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collisiondiscourse · 3 years

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on the wonder duo (part 1)

(BNHA Analysis Post Ahead! This isn’t explicitly romantic, but it is an analysis of the relationship between the two most popular characters in BNHA--Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya. Split into two posts because I realized that this was gonna be long as HELL)

yall ever think about the fact that the wonder duo is perfectly set up in so that bakugou and deku together are the better version of all might?

bc like. ive been thinking.

everyone knows the win to save and save to win parallel. How they are supposedly two halves of a whole perfect hero (which, previously, was defined as all might)

but ever since bakugou and deku started working as one—growing together to win AND save and continuously reminding each other that they shouldnt try to do things alone, ive realized that its BECAUSE theres two of them that they surpass all might. its not a case of deku and bakugou both being 50% of an ideal hero, but rather i think that they are 100% of what all might SHOULD HAVE BEEN from the very beginning.

as early as the AM v AFO battle in kamino, we see the effects of all mights flawed existence. the fact that he, the greatest and supposedly infallible symbol of peace, was destroyed—society had begun to collapse. there was suddenly no pillar to hold people together and the impacts were so severe that even in the latest chapters of mha it keeps on getting worse. the truth is, all mights biggest mistake was the burden he placed on his own shoulders

with bakugou and deku... its different.

its different for them because down to their attributions, they seem like two halves of a whole person.

i think that the wonder duo are going to surpass all might because of the fact that they work together.

@bakugoukatsuki-rising @svpercraigus @tybee @isaustraliaathing

(batshit crazy and conspiratorial essay under the cut !)

1. Complementary Colors

I’d like to first preface literally everything I say by the fact that I am not an expert analyzer or literary major in any way. I am literally just some random fan on the internet who has wayyy too much time and looks wayyy too deep into things, but here we go!

A common thing we see when we talk about bakugou and deku is the way they are... sort of an inverse of one another.

Down to the design of their features and the way they move, Deku is the obviously softer of the two. There’s an intentional contrast between the two of them, in the way that Deku’s drawn with round shapes and curvy hair and the way Bakugou is literally all spikes and half-mast eyes and rough muscles. Bakugou’s movements too are languid and showy, with the way he leans when he walks and splays his legs and kicks open doors. Katsuki, in a casual sense, is loud and dramatic.

Deku on the other hand s finicky. He jitters when he walks and he’s often fidgeting and mumbling. Comparatively, the aura he radiates is energetic and frenzied, even self-conscious to a point unlike Bakugou’s calm and confident movements.

the point is, there’s a clear difference in how either of them are designed and what exactly they are supposed to represent. They utterly complement each other down to the way they behave and even their main colors (red-orange and blue-green) being literal complementary colors.

Now, moving to my more ungrounded points, this is quite a bit of a stretch so I’ll try as much as possible to make sense of these with hyperlinked sources because. yeah.

Down to their names, I think Deku and Bakugou both symbolize something deeper. I think that the way Hori expresses characters and what they’re meant to do is something that we have to pay close attention to when we talk about the Wonder Duo’s rise to success.

Izuku Midoriya (緑谷出久), as some of us may know, does have an interesting meaning when broken up. According to a lovely fan translation of his name, ‘Izuku’--while not an actual name used commonly in real life--means to ‘Come out’ or ‘Long time’. ‘Midoriya’ on the other hand means (Midori) ‘Green’ and (ya) ‘valley’. The translator further pointed out that his first name ‘Izuku’ could be a reference to him being the first legendary hero to come out of the long-running All Might Era. (or, if you’ve been reading @/bakugoukatsuki-rising’s posts, the first significant anime protag in a long while to come out as queer, ppfft)

but that isn’t my focus right now.

We know that Hori LOVES telling stories with names, and more often than not in the BNHA universe, names alone tell us a lot of things about the characters. When referring to Izuku’s last name, Midoriya, it’s important I think to step back and realize that hey, maybe there’s something more to Green Valley than just the fact that his motif is all green.

After searching for a lil on the specifics of green valley, I’ve found out that across many cultures, the colour green and valleys in general tend to represent life. From dream analysts, to Christianity, and even old Taoist teachings, valleys are seen as areas of fertility and escape. They are seen as safe havens and often escapes for people to come to after running away from bad circumstances.

(Sound familiar?)

Deku, in essence represents life and peace. He represents being the “salvation” that the world in BNHA needed. To me, it sounds like Horikoshi is trying to say that he is the long-awaited hero in the sense. The one that people can feel will create a society that feels safe for everyone after years of All Might just saving people from themselves as a band-aid solution.

On the other hand, we have Katsuki Bakugou (爆豪勝己), who’s name we commonly know means (Katsuki) Winner and (Bakugou) Explosion Master. He is essentially, the champion. The power. His name means success and power and all the things that make up winning.

When putting them side by side, it then becomes increasingly... interesting to me how their names almost perfectly slot into All Might’s save to win and win to save mantra, and how they are both quintessential parts to what made All Might as a hero.

2. Hero Too!

Now, I’m not even gonna really TOUCH much of what happens in canon. If you want me to do a step by step breakdown of their arcs in regards to the plot of manga and anime, feel free to send me a gratuitous ko-fi tip so I can pay for the headache I get after trying to organize my thoughts into word vomit.

What I WILL talk about on the other hand, is the subtle shift both of them slowly have in regards to how they look. Bakugou and Deku, while growing up, seem to have MANY many parallels--but before I elaborate on all of that, I wanna talk about something else.

Detour: Deku’s Red Shoes

We all know the iconic symbol being Deku’s red shoes. For all his life, save for some outfits like his hero one, we see Deku more often than not wearing his signature red sneakers which have become a running joke in fandom.

But the funny thing is, in Japan, red shoes seem to have an interesting connotation.

In 1922, a popular Japanese nursery rhyme was written, called “Red Shoes”. The interesting part to me about this song was the symbolism that, in my tiny pea-sized brain, I could connect to the story of BNHA.

The story goes that there was a little girl with red shoes named ‘Kimi’. She was from Shizuoka prefecture (which, if you didn’t know, is most likely where Musutafu supposedly is) and was raised by a single mother. When she was young, her mother had to entrust her with a foreigner under the impression that they would give her a better life in America. The stranger is a man named Charles Hewitt (who was described to have blue eyes) and supposedly took her away.

The singer of the song (supposedly the mother, but some argue it was written from the perspective of a childhood friend) believes that Kimi is happy and living a better life away from them, when the reality of the situation was much worse. The young girl with red shoes in actuality had Tuberculosis, and thus the foreigner whom she was entrusted to had left her to fend for herself and eventually left her to go to America while she died alone and orphaned.

“When I see red shoes, I think of her.”

A very interesting story with very interesting implications indeed.

Anyway, moving on to the more... “nuanced” and connected parts of this section, I have every reason to believe that Bakugou and Deku were simply MEANT to be working together down to how they dress. Now, I’d like to discuss their hero costumes.

At the start of their series, using these godawful pics for reference, it’s clear to see that neither of them seem alike in any way--reflecting the dissonance in their relationship at that point in canon.

ough. deku why. (yes we know why its because you love your mom you stupid little bunny <3)

Anyway, we see an immediate gap in how the two of them are. Deku’s first costume is one that reflects how he treated his dream of being a hero. He was still in that childlike idolization phase, the one where his dreams and aspirations were hinged on pure feelings and inspiration from All Might. Katsuki on the other hand was a lot more tactical--professional to an extent. The gap between their respective development with their quirks is something that is clearly felt in every fashion decision they’d made.

(Notice how Deku’s green is a lot brighter and less like the green accents Katsuki has all over his costume.)

As time progressed however... their costumes changed. The colors, the silhouettes, the practical functions, most things.

(Deku’s Gamma Costume and Bakugou’s Winter Costume used respectively)

we begin to notice a few similarities.

As the show goes on and we see more evolutions of their costumes, it almost seems like they begin to look like a matching pair. Deku’s green grows darker and almost teal in nature, while Bakugou’s orange is veering towards red territory. This is important to note because red-orange and blue-green as I said earlier were complementary colors as compared to simply orange and green. The minute shift is something I really wasn’t quite sure was intentional, but something I find interesting to pick up nonetheless as the colors they used to accent their costumes begin to match up.

Secondly, I think and important thing to note is silhouettes. The way that both Bakugou and Deku’s costumes are designed follow a lot of parallels that typically we don’t see with the rest of 1-A. For one, they both have a combination of tight long-sleeved tops with a bulkier set of bottoms. They also share the use of utility belts and metal pieces typically worn around their necks. Deku has his bunny-eared hood that mimics All Might’s hair, while Bakugou has his orange and black explosion ear-pieces that mimic his own quirk.

i don’t think any other people in class 1-A match each other as subtly yet strongly as these two. Uraraka and Deku and Bakugou and Kirishima do come close however.

“But Codi, you fucking knob!” I hear you plea. “This is such a reach and tells us practically NOTHING!” And yes, I’m inclined to agree with you! You’d be sort of right in the idea that this is a reach. Maybe I am looking too much into this, and maybe it really isn’t that deep--but I do think that them subconsciously matching outfits means something quite brilliant.

In the way that their costumes are designed, each aspect of either outfits have a very logical explanation. The changes were strategic and made with their fighting styles vividly in mind, so what that tells me is that BECAUSE these costumes are so complementary or similar in nature (Bakugou’s reinforcing his arms while Deku reinforces his legs), these two are implicitly showing the audience that their combat styles are complementary as well.

The evolution of their design choices and similarities tell us that even unknowingly, their minds line up in strategy on the battlefield--a clear exhibit for why they would be INCREDIBLY POWERFUL as a Hero Duo to begin with.

When I look at their hero costumes side by side, I see a mirror. I see the way that these two are reflections of each other and are strong where the other isn’t. The point I see in BNHA repeatedly is that EVERYONE HAS A WEAKNESS. Nothing is infallible, regardless of how hard you train or how powerful your quirk is. Everyone will always have a weakness, but the significant difference I see when fandom discusses the future of Pro-Hero Society is that the new generation is finally raising itself to be RELIANT on each other.

Observing their fighting styles and the simple use of their quirks, its obvious that they are indeed two parts of a whole hero. Bakugou, who’s quirk emphasized his arms and hands and the power that comes from it, while Deku who’s quirk now emphasizes his legs and lower body and the way he’s always running to save people.

IN CONCLUSION:

As they become heroes, it is easy to assume that if nothing else, Bakugou and Deku will cover each other’s weak spots (especially when you consider the way Deku probably won’t be able to keep using his arms with the way both the anime and manga are going...) (also chapter 285, anyone?)

Part Two: Interactions, OfA

kofi || commission details

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pistachoz · 4 years

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legally blonde, tenth doctor

pairing: tenth doctor x fem!reader

synopsis: between trips and adventures with the doctor, you finally find the perfect timing to change your look. with no pointless dress codes to follow anymore, you try dyeing your hair on your own, ending up in a string of botched outcomes and unexpected confessions.

wc: 3K

warnings: none, mild cursing maybe??

author's note: oof, this took me more than i expected and it definitely ended up being waaay more. anyway, this is my first piece of writing for the doctor -also in general- and what a better way than start with a fluffy one! i hope it turned out decent! my first language it’s not english, so you can expect some -more like a lot of- writing mistakes.

also, a big shout out to @plxstic-rose bc she has been my biggest supporter when i felt like i couldn’t do this, she has helped me so much ily 🥺 💞

(GIF IS MINE)

A grimace appeared on your face as the sour taste of the coffee filled your mouth, you definitely needed to bring yours the next time you stopped on earth because the alien version of it tasted like stomach bile. You weren't even sure if it had proper caffeine or it was drug-fueled tea.

With a resigned sigh, you put the cold mug in the mirrored vanity table in front of you and checked your phone. Five minutes more and you would be rinsing the red dye out of your shower cap covered hair. You lift the right side of the cap slightly, trying to peek at your tinted hair, the pale red -almost blonde- pigments made your breath hitch in a halt.

Was it supposed to look that light? Oh crap, you should have gone to the salon.

That was actually going to be the original plan. You had been procrastinating changing your look; nothing wrong with the colour and length you normally had but since you started travelling with the doctor, you didn't count with office regulations to follow anymore so you considered shaking up a bit your aesthetic. Yet, it seemed as you could never stop to take a breath and the times you did, was always on strange-named planets where your peaceful state of mind lasted a couple of minutes. So, you took it upon yourself to change your look on your own. You knew it could have any sort of downfall, but you didn't really want to nag the doctor into making a 'short' stop on earth -even though you knew he wouldn't mind- just for a date at the salon. He needed a well-deserved rest after all the uncontrollable lifesaving shenanigans and every time you came back to earth, somehow you ended up enticing some sort of trouble.

Besides, how hard could it be, right?

You barged into the installed bathroom connected to your room and locked the door as soon as you stepped inside. The last thing you needed was for the doctor to burst in looking for you while you were in the middle of this crucial transformation, and even though he was probably too distracted tinkering around the console of the TARDIS, you knew how intrusively spontaneous he could be when he finds something new. It wouldn't be a first to hear him enter your bedroom in a spur-of-the-moment with enthusiastic hand gestures and euphoric rants about alien-y stuff.

You grabbed the light blue hand-sized towel that rested upon the toilet tank and draped it around your shoulders. A jittery feeling building up in the pit of your stomach at the prospect of how your new hair would look like.

You weren't particularly bold when it came to your style, always stuck with what you could call an average look, to be fair, before the doctor, your whole life was just brimming with a never-ending stodgy routine that encased every aspect of your life. You didn't see the point of making more than few changes in your image and it was not like your office let you go too risky either.

This was going to be the first radical change in your appearance, and you were lying if you didn't say a fit of excitement was already bubbling up your throat. You didn't know what exactly had gotten into you, but you were so adamant to do something. Perhaps it was the stockpiled adrenaline from all those adventures catching up on you, perhaps this was something you were going to regret later. Either way, right now, you could only think of how satisfying it would be to finally match your current lifestyle. New and thrilling.

To be completely honest, you were also eager to see the doctor's reaction. Of course, you were not doing this because of him…well, not for the best part, but a piece of you wished it would have some sort of effect on him.

You knew this regeneration was cheekier and maybe you were reading too much between the lines but sometimes you could swear there was something more in all those subtle touches and lingering hugs. The shared gazes that let you wonder if this was just some friendly treatment or if he really meant something deeper made your mind go into a frenzy.

You also knew that appearances didn't really matter to him but the need of looking bolder and more luring was still there. You wanted, for once and for all represent how traveling with him had changed you into someone who would risk more than just a ‘change of look´. You were becoming the best version of yourself and you wanted to show him that in more than one way, but one step at the time.

Warily, you lifted the plastic cap; your sticky hair popping in every direction. Without a prior look, you stooped over the sink and manoeuvred your head under the sprout. After some unsuccessful tries, you managed to open it and began massaging your scalp with your fingertips.

After swilling away the shampoo and applying the conditioner; you grasped the towel laying around your shoulders and swaddled your hair up in a turban.

You straighten your back and stroked your hair through the towel, trying -quite poorly- to pump it dry. You didn't anticipate it to be this gruelling. In fact, you thought this would be some sort of restful hiatus from your general tense state, but apparently, this had drained you more than expected.

Resignedly, you undid the coiled towel on top of you and let your new dyed hair fall freely behind you. The air fell out of your lungs and your stomach dropped when you stared at the sight of your reflection.

You were blonde. Blonde.

What in the name of god did you do? You were so sure you followed every instruction of the flipping tint box in lockstep- well, judging by the results, you obviously had made a mistake at some point, maybe even skipped one, but how catastrophic had it been that you ended up looking like a defective version of a Weasley that had awfully light shrimp coloured hair.

A trembling neigh-like sound left your mouth when you touched the ends of your hair. What were you supposed to do now? You didn't even have any dye left to apply another layer and asking the doctor for help was ruled out. He couldn't see you like this. Nobody could see you like this, for your dignity's sake.

This was all on you. You needed to think of something. Anything.

Hats, of course! The TARDIS must’ve a good stash of those, you knew you could find something in the never-ending wardrobe. That thing was three times bigger than your flat.

Well, problem solved. You were going to use a hat until your hair grew enough to cut it or until you stopped on earth again and got the chance to go to a proper hairdresser.

Good god, who were you kidding? This was a mess.

With shaky fingers, you fumble your way out the bathroom and dashed out of your room, in search for your only resource.

---

"You won't believe what I found underneath the floor panel!" You heard the doctor's elated voice buzzing through your room before he could even fling your door wide open.

All you managed to convey was a muffled hum through your pillowed-smashed face. Too tired sulking the crime you made to your hair to turn around from your current position. Your limp body was sprawled all over the bed; arms and legs stretched at your sides with your face buried deep down the mattress.

Without waiting for a proper response, he roved across your room and resumed his explanation of his oh-so-great discover with a shit-eating grin.

You didn't need to see him to know the already too familiar gestures he was making. You could picture with the most minimal detail how his eyes would sparkle with wonder and how a contagious gleam dotted the signature boyish grin he always wore.

You smiled fondly.

You could still remember thoroughly the first time you saw him in all his glory, ranting about scientific stuff you could not understand and even though you had never seen the man before, the brightness on his eyes and the insatiable curiosity he radiated made you grin almost immediately.

You sat up slowly; grunting when you stretched your arms upwards. You moved your head from side to side, trying to stir yourself up completely awake.

"…So technically, it should be able to make the TARDIS' chameleon barrier unfroze. Well... the possibilities are thirteen out of a hundred, but I-" He stopped mid-sentence when he turned around and saw you sitting on the edge of the bed.

He tilted his head slightly to the side and a puzzled look crossed his face like he was trying to figure out what was out of place with you.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Thankfully, you had managed to find a Kangol black bucket hat. It was pretty simple; a small metal fuchsia arrow was stamped on the front and the brim was big enough to fit all of your hair inside. Still It was just not your style. Well, the other option was an animal print floppy one, the type that Lady gaga would wear. So, you had to settled with the e-girl-angsty-teen looking.

"That's new" His left eyebrow quirked curiously.

"What?" Good job; try playing dumb and maybe like that he won’t notice it.

"The hat, I- " he made a circular motion around his head "I don't think I've seen you wear one before"

"Oh, I um- wanted to try something different?" You stated but the wince in your voice made it sound more like a question.

“Right, yeah” he rushed "It's not like it doesn't suit you"

"Right" You fidgeted absent-minded with the hem of your sweatshirt, trying to think of something to break the awkwardness “So… you were saying?”

"Oh yes!" a playful glint overtaking his features “I think I found a way to repair the malfunction on the chameleon circuit and hopefully it will be better than that time I tried a block transfer computation. I was so close, well- not that close but at least I managed to build a part of the outer plasmic shell. Anyways, if we are lucky enough, we could stop travelling around looking like a 'blue box'" he raised his eyebrows, a devilish smile gracing his lips.

“Hold on, didn’t you say it was kind of unsafe?”

"Oh no, don’t worry! It’s danger-free… for the most part, well actually, it’s a 4 out of ten, maybe 5. But I’m sure the old girl can handle- "

A shrilling alarm started echoing through the TARDIS’ walls and you almost fell out of the bed when the floor started shaking uncontrollably. The doctor stumbled upon his own feet and with strained struggle and held out his hand to help you up.

"You were saying?" You muttered, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

With one hand locked onto the doctor's and the other extended to keep balance in the middle of the tremble, you managed to head out of your room. As soon as you stepped outside, you were greeted with red flashing lights going off all around the TARDIS.

"Careful" You heard the doctor called out, his voice barely perceivable. You had to double check to understand his next words "We need to get to the console"

Both of you tried the hardest to advance without falling or tripping over. The din of your footsteps lost in the middle of the shrieking noise. You could feel the vibration of the walls crawling to your brain and rumbling. The longer you spend running, the sharper the dizziness became.

You felt his hand clasp yours tighter when you decreased your speed; a warm feeling squeezed its way through your chest instantly. He looked down at you, a small reassuring smile on his lips; he was going to solve this.

When you finally reached the control room, the doctor leaped his way towards the console. A string of garbled mumbling fell under his breath, which you were more than certain you wouldn’t understand even if he spoke up. You saw him go around the panel, flicking switches and pressing buttons but it didn’t lessen a bit the state you were in.

You stood next to the entrance holding onto the railing for dear life. Maybe you should have been trying to do something useful, but quite frankly you had no clue as to what was going on. And even if you could have done something, there was no way of giving more than a few steps without falling.

After several confused exclamations and scrunched up faces from the doctor, he stumbled his way to the other side of the room and kneeled next to an opened floor tile. He plunged into what used to be a makeshift storage and with a newfound enthusiasm, you heard him shout. "Found it!"

He reappeared back on sight and held a small cassette-looking thing, his hair sticking up in a messier way than usual and a triumphant grin spreading on his features "The resetting format key should be able to stabilize us."

With a quick motion, he stood up but before he could head back towards the console to plug it in, an abrupt shook threw the both of you across the room. You saw the doctor’s figure fall hovering over a coral column next to the panel as you held tight on the railing stronger, attempting unsuccessfully to stand still.

Maybe if you hadn't been distracted watching how the doctor got up and toss his weird-looking key into one of the TARDIS’ inputs, you would have noticed how your apparently well-put-cap was now laying on the floor a few meters away from you. And maybe, if you hadn’t been so awestruck at how quickly the room returned to its normal state with golden cozy lights shining from the ceiling, you would have notice your now-bright blonde hair flowing behind your back without a care in the world.

"Right, so it looks like the TARDIS went into some sort of safe mode." He spoke a little out of breath, arms still hunched over the panel "but it's okay now. Apparently, it was a defense response, she thought it we were under a- "

He turned around slowly but stopped dead on tracks when his eyes landed on you, or more specifically- on your hair. His once furrowed eyebrows were now raised, almost touching his hairline and open awestruck eyes were looking at you like you were an unknown species. A breathtaking unknown species.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Every part of his body was just not responding, it was like he had stopped functioning properly. His unblinking eyes were glued to your face and his agape mouth looked almost comical; you would have taken out your phone in that moment just to snap a picture if your brain hadn’t been dozing off at the reason for his reaction. Because what could possibly- Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You moved your gaze to the ground, eyes falling on the discarded hat near the entrance. You pursed your lips, thoughts running a mile per hour. When did it fell? Why weren’t you careful enough? This was the doctor’s fault. Yeah, all his fault. He had to come with his incredibly soft hair and that flipping sweet smile that made your toes curl up and your heartbeat race like there was no tomorrow. He had to come and distract you, oh and of course, bringing a mess along the way.

God! This was not helping.

“You- um, you are…blonde” Yeah, no shit, sherlock.

“I-…am I?” The breathy words rasping out, your mouth felt as dried as the Sahara and you were surprised a sound came out at all.

“You look-”

“I know” You close your eyes and shook your head, praying to whatever entity out there to swallow you up and throw you to the Bahamas “it wasn’t supposed-“

“I like it” he blurted out “I know you don’t need any sort of validation and I’m not trying to- what I-” He starting flapping his hands around in a cartoon-like gestures “you look stunning… truly stunning; not that you weren´t before. I mean, the colour really does suit you but I’ve always thought- blonde, not blonde, you’ve always been beautiful… Guess what I’m trying to say is that when you love someone, there’s really nothing that can make you look at them differently. Did you know that As’urs considered blonde people holy? Well they would if there were blonde people. Sorry, totally off topic, but they do. Everyone there is blue-haired. And there’s a lot of mystical myths and clergy influence involved but basically everything golden is sacred for them. If we go, they might even crown you as their queen.”

He looked like a deer caught in headlights. You could imagine the red alarms in his brain going off, trying to process what fell out of his mouth moments prior and desperately attempting to conjure something up but instead just causing a short circuit in the process. To be completely honest, you weren’t any better.

You felt your heart bumping up your throat and your skin grew hotter and hotter per second. You swore you could feel the maniac rhythm of your pulse piercing through your head and you were quite sure you looked like a pop-eyed toy from one of those claw machines at the funfair, with eyes nearly falling out of your skull.

Because he didn’t really say that, right? Your mind must’ve been playing some sick game with you. There was no way, he really-

“What?” It was all you managed to muster; your small voice barely hearable.

“Huh?” You saw the redness from his cheek expand through all the visible skin.

“What did you just say?”

“That As’urs would consider you a goddess?” He asked hesitant with a guilty expression.

“No- before that”

“That the blonde hair looks good on you?”

“No! I-“ You took a small breath “Do you love me?”

You could sense the confidence returning to him like a tidal wave, a serious expression overtaking his features, but with a softness you couldn’t comprehend. “I always have”

Your legs seemed to move on their own, carrying you towards him. You stopped when your noses were almost touching and you could feel his hot ragged breath fall on your eyelashes. With hesitation, you placed your hands on his arms and looked up, letting yourself fall on those brown pools you have grown to love.

“Doctor…” you whispered

You had no idea what made you do it, but you moved your hands to his cheeks, and you kissed him. It was impulsive and stupid, and something you’d expect a sixteen-year-old girl do on her prom night. But you did it without a second thought. And for a moment you felt the doctor grow incredibly still, mouth unmoving and eyes wide open, until you placed your soothing fingers on the back of his neck, thumbs caressing and drawing invisibles circles on his sideburns.

And so, he gave in; firm hands grasping your hips and pressing you flush against him. His mouth spilling raw passion and his insides melting at the soft contact of your delicate lips. The tenderness on his touches and intensity of his lips drawing out all those words that didn’t need saying, because you knew. He was so sure you knew.

An involuntary whimper left your lips when he broke the kiss and intertwined his hands with yours. He brought your joined hands nearer and placed a light kiss to your knuckles.

“Did I mention I like your hair?” A husky laugh fell from your lips and your eyes sparkled when he gave you a soft smile that would be imprinted on your brain for the rest of your life.

When he looked at you with those old eyes that sung you stories in the most beautiful way imaginable and his swollen lips ghosted a smile you knew things were going to be better, with new adventures and new experiences awaiting on your door. And you had the whole time and space at your disposal to face it together.

author's note pt.2: OK that was a lot, honestly the ending got sloppy and there’s probably a lot of bad editing, but I invented a whole new alien species, so hey! kudos for that I guess. anyway, i hope you like it! and as always, feedback would be really appreciated, a comment or a like would mean the world to me! like my description says, requests are open! but It would probably take ages for me to finish it, so please patience. right now I have some more doctor who drafts and also some marvel ones!

-love, rina xx

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spacegaywritings · 4 years

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Warming Paws and Melting Hearts (1/8) “One Man’s Trash is another Man’s... Cat? “

Teen and Up audience

Summary: Remy does not know how to be a decent human being and he usually is too impulsive to interact with others in meaningful ways. However, he loves animals and his heart beats for them. When he meets the little street kitten Virgil, he takes them in... maybe he does have a shot at talking to his soft crush Emile if he learned how to care for another person?

Tags: mentions of the vet, abandoned cat, mentions of food, cuddles, snuggles, remy being a lil shit, insults kinda, playful teasing, mentions of gore (in metaphors) and head injuries and acid, migraines, headache, chronic pain, mentions of pain, mentions of death (all for shits n giggles bc Remy is a salty hoe), nobody gets hurt, Remy is just a lil shit, mentions of human waste (body waste).

- i do not think there is any more to be applied. If you need me to add anything, please contact me here or on my tumblr (spacegayparty, spacegaywritings)

This is part of the shipping series (Remy x Emile x Virgil) “Pol-opposites and other Riots”. Find it here on tumblr and on ao3!

chap 1: ao3

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Story under the cut: (Wordcount: ~5,3k)

The day was crisp, it was cold outside and the air smelled of ice. If winter had a certain scent, it was this. Akin to smelling the wetness of nearby ground after and before rain, it smelled of frozen ground and red noses.

Lucky for Remy, it was not too deep into winter just yet so he could wear a dark sweatshirt, thin yet long-sleeved at last and not freeze his nipples off. His signature black leather jacket (of course faux leather, since it was more flexible and comfortable to him) covered his shoulders and engulfed him with a certain warmth. It was a lid over the cooking pot of his natural body temperature.

Other than that, the purple strands in his hair held the frame of dark glasses - sun glasses, to be more specific. It did not warm him, specifically, but it shielded him from the mean sun rays.

Was there sun? Not really.

She was in the process of lowering itself, her descending figure spilling the light of life over the horizon and bathing the world in warm streams of her last cranberry streams. Her usually yellow to intensely golden illumination danced over his hands. He held a drink in one of these hard plastic cups with permanent drinking straws belonging to it. It was about as cool as the world around him, edging on icy. This was not too surprising, judging from the actual chunks of ice in his drink.

The shades of dark treasures mixed into the scarlet juice of the fading sun. The lights coated the world in new creation, the start of something that has not been there before, but few people stopped to mind the graceful kisses of light onto their skins and the little waves of natural beauty peeking into their vision.

Remy was not particularly one to appreciate the sun either. The blessed souls who were to adore and value the beauty around them were more mindful than the exhausted worker. He had just exited his job and wanted his weekend to start. In addition to that, he was motivated by the sun causing him pain. Her rays practically chased him off the streets. His tired eyes avoided the reddish gleams coming from the side. While he enjoyed the warm shine tanning his hands for a short moment, it hurt a bit too much for his liking. Instead, he thought himself as a clever person. He turned his back on the last bit of natural light and took a turn since he was at the end of the street, luckily.

He walked on, his jeans doing little to keep him warm. His breath was forming wet clouds of fog before his face. Kids would pretend to be smoking or have dragon breath when they stepped outside and got to breathe the cool air of late December afternoons. Remy just wearily breathed to stay alive as he walked back home.

His workday had just ended and he had stopped at a nearby coffee place - his favourite café! It was in walking distance from his work place and his home - before heading home. It was a usual thing to do when he slid into a weekend and decided that his migraines were not as bad as to give him any reason to avoid caffeine and extreme temperatures. When enjoying iced drinks, he should not exactly be suffering from pain already but neither should he consume scalding beverages.

Remy’s lips caught the pink glitter straw of his drink and once he had drawn the plastic cylinder close enough to suck it into his mouth, he did exactly that in order to treat his flaring taste buds with the deliciously sugary treat. Sweetness and the heavy taste of roasted coffee beans skimmed over his tongue. He was left with the idea of this syrup like treat of a drink in his mouth. The caffeine and low temperature seemed to immediately drive up into his head.

Being an experienced fan of iced drinks, he knew better than to immediately inhale the whole drink despite the great taste that brought a wide smile to his usually rather stoic or even condescending lips. If he was to go too fast, his brain would hurt. Since he was prone to chronic pain, there was no need to trigger the whole procedure of nausea and throbbing, continuous agony once more.

He drew in a deep breath and blinked at the way before him.

Grey pavement, some leafless trees framed the pavement and marked the difference between road for cars and the one for walking, much like a fence would. Except this fence had holes all over so people could run from one side to the other.

Before his heavy, black boots, little heaps of brown and dry leaves could be seen and the increasing level of winds swept around his thickly protected feet. As the strong breeze pushed past his form with blind ignorance, they pulled up the leaves in a mysterious dance. Heaps rose into dresses of imaginary fairy friends and took a few steps together with the crushing winds before an obstacle hit them and let their brief union fall apart. The leaf-clad figure would implode, their parts scattering all over the similarly colourless ground until the wind would pick up again and repeat the process tragically.

The worker walked on, aiming to find his way back home with the last rays of fire red sun tickling his neck as he strove away from the source of heat. It seemed that the further he walked, the darker it got. The colder it got, the more grey there was around him.

Whether his environment received the last kisses of precious life when the sun bid them farewell was a mystery. Maybe the sun was trying to drag the last bits of life from the surroundings in order to come back with more energy once she had processed all the stolen goods.

Remy’s steps leaving a dull sound with every step he left on the stone ground beneath his coal boots.

All he heard was the distant whirls of air running like the waves, coming close and suddenly fading and retreating in slow, shameful movements with the intention to have a more forceful go at the the leaf fronts next time.

He pushed his sunglasses away, letting the greying world around him make an impression on his unfiltered vision for the first time ever since he had started work. His weak orbs wearily eyed the way before him and he stopped for a moment to blink and assess the situation.

Was it dark enough? He did not dare looking up into the awfully white-haired sky of seamless cloud patches.

He blinked at the world and let his free hand rub his eyes with a little bit of mental praise for the effort and risk they were fearfully taking on for his own pleasure and curiosity.

His greyish-blue orbs roamed over the world around him and he sighed in relief. Next to him was a small alley, shady and narrow but a great short-cut to get to the other side and buy his eyes a bit more time to get used to everything until the sun had fully given up on emanating lights like a rich kid who had it all but actually felt nothing and needed to brag with the wealth of possession and energy.

Yeah, why not. Looked dirty but everything on this ground was full of spit and long forgotten piss anyway. Just like in the life of a rich kid, Remy thought to himself.

With a shrug, he pushed into the alley and took another big sip of his dark beverage with just enough undertones of sweet and soft tastes gracing and rewarding his whole mouth. He squinted for a moment and stepped forward but immediately stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a sound dive into his mind.

“Meow”

Remy retreated the straw from his lips and looked around. It took him a while until he found the little bundle of fur next to his feet. At first, he was not sure whether there really was anything more than a blob of darkness, perhaps just shadows from the sun setting dusk. But what he could see was a pair of different-coloured eyes staring up at him, accompanied by another meow.

A cat, actually, a very small little kitten with fur as dark as his thick boots was curled up next to him, making sounds so miserable it even reached Remy’s cold heart. That had to say something since it was about as icy as the world around him or the drink in his hand.

He did not know whether he would have done that at any other moment, under any other circumstances other than these.. all he knew was that he knelt down to the kitten that immediately shrieked in surprise and moved away from him. The movement seemed like a graceful curl, something he could not quite describe or follow. The darkness of shadows served as perfect environment for the kitty cat to use its fur as camouflage suit like a sneaky chameleon.

“Hey kitty. You lost?”

Emerald and azure orbs stared back at him, merely visible due to the sheer size of the small cat’s irises in the darkness.

It was comical to him that the cat had the most globe-shaped eyes he had ever seen. Something drew him to the kitty. It was hard to describe but he lowered himself and his hand set the drink down next to the cat. It did not move but the void sniffed at the cup and stub its damp nose against the cold surface of the container. After that, it flinched away as if shocked by the touch. In a heartbeat, it crawled away from the strong smell of cold-ridden, milked coffee beans.

“Alright, I did not wanna share anyway, you queen”, he commented with a sour expression painting his face.

The man gently drew his now free hand over to the kitten. It hissed at first and he nearly retreated but he decided not to. Instead, he let his hand rest on the ground for the little animal to examine it. More sniffing occurred, followed by the cat’s tracks somewhat stirring. A paw landed in his palm and Remy could feel something in him melt.

The cat patted his palm a few times as if to test the ground and let out another meow. This time, the kitten stared at him and stood up more properly. It still seemed a little ducked but it was not exactly in the same crawling position as when it merged into one with the shadows of high buildings. The shades were thrown out by buildings in a way, they were high enough to be protecting the animal and keeping an eye over it like a worried parent would watch over a toddler.

In reality, the cat was alone in a dirty, cold alley.

“You may be a salty bitch but you are still cute”, Remy mused softly. He was talking to himself, yet in a way, he was still addressing the cat.

Somehow he could not bring himself to just move on. Something told him that the cat did not exactly want him to go either.

“Well, sucks that I don’t have any food for you at the moment, right? I bet you would like some - hell, I’d like to feed you, little queen. You would probably be super cute when eating out of my hand, huh..”

Talking about that.. why not? For just a moment, Remy considered taking the animal with him - ... but was that even okay to do?

“Are you out here all alone, little kitty? You seem too small to be outside or without someone else like a friend or, you know.. a mom?”

The man blinked at the kitten who returned his complex questions with simple kitty sounds that seemed to drive straight into Remy’s heart, once more. It moved him, touched places within him and let his facial expression rest into a more relaxed one. T

here was nothing stoic about a melting man.

“So you are a stray kitty cat, huh? Sucks to be you, honey. You look hungry.”

Remy looked over the little blob of raven.

It looked way too fragile and tiny for a tough stray cat. He did not know much about the streets but he was sure that the weather was not exactly in favour of a kitten surviving all on its own. He.. he should take it in, should he not?

The man was still in deliberation as the cat curled up before him.

The wind picked up and weaved through Remy’s hair that curled around his sunglasses in strands almost like a flower crown of purple. The icy breeze brushed over him and the kitten, the scarce fur being ruffled by the natural force and the kitten let out a pathetic, nearly pleasing sound as it curled up further.

Was it that cold?

“Come here, kitten.”

Remy cooed softly, his words swaying through the air and charming the cat enough to look back up to him. There was a warmth he was offering when the world around them was cold and cruel. The cat was crouching a bit by now - once again, no surprise. But at least it did not try to put any more distance between it and Remy.

He gestured a stop sign.

“Kitten, wait”, he demanded and carefully shrugged off his leather jacket. At least it was a bit too big for him to be a comfortable fit. Since he had started working out more in the gym, his clothes fit better. It was not a size too big or anything, it was just cozy and allowed him to have proper movement space. As clothing should provide.

Without too much movement, the kitten hissed already at him. He changed his position and shifted in order to get his jacket loose. The young cat ducked, staring at all his body. Every movement of his muscle was noted by a flinch of the cat’s face or a little jump of its ears.

His sweatshirt underneath was thin and tightly hugging his body shape. It was not enough of a protection against the icy cold. Still, he set the jacket down .. oh man, his fucking favourite jacket on the shitty, piss-ground in a trashy alley in the dark.

Why did he do that again?

He heard a meow. His lips immediately broadened into a smile and he patted the inside of his jacket that was facing upwards to the grey, whitish sky.

“Come here, kitty cat, I will keep you warm. A queen like you should not be outside without the proper fur~”

Whether the black bundle of fragility understood the man or not, it carefully pawed at the new material and found it to be much warmer than the icy ground around them. Quickly, it took the hint and moved over onto the warm blackness that matched its own fur so well. Its inner chameleon seemed to sniff safety in an environment where it could disappear by simply merging into the background. The kitten curled up on the dark hole beneath it and meowed in delight.

It .. it started doing this funny vibrating sound. It reminded Remy of vibrations from a text message just a little more organic and vocal rather than a muffled sound.

It was clear and direct.

It went right through his heart.

“You like that, huh? Come here, little queen”

He carefully picked up the bundle and the kitten shot up, panic in the bi-coloured eyes. It nearly jumped out of his grip but was soothed when he carefully folded the jacket around the kitten. Slowly, silently, while maintaining a lethargic rhythm, he mumbled little encouragements as he moved to cradle the animal in his arms and rise to his feet. Again, the cat did not take it too well and rose once more, paws pressing against his collar bone. It looked back at where it used to stand with longing in their paws.

Maybe the cold was better than a stranger’s warmth?

Remy was standing by now, a bundle of possibly dirty street cat all wrapped up in his favourite and near-holy jacket. It was his personal relic but he was willing to share it with a freezing fella just for the sake of making that miserable little kitten a little bit warmer. After all, it was all alone and forgotten but had no protection or any other things to help itself out.

His hand gently stroked over the back of the kitten.

“There there, little queen. Come on, I will get you into the warmth and get you some food.”

As he started walking, he felt the first flakes of snow settle onto the ground around them. Little ice pieces landed on the curious kitten which tried to paw at the cool sensation before giving up and deciding that Remy’s chest was warmer to rest against.

By the time the worker had forgotten about the idea of regretting the abandonment of his weekly oh so icy treat, he was home and instead took his new melting treat into his apartment. He could not care less about his drink right now. All he thought about was whether he had enough food at home that was suitable for a kitten to eat.

Time to go through his cupboards and shelves and scavenge the internet for important information on kittens.

He got inside.

This had been much more tiring than expected but at least he had the kitten in safety now.

He settled on the couch and let the kitten down, carefully leaving it to to get out of the leather jacket by itself if needed - it more than willingly did. It dragged the leather jacket along and hid in a pile of pillows that sheltered the cat mostly. Back to being a flag of camouflage, now in his home. The kitten systematically pushed the jacket down to make some sort of bed out of it, if Remy had to guess. It looked like it was giving a massage to his clothing by pushing its paws against the fabric until it stayed down, flaccid and obedient as the cat had planned.

After this, the little queen proceeded to defiantly lay down on it, paws crossed and face focusing on Remy. He could nearly hear the hiss coming from it but the muzzle stayed shut.

Meanwhile, the human was giving the animal some space and looked up what the fuck cats were able to eat and opened another tab to look up vets. He already got a number within seconds.

“Queen, you are a sassy little cat but do me and yourself a favour and stay put. I will call a doctor and see whether I can give you food or not. Stay.”

He gave it a look. The cat stared back and eventually meowed before breaking eye contact with the man.

Well, that sure meant the kitten was okay with it and understood, right? Surely. Cats were super smart after all. If dogs could learn all those funny tricks then cats sure as fuck would be able to do that.

Remy left the room and went to the kitchen as he got on a phone call. He did not have any bit of cat food and he was somewhat concerned over what would happen if the cat was to be left alone at his place all of a sudden. It was better to take the cat with him or feed it something he already kept around.

Cats were bitches, right?

Like, not literally, obviously but still in the sense like humans were bitches, every now and then. Less in the sense of a female dog but more in the sense of being an arrogant and salty diva.

Yeah, maybe the cat was a queen because it was very much like some salty, self-righteous bitch. Who knew.

Remy kinda liked it. He was already thriving on the potential bitch vibes he got from it.

Still, from all the internet had told him, there was only super cute kitty cats that made people swoon and got you into someone’s pants or the kinda cats that did all sorts of odd things, but in a weirdly endearing way. And then.. then there were the uncaring and arrogant shits that only liked you when they wanted you and other than that used you as slave for food and drinks and that was it.

Well, the crazy fighter cats were also a thing but it seemed like such a thing from the last decade, he could not even take it seriously anymore.

Aggressive cats were not a thing, right? So, out of fashion.

Remy got to the kitchen and washed his hand. It was kinda common knowledge but he had also read that he should probably do that.

Yeah, probably. The internet was always right.

While he got a vet on, the cat got out of the pillow mess. Head ducked and tail low, the kitten checked the area before rushing out of its hiding spot and into one of the rooms It was warm inside, it was so so much warmer than outside. The kitten took the jacket along as it found a little box in some room and settled in the comfortably tight space. It was basically a big comfortable cave. Well, it was kitty-sized and just perfect.

Soon, the call was over and all the necessary social bullshit was done with. When Remy returned to the living room, he only found the kitten to be lost when he returned to a jacket missing. Hey, that was his favourite!

Fucking cat. Maybe this one really was a bitchy kitten. Maybe they were real, like, for real!

“Hey, kitty? Kitty, you got my jacket. And you fucked off. I gave you one job, I swear, darling”

No answer.

Well, what the fuck did he expect from the cat?

“Hey Queen, where are you at?”

No reply.

He groaned.

They had a fucking appointment.

Nothing went right that day, did it? He was totally supposed to take a nap and then get ready to party and not shelter a cat. What the fuck was this shit even?

When thinking about the shelter he had to provide, a thought crossed his mind.

...Snacks!

The cat must have been fucking hungry so maybe he could get the kitty to cooperate with him and get into a box or something.. or back into the jacket. Maybe the jacket was with the cat.

Yeah, that would help in locating the little bitch. A fucking black cat and a jacket just as dark in the surroundings of his home which was essentially kept dark so the light would not trigger his photo-sensitivity and fuck him into worse pain than usual.

Fucking fantastic.

He brushed a hand through his hair, sighing in exasperation and carefully took hold of the sunglasses he had kept on top of his head.

After some time, it hurt him.

Fuck, his body was such an annoying pussy sometimes. Wearing it on his nose was fine but keeping it on his head was totally much pressure.

“Kitty cat?”

Remus carefully approached the couch, looking over the pillows and turning some over. Slowly, gently. Stray cats were often feral or like,.. shy or scared or something. At least, that was what the vet and the internet had said.

Somehow he felt trapped with this cat and if he did not befriend it, then he would be in trouble.

So, for appealing the cat, he needed to find it and somehow give it some food and coax it into tagging along to the vet.

“Where are you, darling? Come on, do not challenge a bitch. No matter how much of a queen you are, you don’t wanna fuck with me, alright? Come on, you are not like that, right? Please don’t be a little shit, I totally don’t have the nerve for this shit, honey.”

He carefully lowered himself onto the floor and checked what was underneath the couch.

Nothing.

Ugh, it just hurt to do all this moving and bending. He could feel his head become heavier with every move.

“Cat, come on. I don’t have time for it. You are not that special, just come out and let me get you to a medic - vet. Whatever! Let me get you to someone who can handle you.”

He kept walking, eyes looking out for a movement or just anything. Maybe just the hetero-chromatic eyes that would stare back at him with a certain gleam, a certain wetness yet miracle in these orbs. Cats kinda were magical. They seemed to be at least good at disappearing for no reason, all random and without trace. That was some kind of magic, too.

“Oh kitty cat? Come on, stop being like this. I am nice, I will give you food and pay for your bills like some hot-ass sugar daddy. I know doctors suck, but please don’t hide.”

Still nothing.

“Do you even understand what I am saying? ‘Cuz, like, you are pretty unresponsive despite the honey I am giving ya, hear me, darling?”

He looked over the bookshelves and the little reading corner he had made himself. It was accessible when exiting the living-room. It barely counted as a room, it was just a dark pit of warmth and books and it smelled great. It was an oriel, not a real room. But whatever. It did not matter. Architecture was not up his sleeve.

“Kitten? You in here? Come on, queen. Don’t be like that. I wanna nap. I got food, don’t you want some fucking food?”

Silence.

Full stop.

A meow.

His heart was beating again.

Hope!

“Queen? Where you at?”

The kitten meowed but there was still no movement.

The sounds seemed to come from lower than where he was right now. Time to see whether the cat snuck into the bookshelves or behind them. He kept the lowest spaces empty until the books would just be too much and take up the space anyway.

“Queen, come on?”

Another sound - not quite a meow but uh.. something like that. More a ‘mrow’ or something of that sort.

Good hell, Remy did not even know anymore.

He knelt down, carefully examining the bookshelves. The lower spaces were all empty, nothing to look at.

“ugh.. caaaat~”, he dragged out.

The man let himself drop fully, his body just laying there much like the corpse in the middle of a recent crime scene.

“Where are you?”

He felt shot, so shot already and it was such a young evening, still. He had a full weekend ahead of him and his head was hurting so much. His frontal lobe felt heavy, close to just dissolving into nothingness with acid eating it up right in his head and it was pushing against his head.

Remy let out a groan, his eyes slipping shut.

Everything was too much.

He was close to just giving up when he could feel a damp spot press against his temples.

The man simply whined in response. He sighed in took his last bit of effort into opening his mouth to speak, then his eyes to see.

“This better be death, I swear to fucking hell.”

Nope, fucking hell no.

It was the cat.

Of course it was.

“Queen you are killing me. Already. Is that why people with pets are old? Because they want to die and know pets will do the trick if kids can’t? “

“Meow”

The kitten sniffed his face and Remy remained on the floor, opening his eyes more, so he could stare back at the kitten.

“You totally need to be washed and taken to the vet, kitty cat. Come on, let us go.”

He carefully got up, groaning under his breath and holding his head.

“Come here, darling”, he mumbled.

He crossed his legs and patted his lap. The kitten padded over to the book box it had stayed in. It was the box in which his latest shipping of second-hand books had arrived in. It smelled old and great, like paper and miracles, stories untold and feelings unwritten yet full of sparks of imagination and so many possibilities.

It smelled of magic.

It gently patted the jacket and dragged it over.

Remy looked over at the cat, eyes half-lidded. It felt so heavy.

The little stray kitten stopped pulling the piece of clothing when arriving at Remy’s leg and patted his knee.

The man giggled.

“Do you really think I am gonna share that with you, honey?”

The cat sat down and looked at him, patting his knee again. Remy gently reached out for the kitten and pulled it into his lap. The cat’s limbs went into every direction, flailing wildly until it was settled on his thighs.

“Maybe you are not so bad. You got totally good taste.”

He chuckled to himself but quieted down right after, gently brushing through the fur of the obsidian kitty on his lap.

“You found me, got the jacket. You are really going for it, gurl, huh?”

The kitten purred, literally vibrating under his touch and pushing into the soft affection. Maybe that kitten was not so stray after all. It seemed used to human touch after all. But it was not used enough to the cuddles. Otherwise it would not cherish them like this.

“What are you actually, little void? Male, female, androgynous, a demon? Immortal? Deity of chaos? Did you come to rob my house? ‘Cuz you won’t find lotsa shit here, honey.”

The cat looked back at him.

He stopped stroking its back and looked at the little black hole before him.

“I am listeeening, hon~”

The cat tugged at his hand and patted it, leading him over to its head again and pushing its little skull against the palm of his head.

The fur seemed even softer around there.

“Hey kitty cat, why are you so trusting? Shouldn’t you like, try to eat me and slit my wrists and all those wonderful things you void cats do?”

The cat had picked up purring again, the soft vibrations gently travelling through Remy’s skin as he carefully scritched its neck.

“You know, I have know idea who or what you are but you are my little queen now unless we know better. I have seen, like, no indicator of anyone missing you, so you are either freshly straying around or nobody misses you because you are a fucking bitch, honey.”

“Mrouw!”

Remy chuckled again.

“Yeah, whatever you say, little horror block. Let’s get me cleaned and pumped up on pain killers and I promise you can stay in my jacket. And when we get back we see that I order, like, some chicken or whatever for you to eat. The internet said chicken is hot for cats. Just, like, not actually hot. And not with those bones. Bones are bad for little shits like you, right?”

#sanders sides virgil #virgil sanders #virgil anxiety #remy sanders #ts remy sanders #Remy sleep #emile sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fanficion #fanfic fluff #ts fanfiction #joey writes

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Honey (Monet x Monique) - Ortega

a/n: this is just my way of letting u all know that i stan Monet and Monique and ship them so bloody much that this happened. me n Salem (Citrus) were talking about how funny it would be to call this fic Honey bc of all the Trixie stans that fucking hate the brown cow/sponge chat, but also because of the Kehlani song Honey that reminds me so much of these two being pure. enjoy n pls let me know what u think! (p.s. last chapter of Game is coming i promise xxxxx)

Summary: performing arts college au, two gals being pals. Monet reminisces over how she got together with her girlfriend. Monique just wants to eat ice cream tbh.

The clock was ticking so slowly. Time seemed to be moving slower than it ever had done before in Monet’s life, but that always seemed to happen in tutorials. It seemed to happen even more frequently, she found, when Valentina was talking. Usually she would listen and try to contain her laughter as the girl flipped her long, straight hair about her shoulders and went on a long, self-centered tangent which had nothing to do with the topic at hand, but today her voice was grating. Performance showcases were coming up, and she had to practice. She had better things to do with her time than listen to her drone on in that high, affected, airy-fairy voice about…what the fuck was she even talking about?

“…and so I think if I chose that it would really highlight my vocal versatility, plus I could work in a costume as well, and maybe do a dramatic monologue at the start to illustrate the character,” she said, appearing to be finished. Monet looked over at her tutorial leader, Jinkx, who was half-asleep and very confused.

“Um…sorry, I don’t see how we got from the prevalence of 5/4 time signatures in later Jazz music to…” Jinkx blinked. “…you performing in your final showcase as Jean Valjean.”

All eyes shifted to Valentina, who blinked back at her. “I mean, isn’t it obvious? I feel I made my train of thought very clear.”

As Jinkx steered the conversation back to whatever the fuck it had been about in the first place, Monet scribbled in her notebook. She still hadn’t sorted her setlist out for her performances, or organised the band, and it was only a fortnight away. She was stressed. She almost didn’t notice her phone buzz.

Mo: bitch what the fuck was that all about?!?!?!!?

Mo: is she on crystal meth?????

Pause. Buzz.

Mo: why u ignoring me sis???

Mo: this is no way to treat ur girlfriend u whore

Pause.

Mo: i know ur seeing these u bitch

Monet gave a light sigh and looked up. There, opposite her, was the living spambot herself that she had the privilege (or curse, she joked internally) to call her girlfriend, Monique. Her huge mane of dyed orange hair was blown out to frame her face perfectly, and the lids of her eyes sparkled with purple glitter which matched her highlighter. Monet’s heart did a flip. It still did when she looked at her, even after the 1 and a half years they’d been together. It seemed simultaneously like such a long time and also no time at all. It didn’t even count the two years beforehand that Monet had spent with a crush on her, which probably made it seem longer. Monique hadn’t noticed Monet looking at her yet and was still typing with her huge pointy nails, a feat which never ceased to amaze Monet.

Mo: here’s a nude i took earlier

Mo: 26012019_602040.jpeg

Just as Monet was about to tap on the picture, she heard her name being mentioned. She looked up with a start, the heat rushing to her face as if everybody could see her texts. The whole room was looking at her expectantly, save for Monique who was looking just as rabbit-caught-in-headlights as Monet imagined she was.

Jinkx gave a kind smile, obviously seeing that she hadn’t been paying a blind bit of attention. “Have you started thinking about the showcase much yet, or not at all?”

Monet gave a grateful exhale. Then, she thought for a second. “I know that I need to get a setlist done but I almost feel like I have too many ideas going on and I don’t know which one to go with? Like I don’t have a theme.”

“Oh, I feel that, honey,” came a theatrical voice from across the room. Trixie Mattel, the scholarship kid, was bright and talented, but also annoyed fuck out of Monet because of her incessant catchphrase. “I sat for ages trying to think of what I should sing. But then I thought, what’s really going to show me for me? A bit of who I am? And then it just hit me- honey! I say it so often it’s such a huge part of me, so why not theme all my songs around it?”

Jinkx smiled at the student. “Which are?”

“Honey, Honey from Mamma Mia: The Musical, Honey I’m Home by Shania Twain, and Honey, I’m Good by Andy Grammer,” she smiled proudly. Monet heard a tiny snort across the room and her eyes immediately drifted to Monique who was sniffing as if she had a cold.

“Well, at least someone’s sorted,” Jinkx shrugged, raising her eyebrows and checking the clock. “Okay, that’s us done. Go practice and get organised.”

There was a wild scraping of chairs and bags flying over shoulders as the other students raced out of the seminar room. Monet was last out by the time she’d packed up and thrown her jacket on, and she left the room to find Monique leaning against the wall in the empty corridor waiting for her. She smiled gently as she saw her girlfriend.

“Good to go?” Monet asked her, running a hand down her arm and taking her hand.

“Well, you took long enough,” Monique pouted, cheering up when Monet squeezed her hand. “If we go get ice cream will you share it with me?”

Monet feigned a sob. “I really need to practice.”

Monique stopped in the hall and did her best impression of a dying kitten. Monet rolled her eyes. “Fine! We’ll go.”

Monique was happy as she walked hand in hand with Monet to the ice cream parlour. She radiated bubbly excitement as she talked about her showcase and how she was going to perform all original songs, including one about a brown cow. This was precisely what Monet loved about Monique- her neverending energy, her lust for life, her complete fucking off-the-wall ideas and creativity that nobody else seemed to have. She’d always been like that in high school, too- you could hear her before you could see her, and it was as if every moment was part of her own, Monique-Heart-based reality show. She was always popular, but not quite in the bitchy sense, and she was always surrounded by her friends: Mayhem, the queen bee, Asia, the makeup artist, Vixen, the bitch never out of detention. Monet always stayed in her lane- after all, there was no real reason for their paths to cross- but she’d often look across the lunch hall to the table of goddesses and feel intrigued and shy at the same time, confused by the feelings that years later she’d recognise as a classic, embarrassing high school crush.

They arrived at the cafe where Monique sat down, all but grabbed the menu from Monet’s hands, and began flicking through it.

“What do you want?” she asked Monet, not looking up from her flicking. Monet let out a burst of laughter.

“Bitch, you just took the menu from me! How the hell am I supposed to know?! Get whatever you want,” she shrugged, leaning back in her seat and looking out of the window. “I don’t mind.”

It was cold and grey outside but somehow Monique made it seem so much more colourful- a huge lilac sweatshirt with an enormous pair of eyes stitched onto it, patterned blue and green exercise leggings. Stuff that anyone else would be afraid of wearing, but not Monique. Monique was fearless.

Monique decided on a red velvet and white chocolate sundae. She proudly announced that she chose it because she remembered red velvet was Monet’s favourite, Monet smiling and not letting on that she had no intention of sharing the sundae and she only agreed to get ice cream because Monique would have been sad if they didn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re performing that fucking cow song at your actual showcase. You’re crazy,” Monet laughed suddenly, shaking her head.

“What?” Monique asked incredulously. “So it’s okay for Trixie to theme her whole show around fucking honey but I can’t do a song about a brown cow?”

“Yeah but…” Monet smiled, knowing it would annoy her girlfriend. “…it only works when she does it.”

Monique launched herself across the table to wallop Monet on the arm. Suddenly guilty, Monet reached across and took Monique’s hand, stroking her knuckles gently and taking care to avoid getting stabbed by her nails.

“I’m kidding. Your song’s fun.”

“Oh, it’s a bop,” Monique nodded emphatically.

“Facts are facts,” Monet smiled, using the phrase she knew Monique loved so much.

“Facts are facts,” Monique repeated, beaming at her from across the table. “I ever tell you how lucky I am to have you?”

“No,” Monet deadpanned, taking a sip out of the glass bottle of coke she’d ordered. Monique laughed and mirrored her sip. That was all their relationship seemed to consist of- laughter, constant fun and affection. Monique was funny in her own crazy way, hyper, and Monet was always joking about with her, teasing and poking fun at her until Monique went in a huff and Monet had to faux-beg for forgiveness. She knew Monique always found her funny, though, even though some people thought she wasn’t. In fact, humour was how Monet managed to get Monique on side when they first met properly. It was the first week of Year 13, and they had been put in the same Drama class. They’d been going round the circle talking about the classic bullshit start-of-the-year stuff- what they wanted to get out of the course and suchlike- and a loud-mouthed, domineering girl called Eureka was having her turn. Monet recognised her- she’d always been the year above her in school, but for some reason she was repeating Year 13 (there were rumours it was because of exam failures). Eureka was talking in a faux-humble style of how she already had an agent and how she was going to become a famous actress once the year was over, and that she didn’t really need to be taking Drama to be a professional anyway, she was just doing it for fun.

“Is that why you’re taking it to AS Level for the second time?” Monet had muttered. She thought she’d been quiet, but it had come out way louder than she’d expected, and it got her some glares from some of the bitchier girls. There had been a snort, though, from the other side of the room, and Monet’s gaze had followed it to the source- Monique Heart, who was smiling at her guiltily.

After class, Monet had taken a bit of heat from Eureka and her friends outside the Drama studio, until Monique had turned the corridor. She looked at the girls surrounding Monet, narrowed her eyes, cocked her head, and they’d left. That was the influence she held, and it captivated Monet slightly.

“Did they give you any trouble?” she’d asked, gazing at Monet intently with kind eyes. “Because if they do, just let me know. Vixen’s been looking for an excuse to drag that bitch since she joined our year.”

“Thanks,” Monet had given a quick, awkward smile and walked away, assuming the conversation had been over. She’d been surprised when Monique had caught up with her, walking quickly to match her footsteps.

“I thought it was funny, by the way. What you said. The bitch is so full of shit.”

“Someone had to say it,” Monet shrugged. She smiled to herself. Her heart had felt as if it’d swollen twice its size and she’d felt so satisfied that Monique had found her funny.

“Facts are facts,” Monique had agreed. It was the first time Monet had ever heard her say that. “So how come you’re crashing AS Drama?”

“It’s not a crash, I did A Level last year. I just think we were in different sets,” Monet explained, still amazed that Monique was talking to her. “I’m applying to Performing Arts college. The Academy?”

“Oh, same!” Monique had cried, a high-pitched shriek of recognition. “This is great! Now we can be each other’s emotional support when we do our auditions.”

Monet had smiled, and had gone to say something else when Monique omitted another large cry. As she waved, Monet realised she’d seen her friends.

“I gotta go but I’ll see you tomorrow, Monet!” she’d all but yelled as she ran off to join the other girls. Monet had been disappointed that their conversation was over, until she remembered that they had Drama in first period the next day which was less than 24 hours away.

Monet was suddenly distracted by a wet spoon hitting her nose. She blinked, surprised.

“What was that for?” she asked. Across from her, Monique was halfway through her sundae. Monet had no idea how long it had been there.

“You’ve been staring into space for like, two minutes solid,” Monique explained. Monet took another look at the sundae and laughed.

“You ate all that in two minutes?”

Monique rolled her eyes at her. “Can I be me?”

Monet smiled. “You can finish it. I don’t want any. I’ll still go halfers with you when we’re done.”

“You’re sweet,” Monique said softly, then followed Monet’s gaze out the window. “What were you thinking about anyway?”

“Just us before college. Before we were together,” Monet gave a small shrug and Monique grinned. She seemed eager to say something and was hurrying her current mouthful of ice cream so she didn’t have to speak with her mouth full.

“Remember how nervous I was the first few months we were together in case my parents found out?” she laughed, as if it was a joke. Monet didn’t remember it being a joke at the time. “Then we came here and I’m like ‘Hi, everyone, this is my girlfriend, Monet!’, ‘Hi, America, this is my girlfriend, Monet!”, “Hello, world, did you know I have a girlfriend? Her name is Monet!’. I think the whole college knows by now.”

Monet smiled. “I’m glad you can show me off, it’s what I deserve.”

Monique turned suddenly quiet, something that Monet hardly ever saw. A light blush had hit her cheeks. “I still remember being so happy getting partnered with you for our performance pieces, because it meant I’d get to spend more time with you.”

Monet smiled affectionately. “So was I, but then I was like ‘shit’ because I was already so nervous around you.”

“So was I!”

“Shut up, no you weren’t,” Monet let out a laugh. “You were a motherfucking foghorn around me, I swear I caught tinnitus from working with you.”

“Yeah! I get loud when I’m nervous, sis,” Monique muttered, taking a sip of her drink and looking so meek and so un-Monique that Monet wanted to both laugh and wrap her arms around her and never let go. “If it hadn’t been for Vixen we wouldn’t even be sitting here together now, how crazy.”

Monet snorted. “Yes we would. We’d both have got in here, just we’d probably still be friends and we’d both have huge crushes on each other but be too scared to tell.”

Monique looked indignant. “Hey, I would’ve told you at some point! Just needed to get my nerve.”

“Well, Vixen did it for us.”

It was true that neither of them really had had to make the first move because one lunchtime, just after their final performances and after Monet and Monique had found out they would both be going to the same college, Vixen sat down at Monet’s lunch table right beside her. Monet remembers Bob, Pepper and Cracker looking at them both and then dropping their conversational volume about ten decibels so that they could both talk and listen in. Her friends were so predictable.

“Hey,” Vixen started off. There was a sort of scheming little smile on her face, like she knew a joke that she’d never share with the world. “So Monique wants to know if you like girls.”

Monet vividly remembers drinking from a carton of orange juice and nearly choking on it. “Um. Why?”

Vixen looked at her nails, a small frown coming over her face as she realised she’d chipped one. “Monique’s never been with a girl before but she has this lesbian crush on you, it’s kind of adorable. Anyway, I thought I should ask in case you’re not into that. Pointless raising her hopes if they’re just gonna be crushed.”

Monet had blinked a little at her, while noticing that her friends beside her had dropped all pretence of talking to each other and were now full-on listening to their conversation.

“I mean, I kinda…like her too, I guess?” Monet replied, trying to sound casual when her heart was beating so fast she was afraid it would land her in hospital.

Vixen narrowed her eyes at her. “You kinda like her, or you like her? Which is it?”

“I like her,” Monet replied immediately. Then that same smile had appeared on Vixen’s face as she’d slid off the chair and sashayed over to her usual table. And then Monet had been thrown into a state of panic and anxiety- what if Vixen had been asking for a joke? What if she had just wanted to embarrass Monet, and Monique didn’t feel the same at all? She wouldn’t have been able to look Monique in the eye. She hadn’t dared to look over to the other table and, as her friends had consoled her, Monet thought she’d made a dreadful mistake.

So when Monet had been rushing to her next class after lunch and taking a shortcut she’d though that only she knew, she’d been surprised to see Monique sitting on a bench deep in thought. Self-conscious, Monet tried to hurry past her, but was stopped by a call.

“Mo!”

She turned and Monique was smiling at her gently. It was a genuine smile. It didn’t seem scheming, or part of a set up. In fact, it looked a little shy.

“Hey,” Monet smiled back nervously, perching on the bench. “Sorry I kinda blanked you, I was rushing to get to class.”

“Oh well sorry, you better go!” Monique insisted, appearing more embarrassed by the second. Something in Monet wanted to find out why, so she replied.

“No, it’s okay. I’m late now, might as well commit to it,” she shrugged, looking at the other girl whose brows were furrowed. “How come you’re up here anyway?”

“Just thinking about stuff,” Monique said simply. Still with her eyes on the grass below, she continued. “Monet…”

Monet’s heart was rattling against her ribcage as if it was trying to escape her body. “Mm?”

“Did Vixen tell you? You know…about…me? And…you?” Monique asked calmly, even though looking back Monet thought that her insides were probably as fucked up as her own.

She’d wondered about whether or not to tell the truth. “About you liking me? Yeah, she did.”

Monique visibly cringed. “That motherfucking fruitloop bitch. I’m gonna kill her.”

Monet let out a laugh and Monique joined in too, softly. Her gaze finally met Monet’s own. “She told me that you like me too, though, right?”

Monet was sure she’d felt her heart stop completely, if only for a second. “Um. Yeah, I guess I do.”

There was a pause, and Monet panicked. “Monique, look, I don’t know if this is a huge in-joke you and your friends have, but-”

“Oh no, it’s really not! I promise,” Monique had blurted out. She’d been so far away from her usual chilled out, calm self, and she’d looked back to the ground. “So, uh. Do you want to go get food after school?”

Monet’s heart exploded. “Yeah. That sounds fun.”

“Just to clarify, this would be a date. Like this is me asking you out on a date,” Monique repeated, her eccentric energy slowly coming back. Monet snorted.

“Girl what do you think I am, hard of hearing? I get it,” she’d laughed, leading to Monet thumping her with her bag, standing up, and walking away.

“Don’t bother! It’s cancelled!” she’d cried out to her as she walked off, Monet doubling over laughing and happy in the knowledge Monique didn’t mean a single word.

Fast forward to today and they were leaving the ice cream parlour, hand in hand again, Monique happy and full of ice cream and Monet happy because her girlfriend was happy.

“I never thought it would be this easy, you know?” she mused out loud, Monique turning to her and pulling a confused face. Monet smiled and clarified. “Us. We always wondered how we’d do when we moved here and had to be on the same course but it’s so easy.”

“Of course it’s easy. You’re with me! What are you trying to say, that I’m hard work?” Monique all but screamed, Monet’s face remaining deadpan.

“Yes.”

“Shut up,” Monique laughed, turning and pulling Monet in for a kiss. Monique’s kisses were always so much like her- soft and gentle but with a crazy passion that knocked Monet for six every time. They were interrupted by a disapproving voice muttering something about Jesus and tradition. Monique immediately whipped herself round from Monet’s face, found the culprit (a balding old man) and fired back.

“Sir, the ten commandments said ‘love thy neighbour’, and Jesus said ‘why do you break the command of God for the sake of your tradition?’, so I think the fuck not, bitch,” she all but spat at him. As the man walked away, stunned, she turned and wrapped Monet in a protective hug, which she was grateful for. “Try to out-Jesus me, whore.”

“Do you want to come back to mine and watch something?” Monet asked, trying to take her girlfriend’s mind off the situation.

“Like what?”

“X Files?”

Monique whined. “Bitch, stop trying to introduce me to your fucking alien fantasy! I’m not interested, I don’t get it!”

Monet tried to pull the same puppy-eye face that Monique loved to pull so much. It appeared to work because Monique’s face softened and she smiled, tucking a lock of Monet’s huge wavy black mane of hair behind her ear. “But you like it, so I’ll try to get into it.”

They ended up at Monet’s flat lying spooning on her bed, Monique the little spoon and getting a better view of the laptop screen, Monet just happy at getting to hold her around her small waist. They had long since changed into pyjamas even though it was only around 4 in the afternoon, Monet in a massive t shirt and sweatpants, Monique in a borrowed cami top and cotton shorts, and Monet had drawn the curtains so that her whole room was cosy and dark and illuminated by fairy lights and the laptop.

“It’s alright. The X Files,” Monique yawned sleepily. “Not the best but not the worst.”

“Mm. Just like sex with you,” Monet joked, Monique suddenly waking up to walk across the room as if she was leaving, then returning to her spot in Monet’s arms.

“You can literally go fuck yourself,” Monique bit back, but the yawn that escaped her mouth halfway through softened her words.

Fuck, Monet loved her so much. It got her thinking about how long it could be this good for. All couples hit snags and bumps in the road and, although they hadn’t had any yet, it was surely inevitable. Monet wondered what their first proper argument would be like and if they could recover from it, or if Monique was the type to walk away.

“I can hear you thinking,” Monique interrupted her train of thought, Monet feeling sheepish at having been caught out.

“Just thinking about us,” she admitted. “Wondering how long the honeymoon period is going to last. Before we eventually have a big fight and you leave me.”

Monique sat up abruptly. “And who says our honeymoon period won’t be our whole relationship?”

Monet laughed, tugging her girlfriend down with her. “Okay, yeah. That sounds good to me.”

“Anyway. I like annoying you too much to ever leave you,” Monique smiled, satisfied. She lay back down on the bed, and Monet could feel her stretching.

“Nap?” Monet suggested, stroking Monique’s hair and flipping it over her shoulders and out of her face.

“Nap,” Monique confirmed, wriggling a little in Monet’s arms and getting comfortable.

“I love you,” Monet smiled, kissing her girlfriend’s shoulder then reaching back to tie her own hair in an elastic.

“I love you too, girl,” Monique replied, reaching around to grab Monet’s arm and replace it around her waist.

“Goodnight, Mo.”

“G’night, honey.”

#ortega #monet x monique #college au #established relationship #monique heart #monet x change #rpdr fanfiction #honey by ortega #s10 #rare pair

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