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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

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Let Me Get Close To You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “wrong number” square. I sat down to write this a couple of days ago & just couldn’t stop - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary:

Stuck with the worst professor for Nuclear Science, Peter tries to vent his frustrations to Ned - only to send a desperate text message to Tony Stark, instead. When an immediate spark and so many things in common make it easy for Peter to fall further for the elegant genius, what’s the worst that could really happen?

Or: the one where Peter texts the wrong number & romance ensues.

Read on AO3 here.

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Fuming from a frustrating Nuclear Science class, Peter maturely stomped his way out of the engineering building. They were only two weeks into the semester and the old man already had Peter on edge. His major revolved around the class and his ability to get the most out of the information. The dinosaur that stood at the front of the lecture hall every day hadn’t had an original thought since the 90s and refused to see when others did. Much like every old white man, Dr. Milner’s ideas were the be all end all of a science that changed by the millisecond.

Still pretty new to campus after a late sophomore year transfer, Peter didn’t have many people to turn to that weren’t his nerdy and standoffish teammates on the Academic Decathlon team – most of those guys lived in a world a couple steps from the norm, happily keeping to themselves. Though Peter existed there eighty percent of the time, his need to be social and fill a space in the real world made it impossible to commit to that sort of isolation fully. Straddling the line made it difficult to exist on either side – Peter’s favorite pieces of himself were what kept people away, no matter the lifestyle.

With his mind so heavy with all sorts of negativity, Peter suddenly found himself homesick; he spent so much of his life trying to escape the streets of New York – so far from home now, Peter missed them desperately. Thinking about his tangible connection to his favorite urban wasteland, Peter pulled his phone out and hastily typed in Ned’s new number.

Peter Parker [1:23PM]: Hi, I hate it here. Peter Parker [1:24PM]: Dr. Milner is out to get free thinkers. I may not survive the next fourteen weeks.

Peter already felt a little better after typing the words – the mere ability to get one of his many worries off his chest did wonders. Until his phone pinged with a new text message notification, of course.

Nimble fingers pulled the phone from his pocket, his eyes carelessly looking over the screen as it unlocked. Expecting to see Ned’s name there, Peter almost threw the phone to the ground when Siri’s suggestion registered.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:26PM]: Hi stranger! I think this was meant for someone else, but I too think Dr. Milner is out to squash any new idea that doesn’t fit the mold. In his forty-year career, he hasn’t changed a bit.

Another text message was below it, but Peter forced himself to stop reading – his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest already, too much excitement at once couldn’t be good. Out of all the numbers he could’ve accidentally typed, Tony Stark, New York’s genius and resident beauty, Peter’s secret (though not so much) crush, ended up on the other side of the line. The unbelievability of the idea made Peter consider a well thought out prank. Then again, how did any of his fellow classmates know Tony Stark’s personal number?

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter made himself look at the second text message waiting unread.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:27PM]: I’m not sure how you got this number, but I sincerely hope you make it out alive. If you’re in Milner’s class, you’re on the Nuclear track, which means you must be smart. Trust me, the world needs your future contributions, whatever they might be.

Peter gripped the phone a little harder after reading through the second message over and over again. He let his eyes take in each of the words, wondering, if it really was Tony Stark, how anyone ever survived talking to him. In so few sentences, Peter already felt discombobulated, both more confident and turned around than just seconds before. Aside from his infatuation with the man, Peter understood Tony Stark’s contributions to the technology community and the world at large more than most.

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to text back – every time he tried to type something, his fingers froze just centimeters above the screen. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask to make sure he wasn’t getting catfished. Instead, Peter took the direct route, his courage obviously all or nothing in the face of something as big as an accidental interaction with Tony Stark.

Peter Parker [1:35PM]: Holy crap – excuse me for the bluntness, but is this really Tony Stark? Siri doesn’t often get things wrong, especially since I souped her up. But I’m sure you can understand the apprehension. Peter Parker [1:37PM]: Would you be up for answering a few questions just to make sure?

The tip of his finger tapped against the screen impatiently after he hit the send button, his nerves and the not-so-subtle excitement were barely contained under the surface of his skin. He couldn’t remember a time where feeling alive was so prominent.

A smile slipped across his lips when, a moment later, three consecutive texts vibrated Peter’s phone in succession.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:40PM]: You souped up Siri? Steve Jobs is probably turning over in his grave right now. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:41PM]: I think I’m the one that should be asking the questions, don’t you think? How did you even get this number, Peter Parker? It’s a private line. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:42PM]: I am, though – Tony Stark, I mean.

Peter Parker [1:45PM]: Reconfiguring tech is kind of my thing. I used to dumpster dive in high school – you’d be surprised by the cool pieces of technology people put in their trash. Peter Parker [1:46PM]: Oh, bringing out the big guns – I’m happy to see Siri without my latest addition works for others, too. Peter Parker [1:47PM]: It was an accident, sending those first texts to you. My friend in New York just started a new job that came with a paid phone. I still haven’t saved the number. You are one off from him. Peter Parker [1:48PM]: Alright, Tony Stark. Tell me what campus I’m on.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:53PM]: I’m not surprised by anything human beings do, especially in New York City. Throwing out a perfectly good iPod is certainly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of. Did you make anything interesting in your trash conversion adventures? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:54PM]: You talk a big game, Mr. Parker. Can you walk the walk, too? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:55PM]: He must be on my payroll, then. The bank of numbers my employees have come from my personal network. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:57PM]: That’s an easy one. You’re at MIT – Milner was there when I was a student. The only thing that’s probably different between then and now is the amount of hair the old bag has.

Peter Parker [2:01PM]: You’re not wrong, Mr. Stark. I made things that helped me be self-sufficient. I grew up really poor and couldn’t afford the things everyone else had – so I figured out how all the tech worked and made my own. I’ve been using a ten-year-old iPhone for ages. Peter Parker [2:03PM]: You bet. Are you challenging me? Peter Parker [2:04PM]: He is, actually. He started in an entry level position two weeks ago. Peter Parker [2:06PM]: It’s gross, isn’t it? I’m glad we’ve moved past projectors in the classroom – the hair on his hand would make for a distracting shadow. Peter Parker [2:07PM]: Okay, okay. I think I’m convinced. One more test, though – send me a picture.

Maybe – Tony Stark [2:14PM]: Oh boy, none of that Mr. Stark shit. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Tony. Only Tony. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:15PM]: You made your own. That’s – impressive. I’m impressed and more than a little curious. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Challenging you, no. Enticing you, yes. I’m visiting Cambridge to do a guest lecture series next week. Come see what Stark Industries is up to – I’d love to hear what you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It was as bad as you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:20PM]: Okay, Peter Parker. [IMAGE ATTACHED]

A gasp of shock left Peter’s mouth when he opened the last text to find a smirking Tony Stark looking right at him. To prove the time and date, Tony held up the New York Times, his free hand pointing to the headline Peter read on his phone earlier that morning. After the shock of actually talking to Tony Stark wore off, Peter let himself take in the picture and all of its details.

Tony’s desk was largely visible in the shot – pens and stacks of paper littered the surface, a few rogue pieces of tech ready to be fiddled with acted as paper weights and grungy aesthetic. The man himself was breath taking – his glasses were a deep violet, offset beautifully by the crisp white shirt and black waistcoat covering Tony’s upper body. A light purple tie was loosely knotted at his throat, as if he fiddled with it while working just to keep his hands busy.

Without much thought, Peter saved the photo and added Tony to his contacts before replying – there was no reason not to trust the man, the spark in his shiny hazel eyes seemed to genuine and real to even question.

Peter Parker [2:25PM]: Only Tony, got it. Peter Parker [2:26PM]: Curiosity is good – keeps you fresh and on your toes. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: Oh, I see. You want a chance to impress me. I like that. Not sure what my opinion is going to do for you, but I’ll be happy to share it. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: Gross. Peter Parker [2:30PM]: I’m – you’re… Wow. You really are Tony Stark.

Tony Stark [2:37PM]: I think you’ll have no problems keeping me on my toes, Peter. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: I have a feeling your opinion is one that I’ll be very interested in. You’ve been nothing but blunt this entire conversation, I know I’m getting the real deal stuff. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: I am. I really am Tony Stark. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: It’s your turn, Peter Parker. What face belongs to that beautiful brain of yours?

Forcing himself to breath, Peter looked around the room for the best spot to return the favor. The bed was a hard no, he didn’t want to send the wrong vibe to a person who could easily have whomever they wanted. His desk was small, but meticulously organized – his study materials open and ready for a night of reviewing the only thing obscuring the surface. It was obvious Tony appreciated his brain, it seemed pertinent to take advantage.

After a few attempts, Peter found the perfect angle to catch the light in his eyes, making them shine brightly in the camera. He thanked the clothing gods that he chose a well fitted three-button Henley in his haste to get out the door that morning. The feeling of satisfaction was new, but not unwelcome – he wanted to send Tony the photo; for once, he knew it would impress.

Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Keeping implies longevity. Are you planning on sticking around? Peter Parker [2:56PM]: My brain to mouth filter runs at less than 10% at all times. It has brought me more trouble than shutting up ever would. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: You’re gorgeous. Violet is a nice color on you. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: What do you think? [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Tony Stark [ 2:37PM]: Yes. I think that’s the answer to that question. You’ve presented a puzzle I want to solve. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: Shutting up never got anyone anywhere. The noise we create is what shapes us. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: Thank you – I have a lot of it in my wardrobe. Tony Stark [2:44PM]: & you called me gorgeous; Peter Parker, you’re a stunner.

Peter Parker [2:51PM]: You’re a scientist, you do that for a living. What makes me so different? Peter Parker [2:52PM]: That’s a refreshing opinion. I like the way you think, Only Tony. Peter Parker [2:54PM]: That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Do you tell the person who made you blush that you’re blushing? I don’t remember that standard operating procedure.

Tony Stark [3:01PM]: My intrigue is of a personal nature only – the puzzle you pose is of a different sort. Usually, I think and think and think until I solve whatever the problem is. With you, I want to gather all the clues and take it apart piece by piece. Tony Stark [3:02PM]: That’s a little heavy for only knowing each other a couple of hours, but when you know, you know. Tony Stark [3:03PM]: Not usually, but I have a feeling you’re an exception to a lot of things, Peter Parker.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Peter continued to exchange flirty text messages back and forth with Tony – the mood stayed open and easy as the time passed. The older man helped Peter get through Nuclear Dynamics and three hours of decathlon practice. For all the brains Tony had, Peter was surprised to find humor and a bit of insecurity, too. Tony let himself go on tangents and make dad jokes that were a step away from being obscene.

That trend continued for the rest of the week and well into the weekend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Peter knew Tony’s schedule, half the newest late-night discoveries, and the way Mr. Sweet Tooth took his sugary coffee. Though a line of attraction and want existed, Peter was happy to know Tony as a person without the ability to act on the obvious tension between them. And while he appreciated the wholistic way they were coming to know each other, Peter couldn’t wait to see Tony throughout the week, either.

The older man seemed to share his sentiment – the shrill notification of a text message received pulled Peter out of his thoughts.

Tony Stark [7:30PM]: Hey, Pete! I present at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon. Want to grab something to eat afterwards? Tony Stark [7:31PM]: I’m impatient to get back to Hogan’s and thought you might appreciate his culinary prowess.

Peter Parker [7:35PM]: Tony – this is the fourth time you’ve reminded me about your presentation. I’ll be there. For dinner, too. Peter Parker [7:36PM]: Culinary prowess; if it merits that title, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

Tony Stark [7:42PM]: I know – I just get some performance anxiety. It helps to remind myself that you’re going to be there. Tony Stark [7:43PM]: It is. Hap is an old friend of mine. He left MIT to go make his restaurant dreams happen and has been stupidly happy ever since.

Peter Parker [7:47PM]: I get it – I’ll gladly be your security blanket, Tony. Peter Parker [7:48PM]: Something tells me there’s more to that story, but I’m sure you’ll tell me one day. I’m excited to try it. Should I look up the menu beforehand, or let it be a surprise?

Tony Stark [7:55PM]: I like the sound of that. I’ve pictured having you in my arms often. Tony Stark [7:57PM]: There’s always more to the story, Pete. Let it be a surprise! In fact, I’ll order for you to make sure you get the whole newbie experience.

Peter Parker [8:05PM]: I’ll boldly say you can have me in your arms as often as you like. Peter Parker [8:06PM]: The newbie experience – there hasn’t been a time in my life where that’s been a good thing. Peter Parker [8:07PM]: Yet. Surprisingly – I trust you.

The next day went by quickly – Peter took a quiz in Nuclear Science and dug into his other two classes to keep his mind focused on anything other than Tony’s imminent presence. His last class was a core history class, so he gladly tucked into the reading the professor let them loose to do. The chime of his alarm broke through Peter’s fog a couple pages from the end of his assignment. Though he liked to be ahead, Peter gladly took the extra few minutes to get himself together before heading to MIT’s presentation hall.

Decked out in his finest pair of black jeans, a blue denim short-sleeve button down, and solid black high-top Converse on his feet, Peter walked the few minutes it took to get back onto campus from his small apartment. Unsurprisingly, a line was formed out the door of students hoping to get into the presentation last minute. Tony told him earlier in the week that they waited to advertise his appearance until the a few hours before to stop the masses from flocking. To Peter, the time restriction seemed to only make it worse.

In Tony’s excitement to have Peter there, the older man set aside a ticket for him – instead of joining the line like he might’ve without Tony’s insistence, Peter walked straight into the cool auditorium, snagging a seat at the end of a row located dead center in the auditorium. The vantage point was perfect – Peter wouldn’t have any trouble catching Tony’s eye as he spoke. Grinning at his access to such a simple pleasure, Peter relaxed back into the seat, passing the time until Tony took the stage by watching the crowd flood in around him.

It wasn’t long before the lights were dimming and a sweaty, high ranking alumnus gave Tony Stark a mediocre welcome onto the stage. The crowd broke out into a cheer that more than made up for the old man’s subpar words. Tony timed his entrance perfectly; he walked out as the energy rose, the shift in the crowd’s tension working to enhance everyone’s excitement. Peter found himself glued to the man, who until that moment, existed entirely on the other side of the phone – he didn’t want to miss a single second of full-body absorption.

A black suit coat sat snuggly on Tony’s shoulders, a singular button keeping the sides closed. His dark hair was elegantly styled, the bed-head look enhancing the easy-going style Peter knew Tony strived for. The facial hair Peter came to truly appreciate over the last few days of texting drew attention to his sharp cheekbones. Tony seemed genuinely happy to be there if the beaming smile on his face said anything at all. With a few claps and the corniest joke, the older man got the crowd under control, proceeding onto his speech with an effortless transition.

As expected, Peter found himself interested from the very beginning. Tony’s new work on energy and its uses amongst transportation and city overhaul was ingenious – when things got up and running, New York’s power grid would run completely on sustainable energy. So many thoughts flashed across the front of Peter’s mind – he wondered if Tony would let him take a look at the blueprints. He might not have much to contribute, yet Peter understood the opportunity for learning and development when it presented itself.

By the end of Tony’s presentation, Peter was overjoyed to know that he wouldn’t need to feign interest in the topics Tony brought to the table. For a while, Stark Industries went through a slump of working on weapons and junky tech Peter found in the trash more often than he ever wanted to admit. It felt good to be excited about something new coming from the company – Tony Stark was the smartest person in his field, anything less than almost perfect just didn’t do the man and his ideas justice.

After fielding a lot more questions than Peter expected, Tony headed off the stage with a roar of applause – the genius wasn’t a household name for nothing. Smiling at the thought, Peter pulled his phone out; he got to see behind the curtain more than others – he felt a sudden surge of gratefulness at the fact. Every person around him would do anything for the privilege; taking that for granted just wouldn’t do.

Peter Parker [6:45PM]: You’re an incredible public speaker, Tony. Peter Parker [6:46PM]: Thanks for making me come!

Tony Stark [6:49PM]: How inappropriate of me is it to say that this isn’t the only time I plan to make you come?

Peter Parker [6:55PM]: Very, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless. I’ll meet you over by the Engineering building whenever you’re done trying to outrun your fans.

Tony Stark [7:00PM]: You’re fucking hilarious. I’ll meet you there in five.

True to his word, Tony snuck up behind Peter a few minutes later – soft palms that gave way to well-earned callouses pressed against Peter’s cheeks as Tony covered his eyes. The mere fact that Tony was there at all was surprise enough; the touches and softly whispered “Hello, Pete,” in his ear felt like more than enough to cause a coronary.

Shaking his head to clear it, Peter turned in Tony’s arms, a huge grin playing across his lips. With the way they were standing now, Peter’s chest was pressed delightfully against Tony’s – he felt each and every one of Tony’s inhales of oxygen and exhales of carbon dioxide that brought Peter’s attention to the firm muscles pressing and pulling the man’s abdomen. His breath caught when Tony palmed his cheek, their mouths mere inches apart. Despite not actually knowing each other, Peter felt comfortable in Tony’s embrace.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter finally replied after allowing his breath to mingle with Tony’s. As they stood there pressed together, neither could decipher where one started and the other began. The thought made his grin grow a little wider, the courage inside of him pulsing a little more boldly with life. “You were amazing up there.”

Tony remained perfectly still; his limbs seemingly frozen in a clench to keep Peter close to him. His grip was firm, both the hand on Peter’s hip and his late day stubbled cheek. Like the man himself, Tony’s touch left something behind that kept Peter on the hook, always seeking more. He half expected for Tony to lean in and slot their lips together – his deepest desires and tangible wants were starting to collide in such close proximity.

Instead, Peter’s smile was returned with quirked cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “You weren’t too bored?” Tony asked, his voice soft in the small space between them. His thumb swiped constantly across Peter’s cheek, the obvious need to move apparent, even in such an intimate situation.

Chuckling lightly, Peter shook his head. “So far from bored. My thesis research is all about sustainable energy – you had me interested from the very beginning,” Peter replied almost immediately, not caring that his excitement clearly shone through in the pitch of his voice. The way he was leaning into Tony’s touch, Peter didn’t have much of a chance to disguise his truth, anyway.

“You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for – I can tell already.” Tony’s words were mumbled almost as if the older man was embarrassed to say them – to hand out such a compliment to someone other than himself. And yet – Tony’s hesitation made the statement mean so much more; the rarity of such kind words (despite being spoken so softly) did nothing but make Peter want to melt into Tony even further.

Before things could get too mushy or physical, Peter took a large step out of Tony’s arms – begrudgingly, the need for space was prominent if they ever wanted the night to continue. Never mind the fact that paparazzi were constantly hounding and following Tony wherever the man went. Though he was deemed an appropriate companion at the time, Peter was more than sure the public would not agree.

With that thought in mind, Peter shot Tony a shy smile – “I’m pretty famished. Want to show me what Hogan’s is all about?”

They spent the ten-minute walk talking about the presentation – Tony grilled Peter about a few of the technical parts, while Peter drooled a little bit over the projected uses of Tony’s new energy storage and production. Like two nerdy peas in a pod, neither could help themselves – geeking out and talking about something they were both interested in made the rest of the world melt away. Peter might’ve kept on his tangent if it weren’t for a tall, thickly built man clearing his throat.

Looking up at the noise, Peter realized they’d walked a few blocks already and were standing in the lobby of a well-maintained hole in the wall that radiated the most delicious smells. Grease and cheese and freshly dropped French fries hit his senses all at once – there was no doubt that whatever they were about to consume would be more than delicious.

Peter was seconds away from wiping drool from his chin when Tony broke out into action. He took the couple of steps between their current position and the hostess stand to wrap who could only be Happy in a firm, breathtaking hug. “Happy, my man. It’s so good to see you,” Tony exclaimed as he stepped away, an adorable look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking this place up to Peter here, thought I’d cash in on your good will.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Peter – Tony looked at him like something he couldn’t wait to deconstruct, while Happy tilted his head curiously, as if the one glance would tell him all he needed to know about Peter Parker. Unwillingly to stand there like an animal on display, Peter broke through the weird with a soft laugh and a light wave.

“Nice to meet you, Happy. Tony’s been selling me on your food for days now. I can’t wait to try it,” Peter said, his shoulders rolling back to help him stand a little taller. Though he had nothing to prove to the total stranger in front of him, Peter couldn’t help but want to make a good impression – Happy obviously meant something to Tony; their comradery and easy affection said that without much effort.

There was a moment where all three guys seemed to look between each other – Peter watched with bated breath as Tony and Happy carried on a silent conversation with just a few blinks and forehead crinkles. By the time Peter understood what was happening, Happy stepped a little closer to him, his big hand reaching out for what could only be a handshake. Without hesitating, Peter took it – for whatever reason, the handshake felt monumental; like with the one touch, he beat the level boss and gained access to the next one.

“Good to meet you, too. Tony’s good about that sort of advertisement – we probably wouldn’t have made it without his ugly mug around at the beginning,” Happy replied. “You guys know what you want? I’ll get it on the grill personally.”

At that point, Tony stepped back into the spotlight and grabbed the reins – he ordered everything at rapid fire speed, like the menu existed as a hard copy in Tony’s mind. Considering the warmth of the older man’s welcome and Happy’s cryptic words, Peter didn’t doubt that Tony was a regular – more than likely a founding customer, even.

It took no time at all for their food to come out to the small table in the corner Tony led him to. The tray was piled with an abundance of food – cheese steaks, fries, burgers, even a couple of desserts littered the table as Tony unpacked their haul. Peter’s eyes were wide, his mouth watering with a want that only Zap’s Bodega could illicit before. “This – it all looks amazing,” Peter babbled, his stomach both hungry and overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Just wait until you taste it. Happy used to crank out these cheesesteaks on the little hot plate we had in our dorm room. They were excellent, but the addition of the flattop has made them unbeatable.”

Unable to decide what smelled the best, Peter grabbed whatever was nearest to him. His fingers wrapped around the greasy paper of the aforementioned cheesesteak, his mouth watering even more. “So, you and Happy were roommates at MIT?” Peter asked around a large bite, the food in his mouth muffling some of the words. It really was good – worth looking like a pig in front of the most beautiful man alive.

“Hap and I go way back. His father worked security at Stark Industries – he was on my dad’s personal protection team for most of my life. When Happy’s mom died and the need for babysitting became a thing, Happy started to spend the evenings with me after school. In a lot of ways, he’s the only family I’ve ever had. When he first opened up this place, I was young and just looking for some investment that would piss my dad off. I knew Happy had talent, but neither of us thought this place would blow up the way it did.” Tony looked up then, a vulnerability in his eyes. “We’ve been in business together ever since.”

Smiling encouragingly, Peter nodded in Tony’s direction – their closeness, Tony’s unwavering advertisement and protectiveness, even some of the food names he could see on the menu; it all made sense. After taking another bite of the cheesesteak, Peter chewed slowly before responding. “There’s always more to the story, right?” he questioned cheekily. “It sounds like your gamble worked out for you – I didn’t look at the menu, but I did Google Hogan’s; there’s ten locations within a 300-mile radius.”

A snort had Peter looking up, his eyebrows quirked. “I should’ve known,” Tony said through a laugh. “Your generation is all about instant gratification.”

Their eyes locked then, Tony’s words and their meaning sitting in the space between them. Peter forced himself not to blink – he wanted to memorize the rich hazel color that barely ringed a growing pupil. Hunger and want and something unrecognizable existed in Tony’s glance; when it was all over and Tony moved on, Peter desperately wanted to remember the genuine rawness he drew out of one of the world’s greatest minds.

“Or just impatience,” Peter countered. He drew his eyes away, needing to break the glance to stop himself from propelling himself across the table and tackle Tony to the ground. Though it looked as if Happy kept the place spick and span, Peter didn’t want to think about Tony’s expensive suit on any other floor aside from his own.

They attempted to pull the small talk back to something a little tamer, but the road of the rest of the evening had already been paved. It became harder to focus on anything other than the thick press of Tony’s thigh against his own under the table. As the minutes passed, Peter noticed Tony staring, and after a while, the older man just never stopped. Every time he looked up, Peter caught hazel eyes taking him in – undressing him button by button with the sheer want in his eyes. A red blush took up permanent residence on Peter’s cheeks and neck, the color following him out of the restaurant and out onto the street where Tony took his hand without hesitation.

Before his mom passed away, Peter remembered a softly mumbled conversation laying across both his parents early, early in the morning. His dad’s big fingers were wrapped so neatly around his mother’s, the embrace tight, despite the hour. Peter reached out to touch the unbreakable seam, his eyes wide with wonder. “They fit,” Peter whispered softly, his finger running reverently over their joint fingers.

His mother pulled him close then, her lips finding that special place on his cheek. “One day, Petey, you’ll find that perfect person whose hands will fit yours just the way your father’s fit mine.”

A warmth settled in Peter’s chest as he slid his hand into Tony’s, their fingers interlacing perfectly with ease. The immaculate fit of Tony’s hand pressing against his own made him snuggle in further – whatever happened between them after this, Peter would forever know how easily he and Tony Stark fit together.

Giving Tony’s fingers a squeeze at the thought, Peter looked up, breaking the silence – “Do you want to see my apartment? I’m sure it’s not nearly as fancy as the hotel you’re staying at, but I’ve got Netflix and a really comfortable couch.”

Tony took a few long strides to answer, his face a little pensive. “I’d love to see your apartment, Pete,” Tony replied easily. They came to a stop at the crosswalk – Tony used his momentum to pull Peter close to his chest while they waited out the light. “I don’t care about fancy. You’ll be there.”

While Peter had lots of things to reply, his words were cut off by slightly chapped lips eagerly pressing against his own. It took Peter a second to recognize what in the glorious hell was happening – when the reality of the situation finally registered, Peter surged forward, tilting his head to not only return the kiss, but deepen it.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way around Tony’s neck to keep him close – he felt like he might pass out from the sheer goodness of Tony surrounding him without the grounding touch. He was far from a virgin, but none of his previous encounters knocked him off his feet in such a way that made Peter feel like a fumbling newbie.

Sipping from each other’s mouths, Peter was surprised by a strange and unrecognizable voice coming from behind them – “the light’s changed, fellas.”

It took an obscene amount of effort to pull away – though the stranger’s words made his face burn with embarrassment, Peter was reluctant to step out of Tony’s embrace and the tantalizing press of warm lips against his own. Regardless of his trepidation, Peter reluctantly moved back.

He made sure to slip his hand into Tony’s before they set off again.

“I’m just another couple of blocks away,” Peter reassured, a hungry smirk on his face. Tony returned the look, their stride all of the sudden lengthening. Their walk turned from a leisurely stroll to a brisk half-run. If it weren’t for the want raging through Peter’s veins, he might’ve found the change hilarious. In all of their time together, Tony never expressed impatience – he always seemed calm, cool, and collected. Yet, in the face of heat and need and the promise of bare skin, Tony let that mask drop.

Happy to know a new something about Tony, Peter reveled in the pent-up silence that carried them back to his apartment. Snagging a ground floor unit close to the entrance, they luckily didn’t have to wait for an elevator or awkwardly pretend that they weren’t about to push the other against the wall and start ravaging whatever pieces of skin they could find. Instead, Peter impatiently pulled Tony behind him as they walked between building 1 and 2 with eager steps.

After some fumbling and a set of dropped keys, Peter finally got his door open and Tony through it. Without missing a beat, Tony pushed him back against the newly closed front door, their lips harshly joining. Groaning at the contact and suddenness of it all, Peter pulled Tony in – any space left between them was unacceptable now that they were in a private space where wandering eyes and clicking cameras couldn’t see. Their obvious passion was too much for the public eye; Peter so desperately wanted to keep Tony to himself – devouring him in a safe space was only the first step.

As Tony traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Peter fumbled his hands down the older man’s chest until he could pull the crisp button-down from well-tailored pants. The second he was able, Peter shoved his hands under the soft fabric, his palms greedily pressing into Tony’s hairy chest. A groan left his mouth – the chest hair under his fingers was soft and teasing. Peter was caught between the urge to tug at the strands and lay his head gently against them just to feel the texture against his skin.

Tony made the decision for him – large hands were suddenly on Peter’s waist, his feet coming up off the ground with little effort. Unable to keep his hands where they were, Peter broke the kiss with a groan and shifted until he could wrap his legs around Tony’s hips. Peter panted for breath while his lips were still free as Tony navigated through the room blindly. Another soft moan left Peter’s lips when his back hit the pliable leather of his couch.

Where just moments before they were standing chest to chest, Peter now had the full weight of Tony against him. The older man fit seamlessly between his splayed thighs, their hips lining up in a way that made Peter’s cock pulse against the confines of his tight jeans. With a bit of shifting, their groins were matched – Tony’s thick cock felt sinful against Peter’s. If his impending orgasm was already upon him, Peter wondered what it’d be like when their clothes hit the floor and he really got to taste what Tony had to offer.

Like he was reading his mind, Tony made quick work of the buttons on Peter’s shirt. Calloused hands dragged up and down Peter’s bare chest as he pushed the navy fabric to the side – his skin was practically hairless, the only exception being a small trail of it leading down to the v of his jeans. Tony let his fingers play through that small amount of hair, his fingers teasing as they got closer to the one spot that Peter wanted him to be the most.

Deciding to take his mind off of the heat in his belly and the closeness of his orgasm, Peter returned the favor. His hands were shaky as he passed button after button through their holes. With a gasp, Peter spread the sides of Tony’s shirt to get the maximum impact of the older man’s torso. He liked what he felt before, but the view was something else – Tony’s chest was chiseled and cut, his pecs and abs straining with effort. Peter noticed throbbing veins and a few scars in his perusal; the evidence of Tony’s life and the way he lived it made Peter pull the man a little closer. Tony Stark drove him absolutely mad – every new thing he learned contributed to the insanity even more.

Before he could get lost in the thought, Tony’s lips were skating along his cheek, only to stop and caress the outer shell of Peter’s ear. “You feel amazing, Pete,” Tony babbled, his tongue peeking out to join in on the fun. “I want to taste you, feel your cock pulse against my tongue. You’re so fucking hard and I can’t fucking wait. Is that okay?”

Peter pulled back then, a soft grin pulling at his lips. In all of his sexual encounters, Peter couldn’t recall someone caring about him so thoroughly, let alone stopping to ask how he felt. Both hands came up to grip Tony’s cheeks until the older man was looking right at him. Through the haze of arousal, Peter recognized that warm spark in Tony’s eye – it was the look in that first picture that kept Peter coming back for more.

“It’s perfect, Tony. I’ll take anything you want to give me,” Peter said breathlessly. He leaned up for a kiss to drive the words home.

Tony looked genuinely happy when Peter pulled away – his cheeks were flushed with obvious arousal, his lips quirked in a saucy smile. Without saying anything, Tony nodded his head and travelled slowly down the length of Peter’s body. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans before Peter could think or even draw his next breath.

Sturdy hands didn’t hesitate to pull at the waistband of Peter’s boxers – his flushed cock was already leaking as it came to rest casually against the firm abs of Peter’s chest. Tony’s calloused fingers immediately wrapped around the length, giving a tight squeeze to the base. The sheer feeling of his crush’s hands on him was almost enough for Peter to jump straight over the edge. Catching Tony’s eyes and biting down on his bottom lip was his only saving grace – the knowing look in beautiful hazel eyes pulled a chuckle from Peter’s chest, the noise distraction enough.

“Okay?” Tony asked again, the words were spoken with his mouth hovering just inches from the pulsing flesh of Peter’s cock. He could feel Tony’s breath against his sensitive skin, everything about the situation making it hard to articulate or think or exist as anything other than a melted puddle of goo against broken-in leather.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths before nodding vigorously. He felt a red flush travel even further down his neck and torso, arousal and embarrassment mixing together to create the ultimate aphrodisiac. He finally found his voice, muttering a choked off “yes” before the motor function of speaking left him once more.

After a heartbeat and then another where neither man moved, Tony gripped the sharp bones of Peter’s hips, pushing his lower body down against the cushions. They shared another look as Tony lowered his head, his pink tongue poking out to lick lightly against the leaky head of Peter’s cock. Hazel eyes stayed on him – Tony continued to lap along his sensitive skin, all while killing Peter slowly with the heat and want reflecting back. By the time Tony had all of Peter in his mouth, Peter was seconds away from being undone.

It’d been so long, and he’d wanted Tony since he understood what attraction was. Being pinned down by the person he desired longer than some of his friendships did nothing but magnify everything that was happening. His skin felt like it was on fire under Tony’s touch – the suction around his cock felt like it was coming from all angles, everywhere, all at once. Unable to stop himself, Peter moaned, panted, and shamelessly shouted Tony’s name as the blissful seconds passed.

The telling zip of a zipper being pushed down, and Tony’s hasty shift told Peter that Tony was similarly affected. He picked up his head to watch Tony suck his cock down while his right hand moved at the same pace – while he took Peter’s cock into his throat, Tony was stroking his own erection with sure strokes. As if the heat around him wasn’t enough, the beautiful visual of Tony taking his own pleasure pushed him those last couple of steps over the edge.

Bubbling heat in his belly boiled over. Peter frantically reached down to grip Tony’s shoulder, his mouth wordlessly shaping around warning words. “I’m – I’m… fuck, Tony. I’m going to cum,” Peter finally managed to gasp out. There was just enough time for Tony to pull away, to let Peter’s pleasure splatter on the blood warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Yet, Tony held fast, instead – he redoubled his efforts, his lips tightening and throat relaxing in invitation.

Unable to stop himself, Peter let go – his hips thrust up into Tony’s enticing heat, the man’s name dripping from his lips as pulse after pulse of cum left his body. Tony moaned around him, swallowing easily without pulling his mouth away or stopping his ministrations. The suction continued until Peter was reaching down halfheartedly to push at Tony’s soft curls.

While he caught his breath, Tony crawled up Peter’s body, a self-satisfied smirk on his red cheeks. Peter grinned at him, happiness and satiation rolling off of him in waves. Without thought, Peter pulled Tony tightly to him, their lips finding each other like opposite poles of magnets drawn together by the sheer force of nature. Tony shared Peter’s taste with him, his talented tongue thrusting into Peter’s mouth with a shared groan between them. It was all so hot; Peter felt his spent cock already starting to come back to life.

With that thought in mind, Peter started to reach down to help Tony finish achieving his own pleasure; yet his hand was batted away with affectionate finesse. Peter shifted until he could meet the honey hazels he was already addicted to, a question in his eye.

“There’s no need,” Tony mumbled, his face tucking into the skin of Peter’s neck. “You’re so sexy, I couldn’t help but touch myself. The way you look in the throes of pleasure – it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Holy shit.”

Tony chuckled at the awe in Peter’s voice. “My sentiment exactly.”

For a while, they stayed stretched out on Peter’ couch, exchanging kisses and greedy touches on all the bare skin either could reach. Without so much adrenaline coursing through his system, Peter felt himself melting even further into the comfy cushions below him. After a jaw breaking yawn, Peter reached up to cup Tony’s cheek, pulling the man’s attention towards him.

“Want to stay over?” Peter asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they were spent and wrapped up in each other, Peter wasn’t sure where Tony stood. There was a big difference between the type of intimacy physical touch and sleeping next to another human being required. The last few days, Peter fell asleep with Tony’s messages open on the bed next to him – actually sleeping side by side, in person, that was a whole new step for them.

Tilting his head to the side, Tony shot Peter a tender smile before nodding and leaning down to press their lips together.

“Yeah, Pete – I want to stay.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #starker festivals summer bingo #bobbie writes #let me get close to #peter parker/tony stark #starker fic #sfsummerbingo21

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katberk · 3 years

Text

The Seven Stages of Grief

Tommyinnit x Reader

Genre: Angst

in-game au

The attack was something out of a movie. The way the withers destroyed everything in it’s path without remorse for the people, the screams of the panicked and afraid, and then a loud sob that rang through the air.

Tommy was there in the middle of the giant crater, hovering over your body with shacks to his own. “Y/N... wake up! Stop playing with me... jokes over!” His voice was low and in fear.

When his legs gave out he dropped to your side and cradled you in his scratched and blooded arms. “You’re alive, I just know it! You would never leave me!” His cry fell on deaf ears.

When the smoke cleared everyone was surrounding the edge with sorrow and tears. They lost a member that was the light of everyone’s life, their hope and encouragement... their friend and one, a sibling.

Still in the boys arms Tommy looked up to try and find the hybrid pig who started it all. Still clenching your dead body tightly he screamed in rage. “Technoblade! Where the fuck did you go?!”

“He’s gone Tommy... He left already.” Tubbo, Tommy’s best friend, Y/N’s brother, had tears cascading down his cheeks. “C-can I see them... please?” Tubbo looked petrified. Seeing his sibling dead was never in his mind, seeing his younger sibling lifeless with bruises and blood made him want to faint.

Without words Tommy gently laid them down so Tubbo could mourn. “I’m so sorry Y/N! I... I never meant for this to happen! I was suppose to protect you...I’m your older brother.” His sobs got loudly each word. The two boys surrounded by their also mourning friends hugged and cried at the lost of their fallen hope.

Life going on was going to be hell.

Shock and Denial

It’s been a couple of days since the end of the war. People were rebuilding and moving on quicker then some. The news that Wilbur was dead was also a turning point for Tommy as well. He was in denial. His lover and mentor couldn’t be dead, right?!

Tommy was, different. He wasn’t his happy self, he wasn’t making jokes or laughing at stupid stuff. He was just on the beach reminiscing. “Y/N can’t be dead... They just can’t! It’s impossible!”

“They’re dead Tommy.” That voice, it was Dream. The man who owned the cursed land people were standing on, the ‘god’ of everything. “They aren’t coming back and you know it.”

“SHUT UP!” Tommy swung his head to face the masked man. “Stop trying to get into my head! Stop trying to mess me up again! Y/N isn’t dead and I know it!”

The sad thing was... Tommy really didn’t understand that Y/N was gone. He was just stuck in a rut that can’t be escaped... not today at least.

“How about this. I’ll give you a favor, at a cost of course.” Dream was smirking, his eyes glowing with mischief and greed.

“I’m not falling for your stupid mind games Dream... just leave me alone.” That was the end of the conversation. Tommy hearing Dream leave with the words ‘the offer still stands’ before placing his head into his hands to cry his shock away.

Pain and Guilt

A week now. A week has gone by since the talk on the beach. Tommy finally got it through his head that you were dead. That confirmation made the thoughts of pain and guilt to surface to the top of his mind.

“I mean... I could have saved them, right?” Tommy looked up at Phil. “I could of saved them and everything would be okay...” His voice was hoarse from all the crying and screams that were let out moments before.

“Tommy, you can’t beat yourself up when it wasn’t your fault. Things happen, somethings we don’t want happening just does... It’s life Tommy.” Phil didn’t know what to do exactly. He was still mourning at the loss of Wilbur, but he could see Tommy wasn’t making that much progress.

“I just want this to be a big nightmare, and I-I’ll wake up to their smile and then get to hear their voice again...” Tommy couldn’t think straight.

“Just get some sleep, and remember that sometimes, life is unfair...” With a ghost of a smile Phil left to get himself back on track.

“Good-night... I guess.” Soft voice and tears were washing away the pain.

Anger and Bargaining

It’s a new month now. People are getting back on track, people are happy. This made Tommy angry. “How can they be happy?! Y/N’s dead!” His mind was racing.

“Calm down Tommy, maybe they just heal faster.” Tubbo was intimidated by the blonde. “It just takes a little longer for some peo-”

“How are you not mad, or sad, or something?! Your own flesh and blood is dead! In the ground and never COMING BACK!” Tommy yelled out his frustration causing Tubbo to break down.

“I am sad Tommy! Of course I am... I’m just trying to forget... to remember them happy and in peace instead of bleeding and rotting!” His tears were rolling down his face, clear but with agony. Tommy’s eyes softened with guilt.

“I’m sorry for yelling... I just... I just want Y/N back, safe and sound... not hurt, not sad, and not fucking dead!” Tommy apologized stopping in his tracks when he got to the crater.

Once again, the two boys were asking you to come back... not today though, it just didn’t work.

Depression

Now it’s been a couple of months. Phil is doing much better, Tubbo is surviving better, but Tommy, he’s trying to get that favor into motion.

“Please Dream! I just want them back, you said that it still stood!” He was begging, almost to tears.

“Tommy, that was months ago. You had your chance, but then you threw it away.” Dream denied once again, a smirk and a light chuckle.

“No, that’s not fair! Y-you said that... you said tha-” He couldn’t finish his plead.

“Life isn’t fair Tommy! You just have to get that through you thick skull! Life isn’t FAIR!” Dream was now laughing, his eyes behind the mask were swirls of no more sanity left.

“You bastard!” Tommy could’t loss, he just couldn’t!

“I guess I am then... wallow in that depression Tommy, cry me a river because Y/N isn’t coming back.” That was it. Dream left the boy broken and alone, curled up and lost.

Upward Turn

He’s relaxed, the pain and the anger has passed, out of his system. He feels calm and understanding. It took awhile, but with the help from Phil and Tubbo he finally made process that he’s satisfied with.

Tommy is finally healing...

Reconstruction and working through

It’s been a year now. Yes a year. Tommy was finally lifting himself up and acting more like himself. He was picking up the pieces of his shattered heart. Placing them back together with the memories that he cherished deeply.

He started to keep a journal where he vents or just talks about his day, a nice way to not loss yourself, a safe place to cry away any hanging on pain.

Tommy was ready to pick himself up and move on.

Acceptance and Hope

Hope. That word was lost since the start of the whole cycle. Tommy lost his hope that day when the withers destroyed the rest of the already blown-up L’Manberg. He lost his lover, but that didn’t stop him from slowly building up the motivation to move on from the loss.

Tommy was ready for the future, he was ready to get revenge for you, he was ready to see you if he ever got the chance. He was ready for everything and anything... because

He pasted the seven stages of grief.

#mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt tommyinnit #tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #x reader #angst #dream smp #dream smp war

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ronans-sepiaphotograph · 3 years

Text

Sunflower, Vol. 6

(A Jerejean AU)

Part one.

Part two:

Tired eyes are the death of me

Mouthful of toothpaste before I got to know you

I've got your face hung up high in the gallery

I love this shade, sunflower, sunflower

Your flowers just died, plant new seeds in the melody

This wonderful edit is by @91percentpynch which inspired me to start writing this AU. I adore her and Jean Moreau is the love of our life and the light of our existence and the moon of our sky.

The next time Jean stepped foot inside Knox florists was one month later because he couldn't get Jeremy the shop out of his head. There were hazel eyes and cymbidiums, yellow blonde hair and chrysanthemums and Jeremy and his bright smile.

Jean never wanted anything before. Want meant making yourself vulnerable, stripping down your walls. It had only led him to pain and hurt, blood and tears. But there it was again, this overwhelming ache, this annoying brightness that made Jean want.

The shop was empty except for Garfield sniffing a pot of hydrangeas as Jean was about to open the door, Luna bouncing beside him already.

The bell chimed and a second later, Jeremy's head popped up from behind the counter. He still had his stupid smile on his face that made Jean's heart stutter in his chest. And there were leaves and rose petals stuck in his flowy blonde hair. He waved enthusiastically at Jeremy and Jean smiled a small smile.

"hello" "hi" "how are you, Jean Moreau?"

Jeremy's French was so terribly Jean sighed.

"Jeremy your French is terrible" "I know but it makes you smile so it's win"

Jean didn't know whether to fling himself out of this world or to press his lips on Jeremy's.

"perhaps you can teach me. I can pronounce croissant" "oh mon dieu no" "or avant garde" "stop" "or crème brulée" "no Jeremy-"

Jeremy was staring at him, his smile wider than ever which just made Jean wonder whether he did something.

"did I something?" "You're laughing" "I can laugh" "it's the first time you've laughed that I've heard"

They were both blushing. Jean literally sighed and buried his head in his arms on the table. Jeremy laughed and Jean wanted to tattoo his laugh on his heart even if that made no remote sense.

"if it's okay I'm gonna sit here and sketch" "can I see?" "Maybe later?" "Okay"

He did. The studio was closed today as Aaron had gone home to visit his boyfriend and twin brother. And Jean got terribly bored at the studio alone. And he remembered he had Jeremy's card. So, he was back. He had been busy for a month with a lot of commissions so he had been talking to Jeremy via text. It was quite fun as Jeremy was just as bright when he texted.

He pulled out his sketchbook. There were all sorts of things that he'd sketched. Flowers and vines, hands and eyes, animals and birds. He had tattooed a few even. He looked around but his eyes landed only on Jeremy who stuck out like a sore thumb against the sea of plants.

He gave in and started putting Jeremy on paper. The mess of his blonde hair, wavy and long. His large eyes and pointy nose that dipped at the right angle. The curve of his cupid's bow and the freckles on his face, dusted across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

It was slow and delicate, the scratch of graphite against the paper because art came slow and eventual, like rainfall on a sunny day.

Jeremy was not short, just that Jean was taller by a few inches. He was tall and angular and had muscular arms and beautiful hands with nerves jutting out when he flexed his hands. His nails were almost always painted a bright yellow.

Jeremy came alive on Jean's sketchbook and the Jean took out his pencils to fill in the colour. He spent a good minutes trying match the colour of Jeremy's skin until he was fed up and went with the closest shade.

When he looked up, Jeremy was tending to a rather large bouquet of tulips and roses as he chatted with his customer. The hope blooming in Jean's chest wilted he saw Jeremy blush while talking to the woman.

Jean vented out his frustration by aggressively scribbling his pencil until the tip broke with a crack. He didn't even know why he was angry at this, this mess of feelings that had bloomed in his chest.

And why would Jeremy even like him? He was too broken, there were too many sharp yet delicate pieces of him that he himself couldn't keep a count of yet he was trying to piece them together, one by one. Why would Jeremy pick those up and cradle them when he could have someone who'd give him all he wanted. Jean had survived, barely and he didn't know how to live. Live in the way life was supposed to be lived in.

Jeremy noticed him and sat beside him after he handed the woman her bouquet. Jean didn't say anything but continues to colour his sketch as he felt Jeremy's eyes linger on him.

"Jean?" "Yes?" "Is that me?"

Jean didn't say anything but responded by slamming his sketchbook shut and gathering his pencils. Jeremy flinched beside him. He got up, eyes burning as he grabbed Luna's leash and walked to leave. She tilted her head in question but followed him nonetheless.

Be still my unsteady heart, he angrily reminded himself as he prepared to storm out.

Then they were, Jeremy's fingers closed around his wrist that made his heart hammer louder than ever that it was ringing in his own ears.

"don't go please"; the broken edges of Jeremy's whisper that told him to turn around.

"did I do something wrong?" "No" "then?" "It hurts" "what does?" "Everything?" "Okay" "you" "me?" "You hurt me"

The silence began to eat him slowly, creeping up from the ground. When he looked at Jeremy, his eyes had darkened to a stormy hazel and his frown was there, underlying. He loosened his grip on Jean's and stepped backward but Jean caught his hand again.

"I've never felt this way about anyone. But you are making me feel these, these emotions that made hope blooms until your girlfriend came here" "I don't have a girlfriend?" "The lady who came in earlier" "oh, she was my sister. She asked me- whether- whether you were my boyfriend" "oh"

There was Jeremy, blushing again, slowly lacing their fingers together; carefully, elegantly, slowly as if giving Jean time to pull away but their fingers tangled and oh, oh, oh, Jeremy was so warm and Jean was so cold. Because Jeremy was alive and warm and his heartbeat was faint staccato under Jean's fingers and Jean was cold and learning to live and his heart was a thawing piece of frozen flesh.

"well" "I'm sorry" "don't be, please. Would you like to have lunch with me?" "Okay" "do you like tacos?" "I suppose"

Jeremy laughed brightly as Jean let go and sat back down. Jeremy called a place and ordered food and came back to sit beside him.

"can I see the sketch?" "Yes"

Jean pulled out his sketchbook and showed the sketch to Jeremy. Jeremy's fingers were feather light on the paper as they grazed his own features, delicate and beautiful. When Jeremy looked back at him, his eyes were bright and twinkling and full of admiration for Jean.

He looked with such ferocity that for the first time Jean felt seen. He felt vulnerable and fragile and felt like Jeremy would break him the way he wanted to be broken, just to be healed again.

His smile was gentle and persistent, it made Jean's heart flutter again. And he was suddenly leaning closer towards Jeremy, closer and closer until their breaths mingled.

"I fear you'll burn me" "what?" "You're so bright like the sun I feel like you'll incinerate this very second until all that remains is nothing yet, yet I can't help but be drawn to you" "oh"

And Jean watched as Jeremy's fingers inched towards his face, slow so as to give Jean to pull away but Jean didn't, he wouldn't. And Jean's skin was on fire as Jeremy's fingers grazed his cheeks, traced the tattoo of the moon that has risen there and the trail of little stars that began at his cheek and cascade down like a starry waterfall down his neck and onto his back and into nothingness.

Jean's inhaled sharply as Jeremy breathed as he traced his finger delicately across Jean's face as if he was made of glass and too much pressure and Jean would crack.

Jean was toughened like a diamond or a rock and nothing could break him anymore but Jeremy. Jeremy made him feel like he was a delicate little thing, a bud, a blossom blooming on a dewy morning.

Jean moved and Jeremy's face was under his hands as the pupils of Jeremy's eyes widened. He rubbed his calloused thumbs across Jeremy's cheeks and Jeremy closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, they were twinkling like stars.

"Hazel mixed with green" "huh?" "The colour of your eyes when you stand under the sun and the rays hit them perfectly"

Jeremy laughed and Jean leaned forward and looked at Jeremy. There was no hesitation, none at all. Jean let his feelings wash him over, trample him over and he had surrendered in this want. He pressed his lips against Jeremy's and they were soft, and warm against Jean's chapped and cold ones. And Jeremy's hands were gentle in his hair, carding through it.

When they pulled away, the unsteadiness in Jean's heart had calmed down as he looked at Jeremy. There was a faint pink tinge to his cheeks that clashed with his freckles and there was that lopsided smile that was different from his usual ones. Jean thought that this one might be special.

"I have nothing to give to you, Jeremy Knox. Except me" "and I'll try to give you everything you want" "I'm broken and there's too many pieces" "then let me pick them up with you, for you" "I fear you'll break me. I fear you'll break me and help me heal when I'm too shattered" "I'll try to make you feel less broken"

Jeremy didn't assure him that he'll make Jean whole. Jean supposed Jeremy knew that feeling whole was just bullshit. It was false hope and fake words for those who were afraid of the truth.

Jean pulled up his sleeves, to reveal his scars and tattoos and Jeremy was staring wide-eyed at him. Jeremy's fingers hovered around his arms and Jean whispered a quiet yes and Jeremy grazed his fingers against his scars, the flowers and vines tattooed around them and the sunflower on his forearm. Jeremy smiled at him through glassy eyes. Jeremy moved his fingers, slender and long and graceful against Jean's skin, like an artist mixing colours on a pallet, careful and methodical.

"you gave me the sunflower, Jeremy Knox" "I remember" "this one will never wilt" "I'll give you a million sunflowers more if you want"

Jean smiled, it was not as bright as Jeremy's but it'd do and pressed his lips against Jeremy's once more.

It felt a lot like blooming.

#all for the game #aftg #nora sakavic #jean moreau #jeremy knox #aaron minyard #kevin day #artist jean #florist jeremy #kevaaron #jerejean #usc trojans #psu foxes #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king's men #pratt posts

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Bite

Summary: To say the least, Hange's last month of pregnancy turned out a little bumpier than what Levi would would have liked it to be.

A New Year's piece of Levihan Domestic Fluff. Happy New Year everyone!

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: I know I've been writing a lot of fluff lately but yeah, just me coping with this being my first ever New Year's stuck at home with our family not together this year. Sorry for my French but Fuck Covid.

The house was quiet.

But that's how Levi wanted it. Hange was eight months pregnant after all. When she was carrying a fragile growing mini person inside her, he would rather she stayed quiet anyway. The peace and calm of the household was an improvement from the clack of rock to wood and her humming. It was a sign at least that Hange was finally getting the well needed rest that came with carrying an extra human.

But it was just a little too quiet. Too quiet for it to ever be comfortable for Levi. Levi had to note that it was past noon and Hange should have been up, playing around with whatever rocks she had on the workbench or at least sitting on the sofa reading a random book from the bookshelf in the dining room.

She probably stayed up late last night. Levi thought to himself. That thought was quickly shot down when Levi recalled that she had actually slept much earlier than him.

Of course, she's eight months pregnant. Levi attempted to scramble for other reasons for that silence as he started to give in to the nagging worry. When Hange was home, she was always making noise. Levi found it almost eerie that the noise levels were down to when Hange was out for work. All he could hear were the clatter of pans as he placed them on the sink and the simmer of the fire as he started to prepare lunch.

After I finish making lunch I'll check on her. Levi promised himself.

Levi had been up since five and had not entered the room again since then. It was for good reason. Hanger was notably crankier than usual, particularly in the mornings. Carrying an extra human to term had her having rough days every day and Levi just wanted to be a little more careful with his cards.

He turned on the radio by the kitchen window. Having an extra voice at least even if it wasn't Hange worked to alleviate some of that discomfort. He had started on reorganizing one of the cupboards when the radio whirred to life.

Hearing the man on the radio was oddly comforting. He never did leave the house as often as Hange so the radio had been his anchor to real life. With Hange home more often, he never needed to turn it on, Hange always had her own personal talkshow going on when she wasn’t asleep. Either that or he was too busy worrying about her to even have time to focus on the happenings that day.

For the first time in so long, he had the time. Enjoy it while you can. Levi told himself as he started to ponder what the news of the day would be. Having lived a long life constantly being chased in the underground that eventually evolved into a life killing man eaten giants, Levi found listening to the societal problems that plagued Paradis almost calming.

He had been dubbed ‘humanity’s strongest soldier’ and had been fighting man eating beasts and preventing the fall of humanity for a huge part of his life. Yet at present, most problems that made their way to Paradis were at least solvable by the average conscripted soldier or the average office worker. More than half the time, no one was actually in danger of dying. A significant improvement from the Paradis he grew up in.

Listening to the happenings on the radio, he was reminded of the joys of retirement. He indulged himself by listening to the last few parts of a radio drama and news on preparations for the fireworks festival that night.

The world is so peaceful. Levi had been daring enough to think that statement to himself.

“Breaking news!” It was as if the radio had sentience and read his mind, wanting to prove Levi wrong as if to say ‘the world will never be completely peaceful.’ “We just received word of a hostage situation in one of the warehouses in the Southern port.”

A wave of panic ended up running through him. It could have been from the tone of the reporter or Levi’s own instincts. Calm down. You’re not a soldier anymore. This isn’t your problem. It wasn’t at all new for Levi to react like that internally. He had an unnaturally strong sense of urgency having lived a life of danger for too long. He willfully brushed it off and attempted to focus instead on cutting the vegetables for the soup he was making for lunch.

“More information is coming in…”

Having spent most of his days alone in the house with nothing but a radio for a companion, Levi had mastered the art of multitasking, being able to pick up all the details of the radio article over the sound of the pots and pans, the sound of plates being stacked or the whistle of the kettle.

A gang car jacked one of the buses on the way out of the Southern port.

Gang holds hostage in the port fireworks which were slated to be sent to the capital for Paradis’ first ever New Years Celebration...

The fireworks were ordered more than a year ago…

Levi knew enough at least to understand what would have pushed people to steal them. Hange had mentioned it once during one of her rambles. She had been the one who had suggested they buy fireworks from Marley and celebrate New Years more than a year ago. It was apparently a highly anticipated festivity every year in Marley and having been so excited at the idea of celebrating it in Paradis, Hange went overboard with the organization. They had sent people to Marley to train with handling fireworks and had gone over multiple displays before deciding on one, which ended up being one of the more expensive options.

But it will be beautiful. Those words echoed once again in Levi’s head. He recalled seeing stars in her eyes as she said it.

Eventually Armin had taken over and with Hange’s hand out of the project, Levi had forgotten about it until he heard the details of the hostage situation over the radio. I wonder what Armin’s doing about it. A food for thought he reflected on while he prepared the ingredients for boiling.

“The police are assessing the situation as we speak.” Levi was aware they couldn’t give the exact details, the hostage takers could be listening in.

Another report came in a few seconds later. "The escaped hostages have confirmed the hostage takers do not have a radio on site. No chance of them listening in."

Levi found himself silently commending the escaped hostages for noting such a small detail. He hadn’t expected civilians to be that sharp especially in such a stressful situation.

“We escaped through the vents with one brave woman’s help but she had to stay behind.”

“How many are left inside the warehouse?”

“Just her.”

“Couldn’t she escape with you?”

“No sir. She doesn’t fit.”

“Doesn’t fit?"

“She looked like she was at least eight months pregnant.”

A pregnant woman in a hostage situation? Levi’s ears perked up at that. His thoughts flew to whoever that woman’s poor husband could have been. He had his own pregnant wife after all so he was quick to sympathize. Despite not believing in a god, he found himself sending prayers to that phantom husband. I hope someone at least informed him.

Levi kept his attention on the radio news as he mixed the ingredients and the spices for the soup.

“We have to get her out soon then.”

“She said she’d be fine. She even called the hostage takers amateurs.”

Levi was familiar with hostage situations though to know it was in their interest to keep their hostages alive. When taking the risk though, losing meant losing a life and Levi found himself sympathizing with whoever was left. Maybe I should call Armin? After I wake up Hange.

“But she could end up dead.”

“She said they wouldn’t.. On the off chance they did, she could defend herself.” Despite having just come out of a hostage situation and seeming concerned about a pregnant companion they had left behind, the woman talking on the radio seemed convinced that the pregnant woman could take care of herself.

How can an eight month pregnant woman defend herself though? Levi was starting to get a little more interested in the identity of the pregnant woman. There were two possibilities, she was a pregnant woman with a screw loose in her brain or she was an actual genius, Maybe he could ask Hange to ask Armin about it and they could learn a thing or two from her.

“She used to be in the military… And apparently had dealt with worse situations before."

So she was from the military? The military was a small community and Levi was sure he should know who it was. Was anyone pregnant though… Other than Hange?

Levi had racked his brain for a few seconds considering all the possibilities. Except one.

He did not know how many minutes he had spent considering the other possibilities before moving on to the exception. Yet that possibility was just outrageous. So outrageous that Levi had to ask Hange even if it meant waking her up from her nap.

Sorry for interrupting your sleep Hange, I just heard about an eight month pregnant woman who used to be part of the military and got taken hostage in a warehouse by the port. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t you. Levi rehearsed his lines quickly as he made his way to the bedroom. It sounded ridiculous the second time he repeated it to himself. At that point though, it seemed worth it.

Levi’s heart started to beat faster as he entered the room, he could almost hear it. It could have been from the fear of waking up that lump on the other side of the bed or the fear of finding out it was just a pillow.

He never found out where that fear came from. It turned out the pillow was just a lump. Before Levi could even process his bodies’ reaction to the suspense and that harsh realization, his body went into survival mode. It came as a torrent of unintelligible emotions reminiscent of his fights against the beast titan and the invasion of Marley.

Just like it did then, his survival mode switched on and his instincts took over. Levi’s body was moving much faster than his brain. He called a taxi to take him to the port.

It was an option ten times more expensive than the shuttle but the price was the last thing on his mind.

Bite

The crowds on the port were large and Levi was disappointed to find out that many of the people there were uniformed policemen. He pushed his way through the crowd clutching one of the men in the front by their collar. “Why the hell are you not moving? You probably outnumber the hostage takers at this rate!”

“But sir… we don’t have orders. And there’s one more civilian inside.” The uniformed policeman who had answered Levi seemed a little too unsure and inexperienced that just listening to him made Levi miss his comrades in the survey corps all the more. That man looked like he had never fought in his life.

“Fuck this, I’m going in.”

“Sir are you sure? I think those men inside are armed with some very high end guns. We can never be too careful.”

Armed with what? Levi had been pitted against guns, thunder spears, man-eating giants and the king of all these founding titans. Despite the big ham the policeman was making those weapons out to be, Levi was not nervous at all.

He ran towards the building and in that few seconds vacillated between breaking through the window and bursting through the door. He had to act fast. Behind him, he could hear soldiers and policemen screaming at him to stay back and if he allowed himself a brief moment to stop and consider the situation, they might actually catch up.

Levi took a glance at one of the windows as he ran. The guns were on the table. Their guard was down. Levi found himself all the more disappointment at the policemen as he did. How the fuck is anybody not noticing that.

He crashed through the window where he had seen the guns on the table.

He never gave them time to pick up the guns. Even during that small moment Levi had allowed them as he took stock of the situation, they did not even attempt to dive for a weapon.

Levi and Hange did not have many things that could have served as a weapon in the house. Having only allowed himself a few seconds to get ready, Levi used the time to turn off the stove and cover the pot he had used to cook the soup. The only thing that he had managed to grab then was the vegetable knife that sat on the board he had used to cut vegetables that morning.

Levi though had worked with knives for years. He had also mastered the art of looking menacing even with the most mundane household objects as weapons. Even if he didn’t look menacing and the five hostage takers weren’t frozen on the spot, Levi was sure he still had enough agility left inside him to slit all their throats before they could shoot the gun. Preserving life had always been part of his principles though and he found himself giving the men the luxury to talk.

“Please! Don’t kill us!” One of the men begged as he fell to his knees. The others soon followed suit.

“You take hostages and you expect us not to attack?”

“We just needed money. Just give us money for the fireworks and we’ll be off your backs.” The first man who had kneeled explained. He looked to be their leader.

Levi kept his eye on the weapons on the table as he listened to the men. “This is a crime. I should be turning you in.” He had expected that to at least provoke the men. Alas, he had expected too much from them. All they did was kneel on the floor in defeat, their eyes downcast.

He approached the guns on the table and he could hear the men whimper as he did.

“The guns are broken,” one man said nervously. “We couldn’t get them to shoot.”

Of course you won’t get them to shoot. They need to be loaded first. Levi knew those guns too well. They were the guns Kenny and his police used after all. He had been at the end of that muzzle enough times to last a lifetime.

These hostage takers are amateurs. Levi had to admit, Hange probably would have been fine in this situation even if he didn’t show up.

“Where are your hostages?” Levi did not need to focus on the guns. Even if the men dove for them, Levi was sure they wouldn’t be able to shoot them.

Levi heard a kick behind him and one of the men nervously made his way beside Levi. “Over here… er sir.”

He was led to a dark room at the end of the hall. He kicked the door open, not bothering to wait for the man next to him to get the key.

The door opened to a room with many empty chairs lined up, one of them occupied by someone, someone Levi recognized almost instantly by the large belly and the fact that he had been seeing that face everyday for the past five years of his life.

Hange was there, sitting on a chair her hands tied behind her. As she looked up at them, Levi could see she had a face of overexaggerated terror for a while. For that split second, she was faking it. Levi had known her enough to know that. Within that second, it had twisted into something else, guilt and possibly actual terror.

“Levi… it’s nice to see you here,” She said. Levi had been with her enough to see that was the terror she exuded when she knew she had done something wrong.

“Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be at home?” Levi kept his voice cool, calm, feigning an expression of fake surprise. He was sure Hange would see through it. In fact, he wanted her to see through it.

“I would have been home by noon.”

“Answer the fucking question.”

Hange avoided his gaze. “The fireworks. I wanted to make sure they got to the capital safely.”

“You are an eight month pregnant woman on fucking leave. Why the fuck can’t you leave this to Armin.” He asked in the form of a statement. A statement he very much wanted her to reflect on.

“Armin and Mikasa are on a business trip to Marley. Besides, these are the expensive fireworks I ordered,” Hange explained. A shitty explanation which Levi refused to buy.

“The expensive fireworks Paradis ordered. We’re going home.” He approached Hange, ready to cut up the ropes behind her only to see there was nothing tying her to the chair. Of course. The others had gotten away. And the only person who could have helped them was Hange.

He noticed their means of escape in the form of a vent. It was closed yet, somehow Levi could tell it had been disturbed by its relative cleanliness when compared to the room that was covered in a layer of dust.

For a second, he had considered going out through there. The layer of dust and the large belly of Hange only made it a not too appealing option. “We’re going out through the front door and----”

And we’re leaving the rest to the police. They should be competent enough to arrest them at least. Levi would have wanted to say. That was until he heard the sound of gunshots.

Not the gunshots from the old military police guns. Those are the police guns.

“We surrender!”

The next thing he heard was an explosion then unfamiliar pops.

“The fireworks!” It was Hange who had answered that question of what that popping was. From seeing her crestfallen face, Levi was sure she had not intended to answer his question.

“We’re going out through the vent then.” He pulled Hange from her seat, making a silent apology to the baby inside her. “Can you hold your stomach in?” A dumb question to ask his pregnant wife but Levi was desperate.

It turned out though she didn’t need to squeeze her way through. The vent had been big enough for her to fit through without having to hold her stomach in.

And Hange should have known that. Hange wasn’t an idiot. In fact, Levi was sure she had better spatial reasoning skills than him, seeing as she had been in charge of the recent infrastructural developments over the years.

When he had carried her far away enough from the fire and the consequent blast, he had started to understand why she had been so adamant not to leave in the first place.

“The fireworks!” Hange was kneeling on the grass, a safe distance away from the blast and sobbing. “We paid so much for this Levi… This was supposed to be our first New Years celebration…” The intelligible words devolved into babble and Levi wondered whether that kind of emotional stress would be good for the baby.

At least, the hostage takers had gotten out safely. Levi thought, a desperate attempt to see light in the situation.

Bite

“So let me get this straight. You stayed behind on purpose?” It had been a good few hours since the incident and it still took Levi some effort to talk to her calmly. Levi understood at least that he had a duty not to cause her any more stress especially right after what had happened.

She had shut herself in the room for a good hour or so as soon as they had gotten back. Levi had made sure to check on her a few times since then since she was almost as quiet as that pillow that had pretended to be Hange that morning. By evening, her face was still red and her eyes swollen.

To Levi’s relief, she had replied, a significant improvement from her catatonic state. “We were looking forward to some grand festivities and those fireworks were expensive.…” Hange mentioned the cost of the fireworks and Levi was sure that amount was the fund of the survey corps for one year.

With the price of the fireworks, he was somehow starting to sympathize at least. “You sure we don’t need to go to the hospital?” He asked, his voice a little gentler.

“No, it’s okay I’m fine.”

Levi did believe her. She had little to no scratches on her and she was still walking normally at least. It was her almost catatonic state which troubled him. He could give that until the next day. “We still have next year for fireworks,” he said, an attempt to comfort her.

A moment later, he started to hear the familiar popping. “Is that fireworks? I thought they got destroyed?”

“Yeah, those are the normal fireworks. The ones I wanted to see were the expensive ones I ordered last year.”

So we had fireworks already? Levi found himself moving to the kitchen mechanically, with the one goal of making himself a cup of tea. If he allowed himself any emotion then, he probably could have strangled Hange at that moment. “If you wanna see the fireworks, you can go down.” Just another precaution, he set for himself so at least he was a safe distance from her

The kitchen was near the window and although they were in one of the upper floors, he should be able to hear Hange’s footsteps as long as the windows were open and he concentrated enough.

The tea was calming and it kept him more alert to Hange’s footsteps. Just in case she did something else stupid. He wasn’t at all feeling trusting that particular night.

He had expected to hear footsteps, leather on wood or cement. For a few minutes, that was what he was hearing.

A few minutes later, he heard something he hadn’t expected to hear at all. In fact it was something he probably wouldn’t have had to listen closely to hear.

A loud squeak then a surprised scream from Hange.

Bite

The last place Levi would have expected to spend New Years was in the hospital.

He had expected Hange to have done things during her pregnancy which would have ended up with a hospital visit. Never in his life would he have thought that it would have been from a rat bite and it would have been eight months into her pregnancy during New Years day.

“I tried to sit on the dumpster because it had the best view and there was a rat there...” Hange explained to the doctor from her bed in the emergency room.

Levi had stayed silent as Hange went into detail. He tried to tune it out himself, knowing ‘bitten by a rat’ was all he needed to hear for his whole body to shudder. Being drenched in titan’s blood seemed like a better alternative.

“I recommend you stay overnight. We’re uhh… going to have to talk to some doctors in Marley about this. I don’t think we’ve ever had a case of a woman getting bitten by a rat in her third term. We’ll have the nurse set you up with a room.” With that, the doctor left and it was just Hange and Levi together in that little corner of the emergency room.

Hange lay back on the hospital bed, her belly making a giant hill on top of her. It was so unnaturally large that Levi realized he wouldn’t be too surprised if the baby came out at any moment.

“You know Levi, I think he enjoyed today. He was kicking my belly back in the warehouse,” Hange quipped playfully as she rubbed her belly. Levi noted that the line that connected to Hange’s hand must have been some sort of painkiller or sleep drought. Hange’s smiling face was a brief respite from her crying face that afternoon, even if it was medicine-induced.

“Or maybe he thought you were a complete idiot.”

“You know… When I heard the window crash, the baby kicked harder… I think he knew daddy was coming to save us.”

“Or maybe he knew mommy didn’t need saving after all.” Levi returned her playful smile with a glare.

“Hey, you had fun. It was just like the old days...”

Fun? Levi wouldn’t have used that word at all. Getting shot at and being almost eaten on a regular basis wasn’t fun. Not knowing when you would die wasn’t fun. As Hange had mentioned the word ‘old days,’ Levi did start to realize he had been a little disappointed to see the men hadn’t shot at him.

He put a hand to his forehead. “Do I actually miss fighting?” He pressed harder into his forehead as if that action was enough to push some sanity back into his brain. No one should be missing a war. “Hey Hange, do you miss it?” He wanted to search for some assurance at least that he wasn’t the only one slightly insane.

He looked back at Hange to see the latter had dozed off, her face fixed into a warm comfortable smile, her hand resting on her belly.

He didn’t know how long he had been staring. It could have been minutes or hours. His trance though had been broken by one greeting of “Happy New Year!” then a few soft cheers and some light clapping. Levi wasn’t too worried that Hange would wake up. She looked to be in a deep sleep.

Levi put his hand on hers, and even with one hand beneath his and the belly, he still felt it, a light small kick. He’s coming out soon.

He leaned close to her ear, taking in the rare sounds of her relaxed breathing before he whispered his own greeting. “Happy New Year… Next year we’ll see the fireworks together, all three of us.”

It was a promise only he would have remembered. But it was a promise he vowed to keep.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #fanfic

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iturbide · 3 years

Text

today was a wash have a chunk of bad end au vent writing

The first thing Claude became aware of -- besides pain, but he didn’t want to focus on that any more than he had to -- was a steady, rhythmic swaying, something he could feel in his bones as he lay still in the darkness. Next came sounds, drawing his attention one by one: the creak of shifting boards, the scrape of metal across metal, the subtle clink of glass muffled by wool padding. Then the smell of the sea, the tang of salt at the back of his throat edging out the metallic bite of blood (if only for a moment, but he’d take what he could get)...

He knew where he was before he opened his eyes: an Almyran ship at sea, tucked away in the infirmary belowdecks. But the confirmation was still nice, and he spent an extra moment or two watching the brass lamp sway on its hook, the dim ring of light it cast rocking back and forth as the ship cut through the waves and illuminating shelves of tinctures and compounded remedies, copper instruments cleaned and secured in their cases, berths and braced cots in neat rows for the medics to tend. An alarming number of them were full from what he could see, sporting burns and dark blisters from toxic magic along with the more commonplace bindings and slings for arrow wounds and slashes...though he noted wryly that his own bunk was directly beside the doorway: the immediate access by the medics coming through at both the start and end of their rounds said a lot more than he cared for about his injuries. The cot on the opposite side was occupied, too, and he waited patiently for the swaying light to sweep across it, curious who else was in sorry enough shape to warrant such special treatment--

A few locks of pink hair gleamed at the edge of the wandering glow, and Claude jerked upright -- only to immediately regret it, slumping back down and reminding himself to breathe, in through his nose, out through his mouth, focusing on keeping the rhythm steady rather than on the pain burning through his chest and threatening to steal his consciousness again. It took a while...but eventually the agony subsided to a manageable ache, pulsing in time with his heart; even then, he kept still for an extra minute before trying to open his eyes, confirming that the light wasn’t spinning any more than it should be before looking back across the aisle.

“Hilda?” he whispered. “You awake?”

She stirred slightly, and he stretched his arm across the divide between them, cursing silently when his reach fell far short. “Don’t try to move,” he rasped. “I made that mistake already. Don’t be like me.”

He swore he heard a reedy laugh as she turned her head toward him...and in another moment, her hand drifted out to touch his, their fingers twining weakly as they both put what little strength they had into holding on. “You made it,” she breathed.

He mustered up a grin, hoping she could see it in such weak light. “So did you.” He’d been hopeful, even when he fell, that she’d get out...but he could remember, hazily, the sound of her shouting, the weight of her body over his before everything blurred and faded out; he could feel her hand shaking, and squeezed her fingers as best he could. “...why didn’t you retreat? I thought we agreed, if something went wrong, you’d get out of there in one piece…”

“I couldn’t leave you like that,” she mumbled. “You were counting on me. I wasn’t...it would’ve let you down, if I left.”

“No it wouldn’t.” From his place at the pier, he’d watched the battle, keeping an eye out for the classmates who’d come to make the final stand with him: he’d seen Petra batter Ignatz until he couldn’t hold his blade anymore, and felt a rush of relief when she hesitated before dealing a killing blow, giving him just enough time to retreat; he’d watched as Lysithea took aim at the Empress herself, only to be blindsided by Hubert’s magic, and when he saw the mage take Edelgard’s hand he’d felt the strangest jumble of sorrow and solace, knowing she would live on but equally sure that Fódlan would soon become a bleaker place for those that survived to see it. “I was counting on you to get out of there in one piece. I...you weren’t supposed to die in a fight we couldn’t win.”

“...did you know we couldn’t win it?” she asked.

“...I’d hoped we could,” he sighed, feeling her trembling grip tighten. “But I knew it was a long shot. It’s why I told you all to retreat if things got out of hand. But...it’s why I pulled out all the stops, too, to try and even the odds. Requesting support from Almyra, calling in old friends from Garreg Mach...it’s why I asked you to come. Didn’t really think you’d go for it, when I did.”

“Were you disappointed I didn’t send my brother instead?” she teased.

“No,” he replied, tightening his grip on her fingers. He didn’t even need to think about that. “Having you there...that’s what made me think we might be able to pull it off. But...it wasn’t enough. All that planning, all the preparations...I let you down--”

He thought he heard her huff as she squeezed his fingers. “Hardly. You tried: you kept us out of the war for five whole years, and gave the Empire a fight they weren’t expecting when they finally came. Anybody who’s let down by that should try doing it themselves, see if they can do better.”

Claude immediately thought of Lorenz and blew out a thin sigh. “Guess we’ll see how that goes, huh? Hopefully he won’t run it into the ground.”

“I give him a week.”

Chuckling to himself, he glanced over and saw her smiling back. They’d made it out -- only barely, but still (and he tightened his grip, just a bit, reassuring himself that she was really there, warm, alive…

“Oh, well! Look who’s back among the living.”

Claude blinked, tilting his head back at the man standing in the aisle between them. “Nader? ...please tell me you’re not helping the medics.”

“Of course not,” the man huffed, crossing his arms. “I just came to make sure you were still breathing. Been a day or so since we got a word out of you, I was starting to worry about what I’d have to tell your parents when we make landfall.”

...he hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. But near-death was also not an eventuality he’d planned for, when war was normally a matter of kill or be killed. “Please don’t tell my parents I almost died.”

Nader snorted. “They’re going to find out one way or another. Would you rather it be when they see you in that sorry state?”

“No,” Claude groaned. Not that he could keep it from them that long, given that they were bound to ask why he didn’t come along when the general flew back to the capital to make his report. “Can you at least not make it sound too bad? You know how they get when they think I’m dying.”

“Last time I checked in the medics still thought you were,” Nader pointed out.

“It takes more than that to kill me,” he grinned. Maybe not much more, but he wisely kept that to himself.

The general sighed, but apparently decided to give up on arguing further. “Yeah, well, let’s try to avoid finding out what else it would take. Stay put, kiddo, I’ll round up a medic and be back in two flaps of a wyvern’s wing.”

“Not like I could go anywhere,” Claude called after him, relaxing into his berth and glancing over at Hilda...to find her squinting at him. “What? I couldn’t. Not without regretting it.”

“I don’t even know what you two were saying,” she pointed out.

...he hadn’t even registered that they’d been going at it in Almyran. “Nothing to worry about,” he reassured her. “They’ll have us back on the mend in no time.”

“Well, that’s a relief, at least,” she chuckled. “Holst would never forgive me if I didn’t make it back.”

Only when he felt her grip tighten on his hand did he realize he was shaking. The Empire had every reason to think both of them died at Derdriu -- which meant Hilda couldn’t go back. For Claude, it was only ever a matter of not seeing the Alliance again; for her...she couldn’t go home. “Do you think you’ll regret it?” he whispered. “Fighting for me? Not getting out while you had the chance?”

He could barely muster up the nerve to look at her. But when he did, she was smiling at him through the wan light. “It was worth it.”

Even he wasn’t certain of that anymore. “How can you be sure?”

“Because it was for you.”

His eyes stung, and blinking only made his vision blur. “Would you mind sticking with me for a while longer, then?”

“Do you even need to ask?” she giggled. “You just say the word, and I’ll be there.”

Drawing in a slow, unsteady breath, he squeezed her fingers as best he could. “Thanks, Hilda. For everything.”

As the ship’s medics came marching in and finally shooed their hands apart, Claude closed his eyes. His goal was even further away now than it had been when he first set foot in Fódlan, and he doubted it would get any closer while Edelgard held power. But he could still plan. He could still prepare. And when the day finally arrived when it came back in sight, he would be ready.

He was still alive. And so long as he lived, he’d work to make his dream real.

#fire emblem: three houses #fanfiction #bad end au #claude #hilda #nader #snippets #part of this had already been written admittedly #but roughly half is new as of today #i'll circle back to the asks tomorrow #so feel free to send one in if you haven't already #i just needed to decompress with this first

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coeurdastronaute · 4 years

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Atlantis 6

Previously on Atlantis

The moment she woke, Clarke kept her eyes closed and just listened, realizing that things were not what she’d expected. She felt the familiar weight of her blankets, and she smelled the smell of her parent’s house, the smell as old as time, that she often never noticed, but after being removed for so long, inhaled greedily as she dug her face in her pillow.

There were noises downstairs that finally registered before she opened her eyes, held her breath, and hid in the pillows. She heard some clamor of her parents making breakfast, coffee steam sifting up through the vents. She heard the squeak and chatter of some birds in the trees outside her window. For a moment, Clarke pretended that she was miles underwater, and there might be a beautiful girl awkwardly standing outside her door.

But there wasn’t, and there wouldn’t be. Clarke rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling before digging the heel of her hands into her eyes and sighing. A day ago, she was in a beautiful palace, and now she was back at her parent’s house, without a job, without a career, without a mentor, without any idea of what was to come forward.

Her body was completely healed, a feat that was mind-blowing considering her wounds and condition after the explosion and being stranded at sea. But now, when it was quiet, and she was safe in the familiar, Clarke realized the massive grief heaped upon her, that surviving came at a cost.

When it got to be too much, when she cried silent tears that covered her face and left her chest fluttering and aching, Clarke wiped her face and took a few deep breaths, hoping to find some sort of center amidst the flood of absolute pain that washed over her entire body. She wanted to take another sleeping pill and pass out until her heart didn’t hurt anymore, but that seemed unwise.

As soon as she made it down the stairs and stepped into the kitchen, Clarke realized she’d made a horrible mistake and should have stayed in bed.

“Clarke! Oh my God!”

“We were--”

“I’m so glad you’re--”

“You look!”

The chorus of voices erupted and she took a step back, confused and overwhelmed by the outpouring of her closest friends as they began to circle and reach out and smother.

“Okay, okay, back up everyone,” Abby jumped in carefully, keeping the horde from her terror-stricken daughter. “Give her a moment to breathe. I’m sure she’s not used to being around people, they had her in isolation due to exposure during the explosion.”

“But luckily, she didn’t come in contact with any of the pathogens she was studying,” Jake smiled graciously behind the island as he added more pancakes to the pile forming on the large breakfast display. “Better safe than sorry though.”

“You should have seen your mom. I think she nearly got arrested for trying to break into a government installation,” Raven offered with a smile as Abby hit her shoulder.

“Come sit,” Octavia hurried, clearing more of a path. “You must be hungry.”

“Not really,” Clarke smiled softly and took the seat anyway.

The friends shared a look as Clarke sat there and looked at the display of everyone trying to be normal. Abby hovered, rubbing her daughter’s back, soothing away the worries that remained. No one knew about the ten minutes ago, where she broke down and clawed at her chest in her bed. No one.

“Your appetite will come back,” her mother promised. “Let me make you a little plate. Everyone can dig in. Your friends have been anxiously waiting to see you.”

The general hubbub of people moving about the kitchen really only settled well after Clarke had a plate set in front of her. She ate a blueberry and nodded, smiling at her mother to tell her not to worry. It felt like before, like how it always was, since middle school, the whole gang fighting over this and that, piling over each other to eat. Even when college and life took them different ways, they were never far off. There was something grounding in it, just like her sheets, just like the noises of the morning.

“So what happened, Clarke? We only heard bits and pieces on the news,” Raven explained between mouthfuls of Jake’s famous pancakes. “They kept repeating the same things, over and over again.”

“What did they say?”

Clarke already knew the story. She’d been held in a government facility for six hours and briefed on how to behave and what to say. She had a business card with FBI on it and Agent Barne’s number hidden in her sock drawer.

“Just that a bad storm led to the ship sinking. I can’t imagine how bad it must have been,” Octavia shook her head. “At first they said no survivors. We all thought you were dead for seventeen hours.”

“I’m… I’m…” Clarke furrowed and shook her head, looking guiltily at her food, afraid to meet their eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“But you’re not,” Bellamy interrupted. “And you don’t have to talk about what happened.”

A pointed look was exchanged between him and the rest, warning them to behave and not push.

“There isn’t much to tell,” she shrugged, perking up a bit and deciding to pick up her fork. “The storm was bad, and then I woke up in a government hospital. I wish there was a better story. I was checking weather reports in the navigation center, and I think we hit a wave or gust and I must have hit my head and blacked out.”

“It’s not every day that a concussion is a blessing,” Jake offered, finally taking his seat with the rest. “But it must have saved you.”

“A blessing,” Clarke repeated, contemplating the word for a moment before taking a big bite of breakfast. “Like these pancakes. I feel better already.”

The group chuckled and refused to talk about the accident again, while Clarke ate and smiled until she couldn’t any longer. She explained that she was still a little drowsy, and wanted to lay down. Every person promised to be back and see her again, demanding that she call if she needed anything at all. With grateful and long and tight hugs, her lifelong friends filed out as Clarke slipped upstairs.

It truly was exhausting, to finally think about it, to remember the storm and her colleagues and all of the people who died. The numbness-- that was the true blessing of Atlantis. There wasn’t time to grieve when her body was overloaded with stimuli, unlike now, where everything was mundane and allowed her to think.

Clarke slipped into her childhood bed again, and she pulled the blanket over her head, rolling into herself tightly before drifting off to an uneasy sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

For about a full week, Clarke existed in a fairly mundane routine of recover that all at once suited her and drove her nuts. Simultaneously, she felt prepared to do something-- anything-- and yet, could not imagine doing anything other than nothing. Her body and mind and soul needed time to come back, and she knew it. It didn’t make it any easier for her to stomach, but she begrudgingly listened.

Every morning she got up and had a special breakfast her father made, even though her appetite was minimal and favored banalities. And then she would take a walk, sometimes with a friend, sometimes alone before coming home to shower and read or watch tv before a nap. Usually someone came by in the afternoon before dinner to occupy her, keep her busy, keep her doing something. Then came a family dinner, every night, her mother arriving right on time to join them. Dinner led to a movie, which then led to sleep.

It was a safe and easy schedule in which she didn’t talk about anything with anyone.

Until the arrival of the invitations for the funerals for the people finally confirmed dead after the concluded investigation into the crash and retrieval of bodies from the water, an initiative led by the Atlanteans as a gesture of good faith.

Two weeks after her return, Clarke found her schedule consisting of funerals, nearly every day, each more difficult than the last, but as the final crewmember standing, as the only representative of her research team, she sat there at each and remembered with everyone else, commiserating in their grief. It helped and hurt, as any cathartic thing is meant to do.

The third week she returned somewhat to her normal schedule with an intermittent funeral, the last residual ones ending quickly.

A month after her return, Clarke felt marginally normal, except that she had no idea what the future held.

It took five weeks for her to schedule an appointment with the university, despite her mother and father telling her she could take more time.

Only after six weeks, did Clarke allow herself to really think about her time in Atlantis. Most of the time, she found herself daydreaming about Lexa in some form because it was one of the few thoughts that made her feel unburdened and less heavy in her chest. But, she actively kept herself from thinking too much, often shaking away the thoughts when her mind began to drift.

After the nightly movie, and after she excused herself to sleep, Clarke sat at her desk and look at her laptop, knowing full well what was about to happen. She moved to lift the lid and then stopped, closing it and drumming her fingers along the top before looking over her shoulder at her closed door, straining her ears to hear anything.

Though it was quiet, she hurried to place an old sweatshirt near the bottom of her door to block out any light, listening again, closer to the hall, at the familiar noises of her parents getting ready to go to sleep.

Satisfied that no one would see her, Clarke ripped open her laptop, and quietly as she could type, logged in and began to type her query.

L-E-X

Backspace.

A-L-E-X-A-N

Backspace.

P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S O-F A-T-L-A-N-T-I-S

Enter.

In the dark room, the glow of the screen colored her face, but she didn’t care. She bit her lip and looked at the photos first, and upon not finding many, looked through the first few search results. Little was known about Atlantis, let alone the heir to the throne, and any pictures that existed were not good.

Mildly disappointed, Clarke slumped back in her chair and toyed with the scroll, debating what to do with no information and how deep, exactly, she was willing to dive into conspiracy theories and doctored photos.

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L

Enter.

Clarke paused only to look back at her door and close her laptop slightly, though not all the way, when she heard a sound in the hall. She held her breath and waited for her parents to go to bed before opening it fully again.

There were more search results for that name, and Clarke mildly regretted it, because the images of Lexa, in a skin-tight suit, with a weapon, was a little disorienting. And then she stood beside her father, who was, even though it was an understatement, an actual mountain of a human. Lexa had his eyes, his chin, his grin, and goodness, did she have a similar fitness regime.

Slowly making her way through the gallery, Clarke smiled to herself when she thought about Lexa, shy and with red-tipped ears, kind and gentle and soft to her for no reason at all. And then she looked at Lexa’s biceps.

“Fuck,” Clarke sighed and shook her head.

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L -B-I-C-E-P-S

Clarke hesitated before smiling to herself.

Enter.

XXXXXXXXXX

The meeting at the university didn’t turn up much good news, as the semester was just ending and the summer was approaching. With an epic catastrophe to handle and fix, the powers behind all decisions, didn’t have any answers other than to enroll Clarke the following semester to finish her degree requirements.

It was fair and just and gave Clarke time to recover and get back into thinking about existing again. Of course, Clarke found anything reasonable to be exhausting, in and of itself, and so she hated having to wait, hated losing her research, hated everything about everything that left her stuck.

Three days later, however, she found herself back at the Spindrift, unsure of why she was there, and marvelling at how it operated when it was opened. People were buzzing about, familiar with their duties, as if it hadn’t opened merely two months prior.

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent Barnes,” Clarke smiled, shaking the agents hand as she approached the waiting area.

“Thanks for coming down.”

“I don’t think I had a choice.”

Clarke looked over her shoulder at the two men that picked her up for her ‘appointment.’ When she looked back, the agent was not amused.

“You are being formally offered a position here, at the Spindrift.”

“I might formally ask why?” she furrowed and looked at the blue folder that was handed to her, complete with the seal of Atlantis on it. “I’m still in my degree program for the Masters, and haven’t decided to complete the doctorate…. Is this salary serious?”

“Government salaries are never a laughing matter.”

“I could make three times this in the private sector.”

“Yes,” the agent nodded. “And you would never work with any Atlantean healers or products ever again.”

“Why me?”

The agent opened another folder she was carrying.

“You searched Atlantis comma Princess Lexa six times,” Barnes read from the folder, dragging her finger along the words there. “And Biceps comma Aquagirl, approximately a dozen.”

The manilla folder shut quickly.

“Per the queen herself, in conjunction with your university and the United States government, you are being offered a position at the Spindrift for research in intercontinental knowledge sharing.”

Clarke furrowed and shook her head, not sure of what she was following entirely. There was certainly some mortification in there, she knew that, felt it eating her alive in front of the agent with an inability to change her inflection at all.

“I find this idea the best case scenario, and you to be a complete risk to yourself and the sanctity of Atlantis,” the agent muttered, tossing the folder on the table. “Accept it so that I can watch you behave yourself and stop doing searches online of a reclusive and dangerous foreign entity that only you have visited.”

“You… you-- you hacked my computer?”

“You are an intern and only living non-Atlantean who has been to Atlantis, of course your government is watching you.”

“But why? I don’t know anything.”

“You know enough.”

“Who else has seen this?” Clarke blushed, though she attempted to hide it as best she could. There surely was no surviving this level of mortification.

“No one.”

“Was my offer made because of-- because I know--” she paused and took a breath. “Who did this?”

“This offer was asked for by the Queen herself on behalf of one of her greatest medical researcher. Apparently you are the only person this researcher could tolerate.”

That feisty old broad, Clarke thought to herself as she shook her head.

“How is… um, how-- How is the-- uh-- How is Aquaman? I heard about a battle before--”

“You have seventy-two hours to think about this. I will only ever communicate with you regarding official matters in this office, and anything relating to activities done by Atlantean royal family are unofficial until commented upon by official state representatives.”

“You sound like a blast at parties.”

The agent didn’t move at all at the comment.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke apologized. “That was rude. You are just so-- intense.”

“I’ve worked fifteen years with the King to make this a reality. If I wasn’t intense, it would be for nothing.”

“Can I ask about, um, the Prin-- about Lexa?”

“Officially, no.”

“Unofficially?”

“Unofficially, no.”

“But you just set it up like you would say something unofficial.”

“I cannot control any inferences made.”

With growing frustration, both at the agent and herself, Clarke pursed her lips and looked down at the seal on the folder. It was something, and some sort of direction in a time when she very badly needed it.

“Unofficially,” the agent finally started, lowering her voice. “Just save the pictures. Why would you keep searching the same thing?”

“After a brief, embarrassed pause, Clarke nodded and looked back at the agent.

“I’ll look this over and get back to you. Unofficially or officially or whatever, thank the Queen, if you see her.”

The agent nodded instead of arguing, nudging her head slightly so the agents would continue to escort the scientist back toward the entrance.

XXXXXXXXXX

Three months after her shipwreck and rescue to an untouched land, hidden in the depths of the sea by a beautiful princess with a mythical bloodline and inheritance in the shape of a trident, Clarke sat at her desk in a very small cubicle, in a very small office, with six other research associates.

It was a very tedious job for the first few weeks, and just on the horizon was the actual research that Clarke hoped would lead to figuring out what the healer did to heal her so quickly, and if she could figure out how to help other people.

There was an element of escapism to worke each day, enough that Clarke found herself staying late to avoid her worried family’s glances and the mothering that all of her friends did. It was appreciated but also extremely stifling for someone who was stubborn and willingly admitted it.

“You heading out soon?” Wells asked as he shouldered his bag and looked over the cubicle wall to see Clarke’s small desk, covered with pictures of Atlantean books.

“Yeah, in a bit,” Clarke nodded, not looking up from the notebook she was writing something down quickly.

“I could wait around and we could go grab dinner. There’s this great place in town. Only like fifteen minutes from the main gate.”

“I’m not sure how long a bit is going to be. I want to finish looking at this property sheet before we get samples next week.”

Kind and bright, Wells was a soft-spoken doctoral student with a knack for keeping an eye on Clarke without being overbearing. Always firmly pressed in his khakis and tucked primly with his button downs, he hid behind thick-rimmed glasses, but ran marathons. He wasn’t overwhelming in the eye he kept on his co-worked. Sometimes, Clarke thought he might even fancy her a little bit.

When Wells didn’t say anything, Clarke looked up and offered a smile as he debated the next step for the evening.

“Get out of here,” Clarke told him. “I won’t be too much longer, and some quiet will help me.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Have a good weekend.”

Clarke watched him nod and returned to her work, doing her best to transcribe an ancient language with limited training and the most basic knowledge of what some of the ancient plants used. She felt like an archaeologist, investigating something she would never truly understand, and yet she’d been there. She’d heard the words spoken.

The ‘little bit’ she mentioned gradually turned into a while, and the evening settled outside on the water, calming it until the waves were nearly non-existent. There was still a fading light outside when Clarke closed her notebook and shut her laptop for the evening, and it only truly disappeared after she shouldered her bag and shoved in a few folders to work on over the weekend.

With a final look around the office, Clarke nodded and made her way to the door, preparing for two long days of her parents making sure she was alright. She needed her own place, and enough space to stop thinking about--

“Lexa?”

The same smile, the same caught look in her eyes, the same stance, the same eyes-- the entire package looked back at Clarke expectantly. Gone were the formal Atlantean clothes, and in their place was simple jeans and an old sailor’s sweater, a shoulder lovingly patched by expert hands. Gone were the intricate braids and armor, and instead a wild mane perched itself atop Lexa’s head, blown about by the wind and her hands in equal measure.

“You’re here late.”

“You’re here.”

“You said you’d be close.”

Without meaning to, Clarke took a step forward before catching herself. Lexa tucked her arms behind her back, ever vigilant to remain proper and royal.

“Have you eaten?” Clarke finally broke the quiet.

“You were my first stop after my grandfather’s. I don’t know my way around land that well.”

“I’m honored.”

“Care to show me around?”

The question came with a grin, and Lexa extended her elbow willingly, waiting for Clarke to take it again as she hadn in the Hanging Gardens. That was all she needed, to remember that it hadn’t been a dream, that three days, three months ago happened.

There really wasn’t a question to it at all.

Clarke nodded, smiled, and took the arm offered to her, and whatever else would come attached.

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sidecarghost · 3 years

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Suptober20 - Day 28 Hellscape

Fic Summary: Among Us Crossover AU where Dean is a crewmate headed to the Polus outpost on the frozen hellscape of Mars. But he may not make it there alive, because someone in their crew is an imposter that enjoys chopping humans into small pieces.

Dean opens the electrical panel in the navigation room, and reaches in to his toolbox for a voltage detector. He wills his hands to be steady, but he is a nervous wreck. Dean is worried about the success of this mission, the safety of his crewmates, and his chances of survival. He is on a supposedly routine mission to prepare the latest Mars colony for habitation, but his crewmates keep getting chopped into pieces. Out of the original ten person crew, only seven are still alive. The PA system crackles to life, "Dead body reported! Dead body reported!" Dean dashes to the cafeteria where the rest of his crewmates have gathered to discuss. "I saw Kelly standing over the dead body!" Kaia yells. "I was upset! Donatello had been cut in half. I'll try to remember to skip the tears after you get murdered," Kelly responds. "Kelly sounds pretty sus to me," Benny sneers. "Where was the body found?" Castiel asks. "In the reactor room," Kaia replies. "Okay, everyone listen up! Someone in this room is an imposter masquerading among us, and it falls on us to discover the truth and identify the cold-blooded killer before they can strike again," Kevin tells his crewmates. "Jeez, shouldn't we just turn around and head back to Earth," Dean speaks up. "No, we can handle this ourselves Dean. We can jettison the murderer into space, and then do our mission. Let’s keep it democratic, everyone will have a chance to vote for who they think the murderer is," Kevin speaks authoritatively, but Dean just shakes his head in disbelief. "I vote Kelly," Castiel says. "Well, I vote Castiel," Kelly says with icy disdain. "Kelly," Benny states. "Kelly," Kaia says. "Yeah, I think Kelly too." Kevin says. Everyone looks to Dean to cast his vote. "What? It sounds like you've already decided," Dean complains. "Everyone has to vote Dean." Kevin tells him.

"Okay, I vote Castiel," Dean says. Just something about Castiel seems a little bit off. Like he's playing at being human, but doesn't quite understand the rules. Of course, he could just be socially awkward, and if that is the case, then Dean feels pretty lousy of accusing him of murder. "It's decided then,” Kevin says matter of factly. “Kelly has been found guilty by the majority of her peers, so by the authority granted to me by the HostCorp you will be executed by ejection into the vacuum of space. May God have mercy on your soul." Kelly resists, but she is roughly pushed into the decompression chamber that provides ingress and egress for the spaceship. Dean watches her face stare back at them haughtily. Kevin opens the outer bay doors, and her body is sucked into the void of space. "Great, now that the murderer is gone. We all have tasks to do. Let's get them done so we can make safe landing on Mars," Kevin commands the crew. ~~ Maybe Kevin had been right after all, Dean thinks to himself. The ship had just landed safely on the Polus station on Mars. And after sending Kelly into space, there had been no more murders although there had been a couple close calls with damaged systems. For instance, the O2 system failed and they just managed to get it rebooted before they all died of oxygen deprivation. Then the reactor had nearly melted down, which would also have caused the catastrophic death of the entire crew. But the cursed crew managed to land at the outpost against all odds. "I'm going to report to HQ. Check your tablets for your tasks crewmates," Kevin tells everyone after they disembark the spaceship. Dean looks out at the frozen wasteland of Polus. The space station is on the northern pole of Mars, and it reminds him of the old expression of "when hell freezes over." He powers up his tablet, and pulls up his task list. One of the tasks catches his eye, "Monitor Tree." That sounds like an easy, short task to knock out first. And he is feeling sentimental about getting to see things from Earth like a tree and grass. Dean pulls up his map to find the O2 laboratory, so he can find his way around the unfamiliar outpost. Dean enters the O2 lab, and he breathes in deeply the fresh air from the vegetation. He walks up to the monitor panel and makes the necessary adjustments to bring the readings to the specified levels. He then turns to look at his next task, but he catches some unexpected motion out of the corner of his eye. "Uh, hey Cas. How did you just vent out of that hole? That seems like a pretty impossible thing to be able to do," Dean rambles nervously to the crewmember that just apparated into the room over a hole in the ground. Apparently, Kelly was innocent, because Dean feels certain that Castiel is not what he seems. And Dean is certain he is about to be the imposter’s next victim. "I didn't realize that task was so short," Castiel admits. "But that doesn't matter for you. I hope you had a good life Dean, and if you didn’t you can feel glad that you won’t ever have to suffer again. Your death will be swift and mostly painless, and I think you will find me more merciful than many members of your own species." "So you're not human?" Dean tries to delay the inevitable with banter while he looks around wildly for some kind of weapon. "No, I am an angel of the lord. You are just perceiving my vessel, Jimmy Novak," Castiel replies. "Oh, well your vessel is pretty hot," Dean hopes this imposter can be diverted by flirting. "No, the temperature of my vessel is 37 degrees Celsius or 98.7 degrees Fahrenheit. That is within normal range for a human." Castiel tells Dean. "I meant you're vessel is very attractive," Dean can't tell if the angel is messing with him or not. But he thinks anything is better than getting chopped into pieces, so he can play along if that gives him a chance to prolong his life. "I'm above mundane things like physical attraction, Dean," Castiel says. "I just like killing humans for sport, but Heaven usually notices, and then I get thrown in the dungeon to stew for a millenia or two. But Heaven doesn't seem to care what happens to humans outside of Earth." "That sounds very clever of you to figure out Cas," Dean tells Castiel. "Yes, I do like to think of myself as the cleverest angel of the garrison," Castiel puffs up with pride and nods in agreement with Dean. "Can I ask why kill humans for sport? Can't you take up frisbee golf or something else less homicidal?" Dean asks the imposter. "I was given the task of watching humanity a long, long time ago. And humans can be so boring. So I just randomly kill a bunch every now and then. There is no malice in my actions. I just consider humanity to be on the level of ants, but maybe lower because I actually have a fondness for insects." Castiel discloses to Dean. "That sounds very reasonable, Cas. But you know some humans can be the total opposite of boring," Dean says while considering his next move. Okay, Dean thinks, if movies have taught me anything, it’s that getting a villain to monologue usually gives the good guy a chance to win. If he can just get Castiel to ramble, he can probably escape alive and report Castiel to the crew or maybe even slay the imposter himself. "I suppose you want me to believe you are one of those non-boring humans," Castiel comments and tilts his head to one side considering Dean. "Yup! Today is your lucky day, Cas. Because I am the most non-boring human since the dawn of Creation." Dean sells his lie with confidence. He would have thought his life before was very boring, but how many humans have to outsmart a homicidal angel. Maybe he is more non-boring than he realized. "Okay, I'm waiting to be entertained." Castiel tells Dean. Shit, this guy just doesn't want to monologue, Dean thinks to himself. So Dean needs some way to entertain an angel before he becomes sliced and diced all over the O2 laboratory. He vaguely remembers a story about a lady that had to tell her captor 1,001 tales to avoid death. Maybe if he can tell enough stories he can make it off this Hell rock in one piece after all. "Have you ever heard the tale of the Killer Stuffed Dinosaur in Love?" Dean asks the imposter. "No, but I'll admit it does sound entertaining," Castiel relaxes and sits in the grass with his legs criss-crossed, and looks expectantly at Dean to start. Dean begins to weave his story, and keeps careful watch of Castiel. He vigilantly watches the angel for some sign of momentary distraction, so he can seize the chance to raise an alarm or make a run for it. But in the meantime, he remembers back to storytime with his mom. When he and his brother would sit up in their beds to listen to their mom tell fantastic stories about witches, vampires, ghouls, wendigos, demons, ghosts, werewolves, fairies, and magic. And his mom told them with such love and care that he never felt bored by them. On the contrary, they were warm, fluffy comforts when reality did the best to beat him down. If anything could save him now, he was hopeful it would be the love of his mother that would keep him safe from the homicidal monster waiting for him to fail. “Dead body reported!” the PA system crackles. “Umm... is there more than one of you on this outpost?” Dean asks Castiel. “No, but I did kill Benny before venting into the O2 lab,” Castiel confesses. “I am hoping I can rely on your discretion at the discussion.” “Uh, sure Cas,” Dean lies. Castiel disappears through the hole in the ground somehow. Dean walks over to the hole in the ground, but nothing magical happens to help him teleport through it. Dean decides lying to a homicidal angel is okay, because he is going to meet up with his crew and tell everyone Castiel is in fact the imposter. Dean is the last crewmate to join the discussion. “So there is only four of us left, Kaia was with me until we stumbled on Benny’s body. So the murderer must be Castiel or Dean,” Kevin declares. “Maybe he died of natural causes,” Castiel suggests. “Really? You think his body naturally got sliced to ribbons?” Kaia shouts. “Uh, it seems possible, even if it’s not probable.” Castiel says thoughtfully. “Guys, it was Castiel. He has been the imposter all along. He was going to kill me in the O2 laboratory,” Dean tells the crew. Castiel cocks an eyebrow at Dean, but says nothing in his own defense. “I don’t know Dean. I think the murderer would be eager to cast shade on other crew mates. How do we know we can trust you?” Kevin says. “I can’t believe you have been chopping up people Dean. What kind of a person does that!?!” Kaia shakes her head in disapproval. “Look! I’m telling you the truth. Castiel is an Angel of the Lord, and he is supposed to be watching humanity. But I guess he thinks watching humanity like a reality tv show is boring, so he likes to mix things up with murder sprees,” Dean tells them. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Dean,” Kevin says. “I vote Dean,” Kaia says. “I vote Castiel of course!” Dean tells the crew passionately. “I vote Dean,” Kevin says. “I vote Kevin,” Castiel tells the crew. “Dean, you have been found--”, Kevin begins, but is interrupted by getting murdered by Castiel. “Oh shit! Castiel was the imposter!” Kaia runs screaming out of the room. Dean is not sure what just happened. Did Castiel save him from death by space vacuum, or did his bloodthirsty tendencies just kick in? Dean wonders. Dean stumbles out of the room, and sees Castiel standing over the corpse of Kaia. “So, Cas... any reason in particular why you killed my crewmates?” Dean asks the angel. “They were going to execute you. They were not fit to be your judge and executioner,” Castiel says. “You bravely spoke the truth, even though I had threatened your life. It reminded me of the dinosaur, in your story, that bravely stood up to the menacing spider king to save the trans princess after she had been cursed into the shape of a frog. Although, I think the princess should have been able to save herself, a frog should be able to eat a spider.” “Well, it was a very large spider,” Dean laughs. It was kind of nice that the killer angel had in fact been paying attention to his fairy tale made up in desperation. “So, what happens now Castiel?” Dean asks the homicidal angel. “I don’t know. I had expected to have been ejected out of the space station by now, but the vacuum of space won’t kill me. There are very few things that will kill an angel,” Castiel muses. “I don’t suppose you will tell me about the things that can kill an angel,” Dean says doubtfully. “Stabbed in a vital area by an angel blade, attempting to exit a ring of holy fire, certain spells from a powerful enough book of witchcraft, a stronger cosmic being like leviathans, archangels, Death, God, Darkness, or the Cosmic Entity,” Castiel enumerates the means of his destruction. “Darn, it appears I left my leviathan in my other pants. I guess you win this round Castiel. Uh, thanks for saving me for last I guess. Do you think I will go to Heaven?” Dean asks. “My mother, she passed away, and she was such a kind person I’m sure she is in Heaven. Sometimes I feel like she is just behind me watching over me, and if I can just turn fast enough I will catch a glimpse of her.” “That’s a nice sentiment Dean,” Castiel says. “But I’m not able to predict where human souls will go when their physical body is dead. I am also not fit to be anyone’s judge. But I can check if your mother, Mary Winchester, is in Heaven.” Castiel disappears before Dean gets a chance to ask how the angel knew his mother’s name, but maybe that was just an angel thing. Dean heads to the maintenance shed to get a shovel. He wants to dig suitable graves for Kevin and Kaia. Paying his respects is the most he can do for them now. Dean is patting the soil flat on top of the graves after burying his crewmates, and he wonders if Castiel is ever planning on coming back or if he found more unsuspecting humans to murder. He decides to go back to the O2 lab and rest under the tree. The lab is comforting and fills his thoughts with childhood memories of climbing trees with Sammy in the woods and late nights playing manhunt with the neighbors. Castiel would definitely find his childhood version of manhunt boring, basically it was just hide and seek in the dark, but when you were a kid late nights outside just felt liberating. “You’re mother and father are in a shared Heaven, Dean,” Castiel reports. “Oh, hey Cas,” Dean looks up from where he was dozing by the roots. “Thanks for looking into it for me. I think I’m ready to be killed now. I know you can’t tell me where my soul will go, but I’m at peace with this being the end. I would have liked a longer life, but no one ever promised me life was fair. And I have had a really good life so far. Just try to look out for Sam Winchester if you can. Maybe I can call him one more time and warn him to stay out of space, so you don’t end up hunting him during one of your murder sprees. I’d rather he lived a long time and died an old man.” “That’s not necessary Dean,” Castiel says staring down at where Dean is still dozing. “I think I will give murder a break. I would have stopped earlier, but Kaia and Kevin presented a threat to your safety.” “Okay, Cas,” Dean says unsure how much he can trust the words of this cold-blooded angel. “I think it’s very nice of you to give up killing humans for a bit. Did I tell you my brother Sammy gave up eating meat? He’s a vegetarian. I think you would really like Sammy, because everyone likes him. He is the best man I have ever known.” “He sounds very impressive then,” Castiel agrees. “If you don’t feel like killing me, are we just going to keep hanging out together on Polus?” Dean asks. “I guess so,” Castiel nods. “I haven’t really thought things through.” “Okay, I’m really beat after everything today Cas. I need to get some sleep,” Dean says while stifling a yawn. “I’ll watch over you then,” Castiel says. “That is so random of you Cas,” Dean mumbles. “How did you just go from angel of death to guardian angel? I’m not complaining though, I like being alive. I definitely prefer being alive with guardian angel beside me to dead with killer angel beside me.” “Here Dean, I got you a pillow and blanket. I think these things make sleeping more comfortable for humans,” Castiel drops the mentioned objects where Dean is laying down. “Yeah, your thinking was right. Very comfortable for humans,” Dean mumbles as he wraps himself into a cocoon in the blanket. “Today was so random. If I wake up and you kill me tomorrow, no hard feelings okay Cas? Like I’m not going to pretend I’m something special and that a crazy, killer angel would be reformed after having one conversation with me.” “Okay, Dean that seems fair,” Castiel nods. Then Castiel sits in the grass besides Dean, and he watches over the human as he snores peacefully. Hanging out with Dean sounded like a nice change of pace for the killer angel. And he cast out his mind to pinpoint where Sam Winchester was on Earth. It sounded like the health and safety of Sam was important to Dean, so that made it important to Castiel, too.

#suptober20 #destiel #destiel fic #spn

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dlamp-dictator · 3 years

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Allen X Rambles about Chapter 7

“I hope Episode 7 is focused on only 2 or three characters with little distraction... Amiya maybe finding out that Ch’en is slowly becoming Infected and helping her come to terms with that. Ch’en revealing her past to Amiya and the two connecting over losing so many close to them due to Oripathy. The two standing up to the political corruption of Lungmen, shoulder to shoulder, as women that refuse to see another life lost due to the indifference of a city’s politics.”

-Allen X, October 2nd, 2020, Rambling about Chapter 6

Man... I’m starting to believe it when they say Arknight’s story mode is longer than the Harry Potter series. Things are getting crazy in Chapter 7 and crazy-long to in terms of length. This chapter really had me on the edge of my seat as I read through it and as I played through because 7-16 and 7-18 were a bitch to get through that require some of the most precise timing I’ve seen in this game yet. That aside, I enjoyed a lot what I read and experienced.

And I wanted to talk about it a bit.

But first, as always, a synopsis.

Coming off the heels of Frostnova’s death and the realization of Wei Yenwu’s purging of the Lungmen slums, tensions are high and trust has been fractured between Rhodes Island and Lungmen. However, in the midst of Ch’en hot temper and Amiya’s cool head, Reunion is plans to send the Russian Ursusian city of Chernobog on a collision course with Hong Kong Lungmen, giving Ursus a cause to make war against Lungmen and its great region of Tawain China Yen. However, through some rather amazing political maneuvering and passionate words by Wei Yenwu’s wife Fumizuki, Rhodes Island agrees to mobilize in order to save Lungmen, the Infected, and the beloved daughter of Lungmen, Ch’en. But beyond Chernobog lies Patriot, Reunions greatest commander next to Talulah herself, who’s rage toward his daughter’s death is only matched by his disciplined mind and even more disciplined soldiers. It’s a fight to the center of the Chernobog to save as many lives as possible, even at the cost of this great general’s life.

An Addendum to 7-18

So between my venting about 7-18 when I talked about some fun Arknight’s lore a handful of people wanted to give me some advice on how to conquer that stage. Admittedly that venting was said out of anger and was much more acidic in tone than my usual essays and opinion pieces. I have since beaten that stage and I can give some of my thoughts on this advice. Some of it was helpful... some of it.

“AmIyA cAn TaNk PaTrIoT’s SpEaR tOsS!”

This is technically true and I was technically wrong. When Amiya’s S3 is active she gained increased Max HP and can in fact survive with a sliver of health. However, Amiya’s S3 takes quite a long time to charge even with her talent, and unless someone is actively blocking Patriot her can honestly spam his spear through for how long it takes Amiya to get prepped for her S3. This is more of an issue of Amiya’s balancing than with the game, but I’ll talk about that later.

“jUsT sTaLl PaTrIoT tO kEeP hIm FrOm UsInG tHe SpEaR tOsS!”

This would be pretty viable advice if Patriot didn’t one-shot my units. Yes, defenders like Cuora, Nian, Hoshigumi, and even tankier vanguards like Zima and Siege can tank at least one hit from Patriot without dying, meaning a squad of healers can just focus-fire on them while they do chip damage to Patriot and stall him out. However, Patriot’s phase 2 has him do constant damage to nearby units with his aura ability, so if he can get lucky enough, he take someone down to a sliver and let his poison damage finish off your staller before they get a chance to be healed. That strategy needs luck and some damn smart unit placement. Neither of which I honestly have.

“uSe SpEcTeR aNd DeBuFfErS!”

Again, this is also a pretty good strategy. Specter’s S2 makes her immortal for a limited time and pairing that with healers like Breeze and Celycon who reduce stun damage isn’t a bad idea. Characters that ignore or lower defense like Pramanix, Shamare, and Meteor are also good. This doesn’t work for me however since I only have Pram and the other debuffers are way too underleveled and not on my priority at the moment, and E2-ing units this late in the game just to take out one boss feels like madness.

“f12 CaN dOdGe ThE sPeAr ToSs!”

F12, W, Jessica, and FEater have a dodge chance. Their dodges are not guarantees. Yes, Patriot will target the ranged operator furthest from him and there are range tiles pretty close to his spawn point for that purpose. However, some of those operators have some pretty damn expensive DP costs and waste that on a chance to survive isn’t worth.And feeding Patriot ranged units that take over 30 seconds to redeploy is a waste of DP in general. And those either dodge chances aren’t viable. Them surviving isn’t a strategy, it’s a fluke, and you can’t depend on flukes in auto-deployment.

“Allen, you’re being kind of an asshole to what’s actually sound advice.”

Yes, I am.

I don’t care.

7-18 does things to a person, man. That stage breaks people. I lost sanity IRL just doing that stage or 20 times with a guide... dear lord this stage.

Anyway, moving on.

Story Notes

My, this story sure was thick, wasn’t it? It’s been while since I’ve been on a ride that wild. And this time around I don’t have any small issues to bring up. All the characters felt in character without breaking my suspension of disbelief. There weren’t multiple character arcs going on at once. And I even tolerated Kal’tsit berating the Doctor for reasons beyond his understand since she wasn’t discussing too many things that were above my head as the player.

No... I only have big issues.

But before that, I wanted to hit on some actual important notes that were very good and smartly written.

Rosmontis and Child Soldiers

This was probably the biggest takeaway for me. I know the Arknights community likes to poke a lot of fun about the child soldier thing and how Kal’tsit is harboring slave children, but... man, it makes so much since now.

These kids aren’t just kids, they’re all infected people with some rather scary abilities. Popukar has a history of mental instability coupled with monstrous strength. Ifrit has powers she can just barely keep under control and could set Rhodes Island ablaze at any point. Frostleaf and GreyThroat are deeply traumatized from their past. The Ursus Self Government are full of kids with hatred, resentment, and fear of both the world and themselves. The list goes on, but the fact is that these kids all either have abilities that would be a danger to themselves and others if they aren’t trained, or have emotional hang-ups that might very well have them lash out at innocent people if not put on a leash. Wouldn’t it be better to at least give them some training and let them hack and blast away at the actual bad guys? Wouldn’t it be better to at least make them a weapon for some kind of greater good? And would anyone else really treat these broken, powerful children as anything but weapons and warriors anyway?

I know this is about chapter 7, but I remember in Children of Ursus Rosa asked Zima why she fought, and Zima casually answered that she just liked fighting. It’d be far better to have someone with that mindset working for an organization like Rhodes Island than ending up in Ursus’s fold and blindly hacking at something she shouldn’t.

And I think it’s important to remind everyone that Amiya is the head of Rhodes Island and not Kal’tsit. She’s a big part of the organization, but it’s the bunny in charge. And the bunny that is herself close to a living nuke and is also has empathetic superpowers understands this probably better than anyone else, which is why she okays it.

Patriot and Reunion

As much as I despise, and I do mean despise, how cagey this series can be with it’s portrayal of Reunion’s morality I can understand why a lot of its members can see the group as being just. Patriot is a warrior of such renown and praise, and Talulah has so much charisma and power that I can see the group overlooking characters like Mephisto and W when the other two do so much for their members and general people. The Guerillas under Patriot behave like soldiers. They don’t rampage, loot, pillage, or harm everyone in sight, only those that halt, stagnant, and harm the infect. Talulah has a charisma about her and attracts people, and seems to come from some sort of royal/noble line to match. And while Faust wasn’t mentioned much in this chapter, he was a soldier that started at the bottom, worked his way to the top, and made sure to play by rules that kept his moral high ground. Mephisto seems to be the only outliner here for some baffling reason.

But... there are some major issues with this story. I hint at them every time I talk about Arknights’ story, but I’ll go into depth here. And I’ll present these two issues I have in the form of a two question:

Who is the Doctor?

I don’t mean this the sense of the story, but what is his function as a character? Is he a self-insert for the player, or his own character to be explored and examined?

And either answer, to me, is wrong.

The Doctor Isn’t a Self-Insert

It’s straight up impossible for the Doctor to be a self-insert character. Most self-inserts are blank enough to let us place our own personality onto them and the situations their in the choices they make are meant to be more or less choices we’d make or at least a general audience could make barring some specifics. Their personalities tend to be blank or at least bland to let us, the players, live through them and project our personalities onto them.

The Doctor isn’t this.

There are too many moment where our choices are clearly pointing to one conclusion and most choices, though varied, give a clear idea that the Doctor is someone that care about the operators’ wellbeing deeply and hates seeing them used, abused, or manipulated. They are strategist and commander, but they have enough humanity to not see people as tools. They are passionate when they see other operators and especially Amiya in harms way and tries to come up with strategies to minimize lost and causalities. Awhile we, the player, feel the same in this regard the Doctor has dialogue that feels more conversational and toward specific directions than what a player would likely want and gives us some bits and piece about what they’re actually like.

The Doctor hates Kal’tsit and wants little to do with her, only tolerating her presence as much as she is with the Doctor. The Doctor is a bit of a bleeding heart that doesn’t fully grasp that they are constantly in a warzone despite their strategic competency. The Doctor has an extremely weird diet and eating style, devouring live animals and ingesting foods that would probably need to be probably mixed and brewed before consumption. The Doctor still sees Amiya as a child despite her mature nature.

The list goes on, but there’s enough there for me to say the Doctor is more like Hakuno Kishinami of the Fate/Extra series, a character that seems like a self-insert but has a number of traits and character tics that keep them from fulfill that role. However Fate/Extra, for all I have against it, makes Hakuno work by giving them their own internal thoughts outside of the player’s actions that explain their dialogue choices and actions outside of the player’s control. The Doctor doesn’t, so them being a self-insert feels really weak and irritating when the dots stop connecting.

But despite this...

The Doctor Isn’t Their Own Character

Too much of what the Doctor does is passive. For a clear as their personality is, at least to me, they don’t have much agency in the plot. Not enough for me to call them their own character at least. They commander the battlefield, but they don’t have a place on it. They don’t have much reason to interact with characters like Patriot and Talulah unless its on the metaphorical and literal chessboard we’re playing on.

Every time the Doctor says something that advances the plot in some way I feel like it could be said by another character and work better. Amiya trying talk down Patriot and explain that Frostnova fought bravely did not need the Doctor’s interjections, especially when Patriot shoots them down in the same manner. In chapter 6, being trap with Frostnova would had worked much better with Amiya since that chapter was giving them parallels anyway. The only thing that really works is the Doctor trying to call out Kal’tsit for her treatment of Rosmontis as a soldier despite her age, as that’s only something that someone who didn’t have the full context could do.

But... Jessica, Frostleaf, Frostnova, Melantha and several other Operators are young teenagers and even children. Specter and Lappland are clearly just as mentally damaged and still going into battles. The Doctor knows the kinds of people that fight for Rhodes Island, so isn’t this just another young fighter like Popukar and Suzuran? Hell, in chapter 6 we canonically had Beagle and Fang in a stage where they had to fight and tank Faust, why is the Doctor so surprised that someone like Rosmontis exist and works for Rhodes Island?

See?

See how trying to give this character separation from being a self-insert and actively slot them in the active story does more harm than good?

I think games like Girls Frontline and Honkai Impact 3rd do this better, where the player character is clearly more behind the scenes and is only a passing influence, if any.

But that leads me to my next question, which is...

Who is Amiya?

Amiya falls into the trope of being a cute anime girl with a mysterious past and dangerous powers. More accurately, she has a mysterious past and powers to the player, but everyone in Amiya’s inner circle seems to have a clue about it. I don’t mind this being a mystery, but... when our main character’s plot revolves around things the player doesn’t know, it’s curious at best, and infuriating at worse.

Folks, I’m not someone that looks to theory-crafting. I’m not someone that reads every scrap of dialogue in this game to find out more about its lore. The lore, to me, is just fun and interesting. I honestly do not have the time and energy to spend on making theories and predictions that could be wrong and a waste of mental energy. However, with all this stuff about the King of Fiends just feels like a waste of time, or at least a last minute addition to something I could had been added properly in Chapter 8.

A lot of it feels like you had to know about the Darknight Memoir side story to really get a feel for what’s going on. The Sarkaz civil war, Theresa, W’s role back when Rhodes Island was Babel, a lot of things that don’t come up in the main storyline. Especially with that bombshell about the Doctor maybe killing Theresa.

I don’t like it when a story expects me to have read the spinoff to understand the mainline story. This is why I don’t like the Dragon Age series and I’m really getting annoyed with Arknights right now.

This bombshell of the King of Fiends also kind of sours a bit of Amiya’s character as this young child who rose through the ranks of Rhodes Island as a charismatic leader being able to steel optimism with the reality of war to forge ahead as a proper leader through her abilities as both a commander and an empath. Instead it’s beginning to come across that her skills as a leader comes from something more supernatural, or at least something more forced than "small child is a good leader and can lead an army,” which is surprisingly more believable and nuanced given how seriously the series takes Amiya’s character.

That said, I recognize this criticism is more my wish of what was rather than an issue of what is. I completely understand that essentially wishing for my own fanfic and limited fan theories to come true isn’t a sound criticism, but it's a criticism I have regardless.

But moving on, there’s one more issue that bugs me.

W’s Importance

I’ll keep this brief since I already discussed my bigger issues of the story and this is an admittedly small portion of the story:

W wasn’t utilized much in this story despite being a main feature of it in the promotional material. She has a pretty lengthy intro, disappears from the story for most of it, then reappears at the last bits of chapter 7 to make mean looks at Kal’tsit and the Doctor before being literally shoved offscreen again. I’ve already discussed my issues with the Doctor’s agency so I won’t bother here.

W’s banner should had been during Darknight Memoir, it just makes more sense given she was the feature character of it and her high physical damage would had been a goodsend among all the arts-resistant Sarkaz units of that series of chokepoint-heavy maps, similar to Weedy’s inclusion her is helpful as a lot of these maps could use a good pusher, especially 7-16.

Speaking of, Weedy, the other operator on this limited banner, has no presence in the story at all. Need I remind you in the last limited banner Aak and Hung at least had cameo-esque appearances in the Ancient Forge event. Weedy’s inclusion feels like an afterthought because they didn’t want the limited 6-Star to have a good chance to be pulled for the whales.

Anyway, I believe those are all the big issues I had with this story, so...

In the Future

As I always tend to say, I don’t like the idea of trying to fix something that has already been made and has already passed. It’s too late to change the past, but I see nothing wrong with asking for things to happen in the future as a way of giving feedback.

To that end, I still have hope that Chapter 8 will have a focus on Amiya and Ch’en tackling Talulah together. From my understanding of some spoilers this is more or less what is going to happen. I also hope that we’ll have a more detailed idea on this whole King of Fiends thing is about. As much as I personally don’t care for it, it’s already be discussed in the story so I at least hope we get the full idea on what’s going on with that plotline.

I also hope the Doctor either plays less a role or becomes their own character outright away from any player influence. Us speaking through a character that already has a personality feels weird to me and I’d rather not have it at all.

Anyway, that’s it for me folks. Next time... maybe I’ll talk about anime or something, who knows.

#your dictator is speaking #arknights

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

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Unbreak my heart (2/2) G.D.

Summary: One fight the night before their wedding ends in tragedy when Y/N steps into oncoming traffic and is hit by a speeding car. She survives, leaving her with a rather big gap in her memory that includes the entire time she’s spent with Grayson. While he’s hoping her memories come back, Y/N isn’t quite as keen on being with a man she sees as a stranger while she struggles to reconnect her past with her present.

Based on the movie The Vow

Warnings: blood, ANGST, talk of death, infertility, fluff, sexual references, swearing, alcohol consumption, STDs and PCOS

Word count: 9220

Part one

Waking on the couch is always a disorienting feat for Grayson, but to wake up wrapped in her scent without her to keep him steady, that was worse. Immediately, Grayson felt something didn’t feel right. He knew it deep within, as if his soul had felt her go before his mind caught up. It wasn’t hard missing a yellow post-it on the remote, her handwriting recognizable.

I need time to think things through. Please don’t look for me. – Y/N

Shaking, Grayson ran to her room with blurry vision, tears robbing him of his perfect sight as he looked through her wardrobe only to find nothing was left behind. And then he stopped and smiled – nothing was left behind – not the engagement ring she still wears even though he told her she can take it off if it makes her uncomfortable and not his hoodie she favored above all. She still took pieces of him with her and while it hurt she left at all, Grayson smiled because knowing she needed him wherever she went was such a beautiful heartache that he couldn’t help himself.

And she did need time. She needed time to rediscover herself, her past, present and future. She wanted to graduate college, to mend her relationships and place herself on the path she had wanted in life. Unfortunately for Grayson, that meant she’d only see him in the gym during rehabilitation and they’d have a cup of tea after her session. He got to see her three times a week for two hours. Every time he saw her she looked healthier, happier, and more alive.

However, he knew why – it wasn’t hard to guess.

“You’re seeing Archer again, aren’t you?” He didn’t mean to accuse her nor start a fight, but he felt it in his bones. She wasn’t glowing because she was back in college, but because she was back on her ex-boyfriend.

Y/N swallowed thickly, her eyes meeting his because even if she wanted to hide what was really happening, she couldn’t do it. She had to keep an honest relationship with Grayson.

“No. But I won’t lie and say that’s not a possibility. Archer and I have a history and I need to know what went wrong.” She didn’t even try to hide it, but her tone was different – low, wavering, filled with doubt. She wasn’t keen on speaking about Archer with Grayson, mostly because she wasn’t sure she should be digging around her past with a man she was still dating in her timeline. She just couldn’t shake that feeling that there is something there that she should know and if anything, Y/N was as stubborn as they come.

But she missed Grayson, terribly so. If she could understand that, she’d be the happiest person in the world. She felt herself ache for him, his smile and his touch and those comforting words he’d whisper in her ear when she got frustrated over forgetting something. He was always so patient, so sweet and it didn’t take long for her to catch feelings. But those feelings confused her too – she didn’t know what she was to Grayson. After all, in his eyes, he’d see the woman she was and Y/N felt like an imposter. The version of her that Grayson loves is three years ahead of her in experiences she might never acquire…those experiences shaped her mind, her views and her personality – she’s the one he loves, not this confused, lost little girl who doesn’t know who to turn to.

“Why don’t you come to my parent’s house tomorrow night? I’d like you to meet them without doctors around and we could…talk?” He nodded, smiling.

Accepting that invitation would turn out to be Grayson’s worst mistake.

Y/N never liked doctors, hospitals made her nervous and the smell of disinfectant made her nauseous. However, regular checkups after the accident were a must and while she wasn’t quite excited about them, she knew they were a necessary evil.

“It’s been four months since it happened. I thought I’d have my memories back by now.” She complained, chiefly because she wanted to remember Grayson. She hoped it would help her move on from him and stop him from being a new what-if in her life. It had become abundantly clear to her that she will never be the woman he fell in love with originally and she knew it would be a matter of time until he does too. She couldn’t wait for him to leave her first, so she did it herself, yet she still gravitates toward him.

Putting his notes aside, the doctor took a seat beside her, his eyes slightly narrowed at her as if he’s studying her, reading her mind.

“Do you want to regain your memory?” Her doctor raised an eyebrow, wondering if perhaps her memory loss has something to do with psychology.

“Yes.” She was aware her response wasn’t quite affirmative, mostly because she had so many possible scenarios in her head that she was concerned one of the bad ones would come to life.

“Because some patients fear that when their memory comes back, so will the memory of the trauma, but mercifully that's rarely the case.” The doctor informed, but Y/N’s concern wasn’t about the accident itself, rather what happened before it.

“Oh, no, that's not it. I'm... I'm... I'm not afraid of the accident.” She stumbled over her words, fidgeting nervously with Grayson’s engagement ring. For some reason, every time she took it off it just felt wrong. It felt like a body part missing kind of wrong and it brought her sorrow. She couldn’t part with the ring. That ring was a perfect outlet for her anxiety, both comforting and strangely familiar. It had represented her current self and her former self – the ring being given to her by Grayson and the ring’s design being exactly what she dreamed of.

“So, what are you afraid of?”

“I guess I just...I don't know. It's...I mean, what if I don't like the life that I had? Or what if I like it too much and I can’t have it again?” Twirling the ring, Y/N kept her eyes on her hands, unable to look the doctor in the eye again. Her mind is tormented with possibilities, but her heart is torn between two men, each holding a candle to a different life. “You can still decide you want a different life, but if you don't at least open yourself up to remembering, I'm afraid you're gonna live in fear of your own past and you could miss a lot of beautiful things as well.”

Y/N still couldn’t get used to sleeping in her old room, the pink of her walls driving her insane just as much as the memory of Grayson and how he’d always come in and wish her sweet dreams before he went to bed. She couldn’t wrap her mind around how her life with him must have been, nor how it came crashing down for him when she woke up.

It didn’t hurt her and her world didn’t turn upside down like his did – she can’t hurt over something she doesn’t remember, but she knew it must be hell for him. It’s why she brought her diaries with her when she left. She didn’t read a single page of the books she hid with her old diaries in the vent of her room, but she felt at ease knowing she could come back to it if she wished.

For now, she was trying not to use cheat sheets and figure everything out on her own.

At times, she could swear there were bits and pieces of her memories coming back to her. For instance, when she was taking a walk with Grayson and he flashed her a smile and the sun hit him just right, she saw a flash of the same smile under the same sun, somewhere in the desert. The memory gave her a warm and fuzzy feeling, but she didn’t see anything but the desert and his smile. It was barely a memory. However, when she would walk in the street at night and the headlights blinded her, she got a different feeling – overwhelming sadness followed by absolute horror. She didn’t know where she could place that snippet of her memory, but her theory was that she saw the moment before the car hit her. She understood the fear, but she didn’t understand the sadness that chained itself around her heart before.

No matter what she remembered, she still didn’t know if her waking up from the coma was a blessing or a curse. A part of her wonders if Grayson would have rather she died than to have her live and not be able to do the simplest thing such as hold her hand without being afraid she might reject him. She wondered if he wished he never met her at all.

Sighing, she decided this wasn’t a day to sleep in – not when she was to see Grayson that night. In fact, she had someone else to see that morning, so she heads out.

“Why did we break up?” She didn’t bother with pleasantries as she walked into Archer’s office, flustered from walking up the stairs because waiting for the elevator was maddening. She never had much patience for waiting.

“Uh…you broke up with me.” Archer closed the file on his desk before standing up, walking over to the girl who seemed a little too lost compared to the girl he used to know. He wasn’t holding back around her, not anymore. He placed a finger on her chin, lifting her head so he could look into her eyes with his captivating clouded ones. She loved those eyes, absolutely adored them – blue as the sky on a good day, cloudy like a storm when he’s conflicted. However, she wasn’t quite as drawn to them as she used to. She wasn’t enchanted with them nor did she lose her head over them…she found her taste has changed and the feelings she missed with Archer in this moment have been proven present when she looked in Grayson’s eyes. It’s as if her heart remembers, even if her mind doesn’t.

“You left me and I never got an explanation that would satisfy me.” Archer frowned, his forehead creasing – the only true sign time passed since she last saw him as her boyfriend. His looks didn’t change much except his hair is shorter now and he’s got a few wrinkles, stamps of a life lived. But there was something else she noticed – his nose crinkled as he spoke, his tell – Archer is lying to her and she still doesn’t know why.

“And you just let me walk away? No explanation, nothing?” Bitterness dripping in her tone, Y/N was fighting the urge to slap his hand away. She wasn’t too happy with how comfortable he’s become with her, too comfortable considering she supposedly just abandoned him.

“You’re the most stubborn, willful woman I’ve ever met. I knew you’d never come back if I begged, only on your own accord. I suppose fate still sent you my way.” Archer’s lips twitched, pulling into a crooked smile as he leaned closer, his lips hovering over hers.

“You’re calling my head injury fate?” She scoffed, placing her right hand on his chest before shoving him away. She definitely didn’t want to kiss him right now. In her head, it’s been about four months since she kissed him, but in reality, at least three years have passed and while she used to go crazy if she didn’t feel his lips every day, she didn’t feel the urge to reconnect now.

“I didn’t mean it that way. But had you not gone through what you did, I’d still be alone and suffering while my mind was always on you…and you’d be with that Dolan guy, married by now. You can’t blame me for being happy about having your back in my life.” Archer deadpanned, holding fast to his previous words, arguing it like a lawyer would.

“Don’t forget about the party tonight, okay? And be on your best behavior because that ‘DOLAN GUY’ is invited and I don’t want there to be any trouble.” She turned on her heel and left Archer in the office, his fists clenched at his sides as he stared at the closed door menacingly.

Grayson wasn’t nervous. He was nervous on his first day of school or when he first posted a YouTube video with his brother or when he met Y/N, but this? This goes beyond nervous and he knows that once he rings that bell, there’s no going back from it.

He’s already sweating through his fancy suit, the one she convinced him to buy when they decided to go to a museum for their second date, the one she told him he looks dashing in. His tie feels too tight, choking him, but he wanted to make a good impression on the people her family is friends with. He always knew her parents weren’t exactly rich, but they still had an impressive amount of rich friends and a big house that looked a lot like a ten million dollar mansion.

Clearing his throat, Grayson let out a long sigh, pressing the doorbell with confidence. It didn’t take long for her beautiful face to come into view as the door opened barely twenty seconds after he’d run the bell – he counted.

She lit up at the sight, looking him up and down with an extremely pleasant look on her face before her eyes met his and the feeling in his gut that something was wrong disappeared.

“Looking very dashing, Mr. Dolan.” She complimented in a faux British accent before they both burst out laughing and for a moment she felt that odd feeling again, like she had lived this moment once before, as if she could see the same suit on him in a mirror reflexion, her arms wrapped around his middle.

“I thought I should dress up.” Grayson stepped closer, taking her hand in his so delicately slow that she felt her cheeks darken instantly, her lips pursing in order to stop a smile from forming as he brought the back of her hand up to his lips, pressing them softly against her warm skin.

“You look dapper in everything.” She admitted shyly, her heart soaring when she feels him smile against her skin, lifting his head up, her hand remaining in his so casually as if it’s her natural habitat. She didn’t feel the need to retract it, not even a little. In fact, she gave his hand a light squeeze, pulling him inside with her.

“Champagne?” One of the waiters offers to Grayson, but Grayson and Y/N both wave him off at the same time, saying he doesn’t drink champagne simultaneously.

“How did you know?” Grayson bit his lower lip anxiously, hoping she was remembering and maybe that’s why she’s behaving so much like his fiancé on this night. He wanted it to be true, but he had no strength in him to hope for much anymore.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s…muscle memory?” She used an excuse and they both knew it. But she didn’t lie, Grayson knew that much. She was clearly confused herself, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her.

“How’s Ethan? Cameron?” She wasn’t making small talk, in fact, Y/N genuinely wanted to know about the family. She often had doubts about how close she could have been with his siblings because it was clear from the way they behaved around her in the hospital that she should be more than just acquainted with them.

“Good. Actually, Ethan’s always asking about you and Cameron is…well, she’s running her bar and loving every minute of it.”

“OH. I’m glad. I’ve been thinking about calling them lately, but I didn’t know if that would be weird or not.” She didn’t miss the big smile on his face as she told him of her secret plans, knowing that it would make him feel better about her moving away from home, his house. She often had to remind herself to call it his house. And Grayson nearly jumped in his glee, too happy about it because it meant she still cared – if she was still willing to deal with his crazy siblings, she was still inside, the woman who told him she loves him two weeks into meeting him.

While Grayson was busy picking out a perfect flower to buy for her, Y/N was lost in him. She barely knew this man, but she spent every day of the past two weeks of her unexpected vacation by his side and she was so sure, so completely convinced in what her heart was telling her. Y/N wasn’t much of a romantic nor did she believe in love at first sight, but with Grayson, all those beliefs shattered for she did fall for him, almost instantly. It didn’t go slowly as it usually does, where two humans get together occasionally and talk. For Y/N, falling in love with Grayson felt like jumping off a cliff into the unknown with utter certainty he’d be at the bottom with his arms open to cushion the fall. She trusted him so easily, so fully that she didn’t know if she was losing her mind or finally finding sanity.

“I love you.” She stated easily, openly, without reserve, so much so Grayson felt his heart bruise as it jumped abruptly in response.

“You do?” He turned to her fully, his warm eyes boring into hers as his lips fell open in order to breathe because the amount of air he got through his nose wasn’t nearly enough for this.

“Yeah. I do. You don’t have to say anything, just…I thought you should know.” She shrugged awkwardly, her hands slipping into the back pockets of her jeans, her heart hammering inside her chest.

“I know it’s too soon and all and we’re both mental most likely, but I love you too.” She didn’t get a chance to say much as she felt his lips upon hers, his hands gripping her hips to pull her closer.

“Do you mind if I leave you for a bit? I need to pee so bad.” She whispered the last part, making him smile. She was never shy to admit when she had to go.

“It’s a normal, human need Grayson. Why should I feel embarrassed about having to pee? Everyone does it…if they’re healthy. I hope everyone does it because if they’re not, I feel really fucking bad that they can’t.” She mumbled through the bathroom door, the ones he closed after she ran past him like a madwoman, not even caring he’s there. Moving in five months into a relationship was a big step, but even when she was rambling about having to pee and how normal that is, Grayson knew it was the real deal. She was his soulmate…even when she talks about pee.

In need of some fresh air, Grayson walked out front, looking up at the sky with his hands in his pockets. He had a lot of reservations about showing up that night, but being there? It felt good. Being with her felt good.

“Leaving so soon?”

Grayson turned halfway to the door, finding a handsome man in a white tuxedo looking straight at him. It didn’t take him long to place that face with the guy who drove Y/N home that night she left their home and it definitely didn’t take him long to narrow his eyes at the guy who clearly had a superiority complex.

“No. Not going anywhere until Y/N tells me to.” Grayson wasn’t talking about the party only, they both knew it. While he may be in a less than desirable position right now, Grayson held onto hope he saw whenever he’d look at her hand and find his engagement ring on her finger. Even without her memories and them being anything but together, Y/N wearing his ring was the last bit of hope he had.

“Pretty sure she meant that the moment she left your ass. I mean…she’s got me now, so it’s time for you to crawl back into the hole you came out of.” Archer stepped down a few stairs, a smug smirk on his lips. He looked so good – good enough to punch. But Grayson promised her he’d never use violence as his first reaction.

“Yeah? Because she told me that when she was with you, she would wake up at night in a panic, thinking, ‘Is this all there is?’” Grayson wasn’t a cocky guy but he was definitely defensive. Perhaps it’s the insecurities and doubts he’s got about his relationship with Y/N or it’s just about hating this guy who acted like Y/N was his property, but Grayson wanted to shut his mouth. He wanted to put him in his place because even if Y/N didn’t remember why they were over now, Grayson was sure it was an unforgivable reason for she was never the type to quit on people.

“Wow. She told you everything, huh?” Archer raised an eyebrow, stuffing his hands into his pockets, cocking his head as Grayson hummed in response with an arrogant smirk of his own.

“Mmm-hmm.” He could tell some of the guests have noticed the small argument and have been looking at them through the window in expectation of a dramatic turn. Grayson told himself he wouldn’t let it get to that.

“Did she tell you that she threw herself at me the other day? Did she tell you that? Hmm? Or did she stop telling you everything when she forgot who the hell you were?” Getting into Grayson’s face, Archer was more than ready to cause damage. He wanted to provoke Grayson, to get him to crack. He wanted Grayson gone.

“Look, I get why you're being such a dick. You obviously love her, and you think you're gonna get her back. But the thing is, she outgrew you. What makes you think that won't happen again?” Grayson’s well-meaning advice fell on deaf ears. Archer didn’t care, in his mind, he had already won.

“Thank you for that advice. I will mull it over while I'm in bed, fucking your fiancé.” Grayson wasn’t even aware of his actions. In this moment, his spirit, his mind had abandoned his body that acted on its own accord. It felt like an out of body experience, watching himself make a great mistake as he threw his body weight behind the fist that edged closer to Archer’s face, hitting his jaw with such force that blood pooled into his mouth upon contact. The sickening crunch had sounded in his head, like a satisfying melody, but the pleasure didn’t last long as Y/N joined them, utterly shocked at the scene she encountered.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Y/N screamed at him, running down the stairs with a horrified look in her eyes as she stopped beside Archer who fell back on his ass after a single punch. Grayson couldn’t help but chuckle dryly when he noticed her worry is aimed at Archer instead of him.

“Go, get it cleaned.” She whispered to Archer who managed to smirk wickedly at Grayson as he retreated, guests following inside.

“What was that Grayson?” She folded her arms over her chest, the cold making her shiver. He’d offer her his jacket but with the fury and disappointment pooling in her eyes, Grayson knew he wasn’t wanted here any longer.

“I don't know. That's a really good question because I have been driving myself insane, making a complete ass of myself! Literally trying everything possible to try to save what we have. And you've been throwing yourself at Archer.” He didn’t mean to raise his voice nor make her flinch like he did, but Grayson was lost. He had no other way to hide his frustration and he lost his patience completely when that man had the audacity to speak about her like she was a common whore.

“That's not fair. You don’t have a monopoly on pain, Grayson! We’re both hurting and we’re both placed in an impossible situation.” Her voice shakes as she looks away, unable to watch this heartbreak unravel. It breaks her too, for she loves Grayson. She truly does and while she doesn’t understand the feelings that have accumulated so fast, she knows they’re there and they won’t ever be returned. His love is reserved for the girls he once was.

“It's not fair? I see the way you look at him. I know, because you used to look at me that way.” Grayson didn’t hold back with her either. He was tired of watching his mouth because he was afraid something he says might hurt her. He was hurting too.

“Please, just stop. Okay? Stop! I’m not her! I’m not the girl you used to love. I’m not the girl who made those memories with you, alright? I tried! I tried to remember, looking at those photos and imagining what happened when they were taken to make you happy, but it won’t happen. God, I wanted to remember so bad, because I can see you’re hurting. I’m sure I loved you very much Grayson, but I’m not her. And you gotta stop doing this to me. I can’t be around you anymore! Not while you have that look in your eyes! That adoring, hopeful, loving look I’m sure I used to be mesmerized by, but it only brings me pain now! I need you to let me go. Can you do that for me? If you love me, just let me go.”

“Okay.” He says quietly, his eyes turning glossy as the pain hits him over and over again. It’s not his pain alone, but hers as well. The thought of him being the cause behind her anguish had destroyed him inside, leaving him desolate. She can barely see him with tears in her eyes, annoyingly pricking them with the cheap mascara she just put on in the bathroom – she wanted to look good for him, to have the luscious eyelashes that draw the guy’s attention…it’s silly, but she wanted Grayson to see she’s making an effort to look good for him.

“Can I....Can I just kiss you before I go? Just once? One last time...please?” His desperation doesn’t make it any easier on Y/N, mostly because she’s wanted to kiss him for the longest time as well.

Nodding, she comes closer to him, placing each hand on the side on his face. He stilled as she pressed herself to him and lifted her lips to his. Their lips met. And fused. Hungrily. She felt his hands lock around her waist. Her invitation, her acceptance, shook Grayson down to his very soul; he only just managed not to crush her to him. He kissed her deeply, searchingly, evocatively—and felt her flaring response. He tempted her, taunted her to stay, to cross every boundary. Through his shirt, her palms branded him, but he felt her ease up on the kiss – he felt her move away from him.

They part, both breathless and saddened. Deep inside, both Y/N and Grayson expected it to turn out as a fairytale, where a true love’s kiss brings her memories back and they live happily ever after. But it didn’t. It only made them hurt more.

“Grayson, I...” She fluttered her eyes open, wishing she could stay. She wished she could stick with him so badly that her entire being screamed his name, but she couldn’t. Not now. It would be too toxic for both of them – Grayson would always see her as his Y/N, the woman he was supposed to marry and Y/N would drown in his expectations. She couldn’t do that to either of them.

“No, I think we need to start being realistic. Your memory's not coming back. The fact is that I'm still just a stranger to you.” Grayson’s dejected, unraveling slowly as he felt his last bit of hope shatter when she opened his palm and placed her engagement ring in it with such reluctance that he could sense it without a word spoken.

“I'm not trying to hurt you. But I'm just... I'm so tired of disappointing you.” She wept openly, staring at the ring until he closed his hand around it. It’s silly just how connected she felt to that ring, how incredibly hard it was to take it off, even harder to give it back to him.

“I know.” Grayson smiled for her benefit, pressing a kiss to her temple one last time before turning around, sniffling. He walked away into the night as she stared at his disappearing figure, her tears ruining what was left of her make up. She didn’t know if she made the right choice for herself, but it was the right choice for him. Grayson would never have the old her back and it would turn him bitter in time. She couldn’t expect him to sit around while she struggled with her own demons.

She loved him enough to let him go.

“She’s gone? Really gone?” Ethan stared blankly at Grayson who called in a family support meeting at Cameron’s bar, desperate to have someone around. He didn’t trust himself that night. He played with the ring she gave back, looking at that piece of jewelry that meant the end for a love he wanted to keep for the rest of his life.

“Yeah. Even gave me the ring back.” Grayson placed the ring on the bar, taking a shot to down. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but that night demanded drinks to survive.

“Take it. One of you will have some use of it.” Grayson slammed the shot glass against the bar, nearly breaking it in his hand. He was already so angry and the worst part is that he saw it coming. He knew he had lost her the moment she opened her eyes and looked at him like he was the devil instead of her angel.

“Oh, I can be bad!” Grayson exclaimed, sending a dart flying straight for the bullseye. Y/N rolled her eyes before turning to all three Dolan siblings, her eyebrow raised.

“You? Bad? Cameron is literally the baddest among you, Ethan is a fucking butterfly tamer and you’re a dainty angel. You guys need to learn from your sister!”

“And that just earned you free booze!” Cameron snickered, pouring a full glass of tequila for her favorite soon to be sister in law.

“You sure you need more booze? I’d rather you not break my damn bar.” Cameron took the empty glasses, sliding the ring into her pocket as well. She didn’t want Grayson to do something he might regret and that ring was still important to him…to Y/N too, if she had to bet on it.

“When we met, it took her two weeks to tell me she loves me.” Grayson chuckled dryly, still in disbelief. “It’s been five months and I’m just a stranger to her. I’m a footnote in her and Archer’s love story. I’m the guy who ends up being tossed aside and the funny thing is…I never thought I’d ever feel sorry for Archer like I do now. I get how that asshole felt when I got with her.” Groaning, Grayson lowers his head on the bar, closing his eyes as the alcohol takes effect and numbs the pain – not entirely, just enough to get through the night.

“I’ll get him home.” Ethan sighs, struggling to get Grayson to his feet.

“Grayson, this feels like the end of your world. I get it. But don’t let it actually end your world.” Cameron whispers, leaving a quick kiss atop his head before Ethan guided him out.

Y/N found herself dealing with yet another sleepless night. Images of Grayson’s teary eyes had engraved themselves into her mind, there to remind her of just how much pain she caused him. She wished she could unbreak his heart, but the damage is done and she has to deal with her choices now.

No longer running from her past, Y/N fished her diaries out of the vents, searching for a very specific set of dates. She didn’t have to read much about the ones she wrote while she was with Grayson, very aware she loved him, but she had questions about how she felt in the days that she deemed as their last as a couple…but also about her last days spent in her parent’s house.

She surely got her answers.

Walking out of her room, she found her father sitting by the fire, drinking his scotch as always. She hated how much he loved his alcohol, even more so, she hated what he had done to her.

“How could you?” She didn’t yell nor shed a tear, simply shaking her head at her father who didn’t try to fight her on it. In a way, he knew that once she found out that he’d have to face her again. She was angry but disappointed most of all.

“You two were perfect together. I didn’t want a mistake to separate you.” He sold her the same excuse he did the first time around, coldly and without empathy. He had been so blinded by the business deals a union like theirs would bring their family that he cared more about the marriage happening than his daughter’s happiness.

“A mistake? Archer has cheated on me more than once! HE GAVE ME CHLAMYDIA!” Now she was yelling. She was shaking in her rage, unable to believe that she had let her father, her mother and Archer fuck with her head so much. She let them do this to her twice. She let her guard down even when Grayson asked her not to…the only one who actually cared about her was Grayson. She knew that now.

“At least I know why I left now. And you’ll know why I’m leaving again.”

She didn’t wait for morning to pack, gathering whatever she had before taking her old car and driving off. She couldn’t go to Grayson, not after their conversation that night. She had asked him to let her go and he did. He walked away, exhausted from months of trying to win her over and she wished she could tell him he managed to do just fine. She wished she could see his smile and feel his warm hands on her body. But Y/N had known the truth now too. She knew what she did…she knew what the sadness she felt that night truly meant.

“Out of all the bars in the world, you walk into mine? After closing?” Cameron raised an eyebrow, looking at the disheveled girl she considered a sister.

“The service here is impeccable.” Y/N forced a smile, pushing down tears as she took a chair and shrugged. “I remembered where you hold your spare key.” And her eyes watered again. No matter how hard she tried, the tears kept coming. She could remember the most random things, but she still couldn’t remember Grayson? She still didn’t know why it felt like her world burned down even before she learned of the betrayal her parents and Archer kept alive.

“Cool. Want a drink?” Cameron slid a glass over to her, pouring a glass of orange juice instead of alcohol in her glass. She felt the incredulous look Y/N gave her before she even saw it, smirking.

“What? You’re not drinking booze until you get some memories back and your brain heals.”

Nodding, Y/N took a sip. Orange juice is her favorite, something all Dolan siblings seem to be aware of.

“I’m looking for a place to live. Know anything good around here?” Y/N spoke between sips, trying to avoid Cameron’s lingering stare.

“Yeah. Your house. My house. Ethan’s house. Take your pick.” Somehow, Y/N knew that would be her answer. She knew Cameron was a sassy person by nature, always ready with a witty comeback or a sarcastic remark. Deep down, she knew that’s why she liked the eldest Dolan.

“I was thinking something along a ‘no roommate’ situation. I, uh, found out a lot of things tonight. Why I haven’t spoken to my family in years and why Archer and I broke up…why I felt heartbroken when I saw those headlights blind me right before the car hit me.” Y/N gnawed on the inside of her lip before meeting Cameron’s questioning gaze, determined to let someone in. She needed a friend and she trusted Dolan siblings. She just knew she could trust them.

“Archer cheated on me…more than once…gave me chlamydia which is how I found out. My parents covered for him for two years.” Y/N took another sip of her juice, her mouth too dry.

“Wait, what?” Y/N sat up once the news registered, shaking with rage.

“I came here because I had some pain and thought I had a bladder infection, not because of an STD! I’ve only ever been with one guy and we’re supposed to be…” That’s when she realized the truth, knowing that her oh-so-perfect-Archer is anything but. He is cheating and she’s paying the price.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Days later, she cut ties with her family and Archer, packing her things and going on a spur of a moment trip to Las Vegas where she’ll meet Grayson Dolan. That’s when her life truly began – filled with love, trust, such beauty he had shown her, petty fights and sleepless nights filled with passion.

“But I…I also know that I dropped quite a bombshell on Grayson that night. Turns out I’ve known for two months that I can’t have kids.” Y/N drew in a shaky breath, finding it ironic she went into the office thinking she’s pregnant only to find out she can never have kids.

“I’m sorry, but it was a false positive.” The doctors gave her a sympathetic smile, but the look in her eyes was all too familiar. She knew that look – pity, something she last saw when the doctor accidentally revealed Archer is a lying cheater.

“But there’s more, isn’t there? You did all those extra tests and then you called me down here to tell me the news because there’s something more, right?” Y/N wasn’t a fool and while she wanted the supposed pregnancy to be a surprise to Grayson, a man who had wanted kids more than anything in life and she wanted the same with him, for him, as long as they were together. She felt so alone right now, regretting not inviting someone along with her. She wished she had someone to hold her hand because the news she’d receive felt life-changing in a way, a bad way – the worst way.

“I’m so sorry to tell you, but with your history of polycystic ovaries and chlamydia that went untreated for so long, the infection had spread on the rest of your reproductive system and damaged it irreversibly. Both your…” And while the doctor tried to explain exactly how Archer and her parents made sure she’d never have a child of her own, Y/N drifted off. She twirled her engagement ring religiously as her focused on Grayson and the way he’d look at her when she tells him the truth. After all, being a father is something he always wanted to be. Being a father is something he talks about so often that even she can’t imagine anything other than that in his future. She loves him…too much. She loved him so much that this is tearing her apart more than it would had she not wanted to mother his children. She never liked kids, but she wanted to have kids – his kids. They always told one another their love was forever – something that can’t be broken or taken away, but for the first time in their time together, Y/N had started to doubt that promise.

Maybe then he'd leave, maybe she was destined to be alone; no husband, no kids. She spent so long in denial that she convinced herself she could go ahead with this marriage without telling him the truth, but she couldn’t, she knew that after he had caught her crying her eyes out so many times without an answer, or when he’d ramble about his friend’s baby or about the babies he imagines they’ll have. She couldn’t do that to him, so she decided to tell the truth – even if it dragged on to the very night before their wedding.

“Apparently my ovaries are so bad that they’re beyond help. Polycystic ovarian syndrome that matched with chlamydia I got from Archer which went untreated for months that helped start a greater infection so bad that both my tubes were affected and are kind of blocked. So yeah…They said I have options and all that crap, but the point is that I knew for months and I never told him…I was going to tell him that night which is what I assume happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Grayson’s mouth opened, his eyebrows furrowing until his scar crinkled under the pressure.

“I wanted to. I was so scared you’d leave me and…having kids is your dream. I didn’t know how to tell you I might be why you never get that dream or that you have to choose.” Y/N’s shaky hand reached for Grayson’s only to find him pulling away, not even looking her in the eye. “And I knew you’d choose me and I knew that once Ethan and Cameron start having their kids that you’ll get more distant in time and you’ll be bitter and you’ll hold it against me! So, I’m sorry If I wanted to live in a happy bubble for a little while longer.�� She wiped her tears away, breaking when her angel refused to meet her gaze.

“Will you…leave?” She was afraid to ask and even more afraid of what the response will be. She loved him so much that the thought of a life without him tore her apart.

“I don’t know, okay? You told me something pretty big here and I need to adjust…I need to think…to…I don’t even know what. This is so fucking messed up!” Standing so abruptly from the table, Grayson tried to move past Y/N who had already grabbed onto his arm, trying to stop him long enough to apologize once again. She wanted to tell him she loves him, that she never thought happiness she experienced with him was a real possibility in life.

He didn’t listen as he walked out with her in tow. She was desperately holding on.

“I’m sorry. Grayson, please, please, please stop. Just talk to me, okay? Talk to me like you did when we first met, okay? Like that day when you so fiercely spoke your mind and I fell in love with it, with you.” Holding on for dear life to an aggravated Grayson, Y/N knew she should have let him be. He asked for space and she should have given it to him, but her fear of losing him spiked and she couldn’t stop herself. She wished she did because not even a second after, he did what he usually does…just not with her...he spoke in anger, spewing a lie he didn’t even mean.

“I wish we never met.”

Funny enough, he got his wish. Grayson forgot about the golden BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR, BECAUSE YOU JUST MIGHT GET IT rule. After he spoke those words, it was just like that – like they were strangers again for in her head, she had never met him and he was doomed to suffer for he couldn’t forget the day he met her.

Cameron looked shocked once Y/N confessed to the entire memory lane, including that she thought she was pregnant, turning Cameron into an unusually emotional mess, her own emotions rattled. While Y/N didn’t remember the details of the fight, she definitely knew what caused it. She was just wrong about it being why she stepped into oncoming traffic in her sorrowful daze. Y/N didn’t know what Grayson really said and a part of Cameron was relieved.

“You definitely need a real drink.”

Almost five months later, Y/N found herself in a winter wonderland that’s New York. She’s always been annoyed with snow, but this year felt different. She knew that snow may not be her favorite, but it was certainly Grayson’s.

Yes, she got some of her memories back, still only snippets and pieces she’d sometimes dream about. For instance, she knew now that the desert images that came back to her earlier were actually about the day she met Grayson. She remembered more than just his smile…she remembered the whole day. Another thing she remembered was when she told him she loves him for the first time and that she heard him respond in the same breath he used to seal their love with a kiss. She did have some of her memories back, but not enough. She could never have enough.

So, wandering the street, Y/N steered herself into Central Park. It’s where Grayson took her every winter after he moved back into the city. She may have met him just outside Las Vegas when he was there to film a video, but she was always stationed in New York and he joined her rather fast after that. She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she remembered when she went ice skating with Grayson for the first time, both of them wiping out because they had invented a silly game of catch…and he did catch her, only it was by an accidental tackle. Regardless, it’s where he proposed to her a year after.

Y/N didn’t like winter, but she always liked ice skating in the Central park after that. It had become like a tradition – the night before Ethan and Grayson’s birthday, the pair would come and skate right before closing time. It was a tradition she remembered and had to honor to help soothe her tortured soul.

Little did she know, someone else had felt the need to do the same.

The moment she stepped onto the ice, finding the rink completely empty, Y/N noticed it wasn’t quite vacant. A figure laid in the middle of the rink, unmoving as he stared up at the night sky, at the snowflakes pouring down on him. She couldn’t tell who it was, not with such distance but Y/N felt it in her heart.

She knew it would be him.

Stopping in the center, she laid beside the man who didn’t even hear her approaching. She could tell he’d been there for a while longer than she was, his nose red and in need of warmth. Whenever her nose was cold, he’d let her hide her face in the crook of his neck and warm herself despite feeling like she had placed an icicle against his carotid.

She wished she could do that now.

“A beautiful night, huh?” She decided to speak up, unaware he truly didn’t realize he has company. Jumping up, Grayson’s hand clutched his chest, his wide eyes settled on hers in an instant. She could see the terror drain from his chocolate brown eyes, replacing it with confusion, happiness, softness, and warmth – a look she got used to receiving from him.

“I, uh…Hi!” Grayson chuckled, unsure what to do with himself or this situation. He hadn’t expected to see her ever again and a part of him questioned his sanity right now. He wasn’t sure if she was a hypothermia induced hallucination or an angel that came to collect his soul. He definitely didn’t think she was real.

“I didn’t mean to scare you Bailey, I just…I guess I remembered this tradition we have and I couldn’t let that go.” She shrugged, averting her gaze to his red hands, certain he’s freezing right now. Without any restraint, Y/N wrapped her gloved hands around his, sharing some of her warmth with him.

“Remembered?” Is all he could say with his chattering teeth getting in the way, his heart drunk on happiness once he heard her say his middle name. He didn’t know if she did it on purpose for they had told each other it would be a code word in case she got her memories back, or if it was by chance, something purely on instinct. But the way she smirked at him, Grayson knew she had used it with a purpose.

“Yeah. I’ve gotten some of the memories back. Some I’m not even sure are memories or maybe dreams, but I’m working on figuring it out.” She smiled softly, her lips quivering from the cold as well. But she didn’t run as she cussed out the winter or snow, she simply pulled herself closer to him, praying he doesn’t pull away.

“Oh. Any good ones?” Grayson mentally facepalmed, shaking his own head at the stupid question he asked, hating just how awkward he is around her. She’s finally there by his side, almost a year since the accident had taken her from him. He wanted to hug her, kiss her, tell her he still loves her, but he waited for her to give him a sign. He refused to break his promise of letting her go without her asking him to.

“Just ask someone else out. Find a girl and tell her she’s cute and then bang her.” Ethan explained like it was the easiest thing in the world. He knew Grayson was suffering and his solution was to get him through it with one night stands.

“Not gonna happen, bro. I’m not ready to get over her. I need time and getting laid is the last thing on my mind.”

Grayson didn’t move on, even though he thought about it. He just couldn’t do it and so, instead of burying himself between some strange girl’s legs, he decided to bury himself in work. He spent a lot of his time on the road as well, worried he might run into Y/N in the city…or worse, run into her and Archer.

“Obviously good ones…I’m here, aren’t I?” Grayson relished in the light tone she used and the sweetness behind her coy smile. He was struggling to keep his eyes on her before, afraid he’d see her and his progress would fall apart, but seeing her now…it reminded him why he loved her in the first place. It was never about the accident or her forgetting him, but about him remembering her as she was and accepting who she is – and she did change, but there was still a lot of the old her inside and he saw her again in perfect light.

“You’re not home with Archer. In Manhattan.” It was more as if he was telling himself that, reassuring himself this moment was real and when her smile fell, Grayson knew this wasn’t a hallucination…she’d never be unhappy in his hallucinations or dreams – he always painted her joyful and light.

“Moved out the same night I asked you to…” She stopped as if the words are too painful to say out loud, like the notion of what she asked had toyed with her sanity for a long time now.

“Um, I’m living close by. Finished my classes and I’m working in a private clinic. And I’ve been working on my memories. I know there’s a lot of holes left to fill, but some of them are quite clear inside my head…like when we met…or when I told you I loved you two weeks into knowing each other.” Giggling, Y/N sniffled, letting out a puffy breath into the night.

“So, you do remember.” Grayson turned to her, wanting nothing more than to hold her close right now. What he hoped to hear for so long had started coming true and while it’s slow, he was ready to be patient with her again. He would wait and he would care and most of all, he’d love her – old her, new her, any version of her.

“It’s not a lot, but it’s a start. But even without those memories, I knew I loved you, Grayson. I knew it even as I was asking you to go…I think I knew since we got home and you gave me your hoodie to wear that first night…I know you think I didn’t wear it, but I slept in it every night. It was like my comfort blanket. The scent was familiar and I clung to it.”

“And you love me now?” Grayson angled his head to the left, waiting for an affirmative answer. But she pulled away, taking her warm hands with her. Grayson felt his heart drop just as she started taking her glove off, the left one, only to reveal a ring…the engagement ring.

“Cameron gave it to me that same night I gave it back to you. Never took it off.” Y/N admitted sheepishly, matching Grayson’s wide smile with one of her own. If it were up to him, he’d be screaming at the top of his lungs, running around in circles with a wide smile on his lips, hugging her so tightly she might break, but he was scared he’d hurt her or frighten her and that it might push her away.

“Where do we go from here then?” Grayson inched closer, his neck craning to reach her lips.

“We could go on a date or…go home and watch movies? It is Friday night after all and your birthday is in a few hours too.” She shrugged, smiling as she anticipated the touch of his lips upon hers.

“Well, Friday night is movie night. But better be prepared for my whole family descending upon us in the morning.” Grayson smiled, his lips hovering over hers as she narrowed her eyes at him in a playful manner.

“You mean our family?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, knowing she’ll let him in without overthinking this. Fate had lead them to each other on this special night and she wasn’t interested in fighting destiny. Serendipity was always her favorite movie for a reason.

“I can work with that.” But she couldn’t wait any longer for his kiss, stealing those few inches of distance from Grayson with fervor.

And while Y/N never got all her memories back, she made new ones with the man she loved. After all, love heals our brains. Love develops the prefrontal cortex and enables us to make wise choices, without it, humans are like permanent partial-drunks thinking ourselves fully sober. They healed each other, fully opened to one another. We are born to love and with all the necessary courage to walk the path to it, no matter the roughness, no matter the hardship. They’ve walked a road not many have faced, survived obstacles weaker loves have shattered on, but their love simply grew stronger, sturdier, lasting.

Rehashing the past, falling victim to the whispers of the ghosts left behind is never we should allow. And yes, sometimes we need the past to learn from our mistakes, but when your present is good, look towards the future and keep hold of what makes you steady, loved, protected.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ *

Tags: @dolandolll @beinscorpio @godlydolans @peacedolantwins @dolanstwintuesday @heyits-claire @jjustjoy @sltwins

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan angst #ethan dolan #dolan twins #cameron dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan au #unbreak my heart

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devnny · 4 years

Text

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

AT LONG LAST!! my hiatus is broken! i’m very happy to present ch14... after months of failed attempts to finish ;-; thank you for all the kind messages in between 🖤🖤🖤 i hope you enjoy! :]c it's time for artist things, and bad memories!

[•/•/•• :

That one guy that paid me for that BIG ASS project, apparently, really liked it, and wants to see more of my paintings. Talked about exhibiting some of my shit in one of his galleries, if he likes any of ‘em. Neat.

…

And me and Johnny… had a… moment, or whatever. Whatever.]

Johnny sat wide-legged on the floor with a large crate settled between his knees, thumbing through the different paintings standing inside the box like records. His tongue stuck out the side of his mouth while he inspected each one with intrigue – Devi’s work was always so fascinating.

“Why are you even looking through that old shit?” Devi asked from across the room, smiling slightly as she spoke.

“It isn’t shit, I think they’re… cool.” His lips stuck out in a soundless ‘ooh’ as he lifted up a small painting of a retching face. He bared his teeth at the agonizing expression like a mimicking chimp, then set it back down to sift through more artwork.

With the news that she may have another chance to exhibit her paintings in a gallery, Devi had started the tedious process of scrutinizing her available pieces to slap together a decent portfolio, which was fairly difficult, seeing as she was her own worst critic.

“Well ‘cool’ or not, that’s all over a year old. The likelihood I’d want to stick any of them in a portfolio is very slim.” Devi turned to look at him as she finished, but stopped with a sharp inhale when she saw which painting Johnny was holding now.

Johnny was fixated with the canvas in his hands, finding such familiarity with the large eyes and long, devilish smile of the demonic looking subject on it. The paint was very rough in texture, and made the whole piece look rather fleshy. He brought up a finger to poke at the lumpy marks while he thought.

“Is this… me?” Johnny asked absentmindedly. Devi felt a cold sweat prickle on the back of her neck, but waved off any shame she felt with a swat of her hand.

“Yeah.” She answered honestly. Her attention focused on the painting, and she tried as best she could to not feel the deep-seated anger and disappointment that resonated within her at the time she created it. “It was a vent art I did, some time after the whole… attempted-murder, thing.”

“Ah.” Johnny nodded in acknowledgment, his mouth settling into a slight frown. “Is this how you saw me? With all the blood and tentacles coming out of my head?”

Devi’s lips slanted uncomfortably. She leaned her weight onto one of the bigger canvases she had on hand, and sighed.

“No, not really.” Her eyes wandered away from Johnny as she thought. “I just kind of, went wild with it, I guess. Added gore and sharp lines and splatters wherever I felt like. It was supposed to represent a feeling, not really… a person. I mean, it is you, but it was more like the energy you gave off, not how you looked.”

Johnny nodded, his teeth poking out again as his smile returned.

“Neat…” He commented and turned the canvas sideways to inspect it further. Devi blinked in surprise at his response, then snorted after a minute.

“—‘Neat’!?” She asked with a laugh. “That’s what you think that is?”

“It is!” Johnny’s attention jumped to her again. “I don’t have any pictures of myself really, and definitely no paintings. It’s cool that it’s… symbolic. Not of a particularly great time in my life, or spurred on by any particularly great choices on my part, but still cool. I like seeing how your brains perceived me in such an inventive manner.”

“HAH! You are truly the weirdest guy I’ve ever known, Nny.” She chuckled, and returned to the pieces beside her. As she started to sort again, Devi paused, and began picking at the chipped paint on one of her canvases thoughtlessly.

“You know, um,” She turned her head ever-so-slightly in Johnny’s direction. “—originally, it was just a normal portrait of you. I’d started it before our uh, date, then altered it later…”

Her cheeks blushed faintly at the admission; it was so embarrassing to confess that she’d taken him as her muse before she’d ever even asked him out. Part of her still felt, with little room for argument, that Johnny didn’t need to know that, but in light of recent events, it also seemed stupid to hide things pertaining to her ‘feelings’ from him at this point.

Johnny’s head popped up, his neck and back straightened fully, as he turned to stare at her. Devi wasn’t looking at him, but he could tell by her meaningless fidgeting with the canvas in her hands that her attention was still on him. It brought a giddy smile to his face.

“Oh.” He hummed contently, returning his staring to the portrait. He wondered what it looked like before she riddled its face with globs of resentful paint. With a content sigh, he answered his thoughts; “I bet it looked nice.”

“Tch!” Devi held her laugh inside her throat. “I’m sure I gave you too much credit.”

“HAHAHA!” Johnny sneered a wider smile. His brain immediately imagined an overly-handsome depiction of himself, even though he knew Devi had better taste than that. So funny. He reviewed the portrait one more time, then set it off to the side.

“Hahh… I like it a lot.” He sighed, and laid down flat on the floor, legs still sprawled. “I like all your stuff a lot. Why are you so critical about your paintings?”

Devi cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Are you going to try and tell me you’re not critical of your own artwork, Nny?” Her words jabbed playfully in his direction, and he puffed his cheeks out in response.

“WELL…” Johnny huffed, making Devi laugh again. “Maybe the stuff I do now, but all my old paintings, all the stuff I don’t remember even making… no. But I guess it’s hard to be self-critical of something you don’t have any recollection of creating.”

He brought his one leg up high to lob over the crate in his lap as he rolled onto his side to face her. Devi greeted him with a look of pity, but with a degree of immense curiosity to it.

“Shit.” Devi thought a moment. “I don’t think I ever really saw your old stuff, actually.”

Johnny had described to her vaguely last year, and in much more depth this year, his style of painting that had long-since depleted into noncomplex stick figure comics. He explained it as being rough and gritty, with themes of decay, agony, and horror, and his subjects most often being flesh-like nonsense, or close-ups of distorted human faces. The oldest of the surviving pieces would dip into dark landscapes and actual silhouettes, but that was the extent of it.

“Man,” Devi sighed as she thought. “I’d love to see ‘em.”

The comment surprised him, and Johnny laid still on the floor as he watched her with large eyes. He rolled into a seat position after a moment, and moved his staring to the carpet.

“W… would you, really?” He asked tentatively. “A lot of them are still in okay-condition, they’re just… buried in my house...”

Devi replied with a few confused blinks, mostly in regard to Johnny’s sudden change in demeanor. After a moment of thought, she was delightfully suspicious that his timidness now was because of her absolute refusal to enter his house the day she assisted him with ‘moving out’. The concern he had for making her uncomfortable was as unfortunately endearing as ever.

“You wanna go pick some up?” Devi asked with a smile, and Johnny cricked his chin up to stare at her with redoubled surprise.

“Really?” He asked in disbelief as he scuttled to stand. “I mean, I don’t want to impose.”

Devi laughed at him and balanced the canvas she held against the wall.

“Yeah. I need a fucking break from looking at my own paintings.” She explained with a pop of her back. “Who knows, maybe you’ll inspire me.”

She shrugged the last of her sentence at him as she walked past, and Johnny pivoted to watch her leave the room. He always found her teasing to be so disarming, never knowing what to do when she threw the ball into his court. It was fun, in a way, but he was always nervous to banter back besides mock cynicism. It made his heart flutter all the same.

“If you’d like.” He called after her as he walked. “I just meant—you know, if you don’t want to go inside, and all.”

Johnny stopped in the living room when he caught sight of Devi at her bedroom door, already straightening a newly pulled on t-shirt.

“Your concern is appreciated.” She smiled at him, then reached around the door and grabbed one of her shorter jackets—it was just too balls-hot to be wearing her trench coat at this hour. Stupid summer weather.

Johnny grinned, though his smile melted into an awkward squiggle as Devi approached him with that accursed collar in hand. He’d grown accustomed to wearing it on outings, but he still loathed it. He would be happy to chop it up and burn the pieces, one day.

His malicious thoughts were short-lived, as Devi roped the accessory around his neck. She paid much less mind to not touching him these days, and the caressing of her fingers made him feel like his insides might liquify from the heat. She smirked coolly as she clicked the collar shut.

“Why don’t you drive?” She suggested, and Johnny was taken off-guard again. He hadn’t driven at all since he’d come to live here, what with Devi preferring to have control over just about everything. He raised an eyebrow, cautiously inspecting her expression, but was unable to determine if this was representative of anything.

“I don’t feel like navigating the suburbs to get to your place.” Devi provided for explanation as she moved to the front door, but Johnny remained unsure. Still, he went to fetch his keys from one of the art room drawers without prodding any further.

NOW ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN:

Devi had not been to Johnny’s neighborhood more than twice, and only once during daylight hours, yet she still managed to recognize some landmarks that signaled that they were getting close. One neighbor a few streets down had an absolutely obnoxious amount of pink flamingos in their yard, and another surely teetered the worth of their fragile masculinity on the pure number of beat-up looking muscle cars that lined their curb.

The car jerked as Johnny took a sharp turn onto a different street, and Devi sucked in a breath while she watched the addresses get closer in number to ‘777’. She stubbornly refused to let the sight of the ramshackle house bring her too much anxiety, but as they slowed beside it, and then turned up the slope of the driveway, the familiar shiver of distrust climbed up her spine. Johnny spared her a nervous glance.

“You don’t have to come inside if you don’t want’a…” He reiterated, in an effort to comfort her, but Devi only scoffed and started to exit the vehicle.

“NOPE.” She replied with a quick slam of the door. “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.”

Johnny stepped meekly out of the driver’s side, and watched Devi glare at his ‘former’ place of residence. Guilt gnawed away at his stomach, well-aware of the traumatic memories of that evening that were still sealed away inside his house.

He’d lived with them long after their infamous date; tromping over the wooden floors that had served as her route of escape, or laying like a limp sock across the couch that would have been where they shared their first kiss. When he paused to dwell on those sorts of facts, remorse filled him each time, but certainly not to the extent that it used to. It wasn’t the soul-splitting agony that those first days had brought – it didn’t drive him into hysterics to catch sight of his bedroom mirror, nor did the thought of sitting on the right-hand side of his sofa.

But, of course, Devi hadn’t.

She didn’t muddle through that house for months, learning to accept the space beyond those fleeting, horrible memories. She hadn’t had to wander through the atmospheric fog of departed, romantic dreams, with its lingering tethers warping around her person like ghostly fingers, searching for what was lost. She didn’t find herself stepping on glass fragments even weeks afterwards, and having to force herself to accept, with tearful blinking, that there was no changing this; that this was her house, and there was no escaping what happened here.

Johnny frowned to himself, and started toward the front door, fretting all the way about what Devi’s response would be.

Devi gathered herself as she followed him up the pathway, and as Johnny fiddled with the lock, she spared a moment for a little flower that was poking out from the cracks of the cement. Symbolic, or ironic, she couldn’t decide.

The sound of the worn lock’s mechanics moving in sync with the key that Johnny jammed into it brought her attention up from the ground, and she steeled herself as he pushed the door open with a throw of his fingers. He remained on the front step with her, half-way shielding her from the innards of his home, as she peeked beyond the doorframe.

Even with her expectations low, she couldn’t help but blink her eyes wide in shock.

“Did you… throw out everything?” Devi questioned as she tried to peer past him and into the living room. The décor wasn’t particularly abundant the last time she had been there, but there was more on the wall than a weird little poster that said “I WUV YOU”, and certainly a decent amount of worn furniture. Johnny shot her a confused look, and waited a beat before allowing himself to relax into a smile.

“Oh, no.” He sniffed a laugh and took a few steps inside, loosely raising his arm to gesture to the far side of the room. “The TV n’ shit is just over here now.”

Devi poked her head past the threshold to see, and slanted her mouth uneasily at the sight of the stained sofa a few steps away. It looked even more beat up than the last time she saw it, but it was definitely still the same one. She smothered a scowl under her pursed lips, and fully passed the door’s threshold with a swing of her leg. It was just a stupid, dilapidated couch, she reminded herself—nothing to be wary of!

“My house got kinda wrecked after the wall-thing sent it careening through a tear in the dimension or, something like that.” Johnny continued. “Shit got tossed around everywhere, so I just pushed it all into one of the rooms… Pulled the couch and stuff back out after I came home a couple months ago.”

“That’s…” She cocked an eyebrow. “—I mean, at this point, sure, why not.”

Johnny snickered a little at her incredulous response, and continued further into the house, explaining in greater detail his decision making for what furniture he had rearranged and where. Devi paid little mind to his babbling as she gradually trailed his steps, taking in the house’s atmosphere with as little bias as she could. It was just as dingey as she remembered, and it did help her sore memories that it was basically gutted, aside from the worn couch and beat-up television. It barely looked like a house the way it was, instead looking more like a large shed. It definitely didn’t look like the place she remembered, and that was a very good thing.

“—I don’t spend much time in my bedroom, but I still thought it was important enough to leave it usable, so I just jammed everything in here.” Johnny finished, flinging open the door to his former ‘studio’. A few random objects fell and rolled out from the mass of clutter that loomed all the way to the top of the doorframe.

“Holy Hell.” Devi said loudly, aghast at the sight of the mounds of dusty debris and overturned furniture. There appeared to be parts of doors and chunks of ceiling plaster mixed in with the heaps of furniture and belongings, giving the entire mass the look of a true junkyard.

Johnny bend his leg up and reared it back as far as he could, before springing his heel out straight, sending most of the blockade crashing backwards inside of the room with one demanding kick. With the first heap out of the way, Devi could see more clearly that there was actually quite a bit of bare space inside. Enough floorspace to walk in, at least.

Johnny led the way, and sent a chunk of splintered wood clattering with a lazy punt of his boot. Devi watched it kick up dust as it fumbled along, then fall still near a pile of damaged Christmas decorations. The room was musty, and the only light granted inside the space was from the poorly boarded up windows that failed to stop the sun’s glow outside. She looked up to the ceiling for a light, but the only spot for one had a shattered bulb still twisted into the fixture.

“My drafting table was in here.” He mentioned offhandedly as he inspected a box.

“Ah,” Devi nodded in understanding. “so that’s why it took you so damn long to drag the thing out.”

“Well, yes, and the fact that it’s heavy as fuck.” Johnny snorted and peeled back the remains of an ironing board from its resting spot against the wall. It make a cracking sound, like bark being torn from a tree, then gave way in a small flood of junk to reveal some paintings hidden in the area behind.

“AH-HAH.” He cried in triumph, and moved proudly to the side to allow Devi the opportunity to inspect them first. Devi looked at him with an unsure expression, but decided to humor him and approach the pile as invited. As she stepped toward the stack, the twisting paint gathered her full attention, and she reached a hand out for it like a gleeful child.

She gripped the corner of the first canvas, and hoisted it up from the stack with a smooth pull of her arm. The rolling swirls of brushstrokes that greeted her brought a tantalized smile to her lips, and she had to extend the artwork out with both arms to continue her appreciation of it.

It was about three-feet in height—a fairly average sized painting—and was smeared with meticulous bends and curls of dark paint that made the two grim subjects look as though they were positively radiating in fear.

Gorgeous, she thought.

Devi gleamed, and set the painting to the side, eagerly reaching for the next one in the pile. Johnny watched her with uncertain, but very delighted, eyes. A timid smile bent his mouth as Devi reviewed his art. It was a lot different than her critiquing his current work, since these could actually be on par with what Devi herself might create. He desperately wanted her to be impressed, even though he could barely take credit as the artist anymore.

The painting Devi pulled out next was too large to properly view while holding, so she set it on the floor, tilted at an angle against a box, and stepped back a few feet to study it. Her lips parted with a curious exhale at the detailed eye in the center of the canvas, surrounded by flesh-like tethers and threads that seemed to keep it upright, like a spider’s web.

“Oh,” She breathed, and squatted down to see it more clearly in the wispy light. “I love this.”

The last of her apprehension of being inside the house flittered away as she absorbed herself in Johnny’s art, appreciating fully all of the effort put into the fine lines and details of this piece in particular. This one was definitely coming back home with her—she could already see it replacing that outdated movie poster in the living room.

Devi’s reaction surprised Johnny, and he dropped his neatly folded arms out from behind his back. He felt breathless, like he often did when Devi praised him, but to a much higher degree than usual. He watched her with a look of awe—she was completely captivated by one of his creations. One of the stupid paintings he almost loathed, simply because it was a symbol of the self he lost—because it was meaningless to him; no memory behind what drove him to paint it, or how he was feeling at the time, not even an approximate date as to when he made it.

But with the way Devi reviewed his work with such adoration… now, he felt pride. Real pride in his former abilities, and a deep, desperate desire to create something now that would make her react like this. Her expression could drive him mad; looking so brilliant and excited, with that bright smile, and eyes that shimmered just as brightly. His shoulders raised up to his ears in an attempt to quell is elation.

“Do you have more like this?” She turned her attention up to him with a grin, and Johnny held in a shiver.

“Oh—yes!” He nodded, happy to offer her more of what was currently invigorating her. “I do… but most of them are very large. Like, full-wall-size large, so they’re down in the basement… Perhaps another time?”

A nervous laugh accompanied his suggestion, and Devi nodded without argument, though a soft smile remained. She already knew what horrors he’d committed down there, and wasn’t keen on venturing down into what was formerly a demon’s torture den. Maybe next time, if there was a next time, she would have the bravura to follow him into the fucking abyss.

For now, though, she would remain satisfied with her newly excavated treasures—she could already feel her own inspiration spinning in her head in response to such fantastically morbid art. Something like these but the size of a mural? Now that she wanted to see!

They continued rooting through Johnny’s amassed garbage for a couple more hours, spearheaded by Devi’s eagerness to rescue as many paintings as she could from the bones of the decrepit prison that had stolen their creator away from them in the first place. By the time they were packing away all of the works that Devi wanted to bring back to the apartment, it was nightfall.

“Safe travels.” Devi commented with a smile to the stack of canvases tucked away in the back of Johnny’s car, then heaved the trunk lid closed.

Johnny stood off to the side nearby, surveying the night sky with a lofty smile. It had been a very long time since he stood in this driveway, watching the clouds drift over the starlit darkness in wispy smears. It was almost surreal how strangely foreign it felt now, but after the months of his nightly backdrop being the city’s lousy view, most often from Devi’s apartment windows, he had forgotten one of the few benefits to living in an unlit, ‘quiet’ suburb.

“What a lovely evening.” He hummed absentmindedly, and Devi turned to him with a questioning look, before moving her focus up above them.

“Yeah.” She breathed with a matching smile, and crossed her arms over her chest while she took in the view.

“On nights like this—when I lived alone—I’d always like to go up to the Hill.” Johnny said, eyes still trained on the glittering sky. Devi looked to him curiously again, and whether he felt her stare, or realized the significance of that spot between the two of them, he quickly turned to meet her with wide eyes. Devi snorted a short laugh, never taking her eyes off of him.

“Do you… want to go?” She asked him with dubious smile. Johnny stiffened at the question, grimacing at his carelessness.

“Oh—no, no, not at all! I’d never! That’s not what I—” He stopped, registering her tone only after he started his denials. “Um, well… I mean I would but, I’m not saying… I guess; do you want to go?”

Devi’s smile crinkled upwards more, teasingly, then she readjusted her arms while she looked off in thought.

She had already dredged through Johnny’s shitty little house of horrors, was she really prepared to delve even further into her freshly revived emotions tonight? It wasn’t like the hilltop was particularly connected to anything bad that happened that night, but it was still connected to said night, intricately-so. She drummed her fingers on her bicep as she debated.

She was very happy to be out of residence 777, but being there had brought her a little bit of peace. It wasn’t much, but a few hours’ worth of sifting through artwork was now the most time she had spent there, and it made the fading memories of Johnny’s Pillsbury-Doughboy-influenced attempt on her life a little less predominant. It wasn’t like she had any intention of spending more time there, but Devi did not like having any lingering fear for a dirty, eldritch-demon-housing shack, and the fact she could bear even a second inside with her head held high made her very proud.

So if she could handle such vicious, lingering resentment, surely she could handle a quick visit to a place coated with softer, waxy memories, accompanied by the individual that had made them so bitter.

“Sure.” Devi said finally, prompting a surprised half-smile from her companion. “The clouds are clearing, even.”

Johnny grinned fully, and took note of the brilliant moon starting to peer out from behind the thin clouds. He tried to quell his excitement as he urged Devi to the car, and quickly hopped into the driver’s side to begin the trip farther out of town.

A FEW HUNDRED FEET ABOVE THE CITY:

Johnny was already regretting his request to visit his cliffside spot.

The drive out had been as casual as all their drives were now, with idle chatter about plans for the coming days and mockery over whichever handful of bad movies they’d ingested recently. The only real difference was that it was Johnny driving tonight, and with that being the case, the music droning beneath their conversation was marginally quieter.

But, as the vehicle climbed the dirt road to the top of the hill, Johnny had become more engrossed with the details that were so comfortable and pleasant.

Things were too pleasant. The mood was too kind and light, with the crunching gravel below the car’s tires, and Devi’s tittering laughter over something dumb he’d said. It reminded him far too intimately of the atmosphere that surrounded them that night, on that damned date. How stupid, he thought as the car came to a gentle stop at the peak of the mountain’s height, that it would be such airy, nice sentiments that tore and ripped the edges of his comfort zone.

After taking a moment to walk the measly fence that skirted the edge of the cliff, he and Devi both plopped down on the end of the car’s hood. Devi sat loosely, head tilted upwards as she enjoyed the first breeze the summer season had bothered to offer her. Johnny’s posture closed in tighter the longer he watched Devi relaxing.

She was so beautiful, wonderful—the same way she was before, maybe even more so. He could hardly stand to look at her, with her skin almost iridescent under the yellowing moonlight, and her sharp, blade-like hair cutting across the stars, almost dark enough to fool the eye into thinking someone had carved two pointed shapes from the shimmering sky itself. Johnny turned his gaze to the crusty earth below, and tried to steady his mind.

“Haven’t seen a view like this in a while.” Devi murmured, eyes transfixed on the flashing of some neon signs in the downtown area. Johnny only hummed in reply.

“I was actually up in the mountains maybe… half a year ago now? But it was waaay over… there.” She pointed to an adjacent set of hills further south. Johnny lifted his head and focused on the area she was pointing to with a curious look.

“I think it was that one.” Devi said half-committally, followed by a laugh. “That was the night that plane hit my apartments—y’know, the one I told you about, with the psychic fat lady downstairs and all?”

“Ah.” He replied with a nod of comprehension. “I’m sure that was quite a sight.”

“It was. Tenna and I sat up there for like an hour before the fire finally died down. A morbidly magnificent sight—even if the burnt fat lady smell permeated all the way up here.” Devi punctuated the comment with a mean laugh, and Johnny couldn’t help but join in her cackling. Dark humor was so delightful.

As their laughter quieted, Devi set her palms flat behind her and leaned back a ways to sigh out her last chuckles. Johnny watched her with a warm smile, as captivated as always by her every move.

He loved her laugh, and being the spark that set it off always filled him with immense pride and glee. He was fortunate that her sense of humor had consistently been on the same frequency as his own, and that she was sharp enough to match, and even outrun him, in verbal banter. It made it rather fun to back-and-forth, and send each other into hysterics. They did so quite frequently at the bookstore, though if Devi wasn’t on a break, they had to muffle themselves to an extent, lest a customer complain.

A gentle push of wind across his face reminded Johnny where he was, and intertwined that knowledge with his current train of thought. His heart pulsed with sinking remorse as he remembered the events that followed their first visit to the Hill.

“I wish I’d declined.” He said suddenly, voice low.

“Huh?” Devi turned to look at him, but Johnny remained slouched forward, elbows balanced on his knees.

“When you asked me to the movies,” he clarified. “I wish I had declined.”

Devi was taken off-guard by that, but shortly scoffed, rolling back into her leaning position with a slight smile.

“Why’s that?”

Johnny finally raised his head with a look of vaguely-annoyed disbelief.

“What d’you mean ‘why’s that’?” He grunted, and Devi breathed a quick laugh at his persnickety tone. He couldn’t help but smile too, though it fell away nearly as fast as it appeared.

“Because I could have spared you… all of this.” Johnny continued. “…I’d wanted to—to say ‘no’, I mean… out of habit. But I couldn’t because I just… really wanted to go. It sounded like so much fun, I thought it would be… fun.”

He hugged himself, staring out into the darkness of the road as his thoughts led him into a myriad of ‘what if’s. Devi observed his shape with a small frown; she was very much accustomed to Johnny’s habit of allowing his emotions to swallow him up, but at this point, she felt it was pointless for him to wallow in his regrets to such a pitiful degree. Their relationship had turned pretty big, fucking corner, recently, after all.

“Was it fun?” She asked him finally, smiling like she already knew. Johnny pouted at her.

“…Well, yes.” He sighed again. “If you don’t count the attempted murder, or the immense ass-beating you gave me after.”

Devi spat out another laugh at that, and looked down to Johnny with a tired smile when he tilted his head backwards to frown about it.

“—or the fact I got you infected with lose-your-creativity-and-kill-people disease!” He snarled, and laid back fully on the car’s hood to sulk. “I just—wouldn’t that have been better? If I just said ‘no, thank you’, and we kept being friends, and maybe you had found some nice person to date that wouldn’t try to kill you?”

“And you could’ve just gone on murdering for that wall-thing forever?” Devi asked him smugly. His eyes went wide at that, and he stopped to consider the idea.

He wanted to argue that no, the creature probably would have had him die at some point—he long suspected that it was the wall-thing’s desire to regain control over it’s doughy minions that had allowed him to die in the first place—but he couldn’t know that. It was very possible that he might have gone on for his whole life, or at least long enough to allow Mr. Fuck the autonomy that he so desperately desired, and who knows how detrimental to the world that could have been.

Devi observed Johnny’s uneasy, sad expression with a shake of her head.

“Look Nny, the thing is, if there’s an eldritch fucklord that births mental parasites, that target artists and-the-like, to gorge itself on until their victim is reduced to a worthless meat-husk, I want to know about it.” She gave him nod before looking off. “I don’t have to like it, but considering that it exists and it’s happening, I’m not going wish for blissful ignorance, blabbering spittle onto my bib like a fucking infant about bullshit that doesn’t matter. And if you just learned of a plague like that, wouldn’t you want the same?”

Johnny stared at her from his spot on the hood, surprised by her response. He couldn’t believe how easily her blunt take on things still sideswiped him from time to time; he really should be used to this by now.

“Heh… yeah, I guess so.” He looked off with a hesitant smile. Devi smirked with another roll of her head.

“And as absolutely horrible as it is, my… involvement meant that you died before things really got ugly… I’m still not happy about it, but I guess if you couldn’t truly ‘die’ no matter what, it’s not so bad, especially seeing as you’re free now.” She paused. “Well, mostly free.”

“GEE, THANKS.” Johnny laughed, and Devi arched into another laugh too. The pair giggled over their horrid luck for a few minutes, before Johnny’s mind settled on an old memory.

“Hey, do you remember that joke you said, after you told me you liked me?” His smile stretched wide enough to give a mischievous squint to his eyes. “About how you’d kill me?”

Devi blinked at him, mouth drawn low, before breaking into laughter again. She redoubled into hysterics when Johnny joined her, and she held her face in her hands while he gave the metal beneath them a few slaps amidst his cackling.

“WELL, YOU DID.” He reiterated the point, and Devi gave him a shove.

“Shut UP, Nny!” She laughed, and turned away from him to try and quiet herself, with limited success.

OFF TO A NEARBY 24/7:

Johnny winced his left eye shut as he gave the straw of his Brain-Freezy one more voracious suck, hoping to gather the last of the watery remains of sugar from the air bubbles at the bottom of his cup, but only really achieved making a repeating, cacophonous sound. Devi smacked him with the back of her hand, in a wordless way of saying ‘knock that off’.

They had stopped at the first 24/7 they saw, one on a normally unventured side of town, to pick up some snacks before returning home. The large advertisement in the window featuring disgusting gas station nachos had reminded them both that they hadn’t eaten since early that afternoon, and the lure of 2-for-1 deals on just about everything was hard to pass up.

“I think you got it all.” Devi said, flicking a crumb of tortilla chip off the corner of her mouth with her thumb. Johnny pouted at her before flinging the empty cup cleanly into the nearby garbage can.

“I’m trying not to be wasteful!” He defended himself as he started the walk back to the car. The rub of material against his neck reminded him of the goddamn collar he wore, and how the leash Devi had insisted on putting on him before they entered the store was, in fact, on him. She needed to have a little more faith! Just because they were in an even shittier part of town than normal, didn’t mean he would run off on a murderous rampage at the drop of a hat!

“Oh, you’re so frugal, my wallet thanks you.” Devi replied with a sarcastic smile, matching his stride as they made their way to the side of the building, where Johnny had parked.

Just when they thought they’d escaped humanity unscathed, a quick whistle hit their ears, and both eyerolled in the direction of God, to ask him with mixed expressions ‘why’. Devi and Johnny both turned toward the source of the sound, Devi looking somewhere between bored and irritated, and Johnny glowering just past her shoulder. She was unsurprised to see the group of men chatting idly on the other side of the small parking lot gesture in her direction.

“Heyyy, that’s kinda kinky—WOAH.” One of the men called, then stopped suddenly. He pushed himself off of the side of a car and started to approach them. “—No way!”

Just as both Devi and Johnny’s fight-or-flight responses had reached their peaks, the man spoke again.

“DEVI?” He said loudly, with an obnoxious smile. Devi blanched. The man had very few features she would find memorable; patchy dyed hair, brown eyes, tall and thin—could have been any number of guys she’d hung out with before… except for the eyepatch.

“Eddie!?” Devi replied with a horrified expression, and Johnny’s irises snapped to her, shocked that she actually knew this person. Eddie’s lip perked up further on one side, and he slapped a hand over his cheek with a laugh.

“WOW, it’s been forever, huh?” He gleamed. “But I knew it was you, cause of your face.”

Devi only stared at him with vague disgust, still too shocked to fully absorb the situation. She hadn’t hardly thought about this particular idiot since high school, the recent retelling of their failed date withstanding. Johnny scowled at their uninvited guest, but did his best to hold back the volatile feelings he already had churning in his gut.

“Who’s this little guy you’re with? Your boyfriend?” Eddie asked casually, without a braincell to stop him. He set the side of his hand against his mouth, and leaned further in Johnny’s direction, as if to whisper, only to say at a completely normal volume; “Don’t count on getting too much outta her—she’s hot, but she’s a total prude.”

Johnny stared at him with incensed disbelief at the comment, as did Devi. With thin pupils, Johnny jutted forward, still crouched, to rebuke the remark.

“NEVER speak about Devi in such a repugnant way—in fact, never speak about her at ALL, you cycloptic knuckle-dragger!” He hissed. Devi could only cringe as her mouth twitched into an uncomfortable scowl.

“Hey, don’t blame me for warning you dude, it’s true!” Eddie defended himself. “I took her out, paid for everything, and she wouldn’t even kiss me. I had to be dying before she agreed to at least sit on my face.”

“I NEVER SAT ON YOUR FACE, YOU DUMBASS.” Devi snapped, face hot. “That was the AIRBAG.”

“—See! That’s even worse. My dying wish, and she’d sooner just let me die empty-handed.”

“SHUT UP!” Johnny seethed, bowing out his stance. “Shut you fucking mouth—I’ll cut your dirty GODDAMN THROAT! You don’t deserve the privilege of speaking, you boorish ogre—I’d be doing the world a damn FAVOR redirecting your vocal chords into your ear canals! Maybe then you could hear the UNBRIDLED FILTH THAT EXPECTORATES OFF YOUR TONGUE!! I—”

While he ranted, Devi stood beside him, vibrating in insult. Eddie was her first ‘real’ date, and he was horrible one at that—she would have gladly never seen his dumb ass again. In fact, she had kind of hoped he had died in different sexually-motivated car wreck in the years since she last saw him, but obviously she had no such luck. The smarmy fucker, acting like he knew her, acting like he had any comprehension of who she was, or what drove her physically. BASTARD! Ugly, horrible bastard!

Devi bared her teeth; she wanted retribution! Her body ached, with pulsating, twitching fists, to obliterate Eddie where he stood. Her mind floated away from level-headedness, her anger coaxing her ever-closer to violence, tantalizing her with the beautiful release of emotion she’d be granted with a few kicks to his head. But, as her trembling hand squeeze the handle of Johnny’s leash, her cracking logic had a quick, hateful idea. She didn’t give herself time to reconsider, she just wanted out of this situation.

With wide, angry eyes, Devi stared at Eddie, then released her hold on Johnny and retreated to the car.

Johnny felt the tether around his neck go slack, and swiveled his head around in surprise to watch Devi’s withdrawing form.

“Aren’t you going to stop me!?” He yelled to her. Devi opened the car door and turned back to him with a glare.

“Stop you from what?” She said with a biting tone, then dipped into the car with a loud SLAM! of the door.

Johnny stared at where she had just stood, dumbfounded, then moved his attention to the loose leash dangling from his neck. After a few moments of consideration, a grim smile spread across his face. He was rather certain that Devi was, quite literally, turning a cheek to this exchange—and if she was leaving it up to him, Eddie would not be leaving unscathed for those repulsive comments.

He raised his head, and his posture, with dark shadows swallowing up his grinning face. Eddie cocked an uncertain eyebrow when he heard the creak of the vehicle’s trunk, and only looked more confused when met with the sight of the tire iron that appeared from behind Johnny’s back.

Johnny stepped closer, happy that the exchange had garnered the attention of the rest of Eddie’s little group; he hoped they would intervene, they were all just as shitty in his eyes! A set of eerily slow laughs emitted from his throat, that slowly hiccupped into something maniacal, as he brought up his weapon up above his head.

“That was baaad, Devi.” Johnny sung in a teasing tone while he drove, blood still smattered on his face and hands. Devi sulked in the passenger seat, glaring at the street signs as they passed them.

“Whatever.” She grumbled. Johnny giggled in reply; he rather liked when she was feeling vindictive.

“NOT TO WORRY,” He boasted earnestly. “I didn’t kill any of them—I knew you wouldn’t like that, so I only gave them all a some blunt-force trauma, just a bit of facial bludgeoning, promise!”

Devi looked to him with a grouchy frown, but rolled her eyes away after a moment, face falling into mock-boredom.

“Thank you, Nny.” She sighed. At least someone had some self-control tonight. She could only hope that her choice to let Johnny dish out the ass whooping that her wrath had so desperately craved had no adverse effects on his self-restraint—they’d both worked too hard to ruin it over Eddie of all things.

“You are ever-so welcome, Devi.” Johnny smiled, happy to exact some vengeance in the name of his dearest friend.

“Who was that moron, anyhow?” He asked casually. Devi huffed.

“Just some dick I dated in high school.” Another eyeroll. “He was the first guy to ever ask me out—I told you how it went, didn’t I? The date was bland and meaningless, but he thought it went well. The genius tried to convince me to screw him while he was driving, and when I said ‘no’ he tried to push the point and crashed the fucking car into a tree. Dumbass.”

Devi sneered at the memory, but was quickly shaken out of her thoughts when the car took a violent turn, leaving her to yelp and grasp onto the center console for balance. She snapped her head in Johnny’s direction as he drove at an increasingly fast speed.

“Nny, what the Hell!” She shouted at him, but Johnny was too focused on the road.

“WELL YOU DIDN’T SAY THAT!” He replied aggressively. “I’M GOING TO FINISH KILLING HIM.”

“NO, NNY.” Devi yelled, drastically grabbing for him, or the wheel, or both. Johnny shrugged her away, doing what he could to use his shoulder to keep her from interfering with his burning desire to murder. “Johnny!!”

(He turned back around, don’t worry.)

NEXT...

#FINALLYYYY WEEE #chapter #jthm #devnny #jtrm #mine #im v happy.. to have this done #7.5k words!! AT LONG LAST

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bobauthorman · 4 years

Text

A Semblance of Reasoning (Part) 2

And now we go to the B-Team, or the “2nd A-Team” as called by the CRWBY, I think. (Could be wrong). Now, I should mention that because their development is not central to the progression of the show (Although it is important), we’re not going to see much discussion on how their Semblances have evolved. Because they haven’t changed. At all, really. And because we only get bits and pieces of their backstory compared to Team RWBY, it’ll be harder to determine the events that led to them developing the powers they had, so this will require a great deal of guesswork and should not necessarily be treated as canon.

Jaune Arc. It only took 5 Volumes, but he gains the power of Aura Amp. It’s basically him using his own aura to bolster the aura of others, such as speeding up their healing, and boosting the power of their Semblances. It’s pretty obvious that this is partially another Joan of Arc allusion, as she reportedly never took part in battles but only directed the troops, so Jaune now has the power to embolden his teammates and others. Up until V5, the only hint we got about this power was in V1, when Jaune unleashed a flash of light to heal himself from Cardin’s beat-down. However, since it took so long, we can easily guess how his Semblance became what it was.

Following V3, a major chip on Jaune’s shoulder has been the death of Pyrrha, his partner, mentor, and confident. He’s clearly haunted by how he couldn’t help her in her final battle, or even stop her from taking part. These feelings are so strong that when he’s confronted with Cinder, he throws himself into combat with her, despite being outmatched. And his own guilt towards his own failures is such that he doesn’t think his own life is worth anything. So much that even the prospect of death doesn’t cause him to develop a New Power To Save The Day. But when Weiss is mortally wounded, his Semblance appears; I believe that it was his desperation to save her life, coupled with his own willingness to sacrifice his own, that caused his Semblance to become what it is. He’s essentially giving his own life-force to fuel her regeneration. It hasn’t evolved much since then, but as he’s moving away from his self-destructive crusading tendencies, there no telling how or if it will change.

Nora Valkyrie: Hers is called High Voltage, and it’s basically absorbing electricity to become stronger. Nora herself tells us that she learned what her Semblance was when a bolt of lightning struck her once. “Crazy Thursday”. I personally subscribe to the theory that rather than ‘discovering’ she developed the Semblance split-second to survive what should have been a fatal accident. Of Team JNPR, she’s the most energetic, and the CRWBY once jokingly stated that she ‘eats’ Ren’s energy. I think this may be more truthful, as its possible that she is subconsciously stealing the electricity out from his body, slowing him down slightly.

The Semblance hasn’t changed at all since it first appeared, but how it’s used best illustrates the tone of the story; When Nora’s Semblance was first revealed, it was as a joke and a way to easily stomp Team BRNZ in Volume 3. When it’s used again Volumes 4 and 5 against Tyrian and Hazel, the stakes are higher and so she’s far more serious when she uses her Semblance.

Pyrrha Nikos: The “Invincible Girl” has the power of Polarity, or magnetic manipulation, and how she uses it best describes her character. Rather than using it to bash people with chunks of metal like Magneto (X-Men) or Eustace Kidd (One Piece), Pyrrha predominately uses her Semblance to subtly manipulate how people she’s fighting move, essentially controlling the flow of the fight. As Cinder notes, while Pyrrha seems destined for victory, what she’s really doing is taking her destiny into her own hands.

It’s possible that Pyrrha developed this style to help down-play her victories in battle, appearing to win purely by skill that anyone could develop and not by a one-of-a-kind Semblance. Pyrrha has clearly been uncomfortable with the pedestal she’s been placed on, and perhaps this is her way of trying to regain some control over her life. It should be noted that the few times that Pyrrha foregoes the subtle approach and full-on blitzes people, she ends up losing. Sadly, we don’t get any possible explanation as to how she could have developed her Semblance as of yet.

Lie Ren: Ren’s Semblance is called Tranquility, which is basically creating a field where Grimm cannot find whoever’s inside it. Nora describes it as “Can mask emotions”. Given the Grimm are drawn to negative feelings, this is a useful Semblance to have. We also see firsthand how Ren created this Semblance; As shown in the flashback of “Kuroyuri” shows that he gained it during the Grimm attack that destroyed his village, which was also where he met Nora. And like Nora, in order to avoid certain death, he gained the power he needed at that moment. When Little Lie uses his Semblance for the first time, you can see him calming down, a preferable state compared to the high-octane fear he was no doubt, and necessary so he and Nora can escape the danger they were in.

Like Nora, Ren’s Semblance hasn’t changed at all. But I think we can gauge Ren’s character development through the series by it. When we first meet Ren, he is the calmest character on the show, the ultimate straight man to Nora’s comic, manic energy. However, as the series takes a turn towards the serious, Ren has shown that even he has his limits. That he’s prone to acting out, and not in a funny way. Bursts of anxiety and emotion. Now I did suggest that Nora was subconsciously eating his electricity with her own Semblance, I now wonder if Ren was using his Semblance to stay calm and better deal with her…Nora-ness. But this was all within the confines of the well-protected Vale. But in the post-Volume 3 status quo, Ren has to use his Semblance more frequently to better protect Team RNJR during their hike to Haven Academy. Even with Qrow’s secret protection, this means that Ren’s Aura levels are constantly being used, and as such his ability to stay calm is now frayed. Ren’s one of those characters who’s character, rather than shaping his Semblance, was shaped by how he used his Semblance. However, through Volumes 6 and 7, Ren begins using his Semblance in tandem with Jaune’s, symbolizing how more effective they are when they work together instead of going at it alone.

As of “War”, Ren’s Semblance has evolved, adding in him the ability to see the emotions of others. This may seem like a bit inexplicable, but looking back, we could see bits and traces of this ability being shown beforehand. In “Tipping Point”, he was able to seemingly sense Tyrian’s approach. And in “The Greatest Kingdom” and “A Night Off”, he seemed to react to the approach of the Atlas Elites, the Ace-Ops and Ironwood. All of the aforementioned characters have shown to be highly emotional, even if the Atlasians tend to high their feelings with epic poker faces. Throughout Volumes 7 and 8, Ren has been struggling with trying to communicate with how he feels about various things. Given how closed-off he was acting, his tendency to shut people out meant he would in turn have difficulty gauging the feelings of others. Recently before his Semblance evolved, Ren had let both his positive and negative feelings out- In “Fault”, he vented the rage he felt towards the apparent futility of their situation, and in “War”, expressed the importance of the people in our lives. By finally demonstrating how he felt, for ill and for good, Ren was able to both understand others and his Semblance shows that.

#RWBY Analysis #A Semblance of reasoning #RWBY #Semblance #JAuneArc #Jaune Arc #Lie Ren #Nora Valkyrie #Pyrrha Nikos #Analysis #High Voltage #Aura Amp #Tranquility #Polarity

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of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog · 4 years

Text

Snippets In Time

Commission for the great @auspiciousagape! I hope I did your characters justice! Commission info is here!

The only sounds in the library were the rustle of book pages, the scratch of a pen on paper, and the faint hum of the heating vents.

Marcus, ruler of Antartets, was hiding from his master of ceremonies under the pretext of studying the books of diplomacy he hadn’t gotten to before being crowned. In reality, he was taking notes from a book on chemistry assigned by his tutor about a year ago. He was very aware that this was not something most rulers concerned themselves with. But he was determined to learn anyway.

His ears twitched upright, and he paused writing to listen closely, tail moving in slow, uneasy lashes. No, the footsteps outside the library continued on; not someone intent on disturbing him, then. He sighed quietly, relaxed a little, and got on with his work.

It was hard to work when he was so tense, and also just hated the subject material. But this was good practice, for if he ever had to talk to a chemist and know what the hell they were going on about, or take notes of things like military reports. There were currently no reports he couldn’t leave to his generals and spymaster, and then get the gist of later, but what if something really bad did come up?

He was worrying too much about different things. He had to focus.

If Rosaline were here, she could help him study…

No.

Marcus’s grip on his pen tightened so hard the stylus creaked, and he clenched his teeth. No. He would not think of her right now. Focus on molecules, Marcus.

But then he turned a page, and saw a piece of paper, flattened by the weight of the pages. He picked it up, frowning, and turned it over to read it.

Marcus!

I hope you haven’t given up taking proper notes in this dry tome. If you want some help, there’s a book in the section for when we were kids that has really good explanations; it helped me a lot, it might help you. If you’re doing fine with the note-taking, good! I’m so proud of you, Marcus! Love, Rose

The paper was very old. Probably several years.

Marcus stared at the paper, and considered ripping it to pieces and throwing it in the trash. But… this was the first note he’d found from her in about a year. They used to leave notes in books for each other all the time. Her cruel words rang in his head—had they been cruel? The more time passed, the more uncertain he became. But he’d cut contact already, there was no going back. And even if she hadn’t meant to hurt him, she still had. Surely that counted as something he had a right to be angry about.

His lip trembled, but he bit it, hard. No, it had been for the best. He shouldn’t worry about this right now. He was fine.

He stood up, his intention being to throw the note in the trash—but instead, he found himself walking to the section of children’s learning-books, and kneeling down to look at the ones on the bottom shelf. His ears flattened as he realized that Rosaline’s note was right; there was a children’s book on chemistry. He tucked the note in his jacket and opened the book.

Again, Rosaline was correct. This was much more accessible; a bit simple, but simple was good when he needed to rest his brain. He took the book back to the desk and read it, and took notes, and compared the information to the bigger, wordier, drier book. He carefully did not dwell on this piece of Rosaline that had survived so long, just to reach forward and help him gently.

Of course, he had to stop eventually, if only because his upper body ached from being hunched over writing. He stretched carefully, yawning widely, and closed his books, setting aside his journal as he capped his pen. Time for more royal work. He grimaced, but there was really no help for it.

As he stood, the front of his jacket crinkled, reminding him that he still had Rosaline’s note. Should he throw it away? It was just making him feel guilty. But would destroying it be selfish?

Okay, yes. He missed her.

Marcus scrubbed his eyes on the back of his hand. Damn it. All this work to keep up his father’s legacy and he still had bouts of misery over an old friend. If only he could forget without resorting to highly illegal but highly effective magic.

“Marcus? You in here?”

He hastily plastered on a fake smile and turned to see his friend Jayson padding towards him, ears and tail alert. “Hello,” Marcus said with false cheer. “What brings you here?”

“Just checking on you,” Jayson replied blithely, but there was the faintest look of worry on his face. “Are you alright?”

Marcus really wished Jayson didn’t know him so well, or that he wasn’t so bad at hiding his feelings. “I’m fine, Jayson, truly. Just… tired from notes-taking.”

“Mm-hm,” Jayson replied skeptically, then came forward more to put his hand on Marcus’s arm. “Come on, the master of ceremonies was being dramatic about how he’ll die of apoplexy if you don’t show up and let him tell you his glorious plans for the next banquet.”

Marcus made a face and Jayson grinned. “I hate that fusspot,” Marcus muttered. “Can’t I just get on with ruling and someone else can do the socializing?”

“Socializing is part of ruling, you know that,” Jayson told him, and tucked his arm through Marcus’s elbow. As usual, Marcus had to swallow hard to force down the butterflies in his stomach. Jayson was very free with affectionate touch with Marcus, which usually made other people frown, but Marcus… well, he liked it. For some odd reason that he didn’t like looking too closely at.

Jayson led him out of the library, but when they reached the hall, they separated; reluctantly, Marcus thought. Then Jayson smiled and said, “Come on, let’s go make that fusspot quiet down. He’s driving everyone else up the wall too.”

“Fine,” Marcus sighed, and resigned himself to his fate as a captive of the master of ceremonies.

He only remembered the note when he was undressing for bed.

He had asked to do his own undressing—well, he’d ordered it. His footmen had been surprised, but left him to it. And therefore none of them saw the way his face crumpled and his body tensed and his ears flattened. He just… wanted to see Rosaline again. Say sorry. Ask for clarification.

But he also really didn’t want to, not just because of shame, but the lingering, burning anger that hissed in the back of his mind that he didn’t need her, he didn’t need that kind of casual insults to his own father, when said father was dead and unable to defend himself. It was wrong of her to say she was glad of his death.

Marcus wiped his eyes on his sleeve, set his chin stubbornly, and got ready for bed.

And then he tucked the note in the drawer of his nightstand, and turned on his side away from it, and pretended it wasn’t there.

Jayson was working the next day, but Marcus had a free few hours, so he slipped away from the palace and headed to the House of Healing where Jayson worked. He wouldn’t distract his friend—just watch. Jayson was a joy to watch, so calm with his patients, with that little frown when he was concentrating, his eyes gleaming just so in the sunlight that came from the multitude of windows… Marcus shook his head and kept jogging through the streets of the capital until he reached the House. Silly thoughts.

The House was quiet when he got there; many patients were sleeping, and the Healer at the desk greeted Marcus softly, with a genuine smile.

“Jayson is just finishing his rounds,” she told him. “I’ll let him know you’re here, though.”

Marcus nodded and said “Thank you!” and sat down in the waiting room. Houses of Healing were almost like hospitals, but much… softer. There was magic here, to calm patients, to soothe, to help medicines and Healing take better. And they certainly didn’t look like hospitals, or smell like them. Marcus very much preferred the gentle touch of a Healer and their noxious but effective teas, over a doctor or nurse and their injections. It wasn’t distrust of science, just preference for something that felt safer.

And he preferred Jayson’s touch and his teas over any other Healer.

Marcus kicked his feet a little and fingered the buttons of his jacket nervously. He’d come here to visit, but also to ask Jayson’s opinion. So he should probably stop lingering over memories of Jayson’s soft hands and start thinking of what to say.

It wasn’t long before Jayson ducked into the waiting room, looking around alertly; Marcus jumped up, and Jayson spotted him, and grinned. They met halfway across the space between them, and Jayson offered, “It’s a bit snoozy today, do you want to go out in the garden to talk?”

“Yeah!”

The garden was beautiful. A large expanse of wandering paths, many benches, spaces for wheelchair-users to sit in sun or shade as they preferred, and lots of beautiful flowers and trees. There were a few children racing each other and laughing; one had an oxygen mask and tank, and the others often slowed to make sure she was alright and keeping up. Marcus smiled at them, then remembered why he was here.

“Let’s sit in the shade,” Jayson suggested, his ears twitching. “I was dealing with a patient with a fever and we had to heat the room. I’m a bit over all this sunlight right now.”

“Fair enough,” Marcus replied, and they wandered to the first shady spot they could get.

Jayson sighed gratefully as he flopped down on a bench, stretching his arms along the back. Marcus sat just a little bit closer than custom dictated. There was no one to see, after all.

“I really hope that patient gets better soon,” Jayson commented, frowning worriedly. “He’s had a fever for three days, and nothing has been able to break it. We’ll have to use the more powerful magic, but he’s already delicate.”

“Why didn’t you use magic in the first place?” Marcus asked, surprised.

“Because it was in his papers that he wished for magic to be the last resort.” Jayson rubbed the side of his head, wincing. He probably had a killer headache. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, though. He was getting better, that’s why it was safe to leave him. Maybe he’s not as delicate as we feared.” Then he shook his head and smiled at Marcus. “Sorry, I know you didn’t come here to hear me complain. Is everything alright?”

Marcus shrugged. “Yes, but… well, I would like your input with a small matter.”

The smile vanished, and Jayson sat up straighter. “Marcus, you’re only that formal when something’s wrong. Are you okay?”

Marcus felt a rush of warmth that Jayson was worried, and a tightening of shame in his gut. Wordlessly, he took out some of the book-notes he’d been collecting, and held them out to Jayson. The Healer took them and read them quickly, beginning to frown. Marcus just looked at him while he did.

Jayson was handsome. That was just a fact. Marcus had heard others their age saying that his fangs were too sharp, or that his ears were too horsey, or that you could never trust a cat with a face so sly. But that was, in Marcus’s opinion, bullshit. Even just his eyes, golden as honey and gleaming in the sun, were enough to make up for any of these so-called “cons”.

And sweet. Jayson was sweet, too. Kind and gentle and cheerful. Marcus could spend hours waxing rhapsodic about Jayson.

Which was a little frightening.

Finally, Jayson looked up. “Rose,” he said, “Rosaline?”

Marcus nodded.

“How old are these?”

“A few years,” Marcus answered quietly. “I just… don’t know how to feel about them.”

Jayson’s face softened, and he put his hand gently on Marcus’s forearm. Marcus only then realized that his fists were clenched tightly.

“It’s alright to be confused,” Jayson replied. “You were friends for a while, and now you’re not. It’s normal to not know how to feel about that.”

“I’m angry, Jayson,” Marcus whispered, staring at his fists. “I’m so angry, but… I miss her, too. She was my best friend. And I drove her away.”

Jayson let go of his arm, but only to wrap his own around Marcus and pull him closer, into a firm hug. Marcus let him, feeling… safe.

“I can see that,” Jayson murmured. “It’s not every day that kind of thing happens.” He hesitated, then asked gently, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Marcus shook his head. He was too ashamed.

“Alright.”

They sat there silently for a few minutes, watching the breeze ruffle the small pond across from them. Marcus finally relaxed, his ear pressed to Jayson’s shoulder, listening to his heartbeat. It was soothing, as was the warm arm around him, telling him he was safe and it was going to be okay. The faint scent of herbs and sweat drifted off of Jayson.

Marcus never wanted this moment to end.

And that, of course, was what made his half-closed eyes fly wide open, and stiffen his entire body. Oh. Oh no. Oh no.

“Marcus? Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he replied automatically, beginning to tremble, his face turning red. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Jayson asked, “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“I’m fine.”

Jayson shushed him softly and let go. “Alright. Okay. Do you want to go back? I can walk with you—”

“No, it’s fine.” Marcus snatched the papers and jumped to his feet, trying not to meet Jayson’s worried eyes. “I’ll walk back on my own, it’ll be okay, promise.”

Jayson stood too. “Alright. If you want to talk about it some more, I have noon free all week.”

“I’ll remember that,” Marcus replied, and scurried away.

By the time he was halfway to the palace, he’d calmed down, and decided that the best course of action was to stifle this… crush. It would go away. It had to. He’d spent too long on this friendship for a crush to add complications.

What if it was more than a crush? What if it was actually, really—

No. Marcus shook his head firmly. It was just a crush. And he would push it away.

#writing #writing commisions #fantasy #it got angsty oh nooooo #commissions open

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