#maybe one day I’ll get the motivation to do another long song rant on it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

Photo

Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).

heart

Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.

mind

I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)

soul

Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)

Chapter 22

My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)

He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉

“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗

“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2) that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)

“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢

It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!

“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!

This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉

I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh

Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!

“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅

“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh*

Chapter 23

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her

A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄

He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)

Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...

Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)

Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security” in connection with “Peeta”?

“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)

What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)

At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future

Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show

“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)

Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here

“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable

I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅

Chapter 24

Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏

I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought. - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!

It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.

#thgagain #thg #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg meta #my sketches and drawings #everlark

90 notes · View notes

multi-fandom-freak0221 · 4 years

Text

You Killed Me, but I Survived and Now I'm Coming Alive

Hey guys. It's been a minute. My job have been kicking my ass. I quit one of them a few months back cause 16-18 hour days were kicking my ass. But my dad died of Covid 1/20/21, on my older sisters birthday and month before my 20th birthday. I am half a country away from him and I won't be going to see the rest of them, but I do have 3 paid days bereavement and while I'm trying to distract myself I decided to try and finish this part. Your feedback motivates me so much. This part was the part I've been waiting for. The whole reason I created this fic. Like for real I had like maybe one sentence summaries planned for the other two parts in my head but this part played out like a full movie in my head down to the last details. This one will probably be the longest. It also has like 3 songs in it because it's the concert/gala scene hopefully I'll be able to cut it down some because i won't need descriptions between every lyrics but who knows. C'est la Vie. Anyways this will be the official last part, but I do already have one for sure bonus planned and a possible bonus that I might do if enough people want it.

This part's title is from "Miss Moving On" by Fifth Harmony. And this part includes the songs "Sorry (I'm not Sorry)" by Demi Lovato, "Home" by Philip Phillips, and "Symphony" by Clean Bandit ft . (Which for me is like a fucking poly anthem. I'm mean a symphony is a perfect metaphor for a healthy poly relationship! I mean it is a lovely way of asking to join into a poly group! Anywho I'm ranting and projecting. Ignore me.)

This is Part 3 of my fic based on @maiisdaddy 's Love of Three.

Tagging list:

@thestressmademedoit @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @lizziejay @indecisive-mess-named-me @captainmac6 @luveverything12 @kris-pines04 @brokenwordsarehard2 @roselynfey @mewwitch @stainedglassm

Part 1 Part 2

Marinette was ecstatic. She was extremely proud of all that she had accomplished in the 6 or 7 seven months since she left Damian. She became a singing sensation and recorded a whole album that would be releasing soon. She spent time healing and hanging out with her friends and pseudo family. Hell she even created outfits for herself and all her friends for the album release/identity reveal gala her Uncle Tony decided to throw for. Not that other guest knew that what this gala was for. Uncle Tony had picked the next closest international holiday and claimed it was a charity gala in honor of said holiday. While he may mot have been being entirely truthful there is never a bad reason to give to charity so she wasn't going to dwell on it.

She could truly say she totally over Damian. She even had Adrien take the ring back to her old apartment for her. She was not worried about him anymore. She had more important matters to attend to. Like the 3 boys who stole her heart while helping her piece it back together. Which she would say was great timing because she was sure Bruce Wayne would be at this gala. She guesses it was some kind of billionaire/millionaire code to never miss a charity event hosted by a fellow billionaires/millionaires.

Either way it was for the best because as soon as Uncle Tony had suggested a gala to reveal at, she had Uncle Jagged help her with two songs that she kept secret from everyone. One to show her appreciate for all her family and friend's support for her and one to confess to the 3 boys who loved her when she felt unlovable. She was going to preform these song for her friends in front of a lot of influential people but she wasn't even nervous. Not even when Alix told her that the gala was to be live streamed. No she was just excited and happy to let her friends know how she was feeling.

The gala was in full swing. All the guests who were coming were already there by the time Marinette and everyone else she came with arrived. She was talking with Chloe, Kagami, and Alix when she decided to grab herself a drink. She was walking to the refreshments table when accidentally bumped in someone's back slightly. "Oh! I'm sorry, sir."

The man then turned around to reveal to be Bruce Wayne himself. "Marinette! I'm surprised to see you. Damian said you were feeling too sick to attend."

Marinette wanted to scowl, but she managed keep her face neutral. She knew there were reporters swarming here and she did not want to make a spectacle. "I'm sure he did. Now if you'll excuse me, Mr. Wayne I was on my way to get a drink." She didn't even get a chance to leave Bruce in confusion from her statement. No sooner than she took a step to leave did Dick walk up to her.

Dick smiled at her as he greeted her kindly. "Sunshine! It's been a while. I thought Damian said you were under the weather?" As he moved in to hug her she sidestepped out of his reach.

Once upon a time she loved Dick's hugs, but now it would just feel fake. "I'm sure your brother has said many thing about my lack of attendance to many social gatherings. Unfortunately those claims were false as Damian has not been privy to my whereabouts in months. Now if you please excuse me."

She went to walk away again, but she guesses Dick's interference was enough time for Bruce get over his shock because he blocked her path again. "What are you talking about Marinette?" Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Mr. Wayne it has been nice talking with you but this really is a conversation for another time." Marinette sighs. She was trying to be civil. She was sure there were reporters everywhere waiting for the big scoop. She wanted that to be her reveal not her past relationship with an asshole. "Besides this is probably something you'd need to talk to Damian about."

"Talk to me, about what?" There is no God, she was convinced. The sigh that left her mouth was long and full of suffering as she turned around with a clearly fake smile. Facing her now was Damian himself with Tim and Jason behind him. Damian was clearly extremely shocked to she her, but he played it off quickly. "Angel I thought you weren't feeling well. Why didn't you tell me you changed your mind? You could have came with us."

Marinette ducked out of Damian's reach, barely restraining from stomping on his foot with her heels, as he tried to kiss her. "Do not call me Angel. And don't you dare even try to kiss me, Wayne."

Before Marinette could lose her temper anymore Luka came and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Everything okay, Melody?" Marinette took some calming breaths as she attempted to regain her composure.

While she was trying to calm down, it seemed the Wayne family was getting worked up. "And who is this, Marinette?" Bruce asked accusingly.

Marinette looked at the family in front of her in disbelief. "You all met Luka. He's my best friend. Signed under Jagged. In a committed relationship with two of my other best friends, Kagami and Adrien." She shook her head as the all held sheepish expression for assuming the worst. "Not that who I'm with is any of your business anyways."

Before any of them could question to her statement, Felix comes to her other side and whispers into her ear. "Do you want me to call security?" She didn't even get a chance to respond before she heard Dick gasp, scandalized.

"Marinette!! Are you cheating on Damian?" Dick exclaimed. At this point Marinette knew they were drawing a crowd she was trying to keep everyone's dignity intact, even though her reputation wasn't the one at stake.

"Mr. Wayne I once again implore you that we have this conversation in a more private setting." Marinette spoke calmly, but through gritted teeth. She was on her nerve.

Bruce crossed his arm and spoke loudly drawing more attention to them. "No. I demand you explain to me at once why you are here with another man when you are supposed to be marrying my son. Was this all some kind of ruse to go after the Wayne Fortune?" Her jaw dropped. She knew it did but she couldn't stop herself from the shock. The sheer audacity of this family before her. She quickly shut her mouth as her eyes narrowed into a deadly glare. Her Ladybug glare. The Wayne family would never admit it but an involuntary shiver went down their spines at the sight of it.

She knew her friends had gathered behind her at this point and see could see the reporters pushing past each other to get the scoop. Vicki Vale was the closest one. In the corner of her eye she saw the camera that was set up for the livestream as well.

Marinette face finally settled on a look mixed with anger and mischief. "Oh? So want to cause a scene, Mr. Wayne? Well how about I put on a show?" She continued to stare Bruce in the eye as she spoke to one of her, "Chloe, can you tell Jagged that I'll be opening with Sorry. The rest of the show will go as planned." Chloe smiled wickedly before going to do asked.

The Wayne family began to smirk when they heard her say sorry, but whatever they began to feel was quickly shut down as she spoke to them again. "Let's get this straight, Mr. Wayne. I am not cheating on Damian and I never once desired to a part of your family's fortune. It was foolish of me to even once want to be a part of your family but I quickly learned better. I would not want to even look at the money that is connected to your family's name if the requirement was to be even cordial with Damian, let alone married to him."

She then towards the crowd the surrounding them. "If everyone would please take their seats facing the stage the show is about to to begin." Without a second thought Marinette headed towards the stage while the rest of her friends took their seats. Some one who was in the staff working tonight led the Wayne family to seats right in front of the stage. Soon everyone was seated and Marinette was standing center stage with a microphone.

Marinette smiled brightly at the crowd. "Thank you all for coming. I'm sure you all know me as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, pseudo niece of Tony Stark and Jagged Stone, and for some of you ex-fiance of Damian, but for others you still current fiance of Damian Wayne. Well I hate to inform that some of you are wrong. Anyways I'm sure your wondering why I'm up here. Well Uncle Tony promised a surprise musical guest so I'd like to reintroduce myself to all of as Neon Titanium! I'm going to be preforming a few songs for you tonight from my new album about to release but before that I decided I should clear the air. Let me start by saying it has been about 7 months since I broke off my engagement to Damian Wanye. While most of you know I chose to kept the reason of said break up private, someone here tonight decided that they were entitled to the reason to being told to them, very publicly. And who am I to deny such a request?" There was a false sincerity to her final sentence that seemed almost menacing.

In the front you can see the paling faces of many of the Wayne men as Tim is on his phone. He finally pulls up Marinette interview that was released prior to Damian announcement. "Damian, what the hell did you do?" Tim voice was barely above a whisper but they all heard it.

Marinette continued on quite content to the situation before her. "Well here's the truth. Damian did the unforgivable. He repeatedly cheated on me while emotionally abusing me and gaslighting me.

"He kept me from seeing everyone I cared about and his own family, claiming it was for my own safety and called me selfish for wanting to leave the apartment he kept me locked in. And while at first he seemed to actually be concerned my wellbeing, over time he stopped caring.

"He became distant, turning back into the Ice Prince you all knew him to be. He would lie about why I wouldn't leave the apartment constantly while still leaving me alone in the apartment constantly. Then he started getting late night calls from "work" to the point I would barely see him. I overheard one of these calls once. I heard him telling who ever was on the other side of the phone that I had no clue and to be waiting for him naked. But I stayed hopeful. I thought I could fix things. But he got worse.

"He was slept with the one person who made it their life goal to take everything from me. Even before I moved to Gotham, this girl hated me and she took all of the people who I thought were my friends and turned them against me. My true friends stayed and knew the truth but it still hurt. And Damien knew this. I told him all about this girl abd how she hurt me. Yet he still slept with her.

"The girl knew I was Damien's fiance. Somehow she got my number and sent me a picture of her in bed with Damian, both of them naked. I'm not going to lie I broke down when I saw that. Before her I could play ignorant and act like I didn't know what he was doing. But this? This was impossible for me to ignore. He cared so little about me that he slept with the one person who do whatever it takes to hurt me. I left that same night with only the things that were mine. Everything I bought came with and everything he bought me stayed. Including the cell phone he bought me when I moved in with him. The only thing that wasn't mine that came with was the engagement ring because I couldn't bring myself to truly accept the truth that it was over yet. I later on had it returned because I remember Mr. Wayne saying it belonged to his mother, though I'm guessing Damian didn't notice."

Marinette saw Bruce whip his head towards Damian who shrunk in on himself.

"Oops. Guess it wasn't noticed indeed. Anyways. For the last 7 months I have been living in Stark Towers with my Uncle Tony, healing with some of my closest friends helping me. And after some convincing working on an album with Luka and my Uncle Jagged. I will preforming a few of those songs for the gala tonight and they will also be live streamed for those who paid for virtual tickets. My album will be released in the next following week." Marinette took a deep breath as she prepared for her first song.

"Originally I planned to open with a different song tonight but after this impromptu info dump, I thought only fair to follow it with the song I wrote dedicated to Damian. I like to call this one Sorry" As Marinette finished the music started playing over the speakers. Soon she was singing passionately.

Now I'm out here looking like revenge

Feelin' like a ten, the best I ever been

And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this,

But it gets worse (wait a minute)

She pointed to Damian while rolling her eyes.

Now you're out here looking like regret

Ain't too proud to beg, second chance you'll never get

And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this

But it gets worse (wait a minute)

She took the mic off it's stand as she walked along the front of the stage.

Now payback is a bad bitch

And baby, I'm the baddest

You fuckin' with a savage

Can't have this, can't have this (ah)

And it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya, but nah

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Being so bad got me feelin' so good

Showing you up like I knew that I would

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned

Yeah, I'm on fire and I know that it burns

Baby, fineness is the way to kill

Marinette gestured to herself from head to toe.

Tell me how it feel, bet it's such a bitter pill

And yeah, I know you thought you had bigger, better things

Bet right now this stings (wait a minute)

'Cause the grass is greener under me

Bright as Technicolor, I can tell that you can see

And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this

But it gets worse (wait a minute)

By this point Chloe, Kagami, and Adrien had got up and started dancing along to the song.

Now payback is a bad bitch

And baby, I'm the baddest

You fuckin' with a savage

Can't have this, can't have this (ah)

And it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya, but nah

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Being so bad got me feelin' so good

Showing you up like I knew that I would

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned

Yeah, I'm on fire and I know that it burns

Marinette waved to her 3 friends to join on stage for the next part.

Talk that talk, baby

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby

If you talk, if you talk that talk, baby

Everyone was clapping to the beat while Marinette pranced across the stage, except for the Wayne family.

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby

Oh yeah Talk that talk, baby

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby

If you talk, if you talk that talk, baby

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby (oh yeah)

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Being so bad got me feelin' so good

Showing you up like I knew that I would

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned

Yeah, I'm on fire and I know that it burns

As the song came to a close, there was a roar of applause as her friends went back to her table.

Marinette did a little half bow. "Thank you. Thank you."

She wait till it was quiet again as she returned the mic to the stand. "Now as you can all see I'm doing much better now and I'm happy without him, but if it wasn't for the support system I have I never would have made it to where I am. My parents are in France so in my time of need I turned to my family who was close. My uncles Jagged and Tony, and my aunts Penny and Pepper. They're wonderful and they have always been there for me when I need them. And also my friends, both old and new have stood by me through all of this and helped me come out stronger. So this next song was a surprise gift for them."

Jagged had grabbed an acoustic guitar and was playing her in sitting in the background of her as a projection shined on the wall behind her, showing pictures of her with her friends and her uncles and aunts.

Hold on, to me as we go

As we roll down this unfamiliar road

And although this wave is stringing us along

Just know you're not alone

'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear

Don't pay no mind to the demons

They fill you with fear

The trouble it might drag you down

If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you're not alone

'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

She took the mic off the stand again as she walk off the stage to her friends and family in the crowd giving the hugs as vocalized along with music.

On the screen was several pictures she found. She put together the slideshow herself. There was a picture of herself crying in the midst of group hug while the people around her comforted. Another was her and all her friends playing in the pool. There was one where they had an impromptu free-for-all dodgeball game and she had won. She was laughing as the guys lifted her into and the girls were all cheering around her.

She made her way back to the stage after the final hug.

Settle down, it'll all be clear

Don't pay no mind to the demons

They fill you with fear

The trouble it might drag you down

If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you're not alone

'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

She smiled as projector turned off and the crowd applauded again. "Thank you all. But truly thank you to my friends and family for helping and supporting me."

She waited till it was quiet once more before speaking again. "All those who love me have done so much for me, but right now I wanna talk about 3 very special people."

She smiled softly as she looked over to where Peter, Felix, and Jon were sitting. "These 3 boys did so much for me even though they were the ones who knew me the shortest. They've been kind and patient and understanding with me. They all started to love me when I felt my most unlovable. And soon they found a love in each other as well. The best part is even after loving each other they offered to include me in their love as well, whenever I was ready. They gave me their friendship unconditionally no matter what my answer came to be and never rushed me for an answer ever. So Jon, Felix, and Peter this song is for you."

She saw the Wayne family's eyes widen, but she paid them no mind as she started singing.

I've been hearing symphonies

Before all I heard was silence

A rhapsody for you and me

And every melody is timeless

Life was stringing me along

Then you came and you cut me loose

Was solo singing on my own

Now I can't find the key without you

And now your song is on repeat

And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat

And when you're gone, I feel incomplete

So if you want the truth

I just wanna be part of your symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

I'm sorry if it's all too much

Every day you're here, I'm healing

And I was runnin' out of luck

I never thought I'd find this feeling

At this point Marinette had walked down the stage grabbed Jon's hand and led him back to the stage dancing.

'Cause I've been hearing symphonies

Before all I heard was silence

A rhapsody for you and me

(A rhapsody for you and me)

And every melody is timeless

She repeated the process with Felix as Jon danced nervously danced on stage.

And now your song is on repeat

And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat

And when you're gone, I feel incomplete

So if you want the truth

She left Felix and Jon dancing together as she brought Peter back to the stage with her. She continued to dance with him as she sang.

I just wanna be part of your symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah

Ah ah, ah

She smiled as Peter dipped her before bring her back up and handing her off to Felix.

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah

Ah ah, ah

Felix twirled her, letting her dress flare, as she spun right in to join awaiting arms where he lifted her into the air.

And now your song is on repeat

And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat

He slowly set her down and she turned until her back is against his chest. His hand are on hips as they sway gently.

And when you're gone, I feel incomplete

So if you want the truth

Peter and Felix were mimicking her position with Jon in front of her and she put an arm around Peter's neck while the other still held the microphone.

(Oh, oh, oh)

I just wanna be part of your symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

This time as she finished singing the crowd was silent as she looked at the 3 boys who held her heart. "Jon. Felix. Peter. You guys are some of the best people to ever walk into my life. I want nothing more than to be with you 3. So if you are still willing, will you do me the honor of calling me your girlfriend?"

She looked hopeful as the silence filled her ears. It felt like hours, even though it was definitely seconds, before she heard them all say yes.

Cheers erupted as Peter kissed her and Jon and Felix kissed each other over the former two's heads. She then turned kissed Jon as Peter kissed Felix, before kissing Felix as Jon kissed Peter. She grinning wildly when the all finally pulled away from each other.

She raised the mic to her lips as she closed out. "Thank you all for being here for my reveal/debut! I got one more song that I'll be preforming at the end of the gala, so y'all have fun and mingle. Once again, this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng aka Neon Titanium, I'm glad you enjoyed the show!"

She winked at Bruce on her last word as she walked off the stage with the loves of her life to where her family and friends were waiting for her.

Her and her boys (and Kwami does she love that -Her boys) were in the midst of getting congratulations when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. Bruce Wayne stood as tall as ever though he refused to meet any of her group's eyes.

"Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I apologize for my early behavior tonight, I was missing the whole story." He voice was steady but some shame shone through. His boys were behind him all of them also looking sheepish except Damian who was glaring at her new loves Jon in particular.

Marinette rolled her eyes. "You know as well as I do that the media are sharks, and events like these are a feeding frenzy for them. I tried my hardest to keep all of our reputations intact tonight, a lot harder than I should have since I had nothing to hide since I was the victim here. Yet, you in no regards of the truth, attempted to smear me with no hesitation. Personally the rest of you did nothing to me so I had no ill will towards you, but you forced my hand. The results of today are direct consequences of your own actions."

Before anyone else could speak up Damian did. "Kent," He nearly growled. "Why didn't you inform me as soon as you knew she was gone. As my best friend you should have informed me immediately!"

Jon answered lowly in a dark tone no had ever heard him use before. "My father tried to warn you father, Wayne, but when questioned you just dug your own grave deeper. Besides as my father explained to me it is not our job to make sure you two are aware of the going ons of your own household. Also you lost the right to be my best friend when you decided to be so cruel to the person you were supposed to love and then lie when confronted about it."

Marinette scoffed. "I figured when you finally noticed I was gone you'd assume I was off throwing a temper tantrum in hiding somewhere and that I'd come back. The fact that you weren't even worried about me in all that time I was missing is really telling."

Bruce glared Damian down from respond as his brothers held him back. "I just have one more question before we rightfully leave you alone. You said you had the ring return? Where could it possibly be?"

Marinette shrugged. "I had Adrien return it a couple months ago. Damian was fucking some girl in his apartment when Adrien walked in and he didn't even notice him set it on the dresser. I believe heard on the grapevine someone named Lila is claim she's Damian's true love and he had to keep up our engagement for appearances. She also claimed he proposed to her with a Wayne family heirloom until he get away from me. I guess maybe next time Damian should pay better attention to his house guests." She giggled sarcastically afterwards.

Bruce frowned as he nodded. "I see. I'll leave you all alone now. Have a wonderful evening, and congratulations." As he led his family away Marinette could hear whispered yelling but could make out a few phrases like "PR Nightmare", "priceless heirloom", "huge mistake", and even "major fuck up".

As soon as they were out of hearing range Marinette started laughing, causing everyone around her to laugh too. She finally calmed down eventually but her large smile never went away. This is the happiest and the most free she's felt in the long time.

#maribat salt #marijon #maribat #marivenger #felinette #spideybug #OT4 #me????projecting onto characters????? It's more likely than you think #honestly at this point #yall should clearly see i got issuses #also the wayne family gets burned!!!!!#mari might forgive most of them #but Bruce and Damian are dead to her #bamf marinette #she takes no shit #am i projecting my poly ass?#you mcfucking bet #she got no time for assholes #neon titanium

218 notes · View notes

crimsonthehobo · 4 years

Text

Battle Scars - (1/?)

[A/N:] Haven’t been on this account in months, am quite sleep-deprived and I haven’t eaten breakfast yet. Well, lunch now apparently. So before I lose the minimal courage I got, I’ll just drop this off here and hope it works! Don’t know when I might write the next part, might even not. Who knows. Mind’s wonky. This has been in my files for a long while, wrote it back when Guy Sebastian’s song Battle Scars got stuck in my head. Figured I might as well let it stop collecting dust. Also, considering I’ve never done this before, I don’t know how to properly tag.

If there’s tags I should put, ESPECIALLY if they’re tw tags, please do tell me. [Summary:] The child of a general, the only survivor of a (frankly) unethical experiment, and the old college roommate of one Alexandra Danvers. Somehow all three of those things correlate with one another, not that you can remember at this point. You just want to live in the forest, forgetting the reasons for the scars that litter your body. [Warning(s):] Reader’s thoughts get... dark. Somewhat. More depressing, I think. Some people horrifically mutate too, so there’s that. Again, if there should be warnings in the tags or here that I should put but didn’t, do tell me. What else... uh, this is approximately 11k words long? Maybe that deserves a warning all to itself. Is there a tag that explains “possibly turns you into a modern-day cave person living in forests to steal from humans and wrestle bears”? Possibly a spoiler, but hey, at least it means you read warnings, so congrats!

The first time you felt like you’d failed, was when you had to leave the first love of your life. It was the only scar that had no physical counterpart, but you’d felt the mind-numbing pain, nonetheless.

“You watch yourself, alright? I won’t be around to keep your head screwed on for you!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

You rolled your eyes, pointedly keeping your focus on shoving the remaining belongings you had into your duffle. You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t. You knew if you did, you’d break.

Silence fell over the room at your half-hearted response, the lack of noise almost making you regret not saying anything more in reply. And then…

“Do… Do you really have to go?”

‘Damn it.’

Alex’s words were shaky, barely louder than a whisper. The strained tinge in her voice urged you to look up from zipping up your bag, glancing over at the source.

Seated on your bed with her legs over the side, she sat hunched over as one of her legs anxiously shook up and down against the edge. Her hands were curled into fists between her knees, knuckles white as her forearms tensed from their placement on her thighs.

She looked so… small. Nervous. It wasn’t like her.

She was supposed to be Alex Danvers. A stubborn redhead that was tough-as-nails and was always up for drinking you under the table any day!

But you couldn’t blame her for not being herself. She was heartbroken, and so were you.

Though, it made you feel guilty that it was because of you that she looked so weak.

No, “weak” wasn’t the word.

Vulnerable…

Vulnerable seemed more fitting.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked away, but it didn’t last for long. You felt her tap your jaw; once, twice, then a third time. For you two, it was a universal sign that you needed to listen. That what would be said was important.

It was an action that would only take effect if done by the other, and no one else.

It could calm either of you from rage, or even help you fight the haze of drunkenness to be in some semblance of sober.

It was special. Meaningful.

Hence why your automatic reaction was to turn, to obey the silent request to face her.

“You’ll stay in touch, yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

Now you? You were weak. While the owner of your heart was devastated right in front of you, all you could offer for comfort was an unconvincing smile and a useless apology.

Her throat bobbed as she attempted to swallow back a sob, but the teary shine in her eyes gave her away.

Another surge of guilt struck your heart and made you avert your eyes elsewhere, anywhere, as long as they were not on her.

‘Look at what you’ve done.’

It was your fault. She didn’t even know why you were leaving so suddenly.

Your father had found out of your attraction to her, and needless to say, he didn’t take it lightly. A few strings pulled later, and you were being sent away to be “straightened out.” The thought almost made scoff during that particular conversation in his study, but you accepted the consequences anyway.

You should’ve been better.

You should’ve done better.

You didn’t protect her well enough.

The fault was none but yours… and the knife you felt in your heart would remind you for a long while to come.

~~~

The second time you felt like you’d failed, happened two years after that moment in your college dorm room.

It took months for that scar to start to heal, but you knew it would take years before it would even begin to fade.

You’d tried to keep in contact, but you had your life to live and so did she. Not to mention the day your father heard of the two of you still communicating, he pulled more strings to cut you off. It was too late, anyway. You’d already stopped talking by then.

But whether the silence was for the better or worse was up for debate.

Just the thought of her made your heart lurch, and actually interacting with her never failed to re-open that scar anew. The space, however agonizing, let the wound heal.

Yet that very same space was what let you drown yourself into your current occupation. In order to compensate for the agony, you let yourself fall deeper and deeper into your work. Though at this point, you were questioning if you should even call it that.

Unknown to her, a month into your time in the military, a general offered you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

You found it hard to believe. You weren’t stupid, you could read between the lines. You knew “opportunity” also meant “ulterior motive.”

He didn’t prove you wrong.

When you walked into the conference room you’d been instructed to enter, your eyes immediately fell to the only individual inside.

General Lane.

You knew three things about him. One, he had been your father’s best friend. Two, he had a palpable dislike for any and all alien life. Specifically, Superman. Three, whenever he began to rant, just smile, and nod.

It was only the two of you there, yet you couldn’t seem to find it in you to focus. Not after he uttered the words “military program.”

You already knew this wouldn’t end well.

Though you remained silent, your eyes having glazed over as the static in your ears prevented his words from reaching your brain, he continued to speak. You only managed to catch bits and pieces, but you got the gist.

They wanted to conduct an experiment and were looking for lab rats. They wanted you to be one.

You weren’t surprised they asked. To everyone else’s knowledge, you had no one left in your life but you. Your father made sure any links between you and Alex were cleanly severed, meaning any history between you two had been cleared. You had no family other than your parents, your mother having passed while you were still in your single digits, while your father had done the same just a week before this very meeting.

‘Tch… no love lost there.’

But, considering he was a respected figure and a close friend of the very same general right in front of you, you had to at least act as if his death affected you. Your father had always been one for appearances, so no one outside of the two of you (and Alex) knew just how estranged you’d been from the other. Because of this, luckily (or unluckily, depending on what way you view it), people took your indifferent poker face to be one of grief.

General Lane wanted to capitalize on that. On you.

You had military blood in you (because apparently that meant you were exactly like your father), you had a “reason” to go missing (grief, hah), and—as far as he was concerned—you had no close relations that would worry should you ever disappear (you… couldn’t really think of a quip to internalize there). You seemed like the perfect guinea pig.

“…We need heroes around here. Human heroes. Not those monsters who could fall to their instincts at the drop of a hat, or at the touch of some space rock—”

Again, it came with no surprise to you that extra-terrestrials were the main focus of said experiment.

You wanted to say no. Fuck, did you want to say no. You wanted no part in this blind hatred. But then…

“—They’re never here when we actually need them. A group of freaks like him are planning to go after National City to lure him out, and where is Superman? Frolicking off in space! The President had an entire clandestine organization made exactly for roach-connected situations like this, yet they don’t even know—”

Your blood ran cold, your hearing suddenly becoming clear as your eyes bore into his.

National City.

Of all the places, they had to go there. You didn’t give it a second thought. You didn’t have to.

“I’ll do it.”

You had no idea what CADMUS was, just that they were collaborating with the U.S. Military to make you and forty-nine others into the ones that would “exterminate the roaches infesting the planet.”

Sounded more like “short-sighted discrimination with an unhealthy dash of xenophobia” than “rational thought for the human race” to you; but as long as you could protect Alex, you didn’t care how much of the mindless drivel you had to sit through.

You didn’t count how many times you found yourself strapped to a metal bed, or how many times you found a needle being stuck into you. Rather, you couldn’t. More than half the time, whatever they put into your bloodstream always made you feel woozy. Enough to make you practically perpetually confused.

Any recollection of your experiences during the experimentation were impossible to stir, and after seeing that one woman’s all-too-amused smirk a few too many times, you were convinced that it had been on purpose.

Before you knew it, another month had passed. Not that you would’ve realized it yourself. Your best guess would’ve been a week, if it weren’t for the woman General Lane had assigned to you telling you otherwise.

She was about your age, maybe a month or so younger. Lucia was her name if you remembered correctly. She’d been left by him to keep an eye on you, or to “keep you sane” as she worded so eloquently.

She was the first person you saw the moment you could properly think again. Her calming presence was a breath of fresh air, and for a moment, everything felt… nice.

Until a soldier barged through the door of your allocated resting area, screaming about an attack.

Time seemed to blur once again, and the next thing you knew, you were in the middle of a war zone. A mile or two from some desert base in the middle of nowhere.

Only you and the rest of the fifty who had been volunteered for the Eradication Program had been deployed. You wished you hadn’t been. The others were bloodthirsty, tearing through the opposition the moment they were ordered to. You, however, chose to take a step back and analyse the enemy.

Most of the “opposing force” looked to be human, not alien. None of them seemed hostile, either. Well… until they were provoked, that is. The human-like members of their group—who you’re sure actually were human—were being protected by their definitely-alien comrades, clearly not trained for combat or any attack whatsoever. In fact, if their attire was anything to go by, they all worked in what could be considered “support” occupations. Engineers, researchers, varying members of medical staff… not one of them appeared to be soldiers.

What was General Lane not telling you?

Were you really protecting National City?

…Were you even in National City?

You felt your comms crackle in your ears, said general’s voice screeching, “What the HELL are you doing?! Move your ass, Six!”

Right. Soldier Six, your call sign. Simply because you were the sixth one to wake up.

How original.

You huffed, and in retaliation to the general’s orders, you tore the device out of your ear and threw it as far as you could over your shoulder.

Because frankly, you didn’t want to. Not when you’d been pit against wrongly identified “hostiles.”

Despite your stubbornness to keep your feet rooted to your spot, soon enough, you didn’t have the privilege of choosing to abstain.

The other “volunteers”—all forty-nine of them—began to stop and convulse. Their flesh rippled beneath their skin, muscles expanding and contracting in an obscene manner.

Something had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.

Each and every one of them mutated appallingly right before your very eyes, all of them attaining a different level of horrendous to another. Some grew limbs, some lost them. Others had extra eyes while a handful had one left or none at all. A few had their nails elongate into claws, others had a tailbone that whipped its way through the air. More than half had lost the colours of their irises—no, not just the colour. The pupils and irises themselves disappeared completely. It was a horrific spectacle to behold.

To call these things a shell of their former selves, would be insulting to the humans they used to be.

Was this going to happen to you?

You didn’t have much time for your thoughts. The one thing that didn’t change was the sheer amount of bloodthirst coursing through their veins. With the supposedly villainous aliens already exhausted, they wouldn’t last a second round against the other volunteer—

‘…No,’ You shook your head, fists clenched tight, ‘Those aren’t the volunteers anymore.’

From what you could see, those men and women died the moment the experiments started. All you could do for them, was help them rest in peace.

And you doubt they’d be getting any rest with their bodies wreaking havoc as these beasts.

Using the enhanced abilities you shared with the monstrosities, you slowly but surely took them out one by one.

They fought like animals.

Yet no matter how many times they slashed at your body, no matter how many times they lunged for your head, nor how many times they made you bleed, you continued to end every single one of them. You didn’t want any of them to suffer longer than they already have.

As with most things nowadays, in your eyes, the details were nothing but a blur. Everything felt… vague. Flashes of claws, bones, and agonizing pain run through your mind, yet no instance remained distinct for more than a second.

…Was this a symptom? Of the experiment, or the transformation?

Fear of the truth made you falter, and a skeletal tail surging straight through your right thigh forced your focus to return. But then so too would the questions, along with the subsequent terror, until another wound started the cycle another time. Again and again, until after what felt like an eternity, the last of them finally fell with an inhuman screech. It was done. But at what cost?

You surveyed your battleground, heart heavy and clenched in an icy grip. You couldn’t protect them, save them. Any of them.

A mighty hack then reverberated through the painfully silent air and caused you to flinch. Your head snapped up to turn to its direction, your feet already making their way over. You’d thoughtlessly skidded onto your knees, the coin-flip reaction bringing you to the survivor’s side. It was an alien.

Your eyes were wide in alarm, hands flittering around as your mind buzzed at what to do. There were so many injuries. Far too many for him to survive, alien or no. Your eyes met his, and your breath hitched in surprise. His irises didn’t scream anger or disgust like you expected. Instead, they were shining in wonder so innocent, it was almost childlike.

“You… Your body… did not… revolt?” the dying male grinned, placing a hand in yours to grip it in glee, “M-Miracle! It… I-It is m-miracle!”

For a moment, you were confused. Until you followed his gaze and watched as your body slowly stitched itself back together. One shallow cut in particular caught your attention, the damage slowly disappearing before your very eyes, leaving not a single blemish on your skin. You’d been so focused on fighting, that you didn’t even stop and wonder how you were still alive. After this day, there may not even be a single scar found.

At another bloody cough, newfound healing abilities were far from the forefront of your mind. Your vision blurred with tears, a sob escaping without your control. It was your fault. It was all your fault.

“Sorry…” You hadn’t spoken in so long, your voice harsh and throat sore, “I- I’m so sorry.”

He weakly shook his head, “B-Blame… not… on y-you. Deceived. We… We all… were…”

“W-What?”

With a wince, he forced his other arm to point to one of his fallen allies, a human researcher about a meter or so north of you.

“Necklace… take…” the light in his eyes was beginning to die, you could see it and he could feel it. Forcing a shaky smile, he murmured in his broken English, “Promise… y-you… not feel… guilty?”

“I…”

You knew you’d feel guilty.

You should, shouldn’t you? This was all your fault! You were careless and made a mistake once again. You didn’t see through the veil, you weren’t smart enough. You couldn’t stop the others, you weren’t quick enough.

You weren’t enough.

And just like before, people suffered because of it.

But… although he was on his last seconds of life, he looked at you so brightly. He was still so hopeful. How could you break such a wonderous being in his last moments?

You shook your head ‘no,’ lying, knowing this would be a wound that would last a long time to come. From the huff he gave, you felt like he knew that too.

Nonetheless, he coughed out, “P-Promise?”

You swallowed, feeling a fresh wave of hot tears cascading down your cheeks. With another lurch from your heavy heart, you gave him a nod and a shaky smile of your own, “I promise.”

His smile grew a fraction wider, “P… Pro… mise…”

His last breath left him, leaving the hand still in yours to fall, limp.

You were wrong earlier, there was a scar left behind.

The laceration you’d received from foolishly grabbing onto a tail, the one injury that had been obscured from your sight by his hold, had left a mark. You knew what it would be. A memento, of another time you’d failed. Of the first time your naivety took the life of another. You let a sob escape your control.

And another…

For hours you stayed on the blood-soaked sand, the coarse particles dyed red with the proof of the violent loss of life. By the time you heard a chopper land meters away to analyse the aftermath, your tears had long since dried and the last remnants of your rampant emotions were now trapped deep within, leaving only your now-signature emotionless mask. Thankfully, they understood enough that your mind was stuck elsewhere and didn’t bother to get a mission report out of you.

They did, however, cheer at the averted “crisis.”

All except Lucia. It was a small comfort, but a comfort, nonetheless. Rather than cheering, she sat next to you, a consoling hand on your shoulder as she murmured apologies for wrongs not her own.

For a brief moment, you wondered why she was here. What her role was in all of this mess, how she got caught up in it…

But when the others’ voices drowned out Lucia’s and all you could hear was their excitement and joy, your thoughts were immediately overrun by pure rage. Your stare morphed into a glare as your eyes kept themselves glued to the carnage below, hand clutching the unseen necklace concealed by your dog tags.

You were the only one who survived.

You were the only success.

You were now a monster.

~~~

It was two years later after that, that the third occurrence happened.

Although you held a great amount of distrust for the U.S. Military, you never left their command. Foolishly, you stayed and did whatever they said. You went to where they told you you’d been needed. You fought who they told you to fight. You killed who they told you to kill.

All because of your own fear.

What if you were already transforming? What if your body was just one second away from fighting whatever gave you your powers? What if, the moment you left… you went berserk?

One “what if” after another festered in your mind, leading to you to forcibly suppress your own self and play their perfect little soldier, if only to keep your own body at bay should it ever run amok.

After all, they created you. The only ones who would know how to stop you would be them, right?

Besides, what would you even do once you left? They’d written the end of your life for you the moment you agreed to be a lab experiment.

Who would you have turned to?

Alex?

You scoffed at the thought. You said “yes” to help protect her, not drag her into the damn problem.

For a year and a half, you’d justified your stay with those thoughts, and for more than half of that time you let yourself be used as a mere weapon. It took you a year until you accepted the truth of your situation, and it wasn’t until roughly three months prior to your third failure that you finally let yourself see reason.

You sat up on your bunk, eyes on your hands, staring at blood that none but you could see. Sweat dripped from your brow, faint screams echoing in your eardrums, audible just beneath the vigorous beating of your heart.

‘I can’t keep this up…’ You released a shuddering breath, ‘How long will I have to keep this up?!’

Ever since that day in the desert, your nights were never peaceful, your sleep never serene. You’d long since gotten used to the endless screams of terror, the unending stream of unfamiliar faces contorting in woe. But what you hadn’t prepared for—what you never thought you’d ever need to prepare for—was for those faces to suddenly become familiar.

Alex had been petrified, the alien terrified, and Lucia… Lucia lay on the bloodied, black dirt, prone. Her face perpetually mortified. Even after you lurched forward in your bed and had left the realm of dreams, their suffering still danced in the shadows of your surroundings, the remnants of their frightened faces flashing in your eyes like some ghastly slideshow.

Their misery was because of you. You’d stumbled too deep into the haze, and by the time you came out, you had become what you feared the most. The cause of their torment.

‘What am I doing with my life?’

It was on that night that you truly accepted the reality of your situation. You had let your mind wander and, without realizing, let yourself function on autopilot for too long. It wasn’t until now, on this night—when you were terrorized by their screams—that you accepted that fact. But you felt it was already too late.

By mindlessly putting your life on the line, you had saved hundreds of lives—or so you were told. Yet for every life you saved, you knew there had been at least one you’d taken in return.

Your comrades rejoiced at your feats, and even a few of the higher-ups praised your work.

And yet…

Why did you feel nothing? Why did you feel out of place?

Why did you feel like you were doing something you weren’t meant to?

You’d been confused, very much so. For over a year, in fact. Your body felt ironically alien. Different. As if you’d been sleepwalking the past two years. Your memories, too, felt foreign. They were more like dreams than anything else.

No… “dream” was far too nice of a word.

Nightmare—like vulnerable—seemed more fitting.

Your recollection of the past two years was a mess. There were only a handful of distinct memories you could recall, and all were of them. Alex… the alien… and Lucia. The rest were all a hazy blur, a fever dream that kept you jumping from one horrific scene to another.

You didn’t even know who you’d been fighting the entire time. No one ever gave you a clear picture, only stating where you were needed and what had to be done. You vaguely remember a mix of terrified faces, both alien and human. What did they even do wrong?

Did they even do wrong?

It was then that reality truly sunk in. You already knew that you were a weapon, one for them to use however and whenever they saw fit. What was hardest to swallow was the fact that the blood you’d let yourself spill—blood you could’ve chosen not to spill—could very well have been those of innocents.

You buried your face into your knees, fingers threading through your hair and gripping your pounding skull. You felt your nails dig into your scalp.

Luckily for your tattered mental state, Lucia had been there to help anchor you back to reality.

She murmured lowly as she gently pried your fingers from your head, and though her words went through one ear and out the other, her voice alone soothed you. You found that she knew exactly what to do, and even let you bury your face into her shoulder as she cooed at you softly, her hands tenderly drawing calming patterns on your back.

You’d been so happy that she was there. It wasn’t until hours later, after both of you had passed out in emotional exhaustion, that you woke up and realized that she had always been there. You’d just been too stuck in your own mind to see her.

When she woke up, her eyes meeting yours, neither of you spoke a word. Yet you both knew your dynamic had shifted, the air between you different. It simply went unsaid.

It didn’t go unseen, however. Everyone knew how dangerous you were, and after a rookie’s idiotic mistake, knew how equally dangerous it was to make Lucia unhappy in any way.

(His shoulder wouldn’t shove into others the same way again, nor would his ego inflate with the chasm you’d left.)

Stupidly, despite the revelations of that night—perhaps even because of said revelations—you continued living under the government’s employ.

In your mind, it was no longer just for your fear, it was also for her sake. If you left, you knew she would do whatever it took to stay by your side, regardless of the danger. Even if you were to be hunted, experimented, or executed, she would stay. And none of those fates were any you would allow to befall her.

No matter the gruesome sights that looped in your mind like a film at some grisly theatre, you jumped into the fray again, and again, and again. Still as reckless. Still as unrelenting. Still as guilty.

Not a single complaint ever left your lips. You felt you deserved it. But more importantly, you felt you were protecting her.

She didn’t agree.

The topic had been the spark of many arguments between the two of you, one such case being…

“You can’t keep doing this—you can’t keep living like this!”

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

You stayed silent, sat on your bed in your designated quarters. Your eyes were trained on her pacing form as you fiddled with the fresh bandages on your arms, replies only said in mind.

At this point, this scene was common. You’d gotten injured, she’d gotten frustrated, and you had the decency to listen. You knew Lucia wasn’t mad at you. Annoyed? Maybe. But not mad. Her anger was always directed at the same people, and never to you. She just hated to see you hurt.

‘Unfortunately, it’s an occupational haza—'

“—And don’t you say it’s an occupational hazard!”

Or… not?

Lucia stopped in her tracks, eyes boring into your own, “There are always ways to complete your missions without you ending up a bloody mess, but they don’t care about that, do they? As long as the mission is completed as soon as possible, they don’t give a damn. What if you never healed? What if you actually found something that would actually get you killed?”

You had no response for that.

“They don’t even know of the full extent of your powers—none of us do! They started sending you out the day after that desert! Yet here we are again… I don’t understand why we don’t just leave.”

You opened your mouth to speak for the first time, to remind her of the dangers of such a plan just as you always had in the past, when you felt your hairs stand on end. Someone was eavesdropping. Your glare flashed to the door, spotting an eye widen at your stare before rushing off. You’d rush after them, but you knew nothing could be done without arousing suspicion. This base was full soldiers, and thus witnesses. Unfortunately, it was also full of snitches.

You stood abruptly, causing Lucia to jerk in surprise. Her brow furrowed when she spotted the grim frown you now wore.

“We’re leaving. Now.”

She could only blink in shock, “Now?”

“Now.”

The conversation would’ve been seen as treason. Or, at best, the start of it. You needed to run.

She followed your unwavering stare to the door, the sight of its slight opening making the cogs in her mind connect the dots. Someone had heard, and were no doubt reporting you. Her shock melted into determination, “I’ve already got a bag of necessities packed in case of an emergency escape. Let’s go.”

Next thing you knew, you were both dashing through corridors, unfamiliar alarms blaring the moment you had retrieved her bag. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had prepared for this eventuality.

Squad after squad were sent after you both, all made up of people you’d seen as comrades and allies not even an hour before. Any fondness you held for each of them, however, immediately dissipated the moment they aimed a gun even a meter in Lucia’s direction. With a growl, you tore through every single one of them, unabashed by their betrayed yells so long as her safety was assured.

But you’d made a mistake. You were focused too much on those aiming for her, that you forgot there were others targeting yourself. Lucia didn’t. Which is why she spotted the soldier pulling out a weapon from a case before you did.

It looked like a gun, but she knew it was different. She could feel that it was. When they overlooked her completely and aimed for you, she knew she was right. Without a second thought, she shoved you out of the way, just as the soldier pulled the trigger.

A bang echoed in your ears, then a pained scream and a thud.

Your heart dropped. She’d pushed you away. Because of her, the bullet only grazed your torso… before tearing straight through her own.

You fell to your knees, not sparing a glance away from Lucia even as you put a bullet straight through the head of the soldier responsible.

“You IDIOT! Why would you do that?! You know I would’ve survived it!”

Your eyes were panicked, breathing growing more erratic by the second as you attempted to staunch the blood flowing from her wound. There was so much blood… why was there so much blood?!

“No…” she shook her head, “You… You wouldn’t’ve. N-Not… Not this one.”

You could hear footsteps and voices growing closer. You ignored them.

“I always survive, it’s my THING!” You gritted your teeth, ignoring the tears leaving tracks down your cheeks, “Stop talking, would you?! You need all your damn energy!”

Lucia simply smiled, even as more of the coppery liquid slid down the side of her mouth, “Promise me… promise me you w-won’t blame yourself f-for this?”

Déjà vu. Taunting, agonizing, déjà vu.

“I… I…” more tears, and a sob. What ever happened to control? “…I can’t.”

Her smile didn’t waver, as if she expected your response. Instead, she lifted a hand to your cheek, thumb gently wiping a tear away, “I know what you’re thinking, and I know it’s hard f-for you t-to think otherwise, love… but this isn’t your fault. I chose to do this. Y-You couldn’t’ve done anything to stop me.”

“…” You shook your head in disbelief, feeling more blood seep through your fingers.

Why wouldn’t the bleeding stop?!

“C’mon, love. P-Please, look at me?”

“…”

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see her so accepting of her fate.

Yet you couldn’t help the confused furrow of your brows at her tapping your jaw, your focus immediately swivelling to her. Not on instinct, but in question, confusion, and slight betrayal. You’d never regretted telling her of your first love, of admitting that there were some things you could never forget. Until now.

“Th-There you are. I know it hurts, but you have t-to p-promise me, then you need to leave me.”

The familiar action had increased your pain tenfold, but her words had the panic in your eyes grow more intense, blood freezing in your veins.

‘No. NO. NononoNO—’ You looked away as you felt your body quake, the chill caused by her words making your limbs feel like lead, ‘Not you… anybody but you!’

You felt her tap your jaw again, but you didn’t look to her, preferring to stubbornly keep your eyes on your hands. You wouldn’t- You couldn’t.

“Please…” Lucia’s voice sounded so small, distant. Just like with the alien, you knew she was on her last breaths, and so did she, “L-Listen to me… they… now want you… gone. I-I know… it’s a lot to ask, but you have to leave me. Please. T-That bullet was meant f-for you—”

You couldn’t help but snap, “What bullet isn’t when I’m out on the field?!”

“N-No, love. T-They made it for you. T-To kill you…” she weakly shook her head, “I… I… s-saw it… wasn’t… normal.”

“Shit—SHIT! Why can’t I stop the god damn bleeding?!”

You hated that there were so many things that you couldn’t do. Why can’t you just do something—anything—right for once?!

As always, she knew where your mind was headed, “N-No matter… how little… y-you… think of yourself… I know y-you were meant… to be amazing. F-From the moment I… I saw you… I knew you’d be… a… a-a hero.”

“What kind of fucking hero can’t even save the person she loves?!” head hung low, you pulled your hands away from her wound, reluctantly accepting that it was futile, “What kind of useless hero am I?”

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the other draping itself across her stomach. You shifted yourself closer, cautiously embracing the dying woman. Apology after apology left your mouth, your tears dripped down from your cheeks only to mix with her own.

“It’s not… your… fau…” her hand, now much weaker than it had been earlier, fell limply onto the arm you’d placed on her stomach. When her fingers lightly squeezed your forearm, you knew what she expected. You released your grip on her hip, linking your hand with hers, making her chuckle faintly, “I-It… theirs… y-y’hear me? N-Never fo… forget… ‘s wasn’t… fault…”

“I… I won’t…”

You knew you’d never forget this day… just as how you’d never forget where the fault would forever lay in your mind.

“L… Love you…” her eyes were fluttering shut, and at the tug of her hand, you knew what she wanted.

You leaned closer, your lips pressing on hers for the final time. Only a second later did her last breath leave her lungs, and with it, one more piece of your fragile heart.

You could only stare, hoping that she would open her eyes and fill the deafening silence. But she didn’t, and you had to accept that she never would. When your mind finally opened itself to the rest of the world, you could hear the soldiers. Their orders for you to back down… or, more specifically, his.

General Lane.

When you saw a glimpse of his face, everything turned red and screams replaced the buzzing in your ears. You could never remember much past their anguish.

All you knew was the gash on your torso healed, but the mark never faded.

~~~

Six months passed, and sleep was still a stranger. So were your mind and memories, but what else was new?

You had no idea where you were, you never did more than half the time. More often than not, you’d find yourself lost in thought, staring off at nothing as your finger lightly traced the scar hidden beneath your shirt. Sometimes you’d snap out of it, standing in the middle of an unfamiliar area. Occasionally, you’d stop yourself mid-step as you were walking or crossing the street.

Either way, people would be staring at you like you were insane. You couldn’t blame them, you felt like you were. That was fine, you never stayed in one area for long anyway.

For the past couple of months you’d been hopping from place to place, lingering only for three days at most. You didn’t have to do much to conceal your identity, considering the government already got rid of it for you. You did get yourself a new name, though.

Corazon.

Wasn’t exactly subtle to you, but it was better than Soldier Six and at least you could remember it.

How could you not, when your mistakes were always made by your soft heart?

You only wished that you had the ability to rid yourself of your emotions, then at least living would be somewhat bearable. You hated that even the smallest things could trigger your beating heart. It could’ve been a hair colour, a laugh, or just an oblivious pair holding hands, your heart wouldn’t fail to work with your fractured memories and remind you of what you’d lost.

You wished you could split the two, or at least rid yourself of one… maybe even both. You couldn’t think without feeling, nor feel without thinking. If you had no way to feel, no way to have a conscious thought, or both, then living a seemingly deathless life would be bearable. Sure, that sort of life isn’t one others would say is worth living, but neither is the one you are now.

The only thing keeping you away from finding a way to have that ‘plan’ to come into fruition, was the fact that—as far as you know—only the government could ‘help.’

You never wanted to make contact with those bastards again.

“Wha- HEY!”

At the indignant yell, you blinked yourself out of your stupor. Confused, you looked around.

You’d wandered into an alley. Huh.

Hearing a groan, you glanced down, spotting a boy who couldn’t’ve been any older than mid-teens. He was sat on the concrete, rubbing his forehead, having presumably fallen after colliding with you.

Then, you heard yelling.

You looked up and saw a group of men pointing and yelling unintelligibly at the boy at your feet. He sprang up and made a move to exit, only for your hand on his shoulder to stop him in his tracks. You felt his eyes on you, but yours never left the group stomping closer as they brandished their makeshift weapons in a supposedly threatening manner.

Hammers, nails in bats, metal pipes… generic, stereotypical, bad guy weapons. You saw a gun or two poking out from the waistbands of their pants, yet you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

When they stopped in front of you, they even puffed out their chests to make themselves look bigger. One of them stepped forward and grumbled with a voice made forcibly gruff, “You with this brat?”

“Pff,” You only shook your head in mirth. You’d heard of people like this in movies, but you never knew they actually existed.

His lips curled up into a snarl, “What’s so funny.”

“…” You smiled, tilted your head in faux innocence, and admitted clearly, “You.”

Predictably, your response infuriated him, and he launched himself towards you to attack.

Within a minute, him and his group were all unconscious, weapons—including their guns—left splintered and bent on the damp ground.

You grumbled, “Idiots.”

With another roll of your eyes, you spun on your heels and moved to leave the scene… only to face an overexcited fourteen-year-old.

“That was AWESOME!”

“!”

You blinked. You’d forgotten he was there. You watched, an eyebrow raised as he asked question after question, each going through one ear and out the other. Your mind didn’t register a single one, but from the rapid rate the words seemed to leave his lips, the number seemed endless.

Didn’t he need to breathe?

It was here that the boy lurched to a stop, his lungs lacking the air required to allow speech. You only blinked when he took in just a little too much oxygen. His overdramatic wheezing caused you to smirk and huff in mild amusement. His eyes darted to you at the noise, focusing on your mirth as he smacked a fist against his chest in an effort to abate his hacking.

“You…” he coughed again, “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You only offered a shrug in response. Considering past experience, human interaction wasn’t something you necessarily searched for. Generally, they all ended up morphing into some form of confrontation for you—or loss, but that was a thought hurriedly buried in the deepest recesses of your mind.

The boy wasn’t deterred by your silence. Instead, he seemed even more determined to fill the space with his own words. Again, most of them generally went through one ear and out the other.

“—I’m Lucas!”

Wait. Why was the kid telling you their name?

You still didn’t reply, but ‘Lucas’ didn’t seem fazed and continued, saying, “My friends call me Luke, though!”

He then scratched his head sheepishly, “Well… they would, if I had any.”

Head tilted in a questioning manner, your brow furrowed at his admission, movements that he managed to notice.

“Ah… well, nobody ever wants to be friends with the weird kid.”

You raised your eyebrow, and he pointed to the unconscious group at your feet as an explanation.

“Wouldn’t be the first time these guys went after me, and they don’t care whether I’m at school or not,” Lucas kicked away a stray can, giving the men an annoyed sneer, “Just that Dad ‘pays them back’ or something, I dunno. No one really wants to be caught up in a mess like this.”

You’d followed his gaze, staring at the people sprawled out on the dirty floor.

What were these guys, self-proclaimed tax collectors? Loan sharks? Wannabe gang members?

That last one seems to fit them to a T.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud growling of a stomach. And it wasn’t yours.

Shaking your head, you glanced back at Lucas, his face red in embarrassment. Without hesitation, you rooted through the pockets of a few of the men, forgoing their cards and instead pulled out handfuls of cash from their wallets.

You may already be considered a criminal by the U.S. Army, but you didn’t want more on your record than you already had. And you had standards.

You’d rather have “assault” and “pickpocketing” on that record over “not paying for fast food” any day. That last one just seems like a real shitty thing to be arrested over. Besides, you’d never steal from ordinary civilians… but you’d make exceptions for assholes.

You moved to leave the alley again, tousling Lucas’ hair as you went past. When you didn’t hear his footsteps following, you stopped at the entrance, sending another glance back towards his way you huffed at his stupefied expression before jerking your head in a gesture to follow. You couldn’t help but smile at his joyful expression, biting back a chuckle at his excited hopping at your side.

“Nice to meet you, Luke.”

Six more months passed, and after meeting Lucas, you haven’t left the town. You’d found out that he’d essentially raised himself. The kid’s mother was gone, and he didn’t know why. You met his father, and after that one meeting you knew he was useless. His debts weren’t even for necessities, just for his alcohol and gambling. Guy didn’t even seem to care that his son was the one suffering most from the consequences of his actions.

You were annoyed, but after witnessing him passed out in a bathtub, reaching over the edge to clutch at a toilet while a bottle of whiskey hung from his fingers, you knew he was a lost cause. Lucas knew it, too. Admitted that he’d known so for years.

You felt bad for the kid and did what you could to help. You kept those lackeys off his back. Got him clothes, food, school supplies if he needed them. You didn’t tell him where you got the money and he never asked, but considering how you’d initially met you assume he had a slight idea. You still didn’t talk much, and your attention span failed you at times, but he understood. He knew that you were at least trying.

At times he’d ask you for help with his homework, and you were convinced it caused you just as much grief as it did him. You could barely remember what happened months or a year before, let alone what you’d learnt over a decade ago.

You were a weapon, not a teacher. You could teach him how to kick ass with the best of them, but you didn’t know shit about literature or geography. Or whatever it was high schoolers learnt these days.

Even when you were working with the government, you didn’t have to know how to get around yourself. They just shipped you to the mission location and back, and that was that. You didn’t even know you got around now, considering how most of your time on the road was spent in your head.

You swear he only asked you to laugh at you. You’d try to intimidate him with a deadpan stare, but that only made the cheeky brat laugh louder. Your exasperation would fizzle out soon enough, his joy infectious. You found yourself feeling… happy. Normal. Like an average human. Something you never thought would be a near-unreachable standard.

But of course, as always, happiness in your life never lasted long.

You’d stopped moving. You stayed in one place for too long.

You’d focused too much on the present, that you forgot about the past you’d been running to escape. And so, it caught up.

You were running again. They were at your heels, this time. And you couldn’t just beat them into the ground.

Their weapons looked different. Their bullets hurt.

You didn’t want to believe that this was happening. Just this morning you’d been laughing with Lucas, pancake batter and syrup drizzled over your heads.

Now all you could hear were shouts and gunfire, blood dripping down a healing cut at your temple.

You wanted them to lose your tracks, but you knew how they worked. If you disappeared completely, they’d have to look for clues. Which would lead them to Lucas. Which was why you were leading them, herding them away like sheep to be as far away from the kid as possible. But it was not meant to be.

“Sis!”

The voice made electricity shoot up your spine, catching more than just your attention. You noticed a few soldiers turn to look his way as he ran towards you, even as you shook your head and urged him to turn back. He wouldn’t. You were family, how could he leave you behind?

“LUKE, RUN!”

…Was that your voice? Sometimes you’d forget what your voice sounded like, and not using it for weeks at a time definitely didn’t help your case.

He skidded meters away, eyeing the soldiers, his face conflicted, “But—”

You heard the crackling of their comms and spotted a few guns being pointed his way, one of them even pulled out a pin.

What the fuck was General Lane thinking?!

The kid was a civilian, not a criminal!

You sprinted over to Lucas, body shielding his within a second. You felt bullets pierce your back, easily tearing through the fabric of your clothing. You heard Lucas yelling for them to stop, but you knew they wouldn’t listen. You heard the tell-tale clinking of a grenade rolling on the concrete and you tightened your grip around him, eyes screwed shut. You heard the bellowed orders “TAKE COVER” and then…

Pain.

Searing, white-hot, pain was spreading on your back. You felt shrapnel enter your torso, the heat eating away at your skin. You forced yourself to endure the agony.

You were protecting him.

You repeated those four words in your mind like a mantra, mind clinging to them for a way to ground itself.

When you felt the dust settling, the ringing in your ears calming, you dared to open your eyes. And you wish you didn’t.

Despite your best efforts, Lucas had been hit. Twice. The projectiles had presumably ricocheted. Whether it was shrapnel or bullets, you didn’t know. All you knew was that he was wounded, and that you’ve failed once again.

“No…” You rasped out, tears obscuring your vision. Your throat hurt from disuse, but you continued to force the words out, “No… kid, not you too!”

“Hah,” Lucas laughed, not noticing the blood that came with the motion, “I’m… I… I didn’t e-expect to go like this. P-Pretty badass, huh?”

His eyes were beginning to flutter closed, the light in his eyes quickly dulling. Your breath hitched in your throat, and gritting your teeth, you muttered, “No, no… c’mon, eyes on me bud. Eyes on me!”

His head weakly flopped to the side as he grinned, teeth stained with blood, “S’okay… was meant t-to be gone in… in… that alley. Y’saved me… y’let me be happy… thank you.”

Lucas went limp. Just like that, he was gone. And so were you.

You didn’t flinch when the wounds on your back slowly stitched themselves back together, no doubt leaving a mark as every failure always did.

You didn’t resist when they forcefully yanked you away, uncaring that they had just taken the life of an innocent. The life of a child.

You felt someone forcefully lift your head, to which you muttered, “Kill me. Please.”

You didn’t speak any more after that, no matter how much they tried to get a reaction.

No… you wouldn’t do anything until you were either dead, or put face-to-face with the bastard you knew gave the order.

And as expected, they put him right where you wanted him.

You were back at the base, arid desert and all.

They’d seated you in a metal chair, one bolted down to the thick concrete beneath your feet. Your arms were forced to lie flush against its armrests, wrists cuffed into place.

You were in one of the interrogation rooms, metal walls to the front, back and the left. You weren’t fooled. You knew the wall to the right was a one-sided window. To know that there were people just watching you…

You felt like an animal.

It was only after General Lane stood across from you, after the only door leading in and out of the room clicked shut, that you even twitched. Your attention finally drifted up from the flimsy metal cuffs that they’d clamped around your wrists—not that they knew your strength had grown—and to the poor excuse of a man attempting to stand tall.

You glared at him, unabashedly showing the hatred burning within you. It made him swallow, despite the poker face he attempted to keep up. Your silent staring contest stretched on and on, his mouth repeatedly opening and closing in indecision. He wanted to speak, but had no idea what to say.

The people behind the window had plenty of words, though. You couldn’t catch all of them, but you managed to decipher a muffled few.

“Dad” was one. Which meant one of the people might’ve been his kid. Wouldn’t be implausible. Last time you paid attention to him, he had two. Girls, if your memory actually served you correct. And two of the voices you could hear were distinctly feminine.

“Our” was another, spoken with a lilt for emphasis before “Dad”, which meant both of his kids were there. If your first assumption was correct.

“Superman” was the last one you heard. It was the word that caused you the most grief. Why mention the “Man of Steel”? You remembered hearing someone rant about the Kryptonian, mentioning a possible relation between the hero and a journalist. One of General Lane’s kids was a journalist. That could pose a problem. If his kids really were on the other side of the glass, and Lucas’ info—

‘Luke.’

Any hesitation you had dissipated instantly. No matter what would become of you, you’d make this bastard pay. It was the least you could do.

Breaking away from the General’s stare, your eyes flashed to the window, cogs turning in your mind. Perhaps you could do worse than cause simple, physical, pain. You could expose him, have his children lose their faith in him. Even if they weren’t his children, they would be his soldiers. It could lead to questioning of his authority.

It was worth a shot. Besides, what did you have to lose?

“You killed him,” you snarled, “He was just a boy, but you killed him.”

You shot up from your seat. Rather, you shot up with your seat. The cuffs were still in place, but the bolts that held the seat down had lost their hold with a resounding crack.

General Lane jumped back in shock, the doorknob now jiggling as his soldiers desperately tried to come to his aid.

Without missing a beat, you tore your hands out of their restraints and pulled the long metal table that separated you two upwards, shoving it legs-first into where the door would be. The legs went right through the wall, the body of the table now blocking the entrance as well as the door itself.

‘That’s the front wall and entrance covered…’

With an audible growl, you turned back to the general, the man now scrambling back to push himself flat against a wall in fear. He was pointing a pistol at you, but you were undeterred.

You took a step, and he took a shot.

You took another, and he did the same.

You took a third, and the man emptied his gun into your torso.

You weren’t fazed, your fury burning too great for you to feel anything other than rage.

He looked like he was about to reply to your yell, but you cut him off before he could, snapping, “Your problem was with me. It always has been. There was no need for you to involve a civilian, let alone ordering your men to open fire!”

“I… I—”

“I wanted to live, so you tried to have me die. When I do want to die, you keep me alive. How much more do I have to suffer for you to be satisfied?! How much longer do I have to exist, for my wants to actually matter?!”

As you stomped closer towards him, you gripped the chair that had been meant for him and threw it across the room. The object formed a deep dent upon impact and rendered the back wall weak.

Releasing another growl, you lifted him up by the collar of his uniform, “How much lower are you going to fall, after murdering that poor boy? Is there even a bar lower for you to reach?!”

The general continued to ignore the futility of repeatedly pulling the trigger of his empty pistol, desperate for a way out. But without a miracle, he would never be able to escape.

Unfortunately, he got one. It came in the form of a Kryptonian, at that.

Superman broke through the dented wall, quick in separating you from the general. You felt your back smack against the one-sided window, the cool glass cracking beneath your flesh.

Oh, right. You hadn’t had the chance to change. Your shirt was still burnt at the back, the rest of your clothing tattered at the edges and your feet shoeless. Your state of dress seemed to come as a surprise to Superman, too. If the brief moment he took to observe his ‘opponent’ was any indication.

You glanced at the wall he’d used as an entrance. It wasn’t that much of a fall. It wouldn’t take much to heal if you got hurt. Ten seconds, at most.

Within a breath, you fearlessly leaped through the broken wall. You heard a choke of astonishment behind you as you did, but as much as you wanted to be amused by the alien, you recognized the threat he was to your freedom.

He was a goody-two-shoes. If he caught you, you’d just be locked up. And you’d be used as a lab rat or a weapon all over again. Never able to die.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You’d landed with a wince and a roll, a sickening crack shooting shocks up your left arm. You’d shaken off the pain, sprinting towards where you knew the weapons vault was. The rushing of wind reached your ears, indicating that the alien wasn’t far behind. Spotting the vault entrance straight ahead, you trusted your instincts and slid across the tile floor as if you were running a base. It worked.

Superman flew straight past you, and not expecting you to have sensed him coming, was going too fast to stop himself from crashing into the vault. Your eyes widened at the sight. You hadn’t predicted it either.

Hurriedly pushing yourself up to your feet, you’d rushed into the vault, mind flashing through the arsenal they had you use throughout the years. You’d known what they had in there, and one of them was definitely not good for a Super.

When you stepped foot into the vault, you were proven right. Superman was struggling to stand, green creeping its way through his veins.

“Shit…” without hesitation, you pulled him up. You wrapped his arm around your neck and dragged him out, uncaring of the guns pointed at you. You felt his questioning stare, and grumbled, “What.”

“Why?”

Such a simple question, made of only one word… yet the true nature of its complexity was beyond you. You shook your head. Not the time.

“Never wanted to kill anyone. Never wanted anyone dead, either…” You sighed, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Just wanted to be happy.”

Once you determined that he was at a safe enough distance, you promptly let him flop into the ground. You huffed at his comical “oof” before revealing the smoke grenade you had swiped from the vault. You pulled its pin, and as everyone’s vision began to be obscured, you muttered words only Superman could hear.

“Please, just leave me alone…”

~~~

You didn’t know if it was because of Superman’s influence, but you were. Left alone, that is. Then again, it might’ve been because you’d kept away from civilization as best as you could, staying in forests for as long as you were able.

For how long at this point? You weren’t sure. By the time you’d left him in the smoke, it had been five years since the dorm with Alex. Three since the experiment. One since Lucia. And... none since Luke.

With a shake of your head, their blurred faces and vague memories faded in an instant, the frown at the resurfacing thoughts of them quickly replaced with an easy-going smile.

The woods weren’t too bad.

The animals were surprisingly amicable, and you found an unfamiliar joy in jumping into lakes and rivers without any remorse. If you needed anything that couldn’t be provided naturally, the camp sites you’d managed to memorize the locations of were useful in that regard. Clothes, food, money…

You didn’t realize exactly how easy it was to steal from civilians until you weren’t one yourself.

Still... it should be troubling that you didn’t know how long you’d been living in the forests. Every day blurs together. You didn’t even know what forest you were living in. Or if you’d lived in more than one. Your memories continued to fracture, and due to lack of practice, you could feel your ability to speak and understand wavering.

Your memories…

Very few of them remained intact. You had a feeling that you had a part to play in it, intentional or not, considering that the ones you could remember seemed happy, and anything otherwise—anything that caused pain… either you got rid of them the second they came, or it made you retreat into the deepest recesses of your mind, never knowing how long you’d been in there the moment you returned to reality.

Could’ve been a few seconds, minutes, maybe even hours. It was partially why you’d lost track of how long you’d been living among the trees.

Every time you thought of your past, you were reminded of the burden that was carrying emotions. Of being human. It was roughly one month into living away from humans, that you accepted it was simpler to just ignore the fact that you had a life before this mess. That there had ever been happier times. If you couldn’t identify what was considered a ‘good’ memory, then you wouldn’t be sucked into the ‘bad’, right?

So you buried them. Even imagined little coffins for them and everything.

Part of you knows that it’s unhealthy. But that mindset is what led to those instances now being few and far in between—or, at least you hoped they were. Again, you didn’t really have a good sense of time.

But living was good. It was fun, not thinking of anything but what to do next. You could spend an entire day chasing after deer, or just climbing a tree. And do the same thing all over again tomorrow!

…It all sounds a bit boring now that you think about it. But oddly enough, the days were surprisingly fun. If you really wanted a thrill, all you had to do was start wrestling a bear! That was fun.

You were actually rushing away from one right now, teasingly dangling yourself from one branch of a tree to another, when you heard a scream. A female scream, and then… a crash. While the noise terrified the bear, it only intrigued you, drawing you closer. Almost like a siren’s call.

You dropped down to the forest floor, tackling the bear in the process. After absentmindedly hauling it over your shoulder, you dashed through the treeline within seconds. Once out of the forest, you coughed as you blinked at the wreckage before you.

Two vehicles had collided roughly thirty meters away, the smoke billowing from the smouldering wreck making your lungs burn. What startled you more was the armed man holding a gun up to an injured, blonde woman twenty meters away from the crash.

You blinked at the man, who seemed to be talking the woman’s ears off. Rather, what was the word… monologuing? Yeah. Monologuing.

His cocky grin made you roll your eyes, the action leading to you noticing the bear’s presence on your shoulder. An idea struck. Your eyes narrowed at the man, before glancing over to the bear. The man. The bear. The man…

“BEAR!”

You gleefully yelled, startling them both. But what brought complete horror upon both humans, was the fact that there was now a bear hurtling towards them. Correction, towards the man.

He dropped like a rock, him and the bear both did. Whereas the poor, unharmed-yet-traumatised fuzzy animal quickly scrambled to its feet before sprinting back into the woods, the effectively disarmed male stayed flat on the concrete, out cold.

Tilting your head to the side, you walked up to the unconscious human, your brows furrowing as you wondered why he wasn’t moving.

You sniffed and rubbed at your itching nose, wincing at the horrible stench of roasting rubber. You couldn’t tell if the blood you smelt came from the wounds after the crash, or after the bear.

You gave him a light tap of a foot, checking if he’d wake up anytime soon. When the man didn’t budge, you shrugged and turned to go back to the forest, only to freeze when you were startled by the female he’d been threatening. You’d forgotten she was there, and the woman was far closer than you remembered her to be.

She looked stunned.

Her hands were hovering by her cheeks, palms over her mouth, tears brimming in her eyes as she muttered… a name? It sounded familiar. You didn’t know why. You tilted your head, confused.

“You…” she sobbed, tears now flowing freely. She stammered out, “You don’t remember, do you?”

Who was this woman?

Cautiously, you shook your head. Your was body tense, knees bent and ready to escape if you needed to.

“Nothing? It’s me, Eliza,” another shake of your head. She sniffled, “Eliza Danvers? One of my daughters brought you over for Thanksgiving a few times, you were like a part of our family, before… before… you disappeared.”

Danvers.

You didn’t hear anything past that, the word—name?—had a tremor course through your skull. That was… worrying? It should be worrying, right?

Your hands flashed to your aching temples, gritting your teeth, you croaked out, “D-Dan… Danvers?”

You hadn’t said anything in months. Your throat was probably as painful to use as your voice was to hear.

Eliza’s eyes shined brighter in realization. You were remembering.

“Yes, Danvers! Do you… Do you remember my daughter? She’d been your closest friend. Alex, Alexandra Danvers—”

Static was all you could hear. You dropped to your knees, the pain growing more unbearable the more she spoke. You barely felt the gravel of the road digging into your knees.

Alex?

Alex.

Who was—

“No… Don’t!”

That was… you? Why was this hurting so much? What was going on?

Why didn’t you want to remember?

You felt hands on your shoulders, desperately trying to… to what? Snap you out? Of what? Pain? You didn’t even know why it came up, let alone how to stop it!

Then… then a chill. One you haven’t felt since you encountered… someone. You couldn’t remember them, either.

All you could hear were your instincts.

Instincts…

Your instincts were screaming, frantic in wanting you to leave. To escape.

So you followed them.

Shrugging Eliza’s hands off of your shoulders, you jumped to your feet and swiftly fled into the woods, not turning back once. Not even when you heard her scream a name—yours?—and especially not when you heard the tell-tale swoosh of… a cape? You didn’t know.

Your thoughts made no sense right now. All you wanted was to go back and forget. To go back into the woods and be happy.

Just… be happy.

#Alex Danvers #Reader #x Reader #F!Reader #x F!Reader #Alex Danvers x Reader #Supergirl #Supergirl Fanfic #Supergirl Fic #Eliza Danvers #tw depressing thoughts #tw depressing stuff #tw depressive #tw depression #tw body horror #tw body modification #tw body parts #tw human experimentation

40 notes · View notes

podcastlimbo · 4 years

Text

My honest honest opinion on second citadel season 3

Uhhhh... short answer? I didn’t like it much.

Okay wait before I go on to my long answer I need to say that this is all just my opinion and it’s all subjective. If you liked sc season 3 that’s awesome! I get why you do and I’m glad you enjoyed it!

But I really wasn’t a fan of where they went with it (even from episode 1), and I’m gonna go on a long rambly and repetitive rant about it.

I’m not gonna talk about the way the season ended and the setup for s4 because I haven’t fully formed my opinion about that - to form my opinion means to relisten to the season and i don’t really feel like doing that.

Anyways, these are my unfiltered 2am thoughts about the Rest Of It - maybe I’ll neaten it up later to make it more palatable but for now it’s wordy n messy and you can just. Not read it bc it’ll probably make you mad, or feel free to pick it apart and tell me I’m wrong, or unfollow me (and at least one person has already done so lmao) but like that won’t change the fact that I just wasn’t feeling s3 so uh. That said.

Long answer? I love the second citadel... at least the first two seasons

I love the world building, how the setting is such a unique, deliberate step away from eurocentric fantasy, how refreshing all that is! The Second Citadel (the place) is rich with culture and history from the brief glimpses we get of it (mostly in knight of the crown). Not to mention the monster society, with its own rules (or lack thereof) and environments and personalities.

I love the storytelling, how different mediums are woven into the way each episode is formatted. Rilla has her tape recorder, Damien his prayers, Caroline her letters, and each medium is so well suited to each character, and it truly lets us get a glimpse of what’s going on in their minds, and I find it utterly fascinating how a protagonist of one story could just as easily become an antagonist (or at least, an annoyance) in another

And the characters! Each one so compelling, with their own goals and motivations, their own intriguing backstories and potential.

Most importantly, the way these characters play off of each other is what makes second citadel amazing. Getting to see people with similar experiences but different world views clash (Caroline and Mira), people with fundamentally different beliefs reconcile and meet in the middle (rilla and arum), just, Kabert created so many interesting characters, and watching them bounce off one another is a joy.

And that’s what made season 2 so great for me. The exploration of each character, getting to see their good sides and bad, through either a medium tailored for them, or through interactions with others, as they explored a fascinating world.

The end of season 2 left me so satisfied, but still with so many questions and excitement about what was to come. I wanted to see Talfryn come into his own and step out of his brothers shadow. I wanted to see Damien, Arum and Rilla navigating their new relationship. I wanted to know more of the fate of Rilla’s parents, Damien’s past, the consequences Arum would surely face after defying the monster court. I wanted Marc to finally be recognized by his fellow knights, to watch as Caroline lead the journeymen knights, while learning to trust in others as she was beginning to do. I wanted Angelo continuing to unlearn the implicit biases that had been instilled in him as a result of his upbringing, or more details on Caroline and Quanyii’s relationship. I was also curious!! How would human and monster relations change after the events of the finale? And would we learn more of the past, when humans and monsters lived together in peace?

I was buzzing with excitement for season 3, and then.. it came, it aired, and then it went.

And I felt... meh?

Don’t get me wrong. There were moments that I liked. Some of what I hoped to see did happen (see the above paragraph lmao), getting a glimpse of the western wastes with its own culture a joy. The dynamics between Olala and some of the characters were really fun! And the direction the story took at the end was one I didn’t expect, but left me open to more.

That said,,, everything else about the season just. Didnt gel with me.

Everything I loved about second citadel pretty much wasn’t there??? Aside from Caroline, Angelo and Quanyii, all the characters they spent so much time introducing to us and fleshing out over 2 seasons were just relegated to the side??

I think my main problem with season 3 was that it felt like a completely different show. Characters introduced as part of an ensemble became side characters in (what was supposed to be) their own stories. Character arcs that got set up were dropped, and mysteries/backstories teased were forgotten. Heck, the monster court and senate wasn’t even brought up! The aftermath of the fear bugs attack ont the citadel went unexplored! It’s like nothing in the past season even happened!

And I’m sorry I gotta say this, but the problem is Olala.

I mean. Okay I don’t wanna be super mean- she’s perfectly fine as a character. We root for her, we cry when she cries, and we cheer when she wins the day.

But since all the episodes were centered around her, we didn’t get to see anyone else’s inner worlds. And like okay, yes, they did it for this season of Juno Steel too, where Juno, the previous POV a character for 2 seasons, became a part of an ensemble, and was a side character for many episodes. But this choice worked for Juno and not Second Citadel, because it was a natural progression for his story! We spent 2 seasons exploring Juno’s character, his backstory, his motivations, we saw him come to terms with his family history, grow and change as a person, and by the time he joined the Carte Blanche, we’d gotten to a point with Junos story where we’re okay to step away for a while, and see events through the lens of others.

But that just?? Doesn’t work in second citadel? Because unlike Juno, the characters introduced in s1-2 are virtually unexplored! There’s still so much about their stories we don’t know, and so many ways for them to progress.

But we didn’t get any of that! Stuff established in s1-2 barely got payoff in this season. Characters stagnated, and when previously it was amazing to watch them interact with each other? Having each episode throw different combinations of characters together and seeing how they clashed and came together? Yeah we didn’t get that, it was all the same characters bouncing off of Olala, which is fine at first, but honestly? After the first couple episodes, it got stale.

And remember how before, we would get to see the characters tell their story through a medium suited for them? Well I noticed that the format of this season was a lot moreee audio drama-y (basically a TV show but with no visuals) and while there’s nothing wrong with that, one of SC’s strengths was in using the medium in unique ways, presenting the episodes in unique formats depending on the POV character. And with the exception of a few moments, the season really lacked that!

I know there were episodes in s1-2, like caves of discord and the Janus beast which didnt follow that format, but I think it’s a fan consensus that the episodes that do (moonlit hermit, KOTC lots, lady of the lake) are favourites, because they fully embraced the advantages and limitations those framing devices offered, and were truly perfect for character exploration.

It’s like. Idk. Imagine wolf 359 s3 where the si5 were introduced, and there was like 1-2 episodes of them interacting with the rest of our cast, but then after that the rest of the season just completely focuses on Eiffel and the new characters, and everyone else just disappears n twiddles their thumbs and doesn’t even do anything during the finale. That’s what happened this season, and that’s the kinda weird vibe I’m talking about.

Since I’m already rambling, I might as well just say some more stuff. I was disappointed with the music this season. I can tell Ryan Vibert was trying to figure a way to make SC sound different from Juno, and he was getting there in s1-2! The pieces that stand out now are the soft, acoustic guitar pieces, like Rillas song, or the lone melody line of the guitar in the SC theme. I thought he was getting it with s3e1, when Marc fought the dinosaur while traditional Japanese instruments were playing!! But then for the rest of the season, it was just samey echoey ambient electric guitar, like how it is for Juno. There could’ve been so much potential to give this world its own musical identity, but in the end, that attempt was dropped (at least that’s how it come off to me), just like so many other elements introduced in s1-2!

I’ve gotten this far in my rant, and I haven’t even talked about the story. And the story is. Hmmmmm

Like. It’s completely serviceable? Kabert are good at what they do so the story is a okay I guess? But to be completely honest, the characters and story were so tied together in previous seasons, so much so that in this season, even though the plot was just fine, it stayed just that. Fine. it always felt like there was something missing because the characters were the story, and to have just. So many holes in that department meant that the story itself was fundamentally empty.

Anyways uh. All of this is to say that this all boils down to character. I had my nits to pick with other elements but the fact that Rilla, Arum, Damien, Marc and Talfryn got completely sidelined (Tal most of all) when so much of the previous seasons were spent setting them up- in favour of a completely new storyline featuring new characters and settings when there was still so! Much! Left! Unfinished! From unfulfilled arcs to dynamics left untapped, and creative potential lost, the essence of the show was watered down and it left me with the intense feeling of

Idk. Season 3 felt like a completely different show. I liked s1, I loved a2, but s3 just. isnt second citadel for me. I’ll probably still listen to the next season out of loyalty, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel as passionately about the shows future as I do it’s precious seasons, especially if they continue this way.

Sorry.

#wow thanks for reading all that if you made to to the bottom #I’ve been sitting on these thoughts for a while but I couldn’t sleep last night bc Thoughts so here #I feel like I’m swinging a bat at a hornets nest even though I’m not putting this in the fandom tags ah well #and uhh I guess it’s okay to reblog this??#my posts

15 notes · View notes

panharmonium · 4 years

Note

Stiles?

[disclaimer for other folks before I start this one: I HAVE ONLY WATCHED SEASONS 1-4 OF TEEN WOLF. I *am* going to finish it, and I have been carefully avoiding spoilers for anything past Season 4, including general impressions of whether or not people like various seasons, comparisons of quality between seasons, etc. PLEASE do not reply to this post or talk to me about Teen Wolf unless you are scrupulously avoiding ALL discussion of seasons 5-6. Thank you!]

First impression:

Positive! I already have a weak spot for smart, witty side characters, so I liked him from the start. But I didn’t get super interested in him until the episode with the parent-teacher conference - the sequence where each parental group is having a conversation with a different teacher and something is revealed about each of the kids is actually what got me hooked on Teen Wolf as a whole. Before that, I’d been kind of casually interested in all the characters, but then the show turned around and was like, “hey, remember the character tropes we set you up for with these kids? SURPRISE, WE’RE SMARTER THAN THAT! EVERY SINGLE OF THESE CHARACTERS IS FULLY ROUNDED AND FLESHED OUT AND DOESN’T FIT IN A BOX.”

The whole way that sequence is edited is just fantastic. How it cuts between what the teachers are saying and what the kids are doing at that moment - amazing. The minute I heard about Jackson’s adoption/Scott’s missing dad/Stiles’s mom/Lydia’s intelligence + her parents’ separation, I was a goner for that show.

Impression now:

Love him. It’s hard for me to say “favorites” with Teen Wolf, because I really do adore every single character. But he’s one of my favorites. XD

Favorite moment:

Way too many. One of the smaller moments that I really love with him is during 3A when they’re trying to escape with Cora from the hospital, and they’re exiting the ambulance, and Stiles stops midway out and the scene kind of slows down as he stares at the intake form hanging on the ambulance door, because he just saw the signature line that said “Parent/Guardian” and he’s figuring out that Jennifer isn’t actually aiming for “warriors” right now, she’s aiming for “guardians.” And then he takes off running, because he knows Jennifer’s going to go for Melissa.

I love the way that entire scene was cut, and the way they start playing this song as he begins to figure it out, and the way everything else slows down and the world falls away as realization sets in. I just really love seeing how smart he is - his brain is always working, even when they’re in the middle of a crisis. Like Lydia says, “You’re the one who always figures it out.”

Speaking of Lydia - another favorite Stiles moment is at the dance in 1.11, when he tells her he knows how smart she really is and that she’s going to "write some insane mathematical theorem that wins [her] the Nobel Prize.” I just - I will legitimately go to the mat over lazy, provably incorrect takes that try to argue that Stiles was just immaturely idolizing the “image” of a girl he thought was pretty. The entire point of their relationship is that Stiles has always seen past the airhead image Lydia puts on to survive their high school jungle - he doesn’t shame her for putting it on, but he doesn’t lie to her about believing the act, either. He knows she’s a genius. He admires her so much. He thinks she’s the coolest damn person in the world.

[^Someday I will type up the infuriated rant that rises in me every time I see some unbearably misguided take on Stiles’s relationship with Lydia falling into the “Nice Guy (TM)” category (when it is canonically the EXACT OPPOSITE), because every time I see someone say that I get the urge to start breaking stuff.]

Idea for a story:

Oh, boy. Well, I have about 50k of unpublished Teen Wolf fic (from both Stiles and Allison’s POV) on my computer, which was all part of a massive two-part project that in retrospect I think was maybe a little too ambitious for me at the time. I’m not abandoning it, because I love what I’ve written so far, but it needs to be seriously re-worked before it can be continued.

Ultimately, the project was my answer to some things about 3B that I found unsatisfying on a storytelling front, but it was a bigger thing than I could pull off successfully at that stage of my writing life. I’ve been getting a lot more experience with longfic and plotting from my Merlin work, though, so I think once I pivot back to Teen Wolf I’ll be better placed to tackle this project.

Unpopular opinion:

If there’s anybody here who ships the Big Teen Wolf Ship, you’ll probably want to go ahead and scroll on by this bit.

I have generally been very diligent about avoiding the TW fandom, just because I’m still avoiding spoilers for the seasons 5 and 6, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been, uh...exposed to way more information about its ship distribution than I ever wanted to know. And I remain BAFFLED about why it looks the way it looks.

I say this every time this topic comes up, but there are some ships that I just don’t care for, and then there are some ships that I literally cannot comprehend where on earth they came from. Derek/Stiles is a ship where I can’t understand where it came from. It squicks me so badly. Literally just the tiniest glimpse of it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

I don’t know if people just...don’t understand that Derek is canonically in his twenties????? Or if they’re all fast-forwarding the timeline and aging Stiles up; I don’t know. I’ve never investigated. But I don’t understand why this ship ever even occurred to anyone. I don’t get it. I was teaching high school when I was Derek’s age. There is NOTHING romantically compatible between a 16 year-old and a 22/23 year-old, in any non-fucked up version of reality.

So there’s the grossed-out factor, for me, and then there’s also just the fact that this ship is yet another example of fandom’s inability to read any relationship with a fascinating, complex dynamic as anything other than romantically-motivated, despite the fact that a romantic relationship is indisputably NOT present in the canon.

Anyway. I could say more about this, but ultimately I’m a “you do you” person. I’m not going to bother anyone for shipping this, and I don’t care what people do with their own fandom time. But my personal unpopular opinion is that Derek/Stiles is the most bizarre, textually unsupported, squicky ship I’ve ever seen.

Favorite relationship:

Stiles and Scott, Stiles and Lydia, Stiles and Allison, Stiles and Melissa. And STILES AND HIS FATHER.

Favorite headcanon:

This is WAY old, but to pull from an ancient post: a friend and I used to talk about the Great Flu Epidemic of 2005, which brought down the entire McCall-Stilinski clan over the course of a single weekend and which has never been definitively traced back to its source. To this day, the four of them still argue about who brought it home first.

Stiles does a science project on it in the fourth grade and on the one hand his teacher is actually impressed and relieved that Stiles was finally able to focus on something long enough to finish an assignment, but when little Scott McCall keeps interrupting Stiles’s presentation to present contrasting evidence it turns into a Production of Epic Proportions and the class gets too riled up to focus on anyone else’s projects.

The call home that time is basically like:

Mrs. Gordon: “So the good news is this project was surprisingly well-researched - ”

Papa Stilinski: “Oh, god.”

#thanks friend! :D #replies #teen wolf

13 notes · View notes

moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

Request List:

Requests are closed.

Before you request: Please check this list to see if I have something similar. Please let me know if you’ve sent the request to other authors (I’ll still most likely do it), and try to be as detailed as you can. “I want Spencer Reid to bang Reader” isn’t super duper helpful to motivate my writing goblin.

I try to get these out as quickly as possible, but I’m only a human enslaved to the goblins in my brain.

Current Requests:

1. * I finished cm season 14 so I got an idea: In e15s14 jj confesses her love for spencer but he is already in a relationship with reader (is also in BAU) and after the hostage thing Spencer and reader goes to Spencer’s and he tells her everything and reader gets sad and cries and it’s sad and they both start crying and it’s night and rainy and then they make love. I hope it makes sense. Would love it to be long with details and a lot of feelings 2. I was hoping you could write a request: “Being weird together in museums is a love language” and maybe it’s just fluffy but it could definitely have smut too. I love your writing, and i hope you have a really good day!

3. hiya! can I request I fic with Spencer x girl reader where she has an English accent and he really loves it! make it fluffy, smutty or whatever you want!! I trust you incredible writing skills :)) thank you!!! :)

4. spencer reid x reader where she is a switch and thinks that spencer is a sub. one day jj and emily are trying to convince him to cut his hair and she whispers to him that she likes his long hair because then she can pull on it while he goes down on her and boss him around and he answer with something like ‘you wont be the only one bossing around’ and some smut after,please?? thank you 💙 5. I have a request if you’re open to it! Could you write a maybe angsty fluff piece about a plus size reader and Spencer? Maybe wanting to move forward in a relationship but reader is nervous and self conscious and it starts an argument because he just wants her to stop talking negatively about herself and ends with some beautiful lovey smut? ❣️

6. So I was wondering if you’d be willing to write a Spencer Reid x Reader where she previously worked at the BAU and they dated but broke later broke up and run into each other year’s later and past feelings resurface and they decide to go give it another go? Maybe smut ensues at the end? You don’t have to but it’s just an idea because you write so well! Thank you!

7. I dunno if you like hotchreid, but picture this. Reid blowing hotch with his glasses on and when hotch cums he gets it on reids glasses. I dunno why but the thought of that is just so hot to me // Okay okay, counter idea, reader sits on reids face while he eats her out and his glasses get all messy

8. Not requesting but just planting this little idea in your head imagine dating Spencer and having a sweet moment where he is braiding your hair into to pigtails for you and when he’s done the very sweet moment turns very kinky.

9. Hi beautiful, (SPOILER FOR SEASON 8) I was wondering if you could write a Platonic! BAU (Mostly spencer reid) x reader where the reader is poisoned just like Erin Strauss, but while Erin does die, the reader makes it and everyone is super worried? I love your work and would love to see what you’d do with that request! Stay safe!

10. Hey bb can i make a request? Havent sent this to anyone else. Spencer meeting a jazz musician (preferably a bass play bc i play bass lmao) in New Orleans when he meets up with Ethan? Ethan and reader like play at the same club together and he introduces them? Smut? Fluff? I love your writing and I think you would do a GREAT job executing this!

11. Okay, I know your requests are closed but I just wanted to stop by and say if you’re ever in an angsty mood and need some inspiration- I just listened to a song called “sweater” but Spencer Sutherland and all I could think of is a fic about it with Spencer 😂 quite literally the lyrics are “that’s my sweater, why the fuck you got it on? We’re not together, should have left that shit at home” 😂 I’m just sayin lol

12. I have a request if you’re open to it! I keep having this reoccurring daydream where reader is a music therapist and dating Spencer and helps the team with a case where a child won’t talk and he’s just in awe of watching reader get the kid to open up and it’s just fluffy and sweet!

13. hi! i love your work!! i was wondering if you could write a kind of goofy smut? i’m imagining something along the lines of spencer and reader having been friends for a really long and being super comfortable and silly around eachother but that they’ve also kinda been in love with each other for a long time? when they tell eachother it’s not a big deal and they have sex but it’s really cute? if that makes sense

14. “sleepy girsl are so cute. When they mumble, their voices low and quiet? Adorable? Those big yaws and biiiiiig stretches? So cute! Resting their head on your shoulder and giving you that lazy smile before they drift off again? Oh my godddddd!!!!”

15. omg obviously u have like a million fics on the go cos ur amazing but if u added a praise kink fic to the list let’s just say i wouldn’t complain 😉😘ok but spencer being insecure about his body maybe after everyone’s complimenting derek or something and not wanting u to take his shirt off, and u just absolutely showering him in compliments and telling him all the ways he turns u on and loving on every millimetre of his body and sending him all subby ANYWAY (this is a rant but like also a request if u fancy)

- General Hotch ideas: Sub Hotch, Brat Tamer Hotch, Dom men in lingerie, Spencer calling Reader “daddy,” more about sub drop.

#request #masterlist

21 notes · View notes

marvelous-space-nerd · 4 years

Text

You’re the one who got stabbed

Stole this idea from the lovely @witched-the-watcher (x). Hope you like it!

ao3 link

‘So I heard you were in need of a saviour, a witcher in particular. Good news my dear friend here I am.’

‘You look like a bard to me.’

He let out a gasp. ‘Well I am technically speaking a witcher, I mean look at the cat eyes! They somehow didn’t turn as yellow as most witcher’s eyes but still. I survived it all and I'm here to help you. Me and my friend.’

‘Your friend at least looks like a witcher.’

‘That’s not my fault. You know what I’ll let him tell you the truth. Geralt! He won't believe me! Again!’

The larger witcher got up and walked to the talking pair. ‘Technically speaking he is a witcher, not a good one, but a witcher nonetheless.’

‘Thank you Geralt- Wait what? Not a good one? I'm still alive it looks to me like I'm doing great!’

‘Sorry for my friend. He can tell you all about his training days to make you believe him later.’ If looks could kill Geralt would be dead right now, not that this particular witcher could ever kill him. Even Geralt has no idea how he survived any of the trials, or how he survived anything in general. He asked about the contract and went on his way, a few insectos had a nest in the area. Jaskier kept following him, in his leather armour for once and ranting about how he isn’t actually such a bad witcher. That idiot used to knock himself out when fighting a fucking training dummy. Vesemir told him about his training and he still can't believe anything from it.

***

‘Look I have some very important business to attend to dear Vesemir. So I sadly have to skip this training session.’ The sixteen year old witcher said. He could see how tired Vesemir was getting but he continued anyway. He really hated training, he wasn’t good at it and he’d preferably do whatever the fuck he wants. He didn’t choose to be a witcher, it was his parents stupid decision to let a witcher invoke the law of surprise. And now he survived the trial of the grasses, and they still won’t let him go. He got so angry he named himself after a flower just to fuck with Vesemir. It was a poisonous flower and you definitely shouldn't rub it over your skin, but it was a flower nonetheless.

Vesemir let out a sigh ‘And, Jaskier, what is this business?’

‘Well.. I need to study, I was doing that before you called us for the training and I was having a blast honestly. It would be a real shame if I lost my concentration.’

‘Name one fact you learned, a real one and you may go.’ Fuck fuck fuck I’ll just make one up he won’t notice a thing.

‘Uhm.. let me think I learned so much I don’t know where to start.’ He just kept looking at him disapprovingly. ‘Ah I got it! There once was a forktail near here who instead of attacking people fell asleep in the courtyard!’ Gods he was so good at lying ‘And that was a fact so I’ll be going-’ The older man grabbed his shirt and yanked him towards the training ground. ‘By the gods Vesemir that’s just rude!’

‘I have an idea. Fight me and if you don’t lose you can skip tomorrow's training.’

‘And what if I lose?’

‘You have to go out and hunt a monster. That enough motivation for you?’ Oh he was going to win this fight so bad.

‘Fine, just know that I will win and have such a good day tomorrow.’ He could barely say anything more due to the fact that Vesemir swung his sword at him. He barely avoided it and grabbed his own sword from his back. He tried to find his gripping and swung his sword at Vesemir. Who avoided it way too easily before walking closer. This is my chance he thought, but before he knew it something yanked his ankles away from the floor and he fell. All that he could remember after that was the pain in his head and how the world became black.

He woke up still lying on the cold floor. He could still hear the clattering of swords as he waited for the headache to pass so he could open his eyes until he heard Vesemir speak up.

‘Open your eyes I know you’re awake.’

‘But my head, it hurts. Honestly I don’t think opening them will make thing much better. I’ll just lie here until training’s over.’ He said still keeping his eyes closed.

‘You’re already a hazard to yourself and everyone else when you don’t have a concussion, you can go to your room and prepare for the hunt.’

His eyes snapped open and he immediately regretted it. ‘Wait you were serious about that? I really need to fight a monster?’

‘Dead serious. I expect to see something before tomorrow.’

‘But I’ll die.’

‘If you’ve paid attention to anything you wouldn’t.’

‘Fine! But I choose the monster and I don’t have to train anymore today.’

‘As long as you bring a monster it’s fine. Now go before you hurt someone other than yourself.’

He got up and tried to find his balance before going to his room. He didn’t know a lot of the potions but he knew swallow, the healing potion. He didn’t get them from others anymore so he made some himself and put them in his room. Even some of the best witchers get hurt sometimes he always told himself. He sat down on his bed next to his home made lute. He didn’t have any coin and no one wanted to get him one, so he made his own. It sounded horrible but with the help of a book he stole he was able to practice and write songs. This whole witcher thing wasn’t going to stop him from doing what he wants. He drank the dose of swallow and started collecting his stuff. Two swords, one steel and one silver, only take the silver one when you need to it’s a soft metal so it will break sooner bla bla bla. This might be one of the few facts he remembered and it was for a reason. Every day they said it until he remembered it. Rope seems to be a handy thing to take and a few doses of swallow. He put it next to his armour and checked if he had everything. I mean he’s never actually hunted something so he wouldn’t know, but it seemed like it could be everything. He put on his armour, which he dyed all kinds of beautiful shades of blue, despite Vesemir's protests.

‘Witchers wear black, that’s a trademark colour please don’t dye it blue.’ It only motivated him more to do it. So he lied to Vesemir by telling him that blue is almost black and he dyed it blue. He might have found out how magic works in the progress, he found an old book talking about other uses than the one-handed spells witchers used and he gave his armour the prettiest colours using magic. After that he turned to his normal clothes and turned them into gorgeous doublets so he wouldn't have to walk around in old rags anymore. He was on cleanup duty for a month and he didn’t regret a thing.

He headed out when his head stopped hurting, which might have been fifteen minutes or so. Moments like this made him thankful for witcher’s enhanced healing abilities. He didn’t have his own horse so he grabbed a white shared horse called weed. She was a bit of an ugly horse but she was lovely. He went out looking for a simple creature to take back home. He first went to the watchtower to see if anything simple was nearby. He got off weed when the road started becoming narrow and continued on foot. He climbed to watch tower and checked the surroundings. He didn’t expect to see much and definitely not a six armed demon horse with god knows how many eyes.

‘Oh I am definitely going to take you back home.’ He said to himself. He went back to weed and rode to where he saw the creature. He had no idea how but he found it, but he saw it. It was standing in a clearing in the woods and there were no others creatures near.

‘What now, it’s basically another horse right? Just tame it and take it back? Sounds like a plan right weed?’ He got off and slowly started walking towards the creature. Vesemir didn’t say anything about it needing to be alive or dead and he really wanted his own horse.

‘Now, how to tame a demon horse. Any ideas Weed? No of course not you’re a horse and I can't send you to him he if you die Vesemir will kill me for real. So maybe I’ll just name it, what to name a demon horse with six arms…’

Greg

‘I'm a genius, let’s do this. Greg?’ He called to the whatever it was. It didn’t seem startled but all of it’s thirteen eyes were locked on him. ‘Hi, I..uhm.. am in need of a horse and you would truly be my saviour.’ Fuck fuck fuck what now. ‘I have a rope, and I can use it to guide you back home, and we can be friends, obviously only if you want to and you would really help me out. So,’ He grabbed the rope and made a lasso out of it, a big one. This thing might look like a horse but it had an enormous head. ‘I'm just gonna put this around your neck and you, my new friend are coming home with me.’ He said while slowly getting closer, it seemed to be saying things in elven but Jaskier couldn’t care less. He needed to bring back a creature and this would be perfect, and bonus, he seems like a perfect horse and friend. He stood before it and slowly put the rope around his neck, while Greg looked at him with all his thirteen eyes. He patted him a little bit before going back to weed. He took the end of the rope and thankfully Greg followed him. He walked back towards weed, who seemed shocked and started panicking.

‘Weed it's fine! This is Greg, a friend, and he is, partially, a horse! He’ll be your friend! Now come on we gotta walk all the way back so I can bond with Greg. Look, Weed I love you but I need my own horse anyway so will you pretty please follow me back to Kaer Morhen?’ The horse did not seem to care. ‘Righty, I guess I can sit on your back but we’re going to walk slow if Greg runs I might actually have to fight something.’ He got on weed, still holding the rope attached to Greg. He kept looking at him and talking to him the whole ride, the seemed to become less tense when they got to Kaer Morhen. Or he thought, he was still talking about a thirteen eyes demon horse. The gate was closed so he got of Weed and knocked on it. Vesemir came to open the door and when he did he just stared in disbelief. Not the kind that says “wow Jaskier you did it!”, it was more of a “Jaskier what the fuck did you take back here!?”. But he didn’t say anything, he just stared with a tired look on his face.

‘Vesemir!’ Jaskier said after a while of silence. ‘You told me to bring back a monster so here I am! This is Greg and he’s going to be my horse and friend.’

‘You are so lucky I have to take care of you and not any other witcher who would have really killed you now.’

‘What do you mean? I did what you asked, I brought back a monster. You never said that said monter wasn’t allowed to be my own horse.’

‘No, strike it down and get this over with, Jaskier.’ He let out a gasp and coverved what were probably Greg’s ears.

‘No! He’s my horse I'll strike your horse down if you lay one finger on him!’ Vesemir just sighed

‘If he destroys anything he leaves directly, now make sure the others don’t see him.’

Jaskier was practically jumping with joy right now. He led Greg to the stables and put him in an empty one. He started brushing and washing him afterwards. He put a saddle on him and tried to find reins that fit on this creature's head, but gave up after a while. He knew horses needed to get used to wearing gear, so he took the saddle off and before going to bed, he’d find a solution for the reins tomorrow. It wasn’t only something he wanted to do, but also a great excuse to skip tomorrow's training.

***

‘Goddamnit Jaskier! I told you to stay away this time!’

‘Geralt I too am a witcher I- ah!- watch out you brute!’

‘We’ve been traveling for centuries you should know by now that you almost always get hurt!’

‘You should know how to drag a stabbed man correctly by now without - ah!- hurting him with every step!’

The hunt went wrong, again. Even Geralt couldn’t believe that this man had been a witcher for a couple centuries and he still got hurt on almost every contract they- he went on. Jaskier almost never helped, except for when he distracted the monster and gave Geralt a chance to strike it down. This time that was supposed to happen, only this time Geralt wasn’t fast enough to strike it down, and it stabbed Jaskier. And it stabbed him good, right in the left kidney to be precise. Luckily for him he already got stabbed before in the same kidney, a healer said his kidney would regrow within a couple years but it would function worse. At least he still only had one bad kidney and one good one. They walked straight passed the inn where they’d get their reward and went to the healer’s house. Thank god this town had a magical healer. Jaskier was fine all of the time, but he has been way to close for way to many times, and Geralt still hated it every time it happened. As far as they knew he was still mortal, it was almost impossible for him to die of old age, but he still was able to bleed out. And oh god did he lose a lot of blood. He left behind a trail on the ground, and sadly also on Geralt, but anyone could follow them from the monster to the healers hut with ease. He didn’t even care to knock when they got there, he just pushed the door open with his shoulder and walked in, still dragging Jaskier who was now bleeding all over the healer’s floor. The healer was a young blonde woman with dark eyes. She was wearing a turquoise blouse and a skirt which consisted of all kinds of rags. She looked at the pair and quickly told them to sit Jaskier down on the bed while she grabbed her stuff. When Jaskier was sitting he stripped him from his clothes, knowing from experience that he needed to take them off anyway. He quickly discarded them on the floor and took a look at the wound. It did not look pretty, it was bleeding a lot and you could just see his kidney, or what was left of it at least. The healer quickly came back, she took of the rags that formed her skirt and she as wearing a pair of leather pants and an apron with old stains on it. She had a bag or supplies and put it on the ground next to Jaskier and started doing her job.

‘What happened?’ She asked while she started cleaning the wound, or at least she tried to, Jaskier was demonstrating quite a lot.

‘I.. uhm ah! be careful!’

‘We were fighting some insectoids and one stabbed him.’

‘He got hurt here before?’

‘Yes, how-’

‘The scar tissue around it. He’s really unlucky.’

‘You’re wrong I am the luckiest witcher’s on the- ow do you mind?’

‘Agreed, he’s a horrible witcher, it’s a wonder he’s still alive.’

‘Geralt I swear if you call- oh goddamnit! That hurt.’

‘I’m going to stich it up now, I don't have anything for you to bite on sadly.’

‘Geralt I'm going to squeeze you hand whether you like it or not.’ Before he could say anything Jaskier grabbed his hand and was ready to squeeze it. She held a needle and threat close to the wound and Jaskier looked at her hand, clearly not looking forward to it. The moment the needle entered his skin he looked away and squeezed his hand. He had an surprising amount of strength for a man who just lost a lot of blood.

‘Ah! that, fuck that will always hurt, goddamnit.’

‘Then don’t get stabbed as much as you do.’ He was basically curled up on him right now. For someone who gets stabbed as often as he does he’s very bad at dealing with getting stitched up. It took a while before she said something again.

‘Sit still or it will only hurt more, trust me.’ Jaskier didn’t respond anymore, his eyes we’re still opened, but he seemed to barely stay awake. Looks like the adrenaline started to disappear from his body. He put him a bit straighter despite his grunts of protest so the healer can do her job right. When she finished stitching him up he had fully lost consciousness and Geralt put him on the bed.

‘I’d like to use some spells before I’m done.’

‘Knock yourself out.’

She said something in elvish and let her now glowing hands hover over the wound. After a while she spoke up again.

‘How long have you been traveling together?’

‘Too long, centuries I think? They all said I wouldn’t last a week.’

‘Who is they?’

‘The other witchers.’

‘Tell me more, might give you a discount if you do.’

***

Even Jaskier had to admit it, he did not expect to make it through the trials, he honestly didn’t even expect to live long enough to see the trials. At least this would mean he’d get to hit the road, but not alone, of course Vesemir wouldn’t let him go alone. He might look like he hasn’t slept in years because of him, but he still didn’t want him to die. He was, and always will be angry with him for invoking the law of surprise on his parents, but he did raise him. And he was better than most other older witcher at Kaer Morhen. He didn’t yell at him every time he did something wrong, and oh god did he do a lot wrong, he was like a father figure for him, despite everything. He still cut himself when grabbing a sword without gloves so he might haven’t really done a good job, but Jaskier did not make it easy for him. All he had to do now was wait for another witcher to show up, preferably the white wolf. He’s heard so much about him and if he was going to be the only witcher to not be allowed to hit the road alone, he was at least going to be traveling with someone famous. He told Vesemir about his preferences and he just said if he shows up within a month you can go with him. What he didn’t tell him was that he wasn’t going to take no as an answer. And he right now really started to think he didn’t have to fight him anymore, a large white haired man just walked in, and Vesemir almost ran towards him.

‘Geralt!’

‘Vesemir. You told me to come.’

‘Yes I did, I have an apprentice for you.’

‘A what-’

‘Jaskier! Here, now!’ He got up and walked towards them. ‘You’re going to be traveling with him, now’ He put a hand on his shoulder.’Good luck, and I am finally going to take a peaceful nap.’ And he walked off, not looking back. Jaskier knew he cared about him, but it still hurt, seeing him walk off without looking back.

‘You’re not traveling with me.’

‘Yes I am, fellow witcher, I-’

‘I don't believe your a witcher.’

‘That’s just rude, I am a perfectly capable witcher. I even have a demon horse and it’s way better than any regular horse, but that’s not the point. Vesemir didn’t even introduce me properly. I’m Jaskier.’ He gave him his hand and he shook it.

‘Geralt of Rivia, not making you my apprentice.’

‘No you’re not, I already am and I’m impossible to get rid of. I have way to many questions for you.’

‘Spill it out.’

‘Since you insist upon it, first question. How did you dye your hair white? No one wanted to tell me how you did it and I was thinking how I could dye my own hair cornflower blue to go with my armour. Did you know I dyed it using magic? I-’

‘Loss of pigmentation from all the experiments. Next question.’

‘What’s your opinion on poetry? I wrote a few ballads but I only have a makeshift lute so we just gotta get to the nearest town and get me a good one so I can play in taverns and make coin and we’re all set for adventure.’

‘Why would I take you with me?’ Fuck he wasn’t going to make this easy for him. Guilt trip him maybe?

‘What about Vesemir? He raised you too didn’t he? Just try it for him and if after a week you still hate me I'll leave.’ He wasn’t going to leave after a week no matter what. ‘It will be great fun and I'll pay you back the lute, promised.’

‘No’

‘Not taking no for an awser, we’re leaving today.’

‘Fine, but only if you don’t bring us in danger.’ He had no idea what changed his mind, but he was happy with this development. He needed to grab his stuff before leaving, he was lookin forward to this, but it did come kind of unexpected.

‘I'll get my stuff and I'll introduce you to Greg when I come back! He’s amazing and honestly quite scary sometimes but you’ll love him I assure you.’

‘Hm’ Was all that he heard before he left to his room to grab his stuff. He folded his clothes and put them in a bag, his armour was made of leather and so he managed to fold it up a bit too. He still hated wearing it, it was heavy and sweaty and he only wore it when he needed to. He got his personal belongings and left what he could. His homemade lute, he was getting a new one anyway. And his books about music and spells, he already knows every sentence in all of the books. And all of the junk he put in his room, he was just planning on leaving it. Vesemir told him they weren’t taking in new witchers anymore, so he figured he could just come back anytime.

He took his bags to Greg and saddled him up. He was so much tamer than the first time he met him. He still tranced out sometimes and spoke gibberish in elven, but he was able to ride him. He was ready for his adventure, he still didn’t look forward to being a witcher, but that’s what Geralt’s for. He can be a witcher while he can sing in taverns, making coin his own way. He probably had to help sometimes, but he’d be fine. He had been training for his whole life, how bad could it possibly get?

He grabbed the reins and walked towards the courtyard.

‘Geralt!’

‘Greg?’

‘Yeah, found him two years ago or so. I had to come back with a monster because I failed training and I found him. He isn’t a monster, he’s honestly a really good horse but he passed as one, a monster I mean. And since then I had my own horse, he’s a bit.. creepy sometimes but he’s amazing.’

‘He’ll scare the villagers.’

‘He won't! Everyone will love him trust me. Now let’s go I need you to hear my ballads on an actual lute!’

‘I’m not buying you one.’

‘I'll pay it back, trust me. Now let’s go you still haven’t told me about your opinion on poetry.’

‘You’re not going to make me regret making you stay are you?’

‘Geralt I would never. I survived the trials so I am a good witcher. Now get on your boring regular horse and let’s go!’

He got on his horse and left first, Jaskier following and talking about anything and everything. And Geralt’s responses started getting longer and longer, and before any of them knew it, they were a couple centuries in.

***

‘And you just let him stick around?’ The healer asked

‘Didn’t have a choice. He stuck to me like glue.’

‘He paid back the lute?’

‘Within a month, started earning his own part after that.’

‘He’s your complete opposite’

‘Opposites attract.’

Silence filled the room for a while, she did her job while Geralt just watched. He didn’t have anything better to do anyway he told himself. It was a relief when Jaskier ultimately woke up.

‘Ugh.. I.. what happened?’

‘You were stabbed, again.’

‘So nothing new. Oh my head.’

‘You lost a lot of blood.’

‘And you’re very lucky to be alive, and the worst witcher I’ve ever seen so please be more careful next time.’ The healer said.

‘I was! I- ah’ He tried to move a little bit. ‘it still hurts.’

‘Yeah, you heal fast so it should only hurt a couple of days. Just stick to the lute playing for a while.’

‘How do you know about that?’

‘I told her, thought it’d be polite.’

‘It was, and I don’t say this quick, but you’re the worst witcher I’ve ever heard of.’

‘You guys are horrible do you know that?’

‘You’re the one who got stabbed.’

‘Touché’ He might be the worst witcher to have ever walked the continent, but he still was his friend, his brother maybe, he still didn’t know what to call him, but he was happy that he’s met him. But that idiot really should be sticking to his lute play

#witcher jaskier #the witcher #Jaskier #greg the demon horse #vesemir #witcher!jaskier #Geralt of Rivia #I did cut this but tumblr decided to completely ignore that fact #my writing

43 notes · View notes

atendersun-archived · 3 years

Note

“You’re really cute…when you let yourself talk about things you love.” Absent-mindedly Sullivan complimented him, leaning on his hand. Happily he has been listening to a passionate rant of information. Every little rabbit hole Muus brain brought to him, all the fun stories. It was really nice. To get to hear the real him. “I hope we can talk about things you like again. So I can see you that happy more often.”

Besides him rested numerous plastic containers with barriers that many used to store fishing lures in. His on he other hand were labeled with different initials and numbers that marked his uniquely thought out storing system. Inside many of them were a variety of miniature items made from materials such as polymer clay, felt, shrinkable plastic, and wood. Resting on his lap as he spoke freely on his most recent passion was a notebook that he had been doodling out ideas for additional items to be made later on.

Words also appeared to be etched in between sketches with great significance yet he managed to multitask in conversation so swiftly that none of them parted through his lips as he went on with his attempt at describing to the other what it was that he aimed to do with all of us uniquely made miniatures. Amongst the growing list of adjectives was the term 'passionate', which he would later find a tad bit of humor in due to the fact that he would then begin to speak openly about what he aimed to do with an idea that had only just recently popped into his head earlier in the week.

"Sully", he began, "Do you know what a diorama is? That is kind of like what I am making, but they are going to be more like how I think the inside of a Poké Ball, or a Polly Pocket shell would be."

How exactly he wanted to approach that idea was still being determined in his drawings. He hadn't yet decided if he wanted to store his ideas inside something as simply as a tiny house, or to up the difficulty by trying put his hand at making something akin to the inside of the brain instead. If he was willing to really do his research, and figure out how to even begin adding it in, he'd have pushed it even further by including in some sort of musical trait into it as if they were very unusual music boxes.

"I've been feeling very out of touch with myself. That's why.. I am making these little houses, I guess, for the parts of me that stand out the most. That way they have places to be that are not only of their own, but also that are safe to be in as well. That way I can kind only just focus on the parts of me that are here right now instead of feeling all of the feelings of all of me's at the same time."

Showing seemed easier than risking confusion with his long string of words, so he ceased moving the pen across paper long enough for him to switch out the pad entirely for the most filled of all of the bins with the marking of the number sixteen across the top. That had been the first one he wanted to work on out of reluctancy to really even begin thinking about what he would've used to describe himself during other core moments in his life, but also because he had been really weighed down the most by pings of jealousy and resentment that he knew were stirring from the loneliness and guilt that blossomed into fruition as a teenager.

"These one's are all the things that I see when I think of me at sixteen. This one is an itty bitty version of Aime Jr. Aime was my best friend that moved away to France, but b- before that, he gived me a hedgehog that I named after him. Once I even had a real hedgehog that I named Baby Aime, but I'll probably save him for later 'cause I got him when I was older. I still have him, by the way. The stuffed animal that is. He's very beat up looking from having gone to lots of things with me before I kind of out grew bringing him along, but.. I do still like to think back on when I still had Aime around all those many years ago."

From there, he very excitedly hopped from one item to another; explaining each one's individual meaning before immediately following it up with another. In his chatter, he went on to describe making miniature versions of the favorite books he used to beg his older brother to read to him since they always seemed to be easier to understand when he heard them in a voice other than his own. Or how he simply just did so to not so secretly trick his sibling into sharing the bed with him long enough for him to drift off to sleep with him at his side instead of alone.

Also happily presented were tiny versions of some standard looking Valentine's Day cards and some even tinier stickers he designed and cut out using an x-acto blade. Both were heavily enjoyed by him during that time in his life since he held such largely positive feelings towards things that were either cute, or were associated with love in any way. His dream back then had always been to experience a fairytale love like he watched in movies, or heard about in songs by Taylor Swift songs, as he knew that his chances of that were not necessarily as high as they may have been if not for his perceived sensitivity and slowness.

And while he was still somewhat still shifting through the hurt of his plan to make that kind of dream come true didn't work out as intended, that was not the only reason he purposely chose to keep his focus on making items he associated with himself instead of himself in association with the person he was dating at the time in his life. His decision to do so had not been made out of a lack of love for that individual, but rather because he wanted to keep the home he was making for the boy he once was be one crafted from as much self love as he possibly could have.

"There's still lots of other things I could maybe make to go into the home for the Muu that was the littlest, I guess. Like if I made things relevant to dating for the first time, since th- that was a very core thing for me when I was only sixteen. I don't.. really want to though, because I feel.. like that is where a lot of the guilt of being me comes from to begin with, an- and I don't want to stick him into the house for him right back into those feelings all over again. Of not.. loving in the right way, or of making things harder than they needed to be even if maybe I didn't mean for it to be that way. I'm.. making these little houses, or whatever they're gonna be, so these littler versions of me get to be tucked away into spots of healing. That's why I- I am maybe making all of these things, but not even use all of 'em, because I want to make sure the space is happy for them. I don't.. want them to cry because something doesn't feel safe."

Even in the seriousness of his words, he never strayed away from wanting to ramble on more regarding the thoughtfulness behind his intentions. What he was working on was obviously of great importance to him. Even more than that, he seemed to have been so caught up in his own motivation that he'd failed to even really notice how expressive his body language and facial features became when he shared on about even just the smallest of things that brought life into him at such a young, impressionable age.

Or at least he hadn't until receiving the compliment offered by the other male. Out of what seemed to be embarrassment, the blond instinctively pulled a hand away from sorting through his miscellaneous items to pull the fabric of his shirt up to protectively cover the lower half of his face. In reality, however, he was more so hiding away the surprisingly boyish grin that silenced his moving lips. As well as the growing shade of pink that existed around the nose that sat above them. He was still very much getting used to being spoken to as if his company was desired rather than being hypervigilant of the backhandedness that came from people spending time with him out of obligation or manipulation rather than genuine companionship. Unlike in the many months prior, though, he at least found himself really enjoying the affirming words of endearment offered by the raven.

"Oh, thank you.. I'm not very good at talking about myself a lot of the time. Or of even just.. knowing myself, but you.. you know, th- that is something we can at least, kind of.. learn together maybe?"

#sully i am sorry but you broke the man #also rip the dash for this #tw long post #tximidity

1 note · View note

catxtopia · 4 years

Text

Lips Of a Stranger} Chp. 10

Author: catxtopia

Ship: Billdip ((fluffy))

Characters: Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Bill Cipher, Gideon Gleeful

Summary: The Night Vale AU no one asked for.

Author notes: I am back on my bullshit, lets finish this.

Read: ao3

((HOHO Betcha thought you saw the last of me.

Four years late but hey I fricken finished this shit! I sat down literally yesterday after a kind person commented that they still wait for updates on this story (srsly so sorry and you're so sweet holly heck, never say comments don't totally motivate a writer) and finished this. I already had this chapter written many years ago but I didn't wanna post it until I finished the rest (so sorry for my dumb past self). So this one sounds pretty much the same as the rest of the story, however cannot confirm for the rest of the work.

I haven't written in ages, I don't particularly like writing anymore if I am being honest. I am not great at it but I have a lot of ideas lmao. So I just wanna preface that the ending... probably not great lol. I will have a full report on the last chapter, however, on my old ideas for this story and what I thought it could be. There is probably a lot of plot holes and unanswered things but I tried^^;;;

Anyways, I'll upload either every day or every other day depending. But this shall finally be finished lads! (also no beta, we're animals here)))

“You found it!?”

Lying still, yet menacingly, on the kitchen table was a maroon journal with a black number 1 inked firmly in the center. It was larger than an average book and much worse for wear, the red leather was ripped and mystery blotches were smudged in several different locations on the cover. Mabel and Dipper stood around the object that had been of desire for so long. Neither made a move to touch it, treating it like an old relic—which it very well could have been as far as Dipper knew.

“Yeah, it was in this wired compartment in a tree outside.” Dipper scratched lightly at his chin, eyes roaming over the book. His fingers itched with curiosity for he had yet to open and examine the contents inside. He wasn’t sure if he should, waiting for Cipher seemed like the logical option but that required calling the man, followed by seeing him again, and the thought of meeting gold eyes sent his stomach through all kinds of loops. Thus, his phone stayed promptly in his pocket where it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

“Compartment in a tree, huh?” Mabel repeated, a confused look crossing her face. She, too, moved her hand to rub lightly at her chin in thought. “How’d you come across that?”

Dipper stiffened ever so slightly, and then casted a glance at his intrigued sister. He cleared his throat and shifted to stuff his hands in his pockets roughly. “I just, ya know, fell against it.” He shrugged, trying his best to remain cool—which was, to say, impossible when it came to Dipper Pines.

“Fell against it, hm?” Mabel’s eyebrow slowly started rising.

“Yes, I fell against it!” Dipper sputtered, looking away towards the book again. “The details of how I found the book aren’t important. What is important is that I found it !”

Mabel stifled her giggles as much as her lips would allow. “Whatever you say, Bro bro.” She mused and leaned over the dusty object, intentionally ignoring the tomato that was now her brother beside her. He’d been through enough teasing this morning, she’d let him off the hook this once. “What do you thinks inside?”

Dipper leaned back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “No idea.” He quietly thought back to the times he and Cipher were looking for said book. A distant memory of going to the junkyard and the words black magic and demons , danced in the back of his mind but he elected to ignore those warnings. If the book really was dangerous, there was no way Cipher would be looking for it. At least that’s what Dipper told himself.

“Are you going to open it?” Mabel quirked a brow, eyes not leaving the book.

Dipper shifted against the counter. “I don’t know, Mabes. Maybe we should wait for Cipher to open it first.”

Mabel pursed her lips and squinted at the book.

There was a long pause, the only sound being whispers from the TV playing in the other room. Then Mabel, with a big intake of breath, announced loudly: “I am gonna open it.” And quickly flipped the front cover open.

“Mabel!” Dipper yelped, but his words fell on deaf ears as the young girl turned another page, and then another. “Mabes, seriously, be careful with it! We don’t know what it is, it could be super old and crumble at human touch! Who knows what—”

As Dipper rambled on and on, Mabel’s quick movements tentatively began to slow. She flipped only one more page before stopping and taking in a soft gasp, voice riddled with distraught. “Oh my gosh.” She whispered breathlessly. Dipper paused in his ranting, staring at the back of his sister's head since he couldn’t see the book around her. “I can’t believe this.”

“What?” He inquired, a drop of unease plopping into the pits of his stomach. Mabel’s shoulders were tense; body rigged with what Dipper could only assume was fear. She looked as though she was witnessing a demon rise out from the pits of hell, or at the very least like her sweaters were being set aflame. And throughout it all, all Dipper could hear were McGucket’s warnings ringing loud and clear inside his jumbled head. “That books bad news I tell ya! Black magic, raising devils, kinda bad news! Nothin good ever came out of that thing.” Dipper cringed at the voice. “What is it?”

“It’s terrible…” Mabel whispered, leaning further over the book. Her hair draped over the yellowing pages, eyes hidden behind thick bangs. “Cipher, he’s…”

“What? What about Cipher?” Dipper stepped closer. He could feel his heart thump a little faster with each step he took towards his sister.

“He’s a…” The girl moved back, turning swiftly to face her brother. Her face was red and cheeks puffed out, eyes leaking frustrated tears and— “ He’s a giant nerd just like you!” She exclaimed dramatically, throwing one hand towards the opened journal and another over her stomach as she doubled over laughing.

Dipper stared, dumbfounded as his sister flopped onto the tabled to keep from falling onto the floor. She was wheezing and stomped a foot every so often, trying to regain her breathing. He couldn’t believe this. “Mabel.” Dipper squinted hard at the girl. The only answer he got was more laughing and a few arm flails. “Mabel, you jerk.” Dipper sighed, but a small smile was tugging at his lips.

“Oh! Oh!” Mabel giggled, laughter beginning to die out into soft gasps. “Oh my gosh, yo- your face!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “You got me.” Behind his ribs, his heart was still pounding with adrenaline. He willed his limbs to stop their jittery shakes and calm the hell down. There was nothing to worry about, Mabel was just being her usual dork self. He looked towards the open book finally, now being able to get a good view of it. “So what’s in this thing, anyways?”

Having calmed down a bit, Mabel slipped across the kitchen in her fluffy pink socks, clamped onto the fridge handle and yanked it open to retrieve a can of Pit Cola. She juggled it in her hands, closing the door again with her hip. As she snapped the can open she explained lightly, “Looks like a dictionary for supernatural stuff to me. Really wired, it’s all hand written and stuff.” She paused and took a big gulp of her drink.

Dipper nodded and examined the scribbles and notes about different creatures. His eyes widened the further he flipped from page to page, completely entranced with the object sitting before him. It was no wonder Cipher wanted this thing, the stories he could produce with the book would be endless!

“This is amazing.” Dipper breathed. Gnomes, Zombies, Ghosts, this book was like a paranormal junkies Holy Grail.

Mabel hummed and jumped up onto the counter. “It makes sense why Cipher would want this. I am sure he will be happy you found it.” She mused, swinging her legs back and forth to the rhythm of a song stuck in her head. “Now you guys don’t have to go searching anymore! That’ll probably be a big nuisance off his shoulders.”

Dipper hummed absentmindedly as he drew his finger along the edge of the book, a thin layer of dust bunched up and latched onto his finger. He pulled his hand back, pinching the ball of dirt between his thumb and index finger till the grains rolled off his skin. He wondered briefly how long the book had been in that tree for, and for what reason.

“No more long hours trekking through stores and the occasional dumpster. I wonder if this old thing will help him with his work, or if that’s even what he wanted it for.” Mabel muttered against the rim of her soda can.

Dipper’s fingers instantly stilled, entire body freezing like someone had pushed a pause button on the boy’s life. No more long hours trekking through stores and the occasional dumpster . The words bounced around in his head several times and every repeat left a horrible taste in his mouth. He gulped and dropped his hand, brushing it harshly against his faded jeans. “Yeah, don’t know.” He bit out.

A minute ago he’d been excited to see Cipher’s reaction to his discovery, because damn it he was proud! And maybe boasting a little in the ego department. Now dread was filling up his core. No more time with Cipher…

Mabel slurped at her drink loudly, oblivious to the way her brother scooped up the book with a hesitant hand. “So, when are you gonna tell him?” She looked up past her wavy bangs, confused to find Dipper retreating towards the stairs at a quick pace. “Dipper?”

.:.:.

Dipper paced along the length of his bedroom, feet scuffing against the hardwood floor. He could practically feel the wood splintering away with each step he took. It was only a matter of time before he’d run a rut in the floor. He could hardly bring himself to care; however, as he gnawed at his thumbnail in a simple attempt to help distract his brain.

This was stupid, Dipper was stupid. He could hardly believe he was even thinking about the train of thought that he was. Not telling Cipher about the book? What kind of nonsense was that? He had to; it was his moral duty to give up the journal to the radio host. Otherwise, everything they’d done together thus far would be for nothing. The whole reason Dipper was being kept around was for the sole purpose of finding the book.

And once you give the book up, you won’t have a reason to be around Cipher anymore , Dipper thought sullenly. He turned once he paced as far as he could towards the door, changing direction to continue shuffling back the route he came towards the triangle window above his bed. It was a vicious cycle, this back and forth, back and forth. All the while he kept his eyes glued on the ground. He paused when his irises caught sight of a neatly folded pile of clothes at the end of his bed. Black jacket, pants, yellow scarf… A flash of blonde hair and the feel of rough bark against his back blurred past his eyes.

There would probably be no more of that once he gave up the book. Dipper lightly drew a finger against his chapped lips. If he thought hard enough he could still feel the pressure Cipher’s smooth lips had left against his own.

“Oh man.” Dipper mumbled aloud. Here he was worrying over some scraps of paper sewn together, while he should be questioning the fluttering in his chest from earlier interactions.

Cipher had kissed him and he’d be lying if he didn’t say he thoroughly enjoyed it. Both Mabel and Pacifica will be delighted to rub it in his face once they find out.

Dipper dropped onto his bed with a frustrated groan. Everything was happening all so suddenly, so fast he couldn’t make left or right of the images flashing before his eyes. And it was all because of that darn radio host with his perfect golden hair and otherworldly eyes. Not to mention his lean body that fit so right against Dipper’s the night before, warm like a blanket and oh so comfortable… Dipper shook his head quickly, expelling any further thoughts of Cipher’s body.

Really, Cipher was too handsome for his own good. It was practically supernatural.

Dipper snorted at the thought and fell back against the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, a soft sigh fluttering past his lips. What to do, what to do. He slid his hands up to rest on his chest and began tapping his fingers against his worn shirt.

“So you tell him.” Dipper muttered to himself. “You tell him about the book. It’ll make him happy, probably further his show somehow and bring in more listeners, which will make his work life better.” His fingers paused in their tapping, then slowly started picking up a rhythm again as he let another thought enter his mind. “Or you don’t tell him, you continue looking for the book as if you haven’t already found it and grow closer. Eventually he’ll forget about the book and move on, which will make his personal life better.”

“You don’t tell him and possibly ruin his career .” A voice that sounded eerily similar to Mabel’s rumbled in the back on his head. Ah, the voice of reason. It was bound to come poking its ugly face in here eventually.

“I don’t necessarily know if it’s for his show.” Dipper grumbled, sinking a little further against his bed. Great now he was talking to himself.

“What else would he need it so badly for?”

“I don’t know, curiosity? For a collection, maybe? His life revolves around the supernatural; it’s not that farfetched to want a journal filled on the subject.”

“So you’d rather keep the object of his desire away from him, in the hopes you become that object for him instead. That’s quite selfish.”

“Well no one asked you.” Dipper huffed and rolled onto his side. He stared aimlessly out the triangular window nearby. The sun had already begun to drip close to the tree line, casting an array of colors throughout his room. It was beautiful, really, all oranges and reds, and the occasional pink glow scattering across the shack's rustic interior. His eyes followed the colorful trail of light right back to the pile of clothes at the end of his bed. He stared at the yellow scarf for a long while before he worked up the strength to reach for it.

The fabric was so soft, softer than anything he’d felt before. It was probably really expensive. Dipper tugged the material fully into his palms and laid back down. He held onto the scarf like a blanket, running the pads of his fingers over the kind stitching. “Maybe he won’t leave once he has the book.” Dipper thought aloud once again. He was starting to make a habit out of talking to himself apparently.

It wasn’t like he wanted to keep information from Cipher, especially news that’d make him happy. The paranoia engraved deep in his soul that the man would eventually forget about him if they had no reason to be around each other was just too overpowering. Even though there was a good chance Cipher liked hanging around Dipper for Dipper and not just for his searching skills. It was a big chance, honestly. You don’t just kiss someone you plan on ditching. Cipher seemed like a better person than that, anyways.

But doubt was always louder than hope.

With a quick glance at the clock—which already read 5:10PM—Dipper decided he’d allow himself to sleep on it. It was already late so there was no use calling up Cipher now; he wouldn’t be able to come by until tomorrow anyways.

Settling on that, Dipper rolled over and closed his eyes. Super wouldn’t be ready for another hour or so and a nap sounded like a pleasant idea in the meantime.

.:.:.

Three days.

It’d been three days since Dipper found the old journal hidden in a tree. The journal, which a certain radio host had yet to know, was within Dipper’s possession. It had been shamefully tucked away in the brunet’s desk under a pile of scrap papers. It wasn’t the greatest hiding spot by any means, but Dipper didn’t feel comfortable leaving the relic under his bed or somewhere in his closet. At least in his desk, the book didn’t face any chances of getting ruined.

He stuck the poor book in the bottom drawer with the intention of returning to it in a week – because a night to sleep on deciding to give the book to Cipher just wasn’t enough. He simply wanted a little more time with the radio host to assure he wouldn’t ditch him. That was reason enough, right? In one week time, the book would be given to the blonde man. Until then, Dipper proclaimed he’d live with the guilt and enjoy some downtime with the host.

And what a glorious three days it had been so far. Cipher had been spending a large majority of the days hanging around Dipper’s work again. They’d continued their little routine, but the silence was filled with a lot more bashful glances and sly smiles. The kiss hadn’t been officially mentioned, but the implication that both of them equally enjoyed it and wouldn’t mind doing it again was pretty clearly expressed.

When Dipper wasn’t shackled to his job at the bookstore – and Cipher by extension – they usually ended up spending time around town or the radio station. Very rarely were they away from each other’s side. Not that either was complaining. However, every so often when Dipper would glance Cipher’s way, he’d feel a ball of guilt nibbling away at the core of his stomach. He couldn’t help thinking about the things he was hiding from the man. It didn’t feel right, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.

“Do you like your job?”

Cipher blinked open his eyes and tilted his head a little towards the brunet lying somberly beside him. They’d been lying outside on a patch of drying grass a short ways from the radio station, simply enjoying the last few drops of autumn. The sun was high above them, basking them in a nice enough warmth that they only needed light jackets. Cipher was currently wearing the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Dipper a few days prior, having yet to give it up. Not that Dipper really cared, he felt slightly prideful seeing the radio host wearing something of his.

Cipher shifted his arms, which lay beneath his head. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He looked back towards the calm blue sky. “It’s fun, I like being able to talk about whatever the hell I want for a living. I am not the biggest fan of having to hide behind a curtain all the time, but it comes with the job.”

Dipper hummed, mulling over that information. He flicked his fingers against the zipper on his jacket. “Why do you have to be so secretive? I doubt anyone would like… attack you or something if they knew who you were.”

Cipher chuckled and turned on his side, arm bent and hand holding up his head. Dipper moved in a similar fashion so that they both faced each other. “There are a few reasons. Gideon thinks having me be unnamed makes me more mysterious, that not only the show holds secrets but even the host does.” He shrugged. “Plus, I like being able to live my life without interruptions. I would get annoyed pretty quickly if people were stopping me on the streets or spewing nonsense about me in teen magazines.”

Dipper twirled his fingers around a few blades of grass, tugging them lazily as he listened. “And here I thought you liked attention.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I do! I would love people bending at my every need, but I have standards. I wouldn’t be able to sit here with you like this if I was open about my identity, and that’s not something I am quite willing to give up.”

“I guess that… makes sense.” Dipper pondered. “So you’re a man full of secrets then?”

“I am a man with many angles and lots of knowledge of various topics, who happens to also like having a private life, so if that makes me secretive then I guess I am. However, since I like you I’ll tell you my secrets,” Cipher leaned forward, lips curving into a seductive smirk. “for a price~”

Dipper’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, “Oh really? And what’s your price, Cipher?” He mused, putting up his best confident front.

“Hmmm,” Cipher’s eyes flickered from Dipper’s eyes to his lips then quickly back again. “I don’t know, it’d probably have to be something really pricey since I’ve got a lot of secrets.”

Dipper snorted and rolled his eyes, “What like my soul?” He joked and playfully wiggled his eyebrows.

If one were to have blinked in that moment they probably would have missed the way Cipher’s eyes widened and sparked with wonder for a fraction of a second. He continued to smirk at his companion before rolling onto his back to stare up at the sky once again. “Something like that.” He hummed pleasantly. “I am sure your soul would be a beauty.”

Dipper scoffed and flopped over onto his stomach, arms crossing beneath his chin. He closed his eyes and snuggled a little deeper in his jacket. “Don’t all souls look the same? Like a smoking white ball.”

“I think you’ve been playing too many video games.” Cipher flicked at the edge of Dipper’s ear, earning a small yelp and glare from the boy. “Souls come in all colors and shapes, kid. The more corrupted the soul, the worse it looks. What the world considers ‘sinners’ usually look black, less smoky, more goopy. Like a ball of hot, bubbling tar. While good people are bright, wispy, and usually emit a color.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.” Dipper mumbled into the curve of his arm.

Cipher chuckled under his breath. “Call it a passion of mine.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence after that, lying happily beside each other with only the whispers of wind and occasional tweet of a bird filling the silence. They lay close enough that their arms brushed and with a little maneuvering their hands slipped into each other without question.

It was nice, being able to be together like this without any distractions. To simply enjoy each other’s company. Dipper really didn’t want to let this go, and yet as he peeked past his bangs at the still figure beside him, he knew that he would.

“Hey, Cipher.” Dipper said just barely above a whisper. He watched the blonde’s eyebrow twitch but his eyes remained closed.

“Hm?”

“I gotta tell you something, it’s kind of important, it’s about the b—”

Just as the words were about to flutter out of his mouth, a shrill ring of a phone smacked Dipper’s train of thought straight from his head. His lips latched shut and eyes looked down at Cipher’s glowing pocket, which the man was quickly moving to reach.

He flicked the device on and squinted at the screen as if it had personally offended him. Whether that was because it had interrupted Dipper or not, the boy wasn’t sure.

“Sorry, just an email.” Cipher’s expression lightened considerably as he turned the screen to face Dipper. “Look at this cat jumping in and out of boxes! Giffy sent it. Cats are so silly!”

True to his word, there was a cat hopping into different sized boxes with a small message from Giffany at the bottom of the screen. Dipper smiled softly at the ridiculous video. Of course Cipher would find cat videos funny, what doesn’t he find funny? Dipper thought for a moment and came to the conclusion that, nope, Cipher could get a kick out of anything.

As he watched the video play through, Dipper couldn’t help his eyes wandering to the corner of the screen where a list of information sat. At the top of the list was a name, one that had Dipper’s heart stalling. “Uh.” The boy muttered very intelligently.

Cipher tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brows at Dipper’s odd expression. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t find cat videos funny. Cause I don’t think this relationship can work if—”

“Bill?”

#it's done bby #two more chaps #shall update tomorrow #billdip #my writing #lips of a stranger #billdip fic #fanfiction #fic

17 notes · View notes

xxsakuragirlxx · 4 years

Text

30 Questions

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you

are contractually obligated to know better.

I wanted to tag some christian bloggers but I'm to scared, so I'm just not gonna tag anybody. So who ever sees this and wants to do this from my blog, go right ahead lol

Thank you for tagging me @bubblegumnebulaa !

1. Name/Nickname: Nikia/ Nikki / Sakura / Saki (I call myself those last two names. For what reason? I still don't know.)

2. Gender: Female

3. Star sign: I'm not into star signs but I'll answer; Gemini

4. Height: I haven't properly checked my height for years, but I'm around 5'4 or 5'5 right now? (It's kinda sad that for a girl my age, I can't even tell my own height 😔 I would blame my family for not teaching me but it's mostly my fault for not teaching myself common sense.)

5. Time: 5:31 p.m.

6. Birthday: June 16th

7. Favorite bands: I don't really have a favorite band, I just listen to whatever music pleases me (mostly Korean or Christian music) but I will say that For KING and COUNTRY songs (they are a duo of Christian singers) slaps!

8. Favorite solo artists: Same answer as last question. I just listen to whatever music pleases me so I don't have a favorite artist. Actually, I can answer this question. It's just one artist however. His name is KB. He is a Christian Hip-hop artist. My man makes really good music.

9. Song stuck in my head: Song? Nah, it's multiple songs being stuck on repeat in my head at the same time and I can't even differentiate between any of them. But one I can say right now that I have stuck on repeat is the song "Angels We Have Heard On High" by For KING and COUNTRY.

10. Last movie I watched: I can't even remember lol

11. Last show I watched: Spongebob Squarepants ( I stay up really late at night so I keep seeing this show on repeat.)

12. When did I create this blog: According to my tumblr archive, I started this blog in May of 2016 but only became active from reblogging from others in December of the same year.

13. What do you post: Basically nothing. Sometimes something, but nothing 😂. If you were to take away all my reblogs from here, my blog would be BARE.

14. Last thing googled: "How to complete food delivery quest for Genshin Impact" (If you play the game, the food event was freaking annoying to finish...)

15. Other blogs: I don't have any other blogs on here. Just other social media accounts I don't use.

16. Do I get asks: Rarely

17. Why I chose my URL: I have no idea lol. I'm not really that creative so I just put one of my OC's name with the word girl and BOOM there you go! I've been created!

18. Following: 425

19. Followers: 138 (mostly porn blogs...)

20. Average hours of sleep: Maybe around 2 to 3 hours? I said before I don't really sleep at night. So I sleep during the day and afternoon.

21. Lucky number: 7

22. Instruments: I play piano as of right now. Use to play the flute back when I was in band. I don't play constantly because I'm... kinda sad? Idk, I just have no motivation anymore to do things I love anymore. I just sleep all day, stare at my phone, and become paranoid at every sound I hear. And with everybody talking about what's gonna happen on the 21st, I just gave up. I'm tired... (Didn't mean to rant)

23. What am I wearing: The question is, what am I NOT wearing? Ok jk jk. I'm wearing my old red band T-shirt with some shorts.

24. Dream job: Don't have one. I use to love acting and took a two year acting course at school. Use to act in plays and people said I did great for a shy girl. Wanted to go to Hollywood but realize I ain't about to do the horrid shit they do there and become one of those people who get "cancelled" for having a different opinion :) Other than that, I don't care about a job. Besides, I probably won't make it to the age of getting a proper career.

25. Deam trip(s): Japan, South Korea, Guyana, Hawaii (my school has a lady who use to travel a lot before becoming teacher, so she decided to plan trips for people to sign up for if she can afford it with some company. It can only be in the United States however. I was one of the lucky ones to sign up quickly this year, because she can only take a few people, and the trip for 2021 will be going to Hawaii. I was allowed to let my mother come because I don't have friends really so hopefully, June of 2021 will be the best trip my mother has ever taken.

26. Favorite foods: I have Guyanese blood in me. My whole family is from there, but decided to move to America. I'm tired of living in a state and county that has horrid food that is not healthy for us. Ok, I wouldn't say the country has bad food in general, but I live in Mississippi. The only thing I can afford is junk food because Walmart doesn't want to keep their fruits and vegetables fresh enough and my family can't afford to go to another Walmart here in the state just to make us eat healthy 😒. Ok back to my point lol. Whenever we get the chance, we eat a lot of Guyanese food or just Carribean foods in general. They taste better than America food. If my family didn't leave home, we would have access to a bunch of fruits and vegetables for FREE.

27. Nationality (with my ethnicity???): As stated before, I got Guyanese blood. My ethnicity you could say is African American, mixed with Indian and with some Portuguese( I don't freaking know honestly, I got to look more into nationality and ethnics) But I'm an American citizen because I was born during the time when my family came here. Soooooo, American? ( I'm telling you guys, me being the age I am, I got no right being this damn dumb 💀)

28. Favorite song: Like the other two questions dealing with music, whatever pleases me. But I'll just say the same thing as before "Angels We Have Heard on High" by For KING & COUNTRY.

29. Last book read: My Hero Academia: Vigilantes Volume 2

30. Top three fictional universes I would like to live in: JoJo's bizarre Adventures, My Hero Academia, and Keeper of the Lost Cities. (It's a book series lol, it's really nice.)

Wowzers, that took long. Again, thank you @bubblegumnebulaa for tagging me :)

#tag game

2 notes · View notes

irregularjohnnywiggins · 4 years

Text

So, hey, a while ago I came up with this ask game about songs I associate with Arthurian characters. I had a lot of fun with that, but really wanted it to be more streamlined, so I came up with this solution - a list of Arthurian characters and the songs I associate with them.

Now, before we get into the list proper, I need to establish some things, the main one being that these song choices are primarily based on my interpretations of the characters, which is going to become extremely relevant with a few key choices that deviate completely from the normal story. Also, as an inevitable follow-through of this, these songs are entirely subject to my musical tastes, so if you're wondering why most of this list is either Heather Dale, Miracle of Sound or Jeff and Casey Lee Williams that's why. Finally, obviously not every Arthurian character is on this list - with some of the big-name ones like Merlin that's because I couldn't come up with a song choice, with others it's because I haven't fully come up with my version of them and as a result I'm still figuring them out.

With all that out of the way, I hope you enjoy this list!

King Arthur – Kingsword by Heather Dale

Kinda an obvious one - it's literally about Arthur - but I really like it and think it fits well with my version of Arthur, especially the last line of the chorus, 'A boy's hand will grasp it/A man's raise it high' - a major plot point of The Boy King is that Arthur has to grow up incredibly fast after the Sword in the Stone, and this song reflects that.

Guinevere – As I Am by Heather Dale

Again, another obvious one. This song brings into focus one major aspect of the Arthur/Guinevere relationship I play up - it's as much about their ideals as their attraction. Guinevere marries Arthur because she believes in his vision for Britain, and Arthur relies on Guinevere a lot for moral support. This is their greatest strength together, but it's also their greatest weakness - Arthur will later place faith in Guinevere's understanding of his vision where he shouldn't, and that will be the thing that turns Guinevere to Lancelot.

Morgan le Fay – Divide & Armed and Ready by Casey Lee Williams

Moving on to my favourite character in Arthuriana, Morgan gets two songs because... I wanted to give Morgan two songs. No, really it's because Morgan is complicated, and the two songs present her two moods more or less throughout her story - either vengefully, apocalyptically angry, or just righteously angry. That's my favourite thing about Morgan's story - she has a redemption arc, to be sure, but at no point during it does she accept that her motivation was wrong - Uther and Merlin deserved what she wanted to give them, her sin was in taking her anger out on people that had nothing to do with her revenge. So, whilst it's not as simple as a black and white 'Divide is Morgan pre-redemption, Armed and Ready is Morgan post', there is a sense that Armed and Ready is Morgan at her calmest. Also, because visually Morgan takes a lot of cues from the Trollhunters version of her, I've had a lot of fun with the 'I am the Golden One' line.

Morgause – Mordred’s Lullaby by Heather Dale

Yet another easy one - some might think it works better for Mordred, but I have other ideas for him. Not really much else to say - it's Morgause at her most evil, going places even Morgan won't - note how Divide calls out using children as weapons, whereas Lullaby goes 'yeah, I'm doing that Count of Monte Christo shit'.

Mordred – Mordred’s Song by Blind Guardian

Because edgelord Mordred gets edgelord rock song. Mordred is interesting, because I really don’t like the ‘born pure evil’ idea of Mordred, and as such his story is much more of a tragedy than even Arthur - a man who makes what he feels are the best decisions with what he has to work with, who slowly comes to the realisation that he's the villain of this story. Hence, a song that refers to his acts of evil as 'No one asked if I want this/If I like this'.

Nimue – Indomitable by Casey Lee Williams

This one was tough to keep in - whilst I'm absolutely certain that it fits my version of Nimue, the song itself is deeply personal for the people who made it, about an actual tragedy that happened to them, and I'm deeply uncomfortable saying that 'actually it's about this'. So, provided we're all aware that this is, more than any other song on the list, me twisting the original intent to fit my own idea, this is perfect for Nimue, particularly Nimue immediately after imprisoning Merlin and taking over his role as The Light Mage, the Big Good of the magical world. Her story’s pretty interesting, but the theme of trying to fill shoes that are way to big for you and eventually realising you can’t and the best you can do is try your best and do your own thing is prevalent and reflected perfectly by this song.

Lancelot – C’est Moi by Frederick Loewe and Alan Jay Lerner/Bad Luck Charm by Jeff Williams

Like Morgan, Lancelot gets two songs, but unlike Morgan there is an absolutely sharp divide between these two. To use a Fate reference as shorthand, C'est Moi is Lancelot as a Saber, whilst Bad Luck Charm is Lancelot as Beserker. C'est Moi is kinda the perfect song for Lancelot for most of the story - oozing self-confidence, probably too smug for his own good but exactly the right level of smug where you're not sure if you want to punch him or kiss him, it's great for Lancelot. Bad Luck Charm, on the other hand, is basically what's playing on a loop in Lancelot's head as soon as he gets caught with Guinevere, especially given he survives Camlann. Countless dead, two civil wars ripping the country apart, his friends either killed at his hands or cursing his name, his king and queen in a place he cannot get to, and all the while he's left to wander the world knowing that it's all his fault.

Gawain – Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by Heather Dale

Not really much to say about this one - it's definitely influenced my interpretation of Gawain as the Pagan Knight to Lancelot's Christian Knight, and a lot of the events the song describes are what happens when the Green Knight comes to play, but all in all its just a really good song.

Kay – True and Destined Prince by Heather Dale

Being the deuteragonist of the Boy King, Kay is someone I've put a lot of thought into, and this song is definitely a part of my writers playlist I keep listening to to get into the Kay mood. In particular the key defining factor of Kay is loyalty - particularly to Arthur the person, because obviously anyone trying to hurt his little brother is getting smacked. Kay is basically the Leo McGarry to Arthur's Jed Bartlet if that makes any sense, helping to make Arthur's dreams a reality, and there's also the factor that Kay and Arthur always consider one another brothers, which the song definitely reflects.

Bedivere – I Follow My King by Heather Dale

You may notice that this song is basically the same thematically as Kay's song. This is because Kay and Bedivere are a healthy couple that communicate their feelings with one another and come to reasonable compromises, so obviously their attitudes towards certain things are very similar. But talking about Bedivere in particular, this song works better for him than Kay because of one key aspect about Bedivere - whereas Gawain swears allegiance to Arthur for initially very mercenary ideals, and Lancelot swears to Arthur because of Arthur's reputation, Bedivere swears to Arthur because he's experienced Arthur growing up, he's seen the kind of man he's grown into, and he knows that Arthur's going to be a great king. Also the song works better for Bedivere because if Arthur tried pulling the shit the subject of this song does on Kay he's get locked in his room until he learnt not to be an idiot.

Ragnelle – Force of Nature by Miracle of Sound

Tbh it's mainly here for the line 'They rant of redemption/As I leave them long behind' which is peak Ragnelle energy - Ragnelle doesn't care about your feelings or what you think about her, she's doing her own thing and she demands you take her seriously. Aside from that, Ragnelle in my version has a faintly Fae connection to the Otherworld, and even if I go with the idea of her dying (I'm still undecided on that) it's more than likely that she ends up in some other place where her and Gawain can spend their days, so there's a particular melancholy to the lines 'I can hear the worlds unseen/I can hear them call to me'.

Galahad – A Thousand Eyes by Miracle of Sound

This definitely doesn't seem like a song that fits Galahad, does it? It's certainly not the one I picked when I did the original format of this list, so what gives? Well, more than maybe any other song on this list, this one is influenced by my specific version of Galahad, and that is influenced by my specific version of the Grail Quest, which I only codified a few months ago - namely, by saying 'fuck it' and making it a horror story. I'm not kidding. There's a lot of complexity in this interpretation, and I'd love to go more in depth about it at a later date, but for now know that my Galahad isn't a clumsy Jesus stand-in, he's more like a Lovecraft protagonist briefly brushing against things beyond mortal ken before being consumed by them, and as such I could think of no better song than this one.

Gareth – Touch the Sky by Casey Lee Williams

Now, as with Galahad there are certain key things you need to know about my version of Gareth before the song makes sense. Unlike Galahad, this one is very simple: the boy is trans. Absolutely, unambiguously trans. His story is explicitly trans, he's explicitly trans, and as I've been reliabily informed by certain people this song has a lot of Good Trans Vibes, which I can definitely see. Honestly Gareth's story is another one I could probably talk about for a while, especially because I'm really unsure about certain bits of it, being cis and very wary of screwing up trans rep, but for now I'll leave it at this song being perfect for Gareth in Camelot, finally able to be himself and not Morgause junior - because if you expected Morgause to be a good mum you need to listen to Mordred’s Lullaby again.

Ywain – Stay By My Side by Miracle of Sound

Cute friendship song for the boy with the lioness companion, not much more to say about it. There is a search for identity element in both Journey and Ywain's story, in Ywain's case being a search for his own meaning outside of his family, but mainly its a cute soft song for a cute soft lion boy.

Dinadan – Knights of the Round Table by Monty Python

Because what else would it be?

Uther – Lionize by Jeff Williams

Asshole attracts asshole, and Uther's just enough of a dick that Adam's particular brand of 'everyone who isn't like me is weak and cowardly and only I can see what's necessary to save us all, you'll see I'm right in the end'. Also, you may notice there's no Merlin song here, and whilst that's partially because I don't know a song that could explain my complicated feelings towards Merlin, this song also tells you everything you need to know about Merlin, because if Merlin can look at someone who's got this in their heads and think he's a perfect candidate for the throne then maybe Morgan has a point after all.

Igraine – The Best I Can by Miracle of Sound

Igraine might have one of the most complicated backstories in The Boy King, involving mermaids, Mirror Universe Wonder Woman and the plot of ICO, but none of that is strictly speaking relevant to the story as is told. Basically, Igraine has been through a lot, and this song is about her trying to prepare all her children for the cruel world out there, and also knowing that she can't. It's kind of a downer to end on, but hey it's Arthurian Legend - it's all a downer.

6 notes · View notes

sebaekberry · 4 years

Text

tag game 🌿

Rules are: answer the questions given by the tagger. write 11 questions of your own. tag 11 people.

thanks @cottonhyun for tagging me. I loved your questions, so creative!! might steal some of them for my questions too. I didn’t tag 11 people but if you want to do this, go nuts. tag me in it, too and I’ll happily read it. and if you don’t want to do it, no worries.

your questions:

1. Least favourite fruit

huh I don't think anyone has ever asked me this?? it took some thought ngl. I like almost all fruits, I'm not at all picky. ok maybe except for green grapes. they leave a chalky after-taste.

2. How would you achieve your own ultimate goal in life?

maybe this sounds sappy, but my ultimate goal in life is just to be happy. I've been spending a lot of time lately just figuring out what I want my life to be and how to achieve it and I keep coming up blank. but I've realised that I kept planning for ten and twenty years into the future instead of living in the present and focusing on what makes me happy right now where I'm at. and I think it's important to keep in mind that the future will happen whether you want it to or not so try to make the most of it in the moment. uh rant over, my bad

3. Describe the perfect day

oof it's missing the homies hours rn, big time. I want to be outside, having chill picnics with friends, playing games, and going swimming. or even just the little things, like going to my favourite reading spots, biking through the city, going to the movies, to the shops, to the museums !! if I could do any of those things freely, I'd be super happy.

4. Still or carbonated water?

oh still water for sure. carbonated water is like static in your mouth, don’t come at me

5. Best childhood memory?

is it weird that I don't actually have one? like it's not that I had a bad childhood, not at all. I just...feel so disconnected from my childhood. I know there were things I enjoyed like swimming, picking wild strawberries, greek mythology, painting and climbing, etc but there is no one specific memory that I can think of.

6. If someone is visiting your country for the first time, what kind of activities / sightseeing would you recommend them?

restaurants!! I live in stockholm and we have such a wide selection of food places, literally every type of cuisine you could imagine. a stroll through Gamla Stan is nice any time of year, maybe stop for some ice-cream, waffles or afternoon tea, a quick look inside the sci-fi bookstore there is always nice. there are waterways everywhere so I really recommend a walk somewhere along the water. stockholm is pretty small compared to other cities, so maybe bike around as many places as you can? part of our public transport is also by boat. museums and outside exhibits! bergianska trädgården. so many amazing cafés to get cozy in. late evenings on rooftop bars. the only con here is that everything closes pretty early. so if you’re touristing, keep check of the opening hours

7. What’s your favourite song from the year you were born?

ok imma be honest and say I had to look up what songs were released in 1997 and bro..all the legendary songs: barbie girl, bitter sweet symphony, I’ll be missing you, candle in the wind, TORN. I mean the nineties isn’t even my favourite decade of music but damn...the bops. men in black came out in 1997, ain’t that iconic? and the spice girls wow “slam it to the left, if you’re havin’ a good time, shake it to the right, if ya know that you feel fine” indEED. don’t think I even can pick a favourite but everybody by backstreet boys is real contender, huh?

8. Are you happy right now?

hoo boy, ain't that a loaded question...uhh not really? I mean there's a lot to be said about the issues currently surrounding us that are fucking miserable to think about as well as the future impacts but we're not gonna unpack all of that now...ahem. but as for myself, it's not that I'm unhappy with where I am, it just feels like I'm at a standstill. like am I on the right path, is it leading me where I want to go, should I pick another one? actually, this could get real ranty so imma just stop right here lol.

9. Who is your role model?

I don't really have one role model above others, but more of a list of people who I admire (family, friends, musicians, writers, artists and craftsmen), whose qualities all combined inspire me to better myself.

10. Ice cream or ice lollies?

I...would die for ice-cream. sweden and our ice-cream selection, a solid 9/10. it would be 10/10 but there are so few brands that sell mint chocolate. yes I am bitter about it

11. An item you value the most?

about two years ago, I made my own journal out of some fabric, sewed in all the pages and everything myself, and I think that’s probably the most valuable thing I own. I've only filled 15 or so pages in it but I plan on using it for a long time and maybe passing it on to someone else some day.

okayyyy this got way longer than I intended it to, uh sorry lol. if you read all of that, I am half grateful and half apologetic. dunno who I should tag tbh, I haven’t done tag games on here for ages, and usually not on this blog, but I’ll steal some people from my activity feed and tag: @younglingyoda, @bunny-jungkook, @zhangzjs, @fluffyhunnie, @chaichanyeol, @vroomvroombaek 💞💞

my questions:

1. if you could be in any other place, where would you go?

2. drop your skincare routine

3. describe your aesthetic, use images if you want!

4. what’s your favourite song from the year you were born?

5. sour or sweet candy?

6. tell me your favourite story, myth or fairytale

7. what is your favourite sound?

8. a quote, lyric, or piece of advice that sits with you?

9. pick two scoops of ice-cream: chocolate brownie, salted caramel, vanilla, mango swirl, strawberry cheesecake, mint chocolate, salty licorice, pistacchio

10. what motivates you, what keeps you going?

11. if you could live in any fictional universe, which would it be?

#tag game #it's been so long since I did one of these it was fun! i should do more

6 notes · View notes

jaxl-road · 5 years

Text

Howl

Sup bitches, you ready for some motherfucking *✲ﾟ*｡⋆Metaphors*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

Summary: Nikki’s been acting strange, pulling away from the band, running off on his own. He’s hiding something. And Tommy is too head over heels not to find out what.

Warnings: None I think, but hit me up if I missed something!

~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t fair that the second Tommy felt like maybe he had a shot with Nikki, the bassist started pulling away.

Not that he’d ever admit it, but Tommy maybe sorta had a tiny crush on Nikki back when he was in London. Who would blame him though, the dude was hot as Hell and Tommy wasn’t blind. Talking to Nikki after that concert had been surreal. It felt like he was floating above his body, watching himself blurt out “I have your poster on my bedroom wall” and leaving his soul helpless to anything but scream in mortification. He had been fully prepared to return to his date and politely ask her to bash his head in with a napkin dispenser to put him out of his misery.

But Nikki hadn’t laughed at him, even though there was a certain hesitance about him- a pause before he said that London was over, before he’d started talking about his new band, before he asked about his drumsticks and how he learned to spin them so smoothly. Before he asked Tommy to join him.

And oh boy if Tommy’s heart was compromised by Nikki’s looks, the first time he heard him laugh was a one-hit K.O.

It was all downhill from there, every smile, every rant about his vision for the band, every playful shove at his shoulders just sent the drummer deeper and deeper into something way past infatuation. And for awhile, it seemed like it might even be possible. The two grew closer, and even as the band expanded and solidified, Nikki and Tommy were always a pair. The Terror Twins. Tommy would seek him out, trotting after him, and he would go along with any crazy scheme, would even smile when Tommy leaned against him. Admittedly though, the drummer was getting impatient, and was trying to figure out how to push things forward more, more, more.

But before he got a chance, something happened.

And Tommy didn’t even know what.

There was nothing unusual about the night- Motley Crue rehearsed, slowly working their way towards a full set, before catching a show at The Whiskey for some old fashioned “networking” (aka, drinking with the bands). When they had finally left, Mick heading his own way, Nikki split off before they could make it back to their shitty apartment.

“Fuck, I’m outta cigs,” he groaned, “I’m gonna run grab some, I’ll meet you guys at home.” They had waved him off, none of them thinking anything of it. After all, the corner store was only a block away.

When Vince and Tommy reached the apartment, Vince had crashed almost immediately, but Tommy had lingered. He had hoped to maybe hang out with Nikki just a little more, just the two of them. Not because of any ulterior motive or anything. Of course not. If Tommy kept telling himself that he might even start to believe it.

After fifteen minutes, he figured maybe Nikki decided to smoke a few of those cigarettes he got before coming in.

After half an hour, he sat by the window and watched the street.

After an hour, he started pacing the living room, chewing on his fingernails and ignoring the anxious burning behind his eyes.

An hour and a half later, Tommy was ready to burst into Vince’s room and shake him awake and/or call 911. Or both. But luckily, before either of those things could happen, Nikki finally, finally, walked through the door. For a moment Tommy didn’t know if he was going to punch the man for worrying him or kiss him for coming back, but then he caught sight of his face, dried blood streaked under his nose and a darkening bruise on his cheek.

"Holy shit, dude, what happened?" He tried to get a closer look, but Nikki shrugged him off, side-stepping around him.

"Just some asshole, it's nothing."

“‘Nothing’? You said you were going to the corner store and you’ve been gone for like, almost two hours!” It wasn’t nothing. This was Nikki, and Nikki was everything.

But the bassist just shrugged, head ducked and bangs hiding his eyes, “It’s fine. Just a little fight. Don’t worry about it.”

Tommy wanted to help- wanted to wipe away the blood, press ice to his cheek. Wanted to kiss his bruised knuckles better. There was an air of Deja Vu to the situation, a chasm like a diner table stretched between them, only this time Nikki is shutting him out and Tommy was too much of a fucking coward to reach across and stop him.

Nikki shuffles into his room, something like embarrassment radiating from him. When the door shuts, Tommy stands in the living room for another ten minutes, trying his best to convince himself it doesn’t matter. Everything will be back to normal tomorrow.

Everything is very much not back to normal tomorrow.

It wasn’t unusual for Nikki to be the first one awake, but it was unusual for him to be fucking gone. Especially after having been missing for a chunk of the night before, and bruised up on top of it, Tommy had figured Nikki would just hang around the apartment during the day. Instead, he found a hastily scrawled note in the kitchen.

“Went out, be back later. -6”

Tommy frowned. He knew Nikki didn’t have work or anything today, and usually any “going out” involved the whole Crue. Or, you know. At least Tommy.

Biting his lip, the drummer couldn’t help but worry. This, combined with Nikki’s behavior the night before, was doing nothing to ease his nerves. When Vince finally woke up and wandered out, he only raised an eyebrow at the news.

“Weird. That dude is weird. I’m going back to bed.”

Tommy threw Nikki’s note at Vince’s head.

When Nikki comes home for rehearsal that night, he one again brushes off any attempt to ask where he was. “I was just out,” he said, “Is that a crime? Just play the fucking song.” Mick chuckles and rolls his eyes. Vince grins and flips him off. Tommy tries to smile but it feels more like a cringe.

They play the song, and then another, and another, and things don’t feel as normal as Tommy hoped.

It keeps happening. Nikki leaves each morning, sometimes leaving a note, sometimes just calling out a quick farewell to whoever was awake. On days when he has a shift at the shitty call center he works at part-time, he comes home late- much later than he should, Tommy knows- and continues to evade any questions as to his whereabouts.

The first time they go out as a group since Nikki’s strange behavior started, he comes with them, and for a few hours everything feels almost right. They drink, and dance badly to the music, and Tommy and Nikki laugh together, and when they put their arms around each others’ shoulders, Tommy maybe holds on just a little tighter than usual.

But then, far too soon, Nikki pulls away.

"Hey, I'm gonna head out."

Tommy frowns, and even Mick and Vince shoot looks of confusion at the bass player. It was nowhere near late enough for any of them to be calling it a night. Feeling a little desperate, Tommy moved towards him again, "Heading home already? I'll come with you-"

Nikki shook his head, "No, I'm... going to a friend's place."

"You have friends other than us?" Vince raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Nikki flipped him off, but he didn’t answer.

"Who?" Tommy asked. Who’s taking you away from us? From me?

"You wouldn't know 'em," Nikki shrugged, backing away as he spoke. Shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned to leave, he called over his shoulder, "don't worry about it. I'll see you guys later."

He was gone before they could get another word in.

The rest of the night, Tommy tries to distract himself with his other two friends. With booze, and girls, and coke. But the club feels just a little too empty.

Vince and Mick finally start getting suspicious the next day, when Nikki is actually late to rehearsal.

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Mick grumbled. They all joked about how hardcore Nikki could be when it came to Motley Crue- he was determined to make them a hit, and it wasn’t uncommon for one (or all) of them to have to tell him to tone it down a bit, or end practice after it had run past what they planned. So for him to be late...

Vince sat next to Mick, splayed out and far too relaxed in Tommy’s opinion, “He’s been a space case for like, over a week now.”

In front of them, Tommy paced back and forth, “Maybe he like, owes money to the mafia or something,” he theorized, “Oh my God, what if he’s being held hostage somewhere?!”

"Pffft, please, Isn't it obvious?" Vince chimed in, cutting off the drummer’s dark train of thought. The blonde leaned forward, grinning deviously, "Nikki's got a girl~friend~," he sang the word, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

"What? No way. No way!" Tommy responded just a little too fast and a little too loud to be mistaken for anything remotely close to subtle. He could feel his face grow warm as Mick raised an eyebrow knowingly and Vince smirked in something like victory.

"Yes way. He probably met some long-legged beauty on his way home that one night, maybe rescued her from some dick and became her knight in leather pants, and now they're enjoying a torrid love affair,” he threw a hand in the air, the other clutching his heart dramatically.

"Don't be stupid," Tommy tried his best not to pout, "why wouldn't he tell us?"

"Probably to keep this bastard's hands off her," Mick deadpanned as he jerked a thumb at Vince, who winked in response.

“Smart man.”

Scowling, Tommy crossed his arms, “I still think it’s the mob.” His band mates only laughed at him, exchanging high fives as soon as the drummer turned away.

His theory was disproved fifteen minutes later when Nikki rushed through the front door, “Sorry, sorry, got held up.”

“With what?”

“With who?”

Nikki blinked at Tommy and Vince’s simultaneous questions, “Nothing, no one. Why didn’t you guys just start without me? We’re wasting time!” The bassist snapped his fingers, nagging at the others to hustle to their places, ignoring any further attempts at interrogation with a glare and a reminder that they had work to do.

But all night long, Tommy just couldn’t focus on the music. His head was echoing with Vince’s words, dread and sorrow descending on him like a cloud.

Nikki’s got a girlfriend.

It’s not surprising that Tommy barely gets any sleep that night. He tosses and turns and shoves his face in a pillow to stifle the tears over losing the man he loves to some girl he doesn’t even know. He’s trying to talk himself out of getting drunk at six in the morning when he hears a door open across the hall.

Nikki’s door.

Tommy sits up so fast his neck cracks. Before he can think better of it, before he can even really think about what he’s doing at all, he’s stumbling out of bed and throwing on his clothes as quickly and quietly as he can. He hears the front door open and close just as he finishes tying his shoes, and he almost trips over his own feet as he rushes out of his room.

He pauses at the front door, opening it slowly and peeking through the crack. Nikki is a dark silhouette in the dimly lit hallway, like a shadow slipping silently through the cracks. He’s got a beat up backpack slung around his shoulder, his normally wild hair falling loose without any product or hairspray. The second he turns the corner, Tommy exits the apartment and jogs after him.

Every corner Tommy stops to check that Nikki is a decent distance away before trotting after him. Once they’re outside, he’s careful to duck behind corners and any structure he can find when he feels he might be getting too close. It’s while he’s crouched behind a trash can, staring at the bassist’s back that it fully clicks in his head that he is fucking stalking Nikki fucking Sixx.

And that’s weird. He knows that’s weird. But at the same time, he just has to know. If he’s going to have his heartbroken, he at least wants to see the person he lost to. Wants to see who Nikki chose, wants to see the person that beat him. He just wants to know for sure.

After all, he hasn’t completely discounted his mafia theory yet.

The sky is turning a vibrant orange with the rise of the sun and they’re maybe four blocks from the apartment when Nikki slows down. Tommy frowns when he sees he’s standing at the entrance to a nondescript alleyway. But there is a soft smile on the bassist’s face that sort of makes Tommy want to cry.

Nikki lets out a couple low, short whistles and oh God, Tommy thinks, they have a secret signal! It really is a torrid love affair!

He can barely hear Nikki’s soft words as he disappears into the alley, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me…”

It’s a terrible idea, Tommy knows, but he can’t stop himself from creeping closer. He just wants a glance, a quick look, that’s all. He presses himself against the wall, and as he looks around the corner, he braces himself to get his heart ripped out.

Which means he’s not braced at all for what he actually sees.

Nikki is kneeling on the dirty gravel, dark hair hanging around his face, but a soft breeze giving Tommy a glance of the warm smile on his face. His hands are stretched out, gently stroking the dog in front of him.

It’s some sort of mutt, but if Tommy had to guess it looks like a cross between a lab and a pitbull, fur as black as Nikki’s hair, and a stocky build offset by how skinny it was. There were silvery scars along its side, and its held a misshapen front paw close to its body, but its tail was wagging happily, and it licked at Nikki’s hand as he scratched its ears. Tommy could see Nikki’s mouth moving, but his words were too soft to make anything out. As he watched the dog inch forward, and heard Nikki laugh as it licked at his chin, Tommy felt like he was going to cry for a completely different reason.

But the moment is far too short lived. Because the dog suddenly notices the hidden figure and immediately jumps back, barking and growling, causing Nikki to jump in surprise before snapping his head to the side and locking eyes with Tommy.

Busted.

“Tommy?” Nikki stood to face him, glaring in a way that made Tommy gulp, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I…” Oh God, how was he supposed to explain this?

“Did you fucking follow me?”

Oh boy. “I- well-...” He swallowed again before choking out, “...Yeah?”

For a moment, the terror twins just stared at each other, the dog still growling from its place huddled in the back of the alley. Finally, Nikki let out a huff of frustration, “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled under his breath. Then he turned away, kneeling back down and holding his hand out again, “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay boy, Tommy’s a dumbass but he’s chill.”

And, well, Tommy figures that’s a good sign at least. Nikki still thinks he’s chill. Score.

Looking over his shoulder and narrowing his eyes at the drummer, Nikki jerked his head, “Get over here you weirdo, and try not to be a total spaz.” Eager to get back in Nikki’s good graces, Tommy immediately knelt by his side. “Okay, hold your hand out, slowly,” he emphasized. His voice was gentle again, though there was still an edge in his eyes when he glanced at Tommy.

Doing as he was told, Tommy carefully offered his palm to the dog in front of him, who wasn’t snarling anymore, but still growled lowly. Nikki reached into his bag, rummaging around for a minute before pulling out a pack of beef jerky. Almost immediately the growling stopped, and the dog’s ears perked up. Shifting to sit cross-legged, Nikki handed some of the snacks to Tommy before settling back to watch.

“Just give him a minute. Let him come to you,” he mumbled.

Determination filling him, Tommy tried his very best to exude calm, keeping his hand low and open with the jerky cupped in his palm, and smiling encouragingly when the dog started limping towards him slowly.

It takes some time, the dog moving forward and backing away again a few times before he managed to get close enough to sniff at Tommy’s hand. The drummer’s face split into a wide smile when the dog finally took the food from his hand, giggling when he licked at his palm for any remnants.

“Move slowly and pet his side,” Tommy had been so focused on soothing the animal in front of him, he had almost completely forgotten about the entire reason he was here. When he turned, his heart almost stopped at the affectionate look in Nikki’s eyes. Even more so when he realized Nikki was looking at him.

Following his instructions, Tommy carefully reached his other hand out until he could stroke the side of the dog’s neck. They stay like that for maybe ten minutes; Tommy petting the dog gently while Nikki occasionally handed him more jerky to help ease the animal’s nervousness.

Eventually though, once he decided Tommy wasn’t a threat, the dog limped over to Nikki. The bassist smiled, scratching his ears and stroking his back when he laid the front of his body in Nikki’s lap.

Tommy allowed himself a few moments to just watch, to see the peace and gentleness in Nikki as he sat with the stray. But eventually he felt the need to speak, “I’m sorry for following you,” he said softly. When Nikki glanced at him, his face was blank, and more words started spilling from him in desperation, “I was just worried, dude. You kept just vanishing on us, and you were acting so weird, I thought maybe-” he cuts himself off, quickly glancing away in case his face betrayed his assumptions, “I was just worried.”

Nikki looked back down at the dog, petting him quietly for a few minutes. When he finally spoke his voice was quiet, "I found him last week, when I was grabbing cigarettes. Saw some bastard try to kick him,” Tommy thought back to that night, the bruises and blood his best friend brought home, and thought of how much rage Nikki must have felt to see someone dare to try to hurt something that couldn’t fight back. Nikki tilted his head as he continued, “Something's up with his front leg, but he's skittish as Hell. He only just started to let me touch him the other day. I've been bringing him food and water and shit.”

There is a pause before Tommy asks the biggest question on his mind, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

He tries to look nonchalant, but Nikki’s shrug is stiff, and when he speaks his voice is tense, “I figured you’d make fun of me.”

“What? No way! We’re not gonna laugh at you for something like this, dude.” It doesn’t even make sense to him, but Nikki only shrugs. He shifts slowly until he’s sitting across from his friend. He wants to say more, wants to reassure him that they’re in this together, that Nikki doesn’t have to be afraid of them, but he just can’t find the words. He settles for reaching out to gently pat the dog’s stomach.

Tommy is still trying to figure out how to break the silence when Nikki breaks it for him. The bassist sighed shakily, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead before admitting softly, “I don’t know what to do, T-Bone.”

Frowning, Tommy leaned forward to try to look at Nikki’s eyes through his dark curtain of hair, “What do you mean?”

His fingers tapped against his knee rapidly in anxiety, “I know I can’t keep him. We can barely keep the roof over our own heads, let alone take care of a dog that obviously needs a vet. And I don’t want to leave him here, but what if…”

“What?”

Nikki’s voice is soft, and sad, and scared, “What if no one wants him?”

He wants so badly to reassure this man that he loves so much, that Tommy spits out platitudes immediately, “That’s crazy! Who wouldn’t love him? Besides, everyone loves dogs-”

He’s caught off guard when Nikki’s face snaps to his, glaring with fiery eyes, “No, people like normal dogs. They like golden retrievers, and lapdogs, and cute fuckers who wag their tails and roll over and shit like that. No one likes dogs that are beat up and damaged and snap if you move too fast.” His words are heated and angry, and Tommy feels his heart clench a little at the certainty in his voice. This time, he pauses to really think about his next words.

“You do.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a freak, what else is new,” Nikki looked back down, dejectedly reaching into his bag to offer more snacks to the dog in his lap.

And Tommy decides right then and there that he is going to do everything in his power to make sure Nikki never gets that note of sadness in his voice ever again.

"Hey,” he says firmly, “The world is full of freaks. Motley Crue is nothing but freaks. Someone out there is gonna love the shit out of this guy and give him all the patience and love he deserves. Just like you did for him,” Nikki still looks skeptical, and Tommy comes up with a plan faster than he ever has in his life, "Tell you what, let's get this dude back tonight, and I'll ask my parents to call around and see if anyone will take him. We’ll make it work until we know for sure he’s got a home."

Nikki’s head snaps up, eyes wide with something between hope and wonder, "You'd do that?"

Tommy smiled, "Of course,” his words are soft and sure and certain, “He's worth it."

It’s slow going, luring the dog out of the alley and back towards their apartment, especially not that more people are out and about. They take turns, one of them coaxing the animal while the other glares and gets people out of the way. They’re about a block away when Tommy finally asks, "By the way, what's his name?" Nikki looks back at him with a questioning look, and Tommy just grins teasingly, "Come on, I know you named him."

Nikki ducks his head down, trying to hide the embarrassment Tommy can read in his whole body. Finally, he mumbles, "...Moonshine."

When Nikki finally looks back up at Tommy, the drummer is grinning fondly. “It’s perfect.”

Moonshine stays with them for three days. When they first arrive, Tommy stayed with him in the hallway while Nikki cornered Vince and threatened him with bodily harm if he scared the dog. Admittedly, it’s probably a good idea considering the way the singer is vibrating with excitement when Tommy finally leads the dog inside. With great effort though, Vince stays calm long enough to ease Moonshine’s nerves.

By the time Mick arrives, the three of them are sitting on the floor in a circle with Moonshine in the middle being happily pet by all of them at once.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Despite his attempts at being gruff, by the end of the night Mick is sitting on the couch with the black dog pressed against his side, scratching his ears with a smile he can’t quite hide.

As much as they all love having him, Tommy keeps his promise and calls his parents that very first day. When he explains the situation, they happily agree to ask around. The next night, they give him the number of two of their friends- some empty-nesters who had dealt with high maintenance animals before and would be happy to have a new addition to their family.

He expects Nikki to be sad when he tells him the news, and maybe he is a little, but it’s overshadowed by the sheer relief on his face. Tommy kept his promise. Someone wanted him.

On the third night, the couple come to pick up Moonshine. They meet outside, none of them wanting to subject the older pair to their questionable apartment, and spend about half an hour letting the dog warm up to them before they pack him up. They open the window so Nikki can get a few last kisses from Moonshine, hugging his neck tightly before allowing them to drive away.

“It’s okay, Nikki. Just write a song about it and then you’ll feel better,” Vince teased gently after the car had disappeared.

The bassist shoved his shoulder, “Oh fuck off,” but he was smiling, if a little sadly, but no one mentioned it as they went back inside. They have a few drinks, clinking glasses in honor of their canine buddy, before Mick heads home and Vince runs off to find a lady to keep him company.

Alone in the apartment, Tommy tries to think of some way to lighten the mood. But before he can do anything, Nikki is stretching out on the couch beside him, dropping his head in Tommy’s lap. The drummer can only pray that his face isn’t as red as it feels, especially when Nikki smiles up at him.

“Hey, thanks for everything, man.”

“I-it was nothing. Seriously,” Tommy stuttered out.

Nikki laughed lightly, “Whatever man. Just…. Thanks.”

Swallowing thickly, the drummer smiled back, “Anytime.”

Things ease back to normal after that, the terror twins wreaking havoc again, Nikki throwing himself into the band, and once they start performing, Motley Crue starts tearing up the Sunset. Nikki smiles, and smiles, and smiles, and Tommy keeps falling harder. But he doesn’t mind so much, these days. He loves throwing his arms around Nikki, but there’s something special about when Nikki throws his arms around him.

Two months later, Tommy grins as he hangs up the phone. He practically skips into the living room because he is going to see Nikki smile and he can’t wait.

“Dude, dude, dude!” the drummer immediately leapt onto the couch, pushing and pulling at Nikki’s shoulder.

The other man smirked, pushing him away playfully, “What? What’s got you so fucking wired? I told Vince we should stop giving you sugar.”

“Oh shut up,” Tommy laughed, “I have a present for you!” Nikki raised an eyebrow in surprise, but before he could question, the younger boy burst out, “We’re gonna visit Moonshine tomorrow!”

There it was. There was that smile Tommy was pretty sure would be the death of him, “Seriously?” Nikki was practically bouncing in his seat and Tommy was so in love.

“Hell yeah! Apparently he got the cast off his leg a few days ago, and Paul and Debra said it’d be cool if we stopped by.”

“Oh man, I gotta buy, like, five bags of jerky.”

Tommy snorted in surprise, “Dude, they’re feeding him I promise.”

“Yeah, but probably only like, prissy rich people dog food. Moonshine needs some real treats.”

Nikki’s joy is infectious, and even Vince laughs when he teases him. The next day, Tommy convinces Nikki to only buy one bag of beef jerky before they hop in the drummer’s beat up car and drive out to the suburbs. It’s a forty-five minute drive filled with blasting music and planning outrageous stage shows and Tommy trying not to crash the car by looking at Nikki too long.

In the middle of suburbia the two of them stick out like sore thumbs, but none of that matters when Moonshine runs across the neat green lawn to greet them. His coat is shiny and clean, his bones no longer visible, and instead there is a healthy layer of fat and muscle on him. The fur is still growing back on his front leg, a long surgical scar running down the length of it, but his limp is gone as he bounds freely towards them.

Kneeling down, Nikki laughs as the dog jumps up on him, licking his face with his tail wagging frantically, “Hey boy! I missed you too!” Tommy leaned down to join in petting their old friend. Nikki gasped when he caught sight of the tag jingling from the bright red collar around his neck, and he turned to grin at Tommy excitedly, “They kept his name ‘Moonshine’? I figured they’d change it!”

“No way, dude! It just suits him too well!”

They stay for about an hour, two punk rockers rolling around on the front lawn with a happy black dog while the older couple looked on fondly from their porch. When they finally said their goodbyes, they couldn’t even be sad. Moonshine was too happy and healthy for them to be anything but glad for him.

Waving one last time, the couple and their new dog went back inside, leaving the two musicians on the sidewalk. Just as he’s about to get back in the car, Tommy felt Nikki’s hand on his arm, halting him in place.

“Tommy, you’re my ride back, right?”

“Uh, yeah?” he furrowed his brows in confusion at the odd question.

“Promise not to leave me stranded in the suburbs?”

“What the fuck? What are you talking about?”

“Just promise!” Nikki looked like he was vibrating with a cross between excitement and nervousness. It was the exact same look he got every night right before they went on stage.

“Okay, fine, I promise!”

He had barely gotten the words out when Nikki surged forward and kissed him.

For a moment he was sure he must be dreaming, but nothing in his imagination comes close to the taste of Nikki’s lips and the feeling of his hands on the sides of his face. It’s wondrous, it’s perfect, it feels like all the time spent leading up to it, all the patience and build up was so so worth it and Tommy can’t resist wrapping his arms around the bassist to pull him even closer. In all the times he’s imagined what it would be like to kiss Nikki, nothing compares to Nikki kissing him.

Neither wants to get back in the car, but eventually they laugh into each others’ mouths and admit that they should maybe stop making out here before they scar some poor middle-class housewife. The drive back takes an hour and a half, because Tommy keeps pulling over to kiss Nikki again and again.

He’s patient. But not that patient.

#YEET #motley crue fanfiction #my writing #tommy lee x nikki sixx #I'll upload on AO3 tomorrow

62 notes · View notes

idiosyncrasy-at-its-finest · 4 years

Text

Inc. written work from May 2019 (possibly pt. 1)

Took a trip into one of my many folders in google drive– found this gem written May 16-17, 2019. I edited a bit while reading through... I would continue it, but... ah, I’ve just gotten back into writing! Don’t want to force myself into anything...

Inspired by I Don’t Care by Ed Sheeran + Justin Bieber. Song was played while writing.

May or may not be continued

The music was light, playful, and very loud. It danced like the hordes of people surrounding me.

The red plastic cup felt heavy in my hand. I looked down at it and watched as the drink thrummed in my hands with the vibrations of the song. It sloshed around as drunken teens stumbled all over, occasionally tripping and bumping into me. A few uttered apologies, most just laughed while some even threw sultry winks.

I couldn’t help but feel out of place. For some reason, I had thought that coming might have been a good idea. I knew that there were kids who threw parties but I had never been invited until now. I stood uncomfortable, fully clad in dark jeans, a black short sleeved top, and flannel. There were a lot of people who were already half naked, playing truth or dare- or strip, spin the bottle- and strip, never have I ever- strip edition, and every kind of game you’d expect intoxicated kids whose motives were to ultimately get laid to be playing.

I continued to stand in the middle of the crowd, cup filled with coke that was probably spiked, unmoving as everyone else swayed to the beat of the music. I was sweating and itching under my clothes, eager to leave as soon as possible but also clinging on to this foreign feeling of wanting to stay. There was no incentive to except for the nagging sensation in both my gut and heart that was telling me to stay.

I somehow migrated to the back of the room, standing next to a house plant as tall as I was. The leaves occasionally brushed against my face when the sputtering air conditioner blew or people ran past. There were a lot of boys being dragged by girls as they headed down the hall, up the stairs, and to the bedrooms. There were girls being carried by guys– bridal style, facing each other as they desperately made out, piggyback. There was one girl who was being carried by half the guys on the football team. Some clapped me on my shoulders and back, all whooping and hollering. One guy with a sleazy grin on his face pushed past my shoulder and wished me the best in my pursuit to ‘get lucky’. The force of his shoulder against mine caused my drink to jump out of my hand, first spilling its contents on my shirt, then clattering to the floor to get trampled on by partygoers.

I couldn’t even hear the cup falling– I could hardly hear my own voice as I asked people where the bathroom was. I trailed aimlessly down the hall all the couples had gone down. I went up the stairs, stopping to listen to each door to figure out whether or not there were occupants in the room. A guy left his drink with me after asking if I could hold it and before I could respond. I gripped the cup hard. After four doors, I gave up. Even if there was a bathroom I passed, it was already occupied. I felt a cool breeze, a wave of fresh air as I walked further down. I chased the feeling like a fleeting dream and found myself outside on a grand balcony. It overlooked the front of the lavish mansion-like house, where more people were hooking up on the lawn, in bushes, the hot tub, pool, a car.

I shivered when the breeze cooled the wet spots on my clothes. It was a welcome reprieve from the staleness of the inside. I closed the balcony door to try and mute the sounds of the deafening music. I could still hear it, but it faded slightly and I sighed, relieved.

I didn’t want to be at this party. I never wore a suit or tie and before I left the house, I had stood in front of the floor-length mirror next to the door that led beyond. I’d stared at myself, hating how much I tried. Eventually, I ripped the tie off, took off the too-fancy jacket, kicked off my pants and changed into something more my style.

Too bad my style didn’t fit in here. Beer soaked or not, everyone dressed to impress. It was Rachel Mathis’ party. But I wasn’t here for her.

I ran my hands through my hair, further mussing it up, styling it to look unstyled. Frustrated with how much I cared, I finally just shook my locks out and put my head against the balcony railing. I blew out my cheeks.

I definitely did not fit in. Everyone down below, in the house, was their own type that was the same type. You had the jocks, the cheerleaders, the girls who thought they owned the school, the guys who knew everyone…but they were all partygoers. I wasn’t. I sighed again. I felt the wind blow my flannel back and for a moment I remembered that night when I was on the hilltop with her.

“Hey.” And suddenly the world melted around me. Her voice was a little rough from overuse, but I liked it that way. I liked that she liked to have fun.

“Hey yourself.” I gave her a lopsided grin, feeling awkward for having a still slightly damp shirt and casual clothes– feeling awkward because she was finally here. She didn’t put much effort into her look either, just folded her shorts a little higher than made her comfortable, and rolled her shirt up a bit to fit in.

Her smile was as bright as ever and, in her hand, she held a similar red cup. I lifted mine up, throwing another goofy grin as I nodded my head and leaned forward. “Care for a drink, milady?” Her eyes lit up and the warm brown made me feel perfectly at home, as if no time had passed at all.

“Why, yes, good sir, I would care for a drink. Though probably not this one,” she quickly dropped the fake accent, “it’s definitely spiked.”

“Oh, for sure.” She laughed as I extended my free arm, bending it slightly, an inclination for her to hook her arm with mine. She did without hesitation– something that made my heart pound– leaning against me as we stumbled through the hall, not a drunken mess but a mess nonetheless.

“Hey, wanna get out of here?” I blinked at her and then grinned again. I couldn’t stop the corners of my lips from lifting up, nor did I want to.

“Yeah, why not?” I began leading her toward the front gate, still wide open and now strung with toilet paper, but she pulled me back.

“Let’s sneak out the back.” Those bright and soft eyes gleamed in the moonlight and I was in no position to say no.

“Alright. But, Roe,” I tasted her name on my tongue, hating how foreign it felt, “you know we can just-”

“Shh! Come on, let me live my teenage fantasy!”

“Does that fantasy include me?”

“Among other things.” A cheeky grin.

“Oh, yeah? Like what.” A challenge.

“Mmm, maybe a clean shirt.” An eyebrow raise.

I glanced down. “You got me there. Come on, I’ll take you home. I’m sure Mom would love to see you again.”

“And I’d love to see her.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Do you think I was away for too long?”

“Yeah, Roe. It’s been a year.”

“Eleven months.”

“And twenty-seven days.”

“You got me there.” I ruffled her hair. I then placed my hand under her chin, a silent plea for her to look up at me. She did.

“Mom has always loved you. I mean, maybe not the first time we met when you pushed me into the sand pit, but–”

“I was four!”

“And I was five! What gives you the right to disrespect your elders?”

She stuck her tongue out at me. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t thrown sand at me-” The door swung open. My brother’s mouth dropped into an ‘o’ shape and he quickly ran into the house screaming for our mom.

When she came out of the kitchen, Roe and I had already seated ourselves on the couches, me resting my back against the right armrest, her against the left, legs tangled together as we reminisced about the last time she was here and everything was still okay.

“Mary Roe.”

“Mrs. Hendricks, I-”

“I spent a lot of time helping to raise you. You leave for nearly a year and when you come back… ‘Mrs. Hendricks’? That’s what you call me?”

Roe blushes, “Sorry… Mom.” And just like that, the tough facade drops and Mom runs over to embrace Roe.

“I missed you so much.”

Roe meets my eye when she whispers, “I know. I missed you too.” There was a pause. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s not a problem. Are you hungry, thirsty, cold? Your clothes are hardly there…”

She didn’t break eye contact. I didn’t either. My mom’s ranting became distant background noise, a faint humming like the music at a party.

Only when my mom left, to get clean clothes and a set of pajamas or something or the sort, did I look at Roe, really look at her. And I saw the girl who had suddenly picked up everything and left.

“Roe.”

“I know, I know. Look,” she ran her hands through her hair and sighed. “Logan.” My name on her lips sent shivers down my spine. “Logan,” she tried again. It sounded hesitant, scared, experimental. I hated that it was just as weird for her to say as it was for me to hear. It shouldn’t be weird. “Logan…” She blew out her cheeks. “I didn’t come here to say sorry–” of course she didn’t “– I just came to say that I’m back. I came to be back.”

I blinked. Once. Twice. She bit her lip. I cocked my head to the side slightly. She continued to gnaw on her bottom lip. I blinked again. Three. Four. She sighed. “Logan-” I involuntarily shivered.

“Don’t… don’t say my name.”

“Okay.” She played with the hem of her shirt, which she’d since rolled down. “Do you wanna talk about anything else?”

“Anything else,” I nodded.

“Okay. Okay, I can do that.”

“Okay.”

“Any boyfriends while you were gone?” My heart ached at the thought of her having someone else special in her life.

“Nah, you’re the only one for me,” she teased. My shoulders sagged and released a tension I hadn’t known existed. “ Besides, did you really think I’d get my first boyfriend without telling you?”

“Yes,” I deadpanned.

“Okay, fair enough.” A pause. A sly smile. “So… did you ever get with Nicole Porter?”

I flushed, shaking my head. “Never got around to asking. She ended up moving.”

Roe punched my arm, “Oh my god, why are you so dumb?” She flipped herself onto her back as she whined about my level of intelligence. She laughed when I hit her with a pillow and screamed when I jumped on top of her. “Oh my god, Loges, stop!” I didn’t. Her infectious grin and laughter spread to me and I couldn’t help but to feel like I was on cloud nine.

“I should hate you.”

“Yeah. You should. I was just about to say the same thing.” We were both on our backs now, staring up at the ceiling where drawings we made as kids and photos we took as we grew up were plastered on. I watched as a photo of us on the beach seemed to become a video and replay itself in my mind.

It was a hot day, but she’d refused to get in the water because she just read that the chemicals in sunscreen were killing turtles and causing water levels to rise. She really was something. I watched, smiling, as boys swarmed her, but had to push aside the jealous feeling in the pit of my stomach when some began to drag her arm, asking her to play volleyball with them.

She gave an apologetic look, her sorry look– I could see her mouth those words. And then she was running to me and jumping into my arms. And then I was lifting her up and then running to the water and throwing her into the waves while she pleaded for mercy in between breathless laughs.

Mom thought it’d make a cute photo if Roe posed ‘trying’ to kill me.

I look at her beside me now as I rub my neck. She looks back at me, smirking as if she knows what I’m thinking about. Of course, she does. She’s Roe.

“Roe-”

“Loges-”

Rock, paper, scissors. She always let me win.

“Why’d you leave?” She rolled onto her side. “Roe?” I hated how my voice broke when I said her name. “Mary Roe.”

“I think I should leave.”

And she did.

#writing #old #party #friendship #love #excerpt #incomplete #fic #song fic #inspired #I don't care #cute #sad #nostaliga #high school #leaving #friends #crush #romance

1 note · View note