#the tattoo part???????? ex fucking cuse me

[gunsatthaphan]

I've never been more normal,,..,..,--..,,.-,,

#only friends #only friends series #firstkhao #sanray #firstkhaotung #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #gmmtv #thai bl #bl drama #i know im a million years late #not my fault i was stuck at work when this dropped #fml #sorry #but yeah whatever #the tattoo part???????? ex fucking cuse me #goodbye

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Confrontation” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Things get heated at Blaine's first post-quarantine competition when his father and his old coach make a surprise visit. (2397 words)

Notes: Warning for homophobia. Blaine friendly.

Part 68 of Outside Edge.

Read on AO3.

"This is not happening... this is not happening... " Blaine mumbles, pacing back and forth, arms wrapped tight around his torso but carefully so as not to dislodge any of the hundreds of crystals Kurt had applied by hand to this new costume he'd made especially for him. 

A costume so intricate and lovingly crafted that Sebastian turns green every time he's in its presence (even though Kurt has made him close to a dozen of his own).

"It's going to be all right," Kurt says, trying his best to calm Blaine down. He reaches out a hand to stop him but decides against it. He understands the pain of suffering from this level of anxiety. Standing still when you're about to rip out of your skin can be the worst feeling in the world. 

"I'm not doing this... " Blaine decides, tapping his right fist against his left elbow. "I'm not---I'm not doing this... "

"Too late, champ," Sebastian teases, tucking his button-up into his slacks and joining the freak-out already in process. "You've already skated. No backing out now."

"No jokes!" Kurt hisses. "That's not what this is about!"

"Then what is it?" Sebastian asks, growing concerned when Blaine starts to curl in on himself. Sebastian steps in front of him, feeling a need to shield him from prying eyes wandering by. "I was in the can for all of three minutes. What in the hell happened?"

Kurt leans into Sebastian's side and whispers, "His father's here. And his old coach."

"What the fuck?" Sebastian turns in a circle, half looking for the men in question (even though he's never seen either, so he has no idea who he's looking for), but also searching for a place they can hide, get Blaine out of the public eye. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"I... I don't know. I don't know how they even knew I'd be here," Blaine replies.

"They'd had to have Googled you," Sebastian says, eyes darting back and forth over the crowd.

"Why would they do that? My dad said he never wanted to see me again! So what's the point?"

"I don't know," Sebastian admits. Would it be too much to ask that it's because the man actually cares about Blaine? Sebastian doesn't know a thing about him other than he punched his son and threw him out onto the street, so he can't answer that question, but from the outset, most signs point to no. 

Sebastian hopes the man proves him wrong.

He isn't one for seeing the good in people. He'd rather believe that most are self-serving assholes, that way he's not disappointed when he's right. But this is Blaine's dad. And regardless of Sebastian feeling a bit jealous of his relationship with Kurt, Sebastian secretly prays that one day Blaine and his dad can make amends.

Sebastian spots a line of locker rooms, the doors painted to blend with the walls. They're about the size of the average closet, but hunkering down in a cramped room is better than waiting around for the inevitable. "Come on, guys. We can duck in there."

Kurt takes Blaine by the elbow as Sebastian leads the way, barking out a frustrated, "Excuse us. Excuse us," to the skaters yet to perform, who have opted to do their off-ice warm-ups smack dab in everyone else's way. Sebastian frowns when he remembers that used to be him once upon a time - constantly showing off, always in other people's space. His coach had told him it was an effective intimidation technique.

It's not.

It's just annoying.

Blaine sighs as they reach the blue metal door, relief in sight.

It turns out to be premature.

"Still under rotating those triples, I see."

Blaine sighs again, but this time it's a sound of utter defeat, and something inside Kurt snaps. He whirls around, putting himself between Blaine and whoever might be behind them, saying, "Don't you have anything nice to say?" before he comes face to face with two older men trying way too hard to appear important in their expensively tailored wool suits, out-of-place with everyone else around them bundled up in jeans, sweaters, and puff jackets. They can't even wear simple cloth masks, opting for those overpriced dome things constructed of 'space-age materials', clear so people can see the entirety of the wearer's face.

From the corner of his eye, Kurt sees Blaine turn slowly, as if he would rather be anywhere but here, which sucks because Blaine had an amazing skate! A skate Nathan Chen would have been proud of! But that's about to be ruined by the presence of these two a-holes!

"Nice about what?" the same man retorts, and even though that sounds like the sort of remark one would expect a coach to make, Kurt just knows that this man - with the same dark hair as Blaine's, glued to his scalp with a tremendous amount of product, sucking in his lower lip as he grins - has to be his dad. "His lackluster choreography? His offensive song choice? This fruity costume? Or those skates?" He pops his lower lip in disgust as he gestures down to the black Edea skates Kurt customized with rainbow crystals. "Jesus, Blaine! Why don't you carry one of those rainbow flags out on the ice with you! Or tattoo one to your face! That way everyone knows!"

"Most people already do!" Blaine argues, surprising his friends. But it delights Sebastian more. Despite his 'dapper charm' that he lays on thick as oatmeal, Sebastian suspected Blaine couldn't be as meek as he seemed around him and Kurt. Looks like he was right. "And guess what? No one seems to have a problem with it! And if they do, they have the courtesy to keep it to themselves!"

"That's because you're a figure skater. You're surrounded by gays, aren't you?" he snarks, shooting a pointed glance at Kurt. Blaine's old coach (Simon, if Kurt remembers correctly - supposedly a huge deal though Kurt has never heard of him), who has yet to say anything, has the dignity to look embarrassed by Mr. Anderson over that remark.

"Has he always been this much of an ass?" Sebastian seethes. "Or is he doing this for our benefit?

Blaine's first instinct is to defend him, even after everything the man has done. He is his father after all. But he stops himself, gives Sebastian's question a solid think. 

And his answer is yes. 

Yes, he has. 

He's always been an ass. To him and, to a lesser extent, his mother. Nothing has ever been good enough for him. Gold medals, sponsorships, scholarships, endorsements - not a single thing that has come from Blaine's skating has his father ever been proud of.

"What you see is what you get," Blaine says diplomatically. Mr. Anderson's thin-lipped grin drops like a lead weight, and Kurt snickers.

"Your edges have improved," Simon puts in haughtily. "Don't know how that happened."

"It's called practice," Kurt says, "dedication... and the perks of finding a better, more supportive coaching team."

Simon's eyes travel from Kurt's face to a smug Sebastian, and the man rolls his eyes. "I'll bet."

"So, is this what you gave your family up for?" Mr. Anderson asks, waving a hand towards Kurt so vehemently he nearly smacks him. "Or are you still waiting in the wings?" 

Blaine's cheeks burn, speechless that his father held on to those words he overheard and is now throwing them in his face, especially since he never told Kurt about the phone call that got him kicked out. Not entirely. And as far as he knew, Sebastian hasn't either, confirmed by the confusion on Kurt's face.

"You're talking to your son," Sebastian growls. "You haven't seen him in over a year, haven't talked to him during a global pandemic even once to find out whether or not he's okay. He just won his second gold medal of the night. But you're stomping over here like you have every right, and all you care about is his sex life?"

Mr. Anderson raises a stern finger. "This doesn't concern you."

"Yes, it does! Because after you pulled your little homophobic stunt and blackened his eye, he started living with me. In my house." Sebastian stops himself from clarifying further when he notices they're attracting attention. He didn't mean to out Blaine's abuse. Sebastian had no right to let that slip. But with the tunnel of red obscuring his vision, he'd started to forget there's anyone else around. He's got to apologize but now isn't the time. "He owes me nothing. Happy to have him. But you? You owe me plenty."

"What?" Mr. Anderson scoffs. "Do you want me to write you a check?"

"No. But a little gratitude, knowing that your son was in good hands this entire time, might be nice."

Mr. Anderson laughs through his nose. It's as unattractive as it sounds. "Never happening. I offered to take him back. He felt he knew better. If Blaine chooses to live in a den of sin, that's his business."

Sebastian shakes his head in disbelief. Blaine's father isn't talking about pre-marital sex. Hell, if Blaine was kicking it with some busty blonde cheerleader this whole time, his dad would probably be ecstatic. 

He's referring to the fact that the three of them are gay.

Some people. 

Well, if he wants to be an epic jackhole, fine. Two can play at that game.

"You know, since you're so concerned with who your son is being intimate with, since that matters so much to you, it might interest you to know that he's not just screwing Kurt here. He's fucking me as well." Sebastian pauses, lets those words sink in, and soaks in the delicious fallout. He doesn't know whose reaction he likes better - the men in front of him scowling like he farted in their masks, or the boys standing beside him, staring at him wide-eyed and growing pale. "Oh yeah," Sebastian continues, fueled by the conflicted awe in Kurt's eyes specifically. "The three-ways are plentiful, in every position."

"You... you little liar!" 

Sebastian shrugs. "I mean, that's what it's all about, right? What do you think's been going on at my house while he's been living there? He's gotta pay the rent somehow."

"You're disgusting!" Mr. Anderson sneers.

"You're one to talk - a middle-aged man whose only concern about his son's welfare is where he sticks his dick! Give this a lot of thought, do ya? Talk about it over dinner and shit?"

Mr. Anderson takes a step forward. Blaine and Kurt take a reflexive step back - social distancing and all. But Sebastian doesn't budge. "You listen here, you... !"

"Is there a problem?" a man dressed in a red, white, and blue windbreaker emblazoned with the name of the rink they're in, asks. They'd been so engrossed in this pissing contest, no one noticed the man cut through the crowd to reach them. Mr. Anderson steps back, aggressively straightening his jacket. Kurt thinks he hears a seam pop, and he flinches on behalf of a thousand-dollar sports coat.

"No," Mr. Anderson answers quickly, annoyed by the interruption. "No problem."

Seeing a way to put an easy end to this, Sebastian speaks up. "Actually, there is. These men aren't coaches or skaters. And they're harassing us. So could you please... ?" 

Mr. Anderson chuckles. "Right. Good luck with that. I have no intention of going anywhere."

The attendant shakes his head. "I'm sorry but... " He turns to Mr. Anderson "... I'm going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave. We need to keep this area clear."

Mr. Anderson's eyelids narrow to slits. "What?"

"We have a capacity limit." The man points to a sign posted nearby. Neither Mr. Anderson nor Simon looks. "Skaters and coaches only. Everyone else has to go back to the bleachers."

"Are you kidding me!?"

"Unless you have a pass... "

Mr. Anderson looks at the three boys. They lift laminated tags attached to lanyards hanging around their necks. Blaine's says 'Skater' in neon green letters, Kurt's says 'Assistant Coach' in bright orange, and Sebastian's says 'Coach' in yellow. Mr. Anderson and Simon have no such lanyards.

Technically, they don't even have tickets to the event. 

Simon used the clout he has left to get them this far. 

"I'll have to call security if you don't leave," the man interjects, reaching for his walkie.

Mr. Anderson sniffs, tries to retain his composure, but he's not a man used to taking no for an answer.

Or being bested by teenagers.

"I'll be seeing you boys again," he says low, like a threat.

"Absolutely!" Sebastian says. "Stop by Westerville Ice-plex anytime so my uncle can serve you that restraining order Blaine should have filed the first time around!"

Mr. Anderson doesn't look the least bit amused when rink staff leads him away, glaring venomously at them over his shoulder as he's escorted to the double doors. The three watch, waiting till he's completely out of sight before they breathe easy again.

"That was fun," Blaine says brightly, trying to make light of this newly tense situation.

"Loads," Kurt agrees. 

"I'm so sorry about that. He had no right to talk to you guys like that. Especially you, Kurt."

Kurt smiles. It gets lost behind his faux Chanel mask, but luckily it reaches his eyes. "You don't need to apologize."

"Look, Blaine," Sebastian starts, "I'm really sorry for bringing up... "

"Don't worry about it," Blaine cuts in. He'd happily forgotten about that. He wants to drop it. "It shouldn't be a secret. That's how people like him get away with doing what he did."

"Still, it was kind of shitty."

"Yeah, but that wasn't your fault."

Sebastian puts a hand on Blaine's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. It's the closest thing to a hug he can offer.

"Come on." Kurt puts his hand over Sebastian's. "Let's go get Blaine's medals and head home, hmm?"

"Sounds like a plan." Blaine turns to Sebastian, disarming mischief in his hazel eyes. "So... about that three-way... "

"You mean you, leftie, and rightie?" Sebastian winds a possessive arm around his boyfriend and ushers him quickly through the crowd towards the medal stand. "Be sure to tell us all about it in the morning."

#Kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #sebastian smythe #kurt hummel #figure skating #blaine anderson

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 019 [Coming Clean]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,638

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

��“If I could just control my mind, I wouldn’t need to run and hide. If I could show you all inside, then you would know what hell is like.” Nevertel, “Down”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“I really have gotten weaker. Back in my heyday, five hits woulda been enough to knock that guy out.” Toshi stood tall, his fist held against his chest. “But today, it took more than three-hundred mighty blows.” He paused, turning toward the remaining two villains. “You’ve been bested, villains. Surrender! We all want to get this over with quickly.”

Toshi, you’re running out of time, aren’t you? No, you’re already out of time. It’s faint, hidden by the dust, but I can see the smoke rising from his body. He’s pushing himself to the absolute limit.

“He… cheated…”

“What’s wrong?” Toshi taunted. “Not attacking me? Didn’t you say you were gonna clear this level earlier? Well, come and get me! If you dare.”

You’re bluffing out your ass, Tosh. I stepped forward, but a jolt of pain shot through my ribs. I can only use a little bit of power or I’m gonna risk losing control. Toshi’s body is shot… It’s taking everything he has to maintain that form right now. He’s pushing himself so hard, so goddamn hard to protect everyone, to keep true to the title of ‘symbol of peace’, but I can barely use my fucking power without risking everything. This is such bullshit.

My hand clenched around the handle of the dagger. Gramps… if you were here, what would you say? What would you do? Would you be proud of me? Disappointed? Angry? No… you were the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever known. You would take me into your arms and tell me how proud you are because I did my best, right? But…

I’m not doing my best. I’m holding back because I’m scared. I’m so goddamn scared, Gramps.

“Man, this is… intense.”

“As I expected, there’s no reason for us to fight now, he’ll handle this.”

“Come on, Midoriya! We should regroup with the other guys! The last thing we wanna do is get taken hostage or get in his way.”

“You too, bitch. You’re hurt.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Izuku. He knows. He knows that Toshi is at his limit. He’s gonna do something stupid again.

“What, are you scared?” Toshi kept provoking them.

Tomura started to scratch frantically at his throat. “If only Nomu were here, he’d rush you right now. Pound you into the ground without giving it a second thought!”

Kurogiri leaned toward him, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. The once unconscious villains are starting to wake up, too. Shit.

“I think All Might can hold his own against those two main guys. Let’s make sure these dudes don’t hurt anybody else!” Red declared, taking a fighting stance.

“Will you two be joining us?” Peppermint asked.

Just then, Tomura rushed at Toshi. “Consider this revenge for what you did to Nomu!”

My blood started to boil and I pushed myself forward, letting out a scream of pain and frustration as flames engulfed my entire body, propelling me forward. It hurts so goddamn bad. It’s too hot, I can’t control the temperature anymore! It’s all or nothing… there’s no going back!

There was a flash of green to my left. “Don’t you touch All Might, you stupid villain!”

A warp opened in front of him, Tomura’s hand reaching out for his face.

I can’t… control it anymore, but I… I…

“Dragon…” I felt the tattoo on my back come to life, shifting as its claws dug into my shoulder blades. I have to do this quickly. The flames around my body grew as I cocked my arm back, my fist colliding with the palm of his hand. His fingers clenched around my fist, the skin starting to flake off as he used his quirk.

“Young Jen, don’t!”

“…Unleash!!” A large blast of power shot from my hand, followed by a loud roar that shook the dome. The flames exploded, shoving everyone away from me as they morphed and molded into a flaming dragon. It slammed Tomura against the ground, splitting the concrete. “Pepper… mint…”

Darkness claimed my mind.

I blinked, finding myself standing in darkness. There was nothing around me, nothing but an inky blackness that stretched on and on. My skin felt hot, but my chest felt like ice. The pendant…

I tugged it from my shirt. It was glowing a soft white and felt like ice against my palm. What the fuck is happening? Where am I?

“That is the question, isn’t it.” A male voice echoed through the darkness.

I narrowed my eyes, turning in circles as I scanned my surroundings, but I couldn’t see anything. “Who the fuck are you?”

“You lost control of yourself.”

“Che. What the fuck do you know?”

“I know everything about you, little Winchester.”

“Care to fucking enlighten me?” I growled, my eyes snapping around.

“I’m afraid you’re not yet strong enough.” He paused. “I am unable to show myself to you unless you have full control over your power. Time is running out, little Winchester.”

“The fuck does that even mean?”

“You must get stronger and inherit the burden of your family. Only you have the power to stop Onodero’s return.”

“Hah? The fuck is an Onodero? And what fucking burden? Oi, answer me!”

But the silence rung in my ears. He didn’t answer me.

それ以上に上昇 ☆ Third Person

Todoroki’s eyes widened as her strained voice reached his ears, but he and the other boys were frozen in place at the flaming dragon that hovered above her body, roaring angrily as it set the world ablaze around it. Her body was covered in black flames, burning her skin and eating through her jeans.

She was no longer in control of her quirk.

Toshi cursed, his fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t have the strength to stop her and with Aizawa out of the picture… he didn’t know how to handle this situation.

Todoroki bit his lip as he remembered her haunting words, ‘If I lose control of my quirk… you gotta freeze my body, understand?’ He didn’t like the idea, but he saw no other option. His fists clenched as he stepped forward. Ice surged forward from his right foot, approaching her body at an alarming speed. The dragon noticed, breathing fire at the ice and beating its wings quickly, the gust of wind making him stumble backward.

His eyes narrowed as he lowered his body to the ground. ‘Sorry about this, Winchester…’ His hand swept around his body, sending a wall of ice barreling toward her. The dragon roared loudly, flipping in the air before dive-bombing straight into her body. She screamed in pain as the flames absorbed into her. The sound of glass breaking reached his ears as the shattered pieces of her tank top appeared around her, slowly molding together on her body.

Her body was smoking, skin bright red as she fell to the ground.

Tomura’s right arm was badly burnt. When he tried to stand, he was shot once in each of his limbs. The pros had arrived, but even they couldn’t prevent the warp gate from fleeing the scene with Tomura.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

My whole body is numb and I can’t move.

My eyes fluttered open, a barely audible groan passing my lips as light filled my vision.

“Take it easy, kid.”

That’s Snipe’s voice. I’m on his back?

His hands squeezed my thighs softly, a comforting gesture on his part. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get you to Recovery Girl. You’ll be fine.”

I took in a few short gasps of breath, my body jolting from the pain in my ribs. “Is… everyone okay?”

“All of the students are fine, with the exception of Izuku Midoriya. He’s being taken to Recovery Girl with All Might.” He paused a moment. “Eraserhead and Thirteen are in more serious condition and have been rushed to the hospital.”

It took some serious coaxing on my part, but I finally managed to lift my arms to wrap around the front of his neck, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry… for not being stronger…”

He squeezed my thighs again. “It’s not your fault, kiddo.”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Well, I guess I won’t scold you for him being back here since it wasn’t your fault.” Granny sat at her desk, her voice soft as she looked over the three of us.

“I’m not sure yet, but I think I shortened my time limit again with that fight.” Toshi was laying in the bed closest to her desk, his legs too long to fit the bed properly. “I hope I can at least still hold the form for an hour.”

“I’m so sorry…” Izuku was in the bed beside him, right under the window. An I.V. was connected to his arm, the soft dripping filling the room.

“Well, no use worrying.” Toshi sat up. “These things happen.”

I was lying in the bed across from Midoriya, the curtains drawn over the window. To be honest, I’m not really sure how I’m feeling right now. Helpless, maybe? No, that’s not quite it. I feel… confused as all hell. And I feel bad for Toshi. And Aizawa and Thirteen. Those three took the most damage because I wasn’t strong enough to help them. And then I lost control… I’m fucking lucky no one got hurt because of me.

The door slid open and a man in a trenchcoat entered, removing his fedora as he closed the door behind him. “Excuse me. Hi, All Might. Been a while.”

“What the hell?” Toshi spit up blood in surprise. “I didn’t know that you were investigating.”

“Woah, All Might! It’s okay he’s seeing you like this?” Izuku panicked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it’s fine. This guy’s alright. Naomasa Tsukauchi. My best friend on the police force, he’s legit. I trust him.”

“Haha, that’s quite an introduction. Sorry to cut to the chase, but we could really use any information you might have.”

“Hold on, before all that. Tell me all the students are okay! And Aizawa – er, Eraserhead. And Thirteen.”

I pushed myself up, also eager for that answer.

“Not counting these two,” He waved his head toward me and Izuku. “The only student injuries were scrapes and both of the teachers are in stable condition right now. Relax.”

We all breathed a sigh of relief at the news. Zawa… I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.

“That’s good to hear,” Toshi responded.

“If you heroes hadn’t risked your lives, the students never would have made it. You three saved that entire class of kids today.”

My eye twitched in annoyance. Ex-fucking-cuse me? What the fuck are me and Izuku, fucking chop liver? I mean sure, we didn’t do much, but at the very least we acted as damn good distractions. I think I did a good job acting as a punching bag in place of those kids. At least give us credit for that, you bastard!

“You’re not seeing the whole picture, Tsukauchi. Those students also risked their lives. They fought as hard as us.”

“Thank you, All Might…”

“Yeah, thanks for rememberin’ us peasants!” I grinned, giving him a thumbs up. Izuku smiled at that, which was a nice change from the sad expression he’s had since he woke up.

Toshi smiled at us. “I don’t think there’s ever been a group of first-years who experienced a real fight like this so early in their training. They not only survived, they learned what it means to be a pro. Those villains made a mistake attacking them. This class is strong. They’re filled with courage and drive.”

Pride swelled within me at his words. Man, you can be so cool sometimes, Tosh! I exchanged a look with Granny and she sent me an encouraging smile, nodding her head.

“Mark my words; they’ll become great heroes.” Toshi gave us both a proud smile, giving us a thumbs up.

I couldn’t hold back the bright smile spreading across my face as I fell back onto the bed, hands folded behind my head. No matter what, I’ll keep getting stronger and pushing myself to my limit and beyond.

For you Gramps, and… for you, Toshinori.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

I glanced at Toshi as he pushed open the door to Aizawa’s hospital room. He was lying in bed, both arms covered with thick bandages. His face was also covered, leaving slits for his eyes and nostrils. He glanced at us with tired, half-lidded eyes when we entered.

I smiled softly, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “You look like hell, Zawa.”

“I don’t even have the energy to glare at you right now.” He spoke, his voice muffled by the bandages. Toshi sat in the chair beside the bed, while I sat on the side of the bed, bringing my knee up and turning my body so I could face both of them. They were giving me their undivided attention.

I cleared my throat, focusing my attention on a loose piece of thread on my jeans. “During the Quirk Assessment test, I freaked out. I told you that I didn’t know why or what happened, but that was a lie. Dark Shadow, Fumikage’s quirk… he looks a lot like that damn warp gate, Kurogiri. The day that I arrived in this world… I had returned home to find Gramps on the floor, dead. Stabbed to death. There were two men there that day. That fucking dickbag Gravedigger, the one that looks like Golem that I fought – he’s the one that killed Gramps -, and Kurogiri.”

My hands balled into fists and Toshi reached forward, resting a bony hand over my own.

I took a deep breath. Damn it feels nice to be able to breathe without pain. “Kurogiri’s body filled the living room, it was all I could see as he warped me away from my home. When Shadow surprised me that day, something in me just… snapped. I saw the darkness again, and Gramps’ lifeless body flashing in my mind and I just… I dunno, I blacked out for a minute or somethin’. It sounds pretty stupid now, kinda childish…” I scratched my cheek. “Sorry for lying to you guys.”

“It’s not stupid, young Jen. It was a traumatic event, it makes sense that you wouldn’t want to relive it by talking about it.”

“I guess,” I leaned my head back to stare at the white ceiling. “He knew my name… Kurogiri. Said he came to take me back home. I have a feeling that I wasn’t meant to land in front of you, Tosh. I broke out of the warp, no fucking idea how. And during the fight at the USJ, when he scattered the students across the facility, he dropped me right in front of Tomura. The bastard said I look just like Alissa, said it in a real creepy way too. And then he said I may look like her but I don’t have her personality. Like, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Bastard. He was also adamant that Gravedigger not kill me.”

The two exchanged a look and Aizawa sighed deeply.

“They were gonna take me, weren’t they?”

“Most likely, yes…” Toshi lowered his head.

“Why did he want me alive, though? You can’t get revenge on someone that’s dead. They went out of their way to find me in a different fucking world and bring me back here, but why? Just to kill me? That seems like a bit of a stretch.”

Toshi’s hands formed fists around his baggy pants.

“Tell her,” Aizawa grunted, closing his eyes.

I watched Toshi, but he refused to meet my gaze as he spoke up. “I wasn’t… completely honest about your mother.”

A drop of sweat rolled down my cheek. Oh, fuck me…

“While it is true that Alissa was a pro hero… she wasn’t always one. She… was a villain for most of her life.”

“A… villain?”

Bitch, huh!?

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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#rise above it #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #series #anime #writing #creative writing #writeblr #scenario #scenarios #anime scenarios #anime scenario #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #anime fanfic #anime fanfics #first person

[asofterfan]

Winter Winds

Chapter 5: Come With Me Now

Previous ~ Next

Summary: Remy blinks, and suddenly Toby has managed to weave himself into their life. And they’re not sure that’s a good thing.

Warnings: Remy’s unhealthy drinking habits

Remy groaned as their phone buzzed next to their ear. They half-heartedly shoved it off the bed, hearing it land with a soft ‘thud’. However the buzzing continued. Sighing in annoyance, they pushed themselves up onto one arm, reaching over to retrieve their phone and unlock it to see a long string of messages waiting for them.

DocOct: Remy

DocOct: Remyyyyy

DocOct: Sleepyhead

DocOct: Do you want a dog?

DocOct: Remy do you want a dog?

DocOct: I have a dog if you want a dog

The final message was an image of Toby, most of his body and face hidden by the large smiling husky he held in his arms, a slight blur around the animal as the dog wiggled happily.

Remy raised an eyebrow, hoping that Toby could sense it.

Sleepyhead: What about me gave you the impression that I should be in charge of any living thing ever?

DocOct: …

DocOct: touche

Snorting, Remy sat up, resigned to starting the day. Looking at the time, they saw it was only a half hour before their alarm was set to go off at noon. They had an appointment at one, so at least that gave them a little time to get ready slowly and get some caffeine in them. Their phone was buzzing again, but coffee first.

Forty-five minutes later, as Remy was walking out of a Starbucks ready to down their second cup since waking up, they suddenly remembered the messages waiting for them. Taking a long sip of coffee, they unlocked their phone to see what else October had sent them.

DocOct: I just want Hermione to be adopted by someone I know

DocOct: so I can see her all the time

DocOct: my boss wont let me take her

DocOct: apparently I’ve “reached the maximum number of animals allotted per employee” :(

DocOct: also I don’t have a yard

DocOct: did you fall back asleep?

Remy shook their head as they typed out a reply.

Sleepyhead: I have a job you know

DocOct: you could still be asleep

DocOct: I literally met you when you were asleep at work

Sleepyhead: you come into MY HOUSE

The bell chimed above them as they entered the shop, Ali glancing up from the front desk and grinning, “Hey, look who’s on time today! If you can manage to do that one more time we’ll have to use two hands to count it.”

“Ha, ha,” Remy drawled, rolling their eyes, “Be grateful I grace you with my presence at all.”

“You’re literally paid to be here.”

“Not enough, I’m not,” Remy winked, and Ali laughed, shaking her head good naturedly.

“Go get ready for your appointment, asshole.”

Tossing their jacket and bag onto the chair in their station, Remy’s phone buzzed again, and they texted absentmindedly as they set up their supplies for the next appointment.

The day passed the same as always. Remy tattooed a watercolor owl on a young woman's shoulder, Brett and Rafa argued in the background over hot sauce brands, Ali harped on Remy to update their portfolio, and Cass got roped into picking up their lunch order. The only thing different was that when Remy’s phone buzzed on their table from time to time, Remy actually responded whenever they had a chance throughout the day.

This fact did not escape Cass’ attention, the petite woman peeking over the dividing wall and between their stations near the end of the night as Remy’s phone vibrated again.

“Someone’s popular today,” she hummed with a devious look in her eye.

“Bitch, I’m popular everyday,” Remy raised an eyebrow at her in a challenge, which she gladly took up.

She skipped out of her cubicle and came to stand at the front of Remy’s station, “Oh come on, you never get this many texts, and you definitely never respond so timely. I once texted you to ask if you could cover a shift and you texted me back two weeks later.”

Remy frowned, “Hey, you gotta earn my attention hon,” they waved their hand dismissively, “I got places to be, things to do. No time for chitchat.”

“You’ve got time for someone,” Cass glanced pointedly at Remy’s phone, “Somebody finally tame the shrew?”

“Ew, don’t use Shakespeare to insult me.”

“I’m not insulting you!”

“And I’m not two seconds from keying your car,” Remy smirked, “See? Saying things is easy.”

Cass rolled her eyes, moving to walk back into her station, “Are you nicer to your penpal, or are they just a masochist?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll wise up soon,” Remy hums with a smile, turning back to their computer. The conversation ends, and both artists return to their work, but Remy is a little slower in responding to their phone for the rest of the day.

~

Eventually, night falls. The shop is closed up and Remy’s coworkers go for a drink that Remy declines to join in on. As the group disappears around the corner, Remy leans against the wall next to the shop, sighing and pulling out a cigarette. They don’t really know what they want to do. Cityscape doesn’t appeal the way it normally does, but the idea of returning to their apartment makes them pull out a second cigarette moments after finishing the first.

They’re debating just wandering the city without a destination when their phone buzzes in their pocket.

DocOct: This bar is so weird

DocOct: Like SO WEIRD

DocOct: It’s terrible

DocOct: Come join me

The next text is an address.

Remy exhales the smoke in their mouth slowly, considering their options. Their fingers tap anxiously against the phone, and Cass’ words ring in their head. They’re not dumb. They know this isn’t going to end well.

Sleepyhead: Weird bars are the best ;P be there in 10

But they don’t want to go home, either.

~~~~

“What the FUCK Octagon?”

Snapping his head up from where he was leaning against the bartop in boredom, Toby’s face split into a wide grin, “Remy! You’re here!”

“Yeah and I can already tell it was a mistake!” They put their hands on their hips, eyes narrowed, “What the fuck is this place? Why is there weird anime being projected on the wall? Why are there cosplayers? Where the fuck am I??”

Toby laughed heartily, “It’s a popup bar for some anime I can’t pronounce that came out a while ago.”

“Do you watch said anime?”

“Nah.”

“Then why are we here?”

“Well~,” He drew the word out as he smirked, “I’m here, because one of my coworkers and I are playing “popup bingo” and this gets me one square closer to winning a wholesale bulk box of lint rollers-”

“There is so much to unpack there-”

“-but you,” he twirled his finger as he pointed at Remy, not allowing them to detract the situation, “are here because you wanted to see me~.”

That had Remy’s thoughts screeching to a halt.

“That is just, just blatantly untrue!!” Remy stuttered out, pouting dramatically, “I came because you said the word ‘bar’ and alcohol is a thing I enjoy.”

“You could have gone to any bar, though,” damn him and that stupid pretty smile, “but you came to this one because it’s where I said I was.”

FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK

Remy relaxed their shoulders, bringing one hand to rest on the bar and tilting their head to the side, very consciously putting on their best “cool and casual” air.

“I came for the trainwreck,” they smiled innocently, “I haven’t found a reason to stay though.”

They made an exaggerated show of turning around and slowly walking away. Finally Toby sighed loudly.

“Fiiiiine I’ll buy the first round.”

Remy spun back around on their heel, grinning victoriously, “A man after my own heart.”

“Damn straight.”

“Just for that you’re buying me two drinks.”

Toby laughed, not looking particularly perturbed at the situation, “Two drinks but one of them is a beer.”

“Deal,” Remy slid into the seat next to Toby at the bar.

~~~~

“I need to move to a different shop.”

“Like HELL you are,” Remy wasn’t sure how Ali even heard the statement he had muttered under his breath, but she came rushing in from the staff break room, glaring at the taller punk, “You aren’t going anywhere until you get through your current scheduled appointments! You made a blood oath!”

“What? When??”

“Remember that time you were so tired you accidentally stapled your hand instead of the client forms?”

“That’s not a blood oath!”

“You bled for the shop, the pact is sealed.”

“Uh…..” Toby raised his hand slowly from where he stood just inside the front door, drawing the attention of the two tattoo artists, “I can come back later? Patton said your shift ended at seven on Wednesdays...”

“Goddammit Patton,” Remy cursed, “he should know better than to give my schedule out to stalkers.”

“He does.”

“He ships it.”

“And besides” he pointedly ignored Cass’ comment, “my shifts not over ye-”

“Oh yes it is,” Ali chimed in.

Remy whipped his head to look at his boss in betrayal, “Excuse me? Two seconds ago you were talking about how you owned my ass or something so I could never leave.”

“You can’t stop working here,” she clarified, “but you can leave when your shift is over. Which it is.”

“But I’m still doing stuff!” Remy gestured to the sketchbook in front of him.

Ali crossed her arms stubbornly, “You’ve done your work for the day, and you’ve already got overtime this week. Go have fun with your fan boy.”

Rolling his eyes, Remy stood and roughly shoved his things into his bag, “You know, you’re my boss. You don’t have to make dumb excuses when you’re sick of me.”

“Remy-” Ali called after him, but he was already heading out the door.

“Sorry, I’m off the clock, see you tomorrow~,” he sang as he slipped out of the shop.

He heard the bell chime a second time and footsteps jog to catch up with him, “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Toby said quietly, remorse heavy in his voice.

Part of him wanted to snap at him. It was on the tip of his tongue to prattle about how if Toby really didn’t want to cause trouble then he should get lost, how he’d been nothing but trouble since day one, how of course there was going to be trouble when he kept showing up and Remy still didn’t know why.

But…

The words died on his tongue. A different part of him whispered that he didn’t really mind Toby’s brand of trouble.

So instead, Remy grinned and bumped his hip against Toby, “~I knew you were trouble when you walked in~”

He barked out a laugh, “So shame on me~.”

Remy rolling his eyes, shaking his head fondly as Toby chuckled. After about a block Toby spoke up, “Sooooo,” he drawled, “Where are we going?”

“What’s with all this ‘we’ business? I am a Goddamn island, hon.”

“Well call me Castaway,” Toby purred, sliding closer to Remy’s side.

“Prepare to starve, bitch.”

“WILSONNNNNNN-”

“Jesus Christ, shutthefuckup!” Remy shoved Toby’s shoulder, cutting off his dramatic wail. Remy ran a hand over his face, trying to look exasperated even as he struggled to hide his smile, “If I let you come with me will you stop making movie references?”

“For now,” he smirked mischievously.

Remy rolled his eyes, “That’s the best I’m gonna get, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” Toby’s mouth popped around the end of the word and Remy snorted.

“There’s a club that just opened near River West,” he shoved his hands in his pockets was he walked, “I’ve been planning to check it out, see if it’s worth adding to my nightlife rotation. No reason not to do so tonight I guess.”

The shorter punk grinned enthusiastically, “Cool! Sounds fun!”

“I’m sure it does.”

“Oh! I just remembered, I have to tell you about this rabbit that we got in today-”

The two walked through the city together, crossing the bridge to the west side of downtown as Toby rambled about his day and the animals they received and the ones given to new homes. Remy hummed in response, smoked a cigarette, offered his priceless sass- for free, nonetheless- so by the time they reached the club Remy felt entitled to a little good karma.

What they got, though, was a plain brick building with a single neon sign and a few groups of drunk teens loitering outside.

“Well,” Remy pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head, “I will admit, this is not a promising start.”

“The… the sign just says “Club”,” Toby commented, pointing to the one word neon sign.

“That’s…” it took a moment for Remy to think of a word, “....succinct.”

“You filtered through a lot of worse words before landing on that one, didn’t you.”

“Shut up and let’s go inside.”

The security barely spared them a glance as they made their way in. Remy squinted at the dim lighting, the flashing lights around the dance floor too dull to really illuminate anything. Meanwhile Toby crinkled his nose as he felt his shoes stick to the floor a little, “You said this place just opened, right? How are their floors already so gross?”

“What the hell is this music?”

“It’s freezing in here, did they bother insulating the building at all?”

Remy made a face of disgust, “I need a drink, STAT.”

“Or maybe we could just go somewhere else?” Toby suggested as they made their way over to the bar.

“Not without some alcohol in my veins we’re not,” he pouted as he pushed his way to the front, ordering a tequila shot as Toby stood behind him. “I’m off work, that means I get to finally have some fun,” he paid for his shot quickly, turning back to face the other punk.

Toby shook his head fondly, “You need a hobby.”

“I have a hobby!”

“Drinking isn’t a hobby.”

“No, it’s a game and I’m winning.”

“That’s called alcoholism. Also you still need a hobby.”

Remy smirked sharply, “You can get your own hobby if you have such a problem with mine,” he stared Toby in the eye as he downed the shot, pointedly ignoring the chaser.

Toby held his hands up in a peacemaking gesture, “I don’t have a problem with it,” he raised an eyebrow, “I just think you could stand to get out more. Get a change of scenery,” he grinned mischievously, “If nothing else it would make my hobby or tagging along with you more interesting.”

“I knew you had ulterior motives,” Remy shook his head, laughing lightly. Looking around, he scrunched his nose as he took in the mass of people dancing overly risque in the center of the room, “Ugh. How are they dancing to this trash? Moreso, how are they still keeping up the weird sexy shit? How is this bizzare techno-country garbage not an instant mood killer? Allosexuals make no sense.”

“Hey, I’m confused too. I admire their tenacity though?” he replied uncertainly.

“I don’t. I am judging very harshly.”

“That’s your default though. It’s like you have resting judgy face except it’s not just your face.”

“Damn straight,” Remy flagged down the bartender and ordered a beer, “This is not the kind of club you experience sober.”

Snorting, Toby leaned against the bar next to him. Once his drink arrived, they both stayed by the bar, neither wanting to venture out onto the floor. Remy sipped on his drink, and after a few minutes Toby took out his phone and began tapping on the screen nonchalantly. When the first beer was finished, Remy wasted no time ordering another. Turning to October, Remy shook his head and tsked, “You are at a club surrounded by beautiful people,” he gestured mostly to himself, “and you’re on your phone? Honestly, you look like a baby boomer meme right now.” Toby’s only response was to turn and stick his tongue out, Remy giggling as he took his beer from the bartender, “Seriously girl, what’s got your attention so fixed? You sexting over there?”

That made Toby pause, his fingers hovering over the screen as he turned to look at Remy with a deadpan expression, “You literally could not be more wrong about what is happening here.”

Remy raised an eyebrow suspiciously as he took a long drink. Toby rolled his eyes as he turned back to his phone, but his lips were twitching towards a smile. The night was young, so Remy felt fine chugging his beer in an attempt to speed things along.

However, that plan was soon foiled. As he neared the bottom of the bottle, Toby gasped loudly, Remy choking a bit on his drink in surprise. He was still coughing and sputtering as Toby smacked at his arm to get his attention.

“Dude, holy shit there’s a pikachu like two blocks away we gotta go!!”

“Excuse me??”

Toby ignored his bewilderment, instead grabbing his wrist and tugging him towards the exit. Once they reached the door, Toby released him in favor of sprinting down the street. Later, Remy would question what happened next, unable to find any logical reason for why he did what he did.

He ran after him.

Darting down the street, his long legs caught up quickly, allowing him to jog a few feet behind Toby as he raced down the sidewalk. After a couple blocks, he skidded to a stop, Remy nearly running into him as he quickly started tapping at his phone. Panting lightly, Remy glanced over his shoulder.

Pokemon Go was open on the screen, a pikachu standing in an image of the dark street in front of them. Toby muttered softly to himself, “Do not run away, do not run away, do NOT run away…” as he tossed a pokeball at the creature.

Remy’s eyebrows were practically in his hairline, “You have GOT to be kidding me.”

“Shhhhh!! I need to focus!” Toby hissed, tossing various items at the pikachu after it escaped the pokeball a second time. Finally, after a few minutes, the pikachu was sucked into the pokeball and stayed there, tiny stars erupting on the screen at the success.

“YES!!” Toby threw his hands in the air in excitement, “Holy shit! I’ve wanted a pikachu for forever! I have to text Talyn, this is awesome!”

“....what year is this?” Remy stated in amazement, “Pokemon Go is still a thing? What? I feel like I’m hallucinating, like was there something in my drink?”

Toby blinked at him in surprise before grinning widely, “Others may have abandoned their quest, but I never will! It’s not enough to want to be the very best, you gotta work for it.”

Remy snorted, shaking his head in disbelief, “You’re a nerd. Like, such a nerd. I don’t even know what to do with this information. I’m going back to the club where people make sense.”

“Oh come on,” Toby skipped in front of him to block his path as he tried to walk away, “that club sucked and you know it.”

“I know no such thing,” Remy crossed his arms and pouting, his face clearly illustrating that he did in fact know such a thing.

“The music sucked and the drinks were subpar and overpriced. I’m pretty sure most of the people there were underage and didn’t even need fake IDs to get in. And you can try to deny it, but you would have left within half an hour even if I hadn’t run off. Your standards are too high.”

Fuck. He had Remy there. “You’re…. Not wrong….” Remy grumbled.

“Here, hold on...” Toby looked down at his phone, tapping a few times before stating, “there's a bar I've been wanting to check out for a while that’s about half a mile away. We can go there instead!”

Remy frowned, “Can’t we go somewhere closer?”

“This place has really good reviews, and I heard they do fun cocktails. It’s not that far. Pleeeeeease?” Toby pleaded, hands clasped together as he bat his eyelashes up at the taller punk.

Rolling his eyes, Remy shoved him away lightly, “Alright, okay, we can go to your dumb bar.”

“Yes!” Toby threw his hands up in success, “We’ll be there in no time, half a mile isn’t that far. And it’s such a nice night!” He gestured to the cool air around them, not too hot or too cold, with clear skies above them. Remy hummed in agreement, as they began walking.

At first they walked in casual silence, Toby occasionally glancing at his phone while Remy lit a cigarette. But, by the end of that one single cigarette, Remy’s boredom and restlessness hit.

The tattoo artist groaned, hunching over in exaggerated exhaustion, “Ugh, we’ve been walking for forever-”

Toby rolled his eyes, “It’s been less than ten minutes-”

“-and we’ve passed like four bars already!”

“-well, we’re going to a specific one, so-”

“What exactly is this place anyway?” Remy leaned over to look at Toby’s phone, but he pulled the device to his chest to hide the screen.

“You’ll see when we get there!”

Remy narrowed his eyes in suspicion. The two stared at each other, each daring the other to make a move. After a moment of consideration, Remy nodded to himself. Then he lunged for the phone. Toby shrieked in surprise, twisting as Remy’s arms flailed around him, batting at his hands and stumbling as Remy leaned his weight on him. Desperately, he tried to scramble away, holding the phone out at arms length, but it was useless against the taller punk. Remy stretched his arm out, snatching Toby’s phone from his hand and quickly skipping away, leaving Toby to regain his balance.

Looking down at the screen Toby had tried so hard to hide, Remy gasped dramatically, whipping his head around to send Toby a look of betrayal, “You were just making us walk so you could hatch a pokemon egg??”

Toby held his hands up in a peacemaking gesture, “We only need to go a little farther! And I mean, I was planning on taking us to a bar afterwards, so I didn’t really lie-”

“Yes you did!! You tricked me! Into exercising!!*” Remy clutched his chest with a wounded expression on his face, and Toby snorted as he suddenly remembered that Remy was a theater kid. “Don’t laugh! You dragged me through the city-”

“It was less than half a mile! We’re literally still in the same neighborhood!”

“-and now I’m half-sober! I am half-sober and awake, October! Those are my two least favorite things!”

Seeing that Remy was distracted by his own monologue, Toby darted forward and snatched his phone back, “Alright drama queen, tell you what. Let me finish hatching this egg- which will take like three minutes, maybe- and I’ll buy the next round,” he grinned lopsidedly, “as an apology for deceiving you.”

Remy didn’t think he sounded sorry at all, flipping his hair over his shoulder as he considered the offer. After a moment, he crossed his arms and huffed, “Fine.”

Almost immediately Toby’s grin was replaced with a look of something between surprise and amazement, “Wait, for real?”

Remy raised an eyebrow, “You promised me alcohol, no backing out now. But I swear if that bitch hatches into a rattata you’re paying for my drinks for the rest of the night.”

Toby let out a bark or laughter, “You know what? That’s fair,” he turned and began walking again, Remy swiftly falling into step beside him.

“So…” Remy drawled with a smirk, “What team are you? And I swear to God if you say ‘Instinct’-” Toby laughed, shoving his shoulder as they continued down the street.

~~~

“You’re not allowed to be weird until I’ve finished caffeinating,” Remy stated before Toby could even say hello.

Snorting, Toby slid into the seat across from Remy at the Starbucks he had found him at, “I’m not falling for that, I know you’re never done caffeinating.”

“Worth a shot,” Remy sighed, hiding his grin behind his coffee cup. Glancing over, he frowned slightly at the dark bruises on under Toby’s eyes, more prominent than they usually were, and that was saying something, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“I’m getting some right now~”

“First of all, no. Second of all, I woke up to more messages than usual this morning and also you look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re goddamn welcome.”

Toby rolled his eyes, “I’m fine. Just insomnia,” he took a long sip of his coffee before continuing, “I’ve dealt with it for forever, some nights are just worse than others.”

“That sucks.”

He shrugged, “Eh, it is what it is, but enough about that! You didn’t answer my texts this morning!” From there, Toby continued his usual shenanigans- asking Remy about his plans for the day, how his night had been, lamenting the dogs being picked up later in the day because “obviously I’m happy they’re going to good homes but I’m going to miss themmmmm”. He leaned forward to put his head in his hand, sighing about how he needed to finish his book and become famous so he could buy a bigger house and adopt every animal. As he did, Remy couldn’t help find his eyes drawn to the tattoo on his left arm.

He had seen it countless times by this point, the rough text still clearly legible as “28:06:42:12”. Sighing to himself, he set his coffee on the table to interrupt Toby’s rambling, “Okay, it’s been driving me crazy. What are the numbers on your arm?”

Toby immediately gasped dramatically, clutching his hands to his chest, “Do NOT tell me you’ve never seen Donnie Darko!!”

Remy raised an eyebrow, “I don’t think I have to at this point.”

“Dude! It’s an amazing sci-fi, crime, mystery, scary type movie!”

“You just listed a lot of genres-”

“It’s my favorite Halloween movie. It’s a cult classic!”

“I have a policy that I don’t get involved in cults I didn’t start.”

“I’m pretty sure the Cult of Sleep is just a coma.”

“That’s the goal at least.”

Toby rolled his eyes, smirking, “While your attempts at changing the subject are valiant, it is in vain,” pulling out his phone, he started typing furiously, “Especially since, as luck would have it, I was planning on going to a midnight showing of Donnie Darko next week. And now…” he stretched the word out, clicking a few more buttons on his phone, before grinning widely, “you’re coming with me!”

Remy blinked in surprise, but sure enough, Toby turned his phone towards him, the words “Thank you for your purchase!” on the screen above information on time and place of the movie.

“....What?”

“It’ll be fun!” Toby slips his phone back into his pocket before clapping his hands in excitement, “It’s so trippy! But like, they’re screening the director’s cut, which is SO much better than the theatrical version, because like certain things will actually make SENSE like why would they cut out- I don’t want to spoil anything but like it was dumb how they-”

“Woahwoahwoah, hold up, gurl,” Remy put his hands up to halt Toby’s lecture, blinking at him in astonishment, “What? I mean you- what if I had plans that night?”

“You never have plans,” Toby raised an eyebrow, “you literally spend every night either at a club, at a bar, or at home.”

“Yeah, I PLAN those things!” Remy insisted, “And did you honestly just buy my ticket? In THIS economy? I can think of a million better ways to spend twelve dollars.”

“I can’t.”

“Don’t you bat your eyelashes at me!” curse Toby for making him smile. Bastard. “Besides, you know if that’s after I have work then you’ll have to hang out with me sober, right?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Me. Sober.”

“Remy you’re sober right now!”

“......”

“REMY.”

“Okay, alright, fine I’ll go to the stupid movie!”

“The AMAZING movie.”

“You’re gonna regret this~” Remy sang as he stood, grabbing his bag to make his way out of the shop.

Toby just shook his head, calling after him, “I’ll text you the details!”

~~~~

“What…. did I just watch?”

“RIGHT??”

“No, seriously, what just happened?? Did he actually travel through time? So none of that actually happened?”

“It happened AND it didn’t happen!”

“WHAT?!”

Toby laughed as the two of them exited the theater, Remy holding their head in their hands as they tried to comprehend what they had just watched, “You said it was trippy but DAMN son!”

“But you loved it, right? Tell me you loved it,” Toby pleaded.

“....Well now I don’t want to.”

“Remyyyyyyyy.”

Snorting, Remy shook their head, “Okay, fine, I…. maybe enjoyed it just a bit.”

“Yes!” Toby threw a fist in the air victoriously, “I told you it’d be fun! And hey, I had fun too, even though you’re sober.”

He grinned jokingly, and Remy laughed along nervously, nodding in agreement and deciding not to mention that they had a flask of tequila in their bag that they had been sneaking gulps from ever since they got off work. It was the only way they could think of to calm the anxious energy that waxed and waned in them throughout the night.

Remy stretched as they made their way outside and Toby checked his phone, “Hey, you wanna grab a drink or something? You don’t have work tomorrow, right?”

“Um…” Rey glanced to the side. They really could use another drink, but… “Sorry bud, but I think home is calling. Gotta get to bed so I can stare at the ceiling and reevaluate the concept of time,” they smiled lightly, trying to hide the way their stomach was churning.

It must have worked, cause Toby just chuckled, nodding in understanding, “I feel that. Go get some rest and contemplate existence,” he joked, “Brace yourself for when I make you come over so we can watch it again and discuss theories at length,” he winked playfully, which did nothing to settle Remy’s stomach, an uncomfortable familiarity to the situation.

“I’m always bracing myself when you’re involved.”

“Touche.”

~~~~~~~~~

It became familiar. Remy stopped being surprised when Toby showed up at the end of her shift, or at Starbucks when she was getting coffee, or texted her in the middle of the night. He went clubbing or bar hopping with her, and invited her to movie events at the independent theater downtown. She stopped being surprised, but she didn’t stop feeling a sense of dread. Toby approved of Virgil’s concept, he sent an email full of keysmashes when Remy showed him the final line art, and his tattoo appointment loomed closer.

Every time they hung out, even as Remy laughed and smiled, genuinely having fun with the strange client, she still felt a strange pain in her chest. Each night when she finally headed home, refusing to step foot near Toby’s apartment or let him anywhere near hers, she felt like she had dust in her eyes.

She waited for him to get sick of her shit, for him to ask for something she couldn’t give, for him to stop showing up. But he never did, always looking at her so she could practically see the stars in his eyes, acting like he didn’t need anything else. Remy knew it was temporary, though.

When Remy was with Toby, she couldn’t decided if she felt less lonely or more.

#winter winds #my writing #punk au #punk sleep #punk october #(sleepy hallow) #now we're getting somewhere #alcoholism #alcoholism tw

[theknifetest]

“Psst.”

The first rock bounces off the bars across his cell.

“Psst.”

The second rock clatters as it skids over the stone floor.

“Kennan, I know you can hear me, you asshole.”

The third rock strikes him across the forehead, and he finally cracks one eye open.

Kalysta shoots him a glare, brandishing a fourth rock. And admittedly she’s a pretty good shot, but he’d be more concerned with her aim if she wasn’t currently stuck in the cell across from him.

“Go back to sleep and I’ll wedge this one up your ass,” she warns him, ignoring his snort of amusement. “Kennan, don’t you dare.”

“Fine, alright. Speak your piece so I can go back to my nap.” As if to impress on her just how unimportant this conversation is, he stretches back out on his cot, head atop his interlaced hands.

There’s an exasperated sigh from the other cell, and Kalysta’s projectile bounces harmlessly off his arm.

“Why haven’t you broken us out of here yet?”

“Can’t break yourselves out?” he asks, trying not to smile at the strangling motion she makes at him through the bars. “I thought you and Sand had all manner of tricks up your sleeves for getting out of tight spots.”

“Not for lack of trying.” Kalysta jerks a thumb at the cell next to hers, now empty; the door stands open like an unfinished sentence. “Did you seriously sleep through all that?”

“Maybe. Enlighten me.”

A resigned shrug. “Lysander’s been moved to high security. He burned a lockpick spell on the door and they caught him opening mine.”

“Can’t you just, you know… charm ‘em?” He wiggles his fingers in lieu of any actual spellcasting. “I thought that was your thing.”

“That is my thing,” she spits back, “except when the guards are all robots, who aren’t generally susceptible to the charms of a human woman, so if you’d be a dear and break me out of here, we can go collect our third idiot and maybe still break even.”

“Ask real nice and I’ll consider it.” He sits up anyway; when Kalysta wants something, he’s not generally too far off from granting it, whatever it might be.

Kalysta, admirably, doesn’t miss a beat. Her frustrated expression is gone in an instant, replaced with something seductive and smoky-eyed—the sort of gaze that makes most sentient beings fall at her feet. “Please, Kennan? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“See? That’s all I wanted. Oughtta keep that in mind for next time.” He hauls back for a kick, lighting up the strength sigils on his hip and thigh as he lunges; the door, formerly locked and bolted, snaps off its hinges and crashes to the stone floor.

“Quietly,” Kalysta sighs, too late. “Get me out of here, hero.”

-------

There are two things Kennan knows absolutely and for certain, right at this moment.

One, that no human being in their right mind would fight a room full of mechanical prison guards, armed to the teeth and just bristling with malicious intent.

And two, that he is entirely prepared to fight the entire room full of mechanical prison guards, armed and bristling, with nothing but his fists and a bent steel bar.

“SURRENDER YOUR WEAPON AND RETURN TO YOUR CELL,” one of them orders.

“How about this: all of you go back to your patrols, and you survive beyond the next five minutes,” Kennan counter-offers, cracking his knuckles. “I’m feeling real generous, and I’ve got a—“

Partner? Boss? Friend? Ew.

“—coworker who needs rescuing, so I’d appreciate it if this went as fast as possible.”

“SURRENDER YOUR WEAPON AND RETURN TO YOUR CELL. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN USE OF LETHAL FORCE.”

“I’ll take that as a no, then? ‘S a pity, it was a real reasonable offer.”

“FAILURE TO COMPLY NOTED. STAND BY FOR INCINERATION. THANK YOU, AND HAVE A NICE D—“

Kennan cuts the reply and the jet of fire off with an uppercut, his fist connecting sharply with the robot’s chin to pop its head off in a crackling spiral of orange sparks.

He knows better than to give the other bots time to react; by the time they realize their leader’s been decapitated, Kennan’s already carving his way through their remaining ranks, constellations of tattoos blazing just under his skin.

Strength bolsters his spine, sharpens his movements; he can’t last for long like this, flooded with magical energy, a conduit for some divine fury—but he doesn’t need long to shatter through the gathered ranks of the mechanical guards. He’s a natural disaster in human skin, a destructive whirlwind leaving nothing but debris in its wake.

And the robots are entirely unprepared for dealing with a human who can punch holes through metal armor like it’s tissue paper.

As the last one falls, sputtering softly and fumbling for the hole through its chestplate, Kennan looks the enormous iron high-security door up and down, then knocks twice, leaving dents in the metal.

“If you’re in there, Everstar, stand back.”

“Kennan, wait—“ Kalysta, fiddling with one of the downed robots, straightens and holds up a key.

Oh.

“You’ll be less likely to completely crush him with this,” she says sweetly, patting his shoulder. “Plus, I need you to still be able to fight off the robots upstairs, so don’t burn yourself out on a door when we have the key.”

Kennan rolls his eyes and, with a reluctant breath, lets go of the power he’s holding.

It’s not unlike an adrenaline crash, but there’s an emptiness that comes with letting go of that much magic at once; better people than him have called it a comedown, and maybe they’re not wrong.

Either way, it’s exhausting, so he lets Kalysta get the door.

“About time.” Sand barely looks ruffled, the bastard. “I thought I was going to have to actually work to get myself out.”

“Hello to you too, dear,” Kalysta says.

“Should’ve just left you to rot,” Kennan adds over top of her. “Come on.”

“Coming. Did you two take out the really big security bots upstairs, or are you leaving that for me to figure out?” Sand tugs briefly at the cuffs on his wrists, then flips his middle fingers down to tap the metal, an inverted fuck-you that activates the spells tattooed on his hands and snaps the locks open.

“Left ‘em for you.”

“Didn’t even know they were a thing, really.”

“Of course.” He looks equal parts annoyed and amused. “Fine. Kalysta, darling, you won’t be of much help—“

“Excuse me,” Kalysta says, propping her hands on her hips.

“—until we get to the human part of the guard, dearest, let me finish; Kennan, we’ll need you to get us upstairs and through the bots, but there’s a power source on the backs of the big ones that you can break to take them out fast. From there, we can get up to ground level, and there you can work your magic on the human guards. And while you’re flirting, I’ll grab the security codes we came here for in the first place.”

“Awful lot of trouble for something we could have just punched someone in the face for,” Kennan says under his breath, but he doesn’t mind. 

At least he got a nap in his cell.

#the ib league #kalysta kingsbridge #kennan knightley #lysander everstar