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yanderechuu · 3 years

Note

do any of the teachers ever notice the things happening to y/n? (i headcannon Mic and Midnight as yanderes that would give advice to 1A lol)

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[2.1K]

Summary: Aizawa is the first one you approached in regards to your certain predicament.

Warning: nonconsensual recording

│

Aizawa suspected something wasn’t quite right by the moment he saw you entering the class a minute before the bell rang, all haggard and teary-eyed, though you tried your best to obscure your disposition. He always knew you to often be in a state of discomfort whenever you were compelled to socialize, especially with your classmates, but now - you looked as if you reached your limit of holding the weight of the world on your shoulders, crashing down all at once as depicted on your crestfallen expression.

And when you showed up in front of the faculty room, timidly soliciting his presence, his suspicions were only further verified. Even with a pending question regarding subject matters in your mind, you weren’t one to approach a teacher to inquire about it, and if you did it was because the teacher was the one who would ask your attendance; never the other way around.

Present Mic was the first one to acknowledge you. He stood up from his office chair, waving at you comically. “Yo, (l/n)! Having trouble with English again?”

You never had a problem with his subject; he only insisted that you’d come to him in regards to that. “N-no, not really. May I speak to Aizawa-sensei?”

“Talk with me instead!” He enthusiastically spoke and headed over to you. “Come on, what’s the matter?”

“It isn’t your place to ask that when I’m here.” Aizawa interceded, clearly unimpressed by Mic’s antics. He failed to see the latter’s displeased countenance. “(L/n), what is it?”

You avoided eye contact with him, averting your view to the ground - that was alright. You were always like this, and he didn’t mind. Nothing out of place except for the fact that it looked as if you were about to cry any moment now.

“Can we- can we, um, talk somewhere more private?” You asked quietly.

His brows raised in wonder at your request. Nevertheless, he didn’t decline you, only nodding lackadaisically before heading towards the teacher’s lounge, where you followed him suit. He flicked the door tag to ‘occupied’ and entered the room after you, when he told you sit on the three-person sofa situated not quite on the farthest left of the space. Then, he settled himself on the chair across you.

“Well?” He asked, expectantly.

But you had once again your head above a thick cloud of anxiety. You knew that after the event with Momo in the girls’ locker room - where you had injured her against your will because she had been violating your personal space - your homeroom teacher kept a cautious eye on you in case you’d re-enact that incident. And it wasn’t just that incident that made him look at you like you were a criminal on the loose, either. Your classmates found and did a lot of ways to place you in Aizawa’s naughty list just so you wouldn’t snitch on their abusive (they’d call it affectionate) behavior on you.

That didn’t erase the fact that you were nevertheless his student; he cared for you no less than he cared for his other pupils, yet you were just too ignorant in figuring that out. All that mattered to you was that you’d voice out your current concern to him, but with your insecurities holding you down it seemed it would be more difficult than you had primarily foreseen it to be.

“I-I,” you stammered out, fiddling with something inside your pocket, “u-um, you see, t-there’s this, I mean, I can’t-”

He grew increasingly frustrated with your constant stuttering, and although he did understand your shy nature which largely affected your conversational habits, he only had so much patience to deal with it.

“I don’t have all day.” He stated, glowering at your form in mild irritation. “If you’re going to keep doing that, talk to the wall.”

You abruptly halted in speaking after that, only looking down on your lap, staring wide-eyed, grief-stricken at the revelation that perhaps he really did not want to heed any of your words because you were just that bad of a student that he had decided you were not worth much the effort to concern himself with. And maybe he was right - that your words didn’t matter because you didn’t matter; that there were more affairs he better be tending to than yours; that you were only making a big deal out of this when it truthfully wasn’t.

Oh god, you felt like vomiting. Self-deprecation was getting the better of you.

He stood up and sauntered to the exit, not bothering to spare you a glance. “Come back to me when you actually know what you want to say.”

It was a matter of seconds when you ran to him, pulling him back rather harshly by the grip you had on his sleeve. He turned around due to the force to see your head still hung low, avoiding his gaze as always - only, your shoulders were quivering sporadically, and occasional sniffs were heard from your person.

“P-please, sensei...” you voiced out, shaken and horrifyingly delicate. “I-I’m so scared. Please.”

While he looked at you with contracted irises, countenance now alert from your unexpected disposition, you pulled your trembling hand out of your skirt pocket, nervously disclosing to him from your palm a small, black device with a tiny yet prominent lens.

“M-my room,” you heaved, “I-I saw this i-in my room, m-my closet, while- while I was dressing up, and I don’t know how long it had been in there but it probably already caught me bare and-”

You broke down in a flurry misery and shame, allowing yourself to fall to the ground but you didn’t - Aizawa seized you in his arms, his gentle, fatherly arms that could only do so much to console you from the horror of your reality. And he held your head as you cried on his chest, one little thing he could do after ignoring your situation and letting you think that your significance was less than the rest of his other students. At that moment, you were just so little, so fragile, so naïve he’d keep you in his pocket if he could. Why would someone do something as debauched as illegally recording your innocent self?

“I’m sor-sorry,” you sobbed, “I’m really telling the truth, p-please-”

“Shh, it’s okay. I don’t doubt you.” He reassured. Why were you apologizing? Were you that insecure of being a nuisance? No, no, you never were. Not to him. He reached for your hand to take the cursed device. “Since when did you find out?”

“J-just this morning.” You responded.

“Alright. Do you want to rest? This must have taken a huge toll on you.”

But you still had classes ongoing. Then again, you didn’t feel like looking at the faces of the prime suspects who possibly did you dirty, even when you knew that you’d have to eventually interact with them to get notes of your missed lessons. You were so tired from summoning the lot of your courage to confront your teacher regarding your problem, so you probably wouldn’t have the energy to listen to class discussion. Aizawa finalized your decision by pulling you up and guiding you towards the office of Recovery Girl who, after being briefed of your predicament by your homeroom teacher, welcomed you with a warm smile, telling you to make yourself comfortable in one of the beds in the infirmary.

He then made his way to 1A classroom, a newfound swelling of rage and disappointment in his chest, both forwarded to his class and to himself because only now did he realize that perhaps you were often so restless and apprehensive in the presence of your classmates because they did things that made you bury yourself in the deepest parts of your shell as a last attempt to revel in a sense of safety. Your timidity was not entirely derived from your own nature; it was also due to the maltreatment you were receiving from your classmates. Halting his steps by the classroom door, he looked through the glass window, seeing the class focusing on Midnight’s lecture.

Well, not quite. He could tell that your classmates were visibly affected by the lack of your presence, glancing at your desk from time to time as quiz papers were being passed behind - so they were in the middle of a test, he guessed. But that wasn’t his concern.

In impudent manner, he walked in amid Midnight’s talking, disregarding her face’s sudden morphing into vexation as the students gave him a look of confusion.

“Eraser, what are you-” she was rudely interrupted as Aizawa took the test reference papers from her hands. Something about Modern Hero Art History, he read. He faced his class with disdain, stating,

“Until someone confesses their crime of hiding a spy camera on (l/n)’s dorm room, all of you are receiving failing marks on this test.”

Quite suddenly, the class burst into violent upheaval, gasping, perking, some allowing the dreadful news of your situation to sink in, others letting out noises of complaint before actually taking consideration to the main point of Aizawa’s statement. Midnight stared at him in disbelief, but did nothing to stop his measures.

Momo abruptly stood. “I-is (y/n) okay? We should go check on her!”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Aizawa said. “All of you are suspects. You’ve no right to see her.”

“She probably just made that up get back on us for whatever fucking reason!” Yelled Bakugou.

“Yeah?” The male pro-hero disingenuously mused. He then picked up the spy camera and held it for everyone to see, before setting it down the teacher’s podium. “This was found on her closet. Would she risk recording herself naked just to prove that point?”

Noise died down thereafter, setting their sights solemnly at the device, the class collectively having the same thought in regards to the spy camera.

(Why hadn’t they thought of that? It could have been easier to check on you that way, since you almost always confined yourself in the privacy of your own room.)

“So? No one wants to speak up?” Aizawa asked, though expected the silence.

“Aizawa, have them approach you after classes. It’s embarrassing this way.” Midnight intervened.

“Well that’s the point. Get them exposed to the entire class, so everyone could realize how much of a perverted bastard one of these to-be heroes are. Good values, my ass.” He replied, not bothering to filter rather colorful vocabulary. “Where’s your dignity?”

He let a minute or two pass for the perpetrator to reveal themselves, but soon it became apparent that whomever they were refused to admit to their crime, willing to sacrifice the grades of the class for the sake of anonymity. That would be deemed useless, anyway, because Aizawa was already set on figuring out whom they were, no matter the extent he’d go to in order for that to happen. He’d expel them at once.

But he didn’t have the power to expel someone outside of his class.

“I guess that’s it for your test.” He sighed, disgruntled, picking up the small camera and sauntering his way out of the classroom after giving Midnight a look that he was dead serious with marking all of them a failing score. She stared at him in uncertainty, nonetheless abided by his decisions, albeit hesitantly.

Upon ascertaining his absence, Midnight turned to Class 1A, amusement and humor dancing on her seductive countenance.

“Naïve, hormonal teenagers,” she mused, “the closet, really? Couldn’t you have chosen somewhere less conspicuous?”

None of them bothered to tell her that they were truthfully unaware of the incident.

===

Hagakure Toru, stealth hero, entered your room silently in the nude, the only proof of her movements being a tinier, different spy camera she’d brought along with her. No, not the closet, you might find it again. It looked so painfully obvious on the desk, too, and neither in the bathroom due to its pale white interior.

But on the pencil holder situated atop your nightstand would do. You barely moved it, anyway, only having its purpose served as a decoration; something to fill the vacancy of the bedside table. After a few adjustments in camouflaging the device with the environment and making sure the lens displayed the area of your space, Hagakure checked its concealment one more time, before mechanically heading outside and back to her own dorm.

Her body collided almost violently with her room’s door, snapping her out of her trance.

“H-huh!? Weird... how’d I end up in my room?” She asked, receiving no answer from particularly anyone.

But Shinso Hitoshi could provide her one, if only he weren’t outside, staring at your terrace from five stories down your room, a gratifying smirk donned on his features. Now, the only thing he had to do was dismantle and relocate the gadgets wirelessly connected with the camera Aizawa had confiscated.

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90minsofscreentime · 2 years

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Grief

Hello, hello, hello! Here is a new work of mine~ Yes it has been a long while, I completely and utterly blame the education system. Why can’t a girl write fics forever in peace??

Anywho~ This is one of my squares for the Starker Festivals Summer Bingo 2022 and it's just my luck that the first square I manage to finish is the angst-iest of them all. 😅Some warnings for this story: This is the immediate aftermath of Uncle Ben's death, so Peter's point of view goes into detail about his overwhelming emotions and the terrifying situation. If reading about the death of a close family member or friend is particularly triggering for you, then it may be best to skip this one - I will never take it personally~

Take care, my friends and I hope you enjoy! 🌺

Also available on ~ AO3

SFSummerBingo2022 Prompt Fill ~ “Grief” @starkerfestivals

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Peter can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe, his chest is expanding and expanding and expanding and no breath is coming out. He can’t stop gasping, he can’t stop looking at him; his chest, his face, the blood – Oh my god there’s so much blood –

Peter’s eyes are wide and frantic, darting around every inch of the scene in front of him; the ghostly image of his Uncle. No, no, no, that can’t be right, Peter thinks, panicked, He was just speaking a second ago, I could hear his voice, he was going to be fine I could hear his breath I could–

The indescribable shift of Uncle Ben’s eyes from warm and comforting and home to unrecognisably empty and cold and grey cannot stop flashing through Peter’s mind. His rabbiting heart has sunk low into his chest and even now the unforgiving pulse of desperation is throbbing against Peter’s entire body, scratching and pulling to break free and take over him completely.

It hurts. Oh god, it hurts so much, please make it stop, please, please, I can’t breathe–

The world becomes blurry and distorted with trembling tears, shaken by the constant tremors vibrating through his skin, stuck in his frozen eyes and stinging the length of his throat, begging to be released. But Peter can’t blink. He can’t move, he can’t see, he can feel the sticky weight of something on his hands, but he doesn’t dare glance down and look. Instead he remains stunned still in his new warped world, full of tears and blood and cold, cold eyes; all alone, never to be rescued.

Uncle Ben.

I can’t breathe.

Muffled voices start to filter into Peter’s lonely world, the words indistinguishable, as if Peter is drowning and his ears are full of tears and blood. He can’t hear anything. He can’t see.

Uncle Ben.

“Hey, Kid,” A single, gentle sound pierces the ocean surrounding Peter, fading slowly into his world, approaching his side like a torch in a cave; a lighthouse at sea. “Hey there, buddy,” The voice continues, its words clear and concise – comforting. “It’s gonna be okay, my name is Tony Stark, I’m an officer with the NYPD, the ambulance has arrived–”

“Un–” Peter’s throat closes up, fighting the onslaught of tears.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” The gentle voice – a man – has a body. It comes closer and presses their temples together so that the man’s ear is presumably closer to Peter’s trembling mouth. Peter can’t breathe.

“Uh– Un-” Peter gasps wetly. “Uncle Ben– ”

An animalistic cry tears its way through the oceanic barrier in Peter’s throat as he throws himself into the stranger’s arms and suddenly, the dam holding everything back bursts. A thunder drum of sound claps around his ears as he surfaces – hot, painful tears sliding from his eyes; deafening street life and onlookers surrounding every inch of him; his distorted world turning black as he squeezes his eyes shut against the pain. Please make it stop, it hurts, it hurts, I can’t see, my throat hurts so much, please help me, please help–

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you – I’m here now,” The man cradles him, protects him from the terrifying world, the people, the body lying just a few inches in front of him that he just can’t stop seeing. “I know it hurts, I know, you’ve been through something very frightening, and I’m so sorry you had to experience that.” A litany of comfort flows from the stranger’s mouth, the repetitive hum of his voice anchoring Peter. The tears don’t stop – his sobs continue to tear their way out of Peter’s throat – but the man keeps murmuring. Peter doesn’t want him to stop.

Time seems to twist and deform around them as they crouch there on the rain soaked pavement, everything and nothing happening all at once. Peter starts to make out the sound of other officers managing the crowd, passing civilians stopping to gawk and chatter with each other at the scene, different tires of different vehicles arriving and leaving one after the other, so many voices of so many people that Peter wants to scream at. He wants to demand that they all leave, that they stop their incessant staring and whispering and judging and sympathies, as if his Uncle Ben is some freak show or social commentary or anything close to these strangers’ business. Peter grips a little tighter at the gentle man’s clothes and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Can you hear me, Kid?”

Peter nods slowly.

“Shall we get out of this crowd and find somewhere quiet?”

Peter nods again.

Sitting in a police station is a very foreign experience for Peter. He’s always lived a life free of delinquency and misbehaviour. He never planned on ever seeing the inside of a prison cell and therefore assumed he’d live a life of blissful ignorance, only hearing of crime when it came from the lips of a detached news anchor. But the seats of the washed out, fluorescently lit police department are cold, uncomfortable and much too real for him to deny. He just wants to go home. He wants… that kind man to come back.

Peter was far too overwhelmed and lonely to feel embarrassed at the way he clung onto the police officer, not daring to let go lest he get swept up in a sea of first responders and never find that comforting presence ever again. The constant contact continued all the way through the tests, check-ups and investigations he sat through – different professionals rotating one after the other from their jobs on the crime scene to asking Peter the same few questions: “ What’s your name?” , “Are you alright?” , “Are you hurting anywhere?” , “Can you look into this light, please?” , “Can you follow my finger with just your eyes, please?” . The kind stranger started answering questions for Peter at some point when the repetition began to make him shut down almost completely, spurring the man to steal Peter away from all the disquietude and into a police car.

After another nonverbal insistence from Peter, the stranger – Tony Stark, as he reintroduced himself – ended up sitting in the backseat with him, another officer of some sort driving instead. The journey to the police department simultaneously took ages and no time at all. In reality, Peter couldn’t tell you how far away they were from that godforsaken street, or anywhere for that matter. The only thing he remembers from that car journey is his shy fingers reaching across the car seat towards Mr. Stark’s, seeking ever so much more comfort than he knows a police officer is willing (or allowed) to give to a random kid like himself, but even so, his trembling fingers were met halfway and grasped reassuringly tight, kickstarting a new, warm beating of his heart. For the first time that evening, he had begun to relax.

Now, however, that familiar, dreadful hollowness sits deep in his chest, Mr. Stark having left him with a gentle promise that Peter can’t remember. Was he promising to come back? Was he promising to send someone else? Am I being left here all night by myself? Constant what-ifs swell and congest in Peter’s mind, suffocating and confusing, but far better than the horrible, terrifying alternative that occasionally sneaks through the cracks in his thoughts, showing flashes of cold eyes, slack features and stained hands. Peter’s face crumples painfully in his attempts to not burst into pathetic wails again, his shoes squeaking against the floor as he tucks his whole body onto the plastic chair, hiding his face in his knees like a child afraid of a looming monster. Except there is no Uncle Ben, this time, to chase them away.

“Hey, Peter.”

Lifting his head up slightly, Peter sees Mr. Stark standing off to his side, a steaming paper cup in one hand and a spiral notebook in the other. For the first time, Peter actually looks at the man – at his features, his uniform, his height and his stance – and he is just lucid enough to recognise the man’s handsomeness. Mr. Stark’s face is aged, but by no means less attractive for being so; his entire air is distinguished yet there is a recognisable stiffness in his shoulders and a heaviness to his gait, hinting at a concealed exhaustion only made visible in moments of solitary weakness. Though, Peter can hardly imagine a strong, comforting figure like Mr. Stark ever appearing weak. A painfully obvious difference between them, Peter notes, bitterly. He doesn’t think their positions could be any more contrasting, in fact; a shivering teen next to an experienced cop. What a pathetic picture they must be painting.

“The break room only has either coffee that tastes like soot or watery hot chocolate, so I thought I’d spring for the lesser of two evils,” Tony gestures to the cup in his hand, moving forward to place it on a low circular table next to Peter’s chair, right on top of some scattered helpline pamphlets and police recruitment ads displaying triumphant imagery of young men and women in trainee uniforms – now a makeshift coaster. “Don’t feel obliged to drink, I certainly wouldn’t blame you – I’ve certainly had my fill of the refreshments here – I just thought it would be better than nothing,” The older man squats down in front of Peter attentively, face open and understanding, not even the slightest hint of condescension. Peter is grateful.

“Thank you,” He croaks out, immediately clearing his throat in embarrassment. Great, as if he didn’t feel small enough already.

“You’re very welcome, Peter,” A simple smile accompanies Mr. Stark’s words, simple but ever so comforting. After briefly shifting his weight on his heels, Mr. Stark’s features dim slightly into an expression of seriousness. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to brief you on what needs to happen now, for you at least.”

Peter’s chest stutters, his jaw tightening against the infuriating tremble of his chin. Goddammit, Peter, get a grip. He quickly looks down at his lap before Mr. Stark can see the immense effort it’s taking for him to not burst into tears; to not scream at the top of his lungs for Uncle Ben or May or his parents; to not lunge forward and bury himself in the arms of this poor police officer and hide away until the pain finally stops. His fingers grip tighter at the material of his jeans as Peter breathes a shaky inhale. His nails are still stained red.

Before Peter can spiral any further, a tender hand rests on top of his shaking knuckles, unmoving and unwavering.

“Take some deep breaths with me, Pete, there’s absolutely no rush,” Mr. Stark starts breathing loud and slow, his thumb smoothing over Peter’s skin. “I’ve got nowhere to be tonight, okay? Breathe nice and slow for me, there you go, in-and-out – you’ve got this,” In and out, in and out, God, Peter can’t believe he has to be instructed on how to breathe. It’s humiliating and terrifying, but damn if it isn’t helping to steady him. Mr. Stark’s hand is so comfortingly grounding, fostering a newfound desire in Peter to tilt up his palm and squeeze back just as tight, so that he may share all of this emotion through touch alone, so that he won’t have to feel so completely isolated in the frightening promise of what is bound to change about him and his life from this day forward. It scares him, but he starts to settle. His fingers flex underneath Mr. Stark’s. He receives an answering squeeze.

“How are we doing, Pete?” That compassionate voice sounds once more – soft and pleasant as ever. I don’t know, I don’t know, just- please don’t let me go. “Do you think you’re okay to talk now?” Peter nods, somewhat robotically.

“Yeah, I think so,” Peter murmurs, voice more firm now, but still worn out. Overused. Exhausted. “I mean, if not now, when, right?”

“Well,” Mr. Stark smiles amiably. “Like I said, I’ve got nowhere to be,” His arms spread grandly, a mock display that is completely charming. “So just let me know if you ever need to take a break or anything, alright?”

“Mhm,” Peter hums, reaching to his side to grasp the abandoned drink, his senses soothing slightly at the gentle warmth of the paper. He almost misses the pleased look on Mr. Stark’s face.

The evening stretches on after that, with Peter being informed about inevitable police reports, investigations and possible court proceedings regarding the… incident, as well as funeral and mortuary information that Peter can’t help but break down again at. Cue some more restrained tears and an eventual embrace where Mr. Stark is still leaning up from his crouched position in front of Peter’s chair, resolute and enduring as ever, even though his whole frame must’ve been uncomfortable holding Peter like that for so long. But not a single complaint leaves the older man’s mouth.

It’s with his head on Mr. Stark’s shoulder that Peter notices Aunt May shuffling through the automatic doors, face pale and body hunched over, a terribly lost look in her eyes. Peter’s never hugged her so hard in his life. They’ve never cried together so desperately, all without having to utter a single word.

The night continues to draw on.

Aunt May, Mr. Stark and Peter visit several different rooms to talk to several different people for different exhausting reasons. Recounting the events of the evening to men in white shirts and notepads takes physical effort at some points, but Mr. Stark always speaks up to rephrase, ask easier questions or just to pat a reassuring hand on his shoulder or his back or his leg. It eases his nerves also to see him do the same for Aunt May.

After the sufficient amount of questions seem to have been asked (too many), he and Aunt May are led back to the main lobby by Mr. Stark once more, condolences and final goodbyes exchanged (with Peter glancing a tad too longingly at the man who spent the whole night by his side). Just as they’re both steeling themselves for the eeriest car ride of their lives, back to their cold apartment, Mr. Stark calls out.

“Peter! Could you come back over here for a second?” A quick, wordless glance at Aunt May communicates her approval. Peter walks back into the building as she ventures out into the car park.

“Yeah, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks quietly, awkwardly slipping his hands into his pockets.

“‘Mr. Stark’, huh? That's very cute, I’ve only ever been called that in job interviews,” Mr. Stark jokes gently, with a grin so comfortable that Peter can’t help but huff a laugh in return. This man. “‘ Mr. Stark ’, very cool, very… distinguished,” The older man trails off as he scribbles quickly in his notepad before tearing out the sheet and holding it out to Peter proudly. “Here.”

“What’s that?” Peter eyes the paper, confused.

“These are my contact details,” Mr. Stark answers, nonchalant. Peter, on the other hand, has stopped functioning. “In case you have any questions about anything police-wise, investigation-wise, or just- if you need someone to talk to about anything,” The man’s face is too sincere to be joking about this. Peter takes the paper, still dumbfounded.

“Y-You… want me to talk to you about stuff?” Peter questions, still waiting for the catch. This police officer spent all night tending to him and he isn’t kicking Peter out at the first chance he gets? He’s actively extending the offer to keep in touch?

“Well it’s not obligatory, of course, but y’know, you can just text or phone or email or something – I did write my email on the, uh–”

“Okay,” Peter blurts, probably embarrassingly, but he’s still too stunned to notice. “Okay, I-I’ll… text you?”

“Yeah! Texting’s great, that’s great – anything you need, Peter,” Mr. Stark’s eyes glance up, his dark brown eyes swimming with contentment. Peter looks back, entranced. He can feel that his eyes aren’t glowing as much as they used to – his emotions no longer shining through as freely as they once did. He’s closed off. But this man saved him from shutting down altogether and for that, Peter tries his best to convey just how grateful he is through his eyes; greyed and dimmed.

To Peter’s surprise, he starts to see his own grief reflect back at him. Everything that terrified, confused and damaged Peter from tonight flashes behind the colour of Mr. Stark’s irises – a colour that, on closer inspection, was probably just as dulled as Peter’s feel right now. All the exhaustion is there; the uncertainty and guilt and blame, all hidden, but also… overcome. Peter sees himself. He sees pain. He sees love.

“Have a safe journey home, Peter,” Mr. Stark – Tony – rumbles. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon,” Peter has so much to say to this man, so much to ask… He settles for a final tight hug that is reciprocated tenfold.

“I’ll see you then,” Peter whispers, the last defiant sting in his throat resurfacing, silent tears starting to brim.

“You better, Mr. Parker,” A promise is shared. Something implicit and beyond words is shared. Peter doesn’t want to go.

“Bye, Mr. Stark,” A parting wave is the last thing he sees before he turns to go out into the chilled early-morning mist, the sun beginning to peek its way through the city’s buildings. A new day. Peter walks towards the family car.

On the journey back home to their apartment, their lives and the inescapable change, Peter looks down at his phone and then at the paper clutched tightly in one hand. He creates a new phone contact.

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actonbellworks · 3 years

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BTS and art-pop; a postmodern analysis of the album Love Yourself: Tear (2017)

this is an essay i wrote for a uni assignment, and i really wanted to post it here, so,,,

The closest definition of postmodern music, by Jonathan Kramer, in his 1996 essay Postmodern Concepts of Musical Time, is described in several characteristics. It is not a repudiation or a continuation of modernism, but contains aspects of both; it is, on some level, ironic, disregards the value of structural unity, and seeks to break down the distinctions between ‘highbrow’ and ‘lowbrow’ music. Postmodern music refuses to be cast into a specific mold, includes detailed references, is pluralistic and eclectic, but above all, it locates its meaning much more in the listener than it does in the actual music and performance. In his essay, Answering the Question: what is Postmodernism? Jean Francois Lyotard defines postmodernism as part of the modern, conceding to perhaps the most influential critic of Postmodernism, Jurgen Habermas, as he writes, “The postmodern would be that which, in the modern, puts forward the unpresentable in presentation itself…”. The phenomenon of the postmodern, as critics have tried to define it, exists in spite of a definition.

This leads us to another, far more important question; can we define ‘popular’ music as ‘postmodern’? Critics still hesitate to attribute the ‘postmodern’ or the ‘art-pop’ tag to mainstream popular music, because they view postmodernist music and art-pop as a genre that is inexorably linked with modernism, which implies that there has to be a predecessor for popular music to be classified as ‘postmodern’. In another definition, one that is, perhaps, far more closer to the hypothesis laid out by Kramer, is that Postmodernist music, and indeed, the postmodernist movement, developed as a reaction to modernism, and as such, incorporates the attributes of modernism as well as defies it to a certain extent.

The genre of K-pop has been popularised all over the world largely due to the influence of the seven-member band BTS (방탄소년단 in Korean), and their detailed musicality, which is perhaps showcased best in their third studio album, Love Yourself 轉 ‘Tear’, widely regarded as one of their most intricate works. True to the definition of postmodern music, the album smoothly shifts genres, sometimes in the gap of a single song, although there is a thematic, sometimes singular focus on the feelings of loss and loneliness. To centre a musical venture around the idea of love and loss is nothing new, perhaps, but ‘Tear’ refuses to play into any of the common tropes.

The term ‘postmodern’ contains an air of elitism with it, as it still refers to practices that developed as a reaction to the modernist methods of the twentieth century. It directly challenges the strict rules of modernist art, a return to pre-modernist era art techniques, and above all, it removes the boundaries between the “classical” and the “popular”. BTS has been termed as ‘popular music’ by critics, and while the label ‘popular music’ is considered restrictive, for many music critics, ‘Tear’ represents how the genre can be pushed to its limits, moving beyond the limitations set by the industry and by music critics in general.

Perhaps one of the most dynamic songs in the LP’s tracklist is the title track, “FAKE LOVE”, the music video for which begins with silence, and the track is completed by a jagged guitar riff that cuts off abruptly to a scene of the seven members, dressed in robes and masks that look eerily reminiscent of the early Greek comedic tradition, in which every character is identifiable by their masks and their choice of costumery. The teaser for the music video, interestingly, had the piece, Waltz in A-flat major, OP. 9, No. 1 by Frédéric Chopin, also termed as ‘The Farewell Waltz’ or ‘Valse de l’adieu’. Chopin’s music and BTS’ song both move in circles, without reaching a conclusion. Chopin’s waltz moves in ¾ beats, until it ends abruptly, and FAKE LOVE reiterates the same line,

Love you so bad, love you so bad

널 위해 예쁜 거짓을 빚어낸

Love it's so mad, love it's so mad

날 지워 너의 인형이 되려 해

널 위해서라면 난

슬퍼도

Which loosely translates to “love you so bad/ I create a beautiful lie for you/ love you so mad/ I try to become your doll by erasing myself.” Both pieces move around the idea of loss, with neither reaching anywhere fruitful. Chopin’s waltz ends where it had begun, in the middle of his heartbreak, and BTS end their song with the refrain of

기쁜 척 할 수가 있었어

널 위해서라면 난

아파도 강한 척 할 수가 있었어

사랑이 사랑만으로 완벽하길

내 모든 약점들은 다 숨겨지길

이뤄지지 않는 꿈속에서

피울 수 없는 꽃을 키웠어

Which again, translates to “for you, I could pretend to be happy even when sad/ for you I could pretend I was strong even when I was hurt/ Wishing that love is perfect as itself/Wishing all my weakness is hidden/In a dream that can’t come true/I raised a flower that couldn’t bloom”.

A particular characteristic of art-pop music and alternative music in general, is the recurring motif that runs through one or more songs. In ‘Tear’, the septet continue to use masks, in order to symbolise what is the loss of one’s self, in the process of another, perhaps more explicitly shown in their introductory music video to the album, ‘Singularity’, where singer Kim Taehyung (using the stage moniker V) sings about losing his voice, trapped in a lake, donning a mask that obscures half of his face, losing all his individuality. ‘Singularity’ is perhaps one of the most complicated songs to translate from Korean, as the songwriter, RM, lays down visual clues of what it feels like to wake up from a dream, only to find oneself trapped. The music video carries forward the baroque imagery, as well as the heavy classical influences in the slow progression of the track; it conjures the powerful imagery of being trapped underwater ourselves, in the lyrics

Tell me 내 목소리가 가짜라면

날 버리지 말았어야 했는지

Tell me 고통조차 가짜라면

그때 내가 무얼해야 했는지

Loosely translated, it refers to someone trapped underwater, who doesn't feel as though their voice belongs to themselves. ‘Singularity’ wonders whether or not it is worth it to sacrifice one’s individuality to mould themselves to fit in. Postmodern art talks about the truth of the artist, especially how difficult it is to maintain one’s sincerity to survive, be it in a relationship, or in the music industry, a sentiment expressed by the septet in the fifth track of the album, ‘Paradise’ (낙원 ), where rappers Suga and j-hope express their dissatisfaction with the world through an intertwined verse,

누군 이렇게 누군 저렇게 산다면서

세상은 내게 욕을 퍼붓네

세상은 욕할 자격이 없네

꿈을 꾸는 법이 무엇인지

(“saying some are living like this,some are living like that/ the world pours curses at me/ the world has no right to pour curses at me/ for it has never even taught me how to dream '')

The song ‘Paradise’ is not only about the futility of the dreams that we are forced to accept and work towards, it also serves as a reminder of the society that we continue to subject the future generations to, in the capitalistic pursuit of wealth and correlating it to happiness, we forget that perhaps, humanity is not defined by wealth. ‘Paradise’ sets a reminder that it is okay to pause the world to remind ourselves that the world does not exist in spite of us, it exists because of us.

Perhaps the strangest, most compelling song on the entire album is the final song, ‘OUTRO: TEAR’. A rap track featuring the three rappers, it has been one of the most lyrically intimidating songs. A direct continuation of the thought process in ‘singularity’, “OUTRO: TEAR’ also muses upon the threads of a broken relationship, and the precipice upon which it all began.

For music critics, the opening six bars of the outro are reminiscent of the sombre tunes in Rachmaninoff’s piano concertos, which reach a crescendo and give way to RM’s introductory verse. It is a song that has remorse at the very core of it, writing for one’s lost love, for which there is still regret. For RM and Suga, this comes with the words

어쩜 내가 너를 사랑했던 적이 아예 없는 것 같아서

(because it felt like maybe I had never loved you anyway)

심장이 찢겨져 차라리 불 태워줘

고통과 미련 그 무엇도 남지 않게끔

(“my heart breaks, please rather burn it, so that the pain and the lingering love disappears”) while RM denotes his regret with rhyming sequences that linger, and for Suga, it is in a series of archaic, perhaps even frightening metaphors to his breaking heart. Both the rappers are talking about their failed relationship, with music, their friends, and their love, how it has an everlasting effect on their lives, one that will never go away, even with acceptance of their fate.

Written at the brink of disbandment, perhaps the coda by j-hope is where the song hits the hardest. The most lyrically dense section of the song is the coda, where j-hope lays down a flurry of rhymes and rhythms, shaken at the prospect of leaving music altogether. Although the song stems from a personal story for the septet, it deals with the very real anxiety and fear an artist has, of having to separate from their art. For j-hope it is akin to a break-up, a sundering with the very people he had thought would be by his side forever, and he writes, “이별은 내겐 그 순간들뿐”(goodbye, for me is only there, just at those moments). He writes,

넌 내 시작과 끝That is all

(“You are my beginning, end, that is all”)

And to him, and to all artists, art is supreme, and the thought of parting from the art that has given them so much, would be akin to severing them from their soulmate. For many music critics, the outro is the most complex song they have heard form the septet, with some going so far as to naming it a magnum opus.

In Love Yourself 轉 ‘Tear’, BTS puts the spotlight on the human condition; something which is fallible, something which is dependant upon others. Postmodernism, and postmodernist art, especially, talks about the complex aspects of humanity, forcing people to pay attention to the world and to their own selves. It isn't the music videos with homages paid to Romantic era composers, neither is it the layered verses with the double entendres of lyrical meanings. ‘Tear’ is a postmodern work of art because it covers multiple aspects of the human condition, while also harkening back to the music that inspires artists to create; and the stories they tell in ‘Tear’ are universal.

(trans cr to @doolsetbangtan)

#bts #bts lyrics #my writing #actonbellwrites

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world-of-aus · 4 years

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Behind the Screen - (Timestamp 2)

Authors Note: Timestamp 2! I’m so excited for this one, and I’m hoping it’ll do better than the first one, notes have never been a huge thing for me, but there’s that little part of me that wonders if maybe i didn’t do so good, but i mean its fine, i still love what i put out and will continue to work on being a better content writer! I hope you’ll enjoy this one. GUYS THERE ARE ONLY FOUR MORE CHAPTERS! Would you all like to help me choose my next series?!

Warnings: all the floof.

Timestamp 1 / SERIES MASTERLIST

Bucky is the first to wake, like he is every morning, except this morning is different; rather than waking you, he wants to enjoy you like he does every morning. To see the fresh morning rays light up your beauty, to feel the softness of your skin beneath his fingers from where you lay atop his chest. He finds it funny to think if he had continued to play down his feelings as just wanting to experiment new things with you that he wouldn’t be here in this bed, in the home he now shared with you. You’ve completely turned his world around, giving him something he never wanted to give up. He didn’t want to imagine a world without you, couldn’t even bring himself to fathom it, because now that he had a taste of you, he didn’t want to think of a world without you, a world where he would be incomplete.

“You’re staring.” came your sleepy voice.

He glanced down at you, your head still perched on his chest, eyes peacefully closed, “can’t help it doll,” he murmured, “I have quite the view,” he leaned down placing a kiss to your head, the sweet scent of your shampoo hitting his nose.

“You could have a better view,” you spoke up, words slightly muffled from where your lips pressed to his naked chest.

He chuckles lowly, his chest vibrating beneath you, “you know for someone who is always calling me insatiable, you’re slowly creeping up to that status babe.”

Tired eyes look up at him, your head perched on his chest, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips, “It’s really not my fault, had you not been so insatiable, and eager to please your girl, I wouldn’t be expecting it every morning,”

A grin pulls at his lips, one that has your heart clenching in your chest because you love him so much,” is that so,” he questions arms wrapping themselves around you as he squeezes you to him, “have I really made you crave me every morning.” he murmured arms sliding down your back, hands grabbing a firm grip on your ass.

“You see,” you giggle, “you see what you’re doing, I'm not the one at fault here,”

He leans in then, his lips hovering just above yours, “and what am I doing baby?” he questions voice dropping to a low rumble, one that has a shiver rolling through you.

Your teeth bite at your lower lip, “why don’t you find out.”

A growl is falling from his lips as he flips the two of you, your back meeting the cooled sheets of your side. His hands trail down your body, goosebumps arising in his trail down your soft skin. You suck in a breath when his hands cup your heat, index finger pushing your panties into your slick heat.

“Bucky please,” you plead into the early morning.

His body covers yours, metal finger pressing to your lips, “i got you baby, I'm going to take real good care of my girl,” he murmurs his body slipping down yours, lips tasting every inch of your skin.

It’s that same morning after he’s thoroughly fucked you into the cooling sheets. That he thinks it’s time, he knows no one could possibly bring him the happiness that you bring him, nor does he think there is anyone else out there he’d rather have by his side for the rest of his days, especially if he has a say, and oh does he have a say. He’s prepared, has been prepared since he first went house hunting with Sam and Steve, it was during that time, that Steve had jokingly brought up buying you a ring “you're already moving in with her I think it's time you popped the question.”

It was meant to be taken as a joke and in that moment that Steve had said that, it had been, they had all laughed about it as they made their way into the office to do the closing. The more he sat and thought on it, the more Steve’s words had reverberated within him, and made him question if maybe it was time, surely he wouldn’t do it right away, but when he felt the time was right, he could at least be prepared.

So he spent his mornings looking through various shops looking for the perfect one, and it had been the morning of your one-year anniversary that he had finally found the perfect one, the one he knew was meant for you. It all seemed so perfect, he almost proposed to you on the steps of your new home, but he knew it wasn’t the time, he needed it to be perfect.

The first time he tries to get the words out is that evening, he know it isn’t the right time but he can’t help but to think you look absolutely ethereal in his button down shirt in the kitchen of your open concept home, the evening rays setting a warm glow around your swaying form. The kitchen had become your favorite place, you were always in here baking goodies, and he loved that about you, loved how peaceful you looked. He’s quite as he makes his way over to you, fingers picking up the simple band you always wore on one of your fingers.

He wants to see your reaction; so, he falls to one knee on the flour filled floor, calling your name ever so softly a grin pulling at his lips as you turn, you freeze cookie dough spoon midair “J-James, baby what are you doing?” and he loves how you sound nervous eyes flitting from him to the ring, then back.

“Every morning reminds me of all the wrong dreams I had been chasing all my life until I found the right one,” he pauses, “and that was you, whattdya say doll, Marry Me?”

“Bucky I-I don’t know what to say,” you murmur but then your glancing down at the ring, really looking at this time, and laughter spills from your lips, a glow taking over your features, as your body relaxes, “Oh Bucky,” you coo as you pull him up from his feet, he takes the time to slip the ring onto your finger, both of you laughing in the comfort and quietness of your kitchen.

“Was that a yes,” he chuckles pulling you in close.

Your shaking your head, your hair framing your face, “M’sorry babe but I'll have to decline,”

“oh, come on babe, there was a ring and everything, I was on my knee for you, how could you say no, I thought what we had was real” and he's pouting, actually pouting

Your laughing again as your arms weave around his neck, fingers playing with the long strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

“a ring that you found on the countertop might I add,” you murmured nose brushing against his, “and what we have is very real, but there’s more to proposing to someone then getting down on one knee,”

“so then it’s a maybe,” he questions as you pull away from him, and he watches as you move over to the stove, getting a view of your panty clad ass. You turn your head to face him, a smile pulling at your lips, “well it’s not a no,” and he’ll take that he thinks as he moves over to you, strong hands grasping at your hips as he grinds himself into you.

The second time Bucky think it’s the perfect time, is a few weeks later, the two of you are lounging in the living room, warm light from your lamps illuminates the room as the two of you attempt to watch the film playing. Since that first evening Bucky now carries the velvet box in the pockets of his pants, his argument for it anytime could be the right time when it's with you.

Your voice pulls him from his thoughts as he's shaken from his daydream like state, “the ring Christian gives ana is absolutely gorgeous don’t you think Buck,” you turn your head to look up at him from where your perched on the floor.

You find his eyes already on yours, "were you even paying attention?” you huffed.

He shakes his head, “buck,” you whine, “you better start paying attention because I'm not going to fill you in.” you mutter as you turn your attention back to the film. How can he though when he’s so captivated by you, the film has nothing on the beauty that you bring. So he slides to the floor unbeknownst to you, again he finds himself on his knee a grin pulling at his face because you truly are the most beautiful thing in his life, and he thinks back to what Sam said about hiding his feelings for you and he wish he hadn't, he could have been in this euphoric state so much sooner. You sense him next to you and you turn your head to face him, brow raised in suspicion of his posture, “buck,” you murmur drawing out his name, “what are you doing?” “you're the star that twinkles at night, the breeze that makes things feel right, you're the sunshine that drives the blues away the beat that makes my heart beat every day,” a pause “will you marry me?”

Your fingers are grasping at his chin, thumb running over the stubble of his beard, "you're lucky your cute,” and then your eyes are turning away, back to the film.

“y/n,” he tries, fingers grasping at your face turning you back to him, “baby I was being serious, marry me.”

Your laughing, “baby I'm sure you want to marry me,” you murmur your own hands grasping his face, “but I don’t know how you plan to do so without a ring, I told you, proposing is more than just getting on your knee,”

His mouth falls open but its smushed from your hold on his cheeks, “but I have the ring,” he grunts.

Your pulling on his face, your lips falling to his, “and I'm sure of that too, but right now I need you to watch this movie, and then after that,” you murmur voice dipping, “I'm going to need you to take care of me in the bedroom,”

His eyes darken pants feeling a little tighter, little heavier at your words, “is that so?” he questions.

Your nodding your head, as you lean in again, your tongue running over his bottom lip, “yes, now pay attention.”

The third time Bucky thinks it’s the perfect time is months later in the back of the Quinjet, he's bruised and battered, his bloodied hand holding yours where its pressed to his side.

“How’s he doing,” he hears Steve yell from the front.

He looks to your worried expression, “he’s bleeding more than usual Steve,” you shout back nerves frayed, how much longer?”

“30 minutes out!”

“fuck,” you grunt, hand pressing into his side harder.

“sweetheart, I'm going to be alright, this is like a walk in the park,” he grunts when you press harder.

“like hell it is Barnes, I swear once we get you cleared, I'm going to give you my own version of hell, why would you do that Buck, why did you jump in front of that damn bullet!”

“doll I'm in this for the long ride, I'm here to make you and smile, I’m here to stand by you at every corner, I'm here to go on the journey of life with you, till the end of time, I'm here now, I’m here forever, will you marry me?”

Your laughing through your tears, your lips pressing to his, “is that a yes,” he chuckles breathlessly.

Your shaking your head, “if you think you taking a bullet for me is going to have me saying yes,” a pause, “you’d be right, but save that proposal for another time when you’re not bleeding out, and you can actually get down on one knee for me,”

He’s grinning, “but I thought you said proposing is more than just getting on one knee.”

Your smacking at his shoulder, “You know what I mean Buck, you lean your head on his, “ask me again, ask me when we’re at home,”

The fourth time Bucky asks it’s a week later and he's fresh out of the medical bay, he’s leaning on you for support as you pull him up the steps of your home. “Stay right there,” you murmur as you got to unlock the door. It’s just you unlocking the door to your home but then he remembers what you said to him on the quinjet, and he thinks maybe it's time, the ring is in his bag, and you did say for him to ask you when your were home, it had to be time.

So he drops to his knee, and a gasp falls from your lips as you whip around to his fallen form, “bucky,” you shriek your hands reaching for him, but he’s stopping you.

“doll I guarantee there will be tough times, I guarantee that at some point one or both of us is going to want to get out of this thing, but I also guarantee that if I don’t ask you to be mine I'll regret it for the rest of my life, because I know in my heart you’re the only one for me,” he pauses giving you a toothy smile, “what do you say to making me the happiest man alive, will you marry me?”

Your smiling despite the shake to your head, he watches as you lean down to his level, your hands grasping his face, fingers curling in his hair, “bucky there’s more to proposing then just getting on your knee.”

He’s laughing head, falling back as he groans, “but you said to ask you when we got home, I figured there wouldn’t be a better time, besides you’ve technically rejected all my other proposals.”

“Bucky there’s more to proposing then just falling to your knee, aside from a missing ring, you need to make sure the time is right,”

His brows furrow, “doll the time is always per-”

“perfect for you Buck, the time has to be perfect for you.”

The fifth time Bucky asks you is on your second anniversary, there were many times over the past month leading up to this day that he still would drop to his knee for you and ask you the very same question he had before, and each time your answer had been the same, he was hoping tonight might go a little different, hell he was praying that it did.

Steve and Sam had assured him everything would be fine, and they continued to assure him as the night had passed. The two of you had decided, well more like he had decided to do things differently on your anniversary night. You had invited all your closest friends over for a small get together, Bucky using an excuse of wanting to show off your new home, and he was grateful you had taken the bait, even agreeing that it had been too long since you had seen the others. It was all going off with a hitch, everything was going as planned, everything was perfect, except for the fact that he couldn’t find the perfect moment. His nerves were growing, and he was beginning to grow weary that there would never be a perfect time, and the box sitting in his pants felt heavier and heavier as each second ticked him by.

He was standing on the back porch watching the get together happen before him, his breath catching in his throat when he sees you coming towards him, the brightest smile on your face.

“was wondering where you got off too,” you spoke up as you climbed the steps to him, “thought you were supposed to be spending out anniversary wrapped around me.”

He’s tugging on your hand as he pulls you in close, “that was my plan, and it still is but I just got a few things on my mind is all doll,”

Your face morphs into one of concern, “what’s going on babe, do you want me to cut the night short, send everyone home?”

He’s shaking his head, he doesn’t think there will ever be a perfect time, but was there ever a perfect time to do this?

“buck, babe seriously what is it, you’re starting to worry me a little bit here.” you laughed lightly.

“You told me to find the perfect time for me, well I'm beginning to think there really isn’t ever a perfect time,”

Your brows furrow in confusion, “Bucky what are you?” the words die in your throat as he drops to his knee.

Laughter falls from your lips, unbeknownst to you getting the attention of the others, it’s the perfect time.

“Bucky get up before someone gets the wrong idea, or they get too excited,” you laugh reaching for his hands, but he’s pushing them away as he digs for the velvet box in his pants.

Your hands stop as you catch sight of the velvet box, your body stumbling slightly, “Bucky,” it almost sounds like a warning.

“sweetheart, you asked me to find the perfect time, and if I'm being honest anytime with you is the perfect time,” a breath, “I've been meaning to do this for a while now, hell I have been doing this for a while, but each time you told me it took more than just dropping to my knee, so I came prepared,” teary laughter fell from your lips as your vision blurred slightly, “i finally have the ring, but I also thought you would like to have those closest to you around for this,” he watches you look around your gathering friends before your eyes are falling back to his, “sweetheart, I've never know quite a love like yours, there’s just something so special about you, that I just can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else but you, Every day that is spent in your presence is a day filled with joy and happiness and I want that for the rest of my days,” a pause, “i want you for the rest of my days, so honey, I hope I came prepared enough tonight, because I really am hoping you’ll make me the happiest man alive and say yes, sweetheart will you marry me,”

And he waits with baited breath, because your choking back a sob, and man does he hate to see you cry, but he can’t help it when his own eyes well up when your nodding your head vigorously.

“of course, I will,” you reply through your tears.

He almost doesn’t catch you answer, because it takes him by surprise, but when it catches up to him that you actually said yes, he’s jumping to his feet, arms going around you as he catches you in his embrace.

“I love you so much sweetheart, so fucking much,” he breathes into your hair.

Your pulling away from him only to pull him back in to a deep kiss, one he breaks so that he can properly slide the ring onto your finger.

“it’s so beautiful Bucky,” you murmur looking from the ring to him, and he can’t help himself, “better than the one Christian gave Ana?”

Your laughing then as your friends draw in closer to congratulate the two of you, “it’s perfect,” you murmur leaning in to press your lips to his.

Timestamp 3

Behind The Screen Tag-list: @ladifreakingda @georgialeighc13 @racewife2004 @multy-fandom-lover @otvlanga @sailorstupidsblog @wantingtobekorra @gazzan-a @clarinette07 @amanda-the-fangirl @im-sure-its-fine @sagechanoafterdark @heyywestman @runaway-escape @ilovesupersoldiers @unlistedpond @rayofdawnworld @badassbaker @fandom-basurero @krabby-tentacles @sassy-pelican @lizlepuffs @jaywolf840 @xoasalxo @buckys-henley @buchanansebba @the-cry-of-youth @ladywinchester1967 @barnesjustice @kseniiafirebrace @b0nkybarnes @bucky-cinnamonroll-barnes @pinknerdpanda @dezzylou24 @therealprinceofcrime

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #soft!bucky #and then FLUFF and all the love #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #smut

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pinktintedmonocle · 4 years

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Dedicated Followers of Fashion - A Cobra Kai Lawrusso Fanfic - Chapter 3

“Do you still have yours?” Daniel asked.

Johnny blinked in confusion. “My what?”

Daniel inclined his head towards the tournament gi on the wall.

In which Daniel is not on fire, Johnny performs a heist and they finally attempt to deal with their feelings for each other with the help of two iconic outfits…

Trigger warning: some references to outdated and ill-informed views on homosexuality and bisexuality.

1981

“Mr Lawrence. Stay behind for a moment, will you?”

Kreese’s voice cut through the air, and although it was framed as a question Johnny knew that it was a command rather than a request.

“I’ll see you later”, Johnny murmured to Bobby, and hung back while the rest of the class shuffled out.

When they were alone Kreese surveyed him for a moment, his cool gaze sweeping Johnny from head to toe, and Johnny forced himself to stay standing straight up, head high, shoulders held back rather than turning tail. He knew that gaze, not just from Kreese but from Sid as well, knew that it almost always preceded a sneer followed by a torrent of insults carefully constructed to inflict the most pain possible.

But no insults were forthcoming; instead Kreese just nodded, once, and walked past Johnny into his office. He emerged a few seconds later, a pile of black cloth held in his arms, and crossed back over to Johnny, holding out the bundle.

“For you, Mr Lawrence”, Kreese said smoothly, and Johnny’s jaw fell open when he realised what it was.

“A tournament gi?” he whispered, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice just in case he was mistaken. “For me, Sensei?”

Kreese smiled indulgently and inclined his head down, indicating for Johnny to take the uniform.

Johnny picked it up, sucking in a deep breath as he did so. He’d just been a spectator at the All Valley tournament for the last two years, sitting in the front row and cheering his fellow Cobras on, hoping against hope that one day it would be him up there, leading Cobra Kai to victory. He ran his fingers over the patch on the front of the top, scarcely believing that he was seeing his own name (his own name!) printed above the motif of a fist.

“Do you really think I’m ready, Sensei?” he asked quietly, and Kreese’s smile widened as he laid a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, squeezing it softly.

“Yes son”, said Kreese. “It’s time for you to get out there and show everyone what a true champion is made of. I have a feeling that gi is only the first of many.”

Johnny felt his chest swell with happiness as a grin spread over his face.

“I won’t let you down, Sensei”, he promised fervently. “I swear it. I’ll never, ever let you down.”

December 20th, 1984

“Johnny? Johnny, are you OK sweetie?”

Johnny burrowed deeper under the bed covers, ignoring his mom. His throat was throbbing painfully and he desperately needed to pee, but he didn’t want to move from his dark cocoon. After a minute his mom stopped calling his name, and he thought she’d gone away when he heard his bedroom door open softly and feet pad across to him. He felt the bed dip as she sat down before her hand landed on his back, rubbing soft circles into it through the covers.

“Hey”, she said soothingly. “It’s OK, Johnny. I know you did your best.”

“How?” croaked Johnny, voice muffled by the blankets. “How do you know what I did when you weren’t even there?”

His mom’s hand stopped moving. “I’m so sorry I missed it sweetie, but Sid had a work dinner and I had to go-”

“You always choose him over me”, Johnny said hoarsely, shifting across the bed out of his mom’s reach.

“You know that’s not true, Johnny”, Laura said quietly.

Johnny didn’t reply, and a few seconds later he felt his mom stand up and start to walk away. He heard her footsteps pause, and then a rustling sound; the crinkle of cloth.

“Where do you want me to put this, Johnny?” she asked, and Johnny didn’t need to look to know that she was holding the gi that he’d torn off and discarded on the floor when he’d got home.

“I don’t care”, he said, curling up further under the blanket.

Laura sighed. “OK, well I’m going to keep it if that’s alright with you. I’ll put it with the others.”

Johnny was silent, and after a minute he heard his mom leave, the door closing behind her. He held his breath for a moment, making sure she wasn’t about to come back, before he let himself cry, the tears running down tracks still present on his cheeks from the night before. He didn’t care what his mom did with the gi; he never wanted to see it again.

2019

They won the tournament, Miguel delivering the winning kick against Robby in a nail-biting final, and while the kids celebrated Johnny and Daniel had hotfooted it out of the All Valley Sports Arena, desperately searching for Robby and Kreese. They eventually found them around the back of the building, Kreese having apparently learned his lesson from last time and avoiding the crowded parking lot. He had Robby in a headlock, second place trophy in pieces on the ground, and for a sickening moment Johnny felt as if time had rewound thirty-five years and it was all happening again.

They had acted as one, Johnny sweeping Kreese’s leg while Daniel delivered the kick to his face, and while Daniel had pulled a shaken and spluttering Robby out of the way Johnny had stood over his old Sensei, mouth set in a hard line.

“Now get the hell out of here and never come back”, he had growled. Before Kreese had a chance to respond Johnny had turned away, attending to Robby.

After an exhausting few weeks of sorting out the mess Kreese had left behind (“A lot of those kids he was brainwashing are going to need many years of therapy”, Daniel had said) and making sure Robby was OK (he had let Johnny and Daniel take him to hospital after the tournament, but had barely talked to either of them since, opting instead to move back in with Shannon who was fresh out of rehab), Johnny and Daniel had decided to keep their new dojo open, with them both teaching evening classes while Johnny managed most of the day sessions solo when Daniel was at the dealership. (“Just try to be nice, OK Johnny? No inappropriate nicknames.” “Define inappropriate.” “Anything you would’ve used in the 80’s.” Daniel answered drily. “Then what the hell am I supposed to call them?” Johnny protested. “Their names, Johnny.”)

They had also managed to avoid being alone together for any length of time; Miguel, Sam and Hawk had begun to join them for lesson planning and nights out always included Amanda and Carmen. Johnny was starting to think that Daniel had either forgotten or decided to abandon their plan to talk about The Thing between them (Johnny had started to refer to it as The Thing in his mind, even though that also made him think of the Kurt Russell film, which was confusing at times. But he didn’t know what else to call it; what was the appropriate terminology for the overwhelming urge to kiss the face off your childhood karate rival turned reluctant co-sensei?), when he’d received a Facebook message from Daniel one night after practice.

Dinner. My place. Saturday night, 7.30pm. Amanda out and the kids at sleepovers. And get a damn cell phone, Johnny. I’m sick of having to wait for you to turn on your laptop before you pick up my messages. (Johnny had rolled his eyes and responded with the middle finger emoji, followed shortly after by yeah, whatever, see you then.)

On Saturday night Johnny tried on the entire contents of his wardrobe, searching for just the right outfit in which to discuss what to do about The Thing. After several hours his bedroom looked like an explosion in a thrift store and he finally settled on his dark suit and yellow shirt combo, telling himself as he adjusted his tie and slicked his hair back that he was going to Daniel’s to deal with the business of The Thing between them, so what better outfit than a business suit? They would drink (there was no way Johnny was doing it sober), they would talk, they would eat, they would try and come up with a solution to their feelings which didn’t end with Johnny just pushing Daniel up against a wall and ramming his tongue down the other man’s throat.

The outfit selection had taken so long that it was well after 7.30pm by the time Johnny headed out of his apartment and drove round to the LaRusso house, but even after he arrived he still stayed in the car for a while, hands clutching the steering wheel as the Valley darkened around him.

Eventually he took a deep breath and got out, grabbing a bag from the passenger seat and locking the door before squaring his shoulders, walking purposefully up to the front door and ringing the bell. He shifted nervously from foot to foot, and when Daniel didn’t come to the door after a minute he pressed the bell again, keeping his finger held down on it for a good ten seconds before letting go. After there was still no response, Johnny started to feel a little uneasy. What if something’s happened to him? Johnny had a sudden vision of Daniel trying to cook some overly complicated recipe that involved a blow torch like Johnny had seen on the Food Network and setting fire to himself. Or maybe he’d tripped over those ridiculously long legs of his and fallen down the stairs and was lying in a crumpled, broken heap at the bottom. Or what if Kreese had returned despite his promise to stay away and had finally gotten his revenge? Johnny’s heart started to race as he thought about what it would be like to live in world without Daniel LaRusso. He felt bile rise in his throat and he swallowed it down as he found his feet carrying him swiftly around to the rear of the house. He was making for the back door (rapidly formulating a break-in plan in his mind, which largely consisted of just kicking the door until it opened) when he saw that there was a light on in Daniel’s home dojo; he hurried in, shoes squeaking on the floor, half expecting to see Daniel’s lifeless body spread out in front of him.

“Johnny?” asked a familiar Jersey-accented voice, and Johnny turned to see Daniel sitting on a bench pushed up against a Japanese style screen, a wine glass raised halfway to his lips. “Are you OK?”

Johnny breathed a huge sigh of relief, and then felt like an idiot. His cheeks reddened. “What? Er, yeah, I’m fine. I just thought you might be on fire or something but you’re not, so we’re all good.”

Daniel frowned. “Johnny, why the hell would I be on fire - ” he started, before he cut himself off and shook his head. “You know what? I don’t want to know. He shuffled along the bench, making room for Johnny, and gestured to a bottle of wine. “You want a drink?”

“I’m good”, said Johnny, holding up his bag as he sat down and pulling out a crate of Coors Banquet.

Daniel rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, instead reaching out for the bottle of wine and topping up his glass. Johnny stared at him; he was dressed in corduroy pants and a fleecy blue sweatshirt, hair product-free and sticking up in fluffy tufts as if he’d been running his hands through it. Johnny tore his eyes away, feeling a little hot. He shrugged off his suit jacket and undid his top button, pulling at his collar. He took a bottle of Coors of out its cardboard container and twisted the cap off, taking a big gulp of beer.

“You missed dinner”, Daniel said.

“What was it?”

“Pesto and arugula linguine.”

Johnny pulled a face. “Sounds green.”

Daniel huffed, although Johnny thought he saw a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.”

“Yeah, well. I did”, Johnny said. He was just close enough to Daniel that he could smell the smaller man’s aftershave (clean and fresh with just the slightest hint of musk). He took another swig of beer.

“Yeah”, said Daniel, leaning in ever so slightly. “For some reason you’re dressed like a detective from the 1970’s and you were over an hour late, but yeah, you came.”

Johnny reached out and shoved Daniel’s shoulder playfully, but rather than pulling back he left his hand there, fingers gently stroking Daniel’s arm through the soft fabric. Daniel bit his lip and Johnny realised he was about five seconds away from giving into temptation and kissing Daniel until his own lips were too sore to form coherent sentences. He let his arm drop and glanced away, shifting on the bench to put a little more space between them, looking around the room for a distraction. His eyes settled on the framed gi hanging on the wall.

“Of course you framed it. Bet you look at it every day and get a little thrill thinking about how you beat me.”

“Actually the reason I framed it was because Mr Miyagi gave it to me for my birthday”, Daniel replied. “The bonsai was embroidered by his wife before she died.”

“Oh”, Johnny said awkwardly, but then Daniel’s mouth quirked up in a smirk.

“But yeah, it does also remind me of kicking you in the face.”

Johnny picked up his discarded bottle cap and threw it at the smaller man. It landed softly in Daniel’s hair and he scowled, plucking it out and throwing it back at Johnny who caught it easily.

“Asshole.”

“Twerp.”

They drank in silence for a minute before Johnny finally asked the question that had been bugging him for weeks.

“Why is blue my fault?”

Daniel didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard Johnny, instead fiddling with a loose thread on the sleeve of his fleece. He drained his glass and then picked up the bottle to re-fill, and Johnny was about to repeat the question when Daniel finally spoke.

“I- I liked you in high school.”

Johnny snorted in derision. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

Daniel sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “No, I mean I liked you in high school, Johnny.”

It took Johnny a moment to realise when Daniel meant; when he did, he blinked in surprise. “Oh. Shit.”

Daniel swirled the wine around in his glass. “Yeah. After the tournament I started having these dreams about you, and when I saw you at school…”. He paused, taking a sip of wine and staring down at the floor. “There wasn’t any information about it in those days, you know? About men who liked men or men who liked both men and women. Not useful information, anyway. The news just said it made you sick, and my neighbour Freddy told me he’d once seen an Al Pacino movie about it and that it meant you had to wear a lot of leather and might be murdered.” He took a big gulp of wine and stared down at his feet, not meeting Johnny’s eye, and when he spoke again his voice was somehow both soft and brittle.

“So I just tried to ignore it and hoped that it would go away, but of course it didn’t. So the next time I needed new clothes I just bought everything in blue, because – I don’t know, it just seemed like a safe colour. Like people were less likely to know…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Oh”, Johnny said again. (He felt that he should probably have said something else, but had no clue what that would be.) “And then what?”

Daniel shrugged. “And then, eventually, there was more information and I learned that it was OK to like both men and women, but by that time I was already with Amanda and I didn’t want anyone else.” He went to take another sip of his wine but then seemed to change his mind, placing the glass down on the bench and running a hand through his hair.

Johnny realised his mouth was hanging open and quickly closed it.

“And what about you, Johnny?”

“What about me, LaRusso?”

“Did – did you like me too? Back then?”

Johnny had a sudden, vivid memory of the day they first met, of looking down at Daniel playing with Ali on the beach and feeling an odd swooping sensation in his stomach at the sight of long legs and slim hips that he hadn’t fully understood and had masked with anger.

“Maybe”. He went to take a pull on his Banquet, but the bottle was empty. He cracked open another and took a long swig from it.

“We would be terrible together”, Daniel said bluntly. “We’d argue over everything and we’d probably try and kill each other within a week.”

“Yeah”, Johnny agreed. “It’d be a fucking nightmare.”

“And yet –”, said Daniel, gesturing at the space between them, at the thirty-five year old heart-shaped elephant in the room. “-there’s this”.

“Yeah. The Thing. Our thing, I mean, nothing to do with Kurt Russell.” Johnny looked down at his feet. “I don’t know what to do about it, LaRusso.”

“No”, Daniel said miserably. “I don’t either.”

They looked at each other, and Johnny was suddenly overcome with the urge to just get up and run out of there at full pelt (he could be in his car and on his way home in under a minute if he moved fast). He hadn’t expected it to go this way; he thought that Daniel would have some carefully constructed five-point plan for how to deal with their feelings, or that he’d get some sudden flash of inspiration (damn business suit had been no help at all). Instead he breathed deeply in and out and shifted just a little closer to Daniel, holding out a hand. Daniel hesitated for a fraction of a second before he took it in his.

“Do you still have yours?” Daniel asked after a while.

Johnny blinked in confusion. “My what?”

Daniel inclined his head towards the tournament gi on the wall.

“Oh. No. But it might still be at Sid’s with some of my mom’s old stuff.”

Daniel nodded slowly. “You think you could go round there and see if you can find it?”

“Maybe”, said Johnny, frowning. “Why?”

**********************************************************************************

Johnny loitered outside the house, watching as Sid clambered into his car with the help of Rhonda. The chauffeur got in and started the engine and Johnny ducked behind a bush as the car swooped down the driveway. When it was safely out of sight he walked briskly up to the front door and rang the bell (he knew better than to try and sneak round the back; Sid’s home security systems had always been state of the art and he’d tripped the alarm more than once as a teenager, creeping back home after an all-night rager).

When the butler answered the door Johnny walked straight past him, talking fast.

“Hey, is my step-dad home? It’s just that I think I left something here last time I visited and I wanted to see if he’d found it.”

The butler hurried behind Johnny as he walked into Sid’s study. “Mr Weinberg is out at the moment, Mr Lawrence, but perhaps if you come back another day after you’ve made an appointment-”

“Ah, it’s OK, I think I know where I left it”, said Johnny. “I’ll go grab it and be out of your hair in just a sec.” He looked at the butler again. “Well, actually, you don’t have any hair, but you know what I mean.”

“Mr Lawrence, I must protest-” began the butler, but Johnny stepped around him and back out into the hall before turning left and taking the stairs two at a time. He ran along the corridor to his old bedroom (now a storage room) and began to search for the boxes with his mom’s name on them. He could already hear the butler talking to someone on the phone and he reckoned he had about three minutes before the burly security guards that Sid kept on site found him, and a further two minutes before Sid arrived back home (Johnny knew that he would order his chauffeur to turn right back around as soon as the butler told him what was going on; his step-father would never miss an opportunity to kick Johnny out of his house).

After a minute of searching Johnny found the boxes marked ‘Laura’ and tore them open, pulling out high heels and floral dresses, some of which still smelt faintly of his mom’s perfume. His stomach clenched at the scent, memories flooding back; he shook his head, forcing himself to focus. He opened another box, and then another, and was just starting to think they weren’t there, that Sid must have thrown them out, when he found them folded up neatly at the bottom of the last box. Four black gi’s with yellow trim. He pulled them all out and held them up one by one to determine which was the biggest, which was the one from 1984. When he’d identified it he quickly stuffed the pants, top and a belt into the backpack slung over his shoulder and sprinted back down the corridor and the stairs. As he barrelled out of the door he heard heavy footsteps behind him and several deep voices shouting at him to stop, but he kept running, breath hitching in his chest.

Sid’s car pulled back into the driveway as Johnny ran out of it, and as Johnny raced down the road, the security guards puffing along behind him for a few paces before giving up, he heard Sid shout.

“And don’t you ever come back here, you good-for-nothing schmuck!”

Don’t worry, Johnny thought, slowing his pace a little as he turned a corner out of sight. I won’t.

**********************************************************************************

“Good work today everyone!”, said Sam, clapping her hands together, and Johnny smirked as Daniel raised an eyebrow at his daughter as their students began to talk amongst themselves.

“You know that’s my line, right?” Daniel asked.

Sam grinned. “You snooze you lose, Dad. Maybe it’s time for you to start thinking about stepping back a bit, let the new guard take the lead.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Hey, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. Plenty of life left in this not-so-old dog yet.”

“So what’s the plan for tonight, Sensei and Mr LaRusso?” piped up Miguel, taking a slug of water from his bottle and wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “More lesson planning?”

Johnny and Daniel exchanged a glance.

“Ah, no, not tonight kid”, said Johnny. “Me and LaRusso have got some stuff we need to work on. Just – er – just us two.”

The teenagers frowned.

“What is it?” asked Hawk. “Some kind of secret new move?”

“Paperwork”, Daniel replied quickly. “Although if you really want to stay and help out-”

Sam, Miguel and Hawk all made noises of protest, muttering vaguely about needing to get home. Sam gave Daniel a quick hug while Miguel and Hawk chorused “See you later, Sensei” at Johnny before all three of them joined the other students as they trooped out of the yard.

Robby smiled tightly at them as he passed. He’d shown up a few days prior and stood at the back of the class, joining in with kata but abstaining from sparring. He hadn’t talked to Johnny or Daniel yet, but it was a start.

Then it was just the two of them. Johnny stared down at his feet, scuffing his shoes against the grass, before raising his eyes to look at Daniel.

Daniel’s tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously. “You hungry?” he asked.

Johnny took in Daniel’s appearance, skin flushed and hair mussed from training. Not for food.

“Ah, no, I’m good. But if you wanna go get something for yourself-”

“No”, said Daniel. “I just – I just want to get on with this. Did you bring it?”

Johnny nodded, and together they walked inside. Daniel gestured around the dojo. “I’ll get changed in here. You take the office.”

“Alright”, agreed Johnny, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. He walked into the next room and snagged a bottle of Banquet from the refrigerator before opening up his gym bag. He pulled out the black uniform, freshly washed and neatly folded.

“It’s important it looked how it did then”, Daniel had said. “Don’t show up with it all smelly and crumpled.”

The plan had appeared to make something resembling sense when they were drunk. Johnny, remembering Ali’s words (“Sometimes it’s good to visit the past to know where you are now”) had agreed to it, but sober (or at least as sober as Johnny ever was) the idea seemed more than a little bat-shit crazy. But if it had even the slightest chance of helping them process their feelings for one another he was willing to give it a shot. Besides, Johnny had always felt most clear headed in the midst of a fight; adrenaline singing through his veins, blood pumping, everything appearing just that little bit sharper and brighter.

He pulled off his workout clothes and sneakers and held up the black gi pants, wondering if he was even going to be able to get them past his thighs. He pulled them on very slowly, just about managing to get them all the way up without busting a seam, and then leaned down at an awkward angle to grab the rest of his uniform. He put on the top (was it really a good idea to be showing so much chest around someone who was madly in lust with him? Probably not), tied the belt and walked stiffly into the dojo.

Daniel was standing on the opposite side of the room, fiddling with his sleeves.

“You haven’t even changed yet!” Johnny protested, gesturing towards him.

“What? I have!”, Daniel replied, pointing towards an identical heap of white cloth on the floor.

Johnny shook his head. “Of course it still fits you.” He walked towards Daniel, trying not to bend his knees too much. Daniel just stared at him.

“Jesus, Johnny. How did you even get that on?”

Johnny shrugged, still moving robot-like across the room until he was in front of Daniel. Close up Johnny could see that Daniel’s gi was not quite identical to the one he’d worn in class; it was slightly more worn, frayed around the edges, and it was also quite snug. His hand crept out and he touched Daniel’s chest (fully covered unlike Johnny’s, no exposed nipples in sight), and let his fingers glide down the fabric, coming to rest low on Daniel’s stomach, skimming the softness there.

Daniel shifted, but didn’t pull away. “Why do you always touch me there?”, he asked.

Johnny felt a smile pulling at his lips. “Only place you’re not perfect, LaRusso.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m perfect?”

“Well you’ve spent enough money tying to still look like you did in high school”, replied Johnny, gesturing with his free hand to Daniel’s carefully dyed hair and moisturiser-softened skin.

Daniel scowled, but then his eyes drifted down to Johnny’s hand, still resting on his stomach. “So it’s my imperfections that you like, Johnny?”

“Maybe”, Johnny said. He thought back to the night of the pink shirt, of the brief glimpse of Daniel’s bare torso. He would only have to move his fingers a little to the left to reach Daniel’s gi belt; one tug and the top would fall open, exposing Daniel’s body, just like opening a present on Christmas Day. Instead he stepped back, arms dropping to his sides.

Daniel cleared his throat. “You remember your moves, Johnny?”

Johnny shrugged. “Yeah, I think so”. (Of course he remembered them; that fight was part of him and always would be, whether he wanted it to be or not.)

“Just go easy on my knee this time, yeah?” asked Daniel.

“Ditto, but for my face”, countered Johnny.

They got into position and Johnny bowed, deep and deliberate, locking eyes with Daniel as the smaller man mirrored him. Then they straightened up, getting into fighting stances, and began.

Johnny lunged forward with a jump kick and heard a tearing sound as the too-tight material of his gi pants gave way. “Oh shit”, he muttered.

Daniel sidestepped Johnny’s leg, avoiding contact, “You alright there?” he asked, inclining his head towards Johnny’s crotch.

“I’m fine”, Johnny replied, feeling his cheeks redden. He dived straight back into the fight with a flurry of kicks and Daniel landed a blow to the chest (“one point LaRusso”), his knuckles skimming over bare flesh. Daniel went in for a punch and Johnny pushed him to the ground, hand lingering for a second on Daniel’s chest before Daniel flipped himself up (not quite as gracefully as the last time, Johnny noted a little smugly) and they circled each other, panting heavily, before Johnny kicked out and Daniel went low, pulling Johnny down with him and tapping him on the back (“That’s two for LaRusso”), and they both lay there for a moment, legs tangled together (those legs, what Johnny wouldn’t do to stay wrapped in them), before they clambered up, parting reluctantly, getting ready to face off again.

“You need a time out, Johnny?” Daniel asked lightly, but there was an edge to his voice and his body was braced, ready for attack.

“I’m good. Didn’t bust my nose this time, LaRusso.”

Daniel nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and suddenly it was as if it was 1984 again and they were in the All Valley Sports Arena, the crowd roaring around them and Kreese standing to the side, arms crossed, confident that Johnny would obey him no matter what.

“Sweep the leg.”

“You have a problem with that?”

“No Sensei.”

“No mercy.”

Johnny’s leg went up, his body moving by itself as though he had no control over it, like a puppet on a string. Daniel tensed, waiting for the inevitable blow to his own leg, and Johnny wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised when it never came. Instead the kick struck Daniel’s chest, a fair kick, not targeting a known weakness, and the smaller man fell back onto his ass, blinking in surprise. They stared at each other for a moment, panting heavily, and then Daniel’s face split into a grin before he got up again, and Johnny felt his own lips pull into a smile as they continued.

Johnny fought the rest of the fight with his own moves, every kick and punch shredding the material of his gi a little bit more, and he found that he felt lighter with every ripped seam as if shedding a too tight skin that he hadn’t realised he was still wearing.

“I won’t let you down, Sensei, I swear it. I’ll never, ever let you down.”

“You’re nothing, you lost, you’re a loser”.

“I did warn you about this. I told you not to show weakness.”

“I will never let my students lose. Even if they have to learn the hard way. One day you’ll thank me for this, Johnny.”

Rip

Tear

Pull

Break

Johnny kept his eyes trained on Daniel as they sparred, on the man who Johnny had blamed for so many things that were never his fault, weren’t Johnny’s fault either, but instead were entirely the fault of someone who had seen Johnny as an impressionable young kid and decided to warp him into a solider.

Johnny didn’t grab Daniel’s leg, didn’t ram his elbow into the back of his knee. Instead they danced around each other, Johnny’s cheeks aching from the smile that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on his face, and then Daniel raised two arms and a leg, preparing for the crane kick. There was a moment of stillness and Johnny stared at the person in front of him; this tiny, forceful creature who had crashed back into his life after thirty odd years, and he felt that same swooping sensation in his stomach that he had that night at the beach. Then Daniel’s leg flew out, or at least it almost did; Daniel’s gi pants pulled tight around thighs that were just a little thicker than when he was a teenager, and as the material restricted his movements Daniel’s eyes went wide and he fell over backwards, landing on his ass.

Johnny felt something rise up his throat and into his mouth (for a second he thought he was going to barf all over Daniel’s precious gi, which would have kept him amused for weeks after even if he did have to pay the dry cleaning bill), but instead what came out was a snigger followed by a chuckle, and before he knew it Johnny’s body was wracked with laughter and he dropped to his knees next to Daniel, chest heaving. For a moment Daniel stared at him as if he was mad, but then Daniel’s own shoulders started to shake and soon they were both laughing uncontrollably. Johnny felt that lightness again, both wonderful and dizzying (“the unbearable lightness of being Johnny Lawrence”, Daniel said, years later, when Johnny tried to recall the feeling. Johnny just rolled his eyes and threw his bottle cap at Daniel, grinning when it landed in the other man’s greying hair).

When they finally stopped, guffaws subsiding into giggles that eventually petered out into silence, Johnny felt limp but happy, as if all the tension had been drained from his body. He looked at Daniel sat on the floor before him, sweaty and out of breath but with his white gi still pristine and perfectly intact while Johnny’s black one hung off him in tatters (and if that wasn’t a perfect representation of their relationship then Johnny didn’t know what was). He shuffled forward and raised a hand to Daniel’s face, thumb rubbing against a soft cheek where just the slightest hint of stubble had appeared.

“Johnny”, Daniel murmured, leaning into the touch.

“Daniel”, whispered Johnny, the name unfamiliar on his lips, and they locked eyes before closing the distance between them and pressing their mouths together.

Johnny had never really understood the act of kissing as something in and of itself before; for him it had always been a means to an end, and that end was usually sex or at least a good grope (Dutch had taught him that; always try to put a hand on a girl’s boob while making out), and he had imagined it would be like that with Daniel; a desperate, frantic mashing together of lips and teeth as they ripped each other’s clothes off. But although Johnny could feel lust coiling in his belly the kiss was nothing like that at all; it was slow and sweet, Daniel’s soft lips moving gently against his, his mouth warm and inviting. It was somehow both too much and not enough, and Johnny didn’t know if it was the first kiss or the last, the beginning of something or the end.

Eventually they broke for air but stayed close, breath mingling, foreheads pressed together.

“It’s getting late”, Johnny said, pulling back and nodding towards the slight gap in the screen doors where a sliver of inky black sky was visible. He gestured between them. “We should – ah – we should probably get changed”.

“Yeah”, Daniel replied, glancing at Johnny’s ruined gi. “We should.”

But neither of them moved, and Johnny found himself wondering what would happen if they just stayed there forever, curled around each other in that little house (he could get Bobby to send food parcels). But his legs had started to cramp and so he got up reluctantly, holding out a hand to help Daniel to his feet. They smiled at each other for a moment longer before they both nodded in silent agreement and turned away. Johnny started to walk into the office to gather his clothes, but only took a few steps before he turned, drinking in the sight of Daniel’s bare back as he carefully removed and folded up his gi top, muscles shifting. Johnny tore his eyes away and forced himself into the next room, firmly closing the screen door between them. Maybe there would be time in the years to come for him to explore Daniel’s body, maybe not, but whatever happened at least the past was finally behind them while the future stretched out in front, unwritten, a blank page ready to be filled with whatever story they chose for themselves.

#cobra kai #cobrakaifanfic #cobrakaifanfiction #cobra kai fanfic #cobra kai fanfiction #Daniel LaRusso #Johnny Lawrence #lawrusso

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iggy-of-fans · 5 years

Text

Of Being a Ladybug 15

PREVIOUS MASTER POST

So... updates will be really slow for the next while, as I have a few classes I’m taking and needing to get my kids ready for their first year of school as well. Please be patient with me as updates will come as I have time!

The Cons of eleven years

< ( ^ ^ ) >

Bruce sighed for the umpteenth time as he stared worriedly out the window. His private jet wasn’t nearly fast enough in his opinion. He had to go personally to Germany, nothing less would do. This may be his only chance to repair his relationship with Jason. Still, part of him felt guilty and out of sorts leaving Marinette basically by herself in Gotham. Alfred would be there, sure, but Bruce had been more hands on with Marinette, and with her graduation looming just over the horizon, he didn’t want her to feel alone. Rubbing his hand down his face, he couldn’t help but sigh again. So many things had happened in so short a time, and he was not able to keep up with it all. One month of Marinette living with him and his entire world view is dropped on its head after being thoroughly shaken. Was this how Marinette felt? Every day for over a year?

Bruce relaxed into his seat and closed his eyes. A light meditation until landing, he told himself.

Breathe in: Maria Fu is actually Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Breathe out: Marinette likes designing clothes, working for her keep, and is incredibly smart.

Breathe in: Marinette is not a warrior. She does not like to hurt people, no matter what they did to possibly deserve it.

Breathe out: Marinette loves dancing. And learning new fighting styles, even if she refuses to use them.

Breathe in: Marinette can sense Akuma.

Breath out: Joker was an Akuma. For twenty years.

Breathe in: Marinette and Marlene fixed two decades worth of damage to the city.

Breathe out: They brought hundreds of people back from the dead.

Breathe in: Jason was, apparently, reverted to his thirteen year old self.

Breathe out: Jason had no memory of the last eleven years of his life and death.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

<(**)>

Marinette got out of her last exam for high school and walked up to Alfred. Bruce, the morning after Joker’s de-evilization, had run out of her room and then, apparently, left the mansion and then the country. Alfred had received a call as Bruce was boarding his private jet that Jason had been affected by the cure and that he was heading there. To please call Tim if anything happens in Gotham and make sure Marinette was safe while on patrol. She got stoically into the vehicle and looked out the window as they drove back to the manor. A small part of her cried ‘HOME’ in the back of her mind, but she stubbornly stomped it down. She had no home anymore. Not until she made one for herself. Bruce was not her Father. She had no parents.

< ( -- ) >

Alfred looked into the rear-view mirror at his charge. Obviously dejected and undergoing an existential crisis. She held herself as a Lady, taught by Diana to always sit straight, to never cross her legs, to place her hands in her lap and to walk like she meant to kill the first person to step in front of her. She carried herself well, but with a constant air of sadness. The only times he had seen Marinette happy were when she was dancing and when… hm.

As he pulled into the garage, allowing Marinette to jump out and rush to her room, Alfred pulled his phone out. It rang only once before it was answered.

“Alfred? Is everything okay?”

<(**)>

Marinette sat on her bed; her sketch pad discarded beside her. She had recently started designing her dress for her recital, but couldn’t come up with anything she really wanted to make. A knock on the door caught her attention. Glancing at the bedside clock, it was only five… Dinner was usually at six thirty.

“Come in!” she called, sitting up. Was Bruce home?

“Bonjour, ma mélodie”

“LUKA!”

Marinette shrieked as she launched herself from her bed and into his open arms. He spun her around before hugging her tightly.

“What are you doing here?”

“I told, didn’t I? I will always be here for you” he touched his forehead to hers, his eyes closed as he just breathed in her scent, changed from when she lived in a bakery but still uniquely hers, and listened to her heart song, stronger, brighter and more mature than it had been in France.

Outside the door, Alfred smiled to himself, before going to start dinner.

{ J }

Jason sat up in his hospital bed, trying to see out the window. The doctors and nurses all spoke German by the sound of it, and he hadn’t ever been to Germany. It had been a few hours since he woke up, and he was physically fine. He was waiting for Bruce, or more likely Alfred, to sign him out, take him home and explain what the hell actually is going on. Like how he ended up in Germany in the first place? Or who the hell the girl was that kept poking her head in. She seemed truly hurt by his question, though why she would was beyond him. The door opened again, and he glared.

“Bruce?” Jason gaped a bit. One, Bruce actually came personally to pick him up! Two, Bruce looked OLD. What the actual Fuck?

“Jason! How are you feeling? The doctor said you were okay, but Cass said you don’t remember anything” Bruce rushed in, holding Jason by the shoulders and looking him over. There were no crowbar scars. There was no autopsy scar. There was no green in his blue eyes. There was no white streak in his hair.

Jason shook his head.

“I’m fine. But how the hell did I end up in Germany? And who the hell is Cass? And where is Alfred?”

“I brought some clothes for you, I’m not sure how well they will fit, but Alfred packed them, so I’m sure you’ll be okay. Go change, then we can talk at the hotel.”

Jason just shook his head, more confused now than ever before.

TAG LIST IS FULL!!!

@maya-custodios-dionach @dur55 @driftingmoonlitpetals @kill-the-purses @annabellabrookes @a-marlene-s @queenmj10 @loveswifi @elmokingkong @aestheticnpoetic @animalgirl05 @northernbluetongue @lilacandcream @yin-390 @silvergold-swirl @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo @goblinwhoships @weird-pale-blonde-person @moonlightstar64 @krispydefendorpolice @kuroko26 @ladylupa @jardimazul @welcometopradasa @thatrandomfandomgirl @imanerddealwith @sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @loysydark @nataladriana9 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @sassakitty @enchanted-nerd @maya-custodios-dinoch @whomthefyck @myazael @blackrosee3 @dahjokester @lntimancy @vixen-uchiha @juhave @dorkus-minimus @captainartsypants @darknightchan @dagnysdawn @erick-rose99-stuff

#of being a ladybug #daminette #maribat #BAMF Marinette #Marinette deserves better

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xtolovers · 4 years

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The Best Of Us

The Last of Us Joel/OC Rating:M

AO3

Joel and Ellie nearly die on their way back to Jackson, Wyoming. Traumatized, tired and with a tentative new bond between them, they move forward into a new, very different life. Luckily there are new friends to be found that are not easily deterred by their wounds and flaws. And there is a woman who likes to laugh, to get into other people's business and help and heal were she can. Maybe she can help heal their bond. Maybe she can move more. It has been long since either of them had a home.

Chapter 2: Nursing Suspicions

Something wet splashed in his face and washed the darkness away with it. Slowly he blinked his eyes open. “Welcome back to the land of the living.” The woman was kneeling above him, with a soft smile and a canteen in her hand, the pale purple sky above her. Passed out again, goddamnit. With a grunt he took her outstretched hand and together, they heaved him up to his feet. Relieved, Joel found that the world had stopped spinning. “Also kinda the land of the dead.” The woman— Liv, it came back to him— rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue up at the teen peeking over the edge down at him. “Very helpful Jesse. Maybe he’s got amnesia— is this how you wanna break it to him?” “He fell into mud Liv. ” “Men have forgotten more over less.” “ Or so they’ve told you.” She laughed, but quickly concealed it as an outraged gasp. “You just wait till I get up there and we’ll see how big you’re talking then.” “Well, come on up then.”

She turned to him then, but Joel looked around, half expecting Ellie ’s stretcher to lie on the ground, only to find it nowhere to be seen. A tap on his shoulder drew his attention to a branch and the tip of a sneaker, barely visible over the ridge. Apparently they’d managed to grab on before he blacked out. Liv nodded towards the spruce-ladder. “You ready? I’ll go behind you.” She looked confident in her assessment, but he was a good head taller, and a lot heavier than her. “Doubt you can catch me.” “No, but I’m soft. I’ll cushion the fall,” she said with a grin, and to his mortification, he could feel his cheeks warm. “Ah, there. A little color. Well, if you fall, I’ll have to climb down again anyhow, so I’ll just spare myself the trip. Now. Up you go.”

Happy to look at nothing for a minute, Joel followed her instruction and set about climbing out of the ditch. It was both easier and more difficult than he’d have thought; easier to traverse, but exhausting physically. Every muscle in his body was straining, his whole body felt heavy as lead. After the first three feet he nearly lost consciousness again, his left foot slipping from its hold, and he sliced his leg open on the cut-off branch. A round of curses erupted — not just from him — and he held on for a second, gathering himself. He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded his quiet acknowledgment that he was okay, before he slowly continued his way upward. Above him, both men had lain down at the edge of the ditch, reaching towards him, ready to help, and as soon as he got close enough, they grabbed onto him and nearly lifted him up just by themselves. With a mumbled thanks he hobbled over to Ellie and collapsed next to her, relieved to find her safe. He tried to untie her binds, and the kid next to him bent down to help as he saw Joel struggle — his fingers were weak and his skin chaffed raw from his efforts to climb the ditch throughout the last days. While they were working, Eugene bent down again and lifted Liv over the edge, clapping her shoulder good-naturedly afterwards, sending her staggering. The man was tall, broad-shouldered and clearly strong, his wild mane of greying curls the only thing making him look less threatening. “All right. Let me see your ankle real quick.” Liv wiped her hands on her jeans and knelt down at his feet. She made quick work of it, cleaning the wound with a rag and some water Jesse handed her, before she tied the rag around his leg to stem the bleeding. “Not too deep, but I’ll probably have to stitch it up later.” She stood and exhaled heavily before studying the sky. “Let’s take them up to the lodge, then we can make some food and clean up. See how we go from there.” Eugene nodded. “Sounds like a plan. You’re better riding with me, buddy. Can’t have you fall of the horse if you black out again.” He wanted to argue, but Liv declared that she’d take Ellie so she could keep an eye on her, and as much as Joel didn’t want anybody to split them up, he knew that they were right. He’d have to trust them— no help if he keeled over with both of them on the horse. “All right.” He accepted Eugene's hand and climbed up in front of him.

Liv carefully lead the way, trying to keep Apollo steady beneath her so the girl wouldn’t get shaken up too badly. She was burning up in her arms, the fever doing it’s best to burn off the infection, but without a proper exam, Liv was worried about her state. The last patrol that came through had been a week ago, and the rains had started after, but by the looks of them, they’d been down there for days. “ What ’s her name?” She glanced over her shoulder to Joel, who was watching her like a hawk. “Ellie.” His voice was still raspy from disuse. There was no doubt he was Tommy’s brother; they shared the same eyes and jaw, and while Liv hadn’t met him, Tommy had told her his brother had been at the plant back in autumn. What troubled her more was the haunted look the familiar eyes held— she was used to seeing traumatized people, their world made sure of that enough, but Joel looked like trauma on legs. His whole focus was on the girl in her arms, she could feel his eyes boring into her back, or rather, through her, always careful, always calculating, making sure they weren ’t harming her, although she could see him fighting it, trying to push down the impulses of survival. Maybe she should be more careful— there was something almost… feral about him, and she had seen the look that crossed his eyes when she suggested lifting the girl out of the pit, a look that calculated what leverage Liv could give him if he attacked her, should any harm come to the girl — but he was also barely standing, and she had Eugene and Jesse with her. She figured that as soon as they were safe and she could patch them up, he ’d relax, too. He was in survival mode, something she knew all too well. So she made sure to stay in sight, to keep him calm and move slowly. Jesse kept bickering with her, apparently picking up on her carefully kept ease and trying to help her, bless his heart. Eugene was silent for once, but didn’t look bothered at all. Then again, little ever bothered Eugene. About half an hour later, the roof of the ski lodge came into view over the tree tops. They hadn’t seen stragglers in weeks, but she’d rather be too careful than be surprised with two injured people under her care. On her sign, they dismounted, and she handed the girl to Joel, who looked almost ghostly pale. She tried to catch a look at his ankle, but as far as she could tell, there was at least no fresh blood. After she dismounted, she took her bow and arrows over and nodded to Jesse, who dutifully shouldered his rifle. “Well go and see if it’s clear, just to be safe. You stay here with them.” “Is this some kind of comment about my sneaking skills?” Eugene scoffed, but Liv saw the glint in his eyes. She patted his cheek as they moved past them. “So glad we understand each other, Eugene.” At her nod, Jesse and she left the path and sunk into the woods, deciding to approach from the side, where they wouldn’t be spotted as easily. Jesse stayed next to her, and she felt fondness well up for him. He was a good guy: responsible, level-headed, loyal to a fault. This was the fourth patrol she was doing with him— he’d just turned sixteen and had started his training with her out in the field.

For the last months, he’d been stationed to help her out at the Med Bay, and had impressed her thoroughly by never flinching or hesitating to wash, shave or massage body parts that weren’t his own, something most struggled with. All Jackson inhabitants landed as her apprentices now and then, so they’d learn something and Jackson wouldn’t be left without medical help should something happen to her, but most that came were either squeamish in general, or expected only to treat the most gruesome wounds, cut some flesh and set some bones, easily forgetting that most of her work still was nursing . Jesse however, despite clearly having goals to fulfill a different role in the community later, had taken on his duty with a grace that was uncommon for his age, and had been an immense help. That ’s why she was out here in the first place— everyone had patrol duty now and then, but Liv had made up some excuses about checking up on the first-aid stashes they kept at the outposts, opting to take Jesse with her as her current apprentice. This had the benefit of also counting as patrol training, effectively qualifying him to apply for group patrols after his service with her was over. Liv had the feeling he knew what she was doing, but neither had breached the subject. For her, it wasn’t necessary, Jesse, she was sure, didn’t want to say something, afraid that might make him look insecure. His carefully crafted grave maturity was important to him, in the hopes of securing the bigger responsibilities he craved. Liv, unable to try and be helpful, had almost pulled him aside when he first came under her tutelage, and told him to loosen up a bit, but she soon found that Jesse wasn’t uptight at all— unless there was responsibility to be carried, so she let him be. No, he was alright. As always, she didn’t have to tell him much. He was new to this, but not new to reading her body language and understanding what she wanted without many words, and he was a natural. Jesse wasn’t the first teen she’d taken along, but he was the best, and she was proud of how far he’d go. They stalked the perimeter of the building, just behind the tree line, but found no movement anywhere. On her sign, they rushed to the doors, and as he slid the doors slightly open, she peered in, bow drawn taunt. “Clear.” They slipped inside, and Liv exchanged her bow for the revolver that she’d stuck into the back of her jeans. They split up, methodically screening the side- and backrooms, before meeting up to check the hallway that went back out to the utility sheds and the old abandoned parking lot, but found nothing. Relieved, they dropped their cautious stance and made their way back through and down to the others. “You really think that’s Tommy’s brother?” She threw a glance at Jesse, but he seemed more curious than bothered. “Yeah. Tommy told me he already passed through a couple of months ago. Besides, they got the same eyes.” “If they were already here, why didn’t they stay?” “I don’t know.” Liv had asked Tommy the same, and he’d closed off and said they had something else to do. She knew Tommy well, and the way he’d evaded her had made her neck tingle. Still, if Tommy didn’t feel like disclosing it to her , Jesse didn ’t need to know more, even if it were only her guesses. “He said they still had some business to wrap up somewhere, but that they might come back after.” Which wasn’t entirely true. Tommy had said that Joel might return, and from the way he said it it sounded like it ’d be a couple of weeks at most. When winter came around, Liv felt like Tommy deflated a bit, and she’d theorized it had to do with his brother not returning. When she asked, he’d brushed her off again. At least Jesse seemed satisfied with the answer. “Seems like they’ve been through some stuff. You think his daughter will live?” She hesitated. “I can give a more confident answer about that in an hour.” The rest, she left unsaid. Liv knew that Joel’s daughter was dead; Tommy and she had often talked about Outbreak Day on their patrols, and she knew the story of how he saw his niece die that day, killed by a FEDRA soldier, and what it did to his brother. This girl was also too old to be another daughter; she had to be thirteen or fourteen, and Liv knew that Tommy and his brother had stuck together for a couple of years after the outbreak. If she were Joel’s, Tommy would’ve been there when she’d been born. She had no clue what was going on, but she was sure that she wouldn’t get any answers out of Tommy, or Joel for that matter. Especially not if I can ’t keep them alive. “Clear?” Eugene called up to them when they came into sight, and Liv simply waved her arm. Eugene helped Joel up on Apollo and set Ellie in his arms, before he mounted himself and led them up the hill. Liv and Jesse turned around and walked back towards the lodge. “Can you get a fire going and boil some water for me?” With a nod, Jesse jogged ahead to the far side of the cabin where they stored some firewood, while Liv went over to the bar and grabbed the key they’d hidden on a small ledge beneath it. With it, she went to open the back room they kept locked, were they had stashed medicine, bandages, drinkable water and some non-perishable food rations. Usually the patrols carried their own rations with them, and they always kept something “free” to grab that they left outside their locked stashes, so stragglers would have something to eat and grab, but each watch post had a hidden stash for the Jackson patrols in case anything happened. While she grabbed what she needed, she heard Eugene talk outside, and as she stepped out of the room, Joel was stumbling inside, carrying the girl. “Put her down over here.” Liv gestured to one of the two sprawling couches surrounding the two luxurious fireplaces that hung free from the ceiling, in one of which Jesse was just piling up firewood. She dumped all she’d taken on a table that she pulled over, sat her backpack down and pulled out the sandwiches she’d taken with her. Then she shoved both her canteen with the slim rest of water that was still in it and the food in Joel’s hands. “Drink this, slowly, and then eat a couple of small bites. Just one or two, slowly . I know you ’re hungry— “ he interrupted her with a nod. “I know, otherwise I’ll just throw up.” He gave a small sardonic smile and a light bow of his head. “Not my first time starving, I’m afraid.” Liv sighed. “ Didn’t think so, but you’d be surprised by how many people will still make themselves sick despite knowing better.” “Hunger will do that to you.” “Well, be smarter.” Satisfied by his dutiful unscrewing of the bottle, Liv turned her attention to her work. Jesse had successfully started a fire and she sent him to fill up three pots of water and set them to boil, when Eugene came over to them. He was carrying the blanket from his bedroll— they’d planned on staying the night— and spread it over Ellie, who was now laid out comfortably on the sofa, before he settled against the armrest near her head. “Signed us in.” “Thanks.” “Anything I can help?” “ We’ve got that basin in the back. Could you fill that up with some water from the brook? Just to clean up.” He nodded and lumbered out, and for a couple of minutes, they all worked silently. Liv prepared some bandages and the small bottle of iodine she kept for emergencies, to treat the girls arm. For the smaller and less dangerous wounds, she got out some cloves of fresh garlic that she kept in her pack and had Jesse peel, crush and boil them. “ Garlic is the best natural disinfectant we have, vinegar helps too. Witch hazel helps with healing, and cherry bark acts as a painkiller if you boil it,” she explained to Jesse, and after showing him each, added them to the garlic water, then set some of the bandages in to soak. Eugene had prepared the small tub, poured the boiling water in and chased down a relatively soft cloth. Under Joel’s watchful eye, she first cut open Ellie’s sleeve, then the improvised bandage. The cut was deep, that was easy to see, even though it had scabbed over completely. The angry, red, swollen skin surrounding it was a bad sign, but it could be worse.

“Could be better, could be worse. I can treat her here, for now, but I’ll be much more relaxed the sooner we get her to Jackson. If you two leave now and ride fast, you’ll be back by sundown. I’ll give you a list for Ellen of things to prepare for me, and some I need for the way. Get Tommy, get a truck, get someone to relieve us for patrol, and come here at first light.” As expected, both complained. “That’s too dangerous.” “You’re alone with two injured people, it’s too risky.” “I know what I’m doing. We haven’t seen anyone in months. We’ll barricade the doors, and Joel is exhausted, not incapacitated. I’m pretty sure he can still hold a gun if necessary.” Eugene looked at her, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. That’s what’s worrying me. “It’ll be fine. It’s a risk we’ll have to take.” Before they could complain again, Liv mustered her best Maria impression. “No discussion. You can disagree all you want, I’m afraid I’ll have to pull rank here. Now, go. You’re losing light.” Jesse was displeased, that was easy to see, but Eugene knew her long enough. He clapped him on the back and they both went to their horses. Jesse gave her his bedroll and both of them tried to give her their food. She took half of it and insisted they eat the rest. “We’ve got rations here, and they shouldn’t eat that much anyways right away. If the kid wakes up at all tonight.” She rubbed her face wearily and shooed them off. “Hurry, but don’t risk anything, okay?” “Barricade the doors and keep the lights low. Keep out the generator at night.” “I will, but we need a fire.”

“We can see the lodge from the east gate, right?” Jesse asked. “I’ll stay up and take watch there with someone through the night. If you’re in trouble, flash the lights or give us a visual, and we’ll come and get you.”

“Someone like Dina, maybe?” Eugene asked as they mounted their horses, making Jesse blush quite a sensational shade of red and sending him mumbling. Trying his best to keep his dignity, he kicked his horse into a trot and started away from them. Eugene chuckled before he sobered up and pointed at her. “Be careful.” She gave him a mock-salute and he rolled his eyes before he turned to catch up with Jesse. When he caught up, both kicked their horses into a gallop, quickly vanishing around the corner. With an uneasy sigh, she grabbed Apollo by the reigns and led him inside the entry hallway. Let ’s do this.

#the last of us #JoelxOC #joel miller #tlou #tlou2 #the best of us #tlou fic #writing

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mancillasevelyn · 4 years

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Week 2 Discussion 9/02/2020

Question 1: In the reading “Gonzales and Torres New for all People”, they mentioned, “ The media amplify those events they wish to while exiling others to the shadows; they fashion political and popular heroes one day only to tear them down the next; they interpret the meaning of the most earth-shaking or insignificant incident before our morning coffee of commute back home (Gonzales and Torres 2012).” What does this tell us about what the media is displaying for us today? How do these events affect the people?

Considering the many situations that have occurred where someone is falsely accused or is being targeted due to a twisted news article, we can argue that these events are only put against each other. Rather than publishing an event based on facts, they are putting out misinformed information to the public to only gain views. It’s not about the story at this point, it’s only about views and putting out information just to fit in the standard media norm. In the article they mention, “ Many Americans remain remarkably misinformed about the world around us, while the professional journalists who produce our news routinely engender fear and loathing from the mightiest politician or celebrity, as well as from the lowliest citizen.” (Gonzales and Torres 2012). In the reading they mention how the media has become so essential, however, putting out misinformed information for the public is not essential. If the media is needed, we should only be using it for proper informed news. Although the media is a way for us to communicate faster and be informed on a day by day basis, it is only affecting us in a way that we believe anything we read and see rather than seeing the true facts behind it.

Question 2: In the reading, “ Social Media A Critical Introduction”, how is media being used as a form of communication? Is it affecting communication? Why or Why not?

In the article, “ Social Media A Critical Introduction” they mention, “ Social media is a complex term with multi-layered meanings. Facebook contains a lot of content (information) and is a tool for communication and for the maintenance creation of communities. It is only to a minor degree a tool for collaborative work, but involves at least three types of sociality: cognition, communication and community.”(Fuchs 2017). Social media is being used as a form of communication that will allow people to express themselves and for others to add on their opinions as well. The beauty about social media is how you are able to meet and connect with people from all over the world. While you are able to connect with people, you are also about to catch up with the news. Personally, social media is affecting communication in terms of social media being used as a toxic environment. Although you are able to communicate with people and the news, you are also allowing others to attack you for what you believe. However, in terms of the reading article, social media is a form of communication that only helps us being connected.

Question 3: What is slacktivism and how does it relate to social media?

According to the article “Social Media A Critical Introduction”, slacktivism is “feel-good online activism that has zero political or social impact. It gives those who participate in ‘slacktivist’ campaigns an illusion of having a meaningful impact on the world without demanding anything more than joining a Facebook group”. (Fuchs 2017) For an example, this summer social media was centered around The Black Live Matter Movement. Many people will post about supporting the movement, but wouldn’t do anything about it. They are speaking on movement, but what impact did they contribute? People would post links and articles about donations you are able to make for the movement, but that’s about it. They are sharing and spreading the word on it, but they wouldn’t contribute to their own foundation themselves. When the protest was occurring, many people would support and encourage others to participate, but they wouldn’t participate themselves. This is how slacktivism is being used in today’s world and how they have no power. The idea of them posting and liking some of these movements is allowing others to be aware, but they are not doing anything physically to help the movement.

Question 4: How has social media affected digital media?

It wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school that I realized digital media wasn’t being used anymore. Instead of having to read books and listen to audios, we are asked to go online and read an article or use social media as a form of catching up with the news. In the article they mention, “ In recent decades, the digital revolution has profoundly shaken the established media system. The rapid convergence of print, audio and video communication onto the Internet has created enormous upheaval and uncertainty.” (Gonzales and Torres 2012). Because society has created social media to part of our normal norm, old media is fading away. The idea of old media shifting away is only creating potential challenges for people. When it comes to the newspaper, which is free, will no longer be accessible because of the lack of usage and interest people have on it. In order for some people to stay updated with the news, they would have to use social media. This will only create even more challenges for those who don’t know how to use social media. We need to be able to find ways where we are still about to use both social and digital media to its full potential.

Fuchs, Christian. 2017. Social Media: A Critical Introduction. 2nd Edition. Los Angeles: Sage Publications.

Gonzalez, J., & Torres, J. 2012. News for all the people: the epic story of race and the American media. Verso.

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msjr0119 · 5 years

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Love, Fate, Destiny

Part 9- Walk away

Riley Brooks is a waitress in a ‘Dive bar” in New York. One Saturday night, her past comes back to haunt her as some unfamiliar punters enter her bar on a bachelor party- one of them being someone who she was once close to.

*CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY*

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012

******

It had been nine months since the social season was in Lythikos. There had been drama, tears, heartbreak and love.

Six months ago Liam married Olivia in an elaborate royal wedding against his father’s wishes. Everyone was pleased and happy for the new king as he could marry for love. Olivia took on her new roles and responsibilities with perfection- she was a natural which shocked most people. Madeleine had attempted to jeopardise the remaining of the social season in order to win the crown again. However she failed yet again, she was humiliated again, she was hated even more due to her meddling.

It was nine months since Riley abruptly left without informing anyone. Leaving not only made her heartbroken but also Drake. She was a hypocrite. She always blamed Drake for disappearing all those years ago- but then she did exactly the same.

It was the day of the Royal Regetta, Riley and Drake had tried to keep their distance from each other. Not wanting to cause a scandal due to Maxwell nearly giving their secret away in the Lythikos wine cellar. King Constantine had informed the press that he was abdicating the throne and that Liam would become King sooner rather than later.

Maxwell had used the excuse that they didn’t have any funds to hire a crew for House Beaumont’s boat- hiring Drake was a cunning plan to get the two love birds some alone time away from prying eyes. The trio had won the race surprisingly- Olivia wasn’t too thrilled but accepted that she wasn’t the Queen of everything.

After the race the suitors joined Olivia on her over-elaborate, luxurious yacht- there was champagne and wine from different regions of France- as well as canopies that were influenced by the Mediterranean. Madeleine made a beeline for Riley and Hana along with Kiara.

“Lady Riley, I must congratulate you. I notice that yourself and the commoner are quite close.”

“We are just friends Countess.”

“Well make sure it stays that way! Lady Kiara was his first love, I’m sure Duchess Olivia has informed you about that at the derby.”

“Yes, she did. Why would you be reiterating this fact? Why does it matter to me?” Riley discreetly grit her teeth, annoyed at Madeleine enjoying making everyone’s life hell.

“Oh it doesn’t matter to you. I’m just informing you. Did you know that Lady Kiara and Drake caused quite a scandal when they were 15?”

“Maddy please!” Kiara pleaded, whilst Riley and Hana looked bewildered- wondering if they needed to find some popcorn to eat whilst Madeleine stirred irrelevant information- doing her forte, creating drama.

“Why Kiara? You and Drake were once a family. It’s such a shame that you were forced to abort your baby.”

Riley stood frozen, feeling like she was about to hyperventilate. Why wouldn’t Drake inform her about this? He said he wanted to marry her but couldn’t tell her that he would have been a father. Hana gulped hard, before dragging Riley away. That was the last time they all saw Riley Brooks.

*****

Riley packed her bags immediately once arriving back at the palace, deciding to leave her close friends a note each- including Drake. Leaving the only man she had truly ever loved. She had text him asking if the rumours were true regarding his and Kiara’s past - he denied it. Asking everyone else for reassurance - they all confirmed that Madeleine was speaking the truth. Now believing she couldn’t trust Drake- she regretting abandoning her live in New York.

Sneaking out of the palace, she wasn’t sure where she was going. What she was going to do with her life. All she knew was that this short time in Cordonia would need to be erased from her mind.

I tell myself, this time it's different.

No goodbyes, cause eyes can't bear to see it.

I'll never survive on one that's coming.

If I stay, ooh no!

Just walk away! Oh, and don't look back

Cause if my heart breaks, it's gonna hurt so bad

You know I'm strong, but I can't take that

Before It's too late, oh, just walk away!

Riley didn’t want anymore unexpected surprises to occur in the future- causing more heartache, deciding to leave would be devastating for both her and Drake but it was her only option. The fact that he had impregnated Kiara was a shock- but the fact he lied about it made her original undecided decision now clear.

******

Liam all those months ago felt as if he was the tip of the iceberg for Riley’s departure. The last night in Lythikos, she had met him in his grand suite. Unknowingly to him, she agreed to do this with Drake and Maxwell to use Liam as an alibi in case Maddy and Kiara did in fact witness Drake and Riley in the wine cellar. She seemed shaken when she arrived at the suite, he had just assumed it was due to being with him alone. He tested the water and kissed her unexpectedly- resulting in a stinging slap on his cheek. It wasn’t until a few days later that Olivia explained why Riley had quite possibly left Cordonia- Kiara’s abortion.

On many occasions Liam had travelled to New York with his friends to attempt to find Riley and bring her back to Drake. They all tried to ring her, text her, contact her on social media- but there was no response. It was as if Riley Brooks was non-existent. After many failed attempts they could never find her. Finding Daniel and Lola the two refused to tell the friends any information regarding her- much to everyone’s annoyance. Feeling frustrated every time they returned to Cordonia without her, they saw Drake’s face sink- he was heartbroken all over again. During arguments he blamed Liam constantly for bringing her here in the first place- why he couldn’t drag her out of the masquerade ball to save her and save their relationship will always haunt him- and will be one of the biggest regrets of his life.

Working late at night, catching up on paperwork- Liam felt his eyes feel heavier with every second that went by. The scotch was previously preventing him face planting his desk. A sudden sharp knock at the door, surely woke him up slightly.

“Come in.”

“Sorry to disturb you, your Majesty.” Liam fixed his facial expression for his guard.

“It’s alright Bast. What can I help you with?”

“It’s what I can help you with, Sir. After lots of research, we believe....”

“You believe what? Just tell me Bast!” Liam snapped before shortly apologising for his short temper.

“We may have some links on Lady Riley. She has a new Instagram page - Rileyj1. We remained searching everything to do with Riley, Brooks, New York. Things that would make sense- anything to find her. After more research, we discovered that her mother’s maiden name was Johnson. Assuming that’s why there’s a ‘J’ in her username, she has most likely changed her name to this also.”

“Do you have any links as to where she may be? Does Drake know?” Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, not knowing what to do. Drake had been an alcoholic mess the last nine months- shutting everybody and everything out.

“According to the page, she spends most of her time in New York and Jersey. No we haven’t informed him.. although we are struggling to interpret her latest post. We may have to inform Drake?”

Liam looked bewildered at Bastien, picking up the bottle of scotch he shook it- to see how much remained. He had a feeling he may need some more scotch to recover from the words that Bastien was possibly about to speak. He couldn’t understand why an Instagram post would make all the difference if they inform Drake with information regarding the love of his life. Bastien asked if Liam would like to view the post and comments- Liam nodded, his heart was beating ten to the dozen, not knowing what exactly to expect. Gasping, his baby blues widened, his jaw was agape and could quite possibly stay in that position.

Yankee2018- Aw Riley, she’s absolutely gorgeous! Congrats guys!

Lolahughes- @yankee2018 She’s like a doll...🥰 love ya chick! Need to meet up soon haven’t seen ya in forever! #schoolreunionasap

DanielMitchell- Don’t drop her! I know how you loved to drop glasses and plates in your waitressing days ��..Only joking... 😜

Bethanyhughes- We must all meet up soon? 🍾 #proudauntiebeth

Bigapple123- Ri holding a baby? I never thought I’d see the day 😆, you wouldn’t even hold my children. Only joking cuz! Love ya 😘

Liam didn’t want to read anymore comments, Riley looked beautiful and she was smiling. It was a genuine smile. Reading the comments, he because frustrated and angry with Lola and Daniel- it was written in black and white, it was photographic evidence that they had been in touch with Riley this whole time. Liam’s mind was working out the dates- a pregnancy lasts nine months, nine months ago we were in Lythikos... did Drake and Riley? Shit!

“Bastien! Get the royal jet ready. Tomorrow- everyone is taking a trip to the states and we are not leaving until we find her!”

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #drakewalker #liam rhys #hanalee #maxwell beaumont #trr bastien #trr kiara #trr madeleine #trr lovefatedestiny

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jae-canikeepyou · 5 years

Text

| marked | j.jh | ch. twelve

genre: superpower!au

a/n: idk if i’m satisfied with this final chapter and it seemed rushed for me. you guys judge. 🤧 it’s the series’ ending. italics in this chapter meant dialogues. an epilogue will be posted in a bit! or a few hours later. enjoy! 😊 ~j.

your legs wobbled at the endless running for escape. jaehyun, who was in front, pulled you to the location of original plan— the bridge connecting the two building sections. you had no idea where you’d go next. the continuous explosions and the weakening of your strength were getting the best of you. jaehyun thought the next and only escape would be in the next building. he knew that you both had to confront the supposed enemies; wonhee, boreum and whoever was to come your way, with whatever remaining strength you both had left.

the weather was colder than most days— comparatively to when you were alone, out in the snow. you took a glance at jaehyun, who was running out of breath and to the bridge in front of you. it wasn’t the time to stop. the explosions gone off as if they were chasing you. bricks and concrete blown up high in the air and came in crashing down to the ground. coincidentally though, missing both of your exhausted bodies. not later, the bridge you both ran on felt like it was about to collapse where the vibrations of every concrete developed cracks.

except it did.

you both screamed and closed your eyes to brace for the impact; the dark abyss of the new cliff seemingly created by the effect of the abundant detonation. the same cold wind felt like ice shards scratching through your sensitive flesh, exposed to the pain and vulnerable to the upcoming injuries. jaehyun unintentionally let of your grasp where you both appeared like sky divers who jumped off the plane for an experience of a lifetime. however this wasn’t that kind of experience.

“jaehyun!” you cried as loud as you could, forgetting the fact that he heard less now. he saw how your eyes welled in tears as they searched for that familiar comfort— him. as if swimming in the air as you both fell, he tried to reach for your hand. and he did however, a boulder out of nowhere came in between, breaking you apart from him.

“y/n!” jaehyun yelled in a prolonged tone.

quick bright flashes blinded jaehyun, and for a moment everything else felt like a dream. he saw figures ahead of him whilst he laid weakly on the ground. they appeared to be rescuers but the familiarity of those figures were the same ones that attacked at the mountain top. although his hands were tied behind, he searched for you. to his relief you were just beside him, like you did after eunwoo’s teleportation. but where were you both now?

the smoky figures came into a clearer view. people slowly arrived, a backwards self-disintegration, coming into form and into the flesh.

“the last absolutes..” a man’s deep baritone voice chilled you. it was then followed by laughs of the cursed and of evil doings.

“glad you got them out of harm’s way.”

“they’re quite a complicated duo but seriously? that’s how time-lock works, i get to move freely outside time. maybe admire their crying faces while i’m at it, awww.”

“let us mess with their memories, shall we? pilsuk, please do the honors.”

“well you do make a good choice, master.” she laughed.

if he was the master, then he was wonhee.

jaehyun saw how pilsuk curled her fingers, as if she was playing with poker chips. lights of electricity twirled around them, bringing them close to your forehead. you struggled with the zapping pain. jaehyun came in between, stopping the process of whatever her power was. “do you, perhaps want to join in as well? the more the merrier.” pilsuk’s screechy laugh annoyed your ears. she gestured another to accompany her.

jaehyun’s coat was then grabbed by another man, where he has the same power as pilsuk. he twirled his fingers to his forehead.

wonhee, boreum and the rest of them saw your past memories— the village they destroyed, the people they have murdered, the fire that scarred the victims, the aircrafts that dropped bombs. they smirked at the priceless memory of accomplishment. however they were very much disappointed at the fact two persons, were left alive.

“erase the memory of the battle. they won’t need it anyway. crappy absolutes.” wonhee ordered.

as they were being erased, a part of you felt weaker. you could sense jaehyun flinching at the pain. the weight of him beside you concluded that he felt weaker too.

“why are you doing this?” you asked as your head throbbed.

“a new world deserves better people. of course, you absolutes aren’t needed.” a lady spoke, later revealing to be boreum.

“there are more absolutes than you think!” you yelled. a stinging slap covered your cheek.

“ah~ you mean chanyeol, gongchan and wheein, yes?” she chuckled. “the offsprings of those core leaders. they too, survived the wipeout.. but it’s such a shame that they are not, like you two anymore. obviously they lost the power of absolute senses. oops?”

jaehyun could understand a little and got the gist of the converstation. “it’s your doing, isn’t it? you took their powers away!”

“well what a pleasant answer, boy! they should be at least thankful that i still left them with super strength, yes?” she clapped her hands. “and how lucky of you to hear most of what i said.”

you kicked a rock and aimed it to her. “you-!”

the rock stopped midway and fell to the ground. “time-control is such a convenient power, thanks hyunmin.” boreum said.

“boy and girl. we are the defects of the neighbouring country. we were neglected from our own, for not being able to possess any power.” wonhee walked up front.

“we didn’t ask for your history, bastard.” you spat.

“ooh, feisty. i kinda like you, girl.” he held your chin, bringing it up to a rise.

“don’t touch her.” jaehyun warned as he kicked the man.

“feisty as well.. but i don’t like you.” he punched jaehyun and the dimpled boy hissed at the force. “where was i? ah yes, boring history. then we came to your country, became regular, normal people who worked in the government. almost 85% of the workers were of us. and of course we planned to dominate your country after we learnt your country’s certain power categories..”

“..which are known for the ancient and the forbidden.” hyunmin said.

“yes we practiced the powers, book after book. and so we got the acceptance from our country. but people like you, the absolutes, saw through our plans and informed the president. a battle arose and a lot of people died. sad, isn’t it?”

you sighed at the story, who knew it would be true or not. you shrugged at the man with no interest. wonhee seemed to noticed but continued anyway. he hasn’t gone to the main and crucial part.

“the absolutes thought they defeated us and received victory. we waited years, here in the warehouse, for the right time to wipeout your people at the village where they were most concentrated at. so we did wipe them out! wow isn’t that great? it was..” wonhee trailed off. “not until we got a report that some survived. still, we waited, until the three young absolutes reached the age of 22; the strong age of power. so your leaders were, ended.”

“we could’ve waited for the time til the two of you reached 22 but, we got impatient, so here you both are.” hyunmin played with his fingers.

“y-you killed my family!” you scoffed as you tried to escape from the handcuffs.

“nuh-uh. correction, you did. what you get for being an absolute.” wonhee laughed.

that hit a nerve. memories of you taking people’s lives in the past years came in rushing like adrenaline. jaehyun saw how your eyes pricked with tears. you told yourself it wasn’t you who wanted them dead in the first place. but the universe seemed to want to let you know. after a long time, you felt alone again. even if jaehyun was there, the feeling outweighed your friendship.

“no!”

jaehyun sensed your power of death luring them in. he slid to be beside you as he held your shaken hand. “it’s not your fault y/n!”

“finish them.” he ordered.

you then felt palms onto your eyes and jaehyun onto his ears. two voices battling each other, one telling you that they were giving your sight and hearing back, while the other telling that it’ll be gone permanently. to your dismay, it was the latter.

“mission accomplished.” boreum nudged wonhee.

“not quite yet, i want them dead.” he exhaled, observing how you had little sobs. “press the trigger button for our country’s backup. i sense something strange from the girl.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

crew 097 were stationed back at the core. currently in a spacious room of twenty-one people. after an unfinished rescue mission of code green to retrieve you and jaehyun, they all sat in silence. not a single word uttered since the building bangchan and others were in held hostage collapsed.

mina held in tiny sobs. she still had hopes of you and jaehyun being safe. eunha had comforted the girl, but it did no effect on her.

“seriously stop crying mina!” yugyeom spat, giving her a towel. “they’re gonna be fine! we’ll get them out alive.”

“haha what happened to ‘they can protect themselves for all i care’?” mingyu high-fived bambam.

“shut up!”

the crowd laughed at the embarrassed yugyeom who ended up hiding himself under a blanket.

yuna felt the strength regaining into her. seokmin and the rest of the people in the core were glad that her team and herself were alive. “i feel a lot better.” she stretched her hands up high.

“did you forget that the core has a strengthening source?” seokmin teased her.

eunwoo came into the room, a worried look seen in his face. “dude you seem like you saw a ghost.” jungkook laughed but the boy did not move a face muscle. “what’s the problem?”

a loud gulp was heard from eunwoo, his eyes held in tears. he took a deep breath before speaking. “swarms of planes and people came from the warehouse and..” he trailed off.

“captain ordered for code black.”

“what?” eunha stood from her seat.

“oh gosh we’re all gonna die.” sujeong rubbed her temples.

“that’s a lot of enemies.” junhoe whistled as his palms rested onto the window sill.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the continuous punches and kicks from them had left you and jaehyun numb and seemingly close to being unconscious. “okay. enough with the torture. backup had just arrived and apparently they’re battling with boy and girl’s core companions out there.” pilsuk reported to her masters.

“they’ll be dead before the entire building collapses anyway. let’s go and-” boreum was cut off by a vigorous shake that had really imitated earthquake. the ceiling above dusted them with mixed snow and aged concrete.

“what the-”

jaehyun saw wonhee and the others falling down one by one, in which was a result of your own power. they became one of the lifeless bodies you unwillingly took.

he went under his arms, sliding himself through them where his wrists were in front of him. he managed to help you do the same. the only way to be able to communicate with you was through tactile signing. but he saw your crying and pained face. tears streaming like a fresh river from its main source.

his hands were brought up to wipe them away. his heart ached at the sight of you, also at the state of your cold hands that were now slowly turning to a darker shade. not because of the cold, but due to how powerful your powers as a marked had gotten. although he couldn’t be able to hear your voice once more, he understood your pain. demise of people laid into these innocent hands.

jaehyun’s eyes pricked with tears too. soon later his lips quivered in sadness, because of you.

you cried and wailed non-stop. but the warm hands that touched yours calmed you just a little bit. you knew jaehyun was there. “y/n..” you felt movements under your palms as he signed to converse with you.

“our friends are out there, jaehyun..” you signed by his palms. “it’s our fault that they had to fight them.. they shouldn’t risk their lives to save ours and.. i don’t want to kill anyone anymore..”

“it’s not your fault. none of this is our fault.. we didn’t choose to be marked. we didn’t choose to kill. but please do know that we’re marked for a reason. i’m very sure it’s not for a bad intention..”

“what’s the solution? we’re gonna die here in the warehouse and we’re vulnerable to death. the enemy already came..” your signed answer shocked him, but he remained unwavered, and strong for you.

a pause from his hands left you hanging.

and you waited for him despite hearing the crumbling walls, indicating there wasn’t any time left.

“there is one, but you have to trust me on this, y/n.” jaehyun’s large hands held yours before continuing. his chest hit hard, not knowing whether it was from fear or hope.

when your hands felt his, your heart sank at the plan he thought and proposed of. “jaehyun, i can’t- you’ll be caught into it too. i can’t do it.”

“i promise you. i won’t die.”

you touched his face and felt his dimples. he was smiling, but you read a lie through them.

jaehyun saw your hands, the shade of black already covering your forearms. it pained him to hurt you, but it was the only way to stop the war; to stop his and your friends from possibly dying.

the ground shook and you both felt another imitation of an earthquake around you.

to him, your eyes were still beautiful. they still brimmed with life. he wanted to think maybe it was him who caused them to have life at the very least. you felt his hands caressing yours.

“i want you to trust me. if you do that, i promise you i won’t die. please y/n-”

“I DON’T WANT YOU TO DIE BECAUSE OF ME!” he saw you mouthed instead of signing, your eyes boring into his even though you couldn’t see him anymore.

what you had said, that was the final blow. jaehyun regretted making you cry. he didn’t want to be the reason for your tears. his lips dropped and he wailed like he did in his room when he was alone.

you asked him why was crying, but he didn’t respond verbally nor through signing. because of this, you as well, cried hard.

you heard his hiccups and low groans as he cleared his throat. jaehyun was someone you adored. despite knowing his developing feelings for you since you arrived to the core, it gave you an ongoing giddiness.

though he felt strangely tired, he looked at you again. your eyes still stared into him. he smiled painfully as he clearly remembered how you loved his dimples. tears rolled down more when he knew you loved him so much, even if you didn’t tell him. jaehyun signed to you this one last time under your palms, later pulling you to close the gap in between.

what he signed left you smiling and it appeared to jaehyun in a sign of relief. he saw a dark light emitting from you and he closed his eyes, where your face was the last thing he saw before darkness consumed him.

the signed touch from jaehyun warmed you when he delivered the words:

“i love you y/n, my first love.”

you then felt his weight on your chest, unmoved. your heart probably sank at its deepest. deeper than the cliff below. deeper than the divers ever swam. it broke you for good. in a shaken state, you touched his fluffed hair. he didn’t keep his promise and you regretted not signing back in time..

telling him that you love him too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

| marked — chapter twelve: the only shot |

#nct 127 #nct #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun nct #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun marked series

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thdorkmagnet · 5 years

Text

Light of the Sun and Stars Chapter 18: An Unsettling Peace

Season finale time!

Summary: His whole life Marco Diaz has been raised by monsters, living under the cruel rule of their leader, Toffee. But one day Marco escapes into Mewni where he meets a magical princess and Mewman like himself, who begins teaching him all about her world. Together they will learn about life, love, and the lights within each of them, as they change their world forever.

Chapter Synopsis: A relative peace has settled over Mewni after Toffee’s death as Star, Marco and the others recover and rekindle now that they are out of harm’s way. But it is a fragile one and now its time for Star to do her best to convince the Mewmans to move on from the past and start looking to a brighter future.

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction!

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. All rights go to them.

Previous Chapter>>

Next Chapter>> (Next Season)

General Skullnick was in a terribly foul mood as she arrived back at the Butterfly Castle, along with the rest of the knights, gazing around at the quiet city in suspicion. She had been told that the town had been in need of dire assistance, the relatively unguarded town rumored to have been invaded by monsters during the course of the night and yet Skullnick couldn't see signs of any threats or danger anywhere around the eerily calm village. Meaning she had been misinformed, just some rambled worries from a bunch of paranoid guards, claiming to have seen a bunch of explosions just outside of town. Word had spread far and fast to her outpost at the edge of the kingdom and with each story she heard (each more crazy than the last) the more concerned she had become. Until finally, she had suited up and her and her men had made their way to the inner kingdom, ready to fight off the monster scum who had managed to invade their home.

Instead she found her and her entourage of trained soldiers marching through the quiet town, undisturbed. It was late midday when they arrived, the people apparently far over their paranoia from the previous night. Meaning this whole thing had just been a giant waste of her time.

And yet, something still seemed off to Skullnick. She couldn't put her finger on it but things just didn't seem right in the village, the air thick with uncomfortable tension. And as she looked out at the gathered crowd, she finally pieced together the problem, as she noticed that the Mewmans seemed on edge about something, picking up on their little, anxious exchanges, a whispered conversations here and there, a nervous look shared when they thought no one was looking. Just small things. But they quickly added up, the general realizing that the relative peace in the town was merely an illusion, everyone still obviously shaken by whatever had happened overnight, making them all hesitant and unsure. Meaning it was now Skullnick's job to try and ease the population's troubled mind before things could be blown anymore out of proportion by the oftentimes skittish Mewmans. That meant she needed to get to the bottom of things there and as quickly as possible, too. Skullnick concerned that the smallest noise could set them off into a mob-like panic. And she knew just the place to start, looking up at the glorious and mighty towers of the Butterfly's palace as it drew closer into view.

Jak and Dex were already waiting as Skullnick and her men arrived to the front gates of the castle, the two sharing a nervous look before addressing their approaching superior officer. “General Skullnick!” they said as one, pounding fists into their chests in respect and bowing their heads slightly.

“Jak! Dex! What the heck has been going on out here, I've been getting distress calls nonstop for hours?!” she immediately growled, making the two of them instantly uncomfortable.

The two guards gulped, looking even more troubled than before as Dex said sheepishly, “Well, uh, funny story.” Skullnick's eyes narrowed on the guard, making him hesitant to continue. “J-Jak tell her what happened,” he said his voice a squeak, giving his partner a small push.

“Oh, okay then,” Jak said, looking equally as tense, his voice a nervous stutter. “Umm, w-well the thing about that is... y-you see it was a weird set of circumstances that uhhh....”

Skullnick just sourly watched the two try to stumble their way around an explanation, quickly losing patience, while behind her all the other knights rolled their eyes. Until finally, she snapped, “Get to the point, you idiots!”

The two jumped at the raised tone, both of them shaking, neither wanting to continue, until finally Jak blurted out, “Toffee attacked last night!”

The knights all froze, trying to process the shocking news, even Skullnick stunned by the unexpected statement, Dex glaring at his partner. “What?!” she finally manged to say. “Toffee was here? He invaded Mewni?!”

“Technically yes,” Dex said softly.

“How did they manage to get in under your watch?!” Skullnick roared in a scolding voice.

“One of the barriers was down, he and the other monsters snuck in through that,” Jak explained.

“But technically they never reached the city,” Dex pointed out. “Thanks to Princess Star,” he added.

“What?” Skullnick asked with concern. “Star was involved? How could you let that happen?!” Dex instantly covering his mouth unable to believe he had just said that out loud. He looked to Jak with a pleading look, the guard saying, “Uhh, no need to worry, General Skullnick. I assure you, she's fine. As our the rest of the guards. Everything's fine.”

Skullnick let out a deep sigh, before growling in a slightly tired tone, “No everything is far from fine. Nothing about this is fine. This is the second time that slimy lizard has managed to sneak into the kingdom.” She began pacing back and forth for a moment, deep in thought. “We need to stop him. We have to find a way to track him down somehow.”

“Well actually, we don't really have to worry about that anymore,” Jak spoke up.

Skullnick whipped around to face the startled guard. “What exactly does that mean? You know where he's at?!”

The two shared a look before Dex cleared his throat, hesitantly saying, “Well okay, you're probably never gonna believe this, but uh... Toffee's dead.”

Everything went silent, the guards all blinking once as the information sunk in, Skullnick giving the two guards a baffled look, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Dead? What do you mean he's dead?! Why?! How?!” she questioned them, the normally level-headed general becoming quickly flustered.

“There was a rebellion within the monsters, they turned on the lizard and killed him,” Jak softly explained.

“And how do you know this exactly?” Skullnick demanded, at a loss how two measly palace guards had come across such pivotal information.

The two guards shared a look, before giving their harsh leader a sheepish look, “Would you believe the monsters told us?”

“What?!” Skullnick roared, making the both of them jump.

“It's true, ma'am,” Dex quickly said. “They all came here earlier asking to try and negotiate peace.”

“HOW ABSURD?!” Skullnick's harsh voice boomed, the troll reaching a point of anger unlike anything she had felt in years. “Where are they at?!” she continued in deadly rumble, looking around the area needlessly. “Where are the cowards hiding?!”

She eventually looked back to the two frightened guards, able to tell from their faces that there was something they didn't want to tell her. “What?!” she asked sharply.

Jak ducked behind Dex, forcing him alone to face the angered general. “T-They're, umm, in the c-castle, ma'am,” he said, giving her a timid smile.

“You let them INSIDE?!” Skullnick shouted at the guard, getting right up in his face, somehow her voice managing to raise more and more as she screamed at the top of her lungs to Dex. “Are you completely brain dead?! Do you have any idea what you two have done?!”

“B-But, ma'am-” Dex timidly tried to defend himself.

“Shut up!” she yelled, the guard closing his mouth once again. She finally pulled away from her subordinate, but Dex was far from relaxed, visibly shaking as he tried not to meet her eye again. She turned to her group of knights, practically seething with rage, all of her men standing at immediate attention. “All of you go inside and secure the monsters,” she commanded in a deep growl.

“Actually,” Dex interrupted, gulping as the general's focused gaze narrowed onto him. But he forced himself to continue. “No one is permitted to lay a hand on the monsters.”

“Under who's authority?” Skullnick asked angrily.

“Princess Star's,” Jak explained.

Skullnick looked visibly shocked for a second, but she quickly pushed it aside, still too angry to think anymore on that. “Then I need to speak with Princess Star, now!” Skullnick demanded, trying to push past the two guards, preparing to give the girl the scolding of her life. “Where is she?!”

Despite their fear, the two guards held the troll general back, Dex stating, “Sorry, Ma'am but Princess Star is occupied at the moment and has been given strict orders not to be disturbed.”

“Occupied?!” Skullnick roared. “What could possibly be more important than monsters running loose through the castle?!”

…

Marco slowly opened his eyes, his whole body throbbing and his head feeling like it was full of liquid, though his neck felt the worst of it all, the whole area burning with pain. He tried to remember where he was or what had happened before, but his mind was drawing a blank. The last thing he remembered Star had rescued him from Toffee, shooting a powerful beam at the terrifying lizard, but Marco couldn't recall anything after that. He still felt too weak to sit up yet, so he just tried to get a look around where he was at, hoping it might help jog his memory. He was in his bed at Butterfly Castle, tucked tightly beneath his soft sheets. How had he gotten back here? Had he passed out? He figured he must have. But what had happened afterwords, though, with Toffee? Did Star and the others manage to beat him? Had he escaped? Were they all right?

Marco went to put a hand to his aching forehead, all the swirling thoughts only making his headache worsen, but he found himself unable to lift his hand, something laying ontop of it. He sat up slightly, his gaze landing on the sleeping Star sitting in a chair beside his bed, her body currently slumped over as she rested peacefully, her hand covering his own. Marco blinked once in surprise, caught off guard by the breathtaking sight of his best friend. He opened his mouth to say her name, but instead all that came out was a loud cough, his throat still sore from being strangled.

Star shifted in her sleep, the sound waking her from her slumber, as she blinked open her eyes. “What?” she mumbled still half-asleep, a far-off look in her blue pupils. That was until she spotted the still-coughing Marco, immediately crying, “Marco!” Before the boy could even respond, Star jumped out of her chair, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. She held him close to her, trying to comfort and protect him there in her warm embrace, all the fear and worry she had been feeling for the last couple of hours finally melting off of her.

Marco's whole body tingled from her touch as his cheeks grew hot once again. After a couple of seconds, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to be buried in her warmth. Finally, Star broke off the hug, pulling away from him and sitting on the side of his bed, ignoring the chair, which had fallen on its side when the blond had jolted up from it. “Star?” Marco tried again, his voice a squeak. “What happened? And where are the others?” he asked, looking around the room. “D-Did Toffee, d-did he... he-”

“Shhh,” Star shushed soothingly, putting a hand on his. “You don't have to worry about him. Toffee's gone. That monster can never hurt you ever again.”

“Are you sure?” Marco asked, still sounding distressed, unable to believe he was finally free from Toffee's wrath.

“I'm sure,” Star said, holding back a shudder as she recalled the bone-chilling scream she had heard echoing around the dark castle walls of Toffee's home.

“But the others,” Marco insisted, worriedly. “Are they-”

“They're fine,” Star interrupted. “Everything's fine, you're safe now.”

But her words did little to phase Marco, the boy still looking upset about something, his eyes alive and filled with pain. “Hey, you okay,” she asked in concern.

Marco's eyes filled with tears, as he shook his head silently. “Marco, what's wrong?” she pressed, leaning a bit closer to him, his uncharacteristic behavior frightening her more than a little.

Finally, his resolve seemed to break, as tears burst from his eyes, streaming freely down his face. “I-I was so scared, Star,” he sobbing deeply. “I-I thought I would never see you again. I thought he was gonna take me away from you forever.” Marco's whole body shook as he chocked out his sorrowful confession. “I tried to be strong, I really did. Because you told me you would save me... b-b-but when Toffee- when he- he... I-I was just so afraid!!”

Star felt her heart break, as Marco threw his arms around her in a hug, seeking her comfort and affection from his worry. She held onto him closely, trying to sooth his heavy thoughts and fill him with warmth and love. “I'm so sorry, Marco,” she said, sounding chocked up as well. “I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I wish I could have protected you better.”

Marco held onto the girl tightly, as if afraid she would be pulled from his grasp again, trying to soak in as much of her warmth as he could in between gasps for breath. “But you're the one who saved me,” Marco pointed out. “I saw you when you busted through that crystal. You were so amazing and powerful.”

“Well to tell you the truth I barely remember any of that. All I could think about was getting to you,” Star admitted. She paused for a second before adding, “And I was really scared, too.”

“Why?” Marco asked.

Star pulled out of the hug, as she began gently wiping the tears from his cheeks, looking deep into his eyes, Marco seeing all the worry and fear she had been experiencing shining in her sky blue irises. “Because I almost couldn't reach you. I almost lost you and that terrified me more than anything in the world.”

“It did?” Marco asked, his cheeks flushed and his heart pounding in excitement. “Why is that?”

“Because you're my boyfriend,” Star confessed. “And you just mean so much to me, Marco. Ever since I met you, I've had the time of my life getting to know you and being near you. You are the most important person in my life and I would be lost without you here.”

Then to emphasis her point, she leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, pouring all her love and tenderness into the simple act. After a couple of breathtaking seconds, she pulled away, while keeping a steady gaze on Marco, watching him for his reaction. Marco blinked once, before he smiled one of his cute signature smiles, the sadness finally gone from his face. “I feel the same way!” he blurted out, before lowering his head a bit from embarrassment at the sudden declaration, leaving Star to gush over his irresistible sweetness. “You are just so amazing, Star,” he continued softly. His eyes finally met hers again, causing his cheeks to flush even more. “I'm glad I got the chance to meet you.”

“Me too,” Star said, moving so she was now laying beside him. She gently pulled his head down so it was resting on her shoulder, the two just silently enjoying the moment, content just being together once again, knowing that at last their trouble was behind them. Finally, the two pulled away, Star leaning in to kiss Marco again, but was stopped as Marco's voice cut through the moment. “Star?” he said, the blond royal stopping mid-kiss.

“Yes, Marco,” Star said, unsure why the boy had chosen now to speak.

“I have a question,” he said, his eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

“What's that?” Star asked, wondering what could be on her bestie's mind.

“What's a boyfriend?” he asked, cocking his head to the side with genuine curiosity.

There was a few seconds of silence, before Star burst out into laughter, shaking her head at his cute naivety. “I'll explain later,” she said.

Then the two, as one, pulled into another kiss, their cheek marks both glowing bright white as they did. They both stayed like that for a while, as the kiss deepened, Star moving closer, his presence intoxicating to her and Marco gently moving his lips against hers, relishing in the pure amazement the two were experiencing right then, aware of nothing else but each other.

Eventually, the door to the room opened, Jackie and Janna walking in with smiles on their faces, Jackie with a bouquet of beautiful flowers and Janna with a box full of chocolates, get-well gifts for their hurt friend, but once they spotted Star and Marco they froze in place. The girls mouths dropped open in shock, Janna quickly drawing her phone out of her pocket about to take a picture to commemorate the moment, but was thwarted as Jackie grabbed ahold of her arm, pulling her out of the room. The door slowly closed behind them, Jackie taking care to make as little noise as possible, leaving the door barely open a crack.

The skater girl sighed, glad she hadn't interrupted their moment, wanting her two friends to have all the happiness they deserved, especially after what they had just went though. “Welllll,” Janna's smirking voice cut through her thoughts, Jackie not surprised to see the girl giving her a meaningful look.

“Well what?” Jackie asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Janna held out a hand, saying in a suggestive tone, “I believe there is still the matter of payment.”

Jackie just eyed her creepy roommate's outstretched hand, with an annoyed glare. “Really, Jan,” Jackie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “After seeing that...” she pointed to the door. “...this is the first thing you do.” she gestured back to Janna's still begging hand.

“Hey, I'm a simple girl with simple needs,” Janna said slyly, shrugging.

“Can't we just take a moment to think about how great this is? I mean are two best friends are officially a couple. How can you not be happy for them?”

“I am happy for them,” Janna admitted. “Buttt, I'm still me, which means I'm gonna need some fulfillment for winning the bet, like right now.”

Jackie just sighed, before reaching in her pocket to pull out the cash for her greedy friend. Until, she stopped, an idea popping into her head. “Double or nothing,” she quickly blurted.

Janna leaned forward, curiously. “I'm listening,” she said.

“Well since they're dating now, I bet you I can set up the perfect first date for the two and by the end Star and Marco will be closer than ever,” she hypothesized.

“What happened to not interfering?” Janna asked smugly.

“I think that ship has already sailed,” Jackie responded. “I mean technically speaking you and I both broke like every rule of the last bet so it should have already been called off.”

“Fine, deal,” Janna said, shaking her friend's hand. “But I think we both know with those two's track record there is no way everything will go perfectly fine. More than likely some magical problem or monster issue will get in the way. Heck maybe even both.”

“Well we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?” Jackie answered confidently.

“Excuse me, girls.” The two turned to see all the monsters hovering around them, with anxious expressions. “Has my son awakened yet?” Buff Frog asked, with obvious concern.

“What are you all doing here?” Jackie asked in surprise. “I thought you were all being kept in custody.”

“Yeah we were but we snuck out so we could see, Marco,” Bearicorn explained. “We were all really worried.”

“Pluzzz we heard that general troll lady wazz here,” Boo Fly buzzed, sounding clearly frightened at the idea. “Zzzhe'zzz really zzzcary!”

“Okay fair,” Janna said, even the creepy girl herself was admittedly afraid of the grouchy leader. “But weren't you being watched by the guards. How did you get away?”

“This weird hyper girl helped us sneak out,” Beard Deer explained, pointing behind him. And on cue, StarFan13 popped out from behind the rugged monster shouting, “Helllooo!” before snapping a picture of all of them, rendering the whole room blind. “Ohmygosh, I can't believe Star's letting monsters into the castle now, that is just so cool!!” the hyper girl excitedly cheered, pressing her hands against her cheeks, her eyes somehow turning into actual stars as she thought of her blond heroine.

The others all just stared at her awkwardly, as the fan girl continued her rant, until Buff Frog once again asked the two startled girls, “Is Marco awake?”

Jackie nodded her head. “Yep, he just woke up,” the skater said. “Star's with him.”

Buff Frog let out a sigh of relief, his primal fear finally wearing off. “But he's kinda in the middle of something right now,” Janna hesitantly added.

“Middle of something?” Buff Frog questioned.

“Yeah,” Jackie said. “So I don't think they want to-”

“Oh my gosh, are little Marco is kissing a girl!” Lobster Claws yelled, as he peeked through the small crack in the door. The others all gasped, before stampeding over to the door, all of them fighting as they tried to look through the tiny opening, StarFan13 fighting her way through the crowd with a fury as she prepared to take a picture of the moment she had been waiting for. “-be disturbed,” Jackie finished needlessly.

Within Marco's room, Star and Marco finally broke off the kiss, as Star looked around the room quizzically. “What is it?” Marco asked breathlessly, his cheeks still pooling with blood.

“Did you hear something?” Star asked, her cheeks equally as red. Just then, the door flew open as the monsters all collapsed into the room in a huge pile, Star and Marco jumping in surprise. They all groaned in pain for a second, before Marco (finally recovering from his shock) exclaimed, “Guys!”

“Marco!” they all responded, before rushing over to the boy's bed, all of them hugging and fussing over the boy, asking him how he was feeling and/or congratulating him on getting to date the beautiful princess. The boy just smiled, loving all the attention he was getting, which made Star's heart float with joy to see him so happy. “One at a time, guys,” Star said in laughter. “Don't crowd him!”

The room was soon alive with festive energy as everyone settled down into talking and reminiscing, as they celebrated their triumphant victory over the hated lizard. They obliged the princess' request, each taking a turn to get to greet the eager boy, meaning Star was finally able to get a chance to talk to all of Marco's adopted family without all of them trying to kill or threaten her, which was nice. StarFan13 surprised the both of them as she pulled them into a crushing hug going on and on about how amazing it was that the two were now boyfriend and girlfriend, Marco still looking to the blond for an explanation, which Star did her best to give once she got her breath back. Jackie and Janna gave Marco their gifts, which he gratefully hugged them over, making the both of them smile ear to ear, the boy's joy still as infectious as ever. But the best was probably the last, as Buff Frog took his turn, instantly sweeping the hooded boy into a fatherly hug, tears springing up into his eyes. It was a heartfelt moment, the room going quiet and just watching father and son reunite in elated silence.

“I sorry I had to send you away, my boy,” Buff Frog apologized. “I sorry you had to go it alone.”

“It's okay, Marco said reassuringly. “I'm glad you did. I made so many new friends and I got to make a life for myself, just like you wanted.”

“Yes you did. And I so proud of you, Marco,” Buff Frog whispered, which caused Marco to hold on tighter to his father, his approval making Marco's whole body warm up with self-pride. “You have become all that I wanted you to be. I only wish your parents were here to see this.”

“Me too,” Marco admitted, still feeling a small twist in his gut at the thought of them, but it passed quickly. “I missed you so much,” he added, his voice choking up a bit.

“And I miss you,”Buff Frog added, running a claw through the back of Marco's hair. “I think of you everyday you were gone.”

Star watched the two with solace, glad to see Marco getting some much needed attention from his father, but jumped a bit as she heard a throat clearing from the doorway, her and everyone else all turning to see one of the castle servants, even Marco and Buff Frog breaking off their hug. The servant was eying all of the monsters nervously, before stuttering, “Ummm, s-sorry to interrupt Princess Star.” He instantly bowed in respect to the young royal. “B-But your parents have just arrived and they, a-along with General Skullnick, would like to speak with you.” His face went pale as he eyed all the terrifying creatures that were watching him silently.

“Yes thank you, Manfred,” Star said in a dismissive manner, much to the servants relief. “Tell my parents I will be there in a moment.”

Manfred bowed again, before practically running away down the hallway. Once he was gone, Star took a deep breath, trying to steel her nerves. She had known she couldn't go long without them finding out, still she was dreading the meeting. And since it seemed Skullnick had gotten to them before her, this could prove to be a problem. She rose up from the bed, saying in an authoritative tone, “Welp, fun time's over. Let's get this over with.”

…

“I'm telling you the princess has lost her mind!” Skullnick's echoing roar vibrated through the thick castle walls, making all the guards standing on duty cringe, some even covering their ears. Queen Moon and King River however seemed unaffected by the yell, perhaps the two of them a little too use to hearing it over the years, maintaining their poise, as they sat up straight and refined on their thrones.

“Yes, thank you, General Skullnick,” Queen Moon sighed, trying to resist the urge to cover her head with her hand. “We get the idea.”

“But allowing monsters into the castle-” Skullnick tried again.

“Which we intend to discuss with Star, in detail, once she arrives,” Moon interrupted, giving her a chiding glare which silenced any further argument.

“I don't know, dear,” King River spoke up, his voice raising with every word. “The general has a point. I mean, monster scum in my castle, simply outrageous!”

“River,” Moon mumbled, shooting her husband a look.

“I mean they declared war on us,” River continued, ignoring his wife, crossing his arms in a childish manner. “And now the cowards come to our palace begging for forgiveness. I say we annihilate the lot of them.”

“We can't do that,” Moon argued, in a scolding tone. “Who knows what the monsters would do in retaliation. We might end up only making things worse. We should wait and see what Star has to say.”

“But dear,” River started again. “The monster's surrendering!”

“Yes, admittedly, it is quite strange. And Star taking their side and blindly trusting them is even stranger. I'm not sure what that girl is thinking.”

“Well you know what I think?! I think they found some kind of way to brainwash her!”

“That's preposterous! How would the monsters even be able to do that?!”

The argument continued, as Star listened in, putting an ear to the door, trying to wait for the right moment to enter. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be one, as the conversation instead only seemed to grow worse and worse. The others all watched Star, who were in turn watched suspiciously by the guards stationed there, waiting for her to let them know what was going on from the other side, but judging from the grimace on her face it didn't look too hopeful. And considering the enraged screams from the general about the “monster scum” they had all heard echoing through the hallway earlier, they were pretty convinced that their fears were correct.

“So, uhhh,” Lobster Claws hesitantly spoke up. “Should we just come back later?”

Star pulled away from the door, looking at all the monster's, plus Marco's, Jackie's, and Janna's, worried faces, not answering right away. “We can't,” Star said firmly. “My parents are actually willing to listen right now... sorta.” She bit her lip, looking unsure for a second, before taking a calming breath. “If we're going to try this, we have to do it now,” she finished, trying to sound confident, but they could all see the doubt in her eyes.

“Very well then,” Buff Frog said, looking far more ready than Star felt. “Let's talk to parents.”

Star gave the rest of the monsters a sheepish smile, saying, “Sorry guys, but its probably best if the rest of you stay here. I think the less of you that show up for this, the better. Otherwise you'll all just end up making the whole thing way more tense and stressful.” The blond rolled her eyes as she said this.

But none of them looked upset by this, nodding in understanding, while mentally they were sighing in relief, they had all been feeling quite anxious about facing the terrifying heads of Mewman power. Jackie and Janna led them away, arguing about which part of the castle to show the monsters first, while several nervous guards accompanied them, looking ready for the monsters to strike at any moment. Marco, however, stayed behind with Star and Buff Frog, ready to enter the room alongside them, much to Star's surprise. “Don't you want to go with the others?” Star asked the boy.

Marco shook his head. “No, I'd rather stay and see what happens, if that's alright,” Marco replied, courageously.

Star smiled, feeling braver to have the boy near. “Of course it's fine,” she said, shooting him a grateful smile. With that she turned back to the doors preparing to throw them open, but just before she did she looked to Buff Frog asking, “Ready?”

The frog nodded. Star took in a deep breath, steeling her nerves, muttering, “Here we go,” before throwing the doors wide open. The throne room went quiet as all eyes turned to the doorway, lingering on the young royal. Her parents were watching her closely, their faces unreadable, while beside them, Skullnick glared openly at the monster and princess, looking as suspicious as ever and Star felt her stomach twist uncomfortably, losing some of her much needed nerve.

She was about to take a step forward when she remembered something. Her parents still didn't know about Marco and she didn't want to add introducing them to the boyfriend she had been lying about onto her already overwhelming list of uncomfortable subjects she was gonna have to discuss with her parents. She turned to look back at Marco, who to his credit, was looking far less uncomfortable than she was expecting, prepared to follow Star inside. She whispered to him, “Wait here, okay.”

Marco nodded, letting Star and Buff Frog stride confidently into the room, the princess in the lead. She tried to keep her royal mask on as best as she could, trying not to let the general’s cold stare, falter her step, making herself stand as tall as possible. Once she was close enough, she curtseyed, just like she had been taught, while Buff Frog bowed low to the ground. As she stood up straight once more, she said in the most regal voice she could, “Mom, dad, I'm glad to see you back. You wanted to speak to me.”

“What is he doing here?!” Skullnick roared, pointing accusingly at the monster. “I thought all the monsters were in custody.”

“I thought Buff Frog should be here for this,” Star shot back, keeping her tone strong. “So that he could speak on behalf of himself and the rest of the monsters.” She looked over to her parents, silently asking them for permission.

“See I told you, my queen,” Skullnick said, ignoring the blond royal. “Star is siding with the monsters and now she is violating my orders.”

“Yes, thank you, General,” Moon said, keeping a firm scowl on the troll. “But if you wouldn't mind giving us some time to talk with our daughter... alone.”

Skullnick looked annoyed by the dismissal, but she bowed before storming out of the room. She stopped in front of Marco, who looked up at her blankly. “Something tells me you had something to do with this,” she hissed, crossing her arms. Marco said nothing, but he looked away from the monster guiltily. “Thought so.” Skullnick continued on down the hallway, muttering under the breath about the future state of Mewni and the way too trusting princess leading them all to bad times.

“Now that we're alone,” Moon continued, relieved to not have the overworked general interrupting her every couple of seconds. “Buff Frog was it?”

“Yes, majesty,” Buff Frog said formally.

“Am I to presume you are the new leader of the monsters?” Moon asked.

“Da, I take over in Toffee's place,” Buff Frog replied honestly.

“Speaking of which, there have been a lot of rumors regarding what became of Toffee,” Moon continued, looking between her daughter and the monster equally. “Would either of you care to explain what actually happened?”

“Yes, is it true the lizard got what he deserved!” River exclaimed, causing Moon to sigh.

Star wasn't surprised by the question, she had been expecting them to ask this, having already thought up a good reply on the way there. “Buff Frog and the other monsters killed him,” she said, gesturing to the monster behind her.

“And where did this happen?” Moon asked, suspiciously. “We had no word of any such claims. We were told the monster's fled after their attack failed.”

“That is because it was at Toffee's castle, Your Highness,” Buff Frog answered.

“Then how do we know this to be true?” Moon asked, her tone harsh.

“Yes, how do we know this isn't some trick set up by Toffee?!” River added, sounding equally skeptical.

Buff Frog didn't know what to say to that, but Star quickly interjected. “It is true,” she said, forcefully.

“And how can you be sure?” Moon countered, raising an eyebrow at her daughter.

“I, uhhh,” Star hesitantly started, really not wanting to finish the sentence. She closed her eyes before saying. “I was kind of there.”

Star didn't have to see to know her mother was probably freaking out right then, as she exclaimed in a panic, “You were there!”

Star flinched, before risking opening her eyes, greeted by her parents' shocked faces. “Yes,” she said, carefully.

“How did you even get there?” Moon asked.

“Buff Frog showed me the way?” Star answered, shamefacedly.

“Do you mean that you actually helped to defeat Toffee?” River asked in amazement. “The lizard that has plagued this land for over a decade. The undefeated creature of pure hate and evil.”

“Yeaaaahhhh,” Star said, reluctantly, giving them both a sheepish smile.

River let out a hearty laugh. “Ha, that's my girl,” he said proudly, Moon just face palming, shaking her head at her husband's antics.

“River, I hardly think that is the point,” Moon scolded.

“I'm sorry, my dear,” River apologized. “But it is pretty spectacular that our daughter helped to defeat that horrid lizard, isn't it?!”

“No it most certainly is not,” Moon countered, before giving her daughter a scolding look. “Star you should no better than to put yourself at risk like that. What if you had been unable to defeat Toffee? What would you have done then? You could have been gravely injured.” Star looked down, her face the picture of guilt, Buff Frog just watching her sadly in silence. If there was one thing Star couldn't stand it was disappointing her mother, the blond having difficulty listening to her mother's lecture, her chiding tone heart-wrenching to the girl. “Honestly Star, what were you thinking? Going to the base of the monsters, without even telling anyone! What could have possessed you to-”

“It's not her fault!” Star was shocked as Marco, out of nowhere, jumped in front of her. He froze for a second as everyone's attention was directed to him, Marco swallowing hard, the unblinking stare of the two crowned monarchs making him anxious. “Please, Your Majesties, don't blame Star for what happened,” he continued, his voice shaking slightly. “It was my fault, not hers.” He lowered his head in shame.

“What are you doing?” Star whispered into the boy's ear.

“I'm not sure,” he replied, softly.

“Who are you?” Moon asked, drawing the hoodie-wearing boy's attention back.

“I'm Marco, Your Highness,” Marco responded, trying to keep the stutter out of his voice. He started to reach out a hand to shake, until Star coughed behind him, muttering “bow” as she did. He obeyed doing a quick, cute little bow in front of them.

“Marco?” Moon said in surprise. “Aren't you that orphan boy that danced with Star.”

“Yes, that's right,” Marco answered.

“And why do you say this is your fault, my lad?” River asked.

Marco thought for a moment before answering, “Because Star only went after Toffee to save me. And if I wasn't here then she never would have been in any danger in the first place.”

“Why would the lizard have targeted you?” River asked, suspiciously.

“Because Marco is my son,” Buff Frog interjected, moving so he was right behind the boy.

“Your son?!” Moon exclaimed.

“Yes. I brought him here to help him escape from Toffee, so he could live own life. But Toffee found him again and took him back.” Buff Frog closed his eyes, feeling a deep regret for not protecting Marco better. His gaze slowly switched to the princess, giving her a warm smile. “If it wasn't for your daughter, my little Marco could have been hurt. I owe her great debt.” He looked back to the startled king and queen saying assertively, “This why I wish to make peace. I see good in Mewmans, while Toffee has corrupted rest of monsters to see only bad. But I want to show them that the lizard was wrong. I want to start over, to create new world, a world that will be safe for my child.”

“That is... quite noble,” Moon said, softly, clearly caught off-guard by the monster's conviction. Her and River shared a look, neither sure what to do.

“I no I can not fix everything we have done to you,” Buff Frog continued, still trying to convince them. “But if you give me chance I hope to make things better for both of us.”

“Please, Your Majesties,” Marco spoke up, in a pleading tone. “I know what the monsters did to you in the past was wrong, but they're only here to try and make up for that. They want peace just as much as you two do.”

“And what do they benefit from surrendering?” Moon asked, bluntly.

Marco thought, before answering, “The hope that someday they can be treated like equals.”

Moon tried to hide her shock at the boy's words. That sounded rather familiar, her head suddenly swimming with old memories she believed she had long since forgotten. She recalled a young couple who had often pleaded with her in the past about monster equality, though at the time she had been unshaken by their words, simply dismissing it as nonsense. Though they had been quite persistent still, never simply taking no for an answer...

Moon tried to push the thought aside, not sure what had brought the memory on in the first place, the young boy in front of her just strongly reminding her of them. “Can you give us a moment?” she requested. “We'd like to discuss some things before we give you an answer.”

“Of course, Queen Moon,” Buff Frog said bowing. “Come Marco.” Marco obeyed his father, the two exiting the room together. Marco whispered over his shoulder to his dad as they did, “Do you think it worked?”

“I not sure, yet,” Buff Frog asked, in melancholy.

Star started to follow after them, until she heard her mother call her name. “Star.” The girl turned back in surprise. “We would like you to stay here as well,” Moon said.

Star was taken aback that her mother would ask for her opinion, but she quickly recovered, nodding her head, before straightening her posture as much as she could. “Of course,” she responded as regally as she could.

Moon waited until the doors closed shut, with a resounding rumble, before asking “Star, do you really trust this monster?”

“Yes, I do. With my life,” she answered immediately. “He helped me when he didn't have to. And I never would have gotten Marco back or stopped Toffee without him. He's more than earned my trust.”

“And what about this boy?” River continued. “It doesn't upset you that he lied to you about being raised by monsters? Surely he can't be trusted.”

“Marco did nothing wrong,” Star replied firmly, feeling a need to defend her Marco. “It's not like he tried to manipulate me or anything. He just needed a safe place to hide from Toffee so that he wouldn't hurt him again. And yes maybe he didn't tell me about the whole being raised by monsters thing, but the only reason he did that was because he was afraid of what would happen if he did.”

King River and Queen Moon shared a look as Star continued to ramble on about the boy she so obviously cared about, pacing back and forth in front of them. “And who can blame him. We treat the monsters awfully, it's the only reason they lashed out in the first place. He was terrified that I would treat him differently because of who raised him, when really nothing could ever change the way I feel. Marco's the nicest boy I have ever known. He's good and sweet and kind. He would never hurt anyone.”

“Star,” Moon called, halting the girl in her steps. She turned to them with a dazed and embarrassed look, clearly having forgotten where she was at. “We believe you,” Moon finished, giving her a knowing look.

Star nervously cleared her throat, standing at attention once again. “Yes well, anyways,” she said awkwardly, before regaining her princess composure once again. “The point is, Marco isn't a bad person and neither is Buff Frog or most of the monsters for that matter. It's Toffee who is to blame for all this, not the rest of the monsters.”

“So then the real question remains,” Moon said, thoughtfully, looking between her family. “Do you think we should accept their proposal?”

“Yes, I do,” Star said, nodding. “Making peace does seem like the better option than fighting a losing battle, doesn't it?”

Moon wasn't surprised, by her daughter’s answer, but now came the real challenge. She looked to her husband. “What do you think, River? Do you still think we should 'annihilate' them all?”

River looked down at his daughter, who was giving him a pleading look, while also holding in her breath. “No, my dear. I think it's time we put an end to this senseless violence,” the king stated, throwing both royal women for a shock. “Star makes a good point. And if she thinks this is for the best, then I think we should trust her judgment. After all, she's grown into quite the capable ruler... just like her mother.”

Star felt her cheeks grow hot at the unexpected compliment, not realizing her father thought so highly of her. After a moment, Moon gave a curt nod, saying, “Agreed.” She rose from her throne and River doing the same, Star sucking in a breath, as she followed after her parents.

Marco and Buff Frog both jumped as the doors to the throne room swung open, trying to bury the nervous frowns they had had on not a moment ago, as Buff Frog dropped down onto one knee, lowering his head submissively, and Marco quickly mimicked his father's movements.

Moon and River stopped before the two, for a moment just towering over their forms. Until finally, Queen Moon said in a diplomatic tone, “Buff Frog, on behalf of the Kingdom of Mewni we would like to accept your offer of peace and put an end to this war once and for all.”

Marco smiled widely at that and Buff Frog immediately stood, shaking Moon's hand graciously. “Thank you so much for opportunity, Your Highness,” the frog praised, before leaning in to kiss her hand, which she immediately pulled away before he could.

“Yes well, I still don't exactly trust you, but my daughter said some very compelling things in your defense, so I am willing to give this a chance,” Moon said, honestly. “Please do not betray my kindness,” she added, sharply.

“Never, Your Highness,” Buff Frog said, bowing.

“And as for you,” Moon said, turning to Marco with a serious expression, which made Marco instantly uncomfortable.

“Y-Yes,” Marco said, trying to keep the stutter out of his voice.

But Moon's harsh look switched to a smile, as she said softly, “ I want to thank you, Marco, for bringing joy back into my daughter's life. It is so nice to see her smile again. I owe you a great debt. You are more than welcome to remain here for as long as you would like.”

“W-Wow,” Marco muttered in disbelief. “Thank you so much, ma'am- I-I mean, Queen Moon!” He dropped into an embarrassed bow.

“Come here, you!” But he was quickly swept up by King River, as he squeezed him in a bear-like hug, Marco feeling like all his bones were breaking as he did. “Good show, my lad. So nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” Marco coughed out in a strained tone, still feeling like he was being crushed.

“Even if Star did try to keep you a secret from us,” Moon added, before shooting her daughter a look, causing Star to laugh nervously.

“Uh, ha ha,” the blond chuckled, sheepishly, hands behind her back. “So you knew about that, then?”

“Oh yes, for quite some time now,” River answered, finally setting the boy back down on his feet again, leaving the boy struggling to regain his breath, Buff Frog checking on his son to make sure he was alright.

“How'd you find out?” Star asked, pretty sure she knew the answer.

“General Skullnick informed us you had let a new orphan into the palace,” Moon explained.

“And that you and he seemed quite attached to each other, am I right my lad?” River bellowed, playfully slamming a hand into Marco's back, which nearly knocked the boy over.

“Oh,” was all Star said looking away, not sure what else to say to that. It came as quite a shock to her that the general had noticed normally iron-blooded troll's softer side.

“She suggested we shouldn't push you on the matter and give you some time to tell us about him on your own and we agreed. We figured you would tell us when you were ready.”

Star thought about that for a second. It came as quite a shock to hear that the general had noticed Star's need for space, still thrown off by the normally iron-blooded troll's softer side. “Soooo, are you guys mad?” Star risked.

“Well we still aren't happy about it?” Queen Moon admitted, giving her daughter a chiding glare. She sighed, before adding much gentler, “But we do understand why you did it. We put a lot on you and I know it couldn't have been easy for you. So if having this boy around made you happy, even if it was in secret, then I'm willing to look past it.”

Star nodded, giving her mom a smile. “Thanks mom,” she said, pulling her into a quick hug.

“You're welcome, sweetie,” she said, giving her a gentle squeeze back. Once the two separated, Moon gave her a push toward Marco and Star instantly responded, closing the distance as she threw her arms around him in joy. “We did it, Marco. We did it!” She somehow lifted him off the ground, spinning him in a quick circle. “We brought peace to the monsters and the rest of Mewni! Together!”

Marco was laughing, holding tightly onto her, as she brought him back down to the ground. “Yeah we did, didn't we?” he whispered in awe.

“Your parents would be so proud,” she said, finally letting go of him and moving to his side. Marco teared up, giving her a soft smile.

“Yeah I guess they would,” Marco said, his voice cracking.

“So then Star,” Moon said, teasingly, drawing the two's attention back to her and off of each other, both her and her husband giving their daughter sly looks. “Am I to assume this boy is more than just your mere companion.”

Star was about to respond, but Marco beat her to it, raising a finger in the air to draw their attention. “Umm, yes, I'm also her smooch buddy,” Marco said hesitantly, before turning to Star for conformation he had said it right.

Star just smiled, taking his hand in hers. “Close enough,” she said, before giving him a quick peck on the cheek, watching as his face turned the cutest shade of red, not caring who was watching.

Okay so next up we move on to season 2! I’ll continue to try and post daily until I’m caught up with my present story. Thanks for reading everyone!

#Star vs #Star vs au #My Writing #Light of the Sun and Stars #Starco

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pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer · 5 years

Text

Right of Law, Section XVI

(With Zaekura’s interview published, Yarion finds a very cross Angonce paying them a visit, and Emsar finds herself a bit shaken as the rebel forces march on Xia.)

Angonce paced back and forth, fathoming just how furious he was with the situation. Yarion sat quietly at their desk, watching the Great Being with a cautious patience, while Kodan trembled nervously in a nearby chair.

“I, just…why are we even having this conversation in the first place?!” Angonce finally said. “Both of you ought to know better, especially you, Yarion! For Heremus’s sake, are all my favorite Makuta going to turn on me?”

“I have most certainly not turned against you, my lord,” Yarion said.

“Oh, most certainly! It’s not like you had someone from Nynrah right here—“ He shook his hands at the floor. “—and just let her go! Wait a second! That’s exactly what you did!”

“I questioned her, and verified that she had nothing to add to the Nynrah investigation. The Toa representing her made quite a compelling case that continuing to hold her at that point would breed distrust amongst the people.”

“What Toa? Where are they now—I want them brought in immediately!”

“I’m afraid he’s gone, sir. He was a recent transfer from Mahri-Nui, and departed with the accused once the matter was concluded.”

“So you let two criminals escape, then.”

“This Toa was trustworthy, my lord: when I contacted Mahri-Nui, the Makuta himself vouched for him.”

“And what of it?! Clearly a Makuta’s word means nothing anymore!”

Yarion sighed. “My lord—“

“And you!” Angonce said, whirling on Kodan. “You found Zaekura herself, chatted her up like you were old friends, and then published and circulated her manifesto! How is it possible that at no point in that process did you consider what you were doing treason?!”

“I-I-I-I was only doing my j-j-job, Lord A-Angonce,” Kodan stammered. “The p-people need to know w-what’s going on, and w-without Zaekura’s point of view I f-feel our understanding of the issue would b-be left incomplete. W-We’re only trying to understand the t-t-truth.”

“Truth?!” Angonce repeated, looming over the Toa. “The only information you need is what the Great Beings provide you! The only perspective you need is ours! ‘Truth’…it’s such a simple thing to grasp! The truth is what we say! Anything that goes against our truth is nothing short of blasphemy!”

Kodan could only shiver silently. Angonce turned with a frustrated grunt, taking a few steps away.

“Yarion. Find all copies of this interview and have them destroyed.”

Slowly rising to their feet, Yarion asked, “M…my lord?”

“I know you heard me. See to it that this heresy is eradicated, before it has a chance to spread.”

Yarion glanced at Kodan as they thought. “…If I may, my lord—“

“You may not!” Angonce cut them off.

Reluctantly, Yarion continued, “What will this accomplish? It is too late to prevent the word from getting out—it will spread. Worse, how will the people react to such an extreme action? Would it not only breed greater distrust, greater fear? Such a retaliation would surely only lead to more people believing the validity of Zaekura’s words!”

Angonce glared over his shoulder. “Well. If they decide to act upon that misguided belief, then I suppose their Makuta will have to set them straight.”

Yarion’s eyes wandered. They saw their reflection in the wall, realizing just how troubled their expression was.

“Th-This…”

Yarion and Angonce turned to Kodan as he spoke up. The Toa got to his feet, still shaking but not letting that stop him.

“This isn’t right. Hiding the facts, scaring people into submission, attacking anyone who disagrees with you…those aren’t the values Spherus Magna was built on!”

“Oh I can assure you,” Angonce said, “they most certainly are. I am the one who built it, after all.”

“No. The world you’re talking about isn’t the world that I see, the world I’ve been trying to serve. I still feel that way: that my job is the truth, and not just what anyone says is true. I cannot…I will not give the people what I know are lies! To do so would be to betray who I am!”

“Think very carefully about what you’re doing, Toa. Are you going to cooperate, or are you going to continue your treasonous ways?”

Kodan swallowed his fear and stood tall, sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was the right thing to do. “I will not cooperate.”

Angonce looked past him, nodding once. And then Kodan cried out in pain, falling forward lifelessly. Yarion’s jaw dropped.

“What…” they tried to ask, but the words wouldn’t come.

A massive gash had appeared in Kodan’s back. Behind the Toa was a strange distortion, and soon Yarion realized it was something imperceptible coming into view: a strange-looking being, nearly as tall as them and clad in gold armor with white speckles spread haphazardly across the surface. Folded wings hung from the being’s arms, which they drew back as they retracted razor-sharp claws into their fingers—on their back were numerous dangerous-looking spines, and behind that, Yarion could see a long reptilian tail swaying back and forth. They wore a Mask of Adaptation, but Yarion could see there was no mouth behind it, and on the back of their head was a second set of eyes, blinking to reveal inner eyelids.

I suspected Lord Angonce did not come alone, Yarion thought. But I never expected him to bring Vamprah…

Angonce beckoned. Vamprah stepped over the corpse and went to the Great Being’s side, his rear eyes fixed directly upon Yarion as he did.

“Makuta Yarion?” Angonce said. “You have your assignment. Get to it.”

Yarion could only turn back to Kodan, watching the Toa of Stone’s blood slowly pool around his broken form.

“Don’t worry, your staff will clean up the mess while you’re out. Time’s wasting.”

Vamprah turned sharply. Angonce turned in response, seeing Yarion with a hand over their face, shaking their head.

“This is…cruel,” Yarion said. “How could you? We were to protect the people—how can you ask that we now strike them down at the slightest provocation?! I…I cannot do this, Lord Angonce…I cannot be a part of something so vile!”

Angonce rolled his eyes. “Goodness…I’m grown quite exhausted of this nonsense.”

The Great Being turned around, and Vamprah took a step forward. Yarion backed up into their desk, realizing just how little room separated them.

“You will follow my orders, Yarion,” Angonce said. “And if you will not do so willingly, then I’ll simply have you recalibrated, so that you can return to your job with the right set of priorities in mind.”

Yarion’s eyes widened. “B…but…”

“Decide quickly, Yarion. My patience is entirely used up.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Eventually, Yarion went down on one knee, hanging their head and muttering something.

“Speak up,” Angonce said.

“I…will obey, Lord Angonce,” Yarion said. “I shall see to the destruction of Kodan’s treason.”

Angonce smiled. “Finally, one sees reason. You made the right choice, Yarion. Go on.”

Yarion stood, sluggishly walking towards the elevator.

“But ah, just to be on the safe side…I think I’ll have Vamprah remain in Civitas Magna for the time being. Just, watch over you for a bit, on the off-chance you find yourself getting cold feet.”

Yarion didn’t need eyes in the back of their head to know Vamprah was staring at them.

“Best of luck, Makuta Yarion,” Angonce said as the elevator doors closed. “I look forward to some truly impressive results.”

***

Rahkshi made their way through the outpost, each taking their own path but nearly all of them winding up just outside the gate. Antroz stood atop the wall, monitoring the congregation as it formed, trying to shake off the anxiety that was weighing down her heart.

“Ready to go home?”

Antroz sighed as Krika walked up beside her. “This is hardly a homecoming. I’m returning as a conqueror…never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed this to be my future.”

“Sounds as though you’ve hosted boring dreams, then. I’ve seen myself win battles far more threatening.”

Antroz didn’t answer.

“I say that because it is a lower bar than you seem to realize. These are still your people, Antroz: surely they must have some lingering fondness for you that shall stay their hands, regardless of how devout you raised them to be. And that aside, I can attest that builders rarely make the best warriors, especially as they shall be without your guidance.”

“They have Emsar’s guidance,” Antroz said. “That alone worries me.”

“Emsar? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the name.”

“She’s a Vortixx warrior who operated as my right hand. Her skill in peerless, and her mind is every bit as sharp as her dagger—under her orders, Xia has weathered several attacks where I was unable to defend it myself. We must not underestimate her.”

Krika shrugged. “Alright, duly noted. But you know this army well now, Antroz. Taking into account the abilities these Rahkshi possess, not to mention that there will be three Makuta assisting them, do our chances really seem so grim?”

“You forget our handicap, Krika. Of course we could level the city if we wanted. But we must win without using lethal force. Emsar surely knows this, and will use it against us.”

“My word, you are simply impossible to cheer up.”

Antroz became aware of Bitil as he strolled along the inside of the wall. At his side was a handful of Rahkshi who had been chosen to stay behind to guard the outpost, and he babbled nervously as he went over their defenses for the dozenth time.

“Well,” Antroz said, “Zaekura’s interview should be available to the public now. I am hopeful that will sway at least a portion of Xia, so long as Makuta Yarion hasn’t snuffed it out before the flame has a chance to spread.”

“I’ve told you, they’re not a threat,” Krika said. “I was very clear with the ideas I implanted in their head when I defended Miss Carna, and the fact that she was released is proof enough that they will be sympathetic to our cause.”

“…That’s been bothering me. You said you posed as a Toa to defend her, but given how meticulous Yarion’s records are, I don’t understand how you were able to fool them.”

“The urgency of the matter played to my favor. I simply said I had recently been transferred to Civitas Magna, and that my bumbling superiors had neglected to send in the paperwork. Yarion didn’t have time to verify.”

“Transferred from where? Once Yarion inevitably contacts that place—“

“Not to worry, Antroz. The Makuta himself has spoken on my behalf.”

Antroz turned towards him slowly. “…How do you know that?”

Producing a small scroll, Krika said, “I received a message from him while we were in Ga-Koro. He informed me that he would play along for now, but he wants to meet soon. But we should focus on Xia at the moment, don’t you think?”

“Krika. Where did you say you were from?”

He took a very long pause, rolling the scroll between his fingers as he scanned the horizon. “Mahri-Nui.”

Antroz’s wings twitched. “Mahri-Nui?!”

“I understand your concerns—“

“And now he thinks we owe him…Krika, what have you done?! We cannot work with someone like that!”

Krika smirked. “On the contrary, dear Antroz: I believe he’ll make the perfect tool. We’ll have to tread carefully, no doubt, but he knows working with us will be the best way to achieve his ambitions…and, isn’t this better than having him as an enemy?”

“I greatly doubt it will be!”

“Fine, fine, but can we at least agree it’s best to cross that bridge when we get to it? Our forces have enough on their minds with this upcoming battle. Why burden them any further?”

Antroz turned back to the Rahkshi with a grunt. “We must tell Bitil, and Zaekura as well. They need to know what’s coming.”

“Oh, very well. Are we to do that now, or…?”

Antroz was already moving. With a roll of his eyes, Krika fell into step behind her. They caught up to Bitil as he neared the watchtower, where Zaekura stood talking to Carna, and waited for an opportunity to speak.

“Can’t you just command them from here, Zae?” Carna asked. “You don’t have to put yourself in danger!”

Zaekura shook her head. “I told you, Mom: if they’re risking themselves for me, I want to risk myself for them. And we’ll be fine! We have insider information, a bucket of tactics to use, more troops than we’re ever likely to need—I’ll be back in no time!”

Carna grumbled something as she hugged Zaekura. Regardless, she ultimately went inside, and Zaekura turned to the Makuta. “Are we ready?”

“Nearly,” Bitil said. “Erad took their squad out for some last minute target practice, but they should be back momentarily.”

“Also,” Antroz said, “there’s something we must discuss before we depart.”

“Does it have to with Xia?” Zaekura asked.

“Well, no—“

“Then it can wait.”

“Zaekura, this is a very serious matter.”

Walking past her, Zaekura said, “Then tell me on the way if it’s that urgent. But I gotta say something before we leave, and I don’t need anything psyching me out.”

Bitil eyed Krika, but Krika drew his fingers across his lips and followed Zaekura. With a scoff, Bitil did the same, and eventually Antroz went as well. They exited the outpost and went around to the eastern side of the Rahkshi army, finding Charla waiting for them as she tried to keep her siblings organized.

“Ah, there you are!” she greeted. “Erad and the others have been spotted—it shouldn’t take them more than a minute or so to join us. We can depart at any time.”

“Great,” Zaekura said. She took a deep breath. “…Alright. Everyone, listen up!”

The crowd gradually went silent. Zaekura swallowed hard, and then stiffened her spine as she prepared to speak.

“It’s time for us to march on Xia! They’re our nearest hostile, and using the extensive intel we’ve got on them, we’re going to capture their city and the resources they’ve got access to, leaving the loyalists without their primary manufacturer of weaponry! Despite this edge, do not take this battle lightly! There are two things you need to remember above all else: don’t kill anyone, and don’t get yourself killed! You’re all gonna remember that, right?”

A short but decisive cry of affirmation answered her.

“Good! Do that, follow the orders of your squad leaders, and this time tomorrow we’ll be celebrating our victory! This is the first brick we pull from the wall of the Great Beings! Starting today, we give our all to tearing it down! Let’s go!”

Cheers echoed as the army moved out. After a while, Zaekura finally released the tension in her body, and turned to Antroz.

“Alright, Fangs,” she said, “is that thing important?”

Antroz thought for a moment. “…You are certain you would rather wait? I do not wish to withhold information from you.”

Zaekura smiled. “I appreciate that, but right now I really do just want to focus on one thing at a time. We’ve already got a lot riding on this.”

“Then…it can wait. For now, we will give all our attention to Xia.”

“Okay,” Zaekura said with a nod. “…You gonna be able to do that?”

Antroz faced forward. “Most certainly. I haven’t been able to think of anything but.”

***

Emsar paced back and forth through the bottom floor of Xia’s central tower. Lying on the table was an unrolled parchment, its title drawing her attention again and again no matter how hard she tried to look away: “EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH ZAEKURA, SURVIVOR OF NYNRAH INCIDENT.”

I truly hoped the rumors were nothing but lies. It would’ve been easier that way.

Alarming as the contents of the interview were, talk of them had spread near-instantaneously. While physical copies of the publication had all disappeared before they could be distributed beyond Civitas Magna, a Vortixx living there had smuggled a single copy out just in time, telling Emsar it was something she needed to read.

When it rains, it pours…so this is what they mean. Running Xia without Antroz has been difficult enough, especially now that Chirox has tasked us with training those things, but learning just how murky this situation is just as Zaekura advances towards us…

Indecision was something Emsar had never experienced. Only now did she fully appreciate that fact. But as she continued to pace, the doors were pushed open, and in walked a very grim-looking Ehrye.

“Um…they’ve arrived,” the Toa of Ice said.

Emsar gritted her teeth. “Hmph. How close exactly? Have we engaged?”

“No. They, uh, they’ve stopped quite a distance away from our gates, actually. Zaekura’s at the front…she…”

Growing impatient, Emsar made her way outside and headed for the gate, leaping onto the sides of nearby buildings to gain height as she went, ultimately perching just above the gate itself. Sure enough, around two hundred Rahkshi were positioned across the sands, with Zaekura at the head waving a white flag emblazoned with a wavy vertical line separating two small circles. Emsar sighed.

…Well…perhaps this will clear things up for me.

She dropped down to the street, nodding to another Vortixx nearby. Hesitantly, they handed her an identical flag, and she held it high above her head as the gate opened to let her through. Seeing this, Zaekura, Antroz, and Bitil slowly walked forward, meeting Emsar halfway as both sides planted their flags in the sand. Emsar crossed her arms and stood there silently.

“Emsar,” Antroz said.

She didn’t answer, instead staring at Zaekura.

“Um…hello,” Zaekura said. “You probably know who I am. And you probably know why we’re here. But, I’d like to settle things peacefully if possible—thank you for at least coming to speak with me.”

“You must be confident, giving up the element of surprise in favor of negotiation,” Emsar said.

“From what I hear, surprising you is impossible.”

Emsar laughed.

“And again: I’d rather do this peacefully. We’re here to assume control of Xia, and use it to bolster our forces as we fight to free Spherus Magna from the Great Beings’ control. Is there any way you could be persuaded to turn it over willingly?”

Emsar cocked her head. “So you’re really serious about this. You really think you can oust the Great Beings. Even I can’t fathom the gall required for such a declaration, and gall is something I know quite well. Tell me, young Zaekura: why should I stick out my neck when yours will remain on the block regardless?”

“Because it is the right thing to do,” Antroz said. “Emsar, please. I know this situation has turned the entire world on its head, but if you fight us here you will be fighting for a cause that is simply unjust. Does that not matter to you?”

Emsar considered this a moment. “Hm. I wonder if it does?”

Antroz scowled. Before she could say anything, Zaekura said, “Emsar, if you’d rather not join us, then you can still flee to Atero, or Civitas Magna. We will not pursue you. But if you stay and fight, you will lose…and at that point, we will be forced to hold you captive.”

Emsar smirked. “Yes, a bottomless reservoir of pure gall. Should you really be so sure you can best me?”

Bitil puffed out his chest. “My Rahkshi are more than up to the challenge! You don’t stand a chance!”

“And I know Xia’s defenses inside and out,” Antroz said. “You have not had enough time to alter them so severely as to catch us completely off-guard.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Emsar said. “You may run into a few things that surprise you, Makuta.”

The three of them had nothing more to add, and so simply waited for Emsar to give them an answer. She closed her eyes as she mulled it over one last time.

“If I did escape, I’m sure I’d simply be executed,” she said. “And, right or not, joining you sounds just as suicidal. I’ll admit…I have my doubts. But I cannot risk my life upon such uncertain ground.”

Antroz stepped forward, saying, “Emsar—“

“That is my answer. Xia will not surrender to you, Zaekura. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to surrender to us?”

“Never,” Zaekura said, not missing a beat.

“Then it’s to arms. Lovely chatting with you. I do hope we get another chance before you’re sent to the Maze.”

Emsar uprooted her flag and returned to Xia. Zaekura and Bitil rejoined the Rahkshi at once, with Antroz lingering a bit before finally following them. As she walked back through the gates, Emsar handed off the flag, and then signaled to a nearby Glatorian. They ran off, and Emsar cast one last look over her shoulder.

“To your stations, all of you,” she said. “Xia is under attack.”

#Bionicle #fanfiction #Melding Universe #Antroz #Right of Law #sorry it took so long fam #we gonna get things moving now

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dawnbutterfly · 5 years

Text

Reality

This one I wrote around the same time as the Adoption Timeline fics. Even though I wrote it before them, the Adoption fics were the ones that Keeper ultimately convinced me to post, which is why I didn’t post this one at the time, because it would make it kind of weird.

With that context out of the way, enjoy my hurt/comfort NK x Butters ship fic that takes place intermittently in the episode “Safe Space”.

“And that's why we called you down here. Eric said you're so focused, you'd probably have no problem getting through it.” PC Principal said. Grant said nothing, as usual, but a smirk crept onto his face, and he held back a snort. “Something funny? I could easily give you detention instead.” PC Principal said. Grant covered his mouth, but more snickering snorts escaped, and he broke out laughing. He hopped off his chair, walking towards the door without looking back. “Oh, I'll see you in detention for the next three weeks, mister!” PC Principal shouted. Grant waved goodbye without looking back, and shut the door behind him. ⁂ Grant ran through the hallway, worried. He could hear Butters' shouting from three classrooms down, something about a man coming to get him. He was half ready to pull out a weapon to defend him with. As he ran past one of the Kindergarten classrooms, which were for some odd reason located on the second floor, he caught a glimpse of Kyle and Stan. He skidded to a halt, just in time to see Butters. He was naked, his eyes wild, his hair a mess. And the instant he came into Grant's view, he turned around, and jumped right through the window. Grant stood, paralyzed with horror, as his eyes slowly widened to match his feeling. A rising scream escaped his throat, startling the kids in the classroom, as he ripped himself from his stasis and took off towards the stairs at a dangerous, stumbling pace. “New Kid!” Kyle called out, following behind him at a safer stride. “Oh god! Oh god! Please no!” Grant screamed as he nearly tumbled down the flight of stairs, grasping onto any handhold he could find so he could fling himself around turns without slowing. He burst out the front doors of the school, running over to Butters' side. “Butters!? Butters, are you conscious!? Tell me you're conscious! Oh god, please tell me you're not…!” Grant yelled, horror and nearly belligerent worry coating his voice. He clutched at his head, trying to organize his extremely disheveled thoughts. His eyes snapped open and he whipped out his phone, dialing 911, just as Kyle and company came running out the door after him. “911, what is your emergency?” The operator asked. “South Park Elementary! My best friend just jumped out of the second story window!” Grant half-shouted, nearly hysterical. “He's bleeding badly from his head, and he's got glass embedded in his body!” “H-He's unconscious right now! I-I-I can't tell how bad his other injuries might be, I don't want to move him in case his neck is broken…!” He continued, forcing himself into an analytical state to keep from going into shock. “Please! Send somebody to help him! Please save him!” “EMT's are on their way, stay on the line please, young man.” The operator said routinely, yet softly. “How old is the injured person?” She asked. “Ten… We're classmates…” Grant said. “You're right not to move him. If there's an adult there, have them help, but otherwise just make sure nobody else moves him until the ambulance arrives.” The operator instructed. “R-Right…” Grant said shakily, nearly hyperventilating from stress. “Young man… your friend is going to be okay. Take a deep breath.” The operator said, shifting gears. Grant did as instructed, and took several deep breaths, trying to compose himself. “You've done very well in this situation, even better than some adults I've talked to. I'm sure your friend will be fine.” She said again. “I-I hope so…” Grant said, still shaken. “I-If he… I-I don't know what I'd…” “I'm sorry to ask, but do you know why he jumped?” The operator asked. “It will help us treat him later on in the hospital.” Grant almost choked out a sob at the word 'hospital'. “I-I don't know the details. I heard him shouting something about a man coming to get him, and by the time I found him, he jumped.” He said. “He's… he's naked right now. I think he might have been hallucinating…” He finished quietly. “He was, dude.” Kyle said from behind him, making him jump and turn around. “PC Principal had him running like thirty people's social media accounts, and filtering out their negative comments. He's been at it non-stop for like a week now.” Kyle continued. Grant's eyes narrowed, and he clenched his fist so hard the color drained out of it. “Him…” He growled through clenched teeth. “He put Butters on that…?” “I'm sorry, young man?” The operator asked. Grant snapped out of his fury. There would be time for that later. “Sorry. My friend just told me that he suffered a work-stress related mental breakdown.” Grant said clinically. “Thank you, young man.” The operator said. Grant heard the sirens as the ambulance drew close. “The ambulance is here…” He said into the phone. “Very good. Please, get a safe distance away and let the paramedics do their job.” The operator said. “Right…” Grant said, standing up as the ambulance parked right in front of the school and a couple of people got out with their equipment. “Thank you…” He said quietly, hanging up the phone. The ambulance soon took Butters away, heading towards Hell's Pass Hospital, and Grant was left with his other friends, sitting on the steps of the school. Grant had started shaking, the adrenaline having worn off, leaving him in a nearly shell-shocked state. “Hey, dude… are you alright?” Kyle asked cautiously. “Do I look alright!?” Grant asked harshly. “My Butters just threw himself out a window!” Stan raised an eyebrow, almost smirking. “'My Butters'?” He asked in an amused tone. Grant blushed at realizing what he'd said. “'My best friend'! Shut up!” He said, embarrassed. “Dude, you almost threw yourself, screaming, down a flight of stairs for him.” Kyle said. “It's pretty obvious.” “Yeah, and it's not like there's anything wrong with it…” Kenny mumbled through his parka. Grant sighed, burying his face in his hands, more from stress and exhaustion than from embarrassment. “Ugh, not the right time, guys…” He said through his hands. “I just… he's my best friend… the first friend I made when I moved here…” “I-I should have been more aware of what was happening with him. I should have stopped this from-” He started, but was interrupted by Kyle pulling his shoulder to face him. “You are not responsible for this!” He said sternly. “This is on PC Principal, and all of the people who couldn't handle negative twitter comments on their own. Not you.” Grant took a deep breath, shuddering. Kyle's eyes softened. “But, if you really want to be more involved, and make sure you know when something like this happens, there is a way.” Kyle said. Grant looked up to him. “How?” He asked. Kyle just kept looking at him, and let Grant realize on his own. This time, Grant did bury his face in his hands from embarrassment. ⁂ Grant sat by Butters' side in his hospital room. They'd managed to stabilize him, but he was in pretty bad shape. Still, he'd managed to convince them to let him in. It was so easy for him to persuade people… Suddenly, the door to the room opened. Grant looked up to see a group of people all pile into the room. Among them, he saw PC Principal. His eyes filled with fury as he stood up. “You!” He almost shouted, then instantly covered his mouth with his hand, looking over at Butters. He turned back to the group. “What are you doing here!? Come to try to finish the job!?” He hissed. “New Kid…” PC Principal said, agitated, but much more subdued than usual. “What are you doing here, you're supposed to be in detention.” “Oh, I'm sorry, I couldn't make it on account of my friend taking a swan-dive out the second story window.” Grant growled. PC Principal looked at the ground. “And who are you all? The gaggle of weak-willed cry-babies who drove him to this?” He asked. The group all looked like they wanted to cry. “Hey! There is no need for that!” PC Principal said, still trying to keep himself reigned in. “You're right. This whole thing happened because you made him look through so much of that kind of negativity.” Grant said coldly. “Hey, he didn't have to do it! He could have taken the detention like you!” PC Principal said. “In every city I've ever lived in, that's been known as 'extortion', and comes with up to a $10,000 fine and 15 years in jail.” Grant said, shutting PC Principal up. “But hey, I've got good news: I'll take the job!” Grant said with sarcastic enthusiasm. “If you wanted me to do it so badly, you could have just said so! You didn't have to try to kill my cru-” Grant caught himself, stopping. Several of the group bit their lips, all of their eyes shifting to extreme regret and pity as they took the meaning of his halted words. “You didn't have to try to kill my best friend.” “I-I'm sorry…” Demi said. “We just… we couldn't handle it all anymore…” “So you put all of it on a fourth grader!?” Grant shot back. Demi opened her mouth, but closed it again, looking at the floor. “What's the point of even being on social media if you can't handle the social part!?” “We just… wanted a safe space…” Seagal said. “There's no such thing as a 'safe space'!” Grant said, making the group look at him strangely. “The world is a cruel place, and somebody has to deal with it. For everyone who wants to be coddled and shielded from it, somebody else has to be that shield, and suffer in their stead.” “How is it fair that you get to sit there in an echo-chamber, listening to nothing but hollow reinforcement, while somebody else suffers for you!?” He asked. Nobody could answer. “You sound just like Reality…” Vin Diesel said. “I've been through reality!” Grant said. “Do you have any idea how many times I've had to move? To just uproot from my life, from all of my friends, and run away because of…” He stopped, the group looking on, wondering what a 9 year old would need to flee from. Grant sighed, slumping back down into his chair. “Why do you adults get to be weak, while children like me and Butters have to be strong…” He asked absently, not looking at the group. “Get out. Just… just get out…” He mumbled. The group looked at each other uncomfortably, but all slowly made their way out. Grant looked over at Butters, still unconscious. He began to cry. ⁂ Butters slowly opened his eyes. His whole body hurt, and he saw that there was some kind of mask over his nose and mouth. He couldn't remember what happened. “Oh, dude! He's awake!” A voice came from beside him. He turned his head slightly to see Kyle, Stan, and Kenny in the room with him. It hurt to do so. “Oh… hey fellas…” He managed to say, his voice raspy. “How do you feel, dude?” Kyle asked. “Like I fell off a building…” Butters said. “Well… I mean, you kind of did.” Stan said. “W…What…?” Butters asked, eyes widening a little. Even that hurt. “You don't remember?” Kyle asked. “You went totally nuts and jumped out a second story window.” Kenny said. “I-I don't remember…” Butters said, worried. “It's alright dude. The stress just got to you is all.” Kyle said. “The doctors said that you're going to be fine.” “That's good… thanks for making sure I got to the hospital, fellas…” Butters said. “Actually… that was the New Kid.” Stan said. Butters' eyes widened again. “R-Really?” He asked. “Yeah, dude. He's the one who called the ambulance, and he stayed with you practically every second since you got here.” Kyle said. “W-Well where is he now?” Butters asked. Stan and Kyle looked at each other uncomfortably. “He wanted to be here when you woke up, but…” Kyle trailed off. “He said he couldn't stand seeing you like this anymore.” Stan finished. “Looks like twenty hours of watching his best friend unconscious in a hospital bed was too much, even for him…” “Wow, he must really care about his friends…” Butters said with a tiny laugh. “I think… I think it's more you specifically.” Kyle said. “What do you mean?” Butters asked. Stan and Kyle exchanged glances again. “Look, New Kid didn't want us telling you anything, but…” Stan said. Butters looked at them, confused… ⁂ Grant paced back and forth slowly in front of the door to Butters room. Kyle had told him that Butters had finally woken up, and he rushed over to the hospital. But once there, he became anxious about entering. He'd walked out on Butters, only for him to wake up not an hour after he left. He knew the others had told him as much. Not only that, but he was afraid to see Butters awake and in pain. He stopped pacing, taking a deep breath. He held it, and opened the door. Butters looked up, smiling weakly when he saw Grant's face. “W-Well hey there, friend…” He said, his voice still a little scratchy. Grant walked over, stopping at the edge of Butters' bed. “How do you feel? Are you in any pain?” He asked uneasily. “A little. But they have me on a lot of pain medicine, so it's alright.” Butters said weakly. “That's good…” Grant said, placing his hand on the bed next to Butters absently. Suddenly, Butters weakly took Grant's hand, making him look up in shock. A slight blush crept onto his face. “Something on your mind?” Butters asked with a small laugh. “N-No…” Grant said, looking away. “You sure?” Butters asked again. “The way you're acting is a little… curious.” Grant turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Curious?” He asked. Butters just stared at him, as Grant's eyes slowly shifted from inquisitiveness to dull annoyance. “How much did they tell you?” He asked. Butters chuckled weakly. “Enough…” Grant sighed. “I might kick those guys' asses later…” He mumbled. “Did you really throw yourself down the stairs for me?” Butters asked. Grant grinned, blushing. “More or less.” He said. He sat down, not letting go of Butters' hand. He leaned back, blowing out his tension. “So, you're really…” Butters started. “'Bi-curious'? No curiosity about it.” Grant said, closing his eyes. “I usually try not to get too attached, in case the government finds me again and I have to move…” He grinned again, looking over at Butters. “But I couldn't help it. You're just too cute⹈” This time, Butters was the one to blush. “I've got crushes on a few other people in town, but with you…” He said, trailing off. “You're always so nice to me, no matter what. True, genuine kindness.” He said. “You're probably the kindest, closest friend I've ever had…” “When I saw you throw yourself out that window, my heart damn near stopped.” He said. “I thought I'd lost you… oh god, if I'd lost you…” Butters squeezed his hand lightly, causing him to look over. “I'm alright, alright?” He said with a small smile. Grant nodded, then sighed, turning to face forward again. “I know you probably don't feel the same way. Even if you did, you have a girlfriend, even if she's all the way in Canada…” He turned back to Butters with a smile. “I'm just glad you're alright…” He said. Butters closed his eyes. “You're right, I can't say I have those kinds of feelings towards you. I wouldn't want to cheat on Charlotte either…” He said. He opened his eyes, smiling. “But I still think you're pretty great. And I'm still your best friend, right?” Grant nodded. “Of course you are, and I wouldn't want an unrequited crush to come between that.” He said with a smile. “Why I didn't tell you before…” He mumbled. His face went serious. “But, since you're my best friend, you have to tell me when things like this are happening to you.” He said sternly. “I know you, so I know you don't want to burden others, but you can't carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone…” Butters squeezed his hand again. “Alright, I promise…” He said. Grant smiled softly, satisfied. “Good…” He said. His face brightened. “Now, I think you could use some rest.” He said, finally letting go of Butters' hand. Butters nodded weakly. Grant himself then yawned, to the amused smile of Butters. “Sounds like you've been up too long too…” Butters said. Grant grinned sheepishly. “I'll be back tomorrow, if that's alright.” He said. Butters smiled. “That'd be nice. Hospitals are less boring with a friend.” ⁂

Now just as a post-fic disclaimer, I do not personally agree with Grant on the topic of safe spaces. But, to be fair, his crush did just jump off a building because of those people, and how they achieved their “safe space” was all wrong anyway. :p

#Greater South Park Multiversal Area

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