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une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir · 3 years

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random thoughts about aegon vi and septa lemore

Apparently, it’s Aegon’s week. i don’t think i ever paticipated in these events for any character or pairing, but @agentrouka-blog’s theory that septa Lemore is Ashara Dayne and that the baby switch was between Aegon and her rumoured child (instead of random kid) showed up on my dash today.

Lemore being Ashara Dayne and there having been baby switch like theorised would be fantastic, because she’d know a lot of stuff that is otherwise impossible to know. She knows who dishonoured her at Harrenhal (we all know Brandon, not Ned). She knows about Wylla, a wetnurse from the Dayne Household, who Eddard Stark and Edric Dayne both say is Jon’s mother (we all know Jon is Lyanna’s, so this apparent lie version being told by two different people who have nothing to do with one another seems to suggest a combined lie between Ned and the Daynes). She knows about Jon because Ned went to Starfall with him and (if baby switch theory is true), she can confirm Aegon VI is real.

There’s also the suspicious narrative choice of a “Targ” (not even, she has dark hair, not silver hair, even if she has purple eyes) getting with an impetuous Stark at Harrenhal and a secret child never really going anywhere. What’s the point of that besides shading Rhaegar plus Lyanna equals Jon? This I always thought was suspicious, but this theory would *poof* make it make sense.

TYRION III ~ ADWD

This is the chapter where Aegon VI Targaryen is first introduced. The whole chapter is like a “perigrination” to find him. I am of the opinion that Aegon VI is the real thing for a long time now and there’s evidence that might be the case in this very chapter where he’s introduced.

"How fares our lad?" asked Illyrio as the chests were being secured. Tyrion counted six, oaken chests with iron hasps. Duck shifted them easily enough, hoisting them on one shoulder.

This is shortly after the chapter starts. Not only Illyrio asks about Aegon, there’s also the imagery of six chests about. If Aegon is crowned king of Westeros, he’ll be Aegon VI Targaryen.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++

"There is a gift for the boy in one of the chests. Some candied ginger. He was always fond of it." Illyrio sounded oddly sad.

This is often used as a clue that Aegon VI is fake. Illyrio is expressing some sentimental attachment, so there are theories that he could be the father and the mother would be some Valyrian looking wife he has. it has its merits.

On the other hand, Aegon VI is on the run from the crown, hiding under a false identity and dyes his hair another colour, but most importantly in this passage, is Aegon’s fond of a specific sweet that what we would at first mistake for a father for the reasons pointed above gifts him with.

This is 1:1 what’s going on with Sansa, she’s on the run from the crown, hiding under a false identity and dyes her hair another colour, she’s fond of a specific sweet (lemoncakes) and Littlefinger, who’s pretending to be her father and is very... emotionally invested... in her, gifts her with some (well, in parternship with her cousin, but the cousin is another matter).

By parallel, Aegon is real.++

Tyrion craned his head to one side, and saw a boy standing on the roof of a low wooden building, waving a wide-brimmed straw hat. He was a lithe and well-made youth, with a lanky build and a shock of dark blue hair.

Aegon is inrroduced standing above the rest, literally high-standing.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++

An older couple with a Rhoynish cast to their features stood close beside the tiller, whilst a handsome septa in a soft white robe stepped through the cabin door and pushed a lock of dark brown hair from her eyes.

This is actually what I came for, Lemore.

Why a septa would be described as “handsome” when that should have no relevance since she’s supposed to be chaste (I know, it’s Tyrion, but still)? Ashara Dayne is described by many as being beautiful, arrestingly so. If Lemore is Ashara, “handsome” is a good way to describe her beauty still.

Lemore has dark brown hair. Ashara is described as having long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders. More importantly, Lemore's first actions is push her hair from her eyes. Like, pay attention to this woman’s eyes, even though they’re not described ever (not even their colour).

TYRION IV ~ ADWD

Tyrion had drunk himself blind his first night on the Shy Maid. The next day he awoke with dragons fighting in his skull.

So yes, the night after Tyrion meets Aegon and his party for the first time, he dreams of dragons fighting. Take note these are dragons, not a fake dragon in whatever way and a dragon.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++.

The clouds in the sky were aglow: pink and purple, maroon and gold, pearl and saffron. One looked like a dragon. Once a man has seen a dragon in flight, let him stay at home and tend his garden in content, someone had written once, for this wide world has no greater wonder. Tyrion scratched at his scar and tried to recall the author's name. Dragons had been much in his thoughts of late.

One of those clouds looks like a dragon. There’s no dragons with these colours BUT Targs have purple eyes and Viseryion, a dragon I believe is a narrative stand-in for Aegon VI, is described as cream and gold, so one colour here. Honestly, the important here is that Tyrion is associating dragons around Aegon.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++.

"Good morrow, Hugor." Septa Lemore had emerged in her white robes, cinched at the waist with a woven belt of seven colors. Her hair flowed loose about her shoulders. "How did you sleep?"

Holy shit.

“Even after all these years, Ser Barristan could still recall Ashara's smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders and those haunting purple eyes.

"Fitfully, good lady. I dreamed of you again." A waking dream. He could not sleep, so he had eased a hand between his legs and imagined the septa atop him, breasts bouncing.

"A wicked dream, no doubt. You are a wicked man. Will you pray with me and ask forgiveness for your sins?"

Only if we pray in the fashion of the Summer Isles. "No, but do give the Maiden a long, sweet kiss for me."

Laughing, the septa walked to the prow of the boat. It was her custom to bathe in the river every morning.

"Plainly, this boat was not named for you," Tyrion called as she disrobed.

"The Mother and the Father made us in their image, Hugor. We should glory in our bodies, for they are the work of gods."

Yeah, it’s Tyrion, who’d sexualise a rock, but this is a septa who deserves respect. Yet, this is how the writer “paints” the reader’s first interaction with this new character. These are always the most striking moments when establishing a character and sex imagery is what the writer decided to do.

Also Lemore not only knows that Tyrion’s fantasising about having sex with her and doesn’t give a shit, she laughs instead, gets naked to bathe, and doesn’t give a shit if others look at her naked body. This doesn’t feel like a septa. I mean, I remember Mordane and the zealots at King’s Landing who screwed with Cersei. They have nothing on this.

The way she puts why she has no problems with naked bodies and the like also suggest some kind of “free spirit” which goes well with the (disgusting, but there) dornish wanton woman trope and being dishonoured by Brandon at Harrenhal.

Another thing to note, is that Tyrion also clearly says the “Shy Maid” wasn’t named after Lemore, which suggests she’s neither shy nor a maid. This is confirmed by her actions and by...

The dwarf watched Lemore slip into the water. The sight always made him hard. There was something wonderfully wicked about the thought of peeling the septa out of those chaste white robes and spreading her legs. Innocence despoiled, he thought … though Lemore was not near as innocent as she appeared. She had stretch marks on her belly that could only have come from childbirth.

Lemore was pregnant at one point!

When Lemore climbed back onto the deck, Tyrion savored the sight of water trickling between her breasts, her smooth skin glowing golden in the morning light. She was past forty, more handsome than pretty, but still easy on the eye. Being randy is the next best thing to being drunk, he decided. It made him feel as if he was still alive. "Did you see the turtle, Hugor?" the septa asked him, wringing water from her hair. "The big ridgeback?"

This disparity of behaviour between septa Lemore and any other septa in ASOIAF is VERY suspicious. Note how Lemore has two mysteries about her already, she’s characterised nothing like any septa in ASOIAF (more like the tasteless “dornish wanton woman” sterotype instead) and a mystery child. What’s the point of that, if she’s irrelevant.

Compare how he Yandry and Ysilla couple is treated, where there are no bizarre things taking place that I noticed. Also Yandry and Ysilla are specifically said to be a pair of Dornish orphans. Why is the image of Dornish people here, along with Lemore? Suspicious, suspicious.

Lemore is “past fourty”. The asoiaf wiki lists Ashara Dayne as being born between 260AC and 269AC, which means that she’d be around this age if she had lived.

The imagery of a (false, but still) maidtaking a bath while men watch is the same as Florian and Jonquil song, an event that legend says happened at Maidenpool (close to... yes, that’s right, Harrenhal, where Ashara met Brandon).

"The turtles have their charms, I will allow. Nothing delights me so much as the sight of a nice pair of shapely … shells.

"Septa Lemore laughed. Like everyone else aboard the Shy Maid, she had her secrets. She was welcome to them. I do not want to know her, I only want to fuck her. She knew it too. As she hung her septa's crystal about her neck, to nestle in the cleft between her breasts, she teased him with a smile.

That’s not the behaviour of a septa and note the narrative acknowledgement that Lemore has secrets. She’s also called Lady instead of septa at some point in the narrative.

If this is Ashara, then Brandon met his match at Harrenhal. The waste, I can’t. What a sexy couple.

This chapter also contains Targ history as well as some Dorne (mother Rhoyne and whatnot). It goes well with Aegon is the real deal. But what really cinches it is the ending...

"It was him," cried Yandry. "The Old Man of the River."And why not?

Tyrion grinned. Gods and wonders always appear, to attend the birth of kings.

The Old Man of the River is a lesser god, the son of Mother Rhoyne. These gods are all associated with Dorne.

Aegon is real.++.

Tyrion VI ~ ADWD

"Even the bravest of your forebears kept his Kingsguard close about him in times of peril." Lemore had changed out of her septa's robes into garb more befitting the wife or daughter of a prosperous merchant. Tyrion watched her closely. He had sniffed out the truth beneath the dyed blue hair of Griff and Young Griff easily enough, and Yandry and Ysilla seemed to be no more than they claimed to be, whilst Duck was somewhat less. Lemore, though … Who is she, really? Why is she here? Not for gold, I'd judge. What is this prince to her? Was she ever a true septa?

Who is she, really... indeed... Lemore’s identity clearly is important.

She turned back to Prince Aegon. "You are not the only one who must needs hide."

Why does Lemore need to hide? :)

#asoiaf speculaion #i'm not going to tag these characters because the original theory isn't mine #i'm also not going to tag these characters because this isn't enough to warrant an entry on aegon vi targaryen week

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rainingpouringetc · 3 years

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Hi! So, I’ve been wondering what the problem with Anna Lightwood is, because my brain saw that she was bending gender norms and hit love. But, now that I’m on tumblr, people are saying that she is problematic?

hi! i’ll try my best to explain, idk if i’ll hit everything but i hope this helps. and i’m sorry it took me a while, i wanted to do it justice so i tried to cover my bases and do my research.

basically, anna has said and done things that came across to many as ignorant, racist, and even misogynistic.

first, let’s look at “every exquisite thing” from ghosts of the shadowhunter market.

“If I were to tell my parents the truth about myself, if I were to reveal who I really am, they would despise me. I would be friendless, cast out, alone.”

Anna shook her head.

“They would not,” she said. “They would love you. You are their daughter.”

Ariadne drew her hand back from Anna’s. “I am adopted, Anna. My father is the Inquisitor. I do not have parents who are as understanding as yours must be.”

“But love is what matters,” said Anna.

this is from when ariadne was trying to explain why she would be getting engaged to charles. anna is very lucky: her family loves and accepts her and she’s able to live her life as she wishes, which we see her doing in chain of gold. ariadne, however, is not as lucky, and she has to take into consideration the conditions of her parents’ love. anna apparently struggles to understand this, ignoring ariadne’s valid concerns and telling her that it doesn’t matter because “love is what matters,” as if it makes everything perfect.

this is where anna’s ignorance begins to show through. ariadne is: (a) a woman in the late 1800s/early 1900s (i don’t remember for sure what year this story took place but i’d assume 1900s), (b) indian at a time when india is under british rule, (c) adopted, and (d) a lesbian shadowhunter. we know enough about how intolerant people have been about homosexuality, but shadowhunters are a whole other story. put all of this together and you have someone who is terrified of letting down her family and being shunned by society more than she already has been. in ariadne’s mind, she has no choice but to hide who she is.

anna ignores this. entirely. she doesn’t take the time to talk to ariadne about her concerns, but rather skirts around them and insists that what she wants is what’s more important. this is highly indicative of her privilege and how she puts herself before others and others’ feelings.

now let’s look at chain of gold. there are two scenes in particular that i want to look at, but there are more.

“I quite like your mother. She reminds me of a queen out of a fairy tale, or a peri from Lalla Rookh. You’re half-Persian, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Cordelia said, a little warily.

“Then why is your brother so blond?” Anna asked. “And you so redheaded--I thought Persians were darker-haired.”

Cordelia set her cup down. “There are all sorts of Persians, and we all look different,” she said. “You wouldn’t expect everyone in England to look alike, would you? Why should it be different for us? My father is British and very fair, and my mother’s hair was red when she was a little girl. Then it darkened, and as for Alastair--he dyes his hair.”

“He does?” Anna’s eyebrows, graceful swooping curves, went up. “Why?”

“Because he hates that his hair and skin and eyes are dark,” said Cordelia. “He always has. We have a country house in Devon, and people used to stare when we went into the village.”

Anna’s eyebrows had ceased swooping and taken on a decidedly menacing look. “People are--” She broke off with a sigh and a word Cordelia didn’t know. “Now I rather feel sympathy toward your brother, and that was the last thing I wanted. Quick, as me a question.”

this scene is from cordelia’s tea with anna. i won’t touch so much on the “peri from lalla rookh” comment so much as i’m afraid i don’t feel well enough qualified or researched to adequately represent people’s concerns about this statement, but i do know that there were several posts going around about people discussing how it rubbed them the wrong way, so i thought i would include it as well.

the rest, though, is a bit more obvious. one of the things about books is that it can be more difficult to interpret someone’s words and their meaning because we don’t have things like tone or facial expressions or any of that unless the author explicitly includes it. however, we can draw on the way other characters react to certain comments. cordelia goes on the defense, answering anna’s question “a little warily,” setting aside her tea and explaining rather bluntly that not all persians look the same. it’s pretty easy to infer from her reaction that she’s uncomfortable from anna’s words. now, is that to say anna was intentionally being racist toward cordelia and her family? absolutely not. this is where microaggressions come into play. we see them with anna and also with matthew and even jessamine (though we see hers in the infernal devices rather than the last hours). microaggressions, while often unintentional, are still a form of racism. given the times these characters have grown up in, it’s not necessarily a surprise, but that certainly doesn’t excuse her behavior.

there is, however, a more intentional party to this scene that really rubbed me the wrong way. it’s her discussion of alastair. cordelia has just explained that alastair dyes his hair to stop people from staring at him when he’s walking down the street, and anna replies that she feels sympathy for him and that is “the last thing” she wanted. i understand that she has her own feelings about alastair, likely from listening to the merry thieves’ depiction of him, but that doesn’t excuse her. she even starts to say something about it, likely drawing on her own experiences of wearing menswear at a time when fashion was much more strictly regulated in society than it is today. but she stops herself and instead goes on to reemphasize her dislike for cordelia’s brother and changes the subject.

She held up a small black-bound memorandum book... “This,” she announced, “will hold answers to all our questions.”

...

Matthew looked up, his eyes fever-bright. “Is this your list of conquests?”

“Of course not,” Anna declared. “It’s a memorandum book... about my conquests. That is an important but meaningful distinction.”

...

Anna flipped through the book. There were many pages, and many names written in a bold, sprawling hand.

“Hmm, let me see. Katherine, Alicia, Virginia--a very promising writer, you should look out for her work, James--Mariane, Virna, Eugenia--”

“Not my sister Eugenia?” Thomas nearly upended his cake.

“Oh, probably not,” Anna said. “Laura, Lily... ah, Hypatia. Well, it was a brief encounter, and I suppose you might say she seduced me...”

i hope i don’t have to explain this one too much. there’s just something... unsettling about the fact that anna is held up as this feminist icon and yet she keeps a book with the names of and her encounters with all the women she’s slept with... and then reads those names aloud to everyone. it’s a bit much, don’t you think? and all of this is even without touching the leak we got about her and ariadne, which i’d rather not speculate on too much but is also quite damning.

all in all, i’d like to believe anna is really a good person who’s just misguided and confused, much because i love the idea of a genderqueer character, especially one in an era before stonewall, but her actions and behaviors have led me to believe that she has a long road ahead of her. as i said earlier this week:

let me get something clear: i would die for fanon anna but canon anna needs to get her shit together before i’ll willingly breathe in her direction

i really hope this was helpful... i did my best lol. if anyone else has more to add, please feel free.

#ask answered #anon #anna lightwood #tlh #the last hours #chain of gold

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adamarks · 5 years

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If one more person says simon snow should lose his wings i’m gonna lose my goddamn mind: a meta

Alright you guys, I’ve had ENOUGH. Simon cannot lose his wings unless you want him to break up with Baz, and this is why.

Let’s start with Baz.

This analysis is obviously Simon-based, and yes i’ll get there, but first we need to look at the biggest key we’ve been given to what Simon’s wings could possibly mean subtextually and metaphorically for the story at large. That key is: Baz’s vampirism.

Baz being a vampire is constantly compared to/mentioned in tandem with his queerness in Carry On. In his first chapters, what are the three most important traits that we learn about him?

he’s a drama queen

he’s a vampire

he’s hopelessly in love with simon snow

If you boil his character down until he’s basically just a stick figure, that’s what he is: an over dramatic vampire in love with Simon Snow.

We’ve all read the books, we all know this, and we all know he’s much more than that. What of it?

What’s important is that Baz’s vampirism is treated almost the exact same as his homosexuality.

Hiding it from everyone, being ashamed of it, knowing what you are but being terrified of it. His dad being “definitely more disappointed in my queerness than my undeadness.”

I mean, holy shit, let’s look at this bit in Carry on from Chapter 51:

“I think if I got married, to a girl from a good family, my father wouldn’t even care that I’m queer. “

This scene really hits, because how many times have you wondered “What if I was straight? Maybe this thing wouldn’t be as bad?” “What if i was just a straight poc?” “What if I was only gay and not trans?” “What if I was only disabled and not gay on top of it?” What if, what if, what if. Would my life be easier? you wonder. Would I get hurt less? Would people treat me better?

If Carry On is about self-realization, then Wayward Son is about the struggle of self-acceptance.

Baz going to Las Vegas and meeting Lamb probably seemed familiar for some of you people that are LGBT+. It’s how you feel when you’re from a small town and you go to a big city like New York or Orlando or LA for the first time and you see gay people all around you. Flamboyantly gay! Gay people holding hands! Gay people kissing! Trans people that don’t fit the gender norms! Older trans ladies just walking down the street!

It’s exciting, it’s exhilarating. Your baby-gay brain is so confused because no one’s giving them dirty looks. They don’t look nervous or ashamed. Is this allowed?

The party in the penthouse is glamorous and beautiful and alluring and none of the humans there are scared or look like they’re in real danger. It’s because they aren’t. None of those vampires are there to kill people.

This is where Baz’s fear of his own nature comes in. Let’s hear it for all you homosexuals in the crowd that are/have been terrified of being predatory. Of turning the gender you’ve been told all of your life you’re not supposed to want into pieces of meat. You feel ashamed for wanting physical intimacy. You feel wrong for wanting emotional intimacy.

Lamb is the older gay that you meet/learn about/watch on youtube or whatever that makes you learn that no, you’re not inherently evil. Lamb is the queer history, the queer movies, the queer people that you discover that make you learn that “no, i’m not bad. I’m not broken. I’m beautiful. I’m beautiful.”

Baz thinking the sight of Lamb drinking that guy’s blood being alluring and beautiful is crucial to his arc. Baz needs to see that all of him is beautiful.

So homosexuality = Baz being a vampire? How in the flying fuck does this have anything to do with Simon?

Remember, Baz is our key. His struggles have been happening since book one. Simon just gained his “creature” status at the end of Carry On. He’s new to this. Which means we’re new to the subtext. Which means: let’s dive on into the next big point.

Our Big Bisexual Boy

Whatever label you choose to use for Simon is up to you. As long as we all agree he likes more than one gender then it’s whatevs. I’m going to be using the word bisexual for this meta, though.

We’re all well aware that Simon is Struggling with his bisexuality in this book.

“I still haven’t sorted out whether I’m still attracted to women or whether I ever was, or whether I’m some kind of Baz-only-sexual. But the cleavage at this place is abundant, and I’m not mad about it.”

(taken from chapter 21)

Like....... y’know. We know. It’s... we get it.

The important part of that quote is that it’s at the Ren Faire. The Ren Faire is the first time Simon’s had his wings out in public since god-knows-when, if ever. This is also the first time he really considers kissing Baz in the book. Kissing Baz in Public.

Any of you that have been to Pride probably got a little bit of the warm fuzzies during this scene. The faire brought back such deep memories of my first pride it was a little bit emotional. I talked to random people, people ran around in rainbow outfits. There was body paint! Stupid hats! Weird dye jobs! The classic pride-flag-as-a-cape look! I talked to so many people and

“Everyone here is so friendly.”

(also taken from chapter 21)

Everyone was so nice to me.

Baz feels right at home; Simon is all smiles. The only one not having a blast is Penny and she’s (I’m sorry, Penny) the token straight friend in these books.

I don’t know how Rainbow did it, but she made me relive my first pride through Simon, and I’ll never not be grateful for that.

“Today I’m someone else entirely. Today I’m just a bloke with fake red wings.”

The Pride/Ren Faire parallels were pretty obvious, but I wanna get a little further into the whole “wings = being bisexual” thing.

We’ve established with Baz that being a magical creature or whatnot is Gay, but while Baz is fully magical, Simon’s “half-normal.” Kind of. It’s a weird situation there but half-normal works for the argument.

“’Smells like dragon... but also smells like iron. Another abomination!’”

(chapter 35)

Now the word “abomination” is really fucking unfortunate in this context, but biphobia exists so idk man. I’m gonna start talking in gay/straight terms and I absolutely know bisexuality isn’t half-gay half-straight but we’re talking in metaphors and i’ll tie it together at the end so just stick with me, okay?

He’s part dragon, part Normal (kind of). Simon’s not like Baz where he’s absolutely, 100% a vampire. He has traits of dragons and humans. This is why it’s so bad that he hates his wings half the time. They are part of him. They may not be “normal” and he may have to hide them, but he can’t just cut off the gay part. Our queerness doesn’t define us, but it’s a defining feature.

Penny says she wouldn’t be her if she wasn’t a mage. Simon wouldn’t be Simon if he wasn’t bi.

The mistake Simon and almost everyone else makes during this book is that they think of his wings as these separate entities. There is no gay part and straight part of Simon Snow. All of him is Simon. From the tips of his toes to the tops of his wings, all of him is Simon. He might’ve discovered this part of himself during a tragic point in his life, but that doesn’t mean it has to be something bad. It doesn’t have to be something tainted.

Sometimes you discover things about yourself during the hardest moments of your life. When you’re already down in the dirt, beaten and bruised, sometimes a mirror is put in front of you and you realize something. You realize you’re trans. You realize you’re gay. And sometimes you resent those realizations because they came to you at the worst possible time. “This is just one more thing on my plate,” you think.

This series is about reclaiming the things that where taken from you by the ones that hurt you.

Simon’s going to have to learn to love his wings, because even though they remind him of something that hurts-- hurts more than anything-- they’re part of him. They are him, as much as the rest of his body is. Simon’s going to have to forgive himself, and learn to love himself for all that he is.

Because all that he is is beautiful.

We all know it; it’s time for him to understand that.

All right, bitches. Let’s get to the bit we all REALLY care about. this is the one that really fucks me up my dudes. Because it’s Brutal. But anyways here we go.

His wings are the Big Baz Love

What are the two things that Simon’s considering cutting off in this book?

“That’s what I’m going to say when I break up with Baz.”

“Dr. Wellbelove said he could remove the wings. And the tail. Whenever I’m ready.”

(Chapter 2, Epilogue)

Yikes!

My guys..... Simon and Baz don’t kiss unless Simon’s wings are out.

I truly do not understand how some of you are out here saying Simon’s gonna lose his wings I really don’t. It’s stressful. I’m stressed. Ms. Rainbow Rowell, you have me stressed.

His Wings! Are! His Love!

On Love’s Light Wings!

Goatman dances his nasty little fingers all over the bridge that is Baz’s ass? Wings out, uses his tail to help kill the guy. Lamb is hitting on Baz too much?

“’Spell my wings off.’”

(Chapter 45)

In the airport, when a lady is giving them the “don’t be gay” stink eye he immediately checks to make sure his tail is hidden.

Baz can’t spell his wings off, guys.

Baz can’t spell his wings away.

“’Snow needs you to cast your angel spell on him. I hid his wings for breakfast, but they’re still there.’“

(Chapter 19)

In Chapter 41, the biggest kiss scene we get, Simon wraps his wings around Baz to hold him. He’s embracing him in his love guys. Guys.

Have you people noticed how i’m suddenly less articulate? It’s because i’m in crisis. Set me on fire I wouldn’t notice. I’ve been living with this terrible knowledge.

The first scene we finally see them kiss is after the scene at the Ren Faire when Simon’s wings are finally out and he finally got to fly.

“Simon catches up with me and traps me against the car. He’s kissing me before I see it coming.”

Simon is so dtf in this scene Penny throws a water bottle at them, and it hits him in the wing.

“’So hot,’ Simon Says. ‘Got to see you fight without picking a fight with you myself.’

Bunce throws a plastic bottle over my shoulder, and it smacks Simon in the wing.”

(Chapter 22)

She had to smack him right in the love for him to calm down, my dudes, my guys. Do you realize how hard it was for me to annotate this goddamn book with this knowledge? Every. Single. Time. Simon stretches a wing or flaps them around it’s about Baz. It gets to the point where you have to put the book down or you’re gonna explode.

Simon’s wings are always out around Lamb. He’s jealous as hell and he hates that motherfucker’s guts. The only real injuries Simon sustains in this book are to his wings and they’re almost always when Baz gets hurt too.

When did Simon get his wings? Only a day after he first kissed Baz.

Simon’s love for Baz is so big and so obnoxious he can’t hide it. His wings and tail have spikes, because that’s all Simon knows. He’s rough around the edges, he’s been hurt, he’s been used.

He’s never been in love before.

His love is spiky; it’s loud. It’s hotrod red and you can’t miss it when it’s out. Baz can’t see it, because Simon’s tucked it away. He hasn’t flown with it. He hasn’t wrapped it around Baz in so long. He doesn’t know how to handle a love this big, where to put it, when to unfurl it.

Simon gets jealous. He gets scared. He’s insecure. He wants so dearly to finally give to someone instead of feeling like he’s just giving in. Like he’s still just taking from Baz.

What do you do with wings?

How do you find somewhere safe to fly?

The Resolution.

I said earlier that if Carry On is a story of self-discovery, Wayward Son is a story of self-acceptance.

Simon has to love himself, and learn that his love for Baz is a good thing. As he accepts himself (and his dragon powers evolve go read my dragon simon meta it’s good.) he’s going to start to shine.

This is a story being told to us with nothing but love. This is a story about a boy that’s his own worst enemy-- as all of us often are. It’s so scary to accept our wings. It’s so scary to accept our fangs. Especially when they’ve come out of such a hideous occurrence.

We need to accept these dark times and acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, we were made more beautiful because of them. Maybe the light we give after we’ve been in darkness is more vibrant, because we know how scary the dark is. The things that happened to us were horrible, and hideous, and terrifying, but we aren’t. We’re different from how we were before, but we’re still beautiful.

Simon Snow is going to accept himself.

Simon Snow is going to accept his past.

Simon Snow is going to finally, finally tell Baz he loves him.

And for the first time, Simon Snow is going to see that he’s beautiful.

If you’ve liked this meta you should also check out this one where i explain how they’re finally gonna get their relationship together. Also the one about the scarf

Special thank you to @singerofsimplesongs for listening to me howl and screech about this damn thing.

Tagging some people that might be interested!

@neck-mole @watfordwallflower @carrybits @theflyingpeach @fight-surrender @shitty-posty-times @wisest-girl @slaying-fictional-dragons @gucciglitzy

#carry on #wayward son #any way the wind blows #rainbow rowell #simon snow #snowbaz #baz pitch #Penelope Bunce #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #tyrannus basilton pitch #wayward son spoilers #meta #wayward son meta #carry on meta #this will end in flames #agatha wellbelove

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chazz-anova · 3 years

Text

...And Hell Followed With Him, Chapter 3

Guys I finally did it!! 😭 Thank you to @fadedjacket who helped motivate me to keep writing this story, and thank you to everyone who reblogs content of my girl, Veronica! 💚💚 So, without further ado, here’s my newest chapter in my main fic! (Here’s the ao3 link for those who prefer to read there!)

1 / 2

Sunlight streamed through the bedroom’s windows, casting a golden glow onto the hardwood floor. Veronica’s eyes opened lazily and she squinted into the sunshine, her throat felt dry and her stomach hollow. When she looked at the end of the bed, a grey mass of fur rose and fell slowly. Wiping the sleep from her eyes- V made out the shape of Boomer slumbering at her feet. A smile came across her features when she heard quiet snoring from him.

Ronnie shifted her legs under the covers, trying to move slowly as not to wake her companion. Her bare feet met the planks quietly, and she went to the door. The moment she turned the knob to leave, Boomer’s head shot up and he looked around for a moment before yawning. He cocked his head at Veronica, and she went back to the bed to pat him on the head. “You can stay here, I’m gonna go check in with Mary May… and hopefully get a shower.” V tousled his floppy ears once more before heading downstairs as he settled back down.

On the main floor of the Spread Eagle- the people of Fall’s End were still celebrating their emancipation from the cult. Beer bottles clinked together and people laughed in groups. Mary May was running food and drinks to a table in the corner before she met Veronica at the bar. “Morning dep, you look tired.” The woman observed, her blonde ponytail swinging cheerfully as she wiped up a spilled drink at the end of the counter.

“Well I feel like shit. Got any aspirin?” Came Ronnie’s response.

“Nope, fresh out.”

“Hair of the dog it is then! One beer please.” Veronica sighed, hopping onto a stool.

Mary May grabbed a bottle from the cooler, setting it down in front of her with a smile. Veronica twisted off the tip, hoping the frosty beverage would quell her headache, “Also, could I use your shower, and maybe a change of clothes? I could definitely use it after last night.”

“Go for it!” Mary called back, hurrying over to another table to take their orders.

V headed back upstairs, opening the door to see Boomer sitting up with his tongue lolling out. “Hey little guy, sleep well?” She asked him and he hopped down, walking over to her and nosing her hand so she’d pet him. “You’re such a sweetie..” The deputy smiled and scratched under his chin before going into the en suite.

The shower was a small standing one with subpar water pressure, but as Veronica stood in the warm torrent she released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. This was practically the only moment of true solitude she’d had in two days, yet she couldn’t keep her mind from racing. How was she supposed to take down Eden’s Gate when she was just one woman? Sure, she’d been lucky so far, but at the end of the day she was only one person. V thought of her mother, the bright grin on her face the day that she’d watched Veronica follow in her footsteps and graduate from the Police Academy. What would she think of her daughter now? Would she also think she was a coward and a murderer like John?

Veronica raised a hand to clutch the heart-shaped locket her Nana had given her; it hung loosely around her neck and the metal was growing colder as the hot water depleted. She tried to shake the thoughts from her mind, thinking ‘I’ve only done what I had to do… my hand’s been forced..’ Yet in the back of her mind, V knew part of her wasn’t hating this, part of her wanted to make the people who’d snatched her from her normal life pay for the turmoil she was going through.

Almost thirty minutes later, Ronnie emerged from the steamy room wrapped in a fluffy purple towel. She immediately made her way to the dresser and dug through the drawers until she found an outfit that suited her. ‘Anything is better than tan fuckin’ cargo pants.’ She chuckled to herself, laying out dark blue jeans and a low-cut black tank top.

Once changed, she admired herself in the mirror and slipped her boots on. She noticed her brunette roots were spreading, and she was sure it would be a long time before she could dye it again.

Next, Veronica strapped her holstered handgun around her waist and grabbed her backpack and M60, swinging both over her shoulders. “God this gun is fucking heavy!” She cursed. Taking one last look around the room before heading downstairs, she saw Boomer had taken his leave already. ‘That dog has a mind of his own.’ V smiled, and closed the door behind her.

On the main floor of the Spread Eagle, business was still booming. Mary May was behind the bar speaking to one of the patrons who sat in front of her. When she caught Ronnie’s eye, she gestured her over. “Deputy! After a shower and a beer you seem bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

“Well I certainly feel better. Any way I could badger you for a meal?” The woman pulled out her wallet from the red backpack containing most of her belongings.

“You put that away, heroes eat free in my bar!”

At being called a hero, Veronica stiffened. The moniker didn’t seem to fit as comfortably as the barkeep used it; ‘What kind of hero murders people?’ Her mind practically shouted at her.

Mary May had already turned towards the kitchen, calling out “Casey? Get our friend, the deputy, some breakfast ready- would ya?”

The man in the window wiped his hands on his apron and nodded at the pair “One full breakfast, coming up!”

V came to her senses once more and put her wallet back in the pack she’d withdrawn it from, giving the barkeep a smile. “I appreciate that, but the ‘hero’ stuff isn’t necessary… I’m just trying to do what’s right, that’s all.”

“Oh I don’t think you have to worry about trying, seems like doin’ what’s right’s in your blood, hun. Not a lot of people would run in here guns ablazing to save a town of near strangers.” The blonde gave her another smile before going to check on her tables.

“That’s a pretty thought.” Veronica mused, thinking she wasn’t quite sure what was right anymore.

Her foot tapped against the metal of the bar stool as she watched the chef work, her stomach growling at her impatiently. She realised the last time she’d eaten was well over 24 hours ago, and that thought did nothing to help her hunger panes. Turning to the patron next to her, Veronica asked “Got a cig?” The man next to her obliged, giving her a nod as she stepped off the barstool and out the front door.

“I really wish this were a joint.” V shook her head before lighting up, inhaling the bitter fumes. Cigarettes had never been her favourite vice- but she would take what she could get at this point.

The morning sun poured over the small town, framing everything in an angelic light. Townspeople roamed through the streets, picking up debris and throwing it into contractor bags. Despite spending almost the whole previous day cleaning and mending the broken town, there was still much to be done. It heartened Veronica to see the people of Fall’s End working together to fix their home.

Another drag of her cigarette, and the deputy couldn’t help but reflect on the past two days. She’d seen more bloodshed than in her whole life, and been the cause of most of it. The weight of each death she had caused was heavy on her heart as she replayed watching the light fade from too many eyes.

Ronnie had never thought she’d need to discharge her weapon in the line of duty. Working at the Hope County Sheriff’s Department was a relatively easy job, there were your fair share of crazy people and petty criminals, but she had never seen anything like this. It crossed her mind that every time a call regarding Eden’s Gate had come across the scanner, her partner, Staci Pratt, had been completely against going and always let someone else go in their place. ‘Hell, even Sheriff Whitehorse didn’t seem to want to send us on those calls. God I hope he’s okay…’

Veronica’s mind drifted to her companions- and what they must be going through at the hands of the cult. Dutch had assured her that they were all alive, but he’d neglected to give her any details. She thought of Joey- the fear on her face as she had been snatched out of the flaming wreckage of their helicopter. Now where was she? Trapped by John, being held against her will for what purpose? To convert her?

The thoughts and questions raced through the deputy’s head, making her feel dazed. She continued to circle back to one thought: ‘I have to save them, I’m the only one who can.’ Her fingers felt the warmth of the cherry of her cigarette, and she realised she had smoked it down to the filter. V tossed it to the ground and wandered back inside. The customers were rowdy for only 11 in the morning, and their clamoring mixed with the song on the jukebox to create a nice din that allowed Veronica to not have to think anymore.

Reaching the bar, she saw a plate filled to the brim with eggs, bacon, and toast. Her stomach rejoiced as she picked up the silver fork and dug in.

In no time at all, the heavy meal rested comfortably in the deputy’s stomach. Ronnie leaned back on the stool and patted her midsection with a delighted smile. “My compliments to the chef!” She grinned and felt some of her bad mood fading away.

Mary May strode behind the bar and leaned over it, resting her elbows on the polished wood. “Don’t say that, or it’ll go straight to his head!” She chuckled, glancing at the kitchen window.

“So, deputy, remember last night when I mentioned you.. lending a hand?”

“I don’t remember much of last night, but I do recall that… what do you have in mind?”

Mary May took a deep breath, her gaze turning to the bar. “Yesterday, you had some balls running into town like that. Most people see Eden’s Gate and run the other way… but, my dad was one of the first to stand up to ‘em. Any time one of those peggies would show up lookin’ to cause trouble- he’d hop in his big rig and chase them right outta town.” She smiled at the memory, and with a nod she continued, “He loved that truck; called it the ‘Widowmaker’.”

Her face darkened, thunderclouds practically rolling into her deep blue eyes. “Those fuckers stole it from him, a week before he passed…” Her fist clenched on the bar and she shook her head.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea.” Veronica sympathised, unsure if she should take the other’s hand but ultimately deciding against it.

The blonde pulled herself from her memories and met V’s eyes once more. “You really wanna piss off the cult? Get the Widowmaker back. Show them we’re not just gonna roll over… and give folks here something to cheer about.”

At this, Ronnie nodded; mulling it over for a moment. “How do you propose I do that?”

“It’s locked up under guard at a grain mill not far from here. Hell, you came in here and saved a whole town! I think you’re the person for the job, Veronica.”

The deputy saw sincerity and a hint of desperation in the bartender’s eyes, striking a cord in her. This woman had shown her some much needed friendship yesterday when the past days’ events were starting to take their toll, and Veronica wanted to do what she could for her. ‘This is also the only way I can get any closer to saving Joey, even though that’s a daunting enough task…’ V felt herself almost begin brooding, but got back on track quickly- “Okay, one Widowmaker coming up!”

Relief washed over Mary May’s features, and she smiled, “Somehow I knew I could count on you, dep.”

She returned her smile, and the two shared a happy moment despite the days of chaos. “Could I steal a beer for the road?” Ronnie asked.

Turning to grab a cold one from the cooler, Mary May obliged- popping off the cap and handing it over. “Be safe out there, and go ahead and take the Jeep ‘round back, just park it somewhere I can go get it after this business is over. The grain elevator is northeast of here, follow the road and you’ll be there in no time.” She offered as the deputy headed for the door.

“Thanks, I figure I can’t order an Uber around here.” V joked as she managed to catch the keys Mary May threw unceremoniously her way.

Outside- the morning sun rose higher and higher, blinding Veronica as she stepped out of the Spread Eagle. She made her way around the side, spotting the Jeep at the end of the dirt driveway. As she opened the driver’s door, a bark came from behind her. “Hey buddy!” The woman turned to see Boomer watching her expectantly. He padded closer to her with a small whine. “I don’t know if you should go with on this one, it’s pretty dangerous…”

His brown almond eyes met hers as if to say ‘And our last escapade wasn’t?’. She shook her head with a chuckle, reaching down to scratch him under the chin saying, “Most dogs aren’t adrenaline junkies, that’ll take some getting used to!”

Sighing, Ronnie put her hands on her hips; Boomer stood there, projecting as much sass as a 35 pound furball could. Finally relenting, she moved away from the open door and gestured him in, “Fine, I guess if you want to run headlong into danger I can’t stop you!”

The pup jumped into the passenger seat, celebrating his victory. Veronica took her spot next to him and started the car, pulling out of the driveway while fiddling with the radio. Faced with the ‘only-two-radio-stations-conundrum’, the deputy landed on the peggie station. The song playing relayed the perks of baptism, advising the listener to ‘let the water wash away their sins’.

“Is this seriously all they listen to?” V asked, glancing at Boomer as they cruised down the road. The dog sighed, putting his head between his feet in agreeance. She reached forward and switched the station back to the original one, where a soft rock song played.

The trees they passed blurred together, one green line as they sped to their destination. Veronica couldn’t help but let her thoughts stray to her own father. When Ronnie was only twelve, Benjamin Rook had ruined their family’s picturesque life by finding love in the arms of another woman, and abandoning Veronica and her mother. He moved to North Carolina and forfeited his parental rights without much of a fight so he could start life anew without the burden of his old family.

Letters would come in the mail; at first every week but then every two, then every month, and then not at all. Before long, Sarah Rook had decided her and her daughter needed a change of their own. The two packed up their belongings and moved from Butte, Montana to Hope County, right on the outskirts of Missoula.

Sarah, with previous law enforcement experience, had no problem securing a job at the Hope County Sheriff’s Department. She became quick friends with Earl Whitehorse, who was chief deputy to the sheriff at the time. Because of this friendship, she’d been able to secure a job for her daughter those many years later when Ronnie had felt so lost and needed a direction to go in life.

The wound of her father leaving never quite healed, and it wasn’t one Veronica tore open too often unless she was deep in her cups. Seeing the admiration Mary May held for her own father had almost reared the ugly head of jealousy in her; however irrational that may be. At the same time, she’d felt the need to preserve that happiness in any way she could. ‘Man, projecting much?’ She chastised herself. The things lack of closure will do to you.

Coming out of the trees, V saw a towering grey structure up the road and knew she’d reached her destination. To the side of the grain elevator and the building next to it rose a large hill. The deputy pulled off into a clearing, making sure the Jeep was out of sight of the road before getting out.

Boomer hopped out with her once parked, and the pair began their trek up the hill. It took them only a couple minutes before they were at the summit and had a decent view of their objective. The cattle dog growled at the sight of peggies patrolling the grounds, armed to the teeth. “We gotta be careful, okay bud? Just follow my lead and stay safe.” Veronica smiled reassuringly at him and pet his head.

The hill they stood upon sloped directly down to the fence around the building in which the deputy knew the Widowmaker must be kept, offering her a quick entrance to her objective. Patches of tall grass and flowers offered sufficient camouflage as the woman and her dog crept downhill. As they approached- the sound of the cult’s music and sermons could be heard. John’s voice was practically blasting over the speaker as he preached, “...We are fast approaching the Collapse! Soon, the world as you know it will be gone, and with it- all that is cruel and evil!”

V rolled her eyes at his words, trying to count the cultists waiting below. John’s voice continued, “But for those of you that embrace us, those of you who say yes to the Father; Eden’s Gate will provide salvation! Do not be afraid, God has graced us with the opportunity to start anew!”

The deputy pulled around her backpack, pulling out a pair of binoculars. “Looks like four peggies so far…” She muttered, watching them patrol. John’s voice over the speaker grew sinister as he said, “But not everyone is going to embrace us, some have fires that need.. dampening. Some need our help to say yes… that is the will of the Father, to say yes! To say ‘Yes I will be reborn.’, to say ‘Yes I will give my life for the project.’, to say ‘Yes I will pledge my soul to the family at Eden’s Gate!’!”

Veronica tossed the binoculars back into the pack and shared a horrified look with Boomer, affirming “Sounds like cult shit to me!” Her pup whined in response, taking the lead as they reached the bottom of the slope.

Slinging her M60 around her shoulders to the front of her body, Ronnie popped open the top and made sure the gun was fully loaded. As she did so- the deputy caught herself humming the cult song she’d heard on the radio barely thirty minutes earlier. “‘Now that this whole world is ending….’ fuck that song is such an earworm!” She cussed to herself and let the gun settle against her body once more. Taking a few deep breaths to prepare herself for whatever may occur, she decided it was now or never.

The woman lowered to almost a crawl and made her way to the bottom of the hill, into one of the flower patches. The soft yellow flowers had a perfumy scent that filled the air, but Veronica felt no different among the blossoms so she assumed these weren’t the Bliss flowers Dutch had mentioned.

One of the men who guarded the building strolled out of the fenced area, coming to stand just in front of her. He was whistling quietly, not paying attention to the danger behind him. V checked that no other peggies had followed him, and she rushed forward to grab him in a chokehold; slowly taking him to the ground and pressing her arm to his windpipe until he stopped struggling. She hoisted him onto her shoulder and retreated to the flower patch. After dropping him to the ground, Veronica checked his pocket and found a twenty dollar bill and a grenade. “Seriously? Are all these guys armed like this?” She wondered aloud before sliding the grenade into her bag. She hesitated over taking the money, thinking ‘Am I any better than one of them if I take this?’ After a moment, Ronnie slid the bill back into his pocket, thinking better of it.

Leaving her fallen enemy, she made her way back to the chain link fence and passed through a gate leading to a space behind the building filled with piles of wood, pallets covered in tarp, and all manner of odds and ends. Veronica took refuge behind a pile of 2x4s and peeked over it, spotting only one cultist at the end of the alley. Boomer waited outside of the gate, watching her every move. ‘I’ll take this guy out, and just keep trying to move forward.’ She planned loosely.

V moved from crate to crate, getting closer to her target until got close enough to take him out much the same way she did his lookout. She stashed this body behind a crate, finding only some spare ammo on him before advancing.

At the end of the warehouse was the backdoor. Ronnie tried the handle, but found it to be locked. “Well fuck..” She sighed. Turning to her right to continue on, she saw a note next to the door.

“The warehouse is to remain locked and access is limited. If you need to get inside you can find the key by the workshop tent, but check with the Baptist before using it. We can’t afford to be careless around the Widowmaker.”

The deputy frowned, “Baptist… that must be John.” The last line gave her a light laugh and she murmured, “I think it’s more careless to leave a note saying where your key is stashed, assholes.” And she set off.

In the space in front of the building, Veronica counted four more peggies. Looking to Boomer, Veronica murmured “It’s a damn infestation.” She scanned the ground and found plenty of small rocks, and helped herself to a few. One man was near the corner of the compound, away from the others. Taking careful aim, one rock was thrown about 10 feet from him. The man startled before going to investigate. V smirked and threw another one at the side of the building, luring him away from the flock. Once the man was alone he was dispatched, leaving only three.

Creeping further out than before, Ronnie saw the three gathered around two large cages covered in black. On the side, they both read ‘Meat Wagon’ and angry growls could be heard from within. ‘What the fuck is a ‘meat wagon’?’ She wondered.

“That was a hard hunt today.” One of them said, looking at the others.

“It was… I hope Brother Jacob appreciates these offerings.” The one in the middle replied.

The gnashing of teeth could be heard clearly as Veronica recalled what she’d read in Dutch’s bunker, ‘Jacob, he’s the eldest… didn’t his note say something about monster wolves?’ She contemplated this, deciding the best course of action.

She drew her pistol, shooting the lock on the first cage and allowing a large grey wolf to spring forth, leaping onto the cultist that had called it an ‘offering’. The wolf savaged the man as the others yelled, raising their guns. Before they could even get any shots off V shot them both to the ground.

The thick sounds of flesh tearing reached Veronica’s ears, and were sure to occupy her nightmares later. Once the wolf finished his revenge, its amber eyes found her own and a deep growl emitted from its throat. The deputy froze, licking her lips nervously as her life practically flashed in front of her eyes.

It felt like far longer than a minute as the wolf contemplated the deputy. Suddenly, the beast broke eye contact and looked behind her before dashing out of the tall gate leading to the road, and then to the treeline; content to not eat its savior.

It was only when Ronnie could no longer see the wolf that she resumed breathing. She turned around to see Boomer watching her. “Did you just scare a wolf?” She asked him in disbelief. The dog barked twice in response, and V sighed in relief “Props where props are due... holy fuck that was scary!”

After another solid minute, they headed towards the tent mentioned in the note. The keys to the warehouse were sitting on a table directly inside, and Veronica grabbed them.

Once inside the warehouse- the deputy took in the sight of her charge. The semi-truck was painted purple with a mural of a bald eagle painted on the side, and hot-rod flames graced the hood. On the front near the grill, twin M2 Browning machine guns were mounted. “Wow… I think I’m in love.” V chuckled, staring at the machine in awe before tentatively climbing into the cab, keeping the door open for her furry friend to hop in. She found the key and the garage opener in the visor, and then they were off.

Easily crashing through the fence gate, Veronica felt they were home free until someone called over the radio “Someone made off with the Widowmaker! Block the roads leading back to Fall’s End, don’t let it through!” Ronnie took a deep breath and turned up the radio, blasting rock music.

As she sped towards the first roadblock, Mary May’s voice crackled through the radio, exclaiming “Holy shit you did it! I knew you had it in the bag, V!” Before Veronica could think of a response, she continued. “Listen, the cult’s gonna throw everything at you now, shove it right back down their fuckin’ throats! My daddy put cannons on that thing, don’t be afraid to use ‘em!”

“You got it!” Ronnie called into the radio. She scanned the cab and her eyes landed on a trigger mechanism near the gearshift. The truck barrelled forward and the Brownings fired off, sending several peggies flying. Boomer hunkered down in the passenger seat, attempting still to peek up through the windshield.

Ahead, two of the off-white trucks with Eden’s Gate symbols blocked the way. The deputy braced herself for impact as the 18-wheeler crashed through the first of many roadblocks; the first truck flipped off of the road and the second spun out of the way. “Goddamn!” The deputy yelled as the Widowmaker hurtled down the asphalt.

The truck cleared the block with no damage, and Veronica lit up like a kid in a candy shop. She turned to her companion in the other seat, Boomer gave her a big doggy smile and turned back to look out the window. V pressed the call button on her radio, reaching out to Mary May. “This is pretty badass!” She whooped.

A second later, her friend was on the line, saying “Hell yeah! Hit those sons of bitches! Better yet, honk that horn every time you do so I know when to cheer!”

As they approached the next roadblock, a fierce grin came over her features and she smoothed a finger over the trigger in anticipation. The upcoming barrier was composed of one white truck, and a fuel truck blocking the entire road. When they were about two-hundred feet from the block, Veronica pulled the trigger, shooting off round after round into the tank on the truck ahead. When they were only a hundred feet away from it- the fuel truck erupted into a blaze, sending flaming shrapnel flying in every direction. Clearing the second block, V laid on the horn with an almost crazed grin.

The pair flew down the road and through the wall of heat and embers that had roasted all nearby cultists. They had once more come out without a scratch, causing Ronnie to rejoice. “Woo! This is the shit!!” She yelled, adrenaline pumping as the music resounded through the cab and they careened down the country road.

A few minutes later, the turn to Fall’s End was the next left. V’s eyes darted between the turn and the open road that lay ahead. ‘I’m sure the cult has even more roadblocks ahead.’ She mulled the thought over before turning to Boomer and declaring “I say we do a victory lap!” Before pressing the pedal almost to the floor, rushing down the road.

Many roadblocks later- Veronica and her furry friend were once again rounding the bend that led to the turn for Fall’s End. The deputy felt as though she was practically vibrating with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The sounds of men screaming, the warmth of the multitude of explosions, the feeling of the trigger under her finger growing more and more comfortable. Her aquamarine eyes seemed to glaze over as she considered what all this might mean for her, and what her eagerness to cause mayhem may say about her true nature.

Before V could travel too far down that rabbit hole, her radio crackled to life with the grateful voice of her friend, “The way you’re handling that rig would make my dad proud, Ronnie. Now bring her home!”

Hearing Mary May’s voice laden with joy, Veronica couldn’t help a small smile. “Be there in 5!” She called back down the line, turning down the road at the sign for Fall’s End.

The moment Veronica and Boomer rumbled down main street to the Spread Eagle, the blonde bartender could be seen waving them on. The rig turned slowly onto the dirt driveway- and the hydraulics of the brake system hissing loudly as the 18-wheeler came to a full stop.

V pulled the keys from the ignition and the truck shuddered as the engine cut off, leaving the semi to creak and settle like a great beast falling into the deep slumber of hibernation when the pair hopped out of the cab.

Boomer’s tail wagged and he bounded ahead to circle round Mary May’s legs before returning to his companion’s side. Across from the pair, the barkeep beamed at the sight of the rig right where it belonged.

“I gotta say, deputy, seeing my daddy’s truck rumbling home sure brings back memories. I’d stand out here every time he came back, just like this, wavin’ him home.” A sigh escaped the woman and she nodded at Veronica, her eyes almost misting over. “Thank you for this, I honestly can’t thank you enough.”

Seeing the joy and nostalgia from her newfound friend warmed V’s heart, and she offered the other a heartfelt smile. “Ain’t nothin’ but a thing, girl. I’m glad to stick it to those peggies, show them they’re not the ones in charge. Not for long anyways.”

Mary May clapped her on the shoulder, looking up at the semi, her face filled with pride. “You know, my dad woulda liked you. You’ve got grit, that’s for sure! If you ever need to use the Widowmaker you don’t even gotta ask!” Moving past Veronica, the other placed a hand on the curved steel of the machine, sliding a hand lovingly over the smooth metal.

Ronnie’s smile faded, and she scratched the back of her neck. Clearing her throat softly, she spoke, “I really appreciate that, Mary May. Listen… do you know anything yet? …About Deputy Hudson, I mean.”

The blonde met her eyes, a frown plain on her face as she stated, “I ain’t heard nothing good, I can tell you that. All I know so far is that John’s got your friend holed up somewhere, and he’s trying to make her ‘atone’, whatever the fuck that means. So far it sounds like Hudson’s been holding out- but no one can hold out against John for long. Motherfucker’s crazy.” She spit on the ground, as though unable to contain her disgust.

Anxiety overtook Veronica, icy cold fear freezing the blood in her veins. At the forefront of her brain, images of Joey bound and bloodied assaulted her senses. Swallowing past her emotions, V asked, “What can I do next??”

Mary May put a reassuring hand on her shoulder before taking a few steps towards the bar. “Go talk to Jerome at his church, then come back and see me. I’m gonna go put my ear to the ground, and make a ridiculously strong drink with your name on it.”

“Sounds like a plan… especially that drink.” Ronnie muttered.

Once she was sure the bartender had made her way back inside, Veronica wrapped her arms around herself, a shiver running down her spine despite the warm breeze touseling her dirty blonde locks. She thought of her friends, each of them trapped and waiting for her. The weight of her obligations felt like too much to bear for one woman- but she knew there were no other options. Her hands fell to her sides, and her gaze was drawn to the ground. ‘What the hell am I doing here? Running around playing vigilante… and enjoying it, for fucks sake! These people may be monsters, but I sure as shit am not any better.’ V scoffed, chastising herself silently.

Her hand felt wet for a moment, and she looked next to her to see Boomer nudging her with his shiny black nose. He licked her again and met her eyes- his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he gave her a big smile as if to say, “It’ll all work out!”.

Despite everything, the corners of her lips tugged upwards, and she lifted her hand to stroke his soft fur. “Thanks bud, don’t you worry about me, I can handle this...” She reassured him, not quite convincing either of them.

Behind them, church bells from down the road chimed suddenly, signifying the top of the hour. The pair’s gaze was drawn to where the bells swung in the white tower- sounding off three times before coming to a stop. The echo of the last ring filled the air, and Veronica adjusted the strap of her M60 uneasily, looking down at Boomer once more to say, “Sounds like that’s our cue, huh?”

The pup barked encouragingly, starting off down the short road without looking behind to see if she followed. After only a moment of hesitation, V joined him.

Golden sunlight filled the near empty streets, painting the white walls of the church a shining shade of yellow. Paint peeled off the outside walls, but a platform on the side of the building with painting supplies held the promise of the future.

A simple garden graced the front of the building; two large flower pots framed the stairs leading to the entrance. Under a large glass window- the doors to the church were propped open, offering a view of the interior. Pastor Jerome sat on a chair in the front of the church, a Bible in one hand as he read to an injured man lying on a mattress on the floor.

As Veronica came through the entrance, she noted the bullet holes in the walls that were accompanied by violent maroon swatches of dried blood. It was hard to believe the fight for Fall’s End was merely 24 hours ago. The deputy stopped at the end of the aisle as Jerome’s words echoed off the holy walls.

“Psalm 41:3, and the Lord will heal him upon his sickbed, The Lord sustains them on their sickbed and restores them from their bed of illness. In the darkest of times, there’s always a bit of light.”

On the mattress, the man’s eyes stayed closed and he rolled on his side. The pastor’s eyes lifted from his pages, finding Ronnie’s. He greeted her with a smile, closing the book but leaving his thumb in it to preserve his spot. “Veronica. I’m glad you came.”

Clearing her throat, she replied “I just finished helping Mary May, I figured I’d drop in and see what you needed help with.” The woman’s finger ran down the strap on her weapon restlessly, glancing at the podium behind Jerome. It wasn’t hard to envision him there, preaching to his flock.

The man in front of her nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Jeremiah 23:16, ‘Do not listen to what the prophets are prophesying to you; they speak visions from their own minds, not from the mouth of the Lord.” He met her eyes once more and there was a weight to his gaze she didn’t quite understand.

Resisting the urge to say ‘Huh?’ and give him an annoyed look, Ronnie waited for him to continue. She’d never liked church, but standing in one now with proverbial blood on her hands felt even more wrong.

He waited only a moment more before saying, “Scripture tells us there is evil in the world. And that horrible things happen for reasons that do not make sense.” The pastor sighed. “A long time ago, in peaceful times, I asked John Seed what was driving him. He gave me so many answers… all of them lies. I had one conversation with him and I knew. I knew… he masks his words as guidance, but deep down there is a selfishness that can only come from pure evil.”

Not knowing what to say, Veronica looked away from him. She saw the man on the mattress had stirred, his eyes were glazed over with milky white cataracts yet they still searched the room for something. His breath came out in labored wheezes.

On the floor next to the mattress, a cup of water lay within his reach. V leaned over to grab it, putting a gentle hand on the man’s arm and saying, “Here…” While guiding the cup into his now waiting hands. He took small sips before offering it back, rasping out a quiet thank you as he settled back onto the bare bed.

“You seem tense, Veronica, how are you holding up?”

A long sigh escaped her lips, and she took a seat in one of the askew pews. “I’m not sure how to answer that.” Came her honest response.

“Do you need to talk about something?” He offered.

Ronnie smiled humorlessly- finally looking at him. “You know, this is the first time I’ve been in a church since my grandma died.”

Jerome pondered her for a moment before inquiring, “How old were you?”

“23. It was just last year, actually. I don’t go to church, but she did… every day. Except one morning she didn’t wake up, and she never went again. What do you think that got her? Do you think she stamped her ticket to heaven by going to church?”

When Veronica received no reply, she continued, “Because if that’s the case, I think my ticket’s already been revoked. Especially now.”

Settling his elbows on his knees, the pastor leaned forward. “Why especially now?”

V shook her head, a dry laugh escaping her. “Isn’t murder a big no-no to the man upstairs?”

Jerome frowned at her, understanding her tangent now. He took a moment to contemplate his answer. “Years ago… I refused to own a gun. I relied on the Lord to help me win every battle, to stand by my side and lead me to victory. Now, I know better.” He stood from his chair to join her where she sat dejectedly. “We are fighting a war, deputy. You’re here to protect people.”

She couldn’t help but scoff. “I’m here because I got thrown in a fucking river and dragged into this ‘war’. Excuse my French.”

“Veronica, I can’t heal the pain you’re feeling but I can say this: there’s a destiny for everyone. The work you’re doing here, fighting against Eden’s Gate, this is the Lord’s work. You are doing what you must, and every one of us is grateful. You are stronger than even you know.” Jerome gave her a long look, his faith in her clear in his eyes. “The cult has done so much damage to this Valley, and you’re doing right by us. Giving people something to believe in again… you can’t know how much that means to all of us.”

The woman took a deep breath, unsure how to feel. Jerome’s words filled her with hope for herself, and her friends; but she worried about what her breaking point might be. ‘At least someone thinks I’m doing this shit right.’ She thought, the weight of the world temporarily lifted from her tired shoulders. “Is it ironic that I’m an atheist?” Ronnie asked, a small smile appearing on her features.

“I think that’s the definition of irony, my friend.” Jerome smiled with her, and for the moment they both felt a sense of calm.

Veronica nodded, the idea of doing more dirty work not bothering her as much as when she first stepped in. ‘If a literal pastor thinks I’m the good guy, then I am, right?’ She reasoned with herself, pushing aside her moral dilemmas for now. “So, what exactly is it you need from me?”

Jerome sighed, suddenly weary once more. “With the Resistance budding, and people starting to fight back, I’ve been needed here in Fall’s End now more than ever.” He stood once more and wandered to the front of the church, pacing as he continued, “As you can see- John’s making a lot of people suffer right now, and quite frankly, I can’t keep up. These people need me, they’re my responsibility now... but that just means keeping tabs on the Resistance has been that much harder.”

The deputy nodded, urging him to finish his thought. It seemed everyone was experiencing some degree of the mental turmoil she’d been enduring over the past few days.

“There are a couple of people hiding away at Woodson Pig Farm, trying to hold out from the cult. I haven’t heard from them in a few days now, and I’m getting worried. Can you check on them for me? We can’t afford to lose a single one of our fighters.” The man pleaded, finally coming to a stop at his podium.

Veronica reached into her backpack, pulling out the map Dutch had given her. “Where’s it at?”

Jerome pointed out a building almost directly east of Fall’s End, only a couple miles away.

The deputy nodded and stashed her map, “I’m off then!” As she headed for the exit, Boomer got up from where he’d been lying in the corner and stretched before following after. V paused in the doorway, turning back to say, “Thank you, Pastor. Really.”

“Any time, Veronica. I’m a pretty good listener. Good luck.” He nodded to her as she stepped through the threshold.

In less than 10 minutes, the duo saw a long dirt drive leading up a hill into the trees. They could hear shouting not too far away. “Sounds like it’s time to ditch the car.” V pulled the key from the ignition, and the pair left it at the bottom of the driveway.

They trudged up the hill, the yelling growing closer by the moment. At the crest of the driveway, there was a worn sign that read “Woodson Pig Farm, Family Farm Since 1942” with a pink pig above. The word ‘Gluttony’ had been scrawled on the pig.

Behind the sign stood a small, mint-green house with dried flowers adorning the front porch. A rustic looking fence surrounded the house and farm, but had been broken down in a few spots where the cult’s trucks had crashed through. Veronica crouched behind one and peered around it.

The front door of the house stood ajar, and a single peggie stood inside. He held his gun close, and was yelling at another man who was bound on his knees. “Saying yes is the only way!” He shouted before using the butt of his gun to hit the man in the face. Ronnie winced as the captive spat blood.

Creeping closer, the deputy peered through the windows of the house. She saw no one else inside, and inched forward. Next to the frame of the door, a white and red poster had been hastily hung. Veronica’s eyebrows raised in surprise as she recognized what the poster depicted. It was a ‘Wanted’ poster, with the word ‘Sinner’ bolded on the bottom; the picture in the center was from a grainy security camera, but Veronica’s face could be clearly made out.

‘Wow, I’m so infamous I get my own wanted poster?’ She thought with a brief, bemused smile. Ronnie made it to the doorway, and pulled out her long black hunting knife. Inside, the cultist was still yelling at his hostage with his back to the doorway.

Veronica crept forward and then lunged, grabbing the man and thrusting the blade through his neck. A deluge of blood sprang from the nicked artery, painting both the cultist and the hostage red. V kept her hand clamped down on her victim’s mouth, until his muffled yelling turned into choking gasps.

The man’s body slumped to the floor; and the woman wiped her knife on his shirt before using it to cut the bonds of her ally. The man stood his eyes wide with shock. “Go, get out of here and hide! I’ll take care of the rest of them.” Veronica insisted. The man nodded shakily and turned, running out the door.

Ronnie moved through the living room to the back of the house, heading towards the back door. She paused at the entrance to the bedroom, where she could see two peggies outside the window. One held a flamethrower, and was using it liberally on a pile of the occupant’s belongings.

Pressing on to the back, V came through the door into blinding brightness and held an arm over her gaze to let her eyes adjust. When they did, she gagged at the sight in front of her. In the fenced pen, a pile of pig corpses festered in the sun. To the left of this awful vision, another cultist berated a woman lying on the ground, her hands and feet bound.

A moment was needed to compose herself, then Veronica crouched once more to sneak along the side of the building. Behind her, the other two peggies were bickering. “Brother John’s head is clouded. We should just kill the deputy.” One of them said.

“He said she needs to atone, see the error of her ways. He’s serious about this one.” The other replied, his tone cautionary.

A chill seized Veronica as she imagined herself at the hands of John; tied to a chair, at his mercy. A strong shiver traveled down her spine, and she stiffened as her brain took that thought in a much different context. Bile filled her throat with the realization that even with all she knew of John, she was still attracted to him. She shook her head, shooing the thought from her conscious.

Behind her, Boomer had made his way out the back door and to her side. It relieved her to see him, and she smiled. “Wanna tag team on this one?” Veronica asked her companion.

The cattle dog’s ears perked up, and he scratched at the ground in anticipation. Nodding, Ronnie murmured “Good boy! Now, see him?” She pointed to the man in the pig pen. “You take care of him, and I’ll grab them.” Her finger drifted to the pair who were still complaining behind them.

Seeming to understand, Boomer started forward with his ears low and came up behind the man. He leapt forward and seized the peggie’s arm- wrenching him down to the ground. The man fell with a startled yell and hit the dirt. Boomer wasted no time and went for the jugular, mauling him before he could make another noise.

At the same time, Veronica pulled her M60 forward and jumped out from behind her cover. She shot a spray of bullets at the two cultists, not even giving them time to go for their weapons before they dropped. V let the machine gun fall against her, and she went to the woman in the pig pen to cut her loose.

“Thank you, deputy, I knew you’d come!” The hostage professed, picking up her deceased captor’s weapon.

Ronnie gave her a bashful smile, replying “Happy to help, Miss… now you should get out of here, get somewhere safe.” What she was really thinking was, ‘Am I a household name or something? Jesus.’

The woman nodded before turning and leaving through a gate in the fence.

Once she was out of sight- Veronica turned back to the house and headed back inside. In the living room, she was about to pull out her radio and call Jerome when she heard something that made her stop. A faint click, and then something that sounded like whispering came from above.

V looked all around her, finally stopping in the middle of the living room and peering up. Above her there was a large, square opening that looked like it had been hastily covered by flattened cardboard boxes. She frowned and jumped up, hitting one of the pieces with a thud. The sound suddenly stopped.

Jumping again, Ronnie batted the cardboard away and left the opening uncovered. She paused for a moment, listening hard for anything. A few moments passed with no noise- and the woman made one last jump to grip the edge of the opening. With a small grunt, she pulled herself upwards into the attic space.

As she hoisted herself up, she took in her surroundings. The attic was small, only the length of the living room. Two wooden shelves stood opposite one another; one filled with only boxes and the other holding some ammo and a tac vest. Next to the second shelf, there was a dark recess in the wall.

Veronica clutched her gun closer, and heard the same noise as before: a click followed by a softer noise. She stepped closer to the recess in the wall, and could finally distinguish the noise. A man huddled in the space behind the wall, gripping his radio and whispering hurriedly, “That sinner’s here!! Send a capture party! We can get her for John!”

Their eyes met, and the deputy scowled at the man before firing at him. He fell backwards with the force of the bullets, gore covering the wall behind him. His radio was still intact, and his contact could be heard shouting “It’s deputy huntin’ season! Capture not kill, we need her alive! Use Bliss bullets!”

The woman grabbed some ammo off the nearby shelf and stuffed it into her backpack. After taking what she needed, she dropped down into the living room and checked her gun. As she was about to reload- an off-white Eden’s Gate truck screeched to a stop in front of the house, and three men in heavy riot gear hopped out.

Upon seeing this, Veronica dove for cover before they could see her. Her back rested against the wall next to the front door, and she heard one of them shout “Come on out darlin’!” She swung around her backpack and pulled out her radio, turning it to the frequency she wanted.

“Jerome, it’s Veronica, I secured the farm but one of those fucks called for backup and they said something about a capture party? I don’t know what the hell that is, but I sure as shit don’t plan on finding out.” She babbled into the radio. When no response came, the deputy moved underneath the window, readying her weapon. She peeked up and aimed, seeing one of them on the porch.

Before Ronnie could get off a shot, a sound behind her caused her to whip around and she was confronted with one of the men; who must have come in the back while she was making her call. He shot a round, hitting her in the thigh and causing her to yelp with pain. Before she could make a comment about his aim, or think about why the bullet hadn’t torn through her, her vision blurred.

The world became shaky- and stars swarmed her sight. V was able to slur together a few words before she passed out, and she grumbled “You… asshole…”

Though she could no longer see, Veronica could feel someone pick her up in a fireman’s carry. She knew they’d tossed her into the back of the truck, and heard the engine rumbling in the distance. A few bumps in the road were the last things she felt every sensation was gone, and she fell into a white abyss of Bliss.

#i feel like i havent written in forever so if this is bad im sorry lmaooo #so glad i finally finished this chapter though #hope everyone enjoys this!#❤❤❤#my writing #veronica rook #far cry 5 #fc5 #mary may fairgrave #jerome jeffries #boomer #ahfwh #...and hell followed with him

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goose-books · 3 years

Photo

goose-books productions: a 2020 review

view the image in higher quality here! (open the image in a new tab to zoom in.) thank you to my dearest @yvesdot for the template

transcripts and month-by-month details under the cut! for reference, you can find my projects here :-) overall, new and old followers, thank you for another good year over here! [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your h

january

i spent late 2019-early 2020 working on 2019’s nano project, quark, aka the speculative fiction thing about new york city and prophets and dissections of the chosen one trope and gay people. quark is my second-oldest project (five years!), but it’s also probably the most ambitious, so it’s been... difficult to wrangle into place, and i didn’t end up finishing a first draft. oh, well.

enjoy a snippet that is devastatingly emblematic of everything about quark. the tone. the homoerotic tension. the ensemble cast all talking over each other. the fact that caelum has spent pretty much this entire scene crying. fun autopsy report meeting.

Marble stares at the notebook in Shade’s hands. Or maybe he’s staring at Shade’s hands. Dawn feels a little voyeuristic, so she does what she does and says a dumb and unrelated thing: “Augustus, I think this pizza-on-the-floor thing is hurting my ass.”

Augustus flutters his hands. “Sometimes nonconformity is painful.”

“At least we’re originals,” Caelum mumbles into his sleeve.

“Exactly,” Augustus says.

“True originality doesn’t exist,” Marble says.

“Oh,” Shade deadpans, “it’s going to be a fun autopsy report meeting.”

It isn’t.

february

in january i stressed myself out trying to make the plot of quark work. so in february, i decided to take some time and write something Entirely For Fun. like, entirely for fun, no rules. and. my god. how do i explain the project i started calling “third eye for the bad guy.”

it was an unholy mashup of many of my past hyperfixations, including the gone series, a tale of two cities, warrior cats, and the left hand of darkness. one of the characters was a canon scalie and one was a canon fictionkinnie. it centered around a polycule of wannabe-evil-overlord high schoolers. i only wrote like three chapters but i was lost in the sauce for all of february and then i just… like… wiped it from my mind and moved on? somehow??? one character was a werewolf and that literally wasn’t relevant at ALL

Someone was going to die on these steps.

This had been Ivy Lee Palomo’s thought last year during the all-school photo, and it rose in her mind again now. The one hundred marble stairs leading up to the great double doors of Saint Constantine Academy were the school’s pride and glory, steep as the mountain, sharp as the blade under Ivy Lee’s skirt. With the cutting wind and snow glazing the stone more often than not, with the freshmen wild and wired on their first day of their first year, it was really only a matter of time before someone slipped and cracked their fucking head open.

It wasn’t going to be her. Not when she had Doc Martens and reflexes like an electric coil. Still. Ivy Lee didn’t want to watch someone die. She didn’t get along with dead people.

march

in march, i got back to the project i’d started in 2019 - AMT, my podcast! it’s a shakespeare retelling set in a modern high school; this excerpt is funnier and also more unnerving in context. (double, double, toil and trouble...)

INDRAJIT: What the hell are you doing?

[PAUSE.]

DEE (like she’s lying): Making pasta.

[ALL THREE OF THEM LAUGH.]

NONA: That’s right.

MORA: We have the keys to Mab’s office.

DEE: We’re using her stove.

NONA: To make pasta.

DEE: Do you want some?

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

INDRAJIT: No.

april

and darkling rears its head! all of my other projects have existed for at least a year; darkling (specfic king lear retelling) is... special. it was conceived in april, when i started hyperfixating on king lear, and i still managed to write an absolutely ridiculous amount of content for it. it was like the power of hyperfixation let me speedrun the entire process. which. okay.

iv: control

They say Cressida Stayer was nine years old when she turned her hair to gold. They laid her down in bed blonde, and the next morning, the waves cascading down her shoulders were solid metal, glinting harshly in the sunlight, weighing her down, creating that odd head-cocked expression she still wears now. Nine years old. Two or three years before most people develop enough magic skills to dye a single curl. Much less transfigure their hair into precious metal.

People also say Leovald Stayer’s immediate reaction was to hack it off her head and melt it down for cash. But generally they say that part a lot quieter.

may

in may i wrote AMT episode 15, by which i mean that in may there was a day when i sat in my room with the door shut for literally five straight hours listening to the same three songs on loop as i wrote the climax of one of the plotlines of AMT. so. that sure was… a day.

ISAAC: Do you want… do you want someone to drive you home? Hawk, you’re worrying me -

HAWK (almost cutting him off): Don’t. Don’t say that. I’m here to help. With your… thing.

ISAAC (quietly): I… don’t know if you should be here to see this.

HAWK (a little louder, more audibly upset): Well - what else am I going to do? Go home and - and have my dads talk at me and - and not be able to answer them? Because I can’t? I can’t. I don’t know what to say.

[PAUSE.]

ISAAC (V.O.): I wonder if this is what he feels like, on the outside, looking in at me. Watching someone else hurting. Helpless and afraid.

He still fits perfectly in my arms. I rest my chin on top of his head and pull him close to me, like I can stop him from shaking, like I can stop anything from happening the way I know it’s going to. I bury my face in his hair. He smells so familiar. He’s so warm.

God, Hawk. I love you so much. You shouldn’t be here to see this. Something bad’s gonna happen. And you’re not the kind of person who belongs in a tragedy.

june

okay, honestly, i should talk about “night shift” here, because in june i wrote a whole short story in one night (and then foamed over it for a week), but i am still in the process of submitting it places! so i am terrified to put even a sentence of it online. instead: the other thing i did this month was to finish AMT! (sixteen episodes and somewhere around 175k, iirc, but don’t quote me.) these lines are the opener to the final episode!

RAHMA (V.O.): The combined series of sophomore year disasters stretched through November. It’s June now. It’s taken me… a long time to get this all put together. I was going to make a vlog about it, initially - well, calling it a vlog sounds frivolous. I was going to make a video recounting the whole deal. All of it. From when I kissed Avery Fairchilde to the very last night. I scripted dozens of drafts; I put together dozens of bullet-pointed lists of what to cover… and it was never enough. Because Avery and I weren’t the only ones involved. Even if I was only focused on the two of us, it wasn’t just the two of us.

So… I gathered up everyone else. The whole town of Ellisburg is still talking about the week the town went crazy, but it wasn’t just a week. There was a lot leading up to it. And I think if anyone’s going to talk about it, it should be us. The people who lived it. So here we are. The most ambitious Rahma Ashiq production of all time - at least so far.

july

every july i pause whatever else i’m doing to celebrate the birthday of aurum & argentate, twins from my oldest and dearest WIP The Mortal Realm. july fifteenth! mark your calendars. they’re princes, though argentate would really rather not be; you can read the full birthday piece here.

“Do you… plan to get dressed?” A bit of the usual humor crept back into Aurum’s voice. “Although if you want to speak to the kingdom in your underthings, by all means, you have my full support.”

Argentate scrubbed at his face. He wasn’t dressed, no, but the usual malaise hung over his shoulders like a cloak. Guilt. Nerves. The sick sense that he hadn’t done something he was supposed to. The numb knowledge that it was too late to change a thing.

“I meant to,” he said. “Get dressed, I mean.” The rest went unsaid: I have just been sitting here. On the floor. Thinking about how I should get dressed.

“Ah,” Aurum said, extending his hand. “The traditional route. We’ll save the nude speeches for the future, then.”

Argentate took his hand, stumbling a little as Aurum pulled him to his feet. He steadied himself on the closest wall, taking a few deep breaths. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. His hands found their way to the cross, again and again.

august

this summer, i wrote an entire draft of Valentine Van Velt is Dead, AKA “holden caulfield goes to exposure therapy,” AKA the weird little personal side project i keep tucked into my coat. interesting features include second-person narration from a narrator who doesn’t like the main character all that much. so reading it is kind of like the book wants to kill you? with an added dash of general melancholy.

You used to live here. That’s the thing that’s got you feeling so off.

You didn’t recognize your old house. I mean, you kind of did. You remembered that the road was on a hill. That hill felt like a goddamn forty-five degree angle when you were a kid. But if you didn’t have the address written down you wouldn’t have known it at all. It would have been just another little suburban house in rows of perfect little towns that make your skin crawl.

So now you’re in this diner looking out a gross smudgy window trying to block out the elevator music pumping through the speakers in the ceiling or whatever. I don’t know how speakers work. You’re trying to tune that shit out. The waitress comes over and catches you by surprise so you just point at some coffee thing on the menu so she’ll go away. For the record: you don’t drink coffee.

There’s a public library across the street. A little square building. You probably used to go there. The lady comes over and thunks your coffee on the table and gives you a kind of look, like she wants to know what in the goddamn hell you think you’re doing here and not at school. You sip your coffee and look out the window until she leaves you alone again. And then you spit it back into the cup because, for the record: you don’t drink coffee.

september

i spent september and october prepping for nano, so i was mostly working on darkling...

It’s late spring; still, at this time of night, on a rooftop, there’s a chill. The wind plays with the end of Ruby’s coat, with her hair. She hands the bottle off to Jasper, stares up at the fogged-over sky, wishes she were lying in Dany’s arms in Dany’s bed instead of here. Wishes, even, that Dany were the one on the roof with her. At least then they’d be cold together. At least then she wouldn’t have to imagine what Dany would say; she could just listen, and watch Dany’s flashing smile and her flinty eyes.

(She cuddles. This is another thing Dany does that Dany probably shouldn’t do, based on everything about Dany; it’s not like rattlesnakes cuddle. But Dany likes to nuzzle into Ruby’s side and rest her head on Ruby’s collarbones and toss an arm over Ruby’s chest, and hold her down like she’s worried she’ll float off somewhere. She’ll card her fingers through Ruby’s hair and hum. Even though they could get caught, even though she’s probably got better places to be - Dany cuddles.)

Ruby imagines it, momentarily, both of them on the roof together, sprawled like horrifyingly beautiful gargoyles, sharp teeth flashing, blood running hot. Up here - it’d be like they ruled the world.

But whatever. Jasper’s fun. He’s hot. He’s got a sharp tongue in a lot more ways than one. And she likes when he lets the mask down. She likes seeing the soft bits underneath. She wants to sink her teeth and nails into them so hard she draws blood. Masks don’t bleed. Ruby would know; that’s why she is what she is.

october

...though i was also in creative writing class in school, and thus ended up writing a bunch of poems of varying quality (my teacher had a real thing for poetry) and also one darklingverse short story where rory and cressida hold hands! which you can find here.

Lorelai Rory Flowers is afraid of thunder.

This is a bit of an embarrassing thing to admit, as they’re seventeen (“at least seventeen,” they like to tell people, “maybe two hundred, who’s to say?”) and generally wise beyond their years, or whatever it is that adults say about kids with too much psychological baggage. Being afraid of thunder is not a very wise-beyond-one’s-years trait. And yet the state of affairs remains: loud noises make Rory want to melt into the earth. Back when they still went to school, even the fire alarm sent them scuttling under their desk to hide.

Right now, in the elevator, all they can do is shrink into their sweater.

They haven’t let go of Cressida’s hand yet.

november

and then november of course was nano which was an adventure all the way through. (opening tumblr on the fifth day of nano to find out about d*stiel... was something.)

“Apologize to me. Or get out of my house.”

Gracen’s voice is very, very low. For a moment she thinks he hasn’t heard her at all. Then he spins, eyes blazing. “What did you say?”

Gracen watches her own chest heave. She pushes herself up off the desk, stands with the effort of pushing a mountain off of her back. Leovald is six-foot-four. Gracen is six-foot-two. In her heels, in the heels she must wear to be a professional woman, to be a lady - they are the same height.

Gracen wipes her nose. When she lowers her arm, there’s a streak of blood across the back of her hand. Fire shivers in her chest; her heart rings in her ears; her voice could cut steel.

“I said,” she says, low, slow, volume building, “apologize to me. Or get. Out. Of. My. House.”

december

and finally, the poem i posted this year! it’s called the beast sonnet, and you can find it in its own post over here (with commentary! how sexy.)

i kill the beast and drop down to my knees, my blade stained dark with blood of stygian hue, and for a moment these scarred hands shake free, and hold a world unfurled for me anew. but once-mourned victims, victors, vices find; fear winged me; now its absence strips me bare. my sword now dulls, my legs, my voice, my mind; the beast, pried from my throat, leaves no skill there. and still i hear it laugh, O DEVOTEE— O CHILD DEAR, NO GLORY WITHOUT ME.

i was quite productive this year; i have to think it was because i was avoiding things... the peak of my productivity happened over the summer and in november, AKA, college app hell. (almost done with the last applications! pray for me.)

a general breakdown of what occupied me this year:

(no, i don’t know why the “various other things” category ended up so large... i blame all the one-off projects i wrote a single page for, and also whatever the fuck happened in february. yes, i do know why it looks hideous; it’s because each of my WIPs has a theme color

thank you once again for spending some time at goose-books dot gov this year! what to expect for next year: well, i very much hope i can produce AMT... also hoping to get darkling ready for beta readers, so keep your eyes out!

#max.txt #and that's a wrap!!! what a goddamn year.#okay. breath in. tags:#quark tag #third eye tag #(i think there are like. two posts in that one?)#amt tag #darkling tag #tmr tag #vvvid tag #wow that was a lot of text. if you read all this... [blows you a kiss] thank you!#max actually writes #year in review

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xaidyl · 4 years

Note

You could explain individual stuff! I find these explanations very fascinating, actually! OwO

okay! lets do this (this may be a very long post with lots of my random opinions but we’ll go with it) (and also please bear in mind these are jokey and in no real way a representation of these real people with real actual lives.)

***spoilers for most D20 seasons with this cast***

1.The babysitting

Actual parent:Brennan

From my experience DMing, you are effectively a parent to the players. He would also be an excellent dad

Wine aunt: Siobhan

Siobhan gives me vibes of someone who would take a bottle of wine to go babysit, then sit and tell the kids stuff about cults that they weren’t meant to hear. She would definitely teach the kids swear words, and they would love their cool auntie

Great at babysitting: Lou

Part of the key to babysitting is being relatable to the kids, but also self assured enough to get them to behave. the person who holds that key is Lou Wilson. He also has played dad-energy characters, and that is the kind of vibes that you look for in a babysitter.

Mediocre at babysitting: Murph

This scenario needs some theatre of the mind. Imagine Murph, he’s read all the babysitting books, he knows everything he could need to know, he lives with Emily Axeford. He’s more than prepared for this task. He tries so hard. The kids love him. The kids also walk all over him. They don’t get to bed in time. He wanted to do a good job. He tried so hard to do a good job. Yet somehow, luck is against him.

The house is on fire, God is dead: Emily

Fig. Sofia. Jet. All three of these characters would set a house on fire without hesitation, and not one fears God. What does this have to do with Emily’s babysitting ability? Well, all these characters are teaching us to be chaotic beings, just like Emily. We are the children, and D20 is our babysitter. Emily would only replicate the same thing in this babysitting scenario.

The children: Zac and Ally

I believe it was episode 9 of the unsleeping city. Neither Zac nor Ally were involved in the scene in question. Siobhan makes a reference to Eliza Doolittle, to which Zac makes a Dr Doolittle joke. Beardsley then shouts ‘I can see my dick’, a reference to a different film. This is fairly normal behaviour, and would not make either of them children in this scenario, had they not continued to hysterically laugh for the next ten minutes or so. Sat at opposite sides of the table. I think Zac starts crying at some point. They are absolute children, and also both have strong baby energy. Neither babysit, they are the ones that need babysitting.

2. Can they be killed?

Cannot be killed: Brennan

The man is a God. Enough said. Also I’m pretty sure your body would reject your soul before it allows you to kill him.

Can only be killed by one thing: Siobhan

You would be tricked into thinking Siobhan would be easy to kill- her constitution score is so low, after all. However, you would be wrong. The low constitution score has only made her stronger. More aware. What is the one thing that can kill her, though? Nobody knows, she’s only told those she truly trusts. It could be the most rare poison in the world. Or it could just be Mike Trapp. He (allegedly) has previous.

Can be killed but it won’t last: Emily

It is not anything to do with Emily that her death won’t last. In fact, Emily would be pretty easy to kill. However, if you kill her, Murph will do everything in his power to bring her back. He travels to the end of the earth, and then Emily Axeford is back and gets her new death date in a fancy gothic necklace.

Can be killed but at what cost?: Lou

What cost? The cost to the world. The world would be significantly worse off. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. It’s not worth it.

Can be killed but it’s not worth it: Murph

It’s not worth killing Murph because you would have precisely 0.7 seconds before you were killed by Emily. There is no way you can profit from this scenario, you would be dead before you even realise you’ve been successful.

Can be killed and it would be pretty funny: Zac

I feel like we don’t discus the correlation between Zac Oyama characters and dying enough. Gorgug was the first D20 death. Lapain was the first D20 perma death. Ricky just like had a weapon that causes him to die. If you killed Zac, it would just be funny because its happened so much. Sorry Zac.

Can be killed but why would you, you monster?!?!: Ally

We’ve already discussed this. Beardsley is Baby. Leave them alone.

Please kill them they suck: Box of Doom

I dont trust them

3. The fitness gram pacer test

this is definitely the most controversial of the charts, but there’s three of things you need to understand about my reasoning.

1. Zac is fast at running

This has been seen a couple of times, namely: adventuring party, where Zac tried to tease Brennan about showing off how fast he his at running, but it turns out it was just Zac speaking his mind, and he is the one who always shows off at how fast he is at running. Also, the video on Siobhan’s instagram of Zac jumping over that table.

He is also very bad a squats. Why would you be bad at squats? Bad knees. Why would you get bad knees? Running without sufficient warm up. Why would you skip warm up? Because you are very focussed on being able to run fast.

2. Zac is willing to defend his title of running fast

The way he accused Brennan on adventuring party, he knew what he was doing. Sabotage. Brennan may also be able to run fast, but Zac would prevent him from getting a good score. How? He has his ways. Zac is a good boy, but not when it comes to running fast.

3. I felt bad

I had to give Zac at least one good one :)

Anyways onto the other choices:

Actually tried and got a low score: Brennan, Murph, Siobhan

We’ve already spoken about how Zac sabotaged Brennan to be the best at running. Murph is here because he would try really hard but something unlucky would happen. His shoelaces come untied. He accidentally gets caught in the Zac/Brennan feud.

Siobhan started off with the intention to try, but after Lou, Emily and Ally had all done, she realised they were in fact much more interesting than the fighting going on. She walks out mid lap

Didn’t try, got a low score, doesn’t give a shit: Lou and Emily

Its important to understand that both Lou and Emily are capable of getting a high score, they are just better than the whole thing. Why is their DnD group doing a pacer test? Why did Zac suspiciously force them to do this whole thing?

The difference between them is Lou knows the feud is stupid and has like actual work to do? He sits and auditions for some other big film. He still watches over his laptop.

Emily however, simply wants to watch the world burn.

Despite their different approaches to the situation, they both have a bet going on who’s going to be the fastest runner.

Ran one singular lap and finished: Ally

Ally Beardsley shows up at the track wearing a rainbow bucket hat and a tie dye shirt that is impracticable to run in. They have a llama with them. At no point do they explain this. They walk round the track once, drink their water from a plant pot, then spend the rest of the time cheering on the others with words that don’t quite make sense.

4. Storming Area 51

They cant stop us all: Zac and Brennan

Neither mean it maliciously, but both believe entirely in what they are saying.

Brennan is definitely the guy to go mad over a conspiracy theory. He made all the crown of candy NPCs. He is basically betraying himself. He knows not to trust anyone. He doesn’t trust area 51. The next season of dimension 20 is this as a subliminal messages all the way through.

Zac says it accidentally. He’s making a character for the charity livestream. He’s still got a hundred hours of character making left. He’s done so many bad squats. Unintentionally, he makes a character that forces all the zesbians to storm area 51.

Have fun getting shot, dumbasses: Lou

The rest of the cast are being weird again. Lou is equally as capable of being weird, but sometimes they need to chill. It starts with Emily talking about diner ice. It finishes with Brennan wearing a foil hat at all times.

You guys stop, someones actually gonna do it: Murph

Murph is a good, lawful boy.

Actually shows up: Emily and Siobhan

They ride a motorcycle there together. They wouldn’t have gone alone, but as a duo they are an unstoppable pair. Emily wants to break into a government facility. Siobhan desperately want to be in the real life x-files.

One of the Aliens: Ally

Emily and Siobhan open a door at area 51. Behind it is Ally Beardsley. They are wearing a rainbow bucket hat and a tie dye shirt. They have a llama standing behind them. This is not explained at any point. They drink from a flower pot and eat a quesadilla that appears out of nowhere.

5. Stabbing

Would never stab anyone: Murph

Murph is a good, lawful boy

Would stab in retaliation: Lou, Murph, Zac

Lets be honest, the entirety of a crown of candy so far has been these three taking stabs (or metaphorical ‘where is your bulb now’ stabs) as retaliation for a stab another one of these three had done.

Yells “I won’t hesitate bitch” first: Ally and Siobhan

I can’t really explain this one much more other than i’m pretty sure both these people have said this phrase at least once in their life.

Would stab as a warning: Emily

This would be promptly followed by Murph getting her to stop stabbing. Or, depending on the situation, encouraging her to keep stabbing.

6. The water fountain

Fills up a bottle and drinks from it: Lou and Siobhan

This is the normal way to drink from the water fountain. They were also both very concerned at watching Beardsley’s various different drinking apparatuses in adventuring party.

Bought 4 water bottles so this wouldn’t happen: Murph

He is prepared. Something probably still goes wrong, but at least he’s got three water bottles left.

Drinks straight from the tap: Brennan

Brennan is a busy guy. The tap is there, it’s convenient, he needs to get back to planning. There’s so many campaigns, so many characters, so many voices.

Dehydrates: Zac

Honestly I’m not sure if this man would drink water if nobody told him so

Drinks from a puddle: Ally

like they drink from a vase with a flower, a puddle really isn’t that much of a stretch.

Licks the tap: Emily

She just wants to see the world burn. Also, she knows Brennan drinks straight from the tap. She has to get payback somehow.

7. A child starts crying

Makes the child laugh: Lou

We’ve already discussed how Lou has dad energy. I feel like he’s know exactly what to say and how to act to get the child to stop crying. This is less stupid than the rest of my explanations, but I always love how expressive Lou is when he plays dnd. I’m not sure whether its the way he holds himself or the way he gestures, but I’m pretty sure if I was a crying child, I would stop crying if Lou Wilson told me a joke in that very soothing point.

Tries to play with the child: Siobhan and Ally

These two kinda give me older/younger sibling vibes. As a team I recon they could create a game that would calm this child down. Also Ally knows techniques to help adults calm down, they could probably implement these ideas into a game for children.

Gives detailed instructions: Murph

His knowledge comes from the books he has read to learn how to babysit, and the one time he babysat. His explanation is rather frantic however, mostly because he is trying to defend Emily in his answer.

Cries with the child: Zac

He’s sad because all his friends are speaking to this child an nobody noticed how fast he just ran.

He’s also baby, as we’ve said previously, so he probably relates to the child somewhat

The reason the child is crying: Emily and Brennan

The child just watched episode 9 of a crown of candy.

#long post #dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #a crown of candy #fantasy high

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danganronpastories · 4 years

Text

Dorm Opposites ch 2

Kazuichi had learned a lot about his roommate over the course of two days. One: For how eccentric Gundham acted, he was actually quite quiet, he really only talked at random or when he was spoken to. Other then that he only talked to his animals. Two: He was extremely introverted and socially awkward. He didn’t seem to know how to hold a normal conversation, and whenever Kaz brought up social events the boy seemed to get anxious, fiddling with the large scarf. Finally Three: Gundham was very observant, he would sometimes find Gundham staring at him, almost like he was analyzing Kazuichi. The boy had seemed to figure out all of Kazuichis nervous ticks, his entire schedule and even the fact that Kazuichi had brown hair and eyes. Though that was attributed to Gundham walking in on Kazuichi taking out his contacts, but his hair, Kaz had no idea. Maybe he saw some brown hair near his scalp, if so Kazuichi had to dye his hair again soon. Now it was the day that Kazuichi had told Gundham that they could go to the arcade together. Kaz was putting on a black tank top and loose gray pants, he put on his signature black beanie and brushed his teeth. Gundham was in the bathroom, he took out a black t shirt with fishnet sleeve, black jeans with some kind of stitched on star on the pocket. he put on a chocker with a pentagram hanging from it, black nail polish, eyeliner, some rings and like 3 bracelets. Kazuichi peeked into the bathroom. “Hey Gundham- Oh” Kazuichi ducked out, blushing. “Holy jesus, what is this?!?!? He’s so hot omfg” Kazuichi thought to himself, hand covering his mouth. Gundham walked out of the bathroom in his buckled up knee high boots. “Are you alright mortal, it looks like fire has taken over your very being. DO YOU NEED ME TO VANQUISH IT!” Gundham yelled, pointing at Kazuichi at the end. Kazuichi laughed and shook his head, “No Gundham i’m fine, let’s head out now and have some fun.” Kazuichi exclaimed with excitement. The world outside the academy walls was bustling and bright, their were busy restaurant's, bustling and bright Cafe’s, Movie theaters that smelled like popcorn. People, mostly college students walking around and chatting. Kazuichi never felt so alive and free, It was nothing like his old poor neighborhood. They soon found their way to a building colored in black and blue with bright rainbow letters saying “Marty’s arcade”. There was people walking all around the place, mostly teenagers and students their age walking around, chatting and playing colorful designed arcade machines. Kazuichi walked in, Gundham trailing behind him. Kazuichi looked around, excited and bouncy. He loved arcades, they were one of the most fun places in the world. Kazuichi had also stolen a machine once just to look at the mechanics, his dad had given him a lot of shit for it. Kazuichi turned to Gundham, “so what do you wanna do first edgelord?” The moment he finished though he noticed something was up. Gundham was looking around, his facial expression was confused and anxious. His hands were grabbing and twirling his scarf around. Kazuichi got a bit closer, “Hey Gundham, are you ok? what’s going on man?” Kazuichi asked, hushing his voice a bit. Gundham turned towards him suddenly, causing the mechanic to jump a bit in his shoes. “What is this place, Inventor of machines?” Gundham asked, tilting his head. Kazuichi’s mouth gaped open, “You’ve never been to a arcade??” Kazuichi was dumbfounded to say the least. Gundham looked away, and shook his head. The boy looked like he was internally shrinking in on himself. Kaz grabbed his hand and Gundham flinched, “come on edgelord, i’m going to introduce you to the wonderful world of arcades!” Kaz yelled, grinning ear to ear. Gundham found himself smiling too, Kazuichi’s smile was infectious. Gundham laughed, “Ok!” Gundham replied and the two ran into the depth's of the game filled building. Kazuichi and Gundhams first game was a zombie shooter game, not the best choice as both of them were scared out of their minds. Kaz was screaming while shooting at zombies, he was not very successful. Gundham was biting his lip while screaming curses that Kaz swore was a part of some other language he didn’t know. The both of them did eventually lose with terrified screams and Kaz jumping on Gundham like this was some scooby doo ripoff. Kaz got up on his hands and knee’s on the floor. Gundham was under him, eyes closed, stirring a bit. “The fall might have caused him to blackout”, on that thought entering his head he panicked. Kazuichi shook the dark haired boys shoulder maybe a bit rougher than he intended to. “Gundham, edgelord, tanaka, Gunny wake up” Kazuichi whisper yelled. Gundham stirred, his vision was blurry for a sec as he broke out of the haze. He turned over and saw Kazuichi, inches away from his face. “Um mortal, what are you doing?” Gundham asked, voice cracking, blushing bright red. Kazuichi scrambled to his feet, pulling down his beanie. “S-sorry, we fell.” Kazuichi muttered, face bright pink. Gundham got up, shaking his head a bit. They both decided to play a large version of pac man. Gundham looked at Kazuichi, “It’s all a matter of looking at and memorizing the patterns in puzzles like this. If you can do that, you’re guaranteed success” Gundham explained, though his voice was a lot softer. Maybe he was muttering to himself. Kazuichi shrugged turning to the game. Oh boy did Gundham wipe the floor with Kazuichi when it came to scores. They both battled fiercely but in the end Gundham, the supreme overlord of ice came out victorious. Kazuichi stood up, looking between the game and Gundham, who had just stood up calmly. “How did you do that!?” Kazuichi screamed, exasperated. Gundham tilted his head, “I just told you, I memorized the patterns in the puzzle, specifically the enemy ghosts, all but one move in a pattern, if you can figure out the pattern and track their movements, while also keeping tabs on the wild card you can win.” Gundham explained, raising his finger up, looking truly invested in the conversation for the first time since Kazuichi has met him. The boys spent the rest of the day playing games, and Kazuichi even got a cool sticky hand with his tickets. Gundham got a bag of sunflower seeds. The moon was high in the sky and shining down on the world beautifully, illuminating the boys walk back to campus. Kazuichi looked at the boy, the boys dark hair with white streaks shone in the moonlight, and his red eye was almost glowing. Kazuichi had to admit he was beautiful, with the moon shining on him. “I don’t have a crush on him or anything, I’m just observing” Kaz thought, completely oblivious.... He heard a tiny yawn and looked at the boy. “Omg he yawns like a kitten” Kaz thought, totally not freaking out or anything. Kazuichi laughed, “You sound tired edgelord, are you doing ok” Kazuchi asked, stifling giggles. “I’m fine, I’m just tired. I don’t normally hang around a place with a lot of people, I’m just tired. I-i had fun though, I’ve never done this mortal thing before” Gundham smiled brightly, his voice was soft, with tired tones. Kazuichi smiled, this conversation was one of the more sentimental conversations he’s had with Gundham. “What about you? do you do this often?” Gundham asked Kazuichi, staring intensely at the pink haired college student. Kazuichi looked down, he wondered if he should get this personal but maybe, just maybe, he could trust his roommate. “Yes I did, but I hung around the wrong crowd, and sometimes we did bad things, so I had to leave the crowd, or i guess cast out when I wasn’t good enough anymore.” Kazuichi answered solemnly. Gundham stared for a moment, he wanted to comfort the boy but he didn’t exactly know how. So he decided to break it down in the only way that he knew how. “So you hung with a bad pride of lions, then you were banished or left” Gundham spoke in a quiet voice. Kazuichi tilted his head, confused. “What do you mean edgelord?” Kazuichi asked. “In nature when the dominant male lions return to their pride all the other males must either submit to their leader or be banished.” Gundham explained, eyes focused and steely. Kazuichi ran a hand through his hair, “I guess, I did try to fit in at first. But I was....betrayed by my fellow lions, so I left.” Kazuichi said, voice full of sorrow. Gundham frowned, maybe he could do this. He put a hand on Kazuichis shoulder, “It’s alright, you should always leave a situation that hurts you. I know how cruel mortals can be” Gundham said to Kazuichi. Kaz smiled, he felt a bit better, “Thanks Gunny, i feel a bit better” Kaz only realized what he said a second after he said it. Kaz blushed and started yelling nonsense, and Gundham hid himself in his scarf. Once Kazuichi calmed down he proposed his question. “What about you? You said you’d never been to one?” Kazuichi asked, wiping his eyes quickly. Gundham took his hand off Kaz’s shoulders. “Well, i’m like a white tiger. Now tigers are already solitary creatures, they prefer to hunt alone. Most tigers have a orange with black stripes palate but white tigers have a white with black stripes pallete. They even stand out among their solitary species. Even if I tried to make friends, I never fit in. I don’t need mortal friends anyway” Gundham explained this before he started walking faster than Kaz, looking pretty upset. “......” Kazuichi didn’t know what to say, to never have any friends your entire life......that must be so lonely. Kazuichi caught up with him, “Gundham?” Kazuichi muttered, “Yes” Gundham looked over at him. “Are we friends?” Kazuichi asked. Gundham stopped short, his whole world seemed to go into slow motion, friends?? “Y-you wanna be friends, with me?” Gundham stuttered, he sounded so confused. Kazuichi felt sad hearing that, he felt bad for his roommate, he probably didn’t understand. “Of course, Your kinda strange but, you’re very fun and kind.” Kazuichi tried to take it slow, he wanted to get it through to him. “Are you trying to trick me somehow, what’s your game. What do you want?” Gundham backed up from the boy, staring Kaz straight through his soul. Kazuichi shook his head, “Nothing, nothing Gundham. Nothing, I just want to be your friend. I don’t want anything, just calm down man, it’s ok.” Kaz soothed and Gundhams trembling shoulders slowly lowered. “I-i guess we can be friends, but beware mortal, for I am not to be trifled with!!!” Gundham’s personality switched back to normal. The boys soon walked home and they looked at each other before giving each other a high five before going into their dorm room. The two got changed into their nightclothes and went into their beds. “Goodnight edgelord” Kazuichi whispered to Gundham sleepily. “Goodnight.....Kaz”

#dorm opposites #I hope this is ok #kazuichi souda #gundham tanaka #soudam #danganronpa #i actually like this #I like my own stuff #what #when did that ever happen

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boy-above · 3 years

Note

au where the whole v3 cast shares a minecraft server 💀

ive talked about this with friends before! let’s see what i can remember.

kaede is the server admin and attempts to keep the peace but it’s difficult when kokichi exists. she and him and have been at a standoff since the server was created because he won’t follow any of the rules, obviously.

miu, kaede, and keebo all live pretty close together, they all like making red stone contraptions. kaede likes making songs with the note blocks, while miu and keebo make the most ridiculously complex shit ever. mostly miu, but keebo likes to feel included.

kokichi was a complete monster the first few days but once he got it out of the system (and got timed out multiple times by kaede) he settled on being a general nuisance. he likes to steal crops, steal from unguarded chests, leave those damn floating trees around. he also hoards diamonds which are the currency of their server.

shuichi tried to be super secretive about where his house was but kokichi still found it and still forcibly moved in with him. shuichi points out that he wanted to play minecraft to relax and kokichi’s presence is the opposite of that though.

angie is real good at building, she can build super pretty stuff. kokichi commissioned her with his asshole full of diamonds to make a huge base for him and shuichi.

himiko likes making potions obviously but she’s also too tired to make good tools or armor for herself so you’ll see her waddling through the nether super under prepared while tenko circles her wearing enchanted diamond armor daring for any enemies to come closer.

gonta has never played minecraft before and doesn’t really know how to play, so he needs supervised sometimes. he can’t remember any recipes and gets lost really easily. sometimes he ends up lost unbelievably far away from spawn and doesn’t know where he is or how he got there. he finds rare biomes this way though so the others aren’t complaining. he tames every wolf he sees so you just see him coming over the horizon with an army of puppies.

kaito is too overdramatically afraid of the monsters and has a reputation for accidentally leading creepers onto ppls property and blowing up parts of their bases. he’s not allowed on voice chat if it’s night ingame because zombies make him scream. the first time he saw a ghast he shit his pants.

maki had also never played before and only joined for kaito but she doesn’t really play on the server very much. she discovered she really likes ultra hardcore tournaments so she does that instead.

rantaros very chill, he just pops in and picks a random person to hang out with for a while. he has a lot of riches on the server for doing a whole lot of nothing, he has an afk fish farm so he has tons of enchanted books and items that he sells for diamonds.

kirumi will help you do boring stuff like leveling out land for a build or collecting clay or some shit, but for a price. shes become the richest person on the server, to the others surprise. she’s got a fucking ginormous base that she had angie make for her and it’s the stuff of mythos on the server because only kokichi has claimed to see it and they don’t know if they believe him or not.

speaking of myths and legends, is korekiyo actually there? does he exist? they see his online icon, but he never speaks. they’ve never seen him in the game. legend has it that he’s out in the Mesa somewhere. what is he doing? seeing his online icon makes you kind of uncomfortable. it’s like feeling like there’s a ghost in the room.

ryoma just likes to farm, man. he has a community farm and he likes growing all the crops in the game and dyeing all the sheep all the colors. he’s also the one that’s usually supervising gonta. he also has so many fucking cats. your game starts lagging out because of the combined strength of ryoma’s army of cats and gonta’s army of dogs.

tsumugi got banned from the server and being an egirl with a stream of dedicated simps watching her, she told them what an injustance it was and that she’s gonna make her OWN server, with blackjack and hookers!

#ask the marshmallow #this is dumb lol #rantaro also likes finding all the rare biomes as well #he lost gonta a few times though

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nochiquinn · 3 years

Text

campaign 2 episode 128:

continue to not chat on twich

marisha has been given an excuse to tie-dye

I'm already vibrating with anxiety, I'm not gonna make it through the episode

now polymorph him

he can't counterspell you if he's a turtle

caleb's a simple man, he sees trent, he does fire

liam already doesn't know how to do math, this is good

mala: you know what, they should take Trent to fight Lucien

stop magicking at hiiiim veth you have a guuuuun

throw sprinkle at him

"I think we broke dungeons and dragons"

"you have to say counterspell so I can counterspell you"

oh thank god

"holy buttholes"

marisha is just literally sitting on the back of her chair

if anybody remembers when the crowd chant for Adam Page was "cowboy shit", now you know how I say "dope monk shit" in my head

POODLE-'PALERS

hugs :(

trent eat shit and die challenge

go FUCK yourself you manipulative fucking cocksmear

"all you had to do was ask" fall off a cliff and dieeeeee

I want to draw for adhd reasons but also my hands are shaking so bad

trent making new accounts to get around an IP ban

ugHHHH I was worried about thiiiiis

"caleb's not having a good time" LIAM is not having a good time, he's about to pass out

someone make liam hydrate

fjord can feel the cosmos

v e t h

if any one of them gets even a little bit hurt caleb's gonna throw himself off a cliff

mala: Caleb's PTSD: this is why we didnt want friends

jester

one for kima. when they go get her. to come with them.

(I know kima's not coming, let me dream)

yezaaaa

travis doing the very slow dice roll to give laura time to do guidance

baptist ptsd flashbacks

I need this art

caleb's not having a good time

would caleb have bothered trying to appeal to anyone about it before the cobalt soul did right by beau?

caduceus's brain is my brain at all times

oh gross. I hate that. I hate everything about that.

did he make that name up on the spot or does he have a whole Chateau staff rolled up

mala: respectfully (deragatory)

butt facetime

"I miss people. I miss hugs." liam I don't need this

that sounds cozy as fuck

I'm a simple person, laura bailey cries, I cry

yeza speaks, I cry

veth you are selling this very poorly

caleb can't get more than ten feet from his emotional support halfling

"he's dead"

if that child learns magic yeza is going to have a coronary

caleb working to create a generation of wizards without intense emotional trauma

"I don't have a hat"

the SHADE

cad: if we can get down there without using the stairs

beau: am I a joke to you

"to bren" [kill bill sirens]

OH! IT THEY!

themmmmm

I'm gonna be so sad if they're actually evil

I don't want any of this

I mean I'm loving it but also I don't want it

mala: all of Luc's training was for this moment

aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAA

marion :(

caduceus casts xanax

"information gathering expedition to the astral plane" he's so pretentious, it's a fucking nap

is beau's thing only spoken languages?

caleb's decision-making rights revoked

nobody is allowed to have ideas anymore

this is such a clusterfuck

my giiiiirl

you could see matt choosing violence in real time

Fish Date....2!!

#critical role #spoilers #liveblog #reaction post #crititag

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

Text

linger like a tattoo kiss

chapter two of the peter losing wendy series

*inspired by Taylor Swift’s Folklore*

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Original Character (Liz Walker)

Warnings: mentions of suicide, PLEASE proceed with caution, drinking/partying, smoking, mentions of emotional abuse, does not follow the plot of the canon material

Word Count: 5.4K

Summary: Liz has a run-in with a Kook at a party. JJ, strangely, shows up late.

May 4, 2019

With a headache, Liz awoke, scrunching up her nose at the sound of the rooster out in the chicken coop. The sky was just barely alight with the rising sun, and a chilly morning breeze blew through the screens in the windows. Early May, and summer had still yet to set in. Not a problem to Liz, though. She was always glad to go a few extra weeks without the thick blanket of humidity which began to suffocate the Outer Banks every year by June. Debating whether or not to move, she stared up at the ceiling with tired eyes. There were cracks on the white surface, and a couple brownish water stains from the last tropical storm.

Despite the open windows, John B’s house still smelled stale after a night of debauchery. Empty bags of chips, green glass bottles, and rolling papers littered the rickety dining table. After the party at the Boneyard, the Pogues had migrated back to the Chateau and continued into the darkest hours of the night. Judging from the orangey hue of the sky, they couldn’t have gone to bed more than a couple hours prior. Of course, Kie and Pope had gone back to the Carrera residence, claiming to want to sleep in a ‘real’ bed. Kie could never stand the uncomfortable springs sticking out of the pullout couch mattress, or the mattress in the spare bedroom.

JJ usually got the spare, but both he and Liz had ended up sprawled out on the pullout instead. She would have worried about John B suspecting something fishy going on, but she could hear his faint snores coming from the direction of his bedroom. Not that he would’ve ever raised an eyebrow at seeing them share a bed. Liz was just a textbook worrywart. Besides, the living room was empty save for the two of them after everyone else had gone to bed, when they’d stayed up talking and sharing a final blunt to take the edge off and kissing softly. No; they’d had the whole world to themselves, it had seemed, in the living room of the Chateau in the wee hours of the new spring day. Though she felt silly, Liz couldn’t help letting a small smirk ghost over her lips at the memory of only hours earlier.

After a moment more indecision, she found herself doing her best to rise from the bed without waking JJ. It took more than a few seconds to pluck his arm from where it was draped over her stomach. Drool leaked from the corner of his mouth where his face was smashed up against the pillow. Liz’s smile widened just a bit at the sight. Noticing the goosebumps which rose on her arms at the lack of JJ’s body heat, she grabbed the crumpled gray cardigan from under the pullout mattress. She’d noticed it under there the night before as JJ was sucking on her neck.

Grimacing at the light from the back windows, Liz went up to the kitchen sink and got herself a glass of tap water. There was simply no way she was getting back to sleep with the hangover throbbing behind her eyes. But she didn’t particularly mind with such a beautiful sunrise. She had seen it so many times over the course of her life, on daybreak fishing trips and in the aftermath of long nights, but it always felt like the first time. Through the windows above the sink, she could see the reflection of the warmly painted sky against the water in the marsh. It glistened in small, glowing pearls on the dewy blades of tall grass in John B’s backyard.

As she was setting the emptied glass down in the sink, she felt a pair of arms snake around her waist. She startled, but relaxed into JJ’s touch after a moment. He had barely made any noise at all while padding over to her in his socked feet.

“Fuck, JJ!” she exclaimed quietly, letting out an anxious, breathy chuckle. “Announce yourself, sunshine.”

Not quite yet awake, JJ leaned against her. His head was on her shoulder, eyes closed as he spoke in drowsy slurs.

“Jesus, what time is it?” he asked.

“My name’s Liz, not Jesus. But, hey, we’ve only known each other since we were seven, after all,” she quipped, teasing.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, eager to lay back down. The flashes across his memory of all the alcohol he’d downed the night before made him a little nauseous. “Gimme a break, Lizzie.”

She snickered, but relented, looking over at the clock on the microwave. “Half past five.”

He groaned in response, shaking his head a bit. “I have to leave for work in like twenty minutes.”

“Shit. Why?”

“Early bird breakfast,” he grumbled.

“That sucks ass,” Liz said. “There’s some aspirin left in the medicine cabinet, I think. If you want to take some before you leave.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. The tank top Liz wore slipped down over her right arm just a bit. JJ pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder, on which her small, black and white tattoo of a betta fish peeked out from the neckline of the cardigan. She’d gotten it the day after turning sixteen, with a forged signature on the parental release form. It was the only tattoo she had. Since JJ had begun kissing her, it had become one of his favorite spots. Hers, too. The feather-light pressure of his lips reminded her of the night before, when she’d touched him just as gingerly.

. . .

Rarely did Liz arrive at a party before JJ. He was usually the first to run down the beach, leading the way as he helped carry the keg. As he shouted in excitement, she could normally only manage a nervous half-grimace. But JJ was still nowhere to be found fifteen minutes after they’d finished setting up shop. Even the bonfire was lit. The past few days had been dry, and Liz hadn’t encountered too much trouble getting the logs to ignite. She was a former girl scout, and had slowly become the honorary firestarter of the group. She stood next to her creation, a red solo cup in her hand. John B had gone all out, supplying not just a keg but also the materials for mixed drinks. Liz was nursing a vodka-cranberry, taking slow, small sips. She was being careful to pace herself after the sloppy table dance she’d performed a few weeks back.

The late afternoon had just begun bleeding into evening, and the sky had darkened to a strange mixture of pinks and blues. A chilly breeze blew past her as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and she took a couple more steps towards the heat of the bonfire. Still, she kept a careful distance from the main crowd. Kie had gotten into a conversation with Pope about use of fracking on the mainland as they sat next to each other in the circle around the fire. Liz could see how completely engrossed Pope was in Kie’s words, and if JJ had been there, she would have faked a gag at how cute they were. John B and Sarah, too, were lost in their own world, sharing flirty touches and lingering looks as they manned the keg. Though it had been months since the two had started dating, Liz still wasn’t sure how she felt about Sarah. The ice had melted between the Kook princess and the rest of the Pogues, but Liz just couldn’t bring herself to feel comfortable. Not around a girl who wore necklaces made of solid gold and got her highlights professionally done. The most Liz could afford was a seven-dollar box of dye, but years of practice had served her well. She’d started dying her auburn hair a fiery shade of copper during freshman year, just after her father died, and never looked back.

While she’d been getting ready for the party, she’d decided to channel Halloween, even though it was May. John B and Pope had watched curiously as she donned her black lipstick and smudged eyeliner. Sarah had extended the offer for Liz to come and get ready with her and Kie. But Liz brushed it off. Most of her makeup was at John B’s house, anyway, considering how often she stayed there. Why bring it all the way to the Figure Eight? Liz couldn’t imagine stepping into Sarah Cameron’s room, seeing the closet filled to the brim with designer dresses; velvet and silk and tulle. Especially not when the best Liz could do for a party outfit was an ancient Jimi Hendrix t-shirt and a semi-clean polka dot skirt.

Before she could spiral deeper into the bitter storm in her mind, Liz was pulled from her reverie when someone bumped hard into her shoulder. Liz barely registered what had happened until she felt the lukewarm drink spill down the front of her shirt. The gray fabric on which Jimi Hendrix’s face was printed was splashed right down the front with a deep, pinkish-red stain. Furrowing her brows, Liz looked up to see the Kook girl who had walked into her retreating, barely casting Liz a glance. The girl, who Liz recognized eventually as being called Ally, was struggling to walk on her high heels in the sand, while also typing away on her brand new phone, adorned with a sequined case. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. Maybe it didn’t matter that Ally hadn’t said a word, hadn’t looked Liz’s way, hadn’t apologized. But Liz looked around and found almost no one had seen what happened. John B and Sarah were all the way across the beach, and Liz could see Pope and Kie in a lively debate. JJ had still yet to arrive, it seemed. The t-shirt had been Liz’s father’s, vintage from his youth. And Liz knew it was unlikely such a stain would come out. She saw a flash of red and gripped the plastic cup so hard in her hand that it crumpled.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, as her stomach swirled with nerves and her hands began to shake. She knew she should have just let it go, as she always did. The idea of starting something with a Kook had her heart in her throat. But it was her father’s shirt. Sometimes, she thought she could still smell him when she wore it.

Ally didn’t turn around until Liz called out to her a couple more times. She spun around slowly on her heel, just barely looking up from her phone. Confusion painted her face as she realized who was addressing her. “Yeah?”

“Do you see what you just did to my shirt?” Liz asked, gesturing down at herself, voice raised over the blaring music and the chatter of fellow partygoers. A few people at the edges of the bonfire circle, where Ally had been headed, began to look up at the commotion.

Ally stared blankly at Liz’s shirt for a moment and then shrugged in disinterest. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

Scoffing, Liz let an angry, sardonic smirk cross her face. “Damn, someone should give you an Oscar for that acting.”

“What’s your problem?” Ally asked, finally giving Liz her full attention as her face twisted in disgust.

“My problem is my shirt is ruined,” Liz continued, not knowing exactly what she wanted to get out of the exchange. She only knew that she was pissed, and she hadn’t felt quite so pissed in a long time. It confused her, but the few sips of vodka she’d downed were apparently making her more courageous already.

Ally looked at Liz’s shirt for another moment. “I don’t know. I’d say I did you a favor.”

Liz narrowed her eyes at Ally, who appeared to think the exchange was over and began turning away again. But before she could disappear into the small crowd of onlookers which had formed, Liz grabbed the drink from Ally’s left hand and tossed the mixture onto the girl’s white crop top and mini skirt set. The color was even more vivid against such a light fabric, and it looked like a scene out of a horror movie. A chorus of cliché gasps erupted from the voyeurs standing around, and Pope and Kie had finally gotten wind of the situation. They had yet to intervene, standing with hesitation. It wasn’t like Liz to start fights. Usually, she was the one who ended them. Pope always called her the dependent variable, but she was certainly deviating from the norm tonight.

“Pogue bitch!” Ally shrieked, looking down at her ruined outfit.

Liz only smirked, feigning innocence and shrugging in a mock imitation. She couldn’t help but feel instant satisfaction. “You could always buy new, right?”

Ally’s face grew red with anger at the sound of Liz’s aloof tone. “This was two hundred dollars in New York, you cunt!”

“Tragic,” Liz replied coolly. “You poor baby.”

Ally took a couple threatening steps forward and Liz let out a bark of laughter. She threw the cups in her hands to the side (which she would be picking up as soon as she could, knowing how upset Kie would be if she didn’t). She advanced to Ally and met her eyes. Without the heels, Ally would have been significantly shorter than Liz. With them, she was almost as tall. But it didn’t matter. Liz stared her down like she was a bug about to be squashed.

“You gonna fight me, princess?” Liz asked huskily, feeling the lively fire in her stomach rising in her throat. Her smirk was ever-present, joyless. “Do it. Fight the Pogue cunt. See how that works out for you.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Ally said. She wasn’t quite scared, only surprised. Her brow was crinkled analytically. All this over a t-shirt.

“Oh, am I?” Liz asked, eyes wide in askance and mocking.

“Yeah. Just like your daddy,” Ally replied viciously, letting a smugness come over her face. She had recognized Liz only a few moments prior. On such a small island, word of tragedy got around. Most everyone knew about the girl whose father was found dangling from a beam in the attic. The audience made a sound of shock and awe.

Feeling her stomach do another flip, Liz clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides. Her nails began to cut into her palms. Just as she was launching herself forward, ready to hit someone for the first time in many years, she felt herself being pulled clumsily away by the shoulders and the waist. She struggled in the hold for only a moment, before she saw Ally retreating back to her friends and heard Kie yelling in her ear to calm the hell down. Sarah and John B were running over, the entire beach now aware something was going on.

“Let me go, Pope! I’m fine!” Liz yelled, tearing his arms from her sides and feeling freer at the release. Even though it was Pope, she still couldn’t help the panic which bubbled up within her from being restrained.

“What the hell was that?” John B asked as he came over, Sarah trailing behind.

“Why do you care? Why don’t you go fuck your girlfriend?” Liz snapped coldly.

A pit of regret immediately sank in her stomach. Her entire body was flushed and adrenaline pulsed through her. Even if John B was pretty much her brother, she couldn’t help but let all her negative feelings about everyone mix into an indecipherable rage. Not her father’s shirt. Not some lousy Kook calling her father crazy. She simply couldn’t handle it. Sure, she knew people whispered comments to each other when she walked down the street. She knew the Kooks talked shit about her behind her back. But to her face was something else entirely.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John B said, taken aback by the outburst.

“Just forget it, alright?” Liz sighed, breathing harshly. “I’m sorry...I’m just...my fucking shirt!”

Kie tilted her head at Liz in confusion, bringing a gentle hand to her shoulder. “Why-“

Liz shrugged her off. “I said forget it! Can someone please just get me a new drink?!”

Recoiling, Kie stepped away and plucked the cups from where Liz had tossed them in the sand. Liz wanted so badly to make a full apology. She really did. And she would, once they got back to the Chateau. But she felt almost incapable at the moment, stewing with such uncharacteristic rage.

Silence and doubtful looks were exchanged, but eventually Sarah volunteered to go get Liz the drink and John B followed, tossing concerned glances over his shoulder at Liz as they went. She thanked them quietly, embarrassed, but then yelled after them, requesting they keep the cranberry juice to a minimum. Not much more than a chaser.

“Are you sure-” Pope began, but he stopped immediately when Liz locked eyes with him. She meant business. No more fun and games.

“Not tonight, okay, Pope?” she asked, a pleading, tired crack in her voice. It made Pope want to say more, but Liz cut him off again with another exclamation as she began walking away. “Where the fuck is JJ?!”

. . .

Down the beach from the party, Liz could barely see the orange glow of the fire past the crowd. She was still nursing her vodka-cranberry, a bit buzzed but not nearly enough to forget what had happened. Her eyes were burning with tears, but whenever she felt herself truly welling up, she would stop it. She’d sniff and look up at the sky until her eyes were dry. It was clear, and she could see the swirl of the stars so vividly against the pitch-black sky. Humming a Nirvana song under her breath, she sat with her arms on her knees, one hand clasped around the opposite wrist. The drink on her shirt had long since dried, but she was still chilly in the ocean wind. She’d thought about going back to the Chateau, but decided she didn’t have the energy to make the walk alone. Instead, she’d gone a good distance down the shore, and sat a few inches up from where the tide was coming in. The moon shone silver on the waves, and the sight of it almost made her feel better. But it didn’t.

She was only sad and tipsy. In her solitude, her mind wandered to her mother and father. To her siblings. She wondered what her mother was doing, probably already asleep. A bottle of Jack somewhere near the bed. It made Liz feel guilty for getting buzzed, but she only downed more of the drink in an effort to get the feeling to disappear. Her sisters, too, she wondered about. They didn’t call much, and she didn’t blame them. The oldest two were off at college on the mainland, living separate lives with their scholarships. The other, Nicole, checked in even less reilably. Last Liz heard, she was somewhere in New Mexico finding herself. And Liz was where she had always been, spending her nights at home cleaning up after her mother, sitting through tearful diatribes about what a saint her father had been. Biting her tongue through her mother’s lies. She was glad the Chateau had become the place to rest her head since her father’s death. Had she been forced to stay at home every night, she imagined she would have run off long ago.

JJ strode up to her with his hands in his pockets, hat backwards on his head as usual. He sat down next to her without a word, carrying his own cup. Liz didn’t startle at his presence. Instead, she only breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure exactly what time it was, but he was more than late.

“Contemplating the mysteries of the universe?” he asked, a small smile on his face.

She chuckled humorlessly, clearing her throat and sniffing. “Not quite. Just thinking about Kurt Cobain.”

“Well, no wonder you’re down here all angsty and alone, hot stuff,” he teased, but when he spoke again his voice was more solemn. “JB said you got in a fight with a Kook.”

“He’s a drama queen. I didn’t fight her,” Liz said, staring out at the ocean still. The breeze was cold but welcome, clarifying, and she took in a deep breath through her nose. “Ally spilled her drink on me. And then she said some shit about my dad...it was nothing.”

“Sure doesn’t look like nothing,” JJ said, eyeing the stain across Jimi Hendrix’s face in the dimness.

She snorted a laugh, looking down at herself. “Maybe not. But I was going for a Patrick Bateman thing tonight, anyway.”

JJ sighed, licking at his lips. He debated arguing, maybe even getting fired up enough to go find some random Kook in retaliation. But he didn’t. He knew how she hated when he fought. Instead, he only took off his hat, pulled his sweatshirt over his head and went to hand it to her.

“You’re cold,” he said insistently, watching her shiver in the nighttime wind. She still hadn’t looked over at him, only staring out blankly at the waves. “And your shirt looks like you just went all Mrs. Crain on someone.”

After a long moment, she nodded, taking a final sip of her drink and then placing the cup down on the sand beside her. She still didn’t look over at him as she put it on. It warmed her up instantly. The smell of JJ, Old Spice and weed and smoke, mixed with the ocean breeze. The wind blew past her again, the tips of her red hair just brushing her shoulders. She would have to cut it again soon. Since she was little, she could never handle her hair getting longer than her collarbones. It was just too much effort.

With JJ’s sweatshirt on, she wasn’t nearly as freezing. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, red,” he replied easily, taking another sip of his drink.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked quietly, trying her best not to sound needy. “We got here, like, three hours ago.”

“Oh, you know. Just robbing a bank or two,” he quipped.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. Her face fell, though, when she finally ventured a full glance at him. In the moonlight and the distant glow of the bonfire, she could see the cut on his cheek which was still oozing blood.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, placing gingerly fingers on his jaw so he would face her. But his eyes didn’t quite meet hers.

“I’m fine, Lizzie,” he muttered, swatting her hand away.

“Who did that to you?” she asked softly, tilting her head at him.

JJ shrugged. “Just ran into Rafe on the way over. I would’ve called, but I figured I should clean up a little so you wouldn’t freak out when you saw me. I guess that was a waste.”

She shook her head a little. “That motherfucker.”

“Seriously, it’s fine. You should see the other guy,” JJ continued, smirking though it didn’t reach his eyes.

Liz breathed out a sigh and thought about asking more, but didn’t. Instead, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on the apple of his cheek, the skin around the cut already bruising a deep purple. Her black lipstick had long since been wiped off, after her scuffle with Ally. Before JJ had arrived, she’d used the inside of her shirt to rub furiously at her face. Her lips were sore and pinkish, but soft against JJ’s skin.

Fighting to keep the shine of tears from his blue eyes, JJ let a small giggle slip. If his father’s fist had been a scream, her kiss was a whisper. It was so gentle he could barely contain himself, his heart skipping a beat. “Feels better already.”

“Does it?” she asked, pulling away with a tiny smile.

He hummed in confirmation. Tossing a glance over his shoulder at the party, he shifted closer to her. The kiss that followed was heated and hungry, both tasting vodka on each other’s tongues. Liz wasn’t surprised JJ was a bit buzzed as well. If she knew John B, he had shoved a drink in JJ’s hand as soon as he saw his eye. JJ was hard to read at times, but alcohol or weed were always surefire ways to cheer him up. And John B always made himself the captain of the party and the guests’ happiness.

Liz was out of breath, but she still smiled against JJ’s lips. As fishy as his late arrival was, she was just happy to see him. Simple as that. In the weeks since they’d gone from friends to something more, she’d found herself thinking of him always. What he was doing, how he was feeling, whether he was thinking of her too. Usually, he was.

Away from the party, she could kiss him like she meant to, nowhere near the lingering eyes of her friends. No one else in the world knew but the two of them, not even the other Pogues. While the inter-group macking rule had long since been broken, there were other reasons to keep the secret. Sure, everyone had always said they belonged together. But neither of them were ready to let it be known to the world. Truthfully, Liz feared the pit of dread in her stomach, worrying over what would happen to their friendship if whatever they were doing fizzled out, would only grow heavier if everyone knew. JJ’s hand slipped beneath the soft sweatshirt and the stained t-shirt as they kissed, though. And, for the moment, Liz forgot all of her worries.

. . .

Despite everything, Liz found herself laughing wildly in the back of Twinkie, the rear doors opened. As she sat on the edge of the car’s floor, the carpeting plush against the backs of her thighs, she watched JJ dancing beneath the streetlight. They’d decided to head back to the Chateau, not particularly in the mood to deal with the Kooks who had ventured over to the other side of the island for the rest of the night. John B had thrown JJ the keys while they were still on the beach, instructing his friend to head to the car while he gathered Sarah, Kie, and Pope up. Liz looked more freezing by the minute, and while Twinkie’s heating wasn’t optimal, it was better than braving the ocean wind. John B was partial to being the designated driver, especially on the night of such a big bash. And, of course, especially when they already had supplies for an after party set out on his kitchen table.

Instead of huddling down in the trunk with Liz though, JJ took advantage of the pleasant, alcohol-induced flush warming his skin. He danced along to the Elvis tune playing from the radio in his cutoff Levis. The keys were in the ignition while the car sat in park, the heat blasting and the engine whirring quietly. Liz had heard the song many times on her father’s records. JJ gyrated his hips, ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to create a sloppy pompadour. He wasn’t very drunk, still coordinated enough to make a real show of it.

“Just take a walk down lonely street, to the heartbreak hotel,” JJ sang along, curling his lip in a decent imitation.

Liz snorted and rolled her eyes at his theatrics, but giggled along. Ever since they were little, JJ was always performing, mostly for her. A strange sense of nostalgia washed over her as he watched him, under the makeshift spotlight in the inky blue midnight. Down below, the party raged on, but neither Liz nor JJ took notice any longer. For the moment, it was just the two of them. Eventually, the song faded away and JJ finished his impression. Liz clapped a few times, slow and almost mocking. Pouting at the lackluster response, JJ sat down heavily next to her and put his head on her shoulder. The laughter would suffice to please him; he’d only done the dance to cheer her up, after all, guilty he hadn’t been at the party earlier, when she’d needed him. But he whined playfully, nonetheless.

“Tough fucking crowd.”

“I’m just kidding, sunshine. You were just like the king, alright?” she said, starting to sober up but still focusing on the tingling of her skin at the drinks and his touch. Slinging an arm around his shoulders, she brought him closer and kissed the crown of his head affectionately.

. . .

Rolling to a stop, Liz leaned her bike against the oak tree and ran her hands through her hair. It was greasy, and she decided she needed to shower before her lunchtime shift at the Wreck. It was a double, but she’d be back at John B’s by nine, with plans for a chill movie night. Kie and Pope probably wouldn’t make it, more eager for alone time in recent months. But there would still be the four of them. After they all went to bed, Liz could pad over from the pullout couch in the living room to JJ’s bed, as she’d made a habit of doing in the past few weeks. Though she was always annoyed with such a long shift, especially when the damn Tourons were starting their vacation season, it was good to know there was something to look forward to at the end of the day.

The sun was high in the sky, having risen fully, as she ascended the creaky porch steps into her house. The wind chimes near the door jingled quietly in the slight breeze. Doing her best to shut the rusty screen door silently behind her, Liz jumped when she saw her mother already up and having her coffee at the kitchen table. Usually, she was still out cold.

“Hey, mom,” Liz said, forcing a weak smile on her lips. She slipped her backpack from her shoulders and set it down next to the door. Then, she tugged her shoes off and went towards the kitchen.

“Oh, hi,” her mother muttered, yawning, looking up from her paper and over the reading glasses on her nose at her daughter.

Ruth Walker was lately a quiet woman, but still remained every bit as incisive as she had been before her husband died. She watched as Liz poured herself a mug of black coffee, dressed in her cardigan and one of JJ’s t-shirts. Only her skirt was the same from the night before. Liz had been careful to make sure she left her ruined t-shirt at John B’s. The sight of it might have been enough to make her mother burst into tears. Liz’s hair was back in a low ponytail, and Ruth immediately noticed the dark mark peeking out from the neckline of the t-shirt.

“Guess it was a fun party,” Ruth said, eyebrows raised but voice mostly disinterested.

Liz furrowed her brows at her mother’s tone, taking a sip of the coffee and turning to face her. “Hm?”

“That love bite on your neck,” Ruth explained, staring at the hickey.

Immediately, Liz flushed scarlet. She was glad she had left just after JJ, as the rest of the Pogues were still snoring. Certainly, someone would have noticed. They were usually careful, but as high as she and JJ were, she wasn’t entirely surprised they had gotten a bit carried away. She didn’t have time to stutter out a response before her mother continued.

“Just make sure he’s clean. And please don’t get pregnant,” Ruth said, sighing slightly. “Girls your age know nothing about nothing. We can’t add another mouth to feed into the mix. I don’t need that right now.”

Clearing her throat awkwardly, Liz looked down into her coffee and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t. You know I won’t.”

Shrugging, Ruth went back to her paper. From her spot leaning against the sink, Liz couldn’t quite make out what her mother was reading, but she knew what it was anyway. Especially since her mother held a red pen in her left hand. She was circling real estate listings from the Figure Eight. Houses they could never even dream of living in. Swallowing harshly, Liz tried not to think too hard about what her mother was doing and instead straightened her back, about to head to the bathroom.

“So, mom, I’m gonna shower and then head to work. I’m probably gonna stay at John B’s again tonight. And maybe a few more nights after, since John has-”

“Fine,” Ruth said flippantly, not bothering to listen to her daughter’s rambled reasonings. “Make good choices.”

Ruth didn’t look up from her paper as she spoke. Liz waited a minute for more, then finally made her way towards the small hallway when her mother kept silent.

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks au #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jjxoc #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank au #john b routledge #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #pope heyward #outer banks oc fanfiction #jj maybank oc fanfiction #tw: suicide

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excavatinglizard · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Fowl Should be Brought to Captain Pike's Office

Read it on AO3 or under the cut

Summary: Jim coerces Bones into helping him bring chickens to class.

Star Trek AOS fic using prompt: Is…is that a chicken in your backpack?

I saw the prompt and was immediately reminded of that one post (which I sadly can’t find for the life of me) so here we are

“Is…is that a chicken in your backpack?”

Jim grinned, and once again attempted to zip the protesting bag closed. “Technically Bones, it’s two chickens.”

Leonard’s eye twitched, “And why the hell do you have two chickens in your backpack?”

“Because I couldn’t fit three. The last one’s in your bag, in case you were wondering.”

Leonard was going to strangle Jim if the universe didn’t get there first.

—

Leonard peeked into his bag at the disgruntled pile of feathers with a large number ‘4’ stuck to its back. The chicken looked about as thrilled as he felt, and Leonard gently stroked its feathers in solidarity.

“You only said you had three chickens. What’s with the four?”

Jim’s eyes were shining as he turned with a mischievous smile to Leonard, “Ah, well, that’s the whole point. There are only three chickens, but no one needs to know that.”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Aww, come on Bones, you know you love me.” Jim nudged him with his shoulder and Leonard sighed for what must have been the fiftieth time that morning. “Besides, I know for a fact that I’m the only thing that has kept the last three years bearable for you. Without me, you’d be drinking in a bar somewhere, crying over Jocelyn,” he leant back and flung a hand theatrically against his forehead.

Leonard snorted, “Keep telling yourself that, kid. Now, where do you plan to let these things go? If I find chicken shit in my bag after this I swear…”

“Right here,” Jim cut him off, gesturing towards the back of the building that housed all the staff offices, “just make sure that you stay out of the cameras. I had Pike breathing down my neck for a week after he caught me and Gaila back here.”

Leonard followed Jim as he snuck to the bushes surrounding the path that led behind the building. Kneeling down, Jim unzipped his backpack to release the two rather flustered-looking chickens. Leonard did the same, and wrinkled his nose as his own chicken emerged. The brightly painted numbers glared back at him, and despite himself, Leonard began to feel anticipation.

As far as pranks went, Jim’s was relatively harmless— not like that time Leonard had been sprayed by some strange dye Christine was working with and ended up as blue as an Andorian for a week. Or the time someone had tried to steal one of Sulu’s swords while he was sleeping and lost the tip of his ear. Jim had grumbled the entire time as Leonard— with the help of a dermal regenerator— reconstructed the ear. The kid was insufferable, especially where his health was involved.

“I scattered chicken feed across campus, just to, y’know, make sure they don’t stay back here.” Jim shrugged nonchalantly, and Leonard couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

Leonard shook his head, “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he cast a glance at the chickens which were already wandering away, “Let’s get to class.”

—

They were halfway through their shared xenolinguistics class when the announcement came over the PA system: “Cadets, please be aware that, should you encounter any unexpected fowl on academy grounds, these birds should be brought immediately to captain Pike’s office. Thank y—” the end of the announcement was cut off by a squawking and a flutter of wings, followed by a brief curse, and the line going dead.

Jim turned from where he was sitting near the front of the lecture hall to grin at Leonard as the class broke out into murmurs and stifled giggles.

I wonder which one he found, Jim mouthed towards Leonard. At least that was what he assumed Jim had said. Even having taken classes his lip reading was shit. Leonard just shook his head and tried to hide his own smile as he looked back at the extract they were supposed to be translating.

Their instructor seemed to have been knocked off guard, fingers twitching as he stuttered that they should continue with the assigned work before he slipped out of the door.

A message popped up on the screen of Leonard’s PADD, obscuring the top of the extract

From J-asshole-kirk:

-whats got him in a tizzy?

~Did you really just say ‘tizzy’?

-at least I don’t say ‘all yall’

~Nothing wrong with saying y’all.

And to answer your question, Betazoids don’t like being around animals. Too much emotional transference.

-damn, I forgot about that.

~Maybe you wouldn’t if you ever listened in class.

- I wonder if Vulcans…

~Don’t even think about it. Spock hates you enough as it is.

-but Bonessss,,, its just so boring,,,

~You need to know this stuff if you’re going to be captain.

-thats what ill have you for?

~I’m a doctor Jim, not your goddamn nanny.

—

“What happened to you?” Jim asked with a smirk when Uhura sat down at their table in the cafeteria, feathers sticking out of her hair and her red shirt twisted at an odd angle. She scowled at him and thumped her tray down hard enough to shake the table.

“Some idiot released chickens on campus. Chickens. I just spent the last half hour helping Professor Spock look for them,” she sighed as she itched at a scratch on her wrist.

“You should probably get those checked out,” Leonard gestured towards the scrapes that circled Nyota’s hands, “don’t want ‘em getting infected.”

Nyota turned her scowl on him, and if he wasn’t already the king of death glares, Leonard would have melted under the intensity of it. As it was, he just lifted an eyebrow at Jim who was snickering into his mashed potatoes.

“I already got Christine to check them. Don’t you guys have something better to sterilize with? Rubbing alcohol stings like hell.”

“Didn’t know you were so weak, Cadet Uhura.”

Leonard ignored Jim and shrugged, “You could’ve asked her to use a sterilizing field, but the rubbing alcohol’s easiest. No reason to fix something that ain’t broken.”

Jim couldn’t contain his laughter anymore, and Nyota spun back to him, “And you! What’s so funny about this, huh? Those birds have been running all over school, and somehow Pike got put in charge of getting rid of them, which meant he asked Spock, who got me to help, because, and I quote, ‘Vulcans do not seek to interact with Terran creatures unless strictly necessary’.” She put her head in her hands, “We’ve caught three of them, and I just have to hope that we’re only missing one more.”

Jim was howling, and even Leonard found himself grinning. He felt bad for Nyota, really he did, but seeing Jim’s ridiculous plan come to fruition was hilarious and weirdly satisfying. He’d almost expected nothing exciting to happen, but where Pike and Jim were involved (whether they realized it or not, in Pike’s case) it was almost inevitable for chaos to follow. Leonard wondered if Pike ever regretted bringing Jim into Starfleet.

Probably not. The captain was an even worse influence than Jim.

Just then Jim’s PADD beeped, and he pulled it out, grin widening as he read the message. “Well, there’s Pike now. Want to come with me Bones?”

Leonard rolled his eyes but stood to discard his tray and follow Jim out of the chatter of the dining hall. Gaila was trying to console Nyota, but she gave Jim a sly smile and a thumbs-up as she pulled feathers out of her friend’s hair.

When they got to Pike’s office they found the captain sitting behind his desk with a grave expression and three chickens in a makeshift cage in the corner of the room. They looked significantly more comfortable than they had in the backpacks that morning, but still shuffled their feathers unhappily when Jim walked in, smirk firmly plastered on his face. He might have been written up for insubordination were they actually on a ship, but as it was Jim was still one of the best cadets in the academy and Leonard doubted anything could get him kicked out. Not that Pike would do it anyway; Jim was a wager he wasn’t going to lose.

“Kirk,” Pike sighed and shook his head, before reaching to pull something out of one of his drawers. Leonard saw Jim’s expression falter slightly before Pike placed a single egg into his palm.

They both stared at it dumbfounded, before looking up at Pike who was wearing a smirk of his own.

“Guess I should congratulate you on being a grandfather, cadet.”

Bones was wheezing.

#my writing #star trek #star trek alternate original series #jim kirk #starfleet academy #humor #fanfic

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hellfirenacht · 4 years

Text

The Convention Fic Chapter 4

Beetlejuice x Reader (Gender Neutral)

First Chapter

Friday (Evening)

It didn’t take long for you to get ready to head to the aquarium. You dug through your suitcase and pulled out the outfit that you had brought specifically for partying in. Though you knew that this was a date and wanted to look nice, the aquarium would allow everyone to wonder around for a few hours before letting those who paid for the After Party into one of the Ballrooms, which Beej was quick to inform you was a 21+ event.

You were practically bouncing with excitement as you changed and freshened up. The hyena that Beej had given you was sitting on the bed, protecting your phone as it charged. Beej was kicked back on the second bed, watching you with an amused grin.

“You know, you look great no matter what you’re wearing.” he commented, scanning you up and down. “But I gotta admit, if I wasn’t already dead you’d be killing me right now.”

You gave him a smirk. “Is that rigor mortis, or are you just happy to see me?”

He laughed, “And here I was worried that you’d be too tired for this.”

“Normal tired is gone, I’m only left with that kind of 4 AM tired where everything is funny and I’m invincible. But don’t worry- I completely intend to pass out as soon as we’re done.” you affirmed.

“That’s why you’re my best mod- you’re always ready to party and work.” he replied with a grin. “You ready to go yet, Babes?”

“Yup! Just gotta put my shoes on and I’m good to go!”

You grabbed your beat up tennis shoes, not wanting to risk blisters for the rest of the weekend. As much as you wanted to look good, you also had a job to do for the rest of the con. You swapped out your backpack for a small pouch that rested on your hip and around your waist and shoved your phone, camera battery, key, badge, and money in.

“Ready!”

Beetlejuice just snickered at you as he pulled himself off the bed and looked you over. “I gotta say Babes, you look stunning for our first date. The fanny pack is really doing it for me.”

You pouted slightly. “Watch it, Bug Boy.” you warned in a playful tone. “Besides have you ever washed that hoodie?”

“Nope!” he said with such pride for a second you were inclined to believe him.

The playful teasing continued as you made your way out of the building and towards the Aquarium a few blocks over. The sun was just now showing signs of going down, though late in the evening. Beej’s green-tipped hair was an interesting contrast to the warm yellows, reds, and hints of lavender of the setting sun. The air around you was comfortably warm as you crossed the busy street with other nerds who were also on their way to the nights event. The two of you cut through the large park where you had held the meet up the other evening, and Beetlejuice slipped his hand into yours again.

It was comfortable. Though the two of you had only met in person just the other night, not even 24 hours before, it didn’t feel awkward or strange. Maybe you were closer to him than you had originally thought. All those late nights in the chat, playing games, talking on cam, they suddenly meant so much more now that he was there with you. He was real, and the two of you were close, and now here you were, on a date. A real actual date. A warmth spread over you at the thought.

The air around the Aquarium was cooler than the air at the park. Perhaps it was the shadow the building cast in the late evening sun, or the slight smell of sea water that tinted the air. The two of you easily slid through security and presented your tickets before entering the building.

The aquarium was large and tall, split up into five different sections ranging from river fish to freshwater fish, to ocean fish. Together you decided to start at the river fish, and you pulled out the video camera. Though this was a date, both of you agreed that even if you didn’t post the footage, it was still something the two of you wanted to remember together. You couldn’t help but be okay with that, plus seeing him through the lense of the camera as well as in person felt right to you.

Together the two of you toured through the different sections, looking at fish, getting B-Roll footage of cosplayers and at one point Beej even interviewed a fan that came up and introduced themselves. With each new section brought new fish and creatures for the two of you to point and look at. Beetlejuice was fascinated by all the creatures, which surprised you.

“I’ve never been able to see fish before.” he stated, which seemed like a strange answer. “I’ve never been to a fish zoo or even the beach before so this is all new to me. You know, I never understood the whole thing with humans being obsessed with other animals but I think I get- oh my god they glow!!”

Beej grabbed you by the arm and pointed excitedly at the Jellyfish that were glowing against the blacklight of the tank that they were chilling in. Beej’s smile was so wide and his pupils were so large that you his eyes almost looked black. It was clear that this man was going to lose his shit at any fish that had bioluminescence. He was practically shaking with excitement as he pressed his face up against the glass like a little kid.

You did manage to scoot him out of the way to allow yourself room to get some footage of the tangled mass of jellyfish. You agreed- it was really cool seeing the different fish glowing under blacklight. As you pointed the camera a Beej again, you swore that he was glowing under the light as well- the same green that you saw back in the arcade just the night before. You made a mental note to ask him what kind of hair dye he used but for now, your breath was caught in your throat with how... weirdly beautiful he looked.

He was still the same Beej that you had seen a million times before on a screen, but there were some things about him that a camera just couldn’t do justice towards. His laugh was louder in person, and right now it felt more honest. Not that you were surprised, you always understood that internet personalities were just that- personalities. You saw what they wanted you to see but with Beej it felt different. Yes, in this time and place it was a more intimate experience being next to him and seeing him in person, but you were starting to realize how genuine and honest he was with his audience. You could feel your heart swell at the thought, not only could he be himself on camera, he could also be himself with you.

“Oh man I’d stay here all night if I could!” he said, leading you out with a big smile on his face. “Next year we’re staying an extra day and we’re gonna sneak in here at night and scooba dive with the jellyfish.”

“That’s a terrible idea.” you laughed. “I’m in.”

He smiled at you, his eyes still shining with excitement. “And that’s why I asked you to be here with me!”

“Someone’s gotta bail you out of jail when your roommates aren’t around.” you countered.

The tour ended with the last area- the Ocean fish. It took you a little bit longer to make your way in there, as the two of you stood in front of the exhibit, pointing your camera at the mascot of the aquarium; a large orange fish named Deepo.

The two of you stood there, laughing hard. Beej has his phone out and was going live as the two of you laughed at the ridiculous looking fish.

“Disney... Disney please sue something!” Beej begged, zooming in on the wide lifeless eyes of the statue that smiled across time and space. “DEEPO. His name.. Oh God-Satan his name is DEEPO!”

There were tears streaming down your face as you both pointed and laughed. Around you, some other con goers were also taking pictures, while some were looking at the two of you like you were high or drunk. It didn’t matter, the point is Deepo would either save your soul or destroy it. After cities collapsed, oceans dried up, and humans were eradicated- Deepo would live on as the uncaring God of the New World.

You really needed to get some real sleep tonight.

After finally pulling yourselves together, the two of you straightened up and finally the two of you stepped into the large tunnel, finding yourselves surrounded by fish and soft blue lighting. You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as you looked up, seeing a fish swim over your head. All around you was ocean life- the tunnel was right under a large tank, allowing you to see fish from every angle.

“Oh wow...” you whispered, looking up. Beej took the camera from your hands and started filming as you took in the view. Fish of all colors, shapes, and sizes were swimming around the two of you, feeling so close even though the glass protecting the tunnel was at least two feet thick.

“I gotta admit, this is pretty impressive.” you heard Beej from across the tunnel, filming a small school of yellow fish. “I’m glad we- oh holy shit!” his head shot upwards and you followed his line of site and gasps.

Above the two of you, a whale passed over head, followed by a shark.

“That’s a shark!” Beej gawked, following the creature with the camera. “Holy crap, that’s a shark! Babes, I want that. I want that shark. I love that shark. I need that shark to live.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re dead because it’s staying here.” you replied, eyes still glued to the top of the tunnel, watching the larger fish swim around you. It was absolutely breath-taking. You moved to the side of the tunnel until your legs hit a ledge for you to sit on, keeping an eye on everything around you. You were suddenly okay with the suggestion of just staying here forever with these fish. You had no clue that fish could make you feel this safe or content.

After a few minutes, you glanced over at Beetlejuice who had the camera pointed at you. How long had he been filming you staring at the fish? You felt a little embarrassed now.

“Hey, I thought this was your show.” you said, trying not to be embarrassed.

“It is, and I like to show off things that make me happy.” he said with a wink. “Plus you’re stunning in this light. I can’t be the only one that looks good here.”

The compliment felt warm in your chest compared to the cool air of the aquarium. You wanted to brush it off, or tell him no, or even fire something back at him but instead you said something that surprised yourself.

“Thank you.”

You accepted the compliment with grace and a smile. It felt true- between the amazing lighting, the outfit you had chosen, and the feeling of being with Beetlejuice... you felt stunning. Moe than that, with Beej around you felt seen. You felt like all your hard work went both noticed and appreciated. Everything you did for him he thanked you, praised you, told you how much it meant to him. He saw something in you that you hadn’t seen for yourself in a long time. For this moment, you could see yourself the way he saw you- an amazingly capable person, a fun person, a giant fucking nerd, a friend, a crush.

That was the confidence boost you needed, and you felt secure. You felt safe. You felt like you could do anything you wanted because knowing that someone you looked up to and respected so much could see it in you. You stood up and walked over to him, keeping eye contact the entire time. You reached out and lowered the arm that held his camera knowing that this next moment was for just the two of you.

Beej got the hint and allowed you to stay in control of the situation, knowing exactly what was going to happen next. You reached out and touched his cheek, feeling the scratchy beard against the palm of your hand. Briefly you wondered how much maintenance it took for him to keep it tinted green like his hair before leaning in and pressing your lips against his.

His mouth shifted into a smile against yours as his free hand rested on your lower back. The cool skin of his lips combined with the cool air around you caused goosebumps to appear on your arms and the back of your neck. The kiss was short, only a few seconds long, but it was enough. When you pulled back, Beej was grinning hard and you could almost swear that he had hearts in his eyes. The two of you stared at each other like the dopey love-struck idiots that you were for a moment before you took his hand.

“Come on, Love Bug.” you said. “Let’s keep going.”

The two of you finally made your way out of the tunnel after getting a few more shots of different fish before making your way into the next room. Again, you were almost rendered speechless as the two of you found yourselves in front of a large tank that stretched from the floor to a very high ceiling. The large tank gave you a perfect view of how large the whales and sharks were compared to the smaller fish. There were whales and stingrays and large bloated looking fish you had never seen before.

Maybe you would take up Beej on the offer of breaking in to spend the night.

The two of you found a spot to sit in front of the large glass wall as you stared out into the water. In this moment, no words needed to be said. For once Beetlejuice was enjoying a comfortable silence as the two of you put away the camera and just let yourselves be. His hand found yours, and your head found his shoulder. Together for the next half hour, you rested and just took in the view of the amazing sea creatures swimming around.

Around you, cosplayers took amazing pictures next to the tank, nerds took selfies with the fish, and the two of you couldn’t help but laugh a bit at one pink-haired cosplayer crying happy drunk tears over one of the large bloated looking fish. (“It’s so ugly!” she cried and laughed. “I love grouper fish! I love him so much he’s so ugly he’s beautiful!”).

You almost dozed off once or twice as you rested against Beetlejuice. It felt so relaxing being next to him, that you wished that you could just spend the rest of the weekend here. But after a while, he nudged you.

“You still good to go to the after party?” he asked. “It’s gonna start soon, but if you’re tired I understa-”

“I’m gonna party!” you yawned and stood up. “Give me a sec to wake up and I’ll be good to go.”

You took a moment to stretch and get your body to wake up. Turns out at the fish for however long you two were there had left you feeling pretty well rested and happy. Your brain was still a little fried from spending the past few days on little sleep but you could make the the next few hours.

By the time the two of you made it into the ballroom where the party was being held, the DJ was already blasting music and people were lining up at the two bars set up on each end of the large room. There were two glass walls on different sides of the rooms, much smaller than what you had just been looking at but still large enough to peer in and see it was large enough to fit in a few whales. The tanks were dark at the moment, you assumed to give the animals some rest after a long day of being gawked at, but a few congoers were still camped out by the viewing areas, relaxing with their drink and peering into the darkened tanks.

The two of you bought some drinks and found an empty standing table to stay at for the moment. There was a large dance floor in the upper right corner of the room, the DJ booth next to it. On the wall they were projecting clips from various animes and also Steven Universe for some reason. That was the only non-anime being shown on the screen, and you wondered who had put the looping montage together.

Beej chugged down his two drink quickly, itching to get to the dancefloor. “I gotta show these breathers how to really party!” he said.

You had to admit, you wanted to get on the dance floor as well. The DJ was playing an amazing mix of anime, cartoon openings, group dances, old emo music and songs that would make any nerd get up and dance.

The music woke you up better than the drink in your hand. Beej politely waited for you to finish it before dragging you to the dance floor. Beej was a beast once he was in the crowd, jumping from group to group and dancing with anyone who would let him close. You couldn’t even be jealous when he found himself in the middle of a group of girls as he began flossing like there was no tomorrow.

You could have sworn he said he hated flossing before. You wondered if that changed one he actually learned how to do it.

The crowd started to form into a circle around Beej. People jumped in and out, showing off their moves and having small dance-offs. Everywhere people were cheering and having fun. The DJ changed songs, and a spark ignited inside you- this was a song that you knew very well. A specific song from A Goofy Movie that made every inch of your body suddenly go feral. Beej had his moment in the spotlight but now it was your turn.

You were about to teach these nerds what it really meant to do the Perfect Cast.

You waited for the right moment to jump in, your confidence fueled by the slight buzz of alcohol in your system combined with your amazing date with Beej. This was the moment you had been waiting for your entire life, and nothing could fucking stop you.

The chorus kicked in and you found yourself rushing to the center, looking around at the crowd and starting on the dance that you had learned so long ago. Everyone lost their shit.

“THEY’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT!”

“WOOO!”

“IT’S THE PERFECT CAST!!!”

“TEACH ME PLEASE!”

“Oh snap, looks like we got someone who knows their Disney!” a voice said over the speaker and you realized that the DJ was talking about you over the mic. You snapped back into reality with a huge smile and looked over at Beej who couldn’t have been more proud of you. As you jumped back to the side of the circle and let someone else take over you got a few highfives and compliments.

“Damn Babes, why didn’t you tell me you could dance?” Beej asked, still smiling wide.

“I forgot!” you laughed. “Oh wow, I haven’t done that in forever. I... I forgot I knew it until I did it!”

The two of you danced together on and off for the rest of the night, taking breaks to occasionally have another drink or rest. Beej had much more stamina than you, seemingly never needing to rest or take breaks. When you needed a second to catch your breath he’d hover between making sure you were okay and running back to the dance floor. You honestly didn’t mind, you loved seeing him out there, making friends and being the center of attention.

By the end of the evening, as the party was starting to draw to a close, you found yourself sitting against the viewing glass, tipsy and happily gazing out into dark tank where a few whales swam in circles. The pink-haired girl who you’d seen earlier crying over fish was next to you, seemingly in the same boat. There was an unspoken agreement that this spot was the Quiet Spot. Even though behind you a party raged on, filled with nerds, and lights, and alcohol, this spot was for being drunk and watching fish. This was a pastime you could get used to.

“There you are!” came a voice from behind you, causing the two of you to jump slightly. You looked up at beej and held your finger to your lips.

“Shhhh....” you whispered loudly. “You’ll throw off the whales.” okay, maybe you were closer to the side of drunk than tipsy.

The DJ started playing Don’t Stop Believing and there was a roar of excitement from the crowd behind you as drunk nerds scrambled to the dance floor. A chorus of voices of all kinds filled the air as everyone in the room seemed to sing along to the music that was pulsating through the air.

“I think I’m having a religious experience.” the pink haired girl said, as she stared continued staring at the whales.

“Me too.” you said, to Beej’s amusement. “Same time next year?”

The girl nodded in agreement. “May the whales don’t stop believing.” she said solemnly.

You stood up, wobbling a bit, but Beej held you steady. “You usually this much of a light weight?” he asked.

“Strong drinks.” you mumbled with a smile, leaning into him.

“Alright, I think you’re partied out.” Beej said. “Your fragile human body needs sleep. And probably other things too.”

“Water... food.” you replied and the two of you made your way out of the building, headed back towards your hotel. The night air felt good against your warmed skin, you didn’t realize how warm the room had gotten with so many people dancing. You were comfortably drunk with a dopey grin on your face as you clung to Beetlejuice.

“Hey... Beej.... are you my... booooooyfriend?” you asked, looking up at him.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Babes.” he replied. “Think you can handle dating a demon?”

“Pffff... you aren’t scaaaary.” you slurred, and laughed at the offended look on Beej’s face.

“Excuse you, I am the ghost with the most!” he said. “I’m the scariest demon you’ll ever meet!”

“If you say so, neeeeeeeeerd!” you giggled.

Beetlejuice managed to drag your drunk ass back up to your room, and helped you use your key card. This time you did not immediately drop your pants (much to Beej’s dismay) but instead went straight to the bathroom to pee, wash your face, and get a glass of water.

“Beej... Beej I got a secret.” you said as you exited the bathroom.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m a little bit drunk.” you giggled and took a few long gulps of water.

“No shit?” he smiled at you.

“Not even a little turd.” he laughed at that.

“I’m gonna... I’m gonna drink this water so I’m functional tomorrow.” you set the glass down. “OH! Oh! I did... I did something smart!” you were bouncing on your feet.

“You’re the one that holds all the braincells here, but what did you do specifically?” Beej watched you with an amused grin as you stumbled slightly to the mini-fridge and pulled out a to-go box. “Got more food at Waffle House when we went. Because I’m SMART!”

The two of you turned on the tv to watch a movie with too many commercials as you ate your cold waffle and drank your glass of water. You soon found yourself resting against his shoulder again.

“Hey Beej?” you asked. “Where are you staying this weekend anyway?”

He stiffened slightly at the question. He wasn’t ready to tell you that he was just teleporting between the con and his home hundreds of miles away.

“I uh, don’t exactly have a room.” he replied, hoping that your drunk brain would let it go. It didn’t.

“What?” you looked up at him. “Wh-where are you sleeping?” your eyes looked like they were tearing up, oh shit, oh fuck, he did NOT want to make you cry. “Are you sleeping in your car??”

“Yes!” he blurted out. “I am... sleeping in my car!”

“No!” you pouted. “No! Bad Beetlejuice!” you stood up with a look that would be angry if it wasn’t coming from a half-drunk breather. “Stupid Beej, dumbass...” you mumbed to yourself and walekd over to the tv, grabbing a small envelope and pulling something out. “Can’t do anything without me, I swear.” you threw a piece of plastic at him and he looked it over. It was an extra key-card. “You’re staying HERE for the rest of the weekend you stupid, dumb... stupid face!”

When his mom had yelled at him when she was drunk, it was horrifying. He’d retreat into himself and tell himself he was as worthless as she said he was. With you, it was different. Your words sounded angry, but your eyes were full of hurt and concern. You didn’t really think he was stupid, or maybe you did, but either way it wasn’t a feeling of malice towards him. Someone was concerned for him, someone cared, someone wanted him around.

Who was he to say no to that?

“Alright, alright, if it would make you happy.” he replied with a grin. “But where am I gonna sleep, there’s only one bed!”

You looked at him in confusion, glancing between the two beds in the room. You were drunk but you weren’t stupid. At least, you didn’t think so.

“Beej there’s another bed right there...?” you questioned yourself. Was there one bed or two?

Beej stood up and grabbed a hold of your suitcase that was laying on the floor in the corner of the room. He walked over to the second bed and sloppily dumped out the contents onto the spare bed.

“I dunno what you’re talking about, all I see is this large pile of clothes!” he smirked. “I don’t know about you but in my experience humans don’t usually sleep on piles of laundry.”

You smiled and let out a small chuckle. “Oh, silly me. I suppose you’re right. There’s only one bed. One large bed that we could both fit in.”

“I insist that you take the bed and I will sleep on the floor.” he smiled.

“No no no, you’re the guest, you take the bed.” you said, grabbing his arm and pulling him onto the bed. He pulled back the covered and crawled in.

“Nah, I think you should take the bed.” he pulled you close against him, allowing you to take in his scent.

“...Your hoodie smells awful, take it off.” you grumbled, helping him remove the offending piece of clothing. You wondered if he had been correct about not washing it ever.

You didn’t hear anything after that as sleep overtook you quickly. Beej’s cool body under the warm blankets created the perfect temperature for falling asleep. Beej held you against his chest and turned on the tv low. He didn’t need to sleep, but he would stay until you woke up. Your warmth and weight on him allowing him a feeling that he’d only ever felt in one other place.

To Beetlejuice, you felt like home.

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#nacht fic #beetlejuice x reader #gamer beej #the convention fic

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