.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You ask with a soft smile after a few short moments, effectively pulling him from his thoughts.

His mouth opened and closed, his heart pounding in his chest as a smile tugged at the very corners of his mouth. And with all of the certainty in the world he enveloped your hand in his own and closed any remaining space, his hand settling on your cheek as the tips of his fingers tangle in your hair.

It was a kiss to rival all others, even the very first kiss he’d ever shared with you. For he’d had six years to make up for, of thinking of this very moment, of missing you. He held you as close as he could manage, his heart pounding in his chest as he began to smile.

You were just short of breathless when you part, not straying more than a few inches from his lips as a soft laugh escapes you. You look at him, at the love dancing in his eyes and drop of water that fell from the very tip of his nose, or the ones beaded on his flushed cheeks. It was only mere seconds before you found yourself kissing him again, and again, your laughter mingling with his as his lips brush over your own.

Six years had regrettably passed him by, years that equated to lifetimes without having you with him. Your hold on his heart never faltered in that time, however, not even a little bit. The truth is, you’ve entwined yourself around his very heart and soul.

Those three words didn’t need to be spoken, they were already known. And there wasn’t a single risk he’d take of losing you once more.

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @lupinsclassroom @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @theweasleysredhair

#ron weasley #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x you #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley angst #ron weasley fic #ron weasly imagine

66 notes · View notes

astringofmadhousefloozies · 3 years

Text

Hobbies and Holidays, Or The Halloween Fic

Yes, I know it’s June. I just like Halloween, man. Yuu’s quiet dedication to the finest of holidays sours when confronted with assholes who fuck around for clout.

Contains coarse language, attempted violence, sexuality and nerds being nerds. As always, if you enjoyed it or have any questions, let me know! I like talking with people.

~*~*~*~

"What's cooking?" Ace, cheery as could be, walked his way up towards your set up on the Ramshackle front lawn. "Is it curry? I hope it's curry."

"You might not want to stand downwind." You poked at the bubbling mess on the propane stove, sweat rolling down your back. A beautiful August day, perfect for your project. This sure as hell wasn't something you wanted to do indoors.

"Whaddya mean by that?" The breeze shifted towards him, and he turned an impressive shade of green, stumbling back with his nose covered. "What's in there?"

"Mice. I told you to keep upwind." You went in with a hand strainer, and scooped a pile of tiny bones onto a ratty towel.

"Why are you boiling mice?"

You mirrored his are-you-goddamned-stupid-or-something face back at him. "I wanted the bones. I went to Sam, but he said he's not allowed to order in dermestid beetles after last time, so I gotta do it the old-fashioned way."

"That's absolutely disgusting,” her said, the disgust and disbelief plain on his face.

"Don't we all know. Grimm fucked right off when the ghosts showed me the mouse graveyard."

"And your first thought at a pile of rotten mice was 'ooo, free bones' like some kinda crazy necromancer?"

"Yup." You scooped out another pile of bones. If you left them in there too long, they'd simply dissolve like in a cooked fish. As it was, you'd have to find a way to strengthen them. Maybe dip them in resin?

"Why am I your friend, again?"

"Because you feel responsible for me."

"Yeah. And you're fun when you aren't being weird and doing shit like taking cemetery pictures."

"I'll stop taking the pictures when I stop finding good grave iconography."

"Yeah, weird. I'm going to leave you to be a gross little maggot by yourself today."

"I'm not eating them."

"They're stewing in a pot."

"To get the meat off!"

"Yeah, whatever. See you at supper. I hope you don't stink."

"We'll find out, won't we?" you muttered, sotto voce, but he was already gone.

~*~*~*~

It was a beautiful day in September, and you heard him far before he knew you had. When you turned to look at Idia, floss wound around your fingers, he started. "Is my stealth that bad?"

You gave him the ghost of a smile. "You're not as quiet as you think you are." He hasn't cottoned on that you can hear what's in his headphones, if they aren't set just right on his head, and you aren't about to tell him. The face he makes when you pick him out so easily was too good to lose.

He nodded, fidgeted, looked at the spread on the table. "What are you doing?"

"Well, she's got to dry. So I'm working on this pattern until the top coat goes on."

'She' was a currently eyeless, disembodied head, that you'd picked up along with her body in a second hand store for a pittance. You'd unstrung her, scrubbed her clean, and now were putting on a face to match her sweet if imperious expression, a bratty princess of a girl in miniature. You hadn't realized you'd liked dolls until you'd seen her. But, when you had, your breath fled your throat in the same way it had only once since coming here.

He looked, but knew better than to touch. He did a little bit of craft work himself, mostly model painting, and wasn't about to muss your hard work. "She's... nice?" He didn't quite get the appeal, despite having two vinyl dolls you knew of stowed carefully in their packages under his bed. When you'd asked, he just muttered that they were anime characters and didn't come out except for photos because something something collectibles something resale value. Boys.

"I could do better. But it's enough. Thank you for letting me borrow the painting set up."

"Y... welcome." He squinted at the embroidery, finally noticing something. "Are those bones?"

In the center of each withered, poisonous blossom in your embroidery hoop, you'd stitched a tiny vertebra to serve as the center. "Yeah?"

"Why?"

"Why not?"

He wasn't ready to push it any further. "If you want..." He hesitated, and stumbled, and you waited until he just brought out his tablet to tap it out on a screen instead. "You can come do that in Board Game Club, if you want. There's a window. Azul shouldn't mind."

"I'll join you after I gear up and put the sealant on her. Thank you for inviting me." You gave him your best, most dazzling smile. "You know how much I like when you include me in your stuff. I know it's not always easy for you; how shy you are and all."

He squeaked and looked away, and you continued. "I should be there in about an hour. Make sure Azul doesn't keep up trying to wager me in chess. I can't fucking play worth a damn and he knows it."

He smirked. "He likes easy marks. Maybe try and get goo-"

You flicked a bone at him, and it hit him square on the nose as he yelped.

~*~*~*~

Welcome, October. Coolness and colour, a certain something on the breeze that felt like a home you'd never let go. Even if it hadn't quite hit the dorms the same way as they main area of the school. (Those little fairies that ran the weather machine didn't seem to believe in seasons for the dorms, or perhaps Crowley gave them a chewing out after the spring?) In amongst the Heartslabyul roses, you'd think it was still summer, and you weren't one to let a day of warmth go.

"Oh, in this chapel of ritual, smells of dead human sacrifices from the altar..."

"Stop that."

You looked up at Riddle, who'd found you in your secluded corner. "Why?"

"You can't sing and the lyrics are awful."

"Is there a rule against that?"

He nodded. "The queen gets to approve all music."

"Ah, of course, mine rosen liege. My petaled monarch. Emperor Rosa." A collar appeared on your neck, and you did not slow down. "Cardiac Sovereign. Dauphine De la Coeur. I can do this all day, Riddle; that collar don't do shit cause I ain't magic."

The colour was high on his cheeks. "Is it your job to annoy me?"

"Oh, you got me. I wake up and spend every moment thinking 'How do I best piss off Riddle Roseheart? How about I stand outside his door and blast nightcore from a boombox?' "

He narrowed his eyes at you. "Stop joking."

You laughed. "Yeah. I only do that with Shoenheit."

That managed to get a bit of a smile out of him. "Why are you being a pest over here, and not at your own dorm?"

"I'm just doing crafts, man."

"While sitting on the grass."

"Yeah, man. Won't be any grass to sit on soon enough. Made sure to not be on the croquet grounds or anything."

He looked at the mess of foam and ribbon around you. "What are you even doing?"

You looked down, and back up at him. "Crafts?"

"More specifically, before I kick you out for being awful."

You held up a padded frame, that you were carefully wrapping a satin ribbon around the many bars of it. "What does that look like?"

He just glared instead of admitting he didn't know, so you got to your feet and held the frame over your chest, the shape clarifying by being pressed over what it mimicked. "It's ribs. It'll tie on with more ribbon. Might put beads and stuff on it too."

He looked for a beat before nodding. "For later this month?"

"Indeed."

"... Continue, then. But be quiet!"

He was nice enough to remove the collar before he left, but not nice enough to leave it off as soon as you resumed singing to yourself once you'd assumed he was out of earshot.

~*~*~*~

"Hey, Lil?”

"Yeah?"

You looked over the riot of cheery pumpkins and Far East aesthetics that had sprung from your lawn. "You should've asked me, first."

Lil smiled at you. "But then you would have said no."

"I wouldn't have. But," you guestured to the papier mache dragon, "Really, my dude? This isn't what I would have picked at all. I'm not going to match."

"You're working on a costume? Already?" He lit up. "What's it going to be?"

"You'll see."

"Do I get a costume?"

You looked down at your not-cat. "Grimm, I didn't think you'd want one."

"I do now!" He scrambled to your shoulder and tugged at your hair, wailing. "Costume! Costume!"

You rolled your eyes. "Stop that, before I sell you to Lil to practice recipes on."

~*~*~*~

Grimm was no help. He changed his mind every few minutes on what he wanted. At least your incorporeal roommates were a sweet help, finally gearing him up with a hat by the beginning of the week.

"Do you still need one, Yuu?" The middling ghost, the one neither plump nor skeletal, seemed concerned.

"No, babe. I've been working on this since..." August, you think. "I'm good. I hope I can get a week out of it. I could at least do a different face each day."

Realization dawned across his face. "That's what that was for? I see. I guess you won't need..."

Oh, he made you a costume. Layers and layers of rotten gauze from the curtains, a spindrift take on the bedsheet ghost.

"Hey, I can use this, don't worry. Can you stoke the fire? I've got to dye this to match, I'll need some water boiled."

~*~*~*~

There's too many fucking people. You don't know any of them, they're loud, and they cram in wherever you need to go. But their fussing over you, their asking for pictures is nice. If only...

"Hey, are you lost, kid?" You lean down and reach a hand out to a fearful-looking six-year-old. "I can help you find someone who can help?"

He promptly burst into tears and collided into Floyd as he ran away.

"Hey there itty bitty. You need an adult? Hold on." Even with Floyd... being Floyd, he was a hell of a more welcome sight to the kid, and soon had him balanced on a shoulder to yell for his parents. "Who's under all that?"

"Your favourite shrimp, you overgrown string bean."

Floyd make an o of surprise and flicked the veil up. "It is you under all that! See, kid, She's not scary. She's pretty."

The kid simply eyed him dubiously before going back to trying to wave his parents down to get away from these lunatics.

All your hard work paid off beautifully. A mass of bones, beads and decay, a beautifully jeweled skeleton crowned with a fine halo of gold-and-bone spines and dried flowers. You rattled gently with every step, eyes staring out from a painted skull. They only thing you regretted was Riddle catching you earlier. Even if he hadn't intentionally steered it that way himself, everyone would assume you'd intentionally went to match Heartslabyul. Even more, now that you'd turned those curtains into a veil, even if you'd stuck all the bone and garnet drops you could onto the edges.

"Thank you, Floyd." You leaned up towards the kid. "Didn't mean to scare you, little darling."

The kid just stared at you in fear, and fortunately his parents came along to claim him, leaving you and Floyd by yourself.

"Shrimpie~" He'd scooped you up to replace the kid in his arms before you could protest. "You're so cute like this! Let's go to the alchemy room."

"What's in the alchemy room, Floyd." At this point you were used to him just... hauling you wherever. And you’d found that if you went along with the lighter end of it, he took you seriously when you said no. Weirdo he was, he'd at least gathered that you'd hang out willingly if he didn't push it.

"Oh, well you look so nice! You'll look much nicer in the water tube than the dummy we have in there."

"There are several reasons that can't work, Floyd. Least of it is I only breathe air."

"You're a ghost right now, you don't breathe at all."

"This outfit would not survive a dunking. I'm not sure it'll last the week if I don't repair it every night."

He kept smiling at you. "Even better! Wearing nothing at all on Halloween! Everyone would take even more pictures."

"Yeah yeah, and you have nothing at all in your room if I want to speed that up." You flicked his nose. "Put me down and we can walk over and check how it's going."

"Excuse me?" A stranger. "Can I take a picture of you and your boyfriend like that."

"I'm not her boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend. Go ahead though."

~*~*~*~

"What are you working on?"

Idia's voice was slightly muffled under the pumpkin head. "People kept calling my projection 'cute'. Idiots! They don't know the true fear of Pumpkin Hollow. So I'm adjusting the projection mapping so it's less cute, and more accurate."

"Hm. It seems fine to me as it is."

"You would think that. You don't care if there is a cuteness to things that are scary."

"There's beauty and sweetness in even death." You thought for a moment. "This is for that series you sat me down for? You got mad when I played with the toys?"

"Those. Are. Collecta-" he stopped when he whirled on you, faltering into silence. You really wished you could see the face he was making, he made such sweet faces, especially when he looked at you. You craved them, wanted him to look only at you with those expressions.

You smiled at him. "There's no use in leaving a toy in a box! I don't buy anything I don't intend to play with."

"Ah. Errrrrrrrrghhhmmm." He turned back to his work, took a deep breath, and turned back around. "You watched them, would you give me feedback?"

"Sure. Could you lean down a little?"

He did, and you carefully pulled off the pumpkin, revealing - nothing. No head at all.

You laughed. "Turn that off."

"Why?"

"I just opened your box. Time to play."

He made a strangled noise and started back, looking this way and that. "Right now? Anyone could come in!"

"Just for a moment! How can I give you a kiss if I can't see where I'm aiming?"

His head flickered into view, with a face full of mischief. "... Just one?"

~*~*~*~

"What happened to your makeup?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, model boy." You looked Vil up and down. "You're actually pretty hot like that. It's a miracle."

"Of course you would only find me attractive when I look like a corpse." He rolled his eyes hard enough to sprain. "Do I need to go lie down in a glass coffin too? Stay very still while you actually work up the courage to touch me?"

You snorted. "You wish I would touch you, you overblown jackass."

"With you looking like that? I'd die."

"Bite me, asshole."

"You'd like it if I did."

Your tone grew playful. "Is that a promise for later?"

"Ugh." His shudder was too exaggerated to be anything but an act. "Go ask your ugly little playmate for a bite, we all know what gross shit you get up to."

"You're just mad it's not you."

He pointed a perfectly manicured nail at your painted nose. "You're just mad I want nothing to do with you."

"Then why are you even talking to me?"

"I- why am I talking to you. Go away."

You did, but not before pulling on his cape to wrinkle it.

~*~*~*~

You had a dreadful feeling things were about to get worse. Call it intuition, or paranoia. But with any luck, that would change after a good night's sleep.

(It did not.)

~*~*~*~ These fuckers were getting exhausting. What a grand idea, picking unknown flowers to stick in your hair for selfies! That wasn't an excellent way to come down with a hideous case of contact poisoning at all. You had to swat one girl's hand away from a bed of monkshood, reciting symptoms of aconite poisoning at her until she stalked off in a huff.

And futzing around with the decorations! The only reason you didn't outwardly congratulate Leona on trying to rip apart a bunch of tourists was that murder is supposed to be bad, no matter how irritating and disrespectful the murder victims were. Even you knew better than to go around fondling random ears and tails!

(That's why you'd made the anatomy books in the library your friends. Far more polite than going up to a fellow student and saying, "May I feel around your skull for a few hours to satisfy my scientific curiosity? No one at home has ears like that and I'm very curious about the underlying muscle structures." )

Better see what's going on everywhere else.

~*~*~*~

You got up in tiptoe and lightly touched his arm. "Hey, Floyd?"

"??? Yes, Shrimpie?" His face instantly brightening, he dropped the absolutely delighted Magicammer he'd had pressed to the shelf and turned to you, leaning in as you crooked your finger.

You whispered in his ear, "Why waste magic on them when you can do so much more with your fists?"

He shone like the sun as he pressed his cheek to yours in lieu of something more intimate. "You always know just what to do."

~*~*~*~

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE."

The crowd of idiots instead turned on you with flash photography. "Another ghost! This'll get so many likes!"

"I MEAN IT!" Blinking away the spots from your eyes and casting all good sense to the wind, you grabbed a fire poker from inside your bedroom door and started swinging. They laughed and clapped - and only stepped back when you got the damned thing stuck in the wall while taking a swing.

"What an excellent show!" And more. Fucking. Pictures. How in the fuck Vil deals with this shit without murdering everyone in a hundred-foot radius, you'd love to know.

"I SAID-" yank "GET THE FUCK-" yank "OUT OF MY HOUSE!" The force of finally pulling the poker from the wall sent you careening onto your ass, and Grimm only stopped long enough to laugh at you before resuming his own ineffective charge. You stumbled to your feet, muttering. "Stupid little mother fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking..."

"Oh, it's a chase game! Let's go!" And they all fucking scattered into different rooms as you watched them in disbelief.

"I am going to kill everyone in this building and then myself for good measure."

~*~*~*~

"Leave."

"Aren't you going to scare me, Miss Ghost?" This last idiot was joyfully skipping around a bedroom that you'd had the ghosts empty out, nattering into her phone. A livestream, you think.

You're in you goddamned pajamas. "Sure. We don't use this room because the floor's not sound. Get the fuck out and leave before you fall through to the next floor."

The girl instead started to hop in place. "Oooooo, so scary! You'll have to try better than that!"

You rushed her. You probably would have throttled her (and wound up with a new ghostly roommate in the process) but as she backed up, your leg went through the floor where she'd weakened it, which left her cackling.

"You weren't kidding! Bye now!" And she just fucking left you there like the wretched asshole she was.

~*~*~*~

"I'm so sorry, Yuu."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Mal."

He rested his head on your bare knee and looked up at you. "If I hadn't picked your home as a stamp location, people wouldn't be invading this dorm, and you wouldn't have been injured."

"You fixed me up, didn't you?" He was the one who had pulled you rightways, and shut the scratches on your leg. Of course, he could have left your socks on to do that, but hey, those had been fixed too. You reached down and put your hand on his cheek, rubbing circles by his eye while he stared up at you like an adoring dog.

"This was supposed to be fun for you, so you could have a perfect Halloween."

"That's still a few days away yet. There's still time. And hey."

He blinked up at you as you leaned your face in close, flushing faintly as you did. "Any luck, we'll all make it to November without assault charges."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

You subconsciously growled like a rabid animal as you turned to Lilia with your eye twitching.

"By all the queen's powers." He shrank back. "You alright?"

"Magimons broke the lock on our bedroom and shook her awake last night." Grimm was, by some miracle, in a better mood than you; content to be a comforting weight in your arms and be your anger translator.

"They took," you added, "my groceries."

Lil looked at you in blank shock. "What about the wards on your doors?"

"That's for magic, not fucking morons with no sense of personal space." If you made it through 'til November without actually biting someone's throat out and getting put down like a mad dog, you'd be sincerely surprised. "You of all people should know that."

"Hey, I put them back up after I drop in. You want to go sit with Malleus today? I think you need it."

"Nope. If I snap at him he'll take it to heart. Or just kill everyone who's not staff or student because they upset me."

"No he wouldn't."

"We both know he would."

"He would not because that would be bad press for the kingdom."

"... well, damned if I ever though I'd say this, but thank god for politics."

~*~*~*~

You stare at the empty plinths as everyone started yelling and scrambling. You look to the rubble of the statues, the bases, to Cater, and back to the rubble, nudging what may have once been a staff with you toe.

"And it's not even for a fucking political movement."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu, if we can get rid of the magicam monsters, we can have the party!" Grimm smiled up at you, all sharp teeth and blue eyes. "Aren't you happy?"

You didn't have the heart to tell him that at this point, you'd rather they'd just cancel everything and simply sleep through till All Saint's. Fuck your costume work. Fuck the party. Fuck everything. If you see another jack o lantern you will smash it. Fuck this holiday. You're so tired.

"Yuu, do you have ideas on how to drive the magicam monsters away?"

You stared past Cater's ear because you didn't feel like looking anyone in the face. "Tried to brain a few with a fire poker. Th'just thought it was funny."

This was met with the sound of air sucked through teeth, and a warm hand on your shoulder. "Come with me please!" And Ortho pulled you away with the force of a vaudeville hook.

"You're having a very bad time!" So sweet, so earnest. Right now he was the only person here who could be that chipper and you not want to put their nose out the back of their skull.

You gave him a weary smile. "What was your first clue, honey."

"She keeps kicking in her sleep. When she sleeps. And she's all snappy and horrible!"

You gave Grimm a single light warning shake. "Shut up, Grimm."

"Would you like to stay over so that you can rest properly?" He was hovering directly in front of your face. "Maybe if you're somewhere you won't be woken up, you'll feel better."

You raised an eyebrow and stared over at Idia, who was trying very hard to pay attention to both your conversation and his. "Shouldn't you clear that with someone first?"

Ortho rolled his eyes, the effect on his little boy face frankly hilarious. "Oh, he'd be so upset you have you over. Deeply so. He wouldn't get a wink of sleep with you there." He leaned in. "Except he would, because you wouldn't do anything to keep him up with me there, would you?"

You wheezed. "You think so little of me, Ortho."

"I like you very much even if what you both get up to is gross."

"Of every boy in this school, Yuu. You picked that one."

Ortho glared down at Grimm. "That is my brother you're talking about."

"Stop it. Can we check back in?"

~*~*~*~

"So we're going to run round and scare the piss out of them?"

Jade nodded. "That is the idea, yes."

"... Can I help?"

"Of course, Yuu." Jade smiled his smile that didn't reach more than a millimetre beneath his eyes. "But we've agreed you can't have any blunt objects. For everyone's safety. And the school's reputation, of course.."

"... Yeah, that's for the best."

~*~*~*~

"Can you guys watch Grimm for the evening?"

"Of course." Mal beamed at you from his seat on the Ramshackle steps. "Where will you be that he doesn't want to be?"

"I don't like the horse."

"You ride horses?" Idia was sitting between Mal's legs as Malleus carefully arranged the bright hair into a high ponytail.

"Epel taught me." You paused for a minute. "Do you?"

"Mother made me learn. I haven't in years."

"Makes sense." He didn't like the outdoors, after all. "Mal, how'd you convince him to let you touch his hair? He only lets me do that in private."

"It will look nicer coming out of his pumpkin helmet if arranged higher." Mal crooked his mouth and dragged his lacquered nails along Idia's scalp, making a soft noise when Idia gasped, shivered and abruptly stood up.

"Nope nope nope nope no more of that-"

"May I at least put the elastic in?" Mal held up a black band. "It's fireproof."

He instead snatched it and ran for the library as fast as he could without cracking the armour. You and Mal watched him leave.

"Hm."

"Mal?"

He was still watching the blue light vanish into the distance. "I think I can see the appeal." His dreamy smile gained a sharp edge. "What a delicious sound."

You snickered. "God, I know, right? You should hear some of the other ones I've got out of him."

"You're both disgusting."

~*~*~*~

You hadn't worked out an actual story for this one, just your ghostly roommates and Grimm telling everyone to leave the statues alone. But some asshole, wearing aviator shades and the ugliest piecemeal hoodie you'd ever seen, mounted a plinth to start taking selfies. And once that started, more got the idea, and joined him, trying to nudge the statue away to make room.

So, that's where you came in, pulling into sight at the end of the drive, in tarnished gilt and rotten splendor, jeweled Death on a pale horse.

Sunglasses looked at you and froze, before snapping another picture.

Fucking pictures. You're so sick of pictures.

You snapped the reins and nudged your heels, and who knew anyone on two legs could move that fast? Though potentially being run down by a warhorse was great motivation to move thine arse, as it were. And, thank god, everyone else booked it out the gate after him.

It only took a little maneuvering to lock the gate while still up on a pale horse named Beans, and now? Time to take him to his stable and go the fuck to sleep. Maybe through past tomorrow. Fuck Halloween.

~*~*~*~

You were riding your merry way when a familiar voice called out to you. "You dropped some loot!"

"What did I lose, Idia?" His little speakers mimicking the clang of armour were working overtime as he jogged up beside you. Once he reached you, he held up... a shoe.

"Huh." You looked down, and you had indeed lost a shoe while charging down a bunch of Magicam-obsessed assholes on a warhorse. "Thank you." That's when you gave Idia a level gaze, and stuck you leg out at him.

He swallowed back his noise of shock, and shaking, took your stockinged foot and slid the shoe back into place.

"Good boy."

He was turning from shell pink to a deep red that rivaled the roses in Heartslabyul. But that didn't mean he didn't know how to keep playing when emotions were high. Before letting go, he leaned down and kissed the top of your foot.

Now it was your turn to go red; a wonder the painted skull didn't simply melt off of your face.

~*~*~*~

"Shrimpie~"

You took a breath and prepared yourself. Scoopsies was inevitable.

True to form, Floyd had his whole conversation with you in a bridal carry. "We're gonna have the party!~ We chased them all away!~"

"That's..." Honestly, despite all the rage and pain this week had caused, you were rather happy about the news. "Nice."

"Ah - where'd your face go?" He leaned in, and you stopped him from getting too close with a finger pressed to his lips.

"I didn't feel up to wearing everything." Your embroidered gown and painted skull was replaced with a simple back veil and black dress. "I kind of hate this whole holiday right now and I'm ready to kick the next pumpkin I see."

He nodded, kissing your fingertip as he did. "I can help you after. But we need this all for the parade." He brightened. "You should paint up and get on the horse again for it!" He smiled, full of dreamy fondness and not a small amount of hunger. "I heard what you did to the magicam monsters... I wish I could have seen."

"Hey, I heard you didn't do too badly yourself." You leaned in conspiratorially. "Anyone pee themselves?"

He smiled like the sun post-eclipse. "Yup!"

~*~*~*~

Epel had been nice enough to help you kit out Beans in a fancy black harness, so in amongst the crowd of costumed students, you were both equally eye-catching. And hell, pictures weren't so bad right now. People were keeping a distance, murmuring to each other as they aimed their cameras. You thought you were getting a dirty look or two from Vil for stealing his thunder, but he had himself on the prow of a ship! It wasn't comparable.

"So," you said, leaning down a little, "How are you handling this?"

Idia looked up at you, you thought. "The mask makes it easy. They're looking at the costume, not me."

"I'm glad it helps. I wish you'd take it off, but you being comfortable is more important."

"What? You want me to ruin the effect by taking the mask off? Clearly you have no respect for the holiday." His voice had the sweet, bubbling quality that came when he was excited and happy, and it warmed you to hear it.

"Oh, no, of course not. But why would I want to taste a plastic kiss,” you said, reaching a hand down to run the trailing ribbon of his hair through your fingers, “when I could taste you instead?"

You had to give him credit, he only faltered for a moment before continuing. "Right now? In front of everyone?"

"I would if you'd let me, right now." You lowered your voice. "And worse."

He stifled a groan and only walked funny for another ten minutes.

~*~*~*~

"I thought you didn't like horses." The stables were in sight, but Idia had turned up, surprising you.

He rolled his eyes, and held his arms out. "Dismount, fair maiden."

What.

"I mean it. Your Pumpkin Knight awaits."

You shook your head, voice soft. "Baby, no."

"I'm trying to be romantic. Like your novels."

"Idia."

He stared back at you, sour-faced. "What."

"I outweigh you by at least sixty pounds."

"I can do this. I carry Ortho around all the time."

"Ortho's chassis is mostly fibreglass and aluminum. I can carry Ortho. I think Grim could carry Ortho."

He took a step forward. "Do you want me to leave you on the horse or not."

"His name is Beans." But, you managed to dismount into Idia's arms, where he stood stock-still and trembling.

"Kkc."

"Babe? Put me down before your back goes out."

His knees gave out first, and he crumpled beneath you as you both yelped.

"You alright?"

"hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

You crawled off his chest and he could actually breathe again.

"Better?"

After a few breaths, he managed a weak smile. "Maybe kiss it better."

Beans beat you to it, snuffling at Idia's face to make sure he wasn't dead.

~*~*~*~

You are not much of a party person. You like them, but the ideal party is a few friends hanging around in the same room, chatting at a reasonable volume and then going home to go the fuck to sleep. This was a little much.

But you know what this party had that you hadn't seen in what felt like years? Cute girls. In cute costumes! You've been flirting your ass off, with decent success; it turns out that the Magicam Live you did with Vil weeks ago had paid off in the form of smiles and fluttered eyelashes as girls crowded around you to hear tales of how fucking obnoxious you could be in this school and get away with it because you had friends in high places.

At least, until you caught something out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped. "Hey, I gotta check on someone - raise your hand if you like boys. Okay, you see -" You stopped and pointed at your poor, unsuspecting target. "With the blue-black hair and the painted spade? That's Deuce, he doesn't know how to talk to girls worth a damn, so give him some slack. But he's a sweetheart, you won't regret it."

"What about the redhead?"

"Ace is a prick but he's delightful. Chat him up too." With that, you went to check on Idia, huddled into a corner after an attempted force-feeding.

"You alright, babe?"

He nodded. "They're too much. But I'm alright now."

You leaned back against a nearby chair, looking him up and down. "You sure you aren't going to eat anything? I don't think anyone's going to care too much if you have your face out."

He remained completely still, and you realized you could hear a faint whirring. "Idia. Have you been using the robot double all evening."

"... I swapped out ten minutes ago."

You made a noise and he flinched. "I was going to swap back in after it calmed down!"

"... No you weren't."

"Okay, no I wasn't. But I was there for a while. I have proof, I brought plates back with me."

"You could have just told me. It's been a hell of a lot for you, I know what you're like."

Idia - well, his robotic avatar - shrugged. "If you're going to lecture me... come by and do it here."

You stopped. "You really want me to yell at you in person?"

"I want you to come by. If you want. You can stay as long as you want... if you want. I have snacks, and movies, and games that even you could play."

You snorted. "Oh, the siren call of a fucking nerd trying so hard to woo his chosen..."

"I changed my mind actually, you can't come."

"Aww."

"... That's a lie." He paused. "You can even take the Yume Twins out."

Those vinyl dolls he never let you touch. You throw your veil back and kissed the stupid plastic pumpkin head. "It's a date."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

You peered at Malleus from around a stack of Tupperware. "Mal?"

"You.. enjoyed it all, despite everything?"

"Despite everything." You hefted the stack towards him. "Would you like to help? I want to grab stuff from the party that'll keep at room temperature."

He absently flicked a finger, sending the dishes swirling around to settle in a stack in midair, before placing a hand on your shoulder. "I have a... request."

"Anything," you said, and you regretted saying it as his breath hitched.

"Would you..." His voice faltered, and instead he simply wrapped you in a tight embrace, leaning down to bury his nose in your hair. You could feel him, chest heaving, scenting your greased hair through tulle, murmuring something against your scalp.

"Malleus."

He stopped, but did not move.

"No spells."

"You would not forgive me if I tried." You could feel his smile against your hair.

"I would not." You pulled back enough to look at him, and nearly froze at his besotted gaze before he schooled it into his more usual face. "Mal, you know you only feel this strong because I'm your first friend, right?"

"Does it matter? It is sincere."

And that makes it so much worse. "You know I don't feel about you like that."

"..." The grief that flickered across his face was enough to shatter a stone heart. "To stand with you and hold you is enough."

And they said fairies can't lie. They could, they were just terrible at it.

"You said you were going to ask for something?"

"... Not anymore. I doubt you would give it."

He vanished into thin air in a swirl of wind, and the Tupperware clattered to the steps, the spell holding them gone.

~*~*~*~

The nice thing about Idia's room is that, being a prefect, he had an attached bathroom to scrub the paint off of your face. It was a monochrome murder in the sink, splatters of grey with the occasional pinprick of red where you'd disturbed the new bumper crop of pimples from painting up as a skull for a week. Thank fuck that was over with. Even if the day proper had been lovely, the events of the week had thoroughly soured you on Halloween.

"You alright?" Idia poked his head in, long since divested of armour.

"Yup. How'd you get that shit off so fast? You got a suiting-up machine hidden somewhere?"

"It's less complicated than you'd think. Cosplay magic."

"That's nice. Unbutton me."

"... wha."

You looked at him via the mirror, meeting his wide eyes and shimmying in place. "Unbutton me. I can't reach them all myself."

"How'd you get that on every day?" He hesitantly walked behind, eyeing the row down your back as though it would burn him at the touch.

"I have roommates, remember?"

"Mmh." He finally undid the first three, before flicking his gaze back to yours in the mirror. "A... Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't ask, otherwise." You kept looking, as he took a breath and resumed. "Idia."

He paused.

"Keep going, I'm just going to chat at you for a bit." Two more. "You know I..." How to phrase this. "I don't intend to stay mint on card forever, you know. You can take me out and play."

He twitched, but kept going. "Maybe I don't want to damage you. There's only one of you, after all."

"I'm not so breakable." You had one side of you face completely clear, the other still smeared grey in the creases. "Would you rather stay mint condition, yourself?"

"..." He took a moment to gather himself, staring at the exposed skin of your back. "Maybe I want to... admire a bit. Get to know my- your- Uh."

You waited with a soft smile, until he found the words. "No one said you have to play straight away when you take something out of the package. Right?" He placed an experimental hand on the expanse of flesh between bra band and waistband, and did not draw away.

"Right."

"... Maybe I just want to hold you a bit before we play."

What a sweet boy you had. "Take all the time you need to. Even if we never play like that, I like you. Spending time with you is what I want."

You could see the motes of pink flickering through his hair. "Can I hold you now?"

"Of course."

He slid his hands under your dress, around your waist - then grabbed your soft, flabby tummy in both hands and squeezed. "Soft~"

You squealed with laughter. "What are you doing?"

"It's bare skin that's neutral territory," he huffed, before hugging your back to him and resting his chin on your shoulder. "And it's warm, too."

"Not so much as you. Keep me warm, will you? It's getting so damned cold at night."

He buried his face in your hair. "I can do that."

~*~*~*~

You woke to someone banging at the door.

"Son of a bitch." You managed to free yourself from Idia's sleeping grasp and make it to the door as a familiar voice started up. "Shroud, your tin can brother's already helping with clean-up, if you skip out because of a stupid game I will-"

You opened the door and looked levelly into Vil's face, which twisted in surprise. He gave you a once over (unshaved legs, mussed hair, boxer briefs from the men's section and a blue-black striped shirt that was clearly not yours) and then peeked over your shoulder at Idia (dead asleep, smiling faintly, possibly naked under the blankets). He kept looking between the two of you with increasing disbelief and horror, until he stepped back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Good for you."

"Thanks." Your face still hadn't changed.

"It's twelve thirty. If you're not both out helping clean up by three, I'm telling everyone."

"That's not much of a threat."

"Maybe to you. Shroud!"

Idia shuddered awake, bleariness washed away by terror as he saw Vil in the door and covered himself in the blankets.

"Be out helping cleanup by three or I'm telling everyone exactly why you're late." With that, he stalked off and you shut the door, mirroring his nose pinch.

"Dramatic bastard, ain't he? Even when he's being nice."

"How is that nice?" He only stopped shivering when you sat back down on the bed.

"Two and a half hours, Idia."

He blinked at you.

"How much can we do in two and a half hours?"

Realization dawned, and he started snickering as he dragged you in close.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #idia shroud #malleus draconia

22 notes · View notes

swimfuel · 3 years

Text

okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

#humanstuck #vantas family #.

48 notes · View notes

juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

In Another Life 🍷 🍇

Fourteen: In Another Life – what would have happened if they never went to Vesuvia? If they didn’t die from the plague, or if they had left when Asra asked them to? Who would they be?

echoes of the past event

@arcana-echoes

Stella and Sebastian Rosa

Set in Northern Venterre, Stella and Sebastian are in their early 20s

Words: ~2500

Warnings: lots of mentions of alcohol, strong language, brief hints to spice™️

The Enemies to Lovers Rival Winery AU

Or- what would have happened if Stella had stayed at her family’s vineyard in Venterre and the biggest worry on her mind was winning the wine competition at the annual Wine Fair

ft. her twin brother being a general nuisance and adults fighting like children because siblings!

Stella puts her hand on her hip as she looks out the window, sighing as she watches her brother Sebastian try to sneak out of the house. He should know by now that Stella doesn’t sleep much at night, and every footstep in their old house creaks and echoes. She thinks he’s a bit old for sneaking out, but Sebastian’s immaturity seems to know no bounds.

When her parents had semi-retired from the family winery business a year prior, they’d made it clear that Stella and Sebastian were now in it together. That meant they share ownership and responsibility. Stella won’t stand to be left alone at work again because Sebastian is sleeping late from being out all night. Plus, the annual Wine Fair is tomorrow and the Rosa Winery has to be on top of their game to keep their spot as the top-rated vineyard in Venterre.

This year the judging panel includes the Count of Vesuvia, the ruler of the neighboring city-state which is Venterre’s greatest ally. He’d been a judge last year too, but this year the winery that wins the top prize will become the official wine of Vesuvia. It's a chance Stella won’t pass up. Her family's famous “Stella Blend”, named after her, has won for over twenty years in a row and she isn’t going to let this year be the first one they lose.

Stella decides to follow Sebastian, there’s not many places to go in town this late at night and her curiosity is piqued. She’s careful not to wake her parents as she silently glides down the hallway and the stairs. She closes her eyes and feels herself shifting through a cold film, travelling through the dark entryway of the house and outside through the shadows. Stella has had the ability to travel this way for as long as she can remember, but she’s never focused much on her other magical abilities.

She reappears behind a tree a few feet away. Sebastian is completely oblivious to her presence as he steps through the front gate and out to the road. Stella grins and continues to follow, glad she hadn’t worn her usual noisy heeled boots.

Their house and vineyard are pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and Sebastian hasn’t taken a horse so wherever he’s going can’t be far. Either that or he really doesn’t want to risk being caught, which is even more intriguing in Stella’s opinion. When he makes a sharp right turn towards the hills she wonders where on earth he could be going, the only thing over that way is the Hierophant Winery and there’s no reason why Sebastian would be going to their rival winery so late at night.

Perhaps he’s going to sabotage the competition, she thinks, but that doesn’t explain his many nightly disappearances over the last month. She follows him through the brush and wills herself to fade into the shadows a bit to hide her presence. After another twenty minutes of walking, the gates of Hierophant Winery come into view and she watches with interest as Sebastian walks around the side of the large main house instead of entering through the gates.

Sebastian stops in front of a side door, barely visible through the dark shroud of trees. He knocks exactly three times and waits. Stella knows her brother well enough to sense that he’s not nervous, and he’d seemed to know exactly where to go. She’s puzzled, watching from behind a tree as the door opens just wide enough to let him in. She can’t tell who opened the door, and when she tries the doorknob she finds it locked.

No problem for her, there are plenty of shadows to travel though. She once again steps into the filmy shadow realm, suppressing a cold shiver as she reappears inside the house. Inside it's dark but she can make out a staircase in front of her and a hallway to her left. She decides to head up the stairs, careful to step on the outside of the steps in case they creak.

At the top of the stairs she waits, trying to listen for voices or catch a glimpse of light. She doesn’t want to be caught here. The man who owns the winery, Valerius, is quite rude and she’d rather not be accused of trying to cheat in the competition. She’s only interacted with him a few times at past Wine Fairs and a few times in town. He’s quite rich and usually sends his servants to town instead, so seeing Valerius is, luckily, a rare sight.

He’s been hell-bent on winning the wine competition for the last few years, but the Rosa’s have always won, causing a bitter rivalry between the wineries. When any of the Rosa family do see Valerius he’s sure to make rude comments. Their interactions usually devolve into name calling and even, on one occasion, Stella dodging a glass of wine that had been lobbed at her head.

She continues to creep down the upstairs hallway and finally sees a door ajar at the end. Careful to avoid being seen she pokes her head into the door and is absolutely horrified at the sight she finds. Her brother Sebastian is pressed against the opposite wall seemingly very busy making out with none other than the rude, pretentious, rival winery-owning Valerius.

“What the actual fuck is going on here?” Stella shouts, throwing the door open without thinking. Valerius and Sebastian jump apart, turning to see who the intruder is. When he sees Stella standing in the doorway seethingly angry Valerius just scoffs and walks to the opposite side of the room to pour himself a glass of wine.

“Stella what are you doing here?” Sebastian asks in surprise.

“I asked you first dumbass, what the fuck are you doing here?” She points a finger at Valerius who is calmly watching the sibling’s altercation. “And with him?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious Stella.” Sebastian rolls his eyes, pushing his hair back into its usual perfect style.

“Ew Sebastian! Of all the men in Venterre why him?” Stella asks, trying to resist the urge to murder her sibling for his sheer stupidity. “I thought you hated him? We all hate him, he looks like a weasel for gods sake!”

“I do hate him.” Sebastian laughs scornfully and Valerius sneers at him in response.

“Doesn’t look like it Sebastian!” Stella says, shaking her head to try to rid herself of the memory of the scene she’d just walked in on.

“Look- just stay out of it Stella, why did you even follow me?” Sebastian asks, the annoyance clear in his tone.

“If you two imbeciles are done fighting can you leave my house?” Valerius says, the distasteful sneer growing on his face. “I’d like to get some sleep before the fair tomorrow. I intend to look well rested when I win the competition.”

“Shut up Valerius.” The twins shout at the same time, each turning to glare at the other.

“How charming, there’s two of them.” Valerius mocks, downing his glass of wine.

“We are not done talking about this Seb, you’re a traitor!” Stella scolds, “I can’t believe you, this is where you’ve been disappearing to?”

“Sebastian, either tell the witch to leave my house or leave with her. I’m tired of this drivel.” Valerius says, taking a seat on the elegant chaise lounge that sits in front of the window. He watches the twins with a look of impatience and dislike, and Stella whirls to look at him.

“What did you just call me?” Her tone is deadly calm and Sebastian recognizes that she’s probably seconds away from launching into a physical attack.

“Stella just leave! He’s an asshole, sure, but it’s not like I’m giving up winery secrets or anything.” Sebastian says placatingly, trying to calm down his irate sister.

“It’s the principle of the thing, Sebastian. You don’t see me going around visiting our business rivals in the middle of the night.” She seethes, taking a step towards her brother.

“That’s because I’m the attractive one.” Sebastian says matter of factly, causing Valerius to exhale in an almost-laugh sound.

“WE’RE TWINS!” Stella yells, throwing her hands up in the air. “Ok you know what? If you want to stay here and kiss the weasel, fine! Have at it! But if we lose at the fair tomorrow I will kill you myself.”

“Can you vacate the premises on your own or do I need to send someone to escort you out?” Valerius says, rolling his eyes at her.

“If you roll your eyes at me one more time so help me gods, I will kill you too.” She replies, her voice nearly a growl.

“Ok! Time for you to leave Stella! I promise I’ll be there tomorrow and we’ll win.” Sebastian walks towards her, pushing her towards the door.

“I highly doubt that.” Valerius snorts, still trying for an aura of disinterest.

“Also don’t tell our parents about this.” Sebastian adds, still trying to physically push her out of the door.

“And why shouldn’t I?” She says indignantly, shoving her brother’s hands away from her.

“My, don’t you two bicker like children.” Valerius mutters impatiently. Stella glares at him so viciously that he chastens and decides to keep his mouth shut.

“If you tell them about Valerius I’ll tell them about your crush on Count Lucio.” Sebastian threatens. “You’ll never hear the end of it.”

“You think me finding the Count attractive is as embarrassing as you hooking up with Valerius? Ha! I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when I tell them.” Stella grins maliciously, turning to run out the door. If she can beat him home she’ll be able to break the news.

“Stella!” Sebastian yells, running after her. He tries to tackle her on the stairwell but she shadow travels outside, getting a head start. The magic tires her though and she has to run the rest of the way home more slowly. Sebastian is right behind her the whole way. He tries to bargain with her but Stella isn’t having any of it

“I’ll take over inventory for a week!” He pleads.

“Nope!”

“Two weeks?”

“Dream on!”

“Stella come on! Don’t do this!”

“Too late!”

“Thank the gods they’ve finally gone.” Valerius sighs, pouring himself another glass of wine. He’s glad there’s no one around to see the slight smile of endearment on his face.

Back at the Rosa Winery, Stella and Sebastian scuffle at the front door, each of them trying to be the first one in. Stella focuses her magic one last time and pushes through the shadows of the porch into the entryway.

“No fair!” Sebastian calls as he finally gets the door open and begins to chase her up the stairs.

“Mamma! Papa!” Stella shouts. Sebastian pulls her hair, trying to stop her from reaching their parents door.

“What’s all this noise?” Their father Marco says tiredly as he opens the door.

“I caught Sebastian kissing Valerius!” Stella says in a huff, out of breath from the run.

“Stella has a crush on Count Lucio!” Sebastian yells, wincing as Stella elbows him out of the way of the door.

“What!?”

The next morning the whole family travels to the town center for the Wine Fair with plenty of bottles of wine in tow. Sebastian and Stella aren’t talking to each other and their parents find the situation hilarious. Marco had been upset at Sebastian at first, but it was clear he found the situation funny and the facade of disappointment had dropped quickly. Their mother Vittoria had simply laughed at them and told everyone to go to bed.

As they’re busy setting up the Rosa Winery’s display the town center begins to fill with crowds ready to experience the fair. Stella is in a particularly bad mood, but she’s still determined to win. Her focus is broken as her father elbows her and points to the center of the square.

“Look it’s your boyfriend!” Marco laughs, pointing at Count Lucio who stands amidst his retinue of guards and advisors. He’s dressed in a gaudy suit and his typical dramatic makeup which, Stella tells herself, shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.

“Papa stop.” Stella groans. It's going to be a long day, and if her gaze lingers on the Count all day, who could blame her.

“Oh look, Seb! It’s your boyfriend!” Vittoria grins at Sebastian, pointing at Valerius who is busy ordering his employees around at the Hierophant Winery stall.

“This family is a nightmare.” Sebastian groans, hiding his face in his hands.

“I’m disowning all of you.” Stella adds, decidedly focusing on the wine bottles she’s arranging.

“It’s ok Stella, you can just move in with your Zia Alessa in Vesuvia! You’ll be closer to your Count.” Marco jokes.

“He is not my Count.” Stella argues, her tone laced with annoyance.

“Who’s not your Count?” A voice behind her says and she turns to see Count Lucio smirking at her, the rest of the judging panel behind him.

“Oh uh- I just mean that you’re the Count of Vesuvia and this is Venterre!” Stella says smoothly, turning on her best customer service smile.

“Hmm. Well I bet you wish I was your Count, everyone does!” Count Lucio grins, leaning down to inspect the wine bottles. “Well gimme a glass!”

“Right away!” She says, pouring sample glasses for each of the judges. The count takes a sip of the red wine and swishes it around in his mouth audibly. Everyone in the vicinity watches with rapt attention waiting for his reaction.

“What’s this wine called?” He asks, raising an eyebrow critically as he swirls the glass around.

“It’s the Stella Blend.” Marco smiles proudly as he gestures at Stella, “Named after our daughter Stella here.”

“I don’t need to try any others, Stella is a winner.” Count Lucio says, downing the rest of the glass. “But I suppose we should at least sample a few more.”

The Count winks at Stella as he hands her the empty glass and turns to walk to the next stall, the panel of judges trailing behind him.

“Not a word.” Stella says, turning to point a threatening finger at her family who all look quite smug. “Not a single word from any of you.”

When the Rosa Winery is declared the winner for the 25th consecutive year nobody is surprised, but Stella intends to gloat about it to anyone who will listen. She catches her brother at the Hierophant Winery stall, apparently bragging about the win. He and Valerius have a complicated relationship it seems and Stella wants to know nothing about it. But she has to admit the victory is made all the more sweet when she sees how angry Valerius is.

As the now-official winery of Vesuvia, the Rosa Winery has been asked to send someone to deliver the wine and prepare a sampling for the Count. Of course her parents had volunteered her for the job and she’s headed off to the palace in a week’s time. As much as Stella wants to be angry at them, she can’t deny that she’s excited to see the enigmatic Count Lucio again.

#just a fun silly one for the last day of the event!#arcana eotp #sebastian rosa #apprentice stella #consul valerius #sebarius #if you watch schitt's creek seb and stella have a david and alexis relationship #ew david #stelucio #i can't remember if i came up with a name for their ship oops

19 notes · View notes

general-klumpp · 4 years

Text

THEORY: DuckTales S3 is about bringing the McDuck FAMILY together. LITERALLY.

Greetings, fellow DuckTales fans! Very pleased to make my first theory out in the digital world, with my own illustrations to support it!

MAJOR/POTENTIAL SPOILERS

Part 1: Brothers and Sisters

According to Frank Angones, one of the main directions Season 3 is heading to is challenging ‘Clan McDuck’ to its core. We already know that includes the triplets, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, the manor staff, Lena, Violet, Gladstone...

With that said, what if a plotline surfaces, in which we learn about bringing the actual McDuck family together...?

A thought occurred to me the other day, that due to the challenging circumstances, the triplets are eventually going to estrange each other. How do I know?

1. Huey will go through absolute hell this season. It is heavily implied that he will start investigating F.O.W.L with no-one in his family believing him - including his brothers.

2. Disney has accidentally leaked footage of a Halloween special, in which Louie dresses up as his weird red hat brother. Assuming that the next episode is about Team Magic, it could be because Huey’s investigations are creeping Louie out, thus the green triplet dressing up as Huey.

3. The last episode so far involves the triplets supporting each other. They seemed too ‘on good terms’ with each other, if you know what I mean. More about that later.

Now I don’t know exactly when we will learn about Scrooge’s relationship with his sisters...but to make things parallel and poetic, I believe we will find out once it seems that the triplets will split up. FOR GOOD.

According to numerous Duck stories, Scrooge spent a lot of his life away from his sisters, the latter seldom having coverage. From what I’ve seen so far, I believe that the team will use Rosa’s A Letter from Home, as a stimulus toward their fates: Hortense MAY have died a long time ago with her husband (hence Donald and Della being raised by their uncle), whereas Matilda is still out there, somewhere.

These are not 100% my ideas, but I’d love to imagine Hortense having a love for discipline and splendour more than Scrooge (Team Guile), whereas Matilda could have a passion for science, thus her probable love for Ludwig Von Drake (Team Science). Any information about whether or not Matilda is married to Von Drake is currently confidential, but I believe that marriage was his big mistake - making Scrooge’s sister an easy target for F.O.W.L, and that the two are hiding. OR MAYBE MATILDA WAS THE TRAITOR THAT WAS MENTIONED ON WEBBY’S BOARD THE ENTIRE. TIME. Could make sense, acknowledging they toned down Scrooge’s love for money.

I don’t have a clear scenario about how this would play out, but I believe that the episode regarding this would start as a hasty attempt from Scrooge to bring the triplets back together with another visit to Castle McDuck. Scrooge’s parents would then tell the triplets about his relationship with his sisters, which Scrooge may or may not expect at all. Other than that, I don’t have much, but we may find Matilda using the opportunity to take care of her parents as a way to hide from F.O.W.L. or in the slim chance of Hortense still being alive, the triplets attempting to bring Scrooge and his siblings together and make up.

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING MAY BE A HUGE STRETCH

According to Frank, every member of Clan McDuck will have a counterpart working for F.O.W.L. I’d imagine that in this canon, Scrooge and his siblings are three aging birds wearing slightly different eyewear. Who else are three aging birds wearing slightly different eyewear?

If that is true, and if each sibling is alive, then whatever Bradford’s brothers were to him could be what Scrooge’s sisters are to the richest duck in the world himself. Perhaps once Scrooge reunites with his sisters, the other Buzzards may start a rocky path with Bradford.

Part 2: NO SECRET - This part of the theory is leaning towards what I want to be true...cheeky me!

“I’m your grandmother, dear. I have no more secrets from you from here on out.”

I believe that in the beginning of the season, positive aspects between characters such as the triplets, Donald and Della, etc. will be explored - and then what?

Apart from Huey, it is obvious that Beakley and Webby are going to have the big oof this season. And as part of F.O.W.L’s motive, they could split the two apart. How? With the help of a familiar face. Webby’s mother. Bentina Beakley’s daughter - Bianca, also known as Darkwing Duck’s Bugmaster. I REALLY WANT THIS TO BE TRUE. They could take the most interesting route by making Bugmaster an agent/journalist of F.O.W.L. But...why?

PIC UNRELATED

I’d imagine the beginning of this story as Webby crossing the boundaries of her grandmother, and cue an entire ‘The Reason You Suck Speech’ from Webby to Beakley, about how Beakley’s strict parenting affected her life. Webby could then storm off and find someone else to latch onto - like her mother...

It could make sense, because Webby is always curious about information, and has a camera of her own...that kind of stuff seems kinda fitting for a job in the news industry, as Bianca’s job in DW was a news reporter for St. Canard. On the other hand, Bianca could be the exact antithesis of what Beakley wants her daughter to be. Unlike Webby, I’d imagine a younger Beakley being more laid back/absent with Bianca, and so that could have angered her a lot - probably even more with Webby in the picture, kinda like Eleanor Shellstrop from The Good Place. As a result, Bianca could have grown dishonest and rebellious, joining F.O.W.L to take revenge on her own mother, becoming Agent Bugmaster.

One potential scenario in mind of a battle between Agent 22 and Bugmaster - probably too dark and edgy, is that upon Bugmaster’s defeat/death - she tells her mother to take care of Webby, as if having a second chance to raise her Bianca. Cue big Beakley-Webby hug. Ow.

Part 3: The Rest

I have plenty of other ideas in which the relationships within the McDuck clan and friends may fall apart

- Scrooge may be framed as working for F.O.W.L.

- Donald and Della may fall apart due to the shocking revelation that Donald and Scrooge hated each other for 10 years, or Daisy.

- Donald, Della and Scrooge may fall apart because of a potential lie from Scrooge about the fates of Hortense and Quackmore.

- Launchpad may be isolated from the McDuck family due to his insecurities.

- B.O.Y.D. may be a hacking target by Gandra Dee.

- Webby’s hypothetical growing distrust in the world may cause her to grow distant from her grandmother, and two best friends.

- Changing dynamics between Gyro and Fenton. What if Gyro finds out about Gandra and loses trust in Fenton knowing that the two are in a relationship?

- A few members losing trust in Fethry letting some dumb secret slip.

TLDR:

Part 1: Scrooge’s sisters may be revealed once HDL falls apart, Matilda McDuck and Ludwig Von Drake are alive and hiding

Part 2: Webby has Granny issues, Webby’s mom is The Bugmaster from Darkwing Duck

Part 3 and OVERALL: F.O.W.L is trying to split Clan McDuck, and it is up to the individuals to bring the family together!

...and that’s it! Thank you for reading this large ambitious theory! mcautismo signing out! peace

28 notes · View notes

angsty-nerd · 4 years

Text

Thinky Thoughts on Max in 2x06

I’ve been thinking a lot about the various perspectives on Max’s character changes in 2x06, and while I was VERY insistent yesterday on Max being Max and being happy during the calm before the storm, I definitely have forced myself to rethink a little bit overnight. Even in my delirious, sleep deprived state of mind from this episode, I still refuse to believe that Max wasn’t Max during those scenes with Liz (particularly after getting his memories back). But that doesn’t mean that there wasn’t something WRONG. So here are some big thoughts from me.

Not going to lie. It did seem way too easy to “fix” Dark!Max. 10 years of destructive energy and all it took was a little earthquake, some lightning thrown around and that’s it? TEN YEARS. Liz wasn’t even dead for like a minute in the pilot and he blew out all the power in town with that dark energy. And his little earthquake didn’t seem to extend outside of the gym -- nothing was damaged or anything outside or around town. I definitely see an argument for there still being dark energy within him to expel.

It was JARRING how quickly he went from “I don’t like a stranger knowing all of our secrets.” to flirting and “people who don’t know each other go on dates all the time”. I was able to dismiss it easily at first because he was so friggin charming and cute at the market. What was it that Mo said? The full weight of his charm thrown at Liz for the first time? And I know he was grumpy about the sciencing and the talking about him like an experiment in the lab, but he was kinda rude to Liz. And then to be showing off in front of her and flirting? People, he had a jacket on in the market scene, but you can see that he’s wearing the same shirt as he was in the lab scene. It’s CLEARLY the same day and very little time has passed. So did Michael and Isobel just have that good of a talk with him? Or what?

I might need to just explore the Liz erasure in his brain some more at some point. I think the thing that bothered me was the absolutely lovely exchange about the worst things they’d ever done - one of my favorite scenes in the episode, to be honest. It makes sense to me that he doesn’t remember the Rosa incident. It also makes sense to me that he thinks that killing the drifter was the worst thing he’d ever done. Even in 1x06, he made it pretty clear that his first murder was still haunting him, even years later. Even after Rosa. But the continuation of that...the feelings about death and not being willing to hurt someone else. His admission that he wanted to stay dead so that he didn’t kill again. He remembers that. He remembers begging Isobel to let him die. But he doesn’t seem to remember Rosa (because she’s connected to Liz) and he doesn’t seem to remember Rosa being his only connection to the outside world, and he doesn’t seem to remember that what he was begging for was for them to “Stop Liz”. I keep thinking of his mindscape, and the storm and the darkness... is it just this weird patchy cloud over pieces of his memory? Like parts of it are clear to him and other parts are just fuzzy or shrouded?

And speaking of darkness and light, let’s talk about the other side of that. The happy. GOD, Max without the memory of Liz was so happy. He was so light, and confident, and inhibition free. It was so compelling and lets be real, it was friggin sexy as hell. Clearly Liz thought so too, until that “worst thing” conversation when she figured out WHY he was so light and happy. But the thing is...I’m not sure it actually went away after his memories came back. Even after remembering Liz and Rosa and everything, he still seemed to be lighter than before. Mind you, some of that is getting the girl, getting laid, etc, etc. But I wonder if some of it is also just the weight of the guilt lifting off of his shoulders. Like, for right now at least, everything feels like things are right in the world. Until the flash of course...

And I’ll get to the flash eventually, but first this. Isobel pointed it out. “Does he seem different to you?” And yes, it seems like a warning shot. But Liz pointed it out too at the end of the “worst thing” conversation. He IS different. And he SHOULD be different. First, because of the lack of Liz history, but then also because of the lifting of the guilt. I’m not entirely convinced that this was supposed to be anything more than building to that epiphany from Liz (which was probably mostly directed at the audience) that he might be better off without her -- which was also intended to lead to that response from him on the rooftop, “I am not whole without you”. That Max was light and fluffy, but he was missing something. He was *gasp* WRONG. So maybe this was all just building to that moment of acceptance of himself too.

Sort of off topic here, but did anyone else find themselves wondering about how open and public Max was in this episode? Amnesia!Max going to the Mexican market by himself. Meeting Liz publicly for a date. Making out on the street in the middle of town. This is the same Max Evans who was missing for months because supposedly he was so heartbroken. This is the same Max whose boss thinks he murdered Noah and hasn’t stopped investigating him in the months that he’s been missing. Thye’re not going to just DROP that, right? At some point they’ve gotten give us some Max & sheriff interaction? Does he even get his job back after all this!?!

Anyway, back on topic. The time jump. Yes, that was weird. And purposeful. It’s clearly early morning when Max leaves Liz at the Crashdown, and Isobel says it’s, like, 2pm when he got home. Is this simply the fault of a cut scene? Crappy editing? Or is it a purposeful time jump. I will throw out there one naive and happy theory, which is this: it is totally in character for happy lovesick Max to stop everything to write his feelings down. He was going through his journals earlier in the episode. It’s possible he was just sitting somewhere writing poems about Liz. Or love letters. Or whatever. BUT, that does feel too obvious. I think the idea of him losing time, of someone else taking over while he was heading home, is a very interesting, scary, and plausible theory.

Okay, so I still think that’s a memory flash at the end. I think from a plot standpoint, the purpose of the whole amnesia plotline was to feed Max some antidote so that he would start to remember things from before the crash. And maybe it took a little longer because the “natural” amnesia had to resolve itself first before the “unnatural” triggering of memories from the antidote could do its thing. And I do think the hand on the shoulder is clearly mirroring the hand in 1947 that lit the military dudes on fire. And I suspect they’re the same person, but I could be wrong. I could get behind the theory that it’s even Max -- some dark version of him, some Alien!Jesus version of him. Although if it’s the latter then it’s kind of super creepy. Especially given the evil twin imagery that @maxortecho has documented really well over on her blog.

Okay, another thing about this whole evil twin, Jekyll and Hyde thing. I don’t think we’re done with Noah yet. I think IF there’s an evil presence inside of Max it might be Noah, or it might be there because of Noah. I just want to remind y’all about the end of 1x13 right before Max kills Noah. “We are Ophiuchus, Max! The man and the serpent, the serpent and the man. They aren’t killing each other. They are one!” That was a pretty fascinating and direct line, and it brings me back to this: we still don’t know what the deal with Ophiuchus was. Why was Noah so obsessed with it? He identified with Ophiuchus, but he also identified himself and MAX with Ophiuchus. Is Noah the shadowy figure in the cave with Max? Is Noah the darkness inside of Max? Is that Max/Noah struggle that we saw in Rosa’s dream in 2x01 still ongoing? Is Noah going to still try to take over? I think it is very plausible that all of this imagery is still leading back to that incident.

So, to sum it up. Things are both as good as they seem, and as scary as they seem. There are a lot of interesting possibilities out there. And I am fascinated to see what comes next for Max.

Shallow eye candy to close this out:

#max evans reboot #max evans #rnm echo #roswell new mexico #i love him #rnm echo meta #roswellnm meta #long post

39 notes · View notes

michaelxtrevino · 4 years

Text

Inspired by this fanfiction by @samwpmarleau. I say inspired, but that’s a lie. I took more than just inspiration, this is a write up of one of the scenes from Tyler’s POV.

“Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans”

He was going to punch Matt in the face for bailing without even giving him a warning. Okay, granted, the warning did come, but was it really a warning if he texted Tyler after he had already arrived? Caroline had seen him and had greeted him brightly by then, which meant he couldn’t just get away from there without anyone else noticing. If Caroline saw someone, she made sure everyone saw them.

Trivia night was weird with just Caroline, Bonnie and Stefan in there with him. There usually was double these many people in there which made it a little louder, sometimes wilder. But that night was a boring one to say the least. Especially with Bonnie and Stefan in the path for winning. There was no gloating, no bragging, seriously what was the point of a game if people were going to be modest about winning? This wasn't how it would go if it had been Tyler and Caroline being fighting for the top spot, that’s for sure. They both loved winning and it showed. Because they both loved to show it. Which was kinda frowned upon mostly but who cared really?

Unfortunately though, they were only fighting for the lame third and last places, and Tyler was determined on winning. He didn't spend all evening here to lose. Well, he'd technically already lost but the last place was not something he or anyone in the right fucking mind ever wanted.

“We should probably just give Caroline the crown right now,” Bonnie snorted when she looked at the card and Tyler rolled his eyes, anticipating a question which he had no idea about. “In The Real Housewives of Orange County, which housewife departed the show between seasons two and three?”

Ha! That was something he actually knew even if Bonnie thought otherwise. “Jo De La Rosa.” he answered gleefully. About the only good thing which came out of watching all those seasons of that show with Caroline. Well, the only good thing apart from the fun perks which she used to bribe him with.

“Uh...correct,” Bonnie looked gobsmacked. “How do you know the answer to that?”

On second thought, he should just have let Caroline win. “Just from around, it’s not like I watch that reality TV trash or anything.” he hastily made an excuse.

“No, I have it on good authority that you enjoy this reality TV trash, Tyler Lockwood. You watched every episode with me.” Of course Caroline had to say that, and full-naming him too. But even that was not going to make him let people believe he actually enjoyed watching Real Housewives of Orange County.

“Yeah, because at the end of each season you gave me a bl—” Wait, what the actual fuck was he saying. “—ueberry muffin.”

Wow, a fucking terrible save, the worst one ever, but a save nevertheless. Clearly, nobody was convinced by his redaction, but he tried to play it cool despite feeling slightly embarrassed. Luckily, Bonnie and Stefan were tactful enough to get the hell out of there almost immediately.

“That was awkward.” Caroline said just as the door closed.

“It’s not like they didn’t know we were together." Tyler said defensively, but with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, glancing at Caroline. "Pretty sure Stefan knew we did more than just make out, Care." he added, a little more gently.

"I know, but still.”

He wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say. Tyler wasn't exactly proud of his fumble, it was a tad bit embarrassing to him too except he didn't really want to admit that to her. Among other things. He was cursing himself for even coming today. Matt was always a safe buffer whenever he had to spend time around Caroline. And with him absent today, here he was already having awkward conversations about their past sex lives when left alone with her for two minutes. There was a reason he rarely let himself see her in anything but a group setting.

Maybe a sorry at this point would be a good idea, but a sorry would also show he gave a crap about possibly upsetting her even for a silly stupid thing such as this. He should not be feeling this concerned. So he simply pressed his lips together as he continued to help clean up, keeping his face as void of any emotion as he could. He was getting good at that.

Silence ensued which made him miss the times they used to have so much to talk to each other, and also the times when the silences between them used to be just so comfortable. This wasn’t the same, and he was still getting used to the differences after all this time.

He got up to say goodbye, ready to leave as quick as he could but she hugged him before he could turn away, which made him stand still for a brief moment in surprise. His hands wrapped around her soon enough though, a familiar feeling of comfort washed through him. It was.. kinda sad to think about how a simple hug from her made him feel so nostalgic.

There was the scent of her shampoo which he got a whiff of which literally only made things worse and proved to him that this wasn’t just sad -- it was truly pathetic. That stupid flowery, fruity shampoo. He had no idea what the hell it was, he never really got around to asking her, but it still soothed him. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that every time he had come back to her before, he had his enhanced vampire senses, and it was the first thing which hit him when he hugged her and closed his eyes in relief. The thought made him pull her closer to him, holding on to her tighter, holding onto this moment because he knew it wasn’t one which he could often return to.

And somehow that wasn’t a new feeling. When they had been together, he had not been around as much as he wanted, which meant every moment with her had always been precious to him. Sometimes he wondered how it came to this, how they barely even spoke to each other these days, and how she was dating Stefan of all people now. He was better than some other people he supposed, but he was still an asshole. Not to mention he was also someone who was convinced Tyler treated her terribly throughout their relationship, fuck knows why. He could only hope that if he could act so high and mighty, he treated Caroline the way she deserved. Like she was the center of the fricking universe, nothing less would be enough to show her how much she was loved and cherished.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there with her in his arms but he liked it, he missed it. She was the one who pulled away first and he immediately felt saddened by the distance between them. She didn't move far though -- his hands still rested on her waist when their eyes met. He should probably be pulling back from her but he simply did not want to. And just for a second it seemed like she didn’t either. Because he could see in her eyes, the yearning she felt, the yearning which he knew all too well from the time they were together.

His gaze fell to her lips for a moment, his own parting slightly, his mind revisited far too many memories than he liked to admit. With her right here it was getting hard to lie to himself about how he felt, how he wanted more than what he could have, how it was all too late. She stepped back as though she was coming out of a trance and he let her go because there was absolutely no reason to hold on to her.

Except, he found himself wishing there was.

“Well, drive safe.”

It took him a moment to respond, to come back to reality, his gaze still held hers for a long moment. It was unfair that after all these years she could still make him feel so many things. “Yeah. Sure.”

A couple more moments were spent simply looking at each other before he quickly turned away, not wanting to say something or do something which he shouldn’t. Bonnie was gone when he stepped outside and he walked straight to his car. He could hear Stefan say goodbye to him but he pretended not to hear, instead getting into his car and driving off.

For the longest time he had thought that some day they would be together again, happy again, but that day had never come. He had once told her, what seemed like a lifetime ago, that they would find a way, that they were immortal and they had all the time in the world. But it wasn’t the case anymore. He was a mortal now, they didn’t have all the time in the world. Perhaps putting some distance between the girl he once loved -- no, the girl he still loved and himself was for the best. Needless to say, he wasn’t moving on from anything. But she was living a happy life, that was all that mattered.

So what if he wasn’t part of it?

#tyler lockwood #caroline forbes #forwood #when you ramble so much nothing makes sense anymore #smh #otp: i am not moving on from anything #my fanfiction #my writing

11 notes · View notes

alexmanesairstream · 4 years

Text

Okay. Time for my ramblings. You're all free to not read a word of this but I just needed to put my thoughts out there. So. Going into s2, my only reason for watching the show was seeing Alex Manes (bc Tyler is one of my all time favourite actors and also just ALEX MANES). But after seeing the promo and fan chatter before the premier I admit getting my hopes up and becoming a little more open to the entire show as a whole again. I had hoped that s2 would be a huge improvement in terms of writing, consistency, good representation and overall storytelling. Anyways, here’s just some thoughts I’ve had after the first episode if you care to read it. I've left the Malex (and Maria) thoughts to the end bc I wanted to speak about the entire episode first. The Malex part is right at the end if anyone is reading this and only wants to read that part.

Firstly, the episode felt very disconnected. I know there was a time jump but that also left so many questions unanswered.

Kyle and Alex are well aware of the alien secret, so it made no sense that they were in the dark about Rosa being alive and Max being dead. I would've thought that both of them would've been made aware of it immediately.

This may be more of a personal preference but I've always been more interested in sci-fi aspects of the show since I always find supernatural elements on shows to become repetitive and far fetched (yes I know it's supernatural but I've always liked when there was a scientific or logical explanation behind something). Ep1 (and I know Carina said this season would explore supernatural elements and not the sci-fi aspects of it) hinted a very big supernatural storyline which I wasn't too keen on- it just gave off some big vampire diaries 'the other side' vibes. I really wish they would've explores a more unique and original storyline rather than something so repetitive with regards to Max.

Now for the science and little sci-fi parts, I know they're strained for time so there's a lot that they have to leave out but most of the science seemed far fetched or rather lacking any good grounding explanation. I get that it's a show but I would've liked for it to have made some sense rather than the random stuff Michael and Liz would say that seemingly came out of thin air. Especially when they were having their science Bro moments and interacting with substances etc- where are these substances from? What to they do? How did you get it? Idk maybe I'm being overly obsessive over this but it irks me bc I always lose interest when I can't coherently follow a storyline with logic

Rosa being back. I don't have much to say on this. The sister dynamic is kinda cute. I really don't like this weird supernatural connection thing she has with Max. Like I said, very vampire diaries like and it's just not making sense (maybe I didn't pay close enough attention idk). Also, can we get some clarity on her age. She was 19 when she died. So she should be 29 in the present day. But she mentioned something about being the hottest 31 year old when Liz told her to get a license in California. So what's up with that.

Isobel pregnancy : Yeah there's a lot I could say here. I'm assuming they're trying to do a storyline on abortion and a woman's right to her own body which I would be eager to see but at the same time, Isobel being pregnant with her dead abusive rapist's baby seems a lot like it was done for drama (sigh). It also has me wondering how since it was clear in s1 that Isobel didn't want children while Noah did- obviously she may have changed her mind after their reconciliation after she came out of the pod and also bc I accidents happen (do condoms even work with aliens???).

Now for the Malex and Maria part of it:

Since Alex was not aware of Max dying, wouldn't he have then made an effort to speak to Michael again in those two weeks since the finale. I would understand him wanting to give Michael space if he had known about Max dying but since he didn't know, did he just accept that Michael left him waiting at the trailer and leave it at that until after Noah's funeral? That just doesn't make sense to me but moving on

So Michael says that Alex told him he was going to leave the airforce to play music. Lol lots to get into here. Firstly, kinda strange that Alex would have told him that specifically that night in the trailer. Also, I was under the impression that what we were shown on screen was all that there was in that interaction. I don't see at which point Alex could've mentioned him leaving the airforce before Michael had to run out. Secondly, Alex leaving the airforce to play music? That just seems hella out of character and frankly completely unrealistic. Alex has spent the last 10 years gaining different skills, learning new things about himself, evolving and changing as a person. While he may have always had this dream about making music the fact is most people end up studying something or doing something in a different direction than their teenage self wanted. Alex is no different. While he may have wanted to leave the airforce it just doesn't seem plausible that he'd want to explore an entirely new career path as a musician. It would've made more sense for him to go into a career with cyber security and his skills in hacking, coding and programming instead. Also, unless he's got hell money from somewhere it's just completely unrealistic. He's a veteran (there are so many homeless, unemployed, uninsured, struggling veterans) who surely would need a stable income. It just feels like it's some a random storyline to have when there's been no indication of it, and it's completely out of character for Alex to decide to pursue music after 10 years in the airforce when we aren't even sure if he's done anything related to it in the last 10 years. Maybe I'm being harsh because personally I would've liked Alex to pursue something with the skills he gained in the airforce and also bc I rarely believe anyone is the same person with the same dreams and passions they had when they were a teenager. I mean, we all grow, evolve and change and that's okay. I would've really liked for Alex storyline to have been along those lines- taking what he's learned out of something he didn't necessarily want and taking control of who he is with those skills and his future (apparently in order to be a captain and also to be a code breaker Alex would've need to have gone to college while in the airforce). Idk maybe I'm bias bc I absolutely love seeing BAMF Alex Manes and how smart he is when he's working and code breaking.

Hmm Alex has a house. Like an actual house. And not a single person in the fandom knew this. In fact if Carina hadn't clarified on Twitter, we'd all be confused as hell. Literally everyone thought he lived at the cabin and rightfully so. It also makes me question why Alex had been at the cabin the day Kyle was there if he doesn't live at the cabin. But anyways small details. I'm trying not to be petty. I also really would like to know how Michael knows where Alex lives hmmm

I absolutely loved that Alex's first thought was to give Michael a guitar bc he remembers what he lost when Jesse ruined his hand. I am HERE for Alex Manes' kindness and wholesomeness.

Alex has PTSD. He would never be sitting with his back towards an entry point and music blaring loudly while he didn't have his prosthetic on. Carina responded on Twitter saying his PTSD is from childhood and not the war. I can't really understand how the war and losing a limb would not affect him and his existing PTSD at all. But again, I'll overlook this inconsistency

Michael's little confrontation speech to Alex- totally get it. It makes a lot of sense from Michael's perspective. I do however still have an issue with this thing of Alex 'leaving'. The ONLY time Alex actively left was when he enlisted. Any time after that was beyond his control. He was in the military. He had no choice. I really wish we could at some point see how all of this affected Alex instead of constantly seeing it from a one- sided Michael perspective.

And now Maria and Michael. Just a few words. What the fuck. I say all of this as someone who absolutely believes Malex shouldn't be together right now and who is fully on board with them just being friends right now:

- As someone who loved Maria in the first season and as a woman of colour, I fucking hate her storyline and what they're making her character do. It was cringe and desperate and humiliating for her to be running after Michael after one kiss. And also, SO out of character for her. Maria Deluca is her own saviour and would never run after someone who behaved the way Michael had in that ep. She would abso-fucking-lutely not chase after a man and put herself out there in such a desperate way like that.

- Secondly, has she just forgotten Alex exists? This is so not the Maria we know. Chasing after a man for something when he's not giving anything back in return and not even bothering to speak to Alex or attempt any sort of communication with him before she continues pursuing Michael. It makes no sense. I only see the Maria hate escalating at this point and I don't blame anyone for it. At this point she 100% deserves it. It's so so out of character for her not to have spoken to Alex and to continue pursuing Michael before speaking to Alex.

Honestly I've said it since the start- I hate love triangles and this one in particular rubs me the wrong way for so many reasons. I honestly don't see how we can redeem Maria's character after this mess. The whole Michael and Maria thing is just messy (and not in a cool dramatic TV show way), and is for a lot of us straight up character assassination for both Michael and Maria. I'm just so put off by both of their characters. If they were adamant about this storyline, I wish they'd done it and left Alex out from the start (I said Kylex rights!).

In conclusion, it's a shitshow. The show is just all over the place and the writing doesn't seem to have improved from the inconsistencies and plot holes. There's a lot more I could say but this was all I thought about right now for that episode. I also have so many thoughts on what Carina has recently said but I'm not in the right space of mind to address that rn. She's hell problematic lmao. But anyways, going forward, I'm just here for my Tyler Blackburn and watching him kill it as Alex Manes and I'm kinda really excited to see him with his new love interest.

15 notes · View notes

seeaddywrite · 4 years

Text

overcome by shame, can i ever change?

part 2/6: five times Alex stopped Michael from doing something stupid, & one time Michael returned the favor.

warnings: for this part – grief, allusions to depression, alcohol abuse, self-loathing, references to michael not eating/nausea.

part III will be up tomorrow! you can also read/follow on AO3, if you prefer.

Michael’s fucked up a thousand times since Max’s death, but the next time Alex has to step in is the one he’s most ashamed of. He hasn’t slept in what feels like weeks, and when he got dressed that morning, his belt no longer had enough holes to keep his jeans where they belonged. There’s no mirror in the tiny trailer bathroom, but he can imagine all too well what he looks like: pale and gaunt, with a half-healed black eye and shadows ringing the unmarred one.

He doesn’t remember the last time he showered — he thinks it was the last time Isobel showed up at his door, make-up running down her cheeks and a bag of breakfast food in one had as she tries to dab at the tears with the other. Michael didn’t bother to ask why she was crying or try to offer her any comfort — he didn’t have the energy, and he knew it would be meaningless, anyway. Missing Max struck them both at different times, in different ways, and nothing really made it better except time.

Instead, he’d allowed her to drag him from his bed and push him into the shower, let her feel that she was looking after him, at least a little. Michael knows it’s not enough, knows he owes her more than this, but he’s barely holding himself together. Getting out of bed and allowing her to share his space without pushing her away is all he can offer, and Isobel seems to understand that. Her visits are always spaced out, giving him plenty of time to brace himself for the next one, and she’s started to call first, which Michael appreciates more than he has the words for. He wants her around, hates being alone — but he hates the thought that he could lash out and hurt Isobel even more.

It’s almost ironic, after he’s worked so hard to prevent it, that Michael does exactly that.

“I don’t understand you, Michael,” Isobel says shrilly, pacing around the rocky expanse surrounding his firepit, arms crossed and green eyes narrowed in frustration. Alex and Liz are standing a ways away, lingering by the SUV they’d all arrived in less than fifteen minutes ago, and Michael refuses to let the distance bother him. Any chance of something between himself and Alex ended at Caulfield, and he and Liz have never been friends. They’d worked together, a partnership born of necessity, and it absolutely doesn’t bother him that she seemed almost anxious around him, now. It doesn’t.

“I just told you we have a chance to bring Max back to us, and all you have to say is no?”

Gone are the days of Isobel living in Max’s oversized sweatshirts and forgetting to care about her hair and makeup; today, she’s wearing a fitted dress and her hair has been carefully brushed and parted to best show off her flawless complexion. Hope has made an impact on more than her appearance, though — Isobel’s iron backbone is back, as well as her fiercely protective nature, and Michael desperately wishes she’d found it without setting herself up to fall again.

Michael won’t share in her naivete. He’s too scientifically minded to believe that a couple of desperate twenty-somethings can cure death when no one, no matter how motivated, has managed it in millions of years. No one except for fucking Max, who’d killed himself in the process. And no matter what Liz says, no matter how many new serums or insane plans she concocts, that’s not going to change. Max has been gone for nearly two months now, and there is no bringing him back. He chose sainthood over his family, sacrificed his life for Rosa’s, and abandoned Michael and Isobel — they’ve all just got to learn to live with that.

The bottle in his hand is already too light, but Michael gulps the acetone anyway, refusing to allow his grief to take the foothold Isobel’s presenting with her hope. He just looks at her and shakes his head again, unwilling to waste words or energy on an argument. Changing Isobel’s mind takes an act of god at the best of times, and these are the worst. Even drunk and barely functioning, Michael’s not stupid enough to take on Isobel’s hard-headed determination.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Isobel demands, her eyes narrowing on the bottle in his hands. “This is Max we’re talking about. You know, our brother? You can’t possibly be pissed enough at him to want him dead!” Her voice cracks on the last word, and Michael’s breath catches in his chest. He’s been accused of some pretty terrible things, lately — Maria had hurled a bar glass at his head and accused him of using her just a few days prior — but wanting Max dead? That hurts enough to permeate the boundary of comfortable numbness he’s been building for the last month.

“Is this still about what happened with Rosa?” she continues, stalking close enough for Michael to see the furious, desperate gleam in her eyes. “You still blame him for making you cover up what really happened? You want to punish him so much that you’re going to let him die?”

The anger that builds in him is different than the emotion that spurs him to bar fights and drunken stupidity. It builds in him like a living thing, writhing and demanding an escape, and Michael doesn’t know if it’s because this is Isobel making these accusations — Isobel, who he trusts and loves more than almost anyone on this god-forsaken planet, or just because he’s been bottling his emotions for too long, but his powers react. The bottle in his hand explodes, causing a shower of glass shards to fall to the dirt, glinting wetly in the dim light from his airstream.

Isobel jumps at the explosion, but doesn’t back off. She’s seen him lose control one too many times to believe that she’s in any danger — even now, somehow, she trusts that Michael would never hurt her, and he desperately wants that to be true. But there have been one too many unprovoked fights, one too many nights in lock-up, one too many fear-filled glances from strangers, for Michael to trust himself. He’s a canon with a lit fuse; it’s only a matter of time before the right spark hits the gunpowder and sets him off.

“He’s already dead, Isobel,” Michael says flatly, afraid that if he shows any emotion at all, he’ll break into as many pieces as that damned bottle. “He’s dead, and we can’t change it. There’s no point in trying.” He levers himself slowly out of the plastic folding chair he’s been sitting in and takes a step toward his sister, but stops before he gets any closer. “I’m not telling you not to try. Do what you think you have to. But I’m not going to be a part of it.”

He turns away, starting back toward the door of his trailer, but Isobel isn’t done. “Max wouldn’t have ever given up on you!” she yells, and though their connection is weak, buried beneath walls carefully constructed to keep each other out of their heads, he can feel her fury. Isobel had come to him looking for her unwavering ally, for the brother who had never once let her down, and she hated the man she saw instead. Michael’s breath catches in his suddenly-raw throat, and his legs stall mid-stride. Isobel hates him, he thinks, and the thought is so unbelievable, so horrific, that Michael almost laughs. “Max would be in that damned cave, trying to save you every day! He would’ve done anything to get you back, and you won’t even try!”

The words aren’t the problem. It’s what Isobel doesn’t say, the insinuated message that comes across loud and clear and hurts more than if she’d smacked him across the face. He blinks, sucking back the wave of despair and allowing it to turn to anger — anger, at least, doesn’t make him feel so damned hollow.

“Why don’t you just say what you really mean, Isobel?” Michael snaps, clenched fingers trembling with barely suppressed pain-turned-fury. “We all know what you’re thinking, anyway — you wish it was me, instead.”

Isobel’s mouth falls open, and her face drains of all color. The horror inherent in her expression might have been gratifying, might have soothed some of the ache in his gut, had he not been living on acetone and alcohol for so long — had he had a decent night’s rest in weeks. As it is, Isobel’s upset only serves as fuel for the fire raging inside of him.

None of this should come as a surprise. Isobel and Max have been together for their entire lives, from the moment they came out of the pods to the moment Max foolishly thought he could play God. Not physically together, no, but connected in a way that Michael’s always envied. The Evans siblings had always been tangled together mentally, part of each other in a way that never included Michael — even after he’d finally gotten back to Roswell and rejoined their lives. So it makes sense, really, that Isobel would wish for Max over Michael, that she’d resent him for living when she’d lost an integral part of herself. It shouldn’t rip him apart the way it does, not when Michael knows he’d done plenty to put distance between them over the years, some of it even on purpose.

But shouldn’t doesn’t matter much, because it does.

“Michael,” Isobel says, her voice a tiny, broken thing. “No. No, I would never — you have to know I don’t —”

Raw power erupts from Michael’s body, suddenly unable to be contained. It’s like a shockwave with him as the epicenter, and it knocks the trailer off-center. The chairs around the fire pit, a few cars waiting to be junked, parts and odds and ends of old vehicles all fly backward, away from Michael, only to crash to the ground in an ugly cacophony. A headache builds immediately behind his eyes at the use of power, but it’s still there, building around him, wholly outside of his control. The bottle holding everything he’s been feeling is shattered beyond repair, and there’s no pushing it all back inside. Fear flickers beneath the fire burning in his chest — he can’t stop, can’t reign himself in, and Isobel is still directly in his crosshairs.

“Michael,” she says softly, looking at him with undisguised concern. There’s no real fear in her eyes, thank God, but the regret and tenderness is nearly as bad on his raw, fraying nerves. “I promise, that’s not true. You’re my family, and I love you. I didn’t mean —”

“Yeah,” he barks hoarsely. “You did.”

She shakes her head firmly, and he feels the press of her against his thoughts, an attempt to reassure him that she’s never once wished him dead. But there’s no room for Michael in his own head, let alone Isobel, and he shoves her out. There are razor-sharp words on his tongue, and his power is barely contained; there’s no doubt he’s going to hurt Isobel with whatever comes next, he can see it as clearly as he can see his breath in the cold night air. His power builds again, ignoring the shrieking agony from his head and stomach (and his conscience), and there’s nothing he can do but let it explode.

But before the ragged edges of his control snap completely, Alex is standing in front of him, close enough to touch, but far enough away that Michael feels the distance in his battered soul.

“Hey,” he says calmly, chin raised so that his even gaze meets Michael’s burning eyes, as irritatingly cool and collected as ever. He seems to sense that Michael can’t take worry or pity right now, that warmth or tenderness only makes his skin crawl when he hates himself so much. The indifference in his expression is a double-edged sword, though — Michael wants to see his own desperate affection reflected in those familiar eyes as much as the thought of it makes him want to claw at his flesh. “I’ve got you, Guerin,” he promises, and lifts a hand to rest cautiously on Michael’s tense shoulder.

The maelstrom of undirected energy in Michael’s chest ceases instantly at the touch, and he sways with exhaustion. Nausea erupts low in his gut, reminding him that he’s used his power several times too many on any empty stomach and virtually no sleep, but he swallows convulsively, keeping it at bay -- at least for the moment.

It doesn’t occur to him to question why something as simple as Alex’s hand on his shoulder banishes even his most monstrous impulses; he knows how he feels about Alex Manes, even when he won’t -- can’t -- act on it. Maybe if he weren’t so tired, he’d panic about the sway the other man still holds over him, about the fact that he can’t put those feelings to bed, even after all of this time, no matter how many times Alex leaves him to fall and crash into the dirt. But he is tired, and the touch to his shoulder is the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces at the realization that he’d nearly attacked Isobel. So Michael allows it, though he stands rigidly beneath Alex’s fingers, waiting for condemnation from the only family he’s got left.

“Michael, I --”

“I think you should go home, Isobel,” Alex interrupts, tossing the words toward Michael’s sister backward, like he’s afraid that if he breaks eye contact, Michael will spin out again. Michael’s not so sure he’s wrong. “You both need to cool off before you talk again, especially about … this.”

Isobel frowns, icy eyes narrowing on Alex. For a moment, Michael’s sure she’ll snap at him, demand to know who he thinks he is, to order her away from her own brother like some kind of underling, but Liz clears her throat. There’s another moment of uncertainty, and Michael braces himself for whatever might come next -- but there’s no guarding against Isobel. “I love you,” she tells him, a sad half-smile twisting her carefully lined lips. “But we are going to have to talk about this eventually.”

She and Liz leave together, then, talking in low voices with their heads bent against the wind. Michael could listen in, if he wanted, but he doesn’t try. Somehow, he hasn’t burned the last familial bridge he has left — and he knows he has Alex to thank for it. The women get into the SUV and close the doors, though they don’t leave; obviously, they’re waiting for Alex, who rode with them.

“Hey,” Alex says a second time, pairing the word with a squeeze of Michael’s shoulder to regain his attention. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay again,” he continues, his lips twitching in a self-recriminating smile. “Because I know you’re not. But I —” Michael watches Alex’s throat move as he swallows, as distracted as ever by the angles and curves of the other man’s body. “I need you to know that you’re not alone. I’ve been giving you space, because I know that my family is tangled up in a lot of the shit going on in your head right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m not here for you if you want me to be.”

Michael literally trembles at the words. In that moment, he misses the red-hot rush of fury from earlier, because now he’s tired, hollowed-out and vulnerable in ways he’s been trying to avoid. The unexpected care from Alex is a balm against his grief and guilt, and though he knows he shouldn’t encourage this, shouldn’t allow Alex to think that there’s a chance for them now, he can’t stop himself from leaning into the warmth of the other man’s chest.

Alex meets him halfway and catches Michael’s hands between his own, holding tightly enough that Michael feels more steadily anchored to the here and now, but not tight enough that he feels trapped. Alex is the only one who could ever find that balance — no one else would even try.

“I’m sorry,” Michael manages, pushing the words out through dangerously numb lips. The apology is a hoarse croak, but it’s understandable, and that’s all that matters. “I didn’t mean to — I couldn’t —”

Alex shakes his head, a sad smile flickering at the edges of his mouth. “I get it,” he says quietly, brushing the pad of his thumb over the back of Michael’s knuckles with the barest pressure. “And Isobel will too, once she calms down a bit. Everyone knows this is a longshot.”

Hearing about the desperate attempt to bring Max back from the dead isn’t something Michael’s interested in — not now, maybe not ever. He can’t explain how much he needs to move forward, can’t put into words why getting his hopes up only to have them dashed sounds like a death sentence, but he thinks that maybe Alex knows, or at least guesses, because he doesn’t push.

“That’s not what I mean,” he tries to explain, because losing control of his powers puts everyone in the vicinity at risk. He’ll apologize to Isobel later, when he can stand the idea of being within two feet of her again, but Alex deserves to hear the words, too, especially since he’d been the one to step between Michael and the object of his emotional turmoil for a second time. Alex keeps saving him from himself, even when he doesn’t deserve it, and that’s the least of the things Michael owes him an apology for.

“We’re family, Michael,” Alex says firmly. “No matter what else we are, or aren’t, that’s always going to be true. So just let me help, okay? Please?”

Michael’s not strong enough to pull away from the embrace that comes next, so he slumps into Alex’s chest and allows himself to bask in the warmth of being held and cared for, just for a little while.

#overcome by shame can i ever change #my fic

10 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 5 years

Text

I Never Quite Let You Go

For @michaelguerinweek day 3: favorite michael dynamic (yes i stole this from the edit prompt, idk if this fits the fic prompt)

Summary: Everyone is struggling to deal with Michael and Rosa being friends.

ao3

Maria had no idea what she was going to find when she followed Michael’s hysterical directions.

It was all fine whenever he was playing the guitar and then he lost it. Something in him just snapped and he started freaking out, struggling to find his keys through his tears. Maria thought it was insane that he wanted to drive like that, but he insisted he had to go, so she offered to drive. Now, as they drove into the desert, she was regretting the offer.

She regretted it even more when he made her skid to a stop in a random place and jumped out while the car was still moving. She put the truck in park and ran after him, hoping to make sure he didn’t do anything too stupid.

A cave came into sight that he was barrelling towards and was able to catch up just as they stumbled inside. Maria froze as she saw a giant purple-blue glow with none other than Max Evans inside. What the hell?

“Papi?” The voice was unmistakable and Maria was again thrust into shock as she turned towards it. Rosa stood alive and breathing with a blanket in lieu of clothing. Before she could make a move, Michael ran to her. Rosa seemed to have no caution for modesty as she wrapped him in her arms, pulling him down to tuck his head under her chin. “You’re so old and scruffy, what the fuck.”

“How are you alive?” Maria whispered and Rosa just smiled, opening an arm for her. Maria easily molded into the hug, not even bothering that Michael was just a blubbering mess as he clutched onto her. She gave him an arm around him as well.

None of the made any sense but she was willing to accept it if it meant Rosa was here and hugging her.

“I can’t believe you.”

“Excuse me?”

Isobel shook her head as she watched Michael sip his coffee, going back and forth between giving her full attention and texting Rosa. It was so strange seeing him actually having a normal friendship with someone. They’d both insisted they were close in high school, but just no one noticed. Isobel feels like she would’ve noticed and that now they were just being more open about it rather than sneaking around.

“For a decade, you thought I killed your friend and you never said anything,” Isobel scoffed, shaking her head. She tried not to focus on how bad it hurt that he never mentioned it and was never allowed to grieve properly because of it.

Michael shrugged as if it didn’t matter. It mattered. “Look, there was nothing I could do. I knew you weren’t in your right mind and since she was dead, you and Max were all I had left. I needed to protect you, I couldn’t put my own feelings first.”

Her chest felt a sharp pang and she looked down at her own coffee. She hated that she never noticed. God, how had she never noticed?

“Rosa, seriously?”

Liz couldn’t help but be confused as Rosa watched Michael bend over the hood of the old car he’d found for her.

“What?” she laughed, “He got hot.”

“I can’t believe I never knew you two were even friends, much less close enough that you let a white boy call you 'Mami’,” Liz scoffed, shaking her head. Rosa shrugged and tilted her head as if it would give her a better view of his ass in his faded jeans.

“I keep good company,” she said and a smile broke out on her face, “Besides, it’s really funny when he says it.”

“Mami!” Michael called as if on cue, coming closer with sweat dripping down his bare chest. Liz couldn’t help but cringe as she heard Rosa sigh happily. “I forgot to tell you, I heard some old lady talkin’ about you.”

The two women raised their eyebrows in intrigue. “Do tell.”

“Apparently, the similarity between Elena Valenti and Rosa Ortecho has not gone unnoticed,” he grinned, leaning over her chair. Liz scrunched up her nose as they got close without a thought. She hated when they did that. She felt like she was intruding even though they insisted it was nothing more than friendship. “Heard that there’s a big theory that there’s some affair in the Valenti bloodline. No one even thinks it’s fishy.”

“Then it looks like Alex’s idea is working,” Rosa mused. Michael smiled wider at the name.

“Are we surprised?” he asked before dropping a kiss to her head which caused a smile. “Gonna go shower.”

“Are you sure it’s platonic? You know you can tell me,” Liz said seriously once he disappeared into the airstream. Rosa groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, Liz, it’s nothing,” she insisted, “Michael is extremely into Alex and I have my eye on someone a little shorter and a little more woman. I think it’s bullshit that two people can’t be affectionate without it having to be something other than friendship.”

“I guess,” Liz said, though she still had her suspicions. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of the weird relationship between them. Still, Rosa shook her head.

“It’s not really a guess situation, Liz. That’s how it was when he was 16 and had never had anyone touch him that wasn’t violent. He deserves someone who doesn’t have ulterior motives and I don’t,” Rosa insisted, “Besides, I don’t have to defend my friendship.” Liz nodded despite remaining skeptical.

“Okay, you’re right.”

“Get out!”

“I am too fucking old to be thrown out of a girl’s bed by her dad, Valenti! Fuck off!”

Kyle was fuming as he watched Rosa laugh and Guerin hold a pillow over his head. All he was doing was trying to do his brotherly duties and wake her up so she wouldn’t be late for work, but he instead found her in bed with Guerin which was absolutely not okay. Rosa had no pants on and Guerin had no shirt or pants on and he did not approve.

“She is too young for you! She is 19! Get out!” Kyle yelled again, snatching the pillow away from him. Guerin made a face, rolling over.

“He literally stays over all the time, Kyle, calm down,” Rosa laughed. That did not calm him down.

“She is nineteen, Guerin!”

“We’re not fucking, holy shit.”

“You’re half-naked in her bed!”

“It’s 102 degrees outside!”

“I don’t care! Doesn’t give you the right to be in bed with a teenage girl!”

“I didn’t do anything! And if I did, multiple people, including my boyfriend, would probably skin me alive so leave me alone!” Guerin shouted, crossing his arms over his head. “And, by the way, no one said anything when she was 18 and I was barely 16 and sleeping half-naked in her bed, so I feel like there’s some double standards here!” Rosa pouted in adoration, reaching out to rub his back.

“You alright, Papi? Bad wake up call?” she cooed. Guerin simply whined in response. Kyle was about to lose it. “Also I’m technically 30, so…” Rosa said, giving him a wild smile. Kyle huffed and turned to storm out.

He was going to tell Alex about this.

“They’re friends, Kyle.”

“I’m annoyed by how calm you are.”

Alex chuckled, closing his laptop and sliding it into his backpack. He and Michael were going very slow and working their way to being solid friends before they did anything too crazy. They had had a long in-depth talk about how they wanted to go about things after Rosa and Maria had pressured Michael into making them actually talk. After that, it was super easy for Alex to stop feeling like either of them were a threat. Not that he liked that he felt that way in the first place, but he will admit that he did.

“They’re both consenting adults on top of it. Even without her literally dying, she’s almost 20 and she’s been through a lot. I think they’re good for each other,” Alex decided. At first, their relationship was a little uncomfortable, but Alex was probably the first one to realize that they related on a level Michael was lacking. It was good for him.

“I don’t like it, she’s my sister and he’s… Guerin,” Kyle said, looking disgusted. Alex smiled, shaking his head.

“He’s not that bad.”

“I don’t trust your judgment when it comes to him,” Kyle said. Alex shook his head, but let him continue to ramble. “He called you his boyfriend by the way.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked, a small smile pulling at his lips. They hadn’t really given anything a title, but they had agreed not to see anyone else while they tried to work with each other. The fact that he was considering a boyfriend made him feel a bit better.

“See, this is why I don’t trust your judgment!”

When Alex got home that night, he found both Michael and Rosa on his couch which had become pretty common these days. Alex had missed Rosa a lot, she was the first person to make him feel like he could be himself and say fuck it to whatever other people thought. He found it funny that while she was being that person for him, she was also that person for Michael. They could’ve so very easily been together earlier if Rosa’s two worlds had collided for a moment.

“I heard Kyle tried to throw you out this morning,” Alex chuckled, easily falling onto the couch between them.

“Which is why we’re on your couch and not his,” Michael noted. Alex smiled, shaking his head as Rosa tucked herself into his side.

“You’re just in time, though, ‘cause Papi made popcorn and it’s spooky movie season,” Rosa stated. Alex relaxed deeper into the couch with a nod, hearing his front door lock itself with the assistance of Michael’s brain. When Alex looked to him, his eyes went from Alex’s shoulder and back to his eyes. Alex threw his arm around the back of the couch and Michael took it as a go-ahead.

Alex ended up smashed in between the two of them, feeling each of them jump when lame scares would come on the screen. It was oddly comforting and he decided that this could become his normal and he didn’t think he’d mind.

Actually, he believed he loved it.

#mgweek19 #guerinweek19 #michael & rosa #michael & rosa fic #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #rosa ortecho #rosa ortecho fic #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnm #rnm fic

53 notes · View notes

chiefnooniensingh · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Hesitate (For You) Chapter 6

Chapter 6: I can’t breathe (until you’re resting here with me)

In this chapter: We get a peak at the night of the murder. In the present day, things kick into high gear and Alex faces a few of his own demons.

a/n: This is one of my absolute favourite chapters. I reread this so often after finishing it just because I love it so much. I hope you'll like it as much as me!

As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don't know if I would've finished it without you guys!

The title of last chapter was Linger by The Cranberries, guessed by hmd23! Congratulations!

Can anyone guess this week's title and performing artist?

Also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

20th of October, 1953, somewhere between 3am and 5am.

Alex eyes snapped open. His heart was beating faster than it should, and for a moment he didn’t understand why he’d woken up feeling startled. Then it came back to him.

He’d been sure he’d heard someone yell out. The sensation had permeated straight through his uneasy dreams and had startled him awake. He scrambled for his pocket watch. 4:31am. Why in the world would anyone yell out in the middle of the night?

Half-groggy, but on high alert, Alex stumbled out of bed, his bad leg protesting heavily to the sudden weight put on it. Limping heavily, he made his way to the door, opened it a crack and peaked out. The corridor was dark and empty, the long-since extinguished lamps swaying lightly with the train’s movements. The certainty that he’d heard someone in distress fading with every passing second, Alex looked up and down the carriage. He looked down the long end, just in time to see a small figure slip into cabin number 4.

Perhaps that was all he heard; someone visiting the bathroom.

Deciding that his traumatized brain made a case from something that wasn’t anything, Alex closed the door, crawled back in bed and soon went back to sleep.

Present day, 21st of October, 1935

“Alex! Come in!” Maria DeLuca had opened the cabin door at his knock and her worried frown quickly changed to a lovely smile as she realized who was at the door. “My mother is resting; it’s been a very tiring day.”

Alex stepped inside the cabin, and indeed saw Mrs DeLuca asleep in her bed. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Ms DeLuca,” Alex said in a soft voice, as he took a seat next to the window. Maria took the seat next to him. “But I have some questions that I need answered.”

“Of course,” Maria said with a kind smile, “ask away.”

“Do you and your mother have identification on you?”

“Naturally.” Maria rummaged underneath her mother’s bed for a while, and produced two sets of identification papers, which he handed to Alex.

Alex copied all of it down in his notebook. “Maria DeLuca, 22 years of age, resident of New Orleans. Occupation…singer?”

“Quite famous, too! I’ve even got a record deal coming up! People line up for blocks to hear me sing every Mardi Gras.”

Alex nodded, slightly impressed. He resolved to look up some of her music upon returning to America. “Your mother’s name…Margaret DeLuca, resident of New Orleans, retired.” Maria nodded as she took the papers from him.

“I’ve seen her looking varying degrees of ill. Is there something wrong with her?”

Maria’s smile vanished abruptly. “We…we don’t know. She’s starting to lose bits of memories. Some days she’s as sharp as she used to be, then the next she’s convinced Rosa Ortecho is standing next to her, having entire conversations with her.”

“Your mother knew Rosa Ortecho?”

Maria nodded, tears filling her eyes. “The poor girl. My mom was the Ortecho’s house maid until a few weeks before the kidnap. My dad had gotten very sick and we had to move closer to a hospital that could help him, you see. When my mother read of the case, weeks after her body had already been discovered, something broke in her. She was still my loving mom, and she took good care of me even after my father died, but there was always a kind of sadness surrounding her.”

Motive, Alex wrote down, but in his mind, he doubted it. Mimi DeLuca was barely strong enough to lift a hand of cards, let alone plunge a knife into a man’s chest. Still, it was pertinent information. “How is it that you came to be on this exact train, the same train that the murderer was on?”

Maria looked desperately upset. “I don’t know! I’ve been trying to figure it out myself. The only logical answer is some cruel twist of fate!”

“And you don’t think you or your mother…?”

Maria’s dark eyes suddenly flashed angrily, and Alex saw, for the first time, that he was better off not underestimating this woman. “Are you suggesting I or my mother had anything to do with this horrid business? Because my mother is sick enough as it is, and planning a murder is certainly not on the top of our priority list!”

“Of course. I’m sorry I asked.” Maria kept her eyes narrowed at him for a while, and Alex felt another possibility for friendship slip away from him. But he wasn’t here to make friends, he reminded himself. He had to solve a murder. Whatever it took. “Where were you around 3AM, miss DeLuca?”

“Asleep. My mother woke at around 4 to request a glass of water from the conductor. I woke up briefly because of the scuffle, then fell asleep again. We did not hear about the murder until we arrived at the scene after everyone was already awake. I did not commit this murder, Mr Manes,” Maria said fiercely, “and neither did my mother. Frankly, I’m insulted you find us capable.”

Alex rose to his feet, having gathered all he needed right now and cast Maria a sad look. “Ma’am, in my line of business, I’ve learned that everyone is capable with enough motivation.”

With that, he left.

En route back to his own cabin, with every intention of having a lie down for a while, to really mull this case over, he ran straight into Michael. “Hey, you okay?” Michael asked once more, looking concerned this time.

I swear, Alex thought privately, this man is going to give me a whiplash. “This case is giving me a headache,” he said, instead.

“Can I help?”

“That’s very kind of you, Michael, but I – ” He was cut off by a sudden loud squealing sound, a violent lurch as the train suddenly braked hard and another crash as it came to a sudden stop. Alex, already very unsteady on his feet, fell right into Michael when the train started to brake, and the force of the crash caused them both to tumble to the floor. The noise was deafening, and instinctively, Alex buried his face in Michael’s chest and covered his ears. It was excruciating to listen to the screaming of the breaks, the thudding of luggage falling over all up and down the train and then the frightened yells and screams of the passengers.

And suddenly he was on the battlefield again. The air smelled of gunpowder, blood and death and everywhere around him, his brothers were dying. Alex was barely 20 years old and not in any way, shape or form prepared for the violence that was an actual war. Clinging tightly to his weapon, he waited till he heard the enemy’s fire subside, then emerged out of the trench and fired at his faceless foe. The more people died around him, the more he realized how futile it was. How many men had laid down their lives for the simple fact that the US government wanted control over Nicaraguan waters? But it was too late to turn back now. If he stopped shooting, he would die. And he did not want to die. He came up from the trench once more but had miscalculated. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, his knee in tatters and every nerve aflame. Michael’s face floated in front of him as he screamed in agony. “Alex,” he said softly. Alex smiled and reached out. “Alex. Alex!”

“Alex!” he heard Michael yell, and he felt two warm hands grab his face and pull him up. Alex gasped for breath as if he had been drowning and the reality of today came back to him in an instant. He wasn’t at war. He was on the Orient Express, which had apparently just crashed, and he was in Michael’s arms once more. Though nothing romantic was about to happen, for Michael was looking at him in alarm, scanning his face for injuries. Alex automatically did the same. Other than being severely startled, having had a pretty serious flashback, and having developed an even worse twinge in his leg, Alex didn’t think he was injured. Michael looked shaken, but otherwise unhurt as well. “You okay, love?” Michael asked softly, running his thumbs down Alex’s cheeks. Alex nodded.

“What the hell was that?” he said, his voice extremely shaky.

“I think we crashed. Come on, let’s get you up.” Michael helped Alex to his feet slowly, and when Alex put weight on his leg, it hurt less than he had expected. Thank goodness.

People were coming out of their cabins, looking ruffled and wide-eyed and some of them spotting some minor bruises or a split lip. Everyone seemed unharmed otherwise.

Michael looked at Alex again. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex murmured, who still felt pretty shaken up, “I just…had a flashback.”

Michael’s eyes flashed with understanding, and without hesitation, he dropped the tiniest of kisses on Alex forehead. Just a brush of the lips, but Alex felt it and a warmth surged through him. “After this is over, we’re going to have to catch up,” Michael said with a half-smile. Alex nodded in agreement, not voicing his very real fear of having to put Michael in jail.

Jesse Manes came bursting in through the door, looking quite the worse for wear, his mouth bleeding profusely. It looked as if he had slammed his face into something as the train crashed. “Is everyone alright?” he asked to the crowd in general, and, not waiting for an answer, he continued, “I need Dr Vale!”

Kyle came hurrying forward with his med kit, looking harassed. Behind him, Ms Beth’s arm was in a bandage. Raising an eyebrow at Director Manes’ less than impressive visage, he opened his case and rummaged in it. “Hurry up, won’t you?” Director Manes snapped, obviously forgetting he was not in the army anymore.

“Dad!” Alex said loudly, as Kyle stopped what he was doing and looked up slowly.

“Excuse me?” Kyle said softly.

Jesse Manes stilled, only now realizing his mistake. “Oh, I am so terribly – ”

“Mr Manes, you might be the Compagnie director, but these people are your passengers, who have paid for your services and your hospitality. Now I understand this day has been stressful, but I will not permit anyone to speak to me in that tone. If I hear you speak to me or any of the people on this train in that way again, I can guarantee you will never find work this side of the pond again. Do I make myself clear?”

Alex’s mouth dropped open, and he felt Michael’s shoulders shaking with barely controlled laughter even as he was still supporting Alex. There was a very tense silence, in which Alex watched his father go through several emotions including ‘murderous’ before landing on forced remorse. “Of course, Dr Vale. I forgot myself, my apologies. It’s been stressful, as you said. If you would be so kind, would you mind helping me stem the bleeding?” He was still bleeding rather profusely, and with the public dressing down he’d just received, he made a very pathetic sight indeed.

“That was the best thing I have ever seen in my entire life,” said Alex in a low voice and Michael snorted.

“Karma is a bitch,” Michael muttered, causing Alex to cough out a laugh. He looked at Michael, those piercing brown eyes filled with mirth, and felt his heart skip a beat. The man was still holding him upright, even though Alex was sure his leg was able to support his weight.

Just like 10 years ago, Michael was there to catch him if he fell. It had taken them a shockingly small amount of time to fall back in sync with each other. Alex opened his mouth, unsure what he was going to say but wanting to talk, to touch, to really reconnect with Michael…but suddenly the outer door burst open and Beth screamed. Cold air blasted into the train, snowflakes bursting in from the cold and a large shadow exited the train into the snowy wild.

Without thinking, Alex took off.

“Alex, no!” he heard Michael yell from behind him, but Alex scarcely heard him. He was only vaguely aware of his leg protesting to this sudden sprint so soon after having taken the brunt of a very violent fall, but Alex had only one thought. Someone was running. The murderer was trying to escape.

It was freezing cold outside. Alex spared a glance to the front of the train, and his heart sank. They’d been about to pass through the Simplon Pass, but an avalanche had blocked the entrance; the Orient Express had rammed straight into the thickly packed snow.

They were stuck.

Alex’s gaze snapped around to the back of the train, where the escapee was still running. They were clothed in a big coat, making it hard to make out who this was. Alex tore after them, just as Michael jumped out to keep everyone else in. “Alex, be careful!” he yelled.

Alex called upon all the speed he’d built up in the army and sped up. No matter why this person was running, Alex couldn’t let them get away. “Stop!” he yelled, but it was useless. The wind was whistling around them both, and he only barely heard himself.

His knee protesting violently, Alex gave it everything he had and saw the distance between him and the escapee closing. The snowy landscape was hard to traverse, and they could barely see five feet in front of them, but Alex noticed the distinct change in landscape a few feet to the right; a ravine. And the other person was drawing very close to edge, Alex could already see snow beginning to crumble underneath their feet. “Careful!” he yelled. The other heard him, looked around, and lost their footing. “NO!” Without hesitation, Alex leaped for the person and pushed him away from the edge. The man – for Alex’d seen the glimpse of a beard – fell backwards, safely away from the edge, but Alex was less lucky. The snow was slipping underneath him, carrying him ever so slowly towards the edge. Oh, for the love of… He felt one foot already passing over the edge, and panic leapt into his throat. I don’t want to die, Alex thought frantically, as Michael’s face flashed before him, and he tried to scramble back up the slight slope.

“Mr Manes!” he heard, and the man jumped forward, trying to catch his hand. Their fingers touched, slipped and Alex began to slide in earnest.

“NO!” Alex was surprised that the yell hadn’t come from his own throat, but behind the man appeared Michael, like a god damn angel send from heaven. “Alex!” Michael lunged and grabbed Alex’s hand, just as Alex tipped over the edge. They both yelled in fear, but Alex felt a yank on his arm. Michael had gotten hold of him and had stayed his death a little longer. Not that it helped. Alex felt himself slowly falling again, and he saw the snow underneath Michael shifting again. Michael was slipping as well.

I’m gonna die, Alex realized. And he was taking Michael with him.

“Let go, Michael!” he yelled in a panic.

“No!” Michael looked panicked himself, but his grip remained firm as he tried to find footing. “And don’t you dare let go, Alexander Manes!” Then he directed himself to the guy behind him. “Grab my god damn legs!” he bellowed.

Alex couldn’t see what was happening. He stared up in Michael’s eyes, sure that if he was going to die, those were the last thing he ever wanted to see. “Michael,” he said softly, as he felt no change in his slow descent, “Michael, please.”

“NO!” Michael yelled, his voice cracking. “I’m not letting you go again, Alex! I don’t look away!”

“Michael, please!” Alex said, tears threatening in the corner of his eyes. “Please, don’t do this!”

Michael’s eyes were blazing with fury. “If you go, I’m going with you!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic, you two!” a third voice added, and Isobel Bracken-Evans’s face appeared over the edge. “We got you, we’re pulling you up!”

And miraculously, even as Alex hardly dared to believe it, they suddenly began to rise, Michael disappearing back over the edge, but never letting go of Alex’s hand. Alex’s free hand grabbed the edge when he could reach it and two pairs of hands appeared to grab hold of his arm.

Isobel and Kyle were there, pulling him up, while Mr Otto was pulling on Michael’s legs.

His heart pounding, Alex was pulled back on solid ground, away from the edge. When finally, finally, they were safely away, he collapsed, gasping with adrenaline, against Michael, who caught him and wrapped his arms tightly around him. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” Michael muttered against Alex’s temple.

Alex could only clutch to Michael’s jacket tightly, pressing his face in his chest as he tried to stave of the beginnings of a panic attack. All the horrible things that could’ve happened were flashing before his eyes. His own bloody, mangled body two hundred feet below on the snowy plains. Michael’s broken, lifeless body next to him.

“Michael, are you okay?” Alex barely registered Isobel’s soft voice as he inhaled Michael’s scent in an attempt to calm himself.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Other footsteps. Several shocked voices as they took in the scene before them. Alex aware that he and Michael were being far too affectionate around a far too unfamiliar crowd. But he didn’t have the strength to push away and stand up. He’d been at death’s doorstep. And he would’ve never gotten a chance to tell Michael all he wanted to – to make up, to apologize. Ten years, wasted, because they’d been so scared and cowardly.

“Michael.”

“I got you, private,” Michael whispers softly, his hands stroking Alex’s back. “You’re safe, you’re alive, I got you.”

“You really wouldn’t have let me go?” Alex finally gasped out, looking up at him. The world was slowly coming back into focus, and Michael was at its centre.

Michael smiled and the last bit of panic faded from Alex’s system. “I never look away, Alex. I told you before. I just found you again. I’ll never let you go again. And if that means following you over the edge of a damn cliff, so be it.”

“Jesus, Michael.”

“What the hell happened?!” Another voice joined the murmurs and Alex and Michael both looked up, the spell between them broken. The world was freezing again and he was alive and there was still a murderer in their midst and his father just appeared, looking disgustedly down at Alex and Michael. Alex could only imagine that he looked like his father’s worst nightmare; broken, teary-eyed, in the arms of another man. If only Alex could bring himself to give a fuck.

“Alex almost went over the edge,” Isobel said, stepping in front of Michael and Alex with her hands on her hips. “Michael saved him. They’re catching their breath.”

Jesse Manes blinked in surprise. “Did they at least catch the person who ran?”

The silence became rather frosty, a very impressive feat seeing as it was snowing. “Yes,” another voice said, “they did.” Everyone turned around. Arthur Otto stood next to his daughter, who was holding his arm and looking extremely stern. “Why did you run, papi?”

Jesse Manes didn’t wait for an answer. “Only a guilty man runs! I always knew to never trust your kind and I was right! I’m going to make sure you never see the sun again, you murderous spic!”

Alex was on his feet at once. The exhaustion, the pain in his knee, all but forgotten. “Shut up!” he yelled. Jesse became very still, a stance Alex still recognized as a first sign of trouble. “You are not in charge of this investigation, Mr Manes! I am, and you will not threaten anyone on this train while I am in charge, or you will be very sorry indeed!”

“How dare you speak to me in that tone?!” screamed Jesse Manes, getting into Alex’s face, any sense of where he was and who was surrounding him forgotten. Alex didn’t back down. “I am still your father, you ungrateful, arrogant piece of shit, and I will have respect!”

“Respect is earned, and you have done nothing in my entire life to earn it!” Alex yelled back.

“You have never done anything to warrant giving you respect!”

Dr Kyle stepped forward, looking extremely angry. “Your son is a decorated war hero!”

Jesse Manes didn’t even seem to hear him, he just raged on, with the air of a man who was finally letting out what he’d been holding back for years. “You didn’t even have the decency to be normal, you had to be a fucking faggot to boot! You are disappointing, disgusting, despicable – ”

It happened in a flash. Alex was pulling back his fist to plant it firmly in the face of the man who called himself his father, but Michael had beat him to the punch – literally. Alex hadn’t realized how strong Michael had become in the ten years since he last saw them, but Jesse Manes went down with a single blow. Alex was convinced he saw a tooth flying. “You can no longer speak to Alex that way, not as long as I have anything to say about it!”

Jesse Manes looked shocked at this turn of events. He was cradling his jaw and Alex was looking forward to seeing a bruise form there in the next few days. He looked up at Michael, his eyes flashing with the same hate he always reserved for Alex. “My, my, you’ve finally learned to throw a punch. Lucky for you I didn’t get your good hand last time, huh?” His eyes flicked down to Michael’s left hand and Alex saw it spasm violently.

“You’re a fucking child,” Michael spat, his voice dripping with disgust and hatred. “You think respect and control come from violence. Yet these people, the people Alex is investigating for murder, respect him more than they do you. You are nothing. You have always been nothing. The only difference was that you were stronger than either one of us. That has changed. Touch either one of us again, and you will be very sorry indeed.” He stepped forward, his fist raised, and Jesse Manes flinched violently.

“Michael!” Max Evans stepped forward, looking stricken. “Enough, man. He’s got the point, I think.”

To Alex’s surprise, Michael dropped his fist, his fingers unclenching, a sharp breath exploding from him. Then he turned to Alex. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, then immediately felt his knee give out. “On second thought, not so much.” He buckled and Michael caught him effortlessly. “Alright, now that that’s dealt with,” Alex said, casting a disdainful look at his father, still bleeding on the ground. “Mr Otto, I would like an explanation, if you please.”

Mr Otto looked extremely white from all the excitements, and his daughter nudged him hard in the ribs to get his attention. “Oh! Ah. Yes. Of course.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, when the train crashed, I knew it was my only chance to get away…”

“Aha! See, escaping the scene of the crime…!” Jesse Manes began.

“I swear to God, one more word out of you…” Michael snapped, who did not finish his sentence, but Director Manes got the point. He lapsed into grudging silence.

“Yes, to get away. But not to flee the scene of this crime.” He looked at Alex intently. “I did not murder that man, Mr Manes. But I overheard your father talking to one of the other staff one day…said he could only suspect me, as I am the only person who could’ve done it; the DeLuca women and Beth being too weak, and Dr Kyle having taken an oath. I ran because I knew if it was up to Jesse Manes, I would be convicted on the word of a racist white man. And I’d rather live out here in the middle of nowhere than go to prison as a Latino man.”

Alex sent his father an absolutely hateful look, but his father seemed unremorseful in his racism. Alex could murder him. “Alright, everybody inside, to the dining carriage. It’s getting too cold out here. Dr Kyle, if you would escort Mr Otto.”

Everyone started towards the train, leaving Manes in the snow. Michael supported Alex all the way, and Alex was glad off it. His leg was aching worse than ever, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to put his weight on it for a day or so. Michael carried him singlehandedly up the stairs and into the carriage, and they laughed about it for a moment, before continuing to the dining carriage, where it was, mercifully, warmer.

Beth was standing next to her father, her arms crossed, looking extremely cross with her father. “Alex!” she said, when she saw him, waving him over. He and Michael made their way to their table. “I want to apologize for my dad. He shouldn’t have run. He panicked, thinking Jesse Manes had maybe called in the cavalry to arrest him.” Next to her, her father nodded.

Alex sighed. “Look, I get it. My father is…yeah. But I have to consider all the facts…”

“Mr Manes, I swear my father couldn’t have done it. I was with him all night – ”

“Beth – ” Max Evans tried to step in, but Beth continued, without missing a beat.

“– after I came back from Max Evans’ – ” Alex registered Max relaxing slightly, “ – I was reading some medical journals for most of the night and checked on my father periodically because he has heart issues, and my father was asleep until we were awoken by Isobel, I swear!”

Alex glanced from her to Max for a second and saw their eyes jump to each other for a fraction of a second. Something was going on between the two of them, but Alex couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Beth’s story only barely held up under the lightest scrutiny. But even if she wasn’t telling the truth about seeing her father, at least her and Max’ story seemed to match up. And that covered her for the murder. His head was aching. He pinched the bridge of his nose and lights swam behind his eyelids. That couldn’t be good.

“Alex?” he heard Michael whisper.

“Mm,” Alex merely muttered. “Alright. Well, it seems that we are stuck here for a while. Nobody leaves this train without my supervision, is that clear?” Everybody nodded mutely. “Michael, can I have your master keys?”

“What, why?” Michael asked, looking startled.

“Because I’m the only one not a suspect in this case so I need those keys somewhere I can keep an eye on them, please, Michael.” He didn’t mean to sound desperate, but his vision was getting blurry, his head throbbing more and more by the second. He had to lie down, and soon.

“Alright,” Michael acquiesced, looking startled and handing over the keys. Alex limped towards the outer door, locked it, and put the keys in his pocket.

“Go to your cabins, everyone. I need to rest, and we’re not going anywhere for a while.”

People moved past him, murmuring and shooting him concerned glances. Michael stayed close to Alex, looking concerned. “Michael, can I speak to you for a moment?” Alex managed to say through gritted teeth. Without waiting for an answer, he limped towards his cabin and entered it, Michael following close behind.

“What is it – ?” Michael began, but it became very clear what. Alex nearly collapsed and it was all Michael could do but to catch him. “Wow! Alright, I got you, private, I got you.”

“Can you help me?” Alex asked, his voice weak and trembling. “I don’t – I don’t think I can – u-undress mys-self.”

“Of course, Alex. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

He helped Alex to his bed, set him down and started undoing the laces to his shoes. Alex slumped against the back wall, his eyes closed. Michael’s hands were gentle as he helped Alex out of his shoes, his socks, his pants and shirt. At any other time, the atmosphere between them would be charged, but Alex was near in a coma and Michael understood exactly what Alex needed. He helped him into his pyjamas. His soft touches lulled Alex into something resembling sleep and he felt warm and safe for the first time in a while.

“Alex,” he whispered, and Alex forced his eyes to open a fraction. “Lay down, love.”

With gentle pressure from Michael, Alex managed to swing his legs onto his bed and rest his head on his pillow. A very ungentlemanly groan passed his lips as his entire body began to ache into the mattress. Suddenly, Michael’s hands were on his bad leg, rubbing it softly, warming the aching muscles in his calf and knee. Alex hummed appreciatively and closed his eyes again. He slowly felt his body relaxing into Michael’s touches. His body was exhausted, the adrenaline from nearly dying finally wearing off and he was sure he was asleep. That is, until he felt Michael’s hands leave his leg and his lips against his forehead. “Sleep tight, Alex.”

Alex’s hand shot out, grabbing Michael’s arm as he made to leave. “Please don’t leave,” he muttered. His eyes opened slightly, looking up at Michael through his eyelashes. Michael’s face was soft, and a small smile played around his lips.

“Alright, Alex.” Michael shed most of his uniform, leaving him only in his boxers. Then he climbed into bed, settling himself behind Alex and slinging an arm over him. Alex’s eyes closed again, and he burrowed himself against Michael’s chest. Michael’s arm tightened around him, pressing a kiss to the back of Alex’s head. “Go to sleep, Alex. I’m here.”

Alex dropped to sleep faster than he ever had before.

#malex #malex ff #malex fanfic #rnm ff #roswell new mexico #Alex Manes #Michael Guerin #a disaster bi and a chaotic gay #what could go wrong #otp:I Don't Look Away #motoe au #my malex ff #only got 2 comments on my last chapter and i didn't write this to make anyone happy but also #i love comments

17 notes · View notes

crystalninjaphoenix · 5 years

Text

Septics Inverted

A JSE Fanfic

Look, I love reverse morality AUs, and I mean I love them, so here’s my own take on it for the Septic boys. This was really fun to write, so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! ^-^ It is kinda long though, but honestly at this point I’ve just accepted that I write long things.

Edit: There is a part two out now!

Hey uhhh @huffle-dork @evyptids remember how one time not too long ago in the Discord I went on a long rave about an AU I was working on and you guys were like “yeah I’d read that!” This is the that

Even though The Dish and Glass was a twenty-four hour diner, it almost never got visitors in the wee hours of the morning. This was something that Stacy knew, having been stuck at that job for nearly three years. When she worked the night shift, she expected that she’d be alone with the chef, spending the whole time worrying about the sitter she’d hired to watch the kids. Not like she expected them to be awake from the hours of midnight to six in the morning, but it was better safe to be sorry, and the sitters she got usually gave her ugly looks for making them stay up so late for nothing.

Of course, after tonight, she would wish the only problem she had was nasty babysitters.

It was two o’clock. Stacy was behind the counter, taking stock of the coffee mugs. She didn’t really have a reason to, but nobody was around to talk to except Richard, the chef, and he was busy in the kitchen doing who knows what. She was bored. The bright lamps overhead shone a monotonous white light down onto the red and white booths and tables. The plate glass window showed the blue-black night outside. The city was dark.

The easy listening music that always played in the diner was broken by the pleasant ding! of the door opening. Stacy was pretty sure her shock was showing on her face. Luckily she was facing away from the entrance, or the customer might’ve noticed it. Then they might’ve told the manager, who might’ve fired her for unprofessional behavior, then she’d be alone and jobless with two kids who absolutely needed the best in life—she shook her head. The manager wasn’t even here, he’d gone out for who knows what; nobody ever told her. And looking shocked wasn’t worth reporting, let alone being fired over. She tried to ease the knot of anxiety as she turned around to face the customer.

“Hello, welcome to the Dish and—” Stacy froze. It couldn’t be no it couldn’t not here no no no—

“Lady, you alright? Didja have a stroke or something?”

Stacy shook herself internally, then plastered a smile on her face. “Of course I’m alright, sir! Welcome to the Dish and Glass, can I get you anything?”

The man shrugged. “Coffee. I can seat myself.”

“Sir, that’s not really our...policy...” Stacy trailed off. He’d already walked away and sat at one of the window booths. Honestly, there was no reason to stop him, what with him being the only one in the entire diner. It wasn’t like she’d lose track of him.

As she busied herself with the coffeepot, Stacy tried her best to stare at the customer without him noticing. The resemblance...it was more than uncanny. If it wasn’t for a few key differences, she could’ve sworn she was staring right at her ex-husband. Same brown hair, same build, same blue eyes—actually, eye. This stranger had only one. Where his right eye should have been, there was an eye-patch, one of those white square ones with four strings instead of two.

Something was...off about him, Stacy decided. She wasn’t sure what it was. He looked ordinary enough. He wore a black t-shirt, blue jeans with holes in the knees, and black tennis shoes. A green scarf was wrapped securely around his throat. He’d worn a ragged black backpack into the diner, but he’d taken it off and put it on the table, where he was now rummaging around inside. Still, despite how utterly normal all of this was...he gave Stacy an uneasy feeling. Maybe it was just the resemblance to him that was bothering her.

But she had a job to do. The coffee was ready, piping hot and poured in one of the mugs she’d been counting earlier. She set it on a plate and walked over to the booth where the customer was sitting. Upon catching sight of her, he immediately froze in place like someone had pressed the pause button. Stacy set the coffee on the table, trying to ignore his stare, and asked, “Would you like any cream? Or sugar?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? I mean, we have those available—”

“I don’t ńeed̴. anything.”

Stacy flinched at his sharp tone. “Alright, sir. If you do, just call for me.” She forced herself to calmly turn around and walk at a normal pace back to her spot behind the counter. She could still feel the man staring at her. Had he blinked at all during that entire exchange?

She started fiddling with the cash register. It wasn’t her job to count the change, it was the manager’s. But she pretended to be busy. There was no doubt about it, this guy was giving off a vibe that she wasn’t fond of. She could almost feel it, like static electricity. Or maybe that was just the electric humming from the overhead lights. It was usually there, but Stacy noticed it kicked up. Maybe something was wrong with the wiring? If it broke, would they take the replacement costs from her paycheck?

He was still watching her. She glanced over and saw him sitting unnaturally still, eyes on her. Nope, there was no blinking there at all. Seriously unnerved, Stacy closed up the cash register, double checked that the drawer was secure, then swung open the kitchen door and hurriedly walked through. Richard, the chef, looked up when she entered. He was on his phone. “What’s up? ‘S there a customer?”

“I mean, yeah...he just wanted coffee, though. Now he’s just...sitting there...” Stacy shuddered. “He creeps me out.”

“Really?” Richard strolled over and looked through the tiny round window in the kitchen door. Stacy pushed her head next to his. The man was now rummaging in his backpack again. He pulled something out. “Please tell me that’s not a gun...” Stacy muttered.

“Nah.” Richard squinted. “Looks like a tennis ball or something. Green, round...it’s kinda glowy. Maybe it’s, like, a novelty bouncy ball?”

“He doesn’t seem the type...” Stacy muttered.

“People can be wrong, Stace. Maybe you’re just expecting a creep to walk in at two in the morning, so your brain is tricking you.”

“Maybe...” She was pretty sure her instincts were correct here. The man had stared at her for way too long to be innocent.

“What’s goin’ on here?”

Richard and Stacy jumped, then simultaneously turned around to see Rosa, the manager. She’d just entered through the back door. Now she was staring at her two employees with a combined expression of annoyance and curiosity.

“There’s a, uh, customer here,” Stacy explained. “I was getting a weird feeling from him. Rich says it’s nothing.”

“Let me see.” Rosa pushed her way past them to peer through the porthole. She frowned. “He seems normal enough. That eye-patch is a bit suspicious, but we shouldn’t judge. He order anything?”

“Just coffee.”

“Well, we’ll keep an eye on him. In the mean time Stacy, d’you mind taking out the garbage in the kitchen? It’s overflowing.”

“I, uh, yeah, sure.” Stacy awkwardly backed away from the door, heading out. Picking up the garbage on the way, she couldn’t help but think that it was nowhere near overflowing. But Rosa probably had good reason. She just had to...had to remember that.

She threw the bag from the can into the dumpster in the alley, the dim light from a flickering bulb over the diner’s back door barely allowing her to see. For a split second, she allowed herself to slump. This job...she needed it, but god did it suck. Creepy guy comes in the diner? Let’s keep an eye on him, forget that he makes you uncomfortable. By the way, you still have to serve him.

A small sound came from the ground near her feet. An animal sound...? Stacy looked down and saw a cat curling around her ankles. Mostly black, with a few white spots, including four arranged in an almost perfect diamond on its forehead. It wasn’t a small cat, actually it was fairly big height- and length-wise, but it was so thin. Stacy felt a pang of sympathy for it. “Hey little guy,” she cooed.

The cat gazed up at her with big green eyes. It meowed again. Stacy bent over to pet it, and it leaned against her and purred. A faint smile curled around her lips. Animals weren’t allowed in the diner, nor in the apartment building where she lived with her kids. She missed them. “I wish you could come with me,” she sighed. But already she was worried about Rosa noticing she was taking too long. If she came back into the diner with a cat when that was explicitly against the rules, she’d get another warning. And too many warnings meant losing her job.

Oh well. Sadly, she turned around and looked at the cat again..only for it to turn into a streak of dark fur and zoom past her into the diner. “What the hell!” she cried, darting inside.

“What? What happened?” Rosa asked. She and Richard were cleaning the kitchen counters, probably under the assumption that nobody else was coming.

“There was a stray cat, it-it ran inside,” Stacy explained.

“Oh shit!” Rosa’s eyes widened. “We can’t have dirty strays in here. Richard and I will look for it. You go back out there and attend the customer.”

Stacy almost asked to switch places with one of them, but she didn’t want to push her luck with letting the cat inside. She swallowed her words and pushed through the kitchen door back into the main body of the diner.

“—to do next. I’m thinking we get you to safety. I know a place.”

She froze. In a split second, she took in two things and made two conclusions: 1) the diner was still empty except for that one guy, 2) that one guy was talking to somebody, 3) if there was no one else in the diner then the guy was talking to himself, 4) if the guy was talking to himself then he was crazy and possibly dangerous, though that wasn’t a guarantee, but with the feeling she got from him it probably was. Instinctively, Stacy ducked down so that she was hidden behind the counter. She immediately felt stupid.

“Don’t l͠o͝o̵k̶ at me that way, I can protect it!”

She immediately stopped feeling stupid. That voice. That wasn’t...there was something...

Stacy’s attention was caught by the kitchen door easing its way open. The black cat poked its head through. It looked at her and narrowed its eyes in an...almost human way. Then it slipped through the door and headed around the counter and out into the dining area.

The man continued. “You don’t need that toxic shit, do ya? Cause I don’t want to turn right back around and scoop up a bucketful. That a no? Alright, we should probably—” Suddenly, he fell silent.

Time seemed frozen. The electric humming in the lights was definitely getting louder. It grew in intensity. Stacy shrank back.

A series of events happened in quick succession. Richard and Rosa burst through the kitchen door, cried out “Where’d the cat—?!” “Who the hell is—?” The overhead lights burst with an electric fritz and glass sprayed everywhere. It was dark for less than a second, then a flash of violet light lit everything up in startling intensity. The light was accompanied by a shock wave, and somehow Stacy was thrown from her hiding spot. She hit her head hard against the edge of a shelf on the other wall, and everything went black.

When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was the sticky, throbbing pain coming from her forehead. She almost groaned, but then she heard the laughing and thought better of it. Her head and limbs were twisted at awkward angles, but she was filled with a weakness and simply couldn’t move them. She opened her eyes. The diner was dark, except for a pulsing green light and a steady purple glow. She couldn’t see much from her spot on the floor, but the kitchen door was ajar and an arm was sticking out. It was surrounded by a puddle of dark liquid.

“ I̴ş ̛̕ţ̨h̸̕a̢҉t͝͡ ̨͞àl͏͝l̵̢ ̀͠҉y͢o̶̶͠u̧͢͠ ҉g̡͠oţ̷͟,̢ ̧̕k̴̨i͡t҉t͞y̛͞ ̶c̨̕a̢̨t?̴”

It sounded like the words were being spoken through a buffering voice call made using a broken app. But the voice itself—the mocking, arrogant voice—was familiar. Stacy finally found the energy to push herself into a kneeling position. Her head was filled with a thick syrup, but the few thoughts that penetrated that syrup were those of curiosity. She crawled over to the counter and peeked over the top.

Someone was standing on one of the tables. Dully, Stacy recognized the scarf a moment before she saw his face. It was the man from before, but... this was impossible. The air around him was fizzing and breaking with distortion, creating shadowy duplicates and an almost glitchy effect. It seemed like the green light was coming from him. He was looking down at the source of the purple light. Another man. He had his back turned to Stacy, so she couldn’t see much... was he wearing a cape? The purple glow was coming from his hands. Stacy thought he must’ve been holding a flashlight or something, but there was no sign of anything like that.

“I have plenty more tricks up my sleeve,” spat another voice. Similar to the glitching man’s but not quite the same. It must’ve been the other one.

“W̛e̕l̸l, ̴Í'̴m ͝sur͢e͝ ͞you͠ d̶o͠,” said the one on the table. The distortion increased for a moment as his head cracked to the side, then glitched back into place. He pointed something toward the caped man, and Stacy held back a gasp. Where did he get a knife?! “W̨hy ͠d͟on̶'҉t ͝yo͏u u͢s͏e th̴e͟m? ̕I͞'́ḿ sur͝e̵ yo̕u're j͞u̷s҉t̸ it́chin̢ǵ ͏to.̨” A twisted grin. “G͡o ah́ȩa̶ḑ.͡ I͝ ẃa҉̧n̵͟͝nà͠͠ s҉̶̥̖e̛̦̳̯e̘̹͍̤̠̞̕͞.”

“I—” Stacy could hear the hesitation in the other man’s voice. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to, more like he did want to but knew he shouldn’t. “N-no-not yet. You’re gonna tell me where you hid it. Do you have it? You’re trying to taunt me into blasting it, huh?!”

“Oh̢ ҉ye̵s,͡ th̴at ́makes p̶̴̡e̢͟r̷̵f́͞é̛ct ҉͡ se̸ns͞e̛.” The words were harsh, biting. “C͝o͠ngŕátul̷at̡i̧ons̛, yo̵u̶'͡v́e҉ ̵f̡i͟g̨ure͟d òut́ ̡m̡y ́p̨lo͞t͡.҉ P͠retend͟ to ̨get̴ ͝t͞ḩem away, only t̶o͝ t͠r̨i҉ck̛ ̸ýou ͟i̴nt̸ò k̶įl̨ling͡ t̷hem̡ ҉yours͞elf. ̵Al͝l ͝t͏h̨is̵ ̡t͞im̀e͡,̢ ̷I've̢ ̷be̕en̡ a ̢ca͞rto͠on ͢vi͝llai̷n w̧it̵h ̢a͢n ̨el̷ab̢o͞ra̡t̀e ҉s̛che̕m̕e̛.͞ O͡h wái͠t̢,̛ ́t́ha͞t's ҉yo͝u ͟a͏nd̕ y̕ou̕r li̧t̀t̨l͝è ̀ g͡ro҉u҉p͡ of̷ fr̛i͞end̸s.”

A hiss. An honest to god hiss, like a threatened cat. “Oh, we’re the bad guys here, aren’t we?”

“H̀m̸m,̸ ͝I do̧n't̴ know. ͡Havę you͏ not́i̡ce҉d̨ t́h͠ȩ ̸w̶a̵l̕ķing̨, ́tálk̷ing͠ èvi͠l d͏octǫr̴ ͡tr͝o͠p͝è ҉y̕ou̷ ̵h͢a͏ņg ̡o͠u͏t wi͠t̸h?”

“And how are you any better?”

“I͢͏͖̖͕̯̩̙ ̴̴̨̢̛̝̰̼̥̜ a͡t̸ l̷eas̨t̀ k̨̛͢n͞ó̢w͏̧́ t̷ha͞t I'̷m fucked̷ ̕i͟n̕ th̢e ͠he͟a̴d.” The caped man let out a horrible screech. A dark violet energy beam blasted from his hands toward the one on the table. The air crackled, and he was gone. Stacy thought for a second that he was gone, only for him to materialize on a different table on the other side of the diner. He laughed, the same one from before. “W̨ow̴,͞ ̶that̴ ̢di̴d ́n̕o͠҉t̛h̨̛in̴̨̧g͞!͠”

The caped man turned towards him, and Stacy could just make out his face. Or rather, the mask hiding his face. It was shaped like a cat, and colored black. Four shapes, two red and two white, were in the middle of the mask’s forehead. Creeping out from underneath the mask were lines on the man’s cheeks—scars, Stacy realized. What the hell...?

Another blast of purple energy. Once again, the glitcher dissolved and reappeared on another table. And again, the same result. And again. This time, the man popped into existence standing on the counter, inches away from the spot where Stacy was watching. She exhaled sharply. The man turned his head slightly and looked down. His one visible eye had changed color; its sclera was black and the iris was acid, electric green. Stacy couldn’t help but stare at it. The distortion, the energy blasts, the creepy voice...that kind of shit was only supposed to be in movies and YouTube videos. Yet here it was, impossibly, in real life.

The man’s eye widened slightly, then he looked back to the masked man. “Y̨o͠u g҉on͟na do ̴th̛is̛ ҉fòrev̧e̡r̴,̡ ̕mag̷ic bo͟y?̷” he jeered. ”P͢lay ͝c̛at an̶d ̧mo͝use̸?́”

“Shut up!” Another blast, and Stacy flinched as it passed so close to her. Just as before, the man glitched away. But now he appeared behind the masked man. Before he could react, the glitcher plunged the knife into his backside, quickly withdrawing it. The masked man roared and let out a spray of purple liquid that burned the walls of the diner like acid. It had no effect, as the other one disappeared once more.

“H̢e̛y͏ lady,” a voice whispered in Stacy’s ear. She let out a small squeak, then spun around. The man was crouching right next to her. His eye had gone back to normal, and the distortion seemed to have lessened somehow. “ Y͡òu need to get the f̴u̴ck̡ out of here.”

“Who—how—what—” Stacy stuttered.

“That’s not important. Come on.”

“Wh-wh-what about Rich and Rosa?” she asked.

“Dead. Ripped apart by the shockforce spell.” Then, as an afterthought, “Sorry.”

“I...” Stacy trailed off. They couldn’t be...this couldn’t be real. It was probably just a bad dream. A very realistic bad dream...

“Oh for—there’s no time for shock!” He grabbed her arm. Before she could protest or pull away, he was running around the counter and toward the exit, dragging her behind him. She cried out.

The masked man’s head whipped toward them. “Hey! You aren’t leaving yet!” Stacy looked toward him, only to see a long whip of violet fire snapping toward her. A lashing agony spread through her arm. She screamed and fell. The glitcher instinctively dissolved to avoid the fire, but he reappeared in the same spot as he realized he’d let go of her. He stopped in his tracks and made to grab her again. A shield of purple fire appeared between him and her.

“Alright, fine, if you’re gonna make me do this.” The masked man rolled his eyes. “Tell me where the eye is, and the waitress can live to tell the police about this disaster. Not that they’ll believe her.”

Stacy’s heart stopped. She looked up at the glitcher with pleading eyes. He stared back at her, considering. “W͞h̀at'͡s yo̸ur g͞ame҉,M͡arv͟in͏?̛” he asked. “Íf ̸I'm ͠t̢he͠ ͠b̷ád ̸g͡uy,͏ ̶w̢h̷y ͟d̵o͏ ҉y̢o̵u th̶in͢k̨ I’d care?̶”

“Fair point.” The masked man—Marvin—shrugged. “Or, it would be if you hadn’t just fucking stabbed me to get her out. If I believe Jackie, you like to play the long game usually.”

The glitcher nodded, slightly. “A̡lri̕gh̀t̵,̷ I̶'l͡l̸ g͝iv̛e̡ you̧ ͠a ch̷an͝c͠e̢.” He turned to Marvin. “Y͢ou can ha͏v͟e͏ them.̧..ìf y̕o͝u͝ ͡can̡ ͡ca̢tćh t͟h̸em͢!” He threw something. A round, green object sailed through the air, over the counter and through the ajar kitchen door. Marvin cried out, then dashed to follow it. With the loss of his focus, the purple fire wall disappeared. “Come on!” the glitcher hissed to Stacy, then turned and bolted out the door. She scrambled to her feet and ran after him.

The city was still dark. Stacy glanced at her watch: 2:18 a.m. Only a little over ten minutes ago, she’d been idly sorting through the coffee cups, and now she was running from an insane fire-thrower wearing a cat mask, following a guy who could seemingly break the world at will. Her arm was burning. Rosa and Richard were dead. Her world was crashing around her.

She looked up to see the glitcher staring at her. The distortions had entirely disappeared. “Yeah?” he sounded impatient.

“Yeah—yeah what?” she stammered.

“He hit you, didn’t he? With the fire?”

“Um...” Stacy touched her arm. A bit of her uniform was burned away, and the wound was letting out a bit of smoke. “...yeah.”

“Well that sucks,” he said casually. “That’s a black magic burn. It’ll keep burning until either you eventually die somehow or a cure is administered. And that means I gotta take you to my place and fix it.” He sighed. “Okay, come on.” He turned on his heel.

“W-wait! I have questions!” Stacy hurried to catch up until she was matching his quick pace. “Who—what are you?”

“I see you corrected that one. Good.” He continued walking. Every so often they’d pass under a street light, and she’d see that she was on his blind side. Still, despite that, Stacy felt like he was staring at her. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? That’s impossible.”

“Is it? Is it really? Well, maybe it is and I’m just not telling you.” He giggled to himself.

Even though he’d just saved her life, that laugh was still really creepy. “And-and that other guy? Marvin?”

“Black magic magician that gives black cats the bad name they have. I stole something away from him and his friends, and they want it back.”

“What? Was it that green thing you threw?”

He grinned evilly. “No.” Still walking, he pulled at his scarf. For a moment, Stacy could see that underneath the scarf there were bloodied bandages wrapped around his neck. And then something glowing, green, and round shot out from where it had been hidden within the cloth of the scarf. It hovered in the air, easily keeping up with them. Stacy gasped. It was an eye. A green-scleraed, blue-irised eyeball with an optic nerve like a tail. The main body of the thing was about the size of a tennis ball. As she stared at it, its iris deformed slightly, curving upward. She got the impression that it was happy. “This little guy is Sam,” the man explained. “I broke into the guys’ main hideout and found them in a tank of green toxic fluid. They were curled up at the bottom and looked scared, so I broke the fucker and lettem out.”

“And...these guys...they want this Sam back?” Stacy hesitantly reached out toward the eyeball. It nudged her hand, then started nestling it like a pet would. It was actually kind of adorable. “Why?”

“Hell if I know. Some of them have major control freak problems, so maybe that’s it. But they sent Mr. Goodbye Kitty after me, so they're serious about getting them back. The thing you saw me throw, that was a ‘copy,’ to distract him. He’ll grab it, take it back to their little lair, and then it’ll disappear. Thought it would buy me time to get you fixed.”

“Why didn’t you just-just teleport me?” Stacy asked.

“It’s not t̢ęl͟e̸ṕort̷ing. It’s...well, you can call it glitching, that’s close enough. And it can’t affect most living things. Sam is somehow an exception.”

“It affects you.”

“Oh? Who told you I͡ w͏a̧s l̷̢͡į̷v̵i̴n̶g̸?” He smiled.

Stacy shuddered. She almost stopped in her tracks and ran the other way, but if he was right about the burn never healing, then she needed all the help she could get. “Okay,” she said quietly. They walked in silence for a moment through the empty city streets. But there was one more question bugging Stacy. “Wh-what-what’s your name?”

“Antisepticeye.”

“Oh.” Weird name...

“People call me Anti, if that’s too long for you. And you?”

“I’m Stacy. Stacy Bro—Davidson.”

He—Anti—faltered, turning to fully look at her for the first time. “Say that again.”

“Stacy Davidson,” she repeated, softer.

Anti stared at her for a moment longer, then turned away. “We’re almost there,” he said, and sped up.

Stacy sped up as well. Why had he been so interested in her name? Did he know something about her? Or about...? She shook her head. Don’t dwell on the past. Dwell on the present. However strange it may be.

And maybe the future too. She had the feeling it was about to get a whole lot stranger.

#jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticeye #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #antisepticeye #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #septics inverted au #brigid writes fanfiction #invertedau

166 notes · View notes