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thdorkmagnet · 4 years ago

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Trust, Promises, and Resets

Welcome all to my first Undertale fanfic! This one took a bit to finish but I’m really, really happy it’s done and ready to be shared with the world! Just a short and sweet one-shot about Frisk and Sans dealing with resets and all the baggage that comes with them. Wanted to put my own personal spin on a very classic concept for the Undertale fanbase. This was also some much needed practice at writing these characters, hopefully I nailed them.

Anyways enjoy!

Disclaimer: Undertale and all its characters belong to Toby Fox. All Rights go to him.

The glow from the screen was starting to hurt Frisk’s eyes, the neon pop of orange color starting to burn into their retina, still they refused to turn on any lights, forcing themselves to remain sitting in the dark. They couldn't let anyone see them while they did this, not mom, not dad, not Undyne, not Alphys, not Papyrus, and not Sans. Definitely not Sans. Frisk had worked so hard to gain his trust, they would hate to ruin all the progress they had made with the skeleton.

Frisk let out a long sigh, staring at the word and trying not to lose their cool. 'Reset'. The word taunted them, a constant nagging at the back of Frisk’s mind, the power and hurt contained in such a simple word. Five letters that could make or break the world, that had the power to uproot so many lives. And Frisk alone held this power.

They let out a slow, shaky breath, trying to keep their calm. It's okay, it'll all be over soon and this temptation won’t haunt me any longer. They thought, though the reassurance felt hollow.

Slowly they raised up trembling fingers, reaching out towards the button. Time seemed to slow, a steady ringing in Frisk's ear, the room around them shuddering as if the fabric of the world was unraveling. The button seemed to be gleaming back at them, the cursed words beckoning them to press it and redo it all over again. To finally satiate the curiosity they were plagued by. Just let this be over, Frisk thought, the words desperate in their head. Just let it finally end!

Knock, knock.

The steady rapping of the wood outside Frisk’s door startled them, causing them to jump in place, looking towards the closed door in panic. They racked their brain, trying to match a friend to the sound, each Monster having their own unique knocking style. Toriel’s was steady and calm, more like a melody than a knock really. Asgore was strong and powerful, often making the walls around it shake with every rap of his knuckles; it definitely didn’t fit the goofy but lovable Monster Frisk had grown to know and love. Alphys was always so gentle Frisk could barely hear it and most times wouldn’t even hear the even quieter call after from the shy scientist. Undyne forgoed knocking altogether, prefering to kick the door open with no warning (Frisk still remembered the incident where poor Blooky had been on the other side). Papyrus often did the same but when he did knock it was rapid and enthusiastic, like he was just beyond excited and couldn’t wait to enter. None of those matched up with this particular knock so that just left…

"heh, you're supposed to say 'who's there', kiddo."

Frisk choked on a gasp. No! Not Sans! Anyone but him!

Frisk moved to press the 'continue' button, hoping to hide the evidence before it was too late but to their surprise the door swung open way too quickly and they wanted to slap themselves for forgetting the improvements the lazy skeleton had made on himself. At first, old habits had persisted, his movements slow and tired as if he hadn’t slept in years rather than constantly. But as he and Frisk grew closer, slowly and surely they had watched the life return to the small skeleton. Not to say he didn’t have his moments of laziness. He was still the same Sans he always was, able to nap at any time or place (usually on the job), preferring to be carried around by Papyrus rather than walk, and cracking puns whenever the opportunity presented itself. But he was more energetic, Frisk might even go as far as to say happy. The smile permanently plastered on his face didn't seem forced anymore. It felt natural and real.

In fact, just the other day Papyrus had been praising Sans on his much needed enthusiasm and Frisk had been right there with him, proud to see their friend truly happy and at peace.

But in this moment, so close to getting caught, Frisk selfishly wished for the old Sans back, if only to prevent the catastrophe that was coming as Sans stepped into the dark room.

"heya, kiddo. what'cha doin' sitting in the dark? don't tell me we’re both going knock-turnal, heh." Sans froze as he finally took in the scene, his eye sockets widening in what Frisk could only assume was fear. They knew how it must look, sitting in the dark in front of the screen that could undo years of Sans’ life. It was an incriminating scene to walk in on and Frisk cursed themselves for not locking the door, barricading it with anything and everything they had on hand to avoid this outcome. They had been careless. They had thought the house was empty while Toriel went out for groceries but clearly they were wrong. And now Sans would pay the price.

Sans’ eye sockets, which had only a second ago shined with life and the promise of hope, dimmed till they were void, empty spaces, no light able to seep through the blackness. Frisk had seen that look enough times to know exactly what it meant. It meant they messed up. And the consequences were that vacant expression. How many times had Frisk seen it before? They had lost count. And all the hope and trust they had built up in Sans shattered and died in an instant. Just like that. “oh,” was the only word that escaped Sans’ mouth and it sounded forced and choked at that, as empty and hollow as the black voids his eyes had become. What had Frisk done?

“Sans, it’s not what it looks like.” Frisk hoped that Sans would listen to them, let them explain and maybe make things right again. But they knew that wasn’t the case, Sans’ broken mind had already jumped to the worst possible conclusion, just like it always did. Frisk wasn’t entirely sure this was fixable but they had to at least try. “I wasn’t going to-”

“heh, it’s okay, kiddo. i get it. knew it was a matter of time, guess i just wasn’t prepared for it to be today.” There was nothing in the skeleton’s voice. No laughter, no emotion. It was just hollow. How long had it been since Frisk had seen Sans this bad. This empty. It was as if the skeleton wasn’t even there at all, just a shell made of bones pretending to be him. He looked so fragile and tired, a gust of wind could probably blow him away.

His bony fingers rubbed at his eyes for a few seconds and… oh gosh, were those tears? Frisk had really screwed up this time. Sans’s hands were back in his pockets and he tried to look casual, normal, and if not for the emptiness in his sockets Frisk might have believed it. And there was that smile, that dead smile that Frisk had worked so hard to wipe away. It was instinct for Sans, a defense mechanism against the emptiness in his soul. Just smile and joke it off as if nothing was wrong. Oh man, what was Papyrus gonna say when he saw that look was back? He had confided in Frisk once about how much it hurt him to see Sans that way. Miserable but closed off. It must have been torture watching from a distance as his brother slowly tore himself apart.

“just, uh… do me a favor, okay kiddo?” Sans continued. “as your pal, just let me have one last trip to grillby’s before you… y’know. let me ketchup one last time before it all goes back.” The pun was painful for Frisk to hear. Normally they would laugh at how bad it was and then would follow up with something like, “Well I know those guys relish your company,” and then Sans would chuckle and say something equally as terrible and on and on it would go. But Frisk didn’t even smile at the joke, they just watched the skeleton sadly, feeling their soul shudder in pain, their sins crawling on their back.

Before Frisk could give their answer, Sans had turned and left the room, the skeleton surprising Frisk again with his speed. Frisk was in the hallway a second later, chasing after their friend, desperate to make things right. "Sans, please wait!"

A formation of bones appeared between the two and Frisk jumped, for a moment terror flooded through their soul. In a flash they were back in that dreaded room of yellow, the empty echoing halls torn and destroyed as thousands of bones jutted out of every crevice, breaking the once fancy hall apart. They could smell the blood in the air, could feel the bone lodged deep in their chest. The pain was unbearable as their soul was ripped apart and scattered to the wind and the last thing they saw before it all went to black was the glowing angry blue in their opponent's eyes, the words, 'dirty brother killer' echoing in their head.

Frisk shuddered as they forced the memory back, burying it deep inside themselves. This wasn't the time for relieving the past, Sans needed them in the present. The bones protruding through the middle of the hallway and separating Frisk from Sans were a light blue, passing through them wasn't an option. That just left reasoning then. Darn, Sans was impossible to reason with in this state. But what choice did Frisk have?

"Sans, please just let me explain." They had to make him see. Show him they weren't doing what he thought.

"seeya 'round, kiddo," Sans said, looking back over his shoulder, giving his typical teasing wink, only now it wasn't playful. It was wrong. This was all so wrong.

Frisk blinked and suddenly Sans was no longer in the hallway. They had been expecting him to use a shortcut but it still shook them to be alone. To suddenly be standing in the middle of their house, wracked with guilt and with no one to help provide any sort of comfort. Not that they deserved it.

Why? Why hadn't they taken more precautions? Why hadn't they made sure there was no chance of someone coming in on them? Looking back on it, Frisk felt stupid. Of course they would get caught! They had practically been begging for it. They hadn't even bothered to lock their door. Clearly Frisk had wanted this to happen!

For a few moments Frisk just stood alone in the hallway, clenching and unclenching their fists, trying to think of a way to make things up to Sans while simultaneously cursing themselves for creating this mess in the first place. Just when Frisk was ready to slam their head into the nearest wall to try and release the image of Sans’ empty expression that circled their head, a loud voice rang throughout the quiet household. “HUMAN! SANS! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAVE RETURNED!"

Papyrus walked in through the front door (thankfully not breaking it down in his excitement) a proud, friendly smile permanently plastered on his face. Normally Frisk would be overjoyed to see him but right now, his undaunted kindness only made them feel worse and even more scummy. They didn't deserve a cool friend like Papyrus after what they had done to his brother.

The skeleton froze when he spotted the state of the hallway and the dozen or so bones jutting out of the floor. "WHAT HAPPENED HERE? DON'T TELL ME YOU ASKED MY LAZYBONES BROTHER TO SPAR WITH YOU?! BECAUSE WHILE I APPRECIATE YOU TRYING TO HELP HIM GET IN SOME MUCH NEEDED EXERCISE, I'M NOT SURE TORIEL WOULD APPRECIATE YOU DOING IT IN HER HOUSE!" Papyrus paused, a frown briefly flashing across his face as he added, "TRUST ME, I WOULD KNOW."

Frisk said nothing, keeping their head lowered in shame. They didn't want to admit what they had done, not to Papyrus. They had already promised Sans not to breathe a word about 'resets' to his brother, the least Frisk could do was not betray Sans' trust anymore than they already had.

Papyrus took notice of his friend's sad demeanor and immediately took it upon himself to cheer them up. The skeleton swept his scarf behind himself dramatically before loudly declaring, "BUT NOT TO WORRY TINY HUMAN, FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL HELP YOU CLEAN UP BEFORE THE LADY TORIEL RETURNS FROM THEIR SHOPPING QUEST!!"

Frisk gave them the bare minimum of a smile, more of a grimace than a full on grin. "Thanks, Paps," was all they could think to say and they nearly flinched at their own sorrowful tone. Geez, since when had they gotten so bad at lying? Back in the Underground they had had the ultimate poker face, only Sans couldn't see through their blank expression. Now they'd be lucky to fool a blind bat with how obvious they were being. Then again, Frisk would hardly consider themselves to be emotional at all back then, feelings besides determination had been hard to come by. Frisk wondered if maybe the Monsters had been helping them this whole time and they hadn't even noticed.

Papyrus, seeing how distressed their dear friend still was, took a better look at the situation, hoping to piece together what exactly had happened to trouble Frisk so greatly. A quick glance around and Papyrus noticed something off. "WHERE IS SANS?"

Frisk bit their lip but hesitantly explained, "He went to Grillby's."

Papyrus let out a long sigh, shaking his skull despite the situation. "THAT LAZYBONES. HOW TYPICAL OF HIM TO MAKE A MESS AND LEAVE ME TO PICK IT UP. HE'S LUCKY HE'S GOT SUCH A COOL YOUNGER BROTHER LOOKING OUT FOR HIM," the skelebro added boastfully.

Frisk shook their head, trying desperately to find some way out of this conversation without admitting to Papyrus what they had done. But no matter what scenario they thought up, they just couldn't come up with anything but the truth. So finally, the young human admitted reluctantly, "Actually me and Sans… had a fight."

"oh," Papyrus replied, for just a moment losing his loud, boisterous attitude. But then, in the blink of an eye, it was back as the skeleton was able to leap high into the air, doing a ridiculous spin as he went, which would normally get a chuckle out of Frisk. He was somehow able to completely clear the railing for the second floor, landing perfectly on his feet in front of his human friend. "NYEH HEH HEH, DO NOT FRET, HUMAN, FOR YOUR GREAT AND COOL FRIEND KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT TO DO TO FIX THIS PROBLEM!"

"You do?" Frisk asked.

"BUT OF COURSE," Papyrus continued, taking on a heroic pose. "IT IS THE DUTY OF ALL ROYAL GUARDS TO HELP OUT OTHERS IN NEED! ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY ARE SUCH DEAR AND IMPORTANT FRIENDS SUCH AS YOU!"

"Papyrus I don't-" Frisk started to interrupt but their skeletal friend was already lost deep in his rant. They were past the point of no return, Frisk often wondered at times like this if even a reset had the power to stop Papyrus.

"I CAN DIVIDE UP OUR PLAN INTO THREE EASY STEPS: STEP 1. LOCATE SANS, STEP 2. PERSUADE HIM TO TALK USING MY WORLD FAMOUS APOLOGY SPAGHETTI (WHICH I WILL GRACIOUSLY LOAN TO YOU), AND FINALLY, STEP 3. AND THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE, YOU BOTH APOLOGIZE AND AGREE TO BE FRIENDS AGAIN."

Frisk shook their head, feeling annoyance bubbling up in their chest, but not at Papyrus. Never at him. "That's not gonna work, Paps! Sans is really upset at me and I deserve that! I really messed up! I wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to me again." The young human hung their head, letting the shame of their actions wash over them.

But Papyrus being Papyrus didn't let this stand, aggressively putting a comforting hand on their shoulder and declaring, "I WILL NOT ALLOW SUCH TALK, FRISK! AS YOUR COOL BEST FRIEND AND SANS' BROTHER I ASSURE YOU WHATEVER YOU DID IS NOT ENOUGH TO RUIN YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH HIM."

"But how do you-"

"HOW DO I KNOW? WELL IT'S VERY SIMPLE HUMAN, BECAUSE YOU TWO CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER!! I KNOW YOU TWO LIKE I KNOW MY VERY OWN COOL MIND, NYEH, AND I CAN SEE HOW HAPPY YOU TWO ARE TOGETHER!" Papyrus knelt down so he was level with Frisk, giving them a reassuring grin, his eyelights dancing. "YOU'RE OUR VERY DEAR HUMAN, AFTER ALL, AND I KNOW THAT'S HOW SANS FEELS TOO! SO YOU SEE, YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR!"

Frisk took a moment to let that sink in, their guilt ridden mind tossing around this idea with skepticism, while their heavy soul flooded with hopeful optimism. They were torn between both and their body couldn't seem to decide which one to listen to more. "You really think he'll listen to me?"

Papyrus nodded energetically. "OF COURSE!! I'D BET IT ON MY GREAT AND POWERFUL NAME, NYEH HEH HEH!"

Frisk couldn't help but smile, a common side effect from being around the enthusiastic skeleton for too long. It was just what Frisk needed, to smile despite the uncertainty and anxiousness of the situation. It made them feel stronger. It made them feel determined.

Once that feeling took hold, drowning out all the negative fears and worries, Frisk knew what they had to do. It wouldn't be an easy option, in fact, it would most likely be terrible but they were determined to make it up to Sans. To regain one of the most important friendships they had. Papyrus was right, they needed Sans just as much as he needed them.

So, after taking in a long breath for courage, Frisk looked up to their skeletal friend and simply asked, "Can you give me a ride?"

…

Grillby couldn't think of the last time he had seen Sans so miserable. The bartender had seen every single side of his friend over the years, both good and bad, even the parts he was quick to hide from everyone else. But even someone as mysterious and secretive as Sans had to break sometimes and, well, it was always in Grillby's company. The flame Monster had debated with himself many times why that was, maybe because Papyrus never came into his bar so Sans didn't feel the need to keep up the act, maybe it was the copious (and to be honest disgusting) amounts of ketchup Sans consumed that helped loosen his metaphorical lips, or maybe the skelebro just found Grillby's presence comforting. Whatever the reason, Grillby was always happy to be there for Sans, for both the good and bad days.

And today was one of his worst. If memory served, the last time Sans had been this depressed was when they were still living underground. To everyone else he probably seemed like his normal, comedic self, greeting the regular patrons both monster and human with his typical lazy wave hello. But Grillby had seen something off immediately in his old friend. He could tell something was eating the skeleton alive and whatever it was was leaving a heavy toll on poor Sans.

The skeletons' eye sockets were shrunken with whatever terrible emotion was plaguing him, his cheekbones stained with dried tears he had hastily tried to rub away. His smiling mouth was twitching which Grillby knew from past experiences was Sans desperately wanting to frown but his unique body structure making it impossible to do so.

Sans looked small, even more than usual, slumping forward as if it was everything he could do to stay upright. To see his dear friend in such a pitiful state made Grillby's soul feel like it was splitting in half.

Of course, asking Sans what was wrong did nothing, the skeleton was a natural born liar. He had quickly shrugged the series of questions off, his smile so believable that anyone who didn't know Sans as well as Grillby did would have believed it. "you know me, i'm always bone-tired, heh."

The other monsters and humans accepted this answer immediately, some even laughing at the poor excuse for a joke, but Grillby wasn't so easy to convince. But he hadn't bothered to push the subject, since it was clear Sans was not in a sharing mood. Instead he just patiently took his order (ketchup as usual) making a mental note to keep an eye on his friend. Today was a busier day at the bar though, so Grillby was sadly not able to watch over Sans as closely as he wanted. Still, at the very least, Sans didn't seem to be getting any worse. But he also didn't seem to be getting any better, either.

Grillby had just made up his mind to try and talk to Sans after closing time, when the pleasant sound of ringing filled his ears thanks to the bell that hung above the door, alerting him a new customer had entered. Grillby glanced over at them quickly, trying not to take too much attention off of the customer who was ordering, but he couldn't help but take note who had entered his humble bar.

The human called Frisk had stepped into Grillby's establishment, looking unsure and nervous, a rarity for the determined young child. He could tell Fisk didn't want to be in there and Grillby could only assume it had less to do with his bar and more of Sans himself. After all, Frisk always seemed right at home there, Sans would often bring them along during his regular visits and Frisk would have a smile on their face from the moment they walked in, until they left with Sans.

Now things were starting to come together. The reason for Sans' terrible mood had to be related to Frisk. The skeleton always seemed happier when the kid was with him, so the fact they had both come in separately… it was clear to Grillby the two had to be fighting, although over what was anyone's guess. Sans and Frisk always seemed to get along swimmingly, Grillby hadn't even seen the two raise their voices at each other. Sometimes Grillby could swear Sans saw himself as Frisk's dad the way he would indiscreetly fuss over them. It was hard to imagine the two weren't on speaking terms.

Frisk glanced around at the crowded bar clutching a large plate wrapped with tin foil against their chest, clearly searching for someone when their eyes met Grillby's. The human gave him a questioning look, which the fire monster returned with a pointed finger towards the front, where Sans sat, still looking small and miserable.

Frisk gave them a halfhearted nod of thanks before slowly pushing their way towards the skeleton. Grillby watched them until an impatient customer grabbed his attention and he was forced to resume focus on his job, though he still cast an occasional glance towards the pair to see how things developed.

When Frisk reached Sans, they hesitated, taking in the sorry sight of their skeleton friend. Sans was slumped onto the bar, his face resting in his boney arms, which meant Frisk's presence had gone unnoticed so far. Normally, anyone would assume the skelebro was asleep, drinking himself to exhaustion but Frisk saw through that. For one thing, he wasn't snoring, which was a telltale sign of Sans lost in dreamland. And Frisk could also see his body shaking, ever so slightly, almost invisible to the naked eye. Sans wasn't sleeping, he was crying, and making it look like his typical lazy demeanor.

Frisk spotted the bottle of ketchup beside him and nearly gasped as they saw it was unopened. Not a drop was missing from Sans' favorite drink and that was a very bad sign. This situation was more serious than Frisk had initially thought. Normally the skeleton would get drunk to hide the terrible feelings welling up inside him, but if he was ignoring the monster-equivalent of alcohol then he must be in a really, really bad place and Frisk wasn't completely sure they could pull him out of it.

Well that thought faded as quickly as it came, replaced with 'determination' and Frisk thought of Papyrus who was waiting outside. He believed Frisk could make this right and so they wanted to believe it too. And if they couldn't… well, Papyrus had mentioned as Frisk hopped out of his car that if they took longer than thirty minutes, he would come in after them.

Having the enthusiastic skeleton for backup allowed Frisk to finally take action, they set the plate of apology spaghetti down on the bar before climbing up onto the stool next to Sans. The skeleton didn't acknowledge them at first, still pretending to sleep. "Sans," Frisk whispered, causing their friend to flinch. Frisk wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't been expecting someone to call his name or because it came from Frisk themself but it hurt either way.

The skeleton slowly raised his head as if it drained him to do so. "oh heya, kiddo, heh, wasn't expecting to see you here." He tried to sound natural but it was clear by the grating edge to his tone, Frisk had been right, Sans had been crying. "guess you were really fired up for some of grillbz cooking, huh? or maybe something was burger-ing you?'' Sans let out a few halfhearted chuckles, his eye sockets glued to the countertop.

"Sans," Frisk began, keeping their voice steady. "I came cause I needed to tell you something about earlier."

"oh, heh, you're ready to reset already. Guess that's fair, i couldn't bring myself to get that last final drink but… seems like I'm just delaying the inevitable. thanks for waiting on me, kid. i'm… ready when you are."

"Sans, no! That's not what I mean!" Frisk exclaimed, growing frustrated, but not at Sans, at themselves for causing this whole stupid mess. "You're not listening to me! I'm not resetting!" They hadn't meant to raise their voice, they really hadn't but it seemed to be the only way to get through Sans' thick skull.

Sans stared at them long and hard, his piercing black sockets trying to read Frisk like a book and the human did their best to portray trustworthiness in their body language, making a point to keep their eyes locked with Sans' sockets. After a few endless minutes of judgement, Sans finally asked, "and your really bein' honest with me? because you can tell me if not, i promise i can take it."

Frisk shook their head, their small hands clenched into fists on their lap, wrinkling the pant leg in their strong grip. "I'm telling the truth. I don't want to go back, I don't ever want to go back! I couldn't ask for a better ending. Everyone's happy and finally getting to live life thanks to me. Papyrus gets to drive his car every day, even though he's really slow and keeps getting tickets." Frisk smiled warmly as they thought of the hyperactive skeleton, tears beginning to form at the corners of their eyes as they thought of what all would be lost if they ever gave in. "Undyne finally has the freedom to do more than fight all the time and can watch as many stupid awesome animes they want. And Alphys is so confident she doesn't stutter or talk bad about herself anymore. Mettaton's more famous then he ever was Underground and it's even better because now he gets to share that popularity with Blooky and Shyren. And every day, mom and dad look so happy just getting to garden or teach instead of trying to carry everyone's burdens on their shoulders. And Papyrus and I can both see how much better you are since coming to the surface and I would never want to take that away from you or anyone."

Frisk sniffed, wiping their eyes on the back of their sleeve, trying to recover enough to continue. Sans just watched them with growing concern, petrified by their tears since the skeleton had never once seen them cry in the entire time he knew them, which was probably more than anyone else, human or monster. So the fact he was seeing this now left him completely off-guard and clueless as to how to react. He made several moves to comfort them but talked himself out of it at the last second, not wanting to make things worse.

Still the fact he noticeably cared was enough to provide a small sense of comfort to Frisk and they were grateful for it. "But it's not just the monsters," Frisk continued as soon as they got their voice back. "This is the happiest I've ever been in my life! I have a real family and friends that love me and take care of me and I don't ever want any of that to go away!"

Frisk continued to sniffle, trying to keep the sobs buried at the back of their throat, the sadness returning faster than they could stop it, this time stronger than before. Tears ran down their cheeks and they hiccuped out the rest of what they had to say. "B-But no matter what I do or how much I say I won't, you always think I'm gonna reset everything. I can't convince you! Am I really that bad a person that you can't ever trust me?!" With that, the floodgates burst open and Frisk began to sob uncontrollably, doubling over in their seat and weeping pitifully into their hands.

The moment their sobs began, Sans knew he could no longer just sit and watch, now was the time to act. Without a word the skelebro reached over and swooped Frisk into his arms, holding them in a tight but loving hug against his chest. He cooed soothing words into their ear while rocking them back and forth in his seat. He had an arm protectively around their frame, while the other he ran through their short, brown hair. Sans didn't even care that his favorite jacket was now soaked in the kid's tears, all that mattered was comforting his kiddo.

It randomly occured to Sans that this had to be quite the sight for the other patrons of the bar, a small human child sobbing into a forever-grinning skeleton monster. Not that he particularly cared what anyone thought of his and Frisk’s friendship. Still he did take a quick glance around the bar to see if anyone had noticed the situation. Sure enough, the outburst had attracted the attention of every monster and human inside, a few of them seemed putoff by the sight like Sans expected but most just looked concerned, especially the regulars. The dogs had all started whining in concern, Lesser Dog's neck stretching out towards Frisk. Even Grillby had stopped what he was doing to watch the scene play out, Sans reading the worry from his flaming face.

The skeleton quickly returned his attention back to Frisk as they began to shake and hiccup, their sobs slowly dying down in strength. Sans listened to their choked breaths before he decided to try and risk a joke, hoping it would lighten the mood and lift the kid’s spirits a little. “well, call me a half-eaten plate of cookies because now I feel pretty crumby.” Between their sobs, Frisk let out a little laugh, small and halfhearted but it was music to Sans’ ears. He would take any form of joy over listening to them cry a moment longer. Heck, he would prefer a reset over the soul-breaking sobs bursting from his poor kid, especially since he was part of the cause of their tears.

He waited until they had recovered enough to listen, saying in a soft, gentle tone, “listen frisk, i’m so sorry i made you feel that way… that i didn’t trust you. I know you may not believe it but i probably trust you more than myself, heh.” Sans gave Frisk a little squeeze for reassurance. “so please don’t blame yourself for this dumb comedian’s mistake, babybones.”

“You aren’t dumb,” Frisk spoke up, their voice muffled by Sans’ jacket.

“and you aren’t a bad person,” the skeleton monster countered.

Frisk finally pulled their face out of Sans’ jacket, staring up at him with tear-stained vision. “So… you aren’t mad at me?”

Sans almost laughed out loud at the question, the ridiculousness of it all astounding to him. Here he was trying to comfort Frisk after causing them to cry, all because he couldn’t accept that his time in the underground was finally over, that Frisk really wouldn’t reset and trap them all down there again. If anything they should be mad at him, not the other way around.

“of course i’m not mad, kiddo,” Sans finally replied, rubbing a hand up and down Frisk's back in a soothing motion. “ i just got a little too sans-itive back there.” The two both chuckled at the joke, a real, genuine smile returning to Frisk’s face. That’s better, Sans thought with relief. He did a quick scan around the rest of the bar and saw that everyone else had visibly relaxed too, now that Frisk had finally stopped crying.

Since he got the kid calm he figured now was as good a time as any to get some answers so he set them back in their own seat while asking, “so, uh, if you don’t mind me askin’ what were you doing before, if you weren’t trying to reset?"

Frisk tensed, biting their lip and looking down at their lap but thankfully there were no more tears like Sans worried there might be. The human child took a long moment, building up the courage to say, shifting uncomfortably in their seat and not meeting Sans’ eye. Clearly it was something they didn’t want to discuss. Sans was about to change the subject and be done with it but Frisk spoke up just in time. “I was… trying to find a way to destroy the ‘reset’ button,” they admitted sadly.

Sans blinked, the only shock and surprise he let show on his face. He wasn’t expecting that. “uhhh, okay seems a bit weird since you yourself said you never wanted to reset again,” the skeleton responded finally.

“Yeah, but…” Frisk paused, their eyes flooding with fear while their small fingers fiddled with the front of Sans’ jacket, clenching and unclenching the fabric in their grip. All at once they seemed so very far away, lost in their own world and Sans feared he wouldn’t be able to reach them from where he was, he feared it was a path Frisk was trying to walk alone.

“kid?” Sans whispered worriedly, cupping their cheek in his skeletal palm. Frisk’s eyes refocused, snapping them out of whatever horrible vision they had just been shown and they hesitantly met Sans’ gaze. “c’mon, tell me what’s wrong.”

Frisk took in a deep breath, in and out, before admitting, “I-I’m afraid of m-myself.”

Again this was not what Sans was expecting but he made sure not to let his surprise show on his face, knowing Frisk needed unflinching support at this time. “what, a nice kid like you? What could you possibly have to fear about yourself?”

“T-That I’ll reset anyways. That I’m not determined enough to keep this happy ending. That’ll I’ll… ruin everything,” Frisk said, their eyes filling with shame.

Sans gave them a small pat on the head. “but i thought you were determined not to reset? that you’re happy the way things are.”

“But what if it doesn’t last?” Frisk asked, clutching Sans’ jacket so tightly their knuckles turned white, their eyes pleading and desperate as they looked to their skeletal friend for answers. “What if something goes wrong a-and I stop being happy? And then the temptation comes back and I can’t stop myself from-from going back there.” Frisk was starting to hyperventilate and Sans started rubbing circles on their back again, trying to keep them breathing regularly. At this rate he wouldn’t be surprised if the kid passed out on him. “I don’t want this to end Sans, I don’t want to disappoint you or break our promise but the fact that I don’t know for sure terrifies me!”

Sans took a minute to respond to that, keeping a blank expression while inwardly battling with the turmoil that was threatening to crush him. On one hand, he was afraid of the exact same thing, too. Afraid of waking up back underground, powerless to stop it, completely at the whim of an unpredictable human. And yet, Sans could tell Frisk needed comfort, reassurance, and he was the only one who could provide it, the only one who understood what they were going though. It had never once occurred to Sans that Frisk might be going through the same fears he was and he wanted to slap himself for being so self-centered he hadn’t even noticed the struggles his dear friend was going through on their own.

And despite his fears, what he said to them before rang true. He believed in Frisk. Sure they had messed up before (heck wasn’t like he was exactly Mr. Perfect either) but they had worked so hard to make up for past mistakes and then some. Without them, Sans wouldn’t be free, his family and friends would still be trapped underground, slowly losing their hope of ever seeing freedom for themselves. Sans had judged Frisk more times then he could count, but that last time, before they broke the barrier and declared they would never reset again, he could see they were determined to do right. There had been resolve in their eyes that day at the Judgement Hall, filled with the strength to do good. They held themselves taller than they ever had before and the way the light reflected off their skin and clothes, they looked like a real hero, like… an angel. That was the moment Sans knew things would be different this time, the first time in a long line of resets he allowed himself to hope. Small and fragile, yes, but it was what started him down the right path to fixing himself and he had needed that more than he even knew at the time.

So if he wasn’t willing to return the favor, then he’d be a real, bone-ified jerk. Heh. Not to mention a massive hypocrite. Besides he was positive if Frisk started crying again then he would start weeping some very unmanly tears, too, and he did not want to explain to the other patrons of the bar what caused his own water works, especially Grillby. He was already pushing it by coming there in such a depressed state, if the bar owner caught sight of him crying… well, he might just have to find a new place to drink his favorite brand of ketchup just to get him off his back.

Sans wasn’t exactly the most experienced when it came to cheering people up, despite his jokes and pour sense of humor he was too much of a cynic to do much of that, but he had a pretty good idea what to say to the kid to ease their mind a little. So, one deep breath later, he gave their hair a good, long ruffle, not enough to hurt them but still strong enough that they were tipped slightly forward by the action.

When he was finished, Frisk seemed taken aback by his response, their hair standing up at odd angles and their eyes wide with confusion but Sans’ plan had worked, he had successfully drawn their attention away from their own troubling thoughts and that was a win in his mind. “c'mon, kiddo,” Sans began, giving them a fake scolding look (which wasn’t easy to do when you are always smiling). “what kinda talk is that? thought you were supposed to be the ‘most determined’ or whatever. you seriously trying to tell me you're afraid of some button after literally coming back from death itself dozens of times?”

Frisk didn’t respond, just staring at the skeleton blankly, so he decided to continue on with his speech, making sure the message sunk in deep. nah, sorry not buyin’ it.” He shook his head before putting on a warm smile, one he knew Frisk would recognize. “the frisk i know is way too stubborn for that. so stop tellin’ yourself otherwise.”

“But Sans, what if something happens? What if things go wrong and ‘resetting’ might be easier?” Frisk asked, fear flooding their vision for a moment as they gripped his jacket fearfully.

But Sans just shrugged it off, reassuring his kid, “then we’ll deal with it. i’m sure between the two us, we numbskulls can come up with some kind of solution that doesn’t involve resetting.”

Frisk smiled a little at the pun but they were too focused on the rest of that sentence to comment on it. “‘We’?” they repeated in a small voice as if uncertain they had heard Sans' right.

The skeleton just nodded his head, winking down at his human friend. “that’s right, kiddo. no matter what happens or if things go terribly right or terribly wrong, i'll be right there by your side, so that we can face it together.”

“You mean it?” Frisk asked hopefully. They wanted to believe that. They wanted so badly to believe they weren’t be alone in dealing with this anymore. But after everything they had done to Sans, even if he didn’t blame them, Frisk just couldn’t accept that as the truth.

“of course i meant it. What kind of dunkle would i be if i wasn’t there to help my kid through a crisis?” he winked playfully at his kiddo but it still didn't quite get through Frisk's barrier.

They at least gave a small halfhearted smile at the nickname they had made up for Sans but they just weren't convinced. After all, Sans had proven he was a pretty good liar. How could they know for sure he was telling the truth? That he wasn't just saying what they wanted to hear like adults tended to do.

The skelebro could see the doubt on their face and so swept them up into another tight hug before saying, "i'll be here for you, kiddo. no matter what. i promise."

Frisk’s mouth dropped open at the word ‘promise’. Sans hated making promises. He avoided committing himself to pretty much anything just to avoid the responsibility and consequences promises brought with them. Despite that, it was obvious promises were something Sans regarded highly, because when he did make them, he did not take them lightly. They were the only reason he hadn’t just disposed of Frisk the first time they met. In all the resets and all the different outcomes Sans had never once spoken those words to them and Frisk had honestly believed he never would. So for him to say those words without force or question or any kind of convincing blew Frisk's mind!

Frisk pulled out of the hug, so they could show Sans their disbelief, giving him a look resembling a gapping fish. The skeleton couldn't help but chuckle at the odd expression (not that he blamed them) before giving their hair another good ruffle. "yeah, yeah, i know. 'i hate makin' promises','' he shrugged as he repeated his old words back to himself. "But if it helps ease your mind and keeps this from happening again…" Sans gestured around the bar, stopping at the unopened bottle of ketchup. "...then i guess it's worth it."

Frisk let out a long puff of air, their face relaxing for the first time in an hour. "So I guess you really condi-meant it," they replied and the two burst into laughter. Sans' laugh roared around the fairly-sized bar, drawing many questioning eyes onto the pair but neither noticed nor cared. All the stress and tension that had built up within them was finally able to be let out, a normal, pleasant calm falling over the pair.

From where he stood cleaning out empty shot glasses, Grillby smiled to himself, happy to hear Sans' laughter in his bar again. The place always felt empty without it, even if the skeleton was a bit of a handful.

"you have no idea how much I pro-missed hearing that laugh of yours, buddy, heh," Sans admitted jokingly, winking down at the giggling Frisk. This only made them laugh harder until there were tears in their eyes.

Seeing that now was the right moment for it, Sans offered the kid his hand to shake. "so how's about it, frisk, partners against time?"

Frisk smiled and nodded vigorously, taking the skeleton's outstretched hand. A loud fart noise echoed through the bar, any newcomers there stopping what they were doing with a look of disgust. Grillby's happy smile turned to an annoyed frown, facepalming in utter frustration and disappointment. He made a mental note to talk to Sans on a day he was doing better because at this rate he was gonna scare away all of his business.

Frisk and Sans, on the other hand, both snorted, trying to hold in their laughter. But when Sans flipped over his hand revealing the whoopie cushion taped onto his palm the two lost it, laughing uncontrollably at the prank, Frisk holding their stomach from lack of oxygen.

Finally, their roars of laughter died down to a low rumble, then a scattering of chortles. Once Frisk and Sans had worn themselves out, they both just took a moment to catch their breath, panting heavily and grinning ear to ear (or non-ears in Sans' case). Once the skeleton could speak again, he lazily stated, "welp, better get back home before pap freaks out and goes lookin' for us." Sans quickly swiped up the ketchup bottle off the counter, popping the lid off and finally taking a massive gulp from the bottle before sliding it away into his jacket for later. No use letting it go to waste, after all.

“Ummmm,” Frisk mumbled, looking over at the clock on the wall, quickly reading the time. It was only a few seconds till 7:30, right when Paps had said he would come in. “About that-”

Just as the clock switched over from 7:29 to 7:30, the door to the bar busted open, the loud noise startling human and monster alike, a silence falling over the place as all turned to see who had so hastily entered their place of relaxation. Papyrus stood proudly in the doorway his scarf waving in the wind somehow, despite there not being any wind to speak of. The door itself was now nothing but splintered wood from where Papyrus had kicked it open and Grillby hung his head in defeat, already dreading another phone call to the very frustrated door repair man. The skelebro ignored all the confused and judging stares from around the bar, his focus on his brother and friends spotting them near the back. “SANS! HUMAN! DO NOT FEAR FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM HERE TO HELP YOU SOLVE YOUR DIFFERENCES AND BECOME BEST FRIENDS AGAIN!” the skeleton declared loudly.

“bro?” Sans asked in confusion, an eyebrow slowly raising. He glanced over at Frisk, who offered a sheepish expression as the only means of explanation. “so, you got my bro in on this too, huh?” Sans commented before passing it off with a shrug. “heh, guess i can’t blame you, he is too cool to go without.”

“OF COURSE I AM!” Papyrus agreed, putting a hand to his chest. He quickly snapped out of his self-congratulatory praise though and returned focus to things almost as important as he was. “BUT DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!" he scolded, moving his gloved hands to his protruding hips. "SANS, I DON’T KNOW ENTIRELY WHAT THE TINY HUMAN DID TO UPSET YOU BUT I’M SURE WHATEVER IT WAS IS NOT ENOUGH TO STOP BEING THEIR FRIEND. IF YOU DID STOP BEING THEIR FRIEND YOU WOULD FEEL BAD AND WHEN I WAS OUT HANGING OUT WITH FRISK YOU WOULD PROBABLY LAZE AROUND AT HOME AND I DON’T NEED ANY MORE EXCUSES FOR YOU TO BE LAZY.”

bro, it’s fine,” Sans spoke up, trying to sound as reassuring as he could. “frisk and i already worked things out.”

“OH.” Papyrus paused for a second or two, letting that process, before he stuck a dramatic pose and proudly declared, “WOWIE! I’M EVEN BETTER AT THIS THEN I THOUGHT! NYEH HEH HEH!”

“you sure are, bro,” Sans agreed, pulling the bottle of ketchup out and taking a small sip.

“You’re the greatest, Papyrus!” Frisk added, smiling up at the tall skeleton.

“WELL YES I AM, THANK YOU FOR NOTICING, TINY HUMAN FRISK!” Papyrus picked Frisk and Sans up and pulled them into a loving hug. “AND YOU AND MY BROTHER, even though he is very lazy, ARE VERY GREAT AS WELL, NYEH HEH HEH!”

Frisk hugged the skelebro back while Sans just hung loosely from his arm, already fighting sleep, but still smiled nonetheless. “we’re only cool cause we hang out with you, bro,” Sans said, his words already starting to slur.

“SANS ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO SLEEP RIGHT NOW? YOU JUST MADE UP WITH FRISK! WE MUST CELEBRATE ANOTHER VICTORY FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS.”

“you know me, bro. I’m… the best at being la….zzzzy,” Sans began to snore loudly and Papyrus let out an over dramatic sigh. Frisk covered their mouth to keep their giggles from escaping, finding the two skeletons immensely funny and entertaining. There was never a dull moment with them around.

Papyrus put a gloved hand to his forehead, before commenting bitterly, “I CAN’T TELL IF THAT WAS MEANT TO BE A PUN OR YOU ARE JUST REALLY THAT LAZY.”

“bit of both,” Sans muttered in his sleep.

“OKAY, YOU LAZY BONES, IT’S TIME TO GO HOME AND PUT YOU IN YOUR PROPER BED, SINCE MY ARM DOES NOT COUNT AS ONE,” Papyrus declared, already stomping towards the door.

“Wait, Papyrus, can’t we at least get something to eat first?” Frisk asked, sheepishly, rubbing their stomach. “I’m really hungry.”

“NOT TO WORRY, HUMAN. FOR TGE GREAT PAPYRUS ALWAYS PLANS AHEAD, NYEH HEH HEH! YOU CAN EAT MY APOLOGY SPAGHETTI ON THE WAY HOME."

Frisk made a face, trying their hardest not to let their disgust show. Although Paps’ cooking had gotten better since getting to the surface, it was still mostly inedible. And the smell of burgers and fries had already filled their nostrils, making their stomach growl in want.

Luckily, Sans already had a solution to this dilemma, his right eye lighting up blue, unseen by Papyrus, thanks to how he was draped over his bro's arm. The plate of unopened spaghetti then also turned the pale color to match the skeleton's eye, before it suddenly scooted itself across the bar and onto the floor below. There was a shattering sound heard from Grillby's side of the table, said monster watching the plate fall before whipping his head in the direction of Sans, fuming with anger.

Sans shrugged to the fire monster, hoping he would take that as an apology, while telling Papyrus, "sorry, bro. already are it all. you know apology spaghetti is my favorite spaghetti. you can taste the remorse in every bite."

Papyrus gasped, setting the human down so he could hold Sans at arms length (startling the older brother) his eyelights somehow sparkling with joy to convey just how happy he was to his brother. "OH SANS, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY THAT MAKES ME TO HEAR YOU SAY THAT, NYEH HEH HEH! I ALMOST FORGOT HOW MUCH YOU ENJOYED MY COOKING! YOU ARE THE BEST BROTHER I EVER HAD!"

"heh, pretty sure i'm your only brother, too," Sans mentioned.

Papyrus began spinning them in a circle, which Sans' body instantly disliked, the place where his stomach would be groaning in protest. "OH BUT IT'S TRUE! I'M CONFIDENT EVEN IF YOU WEREN'T MY ONLY BROTHER YOU WOULD STILL BE THE GREATEST BECAUSE ONLY THE BEST BROTHER WOULD LOVE MY SPAGHETTI SO MUCH!"

Sans put a hand over his smiling mouth, trying to keep his dinner down. "paps, ya think you could stop with all the spinning before this spaghetti turns into seafood?" The skelebro asked miserably.

Papyrus did stop, looking at his brother in confusion. "WAIT, HOW WOULD IT DO THAT?"

Sans shrugged nonchalantly, despite his pale complexion, his face beading with sweat, and his groaning insides. "because, uh, y'know cause i was gonna throw it up."

Papyrus frowned at his brother muttering, "FIRST OF ALL, SANS, THAT IS DISGUSTING. SECONDLY, WE ARE SKELETON MONSTERS, FOOD JUST TURNS INTO MAGIC. WE PHYSICALLY CANNOT THROW UP."

"i hear ya, bro, but the rest of me just can't stomach it," Sans replied simply.

Papyrus stared at him blankly before shouting, "OH MY GOSH, SANS! THAT ONE WASN'T EVEN CLEVER!"

"hey, you can't blame me for the bad puns, bro," Sans pleaded, although there was not a hint of remorse or regret on his face. "i'm just too excited to get to spin more time with the great papyrus."

Papyrus smiled, saying brightly, "WHY THANK YOU SANS, I KNOW I'M VERY GREAT-" However, he froze upon realizing the pun his older brother had just made. "SANS! WHY MUST YOU RUIN OUR MOMENTS WITH YOUR INFERNAL PUNS!" Papyrus stomped his foot once in anger, while Sans just rolled with laughter. He was soon having to clutch his front, his rib bones aching from the uncontrollable laughing fit.

Papyrus just rolled his eyes, knowing there was not much more he could do about his brother's obsession with terrible puns. In all honesty though, Papyrus would happily endure as many terrible jokes as it took if it meant getting to see his brother this happy. Not that he would ever, ever admit it to him.

Papyrus felt a small tug on his scarf and looked down to see Frisk staring up at him with a hopeful expression. “Soooo, does that mean I can have something to eat here?” They put their hands together in a pleading motion, begging with their eyes to try and break through the skeleton’s barriers. Papyrus avoided their eye for a moment, seeming to think it over.

From behind the three, Grillby crossed his arms, staring at Papyrus long and hard as he waited for the skeleton’s answer, the flames around his head burning a little stronger than normal. The least Papyrus could do after breaking his door (again) was buy something so that Grillby could afford to replace it. Still he didn’t voice this out loud because Papyrus was Papyrus and he really couldn’t stay mad at him for long. He was as charming and naive as he was destructive. With a combo like that, Grillby figured he would be paying for a lot of repairs if it meant having the skelebros around.

Sans, however, would be getting a firm lecture from him once they were alone because his bar was not a trash can, nor should it be treated that way. Although even Sans was difficult to punish, if Grillby had a right mind he would have banned them both ages ago, but he had a soft spot for the skeletons so he tolerated all their strange antics and pranks even if he probably shouldn’t.

Finally, Papyrus seemed to reach a decision as he said in a halfhearted tone, “VERY WELL, SINCE I KNOW YOU TWO LOVE THIS PLACE, for reasons i don’t quite understand, WE MAY EAT SOMETHING HERE BEFORE GOING HOME TO MY SPAGHETTI.”

Frisk hugged Papyrus’ leg, saying excitedly, “Thanks, Papy! You're the best!”

“I KNOW, NYEH HEH HEH,” Papyrus replied warmly, giving them a loving pat on the head before sending them off to order.

Sans finally stopped laughing long enough to call over to the kid, “hey, frisk, buy me a burger would ya?”

“I THOUGHT YOU ALREADY ATE MY SPAGHETTI?” Papyrus questioned his brother in confusion.

A few drops of sweat ran down his skull as Sans tried to think up a response to that, finally settling on, “i got a ton of room left, bro.”

“SANNSSSS….” Papyrus growled in a warning tone.

But this didn’t stop Sans at all as he finished his joke with his signature wink, “a skele-ton.”

“UGH, WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER?!” Papyrus shouted out of annoyance for his lazy brother.

“c’mon you can’t stay mad at me, bro. we both know you love my puns,” Sans said, giving his brother a little pat on the shoulder.

Papyrus sighed dramatically. “I SWEAR SANS I WILL DROP YOU AND THEN YOU WILL HAVE TO WALK YOURSELF HOME,” the skeleton threatened, though they both knew it was just a bluff. Papyrus would never drop his one HP brother for any reason, especially over a couple of bad puns. And even if he did, Sans had his shortcuts. But the older skeleton bro knew the real reason such a threat would never come to pass.

“no, you won’t. you love carrying me around,” Sans pointed out in a nearly teasing tone.

“I ADMIT NO SUCH THING,” the tall skeleton stubbornly responded, even though they both knew the truth.

“thanks for being there for me and the kid, bro,” Sans suddenly said, his tone switching from joking to serious in an instant. “it really means a lot to me.”

“YOU ARE WELCOME, BROTHER,” Papyrus replied sweetly. But his jovial tone turned bittersweet as he added a bit sadly, “I’M JUST GLAD YOU AND THE HUMAN AREN’T FIGHTING ANYMORE. I KNOW YOU TWO ARE VERY CLOSE SO SEEING YOU UPSET AT ONE ANOTHER IS VERY DIFFICULT TO WATCH.”

Sans didn’t respond to that, just watching as Frisk cheerfully spoke to Grillby, who was busy preparing the food, their light smile and happy laugh making Sans feel hopeful again. It was strange, all the years of darkness and despair, of endless resets and depression and death, they felt so far away when Frisk smiled. It made him want to smile too and keep smiling forever. There was still a lot to do to put himself back together but it no longer felt impossible. And it was all thanks to his kid, Frisk.

“UM, I KNOW YOU DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED,” Papyrus reluctantly spoke up, cutting through Sans’ thoughts. “BUT DO YOU THINK YOU TWO WILL FIGHT OVER WHATEVER IT WAS AGAIN? BECAUSE IF SO THEN I SHOULD KEEP SOME APOLOGY SPAGHETTI READY FOR IF OR WHEN THAT HAPPENS.”

Sans thought that over for a moment, looking up at Frisk again. Grillby had just finished with their order consisting of two burgers, some fries, and a vanilla milkshake for Papyrus. The human child must have felt their eye sockets on them because Frisk turned and waved over to the pair, smiling truly and genuinely at their very dear friends. And that look was all it took to give Sans his answer. “nah, bro. i think me and frisk are done doing the same thing over and over again. it’s time to start doing somethin’ new. and i for one am really set to start livin, heh.”

A/N: Yes the last line was sorta a pun. More of an inside joke though XD

#Undertale #My writing #Sans #Frisk #Papyrus #Dunkle Sans

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secondhand-trash · 5 years ago

Text

A/N: yes there’s gonna be a ghost pun at the beginning and end of each drabble and you can’t stop me.

Warning: ghost fucking, fingering, vaginal penetration, shower sex

Word count: 2655

How do ghosts keep fit?

You had weighed the pros and cons of moving into a house that no one was willing to buy when you were told that a distant relative who was in real estate would give you ownership of the house on the one rule that you would not sell the house again, claiming that it was starting to stir rumors on their reputation in the industry.

It seemed like too good of a deal to be true, but you were also desperate to move out of your cramped bedroom enough to take the risk of a deal that wasn’t all that real. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of a house that looked like it existed in a time completely separated from the current, with far too many rooms that you had no idea how to use and long hallways that made you feel lost.

For the first few days, you were genuinely concerned with how normal the house was. Sure, the wooden floors were creaky and some faucets leaked no matter how much strength you put into turning the knob, but it was nothing major enough for people to be so hellbent on leaving weeks or even only days after taking over the keys.

The signs of what might be wrong showed gradually, starting off as something so minor that would slip past your senses if you hadn’t been so deliberately looking out for them. Doors opening by themselves, sudden breezes of cold air even though the windows were locked, the goosebumps rising on your back when that very small voice in your head alerted you that you were being watched. It was until you saw a man, a man you didn’ t invited in and have never met with skin so dull and lifeless, sitting by the side of your bed that you knew for a fact that: this house was very haunted, someone was murdered here, and he was very attractive, even as a ghost.

The first thing that you picked up was the faint whiff of lavender in the bathroom, more specifically around the clawfoot tub that had you shocked at how fancy it looked when you just got in. You didn’t think too much about it at first, thinking that it was possible for wild herbs to be growing near the streets below only to notice that there wasn’t even a single purple petal nearby.

It was not you. You would know, because you absolutely hated the smell of lavender.

Now you were scrubbing at the grim on your body, desperate to clear your mind from everything that had happened with the warm water that was running off your body.

You sighed in content as your muscles relaxed but still couldn’t help but scrunted your nose at the hint of lavender that rose with the steam.

Could he change the way the bathroom smells like? Considering how you had gotten rather, well, intimate, it wouldn’t be too outreach of a request to make, yes?

Pleasure clouded your mind as the ice cold digits of the purple haired man scissor inside of you, his other hand gripping your wrist tightly down on the mattress, the evidence of how you had just been touching yourself earlier glistening on your own fingers.

“You knew I was watching, didn’t you?” You shivered at the nibbling at your ear. The ghost- no, Shinsou’s face being so closed to yours while his placed wet kisses down your jaw. “Tempting me like that-”

You moaned when he arched his fingers to rub at your tight walls, your arousal leaking and coating his hand as he took the chance to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Heated, but you whined when you felt how cold his lips were.

You wondered how it would feel like on other parts of your body.

“Poor me, having to see you lounge around with so little skin covered and to control my urge to just take you right there.” A mewl slipped past your lips when his hand left your wrist to roam over your body. A pinch at your nipple made you yelp. “Have you been hoping that I would lose control? Taking matters into my own hands?”

Your breaths were heavy, your mind too concentrated on the way his hands fondled with you and how the thrusts of his fingers at your pussy was slowing down to progress that you were naked in front of the same entity that was haunting your house. All you could think of was how his words made your core tremble, and how much you wanted the rest of him.

“Yes...” What was meant to come out as an answer sounded more like a plead to his ears, and Shinsou groaned at the sight of your flushed face begging for more.

You screamed when he plunged into you, the lavender in his hair leaving its burn on your senses as your head thrown back in pleasure from the relentless snaps of his hips.

It was the same scent that was now mixed into the air as you struggled to keep your sore legs from bucking together. Each breath you took reminded you of him, the way he touched you, the way he stretched you out as he buried inside you to a hilt.

His hands, his voice, his hair that was the same shade of violet as the flower he smelt like, everything about Shinsou Hitoshi was so real and if it wasn’t for the obvious lack of heartbeat you felt when he held you to his chest after collapsing on the mattress next to you, you would have never remembered that he wasn’t even alive at all.

You screamed when you felt something cold pressing up against your back, la pair of strong arms holding onto you to stop you from slipping on the tiles. The sharp contrast of the cold skin from the warm water made every hair on your body stood up. You regained your breath from the scare, looking up accusingly at the man who had a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Damn ghost, passing through walls without a sound at all.

“We really need to set some rules around the house..." you hissed as you felt him pressing a few light kisses to the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine with the coldness stealing heat away from your warm skin, “the first being no more walking through walls when someone is in there.”

He tilted his head, a breathy moan left your mouth as he sneaked his arms to circle it around your waist. The hot water rolling down from your body together with the chill from his skin creating a strange sensation. “How would I know if you are in there or not?”

“Which is why you should stop doing it all together.” Your hand reaching for the soap as he hummed in amusement.

“You can’t stop me,” he said, taking the bar from you and gently rubbed it on your supple skin, “ it’s my house.”

“Say that to the lease.”

You had to bite back from moaning when his hand groped your breast, his fingers “accidentally” gracing past your nipple as he leathered you in soap. He chuckled, taking in just how receptive you were even though it wasn’t that long ago when he had you shaking in bliss.

“Has anyone told you that you shouldn’t disrespect the dead?” he said with forged annoyance, his slender fingers caressing each swell on your body. The tip of his finger tracing the underside of your tits made goosebumps stood up on your body.

“For someone who straight up refused to make a sound, you sure talk a lot.” You bite back, unaware that you sounded a lot whinier than you wanted to be when your voice went up a pitch as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your ass.

“Well forgive me,” the drop in his tone sent heat to your core, his tongue darting out to lick the shell of your ear as he whispered, “it has been an awful long time since I was around such a cute thing like you.”

An awfully long time indeed, and you could tell just how pent up he was in that time with the unmistakable hardness pressing up against your back.

Your back arched back on his chest when he slipped a knee between your thighs to keep them apart, the water running down your legs making such a nice screen to stare at. His hand found its way to your folds as the other rubbed circles on your skin, the warm water helped with how the pad of his fingers teasing parted your lips. The coldness made you mewl, heightening your sensitivity and reminding your body once again of the pleasure it had just been put through.

You laid your head on his chest as he slowly slipped two fingers inside of your tight entrance, lips parted and soft moans slipping as he stretched you out. Perhaps you needed to start getting used to his utter lack of body temperature if this kept going on, but how icy his fingers felt as its knuckles brushed past your velvet walls sent sparks all the way to your toes.

“Shi- Shinsou...” You gripped his forearm for balance, clawing onto him as his skin got smoother from the running water.

“Hm, I would assume that we’re past last name basis.” he accentuated his words with each pump of his fingers, burying them deep inside you until his knuckles were rubbing against your opening before nearly pulling them out. You whined at the sudden lost of friction, feeling like someone had pulled you back just when you were about to fall down and had you hanging in the middle. His hard cock rubbing on your ass while he had you pressed to his chest, “Come on now, you know what to say...”

Wetness was coating his fingers as he rubbed them on your folds that was messed up from his toying, the shiny liquids being something else other than the water. You whined when you felt a sudden pinch at your clit, the sensation making your knees weak.

“Hitoshi!”

He groaned at how desperate you sounded, wanton lust and yearning for more dripping when you cried out his name. It was the same tone you used that made him finally broke loose and said “fuck it” to the promise he made to himself that he would not meddle with the living no matter how big the temptation was, he was ready to lose to his carnal desires again and again if it meant you would keep saying his name like that.

You yelped when he bent you over, your hand pressing onto the bathroom walls that was wet from the steam as he held onto your waist. His hand sliding down to grip at your ass while he leaned down, it was eerie how his breath was almost warm as he licked the shell of your ear.

“Good girl.”

And there it was again, that sweet, overwhelming scent of lavender. The smell that had left such an impression on your senses that you were sure to never be able to smell anything like it against without thinking about the way he pushed into your velvet walls with on swift roll of his hips. The trick it was playing in your head immediately had the moan he let out as he felt you stretch around his girth ringing by your ear no matter where you were as long as the scent was lingering around.

Your hands scratched and clawed at the slippery tiles while he rutted into you from behind, his hands holding onto your ass felt nearly like it was burning with how intense the cold felt. Somehow, despite the telling lack of temperature on every part of his body, his cock felt like it could send your body on fire when the vein rubbed against your walls and tip hilted to hit that spot right by your cervix, that one spot where the pleasure had your toes curling and head throwing back but not to the extent you felt pain. Each pull and snap of his pelvis jackhammered his length right at that sweet spot, enough to have your muscles tensing and seeing stars.

The sound of skin slapping against skin together with the running water and your lewd noises echoed in the bathroom. Shinsou groaned when he felt your pussy spasming around him, the pitch of your voice raising as the approaching waves of pleasure fogged over your head.

Shinsou was sure that resurrection was not real, but then again he didn’t know that ghosts were a thing existed before he became one. But at that moment when he gripped your jaw to turn your head around and felt your cries through a quivering kiss as your body shook, he could almost feel his cold dead heart pounding in his chest again.

You were still a heaving mess when he turned off the tap and wrapped you in a soft towel, the way he dried your skin with so much care was a sharp contrast to how he was just riling into you like an animal moments ago. You shivered when his fingers accidentally graced past your back and he sent you an apologetic look as he helped you dress.

“Never in my life have I ever think that I would end up fucking a ghost.” You mumbled, hiss when you lifted your sore legs to put on your shorts.

“I never thought I would end up as one, but look where we are now.” He smiled when he saw that panicked look in your eyes, like a child who was just caught saying something offensive without meaning it. “It’s ok, I’ve come to accept it.”

You felt a dull ache in your heart at the mention, the ghastly description of his death on the news flashed through your mind but you forced yourself to not think about it. No matter what, he was still here with you and there was no point dwelling on something that neither of you could change.

You could use a company in this big house that was almost too empty for you, and Shinsou Hitoshi was wonderful company.

“My point in setting house rules still stands.” You said, jokingly pointed a finger at his nose as you put on your most intimidating stare.

“Fine, no more walking through walls.” He huffed. Reaching to open the bathroom door, you breathed in the cold air and relished in it after being in a room of steam just earlier.

“Good.” You grinned, walking out with him following tightly behind.

He stopped you from turning the knob when you reached your bedroom with a hand on your wrist. You turned around with a look of question only to see him darting his tongue out to lick his lips and slightly avoiding your gaze. You swore you could see a blush on his lifeless skin.

“Can we sleep together?” He asked, pausing when he realised that he didn’t phrase it all that well, "In some sense, we already did that but...” He tilted his head and rubbed the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “I missed having someone to hold.”

Your heart leaped at his earnest request and you knew that you were too far gone to turn back.

Fuck, you were in love with a ghost.

He nearly beamed when you let out a sigh. “Of course.”

You halted to a pause and snapped back to give him a look of warning before opening the door. “But we’re using separate blankets, you are an ice block and I need the warmth.”

He laughed, and he made you felt more alive than any living person around had ever been.

“Deal.”

(Back to the masterlist)

By exorcising regularly.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou imagine #shinsou smut #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi imagine #shinsou hitoshi smut #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha smut

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resident-fungi-fren · 4 years ago

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Rainy Gays

Summary: Virgil hosts a radio station with Janus, and since it’s the only station that runs in their small town, just about everyone listens to it.

He still didn't expect one of those people to be his soulmate.

Ships: Intruxiety (Virgil and Remus) and hints at Roceit (Roman and Janus)

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good morning gaybies and gentlethems, you’re listening to Rainy Gays Radio, and we’re your hosts, I’m Janus,”

“And I’m Virgil, clearly the superior host, and that’s why it’s my turn to talk about the weather. Let’s see, looking outside, there’s some clouds, oh shit is that a bird? Nope, false alarm, it’s just another cloud. Rude little shits, pretending to be birds. That’s false advertising. Anygay, it’s supposed to rain later this week, so we really will be rainy gays then.”

“Wow, what an original joke Virgil, you totally don’t use that one every time it rains.”

“Nope, never in my life, shove off Janus.”

“Why Virgil, I’m wounded. I thought we were friends, and now you betray me? I never thought you’d be the one to stab me in the back, my dearest friend, how can I go on without you?”

“Perish.”

“Well, just for that, I’m not paying for coffee later. You can buy your own latte.”

“Rude, how dare you revoke my caffeine privileges, and on today of all days!”

“Wow, what a subtle transition into today’s caller topic, you’re a master of subtlety.”

“Shut-“

“No. Today’s topic is what everyone’s talking about. The new drink over at [INSERT COFFEE SHOP NAME HERE], the only coffee shop in town, and therefore the lifeblood of said town.”

“What would we do without it?”

“Perish.”

“Bite me, you’re not allowed to use my tactics against me.”

“I just did darling~. Now listeners, here’s your chance to burn no more than ten minutes and call in, tell us all about your thoughts on the new drink, Virgil dear, remind me of the name?”

“Black Hole Latte, I think it’s supposed to be blackberry or somethin? I haven’t had my coffee yet today, is it showing?”

“Yes dear, you look like shit.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Anytime darling. You know the drill by now, we’re taking callers starting, now.”

“Here’s our first caller, that’s quick, people must be extra bored today. You’re on air now, spill the tea. Or the latte.”

“Hey, it’s Thomas, have either of you tried the latte?”

“Not yet”

“Negative Thom-a-roony.”

“Well, it’s not bad, it’s definite blackberry, but honestly I’ll be sticking with my usual, I’m not a huge fan of branching out.”

“You gotta mix it up sometimes, keeps things exciting.”

“Indeed, variety is the spice of life.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind, but for now me and my regular coffee are going to chill in the nice safe bubble.”

“You know man, that’s such a mood.”

“Thank you for calling Thomas, lovely to hear from you again.”

“Anything to burn a little more time away from work. Speaking of which, I’ve gotta go there now. Later!”

“See ya. Say, we’ve known Thomas for a few years now, does anyone know what he does for work?”

“Of course we do, he’s uh, hmm, actually, I don’t think we do. A real enigma, that man.”

“Yeah, he’s a real tough walnut to crack.”

“Here’s our next caller, you’re on air now.”

“Hey kiddos!”

“Hey Pat”

“Hello Patton, aren’t you at work right now?”

“Yeah I am, but I just wanted to let you both know how proud I am, you’re doing great! And I tried the new latte on my way to work, it’s super yummy! I think you’d like it, Virge, it’s got some nice fruity notes! Just make sure you don’t drink it too late or you’ll never sleep!”

“Will do Popstar.”

“That’s all, love you both!”

“Love you too Pat”

“I do as well.”

“See you both later tonight!”

“And that was our resident puffball, Patton.”

“At least she didn’t drop another pun, I’m not sure how many more Logan can take.”

“Yes, we might have been in need of a new soundboard tech had Patton not resisted the temptation to pun.”

“Oh shit there’s been another caller waiting.”

“Oh dear, sorry for the wait, you’re on air now.”

“Really babe, keeping the sole provider of coffee waiting?”

“Oh it’s just Remy.”

“Just Remy? Careful Virgil, or you’ll be getting decaf for the next week.”

“Please forgive my sins, oh merciful coffee god.”

“Relax, I didn’t call just to blackmail you. I just wanted everyone listening, which we all know is pretty much anyone, that if I hear any shit about my new latte I have no qualms about putting you all on decaf for the next two weeks, so think carefully before you call.”

“Remy, I do think that’s considered censorship, which is in fact, illegal.”

“So is fishing off a giraffe in Idaho, that didn’t stop me then, and this won’t now.”

“Wait, you went fishing off a giraffe? In Idaho? When exactly did that happen?”

“A story for another time, I’ve got a coffee shop to run, later babes.”

“Alright, later-“

“Oh, one more thing, some weirdo came in and ordered it and poured in half a bottle of green Gatorade, and it was the most interesting thing that’s happened all day.”

“Did you say Gatorade?”

“I did, and now I’m saying bye, see ya, sianara, farewell, later bitch.”

“Wait who- and they’re already gone. Well, now I know there’s someone new in town, no one here would ever add anything to one of Remy’s coffee.”

“Excellent deduction Virgil, you should start a true crime radio.”

“You’re right, I should.”

“That was sarcasm, you’re not allowed to quit on me now.”

“Yeah yeah I know, but a guy can dream.”

“Dreaming is for the weak and the innocent, and you are neither.”

“I’d get mad but you’re right.”

“Did you just admit that I was right?”

“Oh look a new caller, how convenient-“

“Virgil answer me damnit- hello you’re on air now.”

“You know, I thought the coffee was good and all, but it was much better once I added my usual shot of Gatorade.”

“Did you just say- oh dear I think Virgil might need a trashcan.”

“Wow Virgil, do always make that wonderful gagging noise? I’d like to see what other noises you can make, with that lovely voice~”

“Dear random stranger, I think you broke my co-host, and possibly my back as well, seeing as I just fell out of it”

“Is that what that thump was? I was almost concerned for a moment.”

“Who the hell puts Gatorade in their coffee?!?!”

“Oh Virgil, glad to see you’ve recovered.”

“Don’t you play innocent, I will end you on air.”

“Wow, the sexual tension between the two of you is reeling right now.”

“Uhh, no thanks. Janus and I go way back, there’s no romance there, plus, we’re not soulmates.”

“Yes, Virgil is a dear friend, and while I love him, it’s purely platonic, and we’re happy with that.”

“Cool cool, does that mean Virgil’s single?”

“That’s what you got from that?”

“Yeah, you sound like you’re pretty hot.”

“I think you broke Virgil again, Gatorade stranger.”

“Oh, my name’s Remus! Though Virgil can call me whatever he wants, lover, dear, daddy, all acceptable.”

“Dude, you’re on the radio.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of that fact emo.”

“How do you know I’m emo?”

“You sound like it Gerard Gay.”

“Fair point.”

“As riveting as this conversation is, I think my brother is gonna stab me if I keep talking, so bye for now!”

“Why is your brother- and he’s gone, okay.”

“Final caller, you’re on air now, please don’t flirt with Virgil again”

“Is that what he did? I’m so sorry about my brother, Remus has zero filter.”

“Dude it’s fine, surprisingly we’ve gotten weirder calls.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, one time we got a telemarketer for a lingerie company.”

“That is weird, but trust me, doesn’t even touch on what Remus is capable of.”

“Good to know.”

“If he turns out to be a frequent caller, will you keep calling to apologize? You do have a lovely voice, so I wouldn’t be disappointed with the arrangement~”

“Oh I, um,”

“Stop flirting with the callers.”

“Callers? Do you do this often?”

“Only when they sound like a sunrise personified.”

“I’m hardly a sunrise, but yes, I wouldn’t be opposed to calling in again, Remus’s contributions aside.”

“Oh my god, I know the show is called Rainy Gays, but please stop flirting before I vomit again.”

“Apologies Virgil, we’re almost out of time anyway. Any chance I can get a name before we have to go, my dear?”

“Oh, Roman, my name is Roman.”

“A name fit for royalty~”

“Janus I swear to god-“

“And that’s all the time we have, for now, tune in later for your daily traffic report and water cooler conversation.”

“We’re not done talking about this-“

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil glared at Janus as he packed up, the smug bastard smirking every time their eyes met. They had no right, looking so self-satisfied, how dare they flirt so smooth when Virgil was cursed to be an eternal gay disaster?

He huffed, and Janus snorted, and he threw them a glare.

“You could at least pretend to be sorry.”

“But Virgil, that would be a lie, and I would never lie, it’s a blatant mark on my character!”

“We both know that’s a load of bullshit.”

Logan walked out of the sound room, rolling his eyes. “With the way you two carry on, it’s no wonder the listeners think you’re romantically involved.”

They both gasped and spluttered, grievously offended. “How dare-”

“Just try not to flirt with the callers so much? You’re both incorrigible.” He straightened his tie, and slung his bag over his shoulder, heading out. “Don’t forget to lock up, we don’t want another raccoon breaking in.”

“Logan, don’t say such things about Virgil, his eyebags and crummy food choices don’t warrant name-calling!”

Janus just smirked when Virgil hissed at them.

“Plus, his hissing is distinctly cat-like.”

“You little-” was all he got out before he threw his balled-up scarf at them, which they caught with ease. Smug bastard.

He ruffled through his bag, then his coat pockets, then his bag again. He sighed, and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Have you seen my keys? I can’t find them, and Joan will skin my alive if I lose another set.”

Janus sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose. “Virgil, have you ever considered getting a keyring? Or something to keep track of them?”

“Hey, I do! I got the stormcloud one, remember!” He protested sheepishly, “but then I lost that too. It’s with my keys, wherever those are.”

“Virgil, you are a disater, how are you still allowed to live on our own?”

“I have you and Pat as neighbors.”

“Fair enough, your keys are hanging on the key rack, right where you hung them up when you got here.”

“Oh.” He sheepishly proccured his keys, and then held the door open for Janus once they were ready, and the two headed home together.

“You taking the bus?”

“Not today, it’s quite nice out and I have the energy for it, a walk will be good for me, and for you too, a little vitamin D won’t kill you ya know.”

Virgil gasped dramatically, feigning offense. “Exxxxxcccuuussseee you! That bright motherf***er,” he pointed to the sun, “is absolutley trying to kill me. Skin cancer, sunburns, heatstroke, cataracts? All from the sun!”

“Virgil the sun doesn’t have an vendetta against you, it has one against all of humanity.”

“Bold of you to assume he’s human!”

The voice came from behind them, making them both jump, and Virgil couldn’t help what blurted out of his mouth, truly it wasn’t his fault.

“MOTHMANS LITTLE HOE! WHo the F*** STILL SNEAKS UP ON ME!?!?!”

He spun around, and dropped his jaw as he layed eyes on the most drop-dead gorgeous man he’d ever seen. Was showing that much skin even legal?

The man gasped and looked down at his wrist, and his eyes widened before he looked back up at Virgil, grinning. “Well well well, looks like you’re my soulmate, Gerard Gay!”

Virgil sighed, “f*** me and my big mouth.”

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commander-isekai · 4 years ago

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Commander Isekai - commander from an another world

A/N:

Hi all! This my tongue-in-cheek fic about a commander, who’s actually a human player from the real world, and who now lives through the game, but armed with previous knowledge about it. They aren’t happy just to follow along a story, so things will get different quickly enough. Hence their name is commander Kai, as a pun from the isekai genre. I’ve been inspired by similar fics done about other games, and I thought gw2 could be a fun one too.

Chapter One:

The Second Awakening or how I found myself in a video game world

Sometimes, all you can remember is falling. It was the only sensation I could comprehend. The world around me was a blurry, like a messy watercolor painting. If there were any noises, I couldn't hear them. I just fell.

A painfully bright light drilled into my eyes.

I woke up with a great thump, as I landed into a large pile of dry leaves. They managed to soften my landing to a degree, but I was aching from all over, like if I had rolled downhill like a cheese in a cheese-wheeling competition, determined to win the first place no matter how crumbly my state would be at the finish line.

"This fucking sucks.." I groaned, tossing my arm out and trying to find my glasses, or my phone, but only grasped more leaves. I hoped I hadn’t broken either one during my fall.

"Are you alright, Valiant?" I heard a concerned voice ask, "the awakening can be sometimes rough, but you'll find your bearings soon enough."

Oh no, had I fallen asleep outside? I had a bad habit of dozing off, but the embarrassment of sleeping outside and this kind person having to wake me up made me wish I could knock myself out permanently rather than face them.

"Yeah yeah, I'm sorry about this, just give me a minute..." I tried to form coherent sentences while pushing my hair away, but my hand gathered only more leaves? and no hair??

I pulled my hand in front of my face and yelped in surprise when I saw that it was bright lavender, a color that my regular human hands should not be, and that I was grasping purple and pink ferns instead of my regular colored human hair.

"Wh-what the hell is going on?" I looked at myself and the person helping me, and only then I realized they weren't human either, but a pea-green person who seemed to be made out of plant material and flowers. Behind them, I could see a shimmering lake and a small village, with more denizens similar to them and me.

As I gasped upon the scene, the two braincells inside my skull finally hit a nerve and made the connection that I had been missing:

A) Somehow, I was in Caledon Forest. Like, the starting zone in Guild Wars 2, an MMO I used to play lot back in the day until I got too busy with my life and other video games.

B) Also somehow, I wasn't a human anymore. I was a walking, talking, internally-panicking sylvari.

C) Last but not least, I could see everything clearly without glasses. This fact stressed me out the most. Had my vision somehow been fixed when I fell? I did like my old glasses, and really hoped they were in one piece somewhere.

"Are you feeling enough well to stand?" the sylvari that must be a mender asked me, offering a hand that I gladly took as I wobbled onto my feet like a newborn calf.

“I think I am?” I answered hesitantly, not certain if I’d stay upright after she’d let go of me.

" I am mender Lorean. What's your name?" the sylvari asked me.

" Um, Kai" I said, as the first name in my mind was the name of my commander character, "short of Cainneach, but just Kai is fine."

It didn't feel right to introduce myself with my given human name, as it was definitely not a sylvari name, and that would have revealed me being something else than your regular baby sprout. I really wasn't married to that name anyway, so Kai came out naturally. I had already used Kai as a all-around nickname, so I settled into it like putting on a new, yet surprisingly comfortable shirt.

"Alright, Valiant Kai", seeing as I could hold on my own against the gravity, Lorean let go of my hand, and explained: "Now, it can take some time to get used to the world outside the Dream. You shouldn't wander off too far from the Grove, at least not until you're experienced enough. You should find anything you need inside the city, and the mentors will help you along. Caithe also asked me to tell you that she wants to speak with you, when you are ready."

The mender that helped me did not seem to comment on my errantic behaviour - they must have seen a wild variety of saplings in their time.

"Wait, why do you keep calling me a valiant?" I asked, trying to wrap my head around what I could remember about Caithe. The total sum was not much - an assassin with a troubled past: a guild of heroes that basically cut ties after a failed dragon killing quest and ex-girlfriend who's in the lead of the bad Nightmare sylvari. That'd be a lot for anyone.

"Caithe told me, about how you joined forces with her to defeat the a large nightmare beast in the Dream. That must be a sign of a great Wyld Hunt", Lorean explained, and asked curiously: "don't you remember the Dream?"

Oh right. The Dream, or the tutorial part with the big dragon monster. I somehow completely skipped that in this new, 4D-supported version of Tyria. At least I did not remember experiencing anything resembling fighting a giant dragon to death, not after waking up here. I had an inkling that telling so would only raise more questions, and I had plenty of those myself.

"Oh yes, it's all coming back to me", I lied with a practiced straight face, "I must have just hit my head hard when I awoke, that's all. I'll be on my way now, thanks!"

I waved and nearly dashed to an exit before Lorean could respond. They were being just nice, sure, but I needed a moment for myself with no one else right now, or I would explode on the spot.

'''

Not far from the village, but enough far that no one would hopefully bother me, I made my way to the large pond, to really take in all the changes.

"Oh no, the fireflies are actually that big", I grimaced when I saw a group of the flying creatures gather around one of the light-giving plants, "That's going to take some time getting used to."

I sat down next to the water's edge, and I could finally take a look at my new features. They were nothing like what I'd been used to - instead of soft skin, my face was hard, bark-like texture. My hair was like plant's leaf, yet sturdier - it hurt when I tried to pull it. My form was different too, almost like I had had a second puberty without knowing it - my limbs were taller than what I had been used to, and I felt my presentation was more masculine than what it had been when I was human.

The more I sat and contemplated my situation, everything around me seemed to make no sense. I was stuck in an unfamiliar body, in the role of the main character of a video game, and while I did not remember every detail of what happened in the story, I knew it wouldn't take long for things to get hairy. Why I was here? Why did I look like this? No matter how I tried to rationalize it, I had no answers, and I was only left with piling up frustration, and tears began to form in the corners of my eyes.

“Hey, are you alright?” A new voice dragged me out of my depths. It belonged to a blue sylvari with a mushroom-capped head, and whose leaf-like outfit seemed to grow naturally as a part of their body.

“I don’t know, it’s just - a lot of stuff to process. The whole awakening, and everything”, I told them as honestly as I could.

“You seemed to be a little more lost than the other sprouts - and I do not mean that in a judgmental way”, the sylvari said and hold out something: “here, take this, it will help.”

“Oh, thank you”, I accepted the carved bowl that seemed to be made out of a giant nut, and the gentle smell of pumpkin soup overwhelmed me. Gods, I realized only now how starved I felt, like I had not eaten properly for days.

“I don’t have any money, or gold-” I tried to say, but the other sylvari cut in quickly:

“Do not worry about it! I hope you have a pleasant evening!”

The sylvari took off, and I was too mesmerized by their kindness towards a random stranger like me that it did not even occur to me to ask their name. The soup, still warm in my hands was a temptation too great to resist, and I wasted no time devouring it.

Maybe this world isn’t too bad after all, if people are gifting food freely to others like that, I thought to myself, earlier anguish almost completely forgotten.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #yes the player is like free soup free gender? yes please

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grailfinders · 4 years ago

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Fate and Phantasms #84: Arjuna

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making the Hero of the Endowed and one of the leading players in the Mahabharata, Arjuna! Arjuna is, of course, the perfect hero, so he’s a great pick if you want to be good at just about everything except dealing with your crippling impostor syndrome.

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: The hero we need right now.

Race and Background

Arjuna’s human, but he’s also the son of the lightning god Indra, so it’s a pretty good excuse to make him an Air Genasi. This gives him +1 Dexterity and +2 Constitution. He also gets Unending Breath, because you can’t prove Arjuna can’t hold his breath indefinitely while conscious, and Mingle with the Wind, which lets him levitate when it’s time to use his NP. You can only cast this spell once per long rest, and it uses constitution as its casting modifier.

The Indian caste system probably doesn’t map 1:1 with D&D backgrounds that well, but it’s pretty safe to say Arjuna’s a Noble, giving him History and Persuasion proficiency.

Ability Scores

Your highest score should be Dexterity, archers tend to be pretty good with a bow. Well, Archers don’t, but you do. Second is your Charisma, you’re the most popular sibling in a family with two kids who are exclusively called “the beautiful”, and you somehow convinced everyone that the upstanding Krishna keeps telling you to do bad things. Third is Intelligence, you have to be pretty smart to keep your book straight, it’s dense reading. Your Constitution’s a little low, but it got bumped up by racial bonuses. We don’t need Strength, but we’re dumping Wisdom- you’re not known for your ability to resist temptation.

Class Levels

1. Fighter 1: First level fighters come pre-packaged with proficiency in Strength and Constitution saves, as well as two fighter skills. I’d go with Intimidation and Perception, just make sure you don’t pick any physical skills, we’ll get those later.

At first level, you get to pick a Fighting Style, and the obvious pick here is Archery for an extra +2 to all ranged attack rolls. You also get a Second Wind (ha ha, air puns), letting you heal up as a bonus action once per short rest. Sadly, this doesn’t charge your NP like Hero of the Endowed, but we’ll work on it.

2. Fighter 2: Your Action Surge lets you add an extra action to your turn once per short rest. If you try again before the turn’s over and you succeed, it’s like you never failed in the first place, right?

3. Fighter 3: I know a lot of people are probably expecting arcane archer, but Arjuna has tons of magic items, not magic skill. We’ll make our weapon fancy in a minute, but first we have to get a solid foundation with the Champion subclass. When you take this option, you get an Improved Critical, letting you score critical hits on 19s and 20s.

4. Fighter 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to become a Sharpshooter, letting you fire at long range without disadvantage and take a -5 penalty to a ranged attack to gain a +10 bonus to that attack’s damage. You can also ignore all but full cover.

5. Fighter 5: Fifth level fighters get an Extra Attack with each attack action, letting you make two attacks per turn, or four with your Action Surge. Now that your basic attacks are covered, let’s have a chat with Agni about getting a worthy bow.

6. Warlock 1: Continuing this build’s metaphor of Genasi = elemental demigod, elemental gods would be Genies, which just became official warlock patrons in Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything. Agni would be an Efreeti, and striking up a deal with him gives you a Genie’s Vessel, a tiny object that you can use as a spellcasting focus, and has an AC equal to your spell save DC (8 + proficiency + charisma modifier), HP equal to your warlock level + proficiency bonus, and is immune to poison and psychic damage. You can spend an hour while resting to replace a lost or missing vessel, and you’ll want to keep it with you because it comes with plenty of benefits. While touching the vessel, you have access to a Bottled Respite, spending an action to enter the vessel, with an interior space that you can store items in. You can enter the vessel once per long rest, and stay in there a number of hours equal to twice your proficiency bonus. You can also invoke the Genie’s Wrath once per turn, adding an amount of Fire damage equal to your proficiency bonus to anything that involves an attack roll. This means you can add it to your arrows or spells. Versatile!

Speaking of Spells, you get pact magic from your patron that uses Charisma to cast, and your spell slots recharge on short rests. For cantrips, Eldritch Blast gives you some magical arrows before you even get your magic bow, and True Strike helps you aim better but not really. For spells, Detect Evil and Good will let you know when the Kurus are up to something (they always are), and Charm Person will keep your ridiculous disguises from failing.

7. Warlock 2: Second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations. Spend one on Armor of Shadows, because you’re clearly not wearing plate mail, and save the other for next level. Also pick up Cause Fear, because who wouldn’t be afraid of you?

8. Warlock 3: The Pact of the Blade gives you a magical melee weapon that you can summon as an action, and the invocation Improved Pact Weapon lets you pick a longbow as your pact weapon, gives it a +1 to attacks and damage, and makes it a spellcasting focus to boot!

Now that you have Gandiva by your side, grab Scorching Ray for more fiery arrows.

9. Warlock 4: Use this ASI to improve your Dexterity for better AC and accuracy. Also pick up Friends and Suggestion as your spells this level. A fun thing about the Mahabharata is that if someone of sufficient power says something will happen, it happens. We can’t make it so you’ll definitely win against your brother, but you should be able to apply this to smaller scale events.

10. Bard 1: If you want to be good at everything, you have to become a bard sometime. At first level, you get another set of Spells that use your Charisma to cast. Unlike most casting classes, multiclassing in warlock doesn’t mess with your spell slots, so just use whatever the books says at each level. You also get Bardic Inspiration, a number of d6 equal to your charisma modifier that you can hand out to allies to improve their attack rolls, checks, and saves. Finally, you get proficiency in any one skill. I think it’s safe to assume that living in The Forest for over a decade would help anyone’s Survival skills.

For your spells, Light and Message help you put on a light show and communicate on the battlefield. Animal Friendship will help you get that cute monkey friend of yours. Command continues the Speak and It Shall Happen effect from last level, and there’s enough talking animals in the Mahabharata that Speak with Animals should be a given. Also, you disguised yourself as a eunuch named Big Dick for a full year and no one called you on it, so I assume Disguise Self was in effect somehow.

11. Bard 2: Second level bards become a Jack of All Trades, adding half your proficiency to all checks you’re not proficient in. It’s not Anime Protagonist levels, but it’s still pretty good. You also learn a Song of Rest, adding a d6 to healing done over the course of a short rest.

For more of a healing factor, pick up Cure Wounds.

12. Bard 3: For your first and only round of Expertise, double your proficiency in Perception and Survival. You’re a pretty good archer, and you didn’t die in those twelve years. I think. Please don’t spoil it for me, I just got to their exile. You also get to pick a college, and the college of Swords lets you add some extra effects to your arrows to make them even more magical. When you take the attack action, you can add 10′ to your movement speed for the turn. When you hit with an attack, you can expend an inspiration die once per turn to add a Blade Flourish to that attack. Add the inspiration die’s roll to your damage, and then pick one of the following: a Defensive Flourish adds the roll to your AC until the start of your next turn, a Slashing Flourish deals the same amount of damage to another creature within 5′ of you, and a Mobile Flourish pushes the creature away, and you can react to move up to your walking speed closer to the creature. Amazingly, despite being called Blade Flourishes, none of these require a melee weapon, so have fun with them.

You also get another Fighting Style. You probably won’t use it, but Two-weapon Fighting will let people know you’re ambidextrous.

For your last bard spell, Enhance Ability will make your skill checks even better, giving you advantage on one kind of skill check for up to an hour. There’s also a couple extra bonuses for choosing physical checks, but this level’s already dragging on.

13. Fighter 6: Back in the fighter levels, use this ASI for higher Charisma. This gives you better spell saves and more flourishes per long rest.

14. Warlock 5: Bounce back to one last level of warlock for the third level spell Fear as well as the invocation Eldritch Smite, which adds 4d8 Force damage to a weapon attack by eating up one of your very limited warlock slots.

15. Fighter 7: Okay, back in fighter for real this time. At seventh level, you’re a Remarkable Athlete, adding half your proficiency bonus to physical skill checks you’re not proficient in, and adding your strength modifier to the length of running long jumps. By combining this and Jack of All Trades, you’re now pseudoproficient in every physical skill, plus initiative, without any of the effort.

16. Fighter 8: Use this ASI to finally max out your Dexterity for the strongest AC, arrows, and initiative.

17. Fighter 9: Ninth level fighters are Indomitable, letting you reroll a failed saving throw once per long rest. Failure is for people without the weight of the world on their shoulders.

18. Fighter 10: Tenth level Champions get an Additional Fighting Style, and the new Superior Technique option from Tasha’s lets us grab a battle master maneuver and pick up a d6 superiority die at the same time. The precision attack lets you add that d6 to an attack roll, for when you really can’t afford to miss your shot. You regain the die on short rests.

19. Fighter 11: At eleventh level, you get another Extra Attack, letting you nock a third arrow in a single action.

20. Fighter 12: Use your final ASI to strengthen your Charisma even further for better skill checks, stronger spells, and more flourishes.

Pros:

You’re good at ranged combat, with the ability to attack from afar with your longbow or medium range with spells like Eldritch Blast and Scorching Ray. Being able to use flourishes from 600 feet away also opens up opportunities for messing with enemy placement from a safe distance.

Thanks to Jack of all Trades and your plethora of social spells, you’re very good at dealing with problems outside of combat as well, opening up new opportunities for your party.

By having flourishes and smites on standby, you can deal a lot of burst damage when you deal a critical hit, which should happen often thanks to your increased chances and extra attacks.

Cons:

Your damage types mostly focus on normal arrows and fire, which tends to be resisted by a lot of enemies. Considering most of the Kurus are technically part demon, this could be an issue for you.

You have a few spell slots per rest, so you have to make your spells count. This is a similar problem for your flourishes, but you’re still better off than arcane archers.

Your low wisdom means you’ll fall for temptation pretty easily. Keep a good friend on standby to help you through the hard times.

#fgo #fate grand order #D&D 5e #Arjuna #Fate and Phantasms

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eggrestes · 5 years ago

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the two of us

the lovesquare through the time.

Find it on AO3!

"I win again, chaton." Ladybug greeted him with a giddy smile. She stood tall, hands on hips, brighter than the moon hidden behind the clouds in the sky. She wore a smirk looking so beautiful and stunning his knees would have buckled if he was on the ground. It was one of those rare nights when Ladybug disregarded her responsibilities and just had fun i.e the best nights. Her smile was a little wider, her eyes twinkling and his heart over the moon.

Chat rolled his eyes. "You got lucky."

She huffed and giggled, turning away to go to the next rooftop. Her giggles were always so adorable, her cheeks a little pink. He smiled at her back. He loved losing to her.

He grabbed her hand and bowed low, placing a feather light kiss on the knuckles. She froze, her eyes rounded and mouth agape with shock. No matter how many times he pulled this trick on her she always reacted just like this.

And just like every other time, she snatched her hand back and laughed, light and easy.

"Silly kitty." She said, flicking his bell, taking out her yo-yo and gracefully swung to the next rooftop.

He followed her, slipping a little on the wet roof, his heart beating fast and loud, his ears tingling with her laughter, sweeter than any tune he had ever heard.

•••

August came with a scorching sun and a lot of changes.

Kagami flew back to Japan for further training. Alya and Nino moved in together (Nora had not been a fan of that idea and had let them know that very loudly and violently). Chloe was going to New York for some acting course. Marinette (who might be Ladybug but he can't go down that lane, not today) had gotten into Esmond and would move in the dorms a week before the semester starts.

And Adrien had moved out of his childhood home, out of his father’s dictatorship, a step towards independence.

His new apartment was quaint and smaller than his room back home but it was warmer and alive. Moving out was something Adrien wanted to do for years but seeing the empty shelves and the cardboard boxes in his old room, it dawned on him that he was going away from a house that contained his mother’s memories, comforting as ever. But then there was his father, who had not been happy with his decision to not continue to model after he turned 18 so that he could commit fully to his course at the University and then to move out. He had not even come out to see him off.

Alya, Nino and Marinette had come over to help him organize but left at his request, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He regretted sending them away. He was too restless to sleep. He could really use someone's company right then.

And so he jumped to the opportunity to go out when Ladybug came knocking at his window.

Currently, they sat side by side on a rooftop, knees touching, fingers millimetres away, the stars twinkling above. Adrien often wondered why Ladybug brought only him to this place. It didn't offer the best view of Paris but it was private because of the quiet neighbourhood. It always felt like they were secret lovers, hiding from the world in broad daylight (or moonlight as it would be usually dark) when they ended up here.

Their mood was a little pensive. Both were a little lost in their head. It was obvious that his Lady needed some company that night. And so did he.

They both tried to talk a little but eventually gave up , just sat there side by side in solace.

Ladybug's presence calmed him down. She was one constant in his life, always confident and supporting, making his heart fill with hope. She showed her adoration in the form of sweets and gifts, putting so much thought and detail in them it startled him. She picked him up when he felt low and disconnected, putting faith in him even when he often lost it.

And if she was Marinette, then it made her so much more real, human and unattainable. Someone who was as sweet as her and determined as her wouldn't look at him twice. It hurt him a little that his affection would never be fully returned but he was fine with it. As long as he could be with her as a friend, he would be blessed and content.

"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I had kissed you that day?" The voice was quiet and he would have easily missed it if not for the placid quiet of 2 A.M.

Oh that day.

They were sitting right here, around this time. The mood was light, both talking nonsense and their laughter loud and carefree.

Until Ladybug exclaimed, "I could kiss you right now."

And before either of them could process what she had said, Adrien replied, "Maybe you should."

He hadn't stopped thinking about it ever since.

And apparently neither had Ladybug. Adrien still finds it hard to believe that Ladybug had noticed him, had actually thought about him during the day when he wasn't around and had thought about kissing him twice. His brain went static at that thought. After all he had always longed for Ladybug, even when he dated Kagami, and then later Jean. His feelings for her had started out strong but eventually it dimmed down but never truly went away. The feelings were always there, like the quiet hum of the laptop when it was turned on.

Before he could even blink, Ladybug stood up,muttering under her breath, a little embarrassed.

"It's late. I should go now." She said, not looking him in the eye, holding out her hand. He took it and slowly got up, blood rushing to his ears. He resisted the urge to scratch his neck. She held him close, hand tightening around his waist just before she took the first swing. He hoped that she was not able to hear the erratic beating of his heart.

When they got back to his place, a little winded and their cheeks flushed now because of the wind too. She gently put him down, her hands lingering a little. And then she got on tiptoes and lightly brushed her lips against his pulling back before he could react.

"Good night, Adrien." She whispered cupping his cheeks and then was gone with a zip.

He just stood there stupefied, fingers hovering above his lips, the same lips that Ladybug had just pecked, until Plagg grumbled something about lovesick teens, coaxing his limbs move.

He fell asleep with the feel of her lips on his, the feel of her hands on his cheek, his heart warm.

•••

Marinette was not having a great day.

She had slept through the alarm and had to skip breakfast to get to class. Her designs were heavily criticized and now she had to do it all again. An expensive fabric was ruined when Alya had accidentally spilled coffee on it.

And now she just couldn't get the colours right.

She groaned and flopped down on the desk. Her luck seemed to disappear with her alter-ego's suit. She was so tired, the temptation of just closing her eyes and passing out right at her desk was strong.

There was a light knock on her window and she just grunted in reply. After all there was only one person who entered her room through the window. (Leaving that one time when Alya had actually climbed the three stories on a dare.)

"Long day?" Chat Noir greeted, right at her ear. She was startled and lifted her head just to give him a stink eye. He gave an apologetic smile. She put her head back between her arms on the desk and sighed.

She had told everyone that she was to be left alone that day but he had showed up anyway. She was glad he had but was not going to voice it.

Through her peripheral vision she could she Chat- who was also Adrien, and oh my god why was this fact making her feel things - taking in the disaster that was her room: papers, pieces of fabric lying about, some random pin in between waiting to needle her when she least expected. Then his focus shifted back on her, her hair pinned up messily, her fingers red and eyes heavy with sleep.

His face wore a soft look, his gaze bright and full of affection. Marinette felt a bit self-conscious. Ever since the reveal that her dorky, pun-loving partner was also the boy she had mooned over, things felt a little different. Not uncomfortable but so much more raw and real and intimate.

His face scrunched up in determination, lips pressed thin and how the hell did he look so cute and why did she swoon at it.

Get a grip Marinette, you are 19 now not 15!

"C'mon m'lady, let's get you to bed." He lifted her up in his arms, her heart beating a little bit faster because of that nickname. She loved it when he called her that. He only called her that when they were alone.

She whimpered in protest, trying to get back in her chair. If she didn't figure that now she would never be able to.

He just shook his head fondly at her antics, holding her firmly against his chest.

"That can wait for tomorrow, little lady. You need your beauty sleep." He said carrying her over to her bed, dodging the pins and the fabrics along the way.

She gave up struggling and relaxed in his arms, trying to get as warm as she could. She should have closed the window.

Her thoughts drifted how she was being carried princess styled by Adrien (it's not the first time he has done this but this time she knows.) She thought about her crush on Adrien and his on Ladybug and how they had been running in circles for years. They were so oblivious. And dense. She suppressed a smile. (The funniest bit was that Adrien still doesn't know about her hopeless crush on him though. Nino had told him but he had laughed him off.)

Finally they made it to her bed and he gently put her down.

"Good night, Marinette." He said patting her head, smiling a little.

She took hold of his wrist just when he was withdrawing it. His eyes rounded, surprised, mouth agape.

"Stay." She whispered. "You are so warm. You know bugs get cold in winter."

He chuckled "it's not winter yet." But got in her open arms. She snuggled him closer, burying her head in his chest.

A soft "claws in" and the magical suit was replaced by cotton, claws replaced by fingers, running soothing circles on her shoulder. She drifted off to sleep wrapped in his arms and scent.

•••

Wednesday evenings were spent on Adrien's couch, the two of them finding comfort in each other's presence. It had become a tradition between them when she had one day come over for video games. Mostly they played video games, but sometimes, like today, they just sat in comfortable silence, doing their own work.

Adrien was lying on the couch, head in her lap, his long legs hanging off the handrest. Marinette scrolled through youtube, hoping something catches her eye, while her hand absentmindedly snakes into his head. His hair was soft (when was it not) and he leaned into her touch.

She gave up and closed her phone and looked over at Adrien. He looked at ease, just on the edge of sleep.

He was probably listening to a podfic about astrology which he would tell her about later. He loved talking about the distant stars and possibility of alien life and ranted about it to anyone who would listen.

Stupid nerd.

And now he had been prescribed glasses.

Stupid, blind nerd.

Her stupid, blind nerd.

Alya often complained that she spent more time with him rather than her. It was an understatement. Both of them were constantly in contact through one means or another. If they were not at others place (a very common sight), they would be out fighting an akuma or patrolling. Or they would be texting. Or they would be out stupidly wandering the city, arguing which restaurant or cafe they should try out that day.

Acquaintances assumed they were dating. Her classmate had actually thought that they were engaged. ("You both have matching charms!") Maman gave her a knowing smile when she would pick up some sweets for him. Papa had actually greeted him as son-in-law but he was too scared to correct him. ("What if he gets akumatized again?" He had argued, face pale.) Even Nino had said that being in the same room as them was sickening because of the unresolved tension.

Alya had sighed and told her to just ask him out already and put everyone out of misery. "Besides what's there to lose, 'nette?"

What was there to lose?

Their partnership. The banter. Theses Wednesday nights. The flowers left at random places with a note and a pun. The silly jokes, eye rolls and nose boops. The little touches when they were out with friends. The eyes seeking out the other's even when the room is full of people. The unwavering trust when the other is about to do something reckless. Their quiet conversations at 2 A.M., voices so low they would whisper into each other's ears. The companion she had been confiding in for years and who was so precious, so close to her heart that she didn't know if she could go a day without him.

Him.

Her partner who was lolling off in her lap, wearing ladybug PJs. Whose heart was so pure and full of love she wondered how lucky she got to find him and win his trust, his love. Why was she afraid when she knows that no matter what happens, he would still be there by her side?

His eyes opened when her hand went still at that thought and blinked as if he had woken in a stranger's house. He really did look like a lost kitten. His eyes found hers and he relaxed again, her presence reassuring, sinking back in the couch,eyes closing again

Seeing this made her heart swell, getting so big she thought that it would burst right out of her. She knew that she loved him, her feelings getting deeper and stronger as the years passed. It was a fact when it came to her. But right then she realises how strong those feelings were. She felt like she was drowning in it, too helpless to even move.

Adrien seemed to sense the change in her mood (because of course he did) and partially got up on his hands, a worried look on his face.

"Bug?" he called.

She didn't say anything.

"Mari?" He called, again. "Are you o-"

His words were cut off as she pulled him towards her and bended down to press her lips against his. She had never imagined that she would have to bend down to kiss her horrendously tall partner but then again many things weren't going the way she had thought so why would this be any exception.

He kissed back, a hand cradling her cheeks so tenderly she melted. The kiss was rough as if they were trying to make up for the lost time. And maybe they were. They broke apart gasping for air but kissed again, this time slower, Adrien now sitting in her lap.

Eventually they stopped. She rested her head on his ,eyes still closed, a small smile forming on her face.

They would be more than okay

#luna writes #its soft okay thats all this is #and fluffy #ladrien #ladynoir #THEY ARE SO STUPID AND IN LOVE #lovesquare #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #okay i cant think of anymore tags okay oof #ml #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #marichat #adrinette

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thepatricktreestump · 5 years ago

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Crush pt1 - peter parker imagine

crush masterlist

part 1 - study hall

Although none of the other girls in your class would agree with you, you were convinced that Peter Parker was the most attractive guy at Midtown High. He had stolen your heart from the very first day of AP Chemistry, confidently answering some basic questions concerning the structure of carbon compositions, and you basically swooned. You found smart guys unbelievably sexy, and ones who were humble were twice as good. Parker was a quiet kid, very sharp and sensible, but also friendly and courteous. Unlike the other boys at your school, he wasn’t loud mouthed and cocky, throwing outrageous parties and trying to hit on every girl within a five foot radius. It was refreshing to see a guy your age not be obsessed with copying down your homework or trying to invite you to a college frat party. Peter Parker was different, and you liked that about him. You liked it a lot.

He kept to himself and two his friends mostly, MJ and Ned, which made you more interested in him and his life. Most days he either wore these adorable blue V-neck sweaters or these goofy science pun t-shirts that looked as if ordered in a bulk pack from Amazon. He was a proud member of the photography club, robotics club, debate team, and Science Olympiad. He was one of the smartest people you knew, and in turn, that simply made him the most attractive. Perhaps it was your father who had established your high standard in boys, seeing as he dabbled in astrophysics and technological engineering as a hobby. He was Ironman after all, being an overachiever was practically a household expectation. You were pretty smart yourself, and although it could be looked upon as rude or inconsiderate, the truth was you liked to surround yourself with others who either matched or challenged your intellect.

Since establishing your crush on Peter Parker, you strived to spend more time with him. You told yourself you could start it off as a friendship with a silly crush and see how things went from there. Towards the end of the class one day, you were determined to talk to the boy. The plan was to ask him to go over some of his notes with you, maybe make it a study date situation, hope he didn’t call your bluff. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand the lesson, you understood everything perfectly fine. Hell, you could probably speak stoichiometry in your sleep. However, you needed a good reason to introduce yourself, so you hoped for the best and decided to take a leap of faith. Nervously smoothing your sweaty palms down on your thighs and gathering your books up from your desk, you walked over to where he was talking to his best friend Ned. “Hey,” you tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around, staring at you with his soft hazel eyes, brunette hair swept up neatly, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Oh hi,” he gave a warm smile and nervously cleared his throat. “What’s uh, what’s up?”

“I’m y/n, I sit over there,” you pointed out as an introduction.

“I think I’ve seen you around. Aren’t you Tony Stark’s daughter?” he cocked his head to the side and you groaned slightly, ever the exhausted with being immediately associated with your father.

“Yup that’s me,” you sighed. “Uh, anyways, I noticed you seem pretty caught up on this lesson and I was having some difficulty understanding some of the concepts, I was hoping maybe I could borrow your notes sometime? If that’s okay?”

“Oh?” he seemed surprised, but flattered, blush rising to his cheeks. “Sure! Of course. I’m Peter by the way, Peter Parker.” He gave a nervous laugh and then shook his head. “My notes aren’t the neatest in the world but if you think they could help, I’d be more than happy to lend you them for a night or two.”

“Thanks,” you nodded. “That would be great. I think I’ve seen you in my lunch period too, so I could always just return them to you before class then.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed. “Or uh, if you wanted, we could always hang out at the library afterschool and I could explain it to you. Protein structural components can get a little tricky sometimes.”

“For sure,” you chuckled, realizing how lame you probably sounded laughing over chemistry. “I’m usually free afterschool, as long as you’re okay with it, that sounds great to me!”

“How afterschool tomorrow?” he offered. “Just for an hour or two?”

“Perfect,” you couldn’t help but blush yourself. “Thanks, Peter. Really.”

It felt like your heart was beating out of your chest as you walked away, envisioning his adorable smile still in your mind. He was so sweet, and kind, and understanding. Pretty eager too. You had to stifle a laugh as you heard Ned slug Peter on the shoulder and whisper shout, “Dude! You just scored a study date with Y/n Stark!”

“See ya, Parker,” you turned around and winked, walking out of the classroom and towards your locker.

The next day in class, you kept glancing back in your chair to look at him, smirking to yourself every time you caught him staring back. He was shy alright, and nervous, but it made him all the more adorable. That morning you made sure to fix your hair up and put on a little bit of lipstick, and after being thoroughly interrogated by your overbearing father, you were able to get out the door in one piece. It wasn’t that you were overexerting yourself into catching his attention, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping to have him compliment you. The rest of the school day, you caught yourself using the rest of your attention to calculate how much time was left until you could rush to the library and actually talk to him for once.

“I thought you’d never show up,” you teased as he took a seat next to you at one of the tables, setting his backpack down on the floor and sighing.

“Me either,” he groaned. “Ned wouldn’t stop bugging me about this being a date.” He gave a nervous laugh and turned to you, but you weren’t laughing. Instead you looked at him, smiling sweetly, unable to resist your temptation.

“It can be a date,” you shrugged, opening up your textbook and waiting for a response, only to catch him dumbfounded, struggling to find words to say.

“Oh, I mean- I-” he stammered and you chuckled.

“I’m just playing with you, Parker,” you playfully reassured. “Now come on, open up those science notes so I can take a good look. I’m still lost on the GPCR structure similarities.”

“That’s what doesn’t really make sense to me though,” he mused, doubtful as he instead swiped your notes across the table, reading them over and pointing at your diagrams. “I think you do. All of these are mapped out perfectly, and your comparisons are spot on.”

“Well there’s no harm in getting clarification,” you replied, trying to grab back your notes but he held them out of your reach, narrowing his eyes. Peter didn’t buy it.

“Why do you need my help, y/n? You’re literally the smartest girl in school. Your father is Tony Stark for heaven’s sake, you don’t need tutoring,” he insisted. “If anything, you should be tutoring me.”

“You?” you scoffed. “Pete, you’re varsity on every academic team there is. No way.”

“I just don’t get it,” he admitted. “Why’d you ask for my help? It’s obvious you understand the lesson perfectly fine.”

“Well…” you blinked at him, shocked at how quickly he had seen right through your cover. “I uh, I don’t know.” Your face turned a bright shade of pink and you began to feel queasy. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course,” he nodded, concerned but also curious as to what you had to say.

“I just wanted an excuse to talk to you,” you confessed, embarrassed. “I always see you around and you seem so smart and you’re a part of all these clubs and teams and I don’t know…”

He looked surprised, almost confused, but then smiled. “Me? Why me?”

“I dunno. You seem really sweet.”

“Thanks. You too.”

“I was thinking maybe we could be friends? If that’s not too weird or-”

“No, no that sounds, that sounds great,” he insisted, clearly flustered. He looked up at you, eyes sparkling, lips curled up in a smile. “You could’ve just asked you know.”

“Yeah I’m uh, I’m clearly a fool when it comes to those kinds of things,” you laughed nervously, scratching the back of your head.

“Well, since we’re here anyways,” Peter decided. “Want to do homework together instead?”

“Sure,” you agreed. “That sounds great.”

Both of you spent the next couple of hours solving Gauss-Jordan elimination matrices and memorizing resistance series equations. In a lot of ways, Peter Parker was just as much of a nerd as you were. It was comforting to know someone’s brain worked the same way yours did, excited to be challenged with theorems and calculations, determined to find solutions and build upon your already established intellect. When the library eventually closed, you walked to the cafeteria vending machines and grabbed some chips and sodas, exchanging conversation and making each other laugh with stupid jokes.

“Sit at my lunch table tomorrow,” Peter invited after having added you on snapchat. “MJ and Ned will be there, and you can bring some of your friends if you want too.”

“Okay,” you grinned. “Count me in.”

Walking home, your entire stomach was filled with butterflies. Things couldn’t have gotten better. He was genuinely funny, and clever, and really sweet too. You hoped and prayed things would go well between you two. Practically skipping to the elevator, you tried to hide the stupid smile on your face in hopes that your dad wouldn’t pry too much. However, you instantly cringed when you heard JARVIS’ voice greet you as the doors slid open and you reached your floor.

“Good evening, Miss Y/n. It seems that you have finally arrived home from school,” he chirped and you groaned, knowing what was to follow. “Your father has requested that I alert him upon your arrival, he has been inquiring about your whereabouts-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know JARVIS,” you mumbled, setting your bookbag on your chair and frowning. “I came home late, I was at study hall with a friend.”

“You are approximately three and a half hours late from your usual arrival,” JARVIS informed.

“I am aware,” you insisted yet again, noticing your dad march towards you from a hall. Part of you was surprised he even noticed you were gone at all. Most of the time he was either out with the Avengers on a mission or cooped up in the lab working on a new project.

“And where were you afterschool, young lady?” he inquired, arms folded, peering at you above the rim of his glasses.

“I was at study hall with a friend,” you repeated, chewing at your lower lip, trying to play it off. “It took a little longer than I thought it would, I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t give me a call at least?” he asked, annoyed.

“I didn’t think you cared,” you shrugged.

“Well I’m your father, so I do,” he argued and you nodded, growing quiet and waiting to hear whatever scolding you had coming to you.

Sometimes you wondered why he was constantly on your case. Maybe with him being an Avenger and all, always exposed to threats and danger, it translated to him being constantly worried about you. You knew it was just cause he cared, but at times, it did get a bit overbearing. You’ve learned by now to just nod your head and respond with “yes dad” and “I’m sorry dad” interchangeably.

“Much less, why are you all dolled up?” he looked you up and down in disapproval. You glanced down at your skirt and sweater, remembering the way he had inquired about your hair and makeup this morning. He wasn’t wrong. You rarely ever put any effort into your appearance when it came to going to school. You usually threw on some jeans and a hoodie and made your way out the door. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to impress someone.”

“I’m not,” you lied, rolling your eyes. “I just felt like changing it up today.”

“Uh huh,” he drew out. “Twenty bucks says your little friend at study hall was a boy.”

“Dad!” you whined and he smirked.

“That’s all I need to know,” he threw up his hands defensively, secretly proud of himself. “Hey kid, get your homework done and then meet me in the lab. Bruce has a project for you concerning some Dijkstra’s algorithms that are right up your alley.”

“Lucky for you I already got my homework done in study hall,” you pointed out. “So let me grab a snack real quick and I’ll meet you down there.”

“That’s my kiddo,” he smiled proudly. “See ya in a bit.”

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eddieeatsass · 6 years ago

Text

Pavlov’s Do(n)g

Summary: Richie had trained his dick to respond to darkness. He never thought it would get him in trouble, until he found himself in the middle of a blackout with his best friend, and a very well trained dong. Pairing: Reddie Rating: E Warnings: Smut, explicit language

Read on AO3

“If you ever listened to me and actually cleaned your fucking room, we wouldn’t be in this- OW!”

There was a loud clatter as Eddie stumbled over a pile of clothes and fell chest first into Richie’s dresser.

“Even if I cleaned my room, that still wouldn’t mean we’d find anything-”

“Everything should have its place!” Eddie interrupted sternly.

“Not everyone is as neurotic as you, Eds.” Richie rolled his eyes, a gesture gone unnoticed in the darkness of his dorm room.

The power had gone out minutes ago while the two were in the middle of a Fortnight tournament. Eddie had immediately switched into survival mode and began rummaging around Richie’s tiny room for a flashlight, even though Richie had insisted he didn’t own one.

Eddie kept his hands on the dresser after righting himself again, using it to feel his way back to Richie’s bed. He felt the soft cotton graze his leg and sunk down next to Richie with a sigh of defeat.

“Do you at least have any power on your phone?” Eddie asked, pulling his own phone out of his pocket to check.

He felt Richie rustle beside him and heard the telltale click of a button, but no light illuminated the space.

“Nope, dead as a doorknob.” Richie responded, chucking his phone in the direction of his nightstand. A thud announced that it hit the floor instead.

“Why do they say that anyway? Dead as a doorknob? I mean, it doesn’t make any sense. Something can’t be dead if it was never alive, right? Unless dead is just a synonym for inanimate, in which case, are dead people just inanimate ob-”

Eddie tuned him out as Richie continued to ramble. His own phone reflected back at him with only 12% battery. He cursed himself for being too distracted by video games to plug in his phone when he’d needed to. He quickly switched his phone to power saving mode and tucked it away. When he zoned back in, Richie was still ranting.

“- and in that case, does it hurt when we use them? Like, when we squeeze a doorknob, are we actually squeezing its nose?”

Eddie blinked back at Richie’s vague outline with incredulity, before his sigh dissolved into giggles.

“You totally just ripped off Alice in Wonderland.”

“What? No I didn’t?” Richie defended confidently.

“You’re thinking of that scene at the beginning of the movie where Alice finds a talking door and she squeezes it’s knob-nose.”

Richie was silent for a moment.

“Whatever, Walt Disney can suck my dick.”

The pair laughed for a bit before settling into silence, which was particularly deafening during a blackout. The only sound that could be heard were the passing cars outside the dorm, and the slow drip of the faucet in Richie’s bathroom that he’d been refusing to fix for three months now.

Richie’s leg began bouncing anxiously, the complete lack of stimulation already eating away at his nerves.

“This suuuuuccckkssss.” Richie whined.

“Hey, at least you’re not alone.” Eddie offered.

“It’d be better if I was alone!”

“Okay, Ouch.”

“Then I could just beat my meat until the power came back.”

“Ugh, Rich-”

“But now I’m just bored.”

“Hmm, poor you.”

Richie sighed. “I’m sorry Eds, I just get restless when I’m not doing something with my hands.”

“I know.” Eddie conceded; Richie’s ADHD could sometimes be an overwhelming feat for him to handle on his own.

He reached over to put a comforting hand on Richie’s jiggling leg, but the darkness had a way of throwing one’s coordination off.

Both boys froze as Eddie’s hand touched down on Richie’s crotch. Richie’s crotch, which was hard. Wait, why was Richie hard?

“I… uh…” Richie stammered while Eddie hastily pulled his hand away.

“I’m, uh, fuck, sorry.” Richie continued to stumble over his words as Eddie’s face flared hotter by the second.

“My roommate’s like, always here. He never fucking leaves, so I have to wait until he’s asleep to like, you know, have little Richie time, and now he just responds to darkness on his own. I swear to god, it’s like… fucking Pavlov’s dog. PAVLOV’S DICK! I PAVLOV’S DOG’D MY DICK!”

It took Eddie a minute for the words to truly sink in. The silence that stretched between them nearly became suffocating, and Richie was gearing up to begin rambling again, if for no other reason than to just drown out the quiet, when suddenly Eddie was laughing. Not just small titters, but full-blown belly laughs. He fell to his side, curling in on himself, laughter pooling all around him as he struggled to breathe.

“It’s not funny!” Richie protested with an almost indistinguishable lilt of humor in his tone.

“It’s… SO… funny!” Eddie wheezed between giggles.

Richie’s chuckles finally joined Eddie’s as the absurdity of the situation settled in.

Their laughter was interspersed with shouted puns, only half thought out and bordering on nonsense, but as they threw back and forth terms like ‘Pavlov’s Do(n)g’ or ‘Cock-turnal’, their tension bled away.

“Screw saving power, I need to tell the group chat about this.” Eddie grabbed his phone out of his pocket and began unlocking it with mischievous intent.

“Edward Spaghedward, I will kill you!” Richie yelled as he flung his body on top of Eddies to knock the phone out of his hand.

Eddie wrestled under Richie’s weight for a moment, struggling to reach for his phone now laying amongst the mess of Richie’s room. He could feel the laughter rumble through Richie’s chest, now pressed against his own which mimicked the same sound. Once Richie pinned his arms to the bed, he realized he couldn’t break free. Eddie let himself go limp, a sound of discontent accompanying a pout.

“Well, way to go Rich, my phone is now lost forever in the sea of your filth.” Eddie joked.

“It’s not that bad.” Richie objected.

“We still haven’t found Ben’s history text book and it’s been three months.”

“In my defense, there’s no evidence that Ben actually lost it in here.”

“You two were studying when he lost it.”

“…I plead the fifth.”

Eddie tried to laugh but struggled under the bulk of Richie’s body.

“Are you gonna move any time soon? You’re crushing my ribs.”

Richie shimmied a little bit while making a humming noise.

“Mmmm nope, don’t think so.”

“You asshole.” Eddie mumbled. He began to wriggle aggressively, trying to slide Richie off him enough to escape. What escaped instead was a barely audible moan from Richie’s mouth.

For the second time that evening they both froze again, going rigid under the pressure of an untold explanation. Eddie moved again, mimicking his actions from before, but this time slower. Richie hissed through his teeth and tightened his grip on Eddie’s wrists.

“Mind not moving around so much, Eds?” Richie tried to joke, his voice giving way to nerves instead.

That’s when Eddie felt it, the unmistakable outline of Richie’s erection straining against his leg. In all their joking around, they had both forgotten about Richie’s circumstance.

Eddie’s not sure why, blame it on the anonymity of darkness if you will, but his hips began to move again. Another swivel, even slower than the last, and much more calculated. He waited with baited breath, listening closely for a sign from Richie.

It came moments later in a shaky exhale. Eddie felt Richie’s hair tickle his cheek as he lowered his head to Eddie’s shoulder.

“Eddie…” Richie cautioned. “What are you doing.”

“Solving your problem…” Eddie braved, another swivel of his hips.

Richie let go of Eddie’s wrists then, sending panic into Eddie’s swimming thoughts. He’d already begun constructing his apology when he felt Richie’s hands resettle themselves on his hips.

His grip was softer, hesitant, as if he feared being burned. Eddie stayed as still as possible, inviting his touch with patience.

The next move had them both groaning, as Richie held down Eddie’s hips and ground into him.

Richie’s cock was noticeably harder than before, the subtle friction enough to get him from half to fully erect, but Eddie was following embarrassingly close behind.

Richie’s head was still tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck, his sped-up breath leaving trails of heat along Eddie’s collarbone.

The first kiss was unexpected. Eddie’s full body shivered as Richie continued to place kisses along the column of his neck, his hips now settled into a slow rhythm against Eddie’s own. It amplified a growing need in Eddie that had only begun to rear its head mere minutes ago.

With shaky hands, Eddie reached out to tangle his fingers in familiar black curls, pulling Richie a little closer. His mouth had moved to Eddie’s jaw, nipping at the sharp angles of soft flesh. Eddie tilted his head towards the warmth, his own mouth ghosting against Richie’s.

For a moment there was nothing but shared breaths. Their lips grazed, Eddie could feel the promise of Richie’s kiss so close, yet both were too scared to cross the line.

As Eddie’s heartbeat threatened to crack a rib, he took a leap of faith.

“Richie…” He moaned, far more desperate than he’d intended.

Richie surged forward, connecting their lips in fervor, unable to hold himself back from temptation any longer.

Simultaneously, they let their walls fall away, filling each other with nothing but desire. Richie prodded Eddie’s lips with his tongue, licking into his mouth when Eddie opened up. Their tongues melded together, their pace starting slow but heating up fast. When Eddie whimpered, Richie’s hands seemed to wander instinctively.

The strong grip disappeared from Eddie’s hips in favor of his shirt, sliding up beneath it in search of tender spots. Richie’s fingers found Eddie’s nipples and his back immediately arched in response. Richie didn’t hold back his smugness as Eddie mewled beneath him.

Eddie’s hands left their purchase in Richie’s hair to pull at his top, too lost in bliss to separate their lips for even a moment. Richie pulled back despite Eddie’s whine and rid himself of the barrier, taking the extra time apart to remove Eddie’s as well before they rejoined impatiently.

The newly exposed skin added extra heat to their fever, causing them to writhe against each other with renewed vigor. Richie’s hands explored new curves as Eddie’s tangled in the sheets. Despite the layers between them, the friction of their cocks rubbing together was already enough to have Eddie somewhat senseless.

Eddie could feel the flush on his face as Richie’s hands returned to their perch on his chest, seeking out his sensitive nubs and pinching them between his thumb and forefinger. The expanse of Richie’s large hands in contrast to his small torso made him feel inexplicably filthy. He wanted to feel those hands on every part of him.

Slowly, Eddie placed one hand atop Richie’s, leading it down his taut stomach until they reached the waist band of Eddie’s jeans. Their kisses slowed to match the pace. Richie’s fingers, shaky but determined, ventured under the rough denim in search of relief. The tense breath he’d been holding was let go as soon he palmed Eddie through his underwear and heard the responding groan. Eddie’s hips rocked up into his hand, silently begging for more friction. So, with a surge of confidence spurred on by Eddie’s actions, Richie dove one layer deeper, connecting skin to skin and making them both shiver.

Eddie’s cock was deliciously thick, squished shorter by the confines of his pants that it strained against. Richie could feel the bulbous point of its head leaking against his hand as he glided over it. He wished so desperately that the power wasn’t out, that he could see Eddie’s cock in full glory, standing tall and twitching for attention. The thought alone nearly brought him to the edge. He decided he’d need to settle on relying on his other senses instead.

Touch. He squeezed the base of Eddie’s cock and dragged his hand upwards, feeling the slope of soft skin against his fingers.

Smell. The scent of Eddie’s shampoo calmed his nerves, familiar and comforting, from then forth forever tainted by this memory.

Sound. Eddie’s small pants could be heard among the silence of the room, a whimper occasionally escaping his lips when Richie flicked his wrist just right.

Taste. Eddie’s lips had tasted sweet, like he’d just applied vanilla chapstick. His tongue had tasted like soda, sugary and sharp and unmistakable. His neck, salty and bland; the taste of clean skin with a sheer layer of sweat prompted by heavy petting.

But there was one spot Richie hadn’t tasted yet… A thought that made his mouth water and his pants tighten. A sinful dream that plagued his mind at night.

“Can I suck you off?” Richie found himself asking, his better judgement lost in a haze.

Eddie keened immediately; his brain already fuzzy from how fast everything was escalating. He nodded vigorously before remembering that Richie couldn’t see him.

“Yes, yes yes yes, please.”

Richie’s hands were pulling Eddie’s pants off within seconds, causing his partner to giggle as the movement tugged his small frame farther down the bed. He scooted back up as Richie repeated the action with his boxer briefs, leaving Eddie completely nude and at his mercy.

It was interesting how confident the dark made Eddie feel. He didn’t feel shy or exposed, but rather empowered by the black surrounding him. As he felt Richie crawl back up the bed, he tugged him in for a bruising kiss. They separated with a wet noise and Eddie guided Richie’s head down to where they both wanted him most.

The hot breath against his cock had flames quickly engulfing Eddie’s abdomen. As Richie licked his first stripe up Eddie’s dick, the twisting threat of release was already churning. Eddie cursed himself for being so into this that he might not last. He clenched his muscles and focused on his breathing as Richie’s tongue continued to do sinful things.

Richie was lost in his mind as he worshiped Eddie’s cock. It was heavy on his tongue as he laved at the head, collecting as much of Eddie’s pre-cum as he could milk from him. He already felt addicted to the stretch in his throat as he sunk down to the base, and the noises the action elicited in Eddie.

“Mmm- fuck, jesus christ- ahhhhh-” Eddie prattled above him.

With a brave hand, Richie brought a single digit up to the swell of Eddie’s ass, tracing the curvature until he reached the warmth of his hole. He continued his maneuvers on Eddie’s cock as his thumb pressed gently against the pucker, teasing the small ring of muscle until Eddie writhed beneath him for more.

Richie pulled off Eddie swiftly, tangling himself up in the sheets as he felt around for his bedside table. They both laughed at Richie’s clumsiness as he continued his tirade, throwing things on the ground while rummaging through the drawer.

Eddie crawled over to where Richie was kneeling at the edge of the mattress and snaked his arms around Richie’s waist in an attempt to calm him. Richie took a deep breath as he felt soft lips on his neck. He let himself melt into Eddie, the touch successfully easing his jitteriness away. His fingers finally curled around the bottle he was searching for, and he made sure to place it within reach before twisting around and locking his arms around Eddie’s waist. He pulled him around on to his lap, Eddie’s hands settling on Richie’s shoulders and his thighs straddling either side of Richie’s legs.

Their noses brushed as foreheads connected, Richie’s hands tracing delicate patterns over Eddie’s skin. Eddie brought their lips together in a kiss that was all smiles, and maybe too much teeth, but neither of them were bothered. One of Richie’s hands disappeared from Eddie’s waist, and after a few seconds Eddie heard the pop of a cap opening.

“Oh, so you don’t know where to find a flash light, but your lube is right on hand?” Eddie snarked with no bite.

“I have my priorities.” Richie responded in a tone that had no business being so sensual.

Eddie’s skin prickled with anticipation when he felt Richie’s other hand leave his body. When it returned, it was accompanied by a slicked-up finger, which Richie teased just at the bottom of Eddie’s tailbone. He slowly trailed the digit down towards Eddie’s neglected hole, revelling in the impatient whimper he got in response to his pace.

Richie finally began circling his rim, the lube coating the area generously. When he pushed the tip of his finger in, he couldn’t help but notice that Eddie already seemed stretched out. Richie was able to push his entire finger in down to the knuckle with no resistance.

“Fuck, Eds, your greedy little hole is already sucking me in.” Richie moaned into Eddie’s neck, where he’d settled his head.

Eddie responded by gyrating his hips forward.

“I may have a nighttime routine of my own.” He whispered.

The image of Eddie eagerly thrusting his fingers into himself while his unsuspecting roommate laid just a few feet away sent a new shot of arousal down to Richie’s groin.

Richie began to drag his finger out, pistoning it back up a second later. He repeated the motion until he felt that Eddie could take another. He added a second finger alongside the first, curling them just slightly so they dragged against Eddie’s walls as he pulled out.

After a short time, Richie was able to scissor his fingers apart, spreading Eddie open to what he could only imagine was a delicious sight. He pushed in a final finger, Eddie’s hole responding hungrily to the intrusion. Richie could feel his wrist protesting as he spread his fingers within the tight muscle, feeling hot walls constricting around him.

At this point Eddie was fucking himself down on Richie’s fingers, setting a steady pace for himself as Richie’s hand stood in as a makeshift dildo of sorts. On one particular thrust Richie curved his fingers just slightly, and when Eddie bore down the response was electric. Eddie’s body curled inwards as a sound akin to a sob escaped him. After a moment he resumed his movements in smaller increments, keeping himself close to Richie and only pulling up to Richie’s second knuckles before pushing back down. He was letting out little unh unh unh’s as he moved, and Richie’s mind was gone. It was so hot he nearly forgot about his own weeping cock, which was smearing precum deep into the fibers of his boxers as it strained against its confines.

When his mind returned to his body on a particularly loud moan from the boy above him, it was like something snapped in Richie. With fluid motions he flipped himself backwards and up the mattress, keeping Eddie securely in his lap with a strong arm around his torso. The new position left Eddie sitting directly on his crotch, Richie’s clothed erection settling in the cleft of his ass. Lube smeared across his pants as Eddie adjusted, adding to the wetness of his jeans.

Eddie’s fingers seemed to have the same thought as Richie’s as they both reached for the button on Richie’s jeans at the same time, neither trying to hide their eagerness. Richie popped the button as Eddie unzipped his fly, and together in an awkward mess of limbs they pulled the tight material down Richie’s legs until it laid in a sad heap at the bottom of the bed.

Eddie’s eagerness wavered slightly in favor of teasing Richie. Soft, delicate fingers traced Richie’s happy trail, dipping into the band of his boxers for a moment only to return up towards his belly button. It was a torturous procedure, but Richie still bathed in the moment, soaking up the attention from Eddie like a sponge.

“You are evil, you know that Eds?” Richie gasped out breathily after the fourth time Eddie pulled his fingers away.

Eddie conceded, not too fond of putting off his own pleasure any longer when Richie was so eager to please.

A single moment is all it took to have Richie reciting just about every curse known to man. As soon as Eddie pulled his boxers off and rested his warm hole up against Richie’s cock, the words just came tumbling.

“Holy fucking shit- aaaahhhhh- your motherfucking asshole is on my dick what the fuck- aaagggghhhh- son of a bitch- hnnnggg” Richie’s incoherence was accompanied by sharp nails digging into the flesh of Eddie’s thighs, hard enough to leave crescent moons in their wake. It was as if Richie thought if he held on tight enough, he might not entirely lose his mind.

Eddie loved the roughness, no matter how accidental or subconscious. He absently hoped there’d be bruises there tomorrow. He couldn’t help but rock back on Richie’s cock just a little bit harder in hopes of getting a harsher grip.

What Eddie got instead was a sudden flip of power. Before he knew it, he was on his stomach, being mounted from the back as he struggled to figure out how Richie had moved so quickly.

“No more games.” Richie growled into Eddie’s ear, his tone causing prickles along Eddie’s arms. He realized then that he’d teased Richie for just a bit too long, awakening within him a side that Eddie had never seen before. He wondered if Richie’s other partners had ever gotten this Richie; stern Richie. He quite liked it…

“O-okay.” Eddie responded with a quake to his voice.

“Now’s the time to choose.” Richie continued, tone even but solemn. “Do you want me to fuck you, or leave you to finger yourself alone in my bed?”

“Th-the first one?” Eddie answered back, a little more hesitantly than he’d intended.

The second he felt Richie’s weight shifting off him he panicked, scrambling behind him blindly to try and pull him back down.

“FUCK ME! FUCK ME, PLEASE RICH- DON’T- don’t leave, I want you to fuck me, please please.”

A chuckle much more akin to the Richie Eddie was used to rang through the air.

“I wasn’t leaving, Eds, I was going to grab a condom…” Richie’s voice dropped a few octaves before adding “But I appreciate the enthusiasm. Seriously, anytime you want to beg me to fuck you, please don’t hold back.”

Eddie’s face was flaring red, he was sure of it. Even in the darkness of the room, red light emanated through his skin to light him up like a Christmas bulb.

Eddie figured since he was already dying of mortification, he had nothing else to lose.

“Can we skip that part actually?”

His voice didn’t waver, and Eddie counted that as a big win for team Kaspbrak.

“Eddie…” Richie’s voice seemed to drop suddenly. “Of course we can skip sex. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” His tone came out softened and cautious, and Eddie wanted to punch him for it.

So, scratch that, both teams were losing.

Eddie sighed before reaching back and taking Richie’s cock in his hand, guiding him to his entrance and propping up his hips in the process.

“You idiot. Skip the condom.”

The reaction was instantaneous, Richie’s head dropped to Eddie’s shoulder and a single incredulous huff exited his chest.

“Thank god. Jerking off in the bathroom wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying as this-”

Eddie keened loudly as Richie slipped into him in one easy glide. His tight walls accepted Richie’s cock with no hesitation, leaving him sheathed fully as Eddie trembled below him, toes curled in pleasure.

Richie didn’t allow Eddie time to adjust, apart from the quickly exchanged confirmation that Eddie was okay. But once that was out of the way, Richie was setting a brutal pace right off the bat.

Eddie’d known Richie was well-endowed, but he hadn’t been expecting to feel quite so full with him inside. It wasn’t painful, but it was certainly a step up from the dildo he’d gotten used to using over the last year. This was infinitely better than a dildo.

��Ahhh- such a tight little hole, Eds. Jesus fuck, you’re perfect.” Richie ground out between clenched teeth, no doubt trying to hold himself back just as much as Eddie was.

The constant friction of his cock against the mattress wasn’t doing Eddie many favors in that department, and neither were the filthy things falling from Richie’s mouth.

Eddie’s entire body was already broken out in a sweat. It should’ve grossed him out, but instead it just added to the absolutely filthy feeling he was being consumed by.

“Rich- ‘Chee- fuck you’re so good.” Eddie had never been one for dirty talk, but words were spilling out of him like he physically couldn’t contain them. The praise just felt so natural with Richie.

“So full- hnnnnggg- ‘m so full, don’t stop please please don’t stop.” Eddie reached behind himself almost frantically, searching for Richie’s hands like if he didn’t intertwine their fingers soon, he might lose his footing and begin floating up into the sky.

Luckily, Richie tethered him to the ground, reminding Eddie that he was there, and he didn’t plan on stopping, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Eddie tried to focus on the feeling of Richie’s thumb rubbing the back of his hand as he evened out his breathing.

“So much…” Eddie started back up. “So full… so-”

Eddie was cut off as Richie folded over him, modifying his thrusts so they were shallower. He didn’t pull his hips back far before pushing back in, keeping himself nestled right up against Eddie.

“Is it too much?” Richie asked quietly, bringing their conjoined hands up to his mouth and kissing each of Eddie’s tiny fingers.

Eddie shook his head, then remembered Richie couldn’t see him.

“No, it’s just… it’s a lot, but not too much.”

Richie hummed in acknowledgement, keeping his new pace consistent as their bodies rocked together.

With Richie pressed so closely to Eddie, he could feel every inch of skin that rubbed together. Even things a simple as the graze of Richie’s leg against his thigh had tingles shooting up Eddie’s spine.

“Your skin is so soft.” Eddie whispered absently, kissing Richie’s wrist where their hands were still joined, now laying beside Eddie’s head as Richie used his elbows to hold himself up.

Richie stilled immediately, pausing for a moment before pulling out and flipping Eddie over on to his back. Eddie’s disoriented eyes darted around, blinking frantically as if that would make the darkness disappear. He was about to ask Richie why he’d stopped when he felt the same press of Richie’s chest easing down on to his own.

He knew Richie was close, could feel the hot breath escaping his lips and hear the labored breathing that accompanied it.

“You have the softest skin.” Richie said, placing an unexpected kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “And the best smelling hair.” He continued, threading his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “The sexiest body.” Richie hiked Eddie’s legs up to his chest, settling his lithe frame between them once again. “The most charming smile.” A press of Richie’s lips to Eddie’s informed him that Richie was wearing a smile of his own. “And the tightest ass I’ve ever felt.” Richie added with a small chuckle, rubbing his cock up and down Eddie’s hole before pushing back in very slowly.

Eddie’s breath hitched as Richie bottomed out, staying pressed in there tight as Richie lower his head to Eddie’s ear.

“And I’ve been in love with you for years.” He whispered, barely intelligible.

Relief that Eddie didn’t realized he’d been craving washed over him in a suffocating wave. Sex with Richie had been great so far; Eddie was out of his mind with lust for him, and that raw attraction alone had resulted in the best sex of Eddie’s life… But the other component that had made the sex so great for him was an unspoken secret that, until then, Eddie hadn’t thought was requited.

A sound similar to a sob escaped Eddie’s throat, and he tried to cover it up by clearing his throat as if Richie hadn’t already heard it.

“Eddie-”

“Me too.” Eddie cut him off, his determination just a beat behind. “I’ve felt that way for years too. Uhm, since seventh grade, actually.” Eddie’s voice was shy, as if he was afraid of baring too much of his soul.

“Well then I guess I win.” Richie responded coyly.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been in love with you since sixth grade; I have a whole year on you.”

Eddie gaped into the darkness above him, wishing there was enough light to throw Richie an unimpressed look.

“I didn’t even know I was gay in sixth grade!” Eddie defended, a lilt of humor coating his comment.

“Oh boy, you’re lucky. The gay crisis hit me strong as soon as I saw you in those little red shorts in gym class.”

Eddie tried to recall his memory of Richie back in sixth grade. He’d just begun hitting puberty and had shot up like a beanstalk, so none of his clothes had fit him quite right, and his walk had become a little awkward. That was also the year he’d broken his glasses and had to hold them together with tape. On top of all that, he’d talked about sex nearly constantly, despite having no real knowledge on the subject. Which, for tiny stuffy Eddie, who was still under his mother’s thumb at the time, was about one of the biggest turn-offs he could think of.

Richie had really grown into himself since then, an almost unrecognizable upgrade from the scrawny kid who’d eaten a worm because Beverly Marsh had dared him to. So, maybe it wasn’t exactly Eddie’s fault Richie wasn’t his ‘gay awakening’. Now, however, he was definitely awakening something inside Eddie. He’d grown into his figure, had developed a sense of style that worked for him, had since gotten new glasses that complimented his angular features and deep blue eyes aggressively well (and had zero tape holding them together). As for the last part, well… Richie still talked about sex just as much as he used to, but now he actually knew what he was talking about, and Eddie no longer shied away from the topic. In fact, that very combination of traits was what winded them in this exact position, and Eddie wasn’t complaining.

“Well, now that we’ve established that… new information…” Eddie swirled his hips tauntingly, earning a small groan of sexual frustration in return.

“Yeah, okay, moment over.” Richie agreed, pulling out with a shuddering breath before pushing back in just as gradually.

They built their pace back up slowly, the softness of their admissions making everything a little more tender.

Once Richie had set a bruising pace, and Eddie was getting used to the small puffs pushed out of him on every thrust, Richie suddenly changed angles.

“Hhhh-Ahhh!” Eddie screamed as Richie pounded right up into Eddie’s prostate without reservation.

Eddie’s body was gone, replaced with a firecracker. He could feel the fuse slowly lighting up every inch of his body as it burnt down.

Richie was also getting close, whispering in Eddie’s ear as his thrusts got quicker.

“I’m gonna cum, hnnnngg- fuck Eds, gonna fill you up, gonna have you dripping- aaahhhh-”

Eddie was right on the edge, so close but unable to topple over.

“Richie… I need… I need-”

Suddenly the room exploded in color and sound. The lights flickered a few times before coming back on, and the sound of their computer restarting melded with muffled cheers from down the hall. Despite the world coming back into focus, Eddie’s own mind was leaving. The sight of Richie above him, pale and lean and spilling sinful moans from his lips was enough to send Eddie over the edge. He tried to keep his eyes open as waves of pleasure rolled through him, but his pupils rolled back involuntarily. His muscles spasmed erratically as his body tried to move through the most powerful orgasm he’d ever endured. He clenched around Richie’s cock while spilling on to his own stomach, too preoccupied by his own euphoria to feel Richie’s stuttering hips, followed by the rush of warmth filling him up.

Richie’s legs shook violently as he emptied into Eddie. The sight of Eddie writhing beneath him, cheeks flush and brow drawn, had been too much for Richie to handle. It had only taken a few more pumps after the power came back on for him to be completely at the mercy of Eddie’s body.

Once Richie calmed down to have enough sense, he gently pulled out of Eddie and collapsed down beside him. Eddie had yet to reopen his eyes since his orgasm had hit, partly because he wanted to soak it all in, partly because he was afraid of what was to come next. When he did chance a peek through squinted eyes, Richie was watching him.

He shut his eyes again quickly, but not before he saw a smile being formed. He fought back his own smile as he willed his heart to calm down.

“Quit staring at me.” Eddie ordered with no real threat.

“I can’t. You’re too cute.”

Eddie opened one eye again, scrunching his nose as he looked back in Richie’s direction.

“’m not cute.” Eddie grumbled.

The bed dipped as Richie drew himself closer. Eddie opened both his eyes and let Richie come into focus.

“Yes, you are.” Richie bent forward, placing a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “Cute…” A kiss on the other cheek. “…cute…” He hesitated once he was hovering over Eddie’s lips, searching his eyes for approval. Eddie gave a shy nod, letting Richie connect their lips for a soft kiss, unlike any of the other ones they’d shared. “…cute.” Richie whispered.

#reddie #reddie fluff #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #reddie smut #reddie lemon #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #it stephen king #it fanfic #it fanfiction #it lemon #my posts #my writing

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michelles-garden-of-evil · 4 years ago

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Ian Martin’s Strange Paradise, Part I: The Top 5 Best Things

SPOILERS FOR LATE MALJARDIN AND BOTH DESMOND HALL ARCS

Hello and welcome again to my Garden of Evil, where this week I’m doing something a little different. Episode 44 having marked the departure of co-creator and original headwriter Ian Martin, we have officially reached the end of an era of Strange Paradise history. No longer will discussions and speculation on Martin’s authorial intent be relevant to the happenings on this show (although I will continue to give my thoughts on the Lost Episode summaries), now that Bob Costello is running the show with a different authorial intent.

Ian Martin’s episodes contrast with the second half of Maljardin in many ways. The pace is slower, the structure and characterizations more like those of a standard soap, and the tone at times borders on comedy. He also appears to have put more thought into the characters’ backstories than any of the other writers, much of which he never got the chance to show on screen. Moreover, of all the show’s writers, he seems to have put the most of his own heart and soul into it, if the death of his first wife six years earlier and his reuse of elements from the series in his later works are any indication.

That brings me to my plans for this week in my Garden of Evil. Before moving on to review Episode 45, I will post my final thoughts on his episodes, first listing what I consider the top five best things about his period headwriting the show. Next, I will make another of the top five worst things about the first 8.8 weeks of Maljardin (because no creative work is perfect). So without further ado, here are (in my not-so-humble opinion) the top five best things about Ian Martin’s Strange Paradise:

5. Clever, memorable dialogue and (sometimes) clever wordplay

I say “sometimes,” because (as we all know) Jacques loves his puns and Devil jokes, which tend to be as cornball as they come. The (intentional) humor in Ian Martin’s dialogue tends to be hit or miss, but when it hits, it hits harder than the chandelier hit the séance table. Even when the jokes miss, it’s clear that he tried hard to make the show both funny and scary, and some of the worse ones still amuse me in a dad-joke sort of way.

Some jokes from SP that I find genuinely funny:

Jacques: “‘Prisoners’ is such a harsh word, Alison. Now, actually, I prefer the [terminology] ‘detained guests.’“ (Episode 14)

Alison: “I find you and everything you’ve done distasteful and revolting." Jacques: "Methinks the lady doth detest too much." (same)

"I wish my mother was on canvas instead of always on my back.” (Holly, Episode 18)

Dan: "Knowing how much you loved Erica, I can appreciate your display of courage." Jacques: "It was either that or letting myself go to the Devil!" (same)

Jacques: “Such a delightful bedside manner. Why not let her operate?” (Episode 21)

Jacques: “If your room is a prison cell and you are a prisoner, well, I invite you to your last hearty meal.” (same)

Holly: "Would you like to see my scars?" Jacques: "Well, lead us not into temptation...now, that isn't from Shakespeare, is it?" (Episode 25)

Elizabeth: “It seems to be your opportunity to entertain, Reverend. May I suggest Song of Solomon?” (Episode 40)

Also, some things that aren’t jokes per se, but still clever wordplay:

Matt’s name, a reference to the Tarot card The Fool, or Le Mat in French.

Jacques: "Well, Dan, are you going to join me in some kippers this morning, or haven't you finished fishing for the day?" Dan: "Just lowering the line, and I'm afraid you're going to get hooked." (Episode 26)

The whole kippers thing from the same episode.

The scene transition lines.

Two things that Curt pointed out to me a while back: the recurring “little bird” motif and the fact that Jacques, who was “shackled to the Temple” for three centuries was also shackled through the temples with the silver pin. (Thanks!)

Of the later writers, Cornelius Crane (who will write the last two weeks of Maljardin and most of Desmond Hall Arc I) will be the only other to consistently use humor in his SP scripts. His will be a different style of humor, lighter on wordplay and heavier on wit, satire, and snark between characters, in many ways reminiscent of my favorite Dark Shadows writer Violet Welles. While the style of humor in Crane’s episodes has generally aged better, I can’t deny the cleverness and charm in the lines quoted above.

4. A more complex story than later arcs

Compared to all other arcs of the show, early Maljardin has, by far, the most subplots. You have (1) the main plot that revolves around Jean Paul’s attempts to preserve and resurrect Erica, which leads to his desperate attempts to protect the cryonics capsule, Jacques’ freedom and repeated possessions, and Raxl and Quito’s search for the conjure doll and silver pin. Directly connected to this are (2) Jacques’ murder of Dr. Menkin, (3) Alison and Dan’s search for the true cause of Erica’s death and for Dr. Menkin’s missing notes, and (4) the love triangle/square between Dan, Alison, and Jean Paul/Jacques. Then you have the four interconnected plots directly involving Holly, including (5) her romantic pursuit by Matt, Tim, Jacques, and Quito; (6) her conflicts with Elizabeth including direct competition over Jean Paul/Jacques; (7) her torment by Erica’s spirit; and (8) Tim’s subplot about the damned Holly portrait. Then there are (9) the saga of the missing cyanide and (10) the guests’ resistance to Jean Paul’s imprisonment of them on the island. In addition to these, we have (11) the history of Jacques, which may have included innumerable subplots of its own had Ian Martin been allowed to explore it thoroughly. We know that Jacques’ pursuit of Alison and Elizabeth would have connected to this, given their previous incarnations as Rahua and Tarasca, and that Martin originally planned for Tarasca to have her own storyline. If we include the aborted arc about Elizabeth’s possession by Tarasca, that would have made a whopping twelve subplots(!), unless I’m forgetting about something.

For comparison, here are the major subplots from Desmond Hall, during the period when Cornelius Crane did most of the writing: (1) Jean Paul’s possession by the Mark of Death; (2) the coven’s schemes to undermine the Desmond family, which led to the disappearance of Philip Desmond; (3) the Evil Serpent plotline; (4) the Hamlet subplot involving Cort’s conflicts with his mother and dear stepfather; (5) the love triangle of Cort, Holly, and Philip’s ghost; (6) the second love triangle of Ada, Laslo, and Irene; (7) all of Jean Paul’s romantic entanglements; and (8) the attempted possession of his fiancée Helena by Erica. That’s still a lot of intersecting plots, but not quite as many as in early Maljardin.

I know I’ve complained in the past about the recap that makes up about half the dialogue in early Maljardin, but the sheer number of plots may have required it to ensure that returning viewers remembered everything and new viewers weren’t completely lost. I don’t have to like the constant recap, but I must admit that it was probably necessary even for the fans who managed to catch every episode during its original run.

3. Stronger characterizations than under the writers of late Maljardin

Like a traditional soap opera, the first half of the Maljardin arc is character-driven. Most important plot points occur on Mondays and Fridays, leaving the mid-week episodes for (mostly) minor plot points, subplots, and character development. We see Alison’s relationship with Jean Paul evolve from friendly in-laws to potential lovers, only for her to tire of his constant mood changes and withdraw from him. We see Reverend Matt Dawson’s crisis of faith, from his stalking Holly out of an allegedly spiritual love to his questioning his disbelief in demons while trapped on Maljardin. We see Dan lose all respect for Jean Paul as he becomes convinced that his employer murdered Erica and Dr. Menkin. We also see Jean Paul grow increasingly volatile even when Jacques isn’t possessing him, making his prisoners try harder to escape and creating a vicious cycle of repression and paranoia on the island.

After Robert Costello becomes producer, the arc shifts to a more plot-driven narrative. In a span of just four weeks, Erica will be resurrected and proceed to murder most of the characters. Character development will lose its importance in late Maljardin, and the characters of Elizabeth and Holly (and later Jean Paul) will become almost unrecognizable. Although Cornelius Crane was a competent writer who gave strong characterizations to the characters he created, he makes it clear that he didn’t care much for Martin’s creations through how quickly he kills off most of them and alters the personalities of two of the ones left.

2. Actual research

This one is most noticeable in two areas: the scientific subjects discussed and the way that Martin uses the Tarot. Before writing for SP, he worked on The Doctors and The Nurses, both early medical dramas with soap opera elements. Little survives from either The Nurses or the 1960s era of The Doctors[1], but one can imagine that he got into the habit of researching medical topics then--perhaps not including subjects as far-out as cryonics, but maybe some of the others discussed on SP like cellular reconstruction, organ transplants, and eclampsia. Here on SP, he’s referenced specific scientific studies, including Miroslava Pavlović’s study of brain transplants in quail embryos, Kenneth B. Wolfe’s “Effects of Hypothermia on Cerebral Damage Resulting from Cardiac Arrest,” and--most fascinating of all--W. Grey Walter’s robotics article “An Imitation of Life,” whose potential significance to Erica’s backstory I discussed in the final part of my Shadow Over Seventh Heaven review series.

His penchant for research becomes even more obvious when we explore his use of the Tarot and compare it to the way the cards were used on the show’s inspiration Dark Shadows. Despite also having done research on various occult matters--the most obscure being the use of I Ching wands for time travel[2]--DS’s writers were notably lazy in their use of Tarot symbolism, sticking mostly to the Major Arcana, often interpreting their names literally, and using the Tower of Destruction so often that one would think that copies of the Tower comprised half the deck. Not so on SP. Although he did have tarot reader Vangie Abbott use Death literally in Episode 7, and he does portray the Nine of Swords as “the card of death” when it typically means nightmares, suffering because of loss, and inner torment, his use of the Tarot typically shows careful research into the meanings of mostly cards from the Minor Arcana (the suits of wands, cups, swords, and pentacles). He uses it both as a means of giving character profiles and for foreshadowing, although the cards often foreshadow planned events that never took place because of script rewrites.

He did, however, take some artistic liberties with other subjects that he must have researched while writing the serial. I mean to write a detailed analysis someday comparing and contrasting the show’s portrayal of vodou with the reality, but I’m not satisfied with the scanty amount of research that I’ve done so far. I have already written about the Great Serpent and how Raxl appears to syncretize the loa Damballah with the Aztec feathered serpent Quetzalcoatl, but there are other related subjects I want to discuss someday in other posts. The short version: the “voodoo” portrayed on the show is a mixture of elements of genuine Afro-Caribbean religions (worship of a Serpent God, belief in zombies, use of drums in rituals, the titles “Conjure Man” and “Conjure Woman”) and traditional Mesoamerican religious practices (Quetzalcoatl, Aztec human sacrifice, Raxl’s mention of curanderos). The evidence suggests that he picked and chose elements from these traditions for Maljardin’s “Conjure Faith” in a way reminiscent of the real-life phenomenon of religious syncretism. While somewhat problematic, the obscurity of some of the things he picked and chose shows that he must have conducted some research even on these subjects.

1. The best Jacques

Jean Paul Desmond may be the protagonist, but, in the first seven weeks of the show, it’s his devilish ancestor Jacques who truly steals the show. From his evil laugh to his snarky commentary on the happenings on Maljardin to the hilarious and adorable expressions he makes as he plays with his detained guests, there’s no denying that Jacques is the star of Martin’s SP. When he’s absent, the whole show suffers from a lack of his mischief, not to mention that smile that stirs up desires in me that can never be righteously fulfilled. If there’s a Devil, I bet he resembles THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES in looks, voice, and demeanor--the better to seduce you with (and by you, I mean me). Horns and a pointy tail, after all, don’t tempt half as well as a beautiful black cape and Bissits Face™.

The Jacques of late Maljardin will be a far flatter character, more outwardly evil but less charming and consequently less entertaining. In Desmond Hall, his role will be reduced significantly and he will have very little dialogue, mostly just the same clip of his laughter repeated. He will have a few fun scenes in the second Desmond Hall arc, but the post-Martin Jacques is no devil, just an ordinary man with a slightly different personality, led over to the dark side. This is understandable--the thought of the supernatural embodiment of evil remaining imprisoned for three centuries is quite far-fetched, and Desmond Hall Arc II writer Harding Lemay wasn’t fond of all-evil characters[3]--but I still find the original Jacquet the most fun by far.

That concludes this post on my favorite things about Ian Martin’s Strange Paradise. Stay tuned for my list of some things about his writing that needed improvement.

{ Next: The Top 5 Worst Things -> }

Notes

[1] The Thousand Oaks Library in Thousand Oaks, California has ten of Martin’s scripts from The Doctors from shortly after the series switched from its original experimental anthology format to a traditional continuing soap.

[2] The portrayal of the I Ching as a means of time travel on Dark Shadows almost certainly came from William Seabrook’s book Witchcraft: Its Power in the World Today, where he describes the 49th ko hexagram’s use in a form of past-life regression in New York magick circles in the early 20th century. See Seabrook, “Werewolf in Washington Square,” Witchcraft (New York: Ishi Press, 2015), pp. 164-175.

[3] Harding Lemay, Eight Years in Another World, chap. 3, Kindle edition. In this chapter, Lemay discusses his conflicts with Irna Phillips, the creator of Another World, over how to portray soap opera characters. According to him, Phillips believed that characters should be depicted as either “Saints” or “Sinners,” the only permitted nuance being that female Sinners had to love their children if they had any. Lemay disagreed with such black-and-white characterizations, finding them unrealistic, and made the serial’s characters more morally gray.

#strange paradise #ian martin #maljardin arc #review #analysis #arc review #list

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sariahsue · 6 years ago

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The Open Line - Chapter Ten, Friends

Ladybug knows that if it weren’t for Adrien, she would have fallen for Cat Noir, hard and fast. And when Oblivio takes her memory, she does just that. Able to keep her memory after the Oblivio incident but still unaware of Cat Noir’s real identity, Ladybug must deal with her growing feelings for her partner, who is desperately trying to win her over. (Rated PG.)

Read Chapter One Here Read Chapter Nine Here

***

At school the next morning, Marinette made the mistake of doodling a pair of cat ears in her notebook while waiting for class to start. Well, that wasn't really the mistake. But she should have hidden it better.

"So how is Cat Noir these days?" Alya asked, sliding toward Marinette on their bench.

"I don't know, Alya. You're the one who follows him and Ladybug around all the time. Shouldn't I be asking you?"

"But I'm not the one with the massive crush on him."

"Humph." Marinette bent low over her paper and continued doodling, trying to ignore her friend.

Alya slid closer, until they were hip to hip. "I don't hear any denials," she sang.

"Only because you wouldn't believe them anyway." Why waste the energy? The cat ears on her notebook complete, she moved on to drawing whiskers and a nose. Cat Noir was going to be so excited tonight! She'd worked out all the details and was ready to surprise him. She couldn't wait to see his face! Uh... the happy look on his face. Not that she couldn't wait to see his face. You know what? She was going to stop thinking now.

Alya bumped her shoulder, trying to get her attention. When Marinette continued to ignore her, she tried a different tactic. "What do you think, Adrien?"

"About what?" Adrien broke off his conversation with Nino and turned around in his seat. Wide-eyed and smiling, he looked up at them, glancing from one to the other.

"Cat Noir and my girl, here." She slung an arm over Marinette's shoulders. “Don't you think they'd be cute together?"

Marinette shook her head.

"Why not?" Adrien said. "She's great, he's great."

This is a new low, Alya.

"I don't know," Marinette said, tapping her chin. "I don't think I could stand the smell."

"The... smell?" Adrien asked, leaning back in his seat. "What are you-"

"Yeah," she continued, "because of all the purr-fume."

Adrien blinked, then laughed. "You share a sense of humor, too." He looked overjoyed by the joke, and bouncier than she had ever seen him.

Marinette chuckled. "Yea—no. No, I just..." Had heard enough bad puns that they came naturally? Was thinking about Cat Noir a lot today? What was wrong with her?! But Ms. Mendeleiev came in, and Marinette was spared from finishing her sentence.

"Where did your stutter go?" Alya whispered, as soon as the teacher's back was turned.

Marinette bent low over her notebook, pretending to be engrossed in the class. Where had her stutter gone? She'd held a normal conversation. And told him a cat pun?! She dug her pencil too hard into her paper and ripped a hole in it.

The worst part was how terrible she didn't feel when Adrien – her Adrien – had agreed she and Cat Noir would be great together.

I'm just excited about tonight, Marinette reasoned. I wasn't giving Adrien my full attention.

As soon as she realized this meant she had been distracted from Adrien by thoughts Cat Noir, she shut down that line of thinking, claimed it must have been due to a serious lack of sleep, and forced herself to pay attention to the class. She was only mildly successful. At the end of the day, her pages were half filled with notes and half with doodles of green eyes and black masks.

She hid them all from Alya.

Ten o'clock could not come fast enough. Marinette's poor partner had been so sad the last time she'd seen him, but she was about to change that (she hoped). A full 30 minutes before she needed to, Marinette was ready to leave.

"Isn't this a little early?" Tikki asked.

"Well, yeah." Marinette took her phone out of her pocket. Everything was set, so why wait? "But he always beats me out there. I want to be first for once. Spots on." Careful not to drop her phone and the slip of paper she had prepared, Ladybug rushed to the Eiffel Tower.

Even as early as she was, Cat Noir still got there before her.

"Ladybug!" he yelled, waving. "Aww! Couldn't wait to see me again?"

"Something like that," she said, a blush already rising. What was with her today? It wasn't like she had a crush on him! They were just friends! "Surprise!" Ladybug pulled out her phone and showed him the app she had found, pushing it into his face.

"What?"

"Texting!" she said, pulling her phone back and handing him the paper. "It's what friends do instead of talking!"

He examined the string of numbers she'd handed him. "You- you're giving me your number?" He looked guarded, like he didn't trust what she was saying. "You said that's too dang-"

"It is, but look!" She held up her phone again. "It's not my real number. It's a texting app. You can download, too. And we can set special ringtones, and bury them in folders so no one will see them, and password-protect them AND we can talk in code, so it always stays secure."

"I think that might be overkill." Cat Noir was quiet and still, staring down at the paper in his hands.

Ladybug felt suddenly self-conscious. "Sorry this is kind of a lame surprise. I want to be here for you, but sharing identities is still too risky." She was not about to admit that she had considered that, if only briefly.

"Lame?" he asked, looking up. "Do I have permission to text you whenever I want?" As soon as she nodded, he said, "Then this is the best gift I've ever received!" He dove in for a hug and spun her around. "You might regret saying I can text whenever I want."

"Oh, I'm sure I will."

He set her down, but gave her one last squeeze before letting go.

"Rules!" she said, already missing his warmth. "We at least have to have a code and nicknames for each other. My best friend likes to stick her nose into everything."

"Right," Cat Noir said, suddenly all business. "I'd like you to name my contact either 'Hot Stuff' or 'Eye Candy.' 'Dreamboat' is also acceptable."

Ladybug made a show of looking him up and down. Then, in the most unimpressed tone she could manage, she said, "Well, that's too bad for you, isn't it?"

"C'mon! You know it's true!"

"Nope."

Yup.

There was no way she would ever say it out loud, but the truth was undeniable: Cat Noir was very good-looking. She had to force her mind back to the conversation in order to distract herself from the temptation of checking him out again.

"There's two reasons we're doing this," she said. "One, it'll be easier to coordinate patrols and warn each other about akumas."

"Ooh! I have an idea for our secret code," Cat Noir said, his ears perking up. "Want to hear it?"

"No, I don't think I do."

"Okay, here goes. When there's an akuma, I'll text you that your boyfriend-" He pointed to himself, so there could be no doubt as to who he meant. "-needs some kissing action, and the monster's location is our secret rendezvous point." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

What would that be like? she wondered. Slipping away to see him, hiding from passersby all over the city, squeezing into too-small spaces together, kissing him when no one was watching, letting him tangle his claws in her hair, his lips trailing along her jaw-

OKAY! That's enough of that!

With effort, she wrenched herself back to reality, where Cat Noir was waiting for a witty retort.

"Y-yeah, and I'll put your contact as 'Man of My Dreams' and gush about how much I love you, and my friends will TOTALLY lay off. Good plan." Smooth.

"Oh, I like that idea, My Lady. We should do that."

"I'm going to name you... The Dork."

"Aw!"

He pouted, but she didn't let herself think about the lip that he stuck out. "Second thing!" she said. "You are going to text me when something's bothering you. Got it? Let me know if you need me, because I know you're not as much of a tough guy as you pretend to be."

Cat Noir huffed dramatically and tried (and failed) to look indignant. "I'm super tough! I should be offended."

"And yet you're not," she said. "Seriously, if you need a hug or something, just ask."

"So the code," he said thoughtfully.

"I already disagree with whatever you're about to say."

"If it's not an emergency, then 'your boyfriend needs some hugging action.' An akuma remains 'kissing action.' Sound good?" He leaned in playfully, lips puckered, but let Ladybug push his face away.

"Don't get your hopes up," she said, Cat Noir's face still smushed against her palm. "I'm going to tell everyone I have to leave suddenly because my neighbor needs a babysitter."

He let out a muffled, "Aw, man! Babysitting?! That's what you think of me?" His breath tickled her hand.

"I'm happy you're taking this so well." And that he was happy again, as she'd hoped. They sat down and talked and laughed together for a while longer, and Ladybug felt that all was right in the world. Their dynamic seemed to finally be returning to normal – with the occasional addition of her furious blushing that she couldn't figure out. The only logical conclusion had to be wrong.

When Ladybug returned to her room, everything was dark and peaceful. Her parents had been in bed for ages. Even the street outside was quiet. She hadn't realized they'd been out there for that long. It was the second time that week she'd lost track of while with him.

Within seconds of detransforming and climbing into bed, her phone buzzed, just as she'd expected. Marinette checked it happily.

The Dork: I don't know if I like my code anymore.

Marinette: I know I'm going to regret it, but I'm asking you why anyway.

The Dork: Because how am I supposed to ask you for real kisses if 'kiss' is already a code word? 😩 😭

Marinette: GOOD NIGHT, DORK.

Without him there, it was easier to push away thoughts of secret rendezvous and stolen moments alone.

As she snuggled under her covers, her last conscious thought was of Adrien, and wondering how it was possible that she hadn't though of him once since seeing him at school.

Read Chapter Eleven Here

***

Author's note: Marinette made that joke in class completely on her own. I had NOTHING to do with it. I just got to that part in the draft and she's like, "Hey, writer, I'm making a joke to Adrien about how bad Cat Noir smells. You'd better think of a pun that makes it make sense." And I just rolled with it. (And she definitely set his ringtone to either "Nyan Cat" or "I'm a Kitty Cat.") There should be one more (short) chapter this week!

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #adrinette #adrienette #marichat

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skyechaser · 5 years ago

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Bumbleby: The Musical 3/?

This is a story I love. I love musicals. I love Bumbleby. Put them together and...

“Make yourself at home” Yang said with a shy smile on her lips “Well… If you can” she added. The blonde had attempted to make a joke but the truth was her house was small and seriously cramped. She lived with her sister, her father, her stepmom and her uncle and most of the time money was a problem. They’d been in that house forever or that it felt like that. Yang was aware they had moved after her mother left but she barely remembered a time when Summer wasn’t part of the family. Her uncle, Qrow, moved in with them in an attempt to make up for his sister’s idiocy. Then came her stepmom and then came Ruby. Five people in total in a one hundred square meter two story house. Yang didn't know if Blake could physically fit in.

“Thanks” the black haired girl replied “You have a lovely home” She wasn’t lying. In spite of the obvious lack of space something about Yang’s home felt really cozy. She could feel there was a lot of love between those walls. It reminded her of her house back in Menagerie. She didn’t even remember the last time she had been there. Almost two years probably. Since she got involved with him...

“Who is this?” a small voice appeared out of nowhere and Blake quickly found its source in a short girl at her side. This was clearly Ruby, the blonde’s younger sister. She had heard a lot about her in the short time she had known Yang. They didn’t really look much alike but it made sense since they had different mothers.

“This is Blake, a friend from school. She’s here to help me with an essay so get out of our faces. Thank you” Yang said in a single breath as she gently pushed her sister away. “We’ll be in my room” Something in her lit up when she said those words. She had had friends in her room before of course. Nora and Pyrrha had spent the night countless times. Still, this felt different. Her crush on Blake was becoming more and more evident and she started to worry it had been a mistake to ask her for help.

Yang’s room was pretty much a mess. It wasn’t really big and she clearly had too many things. Her bed was made in a very clumsy manner and there were several stuffed animals sprawled over it. There was a a small desk in the side of the room, right under a window. What the black haired girl noticed right away was the lack of books. Reading was clearly not something Yang did on her own accord and it made sense she was struggling in her studies. However, it was pretty clear she excelled at other things. Blake couldn’t take her eyes away from the medals and the trophies on the shelf over the bed.

“Are all of those from lacrosse?” she asked, slowly sitting on the mattress.

“Most of them” Yang replied “Some are from karate”

“You know karate?”

“Brown belt” the blonde snickered “I had to quit so I could focus on lacrosse but I’d like to revisit it someday”.

“I did martial arts too” Blake said and it caught her off guard. She didn’t really look like the fighting type.

“What?” the word left her mouth before she could make up her mind. When she realized the tone she had used she blushed slightly “I mean… what did you… practice… what did you… ehm…”

“Kickboxing” the black haired girl smiled into her words “I was pretty good too”

“Kickboxing… I wouldn't have guessed if you gave me a lifetime”

“Most kids in Menagerie learn some kind of self defense… You know… Just in case”

Silence. It made sense. Menagerie was never calm. There were so many groups wanting to choose what was best for the island that violence on the streets was rather common. Yang had heard some frightening stories from Velvet and how her father was taken as a political prisoner before she and her family could leave their home. It had been four years with absolutely no news from him. She started wondering about Blake’s family.

“So… History, right?” the black haired girl said, trying to change the tone of the conversation. Yang sat on her desk as she replied.

“Yeah… I’m so bad at writing essays…”

“Well, let’s get started then”

Blake had asked Illya to take out some books since her card was still suspended. After driving her to practice she clearly owed her a favor so her best friend had obliged. As she laid them on the bed she could see terror in Yang’s eyes. It was clear this chore was absolutely out of her comfort zone. The first thing was to pick a topic and it seemed the blonde was reluctant to commit to any single one. Perhaps she was just scared to start writing. Still, when Blake started talking about the Menagerie diaspora and how migration had skyrocketed in the last three years, Yang somehow woke up. She started asking questions and seemed quite interested in what her new friend was saying.

“So why did you leave?” the blonde asked without noticing, her eyes wide in amusement as Blake spoke.

“Well…I…”

“I’m so sorry” Yang apologized “If you don’t want to talk about it…”

“No, no… It’s okay” she replied as she took a deep breath “When I was thirteen I got involved with the White Fang, a civil organization that fights for Menagerie’s independence. At first it was just protests and meetings but it turned… Violent… That’s where I met Illya. She left before I did and insisted I followed her. I finally did after Adam…”

Adam.

She had just said his name. Her body froze and her mind started screaming. Somehow every single memory related to the red haired boy was playing at the same time. She could feel her body trembling.

“Blake are you okay?” Yang asked as she moved to sit next to the other girl on the bed. She didn’t know what to do. What was the correct thing to do when someone is having a panic attack? “I’m so sorry I asked. Please calm down” she said as she hugged Blake gently.

“I’m okay” the black haired girl replied as she melted into the blonde’s embrace. Her heartbeat slowly came back to normal. Yang’s smell overtook her and an unfamiliar sense of peace made its way to her mind. The flashbacks stopped. The voices disappeared. When they broke the gesture they stared at each other, both of them feeling something forbidden.

“Dinner’s ready, girls!” the voice from downstairs broke the spell. They both looked to the side, embarrassed about what had just happened.

“So… Let’s go eat, right?” the Golden Dragon said as she stood up “I’ll go get the table ready… You come down in five, okey?” she left without waiting for an answer. Maybe this whole study session had been a mistake.

Once Yang left the room, Blake took both of her hands to her face. It was warm. No. This couldn’t be true. She couldn’t be feeling this way towards her friend. She couldn't feel this way about anyone. She had been there. She had done that. And she had ran away. Adam said he’d always find her. There was no way she could to this to Yang. Moreover, she couldn’t do this to herself. She was far from healed after what had happened with him. Her heart had to be wise and take a step back. It was for the best. Blake couldn’t risk falling for someone else. And yet there she was, her heart beating hard on her ears and butterflies in her stomach. No please.

Not again.

I won’t say I’m in love (adaptation from “Hercules)”

[BLAKE] If there's a prize for rotten judgment I guess I've already won that I must resist the world’s temptations Love’s ancient history; been there, done that

[ILLYA, PYRRHA and NORA as backup] Who d'you think you're kiddin'? She's the earth and heaven to ya Try to keep it hidden Honey, we can see right through ya Girl, you can't conceal it We know how you feel And who you're thinking of

[BLAKE] No chance, no way I won't say it, no, no

[ILLYA, PYRRHA and NORA as backup] You swoon, you sigh Why deny it? Uh-oh

[BLAKE] Can’t take this risk I won't say I'm in love

I thought my heart had learned its lesson It feels so good when you start out My head is screaming "Get a grip, girl Unless you're dying to cry your heart out"

[ILLYA, PYRRHA and NORA as backup] You keep on denying Who you are and how you're feeling Baby, we're not buying Hon, we saw you hit the ceiling Face it like a grown-up When you gonna own up That you got, got, got it bad?

[BLAKE] No chance, no way I won't say it, no, no

[ILLYA, PYRRHA and NORA as backup] Give up, give in Check the grin; you're in love

[BLAKE] This scene won't play I won't say I'm in love

[ILLYA, PYRRHA and NORA as backup] You're doin' flips Read our lips: "You're in love"

[BLAKE] You're way off base, I won't say it Get off my case, I won't say it

[ILLYA, PYRRHA and NORA as backup] Girl, don't be proud! It's okay, you're in love

[BLAKE] Ohhh... At least out loud I won't say I'm in love

…….

Having dinner with Yang’s family was quite nice. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy her life at Illya’s, but her parents were always working and they never really had any sort of family moments. Being in the table with so many people reminded her of home. She missed her parents so much.

“And that’s when I realized I had lost all of their exams” Yang’s father said with a loud laugh. His name was Taiyang and he looked a lot like his daughter. He was a middle school teacher and made some serious bad puns.

“I don’t think that is something you want to tell the kids, love” his wife replied, doing her best not to laugh. Summer looked a lot like Ruby. She had dark reddish hair and silver eyes. She worked as a social worker and her smile gave Blake a sense of peace.

“I wished my teacher lost our final papers…” Ruby said with a pout. “I know I could have done a better job”

“You already have straight A’s” Yang said with a serious face “What more do you want?”

“You can always improve yourself” Summer added as she gently placed a hand over the blonde’s. It was pretty clear that, even if they didn’t share blood, Summer was Yang’s mom.

“So, what are you two working on?” Qrow asked his niece.

“It’s a history essay… You know it's not my strength so…”

“Yeah, you are the muscle and I’m the brains” Ruby said with a giggle. Yang laughed but Blake could see how much the joke had hurt her. When dinner was over they went back to Yang’s room. They offered to help clean up but Summer insisted they got back to work. They had enough hands already.

“Sorry about that” the blonde said.

“About what?” Blake replied, honestly now knowing what her friend was talking about.

“My family” Yang looked down “I know they can be too much”

“I think they are all lovely” the black haired girl smiled “They reminded me of home”

They went back to work and they were making very good progress. Once they had decided the topic would be related to the Menagerie diaspora getting sources both online and offline was pretty easy. Three of the books Blake had brought had very good information on the matter. Yang felt relief for every webpage they found and chapter they identified. The problem, however, arose when it was time to actually read all of the sources. Blake knew her reading speed was above average. Still, she had already finished reading five different sources and her friend was still struggling with the first one. Her hands were sweating and her forehead was wrinkled in disgust. It was clear she was suffering.

“Is everything ok?” the black haired girl asked. Yang didn’t even look up and Blake though she saw tears in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” she replied, her eyes stuck on the table “I have a very hard time reading…”

“Yang… You can’t… You can’t read?” Blake asked as gently as she could, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I can” the blonde answered, sounding a lot harsher than she originally intended “It just takes me some time to figure out the words…”

“Figure out the words?”

“Yeah… The letters move around sometimes or switch places. I’m sorry I’m just…”

“Dyslexic”

“..an idiot”

#bumbleby #skyechaser #musical #rwby #blake #yang #blake and yang #yang and blake #fanfiction #fanfic #roosterteeth

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sonicfanj · 5 years ago

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Seeing Shadow in his Friends, Enemies, and Maria

So, I’m always one for my odd opinions and outlooks and the one that been on my mind of late is one about Shadow. Now I know Shadow is a very easy character to like and make fun of all at once, but one of the things that I like about Shadow is his nuances and his tendency for self-reflection and introspective moments. Like Sonic he is aloof, but unlike Sonic who knows himself, Shadow has difficulty even approaching himself and as a result tends to attract attention from those who reflect aspects of himself in different ways. How responds to these people says a lot about him and how he views himself which I find to be absolutely fascinating.

Friends

So I’ll start with one that is both easy to see Shadow in, but shows a lot of the interesting nuance mystery still about Shadow and how he views himself.

Omega

So, Omega being the Eggman hating machine that he is should be a pretty straightforward character to see Shadow in. Primarily in his need for vengeance no matter what. Shadow himself when he debuted no matter the reasoning behind it perceived himself as a weapon that needed to fulfill his vengeance. Omega is clearly no different and it is obvious that Shadow sees a lot of himself in the machine. They were both made by members of the Robotnik family and find themselves not living the lives they were created for. They are almost family in a way and considering at least through 06 how much trust and care Shadow showed for Omega (why would you take that away SEGA?) there is no doubt that he is extrememly important to him.

Where it gets interesting with Omega is not in the similarities he shares with Shadow and how much of himself that Shadow sees in him, but how Shadow generally treats him. Though Omega is almost entirely a cold weapon of a machine living for a singular vengeance much like he was until Amy reminded him of what Maria asked of him, Shadow did not distance himself from Omega once they were a team. He showed concern for him, considered his insights when appropriate, and trusts him to have his back. This is even after he lets go of his own need for vengeance, yet in a way he constantly has a reminder of it beside him in the form of Omega making Omega serve as much as a warning for what he can devolve into even while he is one of his closest friends. It is such a strange contrast and I believe it would be quite engaging to see what we can learn about Shadow through this relationship.

Rouge

Now Rouge might be a bit more difficult to see Shadow in, but I think a lot of that has to do with their personalities at a glance. Both of them are for the most typically self absorbed individuals, even if for different reasons, but will step up and do the right thing when they need to, no matter how dirty they get in the process. They also typically keep their true feelings on matters hidden unless really pushed, though they have opened up to each other on occasion which is always fun to see. This is especially interesting since the biggest similarity they share is keeping up a facade that makes them seem more unapproachable and callous then they really are which makes Rouge a very kindred soul to Shadow.

Shadows unspoken trust in Rouge says a lot about how he values those parts of himself but fully embraces the importance of keeping himself at arm’s length from everything around him. Shadow values this quite a bit and rarely lets anyone through his icy shell, including Rouge who he will actually grow visibly irritated with when she doesn’t respect his shell. This reaction is kind of interesting to me as to an extent it is an irritation that to me reads of fear. Considering how he lost everything when the Ark was raided though it should not be a particular surprise. He lost everything that made him who he was then and his exterior shell like Rouge’s is a part of him, and something that he values to keep himself whole.

Enemies

Shadow’s enemies are an interesting batch of characters who all reflect Shadow in different ways and clearly highlight how shadow feels about those parts of himself.

Black Doom

Another easy one like Omega, Black Doom is a clear representation of Shadow’s potential to be a complete monster. But as Shadow at the time was craving an identity for himself and a sense of purpose, being a monster was more tempting than it probably ever should have been. But sure enough Shadow listened regardless to what Black Doom had to say and did not finally truly take action until he had seen the full extent of Black Doom’s plans.

Now this puts us an interesting place as it shows that Shadow has a great deal of patience for dealing with the monstrous nature that he possesses. He humors it. Listens to it. Lets it stretch its legs and show itself completely. Yet when it comes time to deal with it, he doesn’t just chase it back into the shadows (sorry for the pun) but chooses to utterly eliminate. Shadow kills Black Doom, destroys the Black Comet, and turns his back on the Ark and everything it represented, even joining forces with G.U.N. in 06. Shadow didn’t just face his the monster inside of him, once he allowed himself to see all of it, he destroyed every trace of it that he could and distanced himself from everything else he couldn’t bring himself to destroy. Too me this makes him look like he is absolutely terrified of the type of monster that he could become and actually makes it easier for me to come to terms with how he acts in the IDW Comics to an extent. Knowing full well the type of monster he can and his unique relationship with Eggman it is little wonder the whole Metal Virus Saga left him in a very foul temper. The terror he possesses for what he can be drives him harder than probably any other motivational force in his life, especially having turned his back as much as he can on his memories of Maria.

Mephiles the Dark

The recolor of a recolor in the flesh, and yet still one of my favorites if only for his relationship with Shadow (06 had it’s problems but Shadow’s campaign was not one of them to me). Mephiles and his plan are one of the biggest messes in the Sonic franchise and that allows him to encapsulate Shadow perfectly. He’s a mess of an individual driven by vengeance and hung up on his power and need to see the plan he follows through to its end. He will let nothing stand in his way but will gladly accept the aid of any he can manipulate to his ends. Almost a perfect description of how SEGA wants Shadow branded right now, even to the extent of wanting to ignore everything that made Shadow who he is, only dwelling on the most trivial of aspects. He is pettiness and arrogance in Shadow’s form and acts as a constant temptation towards deification through his own power while trying to stir his fear of being nothing more but a tool that has outgrown his usefulness to his masters.

So how how does Shadow face this enemy and part of himself? He pretty much tells it to stuff it, and is backed up by Omega who is a kindred soul and has nothing against turning on his masters if the need be (you only did it to yourself Eggman). When presented with all of his fears, insecurities, and everything that his power can bring him, Shadow chooses to fight everything. Be it his master, himself, or anyone else. Shadow has a very firm grasp on what he is, and as much as he fears it, he has no intention of ever giving in, fighting on without end. But like Mephiles, it also shows that Shadow feels the need to keep himself under control, but has to fight against himself to keep himself under control. The consequences of not doing so could be catastrophic (the destruction of the Earth, mankind turned into food, the end of time itself, etc...). That Shadow stays so cool through it is a testament to his resolve, but without his friends as support he buckles under the weight of the responsibility and lashes out like in the IDW comics (so why are you seperating him from his friends SEGA?).

Infinite

Now there wasn’t nearly as much interaction between Shadow and Infinite as there should have been, but that doesn’t stop the daft jackal though from reflecting a part of Shadow. Above all else what Infinite represents is Shadow’s pride, arrogance, and hypocrisy, especially as Shadow has pretty much become him. The constant boasting about himself and his power. The need to dismiss the strength brought on by friendship, and sole the belief that no matter what he can resolve any situation. Infinite is nearly everything that SEGA is trying to make Shadow today, yet they simultaneously tell a story about how wrong it is to be like that through Infinite. It’s a mixed message on SEGA’s part, but not so for Shadow.

Where SEGA says that Infinite is in the wrong even as they try mold Shadow into him, Shadow’s response is so much more in character. Arrogance, pride, hypocrisy; they’re all parts of him that he readily accepts and as a result is completely indifferent to Infinite. It is a curious form of acceptance, yet when it comes to these aspects Shadow just is both physically and philosophically. it isn’t that he openly embraces or rejects these parts of himself, but rather pays them little heed, accepting them as a part of him that does not require his attention. As a result, Infinite proves no threat to Shadow as this is one part of Shadow that he just accepts without thought allowing him to judge the jackal on his actions, not even recognizing how well reflected he is by him or the effects that those aspects can have on others and the world around him. In this regard Shadow reads to me as neglectful of this aspect of personality even though it drives a lot of his actions and personal agency. Yet it reflects him so well as it highlights why it is so easy for him to be so reckless and actually makes it easier for me to see why he’d end up messing up so badly against the Zombots. Go figure.

Maria

Finally wrapping up and giving them their own entire category we get to girl who gave Shadow his heart. No matter how much he tries to walk away she is always right there with him when he is kind, and when he is curious. She is the innocence in him that allows him to occasionally step outside of his icy exterior and the force that drives him to protect. And even his 25th Anniversary comic shows that he still thinks about her and that he walks in the direction illuminated by her beliefs. Or in short, she is everything that Shadow wishes he could hold inside of himself and keep safe no matter how hard his exterior has to grow. Yet with her is soft, gentle, delicate, as likely to break as she. She is as said above, his heart, made even more intriguing as some scholars believe the name to be derived from a word for love. This makes Amy being the one to snap him of his end the world kick all the more symbolic than I ever realized as her name can be interpreted to mean beloved or love )depending on how bad you’re butchering the French origins), especially since other possible meanings include “sea of bitterness” which reflects his personality most of the game, and “rebellion” which in turn relates him to Sonic and his rebellious personality. Again, it makes Maria his heart. And how does Shadow respond to this?

He protects it with everything he has, and is utterly devastated when he loses it, clinging on desperately to the memories and keeping them deeply buried inside himself. At his heart Shadow is extreme frail and knows it, building layer after of protections to keep himself safe, Be it his cold exterior or the lies he tells himself abut himself and leaving her behind which again the 25th Anniversary comic proves is a lie he tells himself in my opinion. His reaction also kind of puts him in the role of the Beast from beauty and the Beast as it is this simple girl who gives him his heart and keeps him from being the monster he fears becoming more than anything else. In a way it’s kind of beautiful and makes me appreciate Shadow that much as a character.

As I stated at the start of this opinion piece, part of what makes Shadow one of my favorites is his nuance and self-reflective and introspective tendencies. Writing it out it opened him up to me in more ways than I really realized he could be opened up and actually brought me a lot of peace with how he is being handled in the IDW comics so far. I may not like, but it actually is more in character than I realized and that is a feat that heavily impresses me with Ian Flynn’s writing considering what SEGA is doing to him. Still though, these are just my opinions and I wonder what everyone else thinks of them and how they see Shadow in his friends, enemies, and Maria.

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #character breakdown #rouge the bat #e-123 omega #black doom #mephiles the dark #infinite #maria robotnik #professor gerald #dr eggman #amy rose #my ramblings

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vinylandcoffeecollection · 5 years ago

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Notes On a Conditional Form- The 1975

(This is my review of Notes, which, obviously, I adore)

People tend to have a fixed idea of what the 1975 are, love or hate them. To some, they’re a plastic pop band who write (great) 80s-influenced songs like “The Sound”. To others, they’re the millennial Radiohead or U2 (pick your comparison depending on how much warmth you feel towards Matty Healy), obsessed with chronicling and holding forth on the State of the Nation, embodied by perhaps their best and most critically lauded song “Love It If We Made It”. The mixed reviews of their fourth album probably stem from the disappointment of both camps above: for the first group, superstar single “If You’re Too Shy (let me know)” is evidence that the band could continue to be great if only they mined this genre more. The second camp desperately searched for proof that Notes... has Something to Say, didn’t really find it, then concluded that it’s a weak or inferior album. In reality, though, 1975 are neither of the ostensibly polar identities above. As they are fond of saying, they create as they consume, and they consume a vast landscape of music constantly: it’s their life’s passion and one that has been apparent since their earliest EPs. Even though their last two albums appear on the surface to be perfect examples of the plastic pop (ILIWYS) and political polemic (ABIIOR), in reality each blends both and throws in some ambient instrumentals and other left field moments for good measure. No one who has heard Matty Healy and George Daniel talk about their creative influences and processes could ever confuse them with any other conveyor belt pop band or be in any doubt about their commitment to their art.

Following up 2018’s critically lauded A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships was always going to be a tall order but the 1975 can always be relied on to do the unexpected. This is a band who by the point of becoming massive had given up on ever actually becoming massive, so made a first album full of songs that they loved, that they now admit they might never have made if they had had any idea that global stardom was beckoning, because it’s just a bit weird. They apply the same kind of logic to Notes...: on the back of huge critical acclaim from A Brief Inquiry...they went inwards and simply made the kinds of music they loved consuming and playing, heedless of expectations. Notes.... has long been spoken of by the band as a metaphorical notebook, a looking back to their roots, collected and recorded around the world on their global tour last year. Originally due in May, then August 2019, then February, then April 2020, it’s been a beneficiary rather than a victim of unimaginable global circumstances, more relevant and strangely prescient than ever now. It turns out it does have something to say, but in lowercase rather than capital letters, and it’s a better album for it. Any capital-lettered statement, after all, could only have appeared completely outdated and irrelevant in the midst of a global pandemic.

Conditional verbs are “if” verbs, used to imagine events in certain conditions, and this is what Notes... is: a collection of songs posing questions and examining sets of circumstances and relationships that make us who we are, for better or worse. It’s an ending to these four albums of sorts (“I just wanted a happy ending,” Matty pleads in “If You’re Too Shy,”) but also an exploration of the impossibility of tidy, definitive endings. The final track of A Brief Inquiry... , the vital and unexpectedly uplifting “I Always Wanna Die (Sometimes)”, began with the line “I bet you thought your life would change but you’re sat on a train again.” That’s where we are on Notes and why its third track, not the final track, is called “The End”, to underline the point. This instrumental re-works the instrumental track “HNSCC” from the band’s 2013 EP Music for Cars, making it more orchestral. It’s a lovely way to develop this theme: that everything that happens to us is conditional to other events in the past, present or future. It also explores the idea that concepts of linear growth as people are artificial. Notes... embraces the lack of any kind of coherent narrative in life that we can tie our experiences together neatly with, the struggle to know and accept yourself, to be that person that you present to the outside world.

Anais Nin wrote: we do not see things as they are; we see them as we are. A Brief Inquiry.... is a great album but it also captured a moment in time both culturally and for the band, particularly Matty Healy personally. Having derided him for years, there seemed to be a huge will amongst the press to make this album succeed because of everything he had been through with addiction and rehab between 2013-2017. That was the narrative- he’d fucked up, now he was clean, gleaming and healthy in tasteful fitted jumpers and suits, with the haircut of a Mature Man, and they’d made a Political and Important album. The band were apparently finally deserving of the acclaim afforded to serious artists. But there were notes of caution: an interview Matty did where he spoke of being wary of being a poster boy for sobriety because he hadn’t been sober for long enough. I remember worrying about him when listening to all of this- what if he couldn’t hold it together? What then for him and the position in culture that he and the band were now occupying? It was almost a relief when he confessed in a 2019 interview to briefly relapsing: it was honest and it was real.

Notes sees Matty embracing the honest and the real like never before, and it’s apt that the album moves through the idea of Endings to “Frail State... “ “Streaming” and “The Birthday Party”, a hauntingly beautiful song about sobriety, questions of shifting identity, growth and relationships (“We can still be mates because it’s only a picture,” is the narrator’s rejoinder to a friend taking the piss out of him for buying an expensive artwork that the friend can’t relate to). It’s a song that narrates a tale, in the tradition of A Change of Heart, Milk or Paris, that is both humorous and devastating, particularly in its last line: “I depend on my friends to stay clean. As sad as it seems.” Maybe you do need to be knowledgeable about the band’s personal circumstances to understand that “The Birthday Party” isn’t just a dull and over-long tale about being bored at a party, as Rolling Stone appears to have taken it, but to paraphrase “Frail State of Mind”, it seems unlikely. In any case, Notes.... is a deeply honest album, one that paints Matty Healy in as unvarnished a form as he has ever appeared, talking candidly and literally about piss, shit and erections. As he has said, it’s an album without ego.

Appropriately for an album looking back, making notes on all those “if...then”s, Notes... is more eclectic than ever before, a distillation, as the band say, of their previous sounds as well as the music that has inspired their own creativity over the past nearly two decades. The reaction of the album’s detractors to this has been to see it as a jumbled mess of Too Much-ness, which is to completely miss the point. Notes... is deliberately and thoughtfully structured, each track including threads and connections to other songs and iconography of the band’s world, an intertextuality that is sometimes darkly humorous, sometimes poignant and very much underlining that theme of honesty. “I never fucked in a car, I was lying,” opens “Nothing Revealed/Everything Denied”, Healy lacerating his ego by referencing Love It If We Made It’s memorable opening line as well as their early song “Sex”, and later “you can’t figure out a heart. You were lying,” undercutting the swagger of 2013’s 80s-maximalist “Heart Out”. More poignantly on “Roadkill”, again recalling the lie of linear growth and maturity, he sings “if you never eat you’ll never grow. Should have learned that quite a while ago,” looking back to one of the band’s most loved and most “apocalyptic adolescent” songs, as they term it, from their debut album, “Robbers”. The intertextuality is there in the music too, from the re-working of instrumental track “HNSCC” in “The End” (a connection missed, unforgivably, by seemingly every critic) to the inclusion of original demo of standout track from A Brief Inquiry... “It’s Not Living (If it’s not with you)” at the start of the surreally titled “Shiny Collarbone”. This is the largely instrumental EDM track sampling Cutty Ranks that for a number of critics seems to represent the fact that the band have lost their way and just started putting out random filler. They haven’t on either count, and the sample is a lovely reminder that even when farming seemingly the furthest reaches of the 1975’s discovered land, the music is always quintessentially theirs.

Perhaps the farming metaphor isn’t the most appropriate though. The band have spoken before about the choice that they have as artists to be “cowboys or farmers”, to keep re-working old ground or move forward and discover new places. To the charge that the songs here are just not as good as their earlier albums, well that depends on your perspective. Even the poor reviews aren’t quibbling with the strength of “If You’re Too Shy...” but truly that’s not the best songwriting on display here. The 1975 can write songs like “Too Shy” while knocking about having a laugh, stoned out of their heads. As they say themselves, it’s not a stretch. They’d rather push themselves, which they do. Regardless of genre, though, any band will stand or fall on whether they can write a catchy tune or not. The 1975 have always been able to write a catchy tune and it says something that over 22 tracks, each one has that catchiness and each one is distinctly itself. “Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy)” begins with a pitched up sample of “Just my Imagination” by the Temptations, it’s a love song in the 1975 tradition: bouncy and irresistible major key melody juxtaposed with an emotional sucker punch: “She said they should take this pain and give it a name.” They cleverly subvert the genre, pairing the beauty of the melody with the brutally honest: “Tonight, I think I fucked it royally.” It’s one of the best songs on display here and another perfect example of how the 1975 can take that most over-done of genres, and make it completely their own.

Because of the evolution of the album, seven songs, not including “The 1975” with Greta Thunberg, were already well known before its release. “People”, the first of these after Greta, is fantastic pop punk, a track that has lost none of its impact in the 9 months since its original release. “Nothing Revealed/Everything Denied”, the self-referential track referred to above, is a catchy treatise on the search for meaning in our lives, fusing a soaring choir-sung chorus with Matty’s witty rapping. A trio of tracks explore what some critics have labelled “emo garage”: a thread that begins with the pulsing and affecting “Frail State of Mind” (“Go outside? Seems unlikely,” and is followed through with the standout “I Think There’s Something You Should Know”, surely a future single that would be perfectly at home on Radio 1, and “What Should I Say?” In the instrumental vein, the George Daniel-created masterpiece “Having No Head” transports the listener to another sonic world. There are several throw-backs to the band’s previous emo-indie incarnation Drive Like I Do with “Then Because She Goes” and “Me and You Together Song”. And then there’s a couple of gorgeous ballads: the profound “Jesus Christ 2005...” and the love letter to the band “Guys”. In a way this closing track is almost a microcosm of the band: love them and this is a beautifully turned love letter to friendship and loyalty in the face of life’s challenges. Hate them and it’s a cringeworthy, naive irritation.

Of course, there is no happy ending or neat bow tied round Notes.... at the conclusion of its 22 tracks. We leave Matty still struggling with himself, life and his conflicted desires but with two tracks- the gentle “Don’t Worry”, a Tim Healy- penned song that is performed as a father/son duet, and “Guys”- we are reminded that it’s our relationships that will help us through, the connections we build. We are all conditional forms in this sense.

The vinyl of Notes... is poignantly inscribed with the words 'If this is to be read in the future, please know that this was us trying'. It would be very easy at this stage in their career for the 1975 to put out albums filled with variations on “Chocolate” or “The Sound”, and it might make some fans and critics happy, but they don’t want to. They are triers. Perhaps it’s this very workaholism, their obsession with pushing boundaries and experimentation, speaking up and refusing to stay in their lane that so riles up those ready to sharpen their critical knives. They are those too clever and too keen kids at the front of the class, annoying the fuck out of those who can’t be bothered or just can’t compete. Having spent last year taking political stands on issues ranging from misogyny in music to abortion laws in the US to the treatment of the LGBTQ& community in the UAE and doing their bit for the environment by commanding fans to be quiet and listen to a Greta Thunberg monologue for five minutes at their live shows, selling recycled merchandise and planting trees for every ticket sold, they are still unable to rest in the midst of a global pandemic, engaging with fans through Twitter listening parties and an interactive website called Mindshower where fans can create their own music and artwork and reflecting on what live music might look like in the future when we can finally get out there again. It all sounds a bit like Radiohead in the 2000s, except Radiohead never made an album as sonically beautiful or coherent as Notes... either immediately post-OK Computer or in the 19 years since. The 1975 are many things but they’ll never allow themselves to become stale or apathetic or lazy and for that at least they should be recognised: they simply care too much. And as for that vinyl inscription, in the future they won’t just be remembered for trying but for achieving what most bands never do even in a lifetime of striving.

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