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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Bumpy Road

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Depression and Relationship struggles as well as Health Problems

Genre: Mild Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: On a live podcast discussing his rise to fame and how its affected his personal life, Corpse stumbles over the topic of his romantic relationships, more specifically his relationship with Y/N.

Requested by Anon. Hello dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request and so sorry you’ve had to wait for it to be posted so long. However, here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it an if you do I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Right, ok we’re officially live!“ Exclaims Anthony as he waves to one of the cameras - the one turned to him - and leans closer to the mic placed on the table in front of him. “Hello everyone, thanks for tuning in today. I’m here with the internet sensation and mystery known as Corpse Husband.“ He turns away from the camera to look across the table at his guest, “Corpse, I hope you know how much effort is being put into editing that sticker over your face for the duration of this whole podcast.“

Corpse, whose face is hidden by a sticker of his avatar, chuckles, “So you’re insinuating that I should probably not move so much.”

“Exactly.“ Anthony laughs, “My guy would be very grateful for that curtesy. Yeah, I have an actual person who I assigned to move around the sticker so there goes an extra paycheck.“

“In that case I promise to give you worthy content. A lot of never previously heard scoop.“ Corpse says, mocking the very words he uses, laughing about them afterwards, “Ask away, man.“

Anthony briefly looks down at a printed sheet of paper before pushing it to the side with a slight furrow of his brows, “You know, these are all cookie-cutter questions you’ve probably been asked many times before. So, I think it’s for the best I ask you something no one has had you talk about. Or something I hope no one has had you talk about yet. If you feel uncomfortable with any question just say so and we’ll skip it right away.“

The sticker moves up and down to mask Corpse’s face as he nods, “Got it.”

“Ok um...“ Anthony falls in thought for a moment, thinking of a question, “The first thing off the top of my head, um, what part of the dark side of fame have you had the displeasure of experiencing?“

Corpse lets out a laugh dangerously close to a scoff, “Almost all if not totally all of it really. There’s such a big chunk of privacy being taken away from you on social media. I got to that point where I felt so naked and seen I felt I was losing myself as my fandom grew. I know it’s many YouTubers’ dream to blow up and have a ton of fans and followers but I never wanted that. Don’t get me wrong, I love each and every one of my fans, I just never expected to accumulate so many of them. I’m such a private person, it was so anxiety inducing in the beginning but I sort of learned how to cope with it, you know? Sometimes, in order to stop people from reaching into my real privacy, I created a fake one that I’d feed into and let them enjoy.”

Anthony’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “Wow, how do we know what’s real about you anymore, huh?” It was said more as a joke but he truly meant it. If a person can fake a whole reality for people not to touch into their real one, Lord knows what else they can do.

Corpse huffs, “I’ll give you a hint: If it seems pretty, pink, peach and perfect it’s fake.“ The sticker may be hiding his face from the viewers but it’s most definitely not doing anything to shield the change in expression that occurs on his face from Anthony who’s sitting right across from him and notices the shift right away but before he could question it, Corpse prods on, “Y/N, my partner, can tell you just as much. They know better than anyone what’s the difference between what people know and what the reality is. They know that our relationship isn’t the sunny skies we put on display for our fans. I have my mental and physical health issues, my trust issues and paranoia play a big role in the ‘rains’ in our day-to-day life but they understand it’s all a part of me and a part I can’t control. It actually controls me sometimes and it’s so fucking annoying. But they understand. And while we pretend it’s perfect even though it isn’t, we find our happiness wherever and whenever we can. When it rains so often, you might as well look for a little hint of sunlight. That sunlight can create a rainbow after all. Believe me when I say, that rainbow is the most beautiful thing, makes you forget about the storm that just took place or might even be still raging all around.“ He sighs, preparing to bring his outpour of honesty to a close, “It may be a bumpy road 98% of the time even though on social media we pretend it’s the complete opposite, but that 2% of honest happiness we get from the tiniest of things are more meaningful than I could describe to you with words.“

And he’s more than right, words are often not enough. But the ones he used to describe what he just did were perfectly enough to bring one particular viewer to tears. That particular viewer who knows exactly what he was talking about. Because they are his other half and they’re going through it the same as he is. They’ve gone down that bumpy road side by side with him, ignoring the pain and turmoil while focusing their gaze on the rainbow above. That analogy was theirs from the very start after all. They both knew Y/N is the better one at finding the deeper meaning in everything even when there was nothing to be found.

They always found something. And Corpse will always cherish that trait as one of their best - always finding something to keep them both afloat.

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

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I miss her too

Pairings: Dad!Tom Holland x reader

Summary: Your and Tom’s daughter comes home having made something at school, for you. She desires to share it with you any way possible.

Warnings: sad, typos, mentions of death

Word Count: 1.3K

A/n: I’m back. Hoping to start part 2 to Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas. This a short blurb or possible one shot, whatever you call it. Still new to this. Wrote this spur the moment. Flashbacks are in bold.

Tom made it a priority to have dinner every night with his daughter, Poppy. It was a tradition that you reinforced. One that Tom liked to keep around even after. You would cook all these elaborate meals And Tom tries to live up to your cooking skills but would ultimately fail and seek the help of Sam.

Tom set the table and served Poppy as she sat at table, swinging her legs back and forth. There, sat the 5 year old girl, across from Tom. He watched her as she fiddled with her fork, just rearranging the veggies on her plate, not bothering to eat.

“So love, how was daycare?” Tom inquired curbing as he watched his daughter fiddle with her fork, just rearranging the veggies on her plate, not bothering to eat.

“We made cards for mumma’s day,” Poppy explained all giddy inside.

“Mother’s day?” Tom asked, his mind drifting elsewhere. He couldn’t believe it was already May and it was the first one without you.

“Yes, mine has pretty flowers on it. Wanna see it?” Poppy grew excited she practically jumped out of her chair.

“Sure baby doll, you can show me after dinner,” Tom murmured, still caught up on the fact that it was almost 5 months since.

“I’ll go get it!”

“Poppy wait, wash your hands first, please.” Tom called out but knew Poppy would carry on just like before. That girl marched to the beat of her own drum but Tom indulged in every beat. She is the spitting image of you.

“Here, look I wrote something.” She said holding the card up in front of him. It was adorned with glitter and stickers. Pink construction paper, pink flowers and pink doodles. Pink was Poppy’s favorite color, everything was pink from her shoes to her hair bows.

“C’mere lovie, show me,” Tom whispered, pulling her into her lap. “Darling this is so beautiful. What did you write?”

“It says, happy mumma’s day mumma. I love you soooooo much. I miss you too, so does dadda. We miss you.” She said with her faint lisp.

Tom listened to his daughter struggle to get the words out. Focusing on her breathing as she sounded out most words. He tried to only focus on that. Not letting his mind to stray to place he has been avoiding for a few months.

Next week marks the time stamp of living 5 months without you. Without your smile in the morning. Without your laugh that was so infectious at the time it would make your newborn giggle til she was burdened with a case of the hiccups. Without your love.

Life grew darker and sadder, but Tom didn’t give himself the chance to grieve. Too busy worrying about the life you both brought into the world. The girl that lite up his life was his only priority. Everything changed when his beautiful and amazing family of three became a two.

Tom now rarely took jobs outside of London, wanting to stay close for Poppy. He felt guilty always leaving her with his parents all the time. No one really knows how kids at the age process a loss but he hoped Poppy would remember all the amazing moments of you.

Ones that held a special place in his heart were right after the sun had risen. Poppy’s wake up calls.

She did the same thing since he can remember. Always busting through the door in the morning. Jumping on t bed then begging for food. It was good thing you were a morning person.

One time when you were weaker than you had ever been, she jumped right on top of you.

“Mumma! Dadda! Wake up!” You were jolted out of sleep from a shock that rang through your fragile frame. You gasped at the sudden body slammed on top of yours.

“Poppy Marie Holland! What did we talk about being careful with mommy? Honey are you okay?” Tom shouted quietly.

“I’m ok, Tom. I really am,” you said breathlessly.

“I’m sorry Mumma, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Poppy whispered.

“It’s ok baby, c’mere. So what did you dream about my flower,” you said, pulling her into your lap as you peppered kisses all over her face. Giggles erupted as you pressed a finger to her nose.

“Well I dreamt of…” Poppy would trail off to these fantastical dreams. It amazes you how she could think such imaginative scenes.

Every morning was like that. Different topics of conversation but always began with a dose of Poppy bright and early.

Even after everything. It was a grad adjust for her. One minute you were there and next you weren’t.

Tom’s nightly routine shifted. Every night he would go to sleep dreaming of you. Dreaming of the life you were supposed to share. And every morning he would wake up with tears in his eyes as he felt the empty side of the bed.

Desperately trying to bring himself back to the place with you in it. It was a gut punch every morning, always coming to the realization that you were gone.

However, like clockwork he is reminded of the one shining star in his life as she bursts into his room and hops on the bed. Jumping up and down to get him to wake up.

“Dadda, wake up. Wake up!” Poppy shouted as she waddled up to the bed, trying to climb on. Her nightgown was a little too big, but she wore it because you had.

“Daddy’s awake lovie. Just one second.” Tom jolted, brushing the wetness from his eyes.

“Come on, I want pancakes,” Poppy pleaded.

“Pancakes huh? Mommy’s specialty with Mnm’s inside?” Tom reminisced at all the mornings of breakfast together as a full family.

“Ya, can momma make them?” Poppy asked, it was hard for her to understand the events that just occurred. Tom wasn’t very good at explaining it either. The most he could muster up, is mommy’s not here anymore.

Leaving out the word “dead” or “passed away” was denying the truth from him as well. It was all too new and he didn’t know how he could accept it just yet.

“Lovie, we have talked about this remember? Mommy is not here anymore.”

“When will she be back? I miss her.”

“Umm, darling mommy is never coming back, remember baby. I told you mommy had to leave but wasn’t her choice. Lovie, I miss her too everyday,” Tom said, holding back tears.

“Dadda?” Spoke Poppy as she noticed the wet streaks across Tom’s face. Trying to bring attention back to her.

“Yes, baby.” Tom said, coming out of his trance. Tears riddled his face as he thought of all the stuff that Poppy will miss out on. More specially what you will never get to experience with her.

“Why are you sad Dadda? Did I make you sad?” Poppy asked, trying to comfort Tom the best way she knows how.

“Oh no darling. Not at all.”

“Are you sad because you miss mumma?” Poppy mumbled, her eyes getting stuck to the ground.

Tom just nodded and pressing soft kisses to her forehead. He could only hold back so many tears.

“I miss her too. You never go to the place anymore where you talk to her. I want to talk to her like you do,” Poppy pleaded.

“Lovie what place?”

“The one with the statues. You never take me anymore. We only went twice with nana. But no more,” Poppy said as she started to cry along with him.

“The cemetery?” Tom asked.

She nodded, sniffing away the tears. “Mumma misses us like we miss her. I don’t want her to think we forgot about her. I made the card because. I want to give her my card. Can we go?”

“Yes baby, I’ll take you. I promise you, you’ll never forget her. I even have videos I can show you later with her in them,” Tom explained.

“Dadda I love you,” Poppy said wrapping her hand around his neck.

“I love you too, my flower.”

Masterlist

A/n: sorry the ending sucked, endings are hard

#tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland masterlist #tom holland fan fiction smut

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we’ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

#bnha 292 #best jeanist #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #hadou nejire #toogata mirio #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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devilinsheepswool · 4 years

Text

When MC first arrives at Devildom they warn Lucifer that the only way to keep them in line is by providing them with incentives, and that he will be wise to heed their warning because they tend to go a bit wild if not kept in check.

They warn Lucifer that punishments will not work, they will only accomplish the opposite because they will make MC want to retaliate. Out of curiosity Lucifer asks what kind of incentives; Grimm, food, clothes, jewels, merchandise, books, free passes from chores and other obligations, all things his brothers treasure.

MC responds with a simple shake of the head, they're much easier than that and with a small smile they reply.

"Gold Stars."

Lucifer intially believes they mean actual gold stars, he doesn't understand how that's any easier, in fact it seems very in line with what Mammon would ask for. He's about to call them insane but MC notices the look of disbelief on his face, their add on comes in late.

"Stickers, I mean." MC clarifies.

"What?" Lucifer asks.

"Gold star stickers. It's how my friends and loved ones get me to behave." MC explains. "I get a gold sticker for every time I do something good or helpful, and an even bigger sticker for whenever I hold back on doing something impulsive or 'dumb'." They continue to explain. "The small stars are worth 1 point and the big ones are worth 3."

"You're kidding, MC." Lucifer deadpans. "Isn't this what a teacher would use on a child?"

"I'm really not, it works on me too. I need consistency and to feel like I'm working up towards something rewarding in order to actual do anything."

"Rewarding, how?"

"I'm glad you asked. Remember how I said that the normal stars are worth 1 point and the big ones worth 3? Well, by the end of the week if I've acquired at least 30 to 40 I get treated to an ice cream sundae on Sunday, I can only get 5 small stars per day with the exception of a big star every now and then. If I go over 30 or 40 I get extra toppings."

"That seems oddly simple." Lucifer states still looking MC up and down quizzically.

"It is!" MC exclaims pulling out a chart from behind their back. A chart large enough to fit multiple stickers on it, the chart is divided into six sections: Monday through Saturday. "Here." They hand him the chart. "You're in charge of stickers."

Dumbfounded, Lucifer takes the chart sheet in his hands. He has the passing thought 'if only my brothers were this easy.' Before dismissing it completely, knowing that there are easier things wished for.

"This will ensure you behave?" He asks once more for clarification.

MC only simply nods.

"You put it up there." MC continued pointing to the refrigerator. "so that everyone sees and I feel a sense of accomplishment."

"Are you sure you want it up there?" He asks tiredly. "Won't the others tease you?"

"Yeah, probably." MC answers matter o factly. "But you won't be buying them a fancy Sundae at the end of the week, or will you?"

"So, now I'm the one buying you ice cream? When did we agree to this?"

"I mean... I thought that was implied by you being my assigned sticker giver. Besides it's a small price to pay for my good behavior, don't you think?"

"Are you threatening me?" He asks looking up at them with a quirked eyebrow, even if so it's not like they're asking for much. He wishes his brothers asked only for the same to ensure their well behavior... but unfortunately life is not that easy.

"No." They answer with such genuinety that he almost thinks they're messing with him. "I'm just trying to make life easier for the both of us; the idea is to ease me into a new environment and eventually I won't need the stars anymore to ensure I behave. If I don't maintain consistency I let my environments shape me and that's not always a good thing but like this I keep myself in line regardless of my new environment."

"Very well, all be it for my peace of mind." Lucifer sighs pinning up the laminated sheet on the fridge.

At first the brothers do tease MC about it, but MC doesn't really seem to care all that much as they do their chores happily with the promise of ice cream in mind. Eventually the teasing stops, after all, how fun is it to tease someone who doesn't really care?

But it starts with Beel noticing, MC gets treated to a sundae from Madam Screams every Sunday that leaves him watering at the mouth. Well, now Beel wants in on the action. He asks Lucifer to do the same for him.

Lucifer doesn't really care, Beel is probably one of the most well behaved of his brothers save for when he goes on his hunger rampages or acts out because of food. He doesn't think much and accepts to do the same for Beel upon his request.

Now it's not just MC and Lucifer going out very Sunday to Madam Screams but also Beel and the fact that they're all going out in a group makes it feel somewhat exclusive... that mixed with the fact that MC has to separate from Mammon every Sundaybto go pick up their Sundae and we all know how much Mammon hates being apart from MC add into Mammon demanding that Lucifer do that same for him.

Things have just become interesting. Mammon is the brother that needs this the most in Lucifer's eyes but he doubts his brother can completely behave, regardless he doesn't stop his brother from trying after all it's to his own benefit (Lucifer's) maybe now he'll be able to get some more work and rest in.

Well the said is done, it doesn't completely work but he has noticed Mammon behaving a lot more than he usually did. Not to add that he's gotten competitive with the other two about who can earn more toppings on their sundae than the rest... even if he ends up losing every time.

Asmo is the third to fall into the trend. After all, a Sundae by Lucifer's treat and by side MC!? What could possibly be better!? Besides the game looks really fun, and now Asmo is eager to join in on the fun.

It's not like Asmo is ill behaved or boisterous in any way, so he doesn't have to make much of an effort but some times he will slip up and it's only then that he makes an effort.

Levi is the fourth to fall into this game. As always it's his envy that causes him to get involved in MC's and his brothers game, and who can blame him? I mean who likes feeling left out, right?

The following Monday during dinner he starts to pout and complain about how he isn't being included in the most indirect round about way.

"After all what did I expect, it's not like you guys would include me in your game..."

"It's not a game Levi, MC and the others have to earn their ice-cream." Lucifer clarifies putting down his eating utensils.

"You don't have to lie to me, Lucifer." Levi pouts. "Its not like I want to be included in that normie game you guys are playing anyway!"

Lucifer lets out a tired breath as he asks himself whether he really wants to deal with this right now... well, the answer is that he doesn't but he isn't going to leave his brother sulking about not being included, after all, it'll only get worse the longer he leaves him sulking.

And just like that Levi's in.

Those left are Satan and Belphegor and, of course, he doesn't expect either to willingly participate. I mean they won't obey him or behave on a regular basis, in fact it's the complete opposite; they usually go out of their way to make his life harder, so why would they participate in a game that requires them to do something that is supposed to make his life easier?

He won't bother with them, after all, he's far too busy with the work he has from Diavolo as of lately.

But then Satan surprises him by announcing that he to will join this game. Of course, Lucifer is suspicious of Satan's intentions after all why would he willingly chose to make Lucifer's life much easier?

Satan claims he just wants to feel involved, and since everyone is already doing it he might as well too.

Lucifer's on guard with Satan, he's trying to figure out what he's scheming but Satan genuinely seems to be doing what he should.

Still, Lucifer can't help but check his drawers and closet when he finds Satan leaving his room after having claimed that he was only sorting the clean laundry to its appropriate places, and he can't help not double checking his drinks, or looking over his things when Satan brings them to him.

Satan is behaving and he takes pleasure in how uneasy that makes Lucifer. The look on Lucider's face whenever Satan does something good or helpful with a smile and nothing more is priceless. Of course, it's not like Satan is going to let Lucifer get to comfortable. If Lucifer does get too comfortable Satan won't have any trouble playing a small and subtle prank on Lucifer to keep him on his toes.

Not to add that Satan does cheat regularly when participating in the game, usually playing Mammon out of his points or taking credit for his work, or using Mammon in order to enact his pranks on Lucifer so they won't get traced back to him... yep, poor Mammon.

Lastly, is Belphie. He shows the most resistance to the game, it takes to much energy and effort neither of which he cares to spare on a silly game.

But as much as he hates to admit it. He hates waking up to an empty house on Sunday; there's no Beel or MC to greet him and the fact that everyone else is also playing along with the game makes him feel excluded. It's not bad enough that he was locked up in the attic for the longest time and only came back after all the other brothers had already formed bonds with MC but even now they get to spend more time with them all because of that dumb game.

So in the end, as reluctant as he might be he announces in the most nonchalant and anticlimactic way that he too will participate in the dumb game.

Much like Satan, he'll either mooch of Mammon's points or use Mammon to get out of trouble for certain things. He'll petition Lucifer about being able to share points with either Beel or MC because that chore was a "combined effort".

In the end all the brothers end up participating, it doesn't 100% solve the occasional behavioral problems and shenanigans that occur within the house of lamentation but it does help placate them if even by a small percentage.

And it's only when he gets to sit down and breathe after a long day of paperwork and meetings that Lucifer notices what a good influence MC has been on his brothers.

Of course, by this point MC no longer needs the gold star sticker system to keep in line but at this point they don't have the heart to end the game... not when everyone has come to have fun with it so much.

#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me #obey me shall we date #om lucifer #om leviathan #om mammon #om beelzebub #om belphegor #om satan #om asmodeus #om beel #om belphie #om asmo

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fleckcmscott · 3 years

Text

Stepping Stones - Chapter 2

Chapter links: 1

Summary: Y/N and Arthur share a delightful life, one that isn’t perfect but wholly theirs. When his struggles take a serious turn, she's surprised by the toll it exacts. Though the steps they'll have to take aren't easy, walking them together makes all the difference.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Struggles with mental illness

Words: 3,739

A/N: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for offering to beta-read this story and her encouragement. Her contributions have been invaluable! Also, thank you guys for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. And don’t worry: there may be angst - but there’s love, too.

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask! I’m still working on requests and Way Back Home!

Y/N wasn't used to being searched. It'd last happened at the District Courthouse when she'd gotten in the wrong line and nearly wound up in the jury room for a murder trial. At least the stout woman in Arkham's visitor entrance lobby was more pleasant than the bailiffs.

Unassuming in a white polo shirt and black pants, her nametag introduced her as Gladys, and the split "I Can Help!" sticker along the top cemented her as a fixture. She was friendly for a Gothamite, commenting on the sunny weather while unceremoniously dumping the contents of Y/N's handbag onto a plastic table pad. Asking about the ride over as she politely ignored tampons and confiscated a nail file. She spelled Y/N's name back to her before jotting it on the sign-in sheet and offered a genuine smile. "You have a nice time with your husband, dear. Just check out with me before you leave."

Visitor's badge pinned above her left breast, Y/N adjusted the collar of her red silk blouse, ensured the heart pendent around her neck was centered, and pushed through the door marked "Visitation."

Her kitten heels click-clacked across the checkerboard linoleum floor. The cafeteria was large, like an elementary school gymnasium without the scoreboards. Lack of funding had turned the once pristine walls to the off-white of a bathtub that had seen too few scrubbings. Large windows dotted them in sets of two, each covered with grate from the inside. Metal fans were riveted to their frames, a poor attempt to compensate for the lack of fresh air. To her left, six rows of steel tables stretched halfway across the room, about a third full of staff and patients, family members and friends. A metal buffet stood to her right, along with a sign stating a menu of beef cutlets and gravy would be served at 5:30 PM. A pony wall separated a family area on the far end. She spotted a patient with his wife and daughter watching cartoons together, ones that were old enough for Y/N to have grown up on.

It struck her how average the place felt, similar to the hospital back home she'd spent far too many hours in. It made sense: the people here were patients like any other, even if they were under lock and key. When she headed to the aluminum coffee urn on a rickety steel cart, there was a woman, around thirty, making conversation with a new wave chick, holding a ragged teddy bear and pulling her hair. Their eyes met and Y/N attempted a friendly smile. Once she'd purchased two cups, she sat by a window and crossed her legs, foot swinging back and forth as she sipped the stale liquid.

She tried to quell her nervous anticipation. Due to his time of admittance, Arthur's forty-eight-hour observation period had stretched late into Thursday night, well after visiting hours. Tasks big and small had punctuated the wait. One of Arthur's clients called to confirm a birthday party, and Y/N, hazy from lack of sleep, explained there'd been a family emergency.

Then it dawned on her that she'd have to find Arthur's gig list, which meant rummaging through his desk, a private space she'd respected since presenting him with it for their anniversary. Thank god he no longer locked the drawers, because she had no idea where he kept the key. (There were only so many hiding places in their three-room apartment, but she had no desire to search every nook and cranny.) The yellow legal pad resided in the top left drawer, under a prop catalog and kraft paper notebook. After ringing Gary and asking him to fill in ("I'm not sure I can do all these, but I can mention them at HaHa's." "That'd be great but don't get yourself in trouble. And, please, leave out Randall."), she telephoned eight households and three businesses with his contact information and apologies.

She worked extra hours in the evening to make up for the time she'd inevitably take off when Arthur was home, an arrangement that wasn't strictly legal, but she didn't see the harm in. Her colleagues graciously ignored the number of personal calls she made, to ask how Arthur was doing and learn about policies. While he wasn't yet rational, staff said, he was cooperative. Well, mostly cooperative. He'd eaten breakfast and referred to everyone as sir or ma'am, but he'd also caused a ruckus when he'd come to and found his wedding ring missing. They'd made an exception to the no jewelry rule and given it back. Personal clothing wasn't permitted, either, besides underwear, and toiletries were out of the question. It irked her - he deserved the dignity of his own hairbrush - but she didn't want to single him out by arguing for further favors. So she shuttled over a week's worth of briefs on her lunch break, chest tight as she gave it to the man with headphones at reception.

Despite the setting, despite the weight of not knowing what mood he'd be in, a thrill bubbled through her veins. Whenever a silhouette appeared behind the glue chip glass of the patient entrance, her pulse skipped. Y/N knew it was silly to expect a lot this first visit but she couldn't help it. She missed him. She missed him. Like it had been thirty days instead of three.

It took about six minutes for the door to crack an inch, and a full ten seconds for it to open completely. An orderly propped his weight against it, pointing in her general direction with his head. She stood and smoothed her palm down her A-line skirt, ensured the hem was at her knee. Maybe it was selfish, perhaps even foolish, but she hoped the surprise would be a highlight of Arthur's day, make him feel better, and she hoped seeing him would be one of hers. He was still her partner, after all. Still her Arthur. That would never change.

Clad in white scrubs and white shoes and about twenty feet away, Arthur stepped over the threshold and scanned the room. She gave him a modest wave when she caught his eye. His approach was more tentative than she would have liked, his steps shorter than usual, fists balled at his sides. As he drew closer, she noted the oiliness of his hair, the two-day black and grey stubble on his chin. His crow's feet had grown deeper, his eyelids slightly purple. Exhaustion dripped from every pore. The cut on his forehead had scabbed over into a thin line, quite modest considering its origin and how much he'd bled.

But he was as beautiful to her as always. The hint of a smile tipped her mouth. "Hi, Arthur."

"Hi," he said lowly. A reservation she barely recognized clouded his light green irises.

Part of her began to suspect popping in like this had been a mistake. Giving up wasn't in her nature, however, especially when it came to the love of her life. She forged ahead, closing the gap between them. Dr. Kellerman had advised her to let Arthur set the pace of their visits, to offer support while respecting his boundaries. Yet, touching him had become as vital to her as breathing, and it didn't occur to her to ask for permission before she reached to cup his face.

His skin felt papery under her fingertips, and red, flakey spots of dermatitis bloomed next to his nose and below his eye. He smelled of cheap bar soap and detergent, though whiffs of his woodsy masculine scent lurked underneath. But his clothes were clean and fit him well, better than half his own wardrobe. "I'm so happy to see you," she said, tracing his sharpened cheeks.

He nodded weakly, lips pursed into a grimace of disbelief. "Good."

"I got us some coffee. We can sit here or on one of the sofas."

"Here's fine."

She took his hand and led him to their table, itching for him to entwine their fingers, lamenting a little when he didn't. While he followed closely, his posture radiated tension like an oven radiated heat. Rather than the gait they'd adopted over the years, he moved as if he was afraid to touch her, as if he feared she'd disappear. Or reject him. Once he was situated and stirring sugar into his cup, she sat beside him and bumped their legs, refusing to let his fears go unchallenged. "How's your room?"

"It's okay. Just me. I'm not there much." He blew lightly on his steaming brew. "I haven't seen this part of the hospital before."

Y/N arched her brow. "No?"

"Penny had trouble getting over here to visit. When I had episodes."

Flabbergasted, a huff of disapproval escaped her. Arthur had been in out Arkham six or seven times, and Penny hadn't made it over once? According to Arthur, she'd been sick for a while, but what about twenty years ago? Even later, they hadn't had any money, which meant she would've had to care for herself while he was away. If she had had the wherewithal to go through the process of committing her son, couldn't she have at least called a cab? Y/N pushed her ire aside, not wanting it to affect Arthur. "Did you see your therapist today?"

"Mhm."

"Is he good? Does he listen to you?"

"He's fine."

She took a long drink. "Did you get the underwear I brought over?"

"Yeah." he sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "They wrote my name on the waistband."

"I'll get new ones," she said, tapping her chin in contemplation, opting for a little cheer. "Donahue's has a racy number from Mad Mod. How'd you feel about zig-zag bikinis in maroon?" Instead of the laugh she'd craved, the incredulous smirk he saved for ridiculous suggestions, his knees quaked, bouncing and bouncing, freshly wound springs in bleached cotton.

None of this was going as she'd pictured.

Self-consciousness was atypical for her, a personality trait she'd shed in her late twenties after a failed marriage and the beginning of her parents' declines. Being with Arthur felt secure, open, even during his worst days. When he'd discovered his mother's Arkham file, learned the details of his abuse. Or the weeks after she'd passed and any chance of finding out more about himself, the truth about his father and chance to get a crumb of paternal affection, had died along with her.

Gathered at this table with her husband and bad coffee, old insecurities returned with the force of a subway careening at full speed. She sought to encourage him but didn't want to dismiss his feelings, harken back when he'd been burdened with "Happy." Her questions were obviously getting on his nerves - she was at a loss as to how he'd react to more of them. Their banter had vanished. The clues she had to follow were based on an old map, comprised of well-worn paths to joy she could walk with her eyes closed. Now those paths were overgrown with weeds.

But she wouldn't stop trying to trim them. Some shears were in reach: a woman's magazine lay abandoned on a nearby table, famous for its relationship quizzes and bedroom advice. She snagged it, scooted her chair closer to Arthur, and flipped through the glossy pages until the headline "Are You Meant To Be?" screamed in bright pink font. She cleared her throat and read aloud. "'You and your husband are shipwrecked on a desert island. You can take any household item with you. What item would you bring?'" She paused, then went with what first came to mind. "Toothbrush. I can't expect you to kiss me when I-"

"Why are you acting like this?"

Her gaze locked on him. "Like what?"

"Like I haven't fucked everything up."

Automatically, she reached for his thigh, not heeding the angry twitch of his jaw. "You haven-"

He batted her arm away, inadvertently knocking the magazine to the floor. "Don't lie to me," he rasped. "I don't like you seeing me like this. I don't want you to have to come visit and pretend." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, an anger she recognized as shame dripping from every word. "Can you please just go?"

Pain lanced through her, pain she hadn't felt since her father, deep in the throes of dementia, had accused her of stealing from him. Her lashes lowered to hide her hurt. Arthur acting like this was proof of how out of sorts he was, how much he was struggling with his illnesses. But it didn't make his behavior any easier to take, even if she firmly believed it should. She had to try to accept him as he was in the moment. To forgive him and herself for pressing him too far, too quickly. To listen to his request for time, the way he'd listened to hers after the Murray show, giving her the gift of patience and understanding. A gift he also deserved.

Pushing herself to stand, she glanced at the orderly and lay a gentle palm on Arthur's back. To her relief, he didn't retreat. "I'm here if you need me," she said softly. "If you feel up to it, give me a ring. We could both use a joke or two." Fingertips caressed his distended shoulder, and she pecked the crown of his head, breathed in the oily musk of his scalp. Not entirely pleasant but him all the same. "We'll see each other soon. Get some rest and remember I love you."

~~~~~

"This woman wandered in off the street the other day. Pointy-toed shoes, fur coat, pillbox hat like she thinks she's Jackie Kennedy..." Perched on Y/N's side of the bed, Patricia dunked her orange pekoe teabag, gave it a good squeeze, laid it on her saucer. "She wanted to sue the Wayne Estate for damages to her Bentley, because Thomas Wayne had broken a legally binding oral agreement - she must have read a legal thriller and gotten haughty - to fix the potholes in Old Gotham when he was mayor. I told her to complain to Public Works, but she decided to camp out at your old desk to clip her nails. Finally, Matt had enough and offered her a phone call to Gotham PD or ten bucks for her trouble." She shook her head with a chuckle. "What a jackass. Retirement can't come soon enough."

"Don't wish your life away," Y/N retorted, inadvertently quoting a pamphlet she'd gotten from the Arkham gift shop, "Care for the Caregiver." The title had made her balk: Arthur bathed himself, fed himself, knew who she was. But it had been a straw to hold onto, albeit feebly. She retrieved a curved, wooden hanger from the closet and stuck one end in the arm of her freshly ironed blouse. "Besides, you've been working since you were sixteen, right? I give it a year before you'd go stir-crazy."

"Actually, I've been thinking about taking a class or two at the learning center," said Patricia.

"Oh, really? What kind? Pottery, advanced baking, conversational Spanish?"

"How to find nicer friends."

Hand on her hip, Y/N smirked over her shoulder to find Patricia's teacup raised for a toast. "Let me know what you learn," Y/N said, hoisting the laundry basket onto the bed. "I could use a few pointers." She batted the older woman with a dress sock, then fished for its companion. She shook them out. Aligned the cuffs and toes, smoothed the nylon with the side of her hand, folded the fabric into thirds. The top drawer's left ball-bearing slide stuck when she tried to pull it open, and she made a mental note to ask Arthur to take a look at it.

Without warning, a profound sense of loss swept over her, flushing her cheeks, her forehead. He'd been gone almost a week, the longest they'd been apart aside from conferences and training. Her days had been blessedly busy but dragged on nonetheless, slow as the secondhand on her watch when the battery had to be replaced.

Arthur had gotten in the habit of leaving a note whenever he had an early gig or errand to run, just a few words stating where he was, that he'd be home later, that he loved her. Though she knew he was in Arkham, she couldn't stop her heart from expecting one when she made morning coffee. She ached to pull him inside before he lit a second cigarette, and for his teasing kisses when he'd resist. The way he brushed his teeth from side-to-side, eschewing her method of small circles and daily flossing. Last night, a hot flash had kept her awake, and she'd longed for the feel of his strong, slender hands rubbing refrigerated lotion into her calves, a trick he'd learned to quiet his mother when she'd gone through what he politely referred to as The Change.

Y/N had never wanted to love someone so much she needed them, but Arthur had made it safe. And now here she was, anguishing over a stubborn piece of furniture. She gave the knob another good, hard heave until it popped off into her palm. With a groan, she slapped it on the top of the dresser, between his wallet and her jewelry box.

A gentle hold on her elbow halted her. "The clothes'll keep," Patricia said.

The compassion in her voice, subtle chords that would sound like judgement to others, loosened Y/N's stance. Granted permission for her to take a break from coping and give into grief. Slinking down onto the mattress, she picked up Arthur's blue house pants from the mound of panties and trousers and hugged them to her breast.

"Your anniversary is coming up," Patricia continued. "Will Arthur be home for it?"

"Yes. Three weeks is all the insurance will pay for, and Dr. Kellerman said we were lucky to get that." Most patients were discharged after two, even if they had nowhere else to go.

"How is he? Do you think he'll be ready then?"

"I'm not sure. He barely comes to the phone." She'd tried letters, too. Written on her office letterhead, declarations of her support and affection that were as stilted as the motions she regularly drafted. Something for him to read when they couldn't speak, when they couldn't touch. But he hadn't responded.

Although Y/N was the sole person he'd added to his list of allowed visitors, he hadn't signed the release. Sure, she'd learn the details of his care if a court remanded him, but she wasn't about to have him declared legally incompetent, not unless everything went to shit. But she had deduced his schedule by calling and asking if he could come to the phone. He's in group, Mrs. Fleck, the charge nurse had let slip. Or, You can try in an hour. He should be out of one-on-one by then.

Therapy three times a day. Safety and daily living skills. Goal setting before bed. No wonder he hadn't had the energy to say good night.

"I know what you're going through," Patricia said. She stretched to put her empty teacup on the nightstand. "When Robert got back from Korea, he kept his distance. Buried himself in starting his business, was gone most nights on extra late repair jobs, worked, worked, worked. It was nearly a year before he really came home. But he made it and Arthur will, too."

The intimacy behind the disclosure was a welcome invitation, a hook that tugged at Y/N's core and confirmed honesty would be all right. She drew a shaky breath, fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of Arthur's pajamas. "I thought I'd seen everything. Losing my mother, going out of my mind with my father. Those were finalities I couldn't prevent." Rapid blinking fought the wetness of her eyes. She swiped at them with the heel of her hand. "If you had seen him, Patricia... I just hope Arthur understands. I don't want him to think I wanted him to leave."

"Listen to me." Patricia adopted her mentor tone and hugged her tight around the middle. "There's no way he'd believe that. Remember when we doubled at Kao Wah? When we were in the restroom, and he ordered your favorite dish without having to ask what it was? He adores you." She swept her hand through the air as if she could sweep away Y/N's woes. "You promised to take care of him through everything. You did what you had to to keep him safe. You couldn't have done anything else, Y/N. Don't doubt yourself."

After some moments Y/N nodded. "You know, my parents had a swimming hole on our property. When I was young, I used to skip stones across it and make wishes. For my doll's arm to mend, for my parents to say safe, for my sister's surgeries to go well." She chuckled and dabbed at her cheeks with Arthur's house pants. "I guess it was like praying, which I never had use for." The slightest smile edging her lips, she turned to Patricia. "Let's go to Gotham Park and throw some rocks."

~~~~~

The next morning, eleven percent of her worries cast away by a currently sore right arm, Y/N walked past Sherwood Florist, a closet of a shop around the corner from her office. Storefront freshly washed, robust floral arrangements on display in large, spotless windows, and an owner in horn-rimmed glasses checking the temperature of the nearest cooler, she decided to stop in. Yes, the florist told her, an expression of dubious curiosity on his face. They delivered to Arkham. Just include the patient's full name and ward in the address, and it'd be sent this afternoon.

She chose a squat, plastic vase filled with daisies and a yellow enclosure card with a bumblebee in the lower left corner. A bit cutsie for her taste, but it was the only neutral choice among birthdays and congratulations. She pondered what to write, pushing back the urge to ask him to reach out. A minute later, she put her pen to the cardstock. "I miss you like thread misses a needle. (Good thing you're the comedian - that was terrible.) You're not alone in this. You have my whole heart. - Y/N."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics @iartsometimes

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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queenofwerewolves · 3 years

Text

Future Hope - chapter 2 - Starting something new..

They were almost ready, all they needed was the one thing every revolution heroes needed: Badass outfits. For that, they counted on Griff to make some patterns to stick on their outfits or whatever weapons they carried, Kip suggested to make stickers to glue them around the city whenever a crime occured and they came to the rescue, to leave a message that something happened. Everyone loved that idea, and eitch one got to work in making their outfits, stickers and whatever else they needed to start the revolution for real...

With stickers and acessories settled, now they needed the main thing: The outfits. But.. No one knew how to sew or make clothing.

"Wait!" Maria shouted. "I know someone! Ya'll remember Maggy yeah?" She added with a tone of excitement.

"Ah, isnt she the one who draws the Metal Werehog and how you joke she refuses to tag you in them?" Togekiss answered with a tone of sass. Maria blushed and pouted her lips.

"Yeah yeah. Anyways she's visiting here for a local con, selling her drawings and prints, did you know she actually sews and knits clothes?" Maria added with a tad of admiration.

"Really? Well shit badass then" Blink added with a soft smile. "How do we get in contact with her?" She asked.

"She should be at the event center setting up her booth stand. If we leave now we'll have plenty of time to talk to her." Maria answered with a confident tone.

"What are we waiting then?" Kip added. "Let's go!"

Everyone nodded and made their way to the local event center.

At that same event center, Maggy was setting up her booth, putting her prints up on the sides and on top of her desk, showing the kind of work she does and displaying her various pieces she drew herself, whether it was her OCs, Silent Hill or Sonic theme, eitch was individually beautiful and unique. She also set up a small cashier and some paper and pens for possible requests on the fly, or a doodle with an autograph, you can never be too prepared.

She was organizing her papers when a small hand knocked on the wooden booth to call her attention, she looked up to see the entire Future Hope crew, with Maria in front and smiling confidently.

"Maria!" She exclaimed happily, going around the booth for a hug, who Maria happily accepted the hug.

"It's so good to see you!" She said with an excited tone, she pulled apart from the tone and looked at the remaining others, many she didnt recgonize. "And.. Who are these?" Maggy asked.

"Ah, Maggy these are some of my Tumblr friends, like you! Im sure you know Griff already" Maria said referring to Griff, who had a hand behind his hand and sheepishly smiling. "But you see.. We kinda need a moment to talk to you, if that's OK" Maria asked, practically whispering to Maggy.

Maggy nodded, and leaded them to another area of the convention center which was emptier, so they could have some privacy. Once they got there, Maria explained as basicly as she could about her and Future Hope, the wishing fountain, their new powers, their intentions.. Maggy listened quietly, but intriguied as anyone would be.

"Woahh.." Maggy said, finally hearing the end of the story. "You guys really are gonna be super heroes?" She asked with a spark of excitement. "And I get to help?"

Maria nodded with a smile. "We need you to make outfits for us, whenever you have the time of course. None of can sew but we have the designs here for you. That is, if you-"

"Yes!!!" . Suddenly being cut off, Maggy got up with smiled with pride, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I'd be honoured to help! This'll be so cool!! I'll have those made for you as soon as I can!" She said taking the designs from Maria.

Maria smiled and pulled her in for a hug. "I knew I could count on you.." She said softly. "Of course" Maggy responded. "After all: Nós portuguesas têm que contar uma na outra né?"

"Haha! Falou e disse amiga!" Maria responded in portuguese, both laughing together while leaving the others clueless, but nonetheless happy for them.

"Well." Maggy said. "I should head back, the con will start soon". Maria nodded and looked at the others, who agreed it was time to go home and wait, with a final hug, they said their goodbyes and headed back to Maria's house.

They werent simply gonna stand around and wait for the costumes to be ready, until then, they decided to fix up the one thing every SuperHero group needed: An HQ. A place to reunite, plan, organize and discuss strategies whie also knowing about whatever recent crime could be going on.

But of course, they were only a couple of young and very, very broke adults. Griff's Youtube Channel was starting to blow up but nothing too extreme yet, but he will get there soon. Same for Maria and her animation channel, they were started to get discovered but they had a long way to go. But it'll happen.

In the meantime, Maria does have a big and very spacious basement, they decided they would settle there for now. Blink and Kip started brooming the floor, Muffin and Spooks were dusting the walls, Muffin used her wings to reach the roof and corners, and Spooks enjoyed the darkness of the basement to summon her Dark Hands to help the job go quicker. Rooko and Rooki decided to go to a hardware store and get some new materials and give the basement a better fixer upper, install some new lights, maybe install a window...

Spike and Togekiss were out looking for things to decorate the HQ, a table, a rug, some chairs, a new wallpaper perhaps.. Meanwhile Maria and Griff were online shopping for some cool props to decorate the HQ as well, using Maria's laptop, they scowered the internet.

"Oo!" Exclaimed Griff, pointing at the screen. "This life-size Master Chief would really spice up the place!" He said excitedly, Maria shook her head with a soft smile. "Griffy we're only looking for small decorations, not turning my basement into nerdvana" She answered.

"Oh.. Right.. Sorry.." He sort of mumbled out, Maria raised a brow in concern and set the laptop next to her, placing a hand on his arm. "Is something wrong..?" She softly asked..

".. It's just.." Griff started to answer. "You know how overly-excited I get. You know how hyped and impacient I get for these things.. Im just worried that... That.."

"Yes..?" Maria asked.

"... What if I blow it?" He asked, with a tone of sadness. "What if my powers arent as good as I thought? What if instead of helping everyone, I just make everything worse..?!" His voice tone got louder as he started to slightly panic. "Im a big, musculent WereRabbit, that HAS to be scary in a way isnt it? Im practically a Mons-"

"Dont you dare finish that word!!!" Maria shouted at him, gripping his shoulders hard, looking at him straight in the eye, her black eyes glimmering like a starry night without the moon.. Glimmering with worry.

"Listen to me very, carefully. No matter what you are, or what you do. You.. will never, be a Monster.." "Monsters arent the big unknown creatures we see in movies, they're out there, looking like us, gaining people's trust just so they can take advantage of them, taking or ruining innocent lives, people who have their heads so far up their asses they've become blind and see nothing but themselves. THOSE ARE MONSTERS!!!" She raised her voice, shaking a little bit. Griff only stared at her, shaking a bit as well, until suddenly Maria placed her head on his chest, pulling him in for a hug..

"You're not even close to being like them, and your physical appearance doesnt define your heart.. Please, never doubt yourself like that again.. Because you are better then this, and you know it.." She quietly spoke, waiting for a reply.. Which she didnt receive. Griff embrace the hug back, and that was all that needed to be said, without words whatsoever. Between those two, the message was clear:

Monsters are the ones who cause darkness around them, and not them, or their friends are even close to being them, they are the opposite. They will be the light, a new beginning, a new..

Future Hope..

#THE INTRO IS COMPLETE #NEXT CHAPTER BEGINS THE PLOT LET'S GOOO #Future Hope #Queen's Story

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rpbetter · 3 years

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Sorry if this isn't the place to ask but I'm in need of advice. I have a canon character I truly adore, but I haven't gotten muse or any opportunity to write them at all. My blog is collecting dust and the fandom is kinda dead at this point. Not to mention, it's hard to find compatible writing partners, especially with how picky I can be. I'm honestly considering deactivating the blog (for the nth time), but I don't want to lose the writing I have. I know I could archive, but I hate having blogs just sitting around.

In short, I really want to write the muse/keep the blog but I'm not getting any incentive to do that.

Hello, Anon, it’s totally the place to ask!

I will say, though, that since finding and keeping muse can be flavored rather personally, I can’t promise that what works for me is going to work for you. I’ll even confess that in over two decades, I’ve never personally lost muse. I don’t know if it is due to underlying, neurodiverse style, fixating, or if it is due to keeping myself continually invested in both my muse and writing regardless of what else is going on. (Probably a combination of both, though, and the things I do to keep myself highly in touch with my muse I’ll be recommending.) I’m definitely happy to try to help, however.

That really is a very frustrating spot to be in, wanting to write the muse and keep your blog active, but logging in every day to be reminded of what little reason you have to do so. Since we’re drawn to the characters we are for reasons of personal appeal and writing in itself is a pretty personal form of art, it can also feel depressing on top of the frustration.

However, that’s also the good news, in my opinion, because your incentive here is, or can be, yourself.

You were drawn to this character because you connected with them. They mean something to you, you can relate to them, maybe they have qualities (good or bad) that you wish you could experience. Whatever it is, there’s a reason why you had this draw. Writing is like that as well, there’s a reason why this is a hobby that drew you, that you get enjoyment out of. Again, though all art (it doesn’t matter if it is a hobby) has personal bits of the artist in it, writing is uniquely personal. When you write, you’re exploring thoughts and feelings, giving them life in a character that matters to you. I know, all of that sounds really convoluted and hokey, but it’s true.

And it’s good! That means you always have a reason to write and that you have the tools necessary to find and keep muse without any outside push necessary.

I’d say, firstly, work on getting muse back.

Get back in touch with your muse the next time you feel a particularly strong urge to write. Instead of spending time trying to find people in a silent fandom or forcing yourself to write something you don’t want to, just do some exercises that will help you get back into your muse.

I don’t know what media type your character comes from, but especially if it is something like movie or show that you can have on in the background of what you’re doing, do that. If it’s a comic or a book, think about your favorite scene and read it over first. If you’ve ever made some playlists for writing/your muse, you can always do that instead or as well. The point is to do something passively inspiring while you actively create. Now, that creating...

You want to do something that requires you to think about your muse so you can get in touch with them, not something that is going to make you feel overwhelmed and shut down. So, maybe don’t pick writing prompts for this - you can work up to that. Try out headcanon and character development memes and other question lists instead for right now. Things you can scroll down a list of, find questions that jump out as interesting (or even simply answerable to you at this point, you’re jump-starting a dead battery, it’s alright) and answer them. You can also do something as simple as write down what you like best about the character or their story, or put down the basics of filling in missing information that has always bugged you.

The beauty of this is that it is all on your own terms, your only objective here is to answer what you want, as much as you want. You can stop any time, but you can also answer a single question for three hours, making it eight pages long if the inspiration strikes you. It’s only about recharging your inspiration and establishing a connection with your character again. (This is also going to help you with getting back into writing, or approaching it for the first time, with a more internalized focus of interest.)

When you feel like you’ve done that, you can branch out on these exercises more. Answer the memes more in-depth, answer more of them/the ones you don’t have immediate answers for. You can also try writing out scenes from the character’s canon from their perspective, if it wasn’t already so, adding in their thoughts and feelings, or changing the scene in some ways that would be interesting to write out. This is the point where it’s a good idea to try a writing prompt or two, as well! Take the prompt as a sort of starter sentence from a mutual, you’ve got the situation, fill in with your muse.

Write when you feel like writing. The RPC is great at saying this when it comes to muns not wanting to write, but kind of ignores the other side of the equation. The side where you want to write, have the inspiration and muse to do so, but it might not be the best time. As in, you’re not home/wherever you usually write, with whatever device you tend to write on accessible. No, you’re not going to be able to get as much done, but you can write without the usual situation and device regardless. You can write a scene or ideas down using your phone or tablet, or go old school and use a notebook. If you’re at work and your job isn’t applicable to being able to get down a single sentence, that still doesn’t mean you have to wait 8+ hours to get home; while you’re taking your break, write a little bit. It is a break, and writing is your hobby, it isn’t work. It’s good to do things you enjoy on breaks, and far more fulfilling to have also accomplished something you happen to enjoy.

Not writing when you have the drive to do, putting it off and holding it in until “the perfect moment,” is a great way to lose your inspiration and never actually have that moment. If you feel like doing it, that means it is the perfect moment. Life is restricting, don’t impose even more restrictions on yourself by having to be at home, in a specific spot, with a specific device, at a specific time, on a specific day. Was that annoying repetition? You’re right, it was. And that’s how your creative mind processes all the crap piled onto it that doesn’t allow for creativity.

Now, the other problem, the fandom situation.

There isn’t anything you can do about that, to be absolutely honest. I’m not going to blow smoke and tell you to be positive, wait it out, maybe the fandom will spring to life again. You know, maybe it will...but you could be waiting literal decades for that to happen. Not cool. Please, take my word for that, it’s personal experience that it blows even more than you imagine it will.

What you can do is take the matter into your own hands in other ways; putting yourself out there with more availability in multiple ways.

Are you a single-fandom blog, or are you crossover friendly? If you’re not crossover friendly, try to think of a single, relatively popular fandom that you enjoy. Don’t look at it like a hassle, but rather, just another creative exercise. A serious pitfall of creating alternate universe versions of muses is to take the simplest route, merely picking something you want from that other universe and applying it to your muse with no relevant changes that would naturally occur from it. It isn’t just reductive as hell, it’s not remotely creative, it’s like sticking a sticker on your muse’s forehead and saying that’s a whole different muse. It’s neither attractive to potential partners nor going to sustain your own interest for long. You want this to be a passionate investment on your own end, for yourself.

What not to do:

Let’s say the fandom you picked to do crossovers with is based around magic, the main characters are witches, and they are divided into factions based on how their magical talents display and develop. Not only do you decide to make your muse a witch, you pick the most badass faction. It’s the one full of assassins and action and (metaphorically or literally) sex appeal. Well, that’s also going to be the most popular faction in the fandom. That means there will not only be plenty of big name canons there but also that there’s going to be a plethora of OCs designed just for this universe...and other crossovers from other currently active fandoms.

While that might sound like it’s great for maximizing interaction chances, it’s really not when you’re just starting somewhere new with a character from another fandom that might not be known or liked. It can also take a minute in another fandom’s RPC to identify where the good partners are. Every now and then, it is the most popular and over-populous era/faction/etc., but most of the time, it isn’t. People who write with considerable dedication and talent fairly rarely are in the popular kids club even in their fandom choices. By inserting yourself into that area, you might be bypassing (and being bypassed) by better partners on the assumption that their characters are simply going to bore you to death since they’re not within the scope of your focal point.

It’s not a situation of not being allowed to be picky, you not only have that right regardless of your situation, you also should be. This is not a “beggars can’t be choosers” situation, you’re not beholden to anyone on the basis of being new and bored. However, some of my best, and longest lasting, writing partners over all 23 years I’ve been RPing didn’t/don’t fit with all the exact surface details that automatically draw my interest. It is as true within my own fandom as it is in dealing with crossovers. Opposites (with enough similarities) really do attract and work out well together!

Don’t judge and write people off for anything that isn’t an issue of compatibility with your muse, your writing, or yourself. Decline someone because they do one line only and you are novella, they write topics that are upsetting to you, you can see no way your muse and theirs can interact without instant murder, or because you cannot stand writing with someone who is pulling 90% aesthetics and purple prose. Not because their muse is a witch who uses life-based magic, loves nature, is a healer, and into their health...while your muse in this AU is all about the death, only appreciates an urban environment and is grossed out by animals, kills as an occupation, lives on cheeseburgers and caffeine. You see what I’m saying? Don’t limit yourself unnecessarily!

What to do:

Did you consider if, in that hypothetical idea of a fandom, your muse based on their purely canon self would even fit into that faction? Or is it just something you wanted to see? If you didn’t consider this, or it was the latter, fix that. That’s bad.

If you’re not absolutely dead set on that and only that, think about what really does fit the muse better. Maybe, they would be better as a healer, someone who messes with the very fabric of reality, or someone who manipulates natural elements at will. Then again, they might not even be a witch. They could be more mundane in terms of power, but more accurate and interesting as a normal, human (or whatever). They could even be greatly opposed to the use of magic and witches. Use your muse’s original canon as a base to decide these things.

If you are absolutely dead set on it, though, you have a lot of work to do making the character into what amounts to a markedly different one while still retaining some recognizable aspects of themselves. Consider what events, in this new universe of fandom, might have happened to alter the character thus. Keep in mind that even small changes can have great consequences in a character’s development, and you might need to think about the myriad ways in which that can display, how it changes still more things for this character.

While that job becomes so much more intense when you haven’t planned out a path that matches your muse’s canon characterization at all, it is still an important part of constructing an AU, of any kind, in general. Ask yourself what experiences led to the character you know as you already know them (including your own headcanons, yes). Then, find similar possible experiences within your new fandom verse that can have the same effect. Again, though, it’s important to understand that you are never going to have an identical set of experiences, so you need to explore relevant changes still.

When you do this, you’re allowing your muse to more seamlessly fit into this other universe in a fleshed out, interesting way. Interesting both new partners and yourself.

Okay, next obnoxious question from me! Do you have multiple verses, or are you single-verse?

Whether you are already exploring new fandoms or not, by creating a variety of verses for others to interact with, you’re increasing your chances for interest and activity. When you have a verse from a different fandom you can then, additionally, advertise your presence in both that fandom’s tags when you do a promo or applicable open starter and on active RPer lists for that fandom.

Every popular fandom has such lists. You can get on them by messaging/sending an ask to the blog or by reblogging their post to be added, following the directions. I haven’t seen one yet that doesn’t allow for crossovers. You simply have to tag it as stated in the post, such as “your canon’s name here - original fandom name - crossover.” By tagging your open starter or promo as “-insert fandom here- rp” and “-fandom here- open starter” you allow people in that fandom to find you to interact. Either way is excellent for getting started in totally new places with a character others might be unfamiliar with.

Please remember that if you tag a promo as “promo,” it’ll not show up in searches off of your blog. You know, where it actually needs to be searched. Thanks, tumblr, for being janky! Being more specific as to the fandom and character will help others actually find you. Don’t shoot yourself in the foot by tagging it as “promo.”

Make your verses accessible on your blog itself, in the nature of those verses, and how you set up your page or post that lists them.

Don’t put any page behind an impossible or complicated aesthetic. You really shouldn’t anyway, but when you’re needing interactions, it’s actively hurting your chances. Many people don’t want to have to play a game with your theme, it’s a turn off. Try a pinned post that lists all of your links to important pages like rules, verses, and bio instead. It means that, even from the dash, that information can quickly be found while other muns are first interested, and also that anyone who might be using the app can access it more expediently. (I’m genuinely not a fan or big supporter of doing google docs for rules, verses, bios, etc., as it forces people off site, so I can’t personally say, in good conscious and honesty, that I’d recommend it, but you do you!) You want to keep things quickly accessible is the idea here; when people are interested, you want to catch them right then and there before they have a chance to forget and lose your blog.

As to the nature of the verses themselves, give people real options. Don’t have 20 verses that all read same way. Same themes, plot possibilities, and backstories, or incredibly similar names. Have a diverse list of verses that can act as foundations for a variety of different muns. As many fandoms as you can reasonably have a good portrayal of, and different types of fandoms; not all the same genre (all fantasy, all horror, all scifi). Verses where your muse has substantially different goals, occupations, and other life situations that will involve another muse; don’t make your muse A Warrior™ in every verse, you can keep plenty of those aspects without being that literal. People love “modern” verses set in our own universe and, usually, in our own era. That doesn’t mean you have to go stereotypical or otherwise bore yourself by doing the standard “high school/college verse,” for instance. You don’t even have to designate that sort of thing, let alone make it the focus; simply create the verse by considering what your character really would be like if they existed within your reality.

As a final note on verses as pertains to this point, when you’re doing crossover verses, it’s alright to do some verses where your muse from their own canon existence somehow ends up teleported or whatever to another fandom’s reality, or even our own. Just don’t make every verse like this, it puts the onus of a great deal of creativity and effort onto the other mun by default; your muse has cluelessly dropped into the universe, and while it is high drama time for you, the other mun has to babysit, educate, deal with fallout, etc.

On making the list of your verses accessible, you want to focus on ease of browsing and not being overwhelming. People tend to look through a verse page and not read every verse listed, rather, they look at the titles and breakdowns to see if it is of interest, then read it. Don’t try to make everyone read them all, it isn’t going to happen, and shouldn’t change your effort any as the right people are going to find the verses that interest them...if you make it clear and easy enough.

Have a basic format you stick to, firstly. I do it this way: small verse banner, title of verse (linked to its overall tag so that muns can look through the tag at headcanons, aesthetics, pictures of the FC, and threads), muse age/age range, small blurb, possible triggers found uniquely or just heavily within this verse. In that order, one following the other in a simple, but pleasing way. Below that, is a more in depth breakdown of the “verse canon.” Sometimes, that is giving a brief rehashing of canon itself and anywhere my muse differs, be it in this verse only or overall, ending with where my muse is in this verse. Not literally where. I mean their present occupation, emotional and general state in life. At the very end, I provide any other relevant links and/or an expansion on the triggers mentioned at the top of the verse description if they’re that serious/recurrent so that muns can decide this isn’t the verse for them. I happen to have a potentially triggering muse, triggering verses, and writing triggering topics, though. That’s not something everyone needs to do.

Secondly, group your verses in a sensible way. I do my short list of default verses first. (And, I do mean short, you don’t want this be any more than four or five, it is overwhelming right out of the gate.) For me, that is two default verses of canon at different points on the timeline, one default AU that is a bit of a reversal of canon, and one default “modern” verse. Then, I list the verses that are in line with the altered canon one, just different possibilities, changes, points in history. After that, the different “modern” verse options. Then, verses for other fandoms, the crossover verses. And so on. This way, a potential partner can find the type of verse that might appeal to them and have an easier time picking from those possibilities and getting ideas.

Lastly, don’t be so succinct that you give too little information and underwhelm, but also don’t be so excessive that it takes all of the mystery of interaction away and overwhelms someone. It can be a difficult balance to strike, and some verses require more information than others, just experiment a bit. Additionally, it’s fine to link to pertinent information for the other mun to view aside from this, but don’t just link people to a fandom wiki as your “description/bio.” That isn’t giving information on how you write this muse, approach this fandom, or what another mun can otherwise expect. Keeping your descriptions interesting is important, you’re not giving a boring lecture, you’re trying to inform someone while making them hyped for their choices. It’s more interesting, and informative, to read if you do them with an ear to the “tone” of your muse in that verse. Is it a sad one? Sound that way. These can, indeed, function as snippets of your writing, so be sure you are writing them with the same care you should be giving your replies; spellcheck, good word flow and use, mind the grammar, and read over what you’ve written for common, easy mistakes.

Again, by giving a genuine variety of verses to choose from, you’re allowing for a greater reach in potential partners. Everyone from those still in your original fandom to those in new ones, all the way to fandomless muses will be able to interact with you this way.

Finally, in regards to what you can change or do when you’re in a dead fandom and seeking interactions; make sure you are increasing your reach by using proper tags, being honest about what and how you write, and don’t wait for others to stumble across you.

When you use tags properly, you’re increasing your chances of being seen at all. Every time you post something at all applicable on your blog, tag it with relevant things. Tag as described above with whatever fandom it is and “RP,” your character’s name, “open RP,” character name and RP, indie RP, open starter, and so on. Be sure you are optimizing your tags by placing the most relevant to finding you in the first four, those are what show up in site-wide searches only. Anything after that isn’t going to appear in a search across all tumblr.

By tagging your character’s name, as a canon, you should know that you are likely to get personal blog interaction. I’m pretty against being nasty to personal blogs for no reason, as I don’t appreciate personal and fandom blogs being shitty to me for the sole reason that I am an RPer. Please, use clear, short, attention getting directions for them. If you want no interactions with them, put right in the description of your blog “RP blog, does not interact with personal blogs.” When you say things like, “personals dni,” or “personals blocked,” you’re not doing anyone any favors. Personal blogs often don’t even know what the hell a personal blog even is! They do not denote themselves this way, to a personal blog, they’re just a blog. By designating first that you are an RP blog, you’re making it clearer that they’re the personal; they’re obviously not an RP blog, so that must make them a personal. Follow this up in a pinned post, right on top. Give a note to personal blogs that describes them as “any blog that isn’t an RP blog” first, then either tell them in brief what they can and can’t do or that you don’t interact and will block.

I don’t recommend taking your blog off of being findable, however. That’s alright once you have the RP activity you are looking for, but until then, it’s working against you. Other RP blogs cannot easily find you either, they will only find you if you’re on a list or appear in their recommended blogs, if you interact with a mutual, or are recommended by a mutual. You’re not just lessening your chances of personal blogs finding you, so if you have that turned off, turn it back on.

Don’t entirely rely on others finding you regardless, though. You can’t be 100% passive when you have no interactions, and by relying solely on serendipity you’re far less likely to get them. I know that everyone here is terminally shy, but seriously, you have to do more than put your silent will into the universe that someone perfect find you. You have to make this happen. Once you get a few people, you can afford to be more passive. Not only do you have some people to write with, you will be more visible to their mutuals, and more established as a presence. I’m not saying this is easy, or that it will become easy, not awkward or stressful, if you have a legitimate issue behind the shyness. Just that it is the only way to really proceed, and I believe you can do it!

So, go looking for interesting blogs. Be crossover and OC friendly (again, this doesn’t mean “accept everyone,” there are valid reasons for not accepting people you won’t work out with that have nothing to do with their fandom or being an OC), and search those fandom’s RPCs, following any blogs you think you might work out with upon reading their rules and other pages. Search for fandomless OCs and do the same thing. Fandomless OCs aren’t just floating around in the ether, they just weren’t created expressly for a particular fandom and within its confines. What is excellent about that is their ability to have a wide variety of verses and many possibilities to fit into any fandom or verse. So, don’t count them out solely on the basis of being an OC and fandomless. It doesn’t mean what people seem to think it does!

Do not stop at having followed 50 blogs. I mean, other than that you probably should stop following people for a bit. That you should do, as you need to be building writing relationships here, not following so many people that you cannot get to them. Don’t just stop at the follow, though. Since you’ve read their rules and information like a good RP partner, you should have some idea of what their interests are and where they align with yours, as well as how they prefer to be approached, if they accept memes right away to start, need plotting, have a rules password. When they’ve followed you back, proceed with interaction!

Ask if they’d like to plot when they have time, you’re really looking forward to writing with them. But...have some idea of a plot, please. It is a serious turn off to have someone message you wanting to plot, only to reply and get “lol I don’t have any ideas, anything works for me/whatever you want to do.” That isn’t plotting, it’s one party coming up with ideas and constructing a plot while they’re being told “I’m fine with anything.” That may be true, but it’s disheartening and a red flag for many people. If you genuinely can’t come up with anything, pick verses that match up well and suggest doing something within them.

“When you have the time, would you be interested in discussing writing? I was looking at your verses, and I think your verse -name- and mine, -verse name-, would mesh well.” Is a good way to start. Once you have a discussion flowing about the verses meshing and the muses, it’s typically easy to organically develop some plot ideas to go off of.

If both you and the other mun are alright with plot-free interaction and memes, you can send a meme any time. If you can’t find any memes on their blog, look for a wishlist or navigation page that shows you the tags for memes/wishlist. Still can’t find it? Ask them if they’ve got a wishlist or meme tag you can look through.

Additionally, if open starters are a thing you both do and are alright with, find some of theirs and respond. Post your own, tag it appropriately to be found in general and on your blog, and reblog it once or twice. Don’t excessively reblog it, and don’t get upset on the dash if no one interacts with it or any memes you reblog. Both are demanding to outright guilting, and not a good way to get partners. Just provide them with the ability to easily interact by making the posts available in the first place and by making them findable on your blog search and navigation.

Provide something for potential partners to see. Since you said you already do have writing, that’s great! That’s content on your blog that your partners can view. However, since you’re also having the issues you’ve stated, it’s likely that you haven’t many new posts. Show that you are active, interested in being here, and how you write your muse (and in general) by posting some newer content. For original content, do a headcanon or some meta, or post about new verses you are adding, the changes on your blog, a promo. For reblogs, things pertaining to your muse like canon imagery, fanart, quotes from canon or that generally express your muse, and aesthetics relevant to your muse are all excellent things to queue.

Use that queue. Not only do very few people appreciate having dash spam of similar content for the comparatively short time you might be around, but also, running these things on a queue means you spread that out for maximum view. While there are hours of heavier activity, you’ll have mutuals who are on at unusual hours due to their life and preferences or their timezone. This way, you’re not appearing inactive, if not outright invisible, to those mutuals. It’s not a bad idea to use a queue tag so that people know if they interact with a post that’s been queued, you might be here to quickly respond.

Ultimately, to fix your fandom and lacking partners problem, you just need to up your availability and reach beyond that fandom alone. Be proactive in following and approaching, decline blogs based on not working out only, utilize tags and fandom RPer lists, have everything on your blog easy to follow and not overwhelming, and have your verses meet as wide of a range of people as possible while also not being overwhelming.

Try updating your promo, as well, by the way. They’re not dead, they just really tanked when people kept making them based solely on aesthetic principle instead of being at all informative about the muse. They do seem to be coming back, so it’s a thing to consider.

Yes, make it visually appealing, it will draw people to reading it. No, do not just use a song lyric or quote with words highlighted linking your rules, verses, bio. Tell people basic info like the age of your muse and yourself, if you are multiverse and multiship, your muse’s canon verse and a couple of big interest verses of other major fandoms or themes that tend to be of interest to people, and what kind of RP you write - one line/para/multipara/novella. Absolutely give links to rules, verses, bio, and either memes, wishlist, or open starters, but give them just like that; make it very clear what this link is to. Put a very short statement of interest on there denoting that you’re expanding to new fandoms and looking for writing partners.

Do not sound desperate, demanding, or devaluing of yourself. Don’t say shit like “because my fandom is dead,” “trying this before I give up and delete my blog,” or “I suck at interaction/writing/ooc interaction/being a person but welp giving it a try, so follow and hit that heart.” (Conversely, calling yourself derogatory things and implying that your partners are too, such as the “we’re all just losers here” shit.) All of the above are not attractive, and they’re not even surprising enough to stand out anymore. It’s another reason to scroll right by that promo because nothing at all was different or of interest.

And as a wrap-up/rehash of the first topic, getting muse back: try starting over at the beginning by approaching the media involving your muse that has really stuck with you emotionally over the years, and exploring and developing your muse again.

Don’t tell yourself you can only write, for example, at home, on the laptop, after 7pm, and with a pop toy staring at you. The best thing about writing, as opposed to so many other hobbies, is that you can do it anywhere! So, do that. Do it any time you both feel the inspiration to do so and aren’t going to get fired or expelled for it. This isn’t work, it’s something enjoyable that does take effort (like literally all creative activities and skills do), but approaching it as though you need to follow novel writing advice from someone who has never published anything of note and isn’t you on the internet, with strict rules for success makes it feel that way. So does being frustrated with a dead fandom, no interaction. It’s disheartening, feels as annoying and fruitless as work often does. You probably need to break out of that mindset, and you can only do it by beginning to allow yourself to be creative on your own terms, entirely for yourself.

Do write simple things at first that you are inspired to do (you can’t get a scene out of your head, or a bit of dialogue), and/or headcanon/character development memes and question lists. Build from there as you get back in touch with your muse, writing things primarily or entirely for yourself still. Expanding on headcanons, doing some meta, or maybe writing out a missing piece of canon or what you’d be interested in seeing happen in canon if some event was altered.

Doing this sort of thing, you are getting in touch with your muse again and back into the real spirit of writing creatively, simultaneously.

Whatever you find most inspiring, do it. If it’s watching the movie or show again, do that, have it on while you write or simply think on the character’s actions, thoughts, and emotions during those scenes. If it’s reading the material again, do that, and read snippets of personal importance before you write. Maybe it’s some past playlists you can have on while writing, or even while you’re cleaning, walking the dog, driving or riding somewhere. It could even be your own previous writing! Go ahead and re-read that, it sounds like you still appreciate it, and that’s truly promising. If you find that you’re horrified by some of the things you’ve written in the more distant past, hey...that’s not just valid as hell, it’s natural. You know what else it is? An inspiration. You can clearly see that you could do better, that means you now know how to do better and are ready to do so. Validate yourself, prove it to yourself by rewriting or fixing something.

Don’t delete the blog or archive it. It is unpleasant to have a dead blog around, but don’t keep it dead. Use the same blog and simply transition it into wider things that will net you more partners and the interactions you deserve.

Look, even if you weren’t the most popular blog in your fandom before it went quiet, you really appreciated the blog, muse, and writing you were doing. You’ve defined that it wasn’t something you did to cause this situation, you just had the shit luck we all run into eventually of being in a fandom that ran out of material or interest. People are really fickle, so by taking a wider approach and fixing on the writing and muse instead of fandom now, you’re stopping this from repeating. Seriously, on a long enough timeline, every fandom dies or goes into hibernation. If you make a whole new blog with a different muse, it is going to happen again eventually.

So, don’t feel like you’re ridiculously clinging to the past and need to move on, you’re just sticking to something and can continue to stick to it through the next five fandom deaths. Just because it is the most popular thing to do to drop muses, constantly add new ones, and have this attitude that you can “blog refresh” your way out of recurrent, and inherent, problem doesn’t mean it is actually the right thing to do. It’s not even the most sensible, and certainly not the best thing to do with anything you’ve spent time and effort on.

That’s your incentive; yourself, the time and care you’ve put in, and your continued interest in writing and the muse. You’ll find good people, and bluntly, everyone else can fuck right off when you’re incentivized by yourself. It becomes a self-fulfilling activity at that point, I swear, and it feels really nice.

Just get back in touch with your muse and writing itself so that you can begin to expand and start interacting again!

#rp advice #rp problems #rp help #muse loss #dead fandoms #rp better #Anon E. Mous #answered

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kiapet2 · 3 years

Text

Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 13: A Minor Case of Major Brain Damage

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: In which Thomas takes a trip through the past.

Chapter Warnings: Unethical Experimentation, Non-Consenting Test Subjects, Semi-Suicidal Ideation

Falling.

You don’t know for how long you’ve been falling, but it feels like far longer than a person should be able to fall, and when you look down you still can’t see the bottom. The elevator shaft is just small enough that you could probably brush your fingers on either side if you stretched your arms out, but unlike last time no plastic tubing appears to whisk you off to somewhere else Occasionally you pass an open floor, but they whizz by too quickly for you to see much of anything.

Just like your previous fall down this shaft, below you is obscured in darkness, the true depth of the shaft a mystery. You guess you’ll finally get to see what’s at the bottom, one way or another.

You close your eyes and steady your breathing for what could be seconds or minutes, trying not to think about what’s coming. Then there’s a jolt accompanied by a massive crash, and your world tilts and goes black.

Groaning, you blink your eyes open as the world gradually fades into focus. Above you, a vertical tunnel stretches into infinity, broken boards hanging off the edges from where you apparently broke through. The metal elevator shaft is not embedded in a wall or ceiling as you would expect but rather hanging down into open air; the actual ceiling of this room is so far above you, you can’t even see it. Instead, the distance above you looks hazy, almost like you’re outside on a cloudy day.

You sit up, checking yourself over and finding no visible wounds, though your body feels like one massive bruise. The Portal Gun is lying next to you and you pick it up, turning it over in your hands and finding no indication that it’s broken.

So, the good news is you’ve officially survived the fall intact. The bad news is, you’re trapped in the bowels of a facility that’s about to self-destruct, and by the look of this elevator shaft you’re not likely to find transportation back up.

The area surrounding you couldn’t be more different from the rest of the Aperture Science facility if it tried. Where the test chambers were sleek and sophisticated, this looks almost like a junkyard, all twisted metal and crumbled stone. If this place is even part of the actual facility, it hasn’t been used for a long time.

You couldn’t have picked a better place to really make you realize how truly alone you now are.

You’ve felt alone before. It can be hard to remember, now that you’ve become used to one of not many friends peering over your shoulder, giving advice and making jokes at your- or each others’- expense, but when you first woke up here it was to large, empty chambers with no company other than a distant Voice. You remember how relieved you were when you first met Logan, how worried you were every time he or the others left, terrified that this time they wouldn’t come back.

And yet, during all that time you never were as alone as you thought you were. Janus was watching you the whole time, giving his sarcastic two cents even as he tried to pretend to be distant and robotic, and the others never even considered abandoning you like you feared.

Now, you’re much too far away for Janus to see you, even if he was still in a position to be able to do so. Not that he would want anything more to do with you anyways, not after you betrayed the trust he so rarely gives in the first place. And as for the others, well. They were always going to side with Patton over you, weren’t they?

God, Patton. It’s hard to believe your optimistic, friendly companion could have become the nightmarish entity that just tried to take your freedom once again. You should have had him taken out of there at the first sign of trouble, should have done something to help him instead of just watching as your friend was subsumed by whatever malignant consciousness exists in this place. But you didn’t do anything when he needed you most, and now it’s too late. Too late for him, and too late for you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to lie back down, try to sleep and forget until the facility blows up and comes crashing down on top of you. Or, failing that, until you die of hypothermia or thirst. Why bother trying to find your way out of here, when all your previous attempts only hastened your inevitable demise? Can’t you just rest, for once in your short post-cryosleep life?

But even as you consider the thought, something in you rejects it, some deep survival instinct that refuses to let you just lay down and die. You owe it to the others, owe it to Patton, to see this through, even if the inevitable end is your death.

Sighing, you tentatively push yourself to your feet as your legs groan in protest and, not sure what else to do, begin picking your way through it, looking for a way out, or at least forward.

You make your way through the rubble, navigating your way around walls, fences and pits using carefully placed portals. The ground slopes gradually down, going deeper and deeper into the bowels of the facility, and as you continue to descend you start to pass signs, saying ominous things like Keep Out and Do Not Enter.

You probably should be at least a little concerned about that, but you can’t muster up the energy to really care. Your feet stamp out a regular rhythm on the ground, right-left-right-left, and you lose yourself in the monotony of walking as you move further downward. Eventually, you come to a metal door, similarly marked with warning stickers, and with some carefully placed portals through broken windows are able to move past it, into what's hidden behind.

Walking through the final door, you find yourself entering what appears to be some kind of waiting room, faded and decayed with age. As you watch, a large metal piece falls off a large iron sign hanging above the room, a piece you belatedly realize is the shape of the Aperture Science logo.

A voice suddenly sounds from the speakers, making you jump.

Welcome, gentlemen, to Aperture Science. Astronauts, war heroes, Olympians- you’re here because we want the best, and you are it. So: Who is ready to make some science?

The voice chuckles, and you glance around yourself, confused. It doesn’t sound like anyone you've spoken with during the time you've been awake, and has a different quality to it than the announcements you’re used to hearing- tinny and faded, like an old-timey radio announcer, but despite all that it still twinges a recognition deep within you, like this is someone you used to know.

Now, you already met one another on the limo ride over, so let me introduce myself. I’m Cave Johnson. I own the place.

There’s a thousand tests performed every day here in our enrichment spheres. I can’t personally oversee every one of them, so these pre-recorded messages’ll cover any questions you might have, and respond to any incidents that may occur in the course of your science adventure. Those of you helping us test the repulsion gel today, just follow the blue line on the floor. Those of you who brought in your pets for behavior therapy, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that they definitely won’t be chewing your shoes anymore. The bad news is it’s because they don’t really have teeth. Or mouths. Or head. Very well behaved, though! Anyways, so long for now, and happy testing!

You wait for a few more moments, but the recording- if it is actually that, and not another AI trying to trick you- seems to have stopped.

You look around again at the old waiting room surrounding you- a piece of history, Aperture Science when it was run by humans and their recorded announcements rather than the AIs who populate otherwise abandoned test chambers. You guess it makes sense that there must have been humans in this place once- the abandoned offices are proof enough of that, and Logan mentioned that he and the others were made by and from humans.

Your heart twinges, and you shove down thoughts of the others. You're on your own now, might as well make the best of it and push forwards.

The doors leading forward are high in the walls and the catwalks used to reach them have fallen away with age, but you’re able to finagle your way to them anyways by riding an elevator in the center of the room upwards and then using the momentum from jumping down the shaft to fling yourself over. It’s so weird to think that you used to be afraid of a simple one-story fall.

The old recording whirrs back to life as you enter the next chamber. Welcome to our next test on the Repulsion Gel, Cave Johnson’s voice says. Now, the boys over at Medical told me we should be giving testers regular drink breaks and not carrying out testing for more than four hours at a time. Well I think I speak for all you fine fellas when I say we’re not going to let a buncha namby-pamby whitecoat bigwigs get in the way of our science! If you pass out, we’ll send a retrieval bot to pick you up and carry you off to the nursery with the other babies. Now let’s get going!

In front of you is a test chamber. It’s older, with walls made out of metal and concrete rather than the sleek, moveable tiles that made the test chambers you’re familiar with, but still recognizable.

You start laughing, hard enough that you need to sit down. Even down here, even with no one else around, you’re still testing. Playing the good little lab rat, solving puzzles while you wait for the scientist to pull the plug. That’s all you’ve ever done here, isn’t it?

You take some big, whooping breaths, trying to calm yourself. You’re not sure how you know to do it, but you start counting breaths: in for four counts, hold for seven, out for eight. It takes a bit of time, but eventually you are able to get yourself to calm down, your aching abdomen the only sign that you lost control of your emotions.

Looking at the test chamber in front of you again, you notice that it’s astonishingly easy- jumping and then bouncing off the blue gel to get to the other side of a gap. You breathe deep again, closing your eyes and steeling yourself. You’ve done test chambers where you flung yourself across giant rooms filled with toxic sludge while turrets shot at you in the air; you can handle a few antique ones down here. Then you open your eyes and take a running jump.

Welcome to the Enrichment Center, Cave Johnson’s tired voice says. As you’ve made your way through the abandoned offices and test chambers that make up this old place, you’ve listened to his recordings become less enthusiastic, more run down, listened to him start talking about things like stolen inventions and bankruptcy and being forced to recruit new testers from the streets for practical pocket change. But you’ve never heard him sound quite like this- so raspy and worn he almost seems half-dead.

Since making test participation mandatory for all employees, the quality of our test subjects has risen dramatically. Employee retention, however, has not. He coughs, a harsh, rattling sound that sounds like it must tear at his throat. As a result, you may have heard we're gonna phase out human testing. There's still a few things left to wrap up, though. First up, conversion gel.

The bean counters told me we literally could not afford to buy seven dollars worth of moon rocks, much less seventy million. Bought 'em anyway. Ground 'em up, mixed ‘em into a gel. And guess what? Ground up moon rocks are pure poison- I am deathly ill. Great portal conductors, though. So now we're gonna see if jumping in and out of these new portals can somehow leech the lunar poison out of a man's bloodstream. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. He coughs again, harder. Let's all stay positive and do some science.

The recording clicks off, and you wince. You don’t really like Cave Johnson- he sounds like a bit of a jerk, honestly, and you can’t help but feel he’s at least indirectly responsible for the situation you’re in now- but hearing him like that, sad, hopeless, and slowly dying, is just painful. You find yourself wishing he did manage to get better, though you know that he’s likely long dead by now either way.

Focusing again on the task at hand, you make your way through the abandoned office and out a back door, coming out in old maintenance hallways, all smooth concrete walls striped with metal pipes. You come to a large, round vertical shaft, and while the walls themselves won’t hold portals, there’s enough scaffolding and smooth platforms to let you pick your way up with strategically-placed portals and the careful use of flinging.

Cave Johnson’s voice again fills the shaft when you’re about halfway up. He seems to be… ranting about lemons? And lemon-related weapons that burn people’s houses down? It’s kind of hard to follow when you’re so focused on the task at hand, though you almost find yourself wishing Remus was around- you’re pretty sure he’d get a kick out of it. Remus would enjoy a lot of the stuff down here, actually. The thought is slightly horrifying.

Johnson has collected himself by the time you reach the top, and this time you stop to listen.

The point is: If we can store music on a compact disc, why can't we store a man's intelligence and personality on one? So I have the engineers figuring that out now.

Brain Mapping. Artificial Intelligence. We should have been working on it thirty years ago.

The recording ends. You stand there for a bit, feeling like you’ve been hit over the head with a metal pipe. Artificial Intelligence. He’s talking about creating the program that made the others. Talking about using the program to download his own personality into an AI. Logan had mentioned that he and the others were developed from a human man’s personality, but you hadn’t ever stopped to think about what exactly that meant- that they are all aspects of someone who was a living, breathing person. Someone who was the head of this facility, no less.

Could you see the others in him? Remus, definitely, with his love of weird and dangerous science. Roman, maybe, in how dramatic Johnson seemed to have been, and Janus with his disregard for people he saw as beneath his notice. Logan and Patton are harder sells; Cave Johnson didn’t seem all that intelligent- rather anti-intellectual, actually- and he certainly wasn’t empathetic or kind. And he definitely wasn’t careful or restrained, either, so Virgil is right out. Maybe extracting certain parts of his brain exaggerated those aspects of his personality?

But then, if Cave Johnson’s goal was to be immortal, why split his personality into component parts in the first place? Why not just download his personality wholesale? Or did that turn out to be impossible?

By now the mystery has dug its claws into you, and you find yourself itching for more answers, more context on how exactly this came about. It’s a nice distraction, at least, from your imminent demise and the fact that none of the people you’re learning about actually want anything to do with you anymore.

And yeah, not thinking about that right now. You shake your head as if it could dispel the painful thoughts, and keep moving.

This time, when you find another stretch of abandoned offices you don’t immediately head back behind them, but instead move within the halls of the facility, using portals to traverse places that are locked or where the floor has fallen in. You move on instinct, maneuvering these hallways like you’ve done it a thousand times. You don’t consciously choose your destination, but aren’t terribly surprised when your steps take you up to an office door, the words CAVE JOHNSON, CEO engraved on a golden plaque at eye level.

The office is locked, so you smash the small office window, then shoot a portal through it to the opposite wall. The office is large but stripped almost bare, with an old computer desk and several file shelves all that remain. There are rectangles on the walls and floor, places where fancy furniture and paintings presumably used to be, and everything is covered with such a thick layer of dust you’re a little afraid if you disturb anything too much you’ll start coughing and not stop.

You move over to the computer, an old, boxy model, and start it up. Miraculously, it still works, and you’re soon greeted with an old DOS screen, black with white lettering asking you to input commands. You sift through Cave Johnson’s file cabinets, sifting through a pile of floppy disks before pulling one out with a victorious cry.

You slip the disk labeled PRE-RECORDED MESSAGES into the computer, then type in the appropriate command and start going through files.

Not having the time or patience to go through every single audio file, you scroll down to the last one and open it, intending to start from the latest created files and go back. You open it and the sound of an old audio recording once again fills the room.

Hello, sir, you wanted to see me?

Your head shoots up. That voice feels intensely familiar, in a way that tickles the back of your mind, but you can’t quite-

Thomas, my boy!

Your breath catches in your throat.

Come in, come in. Take a seat, make yourself at home. Have some tea, if you want.

No thank you, the second voice- YOUR voice- says, I’m more of a coffee person.

Probably a good idea, the last batch was exposed to radiation from Lab C and well, long story short we’re still not certain if it’ll give you bowel cancer. But enough about the unimportant things! I’ve been looking over your files, and I must say I’m impressed- you seem to be quite the renaissance man! A degree in chemical engineering, a relatively successful career in the theatrical arts, a damn near spotless record in our part-time development team, and it looks like you’ve been making quite a stir in the media department’s new short video program. What was it called, Stem? Ivy? No no, don’t tell me, I’ll get it eventually. I doubt that sort of thing will ever catch on anyways. But the point is it shows initiative, which is something I like to see in my employees!

Thank you, sir?

You are quite welcome, you’ve earned it! Now the folks in our tech department have been telling me they want someone with a well-rounded mind for the initial AI development tests, and I think you fit the bill. And you’re not a vital employee, which is good because we’re still not quite sure what being copied into a computer does to your brain. Best case scenario, you wake up from cryosleep in a few weeks with one heck of a headache, worst case scenario is brain death. But hey, chances are at least part of you will get to be immortal, so I’d say that’s a gamble worth taking!

Whoa whoa whoa, hold up. Cryosleep? Brain death?! I didn’t sign up for anything like that. I’m not even a tester!

Now, now, no one’s ever won at life by playing it safe. The AI initiative is our most high profile development right now, being selected to test it is quite the honor! And testing is mandatory for all staff as of last week, so don’t worry about being in the wrong department.

I- It’s not that I’m not honored or anything. But I really just want to go back to my desk. I’m sure you can find someone else, right? Surely someone is better suited to this than me.

I appreciate your humility, Sport, but I’m afraid it wasn’t a request. You’ll thank us eventually. Assuming that you, you know, wake up. Good luck!

Wait, wait no, let go of me! your voice screams, desperate and terrified. Please, please I don’t want this, I don’t want this, WAIT-

The recording fizzles out mid-scream. After a moment, it whirrs back to life.

Right, so you boys should probably edit some of that out in post, Cave Johnson's tired voice says. Every experiment needs initial trials, right? Like a taste tester, but for your brain. Anyways, you've got your subject, so get to work, alright? We- he breaks off into a coughing fit- we don't have much time left. Let me know when things are ready for me. Until then, this is Cave Johnson, signing out.

There’s a few more seconds of white noise, and then a click as the recording comes to a stop, leaving you in silence once more.

Your legs give out from under you and you sit down, hard. Your mind is whirling, the echoes of your own screams still sounding in your head.

How could they do that? How could they just do that? Take you away from everything you’ve ever known, without even leaving you memories of what you’d lost, and for what? So a CEO could get his immortality?

The thought that you had a life before this, that you had a family before this, had occurred to you before- how could it not?- but it always felt distant, unreal, like a dream. But it wasn’t. You had a degree, a career, a life outside of this place. What did the people from that life think when you disappeared? Did Aperture Science tell them you’d died, or just let them wonder what happened to you? Are they still out there, missing you?

You shake your head, forcibly reeling your thoughts in. You’re going to destroy yourself if you keep going like this. You need to pull yourself together.

And once your thoughts stop reeling quite so much, a new thought occurs to you. Johnson said that you were being taken for the AI program- that they were going to copy you into a machine. The Cores said they were made from a human man, and you assumed based on the previous recordings that human man had been Cave Johnson. And maybe they were- Johnson told you they were using you for preliminary testing. Wouldn’t they have moved on to him once they were done with you?

And yet, all sorts of little things are adding up in your brain, things you had noticed but never bothered to linger on- never thought to connect to each other. Singing and performing a theater song with Roman, your voices perfectly in sync. Trading silly puns with Patton. The way your heart would always leap into your throat at the exact time Virgil started giving you trouble. And most painfully, Janus’s parting words: you may act the part of an innocent little lamb, but deep down you’re every bit as devious and cutthroat as I am.

Could the others… be made from you?

Your heart pounds in your chest. You need to find out more. You need to know if this is real, or just wishful thinking. You fish through Johnson’s files, half-frantic, but can’t find anything on the subject.

Then, finally, you find in the paper files a report from the development Project JANUS. It’s short, with no information you didn’t already know, but it does include a scientist’s name and office number in the signature.

A few minutes of searching later, you’re in the scientist’s room, tearing apart their files, until you finally find a file folder labeled TOP SECRET. You flip open to the first page, heart pounding.

The top of the page reads, “Project JANUS”. It’s a diagram of a human brain, with specific sections highlighted, though you don’t know enough about the human brain to figure out their relevance. What really draws your eye, however, is what is written below the diagram.

Subject Name: Thomas Sanders.

The name rings like a bell in your head, something deep inside saying, me. Thomas Sanders. Your name is Thomas Sanders.

Your name is Thomas Sanders, and Janus was created from you.

Hastily, you flip through the next few pages of data charts and diagrams, until you come to the next blueprint, then the next, then the next, growing in speed and excitement as you go.

Project PATHOS, Subject Name: Thomas Sanders. Project LOGOS, Subject Name: Thomas Sanders. Project REMUS, Project ROMULUS, Project VIRGILIUS. Subject Name Thomas Sanders, Thomas Sanders, Thomas Sanders.

You sit down heavily in the office chair, putting your hands to your face. They’re you. All of them. God, you should have known. You think part of you did know, all along.

Part of you. That’s what they really are, isn’t it? Not you, not exactly, but parts of you. Created from different segments of your brain, different aspects of your personality.

The concept bounces around in your brain, the idea of something meaningful, some other revelation, hovering at the edge of your mind, just out of reach. Something about being parts, aspects of a person’s personality.

Aspects of a person, but not the whole. Self-preservation without the understanding that sometimes other people matter, too. Morality without the practicality to back it up. Creativity without the necessary restraints.

Oh god, you’ve been going about this all wrong. No wonder your plans didn’t work, the very premise was flawed. And wow, that was such a Logan thought, how did you not realize the connection sooner?

You need to get back to the others, right now.

After gathering the file and safely securing it in the folds of your jumpsuit, you take a quick trip back to Cave Johnson’s office with one intention in mind: his PA system. You don’t know if the announcement systems from down here will reach to where the others are, but you have to try. You press the button, ignoring the anxiety churning in your stomach, and speak.

“Hey, everyone. It’s Thomas. I know that some of you are confused and don’t know who you should be siding with right now. I know that for some of you, I have a lot to apologize for. All I ask, is if you ever trusted me at all, to come meet me at the place you introduced me to Remus. Because I have a lot I need to say to you guys, and because I’ve figured it out.��

You take a deep breath, and focus on projecting as much certainty with your voice as you can.

“I know how we can fix this. For good.”

#aperture sides facility #my writing #ts storytime

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maryellencarter · 3 years

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So the final cause, if I recall my Aristotle (I was terrible at Aristotelian logic, or at least at what the badly illustrated homeschool textbook said was Aristotelian logic), was that my apartment has been growing irregularly more squalorous for months. Occasionally I would have a bout of energy and put my groceries in the pantry, but for the most part I've been doing well to keep up on the laundry. The proximal cause was... probably the coloring books.

Anyway, this morning I put on pants that were not sweatpants, probably for the first time in months, because going to get vaccinated is a festal occasion and one ought to look one's best. (I put on my cute top with the frilly shoulder straps and the little rosettes, too, since I figured it'd be smart to wear something sleeveless. And my combat boots with the pastel tiedye laces, in case of hiking, which also turned out to be smart. I was decked out.)

So then I went and showed a number of people my ID and my appointment email, and they poked me with a timy needle -- not as small as the one they used in the ER for the insulin that time, I didn't even feel that one, but a very nice thin needle compared to my usual standard of needles, which are the ones they use to try and get blood *out* of you, and often fail when you are me. Then they made me sit down for fifteen minutes in case I took an allergy, and then they gave me a lollipop (I got blue cotton candy, my favorite flavor) and a sticker with a hashtag on it and I left.

Then I got to wend my way back from the place where the vaccinations were happening -- it was a big event on the college campus, since they have a lot of nice big rooms and wide open spaces there -- and it happened I was coming back from a direction I do not usually wend my way from, and I dropped into Michaels. Usually I go to Joann's, because they have fabric, which Michaels doesn't, and Michaels is generally a bit froofier in the sorts of craft supplies they stock at least locally, but the Michaels and the Joann's are right across the street from each other, and I still haven't heard anything about my special order on the floss color that Joann's was out of. Michaels doesn't have the full range of DMC colors, but I took a look and they did in fact have the color I needed.

Then I wandered around some, because Michaels actually does have a bigger yarn selection than Joann's, and I found some Patons Kroy (my absolute favorite sock yarn for feel and texture) in a colorway I didn't loathe, which is *not* something I've been able to find since they stopped making that one colorway with all the orange and black and gray stripes, which I loved dearly and can't remember the name of. So I was like "this will be just the thing for that one lace scarf I was looking at that needs wool yarn in case it has to be blocked to look right", because knitted lace is like that and you can't block acrylic. You can "kill" acrylic but that's different and I'd rather not.

Um. Anyway. Then I wandered around some more, because I get into Michaels so seldom that it's handy to look at what-all they've got while I'm there. Over the past... week or so I have had a sudden bout of wanting to color in coloring books, because that happens to me sometimes; there was an impulse trip to the Walmart way out in the boondocks on the unlit road for Crayola colored pencils, because I decided I was not going to pay eight times as much for Prismacolors.

(The really infuriating thing about coloring books, in my opinion, is that right now you can either find the kiddie newsprint coloring books which are with us always, of course, or you can find "adult coloring books" which are *in-fucking-variably* filled with horses and lions and whales and other large charismatic mammals covered in what look for all the world like quilting patterns. If I wanted to color a rendition of a quilt filled with tiny stripes and polka dots, I'd get some graph paper! And the dots and lines and so forth are so tiny that you can *only* color them with colored pencils, because that's Adulty.)

(Yes, I know they sell coloring pages on Etsy and places. I've been avoiding the print shop for at least a month and a half now, when if I would put the things on my thumb drive and go to it, I could start getting my student loans out of default. I would never wind up printing coloring pages off of Etsy. No, I don't know why. Print shops scare me, perhaps slightly worse than post offices.)

Um. Where was I? So I had gone way far out to the Walmart nobody goes to which therefore often has interesting things in stock, and I had discovered that Crayola still does the glitter crayons I had coveted as a tiny, and they also make double-ended scented markers, which are like the coolest thing ever to the tiny early-nineties child I still am in my heart. So as of this morning, my kitchen counter was completely covered with... things. There was already the sewing machine and the Dr Pepper that doesn't taste like an old shoe, and the peanut butter and the elephant-shaped porcelain wax-warmer, but there had been a narrow slot where I could put a plate and eat my meals -- my only table having been co-opted a year ago by my workstation. Now that slot was filled with various Crayola products and a coloring book with mermaids in it, which at least had a few pages that could be colored partly with markers or crayons, instead of being entirely minced into geometric shapes barely larger than a pencil lead.

SO, what happened after I got vaccinated and found yarn and floss, is that I found out that Crayola still makes the *pearlescent* crayons I coveted even more as a kid. I had gotten one in a little sample pack included with my big 64-box, and it was very precious to me. It's long gone now, of course.

So of course then I bought the pearlescent crayons, and then I bitched at Leia for a while about how I didn't have any coloring books I could use these wonderful crayons *on* unless I wanted to go back to the Lisa Frank newsprint of my youth. (They did actually have Lisa Frank. I strongly considered it. But my tastes have evolved beyond newsprint.)

Then I googled some things, and I found Walmart listing a Crayola mandala coloring book. I went to look for it, and I didn't find it, but I did find a different coloring book with "stained glass" style pictures (sadly not on actual tracing paper, but it occurs to me that if I could source some tracing paper, which it further occurs to me that I haven't seen in years although admittedly I haven't been looking, that I could *trace them* and color them and tape them on my windows like the tacky '90s kid I am), which GLORY HALLELUJAH has spaces big enough to fucking color in!

...Michaels also had neon and metallic Crayola crayons. I might go back. They were 24-packs of each. The single silver and gold crayons from my mom's 64-pack were pretty much only used for Easter eggs in our house, so as not to use them up. I just -- I have a wealth beyond imagining of special effect crayons and markers available to me, and I'm struggling to find anywhere to use them. This seems backwards.

So anyway, then I also found a cute sundress big enough to go over my ass, and then I sat in the furniture section for a while and pondered buying a new table so I wouldn't have to keep stacking coloring books on top of the peanut butter jar in order to eat, and it occurred to me that if I took down my Christmas tree, which I've had up since the Before Times (having gotten it from in fact the same Walmart east of anywhere after all the rest in town were sold out of the particular model), then I would have a space along the back of the kitchen counter where I could hypothetically put a table.

So, because I am a sensible and moderate individual, I bought a thing of string to tie up the Christmas tree branches with, and did not buy a table yet. Then it was time for D&D, so I hurried home and put my vaccination card on the fridge and got into the voice chat and started taking down the Christmas tree.

Then it was five hours later, and I had started konmari-ing the whole apartment in order to have somewhere to store the Christmas tree, and I had discovered that my closet shelf was almost entirely full of empty cardboard boxes, so I had pulled all those out and rifled through them to make sure they didn't contain anything important, and after rescuing three cards from a friend and one glasses chamois, I stuffed most of the boxes in a trash bag, jammed the condensed Christmas tree and all the winter blankets and my air mattress and various other wintry things into the giant box my office chair came in, managed to get that giant box up onto the closet shelf (I have some soreness around my injection site but I honestly don't know if it's a side effect of the vaccination or a pulled muscle from wiggling a very large heavy box into a very tight space over my head), and moved the Goodwill oddities into a midsize box that I think I brought my workstation home in, but they just moved the remaining onsite agents into a much smaller room so I don't think I'm going to be asked to bring my workstation back for a while, and when I do go to bring it back I think the monitors will fit nicely in my washtub.

(I'm giving Goodwill my crockpot. After I forgot the garbanzos in it for three days until the chicken broth started to stink, I decided I am not a person who needs to own a crockpot. Also something like eight skeins of rather ugly yarn because I bought too much for the baby blankets I was making.)

(I'm not sure why I own a washtub. It's bright blue and plastic. It does have a use, which is to hand-wash my weighted blanket in occasionally, as of course you can't put twenty-odd pounds of glass baubles in a washing machine.)

(I certainly did make some life choices that led me here, did I not.)

Annnnyway, so now I have an almost empty three-drawer Rubbermaid dresser, an entirely empty and extremely large Rubbermaid tote (I'm pretty sure I could trap myself in there, but I haven't tried), a mostly empty square ottoman which is also a storage box, and a royal shitton of tiny things like office supplies and party favors that don't *go* anywhere.

"A place for everything" is the really hard part, you know. I achieved it once. Then I moved out of that apartment and have never achieved it again. Once things *have* places, then even if you don't have the spoons to put the peanut butter jar back in the pantry right *now*, you know it has a spot between the Hormel and the Chef Boyardee, and it's way easier than "oh god if I open the pantry there won't be any room and I'll wind up putting the peanut butter under the bathroom sink with the Johnnie Walker Black or maybe over the kitchen sink on top of the Thermacare back wraps."

(You're supposed to store whisky upright in a cool dark place, okay. None of the upper cabinet shelves are tall enough, so I could have put it either directly over the water heater or directly next to the oven. Instead it lurks behind the toilet paper, next to the Clorox wipes and the pre-pandemic Lush bath bomb, which I should... probably use at some point.)

Erm. So then I was pondering what-all storage I would need to source in order to begin having places in which to put things, *findable* places which is the real grail, and -- I think I took a pause to read Dreamwidth and someone linked me a plushie trilobite, okay. I haven't yet entirely decided whether to buy it, but it occurred to me that I definitely have no home for a plushie trilobite, any more than for the amazing Zaeed plushie currently trapped under my cross stitching or the Star Wars Build-a-Bear who was supposed to make Ewok noises until three weeks of freeze-thaw cycle in a malfunctioning package locker did for his electronic squeaker, or the poor American Girl doll languishing inside the ottoman.

So then I was like "we used to have that little net corner hammock for stuffed animals when I was a kid, we never could get it mounted right, but perhaps with fewer cooks that would be a good option". So I googled for one, and all I could find was an assortment of JUMBO five-or-six-foot-long double-deep toy hammocks, obviously necessary to keep your child from drowning in the flood of stuffed animals that have taken over beds in the past thirty years.

(Okay, I was pretty toy-deprived as a kid, the 1980s were not in general what you would call a time of less stuff in American households. Still. I have a twin bed. I can hardly even *find* a toy hammock that wouldn't be bigger than my bed in some dimension.)

So then, it being the aforementioned five hours later with a lot of D&D combined with hard physical labor in the middle, I said to myself, said I, "Hammocks are made out of net, and nets are made out of strings." And by god, if there is one thing I'm better at than another, it is making things out of string. I've never actually gotten around to trying out the whole process of making an actual fisherman's net, which is much more closely related to tatting than to knitting, but I have yarn and most of the possible knitting or crocheting supplies I would need to invent things.

Which, at long last, explains why I have paused to write this halfway through creating a triangular filet crochet toy hammock out of sparkly yellow yarn.

Joann's is having a 50% off sale on plastic storage whatsits tomorrow, but I think I'll probably spend a large part of the day putting office supplies into ziploc bags and hanging them in rows on the wall with pushpins so as to figure out what-all I in fact own.

#i feel like this probably needs at least a few warning tags #but i have no idea what those would be at this point

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bestwishes1986 · 3 years

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Part 5 : Deception (WIP)

Reckless, impulsive, loyal, those were words that Kingston “King” McTavish would assign to Valiant Teague. Standing on the front step of a suburban hamlet in the middle of the afternoon had surprised even him. At 350 years of age it was hard to surprise him, but as he waited for someone to answer the door he was surprised. His opal blue curls and straight lines of hair were caught in a breeze that made them sway. He had had the underside of his head shaved all around with a thick beard not the same blue surrounding his face like a mane. His darker than vanilla skin tone from the mixed heritage of his father and mother and facial features made him appear handsome with more than a hint of African descent. His blue eyes watched the door, trying to be patient.

Any call to the castle was recorded and before heading out on his motorcycle he had the call played back over and over. Listening for any signs of immediate emergency, danger, or signs of a struggle. All he had heard was emotional rawness and that had been enough for him to cancel any plans he had made for the day and leave. His prisoner Tobin had just been brought back his second escape attempt and he needed distance from that man anyway.

The door opened and instead of his weapons specialist for the Kingsguard he commanded, there was a little girl looking disappointed to see him. Before he could speak she ran back into the house crying. King’s blue eyebrows drew together in concern. A stranger came to the door, beautiful with gray eyes and wild dark hair that could use a brush.

“Sorry about Abigail, we tried to stop her but she got ahead of us…you are?” Donovan asked holding out a hand.

“King, Sovereign of the United Kingdom. I was summoned here by Val, why isn’t he receiving me?” King asked, his light voice suspicious of this stranger. His Lycan, a blue wolf that lived inside his soul stirred from sleep. The bright golden eyes looking at the creature before King through their metaphysical bond. King took the man’s hand in a fierce grip and was surprised when Donavan gripped his hand just as strong.

“Donavan Roe, an acquaintance of Val’s. He’s in right state presently, come on in.” Donovan said keeping his face as passive as possible even though the death grip King had on his wrist made him wonder if bones would break if he applied any more pressure. King released his hand and walked past him, never taking his eyes off Donavan until he had to turn his head forward. Even then he didn’t like Donavan behind him. Using his Lycan senses he smelled the house. Three strong scents, one faint almost gone entirely.

He glanced at the furniture, most of it years old seemed in good condition. No signs of any fighting occurred.

“What exactly is happening here?” King asked looking back at Donavan.

“Short version. I witnessed the murder of Val’s wife and we just saw her in the crowd at the Mercy Hospital Bombing. So Val is trying to not have a breakdown right now. He’s in the guest room down that way.” Donavan surmised as he pointed down the hallway.

“You’re leaving something out.” King said he had listened to this man’s pulse the entire time, noting it’s rhythm changes as he spoke.

“Go see him first.” Donavan said ducking his head.

“You do know what Sovereign means, you don’t give me orders.” King said a bit of a growl coming into his words as if to show Donavan who was in control of things.

“He needs you now, this whose cock is bigger bullshite can wait. I will be trying to get his daughter to stop crying. If that’s alright, my Lord,” Donavan said with a tone beyond annoyed and King almost said something rude but his ears picked up the sounds of things being torn apart from the second story.

“Go, she’s tearing something apart right now and in that state I imagine it’s something important to her.” King said before he walked down the hallway without waiting for a response. Donavan turned and moved to the stairs, he felt out of his depth. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. He asked himself why he was still even here, he had done what he had come to do. He had told Val everything he knew about the man. But as he moved up the stairs he knew the reason, hated himself for the reason but as he came to door with pony stickers. He knew it was all beyond his control, he cared what happened to these people.

Donavan stood in the doorway, watching as the five year old tore a painting to ribbons. His eyes were wide with surprise but he didn’t stop her. Her tears were gone, her face red with anger as she pulled more of the once large painting apart. A part of him knew he should tell her to stop, but he didn’t. If he had learned one thing in his life, it was to trust his instincts. Finally when the painting was just small pieces of paper strewn about the room, and Abigail breathing hard with the exertion he knocked on the doorframe.

He kept his face calm and neutral of any emotion and just waited. Children were unpredictable, as an incubus he could feel emotions the way people felt a breeze before rain. Hers were a mess of anger, sadness and above all confusion. It made his heart hurt, that surprised him. He had only known of her existence for only one morning and already he felt he would hurt anyone who harmed her. But he didn’t have time to be perplexed as she launched herself at him and he had just enough time to crouch before she was hugging him tight and sobbing.

Donavan’s eyes were wide, this was the second Teague to do this and he just wasn’t sure what about him screamed “Port in a storm”. But he hugged her back all the same. Abigail was young but she wasn’t stupid. The concept of telling her everything would be alright seemed ludicrous, he wasn’t sure anything would be alright ever again. So he simply let her cry it out on his shoulder.

Downstairs was a different matter entirely. King had leaned against the closed door and listened to his subordinate’s retelling of recent events. He had resisted the urge to interrupt. Making mental notes as he did. He wasn’t angry at being kept in the dark about Val’s investigation, he knew if he had learned before now who the victims were he would have pulled him from investigation.

“We tried to keep Abigail back but she threw a fit and I retreated back here and let Donavan handle it. I just wanted to compose myself before you fired me from your employ,” Val concluded somberly and King’s eyes went wide but he said nothing for a moment.

“You’ve been using that word a lot today. “We” I mean. Have you noticed that,” King asked as he folded his arms over his long green wool sweater and waited for a reply. As predicted it took Val a moment to retrace the conversation and with a deep frown King knew it had finally registered with the man.

“I have no reason to sack you Valiant, but I will say you’re too goddamn smart to go it alone. Let alone too smart to take things at face value. So disappointed would be how I’m currently feeling. But above that, I’m sorry Mate. Losing a wife is hard, ye but getting on top of another bloke right after. That’s a bit of a stretch even for you yah?” King spoke with a bit of incredulous shock to his voice.

“I haven’t done anything with Donavan, besides he’s been a friend this day. As well as a witness to her death, I just want time to find out what he knows.” Val said and King nodded his brow creased in thought. King had heard Donavan approaching but said nothing. He had also heard the lie in Val’s voice but said nothing just watched him. This was going to be interesting.

The door burst open and King barely had time to move before Donavan came bursting in, his face red with anger.

“Is that it?! That’s all you want from me right! Information. Alright here,” Donavan shouted King watched him, listening to any underlying emotion or held back secret.

“The man is a Vampire. He has fangs instead of teeth and talks with a French accent. He’s tall like me, but muscular like a Football player. His skin is brown like an African but pale like a corpse. He wears fine clothes like a royal snob would. I never remember where we go because he has mental magic or some such shit. I used to think it was drugs but I didn’t eat or drink before the later takings so it can’t be. The rooms he takes me to are hotel rooms, like the one Tegan was in. Cheap places you pay by the day. He always paid with cash. There was a black briefcase that had an ornate set of operating tools in it. He would bleed me first, then rape me, feed me just enough to replinish blood then do it again.” Val rose to stop him but Donavan kept going.

“He forced me to watch. Used compulsion on me so my eyes wouldn’t close. I tried to move, to free myself but could only cry while he took his time. Savoring the meal he said. Is that enough, you get what you needed,” Donavan looked at King then. King’s blue eyes were shrewd, he nodded. Donavan nodded back, before looking at Val.

“See, that’s honesty. Not your dirty tacs, using your body and whatever I felt was happening to lure me in to a false sense of security. That’s on par with him and his money. Never, see me again.” With that Donavan ran. Val was too shell shocked to move. King slipped his phone out and made a call. Val felt his life breaking in ways he couldn’t imagine. The information from Donavan had felt like nails being driven into his skin, piercing muscle and shattering bone.

“I want eyes on him all day and night. This is the only lead we have to get to him.” King concluded as he hung up the phone. He was seized by Val who slammed him against a wall.

“What are you playing at King!? Eh, you set me up?” Val shouts. King looked back at him, cold blue eyes.

“I knew Donavan was listening. But I had no idea you would throw yourself on top of an emotional land mine. That was all you. Lying to me, what’s more you’re lying to yourself. I will give you two hours to be ready to roll out with the guard. Bring your daughter to the castle, she’ll be safe there.” King said. The words causing Val to release him as his arms dropped to his sides.

“Donavan didn’t tell you because he knew you weren’t ready to hear it. That’s how Incubuses work, they sense the person’s emotions and act accordingly. He would have told you when he felt you were ready. Now I have to go, my men are tailing Donavan but if I’m right. Someone else has been waiting for you to make the sort of blundering mistakes you have.” King concluded turning to leave.

“You don’t mean…?” Val whispered unable to believe the implication.

“Whatever entity stood in front of television cameras allowing you to see it. Yes, that creature. It most likely wanted to separate you and Donavan for the real threat to collect him without my intervention or yours. And you with your lies have made it that much fucking easier. I would suggest you try the honest approach going forward Mate,” King said and continued on. The door to the house opened and closed. A guttural sound of the motocycle engine came next. Val dropped to his knees, the full weight of all his situations and mistakes bringing him low.

Somewhere out there, a creature with his wife’s face knew about him. Somewhere out there Donavan was being lured to a trap. What was he going to do?

#books #fantasy #fiction #my writing #novel #short story #wattpad #gay mystery fiction #gay art #gay fiction #gay romance #lgbt romance #lgbt fiction #Wolf CreekUK

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another-sonic-blog · 4 years

Note

Fic prompt: character A has been dosed with a love potion but thanks to sheer luck they dont notice until the time period for its effects wear off. It isnt until character B notices that they were dosed( like they find an empty vile) that they being to get concerned.

Love Potion

ShadAmy 3k600

When the sun began to set and the warm wind became colder, a pink lady walked towards the coziness of her home looking from side to side making sure no one was looking at her.

With brown paper bags on both of her peach-colored arms, Amy Rose successfully opened the door to her pink home. Not wanting to waste time, the rosette hedgehog placed her bags on the dining table. It didn't take her long for the pink one to pull out two vials. Circular crystal clear vials revealed two different colors, a pink and black substance for each of the small vials.

Amy looked at them like a treasure because they were.

It was a love potion and an antidote.

Suddenly, there was knocking coming from her door. The pink hedgehog excitedly went towards it and she didn't doubt a second to open the door.

There he was. The not so tall black hedgehog. His vermillion eyes would naturally show a bit of cruelty but when it came to the pink one, his eyes naturally soften.

"Come in!" Amy said as she opened the door him, stepping side for Shadow to get in. The red stripped hedgehog walked in quietly absorbing the coziness of the house and aroma of Amy's home.

"What is that you need me for?" Shadow asked as he turned around to face Amy who was closing the door behind her. It didn't take the dark hedgehog a lot of time to figure out that Amy meant trouble this time. Her smile was a quirky one and her eyes showed decisiveness.

"You are going to drink something and you are going to tell me how you feel, alright?"

It was too simple that Shadow found it too risky. He was called in by Amy in such a short notice that he thought there was something important going on. It just couldn't be this easy.

"This seems too simple," Shadow said. "What else if there?"

"It is that simple! Please just try it out," Amy clasped her hands together. "I'll tell you what it is afterward ... Just trust me on this one."

Shadow the Hedgehog was the Ultimate Life Form, he really could do anything he wanted. There were a few things he just couldn't do, however, and one of those things was to say no to Amy Rose.

Defeated, Shadow sighed and said, "Fine."

Amy let a small squeal out of excitement and Shadow mentally smiled to himself. If he could make the girl happy by just drinking whatever she was going to give him, then so be it.

The pink hedgehog quickly went towards her kitchen and she came back with a spoon on her hand. Meanwhile, Shadow went towards the dining table where he noticed the pink and black vials. He sat in front of them knowing that this must be the things he was supposed to be drinking.

Amy sat next to him as she grabbed the vial that contained a pink liquid. A small 'pop' sound occurred the moment she took of the cork.

Delicately she poured some of the liquid on the spoon she had grabbed from the kitchen.

"Alright, say ah~" Amy said as she got closer to Shadow who was already thinking about going back on his word. It wasn't that he didn't want to help but Amy offering good as if was a baby made him feel the slightest embarrassment.

He rolled his eyes and he accepted his fate. Shadow opened his mouth and the pink one didn't hesitate to shove the pink substance in Shadow's mouth.

Now it was a matter of waiting.

Shadow tasted the liquid on his mouth and he was incredibly surprised that he actually liked the flavor of it.

"Tastes like strawberries," Shadow said. "Where did you get it?"

"You don't feel different?" Amy asked.

"No."

"Like, you don't see flowers around and think I am the most beautiful hedgehog in the world?" Amy asked again.

"What is all of this about?"

Amy sighed in defeat, once again she had her hopes too high. "I bought a love potion from a gypsy and I thought it would work."

"You were going to make me fall in love with you?" Shadow said his tone voice showed concern.

"Yes, but then I was going to give you the antidote ... It's this black potion." The rosette hedgehog said as she pointed to the other vial that contained a black substance.

The black hedgehog noticed the disappointment of the pink lady. Of course, this was one of her tricks to get the blue blur's attention, and once again it had failed. He tried to come up with some type of encouragement but he wasn't good with his words.

"If you want the faker to truly love you ... I don't think this is the way." Shadow said.

"I know! But I just wanted to know ... What it feels like." Amy looked down at the table, staring intensely at the pink love potion. "I just wanted for Sonic to love me one day ... I was going to give him the antidote afterward."

Shadow just couldn't stop himself from feeling a little bit sad for Amy. After all, they were good friends and he felt the pain of the pink one even if that pain was due to that blue hedgehog.

"Well ... At least you got yourself a good strawberry extract."

Amy giggled a little. She loved it when Shadow tried to be funny in order to cheer her up. Although he wasn't the funniest, the thought was what counted.

The pink hedgehog looked back again at the love potion and got curious.

"I am going to try it," Amy said as she placed some of the pink liquid on the spoon she had used before with Shadow. She didn't care if it was in his mouth before, they were past that point of caring in their friendship. The pink one placed the spoon in her mouth, letting herself enjoy the strawberry flavor of the liquid.

"Wow, you are right! This is really good, I should use this for baking," said Amy. "Glad to know my money didn't go fully to waste."

The two began to talk more after that, completely forgetting about the potions in front of them. Amy then proceeded to cook for Shadow who was more than happy to eat one of his friend's amazing cooking. They watched TV together and without noticing Amy fell asleep on the couch.

Shadow didn't think about it much and instead, he picked her up princess style. She was very light and the black hedgehog made a mental note to remind the pink flower to eat more whenever he could.

Walking through the hallway, Shadow tried to make as little sounds as possible. Finally, he reached the room of the pink one and he placed her delicately on her bed. When she was fully resting, Shadow placed some blankets on top of her and as he did he noticed something. Right next to Amy, on her right drawer, there were frames with pictures of her friends. Sonic, Cream, Knuckles, Tails, Blaze, Rouge, Silver, and everyone.

Even him.

It was an ID picture of him, the one G.U.N. took of him in order to create him a pass card.

He felt a bit embarrassed that he didn't' have any other pictures to offer. The black hedgehog was even surprised Amy had that picture but knowing her, he was sure she asked Rouge for a picture of him.

"Shadow?"

The black hedgehog heard a soft voice calling to him. He faced Amy who was directly looking at him.

"Yes?"

The moonlight coming from outside her window illuminated Shadow's face. Enhancing all of his features, especially his vermillion eyes which brighten by the outside light. Amy has always been aware that Shadow was a very attractive hedgehog, gaining the sighs of all of his females (And even some male) coworkers at G.U.N. However, it wasn't until now that Amy really took the time to appreciate all of him. He was like a fallen angel too ethereal to look.

"Your eyes are really pretty."

It was a pretty boring morning at the headquarters of G.U.N. After a long meeting with G.U.N.'s commander and other officials, Team Dark was ready for a well-deserved lunch break.

When they entered the agent's lunch and resting room, they were surprised to find a pink hedgehog sitting at one of the tables.

"Amy?"

Shadow asked as he walked towards the pink hedgehog who face brighten up the moment he noticed Shadow walking up to her. Rouge was following close and Omega would be too if he wasn't getting lunch at the Mechanic's Department.

"I brought you lunch," Amy said.

"Lunch?"

"Yes, I don't know I was cooking at home and made some extra so I decided to bring it to you."

The black hedgehog gulped saliva because he was surprised at Amy's actions. Not because he wasn't used to Amy cooking for him but because she went all the way from her home to G.U.N. to bring him food. It wasn't only that, Amy had brought him lunch on a pink bento box with stickers of cute bunnies around it.

Add those things plus the people watching them in awe, especially the white bat behind him who was known to be a tease.

"Well, Shadow aren't you going to say thank you to your girlfriend?" Rouge said as she patted his back making him realized once again his embarrassment.

"She's not my girlfriend," Shadow faced Rouge, giving her a cold stare.

"Of course I am not!" Amy said loud enough for everyone to hear. Shadow let out a small smirk, thankful that Amy was sharing the same sentiment. However, that feeling didn't last long because Amy was fast to go against his predicament as well.

The pink hedgehog stood up from her seat, her hands smacking against the table.

"I am his wife!"

Now there he was, walking Amy outside G.U.N.'s headquarters. A sad look on Amy's face and an angry look the black hedgehog.

"Don't say things like that Amy," Shadow said as he let go on Amy's wrist. Finally, they were outside the building, and Shadow was ready to talk. "Didn't you see how the other females were looking at you? They were ready to hurt you."

"I am sorry ... I just wanted to make it clear to all of those girls that I am the one you love," Amy was looking down to the cement, feeling a bit ashamed of her self. However, she just couldn't control her jealousy sometimes. She could hear how the other girls at G.U.N talked so dreamily about Shadow and her anger just got the best of her.

"Besides ... I just want to be with you today."

The black hedgehog watched her moved her right foot in circles in a shy manner. She was still holding the pink bento box in her hands.

"Rose, as much as I like your attention, you are usually not like this," Shadow looked down to the pink one, making eye contact with her. He didn't want to make her feel sad but it was too risky for her to say those words out loud. Someone may take it seriously and try to hurt her. Hell, even Rouge had gotten some death threats because she goes on missions with him.

"I think I may know what's happening, but right now I have to go back to work," Shadow said. "I'll see you after at your house"

"You mean our home?"

The black hedgehog would be lying if he said he didn't feel something when she said 'our home' However, he didn't think too much about it. It must be the love potion speaking that somehow it has done its effect on her last night.

"Yeah, whatever." Shadow crossed his arms as he looked away, not wanting to make eye contact with Amy anymore.

"What about your lunch?" Amy extended both of her arms, holding the pink bento box right in front of Shadow. The dark hedgehog gave it one last look before saying,

"I am not eating it."

Shadow regretted saying that the moment the words escaped his lips because as he saw Amy's disappointed and sad face was something he just couldn't stand.

Amy let out a small sniff, "I am a bad wife, aren't I?"

And just like that, the pink bento box disappeared from Amy's hands. Shadow held it close to his chest as if it was something precious to him.

"I don't want it but since you came here all the way to give it to me I'll accept it."

Amy thought that today was going to go peacefully. Central City was known for its safety because it was the home of world heroes. As well that G.U.N.'s main headquarters was located in the city in case anything happens. Our pink lady was more than ready than to go home and cook something for her lovely Shadow the Hedgehog.

She was singing to her herself, a smile decorated her face and she was just radiating happiness. Amy didn't remember being this happy before, maybe she was but it was a distant memory now.

The streets of Central City were lively, full of people talking, whispering, walking. Tall, medium, and small buildings decorated the sides of the streets. Coffee shops, clothing, restaurants, malls, and many more businesses were the epitome of a modern city. Very few cars passed once in a while, which was a normal sight since the city mainly focused on subways and trains.

It was a good say ... way too good.

And of course, to ruin Amy's beautiful day, people began running. Horrible screams of panic filled the city's air. Families ran towards the closest restaurants to hide, some coffee shops closed their stores, and others just decided to make a run for it.

It didn't take Amy long to figure out what was happening.

Eggman.

"HOHOHO!"

Yeah, definitely him.

Eggman was in his Eggmobile, following his 100-meter tall robot. Amy rolled her eyes in annoyance, did she really have to fight the robot now? There was a possibility that she might get her new dress dirty and she didn't want Shadow to see her like that either.

Seeing that no one else was going to appear any time soon. The pink lady snapped her fingers and immediately her iconic hammer appeared on her right hand. She approached the robot, a fearless expression on her face.

"Hey, Eggman! Do you think we can reschedule this for another time? I really can't today." Amy said loud enough for Eggman to hear.

Eggman looked down to the ground where he found a pink dot which he immediately recognized.

"Oh? What about tomorrow afternoon?"

"I don't think so, I'll be with Shadow."

"Oh, then what about next weekend- Wait no! I'll attack now!"

It took only the pressing of one red button in the Eggmobile for the 100-meter tall blue robot to start moving and destroying things with his missiles.

Amy was fast to take action as her hammer made direct hits to the robot's center.

And then, G.U.N.'s troops began to appear. From left to right, down to the bottom, helicopters, cars, motorcycles, guns, officers, and agents. The pink hedgehog let out another smile, knowing better well who was going to appear at any second now.

As if Chaos heard her prayers, it didn't take long for her favorite hedgehog to appear.

Shadow the Hedgehog.

"What did you think you were doing?!"

It was already late at night at Amy's house and the last thing she expected was to get scolded by her love.

Like a child that got caught painting the walls, Shadow was in front of Amy as she was sitting on her sofa looking down to her feet.

"And what was I supposed to do? Let that bullet get to you?" Amy said quietly.

"Yes! Bullets can't go through my skin!"

"But still!"

The black hedgehog sighed in defeat. He knew that he shouldn't have left her just like that. Now here she was, with an injured arm and a white bandage wrapped around it where the bullet had pierced through. She was alright, the wound would heal soon enough. However, Shadow would be lying if he wasn't the slightest worried about her.

More than that actually ...

"Quick, we need to get her to a hospital!" Shadow was screaming to the other agents to get help from them. He was becoming desperate as no one was showing up.

"Shadow, there's no need. I am fine-"

Amy was trying to calm her lover seeing that he was panicking more than necessary. She even felt a bit guilty for making him feel like that.

"Don't waste your energy talking! I need to get you to the hospital now!"

"But Shadow-"

"I don't want you to die!"

"But I won't!"

Looking back at it, Shadow was just overreacting. He was exaggerating but could you blame him for not understanding a normal Mobian's body? For all he knew, they could easily break like glass or paper.

Now he was sitting next to the pink flower. For a few seconds, none of the two were saying a word until once again, Amy broke the silence.

"You looked so cute!"

"Cute?"

"And cool too! Amy said. "And when the robot kept attacking me you were like 'damn' ... You were so romantic!"

Amy kept babbling about how 'cool' Shadow was. He rolled his eyes in annoyance but in all honesty, he was enjoying Amy's admiration. Her words were full of love, appreciation, and Shadow wonders if she really thought of him like this. Part of him didn't want for her to stop or whatever was happening to stop. However, he just couldn't let Amy live like this. This wasn't the real Amy, this wasn't her friend.

This whole love potion needed to end now.

"Alright, time for your medicine." Shadow stood up from the sofa and walked towards the dining table were thankfully he found the black antidote for the love potion on a vial. He then went to the kitchen and grabbed a spoon. Finally, he walked back to the pink hedgehog was waiting for him patiently.

"What is this medicine for? I don't feel sick." Amy said as she watched her black partner sit next to her.

"Just drink it, it will help you heal faster." Shadow took off the small cork out of the crystal vial and placed a good amount of black liquid on the spoon.

"Alright, drink it." The black hedgehog puts the spoon close to Amy's mouth but to his surprise, she looks indifferent to it.

"Before I drink that you have to answer a question." Amy looked directly at Shadow vermillion's eyes. He was a bit annoyed at her stubbornness but he couldn't do anything about it at this point. Shadow nodded as to finish this as soon as he could.

"I love with all of my heart but ... do you love me?"

What could he do? What could he say to make this situation better? He knew that Amy didn't love him and it was just the love potion talking again. He simply could say yes, and get this over with. However, his friendship with Amy was based on honesty, and lying to her just didn't feel right.

But maybe it wasn't all a lie.

"Well ... What do you think?"

The next day when the love potion wore off, Amy didn't' doubt to go see the gypsy who sold her the love potion and antidote and ask for a return.

Besides not being able to remember what happened yesterday, and having a feeling that something interesting happened, the pink hedgehog had enough of messing around with magic.

She looked around the forest where she last stumbled upon the gypsy's tent. Glad to see that the purple tent was still there, Amy didn't doubt to enter. It was bigger than it looked. A shelter full of potions decorated the left side, while on the other side jars of unknown substances were placed carefully on the placed at the top of the right corner. Under it was a very beautiful gypsy fox. Her yellow fur made her blue eyes stand out and the soft smirk placed on her face made her look too good, even Amy felt a bit intimidated by her.

"Do you know how to knock dear?"

"Is a tent, you can't knock," Amy replied.

"Touche,"

The blond fox stood from her chair and slowly approached the pink hedgehog. "What do you want now, didn't the love potion work?"

"No, actually it did and that was the problem," Amy said as she pulled the love potion and the antidote out of the bag she was carrying. "I am returning them because they worked too well ... Well, almost."

"Almost?"

The gypsy asked intrigued as they took the vials from Amy's hands.

"Well, my friend tried it the first time and it didn't have any effect on him," Amy replied relieved that the potion was no longer on her hands.

"My love potions never fails ... Do you know what that means?"

The gypsy fox gave Amy a teasing smile, one in which it almost the pink one tremble in fear. Amy shook her head side to side indicating her lack of knowledge.

"That means that your friend is already in love with you."

A/N: This was supposed to be a quick 2k word ff but it turned to be almost the double of it. I honestly didn’t want this to be long lol. Oh well, sorry for the mistakes and I hope you liked it!

#shadamy fanfiction #Shadamy #shadowxamy #shadow and amy #sonic fanfiction

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sasuhinasno1fan · 3 years

Text

To play again - Luka Appreciation Week Day 1

So I’ve kinda given up on ML, just in terms in how they treat their charaecters and such, but I still love Luka and I thought I should at least write something for him for @lukacouffaineappreciation event. I was trying to think of an idea and I’m not fully familar with the story for the Ballet AU where Luka plays violin, so I went a different direction, Shugo Chara and Ikuto. Black Diamond is one of my fav songs from the show and I thought it fit with Kitty Section, if it being a softer version compared to their hardcore stuff. I’ll admit, halfway through I remembered the song Inviciable by Escape the Fate with Lindsey Stirling which fit them better but I still wanted to do this one, even though we don’t actually see them sing it in this fic. Anyway, I did find a French version of Black Diamon, though it’s more rock and doesn’t have the violin. Someone had taken the cover and dropped it on top of the actual song and it didn’t sound right, but just so you can get an idea of it. This is the French cover and just so you know what the actual song sounds like, check this out. Violin

Luka didn’t know how the knowledge about him playing violin suddenly making him an ok person for Adrien to associate with, at least according to the model’s father. But here he was, instead of having to wait until Adrien was essentially alone or sneak out of his lessons to come hang out with his friends, he was currently being led to Adrien’s room by his father’s assistant.

Nathalie knocked on the door, “Adrien?”

“Come in!”

She opened the door and Luka followed. He spotted Adrien sitting at his computer watching something.

“I thought you were supposed to be practising?” she asked.

“Luka?” Adrien answered instead, noticing the rocker in his room.

“Yes, M. Couffaine was asked by your father to practise your latest song with you. he said it sounded better with a violin and M. Couffaine attends an illustrious music school so he was perfect. You two will start immediately.”

“Does this mean, he can come to my place to practise? My mom knows Jagged Stone if getting a classical piano is an issue.” Luka asked.

“We shall see. If you’ll excuse me.”

When the door closed behind Nathalie, Adrien got up from his desk.

“Happy to see me?” Luka asked.

“Always. But what are you doing here? What was she talking about, illustrious music school? Aren’t you home schooled?”

Luka shrugged. “I am, but it’s through the same school. They’re the ones who grade my exams and such. I did attend it but during one of my exams, I happened to start playing one of the proctor’s heart song and then turned it into jam session when it occurred to me at that moment how much happier I felt playing that one heart song compared to the massively long piece I’d practised and slaved over for weeks. Mom decided it’d be better for everyone if I was home schooled. Thankfully the school offered to still treat me like a student, since I worked so hard to get in and was one of the best students.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow, taking Luka in. it was hard to imagine the guy with dyed hair, piercings and a pretty literal pirate for a mom attending a ridged music school. But if being away from it made him happier, and also allowed the two to meet, he couldn’t complain.

“Well here’s hoping my dad doesn’t find out. This is gonna make piano lessons so much more fun.”

“Well, it’s more like, have time to practise with you for Kitty Section. Even though you are a part time member, you’re still a member. We’re doing a mini concert for your class and anyone else who’s interested. Would you like to join us?”

Adrien brightened at the thought of playing with his friends. “Absolutely! What are we gonna play?”

“Can I borrow your computer? I sent the piano music sheets to myself and we have a small playlist on Spotify since Rose has been having a bit of trouble writing songs, we’re doing a lot of covers.”

“Sure.” Adrien let Luka sit in his computer chair and watched as he opened an incognito tab, not commenting on the anime he’d been watching when Nathalie came in. his eyes drifted to the violin case, sitting on the desk. Like his guitar, Luka’s case was covered in stickers.

Adrien loved all musical instruments, though the piano held a special place in his heart. The violin though, seemed so cool. Granted he still had trouble figuring out what was the difference between a violin and a viola, other than don’t ask if you don’t know cause the owners get annoyed about it. He watched Lindsey Stirling jump around her stage playing it, violin covers always sounded cool, especially on electric violins. Then there was the guy he’d admit he tried to emulate as Chat. Ikuto Tsukiyomi from Shugo Chara.

“Here we go.” Luka said, bring Adrien back, “Here’s the playlist. It’s a bit all over the place at the moment, we can’t decide what we want to go for since Rose really wants to have at least one of our songs on it. If you have any suggestions, by all means.”

“Do you play your violin often?” Adrien asked.

“Um, not totally. I mean, I do to still keep in practise, but not like in an orchestra or anything. Very rarely do I play it when the family is jamming.”

“Would you be opposed to playing it in Kitty Section?”

Luka was curious were this was going. “Why?”

Adrien leaned over, taking the mouse from the older boy. “Well, you don’t have to say yes and it would be work to switch the language over, which I can do by myself if need be, but I thought this song would be kinda cool to try this.”

He pulled up Black Diamond from the Shugo Chara anime. He could have also tried Tsukiyo no Marionette, but he felt like this one fit better with the band. He watched Luka listen, no doubt not fully understanding since it was in Japanese but he was tapping his finger on the table so Adrien had hope.

“This actually sounds good. It’s from one of your animes isn’t it?” the rocker slightly teased.

“Yeah, Shugo Chara. You should ask Rose about it. I introduced it to her and she loved it. Do you think the others would go for it? Would you even want to play it?”

Luka listened more, listening how the violin blended with guitars and drums, not out of place. It reminded him of how he wanted his music to feel back when he attended school. Maybe it was because of life with his mom, but when he got into that school, he thought he’d be able to play the way he wanted. Instead, they were trying to shot out numerous copies of this type A, perfect musician who only played classical. As much as he loved his guitar, and the chances to try out his harp skill on his lyre as Viperion, he really missed playing his violin.

“There’s also Invincible by Escape the Fate, Lindsey Stirling is featured on there. It’s more Kitty Sections style.” Adrien said, when Luka hadn’t said anything.

“I know of the song. It’s not in Rose’s key and it doesn’t feature keys and we want you there. But we’ll definitely add it to the list in case we decide to do it. I’ll run this song by the others and see what they think. How quick do you think you could transpose this?”

“Anything to get me away from playing classics for the next 2 hours.”

____________________

Juleka listened to the music that sounded vaguely familiar from when she’d watched the show with her girlfriend, but she was paying more attention to Luka. because their mom thrived on music and noise, from a very young age, both she and her older brother were taught many instruments. Luka took to them way more, a near prodigy at stringed instruments but she remembered guitar and violin battling for his favourite. After he left that school, he’d put his violin back in its box and shoved it away, only ever checking it to make sure it was still in tune and the bow didn’t need to be replaced. So watching him change the strings like he did after days of practise.

“You know, not that I’m mad about it, but I’m surprised you agreed to this. Playing your violin in the band.” Juleka said, as Luka plucked at each string to see if it was finally in tune. He’d forgotten how much he hated restringing his violin.

“I know. I’m a bit surprised to, but.” Luka shrugged, pulling out the shoulder rest. “The song just works with it and it fits with what I wanted to do before I went to that school. I mean, I’m doing whatever I want in terms of music now, why does the violin have to be exempt from that?”

Juleka flashed a small smile to her brother. “I’m glad. I missed you playing around the house. As long as it’s not classics 24/7 again, play to your hearts content. Though, now I really think we should do Invincible.”

“See if you can get Adrien to help you transpose it in a lower key for Rose and you’ve got a deal.”

“Fine. But we wear outfits like the band in the show does.”

Luka furrowed his face. He hated the late-night sunglasses look. The thing he did so he could play violin, it never stopped, just evolved. Expect now he didn’t mind this one.

#lcam2021 #lcam21 #lcamviolin #kitty section

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find-y0ur-j0y · 4 years

Text

If I Could Turn Back Time, Baby I’d Save You

Hermione hadn't meant to trip. Honestly! The new robes which Ron had thoughtfully (and obliviously) sent her were a little long, but she had promised to wear them on her first day at the Department of Mysteries. Unfortunately the combination of long robes and a tall stack of books led to the unexpected outcome of Hermione Jean Granger ‘Brightest Witch of Her Year’ taking an unexpected and definitely unwelcome tumble headfirst into the Veil of Death. As she fell she heard someone call out in fear and a hand grab onto her before everything went black.

----------

Hermione cracked her eyes open with a deep groan in pain. Her brain felt like there was a goblin drilling into it. If this was the afterlife she wanted no part of it. Shutting her eyes tightly, Hermione hoped that in blocking out the blinding light she would be able to quell her headache.

Her peace was shattered by a sudden loud rapping noise and loud voice calling “Hermione love, are you awake yet?”

Wait a minute! She knew that voice! “Mom?!?” she croaked out sitting up anxiously.

“Are you feeling ok Mia Bo Bia?” asked her mother’s voice from the other side of a familiar door.

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a few minutes” muttered Hermione as her mind raced trying to figure out how she had ended up in this situation. Last she had checked her mother was still alive, she didn’t remember she had a daughter, but she was alive. Also if she was going to pick a perfectly happy place to be her home for all eternity, her childhood bedroom wouldn’t even make the top fifty list.

Rising from her long forgotten bed, Hermione found herself frowning when she realized she was noticeably shorter than she had been before she tripped through the veil. Was she in Hell? Being forced to spend all of eternity going through puberty a second time seemed like a bit of an extreme punishment, Hermione reflected. She had played an instrumental role in defeating a murderous madman after all, shouldn't she have achieved eternal rest for her deeds? She was going to be pissed if her eternal damnation was a result of having practiced magic in her life.

Knowing that the only way she would get the answers she needed was by going downstairs and facing the ghosts of her parents, Hermione pulled herself together and headed to the kitchen.

---

“There you are Mia” greeted her dad with a brilliant smile which felt like a sucker punch to the chest for Hermione. It had been so long since she had spoken to her parents, and even longer since she had had that particular smile aimed her way. She would never regret protecting her parents from Death Eaters, but if she had a chance to do it over she would have found another way.

Overcome with emotion, Hermione rushed forward and threw her arms around her father no longer caring if this was heaven or hell. She had her family back, and in her mind, that was worth any price, including eternal damnation.

“Hermione, what's wrong?” asked her father, squeezing her back just as tightly.

“It’s nothing,” sniffed Hermione, holding back her happy tears “I’m just really happy to see you”.

“Obviously” laughed her mom. “You feeling a little nervous about going to school tomorrow Mia?”

“That’s tomorrow?” asked Hermione confused.

“Don’t tell me you suddenly forgot?” teased her father, “I swear your first year at Hogwarts has been all you will talk about ever since that nice woman came by to explain about the school”.

“Right… Hogwarts… McGonagall…” muttered Hermione. What on earth was going on?

“Well eat up dear! You have a busy day of packing ahead of you” smirked her mom sliding a couple of pancakes onto her plate.

Hermione ate her pancakes robotically, as she tried to process everything that she had just learned. The fact that she could touch her parents and eat her breakfast suggested that she wasn't trapped in some kind of weird coma dream. The lack of torture or blissful surroundings seemed to rule out her theory on the afterlife… which left magic.

Look, Hermione adored magic, really she did! But most of the time magic seemed to cause more trouble than it was worth. Her school years had been rather formative in showing her the dangers of relying on it. That was part of the reason why she had chosen to live primarily as a muggle after graduation, well that and the rapidly crumbling governmental system. She watched as men and women who had always relied on magic to solve their problems were left floundering when faced with problems created by their own hubris.

Even with Voldemort gone the policies and governmental leaders he had put in place remained. With the war “over'' Hermione was filled with idealistic zeal to reform the political system, but as time dragged on she began to lose hope. She was dismissed for her blood status, age and gender.

The hits just kept coming for Hermione though. As if enough life hadn’t been lost during the actual war, Harry had been killed in an “accident gone wrong” in the spell creation unit of the D.O.M., which was an obvious cover up if Hermione had ever heard one. If she was being honest, Hermione didn’t think that she or Ron ever got over the death of their brother in all but blood.

There were only so many times one could be told, had the door slammed in their face or told to get coffee before they sought out other avenues. Some like Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, Hannah Abbot, Gianna Jones and Blaise Zabini continued to fight the unfair laws with varying levels of success. Hermione applauded them for their strength, but she was far too tired to keep fighting what she deemed a pointless battle, if only they had been able to start bringing about change before Voldemort and Umbridge had gotten their hands on the ministry. Between the blatant racism, sexism and the shocking death of her best friend Hermione just needed a break and a change of scenery.

After leaving her job in the minister’s office, she loved Kingsley but the ex-auror made a miserable minister, she traveled for a year with a group of curse breakers. She chalked it up to the Gryffindor in her blood, but she missed the level of adventure that had been constantly present since she was eleven. Using Bill’s Gringotts contacts she had found a traveling group who welcomed her with open arms. The group travelled all over the world exploring new areas and solving mysterious curses. She swore that she had never felt more alive than during that year, but word came from England that Ron and Lavender were expecting their first child and her found-family needed her support. So Hermione said goodbye to her friends and took a job in the Department of Mysteries with Luna… which led her up to a couple hours ago when she ungracefully fell face first through the Veil of Death.

Clearing her dishes Hermione headed upstairs to her room to pack for her first year at Hogwarts at the urging of her parents. Stumbling into her childhood bedroom, she closed the door and rested heavily against it with one thought echoing loudly through her mind: What on earth had she gotten herself into now?

----------

Hermione liked to believe that she was a rather practical person, she liked clear goals, lists and schedules. She functioned best when she had a set objective and a clear view of the facts. With this in mind, after her minor existential crisis and the resulting meltdown, she set to work clearing off her desk and pulled out an empty notepad and began detailing what she did know, the list was depressingly short.

What I know: - I tripped through the Veil of Death - I woke up in my childhood bedroom the day before I originally left for Hogwarts. - Am I dead? In a coma? Time Travel?

This level of Time Travel shouldn't be possible, even with magic. Time turners in general were designed to only go back a couple days, not a decade! But when you have ruled out all of the possible explanations, the only solution which remains, however impossible, is the truth. Deciding that she needed more data before ruling the situation as ‘Time Travel’ Hermione closed her notebook and set off in search of answers.

----

After following her parents around all day and asking them obscure questions that only they would know, she was reluctantly finding more and more evidence of possible Time Travel. The day itself had unfolded similarly to how she remembered it occurring the first time with the only changes being those that she made herself. As she fell into bed that night staring up at the glowing star stickers she had stuck in various constellation shapes on her ceiling years ago, she had to finally admit that she had likely time traveled. This consensus only brought about a scarier question: what the fuck was she supposed to do now?!?

#So I did a deep dive on Time Travel fics and was inspired to write my own.#Let me know what you think #If people are interested I will write more :)#Evie's rambles #evie writes #harry potter #hermione granger

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 10)

He could never find her, no matter how hard he tried. No one could find her and no one ever did. Not until she wanted them too.

“It’s just a dumb game Azula!” Zuko would always declared. “Who cares if you always win.” He did and she knew it. They all cared and they were all jealous.

She always had the best hiding spots and she owed it partially to her teeny build; she could scramble into places that none of her friends, save for Toph, could fit in. To some extent, she still can, but not as many as she could as a child.

That day she had tucked herself into a particularly tight wedge nestled in the cove. During their play, nothing was off limits, every crevice and orifice was fair game. Though they mostly avoided the cave in the cove because it was too dark and too wet.

Azula had always been more adventurous, more darling, and, in childhood, more reckless and less careful. She shambled up a large rock, it was slick and wet and she was almost certain that she would fall and give away her hiding spot with a large splash. Luck was on her side, she managed to cling on and reach the top. From there she climbed her way into the wedge and waited, listening to the waves lapping against the sandstone and the steady drip drop of the moisture leaking from the cave ceiling. She could feel slimy seaweed sloughing down her arm and she stuck her tongue out in disgust. But she would endure it for the sake of her victory streak.

A few minutes turn into ten and then ten into fifteen before she heard Sokka and Zuko declare they gave up. Their voices were distant. It took another five before Katara made her declaration.

Azula’s smugness turned to pure dread in an instant. It is the instant that she tried to pull herself out of the wedge. It was an all encompassing terror when she found that the hole in the wall was too small for even she afterall. She remembers how her stomach had sank. How another ten minutes went by and then another. A feeling of suffocation and helplessness as she tried fruitlessly to back out of the crevice. An effort that only became more worthless as the panic had set in more.

Soon it had been an hour and then two before it finally occurred to her that she should cry or, at least, scream. She intended to only scream once, but that had opened the floodgates to all out bawling.

That was all she had needed to do. “I found you!” Sokka declared smugly. She had never been more relieved to lose a game.

Hakoda’s voice was the next that she’d heard, a soothing and soft one instructing her to stop crying for a moment and to relax her body as much as possible and then to suck in her belly and duck her head as close to the floor as she could.

Strong hands wrapped around her ankles and pulled. She’d heard Ursa whimpering softly. She was given a few bone jerking tugs before her body had come free. Her knees were skinned and her cheeks and elbows scrapped. Ozai had passed her to Ursa who’d held her nearly as tightly as the cave had and caressed her hair.

She hadn’t gotten in trouble that night, they were too relieved for that, but she had earned a reputation for constant childhood accidents and mishaps.

.oOo.

She doesn’t want to go home, she wants to go anywhere but home. But the longer she delays, the madder he is going to get. Katara knows this. She usually doesn’t like to be touched, but this time she lets Katara rub her back while she sits with her elbows digging into her thighs and her face buried in her hands.

Hakoda is just as aware as Katara. “If you need to stay here until he sobers up, you can take Sokka’s bed. I know that he won’t mind.”

Azula nods despite her apprehension. She hasn’t been in his room since he’d disappeared. She isn’t sure that she can take it, not tonight. Not when her mental state is already in the beginning stages of immense turmoil.

“You don’t mind the sofa, do you, Zuko?” The man asks.

“Couch is fine.” She hears his reply from down the hall.

She puts her hand on the doorknob but can’t bring herself to turn it. She gives a slight jolt at the sound of footsteps. “It was hard for me at first, too.” Katara confesses. “But it isn’t so bad after that.”

Azula takes a deep breath and twists the knob. The door falls open and she is greeted by a familiar ambiance. His walls are painted deep blue, he hasn’t bothered to take down the ocean life wall stickers that he’d put up as a kid. In fact he still has a few stuffed sharks and jellyfish strewn about in the corner. But he has also acquired several surfboards to hang on the wall--strictly decorative. And from the ceiling hang a collection of shark teeth and a few fishbones.

The floor has as much clutter as she remembers; a stack of knocked over reggaeton and reggae albums lies at the foot of his bed near a collection of sport-themed DVD’s. Clothes, mostly socks and aloha shirts, are cast randomly about the floor and drape over a chair by a desk.

The desk teems with other trinkets; a few bobble heads, 3D photo crystals depicting jelly fish, some unopened snack bars, and a few poorly done drawings along with pencils among other things. She then finds the pictures. There is one of just he and Katara holding fishing poles. Next to that is one of their family at the grand opening of their food joint. And next to that… Her stomach flutters and her eyes prickle. He has his arm around her, flashing the camera a goofy grin. He wears the most ridiculous pineapple shaped sunglasses and a straw hat. She remembers him forcing her to wear an even more ridiculous clownfish hat and a cheap rainbow lei.

Her tear finally escapes when she sees the next photo. She doesn’t remember it having been taken. Which is probably because she is asleep in the photo. Asleep and clutching a stuffed stingray. The same one she’d had since she was a child and her parents took she and Zuko to the aquarium. She is certain that Zuko still has his stuffed turtle.

She wishes that Sokka were home, if only to kick his ass for sneaking that picture. “He really liked that one.” Katara nods to that picture.

“Yeah…” she trails off quietly. “I’m sure he did.”

“I’ll leave you alone?”

Azula nods.

“I’ll send Zuko to get you when dinner is ready.”

She nods once more.

She waits until Katara leaves to make her way to Sokka’s bed. Her lower lip trembles as she climbs into it and bunches herself into a ball. It smells like him. In some way, being tangled in his blankets is like being swaddled in his arms. But it lacks the warmth that he had. In the privacy of the room she cries more openly. For the loss of Sokka. For the loss of her mother. For the loss of her father as he used to be.

She cries for her failed attempt. For her inability to even search for Sokka. For the abuse she’d taken and for the abuse she was about to take as soon as she inevitably faced her father. He was going to reek of alcohol and testosterone.

Her eyes are dry again and she has managed to catch an hour or so of sleep when she hears the knock. “The food is ready. It smells wonderful too.” Zuko calls.

“You can meet me at the table, Zuzu.” Groggily, Azula pulls herself up. She runs her hands over her face. She knows that her makeup is smeared and her hair is tousled. It doesn’t really matter, she has no one to impress right now.

She makes her way to the kitchen and pulls out a chair. Kya offers her a loving smile and her belly flutters again. That smile reminds her too much of her mothers for her to not have to bite the inside of her lip to keep tears at bay. She is being much too sentimental tonight.

“I’m sorry that you’re having such a rough night, sweetheart.” Kya cups her hand over Azula’s.

She doesn’t seem to take much offense at Azula’s lack of an answer. She eats in silence, listening to the other four make mundane conversation mostly about shows and how the restaurant repairs are coming along. She picks at her food, not really tasting it at all. It isn’t that the food isn’t rich and scrumptious, more so that her taste buds have dulled and her appetite has fled to make room for a feeling of sorrow.

There comes a knock, a heavy knock. Azula’s stomach plummets and the rest of her appetite is sapped away.

“I think that it is better if you return home.” Hakoda fills the doorway.

“I need to talk to her.” Ozai insists. She listens for a slur.

“We are in the middle of dinner.”

“I can wait.” She doesn’t need to see him to know that he his crossing his arms.

“After dinner we have other plans.”

“The discussion will not be long.” She hears no slur and she isn’t sure if this is more or less worrisome. She wonders if she should just get it over with. With a deep breath she stands.

“Azula…” Zuko starts. She pulls her wrist out of his grasp and makes her way to the door. Her eyes are dim and as impassive as she can will them to be.

Hakoda seems to go tense.

“Father.” She greets as dimly as her eyes.

The man looks her over and rubs his hand over his face again. “I didn’t come to the beach to fight with you.”

“But you still did it.” She mumbles, absently massaging her bruised wrists. His eyes follow her hand and find the purple-yellow. She thinks that he might have winced. She slips that hand into her pocket. “What do you want.”

He holds out an ice pack, “just to talk with you.”

“We can talk when you’re sober.” She replies with as much coldness as the pack he holds out. She retreats back into the house.

They are three of Sokka’s favorite romantic comedies in, and she still can’t get Ozai out of her mind. She wishes that Sokka could be there to watch the movies with them.

.oOo.

Being back in the lighthouse is dreadful. She knew that Hakoda and Kya couldn’t let them stay forever. Though they offered to take them back if Ozai laid a hand on either of them. Her father isn’t home yet, but this is much worse than him having waited by the door. The anxiety of waiting for him to finally arrive is getting to she and Zuko both.

Zuko spends the better portion of the day pacing around the lighthouse. She is more subdued, taking up the demeanor of a death row inmate, with a silent resignation of her fate.

The door falls open and Zuko jolts. Azula grips the edge of her chair as Ozai’s footfalls echo. “Both of you!” He calls. Zuko freezes where he stands, his body locks. Azula can feel her mind ebbing away. It has been a long time since her mind has gone distant and impassive, but it is her only defense. “Come down and have a seat.”

Zuko catches her hand as she numbly lets her feet take over. “Azula, don’t.” She shakes her head. “Better to get it over with.”

Zuko follows her down the spiral staircase. Ozai sits at the table, waiting. Feeling slightly wobbly, she takes her own seat. Zuko remains standing and a distance away from the table. When it comes to father, he might just be smarter than she.

Their father takes a deep breath, sets a stack of papers onto the table, and pushes them towards her. She quietly scans them over.

“What are those for?” Zuko asks.

She meets Ozai’s stare and he nods. “They’re...AA forms, Zuzu.”

“Khozen wouldn’t pour me another glass until I went.” He grumbles.

“How long have you been attending?” Zuko asks.

“Just a few days now.”

“Is that where you were on Monday?” Azula asks, suddenly feeling as though she had been the aggressor on the beach that day.

He pinches the bridge of his nose before confessing, “no, I was at the bar.”

“So much for, Khozen not pouring you another glass…” Zuko grumbles.

“I went to AA and he poured me a glass as he said he would.” Ozai shrugs.

“Have fun sharing that story at your next meeting.” Zuko crosses his arms. “Is that all you wanted?”

“Not quite.” Ozai replies. “I want you to take that boat that the two of you bough and return it…”

“I’m going to find Sokka.” Azula hisses. “I…”

“What you are going to do, Azula, is return that boat.” He pauses. “That money was your college fund, was it not?”

Azula flushes.

“And Zuko’s...and a good portion of our lighthouse fund.”

Her lower lip quivers.

“You are going to return that boat. Khozen’s will do us just fine and it will cost us much less.”

Azula looks up from the table. “Khonzen’s boat?”

“He used to be a pirate. He and I struck a deal. If I...succeed with this,” he gestures to the packets, “he will lend me the boat free of charge and we can go and search for answers together.” He pauses. “I lost your mother, I’m not about to let the two of you sail away without me. Understood.”

Tears well in her eyes again, but this time they are born of a different emotion. Hope, she realizes. She nods, “yes, father.”

“Does that sound fair to you?”

Frankly, she thinks that, for once, her father might be getting the short end of the deal. But then, getting clean isn’t such a terrible fate. “It does.”

“Does that sound fair to both of you?”

Zuko shifts his weight, never uncrossing his arms. “I guess.” Azula can’t blame him for his skepticism.

“Can you wait a little longer?” He asks. “Maybe help Katara and her family with La-bsters and have you surf tournaments with Chan? And then we can go out to sea.”

“Can I bring Katara?” Zuko asks.

“That is up to Hakoda and Kya.”

Azula doesn’t particularly want to delay, but the offer on the table shows more promise than spending her college fund and taking an impulsive, grief-driven expedition. “I can wait a little longer.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Zuko #Ozai #Sokkla #Sokka #Katara #Fanfiction

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