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enviedear · 4 years

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liability → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which y/n slips herself weak love potion daily to get through the wretched sadness she feels she can’t escape. in her mind, she’s a liability. and unbeknownst to her, draco malfoy feels the same.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 3.2k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

tw for depression ; something i have so please know i understand if you’re going through it. my messages are always open if you need a friend. be good to yourself and if this may trigger you pls don’t read it. all the love, olivia <3

pls enjoy this angst, and also please ignore the science behind love potions in this fic.

after cedric had been killed, life for you wasn’t the same. the two of you were the best of friends. you did absolutely everything together. cedric helped you be the very best you.

after him, life seemed grey, dull, and monotonous. you didn’t have anyone to talk to.

your friends pulled back from you and said they made a mistake thinking they could take you on, and you understood. some days you could be so happy and carefree and the very next minute you drifted into the dark abyss that was your mind. you were a little much, for everyone.

over the summer you began reading to take your mind off of cedric. well, not him, just what happened. you forced yourself to read every book in your home. from books about the stars, to poetry, to books on theories, and finally your textbooks.

it was one of the hottest days of summer when you came across the chapter on love potions. it gave you an idea. the chapter clearly stated that the drinker of the love potion would become infatuated with the person who gave it to them. who’s to say you couldn’t become infatuated with yourself.

of course you didn’t want to become a narcissus, so you brewed a very weak version.

it worked. for a whole day you were happy. you ate, laughed, and were so good to yourself. you were in love with the girl you were. you found yourself slow dancing alone, stroking your own cheek, being there for yourself.

of course, it didn’t last and by night time you were back to feeling all too much. the type of feeling where you’re silent and unmoving, the world a blur but your thoughts in a deathly focus.

it was that night you decided that you’d take a weak love potion everyday until your bad feelings went away on their own. you were tired of being the girl people pushed away because they didn’t understand.

so you did exactly that. your entire fifth year consisted of flying under umbridge’s radar. thanks to harry potter and the order, that proved easier than expected. no one suspected you.

now, you’re in sixth year. everyone is convinced you’re happy again and they don’t treat you like some sort of liability. of course, they don’t know that every night you cry and feel exactly like you did in fourth year. but that’s ok, you can handle the nights as long as the days are good. you find it to be a cycle now. in the mornings you take the potion and it’s almost like the best part of yourself fights the whole day to take care of you, but by night, she looses to the worst part of yourself.

“y/n would you like to go to hogsmeade today?” your friend, cece asks.

“i would love to, but i have to study for transfiguration.” you sigh, giving your friend a sorry look.

“ah it’s ok, you’re taking advanced this year. you’re right to study. mara and i will make sure to bring you back some things from honeydukes.”

you smile and thank your friend before making your way to the astronomy tower. cedric was the one to introduce you to studying here, and you never stopped.

you take a seat on the steps and begin studying multicorfors.

just as you were getting up to practice the spell, a body runs into you, causing the both of you to tumble to the floor.

you look to your side and spot draco malfoy, who, besides being herbology partners one year, you didn’t really talk to.

“are you okay, draco?” you ask, helping the boy off the floor.

he smoothes out his suit jacket, “yes, l/n.”

you scoff a bit and raise your eyebrows at him, “are you sure because it’s unlike you to stumble about. you’re just too good for that.”

draco glowers at you.

“okay i’m sorry. i didn’t want to be here anyway,” you gesture around the room, “the astronomy tower is now yours.”

he doesn’t say anything as you exit the room and you shrug it off.

‘as if draco malfoy could be pleasant’, you think to yourself, annoyed.

once you approach the hufflepuff common room you feel the effects of your potion begin to wear off. you curse yourself a little for not drinking enough potion to last you until dinner and decide to run by the kitchens to grab something before bed. there’s no way you can sit through dinner like this.

by the time you make it to your dorm room you feel heavy with thoughts. you curl into your bed crying and stare at the stone wall until you fall into a dreamless sleep. like most nights.

the next morning is a saturday and you wake up early, before your dorm mates, and grab the bottle of love potion under your bed, hidden in a locked trunk. you down the small bottle and watch it refill thanks to the spell you placed on it, and put it back, hidden away.

you decide to head to breakfast early and grab a muffin to take with you to the astronomy tower. you need to master multicorfors before your test on tuesday.

a half hour into your practice, you’re doing the spell almost perfectly. though, changing your skirt into pants proves to be your downfall. you just can’t get it.

“i need the astronomy tower.” a voice says from behind you.

you turn to see draco malfoy, again wearing a fitted suit.

“you can study while i’m here draco.” you say pointedly.

“i don’t want to.” he scowls.

you roll your eyes, “then study elsewhere.”

“no. you can leave.”

“listen draco, i can argue with you all day, but i’m not moving until i’ve mastered multicorfors. so either you stay here with me or you go somewhere else.” you groan.

he doesn’t reply but takes a seat on the steps, taking out his wand and transfiguration book.

you smile to yourself, happy to win the argument, and go back to trying to change your skirt into a pair of pants.

“you’re too rigid with your movements, l/n.” draco tells you.

“can you show me then? i can’t figure it out.” you ask.

“no. just flick your wand more. it’s not that hard.” he says.

you give him a deadpan look, “please. this is the last part of the lesson i need to get. if you show me i can leave sooner.”

draco groans but gets up and walks over to you.

“give me your hand.” he instructs.

you do as you’re told and he grabs your hand, showing you the correct way to move your wand. his hand is warmer compared to yours and you like the way he warms you up. it’s also extremely soft, almost as if he’s never had a single callous.

“you have soft hands.” you tell him, grinning.

surprisingly draco lets out a small smile, “you’re supposed to be paying attention.”

“i can’t. you have baby soft hands.” you joke looking up at him.

“i just use lotion. you should try it sometime, your hands feel like a house elves’.” he teases.

you let out a deep laugh, “who knew draco malfoy was such a comedian?”

he feigns shock, “i made those hilarious ‘potter sticks’ badges back in fourth year for nothing then?”

you suck in a unnoticed breathe at the mention of fourth year before smiling,“okay i suppose that should have been a hint. but it was mean.”

draco and you continue to talk and practice transfiguration up until dinner. the time flying while the two of you are together.

“would you like to eat dinner up here? i can grab us some things from the kitchen.” you ask him, packing your bag up.

“i actually have something to do, but maybe some other time. let’s meet here again tomorrow though, i can help you with transfiguration.” he says.

“draco malfoy fraternizing with a muggle-born hufflepuff. tsk tsk.” you joke before agreeing and heading to dinner.

you don’t miss the eyeroll he gives you for that remark.

“where were you all day, y/n?” mara questions as you sit down beside her.

“astronomy tower. i was practicing transfiguration. you’ll never guess who ended up helping me either.” you beam, grabbing a plate for yourself.

“who helped you? i’m guessing cormac mclaggen, he seems to have a crush on you.” cece says.

your face contorts in disgust, “no, definitely not. that guy is a creep. it was malfoy actually, and he’s surprisingly funny.”

mara and cece give each other a look before mara speaks, “you do know people are saying he’s a deatheater, right?”

you roll your eyes, “malfoy is not a deatheater. i think a deatheater would oppose to helping a mudblood.”

your friends shrug and dinner continues on with normal conversation.

“cece and i are going to study in the library before bed if you want to join us.” mara says, grabbing her books.

“i’m okay, plus i’m super tired. i’ll see you at the dorm.” you smile, before parting with your friends.

slipping into your bed you begin to feel the come down of your potion. tonight your pain hurts even more than usual. you feel so trapped and can’t seem to catch your breath. you keep thinking back to the last time you had spoken to your best friend.

it was a week before the maze and he was sitting with you by black lake.

“y/n i promise you once i win, i’m taking you and cho to the fanciest restaurant i can find and we’ll all celebrate.” he had grinned, leaning against a tree.

you giggled and shoved him playfully before saying, “if you don’t win i’m still expecting that dinner.”

“i’ll win. i’ve been practicing so much.”

“i know, you barely ever have time to see me now.” you had sighed.

“y/n i’m sorry. i promise that after all of this is over, you and i are going to see each other everyday. i can’t live without you, kid. you’re my best friend.” he soothed, giving you a hug.

you had leaned into him, “forever?”

he laughed, “of course.”

that memory was etched in your brain. you knew it would never leave your mind.

you laid silently crying in your bed as your dorm mates entered to room, ready for bed. they said goodnight to each other before getting into their own beds, assuming you to be drifted off by now, and after a few minutes, their snores are the only sound in the room.

the emptiness of your being feels too much and you’re desperate to escape. you need air. you need something to remind you that you’re alive.

you quietly sneak out of your room, out of the common room, and up the stairs to the astronomy tower.

as you quickly enter the doorway of the tower, a body collides into yours, knocking you back a bit.

when you look up, tears falling out of your eyes, you’re greeted by teary grey ones. draco’s.

he sniffles and steadies himself before asking, “what’s wrong, l/n?”

you can’t seem to find the words. no one has asked you this question in years, and so much is wrong.

all you can do is cry harder.

“you have to breathe l/n. you’re going to upset yourself more, just breathe.” he says, voice breaking.

you try to calm down but nothing is helping. nothing feels real. cedric should still be here. you shouldn’t be this broken. life should be how it was. now it’s just too much.

“i hate it, draco.” you finally cry out.

he wipes the tears from his own eyes, “what do you hate, l/n. talk to me.”

“i hate that i haven’t been the same since fourth year. i hate that my best friend is gone. i hate that i have to worry that everyone around me is going to die, just because of some evil dark wizard. and i hate that i take fucking love potions everyday just to feel okay. i hate it all.” you breathe, finally.

draco raises his eyebrows, “you’ve been taking love potions?”

you nod, weary of your confession.

“i’m sorry y/n.” he mumbles.

your eyes meet his at the mention of your first name. coming from him it seems so genuine. he’s never called you by your first name before.

“you won’t tell anyone will you?” you ask, eyes searching his.

“no, i won’t,” he pauses. “but you should get back to your dorm, i’ll walk you back. a walk might help you calm down.”

you nod and let the boy lead you through the dark castle, lit only by the moon. draco’s steps are lighter than yours, and it causes you to wonder how he learned how to be so quiet. it’s unlike him.

when the two of you reach the hufflepuff entrance you whisper to him, “thank you for calming me down, draco. it means a lot that you would help me.”

in the shadows you see him smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. you bid the boy goodnight, and walk back to your dorm. of course you’re still sad but the sadness is somewhat diluted, thanks to none other than draco malfoy.

you continue to meet with draco daily throughout the months of your sixth year. the two of you finding comfort in each other.

by now, you’re becoming far less dependent on love potions. having someone to confide in proving immensely helpful.

but although you’re getting better, draco only grows worse. you never ask him what’s troubling him. maybe because you’re scared he won’t tell you or maybe because you’re scared to loose the person helping you the most. either way, you still try to help him as much as possible.

today, may the eighth, draco and you have plans to go to hogsmeade to look for a new notebook for you, since your old one is completely used up. you really loved mcgonagall, but the woman sure stressed you out with all the notes she commanded your class to take.

you’ve been waiting patiently for twenty minutes, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight.

maybe he’s still at breakfast? you think to yourself, before heading into the castle to search for your friend.

you peer around the dining hall, coming up short. so you decide to go to the astronomy tower. if you needed draco you could usually find him there.

when you enter the sixth floor, ready to head further up, you hear shouting. curious, you walk toward the noise, which is coming from the boys’ bathroom.

you hesitate going in but once you hear a defensive spell being cast, you draw your wand and bound into the bathroom.

in front of you stands harry potter. he’s crouched behind a wall, clutching his wand and panting. you furrow your brows, and go to question what he’s doing before you see draco emerge and cast the cruciatus curse at him.

before you can tell them both to stop, harry yells out a curse you’ve never heard of before.

“sectumsempra!”

almost instantly, draco falls to the floor, blood pouring out of him.

you’re shocked, and don’t even feel yourself run to him. you don’t hear harry’s apologies. you don’t hear when professor snape rushes in. you don’t hear a thing other than draco’s pained cries.

it reminds you all too much of the chaos of cedric’s death. everything happening too fast.

when snape finally stops the bleeding he instructs you to get back to your common room and keep quiet. you don’t try to fight him on it, and do as you’re told.

after a few hours of worried overthinking, you leave the hufflepuff common room and head to the hospital wing. when you enter the large room, you notice draco immediately. he’s the only one.

“draco?” you call his name, standing beside his bed.

the boy opens his eyes and stares right at you, causing you to cry.

“i was so scared draco.” you cry, placing your hand on your friends chest, feeling his heartbeat. it’s comforting.

“i have to tell you something, y/n, before it’s too late. you just have to promise you won’t tell a soul.” he tells you, voice weak.

“draco you’ve kept my secret over these months. i would never hurt you by telling anyone.” you say.

your friend gives you a weak smile before sitting up in the bed and pulling up his left sleeve, exposing a black ink that contrasts so much from his pale white skin.

“they’re coming here in june. i don’t know the day yet but when i find out i’ll tell you. you have to stay safe, y/n. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.” draco advises.

“you’re a deatheater.” you breathe out, eyes locked to the dark mark on his arm.

you can’t believe the scene in front of you. your draco, a villain that you’ve been so deathly afraid of for years.

“i’m so sorry y/n. it wasn’t my choice. but please promise me that you’ll stay safe. i need you here with me, not gone by the hands of a dark wizard.” the boy pleads, grasping your hand.

you look him in the eyes, “i promise draco.”

he doesn’t let go of your hand and brings it back to his heart.

“i care so deeply for you, y/n. you’re so good. thank you for everything.” he says, faltering.

your eyes are teary when you say, “i love you draco.”

with that you slip your hand out of his and walk back to your dorm. your thoughts seem to be invasive that night. you contemplate grabbing the bottle of love potion you haven’t taken in a month, but decide against it.

you feel cheated. everything had been so perfect. all the excitement you had from running through the nights with the boy you love begin to eat you alive.

it’s not fair for it to turn out like this. the two of you so dependent on each other, but on two separate sides of a war. there’s no way this can end well.

you realize you love draco, as more than a friend. that scares you and so you’re back to thinking that you’re better off on your own.

draco still sits with you in the astronomy tower daily, but the two of you don’t speak much. you, scared of falling deeper in love. and him, too focused on his task.

of course you find yourself loving the boy more and more everyday. the two of you are always embraced when together, and even though it’s unspoken, you know draco loves you too.

it’s the thirtieth day of june, you’re in the astronomy tower alone when draco comes rushing in.

“y/n you have to go, they’re here.” he warns, checking the stairs behind him.

you freeze at his statement. you knew the day would come but you still weren’t prepared.

“y/n! are you listening to me? you have to go.” he shouts.

this is it. this is the final time you’ll see draco before the war officially starts, after this there’s no more innocent days spent together. here you are again, loosing your best friend.

you get up from the floor and walk to draco. you cup his face gently, “take care of yourself. i love you.”

he eases a little and places his hand on yours, “i love you more. i hope you know that.”

and you do. of course you do.

#—myfics !#draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco x y/n #draco x female reader #draco x you #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x slytherin #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts

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swiss-cheeze · 4 years

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Scars || Spencer Reid

Requested: YES/NO

Gender: they/them. None.

Description: based on/set in 10x1 when the team where comparing scars, except Spencer wins.

Warnings: normal CM talk, everything Spencer has been through up to season 10 (possibly missed some but eh).

———

Callahan and J.J. sat in front of each other as the plane murmured in the sky, comparing scars; you eavesdropping in on the conversation of course as Derek came over to sit with them.

“What’re we doing, we talking battle scars?” Derek asked as he slid into the seat with his coffee on the table, “oh yeah, i probably hold the record,” you couldn't help but snort softly; thankfully going under the radar to the people across the aisle from you, “so what’re the rules, i mean are we just talking stitch count or are we going full on, like broken ribs, pistol whips, concussion?” Derek asked, running with the gag.

“You weren't kidding,” Callahan said with a grin to J.J., you grinned at this as you set down the book you were reading and made your way in the final empty seat next to J.J.

“Told you,” J.J. said with a shrug as she smiled at you as a hello.

“Well why don't we start with the most recent huh?” Derek asked, you stayed silent for the most part, “guy hit me in the arm, same guy hit me twice in the chest but i was wearing my vest so he left me some welts and; see these idiots think they can beat me but they cant so, they at least try to hurt me you know?” Derek set the scene as he thought of the next memory of injuries; he looked to you and raised his eyebrows with a grin, “oh! Lets not forget when i got blindsided,” J.J. let out an appreciative ‘mm’, “and thrown out the window,” Derek finished, you did smile at this as you had only been told the story, you hadn't actually witnessed it thus far. Derek turned to Callahan with a grin and nudged the woman's recently shot arm, “welcome to the team callahan,” Derek said as Callahan let out a little ‘ow’; this was now your time to shine.

“May i?” you asked the group respectively, Derek and J.J. nodded for you to continue as Callahan looked at you.

“You? Scars?” she asked jokingly with a grin, you couldn't help but smile.

“No no, unfortunately not mine; Spencers,” you said with a grin as you pointed behind you, the three people around you cocked an eyebrow.

“Go for it (Y/n),” Spencer's voice came out from behind yourself and J.J., you grinned as Derek and J.J. looked to you confused; even they didn't know what was coming. You cleared your throat as a joke and straightened your posture.

“May i present test subject number 323; FBI Supervisary Special agent Doctor Spencer Walter Reid,” you grinned as everyone chuckled at the long title, the snort behind you from the man in question also gave it away as you held up your hand and begun counting on your fingers, “our darling genius here has been abducted,” one finger, “tortured from that abduction for two days,” another finger, “sadly addicted to the drug he had been administered during said torture, though now clean for seven, almost eight years,” another finger, “next i believe he was infected with a worse and more toxic strain of anthrax that kills the carrier within a few hours i do believe,” another finger, “shot in the knee resulting in crutches for three months, a cane for two and finally being able to walk without assistance after 4 surgeries,” another finger, “shot in the arm; two minutes later, if that, his...uh” you paused, unsure if this was something you should share, however the hand that gripped your unused hand made your head turn, Spencer was crouching in the middle of the plane aisle, his eyes saying it was okay; you didnt even realise he had moved, but you continued, “shot in the arm and then less than two minutes later his first girlfriend was shot and unfortunately killed in front of him,” another finger, “has been in a helicopter accident,” another finger, “and last but unfortunately i have a feeling it is not the least; recently shot in the neck just barely missing his carotid artery and having to go in for life saving surgery,” you put up the final eighth finger with a knowing grin; Derek and J.J. where grinning while Callahan had her mouth open like a fly catcher.

“Oh and don't forget,” Spencer interjected, “momentarially died in the shed i was being tortured in before being resuscitated but my captor,” Spencer said to Callahan, the girl sighed and blew out some air with wide eyes.

“Jesus...im…” she was lost for words, you grinned.

“And let's not forget!” you drummed on the table, “putting up with me!” you grinned as you put your hands out and did some wonderful jazz hands. Derek scoffed with a grin, J.J. smiled widely and Callahan looked slightly confused.

“You?” she pointed between you and Reid, Reid now sitting on the empty couch on the opposite side of the aisle, “you two are-?” you cocked an eyebrow as Spencer smiled happily at the realisation.

“Five years,” Spencer said softly, he looked at you with such love and adoration in his eyes; everyone could tell and easily see how in love the two of you are, almost like the honeymoon phase, granted it took a little while for the two of you to get to that comfortable phase (only around six months). Spencer always changed when he saw you; if he was having a conversation he cut it off when you came into his line of sight, his rambling increased whenever you were around, he involuntarily moves to your side, to be close to you or to hold you hand, his pupils dilate, his smile grows wider. God, anyone who was a profiler, even a simple civilian, could see, read and tell how in love with you Spencer was, and you him of course.

“And you’re not married,” Callahan said more as a statement, “I don't see rings, i don't see indents of rings and i don't see tan lines of rings,” the woman said with a grin, Derek smiled as he and J.J. shared a knowing look. You and Spencer simultaneously reached under the collar of your shirts, both of you bringing out silver chain necklaces with beautiful rings on the end.

“Spence has my ring and, well,” you motioned to the ring you wore around your neck, “i wear his,” you smiled as the two of you tucked your rings back under your shirts, “i don't personally like wearing rings, they tug on clothes and get caught and rip things so we both agreed to wear them as necklaces instead and-” Spencer cut you off, not being able to keep the large grin off his face as he talked.

“And instead of us wearing our own we wear each others as a remembrance of our vows, a remembrance of any fights, disagreements or arguments we have and because, as (Y/n) put it,” Spencer brought his fingers into the air as quotation marks, “‘it just feels right’” you grinned at that.

“Remembrance of any fights?” Callahan asked, she seemed so interested.

“If we have any fights or whatnot and need time alone both of us fiddle with the necklace,” as a demonstration you pulled it out and started moving the ring on the chain, “it reminds both of us that we have each other and that no argument can come between the two of us; if it really does get that bad then it's also a remembrance that we would have to take off the necklace to give back to the respective owner and obviously if we can't take off that necklace then we cant let an argument get in our way,” you grinned as you finally took a breath and looked to Spencer teary eyed; of course this got you emotional over this, Spencer squeezed your hand in reassurance.

“You two definitely have something special,” Callahan said with a smile, you nodded not being able to form words as you squeezed Spencer's hand again before giving a nod and moving to sit with Spencer.

“Read to me?” you asked Spencer quietly as Spencer leant his back against the wall, you cuddled between his legs.

“What would you like me to read my love?” Spencer questioned quietly as he kissed the top of your head before threading his fingers through it. You thought for a minute.

“Quantum physics?” you joked causing Spencer to chuckle, “no i joke, um,” you thought for another minute, “how about Arabian Nights?” you questioned, “Aladdin specifically!” you exclaimed, Spencer had berated you on how One Thousand And One Nights (or Arabian Nights) is actually a collection of small tales including Aladdin, SinBad and Ali Baba. Spencer grinned as you made your specific request and kissed your head.

“Get comfortable,” Spencer said with a smile as the two of you moved slightly before he started, “once upon a time in China, there lived a boy called Aladdin”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #jj #penelopie garcia #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #kate callahan #david rossi #x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #reid x reader

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pleasefeedthebirds · 4 years

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A Relatively Deep Dive Into My “Crème de la Crème” MCs - #2. Arminia Weschen

(“Crème de la Crème” is by @hpowellsmith. See my first post in this series here.)

Arminia “Ms. Weschen” Weschen

she/her/hers

Olive complexion and wavy brown hair

Favors conventionally feminine fashion

Domineering

Manipulative

Traditional → Progressive (*In the very end of the game)

Exceptional Poise and Intrigue

Commonplace Spirit, Wit, and Flair

LOADS more info and spoiler content under the cut!

Ooooo Mean Girl alert! After playing through the game twice as relatively well-meaning albeit inherently-morally-questionable-via-flimsy-upbringings-socialized-within-the-cushion-of-wealth characters, I had an absolute blast throwing high regard for redeeming qualities to the wind, and making a full-on self-centered and socially ruthless manipulator.

As the middle child in a sibling spread of five, Arminia felt overlooked for most of her young life, being the only one of her brood who wasn’t excellent at anything tangible. Her parents—busy-bodied magnates—would be exorbitantly rich if they weren’t such spendthrifts. I take them for bristling, insecure types who enable each other to the extreme, and who cater to their children's’ every material want, supposing that it makes up for being busy and distant. They believe in flagrant displays of luxury as proof of status, which is something that imprinted their kids thoroughly, Arminia included.

Making the executive decision that Arminia was “too good” for Holtsfield, they arranged her transference to Gallatin for her final year of college, hoping to expand her education in social graces before coaxing her into the business world, as they had her older brother and sister. Just before the term began, Arminia’s parents were exposed. They were both involved in an embezzlement scheme each (lol classic) and dropped swiftly and irreparably from their prior standing.

Arminia was already conditioned to view society as a tower, but when her parents fell, it suddenly became a matter of sink or swim, win or lose—and the stakes were higher than ever.

So, she takes Gallatin for her own personal jungle gym. She recognizes the system, and chooses to manipulate it as an aspiring expert of “the game.” Never being the type to talk seriously (not trusting anyone enough), she actually thinks that she’s the first of her circles to realize the hypocritical convolutions of high society and social graces. Instead of rebelling, she leans into it all the more, and clings to her realized understanding as an advantage.

Though working for her own benefit usually comes first (typically by emotionally strongarming kids into doing her bidding), Arminia is no stranger to putting others down for cruel amusement, and may step out of her way to do so, only partially in the spirit of preserving her alpha status. She’s a merciless strategist, because that’s what she thinks it means to thrive in the world today, and with quite the competitive streak, she’s determined to stay on top, no matter how lonely it turns out to be.

5’7”, with a soft, pear-shaped body. Her favorite vice is getting scandalous on the side, so she knows how to flaunt it, too.

Has very thick and dark eyebrows. She’s frequently enraged by their presence, and plucks them relentlessly. They always come back.

Is dexterous with makeup. Her lips are naturally thin, so she draws them out each morning, rouges her cheeks, and softens her face’s edges. On weekends, she dabbles in eyeliner.

Her eyes are a very light brown—nearly yellow at golden hour. For her spotty vision, she has prescribed reading glasses, but never wears them, because she doesn’t like integrating things into her aesthetic that are outside of her choice.

Freckled all over. Their allotment becomes more profuse the tanner she gets. She feigns indifference to them, but shifts between liking them (for distinguishing her) and hating them (for distinguishing her) depending on the day.

Suffers something of a protagonist’s condition, living in a self-made belief that everything she does matters beyond compare. She clings to this idea for the sake of feeling important, but generally fails to recognize that other people are every bit as complex as she is.

Has trouble handling her anger. She’s great at hiding it in the moment, but absolutely rampages when she’s alone.

A tragic kissass to all of her teachers. Mr. Griffith raises an eyebrow, but respects her social wit. I don’t think Mr. Blanchard knows what to do with that kind of deference, and so ignores it. Miss Dalca probably likes her moxie, but thinks she’d be better to use it for good, and has called her out on being unnecessarily pointed in class discussions (Arminia loves and hates this). Lady Renaldt likely sees her as adequate, if a bit too brusque toward her fellow students.

Virtue: 74%

Popularity: 87%

Coursework Grade: A

Exam Mark: C

Extracurricular: Gallatin Swans (offensive)

Entanglements: Platonically engaged to Gonzalez. Physically involved with Florin.

Her only real friend is Gonzalez, who she actually confides in. Not totally, though she gets as close as is doable for her. I think Gonzalez is the only one of her peers who genuinely falls for the faux-nice act, and Arminia takes pity. It’s not kind , but at the end of the day, Arminia still takes her for a total idiot. They get engaged for appearances.

Has a physical relationship with the Honourable Florin Kraemer. Florin seems to thrive on trouble, giving as much as receiving, and Arminia takes risks as her favorite vice. However, post-mine conflict, I imagine Arminia’s scarred into changing for the better, and would do her best to encourage Florin to do the same, at least be more conscious of their actions on other people and what their profligacy is capable of.

Cordial with Auguste, who respected her traditionally respectable appearances at Archambault events.

Cordial with Rosario. She and Arminia shot the shit a few times. The princess’s naïveté was easy for Arminia to work around, and say the right thing to. They wouldn’t easily become genuine friends.

So-so with Freddie, who stays out of Arminia’s way. Arminia likes that, so there’s no issue with them.

Treats Karson like a servant, and sees little issue with that.

Could have been friends with Max. I bet she intrigues him for her scandalous-by-moonlight ways, but her faux-pleasantries absolutely would turn him off.

A bully to Delacroix. Says mocking things to him and his interests in a tone that’s just sweet enough to fly below the radar. Gets a sense of her own social security out of doing so.

She and Blaise were utterly abhorrent to each other. Upon the latter’s first introduction as a thorn in her side, Arminia sniped right back at Blaise like a spitting cat for as long as Blaise was around. She gets a smug satisfaction upon her “resignation,” though she acts sad to avoid coming under fire. Later turns to a confused sense of guilt when she learns where Blaise has really been.

Some Choice Plot Pieces (cue spoilers):

Gathered evidence against Mr. Blanchard in compliance with Lady Renaldt.

Has a surprisingly great working relationship with Miss Benton.

Gathered information for Annick against Lady Renaldt (to avoid a smear on her own reputation).

Endgame (cue SUPER spoilers):

Almost ended up working with Lady Renaldt in the mine plot, hoping to turn the situation to her own gain. However, when Karson spilled that Gaspard Breiner died there, and when Lady Renaldt demanded she send Gonzalez, it was too much to comply with.

Sent Gonzalez to the mines (as part of her own plan), but got everyone out.

Barged right into the graduation ceremony.

Went on to study at Reissenger (I imagine on a lacrosse scholarship—fully just to be with Gonzalez).

Planned a trip with Florin over the summer, where I think she’ll get just a bit more worldly before her coming term at university.

#creme de la creme #arminia weschen #if ref #choice of games

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wevegottogetaway · 3 years

Text

Whirlwind Part III - Sirocco

DAY 3

As Aella sits in the campus refectory, her mind is still reeling from her fight with Harry the day before. She fins herself pushing peas around her plate as though the therapeutic movement could help her instill some order among her thoughts. Or just quiet them altogether. Someone like you. The cringeworthy words have been playing on an unfaltering loop since their author lashed them out to her face without a care. Someone like you. She desperately wants to tune it out, but it's like the record is trapped under the broken turntable needle and launched in endless revolution. Someone like y-

A pea is about to fall over her plate from the pushing, when she's greeted by a rowdy Dazzler and a quiet Tigger. The two form quite the complementary duo she notes, their polar dispositions counterbalancing each other in the most endearing way.

"Hiya, dear Aella. I believe it's story time for you!" Daz exclaims after jumping on the seat across from her, a large smile lighting up his face. Aella wonders for a second if it's not stapled to his skin instead; she's never seen Dazzler sport any other expression than pure elation. His singular request stops her musings in confusion, however.

"Story time?" She inquires with a perplexed frown.

"Love, you have no idea how badly my ears want to be graced with the very details of how you whipped Rex's sodding arse." His enthusiasm for such a mundane thing truly amazes her. And admittedly, she quite envies him and his talent for finding happiness in the smallest things.

"Ah yes, the highlight of my week," is all she acknowledges.

"Mine too, had I been there to witness it. That's why I need the next best thing: an exhaustive report of the whole scene." Dazzler explains, tailgating his answer with a suggestive double-nudge of his eyebrows.

"Well, it's nothing much really." She says looking down at her plate. But once she brings her eyes back to her two companions, she realizes they won't waver until she parts with the story. "Let's just say my uncle taught me a thing or two about pressure points, and that knowledge came in handy a couple nights ago." Aella refrains from giving out the full transcript of what really transpired despite Dazzler's request. She doesn't like bragging about such things. Even if Rex's mortified expression did bring her considerable satisfaction, she still hates the fact that she had to get physical with her peer for her to be respected. Besides, she has an inkling Dazzler's imagination is perfectly operational to fill in the blanks.

"Fuckin' hell, I'm gonna dream about this tonight!" True to his words, there's a childlike wondrous gleam in Dazzler's eyes, making his aversion for Rex almost tangible. And Aella can't help but rejoice in knowing she's not alone in her rancor against the jackass. "So you got him good?"

"Sent him to his knees." Her voice is still leveled, though her own delight at the memory is betrayed at the corner of her lips.

"Oh Aella, you are my new favorite person!" Dazzler's jubilation earns him a smile but the sentiment is quickly washed off her face and replaced by a heavy sigh.

"Yeah well, I wish your mate Harry shared the feeling." Aella says dejectedly, the peas once again holding more interest to her battered brain.

"Ah...so it's not all rainbows and unicorns between you two then?"

The question makes her scoff in exasperation."Try like...tornados and trolls. I mean, does the guy even know how to smile?" Aella doesn't want to get worked up about it, but the fact that she has likely 5 more weeks to spend as Harry's partner is quite a hard pill to swallow if he proves to be the prick she thinks he is.

"Hey now come on, he's been trough a lot recently. He's actually a pretty sound guy." The remark sobers Aella's anger for a moment as she remembers the very reason behind her presence at Top Gun. She knows how loss can shatter parts of the soul that makes us who we are, leaving only but time to glue back the pieces. To some extent she understands the void that Harry must be aching to fill, but her compassion for his pain is short lived. Grieve doesn't give anyone the right to act like a senseless prick. Aella can deal with his sullen attitude but in no way she'll ever put up with blatant disrespect for her mere identity.

"Well, sorry if I don't take your word for it, but all I've seen from him is the same cold and sexist shit I've dealt with since I enlisted." She says, moving on from absentmindedly poking the peas to forcefully stabbing them into a green mess.

"Hang on, Harry may have a stick up his arse from time to time, but sexist? That doesn't sound like him." Dazzler is quick to defend his friend. Of course, she interiorly sighs though she has to admit his disbelief over Harry's allegedly misogynistic behavior seems rather earnest.

"Well, you didn't hear him yesterday. Or seen the look in his eyes."

"Aella, I really thi-"

"Just forget it, okay. I'm use to it and I'll deal with it like I always have." While Dazzler seems to be adamant about his friend's righteousness, Aella doesn't want to here much of it. She just wants to move on, like she'd planned all along. The two men across from her exchange a quick look at her rebuttal and it hits them then, how different it is for Aella to be a navy pilot compared to their own journey. "Besides, I didn't come here to complain. I came to be a better pilot" she asserts in response to their sympathetic glance. It resembled pity too much for her to lay in it.

"Right." Is all Dazzler can muster as opposed to his partner who finally decides to speak up.

"I'm sorry you have to go through that Aella." In truth, she's never really cared for those apologies much since they most never come from the people who actually have apologizing to do. Nonetheless she can't deny how heartwarming it is to hear the sweetness and sincerity of both young men sharing their lunch with her. They can't do much about her situation but at least she now feels supported.

"Thank you Tigger." She replies in genuine gratitude, her smile shyly returning. "At least I have you both on my side."

"You've got Harry too, Aella. You don't know it yet, and he may not either, but he's on your side too." His gaze is heavy on her, the statement coming out in a solemn tone as if it was murmured by a prophesier.

"Don't hold your breath Daz."

DAY 6

"Ready?"

Although she knows they were bound to communicate at some point, Aella is startled when the sound of Harry's filtered voice echoes through her headset. After checking that her straps are tightly locked, she mutters a faint 'yeah' in response and wills her brain to stop overthinking the upcoming mission. It is to no avail though. The oxygen inflating her lungs is saturated with awkwardness and reticence, making her second-guess every choice she's made in the past few months. They can still make it, right? This tension didn't stop them from succeeding the last time after all... Alas, her mind won't let be duped by her feeble encouragements and for the first time in her life, Aella is dreading flying. She doesn't have the time to dwell on it however, as the roar of the F-14's afterburners fills the cockpit and before she knows it, the sky is welcoming them back.

"Alright, let's kick the tires and light the fires." Harry murmurs as the runway keeps dwindling away from their vision, and Aella remembers him whispering the same line before their first venture. She makes no comment though, many pilots come up with little habits and small routines of their own to help them reach the headspace suited for flying. Some disregard it as superstitious gibberish, but in Aella's opinion it can save precious seconds in dire moments. And in the Navy worlds, every second counts.

As Commander Berks laid it out moments ago, this assignment slightly differs from the last one. The level of difficulty is tuned up a bit by the accrued competition: this time all 8 units are flying simultaneously as they battle for a single target towed by Berks himself. The task in meant to improve both aim and awareness as they are still being chased by the other instructors throughout the task. All in all though, it is the same 'target without getting targeted' acrobatics they are all familiar with.

"I've got my eyes on the target, can you read the positions please?" Harry suddenly inquires. The mission has run smoothly so far with few interactions between the two. It seems that's about to change however, as they get in the thick of it.

"Target at reach in 3 miles abeam, 5° on your left, lower, flying South." Aella starts reading her radar at her copilot's request. "Bogey one mile ahead at your ten. I think it's Rex, tailing target at 900 knots closure."

"Shit." Harry curses. Though Aella remains quiet, none of them are thrilled to realize Rex and his radar intercept officer Kurt (or the Zodiac as per his callsign) are ahead of the game.

"You've also got contact 2 miles behind, flying your speed." Aella adds in a poised manner. "Hold on, there's two of them."

"Are they closing in on us?"

"No. Looks like someone's got Rogers on their ass."

Harry briefly smiles. "Good." Whoever might that be, it means one less competitor trying for the target and one less instructor on their case for the time being. That's a win-win in his book.

"Careful though. He might turn on us next." She warns in anticipation.

"Not if I win this mission first." Harry retorts in confidence. His partner wishes she had the same optimism but there is an odd feeling festering in the pit of her stomach.

For a hot minute, there is but the consistent whirring of the engine disturbing the otherwise eery silence permeating the air. Harry seems to be slowly yet surely catching up on Rex and more importantly Berks, when the latter suddenly swerves upwards in unexpected fashion.

"Berks' barrel-rolling." Aella immediately calls the change in movement, the peaceful flow they were reveling in, already coming to an end. "New angle, 2 o'clock high." Harry slightly reduces his speed as Berks executes a vertical U-turn, effectively putting him out of Rex's range and at a higher altitude.

"I see that. I need to get ahead of Rex, can you call the speeds please?" He's trying to determine his best course of action in order to recover his advance on Berks before his opponent does.

"Target going 700 knots, Rex 630 and we're flying 650." Aella answers quickly although she has a plan forming in her brain as always. She's not as forceful as she was during their first operation, already apprehensive of her partner's reaction. "Listen Harry, if you do a J-turn you'll overshoot past Rex right on Berks' tail."

Admittedly her plan is once again on the daring side of the spectrum, so part of her knows Harry won't gleefully jump on board at the mere suggestion. And sure enough he proves her right as soon as the last word is out of her lips.

"Do a Herbst maneuver?! Are you batshit crazy?! That's not even in the program."

She refrains from rolling eyes since they ought to be scanning the data on her flight system at all times. "Fuck the program, you don't end up at Top Gun playing by the book. We can win this mission now, just trust me." She almost cringes at the last words, knowing they were uttered more for the form than their meaning. God knows they are lightyears from trusting each other.

"Jesus, this isn't free-style flying Aella for fuck's sake, this is air-combat." Harry doesn't care that he's letting all his frustration out. Knows he shouldn't be having 'land-talk' whilst they're up in the air on a mission (there will be plenty of time to tell her off once they've landed) but his mind is completely overladen.

"That's right, and you're fighting like a 6 year-old girl. Stop pulling hair and grow up!" Whoever said 'don't fight fire with fire' was obviously never launched at supersonic speed in 25 tons of steel with a person they despise a great deal. Reason seems to have been forgotten on the tarmac by both acolytes as they keep arguing ten-thousand feet above grounds.

"You're delusional, have you even ever done one?!"

"I'll guide you through it, trust m-"

"No! No fucking way, it's too dangerous." His tone is adamant, once again leaving Aella no room for discussion. She hates that he has the final word when it comes to flying, but alas he's the one in control of the aircraft.

"Urgh!" She cries out in irritation before mumbling under her breath "fucking coward."

Harry tries to ignore the silent dig taken at his expense as he focuses back on the problem at hand. His jaw is clenching so hard underneath the helmet, he can almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding. He is in the middle of regulating his breathing when Aella speaks up again bringing his heartbeat back into tizzy.

"Great, now we got Rogers on our case. Congrats."

"Fuck." He doesn't even register her passive-aggressive jab, more so preoccupied with the new threat charging after them.

She'd been right. She knew Rogers would be coming for them next if they didn't change tactics. Now all she can do is calling positions and silently cursing the stars for putting her on Harry's path. "800 knots closure, he's coming at your six."

"I'm well aware Aella, thanks." His voice overpowering the loud beeping noise echoing through the cockpit. They're about to be figuratively shot but not so figuratively eliminated from the competition, as Rogers is one second away from locking in on them and firing.

"He's not budging, you need to bug the fuck out." She discloses her input even though she feels like no matter what she suggests, he's gonna opt the other way.

"Like hell! The target's not bugging out." Harry quips back, once again confirming her assumption.

"You won't get the goddamn target if you're down." In a different world - and let's face it, in a different life - she might applaud his resilience, but in this universe she loathes his stubbornness, especially since she's the one enduring its wrath.

"Fucking hell, just call the bloody positions. I can't let Rex win this mission." Or any other for that matter, is what he thinks. A sentiment that, any other day, Aella would reciprocate but she's given up for the day. If he doesn't want her opinion, fine. Let him get shot, that'll teach him.

"I told you, he's in the fucking saddle, at your six. Closing on 800 knots. 850. 900."

She knows it before she hear it then: another ear-splitting beeping erupts within the cabin, dramatically informing Harry of their defeat. Rogers took the shot, it was over.

"Dammit!"

As soon as Aella steps back on solid grounds, she's overcome with a lingering sense of déjà-vu. The horizon incessantly spiraling in her vision surely doesn't help quell the dreadful sensation, though she doesn't dwell much on her lack of visual focus. No, her mind is completely consumed by the urge to rip Harry a new one. And she doesn't usually indulge in those urges. Seldom lets her resentment out in the open, for fear of appearing too "emotional" for some people's taste; and because quite frankly, she has better things to do. But this is killing her from the inside. Cutting right into the flesh of her dreams and strangling the part of herself that only bows to freedom. This is the other half of her unit dismissing her talent on the basis of her gender. And that she can't take in, much less bottle up and store away in a sealed chest at the bottom of her mind.

"For fuck sake Harry, you're supposed to be my partner!" Aella cries out to him.

He doesn't want to make a scene any more than she does, but likewise has tremendous difficulty keeping his rage all in. As Aella chases after him, he keeps stomping away from their shared TomCat. He doesn't think he's capable of facing her without loosing his shit. "That's a two way street Aella, and I don't reckon flying us both to the grave is part of 'the partner's' job description." The air quotes he uses at the mention of the word partner does nothing to assuage Aella's already blazing fury. She thinks he couldn't be more obnoxious in that moment if he tried.

"That's because you don't listen to me!"

"Damn right I don't!" He shouts back while spinning around to finally face her. "And you can thank me for still being alive because of it." Aella feels like she might implode like a pressure cooker forgotten on the fire. The audacity...the insolence... Each word he breathes out is wracking one by one every single nerve ending of hers. He's so full of himself, she wonders how she could fit in the cockpit without his human-size ego crushing her. She might have joked about having to find a 3-seats Tomcat for their next mission to fit them all, if the situation weren't so seriously heart-rending for her.

"You. Are. Such an asshole! Why am I even here? Huh! Why am I even sitting in that fucking aircraft with you?" She's about a wit away from yielding to the pressure boiling in her chest; still Harry is relentless in his comebacks too.

"Funny, I was wondering the same thing." He knows he's being harsh but his mind won't give in. Won't let him cut out a fragment of trust to share with her rule-breaking mentality. Not after what happened with Fox.

"You're despicable. I can't believe I actually hoped you'd be a decent guy. But god no! Mr Styles is too precious to be paired with a woman, so why should he give her the time of day? And why did he have to be partnered with a lady in the first place, yeah? All they can do is sit pretty or unleash their crazy, imma right?" She realizes how close she's gotten to him during her diatribe and has half the mind to push at his chest but somehow she doubts it would make him budge much. Once again she finds herself inches away from his stiff stature, as she fervently tells him off. "Dammit, you're just like the others, it makes me sick."

That's the final stroke for Harry. She can deem him as stuck-up as she pleases but he won't have her repeatedly question his integrity. "I don't fucking care that you're a woman, alright! Christ, you care about it more than I do!" Admittedly, he's had a couple sneak-peaks at her mistreatment and while he sure does feel for her struggle, sometimes she's too in her head about it to see good from bad. And he's tired of being at the wrong end of it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She questions half-offended and half confused, as she can't fathom any sense to the statement.

"It means, I know some guys don't treat you right because you're a woman; but I never did, and I'm sick of you accusing me of it anyway." His eyes are sharp when they connect with hers, compelling and brutally honest, yet they send a chill down to her toes. "But you know what? The world is unfair. Tough love, darling. You have to prove yourself more than us but think for a minute who's against you and who's on your side, because it seems to me that you waste a lot of energy fighting the wrong persons." He's the one who delivered the words, yet Aella is the one out of breath. For a hard second, all she does is frown as a dizzying silence takes over the heated exchange. Their staring hasn't relented, in fact Harry's eyes are agitatedly seeking question-less answers in hers in a mirrored frown.

When Aella finally speaks up, her voice is hardly louder than a whisper and that's how she knows she has Harry's full attention. "You don't know the first thing about being a woman." She notices him gulping as if preparing for the sobering speech he knows is coming, so she indulges. "You don't know what it is to live in a men's world and not be man. You don't know how it feels to be stationed at the same base for months and still be treated like a stranger. You don't know how it feels to work twice as hard if not more, to get one iota of the same recognition men do. You don't know what it is to be picked last by your superior for any given promotion even though you know you've got the best stats of the whole squadron." Though she's kept a reasonable volume, she pauses to regain her countenance over the ever-growing pain in her voice. "And you sure as hell don't know what it is to be your only ally."

Her harpooned gaze never unhooked from its two emerald preys, and for once Aella feels like he's listening. So on she goes. "Today, up there, I had more balls than you did. Tough love, you said? Well same goes for you, Harry. Because no matter what, you're stuck with me. I'm your copilot and you may hate it but you can't do anything about it. So, please do yourself a favor and grow a pair when you need to, because I sure can't "prove myself" if I'm flying with a coward."

Aella is quite satisfied with her tirade, almost certain she's had the last word once again but one look at Harry's face is enough to make her doubt that. Though he's been towering over her smaller frame for a bit, he looks downright threatening now with flaring nostrils and figurative smoke steaming out of his ears.

"You don't know what you're talking about either. You fly as recklessly as your arrogance will let you. That's dangerous, thoughtless and most of all, selfish." She's starting to recoil, having taken one step backward, but Harry barely registers her uneasiness. She's the one gulping the wounding words now. "I should be ashamed of flying with you and your crazy decisions." Ouch "Oh and one more thing. Don't you dare call me a coward ever again, understood?"

She doesn't give him the satisfaction of a nod but his spiteful prose successfully rendered her speechless. And Aella is not one to relinquish her self-assurance or fold under any man's intimidating number. But somehow this feels different. Harry is not a halfwit who can't handle women's ascent into the Navy world. No, Harry just plainly hates her guts, regardless of her sex. And that hurts more than she'd ever expect to. So much so, she can't bear to look at his chiseled features anymore and recoils a step further away from his hurtful disposition.

It's only then, Harry finally picks up on her shrinking form and bruised spirit. He didn't want to go this far. Didn't intend on carving her confidence right out of her chest, but now that he sees the anguish embedded in her delicate traits, he fears he might get sick on the spot. He's had the most strenuous past few months, staggering from loss and numbness to longing and grief, but this had to top all pains: he didn't know who he was anymore. When had he turned into such a inconsiderate prick? Self-loathing took over his sense, the feeling unwelcome yet familiar, and all Harry could do was turn around and run away from the crime scene.

And run away from Aella.

#harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles series #pilot!harry #harry styles angst #ofc #Whirlwind #part3 #Sirocco #creative writing #enemies to lovers #TopGun!Harry

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puckngrind · 4 years

Text

Roommates: Chapter 3

Warning: poly-ish relationship, swearing

This is written slightly different than Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. Hope you all like it.

Time frame All-Star Break

Josh tried to wrap you up in his strong arms but nothing was easing your mind about the phone that he kicked off the bed. You are pretty sure he tried to break it to not deal with the situation.

"Josh, could you please let me go and tell me what the hell is going on?" You try to pull away from his chest to look at his face. You could enough to notice the full range of emotions he was trying to hide but you knew him and he couldn't hide it from you.

"I need to figure out what to do. I need to make a call. Can you just jump in the shower and meet me on the couch okay?" Josh kissed your forehead and you nodded in agreement. Josh slid out of bed, picked up your phone quickly. His eyes shifted to the iPad on the dresser. "Yeah, I'll be taking that too Babe." His smirk appeared for a second and you threw your body down on the bed in defeat.

_____JOSH_____

"How the fuck did she get tagged Murr?" His voice was low but tense while pacing the kitchen checking to see if (y/n) was following his direction.

"I don't know Andy, but she was and we need to untag her now!" Ryan was remarkably calm sounding. Josh picks up (y/n)’s phone and types in the code. “What are you doing? You need to talk.”

“I’m untagging her. And I’m gonna need you to restrict your tags NOW.” Josh rubbed the back of his neck remembering when a crazed fan made him do the same a few years prior.

The post he was staring at painful to see. (Y/n)’s bracelet in clear view as someone snapped a picture of him at Forno then with Ryan from a tagged pic in North Market, and sitting with some of the Lady Jackets at a game this season. In her typical position of legs up and arms folded across her knees. The caption: Is @ (y/n username) just a friend, a roommate, or more? Who has the deets?

The ballsy instagram account was known to stir the pot with all NHL players. Josh was thankful Columbus was a small enough market and that he kept under radar. Here and there they would try to link a girl to him but without proof it died. This. The connection of (y/n)’s bracelet was damning. “Fuck!” Josh finally broke the silence.

“Andy, we are fine. This isn’t going to effect anything. I’ll be back in a day and we can talk about it before the team party.”

“And what the fuck do you want me to tell her, huh?” Josh barked.

“Just tell me please.” (y/n)’s voice was small sounding compared to the yelling in Josh’s head saying his world was about to come crashing down.

“I’m facetiming you.” Ryan stated and there he was on the screen. “(Y/n), I’m not sure why this happened....” he started.

“And we already untagged all of us and moved you to private.” Josh chimed in and wraps his arm around (y/n) while holding the phone so Ryan could see her face.

“Wait? What?” (y/n)’s voice squeaked out. “I’m in photos with the two of you...and we were tagged?” The color in her cheeks fully gone and Josh wanted to take it all away with a kiss but he just squeezed.

The boys spent the next few moments letting her look at the pictures, the comments, and then (y/n) retreated to the couch to create a blanket cocoon.

“I’m sorry doesn’t even cut it, Baby.” Josh sits close enough but intentionally giving space. (Y/n) leans into him and the sigh of relief that she wasn’t super mad at him was audible.

“You didn’t do anything J. I just...I mean...I don’t.” Tears formed and fell without warning but in a sense of knowing, Josh leaned down to kiss at them away.

“Let’s just order breakfast in and watch movies all day okay?” Her head hardly moved but he took it as yes.

_____RYAN_____

“You okay man?” Alex looked up at Ryan in the living space of their beach rental.

“No, something at home came up. I’m going to catch a flight today. I’m gonna pack but I’ll see you at the team party this week.” Ryan didn’t even look up from his flight itinerary.

“Home home or Columbus home?” Alex’s voice sounded concerned.

“Columbus.” And with that Ryan retreated to his room to grab his things.

The flight seemed like eternity and he flipped through every group photo with (y/n) in it to see if anyone could see more than a bunch of friends hanging out. He scrolled through (y/n)’s instagram looking for anymore pictures of her bracelet that she never took off. It was in almost every picture where you could see her wrist. Ryan rubbed the bridge of his nose and willed the plane to fly faster.

He opened the door and dropped his bag.

“Holy shit!” Josh’s voice was groggy and Ryan’s attention shot to the couch. He could see (y/n) under her favorite blanket nestled into Josh’s chest.

“Sorry. I thought you would be in bed. She okay?” Ryan made his way to the couch and sat next to them.

“I don’t know actually. She seems fine then a tear will appear out of thin air. She hasn’t even asked to see her phone. I got a text from her mom asking if she was home or if I’d seen her. I told her she wasn’t feeling well and hadn’t picked up her phone. Hopefully that didn’t send up too many red flags.” Josh looked down at (y/n) and then back to Ryan.

“Let’s get her to bed, kay?” Ryan popped up and scooped (y/n) up then headed to her room. He took in her facial features while walking. Her face seemed slightly blouchy but nothing saying she cried all day. She whimpered a bit when he sat her down. Josh was right behind him. “I’m going to change but I’ll be back.”

_____JOSH_____

“We don’t have to go (y/n). Right, Ryan?” Not going would looks super suspicious.

“Maybe you two should go and I’ll just stay home and order in.” (Y/N) raised her head from the couch cushion. “I’m not a WAG or a teammate...not sure WHY I should go to the team party anyway?” Josh’s look at Ryan was one that needed no words. (Y/n)’s mood about the post went from random tears to everything is fine to well I’m not a girlfriend in anyone’s eyes so who fucking cares in the course of two days.

“We are going and I’m not taking no for an answer.” Ryan was firm and didn’t even address her self-deprecating statement. “We are ALL going. We are ALL taking a Lyft together. We are ALL going to do this thing just like we always do.”

“Yeah, what he said.” Josh half chuckled which made (y/n) slightly smile. “Now will you get your ass up and change into something besides my sweats please? We need to get going.”

The ride over was silent for the most part expect Ryan’s small talk with the driver from the front seat. Cam and Natalie’s house wasn’t far from downtown thankfully. The trio slipped in and almost immediately separated. (y/n) found the drinks and a chair to sit in that was awkward enough that no one would approach her really. Josh mumbled to himself watching her actions wishing he could sweep her up and kiss that mood away.

“We need to fucking talk friend.” Seth leaned into Josh. Without turning around he nodded and headed towards the front steps. Both men sat down. Seth looked around before looking at Josh.

“How was the Bahamas?” Josh started.

“Fine and we missed you but that’s not what I want to talk about.” Seth had his going to be captain one day voice on and Josh knew exactly what was coming next. “Look, I’ve known there has been something going on with you and (y/n) for some time now beyond roommates but I also see the way Murr looks at her.” Seth grabbed Josh’s knee. “I’m just worried about you Andy.”

“Thanks but I’m fine.” Josh left it at that hoping Seth would make his opinions known and leave it be.

“No you aren’t. You aren’t fine and I can see it. You forget how well I know you. How much time we spend together on and off the ice.” Seth took a deep breath. “Just tell me this, do you love her?” Josh nods in agreement and puts his face in his hands. “Does she know you love her?”

“Yes.” His voice sounded foreign with the simple word.

“Do you like sharing her?” Seth’s words stung and Josh felt it.

“What are you idiots doing out here?” Luc comes around the corner.

“Just catching up from break.” You would never know by the way Seth said it that he dropped a bomb as big as Hiroshima on Josh’s heart seconds before.

_____RYAN_____

“(Y/n), come play Kan Jam with me?” He reached out his hand.

“No, I’m good. Natalie is frosting cookies with the kids so I’m going to help with that in a sec. Go play with Wenny.” (y/n) pointed out the window to where Felicia and Alex were setting up the cans to play. Ryan brushed his knuckles across her’s before retreating to the back yard.

“Muuuuurrrrr! You going to play with us?” Felicia squealed.

“Sure.” Ryan shrugged and flashed a smile that was missing something and Felicia seemed to catch it.

“Give us a minute Babe.” She held up a finger and pulled Ryan towards the back of the yard.

“What was that for?” Ryan acted like he was clueless on why she just over powered him to talk where no one could hear.

“Talk. Now!” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Eyebrow raised looking dead into Ryan’s eyes. He just stood there. “Okay. I’ll talk. I follow (y/n) and you AND JOSH on Instagram. I’m not stupid. She was tagged in a very interesting post. What the Fuck Ry?” Felicia wasn’t holding anything back. “I know Alex didn’t see it but I’m not guaranteeing anyone else on the team didn’t.”

“Okay? Roommates cannot hang out?” Ryan quickly replied.

“Tjurskit!” She shouted.

“Canadian here Felicia!” Ryan pointed at this face.

“Ok, well I call bull shit.” The corner of her mouth turned up. “And here is why...” holding up her fingers to count. “You never agree to the dates I try to set you up on. You come to couple events with our friends alone. You lead her out by the small of her back. You don’t look at her like a roommate but someone you are sleeping with.”

“It’s more than that.” Ryan whispered kicking at the grass.

“WHAT?” Felicia pulls his face up with the fingers she was just counting with.

“I love her. I’m in love with her. She’s the one and I’m stuck.” Ryan cannot believe the words that came out of his own mouth. He’s kept that under lock and key for the good part of a year without even telling his sister who assumed there was more to the relationship besides friendship.

“Stuck Ry? How? Is that post true? What is going on? If she’s your girlfriend just come out and say it. “

“It’s just complicated...okay?” Ryan exhaled.

#roommates fic #ryan plus josh #my andy man 77 #27 is my favorite d-man #roommates chapter 3

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modestlyabsurd · 4 years

Text

Alight Pt. 1 (Loki x Reader)

One rule. One rule. "Don't. Get. Caught."

Funny how things turn out.

And guess what? Plan B consisted of nothing pertaining to the possible arrest by the Time Variance Authority. Hell, what even was Plan B? A code word for "abort"? Well, that sure came in handy when they confiscated your communication equipment - along with every other item on your person.

Initially there was the idea that Bruce and Stephen would get some sort of distress signal from a device, but that hope died a week ago making almost three weeks in this prison so far. These fucking people probably hacked the equipment and disabled the location, or maybe the doctors didn't even think to add a location feature at all. Maybe they think you're dead. Maybe you failed and now you're stuck here indefinitely. Anything's fair enough at this point.

There's icing on the cake, too - you have absolutely no clue where Loki is.

Why? Why would they leave the mission deciding the fate of humanity up to you?! You're not even a fucking Avenger! Why, you ask? Because Loki was in love with you before he died in '18. Because you brought out the humanity in him. Because the Loki who's running amok through time and space lacks that humanity. Because you're the most normal one, who would seemingly fly under the radar unnoticed.

A month ago that seemed logical. Now, fuck logic. You've never felt so alone in your life.

With absolutely no defenses of your own - being just a mere human after all - your only modus operandi in any hopes of escaping is silence. Pure silence. They don't know your name. They don't know your birthday. They don't know who you are or why you're travelling through timelines. Daily interrogations from these TVA agents, and not a word from you. They probably question if you can speak at all at this point.

What they do know is you are in fact working for someone, and that you have a goal. And whoever you're working for is technologically advanced to some degree; all of which has come from their own mouths. Hearing that was the first bit of relief you've tasted, since if they figured out your motives and handlers, they'd likely question you specifically on that.

That little fire of hope sparked again. It started to burn, especially when given time to feed after days with no interrogations.

After somehow having found decent sleep on the twin-sized cot provided by TVA, the door of your cell opens loudly and you spring awake, adjusting to the light.

Brooding steps enter closer. "Get up, Doe six one eight. Moby wants to see you."

The handcuffs dig into your wrists as Dickhead 101 manhandles you to the head honcho's office. He's probably gonna dislocate a shoulder if he's not careful, and you consider that that could be the point. He doesn't act differently in front of his superior when he all but throws you into the interrogation room, and no one seems to care.

"Good morning, Doe six one eight," says Mobius when you have a seat across the desk. Your eyes adjust again - this room is somehow darker than your cell - and you can't help but scowl at the weasel in front of you. He brings his stupid little plaque every time. Mobius M. Mobius. So cryptic.

A second passes as he waits for a response. Nothing. Dickhead shifts in frustration beside you.

Mobius sighs. "I was really hoping to hear your voice today. Looks like we're gonna have to try something new, since the same-old same-old isn't working yet."

He opens up a briefcase on the desk and briefly pillages through it, before replacing it on the floor. In his palm is the ring. The black ring that monitored your vitals, and where Banner said the tracking device was. You chew your lip and resist snatching it away from Mobius; not that the handcuffs would let you.

"I'm sure you remember this, don't you?" he questioned, twirling it in his fingers. "Among other things, of course. But this, this was something else," he laughs. His beady eyes searching you for an answer.

"Now, I know what you're thinking. You think we've somehow reverse-searched the data in this ring or, or identified the blend of metals and narrowed down our options to just a few manufacturers. Or we even found some fingerprints other than yours. Which, you're not wrong. We did all of that. But I bet you'll never guess what spoke the loudest."

Your zero in on Mobius and his coy grin. Gravity pulls your eyebrows together and all the things overflowing inside you lock your jaws tight.

"C'mon," he rests his elbow on the desk, holds the ring between you. "I want you to guess."

You don't.

Dickhead is about to explode in a fit of rage. He huffs like a bull at a matador, and could pass as one too. But you don't look at him. You look at the ring, then at Mobius, wanting to jump out of your skin and run away.

"You don't know? Alright then; two words," Mobius takes his glasses off and enunciates, "gamma radiation."

Gamma radiation? Isn't that ... Oh ... oh no ...

"Ah, so you're familiar with the term. Yes, gamma radiation. Brilliant, really. Who would think to use that as a means of communication? Especially on such long-distance travels - it's genius," Mobius pauses, and in the quiet you realize you haven't breathed in a good minute. But the air is so thick, your lungs all but reject it.

He continues, "Now, Doe six one eight, I mean absolutely no offense but, you don't seem quite genius enough to have invented these devices and their mechanisms all by yourself. Then again, all I have to base that on is your appearance. I don't know what timeline you're originally from or why you've trespassed in the the first place. But now, thanks to this," he toys with the ring, "it'll be a little easier to figure that out."

Dickhead shuffles beside you, wrenching you up by your bicep. Despite him, you don't break away from Mobius as he replaces the ring into the briefcase.

"Y'know what, though? It would be even easier for everyone if you'd just ... tell me your name," Mobius shrugs.

You say nothing. Even though a yelp is inches from your tongue from how tightly your arm is being squeezed. Dickhead's body is a mountain compared to yours. His angry breath stains your skin.

For the first time, Mobius lets a sliver of frustration slip as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You just don't want this to be easy, do you?"

A gulp. The tightness doesn't subside.

Mobius stands with the briefcase and places his glasses back on gloomily. "Return the prisoner. It's almost time for breakfast." Dickhead nods and pulls you toward the door; you nearly trip from the force of it. "On second thought," Mobius announced, "Doe six one eight is in need of some teaching. There'll be no food for the prisoner until I allow it. From there, do as you see fit."

"Get in there!"

What's this?

The somewhat peaceful quiet is interrupted. A green misty tendril dissipates into the darkness from outstretched fingertips.

He arises, striding lazily to the wall to eavesdrop.

"You wanna talk yet?"

Silence. A bold statement.

The guard is angered by this. "No? Then I guess you won't need any light for a while." Thudding footsteps and more silence. Okay, this is intriguing. He closes his eyes and listens deeper, just as the sound of shattering glass reopens them. He tenses. Small, delicate glass.

"Clean it up. Or this can be a lot worse for you."

Very intriguing!

Ending the interaction is the sound of the metal door slamming behind the disgruntled guard. Ugh, the best things always end just when they become exciting. What a shame.

With a newly piqued interest, Loki awaits his breakfast and inevitable interrogation. Surprisingly, even he hadn't gotten a reaction quite like that. Maybe that can be a new game; to one-up the fury that his mysterious neighbor can invoke.

The little flames of amusement smother quickly, and returns is the real task at hand. But the soft, sad sound of gathering glass shards next to his bed keeps the wondering embers burning.

who else is pregnant from that clip y'all

tag list: @sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum @tarynkauai

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funtimebunnyblog · 4 years

Text

Diamante d’Italia: Chapter 6

(Chapter 6: Fools fly where Angels fear to tread...)

Narancia rather liked solo missions.

Sure, a mission with Mista or with Fugo was always a wild time too, most espescially when they got to kick the shit out of someone, then laugh about it, before blasting the shit out of them if the target didn't cooperate.

Those missions were ALWAYS chaotic, VERY explosive, PACKED with action and punctuated by the voices of six shrieking bullets but most of all, they were the most memorable.

Missions with Bucciarati could be a treat, a little on the more rare side however as the man almost always paired himself with Abbacchio when not flying solo (he and the others swore those two were a thing but lacked any evidence to prove that just yet).

Just watching how many times the man could unzip someone to pieces and make unusual objects spill out of their mouth before they finally cracked was just always funny to Narancia. Not to mention, listening to Bruno talk and stir up a plan so easily on the spot was something akin to dazzling in the boys eyes.

It always made him feel like he was invincible and he could feel himself glowing from the inside out when the man praised him for doing a good job, Bucciarati was his hero afterall.

Sometimes he'd even get treated to some gelato afterwards.

Missions with Abbacchio could be fun, being also on the rare side and only sometimes chaotic. Watching Abba beat the absolute shit out of a dirtbag (whether it was their actual target or just some chump who made the mistake of telling the Mafioso that makeup was for Women) was always entertaining, but the mission itself really depended on the Goths mood and their target.

His favorite memories with the stone-faced man however would be when they drove down the highway, blasting some sort of loud and unholy music from a strange screaming punk-rock band Abbacchio liked while sipping on fizzy sodas, whether to or from said mission.

Yes, going on missions with his friends were fun and all.... but he absolutely loved going solo once in a while.

Aerosmith circled overhead, high above the buildings of the street and trailing behind Narancia like a tamed hawk would with its master. Narancia walked the streets casually, keeping his eyes out as he compared the man in the picture he had been given to the other bystanders on the street around him making their morning commute.

Today would be simple enough; find the asshole, get the info out of him where a recent traitor to the Boss was and if he refused to cooperate, use "gentle persuasion".

He hoped it wouldn't come to that of course, he didn't quite like to torture-... er.... "persuade" people himself and hopefully the idiot would be smart enough to know that if he fought and perhaps even got away he'd be hunted down by someone else much, much more powerful than Narancia or even Bucciarati for that matter and be given a more unmerciful and much crueler demise than just being shot by a small bombing plane.

There was an entire organization above their little team afterall. A big, BIG organization of thieves, thugs, hitmen, dealers and Mafiosi alike all working under one Man.

Narancia was quite literally just a snowflake resting on the very tip of an iceberg.

Still, being out on his own was always exciting. It always made him feel important when Bucciarati trusted him with these things.

He could go about things how he wanted it, put his own mind to the test and then proudly brag about his skills when reporting back.

Bucciarati always treated him very well after a successful solo mission of course.

He could hardly contain his excitement when he finally spotted the bastardo ducking into an alley off the street ahead, he couldn't have chose a better place to go in behind because it was right behind the spindly teens favorite Gelato spot.

The stronzo matched the picture alright; olive skin (check), strange yellowish hair thats texture sort of reminded him of rice (double check), scar on the cheek (checkaroo), wonky looking left eye (checkity-checkcheck).

"Bingo." He grinned, casually stuffing his hands in his pockets, tucking away the picture along with one, as he shuffled down the street. That intel was already as good as his.

The only thing he had to worry about now was what flavor Gelato he was in the mood for when this was all over.

☆☆☆

Once in his life Josuke believed that there was absolutely nothing better in this world than treating yourself to some Icecream on a warm sunny day.

Now however, he knew better.

Because if there was anything better than that, it was treating yourself to some Gelato on a warm sunny day in Italy.

Christ, he never knew how rich and smooth this frozen dairy treat could be.

All this time, he and Okuyasu had been scammed into being sold the now seemingly regular-old-not-at-all-exciting Icecream when he could've been tasting this absolute delicacy all along?!

He felt like he had been robbed, cheated even, dare he say betrayed, his whole life and didn't realize it until now!

The place he had stopped at wasn't quite like the shop he frequented back in Morioh before school on Monday either, not a cheep little stand on the sidewalk where you grabbed your cone and had no choice but to keep walking for fear of the guy running the place shoving you along with a broom for "loitering", this place was a store in itself and right out in the open too!

A sea of flavors and colours coating the entire counter, all scrumptious frozen dairy treats that absolutely dazzled the eye.

It was like finding an Oasis out in the scorching desert to someone who was dying for something sweet and cold on such a hot day like today.

They even had an area out front of the counter to sit and enjoy everything. The tasty treat, the sights and sounds and smells of the streets and all.

Italy just kept getting better and better by the second.

'Why on earth would someone ever leave here? Or even want to leave here?' The teenager couldn't help but wonder as he finished the last delectable lick of his Vanilla Gelato.

Tonio was always very vague on the topic of his move from Naples to Morioh and usually didn't say more than a simple "I wanted to fulfill my dream!" Or "I needed to see the world!" Before quickly changing the subject to his food and the art of his cooking.

None of them ever pressed the man for the details but now that he was experiencing this place and all its wonders himself, Josuke found himself wishing that he did know why Tonio left.

Maybe one day he'd be lucky enough, or perhaps close enough to the man at least, to find out....

A low hum rang in his ears, coming from right overhead.

His metaphorical thought-bubble was promptly popped with the sharpness of the noise and his attention was ripped away from his reminiscing of Home.

It sort of sounded like-

"A plane?" He muttered to himself, bringing a hand over his eyes and squinting to block out the bright golden sunshine of the late morning.

A tiny little red spot circled overhead, for something so small it puttered really loudly. No one else around seemed to notice it however.

It flew closer into his sights, it was a plane alright with wings a propeller and everything.

It swerved through the air, rolling over once as it sharply turned and disappeared behind the building suddenly with an almost obnoxious whirr.

Was it a toy? He had seen some pretty sweet remote control toy cars and helicopters much like that plane before when passing toy shops or flicking through store magazines that came with the loads of junkmail every week.

He glanced around, hoping to spot the kid who might be holding the remote control (he wouldn't admit aloud that he wanted a turn with it if you perhaps asked him).

'Not a toy.' Came a voice from the corner of his mind, he could feel the phantom of Crazy Diamond standing by his side, though not manifested. 'That was a stand, I could feel its energy.'

In an instant, Josuke was out of his seat, his eyes growing more and more huge by the second as he remembered Moody Blues and all their glory from yesterday.

Another stand? And a special one at that! Non-Humanoid stands were even cooler than the normal ones. And this one was a PLANE!

He looked around, no obvious signs of a user from what he could see, the streets held a few passerby's but nobody seemed focused on the stand like he was, so presumably the plane was following them into the alley?

"Oh wow!" Josuke whispered in excitement. "I gotta take a closer look!"

He would never forgive himself if he never saw the little plane again without finding the wielder of it. He started off down the street, turning into the alley, keeping his ears open and his eyes on the sky.

☆☆☆

"I'm tellin' ya kiddo, I don't know nothin'!" Osso Bucco, a much taller and more built man in size than Narancia, said putting his hands up with a helpless smile. "I don't even know what you're askin' about."

Narancia rolled his eyes, folding his arms as he glared down the man. They had been going back and forth for a few minutes and this was just getting tiring.

"Yeah sure, you don't dipshit." He snapped. "So I'm gonna help you jog your memory."

Osso was always a man of keeping himself in check, keeping your cool was a sure fire way to getting out of a mess like this.

He knew this spindly little shit was a stand user under that damned Passione but as long as he kept himself calm, he would be walking away without a worry and could get back to helping his new Boss organize some things.

Starting a rival Organization was tough under the threat of the one already in motion but as long as he stuck to the plan, his Boss assured him everything would work out in the end.

Osso liked to follow a stronger side afterall, it was just the way you survived out on these streets.

The beefy man barely even twitched when a deep puttering whirr came just inches about his head, clenching his hands into fists when a little plane hovered at Narancia's side, the teenager already had his radar out over his eye.

"I'm gonna ask you again, cazzone. What. Is. His. Name?" Narancia growled out, giving it his all to seem like a brooding threat (all his time watching Abbacchio being his bitter self really helped with that) as Aerosmiths gun turrets appeared, locking right onto its target.

It seemed like a neat trick, having a working plane at your own whim and all, but Osso knew he had an even better one up his sleeve.

Or rather... set in stone.

The corner of his lip twitched as the unmistakable vibrations of oncoming footsteps passed through the stone beneath his feet, someone was headed this way, a street rando was now at his disposal.

This was going to be easy for him to give the runt a slip. Chances were this little stronzo probably didn't even know shit about Earth Angel, the stand of his own possession.

His Boss ensured the discreet nature of all his workers, most especially their abilities.

"Y'know kid. You shouldn't be playin' with guns." The big man said as casually as he could, keeping his hands raised as he waited with all the patience in the world to feel the footsteps come within his range. "You could end up hurtin' someone."

Narancias brow twitched, he had him now.

Ossos lips curled up, it was time.

☆☆☆

Josuke had barely rounded the corner before suddenly, his foot caught on something.

Or rather... something caught his foot.

The teenager fell forward, right down into the hard stone pavement, skinning his hands in the process as he yelped.

For a split second he thought he had tripped over his own feet in his hurry (he knew he was clumsy afterall), but nothing could prepare him for when he rolled over to see a hand made of stone stretching out of the very ground, fingers wrapped tightly around his ankle.

He tried to scream but it barely came out, turning into more of a loud inarticulate grunt, and frantically tried to pull his leg from the hand in blind panic.

The fingers crackled as they tightened into even more of a vice-like grip, they were hard like any rock but undeniably humanoid and mobile.

The hand pulled and Josuke clawed at the ground in a momentary desperate attempt to fight back.

He realized that the pavement was swallowing him up suddenly, not like he was falling down a hole but akin to being dragged into water, the hand pulling him further and further down.

His final cry was drowned out as he was swallowed whole by the stone, along with the last bit of sunlight he could see.

His hand was the last thing in sight to the world around him before he vanished completely.

☆☆☆

Narancias head snapped in the direction of the sound of someones voice coming down from towards the end of the alley, leading out to the street.

Someone had screamed, almost as if crying out for help but it had cut off suddenly. Narancia blanched at the feeling of a shiver creeping up his spine, the deafening silence that followed was absolutely haunting.

His focus faltered for a moment, alarm bells ringing in his head as he realized someone was in danger.

His focus snapped onto place again as Osso began to laugh. Narancia opened his mouth to yell for his stand to fire at will before jumping back, the command dying in his throat as a figure shot straight up from the ground between them, effectively blocking Osso.

Two figures that was.

Josuke had no absolutely idea what in the Hell was happening once again. One second he was running, next he was on the ground, then he was underground and now he was here?!

He squirmed, the realization his arms were pinned tightly at his sides hitting him as he tried to scream again, only to have a hand made of stone clamp tightly over his mouth.

Narancia gaped, staring in shock at the squirming teenager trapped in the vice-like embrace of a tall Angelic statue.

Earth Angels expression was stoic, somehow bearing that sweet sadness feeling of nostalgia when looking upon a carved memory of an ancient one in the soft, yet chiseling, features of its stone face and body.

The way it moved was almost mesmerizing, so mobile and unstiff as if it were completely human but carried that hard and undeniable look of stone, the sound of rock grating and clicking as it moved.

"Now, ya'wouldn't want to be shootin' a kid now, would ya?" Osso grinned, peering around the neatly tucked concrete wings of his stand to take a look at the helpless Josuke, whose eyes were darting around frantically in wide sockets.

"You BASTARD!" Narancia roared, clenching his fist as his chest started to burn with rage.

He hated this cheep fucking move, it was nothing but cowardness to have to threaten the life of an innocent and unaffiliated person just to make a quick getaway.

It happened only a few times to him on a mission, but only when he had been with one or two of the others, and they barely succeeded each time.

Once there had been a VERY close call, where their target threatened to throw a lady he held hostage off a bridge. Thank goodness for zippers and the portals it opened that day.

But that was then and this was now.

And Narancia was all alone.

The young Mafioso tried to move, ready to pounce on the fucker himself so he could get out of that poor confused teenagers way and get a clear shot at his ugly mug, but stumbled slightly.

His violet eyes went wide as he looked down at his own legs.

They were becoming one with the ground, rooted to the very spot he stood but worst of all, turning to stone.

It was almost up to his knees now, his legs looking very much like he had gotten the great Michelangelo himself to carve him a set of ampute limbs.

He whimpered unconsciously as the stone started to creep higher, he could feel a horrible stiffness in his knees and thighbones already, worse than any arthritis he may ever experience in his later years.

That spindly boy, the weilder of the little plane, was in trouble. Josuke knew this and his heart screamed for him to do something, however Earth Angels grip was powerful and unrelenting.

The soft grating of stone clicked close to his ear as the statue turned its head to look at him with its pupiless half-lidded eyes, their soft carved expression never changing.

If he wasn't being attacked by it, he might've actually been comforted by the ethereal beauty perfectly captured in marble they radiated.

Josuke knew he had to stay calm and focused. Whoever this big guy controlling the statue was, he seemed like bad news.

He now fully knew how that poor lady being held hostage felt that time he and Okuyasu witnessed that convince store being robbed.

The plane started to circle by Narancias command, looking for a place to open fire on Osso.

However, the alley was very narrow and there was no open space for the stand to make a full circle, forcing Aerosmith to have to fly up one end and round back quickly.

Josuke almost screamed again as it came barreling back down the alley, gun turrets ready, before the statue moved (dragging Josuke along with it) to block the man from his exposed side once more.

If Narancia hadn't reacted half a second before he did, Josuke would've been packed full of bullets.

"Nice try, kiddo." Osso grinned. "You don't give up, but you ain't gonna win today."

The teenage Mafioso now started to scream as stone crept up his body more and more, faster by the second. It was up to his hips now and starting at the tips of his fingers as well.

Josuke watched in silent terror of it all, his heart wrenching a little as Narancia actually started to cry.

Josuke wracked his brain, trying to formulate a plan, readying to summon Crazy Diamond at his side. Maybe he could break the statue and then get a good shot at the asshole pulling the strings for torturing this other kid.

Narancia Ghirga was sure he was going to die and he didn't want to die, he really REALLY didn't! There was so much stuff he still wanted to do with Fugo and Mista and Abba and Bucciarati!

A thousand things flooded his head as he stared in utter terror down at his marble legs.

Mista still owed him a soda. He had tutoring with Fugo at 3:00 today. Abbacchio had promised him he'd teach him how to properly do make-up. He was going to show Bucciarati the Sailor Moon series this weekend.

He wished Bruno had paired him up with someone, he really did, because he couldn't do this on his own.

He needed help.

He desperately needed his Family!

And worst of all, this other kid was gonna die too! Narancia bit back a sob as the very thought of it came to mind.

"You're gonna be one hell of a statue kiddo." Osso laughed cruelly, indulging in Narancias loud reactions almost as much as he enjoyed watching him continue to try and shoot him. "Ya got no choice now, if you keep tryin' shit, it'll just go faster. Or worse, the freak with the mop gets it."

Josuke froze solid, the plan he had been trying to scrap up his head suddenly getting wiped clean from the slate.

The world around him seemed to slow and the sounds of the lean teenager crying out in fear deafened as his ears rang.

His heart started to pound, thumping so hard in his chest you could see it rattling his collarbone.

What did he just say?

What did that fucking piece of shit just say?

Josuke was unaware of his teeth grinding painfully in his mouth, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles shined white, his own face burning hot red like a knife that had been thrust into fire.

'He called your hair a mop.' Came the bitter answer, whispered in his head.

The soft grating of stone in his ear as Earth Angel turned its head to stare at him again wasn't heard to Josuke.

Osso had even stopped laughing, tilting his head to listen closely to the low growl the kid was emitting, that animalistic look in his unfocused blue eyes made him raise his eyebrows in question.

What the fuck was wrong with this weirdo?

Narancia had even stopped screaming, the dread he felt now forgotten as he watched with apprehension and interest.

Oh shit... he had definitely seen this before.

This guy was MAJORLY pissed off.

Far, FAR too many times had be been on the receiving end of this look with Fugo before to know what exactly was happening.

There was practically steam coming out of his ears, this stranger was going to blow! The sight of a bright fire emitting off the pompadour sporting teen almost didn't phase him because it fit how fucking pissed he looked.

'He called my hair a fucking mop...' came the only thought and it rang in his head over and over. 'HE CALLED MY HAIR A FUCKING MOP!!!'

Josuke didn't see. He didn't hear. He didn't think.

He didn't even feel it when his own fists tore through stone.

[To be continued ...》

(Like what you're reading? Find the rest on Archive of our own! 🙂)

#Diamante d'Italia #josuke higashitaka

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liunaticfringe · 4 years

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Lucy Liu is chuckling quietly on the other end of the phone line as she muses over the question inspired by the title of her new series, Why Women Kill.

"I don't think every woman could be pissed off enough to actually become a killer," the 51-year-old actor says, referring to the SBS series about three women living in different decades who must each decide how to deal with infidelity. "But does it make you think about the times where you've been really angry at someone – like, what it would take? Maybe."

She adds with another giggle, "Obviously I've never gone to that extent, but I've had many opportunities in my career to carry out death sentences. So I guess you could say, for good or bad, I've been able to get it out of my system somewhat!"

Lucy – who recently wrapped a seven-season stint as Dr Joan Watson to Jonny Lee Miller's Sherlock Holmes in the modern-day TV revamp Elementary (2012-19) – is talking to Sunday Life from her New York City apartment, where she's been busy trying to keep her four-year-old son Rockwell amused during the city-wide COVID-19 stay-at-home order.

"New York is usually vibrant, because it's a walking city, but now everyone is wearing masks and avoiding each other," she laments. "It's difficult because Rockwell likes to be moving around all the time. It's just impossible to have him not put things in his mouth when I turn my back!"

Why Women Kill is creator Marc Cherry's latest series to showcase a female ensemble. He started out in 1990 as a writer and producer on the The Golden Girls and its short-lived spin-off, The Golden Palace. He also co-created the female-driven sitcom, The 5 Mrs Buchanans, went on to create the Golden Globe-winning series Desperate Housewives, and followed that up with Devious Maid.

Why Women Kill is a 10-part series detailing the lives of three women living in the same California home over three eras: Beth Ann (Ginnifer Goodwin), a '60s housewife; Simone (Lucy Liu), an '80s socialite; and Taylor (Kirby Howell-Baptiste), a present-day lawyer. There's bisexuality, open marriage, adultery, a closeted spouse, an overdose, a front-yard brawl and a choking incident involving meatloaf – and that's just the first episode!

Ultimately, the show examines how the roles of women may have changed through the decades, but their reaction to betrayal remains the same.

The actor had just wrapped Elementary when Cherry called to pitch her the character. "He said he really had Simone in mind for me, then he walked me through the actual storyline," she recalls. "It definitely changed a little bit from what we talked about at the start, but during the writing we got to know each other more and I felt like he had a great way of telling a story.

"I also loved the idea of Simone living in the '80s with the hair and shoulder pads, and what the relationship to the cheating is for each character, as it has an unexpected ending."

The daughter of Taiwanese immigrants, Lucy was raised in the Jackson Heights neighbourhood of Queens, in New York City, and initially planned to pursue a degree in Asian languages and culture at the University of Michigan.

But she also secretly dreamed of becoming an actor, studying old Charlie Chan movies, and finally raised the nerve to audition for a supporting role in a college production of Alice in Wonderland in her final year.

Lucy was astonished when she landed the lead role, and it was all the encouragement she needed. As soon as she graduated, she broke the news to her parents that, despite her freshly inked college degree, she was moving to LA to become an actor.

After appearing in a string of TV shows including E.R. (1995, three episodes) and Ally McBeal (1998-2002, 79 episodes), she landed film roles in Charlie's Angels (2000), Chicago (2002) and Kill Bill Vol. 1 (2003).

Lucy looks back and sees her young self as more guileless than driven, hardly the Asian trailblazer breaking stereotypes in Hollywood that she's become.

"I think I was just too naive and didn't know what was ahead of me or what I was going to be up against," she admits. "I had some idea when I got to LA, because a friend of mine would have 10 auditions in a day or a week and I would have maybe two or three in a month, so I knew it was going to be much more limited for me.

"But then I got really lucky with a few jobs, which put me in rooms for auditions where I looked like no other woman in the room. I thought, ‘I don't even understand why I'm here, but I'm going to give it my all.'

"I think when you are somewhat the black sheep, you don't really have anything to lose, because they are not necessarily looking for you. So you may as well go for it!"

Some reviewers have compared Why Women Kill's catty Simone to uber-bitch Alexis Carrington (Joan Collins) in the iconic '80s soap opera Dynasty. "I didn't really watch Dynasty because I couldn't relate to it as a child of immigrant parents, and I didn't understand that kind of wealth and the claws coming out to scratch you," says Lucy.

"But as you go on in life, you start to understand a little bit more what that pop culture was. When I started doing Charlie's Angels and went back to that era to see the representation of those women at that time, I realised they weren't just all kitschy, but they were also incredibly smart and sexy."

As friendly and accessible as Lucy is, she's also full of pride when asked about her son. Has she used some of their isolation time to introduce him to her voice work as Viper in the animated Kung Fu Panda films? Definitely not, the protective mum replies. "He doesn't know what I do. All he thinks is that I'm an artist and I'm a mommy – and that's enough for now."

Rockwell was born in 2015 via gestational surrogate after Lucy made the decision to become a single parent. "Elementary was the longest job I ever had and it gave me the ability to stay in one place, because we were syndicated and we knew we were going to be making a certain number of shows," she explains.

"So that was also the impetus for me to think, ‘Maybe I can have a family of my own.' It wasn't like I was making bad decisions before that, but I had made the choice to prioritise my career. Then, one day, I just felt like it wasn't enough. I didn't want to look back in 30 years and realise I was still having the same conversations about my job every day. I wanted more."

Lucy gets emotional while talking about how motherhood has changed her. "It's almost become this cellular feeling of connecting to the universe in a way where you understand the idea of the cycle of life and the responsibility of having another being who is a part of you but outside of yourself. It's a very different feeling to doing a project where you know you will finish and move on. This is a life-long decision that changes your life and prioritises things in a very positive way."

Given how candidly she has spoken about going it alone as a parent, it's surprising how little she's volunteered about her personal life. She explains it is all by design: she has never spoken publicly about her relationships, although online stories have flagged a handful of boyfriends, including a three-year relationship with actor Will McCormack that ended in 2008, and a relationship with Israeli-American shoe tycoon Noam Gottesman in 2010.

"I've always been very private and I fly under the radar as much as possible," she says. "I do that in a very specific manner. I don't bring people I'm dating to any public event because it's a big responsibility that I'm not sure anyone wants.

"Your work is your legacy and you want to be able to do more each time, and change so you can continue to have some kind of value," says Lucy, who has also been a producer and director. "You don't want people thinking of you as just someone who dated someone and getting distracted from your work."

For now it seems Lucy Liu's legacy is doing just fine, thank you.Lucy gets emotional while talking about how motherhood has changed her. "It's almost become this cellular feeling of connecting to the universe in a way where you understand the idea of the cycle of life and the responsibility of having another being who is a part of you but outside of yourself. It's a very different feeling to doing a project where you know you will finish and move on. This is a life-long decision that changes your life and prioritises things in a very positive way."Given how candidly she has spoken about going it alone as a parent, it's surprising how little she's volunteered about her personal life. She explains it is all by design: she has never spoken publicly about her relationships, although online stories have flagged a handful of boyfriends, including a three-year relationship with actor Will McCormack that ended in 2008, and a relationship with Israeli-American shoe tycoon Noam Gottesman in 2010."I've always been very private and I fly under the radar as much as possible," she says. "I do that in a very specific manner. I don't bring people I'm dating to any public event because it's a big responsibility that I'm not sure anyone wants."Your work is your legacy and you want to be able to do more each time, and change so you can continue to have some kind of value," says Lucy, who has also been a producer and director. "You don't want people thinking of you as just someone who dated someone and getting distracted from your work."For now it seems Lucy Liu's legacy is doing just fine, thank you.

#Lucy Liu #Sydney Morning Herald #interview #why women kill #Charlie's Angels #dating #motherhood #legacy #July 4 2020

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zukofenty · 4 years

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just my luck

➜ Summary: The one where Katara whisks away her picture-perfect life the night she kisses a stranger with the worst luck in the world.

“I lost all my good luck!” Katara screams. “Everything I touch turns to shit!”

“I mean, have you considered fucking a leprechaun?”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, Journalist!Katara, Girl group manager!Zuko, Music Producer!Zuko

AO3, @zutaraweek

“I am too pretty to be punched!” Katara yelps, ducking and clenching the holding cell’s bars until her knuckles turn white.

“And I thought I was too pretty to commit tax fraud, but here we are.” Ty Lee rolls her eyes. “That’s just how the pussy crumbles.”

“First, you need a gynecologist. Second, I think the saying goes ‘that’s how the cookie—’” Nothing in life could have prepared Katara for the tiny girl to deliver a resounding punch that has her head rattling against the jail cell.

“I lost all my good luck!” Katara screams. “Everything I touch turns to shit!”

“I mean, have you considered fucking a leprechaun?”

Katara sighs, still recovering from the intense nosebleed Ty Lee bestowed on her. “Where the fuck would I even find a leprechaun?” She promptly shoves wads of tissues up her nostrils. Of course, the next one she reaches for actually had a spider in it, and she thinks killing herself just might be easier on her soul at this point.

“Just say you like Megan Thee Stallion and all of a sudden all the men under 5’7” start giving you a 5’11” attitude. Easy peasy.”

She’d managed to limp her way back to Suki and Toph’s apartment from prison, after getting a call that her apartment had flooded, destroying everything in it. Only her apartment. She was barely holding on to her broken YSL pump in one hand and her pride in the other. Emphasis on limp , because while calling taxis to instantly stop for her was always her thing , now she was nothing but an ant (in head-to-toe Prada) on their radar. If they do stop, the taxi either gets snatched up by someone else, or the drivers tell her, not so kindly, to eat a dick.

Nevertheless, she’s still determined to have a positive day, walking and humming a Rihanna song to try and calm her nerves. But, because this day was sent by Satan himself (Jeff Bezos), she was drenched, face to booty to toes, in drain water by the seemingly hundreds of Uber Eats whizzing by, trying to get someone’s Buffalo Wild Wings order to them quickly.

“I can’t believe you guys actually think all that stuff’s real!” Suki scoffs, diligently painting her toenails a pretty pastel purple and not giving any mind to the conversation.

“Tell me, how would you explain this bitch’s life?” Toph points an accusatory finger in Katara’s way. “Katara has been living life as the main character. For fuck’s sake, you won prom queen five years in a row at Ba Sing Se High!”

“A lot of people win prom queen—”

“We went to Omashu High!” Toph adds with frustration. “You even won the year after you graduated!”

Toph and Suki could never quite wrap their heads around Katara’s life.

For as long as they knew her, she was always the luckiest girl in the world.

At seemingly every turn, the girl had all the luck in the world on her side. I mean, just the other day she was accidentally delivered Rihanna’s dry cleaning, because of course she lives in the same fucking building as Rihanna, the goddess herself. See, Katara was the type of person with the luck to manage to find an upscale apartment on their shitty salary in the city for nearly half of what Suki and Toph were paying to sleep next to inbred cockroaches.

“Bitch, you do not have the range for that.” Toph snatches the dress away before Suki or Katara could make a face and whimper a soft ‘gimmie gimmie’ that surprisingly always worked.

“I might not, but at least we could clone Rihanna now.”

Toph pauses. “Say what?”

“I’m getting the girls and gays that album, no matter what.”

Katara went to return the dress after getting in a helicopter with her date of the night, People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive, Haru (before the mustache). On top of all that madness, she said Rihanna, in the shimmery, Fenty Beauty Body Lava coated flesh, even complimented her makeup. Suki almost shit herself when Katara was added to the Fenty Savage PR list.

Katara would walk outside and the clouds seemed to part as if on her command. She could wear all-white in the city without a bird unloading one on her shoulder, or one of those guys on the street flicking feces in a pudding cup her way. Jammed streets or congested traffic never ceased her from being ten minutes early to every meeting, event, or even accidental movie set she walked on and got cast as an extra instantly. The lead actor, Academy Award winning Bolin, is still sending her detailed DMs about the various ways he would harvest her toenails because it reminded him of her.

And you know those Airpods or laptop scams that go around on social media you have to train your grandparents not to click on? Or those princes that email you promising to marry you after you send them your banking information? Guess which bitch manages to actually win over a prince’s heart and his inheritance?

Katara had the universe wrapped around her finger, and it didn’t seem to mind bending to her will.

Fresh out of college, after much clawing and fighting and miraculously switching coats with an editor at a restaurant, Katara managed to snag a job at Nyla magazine and secured spots for her best friends, too. They’d been reading the entertainment magazine before they could even process solid food. While they were all saddled with a mailroom job, Katara’s quote unquote irresistible charm had landed her as a scribe to record meetings when their original conveniently broke a nail.

Of fucking course, the day their entire team is stuck in a broken elevator is the day the CEO of White Lotus Records was coming into the office to discuss Nyla ’s next cover star.

Their next big thing, teen singer, Song was still hesitant to work with a magazine aimed at young adults with unhealthy coping mechanisms, compared to the J14s and Tiger Beats with the foldable poster at the back you could steal if you were quick enough at Walgreens.

“ Young lady.” Ugh, why do old men always sound so fucking condescending? You know how easy it is to push an old person? “You know how much dough I make so I can regularly spend it on drugs? Every minute of my time is worth $964.” While Piandao gets up for his assistants to put on his fur coat, Katara slams her hand on the table.

“I promise you this cover story will be worth every minute of your time. I’ll even pay you $965 at the end of my presentation if you hate it.”

And who could say no to that sweet (and scary) face?

When editor-in-chief June waddles back, glazed with sweat after someone farted their entire Del Taco Thursday three chicken soft tacos for $2.49 deal in her face , their cover story was booked. The carnival themed, masquerade party to celebrate Song’s new cover was already scheduled in Google Calendar. Soon enough, Katara was handed her own office, Tesla, and platinum corporate card to start planning the entire event.

Everything was going fine . There were acrobats doing flying yoga in the sky, a fortune teller she hired at the last minute that everyone loved. Music was playing, people were dancing without a care in the world, and everyone was having a good fucking time. She even snagged her bitchy boss a date with her hot neighbor, and her Painted Lady costume was designed by Vera Wang herself. By the end of the night, her brain was scrambled from the paperwork and yelling and pen marks all on her hand. Yet, with her luck, she still managed to kiss the cute guy who asked her to dance.

Well, at least she knew he felt and smelled like a cute guy, considering half his face was covered by a mask.

He was a bumbling thing, managing to stomp on her feet a few times even when she reassures him at the end of the day. Despite being all broad shoulders and muscles, he seemed to shrink in on himself at that moment. “I’m really, really bad at dancing.” She gave him a weird look and Zuko had to remember that he had stolen a backup dancer named Lee’s gig for the night to sneak into the event.

Katara rolls her eyes. Dancing, much like nearly everything else, always came easy to her. “So what if you gave a girl a black eye and another guy a concussion?” Her laugh is so pretty and her waist between his warm fingers just felt right.

He lets himself laugh, too. Wrapped up in the girl’s spell. Forgetting any thought of trying to win over the White Lotus CEO.

She leaned in first, and he was more than happy to reciprocate. Zuko didn’t have time for impulsive decisions, not when the universe was actively always trying to kill him. For some reason, he couldn’t help but be drawn in. Her soft lips against his felt like a plush dream, and all he didn’t want to wake up to reality. Not when in that moment, there were sparks and blood rushing to his head and soft skin peeking out of her expensive dress he wanted to discover more of.

One minute, Katara was throwing back a margarita in case she had dumb bitch breath that caused her mystery man ran off. The next, she was choking to death, only spitting out the olive on Suki’s face after Toph delivers a quick punch to her sternum, right between the titties.

“Eenie meenie miney mo, catch a stupid whore by her throat!”

“Stop choking me, June!”

“No!” June screeches. How was Katara supposed to know she accidentally set her boss up with the ‘ King Kuei ’? The FBI’s most wanted illegal animal trader by day, male prostitute by night? And who knew that would land her a night in jail?

“The universe is a stupid fucking whore!” Katara sniffs, still trying to detangle the chunk of hair embedded deep into Suki’s blow dryer. Katara managed to not only break a mirror with the blow dryer in her mere ten minutes in Suki and Toph’s place, but also rip out a section of her hair after throwing said blow dryer in their bathtub which promptly caught on fire. The icing on the dog shit cake of the day was when she managed to cause the building’s power to short circuit, shutting off everyone’s lights.

The universe, for the first time in his life, was finally on Zuko’s side.

For as long as Zuko could remember, rain clouds suddenly appeared when he walked outside, even despite what Alexa told him earlier that morning.

“Alexa, what’s the weather like today?”

“Completely sunny with a chance of naive bitch,” the smart speaker might as well have said.

Zuko was sure of four things in life.

Adderall and 7 up were never a good combination

Alexa was always watching for an opportunity to strike fear in his heart

He could never catch a fucking break

Having a waterpark poncho always on hand never hurt

He heard from his Uncle Iroh his family was perpetually cursed. Something about a fame-hungry witch with the last name Kardashian in the past life, and one of his relatives eating said witch’s ass that inflicted the present day curse on his family.

Everyone he knew was impossibly clumsy. Random flooding accidents, cars always running into you, bugs trying to get their fuck on in your ear. It was like the universe said yeet! On their good fortune.

What does he wish for every year on his birthday? For it to be easy just to be him . To be easily liked, like Adele, or Dippin Dots. He wished life could be easy enough for him to take a shit without the toilet bowl accidentally caving in, or a lightbulb somehow always falling on his good eye.

Zuko had always been relatively clumsy, worse than what Iroh’s seen before. After so many years of being shit-out-of-luck, and having literal shit on you at all times, he was used to being alone.

It stopped stinging a few years ago. Besides, he had his half-sister Kiyi to keep him company these days.

Nobody wanted to be around the guy who constantly smells like dog shit because he always manages to find a shit covered dollar bill flowing down the street. No one wanted to be associated with the guy who, without fail, splits his pants open every time he bends down. Saddling him with yet another public indecency charge.

Like clockwork, at least two times a week, he was getting his face shoved into the concrete and handcuffs slapped on him. He started investing in a mouth guard about five years ago.

It was like a safety hazard, just being him. There were so many times you could get struck by lightning before you were banned by the nation from buying umbrellas.

Predictably, he has been rejected from every job he applied to. His laptop has been hacked by so many Hentai porn bots he doesn’t even bother upgrading his Dell from 2013. He even started a conversation with the guy monitoring his keystrokes. Landlords chucked his application out the window before he could even give them his soul and a deposit, and while the doctors didn’t think he’d do it, he found out that yes you can survive being hit after someone throws a piano out their window while you leave the leasing office.

Sure, he came to the city with dreams of making it big, loving music since his mom taught him the difference between a treble and bass clef. But when he’s always accidentally setting his tsungi horn on fire? Breaking his nose open trying to put resin on his violin’s bow? Somehow getting a reed stuck in his throat and his sphincter (on the same day)? No chance in hell was anyone willing to risk their lives to let him play anything on stage.

So he stuck to writing and producing, watching YouTube tutorial after tutorial to learn mixing, because he thinks it’s safer for everyone involved.

“Zuko, someone tried shoving Nutella up their ass and shat it back over the bathroom.” He looks up from his laptop to see a plunger too close for comfort near his face.

“Why?”

“Some weird sex thing! I don’t fucking know.” Jet points to the elderly couple nearby. “You ask them why!”

Zuko takes a deep breath in. “No, I’m asking ‘why?’ because my shift doesn’t start for another two hours.”

He was a janitor at the bowling alley across the street (it was the only place that would hire him, but he thinks they felt bad for him after he ugly cried and ate out their supply of shitty, frozen curly fries).

“You know I love you, Zuko! But these!” Jet cups Zuko’s chest with two, oddly gentle, hands. “Make our alley’s world go round.” He even gives them a squeeze for emphasis.

“Let go of my man titties,” Zuko glares at Jet. “ Now .”

“You’re the breast.”

Zuko’s eye twitches.

It wasn’t all bad. After all, the alley does let him make music in his free time, and the girl group he was “managing” can perform their sets on Fridays.

“We’re firing you!” Mai pokes at his chest and has him readjusting his glasses from the force.

It was a Monday and his week was starting off better than most. He was scraping green colored poop from the walls and was already being threatened at 9 a.m. without any weapons in sight.

“You don’t pay me!” He points out, which only seems to get everyone in the room angrier. His sister and her friends formed Shooters 4 Rihanna when they were pre-teens. They wanted to be a group trying to make it big in the pop scene, and quickly signed to a record label together. The girls were promised all their years of childhood training would pay off when they would debut as young adults. That was, until their CEO was broadcast on TLC’s My Strange Addiction for his habit of collecting Mark Ruffalo’s nose hairs, and confessed to killing someone for it.

Investors weren’t too happy.

While all the girls could see was repressed childhood trauma, Zuko saw that and potential star power.

Every single member already had years of dancing and singing lessons under their belt. They could play their own instruments, write their own songs, and had the stage presence. A few Twitter DMs later (from his multiple accounts, because they thought his profile picture made him look like a fucking creep and blocked him years ago) they were dumb enough to trust him with their future. He’d been trying to get them signed for months to no avail. Somehow fucking up, or electrocuting himself in the process of showing an executive their new single.

“This was a mistake!” Jin shoveled the curly fries in her face.

While Yue was always one to stay positive, her sad ‘ I miss pickled fish ,’ had the rest of the girls wanting to leave, too. Going back home, just give up seemed sensible. Why waste your prime years on a pipe dream?

He stopped them, plunger in hand. Against all logic, and partially because they could smell the desperation, the girls gave him one week .

One masquerade party later, he managed to throw Piandao out of harm’s way, taking the brunt of the taxi running into him.

“ Are you fucking stupid !” The CEO screams. The boy had blood flowing from his scalp, but looked as alive as ever handing over Shooters 4 Rihanna’s demo CD.

“A little.” Zuko admits. He could feel his bones still intact, and judging by the blood it wasn’t anything serious. Piandao gives him a call the next day after listening to the tape.

By some miracle, or Kardashian curse lifting, the girl group and him were shuffled into the city’s upscale penthouses, and their debut single was slated to be released on the radio the next day.

While he headed for lunch at a nearby cafe (one he couldn’t afford to eat at just last week) he can’t help but notice her .

“Ma’am, I have already told you our restaurant’s motto! No eat, no shit!” The waiter glares down at her. “Either pay up or get out, broke bitch.”

Katara was caked head to toe in mud, tissues shoved yet again up her nose. Haru had invited her out to his dad’s art show the night before. After insulting the literal piece of shit art, she tripped over the clump of clay on display and landed face-first in his million dollar creation.

Of course, it would land her in prison, and of course Ty Lee would be there, too. “Move bitch, I’m gay! ” When Katara was too exhausted to budge, the girl, yet again, socked the shit out of her.

Katara just wanted a plate of steaming breakfast foods, but of course all her cards declined. And of course, she has a meltdown because she was fucking tired, hungry, and was about to throw hands.

She grabbed the salt shaker. “Look, I’m just going to try one thing before I go!”

“It’s the bath salts,” she hears one woman whisper. “Those fashion bitches are always on bath salts.”

“Just smile politely. We’re witnessing mental illness.”

She didn’t expect that throwing salt over her shoulder would land in the waiter’s eye, or cause him to collapse on the table of Mormons nearby. Or something to catch on fire, or someone to get stabbed with a fork with a pancake on it.

She certainly didn’t expect a (cute) stranger to be so gentle with her, helping her escape the madness and handing over his turkey on rye. Or him following her as she tried to save face and sit on a random bench away from any nearby birds’ tiny assholes.

“You look sad.” He’s not mocking in the slightest.

“What does that even mean?” She went from sad to affronted in just a second.

“What’s wrong?” Fuck this guy and those eyes that were so damn enchanting .

“I don’t look sad.” She says with the roll of her eyes. “I am fucking sad.” She was blackballed from every newspaper in the Four Nations, the prince she was talking to did indeed end up stealing her savings, and on top of all of that, her undereye concealer was creasing.

“You!” Katara points her finger in the fortuneteller’s face.

“Me?” Aunt Wu looks beyond irritated. “Look, I can’t predict when you’ll get a fat ass, just buy a resistance band and leave me—”

“You’re the one who told me whatever Wheel of Fortune would spin back on me! And Alex Tribek would take away my good luck or something!” Katara was crazed and running on two hours of sleep, but she had a bone to pick. “My perfect life is gone.”

“Wow, that was a lot to unpack.” Aunt Wu locks her shop’s door. “Look, can you think of anything strange that happened that night?”

“Besides someone telling me to make them toilet wine in prison, no I don’t think so!” Katara grunts out petulantly.

Aunt Wu smacks her with a stack of tarot cards. “No! Jesus! What else happened?”

“Can’t you just tell me? Childhood trauma has really fucked with my memory.”

“You kissed someone, didn’t you?” The fortuneteller scurries to her Kia Soul before Katara could retaliate. “Maybe he needed that luck more than you do!”

She tried kissing every single dancer that was working that stupid party, and came up with nothing but mono and the feeling of defeat.

“Did you know, I even fucking sharted myself today!” She smacks her forehead repeatedly. “At twenty-fucking-three! How fucking embarrassing . All I could do is run to the H&M with my cheeks out to buy a pair of sweatpants.”

“I know a job looking for someone,” he says and even when he’s staring at her with nothing but understanding, she’s still apprehensive.

“Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus you’re a colonizer.” If she had any energy she would’ve put more force into the shove. “Why are you even helping me?”

She looked like shit on a dick and he was just smiling at her. “Let’s say, I just know what it’s like to be SOL.”

“What’s the catch?” She stares at him down and pouts. He’s wearing an Armani shirt with an Off-White belt, which was already offending her senses, but on top of that he dared pair the atrocity with a pair of knock-off Converse. He couldn’t have sprung for a real pair, he just had to get the off-brand from Costco that made everyone’s ankles look like cankles.

New money . “I am not letting anyone suck my toes for money, again. Try a different girl.”

Zuko grows positively red, but at least it brings the ghost of a smile to her face. “No toe sucking. Only on Wednesdays.”

She delivers a well-aimed kick to his crotch. While she’d expect him heaving and puffing, he’s unphased. He’d put on his MMA fighter grade, groin protector out of habit, even though he’s getting kicked a lot less in the ball bags lately.

“So, you’re trying to convert me to Scientology?” Katara scoffs. “I’ll pass, Asian Tom Cruise.”

“Not that either.” He sees the defeated look in her eyes, the same one he’s seen in himself. There’s a spark there, though. A willingness to just keep going. Something he lost years ago. “Trust me.”

“No.”

“All good.” He shrugs. “Can I at least help you up?” Before she could bite back, she turned to the spot on the bench where he was pointing.

Wet paint.

He’s taking her mustard covered hands (the sandwich exploded in the foil) in his soft ones without question, and peeling her off the bench.

“Of fucking course,” she huffs.

She thinks he knows. He knows the fact that she wants him sticking around. Even with her adamant protests against it, he’s persistent.

Stopping by after long days at the studio to her shit job, handful of first aid supplies at the ready.

He’s just always there .

He’s there when she’s scraping gum from under the alley’s tables and almost swallows one that had “Live, Laugh, Love” carved into it. He quickly stops her from choking, practically an expert at the heimlich with how many times he’s almost died from drinking boba.

There when she electrocutes herself changing the alley’s light bulbs to catch her as she falls straight off the ladder. He’s not even phased, pushing a fried piece of hair sticking up the heavens and staring at her as though she squirted cupcake frosting from her nipples.

He’s there with his first-aid messenger bag, all duct taped and falling apart and it makes her want to say sorry to Alexander Wang for daring to wear it with his Spring 2019 boots after Zuko forces her to carry it around. But then he’s pulling out a tube of toothpaste from the bag while she’s cooling her burnt fingertips on a 10 year old Yerba Mate can, and she’s reminded why he’s so firm about it.

“Earth Nation trick to heal burnt skin.” He’s too concentrated on rubbing the paste into her flaming skin to notice her staring. She remembers that he included her favorite Fenty gloss in the bag after handing it off to her, and blushes.

“I don’t need your help, you know.” Katara was always the one fighting for her own dreams. She didn’t want to stick back living the life other people imagined for her. Even all the luck in the world couldn’t help her escape a sleepy town or an unsupportive family.

When they came to the city, she knew her friends let her take care of them on purpose. It was second nature, what she grew up on. She’d always been the one looking out for everyone, even if they didn’t ask, and they let her do it because they all needed a coping mechanism. Toph’s is cake cutting videos, Suki’s is practicing her crying face because she always wanted to be a pretty crier, and Katara’s is being overbearing.

She was confused. As many times as she tried drilling through his thick head that her grandma was a nurse, that she could easily wrap up every cut, bruise, and swollen toe, he never budged. For the first time in a while, someone was there, stubbornly making sure she was okay.

“I know?” He says it as though it was obvious. “I’ll make you a deal, though. Just let me help you out, just this one time?” He gently taps her fingers wrapped in Minion bandaids he got her just because he knew she hated them in public, loved them in private. “I won’t do it again.”

He’s teasing and it’s obvious he knows she’s putty in his hands. Though, his newfound look (she helped with) balancing boy-next-door with heartthrob is not working on her heart. Her pussy, sure. Not her heart, though. She swears.

“That’s what you said last time,” Katara protests, without any energy behind it.

He sends her a lopsided smile. “I know.”

Zuko wasn’t about to let any hair on her pretty head get hurt.

While Kiyi already had enough of a bad case of bad luck, considering all the Power Ranger figurines she had super glued to her face by fourth grade boys, Katara’s was just something else.

It reminded him of him . Whatever stroke of good luck he had, he knew the universe takes in ten-fold what it might give. So he’s taking advantage of every bit of luck he has for a girl without any.

While he’s been stabbed many a time walking back home at night, somehow he’s in the clear when he escorts Katara back to her apartment. Or the times he buys her Water Tribe take out because she’s still figuring out how that prince managed to spend $10,000 on Swampbender diet pills. Or when he sneaks in before her shift to do some of her tasks for the day (he still has the keys), so he doesn’t have to worry about her bruising her pubic bone with the vacuum, or breaking the ceiling with a slippery bowling ball.

He wasn’t all used to his new life. The designer shoes, the fancy parties, the attention . Girls in the past would look at him as though he wasn’t more than shit at the bottom of their Jimmy Choo, but his good luck brought this newfound female attention that was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. Especially when, all he wanted was to catch her eye.

She was his good luck charm and didn’t even know it.

Since he’s met her, everything just was going right . She brought Toph over with her guitar to string together a few verses the day they were in desperate need of new lyrics to go with the beat he’s spent the last few nights cranking out. The day after they released it on Apple Music, the song went #1 on Billboard. Piandao had even booked them to play the Hard Boulder Cafe for their first performance, and tickets were sold out.

Even when things just seemed to get better and better for him, the universe doubled down in its punishment for her.

He’s there when she’s walking back from work, drenched to the bone because she missed all trains for the day, a taxi said her face looked stupid, and she was just tired of it all and wanted to go home and eat processed frozen food and die.

Zuko’s there, though. Without fail.

He’s there with his fucking Tesla and personal driver and Chanel top and she couldn’t be any more embarassed.

“Get in!” He hesitates before approaching. “Also, maybe let’s put down the umbrella?” It was inverted anyways, and looked three seconds from whisking her away into the storm.

“No, I’m good!” Katara insists. She was afraid that falling for Zuko, going to bed and waking up thinking of him was messing with her brain and she didn’t know if she wanted it to stop.

“You could get hit by lightning.”

“That can’t—” She ponders it for a second. “You know what, fuck you.”

He throws his expensive jacket over her to quell the shivers, and when she protests, seeing as it was a Valentino Lacquered Nylon Jacket, he bundles her even deeper in the thing, buttoning it up until she’s complaining from the warmth.

“You’re laughing at me.” She pouts.

He’s covered completely in bubbles. Not her fault he decided to strip off his shirt to throw in the cycle with her wet clothes, and she got distracted by the abs and dumped the whole bottle of laundry detergent in the washing machine.

Zuko shoves her face into a pile of the suds. “I am, yeah.” She looks upset and he stops the mirth growing on his face. Reaching out to her, instead. “Katara, I’m sorry did I—”

She might’ve leaned out to accept his embrace, but then she’s flipping them over, pinning him down to the floor. Her warm, still soaking wet body, pressed against him and her arms coming out to pin his hands to the ground.

He gulps.

“This would be more fun if you let me peg you afterwards.”

Her laugh vibrates her whole body and he couldn’t help joining in, too.

He let her have her pick of his dress shirts, and she looked so much at home. Little strands of her bangs framing her face and growing curly with the addition of water. Her brow furrows when she mentions her leave-in conditioner washing away with the suds, and he takes advantage of the momentary distraction. Flipping her and placing two hands at the sides of her head.

She knows he’s covered in the bubbles, just so she wouldn’t feel anymore of a stupid bitch than she already does. He never seems to mind it, even when Katara was frustrated and just couldn’t figure out why all this was happening to her and dragging him into every single accident.

“What would you say to the universe, right now?” She’s curled up on his couch and he’s massaging the balls of her feet she presses in his lap.

“Welcome to your tape.”

“Katara, no.”

“That bridge off of Fourth Street? Looking really easy to jump off of right about now, universe.”

He lets her take his bed that night after he cooked up his famous komodo chicken and both Kiyi and her complain about having a food-baby.

“Hey, Katara.” He whispers while her eyes could barely open. He tucked her in those blankets all ethnic people have, the super fluffy ones with a tiger on them that are always wrapped in a plastic bag. “You’re cute.”

“Yeah?” She breathes out, crinkling her nose and blinking those long lashes and making his heart skip beats. “Hey, Zuko.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I like you.”

He pinches her cheek. “I think I like you, too.”

He was right. As soon as life blessed him with everything he’s wanted and more, it whisked it away just as fast.

He’d mustered up the courage to invite her to a studio session after everyone in Shooters 4 Rihanna insisted on meeting her. Their songs were getting a little too emotional and they wanted to meet his muse. It was going well, too well. He even catches all the lamps she knocks down. When she rights herself, she manages to knock down the table with their food. Double bagging existed for a reason, just like he warned her! But, of course, the bags holding the takeout she was supposed to surprise him with broke from the bottom. He’d go hungry, that day. But, anything for her, though.

She looked so into the session, asking him if she could play with the buttons, leaning into his chest when he hesitantly surrounds her space. His two lean arms coming out to steady her waist when she trips on herself and sends him a sheepish smile that has him hypnotized.

Katara normally felt lightheaded around him, but she felt absolutely faint as soon as Piandao walked in to finalize the details of the performance, and Zuko started talking about some lucky masquerade ball.

She couldn’t hear much else, body getting up before she even registered it.

Before he could fully get into his chair at the mixing console because just one little note in their new song “Rihanna Impregnate Me” just sounded off, she’s tugging him up.

“Can I kiss you?”

“W—what?” She’s holding him up by the collar of his shirt.

Katara smirks. “I really want to kiss you.”

“I mean, uh, yes! Definitely a ye—”

It’s everything he’s imagined, hoped, prayed for the last few months and more. She’s sweet and soft and tasted like lip gloss and the toothpaste he had stowed away in her bag. When he’s leaning in for more, ready to do things like give her his heart or do her taxes for her because he couldn’t think straight and his heart was guiding him through the motions, she’s gone.

Katara’s gone when Ty Lee somehow gets into, yet another, tax fraud case and can’t make their performance.

She’s gone when he needs her by his side because even though he’s not performing he still manages to feel fucking sick. He wants her holding his unnaturally sweaty palms and telling him it’s going to be okay, just like what she does during his late night writing sessions where she stays up and refuses to sleep until he does.

She’s gone when the band has to answer to an angry crowd, an angry CEO who already sees the articles lambasting the girl group’s unprofessionalism and was ten seconds away from pulling the plug on his dreams.

“Zuko!”

He hates his heart rushes, even when it was about to break because of her, too.

She's gotten her perfect life. She’d gotten the job back, her apartment back, Rihanna even sent her a secret song for fuck’s sake.

She must really love this fucker, because she was giving up a chance to stalk Rihanna so he could be happy.

“Maybe he needed that luck more than you do!” Was running through her head the entire week she avoided him.

“I don’t know what to do, Suki!”

“Why don’t you both fuck leprechauns?” She says between bites of string cheese.

Katara sighs. “Why are yours and Toph’s minds built like that?”

“I heard my mom tried punching her stomach every day, hoping that I wasn’t going to be a result of St. Patrick’s Day sex. That’s why my head’s lopsided.”

He felt nauseous. Not only did 3 of the girls just spew their lunch into whatever container they could get their hands on, of course Azula has gone missing. “Katara not now I—”

She comes to him flushed, extensions stuck to her hand after running too fast and accidentally grabbing someone’s hair. Her feet hurt, her heart hurt, but in this moment she knew. She knew he needed this more than her. He was soft and kind and took people in and cherished the moments with his half-sister because he missed all the ones with Azula. He worked so hard now because he was afraid she hated him, and even when he was on the verge of giving up, he still pushed through. He gave people chances, even when the universe was never as kind to him.

After she presses her lips to his, suddenly Azula presses a button from the underground room she was trapped in, appearing on stage in front of their very eyes. They have the best show the Hard Boulder Cafe’s seen in decades . Their contract is extended, and he opens a bottle of champagne to celebrate without taking his eye out.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

Though, when he turns, he realizes.

His girl’s missing.

“Katara!” She tried shuffling away, but accidentally slips on a few drug needles someone threw carelessly on the ground.

She’s still nursing the sore spot on her forehead, where the champagne cork hit. “Zuko, please just...go.” She waves him off with a bandaged hand.

“I know you’re going to be stuck here for the next three hours. Because trains never come on time for you no matter what.”

Even in the middle of the nearly dead station, he was right. Every stop flashed to delayed .

“Then you’ll be robbed by someone on the train, and then you might even get spit on by the guy with the imaginary dog who’s afraid of whoever gets too close to it, and then you’ll get an eye infection.”

Katara wipes the snot at her nose. “So?”

“So?” He laughs, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I’ve lived a whole lifetime of bad luck, and I can’t let you do that for me.”

She lets him turn her to face him, lets him gather her up in his arms and hold her like she’s delicate and irreplaceable, and not just a girl with mascara running down her face and her heart stolen by someone she couldn’t love.

“Even in a lifetime of being shit out of luck, I still got the chance to meet you.”

“Zuko, stop.” Katara wipes at her tears. “Our luck will just get switched, and I always figure things out, I always do. But, I just want you to keep this. You put it to better use than I would’ve.”

Zuko shakes his head. “I don’t want it anymore.”

“I said that to my bladder infection, and that didn’t work. What makes you think that will work now?”

“I can live without it.” He smiles. “A few bumps and bruises are the price I’m willing to pay for you in my life.”

She’s blushing, hands coming up to bring his head closer to hers, to see every little detail of him.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” She whispers, millimeters away from his lips.

The grin splits on his face without his permission. “I am, yeah.”

#Zutara #Zuko #Katara #Zutara Week 2020 #Celestial #Day 4 #atla #avatar the last airbender #Zutara Week #Zutara fanfiction

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templeofulchtar · 5 years

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On Connecting with Starscream

So, true story:

The first time I tried to perform a ritual for Ghost Season, I had no idea what I was doing. None. Which makes sense, since I may have been the first person ever to attempt such a thing. I set up an altar on my apartment balcony using various things that felt “Starscreamian” to me, and when the night of August 22 arrived, I nervously cast my circle. I invited Starscream to enter into the circle, and… waited.

And waited.

For what, you might ask? Well, I have always had a sense of what his presence ‘feels’ like. It’s a little hard to describe, but I’ve made an attempt in the section below, titled Sensing Starscream’s Presence. I’ve included comments from a couple of other people who work with him so you can compare your experiences to ours and, perhaps, have some idea of what to expect.

In any case, I was getting nothing. Not a tingle, not a flicker, not a mental image; nothing. I began to feel ridiculous. Why was I sitting here in the dark waiting for a cartoon robot to speak to me? I’m pretty sure that’s not something normal people do. Not that I’ve ever aspired to be normal, but… well. It wasn’t working. I packed up and went to bed, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. As I burrowed under the covers, though, a car roared past outside with an old AC/DC song blasting out the windows:

You told me to come, but I was already there.

For those who know that song, yes, I do realize that’s a slight misquote. But that’s how I heard the lyrics in that moment, and their message couldn’t have been clearer:

I am always with you. You don’t have to summon me.

For this message to have been delivered in a voice that’s always reminded me of Starscream’s made it seem incredibly personal and real. And yes, it’s wrapped up a double entendre. If you work with Starscream, you’ll likely discover his ribald sense of humor for yourself.

Why am I telling you this?

Because if you turned to this post wondering how to establish a connection with Starscream, this might be your answer. If you love him, he’s probably already with you. If you feel drawn to Starscream, admire him and would love a deeper connection, there's an excellent chance that he'd be open to working with you as well. If you've been having dreams about him or finding that he, or things you associate with him are ‘coincidentally’ popping up in your life, he may be reaching out to you.

If you’re still not sure, though, you can try this exercise:

Connection Excercise

Open your journal to a fresh page and give some thought to the questions below. You don’t have to answer all of them. Pick the ones that resonate, and write down whatever comes up:

★ Does Starscream provoke strong emotions in you (positive or negative)?

★ Does he show up in your dreams?

★ Do you daydream about him?

★ Are you inspired to create works that feature him, such as fanfic, fanart, cosplay, and so on?

★ Are there certain songs that remind you of Starscream?

★ Do you have favorite quotes by or about Starscream?

★ Do you, at times, catch yourself ‘talking’ to him in your inner dialogue?

★ Do you ever wish you could talk to him?

★ Do you identify with Starscream and see yourself in him? In what way(s)?

★ Have you taken on new interests because of him? (Example: jets.)

★ Do you imagine yourself as Starscream in some way, either physically (eg. Having null-rays, ability to fly), or in terms of your personality or life situation?

★ If you were part of the TF Universe, would you want to know him personally and be part of his life in some way?

★ Has he inspired your life in some way?

★ Have you changed how you dress (say, by wearing more red) because of him?

Those are just a few examples of the ways Starscream could be showing up in your life. You might think of others. If you do, note those down as well. Now, you might be thinking these are simply examples of fannish obsession. You may even have found some of the questions embarrassing. That’s very natural. These questions touch on some very intimate, sensitive aspects of being a fan, and there’s good reason for that.

These questions are embarrassing because they bring up feelings of vulnerability. When we love something, we open ourselves to being hurt. The mockery that’s so often aimed at fans is motivated by people’s desire not to feel vulnerable themselves. They try make themselves feel safe by ridiculing others, but in doing so, they cut themselves off from the source of their own magick.

Yes, you read that right. Your magick, and your spiritual connection to Starscream, flows from that intimate space within. It’s that vulnerable, awkward, geeky place where you innocently, unabashedly adore a character and are totally obsessed with them. Treasure that place. It’s your inner temple. Guard it with care, because it’s where your magick resides.

But, you might be asking, are the ‘symptoms’ on this list actually signs of a spiritual connection? I’m going to say yes. I believe they are, and if you’re open to the possibility of deepening that connection, you can begin to make it a two-way street. Starscream is many things, but ‘shy’ is not one of them. He will show up if you make space for him, and the place where he’ll meet you is within the heart of your magick; your inner temple.

Sensing Starscream’s Presence

So what can you expect? What does Starscream’s presence feel like? It’s hard to give a definite answer, since everyone is different. Your experience will be your own, and in many ways incomparable to anyone else’s. In case it helps, though, I’ve included commentaries by three different people who work with Starscream, including yours truly, to give you an idea of what you might experience...

Starshadow writes:

I think I first became aware of [Starscream] as such while I was in high school. I was initially drawn to his character on the animated show, and at first that was all he was. But I quickly became intensely invested in his story, especially when I started to follow him in other media (comics, etc) as well. He became more to me, and began to transcend the stories and art presented. He literally seemed to take on a life of his own. I started to feel (and sometimes see) him in my dreams encouraging me and telling me to be strong.

His presence is distinctly strong. It sometimes borders on aggressive, but it is not threatening to me. I think he just has a particularly powerful presence. It's very fiery and passionate, which makes it distinct from other entities I sense which are more calm and protective. I will often "see" in my mind's eye his red eyes and wings as well when I feel he is near.

Occasionally [he communicates through] dreams, but much more often I will "hear" his "voice" in my mind, often giving advice and emotional input. As I mentioned before, he has from time to time actually yelled (screamed? ;)) at me, but only at times when I really needed it. Sometimes his colors will show up in combination and songs I associate with him will be played out of nowhere when he is taking a more subtle approach.

[My sense of his presence has] waned at times. For a while it seems like he is just hovering on the fringes, but he never completely goes away. His means of communication hasn't changed much though.

He has made me braver than I probably would have been. He is still working on my self-confidence, though. He's been back again recently encouraging me with that. He has also definitely influenced my creativity and aspirations. He has helped me be driven enough to pursue my desires for so long and explore creative work beyond the "traditional female" expectations.

He [also] does sometimes seem to share aspects with other entities I've communed with, like my [wolf guides]. He will almost seem to "combine" with them, or share their energy, and sometimes they with him. I haven't quite figured out why this happens or for what purpose yet, but I am very curious!

Dark Star of Chaos writes:

It’s no exaggeration to say I spent my whole life looking for Starscream. If you want to get technical I first “met” him as a kid watching Transformers Armada, but though he became my favorite character, that was all he was to me then: A character. I loved him, but what I really wanted at that time was an imaginary friend. Not a real one; an imaginary one. The catch was, I didn’t want to invent one. That, in my mind, was not how it worked. The imaginary friends in cartoons all interacted with their humans as though they were real, and that was what I wanted. I didn’t see how a thing invented from my own head could ever take on that kind of life.

When I was older - after Starscream had slipped off my radar - I came across a book called “The Fire Within”, about an aspiring author and his clay dragon Muse. That book, and those which followed, completely redefined what I was after. I wanted to be a part of this world of dragons and shamans, where words held magic and transdimensional aliens “commingled” (merged consciousnesses) with Earth creatures. And I wanted a Muse of my own; always just a thought away, and always ready with some flash of inspiration to offer.

Looking back on it, I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Starscream reappeared in my life within a few months of that series ending. Our reintroduction came via the original cartoon, and after only a few episodes - specifically, by the end of “Fire in the Sky” - I had already decided I had to write about him. I couldn’t say exactly when I began to perceive him as an entity separate from his cartoon portrayal, but when the idea was suggested to me, it didn’t sound strange or crazy. It sounded right.

Starscream’s energy has always been subtle for me. I’ve never had much luck “feeling” his presence, though I’ve come to trust that he’s there. I only have to talk to him to get proof of that, because he always replies. Sometimes there are words, but more often it’s emotions and concepts, and it can take a while for me to figure out what he means. He also appears in my dreams rather frequently, and we’ve had more than one “face-to-face” meeting that way.

His influence on my life, on the other hand, has been anything but subtle. In addition to inspiring me creatively, he helped me overcome embarrassment about sex, played a role in my moving from a small desert town to a big city, and most recently, he’s come down on me about my abysmal self-care habits. He can be pushy sometimes, but it’s never harsh, and I always end up happier for having listened to him.

In short, Starscream is the friend and Muse I’d been searching for all those years, and I’m endlessly grateful for his presence in my life. After all, how many people get to make dreams of magick a reality?

Grayseeker writes:

I first became aware of Starscream’s presence when I got a call from work asking me to come in, even though it was my night off. The idea of going in made me sick, but I felt I had to. It wasn’t just that I was afraid of getting fired; I also had a strong impulse to obey authority figures. I didn’t know how to say no. But on that particular night, a voice spoke inside my mind:

You don't have to do anything you don't want to.

It was a voice I recognized, and the words were accompanied by what I can only describe as a ‘feeling image’ of myself as a sovereign being with full authority over my own life. I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to, and I didn’t go in to work that night. I told my supervisor I’d had some drinks (untrue, but effective) and after that, they stopped calling me on my nights off. Maybe they sensed that something in me had changed. It had.

I believe Starscream has always been with me, but that incident, over three decades ago, is the moment I became consciously aware of his presence. My sense of him has remained pretty consistent over time. I still ‘hear’ him as a voice inside my head. Usually it’s just a few words, but they’re always imbued with a sense of meaning that goes beyond the words themselves. I also get physical sensations, such as warmth or tingling, emotional communication (which is hard to describe!), dreams and synchronicities, usually involving numbers, colors, and/or song lyrics.

To me, Starscream’s presence feels warm, welcoming, comforting, affectionate, and… amused. His communications with me are typically laced with a certain wry humor, and the observations he makes are often phrased in sardonic, even sarcastic terms, though they’re somehow never hurtful. I always feel the warmth behind them, and they make me feel loved. I always feel like he’s on my side, even when he’s pointing out ways that I could improve.

On very rare occasions, he will get serious. That’s when I know to pay extra attention, because it usually means there’s some danger to me, or that I’m venturing into territory that isn’t healthy. I’ve learned (the hard way!) that he’s always right. He’s immensely wise, and I’ve learned to listen when he says ‘no.’ He doesn’t say it often, and he always has a good reason.

Starscream has influenced my life in countless ways. He’s my creative Muse, and has been the impetus for my desire to write. He’s also my main guide, my teacher and spiritual awakener. I think of him as more a friend, and more than family. I love, trust and respect him, and feel that I receive the same in return. I hope these words will find their way to someone who is starting on the same path, or a similar one. If I can offer any reassurance or inspiration, perhaps it’s just to say trust you heart. I’m glad I trusted mine.

I know he’s sad because he couldn’t blow up the Earth, but kinda want to hug him anyway...

A Few Last Thoughts

You might be wondering how to make sense of all this. In particular, you may wonder how to distinguish what’s real from what’s a product of your imagination. And what am I trying to say, anyway? Am I, in fact, suggesting that Starscream is real?

Why yes, I am. Now before you decide that I'm nuts and walk away, let me explain what I mean. I am not necessarily implying that Starscream is a physical entity. I'm not saying that if you were to hop into a really fast spaceship and fly far enough and in the right direction, you would arrive at a metallic world named Cybertron, populated by living robots who are able to transform into various types of vehicles and other machines, and that among those Cybertronian entities you would find an individual named Starscream.

Of course, I'm not ruling that out, either. Our universe is too vast and strange to rule out much of anything. But what I am saying, based on several decades of personal experience, is that there is a real, non-physical entity named Starscream, with whom it's possible to communicate and have real interactions.

Can I prove this? Nope! There is no tangible, objective phenomenon I could point to as "proof" of his existence, but for me, that's beside the point. I feel Starscream as a constant presence in my life. He is my guide, teacher, healer and dearest friend, and his impact on my life has been very real indeed. I hope that the personal examples given above will provide a starting point for you to begin having your own experiences, if you desire them, and that your relationship with Starscream will be as rewarding as mine has always been.

Blessed be, Grayseeker

#starscream #starscream spirit guide #pop culture spirituality #pop culture paganism #pop culture spirit guides #spiritual connection #spirit contact #spiritualjourney #Spiritual practice

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lexosaurus · 5 years

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Everything Was White: Part 5

Part: [1] [2] [3] [4]

read on [ffnet] / [ao3]

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Danny looked up to see all eyes on him. Oh, right. He was in family therapy. Or, kind of family therapy. Jazz wasn’t here. Apparently Danny would be too overwhelmed if there were more than two of his family members in the same room with him in the hospital, so Jazz was left to fend for herself in the wilderness that was Casper High. Danny didn’t really care either way. After all, Jazz would just cry and try to pick apart his feelings in front of his parents, which was something he wanted to avoid, thank you very much. It was bad enough she had to do it at all. Danny wasn’t opposed to saving himself from that potential disaster.

“What?” Danny said.

“How are you feeling about being transferred to outpatient next week, Danny?” his therapist asked, tapping her slender fingers against the sleeves of her emerald shirt.

“Fine.”

She nodded as though he just poured his heart out to the audience. “Thank you. And you, Jack? How do you feel about Danny coming home next week?”

Jack looked down at his lap. When he spoke, his tone was soft. “I’m happy that he’s finally going to be coming home. But…”

“But?” the therapist prompted.

“But I’m worried. Obviously.”

“Why are you worried?”

A wry smile appeared on his lips. “I just love my family too much. When they’re hurting, I worry for them. It’s my natural response as a parent.”

“What about for Danny specifically? What about him moving home worries you?”

Jack’s smile fell, and he was silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving the blue carpet below him. “I’m worried because...I don’t want to do anything that will cause Danno to panic. I don’t want to hurt him. And I feel...I know I’m not the most observant guy around, but this is a whole new territory. And I’m not just talking about the...I mean, it’s just everything . There’s so much I don’t know. I want to know, and I understand why I don’t, but I love you too much, kiddo. I don’t want to hurt you. You mean the world to me.”

Beside him, Maddie started sniffling. Jack wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder like he did every family therapy session. He grabbed a tissue box and handed it to her.

“And Danny? Would you like to say anything as a response?” the therapist asked.

No. What he wanted to do was go take a nap.

“Uh…” Danny licked his lips. Keep it short. Practice it in your head before you say it. You can do it, just say the sentence. “I...I’m sorry if you—uh, you feel um...I’m okay. I’m fine. I—I’ll be okay.”

Goddamnit. Shit. Shit. He couldn’t even get through the sentence. He refused to make eye contact with his family, not wanting to see the anxiety-ridden expressions of his parents because he was supposed to be getting better in inpatient but he still couldn’t get through a simple “I’m fine” without stumbling around like a drunken barhopper.

“Danno, you don’t have to be strong for us. We’re your parents.”

“I’m fine, though.”

The therapist lowered her clipboard. “It’s okay, Danny. This is a safe area.”

This was so dumb. Why was he here again? He could be asleep. “Okay?”

“You seem unsure. Why is that?”

“No, no!” Danny held up his hands. His plan to fly under the radar was imploding by the second. “I—uh, I know. It’s just...It’s just I’m fine. You know? It’s—okay, uh, yeah…”

“Okay, Danny.” The therapist shifted her gaze. “Maddie? Would you like to communicate with us how you feel about Danny coming home next week?”

“Um.” Maddie sniffed, dotting her red-rimmed eyes with a tissue. “I’m very relieved. It’s been so long since Danny’s been home. So, so long. I just...I feel like my life’s been put on hold and I’m so relieved that he’s finally coming home. I’ve missed him so much.”

Danny squirmed in his seat, diverting his eyes away from his mom.

“But I’m also so worried. He’s only been here a few weeks and—oh, Danny, I’m so sorry—but I’m concerned he’s not ready to come home. He...you…”

“What’s that?” the therapist prompted.

Maddie crumpled the tissue in her fingers. “It’s about Danny’s incident yesterday. The one in class? It just makes me so worried about him going back to Casper High because...well…”

Nope. No. He was not getting into this right now.

Trying to keep the irritation out of his voice, Danny grounded out, “I know.”

The therapist quirked her brow at Danny. “Yeah? What’s going on, Danny?”

“Nothing.” Danny tightened his fists. “It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, sweetie. You got very ill during class yesterday, which was very similar to when you got ill at Casper high. And honestly, it makes me very nervous about you coming home so soon,” Maddie said.

Danny felt his cheeks heat up. He crossed his arms and slumped down in his chair, looking anywhere but at the people in the room. He almost wanted to open his mouth and tell everyone off for forcing him to be here because he really didn’t want to deal with this right now and please for just one day couldn’t he not deal with his emotions? Just keep them trapped behind a locked door and incinerate the key?

Maddie seemed to take his silence as permission to continue. “It was my fault. I pushed him to go back to school too soon. I didn’t want to admit that...that anything like this happened to him. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were. I...I didn’t even stop to think about if Danny was going to be able t-to handle it all. It was—I was so selfish. I’m sorry.”

Maddie’s voice broke. She blew her nose, the sound echoing around the otherwise silent room.

“It wasn’t your fault, Mads. We all met with Lancer and the principal. We all agreed to have him attend school again when he came home from the hospital,” Jack said, rubbing Maddie’s shoulder.

The therapist pursed her lips. “Sometimes our brains refuse to fully accept certain situations because that makes them real to us. It doesn’t make you selfish or mean you’re a bad parent. It’s just our brain’s way of coping with a bad situation.”

“My brain’s coping caused Danny to get hurt,” Maddie said.

“Hmm, but it also led to him getting the help he needed, didn’t it? The anxiety attack yesterday in school wasn’t great, but compared to a few weeks ago, Danny was able to bounce back from it very quickly. He was a bit fatigued directly after, but by the afternoon, he was participating in group therapy sessions with the other teens like normal,” the therapist explained, gazing at Maddie with warm eyes.

“Still…” Maddie’s voice trailed off, the unspoken it’s my fault resonating around the room.

The therapist offered a smile. “Sometimes our decisions may have poor outcomes in the moment but in the long run may lead to the most success. And yes, the past few weeks have been extremely hard for the both of you as parents. No one wants to see their kid hurting. But Danny’s here , with a team of people who are here to support him and both of you. He’s safe and supported, and so now it’s time for you to allow yourself to accept what happened without beating yourself up over it. What happened at school was not your fault, Maddie. It was simply the result of a bad situation.”

Of course it wasn’t her fault. Danny knew this. Why couldn’t his mom?

If Danny hadn’t been so weak, he wouldn’t have had issues in school.

He wouldn’t have had to come here.

He could be home. In bed. Asleep. Not talking to anyone. With the lights out and curtains drawn.

But right now, that sounded too good to be true. And Danny knew deep down that those nice moments in life were not for him. He wasn’t allowed peace in his life. And he would never be allowed another peaceful moment ever again. The Guys in White ensured this by gifting him with a lifetime of medical issues and painkiller prescriptions.

Danny shifted, his chest twinging unhappily. A second clonazepam sounded like a dream right now…

Wait, what?

Focus, Danny.

Danny cued himself back in to the conversation. “...but you’re sending Danny back to school after the PHP program, aren’t you?”

Maddie shifted. “Yes, he’ll be going back to school. But not right away. We’ll give him some time to adjust, and when we do send him to school, it’ll be different this time. We know where we went wrong.”

“Can I ask what you’re planning for him?”

There was a slight pause before Maddie responded. “Well, we adjusted Danny’s IEP so he’ll be going to school for only half of the day to start, and he’ll only be studying the core school subjects. The learning specialists in the school’s learning center will be working directly with him, so his class size will be reduced to about five students and two teachers. All of Danny’s teachers are making modified lesson plans to send down to the learning center for him to complete, and they’ve all said they’re willing to come down during a free period and help him if he needs the extra help.”

The therapist nodded. “That sounds good. I think he’ll really benefit from the smaller class sizes. He seems to do well here in smaller group situations, wouldn’t you say, Danny?”

Danny shrugged, keeping his head down. This wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last time that adults talked about Danny right in front of him, like he was inept. And in some ways, he was inept. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Before the Guys in White, if his parents were making him uncomfortable he could jump straight into the conversation and snap at them. He could say something teenagery like, “Stop embarrassing me!” or “Can you lay off me for a second?”

Everything was different now. His brain didn’t react correctly anymore. Thinking took effort, talking took effort, listening took effort. Everything was exhausting. And a lot of the time, he simply didn’t have the energy to engage.

He was too fragile to go to regular school. He was officially a special-ed kid. Which, if he was being truthful, he was surprised he hadn’t been referred to the learning center long ago, when Phantom first started turning school into an anxiety-filled mess. He guessed he always had decent grades before then—courtesy of being the child of two cutting-edge scientist parents with four degrees and a PhD between them—but even then, a part of him was still bitter no one had done anything. Not a single one of his teachers requested he get sent down for testing or asked he receive additional help. The administration slapped the “lazy” label on him and handed out detention after detention, as if that would to teach him not to fail out of school.

Well, a nervous breakdown in the gym locker room and a diagnosis of mild brain damage certainly did the trick.

“There’s some other things too,” Maddie continued. Danny heard another tissue being ripped from the box. “He’ll get time-and-a-half to complete his tests, and he’ll do his test one-on-one with a teacher aide. And when he finally does start reintegrating into the classroom, he’ll be seated in the front of every class.”

“How long do you plan on keeping this education plan active for?” the therapist asked.

Jack spoke up. “At least until winter break. We’re going to reconvene at the end of the fall term and see where Danny’s at. If we think he’s ready to start going to some more classes, then we’ll start that process. And if not, then we’ll keep the half-day schedule only. No rush, right Danno?”

Danny shrugged again.

“This seems like a thorough plan. It’s very good that you two were able to reflect about the deficiencies with the first plan and adjust accordingly. I know this time has been tough, but please don’t forget to celebrate the small victories that have happened, like gathering this IEP in such a short amount of time.” The therapist turned to Danny. “What do you think about all this, Danny? This is your education, and it’s important that you have a say in what you want your high school experience to be.”

Danny unraveled his arms, dropping them to his sides. He pressed a finger into his thigh, as if he hadn’t just checked three hours ago whether or not his paraplegia had miraculously been cured, but he felt nothing.

“Danny?” the therapist prompted, her voice a bit softer.

“Um...it’s fine.”

“Did you have any questions or concerns about your IEP? Anything you wanted to ask?”

“Uh…” Danny played with the hem of his hoodie. It was clear that the therapist wasn’t going to let him off easily. A few weeks ago, they might have let him sit there silently during family therapy hour, but now Danny was stable. He had to participate.

He breathed out and tried again. “Will I be going to homeroom? With Sam and Tucker?”

“Yes,” Maddie answered. “Lancer actually suggested we leave that as is.”

Alarm bells were going off in Danny’s head. “Really? I bet...I bet he just wanted to keep a—an eye on me. In homeroom. Make sure I even...I actually showed up to school.”

“Now don’t say that,” Jack said. His voice was uncharacteristically thoughtful. “I think part of it’s that he wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, but another huge piece that he brought up is he wanted to give you time to see Sam and Tucker since they won’t be in learning center with you. Between school, PT, and outpatient, you’re going to be pretty busy. I think he just wanted to make sure you get a chance to see your friends too. Danno, I know you and Mr. Lancer haven’t always understood each other, but believe me when I say that he’s really rooting for you. He’s been a huge help through all this.”

Danny rolled his eyes and crossed his arms again, not caring about whatever attitude he was showing.

“He’s your teacher advocate for your IEP plan, you know,” Maddie added in.

“I know, Mom.”

The therapist gave no reaction to Danny’s moody display. Danny wondered if, deep down, everyone in the room was almost glad to see this bit of adolescent defiance leaking out of Danny. It had been too long since he was able to show attitude without fear of being hurt. Not that he behaved like the government wanted him to while he was locked up—God no, his defiance there led him to a wheelchair.

But this...this was normal. Well, it was as close to normal as he could get at the moment.

“There’s also the manner of planning out his outpatient schedule. Danny will be attending the a PHP program, correct?” the therapist asked.

Maddie nodded. “Yes, that is correct.”

“Good. I’ll still be seeing him for his individual sessions three times a week starting next week. And he’ll be in the PHP program for about six hours per day, five days per week. Based on our sessions, the PHP program sessions, and how his time at home goes, that number will slowly go down as time goes on.”

“How long will he be going to the PHP program before we can start adjusting the schedule down, would you say?” Maddie asked.

The therapist pressed her thin lips together and shrugged. “It really differs person to person. Everyone’s different, and everyone responds differently to the group therapies in outpatient.”

Danny’s eyes flickered over to Maddie, searching for her reaction. Did she think he wasn’t capable? That he was doomed to never graduate from outpatient? But her face betrayed nothing. She was blank, controlled.

“Is there anything we can do? As parents? I want this transition to be as smooth as possible,” Maddie said.

“The family unit is the most critical part of this process,” the therapist said. She paused, the corners of her lips turning upward. “Maddie, Jack, you both are very capable and empathetic people. As his therapist, I have nothing but good faith in the both of you that Danny will be supported when he returns home on Monday.”

Danny glanced over to his wheelchair next to the door. The object of his failure was suddenly melodic in its call to him to sit down and escape whatever the hell this was. Family therapy was always his least favorite time of the week. And the torture of opening up to his family seemed to get worse each session as his therapist prodded new memories and emotions Danny would rather keep shut.

“But is there anything specifically I can do? Please, I just want to help my son.”

“Just being there for him, as you have been since he started this program, is all we need in order to continue the healing process.”

“Mads,” Jack said, rubbing Maddie’s shoulder. “We got this. We all do. Right, Danny?”

Danny grunted, his eyes fixed on his lap once again. This was awful. This was so awful.

He wouldn’t be in this position if he hadn’t gotten himself revealed on television.

Which wouldn’t have happened if he had just dodged that fucking attack.

Seriously, how hard was it to dodge an ecto-weapon? The noise they made as they let out a blast was enough of a warning that it was time to move.

This was his fault. This was all his fault.

Now his parents had to be in family therapy with him. And they thought this was their fault. When really, no, it was Danny’s fault. But they couldn’t see that, could they? They thought it was their fault. They were blaming themselves and beating themselves up. But it wasn’t their fault. It was his.

Because he didn’t dodge Skulker’s attack—

It was all his fault.

—even though he could hear it coming—

He was lucky the government didn’t kill him.

—why didn’t he just dodge—

It was his fault.

— he let himself be hit—

His fault.

—even if it was a new weapon, he should have seen it coming—

Fuck.

---

“So, you’re leaving then.” A quiet voice cut into Danny’s thoughts. Danny swiveled his head around to see the Hispanic boy, who stood over his chair with slouched shoulders and an unreadable expression.

“Yeah,” Danny said.

“When do your parents get here?”

“Any minute,” Danny answered quietly, glancing at the overhead clock. It was technically three minutes past when they said they’d be arriving, but his parents were known for being either extremely early or extremely late to any function whatsoever. There was no in-between with them.

“They seem nice.” At Danny’s odd look, the boy added, “You know, from what I’ve seen on TV.”

“Oh,” Danny said. He still forgot his family was famous now. Danny hadn’t seen any of their TV appearances yet, but apparently they’d already retracted many of their theories, slamming the world with hard evidence along the way. All to get Danny home.

All for him.

“They’re great,” Danny mused. “Weird, but great.”

“Yeah…”

Danny’s eyes flickered back over to to the boy. His arms were pressed into his stomach, one hand nervously scratching the other. Danny squinted up at the boy his brain slowly figuring out how he should respond. Finally, he blurted out, “What?”

“Huh?”

“You look like...I dunno.” Danny waved a hand at him. “Something’s up.”

“Oh, I just…” The brunette pulled out a chair and sat down next to Danny. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Do you think we’ll be friends after you leave? I mean, you’re leaving now, and I’m leaving next week. Do you think we’ll still talk after I get out?”

Danny averted his gaze. “Sure.”

“Okay. That’s good. I just—I mean, I know you don’t think of yourself like this. But you’re like a celebrity and all. And I’m just some loser from—”

“You’re not a loser.” Danny glared at the table.

“Yeah but I’m not, you know...”

Danny’s glare snapped up at the boy. “You’re not what? A half-ghost?”

“No! I wasn’t going to say that!”

“A science experiment?”

“No, not even!” The teen ran his fingers through his hair, frustration clearly painted on his round face.

“Then what? ”

“You’re just…” The teen shifted, bringing elbows off the table and onto his lap. “You know. You’re so cool. You’ve saved so many people and helped so many people out. You’re like the real life version of DnD, you know? And I get that you’re here and I’m not saying that being you has been easy. Because...it hasn’t. Obviously. But you have the whole world that cares about you. So many people fought for you, and you have so many people back home waiting for you. Your friends and family. All your classmates. And I just...I have no one.”

“Oh,” Danny said, staring up at the boy who refused to look back at him. “What do you mean, no one?”

“You know...I don’t have friends. At my high school. I’m not like you. I’m not part of the cool group or anything. Kids don’t talk to me, and when they do, it’s…” his voice trailed off as his eyes shifted up to the ceiling.

‘Cool .’

Huh.

Danny Fenton had been called a lot of things—loser, freak, nerd—but cool? That was one word he’d never been called before. And Danny Phantom hadn’t heard it in a while either. In fact, Danny couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called him, Fenton or Phantom, cool. At least, he hadn’t heard it since last spring. When Dash and Paulina ruled the halls, talking about how cool Phantom was, blissfully unaware that he was the same loser they just elbowed into a locker. And Danny…

Danny went about his day as usual. Ignorant as to what was to come.

“I’m not cool,” Danny found himself saying. “Before everything came out, I wasn’t...people didn’t like me very much. The other kids at school.”

The teen shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. You don’t get it because you have friends. Not being the most popular in your class isn’t the same as—”

Before Danny could stop himself, all his dirty secrets were spilling from his mouth like a waterfall. “Dash—the quarterback—he locked me...locked me in those tall thin lockers. And he and his friends would lean against the door so I-I couldn’t get out. They’d laugh. And then they’d...they’d let me out. Which was almost worse. Because...because it was me versus...all of them.”

“Oh,” the teen said, his eyes as wide as saucers. And for a moment, Danny almost felt embarrassed that after the teen had come to him with his own insecurities about school, Danny had responded selfishly.

But he didn’t feel embarrassed. He didn’t feel bad about stealing the spotlight once again for his own problems, because goddamnit this was one of the only boys who gave Danny any semblance of friendship at inpatient, and Danny didn’t want to keep up the “perfect ghost hero” façade with him any longer. If the public wanted to think his human form was an innocent angel? Fine. So be it. But this teen? Who pushed his wheelchair down the hallway when Danny’s chest had a fit? Who sat with Danny during mealtimes and didn’t say a word at the various heavy drugs he was given each morning and evening? Who colored with Danny and kept the conversation alive despite his stuttering mess?

No, this boy deserved better. He deserved the truth.

Danny exhaled. “Yeah. But they didn’t...something changed. When I went to school now. They didn’t...they didn’t...I guess it was the wheelchair…”

“Maybe they felt guilty.”

“Maybe…”

“Mine won’t be so nice when I get back to school.” The teen twisted the sleeves of his hoodie. “Oh god, and if they ever found out where I’ve been...that would be the end of me.”

“Tonsil surgery, remember?”

The boy gave a weak smile. “Yeah. Just don’t rat on me when we get out, okay?”

“Sure.”

It’s not like he could rat the boy out even if he wanted to. Danny had no idea what his name was, and at this point, it would be too embarrassing to ask.

As if he could read Danny’s mind, the teen reached over the table and grabbed a loose piece of paper and a marker from the art bucket. He scribbled something down on the paper and all but shoved it onto Danny’s lap. ‘Miguel Cantos 817-431-XXXX’

Danny must have looked lost because the boy’s expression immediately turned sheepish as he ducked his head down and muttered, “My cell. In case you wanna stay in touch after we get out.”

Miguel Cantos. Danny repeated the name in his head. His eyes flickered back up to the small boy sitting in front of him, who was currently curling in on himself. The teen—Miguel—ran a hand through his short hair, his round cheeks turning red at Danny’s continuous staring.

“Thanks,” Danny said, glancing back down at the paper. Miguel Cantos. He couldn’t forget that name.

“Can I ask you something?” the—Miguel said.

“Sure.”

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to. But I was just curious.”

“Go ahead.”

“Okay.” Miguel nodded, hesitating. His fingers fidgeted until they landed on the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. Tan fingers pulled and stretched the material, twisting it till the cloth hid his thumb from view. “Are you the only one? Or are there more people like you?”

“Oh, uh…” Danny leaned back in his chair.

Shit.

Well, there went any semblance of not lying to this kid.

Technically, minus Vlad, he was the only person like this. And even then, Vlad was ever so slightly different from Danny. Not to mention he was a total creep who had completely given in to his sick obsession with Maddie and seemed to think that killing Jack and kidnapping Danny on multiple occasions was the only way to win both Maddie and Danny’s affections as his pseudo son or whatever twisted thoughts that plagued his head.

But even then, even after everything Vlad had done, he still couldn’t rat him out as being a halfa. Maybe it was his obsession talking, maybe it was the constant need to have this one-up on Vlad, but at the end of it all, being a halfa was something too personal, too private. Vlad and Danny alike had taken their secret and guarded it within an inch of their lives again and again. Danny was the one unlucky enough to have been outed on national television, not Vlad. He fucked up, and he suffered the consequences tenfold.

Danny wouldn’t wish what happened to him on anyone, not even Vlad.

“Yeah, I’m the only halfa.”

“Oh, wow. Do you and your family know why?”

“They have their theories,” Danny said, choosing his words carefully. Most of his parents research was confidential, and he and his parents hadn’t really been able to sit down and talk about all the ghost-stuff yet.

There was also the matter of Danny not exactly being too keen on having his physiology on display to the public like he was a rare zoo animal. Nope, no thank you.

“They don’t know for certain...why I survived the accident…it—it’s speculation.”

“Oh. That’s cool then,” Miguel said.

“Danny,” a gentle voice came from behind him.

Danny swiveled around to see one of the nursing assistants approaching the pair, a warm smile on her face. “Your parents are here.”

“Thanks,” Danny said. He turned back to Miguel. “Well…”

Miguel offered him a grin.

It looked forced.

“This is it. You’re off,” he said.

“Yeah.” Danny exhaled, trying to dissipate the knots of anxiety that decided to spring into existence. “Yeah. This is it.”

“I’ll come with you to get your bag,” the nursing assistant said. She stepped to the side, raising her arm in the universal “after you” motion.

“Okay.” Danny’s voice sounded distant to his own ears.

“Hey.” Miguel slowly lifted his hand, curling it into a loose fist. His face relaxed, and a real grin replaced the fake one from before. “It’s been good getting to know you, Danny. I never expected to meet you, and I never thought you would ever give me the time of day if we did happen to cross paths. You’re awesome, dude. Keep in touch.”

Danny raised his own fist in kind, lightly tapping the tan skin with his pale knuckles. He felt the corners of his lips twitch up involuntarily. This time, the assurance along with a “you too” didn’t seem so forced either.

He dropped his arms to his side, undid the breaks on his wheelchair, and pivoted away from Miguel. A final goodbye brushed against Danny’s eardrums, but he didn’t offer one in response. The uncertainty of whether he would ever talk to Miguel again had begun collecting in the corner of his mind. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak to the brunette again, it was just…

What if them staying in contact compromised Miguel’s anonymity as a suicide patient? What if the other kids in his school found out? Everyone must have known where Danny ended up. This hospital was the only one around that offered an adolescent program. It wouldn’t be too hard to connect the dots between Danny’s public meltdown and subsequent hospitalization and Miguel’s “tonsil surgery” absence.

It was just too risky. He couldn’t risk outing Miguel like that. Not after how nice the boy had been to him since he arrived.

That was it, right? That’s why he felt so conflicted about this?

“Alright, let’s do this,” the nursing assistant said, dragging Danny from his anxiety-filled brain.

He paused, tilting his head up to be met with the plain door to his dorm room. The nursing assistant gently pushed the door back to reveal a spotless white and blue accented bedroom. His bed was made, sheets pulled up under the pillows like his mother had taught him all those years ago. Decorating his bed was his duffle bag, which was packed and zipped up.

He put his hands on the metal rims of his wheels and readied himself to push forward toward the duffle bag. But, before he could move, the nursing assistant had already made her way across the room.

“Don’t worry, Danny. I got it,” she said, grabbing the duffle and slinging a black strap across her shoulder. She reached down for the walker. “You just follow me out, okay?”

He relaxed, allowing his eyes to wander around the room one last time. The white walls and ceiling didn’t bother him anymore, not like they did when he first arrived to inpatient. Sure, the dorm room was mostly white, but it seemed much brighter than the white in the government compound. The government’s walls were dim and maddening. Their white pressed down on Danny’s lungs, leering at him with hysteria.

You’ll never escape, the whiteness seemed to say. This is your life now. You deserve it, freak.

The white in the hospital was like gleaming pages on a fresh sheet of computer paper. It was blank, yet eager to be filled with new sketches and splashes of color. The room alluded a hopeful sense of safety that Danny desperately craved.

“Well, you ready?” the nursing assistant asked.

“Yeah,” Danny said. He was ready. Maybe he wasn’t completely fixed yet—and if he was honest, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be—but he was ready to be out of here. He hadn’t seen Sam and Tucker in weeks, and they hadn’t truly hung out since before he was revealed. Sure, they visited him when he was in the main hospital and when he came home for that short stint before being checked into inpatient, but he wasn’t exactly present for those encounters.

He made a mental note to treat Sam and Tucker to the Nasty Burger when he got back. For everything he put them through. Whenever his bank account would allow for it, at least.

Oh yeah, he was definitely ready to be out of here.

He turned to the nursing assistant and offered her a lopsided grin, ““Yeah. No offense, but these—but these beds suck.”

The nursing assistant snorted. “They don’t look too comfortable. I’m just glad I never had to sleep in them.”

“Do yourself a—a favor and...don’t get checked in then. You won’t have to.”

“I’ll try my best.” She undid the clasps on the walker and folded it flat. “Besides, I think I’m a little too old to hang with you kids.”

“Aw, come on. You’re what, twenty?”

She rolled her eyes. “A little older than that. Nice try though. Come on, let’s not keep your parents waiting. We still have to sign you out and everything.”

They exited the boys’ psychiatric unit, the double doors hissing closed for the last time. She led him down an unfamiliar path to the lobby of the building, one Danny couldn’t remember going on when he was admitted the month before. Thinking back, Danny didn’t remember much from the first day he was admitted.

He must have been really out of it.

Seeing his parents for the first time outside of the double doors was awkward, neither party knowing exactly what to say to each other. Maddie kept turning from the front desk to give him small, watery smiles that left him entirely unsure how to reciprocate. After the fifth watery glance in his direction, he made it a point to stare down at the floor, the ceiling, the seams of his hoodie, anywhere but the direction of his parents.

Jack was a different story. He was quiet, focused on getting all the paperwork filled out accurately. This attention to detail was somewhat unnerving for Danny, who was used to him being the distracted parent. But, thinking back over the past few weeks, Jack’s change had been the most apparent out of his parents and sister. The goofy, immature man was much more stoic than before. It was as if Jack had left town and his lawyer twin brother replaced him.

Danny waited silently off to the side until the final papers were signed, signaling the beginning of his freedom. Well, partial freedom. He would be back here tomorrow for outpatient. But from this day forward he could sleep in his own bed, eat his mother’s baked goods, and sit on the roof and look at the constellations with Jazz whenever he wanted.

He was finally free.

The sunlight hitting his face almost didn’t seem real. It wasn’t like the sticky heat he was met with when he was dumped like a UPS package on the Fenton Works doorstep by the Guys in White after his...residency with the government. Which was a suppressed memory that could stay suppressed, Fenturd.

He pressed a hand to his forehead. He hadn’t thought about that memory yet, that moment when the blinding sunlight and summer heat met his body for the first time since he had been taken away.

All he remembered from that day was the sound of the door opening and his eyes immediately snapping shut at the bright light that met his dilated pupils. A rough hand grabbed his arm—the broken one that couldn’t heal thanks to the ecto-suppressants—and yanked him out of the car. His torso hit the sidewalk and he screamed as the fresh wounds on his chest burned in pain. He writhed, desperate to get off his stomach, only for his back to cry out in misery.

And then he woke up in the hospital. Surrounded by fresh linens and medical professionals working to heal him.

The concerned tone of Jack cut into Danny’s thoughts. “Danno? You okay?”

Danny’s eyes snapped back into focus. Shit, he was falling behind his parents. “Yeah, sorry.”

“You need help?” his mother asked.

“No, I’m good. Promise.” Danny gave his mother what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It wasn’t, if his mother’s persistent worried look was anything to go by. He rolled his eyes and put more force than necessary into the next push on his wheelchair, speeding past his parents.

Danny reached the start of the parking lot and glanced around, searching for the Fenton Assault Vehicle. It was never hard to spot, with it standing several feet higher than a normal car and plastered with the neon green Fenton Works logo. But much to Danny’s surprise, he couldn’t spot it anywhere.

“Where’d you park?”

“Right up front,” Maddie said.

“Huh? Oh…” Danny’s eyes latched onto Jazz’s small red car parked in the first handicapped parking spot. He swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting painfully. “Oh.”

“No ghost assault vehicle today,” Jack said from behind Danny. He felt a heavy hand hit his shoulder. “Your mother didn’t think the hospital would like it too much if we showed up with a van full of weapons. So we borrowed Jazz’s car for the day.”

“Oh. When did you…?” Danny nodded towards the handicapped sign in front of the spot.

“Um, a few weeks ago,” Maddie said, her voice tight.

“We know it’s not ideal, but it’s practical. And hey, someday you might not need it if you work hard enough in PT, right?” Jack asked.

“Right.”

“Then for now, this is just the way it is, son.” Jack’s hand squeezed Danny’s shoulder before letting go. “Now, enough chit-chat. Let’s go home.”

“Yeah...home.”

---

HUGE shoutout to imekitty for not only beta-ing this chapter (which was a mess that required multiple days of her working her editing magic) but also for just helping me along the way with this chapter and giving me lots of encouragement and motivation. She's a gem and an amazing writer so if you want some great angsty fics I highly suggest you go read her stuff.

Also big ups to tumblr user dannyphandump for giving one last read through on this chapter and helping with the last-minute detail edits/things to think about for future chapters. They were super helpful!

Thanks for reading, and for everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I can't wait to hear your thoughts and predictions about the next chapter now that he's home!

#danny phantom #everything was white #fanfiction #phicc #my writing #chapter 5 #part 5

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carmintros · 4 years

Photo

@ariwalters / ❛ ｡ ✩ ﾟ my eyes are probably playing tricks on me again, but is that really awsten knight? oh, wait, it’s just adrian “ari” lance walters. yes, that twenty-four year old drummer, who i am pretty sure is a visitor. according to the talk of the town, he is incredibly flighty & unpredictable, yet undeniably outgoing & adventurous. that is precisely why a playground at dawn, a carnival ride that just keeps spinning, chasing waves on a beach, laughing until you cry & jackson pollock paintings remind me of them so much, but then again you know what they say about leos, we’ll see how that one turns out ! penned by kit / mst & they / them

car crash tw, ptsd tw, alcoholism tw

Ari Walters

Age: 24

Gender: Non-binary, he/him

[Between the Bars] - “Haha, not totally sure why this one comes to mind but like everyone says it’s like me with alcohol and stuff but I don’t really see it, I think I’m fine.”

D.O.B: August 15, 1995

Why the name Ari?

“Oh! I was named after my dad ‘cept he was always called Adrian so they called me Ari so no one got confused or anything!! It always worked really good too!”

Ethnicity: white

Relationship Status: In multiple relationships “I fall a little in love with everyone, I think, because everyone is beautiful and wonderful. I’m kind of the classic definition of poly, lol. People underestimate how much communication that takes though!”

Sexual Orientation: pan “Like I said, I fall in love with everyone! I can’t help it, haven’t you ever watched someone go about their life and you can just tell if they’re gentle or rough, if they need love or if they’re loved, et cetera? I love it and I love them.”

Appearance:

Height: 5’7

Ari resembles a puppy with ADHD. He is constantly moving, constantly engaged with the world and constantly interacting with everyone around him. He has to be active. If he sits still he might fall asleep and he still gets nightmares of the wreck.

His signature ‘thing’ has been his dyed hair for years. He doesn’t think he would recognize himself without it at this point. He thought about dying it back to brown for April Fools day one year but realized it’s been so long since seeing his real hair that he didn’t remember what color to get to match his roots.

Ari has an almost compulsive seeming need to be the most colorful person in any space he’s in. He wants to stand out and he does so by being a walking color wheel. Strangely, he manages to make his outfits cohesive.

You can’t get too close to Ari without noticing how tired he always looks. His eyes are always a little swollen and bloodshot and his skin has the uncomfortable thin appearance of someone much older or much sicker than him. If he’s asked about it he jokes that he’s just ugly (though most people would agree he is anything but ugly).

History:

Ari can split his life into a perfect before and after the wreck.

Before. Ari had a perfectly wonderful childhood. He was loved and taken care of in his historical Boston home. His dad taught Marine Biology at Harvard, his mom was the perfect socialite and Ari and his sisters were happy

His days consisted of school and drawing and going to the beach with his dad to learn about the animals. If Ari was to assign an emotion to that period of his life it would be love. If he had to assign a color it would be pink.

His life before was like something from a 50s sitcom. It was perfect. He knows rationally that he’s seeing through rosy lenses. He thinks he remembers his dad having an affair. He knows his sister and he argued a lot and he was such a mischievous child it kept him in trouble a lot of the time. He knows this. But it feels different. It feels idyllic compared to after.

His entire world shattered when he was 13. His family shouldn’t have even been out. If only he hadn’t argued with his sister. If only he had just set the table then maybe his dad wouldn’t have suggested eating out. Maybe if his mom and little sister had been home instead of in California they could have told his dad no, it wasn’t their day for eating out and they would all be fine eating at the house. Maybe if his sister hadn’t forgotten her phone and made them turn back so she could retrieve it because she was so scared of missing a text from her boyfriend.

Maybe….

Maybe they wouldn’t have been crossing the intersection when the other driver plowed through it. Maybe they wouldn’t have spun out and hit another car. Maybe his dad and his sister and the little boy from the other car and the driver who caused it all would still be alive. Maybe…

After. Ari doesn’t remember the crash itself. He doesn’t remember seeing his father’s body crushed against the interior of their car even though he’s since been told he was trying to pull him out. He doesn’t remember his sister’s glassy, dead stare though he was told he screamed at her to wake up. He doesn’t remember the ambulance ride but he’s told he fought the paramedics to try to get to his family.

He doesn’t remember getting to the hospital and being admitted.

He only starts remembering sitting in that big hospital room alone for what felt like hours (he knows now that it was only a few minutes at a time) while nurses bustled past the door outside trying to focus on the lives that were at risk after the crash. Even still, the evening comes in flashes. A teary eyed woman with a heavy accent telling him his mom would be there soon and rubbing his back. A doctor, young and frazzled, bursting into his room to tell the cops to leave and stop asking him about it. The smell of oil and burning metal seared so strongly into his skin it made his head hurt.

He remembers the funeral. Closed casket, both buried at the same time. He remembers packing up the house and selling it and moving to New York. He doesn’t think he felt real during that time. He kept waiting to wake up and find out it was just a terrible dream. Part of him still hopes he wakes up.

–

His mom didn’t try to neglect his mental health when they moved. Despite having help from family she still had to take on two jobs, she had two children to raise alone and she had just lost her husband and little girl. It was hard to be everything Ari needed her to be too.

She did her best. He was sent to a mental health clinic and given regular therapy sessions for a while where he was diagnosed with PTSD and a trauma based phobia regarding riding in cars.

She put him in music lessons to give him an outlet. She enrolled him in an arts high school so he could find similarly minded creative young people and hopefully make friends in their new city.

It didn’t really work. You can’t throw a shattered kid back into society and expect them not to drown. And Ari drowned.

When he was almost 15 he tasted alcohol for the first time at a sleepover. The idea of it had fascinated him since the wreck. How could one liquid be so influential that it would lead you to kill other people? What did it feel like to slip into a haze that strong.

His first sip was revolting. It burned on the way down and he was convinced he could still feel it burning his stomach. He almost put the bottle up and gave up on learning its allure. Something about it still called to be explored and who was Ari to say no?

He snuck the bottle into his bag and drank a little more the next day after school. Just enough to feel warm again and for his brain to quiet and center just a little bit more.

The alcohol made everything better. He felt more human again when he was tipsy. It didn’t take long for Ari to begin to crave it just to function. He started stealing it from his mom’s cabinet and then from the sweet old lady who paid him to take her groceries upstairs. When he was caught stealing from them he started trying to steal it from stores.

He was caught right away, of course, but not by an employee. Instead he was caught by a tall, average looking man in his early 30s. The man, who Ari soon learned was named Sean, offered to buy the alcohol for Ari and invited Ari over to drink with his girlfriend Eliana. Ari agreed immediately.

That night he lost his virginity to the pair. The two adults offered to keep Ari’s alcohol supply always filled so long as he continued to sleep with them. Ari instantly agreed.

—-

After he started drinking he somehow managed to pull his grades up. He felt real when he was drunk. He felt functional. He could do his coursework and practice the drums and paint and even explore New York. He quickly fell in love with the city and learned how to navigate his borough on his skateboard. He learned what buildings he could sneak into and hookup with classmates in without being caught, all the best places for graffiti and where the coolest homeless people hung out.

As Ari progressed through his teenage years his ‘adventures’ got crazier. He broke into the zoo ones and barely escaped getting caught. He hitchhiked out of the city and spent a weekend far upstate before calling his mom from a payphone and getting her to pick him up. He smuggled paint into his homeroom and painted an abstract mural on the teacher’s desk.

Not everything was illegal. He once snuck into an early morning wholesale flower market and convinced a florist to buy him enough white roses to leave one on every grave in The Cathedral Basilica of St. James cemetery and even convinced some of his friends to help him distribute them. He raised money once and bought everyone at his school pizza for lunch so “the lunch people get a day off.”

When he was asked to play drums for a new band that was forming he had to say yes. It was just a chance at another adventure.

—-

He never expected them to get as famous as they did. He figured they would disband rapidly and he could go to college for marine biology. Like his dad. Obviously, that didn’t happen.

Miraculously for all of Ari’s adventures and alcoholism he didn’t have any major scandals during the bands active time. He left that for Jae.

Instead he tried to fly under the radar. He didn’t want anyone picking up on his issues. He maintained his alcoholism, adventured in the cities they toured through and focused on art when they weren’t making music.

—

Slowly he began to tire of not remembering as much of his life as he wanted to. People Ari had no memory of would come up to him as though they knew him. He got an STI without even knowing who it was from. He woke up in places he had never seen before. He destroyed things in his house and drove people away.

The catalyst came just before the band was put on hiatus and he was approached by an ex. Apparently during a drunken escapade he hadn’t used protection and had gotten the girl pregnant a few years ago. She’d had the baby and suddenly he was being asked if he wanted to be a father. He didn’t, of course, but he also didn’t want this to ever happen again.

Ari used the move to California as a chance to change everything. He swore he was going sober and wouldn’t return to the lifestyle he’d had before.

—

Now, freshly sober in California, he’s trying to figure out how to balance his new life. He’s still adventuring but it looks different without drinking. He isn’t sure if he likes it or not.

Personality -

“Ari is a rollercoaster. It could get exhausting except you don’t see him that often since he’s dating half the town at any given time. But he’s a blast anyway, especially when he’s sober enough to know up from down. You will have the most wild dates with him but you’ll have the time of your life. He rented a barn once and hired a band so we could have a ‘good old fashioned barn dance’ because he’d just seen one in a movie. It was insane. Best date of my life. That’s why it’s such a shame that he drinks so much. When he’s sober or only tipsy he’s amazing but the more drunk he gets the more the shine wears away. We actually broke up because he punched a hole through a mirror once and cried that he hated how he looked. I just… couldn’t do that. I hate it but I couldn’t.” Jessica B, ex-girlfriend.

Ari is the pinnacle of a yes-man. He agrees to almost everything so long as no one is hurt and he seems very morally grey. So long as no one gets hurt he’s down to try anything. He is high energy and always seems super cheerful. Ari is the kind of person who draws others to him just by how cheery and upbeat he is.

Ari is a romantic at heart. He says he falls in love with everyone and it honestly feels true. He sees something beautiful in everyone he meets and so he always dates multiple people at a time. It helps that he needs company all the time or the negative emotions he’s pushed away since he was a teenager begin to come creeping up.

He can never let that creep up. When it does it overwhelms him and he feels as scared and as lost as he did the entire year following the crash. He doesn’t talk about those emotions and he definitely doesn’t acknowledge that anything is wrong even when it’s exhausting to keep the smile. He doesn’t want to validate them and make them real. Ari will do anything to keep himself from ever feeling that sad and broken again.

It’s part of why he’s such an adrenaline junkie. His thrill seeking is one of the things he’s most known for in his fame. He has an adventure list a mile wide with everything from “Show up at an airport and take the next flight wherever it goes” to “scattering change along the city streets for people to find.”

Hobbies:

Art. Ari loves abstractivism and unconventional art. One of his projects that he was working on before coming to Carmel was saving every bottle from every drink he had over the course of a year so he could display it as a piece. He wasn’t sure about the title for it yet.

Exploring

Going on dates and adventures

He really wants to get a normal job because he thinks it would be hilarious to, say, work at a deli or diner because he’s technically a rock star.

Health:

Ari has PTSD. He doesn’t acknowledge it but it definitely impacts his ability to exist normally. He’s terrified of cars (he still doesn’t drive but he claims it’s because he would rather just skateboard everywhere) and he acts more recklessly to try to distract from it.

Physically he’s actually pretty healthy (aside from his chronic exhaustion). He eats well and works out, now that he’s quit drinking (besides a few relapses here and there) he is largely a super healthy individual.

wanted connections

Partners!!!! Ari is pan and poly so he is down for however many partners he has at any given time. He loves going on dates and hooking up. The more the merrier as far as he’s concerned, too!

Baby-mama. Ari found out he got someone pregnant and it was the largest catalyst for sobriety. They have a rocky relationship regarding the child because Ari really doesn’t feel ready to be a dad but I’m open to if they’re civil or uncivil outside of that.

Confidant. Everyone needs someone they can trust. Even Ari, who’s close relationships never seem to get past sleeping together and casual dating. This can be a friend, a friend of a friend or even someone he’s sleeping with.

#carm:intro

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sarahreeese · 6 years

Text

Ships: How they happen and Headcanons PART 1

Someone requested this, so here is the rundown of my ideal scenarios for each of the ships that I ship. It’s long and detailed so I’m sorry if you’re on mobile. For the rest of you, it’s under the cut. Includes NSFW head canons. This got out of hand so I’m going to split this post up.

So my ideal scenario for Sarah regardless of who she ends up with is that she becomes incredibly confident in her abilities as a psychiatrist and chooses to incorporate those with her training in the ED and becomes the best young doctor in whichever field she chooses after her residency (Psych or Emergency). While doing this she opens up a center for homeless youths that has guards and provides psychiatric help with PTSD or depression or drug addiction or anything else they might need. She becomes of driving force in Chicago in the fight for the homeless, youth and veterans especially. Sarah also uses her money and the connections to money she has from Connecticut and her Ivy League days to help open the many centers all around Chicago. She also creates a service dog program at Gaffney where they take in shelter dogs and train them.

So now that we have her life plotted out, let’s look at how I envision each of my ships.

Reethan

Sarah dates Noah for like a maximum of 4 months, in this time she realizes she was just desperate for someone since Joey seemed to move on so fast, and she’s always been weak for people who are nice to her and compliment her. They have chemistry for the first like month, but it boils down to Noah not being mature enough for her and so they break up. BUT during the few months they were together, Wreckton spent a lot of time with Chexton. Sarah and Ethan bond over these new experiences of dating the Sextons and probably one or two awkward trips to church. Because while April and Noah are religious the other two definitely are not and end up getting to know one another even better outside of work. The four hanging out becomes such a tradition, that the first week after they break up, Ethan stops by to try and cheer her up. The break up is awkward in the ED for the first few months, but Ethan always tries to make Reese feel welcome again when he sees her. For the next year Sarah begins falling for Ethan, but remains super friendly with him and April and pushes those feelings down because they’re happy together and that’s what matters. Eventually April and Ethan break up, they have been shaky for a while but he proposes, she says yes, but realizes it’s not best for the both of them and cancels the wedding. Sarah is there for Ethan when things get awkward for him in the ED and their friendship grows stronger.

Then Ethan gets called up from the reserves to help train medics over seas. He keeps this a secret from everyone besides Sharon, up until the day before he leaves. After a patient dies in the ED he loses it, and walks up to the roof, Sarah finds him and he finally tells her that he’ll be gone for at least 3 months if not more. He then asks if she’d be willing to take care of his bird, and if she’d mind coming over later so he could show her how to take care of it. She does and one thing leads to another and there are so many emotions that the end up having sex. Sarah wishes him good luck, but is pretty much having a mental freak out over the fact that she’s had her first one night stand with this guy she’s practically in love with. Ethan just has so many things on his plate that he doesn’t really think about until later. So basically Sarah tries to work this through in her mind while working and taking care of this bird. They kind of send messages back and forth but they never talk about that night. Ethan thinks that he’ll have to extend his time over seas and he talks to Sarah about watching his bird for longer. Then surprise he doesn’t and he comes home early and finds her like passed out on his couch with his bird flying around. She wakes up, they don’t talk about it still, and have sex again. They start dating in secret because Ethan’s an attending and Sarah’s still a resident even if they are in totally different departments. It eventually comes out and everyone’s willing to turn a blind eye if this is the last damn romance in this ED.

Head canon round

What they fight about

Sarah trying to help with his process of dealing with trauma and his PTSD and him getting annoyed about it. And possibly frustrations over both of their simultaneous difficulties with commitment at the different levels. Later on possibly children. OH, and Sarah’s willingness to sacrifice her safety for the kids she helps on the streets. Because you know the mob does not like her trying to help their sex slaves out of slavery.

Holidays

In my mind they both choose to work holidays, and have for a really long time. The two of them probably have the least familial connections out of all the doctors on Chicago Med so they kind of take the shifts no one else wants so the others can have time with their families and kids. So the tradition they started long before they ever get together is having breakfast together the morning after on their way home from work.

Families

Sarah hasn’t seen her mom really since she left for Chicago, and her dad died while she was a teenager so she is really not close with her family. Parents were each only children and her grandparents have passed on so she’s made Chicago her home, and the staff her family. Dr. Charles being her unintentional substitution of a father, and Maggie her mom. They both approve of Choi. Ethan isn’t very close with his family, but they are on more of speaking terms. His parents are still alive, if unattached to what’s happening with his life. He has a brother and sister who he isn’t very close with. The both have very practical high paying business careers on the West Coast.

Sleep/NSFW

Ethan’s great in bed. Loves going down on Sarah. Sarah’s literally only been with unexperienced 20 somethings so it’s a huge change, she’s kind of wondering if she actually ever got off with anyone before Ethan because it’s such a different feeling. He loves being in control (head canon stolen from mightyfinebear on AO3) and so watching her come undone at almost everything he does is satisfaction at a whole new level. Also shower sex, and table sex, and everywhere in the apartment sex. Ethan has a horrible time sleeping at night, and needs someone like Sarah who is just a rock once she’s out. He can get up, go for a run, pace, box, whatever he needs to and then crawl back in bed and she won’t even notice. Most of the time he sleeps better when she’s there, and can sleep for almost 7 hours compared to his normal 4. However that only makes the nights when she isn’t home worse to sleep. It wasn’t until she had decided to surprise by coming home early after her shift that she knew he had such a hard time sleeping. He was still up from the night before, and Sarah pulled him straight to bed where he actually talked about it until he fell asleep.

Pets/Living together

In that 6 months between April and Ethan breaking up and him leaving, Sarah found an injured pit bull on the side of the road. She knew Ethan had experience with animals and called him on just this side of crying and he came to help. They stabilized her together and got her to a vet. The dog’s leg is unable to be saved, and she didn’t have any tags so Sarah adopts her. Ethan and Sarah move in mostly because of the dog and the parrot. The dog is skittish and likes company, and so does the bird and they keep each other calm during the day.

Rheesker

So this lil ship started from me accepting that they’ll put Ava with Connor so why not have them be in a poly-relationship

So Ava and Connor start having sex to blow off tension and try and channel the competitive edge that they have towards each other into something that’s more relaxing for them. Ava is still mean to anyone not an attending and Sarah, after frankly just a shitty day like loses it and snaps at her in front of Connor after a comment she makes after a surgery.There’s probably some pent up resentment towards Zanetti and she’s just sick of rude surgeons. So Sarah storms off after that, but she’s now permanently on Ava’s radar. Her comments make her soften the way she approaches most of the doctors at Med, and she starts talking more to Sarah and inviting her out to drinks and to hang out with Connor and her after work. The more they hang out with one another the closer they all get, and they kind of become this trio who is almost always seen with each other. Then Ava kind of introduces the idea to Connor of bringing Sarah in, and he’s intrigued by it, but he thinks that she’s completely dreaming because Sarah’s just so conventional and safe and would never do that kind of thing. Meanwhile Sarah is developing this crush on both Ava and Connor because they’re just so different than Noah was, and she’s just internalizing it and keeps telling herself she’ll deal with it later.

The whole time people are getting more and more suspicious of Connor and Ava, and eventually Goodwin catches wind of it and has to figure out how to deal with it without jeopardizing her two future cardiac surgeon’s careers. If anyone found out they were sleeping together, it would open up the hospital to law suits. Sharon asks Sarah to give the warning so it doesn’t go on any kind of professional record and because she’s close to them. Sarah, this whole time, didn’t really pick up on them sleeping together. And she’s just mortified and also beating herself up because why would they like her, and she just gives them this really like terse warning about sleeping together and kind of completely pulls away from them. Ava and Connor both ask for her to talk to them and she rebuffs them for a week or so. Then Ava tells her they’re coming over whether she likes it or not and Sarah actually lets them in. Finally Ava extends the idea of the three of them being together to Sarah, who immediately thinks they’re just weirdly trying to pity her or something. Eventually they kind of coax her out of her shell and the three kind of establish what they are tentatively and they start dating. And whenever Goodwin brings up something about Ava and Connor dating, they say that Ava’s the one who’s dating Dr. Reese.

What they fight about

Connor and Ava are still competing for the spot of the Cardio attending so work can tend to bleed over into their relationship. They all also work very hectic schedules and that causes mainly frustration over just not getting to see each other very often or equally. Connor’s daddy issues, Ava’s attitude and treatment of others, and Sarah’s internalizing of her thoughts and feelings of being the third wheel.

Food

The three of them loving going out to dinner. It’s always been Sarah’s favorite kind of date, and she has tried an absurd amount of restaurants from all over the city out, so she’s like an expert at places she’d know they’d love or hate. She’s also a vegetarian, which Ava found hilarious, and so completely fitting of her the first time they all got food. (”What?” “You’re just such a stereotype.” “What does that mean?”) The moment that Sarah kind of fell in love with Ava a little more was when she called Sarah at work because she wanted to get her some sort of veggie burgers she liked, so Sarah had something to eat at her house. Connor’s the best cook out of them all, with Ava coming in second, and Sarah being proficient at the things she was good at, and horrible at anything else. Her house mainly consists of frozen faux-meat in her freezer, frozen dinners and veggies, crackers and bread, and 8 jars of various nut butters. Sometimes eggs, but she only buys those 6 egg cartons because she never uses a whole dozen. Connor and Ava both have extensive bars in their apartments filled with excellent whiskeys and gins. Both of which turn Sarah’s stomach, so they start buying white rum, vodka and wine to keep at their houses for her.

Families

Ava’s family is entirely normal, especially put in perspective with the other two. Her parent’s had high expectations but she’s met all of them and so it’s never been much of a problem in her mind. Sarah thinks that she’s so critical of others because of how critical her parents were to her but Ava doesn’t see it. Connor’s got good ol’ Cornelius Rhodes who creates all the same issues he did in the show, and Sarah has all the issues she had that I mentioned previously. But Claire, once she got over the initial news, loves both Ava and Sarah and the three girls get dinner alone when they can.

Sleep/NSFW

Sarah almost always sleeps in the middle. It’s mostly out of function because she can never seem to get warm, but also because Ava kind of worries about her feeling left out. The facts that she isn’t in cardio and usually is the one with the most different of schedules, and that she was brought in last all make Ava and Connor worry about her. They both also selfishly like being the big spoon and cuddling around her. Sarah’s also the heaviest sleeper of them all and can sleep through both sides shifting and getting up in the night.

The two of them are weirdly Connor’s dream girl separated. Ava’s this sexy hot head who challenges him in work and in their relationship, and he just lives off it. Sarah is all the gentleness and cooling that’s opposite of Ava, she just wants someone who is kind of gentle and domestic. She adds like this softness to both his and Ava’s personalities and they can turn off the competition when she’s around. She tempers both of them where they can have this actually thriving relationship. So when it’s just Connor and Ava, the sex is faster and filled with this needy, brutal energy; just trying to fuck out the problems they refuse to resolve with words. The direct competition is hard on them and when they’re alone it’s always hovering over them with this foreboding dark cloud. If they don’t think about it, they don’t need to address it. Sarah and Ava is a lot more playful. Ava can pull a smile out of Sarah like her life depended on it, and she’s just so enamored with Sarah and her shyness and the she’s like almost blind to how attracted the two of them are to her. She’s usually the one that has Sarah pressed up against the elevator door on their way home. Sarah and Connor are very sweet. He likes that he can pull out his most romantic moves and she really appreciates them. Not that Ava wouldn’t, but Sarah is a romantic nerd at heart and likes the more traditional date nights. They’re the two that are most likely to have slow dances in the living room and sweet sex in the bedroom. When the three of them can actually manage all being together when they aren’t too tired or have to work at a stupid early time, there’s like this thrum between all of them. An excitement and playfulness that normally isn’t there, and all of them get a little handsier than usual. Sarah’s leaning into Connor’s chest and he’s got his arms around both their waists. Ava’s playing with Sarah’s hair as they wait for their meals to come out, and Connor’s just making moon eyes across from them. They’re all just so careful to like memorize and take in every detail when they’re all together.

Pets/Living Together

They don’t have any pets. It’s just very unreasonable with their schedules and the life styles they like to keep of going out for drinks and dinner until late. Sarah loves animals though, so it’s not entirely off the table, just until Sarah’s not a resident anymore. They don’t live with each other, but none of them ever really sleep at their own place most of the time. Connor’s apartment gets the most use because it’s closest to the night life of the city and it has the biggest bed and the nicest views. It also has indoor parking for the cold Chicago winters which Sarah loves. Sarah’s house is cozy and nice and usually they’ll sleep there when she has a big day ahead of her. She’s a creature of habit and only in this relationship has she been ok staying over at her significant others’s house. And while her bed’s not as big, it is the most comfortable and so the just sleep a little closer. They spend the least amount of time at Ava’s. She wasn’t even really unpacked until the three started seriously dating. Then Sarah told her it was very sad that she had no life here and they spent the whole day making her house more homey. Sarah suggested getting her a fish to liven it up, but was shot down by both surgeons out of fear for it dying when they weren’t there.

Reestead

So this one is honestly a short term ship at best, but still sweet.

So after Sarah breaks up with Noah she decides to take a break from any kind of romance and starts looking for ways to make more of a difference in the world. She begins volunteering at different community centers and youth organizations to kind of consume all the time she doesn’t spend at the hospital. Sarah, once again, becomes attached to a kid she meets at the community center she volunteers at and is really torn up when she witnesses a drive by that leaves him in a wheelchair. She’s interviewed on scene by one of the beat cops, but she sees Kim and Jay across the way and makes a mental note to check up on the progress. Soon she actually goes to 21 and asks Jay what happened and if there’s anything she can do. She knows all the kids there and is familiar with the faces and so she actually plays a major part in helping solve the case. Jay gives her a ride back to the hospital so the two of them can talk to the kid who was shot, and survived. Jay kind of sees this really warm and confident and vibrant side to Sarah that he never has when he’s talked to her before. He makes his own mental note, and carries on with the case. They’re all grateful she helped them out in the case and Jay tells Sarah she can call him if she ever needs anything. They see each other at Molly’s and talk a bit, but nothing actually happens for months.

He get’s a call at like midnight 4 months from the shooting and it’s Sarah whose voice sounds shaky like she’s about to cry, and so he rushes down to the hospital where Sarah is pacing outside a door in the ED. He thinks she’s crying but her face is pure fury (she’s an angry crier, which only makes her more angry when someone points it out). Someone assaulted one of the girls she works with at the youth center and the officer who brought her in made this horrible crack about her being a sex worker and asking for it. Sarah more or less kicked him out of the hospital, but still wanted the girl to be able to file a report with someone. And she didn’t know who to call but him. And so once again they work on this case and Sarah just becomes so impassioned when she sees these kids hurt and he’d never think anyone would say this, but Sarah Reese looks ferocious, like she’s ready to take on the world for them. They get closer after this and eventually Jay invites her to a hockey game. To which she knows none of the rules, but really enjoys spending time with him and has a great night. Sarah loves that he’s so dedicated to helping people, and that he’s past that shit head 20 something thing that her exes both had. He’s mature and respects her dedication to her volunteering. Jay appreciates how different she is from Erin. She’s young and unjaded and she thinks she can change the world. It’s refreshing and things heat up between the two broken hearts.

They date casually, neither of them have a ton of time for romance or a relationship, but it’s definitely more than a one night stand/booty call situation because Sarah doesn’t know how to not do commitment. In the end they just kind of fizzle out. It’s a lot of work and neither one of them are the best at opening up when they aren’t with the person during the day. They end on really great terms and Sarah is always allowed to call his number at any time if she needs help, or more likely, one of her kids needs help. And she’s always there to check up on him, to stop him from completely running himself ragged. He’s the one who introduces her to the vet groups, and where she get’s really impassioned to help soldiers on the streets.

What they fight about

Sarah putting herself in harms way for these kids. This continues on after their break up, too. She’s so dedicated to being that person for them because most don’t have anyone else, that she will take dangerous risks. Sarah’s also the daughter of a defense attorney and so I can see her cringing and being shocked at some of the things she hears/sees while helping 21 out.

Dates

They had a really tough time finding a good balance between the two of them. They have just totally different interests when it comes to dates, so the first month it just alternated between some sports game (which Sarah didn’t get), a museum (which kind of bored Jay), Molly’s (which barely counted as a date) and Netflix and Chilling. They started doing more outdoors stuff and found, although Sarah hates being cold, that it was the best common ground.

Families

Sarah’s mom is never really informed about Sarah dating a cop. They dated for like 6 months, and Sarah’s rule is only after a year she tells her mom. Will thinks it’s incredibly weird at first, and keeps asking Jay why he had to pick the youngest coworker of his to date, but he’s fairly supportive.

Sleeping/NSFW

Once and only once did Sarah ever sleep over at Jay’s. She ran into Will in Jay’s shirt and nothing else and was so mortified that she wouldn’t look at him for the next week. They spend a lot of time at Sarah’s and she always keeps his favorite beer in stock because he usually comes over after all the stores around her place close. On those late nights they usually don’t make it past her couch. It’s beer and fast undressing, and Stranger Things afterwards. They both wake up at 3 AM with kinks in their necks before they move to her bed for the last 4 hours.

#chicago med #sarah reese #reethan #reestead #rheesker #i more or less wrote out my fic ideas #that i will probably never finish #let me know what you think

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oumakokichi · 7 years

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Do you think Tsumugi was anywhere near as smart as Ouma or did she just have the advantage of blindsiding him? Even in his final moments, he didn't seem to suspect her any more than any of the others. Atleast that we get to see.

Someone asked me a somewhat similar question awhile back andput it in really good terms. I don’t remember the exact phrasing, but it wassomething about how if Ouma is a chessmaster (and I do think he is, given allthe evidence), then Tsumugi is an opportunist. I still think they really nailedit: opportunist is a perfect word forher.

If I had to compare how smart they both are in terms of justintellect? Ouma would probably be smarter. Considering he definitely seems tohave some variation of SHSL Analysis, his predictive and analytical abilitynearly rival Junko’s and Kamukura’s. Even taking into account the fact that hereally is genuinely childish and even klutzy sometimes, he still seems… well,like a genius.

Looking objectively at his 300-or-so page script which hadmulti-branching routes, predicted nearly all of his classmates’ behavior to aT, and was written in the span of 2 hours, he wasn’t “just smart.” That sort ofthing wouldn’t be possible for anyone unless they had some kind of talent orability that correlated to it directly. There are also the diagrams in hisroom, which he commissioned Miu to make. While Miu’s ability to actually inventthem is more than impressive, Ouma seems to be the one who actually thoughtthem up and designed them, which is absolutely astounding.

Assuming that he was a genius of some kind also explains whysometimes he seems like he has to rewind himself and put himself a few stepsback, like in Chapter 4 when he literally can’t understand why they’d think he’sthe culprit. The answer is clear to him, since he already knows the full factsabout the case, and everyone else’s remarks must’ve felt like the trial wasjust dragging on so slowly. When you’re haughty and self-confident like Ouma,feeling like the smartest person in the room means everyone else seems to begoing so slow. Sometimes he reallydoes seem taken aback before he manages to backtrack a bit and look at the casefrom their perspective, even though they’re all still stuck on the wronganswer.

By contrast, Tsumugi doesn’t seem to have these nearlysuperhuman abilities. She’s smart—verysmart, actually. But her smarts still feel within the realm of humanpossibilities, rather than her being on an entirely different level from anyoneelse. If I had to think of a character who she’s probably equal with in termsof intellect, Komaeda might be a good choice (it’s kind of hilarious that oneof her FTEs has her specifically hating on people who use fictional charactersas “stepping stones” to get famous). Both of them are incredibly smart,arguably smarter than a lot of the rest of their classmates. But they’re stillultimately human, and circumstances can and do catch them off guard prettyregularly.

Komaeda simply allows his luck to make up for the holes inhis plans, while Tsumugi doesn’t try to cover the holes in the first place. Asan opportunist, she’s capable of rewriting entirely new scenarios, or claimingcredit for things that she never actually planned in the first place. Thisallows both of them to take chances and risks in a way that characters likeOuma, Junko, and Kamukura rarely do. The former are genuine risk-takers whoknow they’re smart enough to handle themselves in the long run. The latter(particularly Ouma and Junko) might act as if they take risks, but very rarelydo. Instead they leave as little to chance as possible, relying instead ontheir own huge brains and analytical abilities.

As you said, Tsumugi’s best and strongest advantage oversomeone like Ouma was her ability to blindside him at all. And make no mistake,this ability to fly under the radar is something she’s very well aware of, justas Komaeda is aware of his own luck and the fact that it’ll typically makethings swing in his favor. She mentions it outright in her FTEs, citing exampleslike hopping a subway or going to the movies without paying for it because noone would notice her anyway. It’s no coincidence that she talks about how plain(地味)she is almost once per line of dialogue: if anything, she wants to drill intopeople’s heads exactly how unnoticeable and boring she is so that they won’treally pay her much mind.

This plainness of hers works really, really well againstsomeone like Ouma. Ouma is an intentional subversion of Junko in many ways, butit’s true that they still share certain parallels—including their need for thespotlight. Ouma wants things to be “fun” and “interesting” and “exiting” at alltimes. He hates boredom (yet another thing he has in common with characters whohave SHSL Analysis). Therefore, he tries to avoid it at all costs. Someone likeTsumugi who seems to be the embodiment ofboredom just put him off entirely. I’m not even entirely sure if he consciouslydismissed the idea that she was the ringleader, or if it was more of asubconscious aversion.

Either way, I think he was unable to close in on herspecifically because he, to some degree, was using chessboard thinking.Chessboard thinking is a type of game theory in which you try to predict youropponent’s next move(s) by putting yourself in their shoes. It has itsadvantages, but obviously it only works best if you can actually predict youropponent. Otherwise you make mistaken assumptions. And you’re always going tobe somewhat biased, as you’re thinking with your own logic, rather than theirs.

By thinking “what would I do if I were the ringleader?” Oumamade the mistake of thinking that the ringleader would act like himself. He fitthe role of “evil villain” so perfectly because he was playing a part, and heexpected the real ringleader to mostly act the same—but that assumption waswrong from the beginning. He and Tsumugi were on completely differentwavelengths the whole time, and he never, I think, predicted that theringleader could be someone so… absolutely boring.

Something I’ve always felt is ironic is that I think Oumaprobably could’ve predicted a mastermind like Junko far better than he could aringleader like Tsumugi. Kirigiri did it before him, after all, and he andKirigiri are more than paralleled on several occasions. His and Junko’s similarmindsets would make them a formidable match against each other (though it’sanyone’s guess who would actually win a debate between them, since Junko hasabsolutely no conscience while Ouma is deeply empathetic). But since he wassearching for Tsumugi all the time, he wasn’t ever able to realize what wasright in front of his face.

This really did allow her to blindside him completely, as heremarks bitterly in his talk with Momota in Chapter 5 once he’s explaining hisplan. He realizes quickly that the ringleader must’ve manipulated Maki as apawn into kickstarting the killing game into action again, but has no idea how they actually did so. Because heshut himself up in the machinery bay with no way to maneuver around the schoolor investigate for himself, he allowed holes in his defenses for the firsttime, and Tsumugi took advantage of it spectacularly.

She might not be a genius herself, but she’s plenty cunningand quick on her feet. Her ability to revise her own scenarios, and to makethese huge, sweeping claims for things with no way to prove that she didn’tactually do them, means that she can seem a lot more capable than she actuallyis. Even when she’s clearly human and fallible, and when things definitely don’tgo according to her plan (such as when Saihara stops wearing his hat, when sherealizes Momota was sick in Chapter 5, etc.) she can bounce back quick enoughthat it’s near impossible to prove she ever messed up at all.

If Ouma is absolutely brilliant, then I’d say Tsumugi is…devious. She’s more than capable of compensating for her lack of genius throughher sheer dedication to her goals, as well as the fact that she doesn’t alwaysnecessarily play fair. While Ouma was mostly right in assuming that she had tofollow the rules of the killing game because it was being broadcast, he failedto account for the fact that she already had broken the rules long before herstatus as the ringleader was exposed. As long as she can get away with it, she’sabsolutely the type of person to cheat in a game—and her plainness makes itvery hard to notice she’s cheating at all, usually.

This is just my take on it, anyway. The differences in theirway of thinking are honestly fascinating, so I really love getting to talk aboutthe both of them. Ouma is complex in his moral ambiguity and in how much healludes to the themes of the game, but Tsumugi is also complex in herhollow-ness, and how terrifyingly effective she is as an antagonist. Thank youfor giving me a chance to talk about them both!

#ndrv3 #drv3 #new danganronpa v3 #tsumugi shirogane #kokichi ouma #ndrv3 spoilers //#my meta #okay to reblog #zekefreek

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xseedgames · 7 years

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Zwei: The Ilvard Insurrection - Localization Blog #1

Excelsior, true believers! Nick here again, penning these gladsome tidings from my grand scriptorium full of musty scrolls and ancient cartridges. Alas, it’s been quite a while since I checked in with all of you – well over a year, in fact, with the release of the first Trails of Cold Steel. With that giant title now roaming free in the wild like the majestic brachiosaurs in Jurassic Park, you may have wondered what I’ve been working on over the course of the last year. It always seems to unintentionally happen that I get assigned to projects I can’t talk about for significant lengths of time, but this stretch has easily been the longest. So many times I’ve wanted to tell you some quirky story or fun little side-note about this game as I worked through its script, but alas, the official XSEED duct tape was covering my mouth – until very recently, that is.

In our yearly lead-up to the gaming extravaganza that is E3, we finally announced my long-in-coming project: the classic Falcom action RPG Zwei 2, making its debut outside of Japan as Zwei: The Ilvard Insurrection!

Of course, I’ve also helped out with a variety of other, more time-sensitive projects, leading to Zwei taking a bit longer to bring to you than it would have otherwise, but I think we’ve got something you’ll really enjoy in the making here. And conveniently, the benefit of the slow going is that the release isn’t too far off now. As Zwei II enters its final stretch before release, I wanted to tell you more about the game – which is exactly what I’ll do, over the course of the next couple weeks.

Zwei II has an interesting history: released in 2008, it was the very last game Falcom developed exclusively for PC. Back then, the PC gaming market was far from being the robust, thriving scene we know it as today, especially the Japanese market. Thus, the title seemed almost fated to fly under the radar despite its quality craftsmanship and hours of fun. But now, with the worldwide PC game market booming and digital storefronts ensuring copies can get into the hands of anyone who wants to play, it felt like the right time to fill this conspicuous gap in Falcom’s lineage.

“But...what about the first Zwei?” you may be pondering aloud to your monitor. If you’re wondering whether you’ll be at a disadvantage playing the second game in the series before the first, worry not! I’ve played both (thanks to Tom’s Japanese boxed copies) and can confirm that Zwei II gives you all the info you need to understand the world, its plot, and its characters. There was a 7-year gap between the first and second Zwei games in Japan, and Falcom couldn’t assume players would’ve played the earlier entry, so the structure is something more akin to Trails in the Sky versus Trails of Cold Steel, where the games take place in the same world, but in different locations and with different casts. This makes it easy to jump right in.

To start things off, I wanted to sit down and flesh out the game a little for you, since compared to its siblings in the Ys series, and even Xanadu, it’s far less known by fans. What is the Zwei series? What makes it great? How does it play? Why is it cool?

Let’s start from the ground up: the name of the game. “Zwei” is simply the German word for “two” and, as you’ll soon discover, it’s a very fitting title – the game features not one, but two protagonists. Our leads in Zwei II are Ragna Valentine, a lively treasure hunter and pilot-for-hire, and Alwen du Moonbria, a confident vampire princess looking to avenge herself against an unknown enemy. How these two very different people meet and come to really understand (and maybe even appreciate) each other is the relationship that forms the heart of the game, and I’ve done my best to make that journey of growth and understanding a fun and memorable one. And, as with any good RPG, the journey is not without obstacles to overcome. Fortunately, our hero and heroine are up to the task, with Ragna skilled at mixing it up in melee, and Alwen versed in the ways of magic. You can swap between them at any time, and whoever you’re not controlling runs along behind you, ready to leap into the lead role at the press of a button.

Zwei II’s combat is action-based, not unlike the Ys games or Gurumin, but the two-character setup creates an interesting dynamic in combat. Over the course of the game, Ragna will be able to upgrade his weapon, the half chain-whip/half katar Anchor Gear, into several different forms, and Alwen (who begins the game bereft of most of her magic) will regain her powerful spells. You end up being able to do some interesting things, like using a claw-variant of Ragna’s Anchor Gear to grab an enemy, then throw it into another enemy, knocking both into a corner, then swapping to Alwen and unloading a fiery salvo on them. Or have Alwen cast her whirlwind magic to sweep up a couple enemies and keep them stun-locked, then swap to Ragna to leap into the air and string together a midair combo on them. In many dungeons, I often found myself favoring one or the other to take the lead because of the strategies I came up with to best deal with certain types of enemies, and you’ll likely fall into styles of play that fit the way you prefer to approach the game’s combat as well.

And speaking of approaches to combat, Zwei II has a rather unique leveling system, too. In the game, you don’t earn EXP from quests, or from beating up monsters. You actually earn it by eating food – the same food you use to heal yourself when you’re running low on HP. There’s even a “food exchange” service available at the restaurant in the main village of Artte that lets you trade 10 of any one type of food for one of another type that gives more EXP than the ten individual pieces of food would have if eaten on their own (example: trade 10 cheeses worth 10 EXP each for a single pizza worth 150 EXP). Will you chow down now, or hoard in the hopes of cashing in for savory plates of EXP-rich cuisine? You decide! It probably sounds weird (it certainly did to me when I first learned about it), but in practice, it actually works really well. It frees you up from having to grind in dungeons, or feel like you absolutely MUST kill every enemy on the way to your destination. It also gives you a lot of control over your own challenge level. When I was playing the Japanese version of the game, my loose rule was that I’d never eat food just to level – I’d just use it when I was hurt, to restore HP. I ended up going through most of the game under-leveled because of this, but never TOO under-leveled, because the more under-leveled I was, the more damage I’d take, thus getting infusions of EXP more frequently from using food to heal myself. There’s a strange sort of balance to it, and the game isn’t stingy about giving you food in chests, as drops from enemies, and even from giant slot machines you’ll find in each dungeon, so you can decide whether you want to blow through the game as a force of nature but with less on-demand healing available, or a bit underpowered but with a fully-stocked pantry.

If that talk of slot machines that dispense food or trading wedges of cheese for a pizza sounds a little...weird, that’s by design. More than any Falcom game I can think of, the Zwei series embraces its sense of humor, poking in good-spirited fun at its two main characters, the townspeople, and even many of the foes you face down along the way. It’s got a lively, colorful, and cartoonish art style that has helped the graphics hold up well, too. You probably know from personal experience that stories more focused on being comedic sometimes run the risk of not being able to successfully shift into a more serious mode when the story calls for it, but thankfully, Zwei II doesn’t suffer from this issue. It’s surprisingly adept at conveying a serious atmosphere when the story calls for it, making for some excellent dramatic moments, and even a dab of pathos here and there. But on the whole, Zwei II is a game that feels deeply informed by 90s anime and manga, with all the oddness and charm that comes with that. I can certainly say that being rooted in that style proved fertile ground for my work to help the game achieve its comedic potential (speaking as a weeb from ancient times), and I’m already planning my next blog post to focus on some of the details of the writing and the characters.

One thing I love about Zwei II is that it reaches out and really grabs you from the start. In just the first 20-30 minutes, you get the following ace setup (obviously, skip these next two paragraphs if you want to go in totally blind):

The game begins in the skies, as courier pilot Ragna Valentine is cruising in his cool red biplane, the Tristan, toward the island of Ilvard on a routine delivery mission. Suddenly, he’s ambushed by unknown assailants, and after a dogfight against a pair of dragon-riders in the skies over Ilvard, his plane takes a bad hit and plummets toward the land below. The next thing he knows, he wakes up in a bed in the nearby town of Artte as the town doctor marvels at how he came out of such a crushing impact with barely a scratch. After all, his plane didn’t fare nearly as well. Going out to investigate the crash site, Ragna finds his plane on a hill on the outskirts of town, busted up and snapped in half just as the doctor said. So how did he even survive such a nasty crash?

Well...he almost didn’t. After that crash, as he lay among the wreckage, broken of body and bleeding out, he was rescued from his mortal fate by none other than Princess Alwen du Moonbria. Alwen isn’t your ordinary RPG princess, though: she’s a sharp-tongued shut-in vampire princess. Not too long before the start of the story, Alwen’s castle was invaded by a mysterious foe who ultimately seized the stronghold and gave her the boot, after stripping her of her ancestral magic. Seeing the outsider Ragna as her best bet to help her search for her magic and retake her castle, she takes some of his blood and gives him some of hers, sealing a pact that turns him into her ‘Blood Knight’ – a warrior in thrall to a powerful Trueblood vampire whose physical abilities and regenerative capacity far exceed what humans are capable of. But Ragna, see, is all about freedom and doing things his way, and he hates the idea of working as anyone’s lackey. After realizing the situation he’s in, though, he strikes a deal with Alwen: he’ll help her get her castle back as thanks for saving his life...but instead of being master and servant, they’ll do it as equals.

And so, our story begins.

Cool, right? And that all happens in fairly short order – no longwinded tutorials, no hours of quests before the gears really start to spin. Zwei II has a lot of heart and a lot of dialogue, and to its credit, it seldom feels like it drags. The story starts with a bang and keeps things moving at a good clip.

That’s not to say there isn’t plenty to do, though. The island of Ilvard is dotted with thriving communities and, in the fashion of the Trails or Ys games, they’re populated with fleshed-out NPCs who have their own small story arcs and conflicts to overcome over the course of the game, with dialogue that changes frequently after progressing the main story. Some of the residents are funny, some are petulant, and some are just downright strange, so I hope you enjoy getting to know all of them over the many times you’ll visit the towns. You might even stumble upon unique scenes, a secret hint, or a good ol’ fashioned RPG quest (you know, the kind from back before there were convenient quest logs to keep track of things). And of course, what with Zwei II being focused on Ragna and Alwen as dual protagonists, they’ll often have unique things to say in response to other characters depending on whom you’ve got in the lead.

In the course of working on the game’s script, I observed with no small amount of fascination that in some ways, it almost seems like Zwei II was made more with Westerners in mind than the Japanese market. Ragna himself is an incredibly un-Japanese character, with his bravado, easygoing swagger, and sass, but he’s a character that I know will click instantly with the North American audience in particular. We see Ragnas in our books and films; we all probably know someone like him, or who has elements of his personality. Alwen, too, is a character I think will be well-liked by the West. Not content to lament the loss of her home or sit idly by, she picks herself up and decides to get even and take back everything that was taken from her even though it promises to be an uphill battle. The core of her personality is her self-assured nature – even when confronting a world she’s mainly just read about (in books that were, sadly, out of date on the latest trends and customs). Quick-witted and keen, she matches Ragna tit-for-tat, helping the two play well off each other. Beyond just them, there’s the wild west-flavored bounty hunter Odessa, chain-smoking nun Isabella, the worldly jazz pianist Shester, dependable engineer Miriam, and of course, the irrepressible luchador-masked man of mystery, Gallandeau, among many others. Having a zany cast of characters like this all together in one place feels like the kind of storytelling we enjoy so much in Japanese games. But at the same time, after seeing so many forgettably milquetoast light novel-style characters in the games and anime of recent years, it’s refreshing to come upon a game where the characters have an abundance of personality – where I know they’ll resonate with the audience I’m localizing the game for.

So...there you go. In a nutshell, this and more is what you have to look forward to when Zwei: The Ilvard Insurrection finally makes its debut. Like a time capsule laden with the charms of a bygone era of RPGs, I think it’ll prove its worth to you as more than simply a pleasant surprise – I think it has the merit to stand proudly as one of Falcom’s finest.

#xseed blog #xseed #zwei: the ilvard insurrection #post: nick #long post #Falcom

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