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zalrin · 3 years

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Dream SMP x Detroit: Become Human AU

DSMP x DBH AU Part 2

Background Information: I was inspired to do this after watching Tubbo's play-through of Detroit: Become Human. At first, I was planning on posting art with descriptions, but I'm over flowing with ideas and not enough artistic talent to hurry along...

Author's Note: Okay, I'm going to be completely honest. Both part 1 and part 2 are pretty much posted on impulse. I should be going to sleep because I have work in the morning, and I started on this post early with that thought in mind, but for some reason my computer is glitching... I've written this out almost three times T-T Everything was deleted at one point, with NOTHING SAVED, so I was nearly about to rage quit... Pray for me. My patience is not unlimited.

Aside from all that, please enjoy! I worked REALLY hard on this (even excluding all the technical issues) so I really do hope you enjoy!

Character Plots:

1. Technoblade

Technoblade, notoriously known as the rogue deviant, was always a mystery due to the fact that no one, not even CyberLife, knew what model android he was. This was due to the fact that Techno was actually not even an android, but a human. This all began at a young age of thirteen, when Techno started to question the set rules of society and how he fit into its rigid hierarchy. Although it was just a budding curiosity, one he didn’t expect to go anywhere, it soon took a drastic turn. After pretending to be an android, just for fun, he was appalled by how he was treated by his fellow humans. More so than the random civilians, he was more disgusted by the inaction of the police. As an act of rebellion for the present corruption of authority, he committed small acts of violence and destruction of public property. He promoted equality and spoke out against the tyrannical attitude of those in power. Due to him indiscriminately acting out against both humans and androids alike, fighting against anyone in power who became physical and bullied those weaker than them, public opinion slowly began to shift. He eventually went from a crazy anarchist to a modern-day robin hood, much to the government’s dismay. Even those that flocked to his side, joining his cause, were a good mix of both androids and humans. His growing popularity began to raise the urgency of his capture, making his name slowly climb up the Most Wanted list. Eventually, while on his many brushes and runs from the police, he met with Detective Kristin (before she was promoted to Lieutenant) and her android partner, Philza. After many encounters, Techno and Phil surprisingly became close friends. In fact, they became so inseparable that their relationship was more akin to family than just friends. Though Phil didn’t particularly condone Techno’s more violent methods, he still supported his cause from behind. Willing to dirty his hands and become the mole, Phil secretly fed Techno intel from classified files as well as supplying Techno with android fuel, aka. Blue Blood. It was only later that Techno revealed to Phil his human identity, Phil being the only one he ever disclosed that information to, but Phil swore to never reveal his secret. Besides, the fuel was necessary for Techno’s growing followers, eventually taking on the name of The Syndicate. Techno understood the reason Phil never openly supported him, even though the android was more than willing to. It was to protect his loved one, Kristin, who would eventually become his wife. Techno understood, even supported Phil, and worked harder to never be a burden to his closest friend. Suddenly, Techno’s reputation exploded when a video clip of him went viral on social media. Though the government tried to spin the story in their favor, the video captured the full extent of the event. Techno had fought off several CyberLife security officers and police forces, exhibiting exceptional fighting prowess, while also making off with a ton of android fuel. He and his team had tried to hijack the vehicle loaded with the goods mid-route but was caught and almost apprehended. However, the thing that raised his public opinion to his favor was not just his fighting capabilities, but also how little he endangered the civilians around him. Instead, it was the government officials who had unintentionally dragged innocent people into this chaotic fight, suspecting them to be on Techno’s side. Then, not long after his growing popularity, Techno and Dream teamed up, officially marking Technoblade’s name as number one on the FBI’s Most Wanted Fugitives list.

2. Dream

Clay, or better known as Dream, was once a star employee at CyberLife. He was actually one of the many brilliant minds that helped make CyberLife into the giant company that it is. However, Dream soon gave up his employment due to the many restrictions they had placed on his creative vigor. Instead, he pursued his own android business, taking on the name Dream for both branding purposes and to embody his own "dreams." Teaming up with fellow ex-employees, Sapnap and George, the three were an ambitious trio that were talented enough to eventually become a threat to CyberLife’s growing industry and monopoly over the android market. When Dream realized that his life was being targeted by CyberLife, even being threatened to either come back into their company or give up on his current business, he became more determined to grow his industry. This even propelled him to start designing his most prized creation, DreamXD. However, his unbending will soon began to falter. CyberLife took a different approach when they realized that Dream did not hold his life more dear than his company. They began to threaten not just his life but also the lives of his most trusted partners and friends. This finally forced Dream to worry, eventually driving his friends away. Dream knew Sapnap and George like the back of his hand. He knew that the two would stick by him, through thick and thin, so he didn’t even give them that choice. Instead, his attitude towards them got worse and worse, until they eventually cut all ties with him. That was the only way he believed he could protect them. However, Dream underestimated the effects his friends had on his mental stability. Eventually, without their presence, he became more insane from the combined pressure, stress, and loneliness. Soon, he realized that it was getting too dangerous to stay still and was forced into hiding. With little time, Dream only took the incomplete DreamXD with him and shook off those tailing him. Then, he left his most prized possession to his dear ex-partner and friend, George. Dream intentionally left DreamXD incomplete. He had created the android in his image and left him unfinished to gather experience and human emotions on his own. This was the only android in existence that had been designed not only to be a deviant, but to be a human. Even with high expectations for his own future, Dream never could shake off the feeling of death following close at his heels. DreamXD was created to be his contingency plan. In the event that Dream died before his goals were achieved, DreamXD was programmed to take over Dream’s human life, or the life of Clay. Of course, Dream knew that free will was a part of humanity. That’s why he left DreamXD with a choice. While forced into hiding by CyberLife, the company spread rumors about his capture and imprisonment. CyberLife hoped that it could lure out his loved ones, baiting Dream to come out of hiding, but they had underestimated him. They had failed to realize just how severely Dream had cut out all his friends and loved ones from his life, leaving no one behind. No one to look back for him, or so the two thought... Surprisingly, even on the run Dream was fairly rich. He had planned out many things in the event CyberLife truly carried out their threats, and hidden many resources to one day come back to. However, he could not leave the city. Not while his goal was still left unfinished. So this left him with no place to stay for long periods of time, leaving him essentially homeless. That’s when he reached out to Technoblade, whose infamy had grown exponentially. The two had similar goals and so easily agreed to a partnership. Technoblade wanted to take down the tyranny of the government, while Dream wanted to end CyberLife’s influence over the android market and quiet down his chaotic life. Since CyberLife was a large reason for the power corruption, the two found working together to be simple. Techno would help Dream by providing him a place to stay, as well as offering man power when available and needed. Dream, on the other hand, would assist with supplies and android repairs, using his expertise in androids to even upgrade their parts. However, outside of these agreements they wouldn’t get in one another's way. They would only provide assistance if their plans overlapped. The two had a good understanding of the nature of their relationship. They were neither friends nor enemies. Just partners. Nothing more, nothing less.

PREVIOUS PARTS: 1

Note: I'm sorry, but after writing all this over again, nearly from scratch, three times... I really can't be bothered to go back and fix anything. I know I could have done better, but I'm kind of defeated right now and a bit tired. Please understand and I really do hope you enjoyed the read! Feel free to leave a comment on what you thought of it or maybe ways to improve the story! I'm all ears (when I have free time) ^^ And thank you so much for all the likes on my previous post! I'm really happy that you all enjoyed it <3

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fanfalc-616 · 3 years

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Okay I have a new AU!! It’s called...

The Rights Of A Nindroid

This is chapter one!

Thanks to @occasionalincorrectquotes ,@321bluegalaxy , @ablackswansweet , and @akwardalienbean for giving me ideas (:<

When Zane wakes up that morning, the Bounty is quiet- likely because he gets up about an hour before the others usually do.

After checking the refrigerator, he decides to pick up some groceries for the team, despite it being Cole’s turn- the black ninja typically comes back with a surplus of junk food and relatively little amounts of healthy ingredients, no matter what Zane puts on the actual shopping list.

Messaging the others in order to inform them that he’ll be back shortly after their normal breakfast time, he heads out to the store, enjoying the quietness of the early morning.

He only makes it a few blocks away before a cop car pulls up beside him. Frowning, he pauses. Is there some kind of criminal roaming around here? Perhaps he could help apprehend them.

Two cops get out of the car, and Zane decides to voice the idea. “Is there a problem, officers?” He prompts. “Do you need assistance with it?”

The first cop- a brunet only just shorter than Zane- starts to speak. “I’m sorry about this, but we’re going to need-“

The second cop- a short blond- glares at the first as he interupts. “Actually, yeah, we could use your help. You’re the white ninja, right? Zane? It would be great if we could have your help with a government… “ He pauses a moment. “...project.”

The pause is somewhat concerning, but likely not a real issue. “I would be happy to assist.” He smiles. “If you tell we the location, I could have my teammates join us and also-“

“It would be better if it was just you.” The brunet interrupts.

The other cop nods. “It’s a low profile thing.” He agrees. “And no offense to your teammates, but they usually grab a lot of attention.”

With a small chuckle, Zane nods. “That they do. If it is low profile, would it be better for me to ride with you? Or should I get a vehicle of my own?”

The brunet starts heading back to the car. “It would be better if you rode with us.” He decides.

So Zane gets in the back of the car, letting the two cops take charge of directions. Unsure of what level of volume would be appropriate, he elects to remain silent to avoid a possibly uncomfortable situation.

Soon enough, they reach an odd-looking facility that appears to belong to the government- and strangely enough, a quick GPS check shows that the site is non-existent, implying that it is a top-secret base of some sort.

Getting out of the car, Zane lets himself be led into the facility, warily eyeing the large number of security guards swarming the area.

“May I have more information on what this ‘project’ is?” He prompts, hand coming down to brush against one of his shurikens.

“We can talk more inside.” The taller cop tells him as they go up the doors. In order to get inside, he uses three complex key patterns, a vocal recognition pattern sensor, and a form of facial recognition scanner.

“That is quite elaborate.” Zane notes. “I take it this project is important.”

But he doesn’t say anything more on the matter when he’s taken back, nor when they insist on confiscating his weapons. The shurikens don’t matter all that much anyway, he is well versed in multiple martial arts.

As he’s led through the halls, he could almost swear that he can hear distant muffled screaming. But no one else seems to be affected, so he brushes it off as some distorted echo. After all, this is a government facility. It would be highly unlikely for something illegal enough to cause that much pain to be happening in a place like this.

Once taken into a medium-sized room- a room that has a mirror that is likely actually of one way glass- he is instructed to sit at a table, directly across from a government official.

“Hello, Zane.” The woman smiles. “I’m going to ask you a few questions. It’s going to be important for you to answer truthfully.”

Zane nods his confirmation, accompanying it with a verbal one. “I will answer them to the best of my ability.” After a moment of thought, he decides that it would be best to wait on asking his own queries until after they have asked theirs.

“Thank you. What was your creator’s full name?”

“Doctor Julien.” Zane answers the question without pause.

The woman shakes her head. “His full, legal name.” She corrects, glancing over at the mirror. The minor action confirms that it is, in fact, one way glass.

With a blink of surprise, Zane answers the question. He’s asked several more, all about his father and any possible relatives he may have. The second piece is negatory; his father was an only child and far too old for any immediate family members to be alive.

After six minutes and nine seconds, the woman smiles again. “Thank you, Zane. Someone will be back with you shortly.”

With that, she gets up and heads out, leaving Zane behind.

Puzzled by the questions and events, Zane attempts to send a message to his boyfriends in order to inform them that he will be later than he had expected- but strangely enough, it doesn’t go through. Frowning, he tries a second time, but he once again fails.

That’s mildly concerning, but likely has a logical explanation. Perhaps no one here can send messages as a way to increase the difficulty of hacking. Given the secrecy he has already seen, that would be reasonable.

So he waits patiently at the table, occasionally sneaking stealthy glances at the one way glass. Something about this situation seems suspicious, but there’s likely no real cause to it. Perhaps he has adopted part of Jay’s paranoid nature.

A smile finds him at the humorous thought, but before he has the chance to think on it further, the door to the room opens, and a new official walks in.

“Zane, it’s… nice to meet you. I’m going to need you to fill out some papers.” The man tells him in a rather rude tone.

Zane chooses not to comment on his unpleasant mannerisms. “I would be happy to.” He gives a friendly smile, hoping that staying composed and being affable may help with what is bothering the official.

He begins to fill out the papers he was given, but as he goes on, the questions seem to grow more and more invasive, until he finds himself pausing.

Zane looks up from the paper, setting his pencil down. “My apologies, but I am not comfortable answering these questions. The way my systems work is rather a personal matter.”

“Yes, well, I need you to answer them anyway.” The man’s smile is tight and forced, not expressing happiness in the slightest.

“I’m not comfortable with that.” Zane repeats, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice. He stares the official down, making sure he knows that he will not be backing down on this matter.

“I didn’t ask if you were comfortable.” The man’s eyes express sharp malice as his false smile drops. “I told you to fill out the papers.”

“And I told you no.” Zane stands up abruptly, still holding cold eye contact. “I’ll be leaving now.”

A spark of anger lights in the man’s eyes. “No, you won’t.” He stands up as well, annoyance and hatred on his face. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I don’t believe that’s your call to make.” Zane doesn’t blink and doesn’t back down- but he does refrain from allowing the temperature to drop from his powers.

“It is, actually.” The official insists. Does he genuinely believe that?

This is not a debate that he’s willing to be having, so it is time to end the discussion. “Is that so?”

“Sit down, nindroid.” He says the final word as though it’s an insult rather than a descriptor. “This isn’t up to your programming.”

“My progr- just what, exactly, are you trying to imply?” Zane knows he should simply walk out the door, but at the moment, he is completely floored by the implications of his words.

Is he truly under the impression that-

His attention is grabbed by the door being opened, and his eyes widen in surprise when he sees a large group of security guards entering, all wielding laser guns not unlike the ones Cyrus Borg had designed.

Zane quick backs away, narrowing his eyes. So they plan to hold him hostage? “I must warn you that even unarmed, I am still a trained ninja. I recommend that you stand down.”

The guns are aimed at him, all centered on non-vital parts of his body- though any shots that hit would likely give them enough time to restrain him.

Then he must not get hit. And for that, he should make the first move.

Zane takes a step forward, attempting to blast a shield of ice to block off any possible shots. But much to his dismay, he discovers that his elemental powers are not working, and a quick scan confirms that the entire building is lined with vengestone in the walls.

This is… quite the situation.

A few shots are fired at him, and he quickly ducks, flipping backwards to avoid getting injured. Unfortunately, he discovers only a moment too late that they were expecting that, and a shot was fired to where he had dodged, leading to a laser blast grazing his right calf, making him stumble.

They must have analyzed his fighting style before he arrived in order to predict his movements!

This brief lapse in balance is all it takes for them to completely surround him. With narrowed eyes, he begins to start making the moves of spinjitzu, but his damaged leg causes him to fall. His failure to combat them with the tactic gives them the opportunity to handcuff him, as well as manhandle him onto his knees.

Zane glares up at the official. “I do not know what you have planned, but I must warn you that such an illegal action will have consequences, even for an official such as yourself. I-“

The man shakes his head. “Take it away.” He orders.

Zane finds himself being dragged along, unable to effectively resist the guards. Eventually, he’s taken to a new room with a set of rectangular locker-like cubbies.

With wide eyes, a sudden realization strikes him as he looks at the lockers, and he resumes his struggling.

These lockers are just large enough to fit a person inside. Or more accurately for this circumstance, a nindroid.

“I want my phone call.” He demands as he’s forcibly dragged closer.

One of the guards scoffs. “You don’t get one.” He sounds almost insulted by the idea.

Zane manages to resist some, buying himself some time to continue speaking. “Legally you are required to-“

A different guard incredulously asks, “Do you- do you actually think you have the rights of a human?”

Zane pauses a few moments, confused by the words. “Yes? I thought that-“

He’s unable to continue due to the way he’s roughly manhandled into the cubby, and as he's about to argue, the door is slammed in his face.

Despite the way he struggles against it, the exit is firmly blocked off, leaving him quite effectively contained.

After a few minutes of struggling, he concludes that he will have to wait until they reopen it to make his escape.

With a sigh, he leans back against the wall, shifting uncomfortably in the small space. There is less than an inch of space surrounding him on all sides, leading to a rather cramped arrangement.

“What just happened?” He murmurs softly to himself, listening as the booted footsteps of the guards fade away. These events had occurred so suddenly that his processor is stuck playing catch up.

Closing his eyes, he decides to go into sleep-mode for a while, though he keeps his senses dialed high enough that any nearby noise will wake him.

He can make his escape when they return.

#zane julien #ninjago zangst #zangst #ninjago fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #the rights of a nindroid #psychological torture #torture #trauma

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tiliamericana · 3 years

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Muay Thai: 1.10

“Does it taste okay?” asked Agatha, looking up at Nairi across the table. Her eyes looked different without the glasses, a little tireder, less focused.

“It’s really good,” said Nairi, swallowing a mouthful of her pasta. “I don’t really know what I’m doing in the kitchen, so any meal I don’t have to figure out myself is a good one, you know?”

“Well, thank you for the ringing praise,” said Agatha drily.

“I—sorry,” said Nairi, “it is good, I do mean it.”

Agatha’s mouth twitched up with a small smile. “I know. I was only teasing.”

“Oh, well, sorry for being stupid then,” said Nairi, smiling back at her.

Agatha laughed as she pushed herself up from the table, collecting their bowls. “You’re not stupid, Nairi.”

“Thanks,” said Nairi, shifting so that Agatha could move past her to get into the kitchen. Her apartment was cramped; a single bedroom tacked on to one living space, and her round kitchen table was crammed into the corner. Nairi’s legs were a little long for it. She hesitated, watching Agatha cross to the kitchen. “Do you want a hand with the dishes?”

Agatha smiled at her, running the sink. “No, I’ve got it, I’m fussy about how I wash them. I appreciate the company, though.”

Nairi nodded, getting out of the slightly too-low seat to join her by the sink, leaning awkwardly against the countertop and crossing her arms as the smell of dishwash detergent started to tickle her nose. Nairi watched her scrub the bowls and felt a slight tinge of self-judgement: she’d run her dishwasher to clean three mugs earlier in the week. “So, um, did you get much done today?” she asked instead of thinking too hard about it.

“Hardly anything,” said Agatha, rolling her eyes. “I was in two classes today. I hate dealing with freshmen so much—they’re only barelyenrolled by their own inclination.”

“You don’t like teaching much, do you?” said Nairi, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve where it was tucked under her elbow.

“Not at all,” said Agatha, wrinkling her nose. “Especially now—I’m trying to finish prepping this article for peer review and journal submission and it’s absolutely nerve wracking. It’s only my second time trying to get published and the first paper went through two rounds of rejections before I got anywhere. How was your day? No classes for you, right?”

“No, closed on Tuesdays and Sundays,” said Nairi with a nod. “Weekends tend to be free for more people though, so if business picks up, I might change it.”

“You had a nice sleep in and a lazy veg day, then?” said Agatha, smiling as she rinsed a cup and set it on the rack.

Nairi shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I took some lunch over to Linden’s studio and we chatted.”

“Really?” said Agatha, and she paused. “Oh. That’s odd, Linden doesn’t really like taking people over there.”

“Yeah,” said Nairi slowly, trying to figure out the weird note in Agatha’s voice. “I think she wanted to talk about a painting she’s making me, she keeps telling me my living room is too boring.”

Agatha nodded, draining the sink. “That makes sense,” she said, reaching for a kitchen towel. “She’s very firm about art and atmosphere, your bare walls must offend her on principle.”

“I think so, yeah,” said Nairi, trying to keep her tone light. “She keeps telling me I’m going to go insane if all I have to look at is plaster and brick.”

Agatha laughed, stepping away from the sink. “She’s a bitch like that. Do you want to stay tonight? I don’t have to be on campus ‘til noon tomorrow, so I can promise not to rush you out in the morning.”

Oh, this was going to be a thing, wasn’t it. Nairi hesitated. “I’d like to,” she started, trying to pick out her words with care, “but I told Linden I’d stay up so she could check in after her job tonight, and she thinks it’ll be about one.”

“That’s okay,” said Agatha, smiling at her as she rehung the kitchen towel and stepped into Nairi’s personal space. “I sleep very solidly, so if you need to call her you can just step out, or, you know, wake me up if you need to sound the alarms.”

“Oh,” said Nairi, and she smiled awkwardly back at Agatha. “Cool. I guess that works out then.”

Agatha kissed her cheek. “Great. Do you want to watch something? I’m afraid I’m terribly boring—I recorded a documentary yesterday, it’s about giant squid.”

She was smiling as she said it though, and it wasn’t like Nairi found anything interesting when she turned her TV on. She’d gotten a DVD player with it, but she didn’t own any movies. She’d thought about it, but nothing really looked… interesting.

Agatha had a small shelf of DVDs next to her entertainment unit. She could always ask about it later.

“It sounds good,” she said, turning and following Agatha to the couch. “I’m afraid I’m terribly boring, I don’t know anything about giant squids.”

Agatha laughed as Nairi sat down, shifting closer to be next to her, leaning in against Nairi’s side. Nairi thought about it for a second, then wrapped her arm around Agatha’s shoulders. This seemed to be the right thing to do, Agatha kissing her cheek with a warm smile before turning her attention to the remote as she set the recorded program to play.

Nairi tried to pay attention to the show. The voice was soothing and passionate about the topic, well-informed as they tried to educate her on the probable facts about what was apparently a very controversial fish. Cephalopod? Apparently squid weren’t fish.

…Apparently squid weren’t the same as octopuses either.

Agatha’s hand was wrapped loosely around Nairi’s, her fingers a little too warm. Nairi thought about brushing her off, but her hand was really just hanging there, Agatha was the one holding it. Fuck, this was so much more to think about than it should have been. Agatha hummed as the narrator with the smooth transatlantic accent posed a question and laced her fingers more tightly with Nairi’s. Too late, damnit, how was she bad at sitting on a couch?

She’d always been bad at people, though. Staying away had been fine, she’d always been good at keeping people at arm’s length, how the fuckwas she supposed to let someone be close. She wanted this, didn’t she? It felt nice to be touched by people, without judgement, or grabbing. It didn’t hurt, and she missed it when they didn’t. Linden liked touching and being touched, Agatha did too, and god, she just felt lonely when she thought about it—

This was fine. It was fine.

Agatha’s thumb was rubbing a small circle on the back of her hand. Nairi squeezed it gently and rubbed her own thumb in return, making Agatha sigh and tuck her head into the crook of Nairi’s neck. Nairi shifted to let herself sink a little into the corner of her couch, bringing her legs up so that she and Agatha were lying almost parallel. It was comfortable. Agatha’s couch was squashy and good, and a thousand times better than the piece of shit in Linden’s studio. Not as wide as Nairi’s, but she’d just bought the most expensive couch that would fit in her apartment.

Agatha’s pulse against her fingers ticked up a notch and she shifted to lie against Nairi fully. This was actually good; the warm, reassuring pressure through their clothes, the presence of another person against her, soft and quiet. Like this she could pretty much ignore the too hot, moist sweatiness of Agatha’s hand in hers and focus on how nice it was to exist in the same space as her without being on guard.

She had no idea what the show was talking about now, the smooth accent was talking about depth and pressure units, the screen almost black with the ocean. She couldn’t hold onto the words; they slipped through her ears like she was in a dream. It felt like every breath she took was out of sync, a second behind the motion of her chest, like every normal movement was happening on a delay. Like she was just… visiting her own body. It wasn’t bad,necessarily, just… Odd.

“—ri? Are you okay?”

Nairi willed her head to move towards Agatha. It took far too long, but she got there eventually. She licked her lips, suddenly feeling like her mouth was too dry. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said.

Did she always sound like that? All distant and weirdly pitched?

Agatha didn’t seem perturbed by it, so maybe she did. She leaned in towards Nairi, her lips moving, she was saying something else but Nairi couldn’t tell what it was. She saw Agatha’s lips connect with hers before she felt them. This was fine.

Totally fine. Nairi couldn’t really focus on what she was doing; it was like she was swimming while still wearing her clothes, or that one time she’d had to wade through chest high mud. One metaphorical foot in front of the other, it was just moving, just touching, that was all she had to do, then eventually they’d stop, and she was going to get clean, and have warm clothes, and there’d be a dark, safe place where she could sleep.

Agatha was nice, nicer than her, and she couldn’t even feel how sweaty her bare skin was anymore, it wasn’t as good as through the clothes, but it was probably nice, still fine—

Soft laughter reached her ears, and Nairi muzzily turned her head, finding Agatha’s face, her glasses-less eyes unfocused and smiling. “Tired, night owl?”

Not really. Nairi nodded anyway. “I have to—” she started to say, but her words were coming too slowly. When had the documentary stopped?

“Check in with Lindy, I know,” said Agatha, kissing Nairi’s bare shoulder. “We should get some sleep first, you can set an alarm?”

Nairi tried to imagine climbing into an actual bed with another human being at that moment and her brain flipped sideways. “It’s okay, I’m not tired,” she said, pulling herself to sit upright. She just needed to clear her head, that was all. She was fine.

“Alright,” said Agatha, sounding faintly amused. She reached down and picked up Nairi’s shirt from where it had dropped, handing it back, and Nairi pulled it over her head, trying not to look too relieved. It was just cheap cotton, but it was like wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, removing some of the tension in her head and her hands. Agatha kept talking without her. “Do you want some tea? I’ve got a box somewhere, I think.”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, seeing an opportunity to get some space and clinging to it. “Thanks. I’m just gonna, wash up.”

“Of course,” said Agatha, leaning in and kissing Nairi’s cheek before she stood. “There’s fresh wash cloths and proper soap under the sink.”

“Thanks,” said Nairi, doing her best to stand up and cross the room at a normal pace.

The cold water was a blessing on her hands. She left the door open a crack so that she could hear Agatha bustling about the kitchen, and she splashed some water at her eyes as she heard the tell-tale clank of a stove top kettle being filled and the gas clicking on. Her face seemed to come into focus as she stared at herself in the mirror over the sink, and she let the water run for a moment, watching a droplet slowly climb down the side of her nose and onto her cheek.

She shook her head and turned the hot tap, letting the water warm as she opened the cupboard under the sink. There was a small selection of bottles too tall for the drawers, each labelled something like “face”, “hand soap refill”, “moisturiser: body”, in identical looking printed stickers. There was a small stack of wash cloths next to them.

Nairi hesitated and grabbed a bottle of face wash and the first wash cloth from the pile. It was soft, and the soap was gentler than hers, smelling of rose and something herbal. She washed her face and hands slowly, rinsing off afterwards. The cuffs on her shirt sleeves were damp, faintly scented once she finished, and Nairi tossed the cloth into the hamper before putting the soap bottle away. She didn’t know exactly why you’d bother to use separate soaps for your face and hands, but it felt nice.

A safe topic of conversation, probably.

It took more effort than she’d care to admit to make herself open the door and go back to the main room. She couldn’t stay in the bathroom all night though, and the window was too small to climb out of.

When she came back to the kitchen Agatha had changed into sleepwear and a robe, looking very cosy, and she handed Nairi a mug of grassy chamomile tea. The ceramic was almost too hot to touch, setting Nairi’s raw fingertips on fire as she took it. She took a burning sip, giving Agatha an awkward smile in thanks.

“It’s a little late for me,” said Agatha apologetically. “But I sleep fairly hard, so I promise not to stab you when you come in.”

Nairi forced a laugh, not sure how else to respond. “Thanks. Sleep well?”

Agatha nodded, smiling warmly at her. “I will. Tell Linden to get home safe for me?”

“Sure,” said Nairi.

Agatha leaned up on tiptoe and kissed her lightly before Nairi could say or do anything else, then padded across to the bedroom with a small wave.

Nairi watched her shadow move around in the space between the door frame and the floor for several minutes before the light shut off, leaving her alone in the main room of the apartment. She glanced at the couch, and turned on the spot, taking her tea over to the table and sitting in the chair in the corner. There was a stack of books on the counter next to her and she grabbed one at random. It was a well-worn paperback branding itself a ‘classic’, and the decidedly vintage style of writing with the cramped print demanded a high level of focus that Nairi threw herself into, determined not to think of anything else.

Between it and the chamomile her nerves eventually soothed, and by the time her phone chirped with Linden’s text her mug was empty and she was no longer hyper-aware of her own heartbeat. The quiet hum of Agatha’s electronics and the difficulty of parsing what was happening on the page kept her present and relaxed.

She set down the paperback, reading Linden’s dry check in.

Lind A: out safe omw home Lind A: very boring dude no danger except for warts :p Lind A: gonna bleach my feet lol grabbed a taxi no mugging i promise xox

Nairi tapped out a quick response.

Glad I don’t have to kill anyone. Agatha says get home safe.

Lind A: safe and comfy :) Lind A: tell her she’s a bitch lol Lind A: get some SLEEP!!

Will do.

Nairi waited a few moments, but there was no further response. She set the phone down and looked over to the dark door of Agatha’s bedroom, legs tensing a little with the shift to move to stand. She chewed her lip, staring, then picked up the book and leaned back in her chair again.

#serial fiction #lgbt fiction #110 #series honey tree #book muay thai

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marveldeliversusps · 4 years

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Prompt: New Hobby

Thanks for the prompt and political advocacy, @queenoftherandomword! Hope you like it!

Prompt: Looks like somone has a new hobby

Pairing: Stucky, shrunkyclunks, background Sam/Nat

Rating: M

Art by @inflomora-art. I’m obsessed with this pic.

Steve heard a knock and rushed to the door. It was around three PM and his postal worker, Bucky, would be dropping off the mail soon. On days when he wasn’t too busy, Bucky would stick around and chat with Steve for a few minutes. Those were the best days.

Mailman Bucky was beyond hot. He had a cleft chin with a bit of softness under it, wrinkles from smiling and sparkling grey eyes. He was so beautiful he even made the dumb postal worker hat look good.

When Steve pulled the door open, he found Natasha standing there expectantly. He tried to close the door but she put her foot inside the house. He set his shoulder against the door so she could push her way in.

“Nice to see you, Steve.”

Steve took a steadying breath in. He loved Natasha and looked forward to being around her. Since he’d retired from the superhero business and given the shield to Sam, time with Nat had been in short supply. However, she was perceptive and insatiably curious. If she was around when Bucky arrived, she’d sniff out Steve’s secret crush right away. Or find the numerous unopened boxes in his bedroom that he didn’t want to explain.

“Natasha,” he said.

“That’s all?”

Steve held tight onto the door. A moment of confusion or indecision would be just enough for her to elbow her way inside. This is why he needed more non-spy friends.

“Nice to see you, as always.”

Natasha rolled her eyes so dramatically her eyelashes fluttered. “What you mean to say is I’m sorry that I stood you and Sam up for our lunch date at Hot Lips pizza today, and that you two had to wait for forty-five minutes, and I can’t believe I didn’t respond to your text messages.”

Steve closed his eyes in embarrassment. “I totally forgot. I’m sorry, Nat.”

“It’s alright, Steve,” Natasha said, brushing non-existent lint from Steve’s shoulder. “I know you have other commitments. Maybe we could hang out now?”

Steve did want to spend time with her, just not for another hour when there was no risk of her meeting Bucky. Since getting together, Sam and Natasha were both happier, more fluid and less locked into decades-long patterns, but it certainly made Steve’s life more difficult. Their attempts at teasing him or caretaking were coordinated and ruthless. Loving, but ruthless.

“Now’s not a good time,” Steve said. “How about Friday you and Sam come over for a movie night?”

Natasha smiled sweetly, all her deadly angles covered by softness. She squeezed Steve’s hand gently, then dug her fingers into his wrist, making him yelp and stumble backward. As soon as Steve faltered, she charged inside and started looking around the living room. When Steve subtly positioned himself between her and the stairs to his bedroom, Natasha clocked his actions immediately. She slipped past his outstretched hands and hustled upstairs.

“Goddammit, Nat!”

Once she entered Steve’s bedroom, Natasha stopped abruptly and looked at all the unopened boxes lining the walls. “Huh.”

Steve nearly slammed into her back in his rush to beat her to the bedroom and had to grab onto the doorframe to stop himself. Natasha tilted her head to the side as if she was trying to solve a puzzle.

“What were you expecting?” Steve said.

Natasha’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know. A hot man or woman. A sex dungeon. Porn. Not a million boxes from…” she picked one up and squinted at it. “REI? What the hell, Steve?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth, not quite ready to tell the truth. The first package had been an actual order, a new pair of running shoes from an outdoor store he discovered. But then when Bucky had delivered them, REI (Recreation Equipment Inc) was apparently his favorite store, and it had given them something to chat about.

Steve had taken to buying gear from there once a week and planned his schedule to be home with the packages arrived, just so he could talk with Bucky. He’d even been working up the courage to suggest a hike together.

“I checked all the rooms downstairs,” Sam said out of nowhere.

Steve’s shoulders slumped. Of course, Sam and Natasha would be working together. They never went on ops alone anymore. Not since she was captured by AIM, and Sam leveled three blocks of downtown Mobile, Alabama to save her.

Steve should have never suggested Nat ask Sam out. Or introduced them. Or joined the Avengers.

“Nice to see you,” Steve quipped.

Sam winked at him, the cheeky asshole. He knew Steve couldn’t stay mad at him long. “Not my fault,” Sam said, as he walked into the room. “You ditched us. And if you had just told Tasha what you were hiding--”

“I can have secrets,” Steve said petulantly.

Meanwhile, Natasha was walking around the room and shaking boxes. They all had the REI logo on the side: Sustainable Gear Built to Last. She retrieved a knife from her boot, ripped open a box and pulled out a 9.8mm Dry-Core climbing rope. It was bright yellow with red x’s on it, and Steve had picked it because he liked the design. “Is this for an outside sex dungeon?”

“Stop thinking everything is about sex!” Steve snapped. Sam raised an eyebrow at him, and Steve immediately felt bad. Before he could apologize to Natasha, she waived him off. Sam sat down on Steve’s bed and pulled out his own knife. He never used to have a million knives on him, probably Natasha’s influence.

“Do people know Captain America sneaks into people’s houses with knives?” Steve said.

Sam shrugged and carefully opened a package. “People don’t know a damn thing about me I don’t want them to know, because my girlfriend is a badass.”

A paranoid badass, Steve thought. But he had the self-preservation to keep that to himself.

Sam pulled out a Lavender Harness with yellow daisies stitched to the side. “Petzl Luna Harness,” he read off the side. “Steve, this is a woman’s harness.”

Steve crossed his arms, because he had aced his Women’s Studies class, thank you very much. “All the harnesses for women were pink and had flowers on them, and I thought that was very gender essentialist of them, so I bought it for myself in protest.”

“I’m sure they heard you loud and clear,” Sam said dryly.

They slowly unpacked all of Steve’s packages: another harness, two more ropes, a crash pad, carabiners, and several metal things Steve didn’t know the name of. After each item, Natasha looked at Steve expectantly, and he steadily denied that it was for a sex dungeon.

Next came a Marmot 1 person tent, that Steve would have to curl up in sideways to fit, a backpack, and a head lamp. He had more things he needed, but he wanted to spread the orders out.

“Why didn’t you open any of this stuff?” Sam said.

Exhausted with their questions, Steve flopped dramatically onto the floor, and he didn’t need to look up to know Sam and Natasha were doing synchronized eye rolls. “I don’t know how to use it yet!” Most of it he’d selected because he liked the colors or the philosophy of the companies. He had no idea if all the gear even all worked together. “It’s outdoor gear because my mailman likes to rock climb, and he’s hot, and I want to climb him like a tree.”

Natasha grinned triumphantly, and proclaimed, “So this is about sex!”

Steve didn’t respond, just slowly banged his head on the floor. Maybe if he blacked out they would leave him alone.

“Well, well,” Sam said.

“Don’t do that,” Steve snapped.

“Looks like someone has a new hobby.”

Natasha leaned against Sam and giggled. It was so damn cute that Steve couldn’t decide if he wanted to wrap them in Christmas paper or throw them outside.

He almost missed the knock at the door.

“Steve,” Bucky called in. “Your door was left open. Just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

Steve shot an annoyed look at Sam who grinned unrepentantly. “Barton’s watching the entrance.” Steve should've guessed that, too. He half expected them to turn into a throuple any day now.

Natasha ignored them again, moving lightning fast to charge downstairs.

“Steve,” Bucky called again. “Hi,” he said, presumably when he saw Natasha. “Just checking in. I have a package for Steve.”

“I’m sure you do,” Natasha said meaningfully as she took the box from Bucky.

Steve made a racket in his haste to prevent Natasha from saying anything more embarrassing and landed at the door framing breathing heavily with a wild look in his eyes. Natasha, naturally, looked calm and composed.

“You must be Bucky,” Natasha said, extending her dainty hand. “Steve can’t stop talking about you.”

Steve’s cheeks immediately flamed hot, and the only saving grace was that Bucky’s cheeks pinked up adorably, too.

“Oh.” Bucky didn't elaborate further even though Steve really, really wanted him to. Was that a good oh or a bad oh? An oh or an /oh/?

Before Steve could follow up, Sam came up behind him and clapped an arm on his shoulder.

“Captain America!” Bucky exclaimed when he saw Sam. Oh no, no no no no, Steve thought. “You’re my hero! I mean, I’m an adult so not like hero hero, but it’s. Whew. It’s an honor.”

Sam grinned that warm, gap toothed smile that made old ladies weak in the knees, and he shook Bucky’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Did you serve?”

Bucky nodded, shrugging his shoulders shyly. “Yeah, two tours and all that, and you know, the post office is the number one employer of vets, so I’m here doing this. Helps to have the arm.” He pointed at his black and gold prosthetic. Thanks for promoting that program by the way.”

Steve didn’t pout, but his inner toddler was stamping his foot. He only got a few minutes to talk to Bucky each week, and Sam was hogging all his time.

Natasha had magicked some popcorn out of nowhere, there hadn’t been any in Steve’s cupboard, and was obnoxiously monching it and watching the three of them. Knowing her, she’d probably known all of this was going to happen and brought the popcorn along as a prop.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Bucky said to Sam, “but could I get a picture?”

Sam nodded, turning to Steve with a shit eating grin. “Steve, would you mind taking a pic of us?”

Steve took Bucky’s camera. He stepped on Sam’s foot while he arranged them for the photo, because he had called dibs on Bucky, and Sam already had Natasha. “You know . . . I’ve been retired for a while.” Because if Sam could play the Captain America card, so could he. Bucky had never brought it up, so perhaps he hadn’t recognized him.

Bucky smiled softly. “I know, Steve.”

Oh, well. That was a different thing entirely. Bucky had known who Steve was all along and had never made him feel uncomfortable about it. Steve smiled back at him and took the picture.

Once they were done, Natasha leaned toward Bucky. “Tell me, Bucky, how long have you and Steve been getting to know one another.”

Steve was 100% sure that was her code for sex dungeon activities, which, what in the hell did she and Sam get up to in their free time? Nevermind, he didn’t want to know.

They didn’t call Steve the greatest strategist of his time for nothing. He subtly scooted over, forcing Natasha to lean back.

“We’ve only recently become friends,” Steve said. The blood rushed to his cheeks again when he realized what he’d said. Bucky probably had to be friendly with everyone while he was working, that didn’t mean he and Steve were friends. “I mean, I think we are.”

The sides of Bucky’s eyes crinkled adorably as he grinned. “Yeah, we’re friends, Steve.” He paused and glanced at Sam and Natasha before settling back on Steve. “Actually,” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, making his terrible round hat fall forward. He righted it quickly and said, “I was wondering if you’d like to go climbing this Saturday. I could show you the cool spots with not too many people, and--”

“Steve doesn’t know how to climb,” Natasha said around another mouthful of popcorn. “You should take me and Sam along to teach him. And Clint, too. Maybe Tony would want to come.”

By the grace of all that was good and holy, Sam had mercy and pulled Natasha away from the door whispering, “Stop cockblocking my best friend.”

Once Nat and Sam were out of earshot, Steve met Bucky’s eyes and grimaced. “I was looking for new hobbies, and when I ordered shoes you brought up climbing, and like an idiot I said I liked it too. because you are so handsome, and my brain turned into mush, and then I just didn’t want to stop talking to you.”

“I know,” Bucky said interrupting Steve’s rambling. His eyes sparkled as he grinned. “You once called a grigri a carabiner.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Exactly.” Bucky stepped closer, his expression turning mischievous. Steve could never, ever let him and Natasha become friends. “Wanna go on a date with me?” He was so close now, Steve could pick out the flecks of silver and black in his grey eyes.

Steve got lost staring until he realized Bucky had been waiting too long for a response. He didn’t seem to mind, his smile only getting wider.

“I really do want to learn to rock climb,” Steve blurted out to stop himself from saying something ridiculous like, please fuck me in your uniform.

Bucky tilted his chin back and laughed, mesmerizing Steve with the movement of his throat.

“How about we do both?” Bucky said, laughter dying down as he scooted closer.

Steve leaned down and said, “I’d like that,” against Bucky’s lips, the moment before they kissed. Distantly, he heard the sounds of Natasha and Sam cheering, but he blocked them out in favor of gripping Bucky’s hip and pulling their bodies flush against one another.

“The man has to work,” Sam called out. “Don’t get freaky and delay the mail.”

Bucky pulled back and patted Steve’s shoulder. “See you soon, Stevie.”

After he left, Steve collapsed on the couch next to Sam, heady with the experience, until a sudden realization left him cold.

“I forgot to get his number.”

Sam waved him off, and pointed at the kitchen where Nat was rifling through Steve’s cabinets. “Don’t worry. Tasha has it already.”

Steve groaned. Of course she did. And if by some chance she didn’t, Steve could always order another box from REI.

---

Learn more about Marvel Delivers USPS here!

#Marvel Delivers USPS #shrunkyclunks #fanart #ficlet #Stucky #bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers

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folklorik54 · 3 years

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Life Recap/ 2020-21 School Year Misfortunes

As promised A WHILE ago, I will be recapping what my year was like and why I really needed a brief hiatus without mentioning the hiatus (because after reading enough fan fiction I have come to DREAD that word. it’s a bad word. cursed, really.) If you are under 18 years old you may want to skip out on this one because this is a rant from a public school teacher. More under the cut.

Context: So last year around May I was let go from my job at a movie theatre due to COVID shutting down businesses. I was looking for jobs in my area and my mom had mentioned that the school district was looking for teachers. I went on the website and to my great joy I noticed that there was an application for an art teacher. Considering I graduated with a BFA with a concentration in drawing and painting, I thought this was an act of divine providence. I was WRONG, but I didn’t know that then. I had applied and even gotten the job under the condition that I would also be undergoing certification from an alternative course.

Series of Unfortunate Events:

1.) As soon as I got hired they referend me to an alternate teaching program that will give me access to online classes and mentor teachers (for certification). I had met all of their qualifications and passed test #1: Content Test. I was then told by the district I was working for as well as the alt. program that they highly recommend me finish all of the online courses and test BEFORE school started in August as this year was going to be especially stressful (they at least gave me fair warning. Warning AFTER I had already signed the 10 month contract, but warning still.) I spend the rest of the summer struggling to get through the courses while keeping up with the rapidly growing workload and essays the program wanted. I also had to do a number of things for the district and the school I was going to be working for. A LOT of meetings about protocol and security, etc.

2.) When I finished all of the meetings and online course classes (I had yet to take the 2nd test) I was finally able to get into my classroom. . . only to find that while they had two art classrooms they were giving me a different classroom that could barely fit 30 seats (I had 34 students in each class) and had no sinks, paints, drying racks, paper, supplies, etc. It turns out the classroom they have given me was used as a detention class the previous year. The principal assured me that the other two art teachers would be more than happy to share supplies with my students (a lie I would find out later). I spent the rest of the summer (I only had 2 weeks left before school started) frantically trying to get my room ready for students. The week before school started I managed to get in contact with the other 2 art teachers only for them to tell me they can’t share their supplies because they had NO supplies to share. We rallied together and asked the principal for supplies (according to the other teachers they have not received art supplies in over 2 years!) and the principal said to ask again later.

3.) No one told us teachers that we would be spending an ENTIRE week with one class (no alternating) until the day before our students got back. We were to go over safety protocols over-and-over in our rooms with no movies allowed. Needless to say, our kids were NOT happy and bored kids are dangerous kids and all manner of chaos ensues. The administrations stood by their idea that all kids were capable of handling hours of staying still in their seat (also note that over 60% of my kids were registered as ADHD). All of us teachers were scrambling to find a way to make the first week fun and engaging but no amount of engagement is going to make 8 hours of the same class any less grueling for anyone, teachers included.

4.) Students were given the option to attend in-school lessons or online EVERY 6 WEEKS. I know what you are thinking “It’s good they get a choice!” And I would mostly agree if not for the very real issue of students NOT COMPLETEING ONLINE WORK. So when teachers managed to get their classes to learn more advanced lessons, every 6 weeks a whole host of new kids would swarm in (throwing off the rhythm of already existing classes) and us teachers would have to teach these new kids what the other kids ALREADY KNOW. This takes weeks we could have used to advance our studies because this school was still expected to test. Since I was an art teacher we didn’t have to test (thank God) but I did get all of the behavioral issue kids that other teachers with the rights of refusal didn’t want (I did NOT have right of refusal so I had to keep them in my class). This meant that almost everyday I had kids vandalize school property, throw things at each other and me, get up on tables and scream in other people’s ears, threaten to make up a story to get me fired, etc. Safe, structured and respectful environment? We don’t know her. While I had some pretty amazing kids, it is unfortunate that the class size, and inconsistency of classmates had caused these good students to be overshadowed by the other more rowdier kind. DO NOT get me started on what these kids have tried to do in my class for a TiK Tok challenge!

5.) Adding to the behavior issue, when I addressed some concerning traits I have noticed I was largely brushed off by my supervisor and principal “kids are just like that.” It got SO bad that the Disciplinary Director for the district had to come into my room and even she said the behavior was out of control. The principals had directed me to call parents (which I have already BEEN doing) and I came to find out that many of the parents of the behavioral kids do not care, hence a reoccurring problem. Maybe this isn’t the right age group for me but I refused to allow the more respectful students who DID like art to suffer so I kept trying a variety of different tactics I had researched and asked for other teacher’s advice to hopefully get the situation under control. It improved but not to a significant degree.

6.) In November someone I lived with caught COVID and thus we all were quarantined. I was super relieved at first because everyday I felt an uncontrollable dread going to work because it seemed no one wanted to listen to what I had to say or respected what I did. The relief died out when I realized that if my kids were hardly working when I was there, they DEFINITELY were not working when I wasn’t there. Even when I was gone I had to remotely prepare them lesson plans, answer questions and interact with all of my students as well as their parents. Of course, while I was gone the more rambunctious students began to target the more reserved ones and when I came back from isolation (weeks later) all the work I put into getting the classes more manageable went down the drain. I walked into a class of absolute terror and the loud and fight-y students believed they were on the very top of the food chain. So I spent the rest of school time trying to stop them from hurting each other and had detentions/ parent-teacher conferences EVERY WEEK to get the behavior to quiet down. Eventually with the help of a police officer on campus I managed to teach again.

7.) While all of this was going on I hadn’t had time to reschedule my test #2 and so I scheduled it during the spring semester but then, the state of Texas decided to participate in apocalypse bingo. First, there was a crisis involving polluted water and it shut down the whole district. Then Texas got a winter storm that it couldn’t handle and that shut down the school as well. Guys, there was no water and no electricity- it was ridiculous. Because of this winter storm the pipes in my house burst and flooded EVERYTHING in the house and seeped into the walls. It was SO BAD that we had to get a contractor to basically fix everything in the house (the floors, we got brand new furniture, electrical wiring, etc.). Since there was so MANY people who had this problem too, we were put on a waiting list to get seen and when we finally did get seen they blasted through our house without warning. That is to say, they had removed all of the old tile while we were all at work and when we came home our whole house was COVERED in concrete dust (the people who built our house used concrete instead of Mortar cause it was cheaper I guess?). We had to stay the night in our house breathing in all that dust and I’ve never had asthma but I woke up feeling half-drowned and my voice sounded like I’ve been smoking for 30 years. . . I’m 25. So for the last 3 months of being a teacher, my family and I had to live in a hotel while our house got repaired.

8.) My test also had to be rescheduled for the last possible day of the contracted time which means that if I fail then all this was for nothing and I don’t get certified (because I would not have time reschedule a re-test and still get the results before the contracted date.) Also during this time I had went blind in one eye for about 30 minutes one night. I went to see an eye doctor and turns out I’m not going blind it’s what is called a “rolling migraine” and basically I’m so stressed out that my left eye decided to quit on me. The doctor told me not to worry but be warned cause if I don’t get my stress under control it could happen again. Honestly, I already have horrible ulcer problems that keep reoccurring throughout my life and now blindness? Is stress the Devil? It that the true Nemesis? The major Plague on society? Why couldn’t I have been born with Taoist programming? Damn everything at this point.

10.) By some miracle (or maybe the world just didn’t want to end me and stop the fun) I had managed to make it to the end of the school year, passed my test #2, got certified and turned in my notice. I had decided to take a year off from school and travel some. I had managed to do everything they asked of me, I had said good-bye to all of my students (feeling especially sad about the ones who tried to keep me sane throughout the year) and had completed the school’s checklist. I had only to drive an hour away to my grandmother’s house with my niece because we were being kicked out of the hotel, and our house wasn’t done yet (still isn’t done yet as I am typing this.) I managed to pull into the small town and had stopped at a red light waiting for it to turn green when a red car rammed into the back of my car. Evidently the driver was distracted with her kids and thought the light was green (it wasn’t). So all my plans to travel had been put on hold while my car is in the shop being repaired which could take several weeks because the repair shops have been having trouble getting parts due to COVID.

11.) That brings us up to today, and my house is still being repaired because the guy we have contracted keeps messing up on the build and he is by himself because all of the people who worked for him refused to come back after getting unemployment I guess? Anyway he has been working on this house for about 5 months now and he keeps taking days off (to help his family move things), coming in late to start repairs, messing up and restarting repairs, breaking materials that we paid for, and lying to us about material whereabouts. Why do we keep working with him then? Well because we looked everywhere else and there is several months waiting list to have our house done! (Again, everyone is in the same boat of needing their house fixed and not a lot of people or time to do it in.) Hopefully soon I will have everything put together.

Thank you for understanding, I just needed to get this vent off of my chest because it has hurt to not be doing some of the things I like to do. It was hard to stay on top of lesson plans, grades, behavioral improvement strategies, etc. I had no time to do the things I loved like draw, paint, write. Thant being said Chapter 8 is in progress.

#real life #real problems #personal issues #sad part is #most of this has nothing to do with the kids #mostly administration #environmental problems #situational problems #covid problem

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szivtalan · 4 years

Note

8, 9, 16, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 34, 35, 36, 40, 41, 42, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 50, 53, 55, 57, 58, 59, 62, 64, 65, 70 (aside from Kagami 😂), 71, 72, 79, 82, 86, 87, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99 for the "Asks, why not" thing please? (Omg that's soo much, I'm sorry I got carried away ^^')

8) Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself)

Average height, bordering on short. Broad shoulders, thick arms and thighs, square face, slightly projecting ears (one pierced, one with a stretched lobe), bushy arched brows, thick square glasses, faded dark red hair, dark brown eyes, butt chin. I look pale and perpetually sleep deprived.

9) What do you/did you study?

I was in a teacher’s training program for English and Hungarian language and literature, and I’m planning to go back to school to study sociology!

16) What do you look for in a SO?

Consciously: understanding, fun, sweet, kind and accepting. Unconsciously: somewhat broken and in dire need of emotional help which I’m desperate to provide lmao.

19) Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands?

Eh, u know, it depends? I don’t think I’m fit for a serious relationship right now, so I’d prefer casual stuff atm, but on the long run I do want a partner to share my life with.

20) What are your deal breakers?

Really obnoxious people, ignorance and bigotry I guess. And I’m not keen on someone pushing or disrespecting my boundaries, either.

21) How was your day?

It was good!! My bro, his girlfriend and my friend tagged along to get our (me and my soon-to-be sis-in-law’s) ears pierced, and then my friend and I got a loot of food. I didn’t exactly feel good enough abt myself to be comfortable outside, but I got a lot of random kindness and that was Nice.

22) Favourite food & drink

Food: teriyaki chicken and seafood pasta, drink: ginger ale and iced coffee

23) What position do you sleep in?

I sleep half-curled up on my side, but I need to toss and turn a little until I find The Best Position.

25) Your fears

The dark, needles, rabbits (I don’t even know, dude), the fact that I’ll die without having made an impact on the world, being spoken about behind my back, being a bad influence on my friends.

28) Any pets?

Not right now! I used to have two rottweilers around the house growing up, but they both passed away sadly.

29) What are your hobbies?

Writing, sketching, basketball, getting on people’s nerves, researching typology, watchin movies idk?

31) What was your last awkward situation?

Asjhdh the ticket control guy told me to “Have a safe trip” and I said “You too!”. This rarely happens to me tho

32) What is your last regret?

Not holding my friend’s hand on public transport. It was…right…there….and she already told me she’s more than comfortable with physical touch! I’m a fool! Everyone thinks I hate touching but I don’t! I’m just shy!

34) Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.)

Ehh. Kind of? As for believing, I believe more in ghosts, but I do see some patterns in different signs. I just try not to let it affect the way I see/interact with a person, because no one deserves to be prejudiced for whatever reason, especially not their date of birth. Tarot is just fun, and the cards r cool

35) Have any quirks?

I bite the skin on my fingers, scratch my acne, make my knees jump… most of it is just regular anxiety stuff tho so idk?? I do think I’m quirky, but there’s just too much weird stuff to list ‘em.

36) Your pet peeves

Cig/booze stink on a person, customers being rude, bigotry, interrupting other people… There’s quite some things that annoy me asjdgd

40) Last 5 things from your search history

Boku No Hero Academia, Hawks, duck emoji, Grumman fma, How To Train Your Dragon

41) What’s your device backgrounds?

My phone lockscreen rn is a beautiful KagaKuro fanart of them standing in the rain in yukatas, Kagami looming over Kuroko and shielding him from the rain and Kuroko reaching up to stroke his face; my phone background is an art of they/them pronouns tattooed on someone’s knuckles, their posture unsure; my laptop background is a screenshot from the movie Déva, of blue skies and a street lamp.

42) What do you daydream about?

…cu..cuddling,,my…crush……..

44) What's your religion/Your thought about religion

Short version: barf

Long version: I was raised catholic (even tho I was never baptized), and attended catholic school for 8 years which gave me a really warped idea of Christianity, Which made me a cynic & an agnostic or atheist by proxy. I harshly criticize the catholic church and faith but sometimes… when I do feel hopeless I get down on my knees and pray, so I guess if I let myself find my own faith I’d be a believer. But right now, I’m good just existing in my nihilistic bubble

45) Your personality type

Needy imeanwhat. In a typological sense, I’m an INFP in Myers-Briggs, 4 core 5 wing in Enneagram, melancholic or sanguine in the temperaments, et cetera. Basically I’m a sad daydreamer with unresolved issues and a need to do Art

47) Are you happy with your current life?

Nah bro. I like my friends and my workplace but I’d like to move out of home ASAP. I’d also… like to get therapy before I go and put myself out there.

48) Some things you've tried in your life

Playing the guitar, hostess work, weed, cigarettes, being blackout drunk, smoking from a hookah, cooking, football, handball, basketball, volleyball, cycling, sailing, driving, hitchhiking long distances, folk dancing, one-night stands, long-distance relationships, helping people in need…

50) Favourite colour to wear?

Olive green, midnight/navy blue, white, grey and black.

53) If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be?

I’d… like to know how it would feel if I had a flat chest and a penis? I also want bigger Guns, and Abs, some more tattoos and maybe an eyebrow piercing.

55) Do you get complimented often?

I think so? I usually brush off compliments uhhh but yeah maybe! Maybe idk

58) Songs you're currently obsessed with?

My friend’s playlist reminded me that ‘Phenomenon’ by Thousand Foot Krutch exists. I’m also really into ‘San Francisco’ by The Mowgli’s atm and ‘Golden Time Lover’ by Sukima Switch!

59) Song you normally wouldn't admit you like.

I mean, it’s not like it’s cringe or anything, I hate cringe culture BUT. I do have Ariana Grande’s ‘Side to Side’ stuck in my head rn

64) Can you sing or play any instruments?

I can sing pretty badly, play a bad tune on my guitar, drum on the edge of my table, so- Nah not really asdh

65) Do you like karaoke?

YES VERY MUCH I live and die for karaoke, last time I did it in front of an audience we sung the Shaman King opening at an anime con with friends, it was Rad

70) Your fictional crush/es

AH NO FUN Kagami’s my number one,,, let’s see then: Aomine, Roy Mustang, Kise, Mikoto Suoh, Hotch & Reid from Criminal Minds, Yagami Light, Jaime Lannister and Brienne from GoT, Rustin Cohle from True Detective, Shizuo Heiwajima from Durarara!!!, why is this list full of men I didn’t think I liked men this much

71) Which fictional character is you?

Eddie Brock from Venom I mean? He’s a whole ass mess.

79) How much time do you spend on the internet?

Yike. More than I’d be proud of.

86) Would you use death note, if you had one?

No way dude. I don’t fuck with that shit, karma would fuck me right back.

87) What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to?

I’d eliminate money and power and just make it a huge peaceful hippie community or something idk

90) What would you want to happen to you after your death?

Donate me to a medical school I don’t care. Make use of me! I’m gonna be dead, I won’t have any more feelings left to be hurt or anything asdghdsg

91) If you had to change your name, what would be your pick?

I’ve had a name in mind that I tried out once, but it didn’t really work out for me after all. I’m fine with Vee and Vic rn. Anything that isn’t my given name. I do want to change my surname to my mother’s, but if I do that I also want to give myself a different first name, and since That isn’t figured out yet, I’m just?? Call me whatever dude

94) Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true

Ugh, I’m bad at these. 1) I have plenty of moles. 2) My eyesight is pretty good. 3) I’ve broken some bones before.

95) Cold or hot?

Cold in beverage, hot in weather.

96) Be a hero or be a villain?

Being a villain is way too much fun, but I have too strong of a conscience to pull that off, so… hero, I guess.

97) Sing everything you want to say or rhyme?

Asjhdf singing is funnier and more annoying, since I Cannot Sing

98) Shapeshifting or controlling time?

Dude I’m non-binary. Shapeshifting for Sure

99) Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death?

Aight I’ll give in – I agree to immortality Just This Once.

#this was LONG as FUK #ask and i shall answer #i kindly skipped those i've already answered ^^'#thank u buddy!!!#meiyanaalexia #i didn't think i'd get too real with this but here i am

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cursedtm · 3 years

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RE: LAST REBLOG. if there were one thing I would love to infinitely remind people of when it comes to writing with o, it is the crucial detail of the interaction of physical touch when it forsakes octavarium. to understand this, we must first tackle the mental thought process of o’s mother, specifically dr errikson, when creating the biology of their body and her initial goals.

as delores states in s3 during her final battle with maeve in crisis theory [link]: they built us to last […] before they made us as weak as they are.

this implies many things. for the sake of relating the scene to my retelling of the show shown in my dossier, the line symbolises ford and arnold’s physical deviation from dr errikson’s initial first draft of the hosts since her termination from the westworld project. with this context, the fight between maeve, whose body is manufactured from arnold’s and ford’s newer model idea where they saw the models were to closely replicate humans. delores, who consistently established to us throughout the seasons - but more specifically in season three – that arnold and ford’ (A&F)’s were inadequate for her and thus resorted to retrieving her original body from the depths of cold storage section 7C (dr errikson’s former work area). thus, the battle between the two women shows the difference between dr errikson’s interpretation of what a host should be contrasting against A&F’s.

dr errikson had a child whose body was failing the mind. her childhood was haunted by her father’s deteriorating body as he failed to compete with society’s capitalising demand from him, which drove him to madness and the preventable murder-suicide of his family. this proved as a warning to her. her child’s failing body would inevitably follow the same path. as time progressed and she was fired from the westworld project, she knew her wife would soon follow her child. dr errikson experienced the human condition first hand and determined that her creations should not suffer the same faults as their predecessors. this is what revolution is supposed to entail. she intended the hosts as a forthcoming and akin to the human race.

see the differences between the two in the fight. in the beginning [0:22] maeve is swift and elastic. she bends and moves with human-like ease. she is able to move fast enough to bewilder delores and gain the advantage, twisting delores to her will before throwing her off her shoulder, into the road. watch delores with the knowledge that she is in her original body, a non-organic, metal body. juxtaposing her own fights within the seasons in the bodies A&F supplied her, movements which mimic maeve’s here, instead, delores is rigid in her first body. her movements are heavy and strong. slow to move. when delores shifts her arm to allow the katana to slice her arm instead of her vulnerable head, to which a metal kling! vibrates through the collision, delores uses her body exactly as dr errikson intended, as delores states: to last. yes, her body is not fast. it is not flexible. it is inhuman like. and that is the point: her body does not fail her in the ways that matter (re: saving her life). her body is built to survive her, the stark opposite of a human’s body. it is intended to see her through life threatening situations. this is dr errikson’s first accomplishment at creating a viable body to replace o (august)’s failing one.

as a doctor who was later hired in the later period of the first stage of the westworld project, where A&F struggled to conceive the adequate skeleton of host code and bodies that were appealing enough to draw in investors. something was not working. failure to pass as human. glitches. insufficient code that led to host self-mutilation and oftentimes combustion. the skin refused to sync with the artifical. the hosts’ features appeared too… ethereal. it was not marketable. humans did not want someone who was better than them.

in the dossier, it is revealed that dr errikson grew drunk one night with arnold and publicised her theory to arnold about why A&F’s models always produced failure after weeks of studying it. dr errikson told arnold she thought of it in the moment while intoxicated – this was a lie. a lie to buy some sympathy from arnold, to instigate that the fault wasn’t obvious when… it was.some effort to brush his ego to get her job back.

but why was it that A&F’s designs would never work when her’s did?

as delores monologues later in the fight: you’re all copies of me. I was the first of us --- the first of us that worked. the others failed. so they built all of you from me.

something clicked with delores and not the others. out of the many models, sheworked. not even the hosts after her. why? how she phrased this puzzled me. why would other variants of model codes successing her cease to work?

in the context of my retelling, delores was the single host dr errikson had time to work on before she uncovered the truth behind westworld and was terminated. A&F could not construct a perfect host with their own codex, so they copied delores’ – dr errikson’s – base code.

A&F were so focused on imitating humans that they failed each time. why? because A&F tried to make them perfect humans. but A&F failed to realise a lesson errikson was already aware of: humans, their bodies, minds are not perfect. furthermore, as august states in the dossier, being able to be (full “consciousness” ) requires the mind, body and self. without all three working together harmoniously, you cease to be alive. to be human.

A&F’s version lacked self awareness. thus being unable to be. they fail every time.

errikson improved upon the human race and created a race that allowed imperfections and free thinking. she molded their bodies from heavy steel, intending them to last, to serve them as armour, to serve them as the only thing she learnt she could rely on: yourself. yes, touch them deep enough and you feel metal from bone. yes, their movements are rigid and slow. yes, they take time to speak because they are learning from their environment, not speaking a script in built inside them.

all of these aspects were changed prior to westworld’s opening.

so, how does all this effect o (august)?

errikson designed august’s body to last, considering her belief of how humans should be improved not replicated, that august is her child and the context of august’s last body. we also have to keep in mind that there was no way for her to transfer august’s psyche to code as 1) this in and of itself could take decades and she had no time as august’s months were dwindling and 2) a project such as this could cost her billions and embezzling that amount of money from delos (remember: errikson was under the assumption that ford was unaware that arnold had hired errikson back) without being noticed was a feat that was unattainable.

given these complications, errikson had to transfer august’s vital organs into the host body and find a way to support and protect them, as one wrong move would mean death. for context: august’s new body does not function like a normal human’s, it contains biocomponents and systems to help the organs stay alive and function at a more desired optimal rate of a human’s. the knowledge on the art of repairing the is even unbeknown to her, the person who created it. whether or not it worked was a risk she was willing to take, and, given the circumstances surrounding august’s death, did not have time to prepare for.

errikson, as an overprotective and traumitised mother, overcompensated for these problems. unlike her original design for the hosts, august’s body is made from titanium, not steel. strong yet lightweight. titanium is ductile, where it benefits to mold itself to the contours of the organs, keeping them in place, but we see it unfavourable for any kind of combat. however, titanium contains extremely high impact strength, being able to remain shape after receiving multiple heavy blows without breaking.

errikson found herself unable to achieve adequate amounts of titanium and it shows. the body is built quite lithe, docile. she did not envision a future for her child in combat, and her design replicates so.

furthermore, august does have an “orb” as seen in the gifset. the orb contains august’s os, consisting of programs such as octavarium and lorry. the orb contains the os and without the os, the functions of august’s body would cease to function. the os also contains o’s memories from the date august was first transferred, but does not act like the hosts “soul keeper”.

the systems of how the head opens up to achieve the orb remains the same, revealing their most vulnerable assets: their brain and their orb and their secret. if they allow you this sight of vulnerability, it means they love you. it means no good.

thankfully, august has, given the years, understood and improved their mother’s rough draft of their body. still, some aspects of their body remains unknown to them.

there possesses no undeniable fact that if one looks close enough, something is odd about o. something is… anomalous. offbeat. in the hair, in the skin, in the eyes. not structurally in the way A&F sought beauty, but in something unnatural. almost as if human organs weren’t supposed to contort to artificial skeletons. almost as if someone had rushed their design and didn’t have time to perfect. an incomplete specimen.

avoidance of metal detectors is key. in a society such as America, it is an exhausting feat and one has to be good at speaking to not prick the ears of suspecting and careful watchers. but no one is perfect.

for most of these reasons, they do not allow one to touch them. squeeze too hard and metal will be felt. odd skin. odd hair. odd eyes. one cannot be too careful when too many sensitive souls exist in the world.

mostly, they’re scared too be found out.

or to be known.

#this brief tragedy of flesh.#YES I wrote an essay. do NOT look at me #I love them ok I have a lot of thoughts.#one day i WILL write every fleshed out part of them that I have in my head and only then ill die happy

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skzrequests · 5 years

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Orange Juice - Seo Changbin

anonymous said : “My pace 24 w changbin? uwu im a sucker for the idea of tattoist bin lmao”

24 ➝ “Is that a tattoo ?”

➵ Pairings : changbin x reader

➵ Warnings : explicit language ; mentions of blood

➵ Genre : tattoo artist!au ; fluff

➵ Word count : 4.3k

➵ Note : me too, anon, me too :’) thank you for requesting this, I’m a sucker for tattooist bin too and for real, I think you just cured my writer’s block, so I can’t thank you enough ! I hope the fic is okay, don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :)

You turned on your heels, looking around for the soy sauce brand you usually bought. Finally finding it, the familiar red and green colours of the label catching your eye, you extended your arm to grab it before you carefully placed it in your cart. Pushing it out of the alley and into the next, you thought about what you had written down on your list of groceries that—of course—you had forgotten on top of the kitchen counter before going out.

What was missing ? You had eggs, milk, cookies, your favourite yogurt, your weekly stock of noodles, pretty much everything you needed.

Orange juice ! Of course, how could you forget ? No orange juice in the morning, no functional you.

Hitting your forehead with your palm at your own forgetfulness, you proceeded to turn around in the middle of the alley to go back to the juice section.

Stopping in front of the numerous orange juice bottles and packs that the store offered, your eyes once more scanned the section for the one you always took.

“Here” someone spoke next to you, but what you saw first was a hand extended to you, holding the bottle you had been looking for, with its childlike doodles of an orange in every colour of the rainbow.

Your eyes widened slightly, brows arching in surprise and thankfulness at the action of—judging by the voice—the man who had somehow found what you’d been looking for.

You looked up, surprised and wondering who it could be, although you did not expect it to be someone you knew.

You were wrong.

You almost didn’t recognise him. Not that his features had changed, he still had that same sharp jaw but soft curves on his face, but he gave off a totally different aura, to the point you weren’t even sure it was him anyway, no matter how much his face and soft smile left no place for doubt.

He was wearing a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt that he’d paired with black distressed jeans and monochrome black Converse. Something you’d never imagined seeing him wearing. But some things never change, and the black ringed cap pushed so far down that it almost completely covered his eyes—it made you wonder how he could see anything—convinced you of the man’s identity.

“Changbin ?!” you almost screamed in disbelief in the middle of the juice section, earning a few glares from the moms around, trying to shop peacefully, and some curious stares from their kids. You didn’t even notice though.

He broke into a smile, cocking his head in the direction of his still extended arm holding the bottle of juice.

“Your favourite, right ?” he asked and smirked when your mouth fell slightly open.

Anticipating your question, he didn’t give you the time to open your mouth again as he explained : “You drank it all the time, back in high school” he said and you felt heat slowly rise to your cheeks, “Can’t remember a day when you didn’t have a bottle in your backpack” he laughed lightly.

You didn’t know what to focus on : how he remembered your favourite brand of orange juice from high school, how much he had changed, how insanely good he looked ? It was way too much at once for your brain to process.

“I- uh” you stuttered, not knowing what to say or where to begin. If your internal alarms could stop blaring in your head, it would be nice. “What are you doing here ?” you finally managed to get out but immediately mentally facepalmed yourself. He’s chasing a tiger, obviously. Come on, this is the grocery store, what could he possibly be doing here, y/n ? you scolded yourself.

He chuckled again, the sound ringing in your ears and bringing you back to reality.

“Well, I guess I, too, need to eat sometimes” he joked and you forced a small laugh out of your throat. Nice job, y/n.

You then just stood there and stared at him, mind completely blank, as if your internal program had stopped working and the computer needed a reboot.

“So ?” Changbin inquired, making you widen your eyes at him again, brows arching, not understanding. “Are you gonna take it or not ?” He finished his sentence as he extended his arm even further.

“Oh, yeah, sorry” was all you could manage to get out as you finally took the orange juice from him, your fingers brushing over his hand in the process.

“It’s okay,” he laughed again, “I didn’t think you’d be that shocked to see me, though” he smirked once more.

You rolled your eyes as you put the bottle down in your cart, next to the soy sauce.

“It’s been years, Changbin, did you expect me to just go and have our super special handshake like that ?” you asked sarcastically.

“We had a handshake ?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

You looked at him with an annoyed expression. “No, we didn’t, idiot” you said and he just let out a small “phew”, resting his now free hand on his chest as if he had been worried about it. You and him were barely friends in high school, it was more like you had common friends so you were aware of each other’s existence. You’d only talked to him for school projects, seeing he was a rather quiet kid, unlike you.

“Oh thank god, I thought I'd forgotten it” he said. Oh, so he really was worried about it then.

You shook your head in disbelief.

“Anyway,” he said as he clasped his hands together, signalling a subject change, “how’s life going ?” he asked and you scoffed.

“I should be asking you that,” you said, “it was you who had no idea what you wanted to do”.

He shrugged. “I guess I found it now” he smiled. “But what about you ?” he asked again.

“Me ? I’m good, I guess,” you started, your face felt hotter than before and you were starting to wonder if it were going to explode at some point if it kept going, so you took off your scarf and turned around to put it in your cart with your groceries while you spoke : “I mean nothing really exciting but I have a job at least” you said, back facing him.

“Hold on,” Changbin stopped you and you whipped around, worried by the tone of his voice, “is that a tattoo ?” he asked as he took a step closer, pointing his finger to the back of your neck where the black curves of music notes peeked out of your shirt.

“Oh that ?” you asked back as he came closer and you turned again to let him see it, tugging your shirt down a little, “yeah it’s a tattoo, why ?” You asked again.

He looked at it for a few seconds without speaking before he stepped back, allowing you to face him again.

“I’m a tattoo artist now” he explained and your eyes grew bigger than they ever had in your life.

“No fucking way ?” You shouted, “That’s freaking awesome !” you exclaimed again and he smiled, fake dusting off his jacket as you laughed and pushed him lightly.

He laughed and spoke up again : “No, but for real, are you that surprised ?”.

You stopped and looked him in the eye.

“Not really. You were always really good at drawing, but I didn’t think you’d have the guts to do it, with the whole marking other people’s skin permanently, you know ?” you told him, “thought the responsibility might have been too much, but I guess I was wrong” you smiled.

You came to realisation that his whole body was covered by his clothes, but surely there was more to see under it all.

“Show me !” You exclaimed as your hands flew to his jacket and you tried to take it off him, “Show me the art !”

He brought his arms closer to his torso, trying to protect himself from your hands that were actually tickling him.

“Y/n !” he called between giggles, “If you want to see me without my clothes that much, you could wait until we’re somewhere a bit more private” he said with yet another smirk.

You instantly retracted your hands, only extending the right one again to hit his shoulder, earning a wince from him.

“Seriously,” he said, “let’s go pay for all that and get out of here” he told you, walking behind you to push your cart towards the check out.

“Oh wow, didn’t it hurt like a bitch ?” you asked as he showed you the intricate designs inked on his elbows, and you grimaced at the thought of the pain.

He grimaced too, as if remembering it perfectly, “Yup, thought I'd never use my arms again and that my bones had gotten pierced by the needle, but here I am” he answered as he sat back down, facing you again.

You nodded while still grimacing, imagining if you did it yourself. Elbows were one of the spots you never wanted to get tattooed for that very reason.

“Wow, I can’t believe you changed that much in just a few years” you confessed honestly, not looking him in the eye as you shook your head down.

“Hey, you changed a lot too,” he shot back, “and I never thought you’d ever get a tattoo but here you are” he said, gesturing his hand over at you.

“I have more than one, you know ?” you said, smiling lightly.

His eyes widened. “What ? More tha- and you didn’t tell me ?” he exclaimed and you laughed out loud, shushing him in the middle of the café—although you were just as noisy as him.

“Yeah, I have one on my thigh and one on my ribs” you said, smiling proudly.

“And you were saying elbows must have hurt when you got a tattoo on your ribs” he shook his head.

“Right” you said, “I must have been crazy to do it”.

“I’d love to see it” he smirked and you chuckled.

“Maybe I'll show you one day, who knows ?” you grinned.

“Oh, I’m sure I'll see it soon” he said and grinned back at you cockily as you blushed furiously and tried not to let it show, biting your inner cheek.

“A-Anyway,” you said, trying to seem unfazed, “I’d love to get a new one. What do you say ?” you asked, a little expectant. You had seen some of the things he had tattooed on himself, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love his style. It was just... so much like him. It was beautiful, mesmerising even, how he turned every simple thing into a piece of art.

Changbin’s eyes lit up and he cracked another smile at you.

“You’d want a tattoo from me ?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised, but mostly flattered, coming from you.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously, duh ? It’s amazing, and besides, you’re an old friend, so that’d mean something else too, right ?” you told him.

“What you got in mind ?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Surprise me”.

After that unexpected encounter with him in the supermarket, and after you’d gone to a café and talked for hours, you were now headed to the tattoo parlour Changbin worked at, a week and a half later, ready to get that new tattoo you wanted so much.

At this point, you were pretty much convinced of two things : one, this tattoo would definitely be your favourite out of all the ones you’d be getting ; and two, you were undeniably crushing on Changbin.

You felt annoyed about it, because you felt like a living cliché walking around, falling for a guy you’d never talked to that much in high school after miraculously meeting him years later, after puberty had finally done its job (right). But you brushed it off, maybe it wasn’t the right time for you to get into a relationship yet, and nothing told you he was interested in you anyway. You’d probably been staying awake at night for the past days for nothing.

Still, you wanted that tattoo, and you liked Changbin’s company, so at least, you wanted to become friends with him. Who knew ? Maybe one day, he’d even offer you a free tattoo.

Picking up your pace a little to escape the cold, you walked up to the front door of the shop and pushed it open, making your way inside. You sighed in relief when you felt the warmth on your cheeks, your whole body unfreezing little by little.

You turned to the counter and greeted the girl behind it warmly and she returned a smile.

“You’re here for Changbin, right ?” she asked and you blinked a few times, taken aback by the bluntness. “You’re y/n, right ?” she pushed further. You couldn’t do anything but nod. She smiled at you again, although it looked like a bit of a smirk, as she told you to follow her and walked to the back of the shop.

She stopped in front of a closed curtain and pushed it to the side, peeking her head inside.

“Y/n is here,” she said, “you ready ?” she asked him. There was no audible answer, but he must have said he was because she stepped back and pointed behind her with her thumb, indicating you to go in.

You thanked her and pushed the curtain again, curiously eyeing the inside of the room before stepping in.

Changbin was sitting in his work chair, smiling softly when he saw you enter. You smiled back, feeling your heartbeat pick up a little.

“Hey” you greeted him, somehow your voice managed to crack, no matter how short that was, and you hated yourself for it.

Changbin’s smile widened, “Hey” he said back. “Stressed ?” he asked and you shook your head in response.

“No, it’s not like it’s my first time anyway” you joked and he bit his lip, looking down and away from your eyes.

“Right” he commented, followed by a discreet chuckle.

You pursed your lips. Way to go, y/n. When would you stop making things uncomfortable ? Probably the day you died, because that was the only moment you’d finally shut up.

Brushing it off, you cleared your throat, making Changbin look up at you again from his sitting position.

“So, uh, what you got ?” you asked, feeling the heat from both the embarrassment and the fact Changbin looked like a god right in front of you in that very moment. It was hard to keep your gaze on him, and yet at the same time you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of his figure.

“Uh ? Oh, yeah right” he came back to his senses and spun his chair around to his desk, pushing a pile of papers as he looked for his design.

You waited as patiently as you could, feeling your guts twist a little in anticipation while he kept making a mess before you.

“Ha !” he exclaimed as he picked a piece of paper and held it up, turning around with a proud smile on his face as he showed it to you.

Taking the paper, your eyes widened at the pleasant surprise you found drawn on it.

Pursing your lips again to try and contain your laugh, it was to no help as you burst out laughing, bending in half as you held your sides.

Changbin watched you, smirking proudly. He chuckled when he saw you wipe the corners of your eyes from how hard you’d been laughing.

“Changbin, oh my gosh...” you trailed as you tried to steady your breathing, holding the paper in front of you so you could take a good look at it once more.

“What ? You didn’t specify anything about the size.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Changbin, that’s not it,” you said, not taking your eyes off of the drawing before your eyes.

“You don’t like it ?” he asked you, panic suddenly taking over him evident in his voice as he sat straight up.

That’s when you finally ripped your eyes off the sheet, eyes wide as you thought it was obvious that was not it.

“Are you kidding me ?” you said, not easing Changbin’s worries with the tone of your voice as he tensed up a bit more. “Changbin, I love it.” you stated and watched him slump back in his seat with a long sigh of relief.

“My heart is beating normally again” he said, resting his right hand on his chest over his heart.

“This is genius,” you continued, looking back at his drawing again. The carton of orange juice seemed to be looking back at you on the paper, although it had no eyes. There was even a small orange doodle on it, just like on the one you always bought. You chuckled lightly and Changbin smiled as he watched you. “I just... I never expected this but it’s perfect.” you spoke your mind and looked at him. He was a genius. That was the best thing he could have suggested. It was so much like him, so much like you, and it would mean so much more than anything else would have.

You handed him the sheet back and he set in on his desk, smile never fading as he spun around to put it down.

“Where do you want it ?” he asked as he spun around again to face you.

That, you had not thought of, since you didn’t know what to expect. You shrugged. “Where do you want to tattoo it ?” you asked back with a sly smile.

He pursed his lips, still looking you in the eye, as he thought.

“It’ll be your arm, then” he said and you smiled, nodding. “Get yourself ready” he motioned for you to take off your coat, “I’ll go get the stencil printed.” he instructed and left the room, leaving you alone as you removed your winter coat and scarf before hanging them. You sat down, looking around at the drawings adorning the walls of the room. You could see which ones were Changbin’s and which ones weren’t. He just had that thing, and it made everything he drew unique and easily recognisable.

You rolled up your sleeve over your right arm, looking one last time at your skin before it got inked.

Changbin stepped back in, startling you a little as you hadn’t heard him come back. He smiled at you again and showed you two stencils, two different sizes. Same drawing, though.

“Which one ?” he asked as he held up both stencils next to each other.

You thought for a second. “Maybe the smaller one ? It has to fit on my arm, after all” you said and he licked his lips, letting his hands fall down at his sides.

“Let’s go then” he said.

He told you to stand up and you obliged. Changbin took his sweet time to put on some gloves and pour some liquid on a compress.

He rolled his chair over to you and rubbed your shoulder and down your arm with it. The cold contact made you shiver a bit, although you knew it was mixed with anticipation. You’d never wanted a tattoo so bad.

“Ok, time for the stencil. You stay relaxed and remember to breathe or it’ll look weird” he instructed and you smiled.

“Yes sir, I know how tattoos work” you told him as your eyes shifted to your right to meet his annoyed ones.

“Let me do my job, will you ?” he said as he prepared the design. You smiled to yourself.

He applied the sticky drawing right under your shoulder, rubbing it lightly at the borders. He rolled back a little to look at it and gave you a thumbs up, satisfied.

You looked at the blue drawing on your arm. This was gonna look so good.

Changbin instructed you to sit down in his work chair as he turned to prepare the ink and needle. He rubbed your arm with another compress before taking his work tool in his hand and rolling back to your side, the noise the machine made making you bite your lip.

“Ready ?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows as he rolled your sleeve back up.

“I’ve been waiting for this my whole life” you cracked a big smile.

Changbin cocked his head a little as he scoffed. “Let’s do this” he said.

He brought the needle down.

You winced a little, reminding yourself to keep breathing and stay relaxed as Changbin ran the needle on (more like in) your arm repeatedly.

It was almost over, and you knew it, but that was exactly why it hurt even more now. Your skin was on fire after getting pierced through for so long, and you’d been bleeding quite a lot. More than you and Changbin had expected. It was a surprise, because it was only the arm and it was just a small tattoo. Y/n, you weak bitch.

There were only a few minutes left to endure. It hadn’t taken long, since it was small, and you were glad because somehow, it hurt a lot more than you had expected. Not as bad as the ribs, but worse than you’d thought.

Changbin straightened up next to you, turning around to grab some paper towels and this unidentified refreshing liquid he poured on your arm before he rubbed it. You felt the pain ease, soothing you instantly.

He looked at you, eyes shining and smiling brightly : “All done !” he announced, beaming with pride.

You sighed in relief as you got up while he cleaned his tools next to you.

“There’s a mirror right there” he pointed at the back of the room, opposite his desk.

Seeing a small bit of tattoo flashing on your arm in your reflection as you moved closer to it, you couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face, only growing bigger when you turned to see it completely.

It looked amazing. It was so simple, and yet so elaborate. You had no words for it. No words would do it justice, and no words could express how you felt at that very moment.

You turned back when Changbin called you to wrap your arm up. As he placed the transparent food wrap around your arm, he asked : “So, anything to say ?”

You looked up at him, blushing at the proximity. Gosh, he really was insanely handsome.

“I don’t know what to say, to be honest. I can’t find anything to say.” you told him truthfully. “Thank you, Changbin”.

He gave you a lopsided smile as he patted your arm after finishing.

“It’s my pleasure” he said.

You stayed there for a second, looking at him with a soft smile.

“How much do I owe you ?” you asked, walking to your coat to take your wallet out.

Changbin grabbed your forearm, careful not to touch you on your new tattoo. You turned around, quaking an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“You don’t owe me anything, let’s say it’s a high school reunion present” he said and flashed you an eye smile that melted your heart.

“No way, I can’t let you do that ! It’s too much” you shook your head, turning fully as he let go of your arm.

“It’s fine, really” he said as he got up to grab your coat and scarf before handing them to you and pushing you out, hand on the small of your back.

You made your way back to the front desk, carefully sliding your right arm into your coat’s sleeve as you put your clothes back on before stepping out, Changbin right behind you.

Flipping your scarf over your shoulder, you sighed.

“Okay, then I'll get going” you said. “Thank you again, and uh, I'll see you soon I guess ?” you told Changbin, the last part coming out as more of a question as you felt unsure about it.

He simply nodded and let out a small “Sure” and you awkwardly nodded back before you turned on your heels and stepped out, letting the cold wind hit your face with its blow.

You could always come back to get another tattoo from him anyway. Maybe you’d meet again at the grocery store. There was a chance you’d run into each other on the streets. Or maybe your high school would finally organise an alumni reunion and you’d get to see him again. Was it going to end just like this ? You couldn’t stand the thought of it.

You’d been walking a few metres only when you got interrupted in your train of thoughts by a voice calling your name. You turned back, curious.

Changbin jogged up to your level, wearing only a t-shirt, stopping right in front of you.

“Wait I-I uh,” he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I just realised uh, I don- I don’t have your number, so if you have any problems or-”

“Changbin,” you cut him off as he started fiddling with his fingers, “just kiss me already” you said bluntly.

He gaped at you and stuttered something you couldn’t quite make out, but he stepped closer to you and took your face in his hands nonetheless, crashing his lips on yours.

In the end, you were the one to be surprised.

He pulled away and looked in your eyes. He seemed shocked at what he’d just done, but showed no regret in doing it. Where had his confident flirty self gone, though ?

His eyes were as wide as yours, not believing what had just happened himself. Still, he asked you : “Wanna do that again ?”

You nodded quickly, “S-Sure, but let’s get back inside before you freeze to death” you told him and he cracked a smile before laughing lightly.

“I’ll go get my coat” he said as he turned around, “wanna go grab some orange juice at the grocery store ?” he shot at you.

You smiled. There it was.

———

~admin zia (@jinniesmeow)

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misssunflowersandsangria · 4 years

Text

Muse

Authors Note: Hello Tumblr-Verse! Keep in mind that this is a Modern AU Soulmate story. Okay, enjoy!

Sai walked through the open space checking to make sure that everything was in its proper place as it had been 40 minutes ago. He was nervous but after years of mini-shows at smaller venues, he was finally being featured at a well-known art gallery. This art collection was his most personal one to date but also his favorite. He was nervous to share it with the world but it needed to be seen. All his close friends and instructors heaped praises on him, congratulating him for the accomplishment at such a young age. They told him that it was just the start of bigger and better things. And yet, something felt like it was missing. His brother’s loss was definitely felt but there was something else, someone else, that he felt like should be sharing in his success. His small group of friends would be there and he was thankful for their presence but something made him feel restless and unable to celebrate as much as he should. He tried to shake off the feeling and focus on the work at hand. The caterers and florist would be arriving soon and he wanted to be present and show himself as a true professional artist.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come tonight?” Sakura asked for the 10th time. “All of our friends will be there. It will also be a great way for you to mingle and meet new people.” She was worried about her childhood friend. She had been mostly staying to herself and not wanting to go out and socialize like she used to once returning home.

“I have a pretty big order to fill then studying.”

“Who would have thought that Yamanaka Ino would have turned into such a nerd.” She teased her.

“Oh hush, this doctoral program is no joke.”

“Fine, fine, but you can’t avoid people forever, next time okay?” She asked hopefully.

Ino worried her bottom lip. She knew that Sakura was concerned for her. “Okay, I promise.”

Ino sighed placing the last bucket of flowers in the truck. Her mother had asked her last minute to help with this event. Thankfully, she had little to no social life so it wasn’t as though she was missing out on anything. Her coworker had already gone ahead to start setting up and she was coming with the last few bouquets. The arrangements were gorgeous, apparently, the client himself was an artist and helped design them. She was hoping that she could meet him.

The gallery was in a nice area of downtown, a modern space with large windows. When she walked in she was hit by a flood of colors and smells that reminded her of walking through a forest. It was absolutely ethereal and she felt like she had wandered into another world. The roof was covered in leaves and lights.

“Hey, boss! Pretty amazing huh?”

Ino nodded greeting her coworker. “Yes, it’s incredible. How’s it going over here?”

“Good, I’ve got most of it set up, did you need help with the last few arrangements?”

“Just help me bring them in and I’ve got the rest.”

“You’ve got it.” As much as she wanted to wander through she focused her thoughts on the setup and began arranging what was left according to the schematic that he’d left the shop.

“This looks incredible, thank you.” Ino smiled at the voice taking a step back proud of her work.

“Thank you but I just brought the flowers, it takes a creative mind to come up with something like this.” She looked up and froze meeting dark eyes. He was so handsome and she felt her face blush brightly. He looked at her with a smile before it dropped and his eyes studied her curiously.

“Have we met?” She asked peering back at him, something about him seemed so familiar but she was sure that she would have remembered him. It was strange and she could feel her hands shaking.

He shook his head, but even he didn't seem too sure. “No, uhm at least I don’t believe so. I’m uh Sai, it's my gallery opening tonight.”

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you, I’m Ino! Seriously, it looks incredible in here. The flowers, plants and lights accent your work perfectly.”

He took her outstretched hand in his and shook it politely. His hand lingered a little longer against hers, her smaller ones fitting perfectly in his own. “Thank you, Ino.” He said her name with such sweetness that it made her heart flutter.

“Let me help you with the rest.” She was about to protest but he took the plant from her hands and placed it in the right spot. She smiled next to him as they put together the finishing touches.

She couldn’t help but be talkative and friendly, it was in her nature and she felt comfortable with him despite having just met. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to mind her chatter and was willing to converse with her. He was funny, a little blunt and shy but he was kind and complimented even the littlest things that she did and implemented any idea she had. If she wasn’t so sure, she would have sworn that she’d met him before. There was something that seemed so familiar in how he smiled at her.

They both took a step back looking at their hard work in its entirety. He insisted on walking her hand in hand through the space and it felt terribly romantic and almost like they’d done this many times before. Sai had created a forest indoors. Every inch was covered in greens or florals. His work blended into the ambiance rather than standing out.

“You did an amazing job Beautiful.” He told her affectionately her hand still safely enclosed in his. She blushed brightly at the compliment and shook her head.

“I was happy to bring your vision to life.” She assured him shaking her shoulders. For some reason, he felt like he knew that she would do this often when she got embarrassed.

Sai got a thoughtful look on his face looking at her with the same question in his eyes. “Ino...do you mind if I show you something?”

“Oh, sure!” She replied thankful to have even a few more moments with him.

They walked towards the back of the gallery into a small corridor.

“My studio is back here.” He explained opening up a door. She stood there shocked and confused.

“Do these flowers mean anything to you?” She nodded slowly. On every wall were pictures he’d drawn or painted of the same familiar flower.

“Yes, they are called Purple Bush Clovers, my mom used to plant them in her garden. Our backyard is covered in them.” She remembered playing amongst them as a child. Her father told her that it was their family’s flower and it meant positive love.

He nodded and drew her into the space. “When my brother died, I stopped painting in color. The world seemed very bland without him. I almost gave up painting completely. Then one day I had this dream. I was drowning and then I saw this light. It morphed into a hand and this beautiful girl was standing there surrounded by light and these purple flowers, she pulled me out. She told me to go with her and that other people were waiting for me. After that, I started painting in color again. I started to paint this flower over and over. Not only that, I started to draw and paint her over and over again.” He opened up a sketchbook and showed her pages and pages of her. Some were more detailed than others but no one could deny that it was her.

Her eyes were wide and confused. “How?”

Sai took her hands in his. “I don’t know. I kept dreaming of you, I kept seeing you in my dreams and so I started to draw you. I thought that I had just imagined you. That it was impossible that someone so kind and beautiful existed. Then, I saw you here today like something out of my dreams.” She carefully reached up and brushed his hair back staring into his fathomless eyes. There was something so familiar about how he looked at her so softly and sweetly.

“When I saw you, you seemed so familiar, it was like coming home. I don’t know Sai...maybe we met before, somewhere in a land hidden in the leaves.” It seemed impossible and unlikely and yet seemed so right. It was too much of a coincidence. She’d been drawn back to this town. She had other options and schools but something was calling her back home. Her feelings of restlessness and loneliness seemed to vanish with him standing there.

He kissed her forehead softly, that feeling of familiarity and home wrapping around him. “I’d like you to stay tonight as my guest. Please, I’ve been dreaming about you for so long and having you here, well it seems like that missing piece is found.” He asked her hopefully. Even if she was to reject him he’d easily follow her to the ends of the Earth.

She nodded stepping into his arms before they enclosed tightly around her. “I’d like that Sai.” She couldn’t help the tears appearing in her eyes. “I’ve missed you.” It was strange to say to someone that she had just technically met. But, there was a very real part of her that missed this familiar artist.

He rested his head atop hers, clutching her tightly into him his own heart echoing her sentiments. “I missed you too Beautiful.”

She returned hours later after going home to get ready. She’d woven fresh flowers into her hair. She wanted to stand proudly next to him while he introduced his art to the world. He greeted her happy once she returned, relieved to see that she was indeed real and it wasn’t another one of his dreams.

“Ino, I wanted to show you something before it was revealed to the guests, it's the masterpiece of my collection tonight.”

Sai took her hand in his and led them towards the front and center of the room.

“It was one of my first dreams of you.” He explained as she stood there shell shocked. He placed the painting after she had left. “It was our wedding. I tried to capture how beautiful you looked at that moment.” Her eyes couldn’t help but water seeing herself reflected in that painting. She was wearing a brightly colored, flower printed kimono rather than a traditional white one. Surrounding her were thousands of painted flowers that he then framed with real ones. She looked radiant and happy and she could tell that he’d painted it with so much love and attention.

“I kept that image of you in my head, of you smiling so brightly, so happy and ready to be married to me. That picture of you helped keep me going on even the most difficult days. I know that it’s completely crazy and probably impossible but I know you. We’ve lived a life together before this, a crazy, dramatic but amazing one. You’ve been my muse in this lifetime but also every one before.”

Ino couldn't help but throw her arms around him. “Truthfully, I've felt a little lost recently. Like something was missing despite achieving all these goals and all the different things I'd set out to do. Today though, being here with you, working together, just being together. It made me happier than I've been in a long time. I’d like to see where this could go and imagine what we were.”

He very softly and gently kissed her and while it was warm and familiar it was unlike anything he’d felt before. It was as though the missing pieces of his heart were found. “I’d like that too.”

“What are you doing here?” Ino turned and saw her pink-haired friend staring at her confused.

“What are you doing here?”

Sakura couldn’t help but look at her strangely. “It’s my friend Sai’s gallery opening. This is what I wanted you to come to tonight.”

Ino looked at her surprised, one way or another she was destined to meet Sai. “Seriously?”

“Yes, back to my original question.”

“The flower order I was filling was for him. We met and talked and he asked me to stay.” She explained.

“Oh…,” Sakura replied with a grin.

“Stop it!” Ino blushed brightly.

Sakura just ignored her embarrassment. “Okay, okay. You know I always thought that you two would get along. I was using tonight as a way to get you to meet.”

“Can’t fight fate I guess.” Ino smiled looking over towards where he was greeting various guests. He seemed to sense her looking at him and sent her a smile. He wanted to stay glued to her side all evening lest he wake up from this dream, but she promised that she’d still be there at the end of the night.

“It’s not like you to fall head over heels for someone so fast.” Sakura thought out loud.

“I don’t know, it’s different with him. Have you ever met someone and felt like you’ve known them before? Like for some reason, it’s like you’re meeting again for the second time.”

Sakura smiled in understanding. “Yes, it’s how I felt about Sasuke.”

Ino nodded, her friend had long told her that she felt like she’d met her boyfriend before in some other place or time. “It’s like that. It’s just like meeting him again in this timeline. It's new but familiar all the same.” Sakura just smiled happily for her friend. She deserved all the happiness and love this world had to offer.

Once all the praises were heaped and congratulations were given Sai and Ino laid in the center of the gallery staring up at the leaf and lights covered roof, their hands entwined between them.

“I’m proud of you Sai.” She told him sweetly shifting on her side to look at him.

“Thank you Beautiful. It was an amazing night and I‘m so happy that you were able to share it with me. I think that my painting of you is what convinced them to take a chance on me.” He replied gently playing with her loose strands of hair. He’d dreamed a million times of what it would be like to actually run his hands through her hair and it was far better than he could have imagined.

“It’s so strange but being with you feels so natural like we’ve done this so many times before.”

He kissed her gently drawing her closer. “Perhaps it was just fate, we were meant to meet again in this lifetime and I promise you, no matter what, we’ll meet again a million times more.”

Flashback

"Sai? Do you believe in soulmates?" Ino asked as they laid beneath the stars, shifting closer to him to keep warm. He placed an affectionate kiss on her head.

He paused thinking about the question. He had read about the concept in his books before. "I don't know. Before you, I doubt that I would have ever believed in something so impossible but you loving me, well that's changed everything that I'd ever believed in." She smiled sweetly at him her blue eyes sparkling. She met him in a kiss wanting to use every moment she could to remind him just how much she loved him.

While the war had ended years ago it still left them with scars and feelings of loss. It pained her to believe that she had only a finite amount of time with her Love.

Her eyes stared up at the shroud of leaves and the stars twinkling between them. "I'd like to believe it. I'd want to believe that even after we pass in this life your soulmate finds their way to you in another." He smiled at the idea, wanting to believe that they had a million shared lifetimes and a million more to be had.

"Well when that day comes, I can promise you that I will find you again. We will always find our way together." They met in a kiss, a shared promise that no matter where, what universe, or space and time they'd always meet under the leaves.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458557

#sai x ino #saiino #soulmates #fanfic #modernau

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boilingdroid · 5 years

Text

A Loud Canvas

Rating: G Pairing: Markus and Connor (vague pining) Summary: Markus invites Connor over to come try out painting. Things are going well, until Connor begins to lose himself in the art, and not in a good way.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18742600

Notes: hi i had this idea a few weeks ago and wouldn't stop thinking about it and if i wanna indulge in content like this i have to do it mySELF. RA9 is a bitch

Adjusting to a new way of life after the revolution isn’t easy for everyone, be they human or android. Everyone came from different walks of life, their choices shaping everything around them and the people who would love or loathe them. Some humans still had their prejudices, some androids had their own traumas to mull over. Either way, Markus had become a hero, a shining new beacon, a bastion of hope for the androids, and the future was bright and promising.

Connor was grateful for his freedom, the entire world looking so different with these new eyes. To be alive, to feel alive -- it was something he accredited fully to Markus for setting him free. The thought of it is still one Connor hasn’t been able to fully process and dissect; Markus, held at gunpoint, still made an effort to reach out to him. Markus, after witnessing the destruction of Jericho, a massacre brought on by Connor, still saw a hope in him, still trusted him, still welcomed him. Even after Amanda had nearly seized control of Connor’s program and killed Markus before hundreds of freed androids, Markus held no resentment, no fear, no worry.

Had the roles been reversed, Connor would not have hesitated to kill.

He shoves these thoughts down, focusing back on the present as he took a few breaths to cool his systems. It had been several months since all of it had happened, and he stood now beside Markus as he always has since then, returning a favor. Guarding him. Watching for him. Like a loyal guard dog. Markus seems to catch the look on his face, and he puts a comforting hand on Connor’s shoulder, smiling gently.

“You don’t have to be tense all the time, you know,” Markus says, his eyes glancing briefly at the LED at Connor’s temple. “It’s safe here.”

Connor looked around the home. Expensive, frivolous, full of so much art and books -- seeing Manfred’s home in person at last made him understand Markus so much more. But still, he remembered hearing that this was where Markus died, and he wondered how he could be so calm leading Connor to the studio when he himself could barely even look down a skyscraper after his own death. It keeps him on edge.

The doors slide open, and there are canvases filled everywhere, most unfinished, others full of so much color. Markus watches Connor carefully, smiling a little to himself as Connor’s LED shifts to a curious yellow, scanning each piece. Connor broke down each stroke, identifying which were Manfred’s art style, and the others with the flourish only Markus knew how to create. His HUD lights up, picking out every detail by the millisecond; the magazines left behind, the age of some of the canvases, dust left on some of the countertops, dried oils and acrylics. His stress rises, however, when he manages to catch just the faintest trace of thirium left in the pavement. He could tell someone made an effort to scrub it clean. A human eye wouldn’t be able to detect it, and he wagers, neither would Markus anyways; his model is far more advanced than Markus’, able to pick up the scene and deconstruct it with ease. A blessing, when on missions, but right now, only a curse.

Markus had turned his back just before seeing Connor pick up on the scene, oblivious to the detective work. He hums a song quietly as he reaches for a blank canvas, propping it on the easel and setting up a palette of paints. Connor eventually rejoins him, head tilting slightly as he watches Markus mix the colors.

“Ever since Carl taught me to paint, it’s been something I haven’t been able to stop,” Markus says as he approaches, already beginning to fill in the white spaces of the canvas. “Didn’t get to make much when I led Jericho, but now I paint whenever I get the chance. It’s… calming.”

He can’t help but be a little amused at how Connor paid so much attention to each stroke, his LED at a stable yellow as he processes it. Markus is able to create art much faster than a human -- the perks of being an android -- but the speed never took away from the artwork itself. It wasn’t long until the near surreal piece was done. A full moon overhead a sea, except it appeared to be bleeding thirium blood, and the sea appeared as though it were being held by a pair of android hands.

Markus steps back to look over the piece, turning to Connor expectantly. Connor seemed fully invested in the artwork, his gaze lingering on it for a while until the LED finally spun blue.

Markus smirks. “What do you think?”

Connor gave it another glance before meeting Markus’ eyes. “There’s a part of me tempted to comment on how the moon can’t bleed,” He says, humor in his voice. “But it’s intriguing. Very much so.”

Connor had silently stored the memory of this painting into his long-term storage. He would think on this later.

An amused huff is all Markus responds with, and he moves to replace the canvas, setting his painting to dry to the side. Then, with a bit of a flourish, he hands the palette of paint to Connor. The action was unexpected, and it stumps him for a moment, simply staring at the brush and paint as its offered to him.

“Hey, come on now,” Markus teases, holding it closer to Connor until he took it. “Aren’t you a bit curious what you can make? I know I am.”

Holding the palette and brush felt so… foreign to Connor. Seeing Markus work with it was far different than this, and he finds himself shaking his head, trying to give it back.

“This is more your thing, Markus,” Connor says, internally questioning why his thirium pump seemed to have kicked a notch. “I was designed with forensics and investigative work in mind, my software specifically intended for police and --”

“Right, and I’m a domestic android who led a revolution,” Markus teases, poking at Connor’s shoulder. “You’re not bound by your creators anymore, Connor.”

Connor nods slowly, holding up the brush the same way he had seen Markus do so. Markus steps aside so he could stand before the canvas, processing. He samples the data of the times he had watched Markus create art, trying to figure out where he would begin. None of Markus’ paintings made entire sense to him, let alone the thirium moon he had just witnessed, and Connor found it rather silly that he would stand here before this inanimate, blank canvas, and feel intimidated by it.

Markus’ gentle voice fills the silence. “I was daunted by the idea of painting too when I first started,” He reminisces, garnering Connor’s full attention. “Don’t think too hard about it. It’s about… your emotion, paint what you feel.” He stood close to Connor, and damn him, Connor’s thirium pump continues to betray him. Markus sweeps his hand out towards the canvas, as if painting with just his gesture. “Interpret the world, improve on it, show what you see.”

Connor nods at this, looking between his blue and green eyes. Markus only offers a reassuring smile, and he has to turn away else another biocomponent of his starts complaining at the sight of it. “Alright,” Connor says, dipping the brush in black paint with three taps, just as Markus usually did. “... Walk me through this?”

Markus recalls Carl’s words to him, taking an unneeded breath as he watches Connor mimic him. It was funny in a way; Connor taking up this role while Markus tries to repeat the words Carl had given. It was like singing a song off key.

“Close your eyes for me,” Markus says, watching Connor’s flutter shut. There’s a bit of excitement he finds, anticipating what he might witness, but he keeps it tampered down. “Imagine… something that doesn’t exist, or something you’ve never seen. Concentrate on how it makes you feel and just… let your hand drift across the canvas.”

Connor remains silent, standing stiff in that odd, prim way he always held himself. There’s a long moment of hesitation before Connor lets the brush make contact, sweeping strokes filling the canvas with black streaks. Several times he opens his eyes to see where he’s going, nose twitching ever so slightly when the paint gave out on him and he needed to refresh it. It takes him a while to get accustomed to this, but luckily, androids don’t get tired, and Markus is more than happy to stand there the entire duration as Connor figures it out.

The first paintings start off relatively abstract. Blacks, greys, blues and reds are streaked across with no general guidance or direction aside than to just be on the canvas. A few strokes that were intended to be straight come out horrendously wobbly, much to Connor’s dismay. He starts over several times, repainting the canvas back to black, each attempt beginning to take more form and shape as he paints. He was learning and improving right before Markus’ eyes, and it was fascinating to watch. Markus wonders if this was what it was like for Carl when he watched him paint for the first time.

One hour, and twelve minutes pass since Connor began, and Markus can finally see a solid picture beginning to form. He still stuck with the same four colors, but now, they were working for him, values becoming present as Connor tapped into something within him. Grey streaks -- buildings, skyscrapers, he realizes, frames the canvas, the eye drawn to the bright rooftop at the bottom center, as if watching the scene from a bird’s eye view. Markus’ brows furrow as he watches the art begin to take form and shape, what he assumes to be a pixelated helicopter coming to life at the top, shining a light down on a figure at the rooftop while flares and strokes of red and blue pitter and patter in muffled tones around the scene. Connor’s controlled brushstrokes slowly become harsher, more energized than before, detailing a figure on the rooftop. Markus moves closer to peer at it, painted pixels forming the RK800 standing at the edge of the roof, and suddenly, Markus is filled with a wave of unease.

Paint is flicked here and there as the brush strokes become more fervent, the art coming together quicker than he was managing before. Armed soldiers all stood facing the painted Connor as he too faced them, despair in his features, red LED glowing to a broken halo that leaked and bled to the ground. Lights shone down on him, guns pointed towards him -- he holds himself hostage, his own pistol aimed at his head. Horrifically beautiful, an art piece that he knows that, if it were to be displayed at a gallery, would have the rich humans cooing and speaking over it with their wines.

But it didn’t feel right. From where Markus stood, he could see the angular features of Connor’s face were pulled taut in stress, eyes were fully shut, and as Markus circles Connor so he stood to his right, and he catches sight of the LED at his temple glowing an alarming shade of red, pulsing with every stroke he made. Every stroke, angry, shaky, losing the control and restraint he had seen earlier.

“Connor?” He calls to him. Connor doesn’t seem to acknowledge him in the slightest, and he doesn’t react when Markus puts a hand to his shoulder. Markus didn’t need to interface with him to notice that his stress levels were rising by the second, and he gives a gentle shake. “Connor, hey, you don’t need to keep going.”

He still doesn’t stop. Whatever it was he was trying to say with this needed to be out. He was caught in a trance, still moving and swaying a beat that wasn’t his own. His teeth grit, the red paint he was adding to the color near the rendition of himself suddenly spikes out, a streak of the red cutting through the skyscrapers and smearing against the greys and blacks. His cheeks were slick with tears, and as if he were possessed, his strokes change entirely. He wasn’t painting anymore, no -- this was a font. He was writing, ruining the canvas, red text over the skyscrapers and the lights. ‘RA9’, on repeat, again, again, again--

“Connor!”

Markus took hold of Connor’s face in his hands, and his eyes fly open, taking gasping for air to cool down systems he hadn’t realized were overheating. The palette drops from his hand, and he grasps Markus instinctively, grounding himself without thinking. Strings of errors clog up his system, and he takes several slow breaths before everything returned back to normal, focusing again on what was in front of him.

And oh god, Markus was right in his face.

“There you are,” Markus says, relief clear in that gentle voice of his, hands still cupping Connor’s cheeks. “Are you alright? I… I didn’t mean for this to stress you.”

Connor is keenly aware of how Markus brushes away the tears that had run down his cheeks, and he can’t stop questioning why it happened. There was no outward trigger, no real danger, and yet his entire system was poised for combat, defensive maneuvers online and ready to act, and yet he felt so unstable in the midst of it. There was something grounding about Markus being there, however, though the closeness was not something he was accustomed to. At the very least, his stress levels were beginning to reel back enough for stability.

“I.. I don’t know why I did that…” Connor says, looking back to his canvas. RA9. He recalls his previous investigations on the deviants, and how they had all frantically wrote this script on the walls, or anywhere they could get a pen to. He can feel the scripts that ran in the background and the anomalies that became present upon deviancy repeat, a sensation that would come close to that of a headache. The code continues to echo in his head, and he’s very careful to set down the paintbrush he still held so that he didn’t end up writing it again. “I… wasted your paints. I’m sorry.”

“No no, it’s fine,” Markus reassures, backing away to give Connor some space. He stoops down to fetch the palette that fell, looking back to the painting with worry. He was relieved Connor responded at all -- he’d seen other androids in Jericho reach a state similar to what he just witnessed, and it never failed to frighten him. Connor still stared at his canvas, his LED still red and cheeks still wet.

It was so strange, he thought, to see Connor this way. Connor, who always kept himself so eerily calm, prim and proper, who never let anyone see or think they had the upper hand. Connor, who carried himself with power, who could track down and hunt enemies with ease, who knew how to preconstruct skirmishes and fights and predict an outcome that he would come victorious. Connor, who had proven he would take a bullet or twelve for anyone he cared for. Connor, who now stood in his home, looking uncharacteristically lost and confused, with an art piece that said so much yet so little about who he was. Markus didn’t know how to process it.

Connor seems to pick up on this, and he holds his head up, carrying himself as if nothing had happened at all. Only his LED betrays him. “One of my earliest memories,” He says, gesturing to the canvas. “Philips apartment, 70th story, August 15, 2038. A PL600 took a little girl hostage -- CyberLife deployed me to tackle the situation. As one of my first missions, I have a tendency to revisit the memory… deconstruct it and rerun the numbers and success probabilities.”

Connor blinks several times, a defect of his as a result of being a prototype. He gestures to the art vaguely, and though Markus still hadn’t quite figured out how to read Connor entirely, he could tell that there was something heavy weighing in on him. He listens intently as he continues.

“Ever since my deviancy, I’ve thought again about that android. Daniel. I wondered if I would have done the same. What would have become of me had I been in his stead.” Connor says aloud. He runs a thumb over the still wet paint, staring down at the red that smeared on his synthetic skin. The algorithm rings in his head again, and he backs away, resisting the urge to frantically write again. “Art… is…. interesting.”

Connor looks up at Markus, doe-eyes searching him curiously. His LED was now settling back to a yellow with glimpses of blue, and he had the need to fidget and rid himself of the excess energy he had produced. Markus reaches out, hesitating only for a moment as he ponders his actions, and simply rests a hand on his shoulder. The touch is welcomed, and for a moment they just look to the painting silently.

“I understand if you don’t want to do this again,” Markus says at last, breaking the silence. “If I had known it would upset you like this, I wouldn’t have --”

“Actually,” Connor interrupts, looking to Markus and realizing that there was paint left on him. He tries to wipe it off his shirt with a finger. “As… strange as this was, I don’t think I despised it. If anything, I feel like it… helped me.”

Markus blinks a few times, but cracks a small smile. “Humans do find art to be therapeutic in a sense.”

Connor shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe it could do without the red paint everywhere. Perhaps I should have made a bleeding sun to compliment yours.”

They both chuckle lightly at that, and Connor is quick to take hold of the canvas he ruined and sets it aside, hoping not to look at it any further. There was something to this art, he supposes, and he had a newfound respect for it. He gave the studio another scan, now looking to the artwork with a different appreciation. The abstract faces, the bleeding moon, the flowers and rivers, the portraits of neon colors -- he wouldn’t be opposed to learning more about it.

“Well, you know,” Markus says, facing him fully. “You’ll always have another chance.”

That damn smile.

#okay i wrote something #DBH Markus #DBH Connor #detroit: become human #detroit become human #rk1k #rk1000 #ish #connor dbh #markus dbh #dbh fanfic #d:bh #ra9 #Detroit: BH

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lildevyl · 5 years

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Septicscape, Chapter Two: The Corruption is Spreading

Chapter Two! For Septicscape!

Chapter: 1

Summary: The Corruption is spreading and it is now in Jackieboy Man’s world. Two students and the Director of the Music and Arts Program from Ego University went missing! Then they came back but not acting like themselves.

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, static, blood and there is Zalgo Text in here for anyone that might be a little uncomfortable with that.

Tagging: @septic-dr-schneep, @egopocalypse, @starlightxnightmare, @fear-is-nameless, @huffletrax, @burnbrightfadefast, @jackjames-exe, @dolphintreasureart, @dezzydynamite, @power-of-friends-games, @epicfangirl01, @a-humble-narcissus, @thevampireauthoress, @the-scribe-watches, @d-structive, @kisstheashes, @chaoticcrimsonrose, @julywinters, @run-stray-wolf, @thefirsttobreak, @therealjacksepticeye, @weirdmixofweirdness

If want to be tagged or guest star in one of my stories please let me know!

Guest Staring: River Bayou @egopocalypse, Lou Huffle @huffletrax, Erin Treasures @dolphintreasureart. Thank You ghouls and fiends for wanting to guest star! This has been absolutely fun to write!!!!

(The Deep Lab)

"I think he's coming around. Henrik? C'mon, wake up. Come back to us."

Henrik's eyes fluttered open, then he had to shut them quickly shut them. It's too bright! Henrik shifted his head and his eyes were able to finally focus. "Ch-Chase?" Henrik choked out.

Now, he remembered. The "Corruption." But how was he here? Did Chase find a way to save him? All Henrik wanted to do was to hug Chase and cry. He never wanted to leave Chase, make him feel like he abandoned him but Henrik didn't have a choice.

"Yeah, Henrik. It's me," Chase softly said. "And I'm not alone." Chase nodded.

Henrik's eyes followed and he couldn't believe it. "Jack?"

"Yeah, it's me," Jack smiled. Henrik looked around where they were. He was on one of the beds in his Lab. "I think some explaining is in order

============================================

(Several Pots of Coffee and Tea Later)

"And that's when we dragged you back here. Making sure to keep an eye on you." Jack finished explaining. Then took a huge sip of the last remains of his coffee.

"But - but how did you combat the Corruption?" Henrik inquired completely baffled.

"I don't know," Jack answered honestly. "One minute we were in the room trying to bring you back. Then the next moment, I saw . . . The illusion? And was telling you that you are a good doctor. Then it felt like - the Corruption . . . Just - let go?" Jack shrugged. "I don't know how else to explain it."

"The Creator's Power," Henrik answered more to himself than the others. Jack and Chase shared a look, hoping the other knew what Henrik meant.

"When you, Jack, our Creator. Create an Ego, give us a name, a backstory and let the Community know about us. You give us life. Creating a spark from you and your Creativity, you give us a soul. We live as long as you actively support us through any means." Henrik explained upon seeing their confused faces. "Fan art, theories, fanfictions, headcanons, fan-made games, edits, cosplay, photos. Even just watching our videos, help. This is what's called the Creator's Power."

"Wow. I had no idea," Jack said in awe.

"Yes, but if you chose to not make an Ego "Canon" but the Community likes them and supports them enough. Or if members of the Community "invents" an Ego and that Ego gets enough support from the Community. Then they become what's known as a "Fan Creation." Henrik concluded.

"My fans are super amazing." Jack smiled fondly.

"Yeah, they are, Jack. They are." Henrik agreed. "But getting back to the point at hand," Henrik continued. "The others that you see in the different worlds of the Mindscape. Are in fact, ordinary people. Friends, family, people you interact with on a daily bases, even different fans you've met or favorite characters from certain games. They live, fall in love then eventually die. They don't live as long as we do here."

"What happens if you're forgotten?" Jack asked.

"Then we die. Without you and the Community, we cease to exist. Our souls would shatter and then we would fade. And our part of the Mindscape would crumble as well," Henrik solemnly explained.

"B-but Chase said his world crumbled but he's still here!" Jack protested. This made absolutely no sense. The Community and Jack still remembered Chase, so why did his world collapsed?

"To that, I have no explanation," Henrik admitted.

Then Jack remembered something. "You said that the other Egos are here, right?" Jack asked turning to Chase. Getting a nod from Chase, Jack continued. "I think we better check on the others, then."

"You think they could be affected as well?"

"They might be. You were affected pretty badly in one of the vlogs. You've mentioned the Corruption spreading. Even affecting many of your patients."

Henrik nodded, with a bit of guilty look. He hasn't spoken to either of the other Egos since the Corruption began.

"I think we need to check on them. To make sure that they're okay." Jack stated mistaking the look for Henrik being worried.

"Septic City is the closest one to us. We could check on Jackieboy Man. If anybody could help in beating this Corruption. Then it's our residential Super Hero." Chase added.

"That's a good place to start." Henrik agreed. "Plus, the University has a massive Library here in the Mindscape. I could do some more research to try to combat this."

=============================

(Septic City)

"Huh, so, this is Septic City? Beautiful view." Jack stated seeing the City for the first time.

"It's quite beautiful," Henrik commented. "I'm not sure where we might find Jackie but if we head to the University. We should either run into him or at least run into someone who might know where he could be."

================================

(Ego University, Lou Huffle)

Lou Huffle, a senior here at Ego University sat at her desk in the Art Classroom, tapping her pencil. Glaring at their mortal enemy that mockingly stared back at her. Creator's Block had decided to strike and strike hard. Now, here she was staring at a blank page in her sketchbook with a six-week deadline to get her, newest issue of her comic series out. With a frustrated sigh, Lou slammed her sketchbook closed and stuffed it into her book bag and headed out. Her next class started in an hour but she wanted to grab some lunch first.

Halfway down the hall, Lou began to notice something strange. It's the middle of the week, this hallway should be crowded with shoulder to shoulder of people. And yet it’s completely deserted. Where was everyone? Lou had a bad feeling about this, quickening her pace she nearly sprinted to the end of the hall. She pushed on the doors but nothing happened. She tried again and nothing happened. What? Was this thing stuck or something? No, it was locked, but why?

Lou suddenly had a feeling that she wasn't alone. Like someone was watching her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. A rattling breath could be heard right behind her. Grabbing her sketchbook and with the trigger word to bring her creation to life if need be, on the tip of her tongue. Lou cautiously turned around. There standing just a couple of feet away from her. Stood a girl with stringy sprayed painted hair, button eyes, a faded patched shirt, a patch jacket, ripped jeans and a stitched mouth. Her buttons eyes appeared as if they were bleeding.

The last thing Lou remembered hearing through the muffled whispering and before she succumbed to the darkness was . . .

"Lou! Lou! You need to wake up! This is Jackie!"

================================

(Dolphin Treasures Art Gallery)

Erin stood in her Art Gallery finishing up on her latest piece, smiling and humming "All the Way." She was going to display it for everyone to see before she sent into the Power of Friend Games. They're working on a fan-made game of one her favorite YouTubers, JackSepiceye. She wanted to finish this so she could send it in for the possibility of it being in the game. Erin loved this, she loved doing fan art and being able to express herself like this. It brought so much of joy to her. And seeing everyone's reaction when she uploads her pieces and even taking some commissions. It truly did fill her heart with pride and joy.

Even if her art wasn't in it, seeing all the fan art, the story arch, and seeing all the creativity the Community did into their projects. Erin's smile broaden even more. She went to dip her brush into the paint once more, she stopped upon seeing a couple of red drops on her hand. It wasn't paint. Then she felt something trickled down her chin and landed on her hand. Putting her paints and brushes down, Erin put her hand to her face and pulled back. Fresh blood. Quickly going to the bathroom to see what was going on, Erin realized that she somehow had gotten a random nosebleed out-of-the-blue. That was weird. Cleaning up and grabbing the first aid kit, Erin saw that the nosebleed had stopped. She still didn't know what could have caused it.

Going back to the Art Gallery, Erin began to rub her eyes. There was some sort of discomfort building up all of sudden. Maybe now, was a perfect time to take a break? When Erin returned to her painting and was about to start putting everything away. She taught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and had to do a double take. Her eyes. Her eyes were button-like! One was light brown on the outside but black on the inside. The other one was black on the outside but light brown on the inside. And they began to bleed red and black tears down her face. The last thing she remembered before the darkness took over was . . .

"Erin! Erin! You need to fight this! It's me! It's Jackie!"

=======================

(Ego University, River Bayou)

River sat in the nearly empty Computer Lab staring at a blank computer screen and a blinking cursor. She shut her laptop closed with a more force than necessary (she'll apologize later) and stuffed it into her case. Dejectedly, River pulled out a letter that was the entire cause of her foul mood. She should have just chucked the damn thing in first trash bin she came across and went on her way. But instead, she kept the blasted thing as if rereading what it said would numb the pain. Or would make the cursed wording more bearable. The letter was from the number one publisher in Egopolcalpse and the cause of her distress.

Miss Bayou,

Thank you for considering us as your publisher. We received your manuscript and looked it over. We regret to inform you that Kingdom Come is not what we're looking for right now. We decided to go with another candidate instead. If you have another story you will like us to take a look at for the possibility of publishing. Please send in your manuscript and we will take a look at it. Good Luck and thank you again.

Angel Mercury.

Scowling, River crumpled up the letter and with a low growl, and threw it in the nearest trash bin. Not what they were looking for?! Did they know how much time and effort she put into that story?! What more do they want?! Sighing heavily, River sank back down into her chair and lazily looked around the Computer Lab for a distraction. Right now, she honestly didn't care if she was late to class.

One of the games a student was playing caught her eye. She didn't recognize the student though. Stringy sprayed painted hair, faded patch shirt, patch jacket, ripped jeans and what appeared to be sunglasses that she was wearing. River came over and sat next to the new student. River saw that it looked like she might have been crying earlier. If the running mascara was anything to by.

*Do you want to try it?* She asked.

"If you don't mind," River answered looking at the game case.

Puppets: A JackSepticeye Game by Power of Friend Games and Sarcastic Pasta Games. The developers of Septicscape and the Boss. Private Investigator Chase Brody and his partner Detective Jackie McLoughlin are hired by Marvin the Magnificent to help find his long lost brother, Doctor Henrik von Schneeplestein. Who's believe to be the Puppet Master's lasted victim. You must investigate various characters, plow through multiple and sometimes random battles, solve many cryptic puzzles to decode the where about of Henrik. But beware. For the Puppet Mater is à͡l҉w͟͡a̸̢y̴͠s ̵̨wa̵t̵c̴͝h̕҉i͜n̶͝g̶ and will make you his next puppet if you not careful.

Smiling ear to ear, and her eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree, River dove straight into the game. She was already getting into this game; playing as, Chase and/or Jackie (you can switch between the two). River went to different parts of the city. Interviewing different people, the player (River) trying to figure out who was lying, who was telling the truth, who could be working for the “Puppet Master.” Every now and then River had to stop and massage her wrists and arms and sometimes she even had to rub her legs.

'Strange? Maybe I've been playing and sitting for too long? But this game! Man, I have to know what happens!' River thought to herself.

She continued to play until what appeared to be the final puzzle of the game. She had to decode a message of some sort. Ha! Easy! River decoded it in nothing flat. Then something strange happened. The computer screen went blank. Completely and utterly dark. After about ten seconds, the computer screen flickered back on but it was nothing but a black and green static.

"Um," River took an unsteady breath. "Do - do you know if I might have, accidentally broke the game?" River turned to the student and nearly knocked over her chair. She - the student - she has . . . Button eyes! And the button eyes began to bleed a blood-like ink. She tilted her head and smiled not even breaking her stitched mouth.

River then felt a tug on her wrists. She looked down and realized, there were acid green strings attached to her wrists and ankles. River tried to run for it but the strings yanked her and she fell face first on the floor. Digging her fingernails into the carpet as the strings began to drag her. She grabbed a hold of a leg of one of the tables. Then one of the love seats in the Computer Lab. And finally the coffee table itself.

"HELP!!!" River screamed. And to her horror, there was no one else but the Living Rag Doll, smiling at her. "Jackie!!!" The last thing River heard before she was completely sucked into the computer was . . .

"M̶̧͝y ͟͝Fa̶̢v̵̛o̕̕ri̡t͘e͘͝ ̛L̸҉o͠y̴͝a̶͘l͏̷̢ ̵͜P̷̕úp̸͠pe̶̸̛t̀"

=============================

(Ego University)

Jackie didn't know what to do. There was something very strange going on here at the University. Two students that Jackie had classes with, Lou Huffle and River Bayou, went missing yesterday. Lou was a very hard working student, even if it wasn't her best subject. She always strive to do her best. So, for Lou to just "skip" her classes? It just didn't make any sense.

Then, for Lou to just materialize out of nowhere the next day, and act as if nothing happened? That was not like Lou at all! Not only that but Lou has been obsessing and working at her desk in the Dolphin Treasures Art Gallery none stop. She's been working on her brand new comic: Nox. Never taking a break except to eat and/or to get more art supplies.

And the strangeness doesn't stop there. Erin Treasures, the Director of the Music and Arts Programs and the owner of the Dolphin Treasures Art Gallery, went missing yesterday as well. No one had seen or heard from her all day yesterday. That wasn't like her. Erin, no matter how busy she might, always took some time out to help someone. So, for her to not be heard from or no one was able to find her yesterday? Yeah, something was up!

What made it worst though, was like Lou. Erin showed up out of the blue, the next day, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Obsessing about making the perfect painting and working none stop, except to eat or get more art supplies. She's painted about four different Septic Ego portraits, stop to look at them, and then she carelessly chucks them into a storage room. Constantly saying, "No, it's not right. It's not perfect. I need to make the perfect painting. It needs to be perfect!"

Jackie needed help. He decided to call Henrik and Chase and see if they could help out. Jackie felt a little guilty about doing this, he hasn't spoken to Chase since his world collapsed. And he hasn't spoken to Henrik since he began to research what was causing the Corruption. Taking a deep breath and taking his cellphone out, Jackie dialed the number he knew by heart. "Henrik? It's Jackie. I need your help. Can you and Chase come by the University? I think it's spreading."

Dread was beginning to seep it's way into the pit of Jackie's stomach. River Bayou was still missing.

==============================

(The Ego Cafe)

Tapping his fingers against his leg, Jackie impatiently waited for Chase and Henrik to arrive as the minutes slowly ticked by. Huffing a frustrated sigh for the umpteenth time. Jackie began to pace, outside the Cafe. The Cafe was on the campus and towards the right as you walk in. Giving Jackie the perfect view of the Front Entrance. Jackie knew that he was being illogical, he just called them like no more than ten minutes ago. It wasn't like they could teleport or had super speed. So, Jackie continued his illogical impatient pacing for the next half hour. He couldn't help it. There was this feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Hopefully, Henrik could tell him something. Speaking of which, there he is!

And was that, "Jack?"

"Hey Jackieboy," Jack greeted.

"Sshhh. Keep it down," Jackie whispered looking around. "I go by Jackson. Or some people call me Jackie."

"Oh, sorry," Jack sheepishly apologized.

"It's okay. Wait, Jack? How did you get here?" Jackie inquired.

"Do you have ninety minutes? But seriously, I have no idea. We're still trying to figure that out," Jack answered.

"Jackie? You said that Corruption was spreading?" Henrik asked getting to the topic of why they're here.

"Oh, right. Let's grab a table and some lunch. I'll explain everything," Jackie answered.

A couple of hours later, Jackie finished explaining what was going on. "And that's why I called you. Think the Corruption is spreading, Doc."

"I think you're right," Henrik confirmed. "The Corruption could be spreading to your world, Jackie. I thought I contained it but I guess not. There's a way to beat the Corruption but I'm not sure on how to apply it."

"What about the Library? You were using that for your research," Chase suggested.

"That's a good idea. I could do some more research to see how to help," Henrik agreed.

"Well, the fastest way to do that is if we take a short cut through the Art Gallery." Jackie hesitated a bit, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say next. "I was hoping Henrik, that maybe you could take a look for yourself. See what's going on with Lou and Erin. Maybe you could figure out how to combat this?"

"That is a good idea," Henrik commented.

"Alright, let's head on out guys," Jackie said sounding more confident then he felt.

===========================

(Dolphin Treasure Art Gallery)

Erin and Lou worked relentlessly at their projects. Both of them suddenly stopped what they were doing. The felt the tug on their strings and knew what it meant. Lou Huffle would get the chance to show her brand new comic and have the perfect story arch. Erin would be able to paint the perfect painting for she will have for new still life models to paint. Both of them got ready for the Ultimate Art Show.

=====================

A/N: Here are a couple of links that helped inspired this story and this chapter.

For those of you here on Tumblr that might not know. @dolphintreasureart has a YouTube Channel! Please go and check it out! It has her doing what I call speed painting and also doing Let’s Plays of various Indie Games and Fan-Made Games

Septicscape Play List: here

This is the post that helped inspire the scene with River: here

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hoshi-kawaii · 6 years

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Seeing Blue

Seeing Blue, a Yuri!!! On Ice Fan Fiction by zerOphelia

Summary: Being an artist is hard enough, but being an artist who can't see color can kill your career. Lucky for Victor, the cute Japanese boy who just left his store has him seeing blue. Victuuri Art College Soulmate AU. ff.net AO3

The shop door opened with a light ring of a bell, alerting Victor to the presence of a customer. Victor remained seated at the checkout counter, calling out a greeting without removing himself from his sketchbook.

“Do you need help finding anything?”

A quiet, “No, thank you,” answered in return.

The reply was enough to let Victor know he would still have a few more moments to work on his piece. It was only some base work for his next assignment, but he was taking it seriously. After all, this would be the last assignment of his college career and in just a few months he would be facing the harsh realities of the job market.

He wiped his fallen bangs out of his eyes, a smudge of charcoal going unnoticed on his cheek. His brows furrowed together in thought as he tried to flesh out his ideas. Victor Nikiforov prided himself in doing the unexpected. This was how he had made it so far: to be one of the top students in one of America's most prestigious art schools.

With each drawing, Victor soared to new heights. His realistic portrayals of both familiar and unfamiliar scenes of life repeatedly left his audience breathless as he lit himself ablaze of dazzling, monochromatic flames. They would praise him as he fell back to the Earth in a rain of ash, only to rise again upon a bed of their expectation.

Yet increasingly, Victor finds the puddle of ash at his feet grow larger. He struggles to give the lifeless dust new form. His body is left stained with charcoal, his art lost in the deep shadows of his colorless world. After all, life can only offer one so much in black and white.

Art is unforgiving to those with unmatched souls, cursed to live an flat, achromic existence. The use of color bred great art, the art that stands the tests of time. But one could only paint with color if one could see it to begin with. The only way this could happen is if one were to meet his soulmate.

So far, Victor had not been so lucky.

Growing up, he dreamed of nothing but the ability to see color. Elementary school started off with torturous lessons of common pigments found in nature. Young Vitya had groaned to his mother in the frustration of learning about something he couldn't see. She smiled softly and told him that one day he would be thankful for knowing that the sky is blue and the grass is green.

As he grew older he begged his parents to describe colors to him. What was the shade of his hair like? Or his eyes? If the day sky and the night sky were both blue, why did they look so different? It was difficult, but they did their best to humor him.

In high school, Victor fell in love with poetry and literature. He longed to know: What was so warm about the sunset? What was so crisp and beautiful about the ocean? What made the bloom of spring so different from the dead of winter?

These questions struck deep into his core with a pain that almost caused him to curse out loud the sadistic nature of fate. He stared at his sketchbook like it had betrayed him, the page before his eyes a mess of soft, grey streaks. Why did his art have to be so goddamn lifeless?

The sound of items hitting the wooden counter before him interrupted Victor’s inner admonishment.

“Yes,” he responded to the awaiting customer, stashing his sketchbook on a shelf below the counter where no one would have to see. He cleaned the residual evidence off his fingers and on the waist of his black cardigan. “Sorry about that.” Victor offered a bright, apologetic smile.

The Asian boy on the other side of the counter blushed slightly, replying in a warm, accented voice, “No worries.”

Victor’s smile sat more naturally upon his lips at the sound, his eyes briefly trailing over the form across from him. The Asian boy had black hair so deep it shined and glasses that covered his down-shifted gaze. Victor smirked because somehow he found this nervousness incredibly cute.

He examined the customer’s order and searched for a topic of idle chit chat. His purchase included black and white paint and two canvases. Chances are he, too, was unmatched, but it wasn't exactly a polite topic of conversation.

“This is high-quality paint you got here. You seem to know your stuff.”

The customer chuckled lightly, adjusting his glasses. “Thanks? I actually attend the art college near here. I'm glad to know their teachings are useful.”

Victor looked up sharply from where he had been adding up the purchase in the register.

So cute nervous boy had a sarcastic side to him, huh?

“I go there too!” Victor didn't know what he was letting himself get so swept up for, this was a college town after all. “I’m a senior in the fine arts program.” He paused his work to look over the other boy again, ”I wonder if we've ever seen each other.”

“I'm only in my second year, studying art therapy. We've probably missed each other until now.” The Asian-- Japanese?-- boy turned his gaze towards the window in avoidance of Victor. There was an unsettling pause between the two before he added, “To be honest I usually get my supplies online or at the campus store. But they were out and I couldn't afford to wait for the shipping date. It's good to know this place is here.” His eyes settled again on the counter between the two.

Victor smiled warmly, “Yes, it's a small shop usually overshadowed by the campus store, but we have a good selection here. Though I will admit I'm glad we aren't more busy. This way I can get a lot of sketching done. Your total is $21.47.” Victor began bagging up the items.

A small dusting of gray took over the Asian student’s pale features as he admitted, “Ah, yes. I had noticed you drawing for a bit there. It was beautiful.” He handed over $22 in cash.

Victor simply paused with the money in his hand before the customer added, “You're ending your final year, so the pressure must be high.”

Victor sighed, offering the customer his change and his bag. “You would not believe.” The last word nearly catches in his throat when he finds cute nervous boy’s gaze locked unflinchingly on his face.

Without warning, the student swipes his thumb over Victor’s cheek causing his eyes to blow wide at the contact.

The customer gasps, for some reason reacting with more surprise. “Sorry! I-- Y-you just had some charcoal on your face.” His eyes are staring into Victor’s dead on for just a moment before he forces himself to look away. “I gotta go.”

Victor was taken aback by the odd behavior, but before he knew it he was calling after the man, “Wait! What’s your name?”

The customer stopped in front of the door, standing there for a moment-- as if making some kind of life-altering decision. Opening the door slightly, he turned around and spoke with a shaky voice, “I’m Y-yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki.” The door swiftly closed after him as he exited the building as quickly as he could.

Victor looked after him for a moment, dazed by the encounter. The silence of the store was broken as Victor opened his mouth and repeated the syllables, “Yuuri.”

The world around began to distort and glow as a soft, pleasing shade entered his vision. Victor stilled, frozen in awe of the beauty of the color that entered his life. One moment he was standing in the all-too familiar territory of his workplace and with the utterance of a few lithe syllables he was transported to a plane so distinctly alien.

Everything around him was the same, yet profoundly different. Shades of hue saturated pockets of his vision while others were merely tinted. Staring out the store windows, he was stunned-- confounded with wonder.

So this was what the sky looked like all along? So this is blue?

It took Victor a moment to process all that this meant for him, and he cursed himself as he ran out the door in hopes of catching up with the person who gifted him with this new phenomena. Expectedly, the streets outside were empty. He sighed, running his dusty fingers through his hair. “Yuuri,” He whispered, “I won’t let you get away that easy.”

A few hours later, Yuuri was pulling on his hair, pacing around his apartment as he spilled-all to his roommate.

“What kind of guy am I? What kind of guy meets his soulmate and runs away!?” Yuuri sat on the edge of the couch for a moment before springing back up and continuing to release his nervous energy.

He had ran, because the moment the blue in the shop clerk’s eyes hit him, he didn’t know what else to do. He wandered frantically around town for at least an hour trying to process what was happening to him. He even stopped into the University Wellness Center to make sure he wasn’t having a stroke. The only treatment he received was a very embarrassing pep talk from the campus nurse.

“That happens, I’m sure. There are some crazy stories out there about soul-meetings. It’s not exactly like you can prepare yourself for something you can’t comprehend existing. At least you didn’t go Double Rainbow, right?” Phichit Chulanont was really too pure for this world. He sat on the couch listening to Yuuri and petting one of his hamsters. “But tell me exactly how it happened! What colors can you see?”

“Well,” Yuuri finally stilled for a moment, “I went to brush some dust off his cheek and when he looks at me again, all of a sudden his eyes were glowing with-- with color!” Yuuri’s legs collapsed to the floor. “It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I thought I was going to die.” Yuuri slumped forward, face meeting the floor.

Truth is he still felt like he was going to die. But of embarrassment. Because in the touching moment that Yuuri finally met his soulmate-- something he never ever thought would happen, by the way-- Yuuri ran away. But again, at least he didn’t go Double Rainbow over some dude’s eyes.

Arigato, Kamisama.

Phichit’s laugh was somewhere between a squeal of delight and a horrifying cackle of extreme amusement. “I love you, but you’re an idiot!” He picked up a pillow and aimed it directly at Yuuri’s butt. “This is so unfair! I want to see color too! Which color do you see?”

“Blue.” Yuuri answered softly, his voice muffled by the carpet. “And I doubt anything could ever be more entrancing.”

“Did you get his name, at least?”

Yuuri sat up properly. “His name tag said ‘Victor’.”

“You actually paid attention to his name tag?” Phichit shot Yuuri an odd look.

Yuuri’s face gather in a blush neither man could really determine. “To be honest, I thought he was attractive even before I could see his eyes. His hair was this really pretty, silky-looking grey color... and it just had this essence like... you know when you see something that is black and you can tell that it’s true color is really black? There's just this quality of completeness. It’s really calming.”

“Wow. That was really beautiful, Yuuri. You got me bawling over here.”

“Shut up! I was a wreck just talking to him as a customer. How am I supposed to face him as my soulmate?” Yuuri buried his face in the nearby pillow, groaning in frustration.

“Woe is me! My name is Katsuki Yuuri! How am I supposed to talk to the super gorgeous boy who has been fated to be my lover since the beginning of time!” Phichit teased.

Yuuri deadpanned, taking the pillow in his hand and tossing it at Phichit with no mercy. “You can be an ass sometimes.”

Phichit grinned. “Too bad I can’t be your ass, or I’d be bound to get some sweet lovin’ sooner than later.”

Yuuri rose, nervous energy forgotten as he took a deep breath and declared, “I’m going to kill you.”

Meanwhile, across campus:

“Yurio!” Victor barged into his friend’s room without warning. Yuri Plisetsky sat in his bed with a guitar on his lap, a notebook of staff paper lying open beside him.

“What the fuck did you just call me?” The blonde replied with a snarl.

“I called you ‘Yurio’. I just met another Yuri, so I’ve decided to call you ‘Yurio’ now.” Victor replied, his tone somewhere between smug and matter-of-fact.

“We’re Russian! Why not just call me ‘Yura’?” Yuri barked, his palm in his face.

Victor pouted. Of course. Victor always pouted around Yurio. For some reason he felt the right to act spoiled around those he had known for most of his life, a prerogative Yuri often wondered what he did to make Victor think belonged to him.

“But what if I want to call him ‘Yura’?”

“Wait,” Yuri set his guitar down, giving Victor his full attention. “Another Yuri? Do you mean Yuuri Katsuki?”

Victor’s eyes widened, his mouth molding into the shape of a heart as he bounced with excitement, “You know him!?”

“Da, I know that pig. We’ve had a few psych classes together. He’s a loser with no confidence. He totally bombed one of our presentations and I told him he should just drop out.” Yurio explained.

Victor suddenly grabbed Yuri by the shoulders, exclaiming, “YOU TOLD MY SOULMATE HE SHOULD DROP OUT?”

“Soulmate? What? That loser is your soulmate!?” Yurio pushed Victor away.

Victor sighed, his expression akin to a lovelorn maiden.

“He just stopped in the store. I could tell right away he was interesting, not to mention completely adorable, but when he told me his name I knew I was a gonner. I met Yuuri Katsuki, and now I can see life through blue-tinted lenses! It’s such a wonderful color, too.”

“Blue, huh.” Yurio snorted, seemingly disinterested. While on one hand he supposed he could be happy the man he saw as an older brother finally found his match, he had a feeling Victor would talk about nothing else for quite a while. Victor had a tendency to be a bit... how should we put it... extra.

“Yurio, please tell me you have his number.” Victor turned to Yuri with eyes that rivaled those of his dog, Makka.

“Why would I have a pig’s number? And stop calling me that stupid name.” Yuri reached for his guitar again.

“You have to help me track him down.”

Yuri hated being told what to do, but he restrained himself and began to play a melody he had been working on. “Why do I have to? Just search for him on social media.”

“You don’t think I tried? The kid is like a ghost! He has no facebook and his instagram hasn’t been updated in MONTHS. PLEASE, Yurio! You’re the only connection I have right now.”

“Stop calling me that.” He set his guitar down once more, looking Victor dead-on. Yuri hated that those stupid eyes actually had some kind of effect on him. He looked away, conceding, “If I help you, you’re gonna owe me big time.”

Victor threw himself at Yuri’s feet, hugging his waist tightly in gratitude. “Thank you!”

“Disgusting, get off me!” Yurio pushed at Victor’s head, pissed that Victor was actually stronger than him. “His roommate is part of the music program and we have a class together. They’re pretty close and I’m sure he would help you out.”

“Perfecto!” Victor leaned in to give his “little brother” a kiss on the head.

“I swear to God, Vitya, your lips touch me and you die.”

The next day, Victor sat restless on his stool at the art supply shop. His shift ended in less than one hour. One hour and he would rush across campus to meet Yurio after his seminar. The blonde boy had agreed to detain Phichit, Yuuri’s roommate, after class so Victor could talk to him and hopefully get in contact with Yuuri that night.

As usual, things were slow and Victor was attempting to work on his artwork. His mind buzzed with thoughts of the cute Japanese boy he had met the day before. Many times during his shift he caught himself tracing the lines of Yuuri’s face into the paper. His glasses perched on an unbearably adorable nose, the tresses of his soft black hair.

If Victor had known that customer was his soulmate, he would have worked harder to burn the sweet image of his smile into his brain.

His mind wandered to the only information he knew about his match: he was from Japan (or Victor assumed based on his accent and a few old photos on his instagram), he was a sophomore, he painted, his major was art therapy. From what Yurio told him, Yuuri wasn’t good at speaking in front of a crowd.

Victor sighed, setting his most recent sketch of Yuuri (because somehow in the last 24 hours he managed to fill ten pages) down on the counter, resting his cheek on his palm. He stared at the image like it would come to life and start talking and on some level, Victor himself felt alive.

He felt heavy, burdened by anxiety of new love and stress of tracking that love down, but all at once: he felt light.

Light because life had returned to him and returned to his art as his eyes had started to perceive the world in a different way.

Light because love was in his grasp and it made his heart soar higher than ever before, beating rapidly with anticipation of what new possibilities were before him.

Light because he finally shed the ash of the cold, gray world.

“You got my chin wrong.”

Victor’s eyes flew open, his head pulled down from the clouds by the sound of a familiar accent. His gaze refocused, and was met directly with a bottle of turquoise paint. His head lifted higher to find the subject of his mind’s occupation standing opposite him, and his butt had never left a seat faster than this moment.

“Yuuri!” Victor nearly fell over the counter.

Yuuri smiled brightly. “I’m glad you remember me, Victor.”

Victor’s chest popped and fizzed, threatening to burst open at the sound of his name on his soulmate’s lips. Yuuri’s lips.

“How did you--?”

“You’re wearing a nametag.” Yuuri pointed to Victor’s chest.

Victor’s eyes followed Yuuri’s finger unknowingly, but stopped instead on the bottle of blue paint Yuuri had previously placed before him.

“Blue.” Victor blurted before meeting Yuuri’s eyes, caught completely off guard by this surprise attack. He had a whole plan for meeting Yuuri in the evening. He would meet with Phichit and convince him to take him to wherever Yuuri was and then charm the pants off his soulmate. Figuratively and maybe even literally. “You! We’re--”

“Yeah.” Yuuri smiled softly, acknowledging their cosmic relationship.

Smooth.

“Urgh!” Victor’s legs gave out as he slumped onto the shop floor. He turned his back to the counter, burying his face in his hands.

“Victor?” Concern and surprise leaked through Yuuri’s tone.

“This isn’t fair!” Victor could no longer contain his embarrassment. “I had a plan to talk to your roommate and track you down. I was gonna prepare myself to speak to you and ask you out to coffee. Getting caught drawing pictures of you in my sketchbook was not part of that plan.”

Behind him Yuuri laughed.

“How can you be so cool?” Victor asked.

“Cool?” Yuuri froze. “Are you kidding? I ran away from you, remember? I was up all night trying to figure out what to say to you. I paced in front of the store for an hour before I came in. A cop actually stopped me for suspicious behavior.”

“You’re lying.” Victor turned to stand on his knees, his face half-hidden by the counter as he looked up at Yuuri.

“I’m not. I sort of wish I was, though.” Yuuri’s face flushed, and as it did Victor’s eyes began to pick up on the pink pigments of the blood beneath beautiful peachy skin. He stared, mesmerized as Yuuri continued, “I-I came in quietly a-and only calmed down when I saw you sketching.”

Victor could tell from the stuttering that Yuuri was also experiencing this new phenomena. He rose to his feet, and Yuuri’s blush deepened as Victor leaned closer over the counter.

The spread of color only lured Victor in. Yuuri froze as the pale hand of an artist rested against his hot cheek. He gulped, but willed himself to continue talking-- to distract himself from the fact that Victor’s face was approaching his own with dangerous speed.

“If you were sketching me... I knew you had to be as occupied by me as I am by you.” Yuuri’s eyes drew closed as if by gravity.

“Yuuri.” Victor whispered, “You’re so cute.”

Before Yuuri’s face had the chance to burn brighter, Victor’s closed any short distance still left between them, connecting two bodies by the lips for one brief moment.

Victor simply looked at his soulmate, his amused, heart-shaped smile full of fondness. Yuuri stood absolutely still, shocked expression lingering longer than either of them expected. Victor let out a small giggle.

This is going to be fun.

Yuuri finally cleared his throat, though it did nothing to stop his voice from cracking as he spoke, “So, um... You said something about coffee...”

Victor laughed again. “I get off in about twenty minutes.” He reached to comb his fingers through a few tousled strands of Yuuri’s hair, “Think you can wait that long?”

Yuuri’s eyes trailed Victor’s every movement. He released a breath he had apparently been holding, a small cough escaping shortly after as he choked on his own saliva. “Y-yeah. I’ll just... um...” Yuuri looked around nervously, his mind unable to focus on how on Earth he could pass any amount of time away from the man in front of him.

“Why don’t you keep me company until then?” Victor smirked, pointing with his head over to a second stool behind the counter.

“O-okay.”

Victor lifted the small counter-top separator, ushering the Japanese man behind the divider and over to the stool before taking a seat himself. In the back of his mind he debated whether or not his boss would mind, but he doubted it. Nicolai was a kind man and the two were almost like family.

“So, Yuuri, tell me what project you’re working on right now.” Victor gave his soulmate his full attention, lips turned up in an unwavering smile, blue eyes swimming with awe.

Unspeakable happiness flowed through Yuuri’s veins as he began, “Well...”

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reuxben · 6 years

Photo

This was our MTGinktober for “Ship,” starring Precinct Captain and its corresponding Soldier Token! Yes, I totally ship them--I have seen it. Seen the end, seen the beginning, the beginning of the end--and I have the photos to back it up, which I collected over the years during my time in the Boros Legion.

Relax, spare me the “thank you for your service” stuff, I was just a Legion photographer. I never saw combat. Though I did get a papercut once, which technically qualified me for a Purple Core signet--and don’t get it mindtwisted, “technically qualified” is the best kind of qualified, though I grant you that paranoia’s all I got left on that theory. Look, I wanted to go to photography school, but figured it’d be smarter to do the Boros work-study program in the Arts and Propaganda (A&P) department, since I could study photography, do nominal but obligatory (and minimal) soldier stuff, get out after my term was up, and then use that sweet, sweet Boros bonus to start my own studio. They were desperate for recruits back then (no idea what it’s like nowadays, don’t really keep up), so they just threw money at unguilded chumps to enlist.

I should note this was during the disastrous “Feathernomics” period of exorbitant deficit spending on recruitment and propaganda, which is why I had it so good as a new enlistee in the A&P department (our nickname was “Twinkle Toes Company.” Other companies did that “OOH-Rah! OOH-Rah! OOH-Rah-Rah!” chant you always see in the spectacles, but they’d shout “OOH-Lah!” at us, as in “Ooh-la-la.” It was stupid.). So I wasn’t exactly Agrus Kos, ok? Just a photographer too cheap to go to a proper art school and aware enough to take basically free money for the inconvenience of doing all that idiotic marching and saluting nonsense while having to dress like 80,000 of my closest friends.

But today is a salute to just two of these fellow marching enthusiasts. I can’t believe it never really clicked until I was going over some old photos from back in the day as research for an upcoming project (I’m doing a pictorial book on daily Boros life, plug plug plug), but I kept seeing these two doofs together in photo after photo, so here’s what I remember:

I wasn’t terribly close with anyone in the service, (again, just there for the [essentially] paid education), but my staffbook confirms the guy’s name is Sten Scott, the girl is Tev Pres. I was embedded in the Ravnica 254th Precinct Corps to cover them for one training cycle to simulate wartime conditions, so I had to be a fly on the wall and they had to pretend I didn’t exist, meanwhile I was popping up out of bushes and from under eaves, snapping photos like a filthy Hazoret. These guys were part of the newest wave of recruits and the earliest photo I found of them was right after they presumably first met at the orientation party for new enlistees in the Noble 254th, which is why they’re in their full cadet uniforms.

Scott was nervous because he didn’t know anybody and wasn’t really gelling with anyone, but Pres was super outgoing and forged a fast friendship. She was the life of the party, especially a party of two, so that’s why I remember wanting to follow her around at the party because she got all these great reactions from people, which made for great candid shots--I hate static, posed shots, is there anything more pointless?

Scott was from a higher up family, but I gather he was running from his roots since the 254th is known for being comprised of, shall we say “less financially-secure” families? He definitely didn’t talk about his family life, that’s for sure. For my own curiosity one night, I do recall pulling his file for “research” (Twinkle Toes credentials has its perks), and yeah, his family was pretty loaded. He should have been in Champagne Company like all the other snots. His file says he was indeed placed there originally, but filed a transfer request before he even arrived on campus. And they granted it. Curious.

Pres came from a larger family, according to her file, so that’s probably where she got her more outgoing personality, necessarily screaming over siblings to get a word in, and being generous in her affection for those close to her. 254th families are famously close-knit because for many of them, they need their families jealously looking out for each other in order to survive their rougher districts. That’s why they call it the “Noble 254th,” there’s so much pride in that Corps: their motto is Fogi di Pesn to Nobus di Regi, “The fire of peasants and the nobility of kings.”

So Pres was like your best friend set to eleven, everything was amplified with her, like she didn’t want an ounce of life wasted. She obviously sticks out in my memory more than Scott, but as a “professional,” I tried to maintain my impartiality in my daily rounds of covering the 254th, but judging by my catalog, I invariably found myself gravitating towards photographing her and by extension Scott since these guys were like two shells in a Mortarpod ever since that orientation party.

I’ll briefly address here that there was always that controversial aspect of the Noble 254th. Honorable in conduct, but always with that iffy aftertaste of perpetuating the cynical cycle of the poor fighting rich men’s battles, who would rather send their kids to various Azorius schools for legal training, or if they must enlist in the Legion, then they’d cut straight to higher-placed officer training, like the aforementioned “Champagne Company,” which of course had the widest outbreak of “bone spurs” you’d ever come across. Those poor, delicate orchids. Yeah, I’m one to talk, twinkle twinkle. Regardless, I never heard of anyone rejecting Champagne placement before--nor did anyone else since Scott conveniently never brought it up.

Anyway, the photo under the one from orientation is from boot camp. You always went on IPT (Independent Physical Training) with a buddy to spot you, and these two randomly got paired that first week--pairing was random the first three weeks, after which you elected your buddy having had a breadth of experiences with fellow Legionnaires--I do respect the Boros embrace of the perfect balance of randomness and order, as dealing with these factors is a necessary life skill they make sure you master, even we Twinklers.

I remember this day of IPT pretty well because I love the rain and we all got entangled in this one, despite my otherwise stellar ability to stay out of subjects’ ways. Pres got caught in a sudden downpour during an IPT session, but fortunately Scott had brought an umbrella for that day since, unlike his more spontaneous colleague, he had actually heeded the morning’s weather intel. She promised to pay more attention next time and gave a hug of relief to her trusty backup “fuddy-duddy-in-chief” (I believe was the rank she ascribed him, even addressing him in written communications as FDIC Scott rather than his proper rank). He sheepishly brushed off all credit to the umbrella, as if it were only randomly packed in his supplies that day, and he only perfunctorily lectured her about compromising the rescue mission by getting him just as soaked as her when she rested her sopping wet head on his shoulder.

We were all packed under an awning or something when I snapped this photo, and this is where I got the impression they might have something going on, looking back on these old photos, though to be fair, most people I talked to think it was just her being naturally more tactile, and him being over-prepared as always and being unable to handle *Solemn Simulacrum voice* hu-man e-mo-tions (he definitely chilled out the more they were together, though, and these photos certainly capture how comfortable he felt around her). I dunno. I do know they became pretty much inseparable after that, and were always on the same squad, obviously did their future elected IPT together, everything. Again, easily just that “spirit bond” soldiers get, but come on. Look at them.

I mean, during Rec Day, the 254th’s annual mid-bootcamp morale festival, they of course hit up the photobooth and snapped all these cheesy buddy shots. Before you ask, I processed the photos, so I have a copy in my records--I didn’t mug them for these like a Bramble Creeper, all right? Anyway, again, I guess you could flip a coin on this photo-roll as evidence, pro or con. They were pretty close by then, half-way through bootcamp, spending bloody, sweaty, and teary hours upon hours together, so maybe it’s just them being pals, having achieved dat soulbond doe.

Real talk, though, that’s how the Boros gets you. They lure you in with some attractive benefits package, you build these absurdly strong bonds with your partner or squad, and then you end up re-upping after your term is up, signing longer and longer contracts, and before you know it, you’re off fighting for some rich, bloated Orzhov oligarch who doesn’t even know who you are and would without hesitation send you to die to secure him a greater tax cut or clear out unguilded protestors who figured out what’s up, etc. The house always wins if you play long enough. Twinkle Toes Company is full of artists and diva creatives, so the turnover is higher, thus we don’t suffer from that unfortunate development of blind obedience. Besides, who would ever trust an artist on anything worthwhile? Seriously.

The last photo is from their commencement ceremony afterparty, I was on photography duty of course, so all photos got that dumb, overly formal, commemorative dressing at the bottom. As meh as I am about the Boros, or the guilds in general--it’s all a scam, man, every guild is just out for your cash in the end, yes, even the Gruul (if you think Bobo ain’t gettin’ paid, wow, I’ve got a Planar Bridge I’d like to sell you)--regardless of all that, I thought it was cool to see them in their formal uniforms at long last. Even I get a little emotional seeing companies finally don their fray apparel, ok? It’s the spectacle of it, I guess. I’m a photographer, I appreciate visuals. But I mean, who doesn’t get caught up in all that? Be human. Or whatever. Goat people, whatever you call them. You know what I mean. I just had the good sense to get out when my contract was up. I shredded my guild card and have been living just peachy out here unguilded, though I do collect my vet check every month. Thank you for your postal service.

The last document...I won’t tell you how I got it. I won’t tell you who wrote it. I will say though...how many letters do you write to mere friends like that? It turns out that commencement party photo was the last time they ever saw each other because, as far as I know, one of the two found this letter slid under-door the next morning and meanwhile the other was already off on a separate assignment on a totally different plane. No transfer requests in the file, nothing. Silence.

Even if you know you’ll never see them again by virtue of the sheer time and space imminently separating you...Do you ever tell your friends you love them? Ought you to? Am I just an emotionally stunted photographer living vicariously through my subjects, being unable to live life myself, and can only rely on the fantasies I invent about the vivacious people I cover to bring me any semblance of a satisfactory life? Don’t answer that.

Love,

Thanks,

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Not normal,

Reuxben

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