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#yes its paradoxical i know shut up
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11 POWER OUTAGE PROMPTS
Requested by @fantastictrashpolice
—» Please tag @paradoxical-scribbler or link this post in your work to let me know these helped you write :)
ONE
A: *on the phone* “Hey what's up! You never call so late at night.”
B: “Hey..yeah..so the power suddenly went out and its completely dark—”
A: “Don't worry. Turn on your phone's flashlight and try to find some candles. I'm heading over.”
TWO
A: *on a call* “OMG! THE LIGHTS SUDDENLY WENT OUT. IT'S SO DARK. WHAT DO I DO!?”
B: “Okay calm do—”
A: “BUT ITS ONLY MY APARTMENT! HOW CAN YOU ASK ME TO CALM DOWN!?”
B: *sighs* “Okay relax. Maybe its just a power trip due to the storm. First head to your electrical panel. It should probably be in the garage or by the entryway.”
A: “Okay, alright, I'm going there now.”
B: “Good. Now once you find it, try switching on all the MCBs one by one.”
THREE
A: *bumps into B* “Ohh sorry, its pitch black and I couldn't see you.”
B: “Its alright.”
FOUR
A: *bumps into B cuz its dark and screams like a maniac*
B: *screams back in equal terror*
A: Oh Thank heavens! It's just you.
B: Fuck you! I got scared to death.
FIVE
A: *bumps into B and snickers* “Sorry I didn't see you there.”
B: *frowns in distaste at the pun* “Shut up! And help me finding a flashlight!”
A: *starts cackling* “Right I'll look for them.”
B: *groans in annoyance*
SIX
A: *visibly sweating* “Ugh! The power has been out since last night and its so humid these days.”
B: *picks up a newspaper & starts waving it in front of A like an old, hand fan* “Better?”
A: “Yeah. A little.”
SEVEN
A: *knocks on B's apartment door*
B: *opens door, looking tired and sweaty due to the humid weather*
A: “They say power won't be back until 7. Wanna grab ice-cream and go to the pool.”
B: *suddenly perks up* “YES!”
EIGHT
A: “I swear if I see you any longer on that couch I'll kick you out of the house!”
B: “Well what do you want me to do!? The power's out and my phone's dead.”
NINE
A: *locks apartment and goes to the building's rooftop cause the power's out. Spots B standing by the railing* “Oh. I didn't think anyone would be here.”
B: *giggles at their awkwardness* “It's fine. I would prefer some company right now.”
TEN
A: *smirks evilly* “So the power's gone. Wanna go around and scare some neighbors?”
B: *smirks back* “I thought you'd never ask.”
ELEVEN
A: *lights a bunch of candles and settles down next to B*
B: *shares their blanket with A*
*both continue doing their own work in comfortable silence, waiting for the power outage to be fixed*
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hanayori89 · 4 months
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To The Arbiter’s Grounds
* Ordon Village *
A spritz of fog quilted the early morning air of Ordon Village. You awoke with a sense of newfound zeal towards your mission within the light. In truth, you were also eager to escape Ordon for a little bit. You found that when you spent time in the quiet confinement of nature, you were one with the light. Paradoxically, it was its inhabitants that made you feel oddly ostracized.
Aside from Link and Telma, whose kindness did not go without merit.
Yes, you were tired of the verdant flurries of leaves that fell from the Ordona trees and the synthetic smiles that the residents wore. Then there was the looming wedding of Link and Ilia, which was a mere few days away. What had you hoped for by telling Link you wanted him to react to your "date" with Aryn? He didn't even react to the statement itself.
He gave you a simple "I see" as he polished off the rest of his water glass. What did he see? You may have never experienced a kiss before, but from what you read, isn't that what almost happened yesterday?
What if Link pities me? Or worse yet, if he was presented with my Twili form, would he still have wanted to kiss me? And how could I kiss an engaged man?
You got out of bed, stretching your fatigued body from all of the hustling that took place at the bar. You weren't just receiving a monetary benefit from working, but also a physical one. If you were expected to keep up with the Hero of Twilight, you would need to improve your stamina.
There will be no more silly pandering thoughts of Link. He is a vessel for me to complete my conversion. Nothing more. You developed steadfastness when it came to mentally repeating mantras that opposed your feelings for Link. Whatever they may be.
The foolish pandering thought himself interrupted your mental tirade. He lightly knocked on your door, his voice drifting beneath it. "Y/N? Are you decent?"
"Decent in what regard?"
There was a slight pause. "Are you dressed?"
Ah, decent does not just mean respectable in morality but also in wardrobe. Their interesting spin on words will never cease to amaze me here.
Your voice had just returned, causing it to slip out slightly gravelly. "Yes, I am dressed." With that announcement, Link gave the door a gentle swing and let himself in.
"Good morning. Today's a big day, isn't it? The journey officially commences. I know you don't own a lot of clothes. I figured you could borrow some of mine to protect you from the sun. I do worry about your eyes. Gerudo Mesa is quite glaring, even for my human ones."
Link evaded your gaze as he continued on. "In the top drawer, you'll find an outfit I prepared for you the other day. It'll be great for dessert travel and covering your markings. I know that's important to you. Whenever you're ready to depart, I'm downstairs. I made us some fruit to take on the road."
You didn't have time to respond. Link was already thudding down the stairs with the door shut behind him.
It seemed the discomfort of the desert heat wasn't going to compare to the awkwardness that had made its way in between you and Link.
*
You strolled downstairs, robed in the outfit Link had created for you. It was a heat-resistant tunic. He had chosen a drab burgundy color, along with beige pants to layer beneath it. You recognized them as his own pants- the ones he wore with his green tunic. You created a brown headscarf out of one of the linens he had nestled in the top drawer with the outfit. Luckily, you came to this realm with sturdy walking boots. You wouldn't have an issue traversing the sandy mounds of the Gerudo Desert. It wasn't the most flattering outfit, but you felt protected from the elements. Once again, Link managed to touch you by taking the time to craft something for you to wear, all the while considering your markings.
Link gave you a once-over, devoid of the incinerating passion he usually held within his eyes. Here you were taking everyone's advice, trying to talk about what you felt, only for it to create unwelcome stress. No wonder people in the light acted so emotionally constricted.
His smile was smothered on his face in a contrived attempt at friendliness. "Looks good."
You had to fix this somehow. You simply wouldn't ride through the desert in the weird state he was in. You tried to lighten the mood. "Will there be cuccos we can sand dive with?"
Link studied you for a moment before giving you a stringent response. "No cuccos. Just this guy." He gave a gentle slap on a metal apparatus he was fiddling with. Its circular shape was studded with 10 nodules sticking out around it. You tried to jog your own memory from the stories Midna told you of her own visit to the Arbiter's Grounds. You stood there with a dazed look as Link continued to tinker with it. He felt your blank stare fixate on him.
"This is called a spinner. It will be necessary for us to ride over some of the treacherous quicksand spots as well as the wall rails. Did Midna ever tell you about it? We received it after we defeated Death Sword."
"Is there one for me to ride on?"
Link stuck his eyes back down on the spinner in his hands. "There is only one. We'll have to ride together." Knowing well enough that your cheeks would betray you, you walked past a distracted Link to the outside.
When all was said and done, Link and you were ready to bring your A game to the Arbiter's Grounds. He offered to help you mount Epona. Still perplexed by his lack of acknowledgment with your confession, you turned him down. You felt foolish for letting yourself be vulnerable. Here he was asking you to describe how you felt, yet when it came to himself, he was clogged like a drain. The last thing you needed was to be close to him, which was proving impossible thanks to the ride on Epona.
And now the spinner.
You held on to his waist loosely, not allowing yourself to rest on his back.
"Y/N, would you like an apple?" He asked, not bothering to turn his head in your direction.
"No. Thanks." You answered dully.
You were instantly taken back to when you both first rode to Castle Town. How did you go back to that same miserable discomfort? You didn't have an answer. But you did know one thing for sure.
The spirits in the Arbiter's Grounds would provide you with more camaraderie than Link in his current state would.
*Gerudo Mesa*
Little smears of pink sky were oppressed by the gray smudges of clouds that hung low among the top of Gerudo Valley. Link could feel Epona's exhaustion with each sinking hoof print in the sand. Y/N only exchanged conversation with him when it was necessary. The weight of her statement was crushing him.
She wanted him to react. In Link's mind, the only logical reaction she could hope to gather was jealousy. She wanted him to be jealous.
Well, she got her wish because goddesses, was he ever.
But of course, Link couldn't admit that. He concealed his emotions, always making sure they were thoughtfully hidden. His emotions were locked in a chest and stowed away where no one could reach them. It wasn't that Link wasn't flattered beyond comprehension at Y/N's statement. The last time he ever felt such happiness was when he defeated Ganondorf.
He was elated. Giddy, even.
So why had he clammed up? He sat there like a blithering fool, simply answering her with a nonchalant "I see." It was evident to Link, through Y/N's crying jags, that there was a plethora of emotions beneath the surface. She could feel. But she couldn't make sense of what her feelings were. The very issue he seemed to struggle with himself. He was so similar to Y/N, almost to the point of being repellent. It was clear to Link what was going on. They were repelling each other with their veiled emotions. Link was certain; what they felt was the same. The real question was, who would make the first move?
But he couldn't think about any of it now. There was much to be done. There was Y/N's conversion, which Link was secretly beginning to dread. Y/N had captured his heart the way she was. Another scathing secret he kept hidden. If Link wanted a Hylian, he would go be with one. He wanted Y/N, the outstanding Twili with eyes that burned crimson like a blood moon. He wanted to learn Twili, the language that baffled him and intrigued him all the same. He wanted her to wear clothing that showed off the magnificence of her markings, which had sunk their roots down her spine. He wanted to listen to her hum in the kitchen while she cooked Moblin guts. He wanted to watch her eyes devour all the wonder of everything around her, like she had in Lake Hylia.
Hylia, he just wanted her.
Maybe, for as much as Y/N wanted to be part of the light, he secretly wanted to be part of the dark. Zelda did know Link too well. Link noticed the familiar six columns of the Arbiter's Grounds protruding upwards in the distance. There were many memorable moments during his time here. The one that would never fade for Link was the distinct architecture the grounds held. It was an old prison, housing only Hyrule's most despicable criminals. With its archaic colosseum, you would think they made the criminals duke it to the death here.
I should take Aryn here. He snorted to himself.
"Link?" Y/N's frail voice emerged from behind him. "Is that it in the distance?"
"Yes." Link concurred rather abruptly. He hated how he was acting. He knew if he answered Y/N's statement, he wouldn't hold back. It was going to be torture to have her body pressed into his when they rode on the spinner.
I just need to see Mayor Bo. I need to get this wedding revoked. I told Y/N to share her feelings with me. Ignoring her feelings because I can't ignore my own isn't fair.
"Halt!" Link straddled Epona into a hasty stop. He patted her head, gently strumming her mane between his fingers. "Good girl. Here. Epona, wait for us. Take your rest. You deserve it." He withdrew a few carrots for her to nibble on. He hopped off, walking around, feeling for a tough area of sand. When his feet found a sturdy spot, he bent down and created a mini-well. He whipped out a canteen and filled it with water for Epona to refresh with.
He looked Y/N's way. Her body was drenched in the desert dusk. She was preoccupied by the vision of the Arbiter's Grounds in the distance. Link's heart began to mumble all the things he wanted to say to her with each beat.
He soaked up the image of her in the Gerudo light before making his way over to her and Epona.
"Y/N, would you show Epona where her drinking well is? I'm going to get the spinner ready. We'll ride it over to the grounds."
She gave Link a dubious nod as she dismounted Epona. He didn't bother to reach his hand up to guide her down. He knew she'd refuse. He missed the warmth of her body pushed against his back as he rode. He created the distance between them. The only thing he could do at the moment was respect it.
He caught notice of Y/N picking at her nails.
She's nervous. Why wouldn't she be? I need to support her through this.
Link set the spinner down with a raucous thud in the sand. He hopped atop it, reaching his hand down to her. "I know you're nervous. I would be lying if I said I wasn't either. But I promise, we go through this together. You and I."
She delicately placed her hand in his. She seemed to hesitate as she stood in front of him, uncertain.
"It's alright to hold on to me. Tightly." He added.
Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her head beneath his chin. He wondered if she could hear his heart picking up speed now that they were near.
Like the almost kiss in Castle Town. The new thought plaguing him every second of the day.
Link had to sheath his romantic fantasies along with his sword. The Arbiter's Grounds were swarming with potential danger.
Link wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close. A surprised breath escaped her lips from the sudden, brash contact, tickling Link's throat. He reached his other arm up, gripping the hilt of his sword.
"I've got you." He whispered.
"And I'm never letting go." He stashed that thought away in the chest of his locked emotions.
A/N: Edited 1/13/23
Even though things between you and Link are awkward right now, you will enter the Arbiter's Grounds side by side. Or, should I say, within each other's arms?
What wisdom will the six sages depart? And perhaps more importantly, what danger still lurks within the grounds?
Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond
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misslovasstuff · 1 year
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“Generously.”
[Fyodor x reader]
“That… is weird.”
You claim, watching your boss taking care of a little plant. Botany was not a strong field of knowledge for you, so there was no way to tell which kind of plant that was.
Black flowers, dark green leaves, all that majestic beauty in one little vase near a small window. And there, right next to such innocence, stood the last person on this earth that you’d think would have the sentimental value of growing a little plant.
You thought Fyodor helped only the creatures that interested him, benefited him, so this sight today was one to behold: him showing genuine care.
“What’s weird about it? It’s just the way the flower is, it is called ‘black star’ by some.”- He replies, touching its leaves. - it needs more sun.”
Fyodor carefully takes the vase and puts it out the window, then closing it. He shakes the dirt of his hands and turns behind, facing you.
“What’s with that face of yours?”- he asks, pointing at you.
“Oh nothing, I think it’s quite interesting seeing you like this. May I ask what plant is it? Black star you say?”
A little smile appears in his face, accompanied by a small giggle: “it’s a Calla. I picked it up just yesterday from the store downstairs.”
You two stare at the little flower who looked quite happy in the sun.
“It’s beautiful.” - you say and Fyodor immediately shifts his gaze to you. He scans your dark eyes and brownish hair, as they beautifully complement your skin tone, golden, like a rain of sunshine. He would have sworn that he saw the paradoxes of the universe in your being alone. So dark yet so majestic, so bright yet so cold, and so beautiful to be looked by the eyes of someone who does not comprehend your beauty. But Fyodor did, he praised you in many ways.
“Yes it is. - he replies. - you know why I chose it?”
You blink in confusion, seeing a very gentle look in his eyes. Your silence makes him smile, saying:
“Calla represents majesty and beauty, purity and rebirth. - he approaches you, standing centimetres away from your face, which turns red immediately. - it reminds me of you. “
“How… - you gulp, trying your best to avoid his stare, so intimidating yet so passionate. - how does it remind you of me?” - you ask, biting your lip and slowly gathering the courage to look at his piercing eyes.
“You’re magical, tender and soft. - he raises your arms, touching your elbow and slowly tracing your skin up until the palm of your hand. - Your beauty and purity hold no comparison, for you are the only one who makes me weak. - he touches the palm of your hand, sending a wave of butterflies down your stomach. - And you have brought me back from the dead with your touch alone.”
Fyodor holds your chin while his hand makes its way to your waist, pulling you closer:
“Taking care of that little flower, reminds me of the blessing that I have, that is you. I’ll be taking care of you, until the last ray of sunshine dies, my love.”
You melt at his words, at his hot breath against your neck and at his gentle yet piercing touch. A slight moan escapes your mouth as he drowns his face in your chest.
“I love you.”- a simple response, but it makes his head go crazy. He shuts down the window curtains and drags you to the nearest place where he can take care of you, a bit naughtily, but still generously.
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icycoldninja · 4 months
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Gone (Kuja x Reader angst)
You lay in your bed at 2:00 A.M., staring up at the ceiling aimlessly. Despite your tiredness, there was no chance of you falling asleep tonight. Your brain buzzed with energy, energy that seemed to always leave you in the morning. This was because your heart was troubled; your mind refused to quiet its worries. You rolled over to stare at the empty sea of sheets before you. Just seeing how alone you were in that room was enough to make you want to cry. You missed him, you missed the man who would often curl himself around you and hug you to sleep; you missed how he would kiss you on the forehead and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. You shut your eyes, trying to stop the flow of nostalgic memories as they rushed into your brain, filling you with a sort of sad warmth. You knew you'd never get to experience anything like that ever again, which made you sad, but at the same time, those memories brought you comfort. It was a paradox of feelings, one that continued to keep your exhausted brain awake. "Kuja...." You whimpered into your pillow. Why did he have to leave? Why hadn't he come back? What was he doing for the past 4 years?! Your lonlieness and sadness soon shifted into anger and hurt. He always made a promise before he left, for whatever reason--he swore that he'd return to you. But he hadn't, and it had been so long. Why?
You knew the answer, you knew it, but you refused to admit it. You tried to bury the revelation into the darkest depths of your mind, you tried you best to distract yourself with different thoughts, but you knew. You knew why Kuja hadn't come back yet.
He was dead.
The truth had broken past your mental barriers and filled your mind, clouding it with anguish. You curled up and sobbed into the sheets as your gloominess overtook you. You kept weeping until you felt a smooth hand glide over your forehead, wiping your tears and pushing your hair back. You immediately froze up when you heard a familiar voice whisper your name. "Y/N, did you miss me?" Your ears perked up and you rolled over, only to feel a warm hand cover your eyes. "You can't look at me, I'm afraid." You sniffed and grabbed his arm, running your hands over the smooth skin. "Why not?" Kuja sighed; you felt him slide onto the bed and take you into his arms. "Because...if you look at me....I'll dissappear." Your heart stilled; your body tensed up. "What? You'll...dissappear?" Kuja sighed and ran his delicate fingers through your hair. "Yes. I'm sorry." He sighed again and pressed a soft kiss to your cheeks. "I don't have long." You gripped him as tight as you could, feeling your tears start to accumulate again. "It's not fair!" You whined, squeezing your eyes shut and burying your face into his torso. "I want you to stay longer! I want you to stay forever!" Kuja chuckled lowly and kissed your forehead. "I know, darling. I want to stay forever, too. But....I can't. And I'm sorry." He kissed you again, though for some reason, his lips were cold. "Wh-Kuja?!" you cried, shocked. "You're cold!" Kuja sniffed; it sounded like he was crying. "My time is up. I'm sorry, darling, I really am."
Forgetting all about what he said earlier, you opened your eyes and stared at the disintegrating ghost of your lover. "Kuja..." You mumbled in disbelief, watching his slender frame and elegant features turn transparent and dissolve like salt in water. It looked as though he were being absorbed by the air itself. Tears streamed down what was left of his beautiful face as he clasped your trembling hands with his own cold ones, and said what he'd returned to say.
"Goodbye, my darling Y/N. I love you."
"No! No, don't leave me!" You wailed, clawing at his dissipating body. "Please, Kuja! Don't leave me!" It didn't matter how loud you screamed or how long; it didn't matter how much you grabbed at the air.
Kuja was gone, and there was nothing you could do about it.
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limeinaltime · 2 years
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Switchie's OC: Reff
Switchie here! I've started reading Homestuck lately (currently at Act 3's beginning page) and I'd thought I'd share with you an OC I came up with!
…ok well technically it’s also a Murder Drones oc BUT WHATEVER!
So, without further ado, allow me to introduce…Reff!!
(Also I was inspired by some internet series online like Inanimate Insanity so…yeah. Keep that in mind)
----- ----- ----- ----- -----
A mysterious entity outside of Liminal and Paradox Space, Reff is an all powerful reality bender that resides in Shadow Space, a dimension connected to every universe and reality and plane of existence, giving whoever’s inside it access to travel the multiverse and beyond in its entirety.
Smart, charismatic, awkward and a little bit controlling sometimes, Reff is the most powerful being in all of creation , shadowing even X’s power. He can bend reality on a whim, changing everything to his liking. He is the only thing that Amberose and even X herself well and truly fear.
Unlike so many other reality bending entities, however, Reff doesn’t want power, nor conquest. He doesn’t want fame, glory, or to preserve some golden age that doesn’t exist. He doesn’t want bloodshed or genocide or perfection or anything like that.
Instead, he hosts a game show!
A game show where those who want to be redeemed can prove their character development by partaking in a competition! A game show where their cooperation with each other will be put to the test!
A game show where the respective competitors are transformed into inanimate objects that fit their respective characters, Be it a knife, a spoon, a ladle, a basketball, a tag or even a pack of bandages for goddamn chickens.
A game show in which you can win THE OMNICUP, a trophy that reflects the entire multiverse in it. Oh, and a sense of completion for whoever wins BUT MOSTLY THE OMNICUP!!!
And this game show is called…
✨REFF’S REDEMPETITION!!!!✨
Yes, that's the name. Shut up.
Reff’s done this song and dance more times than he could count! He’s done this game show in countless realities! From actual shows like Steven Universe and The Owl House to the likes of BFDI and Inanimate Insanity, he’s gone through it all!
And now, he’s got to more realities to add to his list:
Homestuck, and Murder Drones.
And he's noticed quite a few people from both are still wanting to prove their character development.
What better way than to have them compete in his game show and televise their development to the people their trying to prove their development to, right?
(Appearance wise Reff has a, quite literal, shadowy figure with no discerning features apart from his limbs, combed hair and white, oval shaped eyes. Just thought I’d put this down here just to let ya know.)
----- ----- ----- ----- -----
Aaand that’s my OC!
I uh…I don’t really have much else to say.
I’M GONNA WORK ON MAE’S THING NEXT BYE-
I could honestly see Reff and X being friends and him occasionally popping by the MD universe to visit a fellow Void entity, but he would probably just... hate Amberose. He has no idea what's wrong with the guy, but has decided that running him through the game would just be unfair (and too dangerous) for all the other participants to actually want to redeem themselves. You can drag a horse dragon demon god to game show therapy but you can't make him not try to kill everyone. The reality lawsuits after that who fiasco were insane.
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kosi-annec · 6 months
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[BNHA] Season 4 episode 12
FINALLY bout damn time deku, now kick his ass!
I forget police actually exist in this world, they are not getting paid enough to deal with this shit i bet
Finally he ain't complaining for once. Tho i get it, his constant questioning and disapproval of the hero students tagging along is valid concern - they're still young after all
HSKSHKSH "what do we do toga? Kiss maybe?"
THE CAVALRY IS HERE MIRIO!! NOW KICK SOME ASS
HHHAAAA GOD HE CARES FOR MIRIO, OH GOD ITS GONNA HURT MORE WHEN HE DIES
aaaa aizawa pushed his student away from dangerrr
shit shit DEKU NO
AAAA wait i get that he sacrificed his subordinate for this power up, but also, it doesn't make sense to me why he so buff, cuz the dude isn't that strong. I guess he just manipulated the particles to move the rest of the fat to the extra arms??
Ok but why is arrow haired dude hot?? I don't remember him being this hot tf???
COME ONE KICK HIS ASS DEKU
OH FUCK NIGHTEYE! He out here avenging his protege, and also making sure the youngins are safe
Ah yes, the seeing-future paradox... The curse of knowing but not being able to change it
Hhhhh oh god eri pls dont start blaming yourself. NO NO PLS
OH FUCK NIGHTEYE
FUCK
OH SHIT 20%
WAIT HOW DID THAT NOT HIT??
Oh pls as if deku is gonna die, he's the protag
HHHH MIRIO, fuck, fuck the va actually sounds like they're in pain but are trying to not show it, and it HURTS
ERI NOOO NO NO
NOOOO FUCK SHUT UP OVERHAUL SHUT THE FUCK UP
Being a true hero is helping those who need it, even when they don't ask for it, so DO NOT LISTEN TO OVERHAUL ERI
OH SHIT, CAVALRY 2.0 IS HERE
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@rebuilding-paradise the meeting of two alike Drabble (hehe lore for my Pokémon trainer and their mimikyu lilly)
“Hey are you alright Lil gal?” A trainer leaned down a young one. Seemingly was exploring with a group it seemed. They had been capturing paradox Pokémon left and right. “Hey.. do you wanna come with me? No pokeball or anything I just wanna talk!” The mimikyu was hesitant before it received a kiss on the forehead “I don’t have Pokeballs yet cause I’m yet to get my license… I’m getting it next year and I just want a Pokémon to cuddle and your super adorable! I promise I won’t try to take off your costume! I’ll even sew it back if it breaks!promise!” The mimikyu nuzzled into the young to be trainers hand “I think I’ll name you lilly..” she said with a smile picking up the mimikyu and putting it onto her shoulder. She walked back to the surpise group as her father patted her back “you have a talent. I’m sure Turo would love to know you. We gotta go deeper into area zero. But don’t worry I’ll protect you and lilly with my life..” Lilly tilited it’s fake head in confusion before the group headed back to a base key snuggling the mimikyu the whole way there.. this trainer was sweeter then most.. as the group and its soon to be trainer approached the station an explosion was heard.The mimikyu jolted immediately as the father ran back picking up his daughter and the mimikyu. The rest of the group followed “TOO MANY PARADOXES. WE CANT STAY IN THE UPPER BASE BECAUSE GERALD LOST A BATTLE “ soon they were deep in area zero the girl holding onto lilly “I won’t let anything hurt you..” she murmured as the went into the other base. She got into bed before snuggling with her mimikyu “good night lilly..!” She said before falling asleep. The mimikyu knew it was lucky to have such a trainer. In turn for the trainer risking their life it would protect theirs. The next day they continued the expedition everyone seemed scared except the father,his daughter,and her well mimikyu lilly. Another battle broke out as an iron hands went for the young child out of anger, the mimkyu let out a hiss before slapping away the iron hands before wrapping itself around the young child. It was pissed off and it’s instinct was to protect its trainer. Though once the iron hands was distracted the feather picked up the two and ran into turos research base as the iron hands followed the door shut behind them as the little girl huffed and puffed.. the mimikyu opened the father bag rummaging before pulling out a water bottle and handing it to the young pre-trainer. As she drank footsteps approched. “Truly amazing.. not even a trainer and already bonding with Pokémon.. “ the father sprang up “hello professor turo-! How can we help-“ “I need to talk to your child and their mimikyu. “ Turo stated motioning the little girl and mimikyu to follow. She followed him quickly picking up mimikyu as they headed into another room. “I know I made no mistake giving you to Evan. Key you have proved to be one of the most successful human experiments of our time.” Key seemed confused and angry “what do you mean..?” Turo sighed “you real father is the actual turo.. he is dead. And your brother is arven. Though I would perfer you two not meet… it seems that the combination of turos dna,your mothers dna, and future generated AI type dna strands make you bond with Pokémon easier. Much like the future. I want you to become a trainer today. Your starter will be lilly. She will help you through many endeavors. Do you agree to this?” She looked at lilly before nodding “yes. “ turo handed her a trainer ID. Seemingly smiling “complete what others couldn’t. Travel to every region. Maybe try to find arceus. To answer your worldly questions.” He stated. As he let her wait back in the main hall as he talked with her father. Hee adopted father
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thanksjro · 2 years
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More Than Meets the Eye #38 — Man, Cybertronian Abortions Sure are Convoluted
Last issue, we uncovered Brainstorm’s intention to murder the shit out of Megatron before he could incite a brutal civil war. Megatron, ever the paragon of emotional moderation, responds to this retroactive threat with a level head and critical thinking skills.
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Megatron slams Perceptor’s head through the screen of the computer, while Ultra Magnus tries to wrangle everyone’s least favorite co-captain. Megatron responds to this by backhanding Magnus, earning himself a pinning to the wall, and not in the fun way.
Megatron is worried about his past self, who is, at the time that Brainstorm is currently in, not even fully built. Fucked up how this Cybertronian is about to die before he even gets a chance to live.
Say, Megs, how many MTOs did you deploy during the war? Just curious.
Perceptor notes that he was about to send the Time Travel Team to where Brainstorm currently is, before Megatron decided that violence was the question, and the answer was “yes”. Megatron has the fucking audacity to claim that it wasn’t a physical attack but rather protest to the situation at hand, and it’s at this point that the issue of him being a superior officer on this ship really starts showing its issues. You just know Whirl would already be in the brig if he’d been the one to pull this shit. Dammit Optimus, this is all your fault.
Megatron then starts bitching about how Rodimus sucks, both as a captain and the hero of the hour. When Magnus notes that Megatron didn’t have any issue with Rodimus heading the mission when it was Optimus Prime’s existence on the line, Megatron gets fucking snippy. Perceptor uses this interlude between the big boys to shoot the Time Travel Team back, thus sapping the last of the quantum engine energy and denying Megatron what he wants, because someone’s got to be the voice of reason around here. When Megatron starts to protest, Perceptor tells him to shut the fuck up, and Megatron, for once in his shitty, shitty life, listens.
Then this happens, because I suppose neither of these two can read the room, even when they’re part of why the room needs to be read.
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Outstanding, gentlemen.
Back in the past, brainstorm is positing to an infant who likely doesn’t even have his ears yet, when a grenade rolls up to his foot and explodes. How this misses Babytron is a mystery. The Time Travel Team has arrived! Huzzah!
Cyclonus checks to make sure that the explosion didn’t kill Brainstorm, and the rest of the gang realizes that they’re in the middle of a facility devoted to the building of cold-constructed robots. Brainstorm took the liberty of destroy Megatron’s records prior to making this attempt on his life, and Rung’s about to plug it back in when Rewind has an episode. It would appear that his database has now been completely overwritten. Which is, for the folks keeping score back home, a bad thing. Rodimus calls Perceptor to see what the fucking deal is, and Perceptor hypothesizes that they simply may have been too late, and he asks for permission to pull the nuclear option, by way of dismantling the paradox locks on the timecase he has on his end. Rodimus approves, though he’s still deeply confused why incapacitating Brainstorm didn’t solve the problem. Then Brainstorm gets up and we see why incapacitating him didn’t work.
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Did NOBODY take his gun— this is why the timeline is doomed.
Brainstorm, because he’s a good sport I suppose, pauses in his vengeful baby-killing to attempt to listen to reason. Unfortunately, this is where Riptide, with all his social graces, decides to interject. I suppose I can give him a pass this time, seeing as his existence as a whole goes down the toilet if there’s no Cybertronian civil war. Rodimus grabs the wheel on this conversation bus and suggests that Brainstorm not shoot Babytron, seeing as it’ll wipe out the current timeline, and everyone present with it (or at least their current selves, for a good portion of them.) Brainstorm tells Rodimus that that’s the whole point of this bizarre little trip he’s gone on.
Then Rung steps in and tells Brainstorm to pull the fucking trigger, if only to make all the work up to this point worth it. Rodimus is, understandably, fucking horrified by this, but not enough to leave a potshot at Whirl laying around unused. However, because Rung is a psyop specialist, he knows well enough that Brainstorm won’t do it, because he’s a pussy-ass bitch decent person.
Brainstorm admits that he’s never actually directly killed another living being, nor has he ever wanted to, and being faced with the reality of doing the deed is very intimidating for him. Rung reminds him that he still has a choice here, and Brainstorm hands the gun over.
Tailgate, amazed by Rung’s ability to talk someone down from committing homicide, celebrates by leaping onto Rung’s back, which is NOT a safe thing to do when someone is holding a firearm. Don’t be like Tailgate; practice gun safety.
Of course, Rung can’t just know the folks around him well enough to know that Brainstorm isn’t a killer— it turns out that Brainstorm had been standing there just talking a big game at Babytron for a solid ten minutes prior to the Time Travel Team showing up. I guess Megatron had time for his outburst after all. Good for him.
Brainstorm decides to lay out his scheme in full, despite protests from the peanut gallery. It turns out he never wanted to kill anyone, merely stop the war from happening. The reason he kept flubbing it was due to a mistake on his part prior to this little adventure starting.
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This panel, from issue #28, was the “flash” going off in a spark-print reader that Brainstorm had planted in Rung’s office, in an attempt to have a means of tracking Megatron through the past. However, he didn’t account for Rung existing, and grabbed the spark-print of the creamsicle man instead of Karl Marxatron. He had been tracking the wrong person the whole time, and he didn’t even realize until he wound up clear across town from Maccadam’s when the bar fight was supposed to go down.
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James, that green glow better not be what I fucking think it is.
Then Rewind does a cool thing, to distract from that which haunts my nightmares.
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And that’s a series wrap on Megatron! Let’s give him a hand, folks!
Perceptor, having heard the commotion over the phone, asks what’s going on. Riptide reports on the state of Babytron, and Megatron acts as if he’s been asked a slightly off-putting question, as opposed to suddenly having retroactively died.
Chromedome takes the gun from his tiny, murderous husband as Rewind explains why he did what he did. With the knowledge he’s gained from the database overwrite, he’s come to discover that a timeline without Megatron is pretty fuckin’ sweet— not for Cybertron of course, but the rest of the known universe. Of course, he’s explaining this to a guy who spent 6 million years in the Dead Universe after a botched attempt to colonize the galaxy, a guy who spent 6 million years asleep in a hole, a still-bitter victim of the Functionist Council who had his livelihood and body integrity destroyed for the sin of wanting to make clocks, and an MTO who, again, owes his entire existence to the war taking place. Still, let it be said that the tiny man made some points.
Chromedome checks in on his sort-of-but-also-not, quantum-shenanigans-made-things-complicated spouse. Rewind is convinced that Chromedome should hate him. However, Chromedome’s too in love to deny Rewind his right to rage— and really, considering the crap Rewind’s pulled up to this point in finding Dominus, this really isn’t that much of a stretch. Rewind finally starts using Chromedome’s pet name again, and it seems like all is finally well with our co-dependents. Hooray! Happy endings all around.
Except for Megatron, but surely he knew he wasn’t getting into heaven, so why would being retro-murdered be that much of a surprise?
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This better not be more undead bullshit.
No, what’s actually happened is that Whirl’s dragged the body into another room, and plans to, with that special One Percenter spark he ripped out of Brainstorm’s cockpit, perform a spark transplant. Now, you may be saying to yourself, doesn’t Whirl’s whole hand situation make this sort of finely-tuned work impossible? Not to worry, because he’s got little deedly-boppers in his claws!
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And so, through the power of spite, Megatron is born as the first forged/cold constructed hybrid. Ultra Magnus informs Rodimus that this did the trick, as time begins to flow once more outside the ship. Megatron appears to have wandered away, likely to process the fact that Whirl and Brainstorm are his parents. Unfortunately, the Time Travel Team is stranded in the past, as the quantum quills are completely drained, and cannot be recharged without losing contact with the past. Rodimus, having had quite enough with today, calls everyone a bunch of cunts and then hangs up.
Luckily for everyone, Tailgate remembered that he was quite a devious and clever little man, and starts wrapping up all the loose ends. You remember that cryptic message from issue #1?
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Turns out that was Tailgate on the time phone, with interjections from the rest of the gang. Perceptor calls, cutting off Riptide’s addition, while Cyclonus decides to lean on his mean streak. He reminds Tailgate that not going to Luna 1 would have absolutely ended in his death, and also every cold-constructed ‘bot in existence. Fortunately, we know that this message never reaches the Lost Light, since everyone on Cybertron thought they had all died in a horrible explosion.
Rodimus then hands Cyclonus a gun that looks horrifically like some sort of nightmare phallus and gives him a job; they’re gonna teleport together. With the last of the quantum juice, Cyclonus and Rodimus zap over to the opposite side of the planet, in an underground base that houses experimental technology. They are met by a guard toting several turbofoxes. Cyclonus is left to deal with him, as Rodimus searches for what they came for.
Nameless guard vs Cyclonus. Wonder how that one’s gonna shake out? Considering that he’s labelled as Sparkeater-to-be on TFWiki, I would assume things don’t end well for our nobody.
Back in Facility 113— you should have known it was going to be that— Brainstorm wakes up from having passed out, cursing the name of Chromedome. Whether or not he ever got medical attention is unknown. Rewind checks on him, and they have a little heart-to-heart. Brainstorm congratulates Rewind on not being dead, then spills the beans on his love-life.
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So, not the little red hovercar anthropologist? Probably for the best, I heard he’s already not-dating Roberts’s self-insert character.
Rewind accesses his database before Brainstorm can tell him not to, and learns that Quark is very much dead, having died in Grindcore. This was the whole point behind the centuries of work Brainstorm put into the timecase— he was going to snatch Quark away from his fate. Then original-flavor Rewind beefed it, and Chromedome started circling the drain, and Brainstorm decided to dream a little bigger. And by “dream bigger” I mean “erase the entire war from existence.”
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Ugh, Brainstorm, he’s not even cute.
Back in the base, Rodimus has found what he was looking for: a prototype quantum generator. Meanwhile, Cyclonus is fighting turbofoxes. After the guard gets a potshot in, Cyclonus blasts him with the phallus-gun, which causes him to begin to turn into a spark-eater. Brainstorm’s more experimental stuff is a little scary. Cyclonus tosses the sparkeater into a room with his turbofoxes and then locks the door behind him. This is where our spark-eater from issues #1-3 came from.
We cut back to Rodimus, finding him to have been walked trough updating the generator by Perceptor, until it’s been charged in full. Now he’ll have to undo all the changes so that nobody asks any questions later down the line.
A quick cut back to Facility 113 reveals Tailgate having gotten antsy. Rewind attempts to reassure, showing him footage from his database of where Rodimus and Cyclonus went. And oh, what a sight it is.
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Good thing Ultra Magnus isn’t here, he’d be furious about the lack of grammar-checking going on with the typeface.
Cyclonus rejoins with Rodimus, and then finally realizes that the gun he’d just used wasn’t just standard-issue. The fact that he just assumed the Autobots gave Whirl a gun that turns folks into soul-devouring monsters is unsettling, to say the least.
The timecase (which they brought with them in order to teleport) begins to vibrate, and suddenly the floor they were on disappears. The Unitrex 1, the future Lost Light, just quantum jumped, thanks to some cross-contamination, and before Rodimus could put it back on factory default. Good job, Rodimus, on not washing your hands. With everything having been fudged up in just the way it needed to be, the Time Travel Team is all set up to finally go home. Brainstorm makes a plea to be left in the past, but he hasn’t suffered enough to earn Roberts’s pity, so away to the present he goes, with everyone else.
In the aftermath of all this time travel bullshit, we see everyone settling back into the day to day. Brainstorm is in jail, Rewind and Domey are sharing a room again, and everyone else is busy at Swerve’s watching Back to the Future II, though Whirl would rather be watching the Jean-Luc Godard film Alphaville, about an agent sent to destroy the creator of a fascist computer ruling a dystopia. At least Cyclonus is enjoying the movie for what it is, or at least for the soundtrack. Megatron is still processing how Whirl and Brainstorm are his parents.
Rung walks into Perceptor’s lab to find him studying the timecase with his alt mode. Rung’s here to ask how the bar fight started before the gang time traveled, while planting his ass on the keyboard to the big computer monitor. Despite this rudeness, Perceptor answers that it was always Present-Time Rung who started the bar fight, because these things were always meant to happen, creating a stable time-loop. The whole “time collapsing” thing was probably a mistake on Perceptor’s end, when he attempted to remove the paradox locks. This could have created a “macro-cosmic environment” (whatever the fuck THAT is) and lead to the potential creation of parallel universes. And those parallel universes may have survived, and could very well have lived on to the present day. Rung contemplates this possibility, as he stares down at the now-very shiny timecase, which reflects his visage perfectly.
In the Postscript of this issue, we visit one such parallel universe, where the Functionists are very much in charge— in fact, this is the same universe that was present in Rewind’s database.
Y’know, the one where he died horribly and his first husband wasn’t allowed to know the concept of love anymore.
Anyway, we’re over at the Cog, which is the building that looks like a cog and is full of mothercoggers, as you’ll recall. Quark is also there, apparently working for the Functionist Council. Brainstorm sure knows how to pick ‘em.
Quark and One-of-Twelve are discussing the prisoner they have locked up, going so far as to have removed his t-cog— and you know it’s serious if they’re doing that. It would seem that there was a discovery made concerning the prisoner, made by a janitorial-class citizen. Quark nudges One-of-Twelve a little, and the bastard makes Sweep alt-mode exempt.
With that done, it’s time to see what hardened resistor of the Functionists could have possibly earned over two million years of torture.
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Truly a force to be reckoned with.
No, Rung is indeed something that the Functionists don’t want around and abjectly fear, because literally nobody knows what the fuck he turns into. He’s an affront to their ideology, even more so than the Outliers. Luckily for the Functionists, they figured out his alt, and it’s something they want nothing to do with. So, it’s time for Dr. Rung, PhD to die.
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And this moment, when compared to earlier…
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Tells me once again that Rung is a scary motherfucker. Who let this man into the Psych field? This bitch is out here playing mind games while lives are on the line.
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astaroth1357 · 3 years
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Demigod MC Series: Hermes
Hey guys, still doing what I can to stay healthy (and entertained) in quarantine. Staying still, keeping calm, and trying not to exert myself too much because of the shortness of breath thing going on. My lungs just can't get enough air it seems… 😅 Anyway, I've gotten a lot of suggestions on this series and I'm excited to keep it going. Just going to be a tad slow until I'm feeling better. Thank you for the support, y'all!
Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes
Lucifer
Oh no… it’s everyone’s worst nightmare… Another Mammon, but competent. Devil help us all…
Had he known who their father was, he'd have never assigned Mammon to watch over them. Hell, he would have made sure those two never even met. They became a new handful for him to manage from the day they first arrived…
When even more things started going missing around the House than normal, he knew he had made a grave mistake… They were clever, quick, and skilled. About the best WORST combination for a burglar to be…
Worse still, they were fast on their feet. He would pretty much have no way to nab them on foot and always had to resort to his wings or magic to have any hope of catching up to them… At least Mammon usually gets himself cornered!
But, paradoxically, he also came to notice that the mortal had an odd honesty streak to them... Like, they’d steal but they’d always admit to it, unlike Mammon who would try to deflect till he was blue in the face.
Were they proud of their work, maybe? Or just didn’t see the point in trying to get away with it...?
There would be several occasions where they’d take something, sell it with Mammon, and then steal the thing back later just to put it back where it belonged, seemingly never with Mammon’s permission to do so either… 
Is it better that they returned the stolen item or worse because their actions went from just robbery to a full-on scam? Either way, it gives him headaches trying to deal with it…
He pretty much gives up getting the mortal to stop after 6 months, they are legitimately that good, but makes them swear to always put back whatever they take at some point. It seems to work out and he lets more things slide, but please someone get them out of here soon… 
Mammon
Soulmatesoulmatesoulmatesoulmate, or maybe more accurately “Partner-in-Crime” but that means pretty much the same thing to him anyway. 🤷‍♀️
He’s never met a person better at thievery than they were. The day they met, they managed to pick his pockets without breaking a sweat (or a finger) and that was it. He was in love.
They could teleport! Actually teleport!! Suddenly, NOTHING was off limits to him any more! Lucifer’s rare records? Easy. Levi’s secret safe? Cakewalk. The Castle vault?? Child’s play!! It was like they could steal anything they put their mind to!!
He didn't even have to worry about them when they made getaways because they were fast too, the two actually have parkour races through the streets for the hell of it!
On top of all that, they were wicked creative. He’d come up with a money-making scheme then they’d offer him all sorts of little tricks to help get away with it...
HE’D have never realized that they could turn themselves into rats in order to frighten and sneak past Barbatos, but they thought of it the instant they heard of his fear of things. They're a mad genius!!
The only real downside was they seemed to like stealing for the sport of it instead of for the money… so they always steal back whatever they took.
That kind of defeats the purpose of all that work in the first place, right? Ah well, at least that's more money for him.
These two pretty much became a walking menace to Devildom society- Sorry, not sorry.
Leviathan
Not another Mammon!!! WHY?! What did he do to deserve this?!?
When he started noticing that EVEN MORE of his stuff was going missing than usual, he straight-up flipped! Like, had the mortal not been pretty tough in their own right they would have been Lotan-chow. End of discussion.
… And then they started using their powers for good? Kind of?
Like, first off they would always give back what they stole, which was a nice change from Mammon. Annoying, but at least he didn't have to go buy replacement games or anything…
And then they started stealing him limited edition merch or tickets and stuff because they… liked him?? He guessed???
Why else would they go to all the trouble of swiping one of the five ultra-rare Kitsune Ruri-chan figurines from its original collector? He would have had to pay Mammon half his tail for something like that but the MC just brought it to him one morning because they could!
Is… is this love? Has he grown to love that which he hates?! What is even happening anymore!?! Who is he?!? 😫
Eventually he has to reconcile his conflicted feelings by dubbing them the real life Peony Phantom Thief, Jane and even making them a cosplay. Yes, they have to wear it when they bring him things. No, it's not weird, shut up.
Satan
He wants to be irritated, no - furious, that they keep taking his stuff… But he’ll be damned if they aren’t making Lucifer’s life a living hell right now. 😏
He's honestly not even sure how they managed to swipe half of the priceless portraits in the Castle (a considerable feat since there's one for Every. Room.) but they pulled it off in under a week. Barbs didn't even notice the replicas…
If that's not mildly terrifying, he doesn't know what is. Who knows what things he could be missing at any given moment...?
At least the mortal had the good sense to return his things, unlike Mammon, which gets them off his shit list for the most part. 🤷‍♀️
It helps that they’re also impressively well-traveled. They claim to have been across every human continent and sailed every ocean. Though he was skeptical at first, just hearing their stories eventually convinced him.
What sort of person has sailed the Amazon River, hiked through Arctic tundra, seen every major capital city, and still had time to explore the sights of the French Riviera?
One that has magical teleportation powers apparently.
Frankly, he could listen to their stories of the human world all day and still ask for another. He's told them that they may as well just write a book of their own for him at some point, it'd be beneficial to their poor vocal chords.
Asmodeus
Ugh! Really? Another thief in the House?? Wasn’t one hard enough to deal with?!
Honestly, stolen beauty products aren't exactly something you can just sell or give back, so unfortunately a lot of Asmo's clothes/accessories get targeted and he is NOT happy about it...
Around the time his favorite scarf was stolen for the third time, he was about to gut the mortal himself, but they struck a deal with him. They could nab his clothes SO LONG as they returned them with an extra little "gift."
Jewelry, perfume, creams, nail polish, etc. Asmo kept a running list and pretty much treated his thieving friend like a less moral version of Akuzon. Whatever he asked for, no matter how rare or expensive, they always got their hands on so who was he to complain?
He once decided to test them by asking for the Hope Diamond - which they got for him - but he made them return it after a week after the curse on it made him ruin a particularly intricate manicure so…
Like Satan, he's also pretty impressed with all the places they've seen. He's pretty traveled in the human world himself so they exchange travel stories all the time!
He may bother them to him out traveling from time to time. There are so many gorgeous and romantic places to visit in the human world after all, it's not like anybody could stop them from just… popping in to have a look. Right? 😏
Beelzebub
They learned very quickly that his food is absolutely off limits and after that, they were good.
Seriously. Beel caught them once trying to swipe a piece of pizza from his dinner and he nearly ripped their arm off for it…
But on the flipside, he also knows that he can go to them if he REALLY needs a snack and is short on cash. 
It's pretty comical watching the fleet-foot mortal running from angry demon vendors with a basket of stolen apples for their buddy… But he appreciates their enthusiasm! 🙂
Beel actually likes to hear about their travels too, but mostly what they've eaten. They can keep him enraptured for hours by describing all the food they've come across in the human world…
Watch out for the drool, though.
Since they can teleport, they'll sometimes pop up with a human world treat for him and the man internally swears his undying love for them every time...
Outwardly, though, he just smiles. 'Cause he's a sweetie.
Belphegor
They… they opened the attic door on, like, the first day they met… They didn’t even make it look that hard, they had some kind of knack for breaking and entering…
Seriously, imagine the look on his face when they just walk into the attic to say hello… He had this whole, “Lure and Trick the Human” plan all thought out then they pulled out a magic lockpick or something and BOOM! Freedom!
He laughed, perhaps a little closer to the edge of sanity than he was intending, and he tried to attack them but they were so damn fast he couldn't land a single hit!
Damn was it embarrassing when the others came in…
MC: "LUCIFER! LUCIFER!! There's a monster in your attic!!!"
Lucifer: "That's not a monster that's my brother!!"
MC: *stops midway through kneeing Belphie in the stomach* …. Ooooooooh!
MC: Whoops. 
It was a… rocky start.
After they settled their differences quelled Belphie's bloodlust he found that they kind of grew on him rather quickly… Something about that mischievous energy and how much they gave his brothers (minus Beel) grief with it.
He absolutely helps them with their plans if it will annoy Lucifer in any way. Occasionally, they'll even take Belphie out on raids instead of Mammon.
Turns out he's surprisingly good at distractions because all he has to do is pretend to fall then take a nap. People around him will legitimately believe that he needs medical attention so the MC can sneak through crowds undetected...
Of course, Mammon gets PISSED when they do this, though. How dare his baby brother try to steal away his perfect partner!! Get your own damn mortal, Belphie!!! 🤬
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zintranslations · 3 years
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Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 124
Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates
Chapter 124: Long Sword
Once the insect swarm dispersed, Lin Qiushi's group left the dining room. The moment they stepped outside, however, they found that the flying insects had appeared in the hallway, batting their wings to form a faint black line in midair that led off to some unknown room.
This was likely what the string signified. Lin Qiushi had thought it would be more complicated than this, but somehow, Ruan Nanzhu's messing around had yielded them the correct answer. He glanced at Ruan Nanzhu and asked, "do we follow and see where it goes?"
"Sure." Ruan Nanzhu looked at the time and confirmed it was still early. "Let's go."
Then they headed off in the direction the insects were guiding them in, toward where all the rooms were.
Every five minutes, the positions of the rooms changed, and when that happened, the direction the insects pointed to also changed. Hovering in mid-air, they were all connected together in a single-file line. The three of them kept following the path of insects, but very quickly, they discovered something off—at one point, the insects broke off into two swarms. One pointed left, and one pointed right, in different directions.
"Why's this happening?" Gu Longming was utterly confounded when he saw the split insects. He grabbed a bug off-hand and trapped it in his palm. When he released it, it swiftly returned to its original position. "Why have these mosquitoes split up? Unless…"
He understood something. With a pained expression he peered at Lin Qiushi.
"Unless there are two monsters?"
That seemed to be the only answer, but Lin Qiushi didn't think the matter would be so simple. He asked, "we'll split up and see?"
Ruan Nanzhu thought for a bit.
"Okay, Gu Longming goes left with you, and I go right."
Lin Qiushi nodded, not arguing. He only reminded Ruan Nanzhu that if Ruan Nanzhu did find something strange, he shouldn't force anything; the objective this time was to gather information.
Hearing Lin Qiushi's earnest suggestion, Ruan Nanzhu couldn't help but smile.
"I knew it, our Linlin's all grown up. He worries about me now, how heartwarming."
Lin Qiushi: "…I'm very serious."
"Yes, I know you're serious." He came over and gave the corner of Lin Qiushi's mouth a casual peck. "I'll be careful. See you later."
Lin Qiushi waved a hand at him.
"See you later."
As they were conversing, the space around them changed again, and the directions they were heading altered once more. This time, the insects seemed to be guiding them toward the lowest-level deck.
Lin Qiushi and Gu Longming wasted no more time, jogging the rest of the way ahead, hoping to find the room the insects were guiding them to before everything changed again.
The two were quick, finding the room indicated by the insects in half the time. At this room, those bugs flew through the air and attached themselves in a dense layer all over the door. As soon as he was near, Lin Qiushi got a whiff of a strong, rotted fish stench.
It was truly too pungent—about as bad as how the room from last time smelled. It was too easy to anticipate that inside this room, they would find that giant fishman monster shut away.
At the room, Lin Qiushi didn't rush and try to enter. Instead he put his ear to the door and listened for any sounds inside. The room was quiet enough to seem like it held nothing alive, but Lin Qiushi still heard something odd: a faint breathing sound coming from the door…The breaths came from somewhere close to him, as if there was only the single door between him and whatever was inside.
Gu Longming, on the other hand, was looking through the window. He seemed to have spotted something in the inky black, face going slightly pale as he took a couple of steps back. He gestured toward the inside of the room at Lin Qiushi, nodding emphatically to say that there was something inside.
So Lin Qiushi got up and looked through the window too.
Through a crack in the curtains, he saw a pair of yellow eyes hidden in the dark. They were fish eyes, with perfectly circular pupils and the whites of the eyes giving off a bright golden glow. They were currently staring out the door with a none-too-friendly expression.
Those eyes slowly moved, like the thing had sensed there were people standing outside. Lin Qiushi saw it slowly open its mouth, filled densely with white teeth and a tongue softly glowing blue.
Hang on…yellow eyes? Lin Qiushi’s breathing froze. He felt that he'd caught onto something, swiftly pulling out his cell phone, turning on the flashlight, and tossing the beam of light in through the curtains.
As the light entered the room, Lin Qiushi could finally see the thing clearly. It was a creature difficult to describe—at least, Lin Qiushi had never seen its like.
It had a gigantic head of a fish and a fragile human body. Because the head was so big and heavy, the creature couldn't even stand straight; both the head and the thin, mismatched body could only sprawl on the floor. Most eye-catching was the long, sharp horn at the top of its head—it looked both piercing and deadly…and the first thing Lin Qiushi thought of was the long sword that killed the Minotaur from the myth.
The fishman's attention was caught by the light Lin Qiushi brought and a strange roar came out of its mouth. Gu Longming saw its strange appearance and couldn't help but rub at his arms, forcing a grin.
"The heck is that thing?"
"What we saw in the first room seems to be this fish-person," Lin Qiushi said. "Remember the yellow eyes from that room?"
Gu Longming nodded that he remembered.
At the mention of the yellow eyes, he finally realized. The eyes of the human-eating fish-monster were not yellow, but a discomforting shock of white. This kind of detail, however, easily blurred in shocking situations, and it was only due to Lin Qiushi's reminder that he could now faintly remember.
"So there are two monsters?" Gu Longming swallowed. "And so the purpose of this monster, could it be…"
His gaze fell on the needle-sharp horn at the top of that monster's head, and said the words Lin Qiushi was thinking.
"The long sword?"
Lin Qiushi: "We can suppose so."
At least so far, they had yet to find another appropriate, weapon-like item on the ship. The truth was, the moment he'd gotten a clear look at this fishman's apperance, Lin Qiushi had had the similar thought. Gu Longming had clearly drawn the same conclusions that he did.
The sound of the two talking seemed to have stimulated the monster inside. It began to crawl about a little violently, twisting about in a grotesque and scary manner.
Seeing its agitation, Lin Qiushi got a bad feeling. So he grabbed Gu Longming and backed up a few steps.
The moment they backed up, a long sharp spike appeared through the solid wood wall in front of them. The thing in the room had used the horn on its head to stab straight through the wall—two, three times, leaving a number of holes behind. Had they not backed away just now—and had gotten unfortunately stabbed—it was easy to see how painful it would've been.
But after Lin Qiushi confirmed the identity of the thing inside the room, time was up for another switch. The room before them disappeared, replaced with just another normal bedroom. The path of the insects changed as well, and the location of that fish swapped to the upper deck.
Gu Longming was disgusted by even the thought of this fish. He'd actually enjoyed eating fish before this door, but after marinading in fish stench for the past few days, he’d become reflexively nauseated at the thought of that taste. The unfortunate likelihood was that even after leaving this door, it would be a while still before he stopped being grossed out by fish.
Lin Qiushi: "Come on, let's go see where Zhu Meng is."
Gu Longming nodded.
The two left the bottom-level deck and headed up. They found Ruan Nanzhu standing on the top deck with his head poked out over the black seawater.
He turned around at the sound of their foot steps.
"What did you find?"
Lin Qiushi said, "I think we found the long sword."
Ruan Nanzhu's eyes gleamed: "You found it?"
Lin Qiushi nodded and gave him a quick rundown of the thing the saw. He emphasized the long horn they'd seen on that fishman monster's head and how it’d looked both sturdy and sharp, like it would make for a great offensive weapon.
As for Ruan Nanzhu, he said that in the room he found, he saw the giant fishman who'd eaten a person the night before.
"But how are we supposed to kill that fishman?" Gu Longming asked, squatting on the planks and dejectedly eating the candy that Lin Qiushi gave him. "I don't think that thing's any easier to deal with than the fish monster we saw before."
What they were most concerned about was not the width, but the depth of the wounding; once a wound got deep, it had a hard time healing, particularly on a ship that lacked medical supplies like this. It was obvious that once stabbed by that horn, even if you didn't die the day of, complications like tetanus, etc.  would kill you in the next few days.
Ruan Nanzhu listened to Gu Longming's worries and comforted him—by saying don't worry, if it really does come to that, we'll finish you off nice and clean.
Gu Longming: "…how about no. Thank you."
Lin Qiushi thought this was something of a paradox. They had to first kill the yellow-eyed fishman before they could kill the monster symbolized by the Minotaur, but that was where the problem lied—how were they supposed to kill the yellow-eyed fishman? Did they really have to just take their dinner knives and go head-to-head with that thing?
As the three were discussing what to do, they heard a sudden ruckus from the dining room, interspersed with shocked shouts and agonized screaming.
At this sound they knew instantly that something else had happened. Lin Qiushi traded a glance with Ruan Nanzhu and turned for the dining room. Before he even went inside, he could smell the thick scent of blood—Lin Qiushi looked down and found a pool of it on the floor planks. A wounded man was lying on the ground inside, covering a wound in his abdomen with his hands. The wound seemed very deep, lumping up and spilling forth bright red blood.
Gu Longming took a few steps forward.
"What happened? How did he get hurt?" He took off his jacket and, using it as bandaging, began treating the victim's wounds in well-trained motions. He was trying to stop the man's bleeding.
Seeing his actions however, Lin Qiushi formulated a guess about Gu Longming's job outside the doors.
"He discovered outside that the insects seemed to be leading in a certain direction, so we followed it." The person speaking was the man's companion—he'd been a bystander and witness to the entire process of how his friend got hurt. He continued shakily: "But when we got there, this long spike came out of the room and stabbed him right in the body."
Gu Longming frowned.
"It doesn't look good, the kidney looks like it's been perforated." There weren't any useful medical supplies at hand either, and considering the blood flow, this person was likely…
A girl nearby said: "I brought a hemostatic spray, can you use that?"
"Give it here," Gu Longming said. "I can only try—treat a dead horse like a live one, right?"[1]
He did his best to tourniquet the person's body to reduce the output of blood. Then, after using up a good half of the hemostatic spray, he managed to stop the ever-flowing bleeding.
"What was the thing that stabbed your friend?" Seeing the person stabilize, someone turned their attention onto the person who was still alive.
"It looked like a fish," the survivor answered. "I'm not sure…I only caught a glimpse before this happened."
"We'll go have a look too." The crowd was clearly interested in this fish, and so dispersed from the dining room.
Moments later, there were only a handful of people left inside.
"How does it look? Will my friend survive?" that person asked Gu Longming plaintively.
Gu Longming sighed, saying, "if he gets out early he might be saved, but…" This wasn't a place they could come to and go from at will.
So everybody quieted down. Gu Longming looked at the blood on his hands and said, "I'm gonna go wash my hands real quick." He got up and went to the bathroom.
The victim's breathing grew weaker and weaker, and even though Gu Longming did all he could, a few hours later, the man still died.
The entire dining room was filled with the thick stench of blood. It was also, coincidentally, time for supper; the Dead Fish Dinner Sets just happened to be placed on the tables, and the stench of the fish plus the smell of blood meant everyone had even less appetite. Nobody even wanted to go through the motions before taking off from the dining room.
Ruan Nanzhu, however, stayed where he was. Lin Qiushi didn't rush him either, because he knew that if Ruan Nanzhu was staying, then Ruan Nanzhu must have his reasons.
Due to the death of the person that afternoon, Gu Longming was a bit down. He poked at the noodles on the plate in front of him without much energy or appetite.
After most people left the dining room, Ruan Nanzhu pulled a few plastic bags out of his clothes.
"What are you planning to do?" Lin Qiushi startled.
Ruan Nanzhu: "I don't think the door would have us go head-to-head with that thing. There's too much of a difference in power."
Lin Qiushi: "So you want…" He watched as Ruan Nanzhu took all the dead fish from the dining table and stuffed his own pockets until they were bulging. "You want to feed the fish to that thing?"
"It was the aperitif that got the Minotaur drunk in the myth," Ruan Nanzhu said. "We pretty much know what the aperitif refers to now."
The eaten fish was fermented inside the belly, to be tasted once the stomach was split open; it was truly a kind of appetizer liquor.
So Ruan Nanzhu wanted to use the dead fish to lure the Minotaur to the yellow-eyed fish monster. They didn't know if it would work, but they had to give it a try.
This method, after all, was a lot more reliable than bringing a dining knife to a fish fight.
Ruan Nanzhu packed up all the dead fish and took them to go, following the path of the insects to once again find the room where the yellow-eyed fish monster resided.
There were already many more holes in the room; it had clearly used the sharp weapon on its head to make them.
Ruan Nanzhu gestured for Lin Qiushi and Gu Longming to stand further away as he tossed, with a single throw, the fish in his hand through a gap in the window.
The dead fish splattered all over the ground. That yellow-eyed fish monster pounced on them in excitement. It picked them up with its hands and began an aggressive gnawing; it ate quickly, and finished in short time the entire bag of fish that Ruan Nanzhu tossed in. It was a good thing they were prepared, quickly throwing in the other few bags of fish as well.
As it ate, Ruan Nanzhu stood watching from the side. Lin Qiushi was a big worried about him getting hurt though, since the blood from the last victim was still dripping in display on the window.
The yellow-eyed fishman finished all the fish, not leaving behind any heads, even. When it was full, it looked on, contented, before going to sleep on the ground just like that.
"Let's go," Ruan Nanzhu said to Lin Qiushi.
It was already a bit dark outside, and even though he really wanted to see what would happen here tonight, staying out was not a smart move.
So the three went and found another room they could rest in, and got in bed waiting for evening to arrive.
The last beam of light disappeared with the sun descending beneath the horizon. It was a moonless evening, with only the howling sea winds and the storm clouds like a piece of fabric hung up in the sky.
Lin Qiushi couldn't really sleep, staring idly out the window.
Ruan Nanzhu had first been in a different bed, but mid-sleep he'd somehow scooted over beside Lin Qiushi. So the two were now squeezed together.
They didn't speak, nor did they even look at each other. The way they simply knew each other was as if they'd already experienced hundreds and thousands of the exact scenario before them now.
They were both waiting—waiting on the answer to their experiment.
Around three in the morning, their waiting finally yielded results.
Lin Qiushi's ears caught something like the roar of a wild beast—and then the sounds of a violent battle. They were quite far from those sounds, and couldn't really make out what was happening, but the battle lasted for a very long time. It wasn't until the sun was almost up again that it gradually faded away.
"Who do you think won?" Ruan Nanzhu asked quietly.
"I don't know," Lin Qiushi said. "There's no difference either way."
Though things were mostly going as planned, something still happened that exceeded their expectations—not long after the sound of fighting stopped, there came the sound of human crying and screaming on the ship. When he heard this, Lin Qiushi jumped, crawling out of bed and going to the window. He wanted to see exactly what was happening outside, but the evening was too dark and he couldn't make out anything at all.
Luckily, Ruan Nanzhu's vision came into use at a key moment. He saw the fishman drag a struggling human onto the upper deck.
"How could this be?!" When Lin Qiushi heard Ruan Nanzhu's description, he couldn't believe it. "Nobody ate any fish inside the dining room today—"
Ruan Nanzhu's brow puckered. "You…remember the guy that Jian Qianyuan injured yesterday?"
Lin Qiushi: "…" He nodded.
Ruan Nanzhu: "I don't think he came to the dining room at all today."
Lin Qiushi's attention had been on the two monsters all day, and he hadn't noticed: "But isn't it a good thing that he didn't come to the dining room?"
Not coming to the dining room meant that he didn't eat the fish, so why would the monster target him?
Ruan Nanzhu only grimaced.
"It's not only the dining room that has fish."
Lin Qiushi: "…" He immediately remembered that filthy kitchen.
"There's plenty of fish to be had in the kitchen," Ruan Nanzhu said. "There's got to be a sacrifice."
Lin Qiushi sighed. He'd thought that there wouldn't need to be a sacrifice tonight, but now that he thought about it, he’d been naive. It wasn't kind inside the doors at all. The longer they stayed here, the worse the casualties would be.
That person's screams gradually faded, leaving behind only the silence of a long evening.
Before morning came, Lin Qiushi managed to get some sleep. But he didn't know whether it was due to a nightmare or if he didn't actually manage to sleep—he kept feeling that for the rest of the evening, that thing had kept circling the room they were in. He'd even smelled that nauseating stench of fish.
On day three, none of the three were in good spirits. They hadn't slept well for the past few nights, disturbed as they'd been with a number of things.
Conducting several days of christening meant the group was already numb to another body appearing on deck. They got rid of the body in well-trained motions and scrubbed the deck clean, returning to the day like nothing had happened at all.
Lin Qiushi's attention was not on the deck. He went off to the dining room early, hoping to find trace of the bugs. But disappointingly, the insects that had formed the string yesterday had disappeared.
"There's no rush." Ruan Nanzhu glanced at his watch. "It's still early."
"Mh," Lin Qiushi said in understanding.
Without the string, they couldn't find the two monsters, so they could only keep waiting.
At around eleven or so, the scenario that Lin Qiushi had been waiting on finally appeared—the NPC that became the insects yesterday showed up once more in the dining room. He wore the same clothes, had the same expression, and looked just like an NPC who kept resetting in a game.
They didn't need Ruan Nanzhu this time for someone to approach this NPC and pat him hard on the shoulder.
So the same thing that happened yesterday happened again. The insects swarmed then dispersed, disappearing from inside the dining room, and at the same time, two lines of insects formed outside, leading off in unknown directions.
Lin Qiushi, Ruan Nanzhu, and Gu Longming began following a string to find the place they were looking for. A few minutes later, they came upon the exterior of a room. Compared to yesterday, it looked very different, because it was readily apparent from the outside that last night, this room had been the site of a vicious battle. The wooden window slats were completely crushed, and the lock that hung on the door had also been torn violently off.
It seemed like the two monsters did have a fierce battle between them. Judging by the final incident from the night before, however, it seemed that the giant fishman had gotten the advantage.
[Ch. 123] | [Ch. 125]
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vina-writes · 3 years
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The Pink Paradox
Written for the @drarrymicrofic​ prompt: Metamorphosis!
Rating: T
Length: 1.6k
Summary: Draco Malfoy has pink hair.
Notes: Thank you so much @fw00shy​​ for betaing!! Also just hire me for all your graphic design needs because hot damn I am proud of myself
(i)
Draco Malfoy has pink hair.
That’s not entirely correct when one gets down to the facts. Draco Malfoy has blond hair— a light, airy blond, the color of sunlight on snow. Harry Potter knows this because he’s spent many an adolescent winter watching Malfoy walk the grounds of a frozen Hogwarts and noticing it. The fact that he’s observed Malfoy that carefully is neither here nor there, although Ron would say it’s there (there being the Janus Thickey Ward). Harry’s Malfoy-stalking tendencies occupy their own corner of his mind however, and certainly don’t apply to the here and now.
Because here and now Malfoy has pink hair, and that’s not something unique to Harry’s observations. There’s not a witch or wizard alive who wouldn’t notice that head of bubblegum bobbing between the Auror cubicles.
It’s far too early for a Monday morning (nearing noon), and while their coworkers have been diligently ridding the Wizarding World of crime, Harry and Ron are tossing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into each other's mouths and gossiping over Lavender Brown’s pregnancy cravings. They were, that is, until Harry caught sight of Malfoy's pink hair.
“Kneazle got your tongue?” Ron asks after Harry fails to finish his sentence for the fifth time. Ron can make fun of him if he wants— his chair is facing away from Malfoy and that rosy fringe. The fact that Harry has never passed up a chance to watch Draco in all their years of training and employment (with or without pink hair) is irrelevant. The pink is distracting, and it’s more so on Malfoy.
“Malfoy,” Harry repeats to himself quietly, just to feel the familiar shape in his mouth. It’s lacking the venom and suspicion it should have on principle.
Ron turns unpleasantly green at that. “Malfoy’s got your tongue?” he asks.
“What?” Harry finally looks away from Malfoy. “No. Ew. Of course not.” He says it far too blandly, like a child denying their love of sweets, and Ron gives him a Look. Harry tries (unsuccessfully) to change the subject. “What’s he doing with the— why did he— what’s… erm.”
Ron regards him like he’s lost his mind. He seems to think Harry is confused about Malfoy’s business in the DMLE, when he’s usually with Hermione down in Mysteries. While that is out of the ordinary, it’s not nearly as pressing of an issue as Malfoy's pink hair.
“He’s consulting,” Ron explains slowly, “for the Finley case?” Then, when Harry only stares back blankly— “Harry. Can you even read?”
“Occasionally.”
“Tacky romance novels don't count.”
“Oh. Then, no, not really.”
“It was in our missive just last week. They’ve pulled in the Unspeakables. I was hoping they’d send ‘Mione, since she and the Ferret work together, but no such luck.”
“Oh.” Harry turns back to watch Malfoy shake Robards’ hand. Robards' grip is strong, and his thick fingers nearly engulf Malfoy’s delicate wrist. Harry doesn’t like that.
“Are you worried he’s going to cause trouble?” Ron asks. His voice sounds different, and when Harry glances at him again he’s got both feet slung over the armrest of his chair. Robards will skin him alive if he sees.
“No!” Harry says too quickly. He coughs. “Just wondering about the— er, how long has he had…?”
Ron doesn’t seem inclined to help him out.
“For fuck’s sake, Ron, when did he go and do—” Harry waves his hands frantically “—that?”
“Do you mean the hair, mate?”
“Yes, the bloody hair!” Harry’s had his fair share of existential crises in his life. He’s well acquainted with the feeling, and this one is going near the top of the list.
Ron, the bastard, shrugs. Shrugs! Like a pink-haired Malfoy is not only a normal occurrence, but is even expected.
“I didn’t notice it at first, to be honest,” he says, and Harry throws him a look of such vicious resentment that the potted Dragon Snap in the corner stops smoking and curls its leaves over its head. Ron just gives him a shit-eating grin in return.
Discouraged by his apparently un-threatening aura, Harry glances away in time to see Malfoy get a hearty pat on the shoulder (he doesn’t like that, either) and turn towards— towards them.
“Er, Ron?” Harry asks. “Who was assigned to the Finley case?” He knows the answer before he gets it, but still can’t look away from the cutting figure Malfoy makes as he saunters towards them in swirling black robes.
“That would be us,” Ron says cheerfully. “Buckle up and tuck in, mate. Your hard-on is showing.”
Harry is not hard, not even a little, but his panicked struggle to tug the mercilessly short Auror robes over his lap leaves him wrinkled and guilty-looking when Malfoy reaches them.
“Gentlemen,” Malfoy says cooly, and Harry thinks his cheeks must be the color of Malfoy’s hair.
“Harry’s hot for your hair,” Ron says. Harry chokes. “He’s also not read the case file, so I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t come looking for me, I’ll be taking an extended lunch. Looking forward to working with you.”
He throws them both a saucy wink and leaves with all the smugness of a man who’s done his yearly good deed. Harry’s going to murder him before the day is done.
Silence descends over their cubicle. Malfoy eyes Ron’s chair, but wisely chooses to remain standing. Harry notices belatedly that his robes are trimmed in silver, the same shade at his eyes.
“Potter.”
“Malfoy,” Harry acknowledges with a polite nod. The stillness around them is most certainly plummeting towards awkward.
“I heard you like my—”
“Have you read the—”
They both speak at the same time. Malfoy blinks, startled. When he doesn’t finish his sentence, Harry tries again.
“Have you not been debriefed on—”
“I noticed you changed your—”
They wisely decide to shut up. There’s a used staple on the corner of Harry’s desk, and he reaches over to fiddle with it just for something to do.
“Staples,” Malfoy says out of the blue. He looks like he regrets his volume, and it occurs to Harry that he probably feels just as uncomfortable. This is the first time they’ve spoken beyond polite greetings in four years, and neither is sure what to expect. It makes Harry feel better, somehow, to know that he’s not the only one feeling utterly wrongfooted.
“Yes,” Harry says. “Staples?”
Malfoy swallows. His neck is a long expanse of smooth skin, and Harry vaguely wonders what it tastes like. “We might make use of them on the case. Staples, I mean. Have you any more?”
Harry frowns, his discomfort dissipating. “Yeah, in the supply closet. But we just use Sticking Charms— don’t you?”
“Yes,” Malfoy says quickly. “We do. But we could try staples from the supply closet.”
It’s Harry’s turn to deploy the Look. Malfoy frowns at him like he doesn't get it, but Harry’s not really in the mood for deduction.
“So,” Harry says instead, “Auror work. Are you looking forward to it?”
There’s a shift in Malfoy’s stance, and his grey eyes skim over the lines of Harry’s body. “Parts of it,” he says. His tone is a little off. Husky.
“Sore throat?” Harry asks in what he hopes is a sympathetic manner.
“Sometimes,” Malfoy says cryptically. Harry’s not having the greatest time puzzling out his strange behavior and responses— they leave him floundering for something else to say.
“Are you going to tell me what’s in that fancy file or do I have to read it?” Harry finally asks, jerking his chin towards the papers tucked under Malfoy’s arm. He sincerely hopes Malfoy will volunteer to summarize for him. It’s because Harry’s glasses are giving him a headache and not at all because he likes the sound of Malfoy’s voice.
Malfoy’s cheeks flush a little. Harry wonders if he’s coming down with something, even as he struggles not to think of the color as attractive. “Protocol dictates that you read case information yourself,” Malfoy says, “but I suppose I wouldn’t mind speeding things along so we can get started. Maybe… over coffee? Or lunch?”
Harry tries not to let his dismay show on his face. “We have to work through lunch?” he asks. It sounds pathetic even to his own ears.
“Oh my fucking Merlin, he’s asking you out!” Cho shouts over the cubicle wall. Harry and Malfoy both jump.
“No, he’s not!” Harry shouts back, cheeks flaming.
“Yes, I am,” Malfoy says. Harry drops the used staple.
“You are?”
“Am I?”
“I don’t bloody know!”
“Well,” Malfoy starts, but seems to realize he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. “Well— you like my hair.”
“And that’s enough reason to ask me out for coffee?”
Harry really has no idea why he’s arguing. This is Malfoy— pink-haired, blushing Malfoy— handing himself over on a silver-trimmed platter, and he mentally slaps himself for putting up any sort of resistance.
“I like your hair,” Malfoy admits. He seems to regret saying it, and tries to make up for his embarrassment by adopting a suave position leaning against Harry’s desk. He misses and stumbles slightly before righting himself.  
“Don’t worry, Malfoy,” Cho calls again. “He’s been wetting himself over you for years, he’s bound to say yes.”
“Well, he’s not saying it,” Malfoy mutters.
“Yes I am.”
“You— you are?”
“Am I?”
Malfoy stops and stares at him. Opens his mouth, frowns a little. There’s a wonderful feeling in Harry’s chest.
“I’m just fucking with you,” Harry says over a smile. “Let’s go.”
Malfoy orders a strawberry milkshake at lunch. Harry doesn’t get dessert, but he still feels very… pink.
Read on Ao3
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jokertrap-ran · 3 years
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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Charlie’s 5✩ Inspiration: Daytime Spiritualities [昼日疑魂] Date Translation (Prologue)
“An eligible fiancée should always be prepared to make some sacrifices in the name of love.”
*Light and Night Master-list | Charlie’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (^▽^)~ ♪ *5✩ Inspirations have 5 Endings!! *CG Image used with permission from 蓝咕咕 ☆ *Charlie’s tag will be #For Night, For Paradox
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Even the unluckiest soul in the world will one day meet a stroke of good luck at some odd point in time.
For example, I'd gone out to purchase some batteries last week, only to somehow win a chance to try out a new model of Home Projector. All I had to do was to give them feedback about it afterwards, and the projector was mine.
What a rare stroke of good luck! Shouldn’t I share some with the exceptional “Mr. Perfect” as well?
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
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Setting my mind to it, I dialled the number I knew by heart.
Charlie: How rare it is for you to be the one calling me.
MC: Cut the crap. I'm here because I need something from you.
MC: Are you free this Saturday, Charlie?
Charlie: I… probably don't have any shifts on that day.
Charlie: Ah, I know now. You're asking me out for a date? Please tell me it's not for a Saturday candle-lit dinner.
MC: Dream on. Dinner's a stretch and candles are a no-go.
Charlie: How dull.
Charlie: But, yes. You do have a point there. My presence overshadows any candlelight before me, so long as I am around.
MC: I'm starting to regret ever calling you.
MC: I'm not going to tell you what we're going to be doing so just wait till Saturday and you'll know.
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
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Saturday arrived much faster than I thought. I went out grocery shopping early on Saturday morning to give Charlie, "his highness", a grand welcome.
I passed the hospital on my way home when something extravagantly gold suddenly caught my attention.
A gold leaf-painted car. One with extremely showy butterfly doors. There, it stood; sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the calm serenity of the hospital.
This grandiose display of extravagance was something all too familiar to me…
Who else would do this, but Charlie?
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MC: But… Why's he at the hospital today?
MC: Didn't he say that he didn't have any scheduled shifts?
Unable to restrain my curiosity, I decided to head into the hospital and have a look for myself.
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
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Hurried footsteps sounded inside the IPD (In-Patient Department) as people came and went. Medicinal bottles clinked, and soft murmuring came from the Doctors and Patients down in the Wards. The IPD’s corridor was already abuzz with life this early in the morning.
Yet, the door to Charlie’s office was shut tight with nary a sound.
MC: How quiet. Is he not in his office?
I gently pushed the door open, only to be stunned speechless by the scene that greeted me inside his office…
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
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Charlie was lifelessly sprawled on the floor. His eyes were closed, and it was deathly silent.
The fridge by his side was wide open. The enzyme drinks and the fruit and vegetable juices within were exposed to the open as the fridge expelled cool air. White sheets of document paper were scattered all over the floor.
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MC: Charlie?
Said person sprawled on the ground didn't move a finger, much less make a sound.
"An Employee's Sudden Death In the Early Morning", "Inside the Medical Industry: Why Work Crazy Overtime Hours". Possible headlines started running through my head, causing my mental alarm bells to start ringing.
MC: Hey? Hey! Are you okay!?
I flung my shopping bag to the side, quickly reaching out to place my finger under his nose to check if he was breathing.
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MC: Phew… At least he's still breathing.
Just as I was about to turn tail and ask for help, I felt my fingers get caught in a soft and warm hold.
Charlie: Wait.
MC: !?
MC: Are you okay?
The person on the ground reached out to pinch my trembling fingers, shaking them twice in what was supposedly affirmation.
The heart that had leapt to my throat upon finding him settled back down, but doubt still remained.
MC: How… How do you feel now?
Charlie raised his head in a daze, looking like a right mess with tired black circles under his eyes.
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Charlie: %#*$&...
MC: ???
MC: Wait, were you just asleep earlier!?
Charlie was just like a lion who’d awoken from slumber. He leisurely rubbed his eyes sleepily, the action itself seemingly giving you the answer to your question.
MC: ……
I started to replay everything I’d seen earlier in my mind… Steady breathing, warmness, and even the ever so faint snoring that came out from his parted lips...
Looks like I'm truly the one who’d jumped to conclusions here.
Recalling how I’d totally been frightened out of my own wits upon finding him earlier, I suddenly felt my cheeks grow hot.
MC: But, why are you sleeping on the floor? Are you that tired that you just crashed on the spot?
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Charlie: As if. I purposely chose to sleep on the floor.
Charlie paused for a second, gathering up all his documents that were scattered all over the floor before rightening himself and walking over to bask under the morning light that filtered in. However, the expression he wore was still a little out of place.
Charlie: Once you’ve tried out all of the high-end beds in the world, you’ll soon come to realize that the bed is actually a pretty inferior piece of furniture to be sleeping on.
Charlie: It is only by staying in tune with nature and reverting to primal nature that you can get the highest quality of sleep.
Charlie: And the ground is the one thing closest to nature.
MC: ...We're on the second floor here.
Charlie: I have my own manner of thinking.
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MC: ……
Although it did sound ridiculous, Charlie was someone who could even the most absurd things miraculously come true. I think I've pretty much been… rendered speechless.
As I was rendered speechless, the initiator of this entire farce had settled back in front of his desk as if everything was as per usual.
Charlie: I'll have to congratulate you first, (Y/n).
Charlie: For taking the initiative to find my workplace; and advancing us a step further in our progress towards making it onto the "Guangqi City's Model Married Couple List".
MC: Sorry, but we don't seem to be married yet. So, there's no way we'll be up on that list.
Charlie: Keep at it and we'll soon qualify for it.
MC: You've got some thick skin…
Did I really need to worry about this man earlier? He has such thick and impenetrably hard skin that I don't know whether I should be pitying him or the floor his face smashes into.
MC: Still, what are you doing here on a Saturday?
MC: Didn't you say that you didn't have any scheduled shifts today?
I leaned over and stared at him with narrowed eyes.
His eyes were a little dodgy. And when paired with the dark eye circles under his eyes, it was a rare sight on this "pricelessly perfect face" of his.
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Charlie: I came to the hospital today to… Ahem. To wait for my assistant to deliver the blood test report.
Charlie: Last week's report; dragged till today. I'm not one to say this, but the young doctors all have serious procrastination issues.
Charlie: If all doctors are like that, then who dares be their patient?
Charlie had his brow furrowed into a particularly deep crease at that. He turned his gaze outside the window with eyes as dark as the old senior director of the hospital, who had a head full of grey and ever so grave.
And when I moved closer to peer at the stack of documents on the table and the crooked and askew words… His face morphed into a look warmer than that of welcoming neighbours.
However, the problem here was that… Wasn't that "Ward Round Medical Records" written on top of those documents?
MC: This doesn't look like a blood test report.
Charlie: You can actually tell?
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MC: If I squint at it… Your scrawl is most certainly…. Erm… Unique.
His face slightly changed at that. He swiped the document from my hand and shoved it under the table.
Charlie: Enough of that. There is no way that this can ever be my handwriting.
Charlie: My calligraphy was already level 8 out of 10 in middle school.
Charlie: This is clearly someone else's handwriting!
He purposefully angled his body so that his back was facing the documents and propped his hands on the table.
Charlie: And, back to you. Why are you in such a rush to see me?
Charlie: Come on then; let's hear it. Just where are you asking me out to?
My eyes moved to look away, the fluttery airiness in my voice no longer carrying its lilt.
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MC: My house.
Charlie: ...That quickly?
There was an odd hint of hesitance in his tone, something different from his usual overwhelming confidence.
However, this minuscule hesitance of his was gone as soon as it came. Soon, the corners of his mouth lifted up as high as they could go.
Charlie: Tsk, tsk, tsk. Never thought you'd be more proactive at this than I.
Charlie: There's no need to refuse; no need to feel shy. I know.
Charlie: But still, just us alone… together? Don’t you think that’s a little too rushed? Shouldn’t you do this more romantically, at least?
MC: ...Are you still half-asleep?
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Charlie raised his eyebrows before shooting me an overly enthusiastic wink.
Charlie: What do you think?
MC: If you're awake, then stop spouting nonsense.
MC: Long story short, I won a trial run of a new Home Projector model last week…
Charlie: So, you’re inviting me to your house to watch a movie with you?
I never thought that Charlie would understand what I was getting at so quickly. I hurriedly nodded.
MC: Yup!
Charlie suddenly perked up. He crossed his fingers in thought.
Charlie: I suppose that makes sense. First, a movie; and then slowly, step-by-step.
MC: ……
He “knowingly” quirks his brows at you, his lips curled into a satisfied smile.
All traces of sleepiness on his face had been wiped clean from his features. Charlie stands up from his desk, seemingly having been suddenly imbued with a burst of energy.
With a faint smile on his face, he stretches his slender fingers out to hook it around the handle of the leopard-print mug on the table.
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
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I was caught off guard as an oddly familiar sense of deja vu overcame my senses…
It was as if a lively, yet oddly out-of-place saxophone piece had started playing in the background of his deserted office.
And there he stood, slowly coming into the view of the lens, panning forth in slow-motion. Golden sunlight filtered in from the windows, kissing the contours of his face and highlighting his profile.
Charlie: ……
He hooks his fingers onto his tie, tugging gently at it. His collar loosens, revealing his collarbones that peek out from beneath his shirt.
The knot of his tie rested next to the third button of his dress shirt. It was undone, yet not quite.
He pushed back the stray strands of hair that had fallen out of place by his sideburns.
Charlie: Does something seem off?
MC: What do you mean?
I lifted my head to peer into his cup. I could only see his reflection reflected in the waters.
MC: Not really…?
Charlie: As it should be.
MC: ?
Charlie: It appears that I am still as glamorous as always.
MC: ……
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
If Narcissus, the God of Narcissism who turned into a Narcissus, were to be reborn; then his reincarnation will be none other than Charlie.
In just a mere 2 seconds, Charlie was back to his usual pompous self.
Charlie: I'm going to get changed. Please give me a moment.
With that, Charlie briskly turns around and heads into the dressing room. He muttered lowly to himself as he went, the sound trailing after him as he disappeared into a corner of the room…
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
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Charlie: Charlie, I don't want to be the one to say this; but what’s the matter with you today?
Charlie: Passing out in the office! Your perfect image was almost ruined!
Charlie: Thankfully, I reacted fast enough.
Smiling, Charlie shakes his head helplessly at his own mirror image.
Charlie: Still, my posture is still so very charming, even if I did pass out cold on the floor.
Charlie: Oh, perfection; your name is Charlie.
Meanwhile, I was blissfully unaware of these small theatrics going on inside the dressing room as I waited for him outside….
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
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Since Charlie was out, I decided to take the chance to survey his office.
The multitude of silk award banners and certificates of merit displayed on the cabinet stupefied me. I couldn’t believe the fact that all these awards belonged to Dr. Zha, who was currently piecing himself back together in the dressing room.
Suddenly, my attention was drawn to the work calendar that hung at the door. It had Charlie’s familiar handwriting scrawled on it.
MC: Is this…
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The door to the dressing room opens with a thud as Charlie appears by the window, now casually dressed.
I ended up blurting out the question that was festering in my heart.
MC: Charlie, were you… working overtime overnight yesterday?
MC: Just so that you could make time for me on Saturday?
I looked at Charlie, attempting to gauge the answer from his eyes. That was when I realized that his eyes were bloodshot.
Charlie freezes for a moment. Something clicked inside his brain as he realized that he’d unwittingly overlooked a small detail. His high spirits immediately dampened.
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Charlie: Do you have to say it out loud for the entire world to hear? How unromantic.
His honesty confirmed the disbelief I’d felt upon the revelation. It finally made sense now.
Charlie: No need to feel overly moved by this. An eligible fiancée should always be prepared to make some sacrifices in the name of love.
Charlie: Of course, I have to be willing to make said sacrifice as well.
He faced me with utter confidence. The sincere look in his eyes made me think that maybe this was only right.
Looking at the childish chicken scratch on the calendar, I can’t help but suspect that this might just be how he is when he was actually being serious for a change.
Charlie: Stop standing around. Let's go.
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹ 
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Charlie led me out of the hospital. The engine of the flashy golden sports car roared as it brought us to my place.
I took my keys out and moved to open the door.
Suddenly, I recalled that it had been a long time since I last cleaned my room. I feel like I should say something about it first…
MC: I’ll warn you beforehand. My room is a little messy, so I’m sorry if it offends you, your highness.
MC: Express your distaste, and today’s session will end here.
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Charlie: That's all?
MC: ...That's all.
Charlie: And here I thought that you were going to say something like, “Close your eyes, I’m going to blindfold you.”
Charlie: Or, maybe ask me for the right password before granting me entry.
Charlie: What’s wrong with a messy room?
He laughs, leaning down to place his hand upon mine, which was gripping tightly onto the doorknob. He gave it a small push. My hand moved along with the doorknob under the pressure he exerted, and the door creaked open.
Charlie: I can always help you move into our new apartment if you want a bigger room to place your things in.
Charlie went around me and walked straight in.
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
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The lights weren’t on yet, but I could hear his voice in the dim room.
Charlie: Where's the mess?
Charlie: It’s pretty good; enough to house another person.
The embarrassment that had yet to completely set in was soon washed away by his teasing words. Relieved, I left the bag of snacks by the door and ran into the room.
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
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Charlie was seated on the loveseat, his hands casually resting against the back of it.
MC: Your arms are stretched so far out. Made yourself at home, I see.
I patted the hand that he’d stretched out to lean against the sofa with a smile.
MC: I think distance makes the heart fonder between us.
Unfazed, he withdrew his hand without a word.
Charlie: And this is how you treat the evaluator you specially invited?
MC: Yeah.
Charlie: Can't you be a little more professional?
MC: Of course I can. But, I’ll also have to ask this evaluator here to kindly up his professionalism as well.
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MC: Don’t get any funny ideas from your own fantasies during the movie.
Charlie knowingly retracted his “I own the world” sitting posture and moved further out.
Charlie: I can obviously do that.
Charlie: But, what if the person picking out the movie has their own selfish motives and chooses to watch some romance flick?
MC: No need to worry about that. We’re watching this today.
I sat down and turned the projector on. A shockingly red movie poster flickered onto the screen. Charlie's smile immediately froze in place.
Charlie: What… What is this?
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MC: "Massacre of the Spirit". This is what we're going to be watching today.
Charlie: Massacre of… the Spirit? A horror film?
Charlie: Seriously, (Y/n)?
MC: Absolutely. My hard disk died not too long ago, so this horror movie is the only thing left in my cloud storage.
Charlie didn't reply, only mutedly leaning back against the loveseat.
His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he looked a little… nervous.
MC: Charlie? Are you scared of watching it?
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Charlie: ...How absurd.
Charlie: The word "scared" doesn't exist in my dictionary.
Charlie: Don't go clinging to me in fright when the time comes.
With that, he casually pulls the blanket over our laps as if it was the most natural thing to do.
I peered up at him, but he cut me off before I even had the chance to thank him.
Charlie: No need to thank me.
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Charlie: I can most definitely lend you this warm chest of mine if you get so frightened that you get the chills.
MC: Heh, there's no need for that.
MC: But, thank you for the blanket.
However, just as I was about to hit the play button, Charlie held my hand down.
Charlie: Wait, wait!
He reached over my lap and quickly smoothed over all the wrinkles on the blanket. He was very swift, almost as if he was handling white mice.
Charlie: Okay. You can start now.
Why's this man acting so strange today?
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I lowered the blackout curtains and the room darkened.
The screen before us flickered twice as screams and the sound of something tearing reverberated through the room.
The movie showed an autopsy room that was lit up as bright as the day with a withered human chained to the operating table. And hidden within the darkness, was a deathly sharp bayonet that was fatally poised.
It was then that Charlie brought something up. His low voice cut through the movie's colourful sound effects and entered my ears.
Charlie: Are you not afraid to see scenes like this?
Charlie looked at me, awaiting my reply…
How should I reply to him…?
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
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✥ Choose your Ending:
END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]
END 2 + 3 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹
END 4 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR
END 5 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★ 
❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Paradox⊹ —————★❖
52 notes · View notes
eelhound · 2 years
Text
"Dex leaned against a massive rusted vat, taking the weight off their tired feet. 'How many other robots are you made from?'
'Three immediate predecessors, but they, too, were made from others. My ... I guess you'd say family tree is comprised of many wild-built individuals, descended in total from' — the robot counted on its fingertips — 'sixteen factory originals.'
'So ... if the parts still work after all this time, and you can keep repurposing parts over and over, why take the originals apart and mix their pieces up after they break down? Why not fix them?'
Mosscap nodded emphatically, signaling a good point made. 'This was discussed at length at the first gathering, after originals began breaking down. Ultimately, the decision was that would be a less desirable path forward.'
'But that's ... that's immortality. How is that less desirable?"
'Because nothing else in the world behaves that way. Everything else breaks down and is made into other things. You — you are made of molecules that originated in an unmeasurable amount of organisms. You eat dozens of dead things every single day to maintain your form. And when you die, bits of you will be taken in turn by bacteria and beetles and worms, and so it goes. We robots are not natural beings; we know this. But we're still subject to the Parent Gods' laws, just like everything else. How could we continue to be students of the world if we don't emulate its most intrinsic cycle? If the originals had simply fixed themselves, they'd be behaving in opposition to the very thing they desperately sought to understand. The thing we're still trying to understand.'
Dex put their hands in their pockets. 'Are you afraid of that?' they asked. 'Of death?'
'Of course,' Mosscap said. 'All conscious things are. Why else do snakes bite? Why do birds fly away? But that's part of the lesson too, I think. It's very odd, isn't it? The thing every being fears most is the only thing that's for certain? It seems almost cruel, to have that so...'
'So baked in?'
'Yes.'
Dex nodded. 'Like Winn's Paradox.'
'I don't know what that is.'
Dex groaned softly, trying to summon a book they'd had to read as an initiate. 'It's this famous idea that life is fundamentally at odds with itself. The example usually used is the wild dogs in the Shrublands. Do you know about this?'
'I know there are wild dogs in the Shrublands, but I don't know where you're headed,' Mosscap said, looking fascinated.
Dex shut their eyes, dredging up dusty information. 'Way back in the day, people killed all the wild dogs in Bluebank, because they wanted to go fishing and hiking and whatever without maybe getting mauled.'
'Right. And that wrecked the ecosystem there.'
"Specifically, the elk wrecked the ecosystem there. They ventured into places they hadn't before, and they ate everything. Shrubs, saplings, everything. Soon, there was no ground cover, and the soil was eroding, and it was fucking up waterways, and all sorts of other species were thrown out of whack because of it. A huge mess. But if you think about it from the elks' perspective, this is the greatest thing that ever happened. The whole reason they never went into those fields before is because they were afraid. They lived under constant fear of a wild dog jumping out and eating them or their young at any moment. That is an awful way to live. It must have been such a relief to be free of predators and eat whatever the hell you wanted. But that was the exact opposite of what the ecosystem needed. The ecosystem required the elk to be afraid in order to stay in balance. But elk don't want to be afraid. Fear is miserable, as is pain. As is hunger. Every animal is hardwired to do absolutely anything to stop those feelings as fast as possible. We're all just trying to be comfortable, and well fed, and unafraid. It wasn't the elk's fault. The elk just wanted to relax.' Dex nodded at the ruined factory. 'And the people who made places like this weren't at fault either — at least, not at first. They just wanted to be comfortable. They wanted their children to live past the age of five. They wanted everything to stop being so fucking hard. Any animal would do the same — and they do, if given the chance.'
'Just like the elk.'
'Just like the elk.'
Mosscap nodded slowly. 'So, the paradox is that the ecosystem as a whole needs its participants to act with restraint in order to avoid collapse, but the participants themselves have no inbuilt mechanism to encourage such behavior.'
'Other than fear.'
'Other than fear, which is a feeling you want to avoid or stop at all costs.' The hardware in Mosscap's head produced a steady hum. 'Yes, that's a mess, isn't it?'
'Sure is.'
'So, what was done?'
'You mean about the elk?'
'Yes.'
'They reintroduced wild dogs, and everything balanced back out.'
'What about the people who wanted to go hiking and fishing there?'
'They don't. Or if they do, they accept the risks. Just like the elk do.'
The robot continued to nod. 'Because the alternative outcome is scarier than the dogs. You're still relying on fear to keep things in check.'"
- Becky Chambers, from A Psalm for the Wild-Built, 2021.
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263adder · 2 years
Note
bootstrap paradox??? 👀👀👀
For my List of Shame - WIP Game ask. Your wish is my command @five-by-seven 😘
Bootstrap Paradox
Klaus was still retching in the corner while the rest of the Academy discussed what had happened.
“You teleported all of us?” Luther asked again.
“I believe we already covered this, Number One.” Five said hotly.
“You can’t usually do that.” He replied defensively.
“Well usually we’re not seconds away from dying.”
“It doesn’t matter how we got here,” Allison interjected, “I want to know where here is.”
“A police station.” Klaus supplied unhelpfully, still hunched over while Ben patted his back.
“I think we’re in the future.”
“Five, you can’t move through time.” Allison huffed.
“I’ve never done it before.” He corrected. “That doesn’t mean I can’t. And it’s the only thing I can think of that makes sense.”
“H-how do you mean?” Diego asked.
Pushing his hair out of his eyes, Five listed off what he had observed when they first landed. “We landed on the same street we left, but things were different. New shops and street furniture. There was technology around us I haven’t seen before – did you see the cars, those large televisions? They’re more advanced than anything we have. And I don’t think I have to remind you how everyone around us reacted? The public are used to seeing our powers, but they weren’t. The police reacted hostilely too, that’s why we’re in here.” He pointed out, gesturing to the room around them. It wasn’t a cell, rather a detention room for interrogation with a two-way mirror Diego had already suspiciously pressed an eye to. An armed police officer was stationed outside.
“The police wouldn’t have taken us in.” Luther nodded.
“All right.” Ben said slowly. “So how do we get back?”
“I didn’t exactly intend to bring us here in the first place. I’ll have to make some calculations before I can try.”
“Meaning?” Allison pushed.
“We’ll be here for a while.” Five sighed. What he left unspoken was the concern he wouldn’t be able to get them back at all. The guilt that thought inspired – and the image of sad brown eyes, half-hidden behind meticulously straightened bangs – forced him to stay positive. They would get home. He needed to.
“So this means that we’ve been gone for… what? Months? Years?”
“How much has changed?”
“Why hasn’t Dad come to get us yet?”
“I’m asking.” Diego decided, quickly moving over to the door and pounding it loudly. “Hey!”
“Yes?” A voice came from the other side.
“We get to make a phone call right? We’re minors, you have to let us call home.”
“Your guardian has been contacted.” The officer replied, still keeping the door shut. The Academy didn’t mind, however, sharing a look of relief. Even Five, who detested the old man, felt calmed by the news. While Reginald Hargreeves had never approved of Five’s desire to time travel, he didn’t seem to think it impossible. Perhaps he would have an insight into how they could return.
With that announcement, they settled more comfortably into the room. Ben helped Klaus into a seat and sat with his back to his knees. Diego hopped up on the table while Allison and Luther took two of the three remaining chairs. Five didn’t claim the last, however, preferring to pace as he began to run numbers through his head. His fingers twitched for a pen or a piece of chalk, but apart from the bolted furniture there was nothing in the room he could use.
There was also no clock, and therefore no way of knowing how much time had passed until the door finally opened. To Five, who was occupied, it felt like minutes; to the others, eons.
The police officer ushered in a well-dressed man, suitcase in hand and an expensive watch on his wrist. A lawyer if he ever saw one.
“Good evening, Hargreeves.” He greeted, settling his suitcase on the table and taking the spare seat. “I’m Declan Bell and I manage the Hargreeves estate on behalf of its proprietor. Now, I’ve been informed by the officers in charge here that you materialised on East 17th Street opposite Union Square at three forty-seven this afternoon, causing minor damage to a vendor’s cart and the public sidewalk. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” Five replied, to the echoes of his teammates.
“Our Dad’s lawyer is Lucas Fraser.” Luther said, clearly confused.
Mr Bell nodded. “I’ll see if I can find a record of him. You should understand, quite some time has passed since you disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Allison asked.
“Yes.”
Unclipping his suitcase, Mr Bell withdrew some papers with an assortment of headlines collated together. Each professed to their strange disappearance mid-battle, with calls for information on their whereabouts and the criminals who remained at large.
“No one knew what happened to us?” Ben asked, inspecting one of the sheets closely.
“Never. There were speculations of course, but CCTV was not what it is today and the street had been evacuated in light of the incident you were attending. Which meant no witnesses.”
Luther tried to ask about the criminals they were fighting, but Five spoke over him.
“How long have we been gone?”
“Almost seventeen years.” At their collective inbreath, Mr Bell hastily added, “I know this must be a shock.”
“No shit.” Klaus exclaimed.
Quantum mechanics had given way to basic addition. Vanya would be twenty-nine years old.
“Given the circumstances, no charges will be filed although a fine will be issued to the estate to pay for property damage,” he explained, continuing over the few voices of complaint, “which I will inform the proprietor they need to pay. The incident may have been unavoidable but, considering what is happening in the press, it seems the best way to avoid any further scrutiny into your vigilantism.”
“What do you mean? What’s happening in the press?” Allison queried. “You just said we’ve been gone for seventeen years.”
“Yes, however, some details have recently emerged about practices within the Umbrella Academy, which have garnered a lot of negative publicity. As such, it would be wise to avoid drawing additional attention. Which is why I want to get up out of this station and into private premises as soon as possible; before the press catch wind of your reappearance.”
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Text
Snap Part 1
Read on Ao3 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Inspired in part by the lovely @random-snippets‘s post here
Warnings: roman angst and everything that goes with it. self-esteem issues, self-hatred, insecurity. sympathetic everyone
Pairings: roceit, platonic DLAMPR
Word Count: 5540
Most things in life are flexible to some degree. You can push and pull and bend them in certain ways and, to some extent, they will comply with you. There are some things that you can bend and bend and bend. Creativity is one of these things. Creativity, imagination, dreams...they can be shaped and changed into whatever you want.
Bend...and bend...and bend...until they snap.
Janus enjoys teasing.
He finds that it often reveals true intentions much better than simply taking someone at their word. Plus, the range of reactions he gets is endlessly amusing.
Patton will stutter and stammer adorably, or he’ll put on his Dad Voice™ and attempt to scold. Logan, depending on what sort of mood he’s in, will sass him back or give him a death glare. Virgil definitely isn’t the type to snipe back, keeping up with Janus blow for blow. Remus is…Remus.
But Roman…Roman is different.
Roman used to be the most fun to tease, puffing himself up in a fit of righteous princely indignation to defend himself, going red in the face only to be set off again moments later. Janus could spend hours just tilting his head this way and that as Roman muttered himself in and out of circles and paradoxes and contradictions. It used to be quite an effective way to shut the prince up, letting him stew in his own thoughts.
It’s still an effective way to silence Roman, but it’s changed.
It started after the wedding.
Roman had shut himself away in his room, much to the chagrin of the others. They expected a temper tantrum, they expected sulking. Logan and Patton were constantly on standby for the minute Thomas would start being affected by it.
They didn’t expect Roman to emerge a few days later and quietly ask to talk to each of them.
He apologized.
A proper apology; for mocking his name, for calling him evil, for dismissing him out of hand. Janus can only guess by the looks of pleasant confusion mirrored on the other Sides’s faces that they received similar apologies.
Janus hadn’t been surprised when Roman extended a nervous offer of having him and Remus come around to their side of the Mindscape more often, saying that they had…valuable insights to offer. He hadn’t been surprised to see Roman extend the olive branch to Remus, only for Remus to promptly snatch it up and hug his brother so tightly Janus winced in sympathy for Roman’s ribs.
Patton, as was to be expected, was overjoyed, throwing his arms around the princely side in what could only be described as euphoria. Logan had been surprised, saying he hadn’t expected Roman’s surprising amount of maturity regarding the issue, including the way Roman had promised to listen to him more often. Virgil had shrugged, saying it was about time Roman started doing that anyway.
He hadn’t thought anything of it, not really. And it had been pleasant, being listened to. Not being treated like a villain.
He should’ve known it wasn’t going to be only a few days for Roman to completely change his black-and-white view of the world.
Roman listened more, that was true, but he didn’t talk as much either. He stood quietly, occasionally asking softly for clarification.
“…L-Logan?”
Logan pauses mid-sentence, glancing over at Roman. Roman sits there, twisting his fingers together.
“Yes?”
“Can you…slow down a little bit?”
Logan blinks. He’d been talking about recent discoveries made in the field of quantum physics, just getting to the part about how SUSY particles could reconcile the different interpretations of the expansions of the universe. Roman had been the only one who volunteered to listen, and he half-expected Roman to dismiss the topic entirely or say he had some important thing to go to. He had not been expecting this.
Roman did not seem to interpret his silence in this way.
“It’s just,” he stammers frantically, “it’s not that I’m not interested, I am, I can assure you, I’m just…I’m having trouble keeping up with you.”
He balls his hands up tightly in his lap, staring at Logan with a frantic sense of urgency.
“It’s okay if you can’t or you don’t want to, y-you’re not boring me, I promise, and I don’t want you to stop, but can you please try and talk a little slower? I don’t…I don’t want to miss anything,” he trails off.
“It’s…it’s quite alright, Roman,” Logan says carefully, “I’m happy to slow down.”
Roman’s face breaks into a relieved smile. “Okay, thank you, I don’t know what’s going on with me today.” He taps the side of his head with a self-deprecating smile. “Not all here, it seems. Sorry, Specs.”
“You needn’t apologize, you haven’t done anything wrong.” Logan adjusts his glasses. “I would be more than happy to slow down. Are you quite sure I’m not boring you?”
“Absolutely not.”
Logan smiles. “…good.”
“C-can I say what I’ve gotten so far,” Roman asks hesitantly, “and then you can correct me where I’m wrong and then jump back in when we get there?”
“Of course.”
Roman had Remus share almost as many ideas as he did, but he didn’t share his own as much either.
“Roman? Do you have anything to add?”
Roman shakes his head, a small smile on his lips as he watches Remus bounce excitedly on the balls of his feet.
“I believe we have a solid idea,” he says, gently elbowing Remus, “and there is nothing I can do to improve it.”
“You know, Ro-Bro,” Remus says, shoving Roman back, “you’ve gotten so much less boring.”
Roman chuckles lightly, picking himself up off the wall. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
“Oh, I am!” Remus claps his hands. “But are you sure we can’t build in the part about—“
“We are not unearthing a roadkill corpse, Remus.”
Roman didn’t puff up when he was teased anymore, but he didn’t defend himself in any other way as much either.
“Could you be more extra,” Virgil sighs, nudging Roman, “really, Princey?”
Roman pauses, before slowly lowering his hands. “I am, aren’t I?”
Virgil’s eyes widen. “Guys! Guys, I got Roman to admit that he’s extra!”
“You did what?” Remus vaults over the couch. “You did it!”
“That is in fact a marvelous breakthrough,” Logan says, drinking his coffee, “especially for Roman.”
“Good to see you’re finally developing some self-awareness, kiddo,” Patton says with a wink, patting Roman on the shoulder.
Janus smirks, shifting in his chair. “Yes, because Roman’s observational skills have always been at the forefront.”
“Alright, alright,” Roman says finally, waving his hand, “I’m extra, I get it.”
It took far too long for them to realize that just because Roman’s behavior had changed, it didn’t mean he wasn’t still struggling with the ramifications of it. It took them far too long to realize that Roman still clung to the ideas of heroes and villains, the roles had just shifted. It took them far too long to realize that the ego, still hiding its black and blue skin, was still living in fear, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It took Janus far too long to realize he wasn’t doing his job.
“Oh, come now, I’m only teasing.”
“And that’s supposed to make everything better, is it?”
Janus pauses, the sharpness in Roman’s voice killing the follow-up in his throat. His eyes don’t widen at how Roman looks at him. For the first time in a long time, Roman’s gaze is filled with fire as he stares at Janus. It gives him pause for a moment. Just a moment. Then his smirk is back.
Good. You were starting to get boring.
“You realize that saying you’re teasing doesn’t make it hurt any less, right?”
“Oh, sweetie, there’s really no need to get so worked up—“
“Don’t pretend that your intention has not been to make me uncomfortable.”
“Then why’re you letting it get to you so?”
“…so if Remus tries to knock me out with his morningstar, I shouldn’t get hurt because it’s his intention to hurt me?”
Janus blinks. This is absolutely the direction he thought Roman was going to go. “That’s not quite the same thing.”
“So I shouldn’t prioritize emotional and mental pain the same way as physical pain?”
“…I didn’t say that—“
“Oh, I’m sorry, is it frustrating to have your words taken out of context and applied in ways you obviously didn’t mean? Wow, I wonder what that feels like.”
Janus’s surprise is hidden quickly as Roman takes a deep breath in. He expects Roman to bite back, to push, to hurl acid-laced insults at him. Given how Roman has been taking most of…this lying down as of late, he expects it, even if he would be a little...disappointed. In some way, he doesn’t deserve it.
That’s exactly what happens.
“…I understand that you care and you help in your own way. And I’m grateful for it, really, I am. You…you make people look at themselves—really look and you make me think and it’s great but it’s exhausting.”
Roman buries his face in his hands, pressing his fingertips hard to his eyes. It doesn’t hurt to see him so…tired.
“I can’t—I can’t do this all the time. I can’t do this most of the time. You know that. As a matter of fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if that were the point.”
“…I do have a point.”
“You always have a point. That’s the problem. You are nothing but points, there’s nothing to you but—“
Roman stops, taking a deep breath and pressing his forehead with a fist.
“No, sorry, that’s…that’s not true. The version of you that you choose to present to me and to the others most of the time is nothing but points. There is no softness. No give. Not an ounce. It’s always a fight. I have to…double and triple check every single thing that comes out of your mouth, and I’m not…I…”
Another deep breath. Something softens.
“I respect you. I admire you. I like you. But I don’t know what you want from me.”
Janus isn’t shocked.
Not just at the fact that Roman is expressing all of this out loud, not just at what Roman is saying, but how the bitter taste slowly filling his mouth isn’t coming from any of it.
Roman isn’t lying. Not about this.
What happened in those days when you shut yourself away?
It takes him a moment to realize Roman is waiting for an answer.
“I don’t want you hurt.”
Roman huffs. No malice behind it, just exhaustion. “You enjoy putting me in situations that actively make me uncomfortable and you have enjoyed hurting me in the past. Try again.”
There’s a moment of silence. Then Roman sighs.
“Look, I don’t think I’m in the right space for this conversation and the last thing I want to do is mess this up any more than I already have, can we…can we do this later?”
He nods slowly, even though it takes him back to hear Roman ask for something. It doesn’t sting a little to know he isn’t the one that’s made it easier for him to do so.
“Thank you, I—you...you know I care about you, right?”
Not many things can take him by surprise, not many things can make him more surprised than this conversation already has, but this…this earnest confession, this does. He nods.
“Good.”
They don’t speak for days. They don’t even see each other for days. Then Roman has an episode.
The others are away, helping Thomas. Roman is alone. He rides the attack to its end but he’s still trying to recover. This one was bad. He needs to get up, he needs to eat, he needs to drink, he needs to but he knows if he stresses out too much about this, he’s just going to send himself into another attack. He’s trying to breathe but it’s hard. It’s so hard.
Janus wasn’t even looking for him. And yet there he is, sprawled on the floor, hunched over, hands trembling as he struggles to breathe. For a moment he worries at how much he can feel that Roman’s afraid. Afraid of Janus. Janus…he hasn’t exactly shown him his…full capabilities.
And, in his defense, really, Roman is so clever, so sweet, so open that he can’t help but play with him, test him, poke at his comfort zone just enough to see him squirm. And Roman is lovely, truly, he is. And yes, part of him was thrilled when Roman finally snapped at him, but he’s right. Janus is…he has not been good to him.
Time to change that.
He approaches slowly, crouching, and offering a hand. The suspicious look that he gets doesn’t hurt his chest. He does blame him. But Roman trusts, he trusts too easily sometimes and this wouldn’t be the first time Janus has ever taken advantage of it. He tries to convey that he won’t break it when Roman takes his hand. He tries not to think about how much of this is Roman going along with it if only to prevent himself from being hurt.
He leads Roman to one of the common spaces on the Dark Sides’ hallway. It’s almost never used anymore, not since the barrier between Light and Dark started breaking down. He looks at Roman to see such an unsure expression that he can’t help the soft noise when he guides him to sit on the couch.
Janus keeps Roman in the corner of his vision as he carefully shrugs off his cloak. He considers draping it over Roman’s shoulders but decides that might be a bit too much. Too much for right now, even as his mouth starts to taste bitter.
What does he want? Roman can’t stop thinking it. He’s three seconds away from another attack, what’s happening, what’s going on, I don’t know what to do—
A gentle hand cups his chin and he distantly thanks whatever higher power there may be that Janus’s gloves aren’t a bad texture. But then he has to make eye contact and oh it’s the worst. He doesn’t know what’s keeping this fragile peace. He knows Janus will see through any mask he tries to put on right now.  
But not wearing a mask…he’s not sure he remembers how to do that.
He tries.
I’m trying, I’m trying so hard, can’t you see? Can’t you see that if you just tell me, I’ll be good? Whatever you want, I can do it, I promise, I’ll be good, I can be good, but I can’t do it if I don’t know what you want and if you tell me I’ll do it, just tell me what you want me to do, I can’t figure it out, I want to be good, but I don’t—I can’t—what do you want?
Janus sees. He sees all of it and it doesn’t break his heart.
He lets Roman go, the ache getting worse when he immediately shuts his eyes. He crouches, waiting.
When Roman opens his eyes again, he tries to offer. What do you want? Let me help, if you want?
Too much, perhaps. So he tries smaller.
Roman’s unsure when he offers his hand again. He…Janus doesn’t like being touched. But would he really be offering if he wasn’t okay with it?
Janus smiles when Roman reaches a trembling hand out. Slowly, carefully, he takes it in two of his, playing with it gently. Running his fingers over the back, tracing the knuckles. Roman’s hand is so much more...worn than the others. There are calluses, scars, so many stories that Janus can’t help exploring, smiling a little when the light touch makes Roman twitch. Even here, Roman’s scared of doing something wrong. His fingers tremble, try and move to match the shapes he makes.
Keeping Roman’s hand in his, Janus stands, tugging in a gentle ask for Roman to come with him. Roman stands up too fast and a second pair of arms shoots out to steady him. He looks so small…smaller still when Janus sits them down on another couch, between his legs.
Stay with me, Roman.
Playing with his hand again gets his attention, the second pair of arms holding Roman close. He waits. Waits to gently tug that hand a little closer. Roman shuffles. His phone tumbles out of his pocket and Janus catches it with his third pair of arms, setting it carefully on the table.
He lays back, all six arms accounted for. Waits.
Is something you want?
Roman looks so apprehensive, reaching out with his other hand. He folds Roman in gently, letting him move at his own pace, easing his weight down on top of Janus like they’re afraid of hurting him. As soon as he’s all the way down, still propping himself up to keep the weight off of Janus, Janus embraces Roman tightly, smiling a little at the way he instantly goes limp, exhaling sharply. Part of him takes a little selfish pleasure at having Roman in his arms; he’s so warm, he’s just the right weight, he fits so perfectly. But he’s still so tense, poor thing…
Just as he did with his hand, he explores gently. He lightly traces up and down Roman’s sides, wiggles his fingers as he runs them along Roman’s spine. Smirks a little when he feels Roman’s muscles tense and shift as he squirms under the gentle attention. Sweet little thing is ticklish too, hmm?
Like Roman, he doesn’t want to risk breaking this moment with too much noise, but he has to really fight the urge to coo and fuss when he starts scratching his hands through Roman’s hair. Roman whines for him, completely involuntarily, and it’s so small and tired and hopeful and adorable that he can’t help seeing if he can make him do it again. He can.
They have no idea how long they lie there but an alarm on Roman’s phone breaks the silence. Janus barely glances at the label—‘stop and get back to work’—as he shuts it off. He laments its intrusive presence as Roman startles horribly, scrambling up. And he can’t help himself, he catches him.
Roman should get back. He should do so many things but Janus is being so kind and he’s not too warm and Roman has no idea how he’ll react and what if they never get this chance again and he’s holding him so gently and the way he’s looking at him…
Is this something you want?
Janus lets out a soft oof when Roman throws himself at him, wrapping his arms around him so tightly he’s sure it hurts. But it’s the thing he wanted and the thing Roman wants and it’s perfect.
He clings to Roman just as tightly until his own arms ache from it. Still, he holds on, until Roman slumps, burying his warm face into his scales without hesitation. Roman’s breathing stutters, he’s still so scared...so Janus softens, gentles his grip, goes back to the soothing touches from before. Tries to lull Roman back into that half-doze they were in before. It takes a long time, much longer than he’d like. Roman keeps jerking himself awake, his fists clenching and unclenching, unsure where to put his head, where to put his arms.
He breaks finally when his fingers hit a sensitive spot on Roman’s back and Roman gasps, Janus instinctively holding Roman closer and smoothing the hair away from his ear.
“Shh…shh…” One pair of his arms come up to hold Roman’s hands. “Shh… shh…”
I want you to calm down, Roman, that’s all I want right now. Shh…
It takes several minutes of careful shushing to get Roman to relax, several more before his breathing evens out and he dozes, right there in his arms.
They still need to talk. Roman’s carrying so much grief with him that, now that he’s looking, he can see the strain. Roman is so tired, he can feel it. And he desperately wants to know what happened to turn Roman into this frightened creature, constantly bracing for a blow, so confused in the face of any affection. But for now…
He’s self-preservation, protection when protection is needed most. Of course he can be caring.
He leaves Roman in Patton’s care, giving them the space they need to make sure he doesn’t push. Not now, perhaps not ever. He receives a gentle thank-you when they happen to pass in the corridor. And it’s…good. There’s a sweet aftertaste in his mouth when he talks for a few days.
A few days later, his mouth tastes horribly bitter again and he knows it’s time. He appears to see Roman sitting ramrod straight, staring at the wall.
“…well, you certainly look as calm as can be.”
“Oh. Hi, Janus.”
“Hello. What seems to be troubling you?”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry. I’m alright.”
The lie tastes sour. “May I join you?”
Roman nods.
“Thank you.”
“Did you need something?”
“Are you…in a proper enough headspace to have that conversation?”
“…yes. Yeah, I think so.”
He can’t quite taste another lie. This is probably what Virgil means when he says it’s important to trust people about their own boundaries.
“I have a proposition for you. I would like you to hear me out before commenting.”
“Of course.”
“…you lie quite often.” Roman nods. “You are not of the opinion that lying is inherently wrong.”
Roman shakes his head nervously.
“You use lying as a defense mechanism to protect yourself, don’t you?”
A new wave of bitterness.
“…do not be afraid,” he says quietly, “it’s quite common.”
Roman’s brow furrows a little.
“Your first response to any question that causes a heightened emotional response is usually a lie,” he explains, “because your instinct to protect yourself kicks in and forces you to say what you think the asker wants to hear.”
Roman’s mouth tightens.
“It also coincides with the need to make yourself as small as possible. If you…do not require many things, or if you do not actively contribute to things that require any extra effort, odds are you will not be hurt.” Janus tilts his head. “I believe Virgil calls it ‘being low maintenance.’”
Roman huffs a laugh and looks away.
“Does that sound about right?”
“…mhm.”
Janus fiddles with the cuffs of his jacket almost absentmindedly. Roman has developed a…particular style of dishonesty that intrigues him.
Roman is very open about vulnerable topics; speaking freely and without hesitation about how he feels about his looks, his mannerisms, his sexuality, pretty much every aspect of themselves that the Sides can think to ask about. But that’s not the same as actually being vulnerable. It’s hiding behind too much honesty, taking advantage of the fact that others don’t tend to talk about those types of topics in that much detail to let them mistake it for actual vulnerability. But it’s not. It’s just a different type of hiding.
It’s not a lie. Not even a lie of omission. Which means it’s harder for Janus to detect. Even harder for the others. So it’s easier for them to believe Roman is more honest than they are. Which let him get away with lying, let him get away with sacrificing his own needs, let him get away with hurting himself.
The pitch is the easiest part, Janus decides. Definitely.
“Virgil and I have an arrangement of sorts,” he opens with finally. “Logan helped us figure it out. If…one of us receives an answer they believe is untruthful, a second chance is offered.”
“A…what?”
“If I ask Virgil a question, or if Virgil asks me a question, and we don’t believe the answer we receive to be true, we say: ‘second chance.’ Then we have another chance to answer. There are never any consequences for lying, or choosing to take the second chance.”
“…so…”
“So if I were to ask you what’s troubling you—“
“It’s fine,” Roman says quickly, “really, it is.”
Janus gives him a small, sad smile. No, no it isn’t, but this will serve as a good point.
“Second chance?”
Roman’s mask slips. It’s a good mask. Right up there with Patton, and Logan, if he’s being evaluative. Perhaps even up there with his own. But it’s cracking.
“You know it’s unwise to try and lie to me, dear,” he pushes.
Ah. Too much. Fear swells up behind Roman’s eyes and he stammers.
“…I…”
“If you do not wish to tell me,” he soothes, “I will not force you too.”
“Then I would rather not say,” Roman says carefully, each word laid down for Janus’s inspection.
“And there are no consequences.”
The wave of pure relief that washes over Roman is enough to make Janus smile properly. There’s a horrible moment where he looks like he doesn’t believe it, he’s waiting for the punchline, but then it doesn’t come and Roman just slumps, a massive weight rolling off his shoulders. Janus can’t help but watch the corner of his mouth tick up higher and higher as he realizes it’s okay.
“Well, judging by that expression,” he says, “this certainly will be awful for you.”
Another thing about Roman is that for some reason, probably tied to his connection to the Imagination, is that he has this…field around him. Janus is sure Logan’s not interested in it at all and they haven’t spend hours upon hours talking about it. But he can feel the wave of care and love and relief that hits him, making his heart ache pleasantly in his chest.
It’s gone far too quickly and Janus isn’t saddened by it, his brow furrowing when Roman fidgets with his hands, obviously trying to work up the nerve to ask something.
“…why…when you said this was common,” he says eventually, “what did you mean?”
Ah. This won’t be difficult at all.
“The…sophistication of your coping mechanism indicates that it has been developed over a long period of time,” he starts.
“…okay?”
“Not uncommon in victims of abuse.”
“What…what are you talking about,” Roman stammers, obviously trying to laugh it off, “I—I haven’t been abused.”
Oh.
Oh, that’s…oh, Roman…
“We have ridiculed you for expressing vulnerability,” Janus murmurs, “we have ignored you when you express deep feelings. Sometimes, when you attempt to speak about them, we tell you that your feelings are not worthy of your reaction, or we are indifferent.”
Janus shifts, letting his regret bleed into his voice as he continues.
“We have manipulated you to get what we want. We have used shame to make you feel bad.” Janus clenches his fists in his lap. “We have led you to believe things are your fault when they aren’t. We have pushed you to question your sanity.”
There’s an awful silence.
“We’ve been gaslighting you, Roman,” Janus murmurs, “and worse. Tell me, what does that sound like to you?”
Any semblance of relief from earlier vanishes, replaced by denial, worry, panic, and so much anxiety for a moment Janus worries Virgil’s going to be summoned.
Then his mouth fills with an acrid taste, coating his tongue so much it almost chokes him.
“…I’m sure you know that I’m summoned by continuous lying.” Why I appeared in the first place.
Poor Roman barely hears him enough to nod.
“I know what the lies are when I hear them.”
Another nod.
“Which means,” he murmurs, reaching out and gently touching Roman’s temple with two fingers, “…I can hear these.”
Roman freezes.
“There. That.” Janus’s eyes widen. “Oh, oh no, sweetie, I’m not here to be cruel to you.”
Roman doesn’t hear him.
“Breathe, honey, come on…in for four, hold for seven, out for eight.”
Roman’s not breathing at all. Janus leans forward to try and help when Roman’s mouth opens, his voice sharp and determined.
“When people lie,” he says, “does it hurt you?”
“What?”
“Does it hurt you?”
He knows what Roman’s asking and he adores it, of course he does. He adores that Roman’s so worried about hurting him, not himself, Janus, that he’s willing to punish himself by forcing away a defense mechanism that he’s had for years because it might be hurting Janus. He loves it.
“…no. Not a direct correlation,” he says, “no. More often than not, I can tell or sense what the truth would be and…that is not often pleasant. But no, Roman, you are not physically injuring me when you lie.”
“And what about when you’re telling the truth?”
“…sweetie, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself far more that you’re going to hurt me.”
Roman’s face pinches as he looks away, so determined that it looks completely painless. It doesn’t hurt.
“Would you like a hug?”
“N-no, no, I’m fine.” Roman’s hands don’t shake. He doesn’t hunch around himself protectively.
“Second chance?”
“…please?”
“Come here.”
He’s warm, but not warm enough. His aura is relieved, but not relieved enough. He’s still, but not still enough.
The bitter taste in Janus’ mouth isn’t horrendously painful.
“No, sweetie, you’re not being inconvenient.”
You have hidden this so well, so well we never realized how much this hurts you.
“I’m not angry with you for trying to protect yourself.”
I will be the first to admit that I have…not acquitted myself well from the things I have done to you, please let me try now.
“You’re not hurting me.”
Don’t deny yourself comfort, especially when you need it so badly.
“And no, sweetie, I don’t hate being touched as much you think I do.” Janus does find it easy to cry, he does get overwhelmed easily. And yet the lies he can hear right now threaten to make tears spill over. “…must you be so cruel to yourself?”
“…sorry?”
Ah, yes, apologies. That’s a conversation for another time. Janus sighs, running a hand through Roman’s hair. “At any rate, it’s not like you’re nice and warm and much better suited than the others.”
Finally, the bitterness recedes, just a little. Janus swallows, washing away the last vestiges on his tongue, cuddling Roman closer. He looks down, seeing his mouth open and close. Laying a finger gently against his lips, he shushes Roman as he tries to speak.
“Hush, you don’t have to say anything, sweetie. I understand.”
“Okay,” Roman huffs, “I will say the whole…mind-reading thing is not ideal.”
Fair enough. “I am only paying attention right now because you seem to be having some difficulty speaking,” he murmurs, chucking him gently under his chin, “I will not be all the time.”
“Okay.”
“Or you could simply…not lie to yourself.”
“Unrealistic.”
It makes him laugh a little. “Something to work on, no?”
Roman nods, gently head-butting Janus’ hand. He smiles, cupping Roman’s chin, idly tapping his fingers. The smile grows when Roman closes his eyes, tipping his head back so Janus can scritch lightly.
“Perhaps it will help you with these,” Janus murmurs, lightly stroking his fingers over the shadowy bruises just below Roman’s collar, “hmm?”
“…Thomas, huh?”
Janus raises an eyebrow when Thomas summons him. “Well, this is entirely expected.”
“I need your help.”
“Then this can’t be serious at all.”
“It’s about Roman.”
Janus pinches off the rest of his sarcasm. “Tell me.”
“I, uh, I made a…discovery,” Thomas says, “about…things.”
“How remarkably descriptive.”
“You know the phrase ‘bruised ego?’”
Janus stiffens at Thomas’s words. “…I am familiar.”
“…turns out it’s a lot more literal than I thought.”
Oh.
Oh, no.
It’s Janus’s job to protect the ego.
What…what has he done?
“He doesn’t care for you at all, sweetie.”
Roman opens his eyes, peering up at him with poorly disguised hope.
“Neither, for that matter,” he continues, running a thumb over Roman’s jaw, “do the others. Virgil, for one, despises you for being able to make him feel so wonderfully safe.
“Patton thinks the absolute worst of you—“ he pats Roman’s cheek— “and the care that you give so freely to others.
“Remus, well, he of course doesn’t value you at all,” he drawls as he tucks a loose piece of hair behind Roman’s ear, “let alone your willingness to touch and interact with him as he’s so used to that.
“And Logan would definitely prefer it if you were to never be so clever and considerate ever again,” he finishes, stroking his thumb across his forehead.
“I don’t think,” Roman murmurs, “that I’ve ever been so glad to be pretty fluent in sarcasm.”
“Yes, your sarcasm is absolutely awful.”
“Yes, I know, I love you too.”
He expects a familiar bitterness to wash over his tongue. It doesn’t.
Oh.
Oh.
“You don’t have to say it,” Roman mumbles, almost about to doze off in his arms, “you don’t have to say anything. It’s just…it’s there if you want it.”
“I definitely won’t take it,” he says as he presses their foreheads together, “and you definitely can’t fall asleep right here.”
There needs to be another conversation. He needs to know what happened after the wedding. He needs to know how, or perhaps more accurately, why Roman changed in the span of only a few days. He needs to know how Roman got so good at pretending.
He tries not to think about how much worse he’s made it.
…he also would like to know exactly what Roman meant when he said he loved him.
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insane-weasel · 2 years
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You know what, if it wasn't for the SA scene, I'd be so goddamn on Allison's POV too. Yeah, she has been through hell, and when your sibling causes the apocalypse when their feelings get out of control, it kind of is a blatant "well your feelings matter less than theirs."
But how the fuck do we look at that SA scene + "I'm so upset my kid died, so Sissy's kid, which is also practically yours is dying too." I'm sorry, but like what??
"Oh, but they needed to kill Harlan to work with Sparrow—" no. No they didn't. Only Ben cared about Harlan being dead and Ben's just an ass.
Literally Harlan being dead was not going to change anything. Harlan creating the grandfather paradox also to me isn't even a reason he should die.
Like actually. It isn't Harlan's fault at all. It's still a mix of a "The Umbrella siblings caused this one again" as it's Viktor's powers + their own time jumping.
Also high key?? Why did it feel like they were villanizing and making autism/neurodivergency slightly sinister??? What on Eaaaaarth????
Like????? As someone who shuts down when noise overwhelms me and has had violent outbursts, like thanks?? What a lovely depiction. (Heavy goddamn sarcasm). Yeah, he just lived his entire life alone and killed innocent people, how sad. And they make him like child-like half the time and extremely intelligent the other half.
Like holy fuck.
Allison was one of my favorites, but why the fuck are they doing her so dirty. Yes, address her PTSD and how ugly it can be, she has lost so goddamn much, but their depiction of mental illness this season feels so goddamn villainous and uncaring.
It's unreal.
The only POV reaction I could get behind was Five saying TL;DR, "Look, there isn't an easy answer. What's done is done. We're going to end up killing innocent people time after time. None of its excusable. But what we can do is do keep each other in check, and the only way to do that is to tell each other out plans and not go on our own."
He's cold, but he's consistent. Five has always been that kind of "pull any shit and you die" and I respect that.
But it feels like I have to look at scraps to sympathize with Allison. Which isn't fair. She's so godddamn justified in her anger, but her actions....
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