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pitviperofdoom · 3 years

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Might I ask about 'Life Preserver'? I have no idea what it could mean, and that makes me very curious👀

This is my pre-S1 JonGerry AU! They meet while Jon’s still in school and Gerry’s on the hunt for a Leitner. It’s part of a trilogy in my head that includes JonGerryMartin later on, but Life Preserver takes place before Jon becomes the Archivist and is just JonGerry.

Here’s a scene from it!

---

“Thanks for meeting me,” Georgie said, by way of greeting.

Gerry shrugged. “‘S fine. What’s the occasion?”

It was a nice day. The cafe was bustling but not overcrowded. Georgie had insisted on dragging him to the one empty table outside, with the nice view of the street and the park on the other side. Gerry had eaten lunch in far worse places, with far worse company.

Shit, were they friends? Had he missed that somehow? Not that Georgie wasn’t nice enough, but he’d always figured she was more invested in Jon than in him. That was how it worked, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure if being friends with your boyfriend’s ex was a thing you were supposed to do, and at this point he was too afraid to ask.

“Why does there have to be an occasion?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I just wanted a lunch partner.”

“Didn’t think you liked me that much,” Gerry said bluntly. Maybe that was harsh—she’d only given him a little bit of stink eye when they first met, and she’d let up pretty quick.

If Georgie was bothered by it, she didn’t show it. “I worry about Jon sometimes,” she said. “He’s not always the best at… at advocating for himself, I guess.”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered.” For someone as prickly as Jon, he was shit at actually standing up for himself where it counted.

“Worried a lot about you, at first,” Georgie went on, clasping her hands around her coffee cup. “But I decided not to prod too much. I didn’t want to be one of those exes, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gerry lied.

“Figured it wasn’t my business anyway,” she said, pausing to take another sip. “Jon and I hadn’t talked in over a year by the time I met you.”

“Right.”

“You know, I didn’t even learn your full name?” she said. “Not til last week. Weird, isn’t it?”

Gerry paused with his cup halfway to his mouth. “I… guess?”

“And you know, it stuck in my mind for the longest time,” she said. “Could’ve sworn I heard it somewhere. So I did a quick Google search.”

Slowly, Gerry put his cup back down. Georgie continued to sip demurely at her own.

“Thought I’d find a Facebook page with a few friends in common,” she said. “Or a LinkedIn or something. So you can imagine how surprised I was.”

Gerry looked around at the cafe’s full outdoor seating area, and the crowded, public street beyond. Plenty of witnesses, in broad daylight.

“Ah,” he said.

“Yeah.”

Besides a slight lift of the eyebrows, Georgie’s expression barely changed. Gerry stared down at his cup, appetite gone. Around them, passersby remained happily oblivious.

“I didn’t do it,” he said after a moment. “The charges were dropped and everything.”

“On a technicality.” Georgie’s eyes were cold and steady when they settled on him. “Contaminated evidence, according to one of the news articles.”

“Look, I don’t know what you expect me to say,” Gerry bit out.

“I don’t know either, Gerry, but what am I supposed to think?” Neither of their voices rose above the dull roar of the street and the hum of conversation around them, but Gerry still felt like he was being shouted at. “Does Jon know about this?”

“No, and if I have my way, he won’t.”

Georgie’s steely gaze turned to a glare. “And you don’t see the red flags that might raise? That you might’ve—”

A tide of red rose up behind his eyes. Not anger, but the memory of blood, both the sight and the overpowering smell. “She did it to herself,” Gerry said coldly.

“Not what the coroner’s report said—”

“What do you want from me?” Gerry went on harshly. “I came home and found her halfway through—that. Went into shock long enough for her to get plenty of it on me, then ran out to the nearest coffeeshop and sat in a fog until the police picked me up. Happy?” Georgie’s glare only hardened. “It really doesn’t matter what you think. It’s the truth whether or not you believe it.”

She waited for him to wrest himself back to something resembling calm before speaking again. “Fine. Let’s say I believe you. Why are you lying to Jon, then?”

“Oh, tell me what the best time to bring that up is,” Gerry said dryly. “Is that a fourth date conversation, or more of an anniversary thing?”

“I’m not talking about the murder,” Georgie retorted. “Why did you tell him you’re living with your mother?”

He probably could have come up with a feasible lie. But what came out instead was, “Because I am.”

The look on Georgie’s face was viciously unimpressed. “You’re living with your mum.”

“Yep.”

“Your mum, who by your own admission, committed a violent suicide in 2008.”

“Got it in one.”

“If you’re not even going to take this seriously,” Georgie began.

“Would you like to meet her?” Gerry asked. “It’s not like it’d be the first time you saw a corpse get up and walk around, would it?”

Georgie froze.

That was the funny thing about saying cruel things, Gerry reflected. More often than not, you had to say them out loud first to realize they were cruel at all.

But it was out, and he couldn’t swallow it back down, so he let it sit there between them, bloating like a dead thing in the sun. He didn’t look at Georgie’s face again. He wasn’t sure he could.

“What did you just say to me?” Georgie said shakily.

“I don’t want to say it again,” said Gerry. “And I don’t think you do, either.”

“That’s…” She sat back in her chair, putting just a bit more distance between them. Gerry shut his eyes. “How—how could you possibly know about that?”

Gerry heaved a sigh, running his hand down his face. He could always stop. He could get up right now and walk away. Never talk to her again, never see her again. Of course, if he did that, it’d probably mean never seeing Jon again, either.

Not for the first time, he wondered if that wasn’t a good thing.

“When you live like I do,” he said at last. “You learn to see it. Recognize it—them. The marks on people. Like the one on you.”

It was subtle, as the End always was. It never looked like a proper scar, the way the more violent ones did. After all, what was more natural than death itself?

“I’m… marked,” Georgie said. It wasn’t a question.

“Kind of impressive, to be honest,” he said. “Dodging Terminus. Not many can say they’ve done that.”

“Stop.” Her hands went to her ears quickly, almost instinctively, before she forced them down again. “Just, stop for a second.”

“Okay.”

Georgie sat and breathed for a moment. Then, “So your mother—” She paused again, gathering herself. “She… she was like that woman in the medical sciences building.”

“Dunno,” Gerry replied, forcing himself to look at her again. “I can see the scar, not what left it. And what my mum did was… unique.”

Her eyes were still fixed on the table in front of her, not on him. “Is this common?” she asked.

“Walking corpses, specifically?” Gerry asked. “Or did you mean more generally?” She nodded once. “Guess so. It’s been common enough to take over my life.” He watched her carefully, waiting for a sign that he should stop again. “There are forces behind the monsters. Powerful. Omnipresent, even. Most people are lucky enough not to notice, or be noticed. Some are lucky like you, and escape with only a scar. Others—” The Eye dropped a helpful bit of trivia in his head. “Others are like your friend.” She flinched. “Sorry.”

She sat and breathed for a little while longer. Gerry picked up his coffee cup again and waited.

“And what about you?” she asked at last. “Where do you fall?”

Gerry grimaced. “Long story. Very unpleasant.”

“Broad strokes, then.”

“Mum grew up seeing the monsters and decided it’d be nice if she could be one herself,” he said. “Then she thought it’d be even nicer to start a little monster dynasty, and that’s where I came in.”

At last, Georgie lifted her chin and looked him in the eye again. “And what about you?” she asked. “What do you want?” Her jaw shifted as it clenched. “What do you want with Jon?”

“I’m not going to hurt him,” he said quietly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Georgie’s eyes hardened again. “You know what I thought, when I first met you? I thought you were just—toying with him. Because I saw how he looked at you and how you looked at him, and it didn’t match. Like he was just—just a diversion for you. Just some passing curiosity until you got bored and moved on.”

Gerry slipped his hand off the table and into his lap. It was a bit late, she’d probably already seen it shaking, but it made him feel better, at least.

“Was I right?” Georgie asked. “It makes sense, even if it’s not the same as what I first thought. Growing up like that, I bet you’re curious. Is that what Jon is, to you? A way to play at being—”

“Human?” It came out harsher than he meant it to.

“I was going to say normal,” Georgie replied, glancing away for a moment. “But if these—monsters are as common as you say they are…”

“Look, you’re not wrong, alright?” Gerry sat back in his chair, letting his spine curve into an ugly slouch. “That’s how it started. He asked, and I was curious, so I went along with it.”

“And now?” she pressed.

“And now I want to keep it,” he said. “I want to keep him. I’m finally starting to like the world outside of the one I grew up in, probably because I finally have a reason to be here. Happy?”

“No,” Georgie said flatly.

Gerry tipped his head back with a groan. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to acknowledge what this sounds like!” Georgie glared at him, sitting up straight enough to look down at him. “What you’re making it sound like! So you grew up in a bad place—fine. I can’t imagine what that’s like. But then—what, you meet a nice guy and now you’re ready to leave it all behind and defy your undead mum and turn to the light side, just like that? That is not how it works, Gerry. It’s not as simple as that in this world, much less yours. You don’t just fall in love and fix everything, and it’s not fair to put that on Jon—”

Gerry barked out a laugh. “Is that what you took from this?” he demanded, dragging himself back up to face her. “You think I need you to tell me that—that love doesn’t conquer all, and I can’t pack all my baggage away and skip into the sunset because a cute boy asked me on a date and showed me the error of my family’s ways? Fuck you.”

Georgie held his gaze, unflinching. “Fine,” she said. “How should I have taken it, then?”

“I’ve wanted out since I was old enough to want anything.” The words came as if ripped from him, raw and bloody-tasting on his tongue. “You think I’ve never tried to leave before? But where’s someone like me supposed to go, hm? Even if I didn’t have monsters in my head and her ready to drag me back if I don’t come on my own, what place is there for me to run to?”

She didn’t flinch or look away again, even with Gerry a breath away from yelling in her face. Instead she watched him without so much as a twitch of an eyelid, leeching the venom from him with steady, infuriating calm.

“It’s like this,” he said. “Like I’m on a—a ship, sinking in a storm. I know if I stay on it, it’ll take me down with it, but what choice do I have? I could jump, but it would only drown me faster.” He swallowed, struggling against the dryness in his throat. “And I can see, just off the deck, all the boats that don’t have room for me, and all the people drowning in the ocean, and all I can do is stay where I am and throw life preservers until I join them.” His eyes burned. “But then I met Jon, and suddenly it’s like I have…” He gestured vaguely, struggling with his own analogy.

“A safe harbor,” Georgie said quietly.

He shook his head. “No. I don’t think there is one. Not from this. Not from them.” He shrugged, feeling inordinately tired. “But for the first time, I feel like—like if I jump, someone will throw me a line.”

In the space that followed, the hum of surrounding conversations washed back in between them. Gerry was almost surprised to see them still there. Apparently he hadn’t gotten loud enough to scare anyone off.

“Well?” he said, when Georgie’s silence got to him.

“It’s a lot to take in,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“And I’m still worried about Jon.” She lifted her eyes to meet his again. “But, I’m less worried about your intentions than I was before.”

“Guess that’s something,” he answered, and heaved a sigh. “So what happens now? Gonna demand I come clean with him?”

“No,” she said, faster than he would have expected. “No, I… I never told him about mine. And, just on instinct… I don’t think I’d ever want him dragged into this, if it’s avoidable.”

She didn’t know, Gerry realized. She’d known him years longer than he did, and she didn’t know he came scarred by the Spider.

“Is he in danger?” she asked. “Being with you?”

“No,” Gerry said firmly. “I wouldn’t—no. I keep him as far away from my shitty life as I can. I told him I didn’t want him anywhere near my family, and he didn’t press the issue.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “He thinks your mum’s a homophobe, you know.”

That shocked a laugh out of him. “You know, he’s probably right? Think she might just hate the idea of love in general, though.”

“Messy divorce, I take it,” Georgie said dryly.

“Rohypnol and garden shears were involved, so yeah, I’d say it was pretty messy.” He realized his mistake when the sickened look crossed her face. “Sorry.”

“It’s… fine,” she said. “Probably should’ve guessed.”

They sat in silence again, but the climate of it had shifted. It felt easier, somehow. Less like he half-expected the fog of the Lonely to come rolling in for a snack. Gerry remembered his coffee, and found it just on the edge of lukewarm. He drank it anyway.

Georgie shot him one last odd look, then took out her phone. She scrolled through it for a minute or so, then snagged a paper napkin and pulled a ballpoint pen from somewhere to scribble on it.

“Here,” she said, sliding it over. Gerry looked down to find a line of neat blue numbers. “That’s the number of the therapist I talked to after—what happened to me.” She looked at him briefly, saw the dubious look on his face, and shrugged at him. “Just in case you need another lifeline.”

It was strange—usually Jon was the one to make funny things happen in his chest. This one didn’t feel the same, but he still didn’t quite know what to do with it. It left him feeling uncomfortably like he owed her something.

“I won’t let any of it hurt him,” he said, because he had nothing else to offer. “I’ll end it myself before I put him in danger.”

She nodded, though she didn’t look as relieved about it as he’d hoped. “That’s good,” she said hesitantly. “Don’t be a martyr, either. You—you deserve help. You deserve a chance to get out. You know that, right?”

He tried to smile, but it felt more like baring his teeth in fear. “Don’t think I really know what anyone deserves.”

Georgie reached across the space between them, telegraphing her movements in case he wanted to pull away. He didn’t, even as her hand settled on top of his. “I’m rooting for you, alright?” she said firmly, as if she’d just decided it then and there. “Jon’s… he’s happy with you, you know?”

“Fuck if I know why,” he forced out.

“Stop that.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze. “I changed my mind about you, before. I can tell he makes you happy, too.”

His throat felt tight. “Yeah.”

“Fuck if I know why.”

“Oh, piss off.”

He palmed the napkin while she was busy laughing at him. For a moment he eyed the nearest bin, judging the distance and his chances of making it without her noticing. The moment passed, and instead he folded it carefully around the numbers and slipped it into his pocket to throw out later.

He never did.

#tma fic #jongerry #georgie barker #gerard keay #safe harbor au #tales from the pit #ash-rabbit

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alienheartattack · 3 years

Text

To All Of Us, From 2000 Years Ago

I got so mad about 139 and the leaks that I banged out my own 3000+ word ending to the manga today. Please keep in mind that this is a non-shipping story. Although I’ve exclusively written Rivamika before, this is not a Rivamika story, and although there’s an Eren/Mikasa scene at the beginning. there is no relationship between them, only the implication of feelings that are not quite reciprocated. I also threw some Levi fan service in there because why the hell not?

CW: There are references to and non-detailed descriptions of rape in this story.

You can also read this on AO3!

"You know what you have to do," Eren says. Mikasa pretends not to hear him over the rush of the little creek they're sitting by so he says it again, louder.

"I know," she sighs. "Even now, knowing that you've done something so unforgivable, a part of me doesn't want to."

"You're a good person, Mikasa. You'll be even better without me."

She snorts a laugh. "I've killed people, too. Just not as many as you did."

"You always had the weirdest sense of humor." Eren puts an arm around her, presses a kiss to her cheek. "I'm going to miss it." That's what finally brings him to tears, the thought of not seeing Mikasa again. Or Armin. Or Connie, or Jean, or Captain Levi, even the rest of them. He's had plenty of time to accept that he'd die at nineteen, was always going to die at nineteen, but now that the moment has arrived he wants to hold on just a bit longer.

Mikasa doesn't cry, at least not the way he expects her to. Tears stream down her face but she doesn't sniffle, doesn't sob, doesn't rage or scream the way she’s done in the past. He sees them both, Mikasa the girl and Mikasa the soldier, perfectly coexisting in the inky blackness of her eyes. She has made her decision. She made it before she even stepped into the mouth of the Titan.

"Kiss me one last time," Eren weeps. "Please."

"Okay," she nods, cupping his face with one hand and leaning in close. "See you later, Eren."

When Mikasa pulls away from his lips, the deed is already done. His severed head feels sickeningly heavy in her blood-stained hands. His eyes gaze beyond her, beyond the veil of this world, clouded with the knowledge of the void. The Titan around her begins to disintegrate in plumes of white steam. Mikasa swears she can smell wildflowers.

"Mikasa Ackerman," a girl's voice echoes. Mikasa whips her head around, looking for the source of the sound. Someone seems to materialize from the steam, swirling eddies of smoke coalescing in the form of a small girl, scraggly blond hair falling into her eyes, barefoot in a dirty white dress. Her face is blank, her eyes downcast.

"Ymir," Mikasa says, the name forming in her mouth before she can think of it.

Ymir nods, then points to Eren's head. "You loved him. Why did you kill him?"

"I had to."

"Why?"

"Because some things are more important than my love." Ymir stares blankly, seemingly confused. "The millions of people who died are more important. The world is more important. Besides, what kind of person would I be to stand beside someone who could slaughter so many people so senselessly?"

"You… don't love him?" The little girl blinks quickly, white lids snapping over black eyes. Something about it seems inhuman, wrong somehow. Mikasa cannot help but think of insects.

A tear falls from her face and lands on Eren’s, snaking a trail down his cheek as though he'd shed it himself. "I can never forget what he did and I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive him for it, but I'll always love Eren."

"You wouldn't die for him?"

Mikasa answers without hesitation. "Never."

Ymir's gaze snaps up to Mikasa's, and she feels sick from what she sees in the girl's odd, dark eyes: a hunger, almost starvation, for the scraps of affection Karl Fritz would throw at her; a longing to be treated well, to be fussed over and doted on and adored. Ymir would close her eyes and dream of a shining, beautiful man when the king held her down and fucked her, made her recoil, made her bleed, beat her when she cried out or complained of the pain. She carved out a space in her mind for him where she sculpted him into her ideal. Sometime between that first bloody night and the day the assassin's spear pierced her chest she invented a Karl Fritz out of whole cloth, a man whose cold entreaties and brutal assaults were proof of his undying love.

Mikasa sees these things from Ymir’s eyes, feels the bruises forming on her back, the tearing and bleeding between her legs, the rotted wine breath of Karl Fritz in her mouth.

"I would never have jumped in front of that spear," she says, more confident than she’s ever felt. "I wouldn't even have considered it." Ymir frowns, cocks her head like she's trying to understand. "You thought you were doing the right thing, but you protected a man who never loved you. You laid down your life for a man who forced your daughters to consume your body. He didn't even mourn you."

A flash of anger contorts Ymir's face. Her eyes dart around wildly, turning Mikasa's words over in her mind. "But he loved me," she insists.

"Did he ever tell you he loved you? Or did he treat you like a slave?" Mikasa's voice wavers at the word slave, at the memory of Eren screaming at her across that restaurant table; the moment her wall of denial came crumbling down. No matter what his plan was, it became clear that day that he would step on any of them to achieve it. She had no idea how true that assessment would become, millions of bodies crushed into the contaminated earth beneath the feet of Eren’s Titans.

She wonders if things would have happened differently if he'd just admitted once that he loved her.

"You are free," she tells Ymir. "You choose your own destiny. I am free, and I chose mine."

Ymir says nothing, her eyes luminous with tears, and then dissipates into the smoke. Mikasa is vaguely aware of the wavering steam around her, of Levi flying on Falco's back and pulling her out of the Titan's mouth before everything turns hazy and white.

She can see the scene from two thousand years earlier as clear as though she were there, floating above it all: the crowd come to see King Fritz's speech, the hooded assassin's arm pulling back, the tip of the spear glinting in the daylight. The assassin lets the spear fly, its arc perfectly aimed at the heart of the tyrant. His wife Ymir, older and slimmer than the girl Mikasa met but still with those same sad, black insect eyes, watches in horror as the tip of the spear flies closer and closer; but she does not move, not even when it impales her husband through the chest and the light in his eyes is snuffed out.

In time-lapse, Mikasa sees it all: the accession of Queen Ymir, wise and fair, and the moderate reigns of her three daughters, and their daughters after them. The power of the Titans remains within the royal family, passed down from mother to daughter, a shameful, secret birthright. They create diplomatic ties with other countries, offering succor and counsel, avoiding the path of war so as not to reveal their ultimate power. There is no Great Titan War, no walls, no telepathic manipulation. The world moves forward in fits and starts as it always has, small skirmishes and occasional wars, but the Eldians remain steadfast and committed to peace. Satisfied with Ymir's choice, Mikasa finds herself closing her eyes, opening them for the first time again in the year 835, in her parents' house just outside Shiganshina, as a new doctor pulls her into the world. He is not Grisha Yeager, she notes, and then she forgets who Grisha Yeager is entirely.

In the year 845, there is no Wall Maria for the Colossal Titan to breach, and no Colossal Titan to breach it.

Inside one of the cities in what was once Wall Rose, a history teacher writes notes on a chalkboard before his first class arrives for the day. He draws a crown in the middle of the board and writes the subject of the day's class inside of it: QUEEN YMIR THE WISE. The teacher is startled by a noise behind him; he turns to find one of his students, a shy girl called Sarah, taking a seat at her desk.

"School hasn't started yet," he says. "You're supposed to be outside."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Smith," Sarah replies. "I was looking at a really interesting bug and the other girls started making fun of me."

The teacher nods. "All right, just this once. If you’d like, sometime I could teach you how to stand up to those girls."

Hundreds of miles away, the forests of Dauper ring with the whoops of an exuberant girl, triumphing at having killed her first deer with a bow and arrow she carved herself. She doesn't care that she's scaring the other game away with her commotion, or that she has no idea how she'll lug a hundred-pound carcass all the way back home.

In Trost, a young boy lingers over his breakfast; not because he wants to miss school, but because his mother's omelet is the most delicious thing he's ever eaten and probably ever will eat. His mother ruffles his hair and pinches his round cheek, then gently chides him to eat faster or he’ll be late.

A little boy in Ragako District, a few inches shorter than his friends, demands another explanation of the multiplication tables. He doesn't quite understand the concept, goes blank when his friends try to explain arrays of rows and columns, but he believes that he can pass today's test if he tries hard enough.

Across the sea in Marley, the prosperous Eldian District is strewn with streamers, celebrating the 2000th anniversary of the assassination of the cruel King Fritz. The children have the day off from school and are gathering in the streets, purchasing candy and ice cream from vendor stalls and exchanging them as gifts to celebrate the sweetness of life. A little blond girl receives an extra coin from her father, who tells her to get something special for herself.

A few blocks away, a doctor fills his medical bag and sets off to see his first patient of the day. As he walks through the crowd of happy children, many of whom he’s delivered himself, he hopes that his only son will change his mind and join the family business.

In Mitras, a shopkeeper opens his door for the first time, pausing for a moment in the early morning sunshine to admire the wooden shingle hanging by his doorway, gently swinging in the breeze. It depicts a hand wrapped around a mug of tea, wisps of steam rising into the air above it.

The door opens while he's adjusting the canisters on the shelf behind the counter, making sure their labels face perfectly forward. His heart leaps at the tinkle of the doorbell. He picked the most musical one, the one that made him happiest when he heard it, and he feels very good about his decision.

"Hello, welcome to Ackerman Tea— Mom!" His voice takes on an adolescent whine when he addresses his mother, which makes him feel like a child and impossibly old at the same time, despite his twenty-six years.

"Did you really think I wouldn't be your first customer?" she asks, beaming. "Of course I'm going to come support my sweet boy." Her gaze sweeps over the shop, its walls painted a deep forest green, the mahogany counter polished to a mirror shine. "I'm so proud of you, Levi. You've worked so hard and it shows." Her voice quavers, her eyes filling with tears.

"Moooom," he trills, softer this time, quietly moved. Her presence feels like an auspicious omen, a reminder from the universe that someone will catch him should he fall. "Is there a tea you’re interested in, or would you like me to help you choose? We have more than thirty varieties."

"You've been practicing," his mother notes with a nod.

Levi shrugs off her comment, feeling a bit bashful that she’s noticed his hard work. "I've never been great with people, and this job is nothing but people. At least until I can hire someone to cover the counter while I blend tea in the back."

"You'll get there soon," she says, pulling a few coins from her purse. "Get me something you'd think I'd like."

He thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration, before his face lights up and he grabs a step-stool to reach a canister of black tea flavored with strawberry and rose. "This one is sweet and floral, but it becomes so much more when you add a bit of milk. You don't even need any sugar."

"Perfect. You even thought about how I take my tea." She places a few coins on the counter, watching her son approvingly as he scoops the tea into a bag, folds it closed with surgical precision, and ties a blue ribbon around it. "You're going to be a success, my love. I know it."

"That makes one of us," he smirks, then scoops the coins into his palm and puts them in the cash register, enjoying the feel of the heavy keys under his fingers, the spring-loaded pressure of the drawer. He hopes he gets to use it many more times today.

"Will you be home for dinner?"

"I should be. I can't imagine people will want to buy tea at night."

"Good," his mother says. "Because now that you're in business, we should talk about finding you a wife."

"MOM!" he exclaims, a furious blush coloring his face.

Further south in Shiganshina, Mikasa sulks as her mother walks her into town, not wanting to leave the safety of her parents' cabin to learn and play with the other children. She is perfectly happy to do chores on the farm, to learn the simultaneously mundane and arcane secrets of coaxing a plant from seed, to throw feed to the chickens and pull weeds in the garden.

"Mikasa, you're ten years old. Your father and I can't teach you everything," her mother says.

"I can learn from books. I don't need to go to school."

"The fact that you're saying that means you need to go. There's more to the world than just our farm, my sweet. You might want to see the world someday."

The little girl huffs. "I doubt it." Her mother simply shakes her head and smiles, ruminating on her daughter’s impending teenage years, a possible hint of rebellion, but finds that hard to imagine. Mikasa is usually a calm, easygoing child, though perhaps a bit too inquisitive and stubborn for her own good.

Mikasa hugs her mother fiercely at the school gate, watching as she turns and walks back up the road that leads to their farm. She’s excited to make new friends and learn new things, but she misses her home more than she ever thought possible. She lets out a soft sigh, then turns to face the crowd of running, yelling children; her new classmates.

She trudges around the grassy schoolyard, dodging groups of kids chasing each other or playing impromptu games. Everyone seems to know each other already; even if she did feel comfortable enough to go up to someone and introduce herself, she has no idea who to approach first.

"Hey! Give that back!" someone screams behind her. Mikasa turns around to see a small blond boy jumping up and down, reaching for a book that a larger boy dangles just above his grasp. The larger boy just laughs at him, taunting him with the book, threatening to tear it from its spine.

Mikasa frowns, balling her fists at her sides, then approaches the boys. "He said to give his book back," she says to the bully. "Give it back."

The bully laughs. "You think you can tell me what to do?"

"I think you should give the book back if you know what's good for you," she snarls, putting her hands on her hips. The bully laughs again and shoves Mikasa out of the way with one hand, making her stumble backwards, tripping over her own feet until she lands on her behind in the dirt. She gets up, dusts herself off, and runs up to the bully, punching him square in the nose. He falls to the ground, dropping the book. Mikasa tosses it to the blond boy. The bully grabs his nose, tears welling in his eyes, and lets out a wail when he sees his hand smeared with blood.

"You leave him alone!" Mikasa threatens, looming over the bully, her dark eyes shining. He scrabbles to his feet and runs away and she lets out a relieved breath, her heart hammering in her chest.

"That was amazing!" the little boy says. When he approaches her, she finds that he's not actually that small, only a few inches shorter than her. "I've never seen you before. Are you new?"

"It's my first day," she replies. "I've lived here all my life but I haven't been to school yet."

"I'm Armin," the boy says. "What's your name?"

"Mikasa."

"That’s an interesting name. Are you from Hizuru?" Armin asks, his eyes wide with curiosity. He holds up his book, a thick, leather-bound tome, A Brief History of Hizuru and the Minor East Sea Islands written in gilt lettering. "My parents told me that the whole country is built around a volcano. A big mountain filled with liquid fire! Well, technically it’s molten rock."

"My mom's family is from Hizuru, but I’ve never been there and I don't know anything about any liquid fire mountains," she says tentatively.

"It's real!" he gushes. "I'm reading about it now. I could tell you about it more at recess if you want. I like to sit under that tree over there." He points off in the distance, at a huge pine tree that shades a corner of the yard. "They're going to ring the bell soon, otherwise I'd tell you now. Volcanoes are so cool. Sometimes they explode and shoot the liquid fire into the sky like a firework."

"Wow!" Mikasa marvels with a smile. "I can’t wait to hear about them."

#snk 139 #snk spoilers #snk leaks #snk fanfiction #alienheartattack writes

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linkspooky · 4 years

Note

It is really sad how Eren treats his friends. They are very supportive and see him through the tough situations yet he is cold and manipulative towards them.

How Eren treats his friends is one of the most interesting aspects of his character. He always makes it clear how much he loves his friends, but at the same time very confused by the idea that they might love him. He wants to love others, but he doesn’t want to be loved.

It reminds me of a quote from one of my favorite books, Zaregoto Volume 2: Strangulation Romanticist.

Hers was an all-embracing love. Unwavering, undiluted affection. If I killed a person directly, she would probably forgive me even then. She would love me all the same. To me, that love was just a little too heavy. I could feel it crushing me. That wide open devotion. It wasn’t that I couldn’t feel affection towards others. It was that I couldn’t receive affection from others. No matter how much adoration Mikoko-chan showed towards me, all I could respond with was disdain for a murderer. No matter how much her feelings for me had inspired her actions, all I could see was another homicide.

And thus I was damaged goods. And thus I was a human failure.

Basically, the protagonist of the story is unable to accept other people’s love for him because he’s unable to see himself as a person fundamentally worthy for love, so whatever their feelings are towards him he rejects them all. Eren feels things for other people, but he rejects other’s feelings towards him and that’s why a lot of his relationships break down. I’ll elaborate more under the cut.

So, it starts with the mother (as it often does). “Because I was Born into this World” is a phrase Eren’s entire character revolves around. It’s a statement of unconditional love. A parent should love a child because they were born as their child, that’s enough, that love doesn’t have to be earned. It’s a simple and warm statement.

Unconditional love is something that Eren wants, but also he can’t really comprehend or even accept because he doesn’t feel like he’s earned it. Eren fixates on his mother, and more specifically the trauma of losing his mother.

His mother loves him unconditionally, however, Eren wasn’t able to do anything for his mother. He wasn’t able to protect her and watched helplessly as she tied. Eren had unconditional love for most of his formative years yes, but it was also taken away from him suddenly when he was a child in a situation he had no control over. Ever since that, every single relationship Eren ahs formed with toher people has been an insecure attachment.

In basic terms, insecure attachment is a relationship style where the bond is contaminated by fear. This is expressed mainly as reluctance in the relationship and other mixed emotions, such as dependence and rejection. Most psychologists believe that insecure attachment is formed in early childhood.

In developmental psychology the basic theory is that the way children first form connections with their parents will inform them on how all other relationships after that point are made. Those who have a secure attachment know how to make healthy connections with other, while those who are insecure will continue to show unhealthy behaviors later on in life.

Eren had a secure attachment, and he lost it in a situation outside of his control. That stunted his growth, and ability to form all other relationships past that point. Yes, Eren still had some ungrateful behavior towards Armin and Mikasa when he was younger and his mother was still alive, but those behaviors are things he could have grown past if he was raised in a healthy environment. Instead, he lost his home, all security, and was raised as a child soldier instead.

This has been a paradox in Eren’s character for a long time. Unlike people like Reiner, unlike Zeke, or even Historia, Eren has unconditinoal love surrounding him coming from Armin and Mikasa. He has two people who would trust him. He still had a home even after losing his initial home.

Zeke can’t comprehend why Eren who has all of these things, all fo the things Zeke has wanted his entire life, in both childhood and his adolescence is unable to accept any of them. Why he would choose to throw them all away and fight instead? Once again, it comes to Eren’s image of himself.

Eren doesn’t see himself as a good person. He doesn’t see himself as worthy of love. That’s why even though he wants to share a family with Mikasa, and share a dream with Armin he ends up rejecting both of them because he sees himself as too inferior to accept any of their feelings. He’s too insecure about himself to form any kind of attachment.

It returns to his mother because that was the starting point of his trauma. It’s not that he’s been the same ever since he was born. He’s just never been able to grow and cope properly with the loss of his mother. Ever since losing her, his every other relationship has been characterized by fear of this loss. He’s so paralyzed by fear of losing people he can’t allow himself to get close to people, and that’s where the insecurity comes from. This doublethink statement. Eren wants a mother’s love, but Eren sees himself as a bad person unworthy of a mother’s love.

This is a paradox that informs every one of his actions. Eren loves his friends. Eren doesn’t want to be loved back. There is also an element to control about this. Eren can control his own feelings, but can’t control other people’s feelings.

Eren can understand himself. He can understand his own love. He can understand that he would die for Mikasa, and he knows his own feelings towards Armin as well. However, he doesn’t really get why either of them would ever like him.

Eren is told right to his face that Mikasa loves him, and his response is to brush it off. It doesn’t matter because Eren can’t experience that love. Not only can he not accept it, but he also is going to die regardless. He doesn’t really understand other people’s feelings, and when he is confronted with those feelings he finds himself unworthy of them. He’s always seen himself as inferior to both Mikasa and Armin. He genuinely doesn’t understand why Mikasa would follow him around.

He’s always seen Armin as someone different and better than him, because Armin can care about things besides violence. He’s driven by more than just hatred.

Which is why Eren eventually cuts off both relationships to him. One he was never able to accept their feelings for him in the first place. Two, it’s about control. If Eren is the one to break the relationships then he is still in control. He’s not abandoned, because he is the one who chose to terminate the relationships. Everything Eren does is out of his fear of losing people, but also of losing people in uncontrolled circumstances.

If Eren is the one who is cutting them off, if Eren is the one who breaks the connection then that’s different somehow. That’s different to Eren at least. Once again it goes back to the idea of insecure attachment. There’s a reason that Eren’s description of freedom just sounds like being alone. Eren can’t accept other people’s feelings for him. Which is why he’ll often choose to do these things entirely on his own, because trying to deal with other people is too difficult for him. It’s easier for him to be alone. He doesn’t feel security from a single one of his attachments.

It is once again a child’s idea of forming relationships. He wants everyone to agree with him, and when they don’t he wants them to leave him alone. He can’t handle conflict and either pushes them away or goes off to sulk on his own. He wants the bad things, and the conflicts to just disappear by closing his eyes and coveing his ears. His own feelings for other people matter, but he doesn’t really comprehend other peopel’s feelings for him. Eren views his relationships in a very immature and stunted way, and doesn’t really want to grow past that. A fully developed person is capable of having secure relationships where they can accept other people’s feelings even if they lead to conflict.

Utlimately, the disconnect between Eren and his friends post-timeskip comes from the fact that all of Eren’s other friends are struggling in their own ways to grow up, and grow past who they once were. Whereas, Eren wants to remain the same ever since he was a child. He wants to cling to his and Armin’s childish dream that the world is completely empty and open for them to explore.

Which is why unless Eren makes a major change fast in the way he connects to other people he’s going to be alone. If Eren’s mother told him he deserves to “live in this world” simply by being born, then dying alone would be the opposite of what his mother wanted for him. But it’s a road he’s quickly speeding down.

#Anonymous #eren jaeger #attack on titan #attack on titan meta #aot meta #metasks #shingeki no kyojin meta #eren meta

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wannajointhecrabcult · 4 years

Text

Reckless Rescuer

I literally just came up with this idea at midnight last night when I was just starting to go into fever dream mode so... This will be interesting. You asked to be tagged so here you go @justconfusedperiod!

Imagine that Marinette never became Ladybug.

Master Fu chose actual adults to go save Paris while Sabine and Tom gave Marinette combat training.

Despite not being a hero Marinette was still caught up in a lot of akuma attacks (Because Hawkmoth is a bitter ass) so she learned how to use everything and anything to her advantage.

Even though she's crafty Marinette still dies in akuma attacks and gets revived by the Miraculous Cure at the end of the day.

As sad as it is, she becomes used to dying.

That doesn't mean that she TRIES to get hurt during attacks, it just means that she expects her life to end one day because of an akuma or something and for her to not come back, so dying isn't a fear for her anymore.

She also builds a tolerance for pain during attacks where she doesn't die, but still gets very injured.

It's amazing how trauma can practically destroy someone's life while others are just so desensitized that it doesn't affect them anymore.

One day the Dupain-Chengs move to Gotham to both expand their business, and to get away from a certain magic fueled fashion disaster.

I mean, seriously.

You're supposed to be a designer but here you are walking around looking like a cardboard candy cane beige toothpick of a man.

Don't get me started on what the heck happened with Hawkmoth's costume.

What is that?

Are you wearing a silver condom on your head or what??

Anyways, Marinette attends Damian's school and they bond over being the only one's not overly worried about danger in certain situations.

At one point Damian thought that she might have been a hero or something but threw that thought away when he witnessed her somehow fall UP a staircase. (I've actually done this before. Surprisingly it's pretty fun.)

All was fine and dandy until one afternoon when they were walking to Neti's place after school to work on a project.

They were walking through a less populated part of the city and were passing a shoe store when two thugs held them at a gunpoint demanding for their cash.

The youngest Wayne was fully prepared to attack the men when Marinette started scolding them for being rude?

Marinette: Hey! You can't just do that! Do you know how rude it is to interrupt someone's conversation?! Apologize right and leave us alone right now OR ELSE.

The two men just looked at her for a moment before doubling over and bursting out in laughter.

After all, what can this tiny school girl do to hurt them?

The first guy calmed down and was about to threaten them again when all of a sudden a pink flat was thrown at his face.

Because of he was unprepared and because of the force behind the flying shoe, he was knocked over and fell to the floor with a thud.

The second guys turned to look at the girl who just threw her shoe at his partner when he was suddenly wacked in the face as well.

So there they were.

Two teenagers, one with no shoes on, in front of a show store with two thugs at their feet.

Truly a sight to behold.

Marinette turns to Damian and asks him for his shoes.

When he doesn't respond (he's in shock) Marinette just shrugs, turns around, and SMASHES HER ARM THROUGH THE GLASS WINDOW OF THE SHOE STORE TO GRAB A CROC AND CHUCK IT AT THE FIRST GUY AGAIN BECAUSE HE WAS GETTING UP.

She then turns to the second dude who was on his knees and says in a dark tone, "You better go and leave us alone before I get my hands on a pair of iceskates. Got it?"

He nods his head and scrambles to run away from the short girl with pigtails that just single handedly smashed her arm through glass and was somehow not wincing in pain from her many bleeding cuts and she threw shoes at them.

His partner frantically got to his feet and followed him.

After making sure that the two would-be-muggers are far away Mari turns to Damian and waves her still bleeding hand in front of his face.

"Heelllooooo? Anybody home?"

She then shakes his shoulders a bit.

Damian, now no longer in shock, starts freaking out about her injuries.

"oh...my...gosh....oh my gosh... oH MY GOSH YOU'RE BLEEDING EVERYWHERE!! OHMYGOSH THAT WAS SO RECKLESS OF YOU, YOU COULD HAVE DIED AND OH NO YOU JUST STRAIGHT UP BROKE A GLASS WINDOW WITH YOUR BARE HANDS!! YOU FUCKING IDIOT YOU'RE HURT! WE NEED TO GETYOUFIRSTAIDOHMYGOSH!!!"

She tries to get him to calm down but that honestly makes him freak out even more.

"HOW ARE YOU NOT REACTING TO THE PAIN OF CUTTING YOUR ARM WITH MULTIPLE PIECES OF GLASS?!? YOU FREAKING THREW SHOES AT THEM! SHOES! WHAT IF YOU FREAKING DIED FROM THAT?!?"

"Well that would make it the 2615th time."

"...."

"....."

"Excuse me but wHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT WOULD'VE BEEN THE 2615TH TIME YOU DIED?!??!??"

Marinette was trying to get him to breathe since he was almost on the verge of a panic attack when the owner of the shoe store came out with a first aid kit.

The elderly woman proceeded to patch up Marinette's arm while thanking her for scaring away the muggers.

"Those two just keep scaring the customers away so I cannot thank you dearie enough!"

"Oh, it was no problem ma'am. They really needed to learn some manners anyways!"

"They really are so rude aren't they. And there we go! Your arm is all bandaged up. I would be careful with it if I were you."

She old lady then turns to Damian who has calmed down a bit now that Marinette's arm is bandaged.

"You've got quite a wild girlfriend here. Be sure to watch out for her safety or else you're gonna lose her."

That causes the two teens faces to burn red.

"Oh no you've got it wrong. She's not my girlfriend although I do agree that I should start looking out far her health more." He turns to Marinette as he says the last bit.

She just replies with a sheepish smile and a shrug.

"She's definitely going to give me gray hairs early."

The store owner gave Marinette and Damian a knowing look before sending the two on their way.

On the walk to Marinette's house Damian kept scolding her for her brash decisions and worrying over her arm at the same time.

At one point Damian asked her if she could actually feel the pain from her cuts or not and she just replied with "I got injured a lot when I lived in Paris so I have a high pain tolerance. This isn't even the worst wound I've ever gotten."

Needless to say, that did not reassure Damian at all.

When they did reach their destination they ended up deciding to finish the project on another day to let Marinette's arm heal a bit.

He calls Alfred to pick him up and when faced with the butler's questioning stare he just replies with "Too much excitement for today."

Before the limo drove off Marinette ran outside to the car and handed Damian a bag full of pastries.

"Consider this an apology for making you freak out so much."

He nodded and took the bag but still told her "You're an idiot you know right?"

"Haha. Or so I've been told." She shrugs. "See you tomorrow in class if you're not too traumatized!"

"Tt. We live in Gotham. It's gonna take more than that to truly scar me. Although I have to say, that's the closest someone's gotten in a long time. Don't do it again."

"No promises!" Marinette yells as the limo drives off.

That night Damian got a nightmare filled with shoes.

Marinette is now known and feared throughout the more amateur criminal community.

True to her word, Marinette tried to reduce the amount of risky choices that she took.

I mean, there was that incident with the llamas, trumpets, and skateboards but we don't talk about that.

Her safety streak ended when Damian was kidnapped.

And by the Joker no less.

Ya, no.

She's not just gonna stand by while her friend litteraly gets kidnapped by a clown man thing when she could do something about it.

The Joker called the Waynes through a video chat and threatens the dump Damian into a pool filled with unidentified and possibly contaminated water until they give him half a million dollars.

And because it's a two way video chat and all of the Waynes (except Damian) are there they can't 'call the batfam' to save him.

Because they were all so busy panicking and Joker was busy laughing, no one but Damian noticed a dark silhouette sneaking around in the shadows.

The moment he saw them he immediately knew who it was.

'Oh no. ThaT'S MY IDIOT!!'

Marinette noticed Damian's panicked stare on her and just, gave him a thumbs up? Before going back into the darkness.

'Oh no oh no ohnoohnononono what's she doing?!' He thought to himself as he heard quiet shuffling in the shadows.

Going back to the screen, Bruce was about to send the money when all of a sudden a bright light was turned on from behind the Joker to the left.

And they weren't expecting what they saw.

There under the light was someone in a Barney the Dinosaur costume sitting in a rainbow bumper car with a radio and a bag filled with something strapped in the passenger side.

TrULy RaDiAnT.

The purple dino turned on the radio, (which was playing the Barney theme song) made eye contact with the clown, and promptly said "Beep beep bitch." in a robotic voice (there was a voice changer in the costume) before driving full speed at him.

At first the Joker tried to run away from the vehicle but for some reason the bumper car was extremely fast and RAN HIM OVER before turning around,

AND FUCKING DOING IT AGAIN!!

Double oof.

They did this around 12 times before the Joker managed to push up from under the bumper car at the perfect time.

Marinette did a backflip (dramatics are guaranteed) as she jumped out of the rainbow ride while simultaneously throwing the radio at the Joker at full force.

The Joker, not expecting that, was thrown against the base of a wall.

He got up just in time to see his attacker pull out a shoe from the bag and chuck it at his nuts.

*cue everyone either laughing at his pain or wincing in sympathy*

The Barney pulls out a sandal from the bag and throws it at his face and uses a black stiletto to pin the clown's arm tO THE FRIGGING WALL when he reaches to touch where the flip flop hit him.

(Is there a difference between sandals and flip flops?)

She then uses another stiletto (a red one this time) to pin his other arm and pulls out YET ANOTHER SHOE (a rainboot) to hit his face.

...again....

This time he gets knocked out though so there's that.

...

....

.....

The power of FOOTWEAR!!

The purple and green dinosaur goes to untie Damian while his family just watch through the screen with their jaws on the floor, still processing what the actual heck just happened.

They get snapped out of their shock when the youngest Wayne launches himself into the Barney's arms and starts rambling about how worried he was and did the store owner give you all those shoes and why the heck did you follow me here.

They don't know what they were expecting the person under the Barney costume to look like but they definitely weren't expecting a young girl with pigtails wearing stilts to come out.

Apparently she needed them to fit into the suit.

Damian: How did you even know I was in trouble?

Marinette: I sorta have a six sense for this kind of stuff. It's disappointing that I didn't get to use all of my amo though :(

Damian: Wait. You brought MORE shoes?

Marinette: Yep! And a couple other things as well. Like this trumpet case, and this bowling ball, and this duck themed alarm clock (I have one lol), and oh! Wait a moment would ya?

*walks over to the pool and dumps around 30 bath bombs in*

Marinette: There! Now this place will smell super nice!

Damian: Did you just dump a ton of bath bombs into a pool of unidentified liquid?

Marinette: Yep!

Damian: Let me rephrase that. Did you just dump a ton of bath bombs into a pool of possibly chemically contaminated water which could possibly have a bad reaction to the bath bombs which could possibly explode or just generally be the death of us?

Marinette: ........

Damian: ........

Marinette: ......

Damian: ........

Marinette: ....well it wouldn't be the FIRST time I-

Damian close to tears: yEs I KnOw PLeaSe StOp ReMinDiNg mE.

Ya so this was just a random idea I had and that I will probably not be adding to but y'all reading this are more than welcome to! If you do continue or make your own little spins on this please tag me! I would love to read them :D

#this is what happens when i think of shoes at like 2am #Barney is a boss bitch #maribat #maridami #damimari #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #daminette #miraculous crossover #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #chaotic marinette

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redhawtriot · 4 years

Text

Caught in the Act (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

So… this is technically like half of the request but I had way too many ideas for this (and its already long as hell. oops). I’m only doing one Bakugou cheating scenario on this page so go big or go home, right?

I also saw that this blog that I made like two weeks ago has like 100 of you guys following it wtf?! So to celebrate, I’m making my first actual series an interactive one! The following chapters will be very short (besides this one, she thicc), but each will have a question at the end that will determine the events of the next chapter! I made an account on OpinionStage where you guys can vote on through Tumblr, so hopefully at least one of you is excited.

Part two (the other half of this request) is where this fun will begin, so stay whelmed.

Fuck this site for making me repost this :)

Love you guys

HnM💕

Warning: Don’t read this to your fucking kids

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Essentially, your girls night for the week had been, in lack of better words, a shit show.

The brisk, fall air pierced your skin, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to wrap your arms around yourself for warmth. You didn’t even want to touch your sticky filth.

You just wanted to run home to your Bakugou– he was all the warmth that you needed and more. More than anything, you wanted to forget about the foul man that had assaulted you at your now ex-favorite club.

A frown momentarily sneaked its way onto your face to corrupt the brave expression you had held in front of your girlfriends,

“Hey” you had raised your hands to halt your friend, “Don’t do something ridiculous! I promise I’m alright, Jirou!” You had begged her when she had prepared to fight the man as he grabbed your arms. You had already politely asked him to back away from you after he tried to grind himself against you. He called it dancing—you called it sexual harassment.

The nightclub security had already been watching this man and immediately closed in on him to escort him out of the club as soon as he moved in towards you. But it must not have been fast enough.

Everything happened so rapidly that you could barely blink in time before you were drenched in a sticky liquid. Still, you kept a calm expression on your face. Your friends’ careers as heroes depended on how calmly you acted,

“No, it’s okay! I needed to head home anyway!” you had argued with your girls after the man had thrown his drink at you. You tried to bring a smile onto your face as the slight sting of the alcohol penetrated your eyes, “Bakugou will pick me up,” you blinked heavily.

Of course he wouldn’t pick you up in front of the club.

No, that would just be a disaster waiting to happen.

He would more than likely blow the entire place up once he found out what had transpired.

However, after the fourth failed attempt at calling Bakugou, you had given up. It was honestly a stretch anyway. He barely made it past nine o’ clock most nights, and it was well on its way to midnight. You could see your breath as you gave off a heavy sigh, but you never faltered in your steps.

You just wanted to go home to your man, clean your pathetic ass in a hot shower, and forget other men existed in this world.

You groaned to yourself as you remembered how late your guys’ roommate, Kirishima, would stay up in the front living room playing video games—the same front living room you would have to sneak past to make your way to the sanctuary of your shower.

You opened the front door as quietly as you could and prodded your, matted, liquor-contaminated head into the threshold of your home. You probably looked like a wild animal as you scrunched your eyebrows and stared at the dark living room for a while before finally building up the courage to tiptoe towards your bathroom.

You didn’t even want to go to your room in fear of interrogation from a very sleepy, very pissed off Bakugou.

Better not poke the bear. Better just wash the stink and sins away and keep it moving like nothing had happened.

Kirishima not being awake on his Xbox for once was a blessing on a normal day, but today it was truly god sent. Hell, even Bakugou not being able to pick you up might have been a blessing in disguise—or so you thought.

As soon as you turned your shower off you heard it– a steady, creaking noise.

“What the fuck?” you whispered to yourself as your face crinkled upwards in disgust. Kirishima hardly ever brought girls home, and when he did, he was as quiet as a mouse with them. In fact, you hardly even knew the women were there until the next morning when they awkwardly wobbled out of the apartment with their heads tucked down.

The pace of the creaking sped up and the smack of the headboard joined in a repetitive thudding, causing you to freeze in place. Breathless feminine moans joined the little musical number in increasing volume for short while before they became more ‘shrieky’ in nature.

A grimace fell upon your expression, “What the fuck?” you once again mouthed. You quickly snatched your towel and wrapped it around you with haste as you tried to run from the unholy concerto that was being orchestrated in your room.

Wait.

Your room?

Your room was the room that was connected to the bathroom walls—not Kiri’s.

It was in that moment of realization that you heard the moans return, this time a gruff male voice joined the duet,

“Shit!” The moan was drawn out until it faded into a heavy, guttural groan.

You paused again as your heart dropped deeply into your chest. You stretched your hearing and waited for his voice to appear again over her constant whines, “Just like that, baby,” his voice reemerged as he groaned deeply. Your heart harshly reminded you of its existence as it lurched suddenly.

That sounded like Bakugou.

But it had to be a mistake. You rehearsed this thought repeatedly as you sped to your room as quietly as you could—your mind racing even faster than your legs. Your Bakugou was sound asleep in his bed like he was this time of night every night. He was sound asleep and stretched out on his side of the bed with the lights off and with a sock thrown over the flashing light of his work desk computer—he hated that light at night.

You faltered as your hand stuttered uncontrollably toward your door handle. Bakugou’s never even looked at another woman before. It took him years to throw even you, his current fiancé, a second glance. He would never in a million years be on the other side of this door with another woman making those ungodly sounds.

Sounds you hadn’t heard in months.

It had to be Kirishima you tried to convince yourself as you gently twisted the door handle, ‘Please god, he just went into the wrong room,’ you prayed as you threw the door open.

Every single muscle in your body froze as you ingested the sight in front of you—your heart included.

You caught the tail end of their act, and you could only watch in complete disgust as the muscles of your beloved’s back violently contracted in sweat glistened pulses.

The woman made horrified eye contact with you as she was being pinned against your grandmother’s dresser, yet she couldn’t fight the last moan that ripped itself from her, her legs spasming as Bakugou’s flesh smacked into hers for a final time.

He desperately pressed himself into her like he was trying to become her, “Fuck,” he groaned into her neck. You noticed his nails dig deeply into her raised wrists as his hips rashly stuttered to a stop, “Don’t clench around me like that, babe. Relax.” His shaky breath demanded.

The woman looked far from relaxed, “H-Hey!” she anxiously tapped his shoulder, trying to warn him of their impending doom. Her wide eyes were still fixated on your ever-growing livid ones.

“BAKUGOU!” You screeched. The relaxed emotion that you had so desperately tried to keep plastered onto your face that night completely shattered as you angrily marched up to him and snatched the back of his hair, “You bastard!!”

As you yanked downward, he surprisingly fell to the ground, disconnecting with the other slut on trial as they both flew to the ground.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” he yelled as his body heavily thudded into the ground.

“That’s my line, you fucking jackass!” you felt your voice crack. Everything hurt. There was pressure in the back of your eyes, the front of your chest, your legs, your throat, your toes, your everything. Everything in your body felt weak under your boiling blood as if you were about to explode.

“Y-Y/N…?” you saw his trademark pissed off expression drop to an unfamiliar one as his eyes finally adjust to you in the darkness of the room. It must have resided in an area between fear and sadness.

You fought the unruly emotions that threatened to take control over your body as you clenched your fist.

Fuck him. He doesn’t get to be sad.

“What?? Were you expecting someone else!?” you spat as you roughly kicked one of his nearby feet, “You probably were expecting more company, you whore,”

No response.

You dug your nails deep into the palm of your hands as if it would somehow release the excruciating pressure that you were feeling.

The woman’s meek voice suddenly broke the extreme silence you all shared, “I-I’m gonna g—”

“GO!” you angrily whipped yourself around to her before grabbing the nearest item that you could, “You dumb bitch! You’re lucky I don’t fuck you up too!” You threw the item as you cursed, not even bothering to know what it was.

It barely missed the naked girl and loudly shattered against one of your walls as she scurried towards the door. You went to reach for another object from your grandmothers’ dresser, promising that you wouldn’t miss this time, but you froze as you found yourself in the mirror connected to the dresser.

You hadn’t realized in your rage that you were crying until you saw your tear-soaked face in the dark reflection. You tried so hard to keep yourself together. You prided yourself on being level-headed in stressful situations, but you were far from level-headed. You were conceited to ever even try to take on that persona.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you could only lament about how pathetic you looked—how pathetic you were.

“I…I’m such an idiot!” you painfully gripped at your hair as you fell into your knees in front of the man you loved. Heavy sobs tore themselves free of your burning throat. You heaved yourself forward into your lap in a failed attempted to catch them, but it was too late.

“I don’t… know what to say.” Bakugou finally spoke up, his face completely flipped upside down from its usual tenseness.

Of course.

Out of all of the times you wanted this loud-mouthed jerk to shut up, now is when he is at a loss for words.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that fell from your lips.

“I don’t see what’s so fucking funny?” he angrily retorted, as he stumbled to make his way up. You were suddenly met with his member being swung at your eye level as you stayed crouched onto the ground. That’s when you noticed–

He didn’t even have a condom on.

He made you get tested for STDs and pregnancy before he even had sex with you with a condom.

“I don’t know where that thing has been,” He had said then. It wouldn’t be until months later when you had started birth control when he had finally decided to risk sex without latex protection. The memory jolted an unexpected emotion from you as your chest bobbed from an oncoming laugh.

“G-get out.” You laughed again, tears still steadily falling from your face. You probably looked absolutely psychotic right now, but it was like all of the emotions that you had been stifling all these years had resurfaced with a vengeance. You struggled to drag yourself to stand so that you wouldn’t have to look at his still wet dick.

You continued to laugh and cry as Bakugou stared at you, his expression becoming disgruntled from the disturbing sight,

“What the fuck is wrong wi—”

“Get. OUT!!” you angrily interrupted him as you roared into his face. He blinked spastically in response as the shock of the altercation finally began to sink into his decelerated mind.

‘F-fuck,’

His heart sank, ‘What did I just do?’ He racked his brain as he tried to remember all of the events that had taken place to lead him to this moment, but the world seemed to be spinning ferociously, shaking up and mixing the timeline of the night.

He was plucked from his thoughts as he caught a glimpse of your face in the darkness of the room.

Why were you looking at him like you hated his existence—like if you could disintegrate his body with your eyes, you would. For the first time in years, Bakugou felt hot tears tingle against the back of his eyes, “Y/N, I…” his voice became stuck in his chest as his heart gave sudden jolt, “I’m so s–”

His chest became tight as you whipped away from him and silently threw a pointed finger towards the door.

He stumbled back a few feet as if you had just thrown a physical attack his way.

After a few moments of watching you hold the same position, he noticed you had started to cry again as your rocking shoulders lurched forward.

His face fell even further into the expression of despair before he froze. He could fix this if you would just let him, dammit!

He growled in annoyance at your ignoring him before he finally thawed his body, “FINE!” he yelled at you before smacking your pointed hand out to the way so that he could stagger out of the room. He loudly slammed the door shut, leaving you alone with your deafening thoughts.

You immediately dropped back to the ground before you curled yourself up into a ball and released painful sobs.

You had absolutely no fear that he would catch you in this state. His pride would never allow him to come back after storming out like that.

However on the other side of the door, Bakugou had already turned back around. Instant guilt had created a cacophony of loud feelings in his mind. How could he have hurt you like that?

The thought caused his heart to thrum and his hands to flinch away from the door handle; however, he strengthened his resolve and firmly grasped the handle once more until suddenly–

“BAKU-BROOOOO!” Kirishima’s booming voice could be heard moments before the front door was slammed open and bounced against your living room wall, “Ya made it back alive, man! We were all worried about you after you disappeared…” he slurred as he fumbled over to his best friend like a toddler taking his first steps.

Bakugou couldn’t find it in himself to reply to the redhead as the latter threw himself at him with a hearty laugh. The laugh, however, came to an abrupt end as Kirishima stared blankly at Bakugous face, “Hey… wha’s wrong, best buddy? Holy hell, w-why are you crying?!” he loudly whispered. A loud rumble could be heard before Kirishima violently gagged, releasing the contents of his stomach.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction

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ryosei-hime · 3 years

Text

Sex and Therapy: The L Word

Concord helps Fizz work through the aftermath of his violent encounter with Ahroth and his worries about the legitimacy of his love. There's a triggered episode for Fizz regarding his recent encounter with Ahroth. Also available on AO3.

Once they arrived at the apartment, Fizz gave Concord the repair fund he had saved up and asked him to take it down to Cog before they left. He didn’t want her thinking he would stiff her. While Concord ran down to give it to her, Fizz went to the bathroom to get cleaned up. He hadn’t felt dirty at Cog’s, but something about being home made him feel contaminated. He caught sight of his face in the mirror and looked away quickly. Dried blood still lingered around his mouth, his teeth stained. Concord had been kissing him like that. He felt an overwhelming sense of shame suddenly.

By the time Concord got back he had scrubbed his teeth until the toothbrush bristles were shedding into the sink. No matter how hard he brushed, he couldn’t get his mouth to feel clean again. He could see Concord approaching cautiously in the mirror, but he just kept brushing with as much force as he could.

“I think they’re clean, Fizz.”

He bit down on the tooth brush and spit the tip into the sink before gripping the edges.

“Why did you kiss me with his blood in my mouth?”

Concord touched his arm lightly but he pulled away, keeping his eyes trained on the water circling the drain. Concord lowered his hand, respecting his boundaries as he always did.

“I love you. And you were hurt. I’d have kissed you no matter what.”

“Why doesn’t it make you mad? That his blood touched you?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I didn’t even give it a thought.”

Fizz’s arms relaxed as his grip on the sink eased.

“It pisses me off. It makes me feel like shit. That I let any part of him touch you.”

Concord shifted uneasily, clearly unsure of what to do.

“Can I hug you?”

“No.”

“Do you want some time to yourself?”

“...No. Stay with me, please?”

“As long as you want me here, I’ll be here. Whatever you want from me.”

Fizz didn’t know what he wanted. That wasn’t true. He wanted to hold Concord, wanted his comfort and love. But he couldn’t touch him now that he felt contaminated. It didn’t make sense. He’d been touching him this whole time. But somehow, here, in their home, it wasn’t allowed. His voice came out tired and sad.

“I just want to be clean.”

He could see the sympathy pain in Concord’s eyes as he looked up at his reflection.

“Do you want me to help you get clean?”

Fizz nodded.

“Okay. I can do that.”

Fizz finished rinsing out his mouth, picking bristles from between his teeth as he listened to Concord get the tub ready. Concord had always been gentle when they bathed together, but his touch had never been softer than it was now. Fizz wanted to scrub until his skin peeled off. But he let Concord do it. It was safer that way.

It did make him feel better, the cleaner he got. And the more Concord caressed him with his careful, thoughtful touches. His sweet Concord. So much kinder than anyone he’d ever met. So willing to take care of him in so many different ways when he could. Something about the gentle nature of the bath and his appreciation for how caring and understanding Concord was made him feel like now would be the best time to ask the question that had been nagging him.

“Can I ask you something, Concord?”

“Of course.”

“How do you know when you feel true love?”

Concord’s hands stopped on his back for a moment before slipping around him. He sat up on his knees to lean flush against his back. Every inch of warm imp that touched his synthetic skin made him shiver in pleasure.

“Love is hard to define, Fizz. It’s difficult for anyone to put into words. And we all love differently. There is no one true kind of love. My love for you is probably very different from your love for me. But both are valid. Both are love.”

“Even if I only love you because of my programming?”

Concord sat back and Fizz regretted saying that. Now was not the time to make Concord cry. But he didn’t hear any sniffles or sobs. He just resumed washing his back, voice calm and neutral.

“Do you think that’s why you love me?”

“I don’t know.”

“How long has this been bothering you?”

Fizz was silent.

“The whole time?”

He nodded hesitantly.

“Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s fair. I understand why you’d be worried about that.”

Fizz realized Concord had slipped into his therapist role. He wasn’t prone to showing his true feelings when he got like that if Fizz didn’t prompt him. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees.

“ Are you hurt?”

“No. Not for me. I’m sorry that I caused you distress because I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about this.”

A long silence fell over them, Concord running his hands over his back and shoulders, down his arms. He wasn’t washing him anymore, just soothing touches.

“How do you know you really love me?” Fizz asked after a while.

“I have programming, too, you know? Genetics have given me a predisposition to certain things and my life experiences have an undeniable influence. Especially from the developmental period of childhood. I could probably write a psychological profile on why those factors make me love you. But I’d rather ignore that. Instead, I think about how I love the way my chest feels when you smile at me. How I love when you call me your little plaything and I know I belong to you. How happy I am to be yours.”

Fizz concentrated on the ripples of water around his legs as he let Concord’s words sink in, his hands continuing their comforting pattern over his skin. Until they slipped around his waist, and Concord pressed himself against his back again. He laid his cheek against his shoulder.

“But more than that, Fizz, I think about how I’m happy you exist. I’m happy this is a world in which you came into being. So that I could know you and how wonderful you are as a person. We don’t have to have a relationship to stay together as friends. And you don’t have to love me to have the same relationship we’ve been having, if it’s what you want. But I’ll always love you no matter what. Because I love you . Not what you can give me. That’s just how my love works.”

Fizz turned, forcing Concord to sit back again. He felt weirdly light-headed and terrified all at the same time. He knew Concord gave him a lot of control, but he hadn’t realized just how much. He’d never abuse that control but the idea that Concord could have ended up with someone who would scared him. The idea of Concord being treated the way Ahroth treated him hurt to think about.

“You’d really let me have you like this without expecting anything back?”

Concord smiled calmly as if it were nothing.

“It’s how we were before, remember? My love is unconditional. And most importantly, I trust you. I know it’s safe to give myself to you this way. If I had any suspicion at all that you would hurt me, I wouldn’t. I was very guarded before we met. I hadn’t had a relationship in seven years. So, please, understand just how safe and loved you make me feel.”

Fizz leaned over Concord, chest aching in a way it shouldn’t with his pain receptors turned off. He cupped his precious little imp’s face in both hands and leaned down as Concord let himself be drawn up into the sweetest, softest kiss he could give him.

“I do love you, Concord.”

“It’s okay to still have doubts.” Concord assured him, fingers playing over his arm. “This isn’t something that’s easy to resolve, I know. But I’ll be here to talk to you about it when you need me. More than anything, I want you to have the relationship that makes you happy and comfortable.”

“Thank you for being so...you.”

Concord’s smile turned into amusement. Fizz couldn’t believe how simple that was. If he could have just let himself talk to Concord from the beginning, he might not have had to worry so much. Or maybe it had to be now. Maybe everything had needed to line up just right.

That Concord also had a kind of programming helped Fizz stop worrying so much about his own. He felt what he felt and if Concord could tell his overactive brain to stop thinking about why, so could Fizz.

He and Concord spent the rest of the day cuddling together in bed. Concord took a lot of pictures. His mood seemed to fluctuate as much as Fizz’s power drops which concerned him. But he knew Concord could worry too much about things. Fizz was sure he was stable enough now that he should be out of danger until Cog returned. But Concord would probably worry until Cog got him back to full functionality.

He didn’t mind the power drops too much. He just got kind of tired and silly. And Concord seemed to enjoy some of his silliness. He got to act on his urges a bit more now. Concord wouldn’t let him go too far, but there were a not insignificant amount of make-out sessions.

But later in the night, as Concord seemed to be getting sleepy and ready to turn in, Fizz started to feel strange. Not groggy or silly. Anxious. Antsy. He took the phone out of Concord’s hands as he took another picture of kissing him on the cheek. He gave Fizz a curious look as he set it aside and turned to him.

“I feel funny.”

“Funny, how?” Concord asked, gripping his arm.

“I really...really wanna...I gotta…”

His eyes glowed at top brightness and Concord had to look away. He felt himself vibrating and thought he might have accidentally activated the various vibrators placed around his body. But that wasn’t it. He just wanted to move so badly. He needed to move!

“Power surge! What do I do?”

Concord sat up and looked around, clearly panicked.

“I don’t know! Cog didn’t tell me! Should I tie you down?”

Fizz reached for the ropes in their bedside table with his good arm and dropped them in Concord’s lap. Concord moved as quickly as he could, starting with Fizz’s arms. He tied them to the headboard and started working on figuring out how to best secure his chest when Fizz’s legs started kicking. The covers went flying off the bed and Concord flinched. They were going so fast now they were a blur.

He wrapped his arms around Fizz’s middle and held him down physically, trying to keep his chest stable without putting too much pressure on it. It was too late to try to secure it with ropes. And he’d never be able to get his legs.

“Are you okay?”

Fizz didn’t know how to answer that. He just felt so frustrated that he couldn’t go. He bucked against Concord suddenly, jerking his chest and making Concord gasp.

“Fizz, please, you have to keep still.”

“I’m trying! I can’t!”

He rocked from side to side, trying to roll out from under Concord as his arm extended. Tied as it was, it had nowhere to go. The arm just fell around them in coils and Fizz tightened them, pulling Concord against him.

“Not too tight!”

The arm stopped just short of constricting Concord’s breathing and a leg extended instead as Fizz tried to concentrate on where his energy went. It shot across the apartment and hit something in another room with a crash. Shit, he hoped that wasn’t the TV.

“Sorry!”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Concord tried to keep his voice calm and soothing, but Fizz could hear the undercurrent of anxiety. “Just ride it out. It can’t last long.”

It didn’t. As suddenly as it came, it went. After another few tense moments of thrashing all of Fizz’s limbs went suddenly limp and his eyes entirely dark. His head lulled. He couldn’t even find the energy to retract his limbs. He could hear Concord’s voice but couldn’t answer. He tried as hard as he could. Concord sounded so distressed and he wanted to let him know he’d be okay. But darkness took him as he sank into a deep sleep mode.

#Helluva Boss #Robo Fizz #Robo Fizz Helluva Boss #RoboFizzxOC #myfanfics #stuffididmyself

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

Text

25. Not Fine, But Better

Word Count: 6239

Simon went to his father’s to recover. He was on an official break from school (hopefully, no longer than a year), and because of the nature of his injuries, was forced to move back home temporarily. His former employer was reluctant about giving him another position, though they worked out a few things for him to be involved in a freelance capacity, that way they were hiring him for certain projects, but not keeping him on their regular payroll. He planned to enroll in some online studies in the fall, and in the meantime, focused mainly on his ongoing project - the virtual reality social media.

A few things happened. Aside from regular visits to the doctor, because he was doing too much and reopened stitches, or for the extensive treatment that some of his more severe wounds were going to take, not to mention the healing of his spleen, which he was supposed to be taking extra care not to upset, but he was just so restless in bed and so anxious at the house, he kept getting up. The first night, he was content to lay down, primarily due to physical pain and exhaustion.

The trauma doctor had suggested not getting on a plane, which meant that Mr. Laurent would have to stay at Simon’s and take care of him… which meant to Simon that his father would be in his personal space, contaminating it and his thoughts of it AND, he would know where he lived. He absolutely rejected that notion and said that he would hire someone for in-home health… Then he thought about the upcoming legal fees of his fights, potential jail time, even, the way that he abandoned his job, and he decided that maybe he would just go back to the Bay with his dad, against the doctor’s suggestion, because that seemed to be the least agonizing solution for him.

Of course, he re-injured himself, and spent all day in an ER, to receive word that his treatment would take longer and was ordered to bed rest for the spleen healing. He laid down in his old bed, as uncomfortable as it was and fell to sleep almost immediately. Outside of the hospital, where the medication and immediate professional help were, his nightmares became blatantly strong. He kept dreaming of laying in a pool of his own blood, on the cold ground, looking at a manhole, ready to die… and then the Void came out of it, about to swallow him whole and everything went black. He jumped up and immediately held himself. Maybe he needed to be strapped to the bed, as to not hurt more. He took a deep breath and reached for the cane that he would need to walk for a bit… and there was a white cat, resting on his old desk.

“Samantha?” He looked around the room, wondering if this was another dream, about his teenage years or something. But, he came closer and touched the cat and she pleasantly allowed it. It abandoned the cane to pick up the animal and nuzzled her. “Is it really you or did that jackass go find another white cat?” He snuggled her and limped out of the room to go get some water. He froze whenever he got into the kitchen and both of his parents were sitting at the little table.

“Simon!” His mother said. She looked… different than he remembered. She looked younger, somehow, but extremely tired. She came over and tried to take Samantha from him, “Sorry. She must’ve snuck…” He jerked away and almost lost his footing.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Your dad said that you were here, so I stopped by and brought Samantha.”

He glared at her, “You’ve had Samantha this entire time?”

She chuckled and shrugged, “She’s MY cat, Simon. Whenever I was a little better, I stopped by and picked her up one day.”

“And you didn’t think to let me know? Leave a note? Nothing?? I thought she was dead!”

“You seem to be more upset about losing a cat than you’ve ever been about losing one of your family members,” she said. There she was. He knew that tone. He knew those eyes. She hadn’t changed. She was just better at seeming normal.

“Don’t,” his father warned her.

Simon kept Samantha in his clutches as he went to pour himself some water. “When are you leaving?”

The woman sat back down and looked at Mr. Laurent. “Your father thinks that you need us here. That us not being there for you is how you got to be this way.”

“What way is that, Faith?” he asked.

“Don’t,” his father warned the woman whose anger appeared to be rising, again.

“A little shit,” she hissed, despite the warning.

“Goddammit, Faith!” his father said. Simon snickered, wickedly. “Can’t you see that he’s just a hurt kid, acting out?” Now, Simon frowned.

He wanted to storm over and punch his father in the face. He’d done so before, whenever he was a teenager and his father was drunk and complaining about his stupid memorial or whatever. But, Simon was in too much pain to even walk straight, much less, fight. He started angry crying and muttered, “Fuck both of you,” before taking Samantha back into his room, shutting the door (which hurt his side to do) and climbing back into bed with her nestled against himself. “I can’t believe that bitch took you away from me.”

His mother was gone back to her mom’s by the time he got up again. He panicked whenever Samantha wasn’t there and rushed out of his room, clutching himself and neglecting the cane again to question his father about her whereabouts. Then, he heard her meow, excitedly, like she had something to tell him. Many things to tell him! He collected her and brought her back to his room. He kept her in there with him, scared that if she went outside, his mother might steal her again, even though his father assured him that it wouldn’t happen. “I won’t let her,” he had said. When the hell had he ever stopped her from doing anything?

He called “Dick for Brains” and asked if it was possible for him to use video conferencing to schedule an appointment. Dr. Richard was more than willing to accommodate this and seemed genuinely pleased that Simon had decided to try to resume therapy.

However, in their first session back, Simon babbled on about this idea that he had for work. Of course, the therapist was going to let him speak about what he wanted to. It was a huge thing for Simon to even seek out help without being forced, and he was uncharacteristically excited about something. “A VR that serves as experimental experience based therapy. The premise is that you would be able to take these pick your adventure journeys, but each of the decisions would have either rewards or consequences and every choice that you make would take you down certain paths, giving you certain training to deal with your problems and conditioning your decision making, even one day could grant you diagnosis based upon your choices and solutions to said diagnosis…”

“So… you want to replace actual therapy with a virtual reality video game?”

“NO! You do the therapy to help you get better at the game. It’s like… it goes with it… unless you’re not so bad off that you NEED therapy, and then it’s just a tool in character education…”

“Okay. That sounds interesting. How is that coming along for you?”

“Ugh. It’s shit. You know… I don’t have the best gauge for reasonable decisions. So, I’m trying to program a lot of things, but I’m depending on various algorithms, and the things that I need to be more specific about, well - I’ve been reading a lot of psychology stuff to sort of help me out. Also, Grace had SO MANY resources available in her featured links on her website…” Simon’s eyes glossed over whenever he started talking about Grace.

“How is your relationship with Grace, Simon?”

He gave a sad smile and shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t have a relationship with Grace. She gave me another chance at life and I told everyone about all the messed up stuff I did to her. We haven’t spoken or seen each other in the weeks that I’ve been out of the hospital.”

“I read about that. It was really big of both of you to make the decisions that you made…”

“This isn’t about Grace,” Simon said. He began typing on one of his other laptops. “I’m not going to do that this time, Dr. Richard. I’m trying to think about treatment, but in a way that appeals to people more like me. I’m not one to sit in a room and talk about my feelings. You know how much I hate that. I AM one to sit in MY room, for hours, playing the same computer video game for weeks. As a kid, I used to create these figures. I have a ton of them at home. More recently, I’ve done robots…” Simon sounded all over the place, but Dr. Richard didn’t interrupt him. “In most games, there is a specific goal, and people tend to think… This isn’t anything that I’m used to, but the principle is fine. I want people to be able to feel like they are walking into their own worlds, and that their adventures are things that they can navigate to practice existing in the world. To get things out of their system that they should never do here, or to give them options that their minds might not automatically compose! You’re a therapist… do you think this sounds stupid or crazy or… just impossible?”

“It sounds like you’re enjoying your work and exploring more empathetic aspects of your talents. This project could be extremely good for you.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. But… do you think it would work? Do you think it would help somebody?”

“Are you making this to help other people or to get better at helping yourself?”

“DO YOU THINK IT WOULD DO EITHER?”

“There’s not enough information for me to know if it will help other people, but I think it’s already helping you and that’s the most important thing that you need to focus on. Getting better, yourself.” That was all that Simon needed to become completely obsessed with his project.

So, what happened was that he began to work on it a lot and neglect certain things he needed to do during his recovery. His father had to remind him and sometimes try to physically force him to let him check his healing, cleaning wounds, and getting ready to go have bloodwork done, etc. He was extremely irritable whenever Mr. Laurent would interrupt his work. Whenever it was more pressing medical concerns, Simon got a call from Grace.

“Hey,” she’d say casually. He’d smile immediately when he heard her voice, then frown, because he knew it meant that his dad had bothered her.

“Grace… I don’t know WHAT he’s said this time, but you need to stop doing this. How does he manage to even get to call you anyway?”

“Hazel gave him her phone number for emergencies. That is now the backup phone. Had to get her another. She’s too damn friendly, but I’ll never discourage her. She’s gotta be herself, you know. Listen. So… I’m told that you need to have an angiography. I looked it up and sounds like you gotta do this thing, and yet… Your dad can’t get you to stop playing video games?”

“No! That’s not what’s happening at all! I’m working and he just barges in! Doesn’t even knock. He’s obnoxious.”

“Orrr… you’re tired of being on somebody else’s timetable, and that’s understandable, but whenever I was in the institution, I was constantly on a formatted schedule that I had no control over. It was one of the downsides of getting myself in there. One of your downsides of starting fights that get you stabbed is doing whatever you’ve gotta do when you’ve gotta do it to get better. I’m gonna be pissed if your dad calls Hazel again because you’re acting like a child.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you. Have a good day.”

That was the last time he was cantankerous with his dad about appointments. He just had to suck it up and go when it was time. He had to listen, because he knew Mr. Laurent wouldn’t hesitate to bother Grace, as unfair as that was. Simon was furious that his dad did this. He called it harassment. Mr. Laurent didn’t seem to mind, even when Simon yelled aggressively about how Grace was always the person picking up his pieces when they were kids and he’s coming to a better understanding of how unfair that was to both of them, plus he has Samantha back and he is guilty about imposing on Grace. He sent her a message asking her to promise not to come running again for his father calling but agrees for her sake that if a real emergency comes up that she’s welcome to check in on him. She never replied, so he didn’t know if it was sent and he didn’t want to keep bothering her in her inbox. So, the months passed and he did what his father needed him to do to get better. Whenever he was able, he travelled back home, taking Samantha with him.

He was working full time and enrolled back in school part time, at a less prestigious college, but one that was comfortable for him, at this point. He still got up to MIT to see Professor Hughes and talk engineering with her. She was impressed by how well he seemed to be doing, but she would never tell him that. And he never missed an appointment with his therapist, or his physician. For the most part, he recovered. There was a little lasting damage that he would have to deal with, such as multiple surgeries to correct various problems connected to disrupting the body’s normal with multiple stab wounds, but it was manageable and he was… feeling okay. Whenever he wasn’t, he had better ways of coping than before, most of the time. Every now and then, he’d definitely lose it and break things and rage… but… it wasn’t as frequent as it used to be, so he at least felt good about that much.

Plus, he got to see Grace be SO happy with Hazel online and he wasn’t blocked from everything, so anytime anyone tried to give her trouble about him, he was able to step in and take whatever blows that they tried to throw her way. That was another thing… He had been diligently sticking to the truth about her, no matter what people asked or how guilty, ashamed, weak, cowardly, or whatever else these things made him feel. He went onto shows and conducted interviews and made videos to counter any negative feedback that Grace had ever done anything wrong. “Besides being a neglected kid with some issues related to that, Grace was a really good friend and I was a bad friend to her. Turned out my neglect issues were much deeper and I made her suffer for that, but she shouldn’t have to anymore.”

Grace woke up with the sun most mornings. After she and Hazel returned to New York, it occurred to her that they had barely started living there before their little adventure in Mass. SO, they immediately made certain to try to start setting their routines and building their home style. Hazel’s room was the fanciest room she had ever had, excluding the chambers at the Monroe Estate. Grace let her have her own TV in her room, with a system that she had access to most of the apps, several games, and her favorite movies and shows. There was a housewarming plant that Grace’s friend had bought for Hazel whenever she moved in (and had to come over to look after whenever they were out), and that was in Hazel’s room, right by the window, for its sunshine.

Hazel had gotten to the point where she was no longer sure if she wanted to hold on to having a leaf in her hair, so Grace bought her some cute hair accessories that looked like leaves - hair clips, headbands and stuff… and if Hazel ever wanted to stop, she had options, to sort of keep with her tradition that was sort of a large part of the identity she had carved out for herself. Now, though, she had a changing identity.

She was Grace’s daughter and she didn’t know if keeping a leaf meant that she was holding on to a parent or parents that abandoned her when she had one who had fought to call her her own right in front of her. The last thing she wanted to do was possibly hurt Grace’s feelings, and she knew that Grace probably wouldn’t tell her if she did. She would just smile and make her feel good and meditate later or something. Hazel kept the hair leaf, for now.

The room had bookshelves with Hazel’s favorite books, toys, and keepsakes, her jewelry rack and a very large quartz crystal sphere that Grace bought her “for good energy” whenever she was at her last home. It sat on a little sphere holder and Hazel generally set her singing Tuba right near it, whenever she wasn’t carrying it with her or sleeping with it. There was a framed photo of the Monroe trio - her, Grace and GlamMother, on her wall, as well as a mirror with her name on a plaque against its expensive wood. All of the furniture was well made and personalized in some way.

For instance, her dresser had a cartoon stylized version of her smiling face on the sides and her name in lights across the top of the vanity. The colors of the room were hazel, ivory and green, and her headboard had a turtle magnificently carved into it. Grace got her the same type of products that she purchased herself. She still used the same natural beauty brands that she swore by as an influencer (and recently was reconnected with many of them) including a rebirth campaign for her own line of products. It really was like rebirth, but this time, she was living on her own conditions. She also was building for her daughter, as well, but in a different way than what her mother did. She would always ask Hazel her opinion of things, what she wanted to do, if she liked or approved of certain things that she wanted to do for her. The emblem on Grace’s products would be from a drawing that Hazel did of Grace as a tree, sitting in a lotus position, her hair as the leaves and Hazel falling from the tree into her outstretched arms. It was a pretty good drawing for a 10 year old, and Grace wanted it to stay just as it was for their emblem.

Grace made meal prep for if Hazel had turtle days. Half the time, Grace wound up throwing the greens into a smoothie, because Hazel was fine for the most part. But, she would keep up this practice of being prepared for a long time.

She generally saw Hazel off to school herself, instead of putting her into a car with a driver or getting her to learn public transportation like she often saw kids doing while she was out and about in the city for her first few years. She wanted Hazel to be as protected and seen as she could without being that over sheltering type of mom that she sometimes felt like she was probably being. But, Hazel liked the attention. It was nice to have somebody always having her back and ensuring her safety. It was nice always having someone waiting for you when you step out into the world, to guide you back home.

They’d had most of the summer to settle in and the new school year was Hazel’s favorite EVER. She was finally going to be somewhere that she was getting herself to believe wouldn’t be temporary… she might actually make friends! She met a couple of people that were really cool the first week - Lucy and Lindsay. They knew each other from before, but Lindsay had recognized her from the internet and invited her to sit with them at lunch. Lucy wasn’t allowed to get onto the internet, but Hazel noticed that she had a Tuba watch and they admitted that they both still watched/loved The Mighty Tuba and Her Musical Friends. Lindsay made fun of both of them, but it was in that way where Hazel could tell that she still liked them and was gonna be their friend. Hazel LOVED it and asked if she could invite them over soon for a tea party.

Of course she could. Grace rarely told Hazel no. If it was doable, safe, and harmed nobody, she didn’t see any reason to refuse her things that she was interested in. Plus, Mrs. Monroe had bought a very expensive tea party set for the girl that Grace had to get assembled on the balcony, because she had no idea where to put it in her place… which meant that the balcony basically belonged to Hazel’s tea set. Getting that woman to understand that her space in New York is nothing like the space that they had in California was almost impossible. Her mother couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t just seek out a bigger place. Like… just because I have my own money, I have to like… spend it like that?

But, Hazel began having her tea parties the second week of school. Mrs. Monroe wanted them to come to visit the weekend of the 23rd of August. “Mom. We’ve only been gone a couple of months. I told you that Hazel and I aren’t going to be coming back and forth like this.”

“I’m thinking if you catch a flight in the evening on Wednesday, Hazel won’t have to miss school that day. But, you definitely need to be here by Thursday evening’s dinner.”

“Ugh. Mom.”

“Grace, this is important.”

She sighed. “Fine. But you aren’t seeing us again before Christmas break. Hazel has limited days off and I have things planned for my 23rd.”

“Yes, well… Julia or Gabriel, or whatever the hell this assistant’s name is will send you the list of things you need to pack.”

“Why would I need to pack things?”

“We’re going to take you to Belize, since you won’t be here for your birthday.”

“Ugh… I wish I could argue with a free trip to Belize… okay, fine. Tell ADRIENNE to send me the information.”

“Adrienne? That doesn’t sound right… oh, really? Huh. She says that is indeed her name. Well, she’s sending it. We’ll see you soon.”

Grace hung up and stretched, sputtered air through her lips and peeked out at the girls at their tea parties, with their hats and some of Grace’s good tea. “Hey, Haze… GlamMother wants to see us next week, so I’ll be packing our stuff and I’ll email the school to get your work for Thursday and Friday in advance so we can turn it in on Wednesday.”

“Yes, Mother,” Hazel said in her tea party voice. “Will we be seeing Mr. Laurent and his Sad Sorry Son Simon when we go to California?”

“I’m not planning on it. Just giving you a heads up.” The three girls raised their teacups to Grace and she smiled and went back inside to pack. Simon was back in Cambridge, as far as she knew. She had seen him around online, but never hovered, so she couldn’t be sure. But… that week was the week of his birthday. She wondered if her mother had remembered that information, or if her body was simply falling back on old habits of the season by wanting to do something around this time of year. It was a very random time to Grace for them to just want to go to Belize… though, usually Simon’s birthday was paired up with hers. The significance of his actual birth date would only matter to Grace, not her parents, as the things that they did typically occurred AFTER August 22nd. Grace shook her head and opened the email of things to pack, so that she could prepare early.

The Monroes had some guests, Grace could tell. Not a lot, so she wondered if this was like some politician’s immediate family or what, and she resigned herself to the thought that if for one little second her mom even tried to give her hell about taking a flight today, instead of last night (to come in all late in the night and throw off hers AND Hazel’s sleep schedule), she would take her ass right on to her old bedroom and wait for the call to go to Belize. She didn’t play that mess with her mom anymore. Hazel ran to the door and tiptoed a little to use the knocker. There was a doorbell, but something about that fancy old knocker always intrigued her.

A butler opened the door and tried to take Grace’s bags, but she struggled with him, knowing that she could do it herself. “If you won’t let him, let me,” she heard a familiar voice say. Simon. She froze. He was standing. Obviously in good enough health. He was smiling, but it became worried when she stared at him. He put his hands up and she noted that he was in some type of… weird coat draped over his arms, instead of wearing it, that she could see the top of his apology tattoos, and that his parents were at the table with hers.

Her mother got up and rushed over, “Don’t be silly! It’s his job.” She collected Hazel into a tight hug and Grace still stood there, in the open door as Hazel rushed to the table, hand in hand with her grandmother, to pass hugs around. “Surprise!” Mrs. Monroe cheered. “It’s Simon’s birthday dinner… and a therapy idea thing…”

“Therapy told you to surprise me by bringing me here, with these people, under the guise of a free trip to Belize?” Grace asked, very much not okay with this.

“No. We’re having a sit down, between all of us, as adults, to settle everything once and for all. There’s cake!”

Hazel cheered, “Yayyy! Cake!”

Mrs. Monroe sighed and folded her arms, “My God, Grace, we really ARE going to Belize. Just sit down and enjoy dinner.” Grace pouted her way over to the seat next to Hazel. Simon returned to the one next to that one. His parents were across the table from them, and Mr. and Mrs. Monroe were on the opposite ends.

“This is messed up,” Grace muttered.

“All of us are messed up,” Mr. Monroe said. “It took a while for us to realize it. We spoke a few times when Simon was in the hospital, and we thought that eventually, both of you needed apologies from us and attempts for us to do better. Now, Grace… you had some things to say to Mr. Laurent the last time you were together…”

“I said it all. Nice to finally meet you, though,” she said to Mrs. Laurent, and her tone indicated that it wasn’t nice to meet her at all. Simon reached out and rubbed Grace on the back. She smiled a little at him, then looked confused and wondered why they were acting like nothing had ever happened. Then again, they had “gotten over” what did happen, and she guessed she was kinda touch starved, because it was nice to get physical comfort from somebody that wasn’t Hazel, for a change.

“Simon had many things to say to his parents before you arrived, too. Now that we’re all here, really… say whatever is on all of your minds. Simon… you’ve been sulking for two hours, but whenever Grace walked in, you immediately brightened up.” Simon blushed as Mr. Monroe made this extremely embarrassing announcement. Hazel cackled about it and ate a mouthful of potatoes.

Simon shook his head, “I’m not sure what you mean by saying this, Mr. Monroe.”

“Just that we never really discussed the night that you came back into our lives, wanting to see Grace and apologize… You didn’t actually apologize until a while later and… we’re all curious about the journeys it took to get from where you were to…”

“No, Dad.” Grace shook her head. “No. Simon and I used to be best friends. I loved him. There was nobody in the world more important to me. When we broke, I broke. You don’t get to just have reflection on what led us all here, to possible health and contentment. Just… No. Where is the cake? I’m having some on the terrace. You want in, Si?” His eyes widened and he got up to follow her. The butler was bringing out the cake, and she took the whole tray. “Momma’s got you, Haze,” she said without breaking her stride. She went outside and Simon smiled as she set the cake down. “Cut my baby a piece of cake. I’ll get her dish.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Grace rolled her eyes at everybody in the room, grabbed Hazel’s desert plate and the bottle of wine from the table. She went back out and Simon was ready with Hazel’s slice. Whenever Grace gave it to her, she said, “I’ll be right out there if you need me.” Grace was… tired. She had been on a long flight, and to be faced with the Laurents AND her parents? And to have them acting like this was just okay to spring on someone? “They’re still messing up, but I guess at least they’re trying,” she glanced around. “I didn’t get glasses.” She frowned.

“S’ok. I don’t drink.”

She smiled and said, “Neither do I, but remember whenever we were 14 and we said that we’d have our first drink together?”

“Yeah. We said on your 21st birthday.” He smiled and she felt warm in his gaze. She set the bottle down. “At any rate, they don’t need any wine. They’re being weird enough.”

“RIGHT?” Grace and Simon laughed awkwardly. “To be honest, I think that they realized that the only way to get me here was to hide their intentions from me. I wouldn’t have showed up if they had told me that they wanted to have dinner with your family.”

“Funny… I wouldn’t have come if they hadn’t told me, “Grace will be here for your birthday,” Simon admitted and leaned on the balcony rail. “All I wanted was to see you again. It’s all I could think about all month.”

“You’ve known about this all month? My mom called me last week!” She leaned next to him, her back against the rail, so that she could keep an eye on Hazel. For a moment, she had a flashback of the last time that they were out here together. The pain stung, but there was a numbness there… like that part of her that hurt was more like a limb that fell to sleep. “Hazel is the same age as we were when we met. I’ve been so paranoid about her running into trouble because I’m not present enough…”

“Is that what you think us meeting was? You running into trouble?” Simon asked. He didn’t seem offended, like he might have normally been. Just… curious.

“Don’t you think so? For both of us…”

He frowned and looked out at the Monroe yard. “I think that the people who messed up the most are all surrounding your kid right now.”

“She loves them, though. I want her to have a good relationship with them. Not just because I didn’t, but because they’re the only grandparents she has.”

“Yeah, well… at the moment, MY parents are there too…” Grace stood up and folded her arms, looking at Hazel. Her parents had arranged for her and Simon to have their first joint birthday celebration since they were 16, and even arranged a sit down with the Laurents about everything that went wrong… Simon was also thinking about how messed up this was, because he added to her thoughts, “I feel weird about our parents finally talking, when we ourselves have finally gotten to good places in our lives and development.”

“I think it’s… A good thing, but just for them. For me… I think that the best thing has been that I survived. I thought that I was gonna die after everything. Nothing felt real. My whole life was just staring into nothingness and crying. I really did become the void…”

“No. You were NEVER that!” Simon said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “You always mattered. I was just too toxic to see that. The best thing for me has been that I realized how wrong I was…” Grace threw her arms around his neck and Simon relaxed in her arms and held her close. Every time was like the first time, but this was DIFFERENT different. This was the first hug that they had in some time and maybe even the first genuine one that they’ve had. Simon was caught up in his emotions, but quickly tried to keep them in check, “Wanna grab the kid and get outta here?” Simon asked, looking at her. They were still in the hug, but let some space in between their bodies.

Grace chuckled, “I mean… you know that my perfect birthday celebration is lowkey, with the closest people to me, some dogs and a walk around the creek. But, it’s not MY birthday.”

Simon turned and leaned back on the terrace this time, “If I had just done that with you for our 16th, things could have gone very differently.”

“I think things would have eventually gone wrong anyway. We were both… beyond our own help. You seem fine now, though.”

“I’m not fine, but I’m better.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Grab the cake, I’ll grab the kid,” she said with a smile. Simon obeyed, as she went inside and he followed. “Haze, grab your bag. We’re headed out.

“Headed out?” Mrs. Monroe asked. “To where?”

“Simon and I are taking Hazel to our old stomping grounds.” Hazel jumped up excited. All four of the parents exchanged worried looks, which Grace ignored and put an arm around Hazel to guide her towards the door. “Hopefully… the rest of you will get whatever you need out of… this…” They checked out early, giving their parents time to sort through their guilt.

The trio left the mansion, all three laughing and talking. Hazel about how she had heard so much about their adventures, though Simon was certain she only heard the sweet and not the… other stuff. He was just glad that Grace was willing to spend time with him again. It was the best birthday present he could’ve gotten. He didn’t deserve it, but he was going to be grateful.

Neither Simon or Grace had revisited much of their old places, so they wound up spending time well into the night taking Hazel to their childhood spots from when they were her age. Eventually she got so sleepy that she dozed off on the train and Simon had to carry her around. Grace told him that she could do it (she was pretty practiced in it and Hazel was a tall 10), with Simon still technically being in recovery for his injuries, but she guessed that his pride was still stubborn, because he insisted.

They caught a cab back to the mansion, he put Hazel to bed, and Grace offered to walk him out. “Your parents have us in the guest house,” he said.

“Excuse you?”

“We’re going to Belize… They didn’t tell you that EITHER?”

“What’re they trying to do? Get us back together??” She joked.

He laughed, “Like you’d ever do that. You didn’t want me the first time.”

“That’s not true. I actually liked you way more than you liked me, because my feelings were selfless and pure.” He stared at his hands and nodded. She sat down in front of the front door and he sat next to her. “I wasn’t kidding whenever I’d say that I had the perfect relationship already, or whatever the hell I said that day. I can’t remember word for word, but I remember that all the words were true.”

“Yeah… If only I had been better.”

“Well… You said earlier that you’re better now.”

“Yeah…” He turned to look at her and she smiled and took his hand into hers.

“We don’t have to talk about it. We can just live in it,” she said. That was always how she had been about them. No questions or comments about their feelings for each other, titles, etc. They were together and enjoying each other’s company again. The rest of the details were background noise. No things were not fine, and she didn’t know if things would ever be fine between them, considering the stuff that happened back then. But… things were better.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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fonulyn · 4 years

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Hello! I'm not sure if you're still taking prompt requests, and if not that's fine, but I love your writing! Could I request something where Chris comes back from a mission, only to find out that Leon is in the hospital after his own mission goes wrong? Thank you! :)

thank you anon! ❤ I’m happy you enjoy the ficcage! and this probably didn’t turn out as angsty as you were imagining, ansfjgkhn i’m sorry for that. but I hope you can enjoy the fluff instead! :3 also features Claire bc I couldn’t resist.

for this! | read on ao3 instead!

–

“Ha! I win!” Claire announced as she all but slammed the last two cards down on the bed, before throwing her arms up in a victory pose. “Again!”

“How the fuck are you so good at this,” Leon grumbled, shaking his head a little as he dropped the cards from his own hands. “That was like the sixteenth round in a row and I haven’t won a single one of them.” He could’ve blamed the painkillers he was on, sure, but truth to be told he was aware that they had little to do with this. Even if he hadn’t been pumped full of painkillers he would’ve lost, knowing her.

“Well,” Claire smiled sweetly, “Seventeenth, to be exact.”

Leon rolled his eyes. “I’d kick your ass if my foot wasn’t in a cast.” He aimed for an annoyed tone but there was no suppressing his smile, just because her enthusiasm was so contagious. She’s rushed here the moment she’d heard he’d been hurt, and when he’d woken up in the hospital bed she’d been right there.

A tiny part of Leon had hoped it would’ve been a different Redfield by his bedside when he woke up, but he knew that Chris was on a job, and that he couldn’t just fly back in the second he wanted to. Besides Claire was his best friend, he wasn’t going to complain about her keeping him company. Especially as he knew it was just a matter of time before Chris would be there, too.

As Leon had just been thinking of Chris, he almost thought that he was imagining it when suddenly Chris’ voice cut through the brief silence.

“This isn’t exactly what I was expecting.”

They both turned towards the doorway, where the voice came from. Chris was standing there, looking like he’d barely taken the time to shower after coming home from a mission - and that only probably because he was coming to a med ward and didn’t want to contaminate everything. He was smiling, though, relief evident on his face as he took in the scene.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Leon quipped, the corner of his mouth curving upwards. “Next time I’ll make sure I’ll be actively dying so it’s worth the trip.”

Claire was the one who reacted first, slapping his knee - thankfully the non-injured leg, at least - and glared at him. “I know you’re joking, but watch that. If you’ll get yourself killed I’ll murder you.”

Meanwhile Chris had walked into the room, stopping only when he was standing right at the bedside. He reached out and carded his fingers into the hair in the back of Leon’s head, and leaned in to press a kiss onto his temple. “Glad to see you in one piece,” he murmured, his smile widening a little as he felt Leon lean further against him.

“Want me to give you some privacy?” Claire asked, looking at the two softly.

“No,” Chris shook his head, “it’s fine. I haven’t seen you in ages. Besides, looks like Leon needs some help.” He gestured towards the piles of cards strewn onto the bed, chuckling as he knew in one single glance what had been going on. “I can tell you all the ways she cheats in this,” he promised Leon, already pulling a chair closer so he could join in.

“Hey!” Claire protested immediately. “I do not cheat. You just suck!” Despite her (mostly faked) indignation, she already gathered the cards to shuffle them so she could then deal them another round.

There were dark circles under Leon’s eyes, and he still looked like he might pass out any second from tiredness alone. Yet despite that, he seemed to be in high spirits, especially for someone with a shattered ankle. He reached out and grabbed Chris’ hand in his own, and as he laced their fingers together he gave Chris a grin. “Let’s take her down.”

“As if you could ever do that,” Claire laughed, “Although I might have to let you win at the housewarming party, Chris has been unbearable about it for weeks now and I c—” Suddenly she cut herself off, noticing how Chris was gesturing for her frantically, trying to make her shut up.

“What are you talking about?” Leon frowned, clearly confused. As it became obvious that Claire wasn’t going to answer his question, he turned to Chris instead, arching an eyebrow. “What is she talking about?”

Behind his back, Claire quickly mimed zipping her mouth shut, giving Chris a sheepish smile. And as much as Chris wanted to just throw something at her, he just gave Leon the most innocent smile he could possibly manage. “I have no idea. She’s just trying to distract us so she’ll win the next round too!”

“Caught me,” Claire piped up immediately, while already dealing out the cards accordingly. “What can I say,” she went on, as nonchalantly as she could, “all is fair in love and war.”

The words startled a laugh out of Leon. “So it’s ‘war’ now?” he asked, shaking his head a little. “Fine. If it’s war that you want, a war you will get.” He reached out and grabbed the pile of cards from beside his knee, jaw set determinedly as he focused on them. Beside him, Chris breathed a sigh of relief, before setting out to do exactly what he’d promised. They would win this round.

They didn’t.

There was a bounce to Chris’ steps as he walked into the room, and it immediately caught Leon’s attention. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” he asked, laughing a little as the first answer he got was Chris stepping closer to him and leaning in to steal a quick, chaste kiss. Not that Leon minded that, at all, seeing Chris happy always did wonders to his own mood too.

“Are you ready?” Chris asked, holding out the bag he’d brought with him, as if to show it off. “They told me I can take you home today. So I brought some clothes.”

“Fucking finally,” Leon groaned, letting his head fall back into the pillows with a thud. “I already thought they’d keep me in here forever.” A mild exaggeration, perhaps, but he was always restless and antsy at hospitals, no matter if he was the patient or not, and it was the best news in a while that he’d get to leave. “How did you manage that?” he couldn’t help but ask, curious as to how he was being discharged already. He had expected to be held there for at least a couple of more days.

“I can be persuasive if I want to,” Chris answered, without any further explanation. Instead he dug around the bag, fished out the loose sweatpants and a soft, cuddly sweatshirt he’d brought for Leon. Not exactly anything super stylish, but definitely comfortable, and that was probably the better option right now.

So Leon allowed Chris to help him get dressed, and didn’t even put up a fight when Chris insisted on wheeling him out to the car in one of the wheelchairs. He was feeling so good about getting to leave, about his life getting back to some semblance of normal, that he was glad to give Chris whatever he wanted. And if it was to coddle him a little? Then sure. He could live with that.

They didn’t talk much during the drive, but the radio was on and Chris was humming along to whatever was playing, even kept drumming on the steering wheel with his fingers. It made Leon smile, watching him, but the painkillers still made him feel a little hazy and it only took minutes before he was already dozing off.

So he didn’t pay attention to where they were going. The drive had felt longer than usual, but he just figured that his brain wasn’t all online yet, and that his sense of time was lost somewhere in the sleepy fog in his mind.

He only came back to reality when Chris stopped the car in the driveway of a house that he didn’t recognize. “This isn’t…” Leon started, trailing off as he took in his surroundings. It obviously wasn’t his apartment, much less the little hole in the wall Chris lived in. But it wasn’t the home of any of their friends, either, and Leon wracked his brain trying to figure out what was going on.

The small house stood there almost in isolation, surrounded by large trees on both sides. It was painted light blue, and there was even a friggin’ white picket fence around the small front garden. For a good moment Leon just stared at it, mouth agape, before turning to Chris with a frown. “Where are we, Redfield?”

“So. I know we didn’t decide on anything yet,” Chris started, a telltale flush on his cheeks as he avoided looking straight at Leon. He was squeezing the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were turning white, and automatically Leon placed a palm on top of Chris’ right hand to make him ease his grip. That made Chris glance at him, and even though the blush was still there he did look a lot less tense as he went on. “And if you hate it I can still get rid of it, but… I put in the deposit for it.”

Leon couldn’t help but stare, eyes wide. Sure they had talked about moving in together, more than once, but somehow they’d never managed to actually take that step. Not until now, apparently. He opened his mouth once, twice, and nothing came out, before he finally managed to burst out a stunned “You got us a house?”

That made Chris laugh and he shrugged. “I got us a house.” He flexed his fingers and finally let go of the steering wheel, turning towards Leon to face him better. The embarrassed flush was still like stuck on his face, a hint of nervousness in his smile. “I mean. If you want it.”

Wordlessly Leon leaned in, capturing Chris’ lips in a kiss that he hoped spoke volumes of how much he wanted this, how ready he was for this step in their relationship. It didn’t last for long, though, and impatiently Leon pulled back and immediately unbuckled his seatbelt. “Help me out of the car,” he ordered, “I want to see how it looks like inside!”

Grinning from ear to ear, Chris jumped out of the car to do exactly as he’d been told.

#chreon #chris redfield #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #claire redfield #claire is a good bff #while chris is just a good bf 8)#ehehe okay that wasn't funny lol #my fics #i hope you'll like it anon #Anonymous #ask and i shall answer #replies #chatty chat chat #my chreon fics

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kingrussellfabray · 4 years

Text

Dinner Time

Tagging: Russell Fabray, Quinn Fabray @quinntessentialsub, Mike Chang @dommikechangjr, Michael Chang Sr. @michaelchangsr

Date: September 22

Trigger Warnings: Emotional abuse

Summary: Future Plans and United Families

Quinn had done everything she could to get out of this dinner. She went through a laundry list of excuse that fell on death ears. Her father seemed hellbent on this dinner and she couldn't figure out why. She knew he was more than likely going to find some way to torture her, but she just couldn't quite place her finger on how it was going to happen. She remained silent the entire way over, ignoring as he complained about the town and the lack of luxury places to eat. If this was how she sounded when she complained, she really needed to never do that again. She stayed a few steps behind him, falling into the habits he placed into her from the day she was born, as they walked into the restaurant. Her brows furrowed as they were led to a table to find Mike and his dad already sitting there. Mike was the only one she paid attention and a smile hinted at her lips. "Hi, Sir."

Mike had no idea what exactly was going on. His father seemed a little bit skittish, but also determined for them to go to dinner at a very specific restaurant at a very specific time. Mike had seen his father in a certain state of restlessness and uncertainty, but this was something entirely different. And he wasn't quite sure what was going on. All he knew was that he was nervous as they sat there in relative silence. He glanced up when he heard the voice that was now very familiar to him, as well as saw the man that he had never met, but already completely despised. "Good evening, Quinn. Mr. Fabray." He expressed, offering her a slight smile in response, before shooting a confused look at his father.

Russell hated Lima. It was everything Mobile wasn't, and the fact that he had to be there dealing with yet another wayward daughter was enough to make him hate it all the more. If they'd been in a proper, civilized place then they'd be eating at an expensive steakhouse and ordering bottles of wine that cost more than the servers made in a month. Instead, they were in the closest thing they could find - which was not that close. "That's enough, Quinn," he grunted at her when she spoke up to greet Mike. "Sit, and don't speak." He exchanged a handshake and a knowing look with the elder Chang, and a handshake with Mike as well. "Good evening, Mike. It's good to meet you in the flesh at last."

Quinn's knew better than to slump her shoulders, but she felt like she had shrunk in size as she sat in her chair. Her father never failed to make her feel like less of a person, like he was something about nothing more than an object for him to parade around when the time called for it or when he thought she was perfect enough to be seen by his circle. She looked at Mike and tried to make sure that he knew not to say anything because it just wasn't worth the argument. Her hand folded and she dug her nails into the palm of her hand to keep herself calm. She didn't want him meeting Mike in any capacity and she hated that it was happening now.

Michael had nearly jerked Mike out of his seat so that he would stand shake Russell's hand. And Mike couldn't help but feel like his hand was now somehow contaminated. How this man, who seemed so vile, could have been responsible for the creation of two people as great as Ryan and Quinn, and someone that seemed just as great in Jo...Mike didn't understand. When they sat back down, Mike slyly rubbed his hand against his pants as though that would help to cleanse the discomfort he was feeling. He glanced across the table at Quinn and gently bumped her foot with his own, trying to let her know that it would all be okay. "Now, Michael. Russell and I have been talking and we have reached an understanding of sorts with one another."

Russell smiled, a smile that would have sent shivers down the spine of any of his children. "Yes, I must say your father is an exceptionally reasonable man. And as it turned out, he and I have a common interest; children who need some guidance to stay on the right path." He snapped his fingers at a server and ordered a bottle of wine for the table, never stopping to consult anyone. "I assume as a fellow student, Mike, that you're aware of Quinn's...troubles. Her failure of a claim to that...Ben." There was another word on the tip of his tongue, but he kept himself in check. "And Michael has discussed with me the path that he would like you to take. I am curious, though, as you seem like a smart young man - what do you think is the solution to both your problem, and my daughter's?"

Mike swallowed slightly, trying to keep himself in check. He knew that anything he said would be used against him and so it was important to keep himself focused and polite, no matter how much he wanted to give Russell a piece of his mind. This wasn't the time or the place. He cleared his throat and glanced at Quinn briefly, before his attention turned back to the other. "Well, Sir. I think that we are at Lima Heights for the purpose of gaining an education that will help us on the road to becoming intelligent and respectable within whatever mark we have. And I think that continuing in that education is the solution to finding the claims that we're meant to have moving forward." He expressed, not calling their situation a problem, because it wasn't a problem.

Russell took that answer in, looking over at Michael for a moment. His answer was interrupted by the waiter, who appeared with a bottle of wine and poured a small amount into a glass for Russell to taste. He sniffed it, took a sip, and slammed the glass down. "Swill. Did I ask you to bring me swill? You're incompetent - bring me a proper bottle or you'll be looking for a new job by morning!" As if nothing had happened, he turned back to Mike. "You're on the right track. You're there to gain an education that will allow you to become a better Dominant and find someone to have at your side as you become a doctor. She," the disdain dripped from his tongue as he gestured at Quinn, "is there to find a claim and learn how to serve them. Nothing more. And since my daughter is apparently incapable of making good decisions, your father and I have made a decision for the both of you."

Mike's jaw clenched at the way that the young server was treated. He was going to have to make sure that he left him a good tip. Or at the very least spoke with the manager another time to ensure him that the server had done just fine. Mike shot a look over at his father who simply shook his head in response. Apparently his father was going to sit there and let things happen. But seeing as how Michael and Russell had been talking behind their backs, Mike wasn't surprised by his father's lack of back bone. "Exactly, Michael. You need someone who can be exactly who you need them to be from this point onward. You will need someone who can take care of the house, take care of the children, ensure that you are satisfied when you come home from your long shifts at work. You need a perfect submissive. And we believe that you can have that." Mike's jaw clenched. He could see where this was going and he was not pleased, far from it. Yes, he enjoyed spending time with Quinn. And if things kept going the way that they had been, he could see himself claiming her. But this was not the way it was going to happen. Not with Russell or his father's expectations on them. Mike knew Quinn better than to expect her to be a house submissive. She had dreams. Plans to be a lawyer. What his father, what Quinn's father, were laying out was not something that he wanted to pick up. "And what is the decision that you both have made?"

"The obvious one. And the correct one." Russell had carried a small leather attache case with him to the meal, and he opened it with a flourish. "My daughter may not be good for much, but she will be the perfect submissive, Michael - for you." Reaching inside, he pulled out two items. One was a few typed pages, professionally bound. The other was a collar. He paused for dramatic effect for just a moment. "This," he tapped the pages, "is a trial claim application. Prepared to the school's standards, with the rules and expectations that will bind you both. The only empty space is for a date. Neither of us wishes to hear objections, nor will I tolerate whining from you, Quinn. You've both shown us that you can't be trusted to run your own lives, and so we've made things easier for the both of you." Another bottle of wine arrived, and he deemed it passable. "We understand you may need time to get your things in order. Which is why you have until December to sign your names to this application."

Mike was blown away as he stared at both the trial claim application and the collar. The fact that they hadn't even just discussed the fact that they wanted a claim between Mike and Quinn, but had gone this far, was not computing for the Dominant. He glanced over at his father, and then glanced at Quinn, before he shook his head. "This is absolutely ridiculous. I'm sorry, Mr. Fabray, but with all due respect: you know nothing about me. And father, you know nothing about Quinn. How in the world do you expect to believe that these pieces of paper will mean anything to either of us in the long run?" Now, Mike had known that his father wasn't happy that he didn't have any claim prospects, but the fact that he had resorted to this made Mike's blood boil. "Your daughter is worth much more than you give her credit for, Mr. Fabray."

Somewhere in the back of Quinn's mind she had known that this would happen, but not to this extent. For them to have already drawn up papers and to have gotten a collar for her was just too much. Throughout the entire conversation, she had stayed silent and sat there with her nails digging into her skin until the skin finally broke on contact. She couldn't bring herself to stay silent during any of this and she knew that she should speak up, but she couldn't find the words. It was one thing for him to do this to her. That she would be able to handle. It was something entirely different for him to drag Mike into all of this. She felt sick to her stomach and she could feel the bile rising in her throat. "Ex-excuse me." She grabbed her purse and she was up from the table and rushing off the bathroom before anyone could say a word. By the time she came back out and made it back to the table, her eyes were no longer red and she had pulled herself together enough that she was willing to sit back down next to that evil man who she was sure was Satan himself. She cleared her throat and shook her head. “I’m not doing that.” Her voice was calm, just barely above a whisper but there was a hint of anger in her words. It wasn’t to say that maybe one day she and Mike wouldn’t get there, but this wasn’t the way to about it. She didn’t want it like this.

Russell looked at the elder Michael with a 'could you control your child, please?' barely sparing a glance as Quinn took off. "I know everything I need to. Everything your father's told me. He believes that this is the right thing for you, and I trust his judgment." He gestured to the trial claim application. "I'll thank you not to tell me what my own daughter is worth - that application will mean something to you both because it's the right thing for you both to do. You need someone to do all of the things you won't have time for. Quinn needs someone to take her in hand and turn her into a submissive worth having in the house." Before he could get any further wound up, Quinn returned to the table and spoke four words. Russell's face colored an ugly brick red and he set his wine glass down hard enough to crack it. "I'm sorry, did you think you were being offered a choice here, Quinn? Do you think I came all this way, wasted my time in this little shithole of a town, for you to try and defy me?" His voice dropped an octave, emphasizing words that he knew she would understand. "You know how much it would hurt your mother if you were offered a chance at a brighter future and turned it down? What that would do to her? Do you?"

Mike's jaw was clenched and his body more tense than it had ever been. Never before had he been so angry. Who the hell did their fathers think they were? The idea of claiming Quinn was far from the worst thing he could think of, but this was not how he wanted it to start. "I think I do need to tell you what she's worth. And if you're so adamant about me claiming her, then you bet your ass that my opinion about her will be worth more than yours." Mike's father grabbed the back of his neck tightly and kept him in his seat. "You see where he could use this push in the right direction? He's a stubborn boy and I do believe that when they do enter the trial claim, he will stand to see reason and act like a respectable young man." Michael's voice was hardened and he only loosened his hold when he noticed Quinn returning to the table. Mike watched Russell's visceral reaction, waiting for any indication that the man was going to try and touch Quinn in a physically violent way. But instead watched as he took the manipulative route, bringing Quinn's mother into the picture. His foot reached out again, knocking lightly against Quinn's. She wasn't alone and he needed her to know that.

Anyone else would have jumped when they heard the glass slam against the table, but the fact that Quinn could remain entirely still was a testament to how much she had grown used to it over the years. Of course he wasn’t giving her. Choice but that didn’t mean she cared. She had no interest in doing this. Not like. Not right now. “No one asked y’all to come down you here. I don’t give a fuc-“ Her voice tapered off as he started to speak once more. This was his go to tactic to get what he wanted out of any of them. Quinn wanted so badly to hate her mother, to leave her out to put to dry like she had done with her daughter when she needed her the most back in high school, but it was impossible to do that. It wasn’t Judy fault. She was much a victim in all of this and Quinn wanted to do what she could to make her life a little easier. Not even the little bump that Mike sent her way could keep the tears from pricking at her eyes as she looked down at her lap. “Fine, Sir.” All the venom in her voice was gone and she shrank into herself, a single nail digging into her wrist to keep from crying.

"I do see it now. He seemed like such a polite young man when we started talking," Russell shook his head. "But you're right, this trial claim will set everything right." He knew exactly what he was doing when he invoked Judy's name - his claim was really nothing but a prop anymore, and as long as she could be useful for that then it was something. When Quinn gave in he couldn't help a smirk, looking over at Mike with a gleam in his eye. "You see? All settled. I suggest you take a look at the application - minor changes will be allowed so long as they're approved by both of us. Now, I think this calls for a toast. Let's get everyone a glass of wine - not you, Quinn - and celebrate the beginning of what I'm sure will be a very successful claim."

Mike kept his foot against Quinn's even as the parents began to talk. He had mostly tuned them out, having reached for the trial claim application to look through it. Some of them he could understand, some of them he could even fully agree with, but then spotted throughout was many of them that boiled his blood again and and made him want to punch both of their fathers in the face. He kept his face stoic, however, his stomach churning. There was nothing to say that he and Quinn actually needed to send in the application. Not until they were ready and he was certain that it was what Quinn wanted. He set down the trial claim application when he was done and narrowed his eyes at the collar. No submissive of his would ever wear anything like that. He refused.

Quinn wanted to pull herself into Mike's arms to make herself feel better, but she couldn't do it. This dinner had done nothing more than make her feel defeated and like she was less than a person. Russell always had this way of doing that to her, or really anyone that he wanted to. She didn't even bother to look over the application because she could only imagine what was written there. She was sure it took away every right that her father deemed a privilege and unworthy of a submissive to have. She was sure that nowhere in that application said that she could have a job or follow her dreams even in the least bit. She knew if they signed this then she would be given that man exactly what he wanted, and she couldn't do that. She turned her head and wiped at the one tear that had managed to escape and swallowed against the lump in her throat, pulling her foot away from Mike's.

Filling their wine glasses and pushing a glass of water in front of Quinn, Russell stood and tapped his own glass with his fork. "Tonight, we celebrate the beginning of a new claim. And the joining of two families. Thank you, Michael, for reaching out to me and getting this whole idea underway. I couldn't be happier to finally know that Quinn's future is secured, and that she'll be serving your son in any and every way he needs going forward. To Mike, and his claim," he tipped his glass in Mike's direction, not acknowledging Quinn at all.

When Quinn's foot pulled away from his own, he felt his stomach lurch in the most uncomfortable of ways. This dinner would be that start of him losing her before he ever properly got to call her his. It was almost pitifully funny that Russell and Michael, through this arrangement, were effectively ending the possibility of him and Quinn ever being more than they currently were. At least that's what it felt like. Mike didn't plan on walking away from this, he would be there to work through everything with Quinn if that's something that she wanted to do. But he needed to have a conversation with her outside of this dinner where both of their fathers were listening in. Michael lifted his own glass in response to the speech that Russell had given. It was a riveting one. He could see the discomfort on Mike's face, but was certain about his decision. He hadn't been, for a while leading up to parents' week, but his mind had quickly shifted again. Quinn was a beautiful submissive, one that would serve Mike well and keep him on the proper path. "To the start of our children finally being on the path that is required of them."

#thread: dinner time

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theskyeandsea · 4 years

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Shifty Strangers || Ulfric & Skylar

Tagging: @big-bad-ulf

Location: Coffee Plus

Notes: While fueling up on coffee, Ulfric sniffs out another shifter in White Crest.

Ulfric wasn’t usually the type to frequent coffee shops, but after a long restless night of impromptu guard duty he needed some kind of pick-me-up to get through the day’s appointments at the parlor. It wouldn’t end well if he fell asleep with a needle in his hand. The line that waited for him inside Coffee Plus was both a curse and blessing. The former because the longer he had to wait the higher his chances of dozing off on the spot, the latter because it meant a higher chance of avoiding Celeste until she left for work. Though even if she did chances were her scent would still be waiting for him. After just one night, and even with his senses dulled so close to the new moon, it seemed everything in his trailer was contaminated with hunter stench. Hints of it even clung to him somehow, despite the copious amounts febreze he’d sprayed all over himself as soon as he left.

Taking a spot at the end of the line, Ulfric caught wind of another scent that pulled him out of his funk about his own acquired funk. It radiated from the young woman in front of him, reminding him of the ocean and… blue gatorade? But there was a familiar animalistic undercurrent that provided an instant jolt to his awareness that no coffee could hope to achieve. Not a wolf, but close enough to be comforting after the strange series of events he’d just been through. “Hey,” He tapped her lightly on the shoulder, using the beat before she turned around to face him to scramble together an excuse to talk to her. “Uh... would you recommend anything off the menu here? I’d usually only just go for a black coffee. I’m a creature of habit, you know how it is. But sometimes a change can be nice, right? I feel like trying something different before my shift.” It wasn’t the best or most subtle icebreaker, but hey, he was tired, and if she caught on maybe he could warn her about the beast hunters that were circling over White Crest like vultures. Or at least, he could put off having to face the hunter in his own home for a while longer.

Coffee Plus was more crowded than usual, which was honestly really good to see. It was cool that so many people in town liked to support their local businesses. And, even though she had her thermos and coffee machine, Skylar had decided to treat herself to a nice Americano from the shop. Waiting in line, she scrolled through her phone, a small frown crossing her face as she realized that Remmy and Morgan hadn’t responded to her. Had something happened? Mmmmm, no, they were probably fine. Maybe they were busy. Maybe the two of them decided to go and enjoy the sunshine, somewhere safely away from the ghost that was threatening Morgan. They were fine. She slid her phone back into her pocket and continued to wait in line patiently. As she waited, Skylar started slightly when someone gently tapped her shoulder. A tall bearded man with tattoos-- had she done something wrong? She didn’t think she cut in front of him. “Hm? Oh, sorry, I really only get espresso here, so it’s really not that different from a drip coffee.” She said, his deliberate intonation going over her head. “But, they use really high quality roasts here, so it should be good no matter what you choose.”

“Espresso’s not a bad idea. If a shot of caffeine’s what you’re after why complicate that?” Ulfric shrugged, doing his best to hide his disappointment at what seemed to be a rebuff of their shared status. Did she not know what she was? It seemed unlikely, the recently transformed usually carried a much stronger aura of panic around them. If this young woman had recently undergone an unexpected evolutionary upgrade she was handling it remarkably well. Then again her response didn’t seem terse enough for her to be one of those in the self-loathing, deep-in-denial, human-passing crowd. “Crazy times we’ve been having, huh? With the fish rain and the squid thing,” He decided to try again, after a moment to scratch his beard in contemplation. He had time to kill, and if he ended up making a fool of himself he could always blame the early hour. “You strike me as someone who likes to get out on the water. You know, got a real affinity for the sea? I’m more of a terrestrial animal myself. It’d be good to hear a more informed take on it.”

“Mhm. And this place does a really nice Americano. I usually make my own coffee and take it into work, but I figured I could treat myself today.” Skylar said with a polite smile, gesturing to the thermos that was tucked into the water bottle pouch of her work bag. Given the amount of caffeine it took to make her feel anything, her coffee habit had really added up over the years. Alain had been right-- the machine and thermos had been a good investment. As the man continued to speak to her, she blinked a little. Why was he talking to her? Not that she minded conversation, or that it was harming anything. She’d woken up early to ensure she had extra time to get from the coffee shop to work with ample time to spare. But… she hadn’t really anticipated having a chat with someone. “Mhm, pretty weird stuff. Between that and the blood puddles and the darkness… White Crest is anything but boring.” She laughed. When his words turned to talk of the ocean, of water, Skylar’s blood froze. “Huh? No, not really. I don’t even know how to swim very well.” She said, confusion bringing out an ounce of truth.

“Huh. My mistake, I guess,” Ulfric sighed, still not entirely convinced that he was wrong. He’d grown very confident in his shifter radar but maybe the lingering eau de hunter was throwing it off? “You smell like someone that would be more at home on the ocean. Not that you smell bad or anything, or that I go around sniffing strangers that often,” He inarticulately apologised, noticing her growing tension every time mentioned the sea. Still, one last shot, then there would be so little time left before Ink Inc. opened that he could justify going straight there and ideally he might even be able to warn her about the escalating hunter threat before she had firmly decided never to talk to him again. “Like I said, I’m more suited to land so I do most of my hunting there but do I like to fish on occasion--” If you could call catching salmon in your maw straight out stream fishing. “And your sc-- something about you seemed familiar, like maybe we had something in common. But if you don’t feel the same I’ll just leave you to go about your business.” The wolf backed off a bit stepping to the side of the line, before rummaging in his pockets for change. “Let me buy you that Americano at least though, for your troubles. ”

Smell like someone who would be at home in the ocean? What did that mean..? Skylar blinked in confusion as the man continued to speak with her about it. As he continued to talk, her eyes widened. Wait a second, did he? Was he-- Oh god. Rio had mentioned how Hunters who hunted people who changed shapes could sense others. Hand tightening on her workbag, she stiffened. “I-- I guess?” She stammered, trying to figure out how to best deny this. But if he was a Hunter, why would that be something smelling related? She really wished that Rio had told her more about how Hunters figured out who people are. Hunting on land? Fish on occasion? Oh god. He was a Hunter and he’d figured out what she was and he was going to try and take her skin or just actually try and kill him. “I-- No, no, you’re okay. Really, you don’t need to do that.” Skylar said, waving her hands in a slightly panicked gesture.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” Ulfric backed away even further, holding up his hands and nodding in acknowledgement towards the barista who had begun glaring at him for harassing their customer. “Nevermind about the coffee,” He conceded, depositing the change he’d got out into the tip jar instead. Turning back to the young woman he then cautioned her in a hushed but carefully enunciated tone. “I just wanted to warn you; There are owls in our bog. Pigs in our forest. There are… I don’t know the American expression but there are a lot of people around town right now looking to do folks like us harm. Take care of yourself, alright?” The wolf moved around in a wide arc around her, allowing her space as he made his way towards the exit of the Coffee Plus, his original purpose for being there abandoned. Clearly he wasn’t going to be much use to anyone until he got some rest, he thought, running his fingers through his hair and letting out a frustrated sigh. Maybe he could find a discreet place in the shop to nap before his first consultation arrived.

The confused expression on Skylar’s face only grew as the man backed out of the line, tossing his money in the tip jar and then he gave a strange warning. Bog? Pigs? American expression? “I really don’t understand but, you really don’t need to go-- Oh no.” She said in dismay as she watched the man hurry out of the coffee shop. She really hadn’t meant to chase someone off like that, but… she didn’t know what he was talking about. At first, he’d seemed like a hunter, but then he was saying something ominous about owls in the woods? Did that mean he wasn’t one? Turning back to the barista, she placed her order, pausing when they asked her if she wanted anything else. “Um. And a large drip coffee, please. No room for cream.” She added.

When her drinks were slid across the counter, Skylar hurried out the door and looked around. He was a tall man with a large bushy beard. He was the kind of person who would stand out in a crowd, and the early morning streets of White Crest certainly weren’t crowded. Spotting him, Skylar hurried after him, moving as quickly as she dared with two hot drinks in her hands. “Sir?” She asked timidly after him. “I felt bad that you didn’t get a coffee because of… all that. So, um, please.” Skylar held out the large travel cup.

Ulfric had just finished firing off a quick text to Ariana, ‘Got to rush to work. Don’t be late for school. I’ll pick up food for you + C on the way home’ when he heard the young woman call out to him and pivoted back to her. “That’s nice of you,” he accepted the offered coffee graciously. “Clearly I need it.” He took a long steadying sip. “I’m Ulfric, by the way, that would’ve been a smarter way to start. Here,” He retrieved a glossy business card for Ink Inc from his scuffed leather wallet. “If you change your mind and ever want to talk to someone about, well, changing you can contact me here. Or if you’re ever in trouble,” He held it out in the hopes of exchanging it for the kindly offered caffeine, but if she didn’t take it there was still a chance she’d remember his name if she ever needed it. He was fairly certain he was the only Ulfric in town. “I might be biased but I think we’re safer and stronger if we stick together.”

When the man held out the business card, Skylar hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t entirely certain what to expect from him-- first he’d seemed like a Hunter, dropping hints about things that he might know what she was, but then… he’d backed off. Given, they were in a public space, but the streets weren’t busy. He could easily just grab hold of her, attack her, without her being able to do anything. But instead, he was holding out a business card and saying something about changing. Frowning, she took the card from him, looking at it briefly. “Ulfric Haakonsson.” She read outloud, her tongue stumbling over the strange last name. “Sorry. I’m not good with unfamiliar names. But, um… what do you mean by that? Sticking together? Do you--” She balked, looking around carefully. There was no one around, at least, no one she could see nearby. “Are you… different?” She asked, not sure how else to frame her question.

Ulfric grinned as she took the card. Doing one small uncomplicatedly right thing felt like a massive relief amidst the tangled mess of conflicting priorities he’d suddenly found himself in with the Bennetts. “Don’t apologize, that’s my great-great-grandfather Haakon’s fault for sticking us with one,” He waved off her apology, unable to hold in a laugh at her downplayed question. Compensating for still keen but less than peak performance hearing, he glanced along the street to confirm no one was in earshot before answering. “Around the full moon, sure.The rest of the time it depends who’s defining normal. Unfortunately for us those with the least tolerance for things deemed irregular, tend to be the most... well-armed. What about you?” He flipped the query back around on her, encouraged by her apparent curiosity. “Are you saying you consider yourself ordinary?”

When the man-- Ulfric-- let out a laugh, Skylar blinked in confusion. Had she said something funny? She didn’t quite understand why he would be laughing. But, when he mentioned the full moon, her stomach lurched. Werewolf. He was a werewolf, he must be. She didn’t know of any other kind of creature--person, that turned with the full moon. And… that must be how he could tell that she was some kind of creature as well. Because his sense of smell. He could tell what she was just at a glance. Biting the inside of her cheek, Skylar weighed her options. He knew she wasn’t human. She couldn’t lie. She hated that she couldn’t keep it a secret from him. But… if he was telling her what he was, he must be a good person, right? He was honest. And he’d said those kind words, of being stronger and safer together. They were words she’d heard from Ricky, but had been long abandoned. Could she trust this man? Realizing she hadn’t answered, Skylar cleared her throat. “No. Not really,” Her words came out in a slightly halting tone, not sure how to put what she was into meaningful euphemisms. “I don’t always feel comfortable in my own skin. And the sea, it’s where I’m meant to belong. I’m just not always… the best at dealing with it.” She said, hoping he would understand what she meant.

“Well, the world we’re living in certainly doesn’t make it so easy,” Ulfric replied thoughtfully, milling over the young woman’s words for clues that could be matched with what he knew of other shifter species. The mention of skin pointed towards selkie, but the comment about not being comfortable in hers was confusing and a little concerning. The close-knit colony he’d heard about in Iceland frequently returned to sea in their true forms, and he didn’t see putting it off for extended periods could possibly be healthy. Then again the current climate in White Crest wasn’t exactly friendly towards shifter habits. “Maybe it’s best if you lay low for a while,” He added with a hint of sadness. “Hunting season is heating up and they don’t tend to discriminate between one ‘beast’ and the next.” He mimed quotation marks with his free hand to make it clear he didn’t really believe that label hunters had slapped on all shifters and supernatural animals applied to them. “Just keep in mind my offer, alright? If you’re ever finding things too much to handle on your own.”

“No, it really doesn’t.” Skylar agreed, hoping that he understood what she’d meant. Did he realize that she was a selkie? She wasn’t quite sure how else she could make it clear, without just saying “I turn into a seal sometimes.” And this wasn’t quite the time or place to make such a statement. The man’s advice, words about a hunting season, they rang loud and clear. People were out in White Crest, looking to harm them. Looking to hurt people who were… like her. Who could change into things, even if they didn’t really want to. Swallowing, Skylar nodded. “Thanks for the advice.” She said with a nod, though her mind couldn’t help but go to Nic and to Rio and to how they were different. They weren’t just mindless murderers. They were good people, stuck in roles they didn’t quite like either. “I will. I… I might take you up on that.” She offered a small smile.

“That’s all I can ask for.” Ulfric nodded, understanding why she’d remain hesitant. Unfortunately, there was only so much he could say to reassure her of his trustworthiness in the middle of the street. “Be seeing you around then, maybe.” Returning her smile, he gave a semi-reluctant wave goodbye before continuing in the direction of the parlor. He would just have to hope that the few words of warning he’d been able to give her would be enough to keep her from harm until she did decide to reach out or the problem was permanently, bloodily resolved. The news had undoubtedly added to the weight on the young shifter’s shoulders, and he did feel a small pang of regret for that. But, he concluded, as he arrived at the shuttered Ink Inc. shopfront, a few more blissful moments of ignorance weren’t worth dying over. It wasn’t until he got the heavily bolted shop door open that he realized he’d never got her name or any way to check up on her himself. Faen, he was going to need a lot more coffee.

#p: ss #p: ulfric haakonsson

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atopearth · 4 years

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The Legend of Dragoon Part 3 - Fate and Soul

I remember Furni! It's such a cool town but so inconvenient at the same time lol, because you literally need to row a boat to go anywhere, including your own house lol! Lmao when I lied to the hotel person about being part of the defeating Kamuy hunt and she refused to give me the license to go on the boats loll, I had to be honest that Dart just came here and then she would recognise him as the heroes of Tiberoa loll. Anyway, I'm glad there was a good ending for Kamuy the wolf because it really just seemed to want to protect Teo and only became "savage" due to some other monster or something. Glad Shana helped it with her Dragoon Spirit. Speaking of Shana, I feel like she's really matured and become strong after getting together with Dart, it's really cute. And considering how the people in town talk about fairies and how Meru said she's been to Mille Seseau but was a bit shifty about it, I assume the Wingly Forest or whatever is here? Anyway, I guess Haschel really is Dart's grandfather considering the lullaby Shana learnt from Dart is what Claire used to sing saying she'll dedicate it to her future child? On another note, I completely forgot/didn't realise Neet/Dart's original hometown was in Mille Seseau so he's originally from here! Loll at Meru taking the opportunity that since Rose left to do some errands, she's going to run and do some too lol.

Wow, Deningrad is beautiful! Lmao at the guy near the entrance shivering from the cold and trying to run on the spot to warm up hahahah, that's exactly what I do when I'm cold🤣 I love how the other person walking around is like it's a warm day today because the sun is out lmaoo. Hmm that Divine Tree legend is interesting. Like, the idea of the land being filled with nothingness until Soa descended and sowed the seed of the Divine Tree which grew 108 fruit that were all different life forms, and that was how all the different species were spread across the world is a pretty interesting idea. So the reasons the Winglies reigned during the Dragon Campaign time was because the Gods gave them that power, and it was when they lost it that the humans were able to prevail? Hmmm, and now the Gods are on or are the Moon that Never Sets watching over the human age? Ohh the current Second Sacred Sister of Mille Seseau, Sister Luanna is also a survivor of Neet's tragedy 18 years ago! Kinda cool how the Queen and the Four Sacred Sisters govern over this land though, very different from Serdio and Tiberoa where they just have a king. Hmm, well, it seems like according to the legends, the Black Monster is basically some sort of monster of destruction there to kill the Moon Child that supposedly purifies the world and calls the Gods to earth. Which is interesting, because considering the "incorrect" decision of the Gods giving Winglies enough power to rule over everything and make humans slaves, are the Gods coming to earth really a "good" thing? In a sense, couldn't it actually be that the Moon Child is the one that brings destruction by doing that? I mean, what if the Gods want to "purify" the earth by destroying everything and just starting all over again?

I see, so Rose went to visit Neet and she meets Luanna! So, I guess if the Black Monster was looking for Princess Louvia in Neet and on the ship, the princess of Mille Seseau is the Moon Child and thus, Shana. What, the Moon Child's power causes everyone around them to become an evangelist for God, making them a servant to prepare for the descending of the god??? So that's why the Black Monster kills everyone who has made contact with the Moon Child, because they're probably essentially "contaminated". On the other hand, with Meru, I think there's a good reason as to why the Winglies hide themselves in a boundary to separate themselves from humans, and make it taboo to leave the forest, I mean, would humans even view them nicely? How can they trust that they won't be killed? I really love the home of the Winglies though, it feels really high tech and fun to teleport around lol! I feel sorry for Meru's parents though, they must be really happy to see her, but welcoming her would definitely earn the ire of everyone else.. Are the Winglies planning to kill the humans one day like the Bardels said? Will the cycle of killing continue? There's another Dragon and it's waking up?! No wonder the Winglies are on edge if the ancestors with the strongest magic power can't defeat it... The King of Dragons with seven magical eyes sounds scary lol, hmm the Divine Dragon huh? Ohhh the Dragon Buster was from here! I wonder if the Dragon Block Staff is enough to protect them..Aww...Guaraha is such a nice childhood friend, he's willing to go against everyone to protect Meru if need be. I can understand why Meru won't stay, not only does she need to help Dart and them, if she did that, Guaraha would be hated too. I hope Meru reciprocates his feelings one day though. Aaaand it seems like the Divine Dragon's seal has been broken somehow~

Well, I didn't expect the Divine Dragon to fly over Deningrad and cause damage to the city like wow. Ohh, so Miranda is the First Sacred Sister. I hate the part where the White Silver Dragoon Spirit rejects Shana and goes to Miranda because Shana isn't able to maintain it anymore or whatever. It's honestly just so heartbreaking to see everyone have to leave her here in Deningrad by herself when she used to stand by them too. I think it must have really hurt for Shana to ask Miranda to take care of the rest because it really hurt me to have to see this happen to her. All she has wished for all this time was to stay by Dart's side and yet she can't even do that now in her condition... It was really sweet that Meru got to talk to her parents properly, and to see her father really happy to see her, their hug was so cute. Surprisingly though, most of the Winglies are so welcoming! Like, they trust Dart and them because the Ancestor said to invite them in to talk about borrowing the Dragon Block Staff to block the Dragon, but wow, I guess they must really respect the Ancestor above all. Omgg, the Bardel brothers hate humans because their little sister followed Meru out to the human world thinking it was wonderful but then ended up getting killed by humans... that's so terrible...

It's kinda sad to think about how terrible the Winglies in the past were, especially since they even made a Coliseum for different species like humans and gigantos to fight to the death against each other for entertainment... Honestly though, I wanted to have a neutral opinion of Miranda since so many people seem to dislike her, but omg I think everything she says is just so...infuriating? Like, I just kinda ignored it when she asked whether they should force their way through the Forest of the Winglies to get the Dragon Block Staff initially, but seriously, which part of that is a good idea when you have no idea where it is and are you literally prepared to kill the Winglies to get it? How selfish can you be when you're asking them for something. And then now that we're talking about getting the Dragon Block Staff into our hands, everyone alongside Dart willingly offers information because they all know that if they want to defeat the Divine Dragon, they all need to co-operate and do what they can to stop it. Her "it's none of your business" when they asked something was just so rude, it's hard to even think of her as a companion. Honestly, it's okay if she's a rough person, but her attitude is the worst. Like sure, she's with people she's not familiar with, but she does realise that these are people she's going to be risking her life with, it wouldn't kill her to try and understand them more. Anyway, I hope she gets more understandable or bearable as a person because I dread using her in battle when I see her lol, doesn't help that I've never been a fan of the archer in the game since it has no Addition. Anyway, the Grand Jewel protecting the staff was much easier than I thought, maybe because I didn't need to rely on Dragoons at all lol, easily killed with Additions and having a therapy ring. I guess it was good that it kept hitting Meru and she had the therapy ring loll. Otherwise, I didn't even need to turn into a Dragoon, I feel like I should have turned into one for 2 turns just to see how strong it gets when it uses the staff against you haha.

It's so terrible to see the Divine Dragon destroy Deningrad like that, it's sad that Dart and them were too late. I actually think it's pretty cool how there's such a nice variety of people and reactions though. Some are hurt and scared, some like the items and weapons shop believe that they need to keep doing business and there are people like the hotel owner and the clinic people who are preparing to take in patients already. I guess the good thing about Miranda is that she's a reliable big sister to the others lol. It's sad that Shana is so perplexed over her powers, but at least she was able to save the people in the palace with it. And it's nice that Miranda is gentle and kind with her, also it's nice that she wants to fulfill her promise with Shana to "take care of the rest" as well as fulfill her obligations as a fellow Dragoon. It's so cute how Meru said she understands how to care for others due to Dart and Shana, it is true though. I feel so sorry for Shana that we have to leave her yet again to go after the Dragon though... I'm not surprised Lloyd was fighting the Divine Dragon already, but I'm kinda amazed that he seemed to have fended it off for quite a while with just the Dragon Buster, since he doesn't have the Dragon Block Staff to actually weaken it. Honestly, the fight could have been much easier if I used Albert and Kongol but I thought it would be okay with Meru and Haschel and my weak Madness Hero hahahaha, needless to say, I took a while plucking away its health with my subpar damage (Meru did 68 damage because I used her new Cool Boogie Addition lmao). Anyway, I levelled up my Additions though so that was good 🤣

I guess we shouldn't be surprised that there's a Divine Dragoon Spirit, but I wonder what Lloyd's aim is if the Divine Dragon was merely an obstacle to it and what's why he came to kill it? It definitely has to do with the Moon Child but hmmm. I felt sorry for Sister Wink that she practically led Lloyd back to the castle to capture Queen Theresa (since he needs the last Moon Mirror now), but I guess regardless, he would have been able to get her anyway. Honestly, it was kinda random that Sister Wink came out of nowhere to take the blow for Lloyd when Dart was about to slash him (after we defeated him), but it's understandable why she did it. She was smitten from the moment she met him, and honestly, he really didn't need to save her all those times to get the mirror but he did anyway. And I guess it's nice if Lloyd will understand a bit more about the kindness of people rather than focusing on trying to have this world reborn into a utopia with the 108th species? Not sure what the plan he and Emperor Diaz has, but I guess it's supposedly time for the new species to rule to fulfill Soa's intentions? I guess we'll get to know more about everything now that Dart is going with Lloyd to see Emperor Diaz. On the other hand, I think it would have been so cool if we got to have Lloyd as a guest character and play with him a bit! That would have been so fun~ Oh well. Anyway, wearing a Talisman and turning into a Dragoon is such a great trick against Lloyd! Since he mostly tries to instant kill the Dragoon guy with the Talisman, so in the end you don't need to heal much at all! Would have been much easier if I had another Talisman but oh well, all good haha!

So, the regeneration of the world that both Emperor Diaz and Lloyd seek is basically believing that the 108th species that Soa created reigning will allow all species to kinda go back to their former powers and glories instead of right now where species such as the Winglies have deteriorating powers out of their control? I was thinking the Moon Child was the 108th species but I was like, if there's only one, is it still a thing? Hahaha, but I guess it doesn't matter if it's one or twenty, classifications of species don't depend on the number of them after all. Ohh, so the Divine Moon objects were used by the Winglies to seal up the 108th species so that they could remain superior and that's why Lloyd needed them! The souls of the dead Dragoons from the Dragon Campaign are still wandering around? But Shirley said only 4 are still here, so including her and Rose that's only 6, what's the last one doing? Ooh, Lloyd got tricked by Emperor Diaz! I didn't realise he didn't know Shana was the Moon Child, but I guess the biggest revelation is that sadly, the Moon Child won't bring the restoration Lloyd desires for the world, instead it's actually a Virage Embryo, a God of Destruction that will in turn cause this whole world to be destroyed. I hope Lloyd didn't just die like that... I mean, yeah he's not a good guy, but at least we hoped for the creation of a better future for the current species, not really the idea of destroying everything and everyone, then starting from scratch again.. Anyway, that's kinda crazy, no wonder why Dart felt familiar to Rose, Zieg (the original Red Eyed Dragoon) is Dart's father, and also the "current" Emperor Diaz.

Ohh, so the 108th species was separated into two, the fruit and the flesh? So, a part is the Moon that Never Sets and the soul was captured in the Crystal Sphere that Melbu Frahma, the master of Winglies kept so that he could withdraw unlimited magic power from and conquer other creatures! I see, the reason why his soul was not mentioned by Shirley was because Zieg is here, having dissolved the petrification caused by Melbu Frahma when they fought against him. The humans destroyed the Crystal Sphere when they took their lives back in the Dragon Campaign, and that allowed the Moon Child to be born... I think it was pretty saddening for Dart to have to hear that Rose was actually the Black Monster all along though. You understand her reasons, because she knew that it was the God of Destruction so she had to kill all the possible Moon children and the "servants" it created alongside them, but to think that Princess Louvia had a twin sister and that was Shana... I thought she was the actual princess, but really, Rose killed the princess and never realised she had a twin... I guess we'll be travelling to the Moon where Shana and the Moon that Never Sets will kinda combine together and become the true God of Destruction? Honestly though, I knew Rose was the Black Monster but I never really thought of or remembered the burden she carried all this time, all the blood, all the hatred and all the sadness. No wonder why she said she forgot how to smile long ago. Ever since she started killing everything 11,000 years ago to prevent the destruction of the world, she lost everything and herself as well. She could only keep killing... It's really saddening.

I really loved this chapter for the extra insight into the Winglies themselves. The past ones that were super strong and dominated all species, and the current ones who are either obsessed with their past strength or the ones like Meru who desire a life outside of their little forest, or even ones like Lloyd who believe in a new future and creating it by themselves. It was really nice to see all that. Miranda as a character leaves lots of things to be desired though, she really doesn't add much to the party and she hasn't been very important tbh lol. I guess with this chapter, most mysteries were revealed at the end, but I really enjoyed the step by step we went to revealing the "last boss" who knew everything and dictated everything. The reveal of the Black Monster was also expected but saddening. It's a lot to take in all at once though, because it's kinda crazy to think how enormous the stakes are now compared to what Dart expected when he first started on this journey. But I guess his reason for continuing won't ever change, and that is to protect Shana.

#the legend of dragoon #legend of dragoon

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moonstomars · 5 years

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What you collect from the riveside

Here’s my entry for the colour challenge! I got this colour and panicked because I had never worked with this kind of prompt, but eventually, something came out.

It’s a Colour Blind Soulmate AU (basically, you’re completely colour blind till you meet your soulmate) and, of course, it’s about King and Diane.

Enjoy!

Diane hums as she walks alongside the river, enjoying the warmth of the midday sun on her exposed skin. Her eyes wander over the greyness of the grass and the dark of the ground, looking for the plant with the six-pointed leaves. She can’t remember exactly who taught her that if she presses its roots she will obtain a sap that can help to keep a wound clean and healthy - maybe it was her mother, maybe that older girl who always took care of her when her parents were out to fight - but she remembers the first time she used it, the sticky liquid smudging her fingers and crawling under the nails. The scratches on her knees had never healed so fast, and that’s exactly what she needs now. To close a wound. Though this time, it’s not hers.

She smiles unconsciously when her mind goes to the little boy she found on the riverside, just a few days ago. Her breath had stopped when she had realised that the dirty mass of cloth was a person, and when she had understood that the dark, irregular spots on his clothes had to be bloodstains she had feared she had found a dead body. But he wasn’t dead, he is not dead, and Diane is determined to make things stay that way. Harlequin is already getting better, and the last time he woke up he even talked with her a little, though he drawled a bit and he didn’t seem to be able to explain to her how he had ended up in the river with a large but luckily not too deep cut on his chest and belly. He wasn’t able to tell her anything about him at all, actually, but maybe he just needs some time to get better - when she had found him, he was really in bad shape. His wound seems to heal well enough, but Diane wants to make sure that it won’t get infected. That’s why she left him asleep in the cave she now calls home and went outside to look for the plant. It’s not the first time she needs it, and she knows that there are some bushes a bit more down by the river.

It shouldn’t take long to get there by now, she thinks as she picks up the pace, lowering her gaze to study the varied vegetation of the riverside. All the leaves and the flowers are a shade of white or grey, yet she likes to observe them, discerning the different hues and shapes, trying to imagine how they would appear to a person who can see the colours. It’s silly, she knows it, she can’t even imagine a single different colour from the ones she has grown up with, but it’s a good dream. Hopefully, one day, she will see the world how it really is.

Soon she distinguishes the shape of one of those plants, the form of its leaves making it easy to recognise it even in the middle of the other shrubs that grow on the bank of the river. Her smile widens, though only for a moment, because then a stabbing pain in her eyes makes her squeeze her lids. She rubs a hand over the right one letting out an annoyed snort. This stinging feeling is tormenting her for days, like there is constantly sand in her eyes, and it doesn’t matter how many times she washes them, it always comes back. When it gets better she forces her eyelids open with a grunt, refusing to let that stupid pain slow her down. Surely Harlequin feels worse, and she wants - she really wants - to make him feel better.

Another two steps and then she can kneel near the bush she was looking for, her hands slipping under the foliage to reach the trunk. Carefully, she pulls it up, helping the roots out of the ground without breaking them - she wants to get as much sap as she can. When she is sure she brought out everything, she lets out a satisfied sigh, curving slightly her lips as she lifts the plant. It’s then that she catches glimpse of something with the corner of her eye. Mindlessly, she simply glances at it, her mind still focused on what she has to do now - washing the roots from the ground so that it won’t contaminate the unguent - then she turns her head completely, blinking. And she freezes. There is a plant on the river’s edge, its flowers soaring towards the sky sustained by thin stems, the tiny petals flat and open around the pistils. They are not … Diane tries to breathe, but the air gets stuck in her throat, and she blinks again, but nothing changes. The petals are not grey, nor any shades of it, they are not black nor white and they are nothing she has ever seen. They have a colour, she realises, but a different colour, something she is not supposed to see until -

Until she meets them. She remembers what they always told her, back in Megadozer, that only the ones who find their soulmate get to see the other colours. Slowly, maybe starting from a single shade and then all of them, little by little, until the world becomes a combination of all the nuances she could dream of. But then that means that - the only other person she met over the past few months is -

Harlequin.

The plant still clutched in her hand, her grip tightening around the wood, she gets up and slowly comes closer to the little flowers, eyes wide as she studies the way their shade changes along the form of the petals, turning into grey towards the bottom. She has no idea how this colour is called, she has nothing with which she can compare it, but it’s different - it’s beautiful - and it means that she found her soulmate and that maybe she will not be alone ever again. Her heart pounds against her ribs like the furious beating of a bird’s wings when she reaches for a bunch of flowers, and carefully she picks them, moving delicately her finger and holding her breath - they are so tiny, maybe the size of her little fingernail. She almost fears that their colour will melt away under her touch, but it’s still there in the light grey of her hand. Then, she gives up. In a moment, she has turned away and she is running as fast as she can, holding the flowers against her chest, heading home. She doesn’t care that she should wash those roots, nor that now plots of ground are falling on her dress. Soulmates, they taught her, start to see the colours at the same time and she needs to be sure.

The way to get there has never felt so long, but finally, she sees the entry of the cave and in a second she bursts in, looking for him. Harlequin is exactly where she left him, in the bed of leaves that she made for him, though now he is awake, sitting on the ground, brows furrowed and a focused look in his eyes. He raises his head when he hears her come and he blinks in surprise. “Ah, Diane! Where -”

“Harlequin,” she kneels in front of him, putting the bush aside as she pushes the flowers towards him, “do you see it?”

The boy’s look of confusion turns into amazement when he finally moves his eyes from her face to the flowers. He stares at them for a long moment, he blinks and rubs his eyes. Then his gaze returns to her, “I … I think I do,” he stammers, swallowing. “Wait, you are seeing it too for - for the first time?”

The way he looks at her, astonishment and hope glowing in his eyes, makes her beam at him when she answers, her voice trembling for excitement, “Yes!” Then, softly, she whispers, “It’s you,” because she still can’t believe that she found him, that she found her soulmate. A little boy she pulled out of the river. “I’ve found you,” she can’t help but chuckle, and Harlequin finally smiles her back, flush creeping over his cheeks and his eyes shining with something that Diane thinks - hopes - it’s the same happiness that is warming her heart.

“It’s me,” he answers, his voice full of wonder, like he is trying to realise what this really means for him, for them. Briefly, Diane wonders if he wanted this. To find his soulmate in a young, lonely Giant girl - she somehow doubts he ever imagined her to be like that. Her heart skips a beat as fear grips her throat, fear that he will be disappointed by her, that he will reject her and leave her alone once again - but it’s only a moment, because she can’t misunderstand the joyful curve of his smile, nor the emotion that makes his voice slightly shake when he whispers, “You did find me. Thank you."

Diane doesn’t know how he will feel about all of this, once he is healed and free to go, but for now, he is happy, and that’s all that matters. Her smile widens, and she has to hold back from grabbing him and hugging him - he is still wounded, she has to remind to herself, and so fragile and tiny in her hands - so she hands him out the flowers instead. “Do you know how this colour is called?” There are some colours she knows the names, she heard them more than once - the sky is blue, they say, and the grass is green and the ground deep brown, but the flowers can have different colours, and she has no idea how to call that one.

Harlequin gently take a flower in his hands, his skin pleasingly touching hers, and brushes the petals with his fingers. Then he shakes his head. “I think this is an orchid,” he says, looking up at her, “I … someone taught me that.” He stops, furrowing his brows, a blank stare in his eyes. It disappears when he blinks. “But orchids can have different shades,” he continues, lowering his head apologetically, “and I’ve never … I don’t know which one is this. I’m sorry.”

Diane purses her lips and pokes his cheek with a finger, making him flinch and raise his brows as he glances at her with worry. “Don’t be sorry, silly,” she says, then she giggles, “we will find out together.”

She finds adorable the way his eyes go round and his cheek and neck blushes, then he finally relaxes, making her a large smile. “You are right,” he says, excitement flickering in his eyes, “we will.”

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #fanfic #diane #king harlequin #kiane #pre-relationship #colour challenge #my writing #marswriting #the seven deadly sins #i have actually so many other ideas for this AU #but for now that's what i got

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yeswritingsandwritings · 4 years

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COVID Diaries; Pennies

It is March 2020 and I’ve channeled the spirit of Paul Revere. As Los Angeles erupts into rioting and mass fentanyl suicide, I dive headfirst into the cabin of the Mazda, and gun the packed ship upwards along the vacant I5 corridor. Every smouldering city under Gavin Newsom looks further gone than the last. The navigation takes me on some perverse fantasy detour thru post-apocalyptic San Francisco. It’s been a long time coming but now it’s solidified. The mayor and her delegates have chomped their cyanide pills and now the streets and bridges offer rotting cars beside silent, beautiful Victorian manors. Still in full color, the sky is blue and the sun is yellow, gleaming indifferently. I am nervous about San Franscisco County. The shelter in place order says no one shall be out on the street without proper reason. And, proper reason or not, I have a pharmacy of drugs in the trunk of my car. Will it be enough to wait out the pandemic in my mother’s house? Enough to keep me sane tucked in the basement of the compound on Cougar Mountain, Issaquah, Washington, for GodKnowsHowLong? My very own Bavarian Alps.

For years in LA I have lived for high speed and hard sex in a blackout frenzy which no young American could denigrate without looking like a nerd. In our culture of excess I sought the most insane, unexplored corridors. Chavionistic romps through the bitter forests of lust, contamination, too-young suicide, too-good blowjobs that leave explosions on this cast of characters flown from every corner of the globe, all with the same indelible fever. I come to now, in this chaotic month handed down by God, March 2020, and I’m withdrawing from all of it in the penthouse on the side of the mountain.

In this moment the fantasy is fading fast, like being jolted from a wet dream by a home invasion. For a lot of people the American dream was already a flickering ember in the distance, a relic of some stupid pilgrimgrage for egoic glory, a blind propaganda puzzle piece with no jigsaw to belong to. But I had formed my own relationship with the concept, and, until now, had believed wholeheartedly in the myth in America; or at least that myth’s capacity to spur significant action, which could abolish hunger and pain, mistreatment and misunderstanding, which could deliver us from evil and unto the kingdom of heaven.

I am not, to many of her 300 million pairs of eyes, a portrait of traditional American success. I am the starving artist archetype. I’ve lived in abandoned buildings and shot cocaine into my veins in the speeding bathroom of many an Amtrak carriage. These may be my most definitive traits, save for the music I somehow manage to draw out of all of this. Albums worth of potential answers to the impossible questions. Sometimes I think I’ve reached the peak, with the LSD and the naked festival girls. I am 26 years old and feel incompetent. I go to pay a traffic ticket or am electric bill and find myself paralyzed at the entrance to the website. In a moment of otherworldly strength I call the bank and my debit card has been cancelled. I stare at the parking ticket in my pod, which has been rented from a company called Up(Start), and is arranged in a row with twenty others. At least I’ve made it to Los Angeles.

Up(Start) is a strange place. I find most people don’t last very long in this community. They leave back to their hometowns or find apartments. The ones who stay haunt this place like ghosts, with no discernible goals and mysterious incomes. I’ve learned not to ask how these life-longers pay the rent. The answer is not translatable.

Willow is one of these life-longers. She always talks about moving out; sometimes to an apartment in LA, most recently about some nebulous palace in France. She says her grandmother died and left her everything. She shows me a suitcase full of watches and rings that still can’t fully convince me of her story. She drinks vodka when she wakes up and convinces me to fuck her when Jesse leaves us in his room alone.

Jesse found his way out to a beautiful house in Silver Lake. He had been at Up(Start) for a year before that. He is the nicest guy I know, offering the coat off his back for nothing but a swig of your vodka in return.

I left these characters behind, keeping a steady 65 on the interstate and stopping only to black out in a hotel room in Redding, CA. Summer, inspirational barista and blowjob queen, dared me to stop and see her in Portland, but my body was crawling from scabies from Lucy, (who was also in Portland and, I would later learn, infected with the virus) and I sped right through.

My younger brother Jon was at the house and had been awaiting my arrival. I instantly understood why. My mother had become a figurehead for the national panic, and shoulder-hugged me with her mask on. She is, as we speak, sterilizing the place.

I’ve gotten to spend a good amount of time with Jon, and am somewhat surprised to find that he faces the same existential torment as I do. This is not something we talk about, but I can feel it on him. He is super into Xanax, and orders pressed bars off the darknet. I share the drugs I’ve brought with him. Kratom, weed, and, —most enticing— Flubromazolam. I learn that he has been kicked out of UW on academic probation. I ask him about it in front of my mother and stepdad. With a casualness that shocks me he says he just didn’t care about any of his classes. But he’s got reaccepted to the school and he says he’s going to make it this time.

I show him how I order my drugs online. I show him the designer benzodiazepines on the clearnet, pennies per dose. We place an order for O-DSMT. It’s an insane solution to our problems, but I guarantee you it works.

I tell Jon about my life in LA with the stuff. Taking it and driving weed deliveries all day. I don’t tell him about the long nights with Lucy, telling her the love I feel from the opiate is sourced from her, then failing to get hard.

Jon, for his part, tells me about the peak of his Oxycontin habit, poppin 7 OC30’s a day with his buddies at Rolling Loud. I was just a few blocks away. I didn’t know he was in town.

We order the O-DSMT to his apartment in the U District, stopping to and snag it on our sole vacation to Dad’s for dinner. Two packages have been delivered. We have the save pavlov response. We carry the packages to his apartment on the top floor and split the bubble wrap with a butterfly knife. Out of a manilla envelope comes 100 green Xanax bars. From a bent UPS envelope comes a gram of O-DSMT and 250mg of 4-ACO-DMT, a bonus for me (Jon says he hates psychedelics).

We set to the scale and split the gram, dosing 50mg then and there to get through dinner. The next day he visits me in the basement, saying “Yo, this O-DSMT shit… it’s dope.”

I say “I’m with you.”

My days are spent deep in the dream flow, recording songs for a hopeful fourth album. The third one is still far from complete, but I can’t go back and meddle with those songs now. Wouldn’t dare touch their Los Angeles essence with the hand of the evergreen state. They will go to Rob and Twon and Andy as they are.

I’m back to guitars for the new album. Cardinal sin AC/DC type songs. I think it may be a double album, quarantine permitting. I want an exploratory, unstructured, throw paint at the wall and see what sticks, White album/Life of Pablo situation. I want solo piano pieces and Aphex Twin-esque 808 excursions. I want the label to release it on white vinyl with extensive liner notes. Indulgence. I want this album to be the one where I say “indulge me.”

If Rob is vehimently opposed to the idea I had the fantasy of making an easy album. Taking songs like Parade Owl, See You Tomorrow, Miss Can’t Sleep and putting out a whole album of them. Good rock music. Take a step back from the frontlines; the cutting edge. We’ll see what sticks to the wall after this quarantine is over.

Weeks drift by. There’s a trade route for all the beer that gets brought into the house. It goes from the garage fridge to the basement fridge to my eager hand, to my mouth, to my blood. Night by night the ritual recurs, til my mom takes out the downstairs trash and finds all the empties. She makes some subtle comment. I tell her to buy more White Claw.

Despite the drug flow my inspiration seems to be drying up. Rob took a listen to the twenty five songs I’d completed since arriving in Issaquah and said they sounded like Dogs. The old band. The old rock and roll band we’ve been trying to move away from. I was disappointed to hear him say it. I was disappointed he wasn’t excited about the songs. “Fuck it, should I scrap them all?” I asked myself. Then I started to look around the house and understand that if nothing came of these songs… I must be insane. I must be losing it. The stupid research chemical stimulants don’t help. I thought they would. Productivity and all… but I’m just jittery, texting strangers on Instagram for hours, all the while feeling like I should be doing something else. And the television is on in the background, and I told myself I was going to do so much to day. And I did it. And people on Instagram say “you seem busy.” They’ve always said I seem this and I seem that. I never agreed with any of it, but they probably know me better than I do. How could I see myself? I look for myself through a fog and it’s only a ripple of a shadow. A microcosm a million miles away through a hellscape with no up or down, no east or west. They say I’m social. They say I’m a socialite. Really I just get drunk and unleash all my nervous energy on the party or, nowadays, the Zoom meeting.

Today I drink Modello. Ma and Chuck went to the Seattle waterfront for a picnic or something. I didn’t get the details. But the sun should be going down now, and she’s texting me asking if I want to play a board game when they get back. I say yeah sure I do. My temper when I’m off these amphetamines analogues, though… I worry I’ll flip the Pictionary board. Slam dunk the wine glass onto the wood floor. Now the cliffhanger; will this Modello calm my nerves?

This morning I went with mom to buy plants for the garden. I thought we were going to get seeds but she wanted the already grown ones. She was ready to be angry. Nothing made her happy. We went to three different garden store. I think she got some tomatos. How the hell am I going to get out of this one? Feels like the walls are closing in. I feel like I’m in the freezer in the back of McDonalds. I feel so sad for her, but I also feel so sad for myself. I feel cut off. I feel short of breath. I feel terror. It is Friday, April 17, 2020. Dread, terror, paranoia… I’m sure it’s been felt a million times by a million people, but here’s my version of it. In this McMansion on the side of the mountain, feeling less like I have a mission than ever. Calling nobody. Freezing. Yeah I’m freezing.

My brother and I both have drugs to get through this crisis but I’m planning to get off them. I sold him half of my etizolam and half of another shipment of O-DSMT the other day. He wasn’t at all interested in the 2-FDCK, an analogue of the dissociative Ketamine. I am still not really sure what dissociatives do to consciousness. They can move you into states profound darkness. You feel like your life is a black and white film and it is raining outside. And it drips off the palm trees and you sit in traffic on the way back from the Boy’s and Girl’s Club, where the boys and girls wouldn’t listen, they’d just go off into their own worlds. I wonder how they’re all doing now, tucked into their parents houses in Calabasas.

Anyway, I said to Jon “I’m getting off the stuff.” And I intended to. This journal finds me at a crossroads between fantasy and reality. What is my life going to be for? Where do I cast this fishing pole? Well the pole’s been cast. It’s out there in the middle of the ocean. But at the same time it’s in my hand, in this very moment, and I can chose where to dip it. I’m not trying to catch a fish in this scenario, I just like the serenity of the bay.

The question on everyone’s mind is: “If not drugs, then what!?” That’s a great question and I’d be bullshitting if I said I could answer it. I don’t know what lies on the other side of this life. I want to find out. Do I truly? I have to truly. Love, sex, work, victory… I’ve seen all these things before. And I keep turning to these substances. They fill up my days and my hours and all the music is informed by them. They move my hands to play the guitar and my voice is scratchy when it comes out. I’ve formed an identity around these drugs to a certain extent. That idea of me has to die. It does. I’ll have to mourn it. I’ll have to mourn a lot. I guess I don’t know what to be afraid of. I know a lot of stuff is going to come up through this process. The drugs numb it all out. People say that but it’s really really true. Bad news doesn’t don’t hit you as hard. Most things don’t hit you at all. You’re in your world. You’re off in a cloud. You’re unaware of the world around you. You’re afraid to engage. Why?

It’s easier not to ask why. It’s easier to get the immediate relief of a squirt of etizolam tincture. Or a gross tossing of O-DSMT powder into your mouth and a quick washdown with water. In this way you don’t have to answer any questions. In this way nothing hits you. And guess what else? All your heroes did the same thing.

But a lot of them died doing it. And you don’t want to die. You really really don’t want to die. You want to live a long life, with kids and grandkids, and see what happens to America and what music turns into. You don’t want to die, but what do you have to live for? You know you can make things up. Everyone’s always making shit up. All of this is made up. The culture, the value of a dollar, the value of a Benz. We just decide on it. And that takes a lot. But you know what takes a lot less? Deciding how you want to react to each moment. This one and this one and this one. Do you know what I mean? They say a lot of stuff about the world. The world’s fucked. They say the world’s burning to the ground. They say we can’t leave our houses. They say America won’t be a super power by the end of all of this. But they’re making shit up. And I’m making shit up too. I’m whipping up like a chef. Throwing dishes out from the kitchen, but the dishes are words and actions and the kitchen is my mind. What kind of food am I throwing out? What kind of food am I serving the world? Let me serve love and hope. But for that to happen, let me cultivate it in myself first. Let me nurture it like a child. Let me see it sober. Let me take the steps in the right direction. It’s simple. It’s simpler than you think it is. What are you going to do right now, after reading this? Or while reading this? How are you going to face the world?

Jon told me he got into Xanax from the Famous Dex song “Japan.”

“Baby girl, what you doing, where your man? I just popped a xan, fifty thousand in Japan”

He told me his friends heard the song and picked up some Xanax because of it. They liked it and reached out to him “You’ve got to try this,” they said. My little brother, in the throes of this batshit demon force that will bury him. It might bury me too. The jury’s still out. Mom, just let me withdraw in peace. She brings down a space heater. I grow to love it. I lay down on the wood floor that the spiders sometimes dash across. The space heater comes close to burning me, but I’m ok. I stand up, dizzy from all I’ve done to try to combat the withdrawls. Way too much etizolam, way to much kratom, getting to the point of way too much weed and alcohol. But hopefully it’ll all be over soon, and I can call my friends in peace and not want to slam down the phone whenever there is the tiny threat of silence, or whenever I speak, or whenever they speak. I can’t any of it sober, that’s what I think. Life is hard sober; it’s a breeze when you’re floating thru it. A good dream. So why get sober? They say it’ll kill me. Well, I said that. In this very same paragraph. And maybe it will. But when you’re withdrawing like this… all you want is a moment of peace.

Oh God, at dinner tonight I started to go off about my own mental state to the family. I should have known it was a big mistaken, but on my way home from Doordashing a rainy Issaquah I stopped at QFC and got a bottle of True Eagle American Spirits, Kentucky manufactured vodka. And, helping myself to serving of kimchi, I said to them “I think I’m losing it.” And the conversation spiraled until my mother asked me “Are you suicidal?” And “Are you struggling with drugs?” Jon, between us, must have felt betrayed, but I just wanted to feel understood. I feel Chuck does not want to understand. I understand what he’s sacrificed for the life he has, but what value does that life has to him? He has a tumor in his jawbone, and it’s eating away at him, and no one can do anything. And they can’t get out to the specialists on the East Coast, and they won’t do the invasive surgery. He’s too busy. I know, in some capacity, he understands. Because he blows these things off like they don’t matter at all, when anyday he could have a stroke like Grandma had, fall to the floor of the kitchen while dishing up his kimchi, or pulling a slice of pizza out of the carton. I feel the same way. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I know that I am mentally unwell. And I avoid the questions about my drug use and about my suicidality. I miss girls, ma. I miss pussy and parties and not giving a fuck. The way I don’t give a fuck now is in these terrifying sound collages drafted on the latest of nights, in the deep dark depths of quaratine. What was I saying in the last one? Something about how I didn’t wanna kill the crabs on the beach on Whidbey Island as a kid. Holy shit I’m losing my mind. But it’s all fine, isn’t it? As long as the music comes out fine.

What could I possibly do to get healthy? I feel so far off the deep end. You have no idea; I feel like crying. My best friend, living with the girl I thought I could always go back to. We don’t talk. I mix these ketamine analogues in with that cheap cheap vodka (plus etizolam) and cry tears onto this plastic table. It’s pointless to keep up the tinder courtships. I feel like this will never end. And it started with such a bang. I was such a part of history. Now I’m a nobody; I’m a junkie, holding on by the thinnest thread. No energy to pray. I feel like Cobain, and I know so many people do… but I really do. I can only imagine. But I’m only listening to Mingus, Lana Del Rey and Radiohead (Kid A thru Hail to The Thief).

Should I throw weed in the mix? Lord knows I have enough of it. It’s my number one priority. I’ve made enough songs now that we could workshop what I’ve come up with years. What else is there to do? Mingus ripped the piano strings out of some pianist’s instrument in front of a live audience, then stormed off the stage. Where the fuck is that in my life? I’m in front of the computer, weeping because America has come to a close. You know they sent jazz to the Soviet Union as a WEAPON? A weapon of freedom and democracy and individualism. What the fuck happened? It all makes me want to cry. It’s all too much; this world. These people I’ve known and loved and lost. This music I’ve made that they promise me will be something, but I don’t know if I believe them. I don’t know if I want anything to do with this life. I can’t engage with my culture anymore… my history. I feel like I’m not a part of it. I feel so disconnected. Who’s rippin the strings out of MY piano? Or who’s piano am I ripping the strings out of? We’ve lost so much… I mean… I’ll do my best to work with what we still have, but we’ve been so fractured. It wouldn’t surprise me if this was the end. Of America. Of our culture. Of our music and our hustle and bustle and industry and lover’s lanes and rites of passage. I feel like I’m mourning it now. Mourning my culture. Maybe mourning the illusion that was sold to us. Believe me, I was first in line to buy. That’s why it destroys me so deeply to see it collapse.

I guess we’re all one people. I’m crying writing this. Weeping, weeping, weeping. Grieving. You know what grieving is. I remember what’s-her-name in the pool. We went to every hot tub, each a different temperature, in the Desert Hot Springs Resort. Then Lucy’s friend’s new boyfriend told us Bernie Sanders had stayed there when he had visited DHS. I laughed so hard. Lucy ordered me another drink. She didn’t mind the cost. She liked me to be on her level. And I didn’t mind. I was proud to sip. We went back to the hotel and did god knows what. Feels a million lifetimes away.

This was back when anything could happen. When America was a blank slate and no one could predict anything. When you could go outside and say “What the fuck is up?” and get in adventures. I mourn the loss of that. Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe that’s still there. But I’ve emotionally severed my ties to it. And I wish I didn’t. Because I love it. I love it so much. It’s not a myth. I swear to god it’s not a myrh. It was a reality… until all this happened. You have no idea. I mean, if you’re reading this and weren’t around before. You have no idea. I mean… I don’t know what things are going to be like after this. But not the same. There’s no way they could be the same.

You know I hope I get this shit. I hope I contract COVID-19. Lay in this guest bedroom bed with the scabies I may or may not have gotten from Upstart Creative Living… and which wouldn’t die off. I hope I can’t breathe. I hope I’m immune. I want to walk the world. Maybe I should go out, get it, isolate, heal, be immune… if that’s even possible. At this point we don’t even know if immunity is a thing that happens with COVID. But even if I could walk the earth without fear of it… everyone else is cowering, and they pull away from, seeing I’m not wearing a mask or gloves, or even if I am… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would all end this way. I would have done so much more. Focused so much more on each kiss. Even every note. I did my best, I guess. It feels like it’s all coming to an end. It’s Thursday, April 23, but that doesn’t mean anything. You have to understand how little dates mean in this time. It’s like we’re living in one of those time capsules buried beneath the walkway at WWU. Stagnant… yeah we write songs and poems and do our work and keep the economy from faltering completely… but there’s a different angle to look at it all now. The world is over. I mean, aha, to use the words of Rem… “It’s the End of the World As We Know It.” Key words: “As we know it.” I had no idea this would happen in my lifetime… I couldn’t even conceive it. If you would have told me this would have happened six months ago I wouldn’t have believed it. America seemed so stable. And now it feels like it’s in shambles. It really did feel stable. You may think I’m insane for saying America in September, 2019 seemed stable… but shit, we were free. And we were headed where we were headed. This throws a wrench in all of this. And it could be the end. And I thought this was the greatest country on earth. Happiness is a buttery, try to catch it like every night.

I’ve been fascinated in American history since I could understand it. Most specifically, I’ve been fascinated about how history is still happening. The closer you get you the current day, the harder it is to get a straight story. FDR did what he did and we won. That’s fact. That’s cement. Nixon? Everyone agrees he was a crook. But what about Reagan? What about Bush Sr? What about Clinton? The closer you get to the modern day, the more difficult it becomes to discern what is real and what is fake.

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ladylynse · 5 years

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I didn’t think I’d have time to write anything else for the Phic Phight, but there was a reveal prompt, and I love reveals....

Prompt by @duckapus: Reveal- Jack starts to question why ghost hunting equipment malfunctions around Danny. Exclusively around Danny. [FF | AO3]

Jack hadn’t questioned it at first. Not more than usual, anyway. Most of his inventions were prototypes, constantly undergoing revisions as preliminary testing revealed potential improvements. He expected problems. Bugs. That was normal.

But somehow, none of those potential improvements ever dealt with a problem he’d had from the beginning: the way all his ghost hunting equipment malfunctioned around Danny.

Exclusively around Danny.

The first time he’d mentioned it to Maddie, the first time he’d really noticed it, she’d simply told him to double check that he had everything in the proper order—no wires crossed, no incorrect balance of internal chemicals, no improperly calibrated sensors, that sort of thing.

The second time he brought it up, she’d suggested ecto-contamination. Danny hadn’t worn his HAZMAT suit in years—they didn’t even know where it was anymore—and Jazz would at least don one of Maddie’s when she thought the situation was desperate enough to warrant it.

But no amount of tweaking had helped, and Danny had started spending as little time in the lab as possible. He shouldn’t have built up enough contamination to be so consistently pinpointed by their weapons—especially when those weapons had no trouble differentiating between their samples of ectoplasm and a semi-sentient ghost blob.

Jack hadn’t bothered bringing it up a third time to Maddie. She was busy, and while this was important, he knew she hadn’t forgotten about it. He suspected that she was looking into it on her own time. He’d decided it was best if he did the same. For Danny’s sake. If they couldn’t solve this problem by putting their heads together, maybe they’d get further if they went at it separately for a while, coming at it from different angles instead of convincing each other of a promising but ultimately wrong viewpoint. As long as they solved the problem in the end, it wouldn’t matter how they got there.

Really, it was a safety issue at this point. Their weapons wouldn’t do any lasting harm to humans if handled properly, but accidents happened, and a blast from an ecto-gun was still a blast from an ecto-gun. It would still hurt, at least in the moment, and a sustained blast would burn.

And, honestly, the fear of one of their weapons accidentally locking on to Danny kept Jack from developing things he was interested in, like missiles keyed to the particular ecto-signatures of ghosts which repeatedly attacked Amity Park. He knew it was possible. He already had the technology in the Fenton Booo-merang. Adding it to an explosive that would go off on contact wouldn’t be terribly difficult.

But he hadn’t yet solved the problem of why the Booo-merang was attracted to Danny, and he’d rather not send explosives meant for ghosts after his son.

It was the Booo-merang that Jack had in pieces in front of him again. The kids were at school and Maddie was out most of the day running errands, so he’d moved from the lab to the kitchen table. Interference from their samples in the lab shouldn’t be a problem, but he’d run out of ideas when it came to what actually could be the problem, so he was trying very hard not to rule anything out, however unlikely.

Unfortunately, the Booo-merang had been built exactly as it should have been. By this point, it had been rebuilt—with both old parts and new—no fewer than six times. He’d done the math again. Had Maddie do the math again. Their calculations weren’t wrong.

He could get the Booo-merang to home in on different ecto-samples, could successfully switch between them, but he had a sinking feeling that the moment he set it to seek out the strongest ghost within range, it would find its way back to Danny again.

Like it always had before.

Jack hadn’t had any success correcting the Fenton Finder, either. It would point to Danny. No matter what he did to it. It would still register other ghosts, however weak, but Danny’s blip invariably showed up stronger than all of them. If the reason for all this had been ecto-contamination—somehow—Danny’s dot shouldn’t be displayed as brightly, not now that Jack had revamped the interface so that the brightest dots represented the strongest ghosts. He’d meant for it to be a way to find the likely leader or the strongest opponent, should they face multiple ghosts at once, but he wasn’t convinced his efforts had paid off. If the Fenton Finder persisted in finding Danny, he should have been barely there.

It never should have marked him as the greatest threat.

The Ghost Gabber was no different. No matter what Jack did to it, it would always ‘translate’ Danny’s words. He’d adjusted its sensitivity to the point that it wouldn’t even register the incoherent garbles of an ectopus, but the moment Danny said something….

Jack sighed, pushed the dismantled mechanics away, and stood to get some water. He was missing something fundamental, something dreadfully important, however small or basic it seemed. The reaction was consistent. Repeatable. As far as his equipment was concerned, there was no mistake. If it reliably sought out Danny, there must be some reason for it.

Trouble was, since it didn’t seem to be a flaw in the equipment, and earlier trials had shown that it wasn’t an oddly high level of ecto-contamination, Jack had no idea what that reason could be. Really, Jack had doused himself in ectoplasm by mistake once and hadn’t even registered as a blip on the Fenton Finder. It knew the difference between the activated ectoplasm ghosts controlled and the ectoplasmic remnants those ghosts left behind.

It would be different if it weren’t only Danny, if it weren’t always Danny, or even if it weren’t every invention.

After all, experiments with repeatable results were more likely to be true. Particularly when the conditions of the experiment varied. When the environment changed. When the parameters were tweaked. Jack’s inventions always pointed to the same thing, no matter the circumstances.

But the result had to be wrong. Danny wasn’t a ghost. How many times had he jumped to that conclusion with Jazz and it had turned out to be nothing? Maddie would have his hide if he kept doing that, and Jazz would give him another lecture about how he was ruining Danny’s childhood, and he only wanted what was best for his family.

But if his inventions weren’t wrong, and if Danny wasn’t a ghost, what was left?

Jack drained his glass of water and made up his mind. He scooped the pieces of the Booo-merang into a box, cleaned the grease-stained newspaper off the table, and dropped the box off in the lab. He’d reassemble the Booo-merang later. Right now, he wanted to go for a walk. To clear his head. And maybe to get some answers.

Maddie had the GAV, but that was just as well. It was harder to sneak up on a ghost in that, even if they were easier to chase when he wasn’t on foot. Still, for what he wanted, the Fenton Finder would do the trick.

Jack checked the weapons supply in his suit one last time before heading out the door, Fenton Finder in hand. There were no ghosts nearby, so he fiddled with the settings and expanded its range. It was less precise the farther it stretched, but it was easy enough to shrink the range and increase its accuracy as he got closer to a ghost.

Following the Fenton Finder’s instructions to a pair of ghosts was easy enough, and Jack wasn’t entirely surprised to find himself spitting distance from Casper High. He caught the tail end of Phantom’s fight with Technus, and while the ghost was gloating to himself over capturing the technology ghost, Jack fired a net-gun at him.

Phantom squawked and tucked to protect the thermos as he dropped. Jack approached cautiously, not remotely surprised by the suspicion in Phantom’s eyes—or by the slight coating of ice that was forming over the net. He’d seen Phantom pull that trick before.

Jack held up the net-gun and an ecto-gun and very visibly put them on the ground where Phantom could see them. “I didn’t come here to fight,” he said. “I just want to talk, and I needed to make sure you stayed here long enough for me to ask if you will.”

Phantom frowned. “Release me, then.”

The net was now completely coated in a thin layer of ice. Phantom could get free on his own with one good ectoblast, but Jack took the offering for what it was and untangled the net. Phantom floated up to his eye level but didn’t leave—or release his hold on his stolen Fenton Thermos. Jack wasn’t overly happy about Phantom’s theft, but it was good advertising for FentonWorks, so he’d long ago decided to let it slide as long as Phantom stopped stealing from them. (The Fenton Ecto-Skeleton might have been used well by Phantom, but he’d also destroyed it, and Jack was only willing to lose so many prototypes.)

“What do you want?” Phantom asked. He was watching Jack’s hands as much as his face, and Jack wondered if Phantom knew he hadn’t surrendered all his weapons.

Jack opened his mouth and found himself hesitating. He knew what he wanted to ask, more or less, but he wasn’t sure how to ask it in a way that made sense—much less in a way that made sense to a ghost. It was just as well that he’d found Phantom. Of all the ghosts that plagued this town, Phantom was the one who was most likely to give him something approximating an honest answer. Jack wasn’t sure what he’d have to promise in return, but the ghost wasn’t above cutting deals—and he tended to honour them, as far as Jack had seen.

“Do you just want to meet me later?” Phantom offered. “I’ve, uh, got someplace I should really be getting back to, and—”

“You know my kids, right?” The question had tumbled from Jack’s mouth without his permission, but at least it was a starting point.

Phantom blinked at him and looked slightly uncomfortable. “Um. Yeah? Jazz and Danny, right? They both go to Casper High. I’m, ah, there a lot. As you can tell.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the school.

Jack nodded. “Yes. They’re often targeted, being our kids.”

“Right.” Phantom nodded, though Jack had no idea if he actually agreed or if he was merely trying to keep Jack happy. “That makes sense.”

“And Maddie and I know they support you,” Jack said slowly, “despite everything we’ve taught them.”

Phantom winced. “I swear I’m not brainwashing them or anything like that,” he muttered. “They just know that not all ghosts are evil.”

“Not all ghosts believe they are evil,” corrected Jack. Phantom’s frown deepened, but he held his tongue this time. “In fact, few truly accept that they are. They’re so caught up in their own beliefs and perceptions of the world that they can’t see how horrible their actions truly are.”

“Right.” Phantom’s voice was flat now, as if he remembered enough of what his life had once been to approximate human emotions. “I promise not to attack your kids. Was that all you wanted to talk about? I can go without you shooting me in the back again?”

“No, I…I want to make you a deal.”

Phantom’s eyebrows shot up. “A deal? After saying that? You just told me you think I’m evil but I can’t recognize my own evilness! What kind of deal do you want to make with someone you think is evil?”

It wasn’t worth correcting Phantom now. He wasn’t in the mood to argue over semantics, and he had never been very good at that, anyway. “I’ll replace that battered Fenton Thermos of yours if you help me with a problem I have.”

Phantom crossed his arms. “How about promising that you won’t keep trying to catch me and tear me apart molecule by molecule?”

He wasn’t jumping at the chance to replace his Fenton weaponry, so either he was comfortable with breaking into their place or Maddie’s suspicions were correct and one or both kids was helping him.

And if the kids were helping him, it was even more likely he’d know the answer to Jack’s question.

“You’d have to help me with more than one thing before I’d agree to that,” Jack said dryly. “I can appreciate your twisted sense of self-preservation, Phantom, but sometimes sacrifices must be made for science.”

Phantom glowered at him. “You’re just making me want to help you way less. You know that, right? My sense of self-preservation isn’t twisted, especially when you’re a ghost hunter. I’m willing to work with you guys on keeping this town safe, but only if we call a truce. I don’t want you to shoot me the moment the opportunity arises.”

He wasn’t going to make any wild promises without consulting Maddie. If they were going to strike up any sort of long-term alliance with Phantom, her input would be invaluable. She was a better negotiator than he. Besides, at this point, he didn’t trust the ghost enough. Trust had to be earned. He knew it went both ways, but Phantom was never defenseless unless they managed to suppress his powers—and he could disarm them more easily than they could do that. “I can give you one week. If you can help me. Beyond that, I’d have to discuss it with my wife.”

To Jack’s surprise, Phantom smiled. “Really?” There was something…hopeful in his voice. “Okay, yeah. I’ll help you if you don’t hunt me for a week. What’s this thing you need help with? Do you want a tour guide for the Ghost Zone?”

The idea wasn’t a terrible one. He’d have to bring it up with Maddie later, maybe when he broke the news that they couldn’t hunt Phantom for a full seven days. He was sure she’d understand once he explained that this was for Danny. She knew how much he was willing to sacrifice for their family. “No. I need to know why my inventions target you.”

Phantom’s smile fell off his face. “What?”

“What exactly is it about you that my inventions find? Why do they work?”

“You…. Why are you asking me that? How should I know? You invented them!”

“My science isn’t perfect.” Jack hated to admit it, hated to admit folly or fault to a ghost. “Until we can break a ghost down to its components, until we can figure out what triggers its cohesion or the composition of its ecto-signature, we’re guessing.”

“And you think I can tell you all that? I’m not a scientist! Go talk to Plasmius.”

Jack frowned. He didn’t like the Wisconsin Ghost, not after he had tried to attack Jack’s family. “I trust him less than I trust you.”

“Yeah, but he knows more about all of that stuff than I do. I’ve never studied it. I can’t tell you anything about that. I still don’t even understand how I exist like this, and he’s tried to explain it to me.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You died, Phantom. There are a number of reasons ghosts form—”

“That’s not what I— You know what? Never mind. If this is what you wanted help with, I can’t actually help you. So why don’t you just let me go this once, and we can go back to normal next time you see me? I should really be going anyway—”

“That’s not the only thing I need help with.”

Phantom sighed. “Are you sure? Because if it’s science-y, and it sounds like it probably will be, you’re better off talking to Plasmius. I mean, believe me, I hate that idea, and he’ll hate that idea, and I can’t guarantee he’ll help, but he’ll at least understand what you’re talking about. I don’t.”

“No.” Jack had known even before he set out that he wouldn’t ask help of Plasmius. Phantom, aggravating though he was, was preferable to Plasmius. He had never seen Phantom directly harm his family, and Plasmius had tried that right in front of him. “I…. This is about my son.”

Phantom froze. “Your…son?”

He looked scared now, which was interesting. Maybe it was Danny who was helping Phantom after all. Maybe Phantom was the reason all their weapons— But Phantom had no reason to lie to him about this when it would mean he wouldn’t have to worry about the town’s best ghost hunters tracking him down. Jack highly doubted he’d tell the whole truth, but if Phantom knew anything, however insignificant, he could have given it to them—even if he knew whatever he told them wouldn’t help.

“There’s something about Danny,” Jack admitted quietly, “that sets off our weapons. I can’t figure out what it is. Maddie can’t figure out what it is. Our weapons are designed for ghosts, not humans, but something that would destroy you could still hurt him.”

Phantom’s eyes were wide. “Comforting,” he squeaked. If it was an attempt at humour, Phantom had no idea of his ill timing. Then again, Jack wouldn’t expect anything else from a ghost.

“This is serious, Phantom. My son’s life is in danger. If something goes wrong with one of our inventions…. Accidents happen, but I want to prevent the ones I can. And finding out why our weapons target him and stopping it will go a long way toward that.”

Phantom stared at the ground and said nothing.

“Help me figure this out. If we’re successful, Maddie and I will discuss the possibility of a long-term truce.”

“I…I don’t think….”

“Please.” It was easier to get the word past his lips than he’d expected. “Please. For my son. You claim to be a hero, to want to protect this town, don’t you? Help me protect my Danny-boy.”

“I’m going to regret this,” Phantom muttered. Louder, he said, “This involves Danny. You should talk to him, too. I’ll, um, come by sometime after school—or at this rate, detention—is over.”

Jack frowned. “Why not help me now? Then, whenever Danny gets home, we’ll be ready for him.” He was tempted to ask why Phantom thought Danny might get detention when he hadn’t all week, but Jack was unfortunately aware that Danny got detention as often as he didn’t, if not more. He shouldn’t condemn the ghost for acknowledging that fact, not when he needed Phantom’s help. Not when he was asking for Phantom’s help.

Phantom gave him a goofy grin. “Because I have someplace to be right now. And you have to tell Maddie she can’t shoot me when I show up.” He offered a mock salute and vanished.

Jack didn’t know if he’d done the right thing. Alliances with ghosts made him…uneasy. Even when they were for his family. Even with a ghost like Phantom, who thought himself good. There was never a guarantee with ghosts, not in matters like this. Phantom could go back on his word. If this venture endangered his family….

He’d make sure it wouldn’t happen. He’d take every precaution he could. When Phantom came, he’d be ready.

And, hopefully, by the end of this, Danny would be safe.

XXXXX

Maddie looked over the lab and bit her lip. “I don’t like this,” she admitted. “Lowering our defenses risks the whole family, and—”

“—and it’s only for a week. We can be extra vigilant for a week,” Jack pointed out. “And if Phantom attacks us, then we get to tear him apart molecule by molecule!”

Maddie smiled. “You’re right. You agreed not to hunt him for a week, but if he attacks first, then it’s self-defence.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Good thinking, sweetums.”

She was still nervous. He could see that in every line of her body. She didn’t like this. But he’d trusted Phantom before, made a deal with Phantom before, and the ghost had kept his word. Jack wanted to believe he’d do so again. “This is for Danny,” he reminded her.

“I know. I’ll abide by your terms. For Danny.” She checked her watch. “I’ll make a fresh batch of cookies. If Phantom is going to be under our roof and unrestrained, we can at least learn what we can from him while he’s here.”

“Double the recipe?” Jack asked hopefully. He loved Maddie’s cookies—the entire family did—and if it turned out Phantom could and would eat, Jack wanted to make sure there were enough.

Maddie leaned closer and whispered, “I’m going to quadruple it,” before pulling back with a laugh. Halfway up the stairs, she added, “They never seem to last long enough anyway. Just don’t anger Phantom before we at least get that data!”

“I’ll do my best, sugar plum,” Jack promised, but Maddie was already back upstairs, and he was left waiting.

XXXXX

Danny came into the lab some time later—late enough that Jack knew he must have gotten detention for one reason or another—and he looked almost as nervous as Jack had ever seen him. “Your mom told you what we want to do, right, Danny-boy?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Kinda. I got the gist from Phantom, too. After school. He’s, uh, gonna be late. The Box Ghost showed up again.”

“The Box Ghost doesn’t usually give him much trouble.”

“He, um, had a lot of boxes.”

Jack nodded slowly. He didn’t know if Phantom hadn’t told Danny the details or if he hadn’t been truthful about any of it, but it didn’t matter in the end. He wasn’t here now, and if he didn’t show up by the end of the day, then that meant he didn’t intend to uphold his end of the deal—and that Jack and Maddie had no reason to keep theirs.

Danny grabbed the rolling desk chair by the computer and sat down. “Do you need me for long? I have homework.”

Jack sighed and leaned against the examination table. “What I need, Danny-boy, is for you to tell me the truth.”

Danny stilled, the fingers drumming on his knee freezing mid-beat. He looked…wary. Tense. Scared. “What do you mean?” Now that Jack was listening and looking for it, he could hear the falsehood in his son’s voice, the forced nonchalance that was betrayed by his body. “What do I have to lie about?”

He was a teenager. Likely as not, he thought he had a lot to lie about, even though he was wrong about that. “Danny,” Jack said instead, “this is important. You need to realize that. Our weapons could still hurt you, and your mom and I don’t want that to happen. That’s why we’re doing this. But we can’t help you if we don’t understand what happened.”

“I never said anything happened!”

“It could have been something small,” Jack said, though he didn’t really believe that. Whatever it had been, the effects were significant. “Something that you didn’t notice right away. Just think. You’ve spent a lot of time in the lab over the years. Has anything unexpected ever happened?”

“No.” The response came quickly. Too quickly. “I mean, you guys take a lot of safety precautions.”

“Mads and I do,” acknowledged Jack, “but when was the last time you or Jazzy-pants wore a HAZMAT suit while you worked down here?”

Danny winced.

Jack just nodded. “Now, your mom and I don’t think this is just a case of contamination. Everything reacts so strongly to you, and the effect just seems to be getting worse over time.”

“Of course it does,” Danny muttered. He’d no doubt been hoping this entire mess would just go away on its own. Truthfully, Jack had, too, but he and Maddie had known better than to do nothing and wait in vain.

Jack handed him the Fenton Finder. “You never stuck around long enough for me to explain my changes, Danny-boy, but if you turn that on, you’ll see how bright your dot is….” Jack trailed off. Danny had obeyed him, but the screen was blank.

“Hey, it doesn’t think I’m a ghost anymore!” Danny looked thrilled. “Awesome, Dad! What did you do?”

Jack just stared at the screen, half-expecting the dot representing his son—which had always appeared so faithfully—to belatedly pop up.

He hadn’t done a thing to the Fenton Finder that should affect Danny.

Wordlessly, he reached for the recently-reassembled Booo-merang, turned it on, and tossed it. Danny ducked, but all it did was crash into the drying rack and shatter half a dozen test tubes, a couple of beakers, and a graduated cylinder. No matter how many times Jack had built and rebuilt it before, it had invariably locked onto Danny. Now, it was like there wasn’t even a ghost in the vicinity.

Danny reached for the Ghost Gabber before he could. “My name is Danny Fenton,” he said into its microphone, and this time—for the first time in Jack’s memory—it didn’t repeat his words.

The next thing Jack knew, Danny had his arms around his middle. “Thanks, Dad!” He sounded so relieved. It was almost painful to hear that, to hear how much of a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a weight his own parents had placed there. “I don’t know what you did, but I don’t care because it worked. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Danny gave him another squeeze before releasing him and bounding for the stairs. “I’m gonna tell Mom and Sam and Tucker and Jazz!”

Jack just stared after him, knowing he should call out to stop him but not knowing what to say.

Danny should still be targeted. He should still be identified as a ghost. Jack hadn’t…. Nothing he’d done would have affected that. Should have affected that.

Jack wasn’t sure how long he sat there, going over everything he’d done in his head, before he began double checking his instruments. He did know that if Phantom hadn’t coughed, very pointedly, Jack would have never noticed him.

That, above all else, told him how much this had shaken him.

“I’m assuming you talked to Danny,” Phantom said from where he floated a foot and a half off the floor, well away from the examination table and any of their weapons that would reach out and grab him at a touch of a button. “So what do you need me to do? How can I help?”

Jack had never turned the Fenton Ghost Gabber off, and despite what he’d done, he now expected it to still repeat Phantom’s words.

It didn’t.

Which meant Jack hadn’t gotten things wrong. Not that way, anyway. He hadn’t…hadn’t…. “The Fenton Finder,” he croaked, making a vague gesture towards it. “Do you still show up?” He had to be sure. He thought he was, but Maddie would want more proof than a gut feeling when he talked to her.

Phantom didn’t ask why, like Jack had expected, though he was appropriately wary as he flew over to pick up the device and turn it on.

Jack wasn’t surprised to find that Phantom knew exactly which one the Fenton Finder was or how it worked.

“No,” Phantom said, turning the screen in Jack’s direction so that he could see it was still blank.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jack whispered. This was the result he had expected, but not after getting the same result for Danny. He shouldn’t have gotten the same result for Danny. Not if…if….

“Why? What’d you do?”

“We have your ecto-signature on file,” Jack said slowly. “It was easy enough to get, and we can get it again if you try to sabotage our data.”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “I’m not planning on breaking into your vault to destroy your precious data. Even if most of it is wrong. Besides, the thing’s phase-proof, isn’t it?”

Jack might have once been surprised that Phantom knew so much, but not anymore.

“I promised not to hunt you for a week,” Jack continued, ignoring Phantom’s remarks for now. “If you were able to help me, I wanted to be sure I could keep my end of the bargain.”

Phantom frowned. “Were? What’s that supposed to mean? I haven’t tried to help yet.”

Jack made sure to look him in the eye. He needed to see Phantom’s reaction, needed to see that he was fitting the pieces together correctly and that he wasn’t still missing something. “I fed your most recent ecto-signature reading into our weapons and taught them to ignore it,” he said.

Phantom looked at him blankly for a long few seconds, and then his eyes widened in panic. “Oh, crud.”

“What happened?” Jack asked gently. He thought Maddie might know how to best address this, how to deal with this sort of thing better than him, but she wasn’t here, and he was, and…. And he just had to let Phantom know he wasn’t going to lunge for any weapons or activate the Fenton Anti-Creep Mode or anything else. He had to let Phantom know he was willing to listen, that he was ready to listen, if Phantom was willing to tell him.

Phantom broke his gaze, guilt and discomfort written all over his features. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t try to fly away, either.

Slowly, he dropped until his feet were planted on the floor. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and crossed his arms, huddling in on himself, but Jack wasn’t going to give in. He wasn’t going to speak first, not unless Phantom tried to run and he had to catch him with the Fenton Fisher.

Phantom was still staring at his boots when he finally spoke, his voice barely audible. “It was an accident,” he breathed, and Jack could no longer be surprised.

All their (extensive) research pointed to the fact that each ghost’s ecto-signature was unique. Not static—ecto-signatures were influenced by a ghost’s experiences after death just as they were in the moment of their formation—but never the same for each ghost. It was impossible. Even ghosts skilled in mimicry wouldn’t be able to fully replicate another’s ecto-signature, as their own would still carry its own tell.

So if he had fed Phantom’s ecto-signature into his inventions and now they didn’t recognize Phantom or Danny?

“I’m sorry,” whispered Phantom. “I didn’t know how to tell you guys. And then I’d waited so long, too long, and I just…. It was easier to keep it a secret, I guess.” He was mumbling now. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t….”

Jack crossed the distance between them and scooped the ghost into his arms. “It’s okay, Danny-boy,” he murmured. “We know now. You just tell us what you need, okay? We want to help you.”

Phantom—Danny—was very still in his grip. “You believe me? You’re not…mad? Or thinking this is some kind of trick?”

Jack had no idea how this was possible, no idea what had happened or what Danny had been through since—the fact that Danny and Phantom were one and the same proved his ignorance on the subject—but he did know that he wasn’t mad. Besides, he didn’t know how a ghost could pull off a trick like this—or what would be gained by doing so, especially when it could be so easily disproven. Maddie might have some ideas on that front, but Jack was already sure that he was hearing the truth.

He just…knew it.

He didn’t even need to weigh Phantom’s actions against those of other ghosts, or scrutinize his verbal slips, or continue to assess his familiarity with their family and their technology.

“Accidents happen,” Jack repeated. He didn’t know how they were going to break the news to Maddie. She might be horrified, might blame herself—for not doing enough, for not noticing, for what she had done, what they had both done, in their ignorance—but he couldn’t let her. They needed to focus on what they still had, not on what had happened in the past—at least beyond preventing it from happening again. But he’d let Danny tell her, maybe over a plate of warm cookies once they were out of the oven. Cookies made everything better.

“Sometimes,” continued Jack quietly, “life’s lessons are expensive, and sometimes the cost can’t be paid with cash, but you’re still here. You’re still you. You’re still my son. You always will be, and I’ll always love you.”

Phantom twisted in Jack’s grip to throw his arms around him and hug him tightly, and then there was a brilliant flash of light and Jack was holding his son, his Danny-boy, and—

“I don’t think I realized how much I needed to hear that,” Danny murmured into his shoulder. “Thank you, Dad. I love you, too.”

(see more fics | my phight phics)

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 19 #dp fanfiction #phanfiction #jack fenton #danny fenton #my writing #ladylynse #my phic phight phics #snippets #dp snippet #I wrote this instead of responding to most of the reviews on my last fic #only so much time

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rkkyungsoo · 5 years

Text

‹ ace of hearts. ›

MGA5EP07 Performance Solo: All Night (0:30 - 4:21) & LUV (0:00 - 3:58)

With: @rksuwoong, @rkheejin, @ericxrk & coaches @rkella, @rkcheri & @rkwon

Honorary mention: @hyojinrk

Finale.

This was the final stretch and they were crowned the victors of the semi-finals. Joy flooded his chest as he turned towards Suwoong first, his smile so bright that it almost looked out of place on his usually stoic features. He hugged Hyojin - it was a slightly awkward hug because Kyungsoo was still learning how to embrace properly. For one glorious moment, the entire Royal team was perfectly content, basking in their victory, nearly forgetting that they too, must lose someone even though they were the winners.

When Hyojin’s name was called, Kyungsoo’s face visibly fell. Their arms dropped from each other, slowly. Hyojin was trying to not let his disappointment show, but Kyungsoo knew how much it must have hurt. He wanted to say something, but in the end got tongue tied and instead, held silence. Some of the others swept Hyojin away to comfort him, leaving Kyungsoo alone to think about...everything.

They were so close, just one step away from that grand finish line. This was what everyone was chasing after since day one - the thing that they shed endless sweat and potentially tears over. So now that Kyungsoo was actually close, why did he suddenly feel...scared?

Hyojin’s phone number was saved as the seventh friendly contact in his cell as they waved each other goodbye. Kyungsoo had so much on his mind that he barely heard Suwoong’s enthusiastic chatter on their way home. They needed not one song but two for the next week. This also meant two sets of choreo and different ambience for each. They had to select the songs, learn how to sing them, how to dance to them, what they wanted for stage setting and decide the outfits they’ll wear. This task alone would be difficult to accomplish and the Royal team had an additional challenge - they had to defend their crown. Their performances this week would surely be compared to Shangri-La and their only choice was to raise the bars.

There was no way Kyungsoo would want people to accuse his team of resting on their laurels.

Friday came and the coaches greeted them with enthusiasm. Coach Cheri brought them a delicious looking ice cream to celebrate their win. Kyungsoo walked forward absently to claim his portion, his mind still full of song choices when Cheri seemingly stumbled and dropped the cake. He stared, arms still outstretched as if he wanted to help save the cake even though he knew it would not be possible. The other contestants reacted similarly and that made the coaches burst out laughing. They produced the real cake and this one the contestants happily devoured as they discussed song choices. Hyojin, of course, was facetimed and Kyungsoo shook his head at Suwoong as his cousin attempted to feed the cake to their lost teammate through the screen.

One thing was for sure, the coaches got them good with that prank and this meant war.

...But it was a war they’d have to fight later because there were more pressing matters at hand.

Realistically speaking, there was no way they could choose two songs with difficult choreo and expect to be able to learn them in a week. All Night was chosen for their Royal themed song and Luv by She’z was selected by their Sphere theme. It was a difficult decision for the Sphere song and initially they put forward Please Don’t be Sad and Humph since they were both charismatic and had lovely vocals. One of the coaches pitched the idea of doing a girl group song, which Heejin latched onto since she haven’t gotten a chance to truly show off her feminine charms.

Suwoong and Kyungsoo looked at each other, both being terrible with girl groups they were of little help for the song selection. Thankfully, Coach Cheri reminded them of the girl group She’z, which was under Sphere. After going through their songs, the group opted for the very adorable LUV. The song had a simple choreo but good singing parts and lots of opportunity to show off their charisma.

Yeah, it was not Kyungsoo’s song at all because he wasn’t cute. Other people kept on telling him otherwise but Kyungsoo knew himself best, okay?

Anyway, he didn’t have a lot of time to have an internal debate about whether or not he had any aegyo to give because it was time to start working on their first song. Coach Ella, after watching the All Night dance, told them it was a song that required core muscles for getting off the floor without using hands and strong glutes for doing that open legged squat. As the result, working out became part of their routine. To make sure they were able to do the sexy squat during the chorus, the four Royal team contestants lined up against the wall and squatted. At some point, Coach Cheri even suggested they should practice harmonization while doing the squats. It must be a funny sight, Kyungsoo thought, to see four people exercising and sweating like pigs while singing so prettily.

The squats pretty much became part of their life that week and they found themselves squatting while eating, talking and even arguing. He didn’t have much conflict with Suwoong this week - it was as if they got it all out of their system already. Since it was the same people in the room, Kyungsoo was visibly chattier and more friendly this week compared to the last.

On Saturday, Kyungsoo presented the Royal team with handmade knee pads, courtesy of Mama Do. They had a dance move in All Night where they have to spin around on their knees, that part, while beautiful, can be pretty hard on their joints. After just trying the move out on Friday, Kyungsoo already knew they had to find some sort of protective measure or risk having bruises all over. If they wanted to stay on this career path, they’ll need their legs after Saturday. So, Mama Do decided to step in and help. The pads, lightweight and soft, were perfect to cushion their knees without hindering their movement. Everyone seemed appreciative and Kyungsoo texted his mom to let her know, she was overjoyed of course. Later, Suwoong the extra king sent her a whole video about how much he loved her and how she was the best person in the world. Mama Do nearly cried and Kyungsoo gave Suwoong the side eye the entire time.

On that same Saturday morning, the Royal contestants initiated their first prank retaliation against their coaches. Kyungsoo and Suwoong, since they were the first to arrive, conspired to jump scare the coaches. Kyungsoo was not in agreement at first because...this was so frigging childish. Still, when they heard footsteps coming and Suwoong stage whispered too loudly for him to hide, he did as requested. It was only Heejin, however, and the girl clearly heard Suwoong’s voice because she was well prepared for a scare. Tugging her behind the door with the two of them, they waited for their next victim, who turned out to be poor Eric. With Eric joining the line up (after a loud shriek), finally, they were able to give the Luxe girls the scare of the century when they arrived.

Kyungsoo was amused, until he realized that they actually scared the idols with Cheri actually shouting out GET AWAY, DEMON and Ella looking like she was ready to pass out. Feeling slightly guilty for having accepted this ridiculous prank idea, Kyungsoo walked over to Ella’s side and rubbed her back soothingly, only to get lightly punched on the arm by the woman. He gave her a sheepish look of apology, which turned into a soft smile when he realized he was forgiven.

They spent the rest of the day practising All Night choreo and went through LUV a few times too just to see where they can spice things up. By the time Sunday arrived, all of the contestants were able to gracefully rise from the ground handsfree. Their squat was looking fine, but Kyungsoo had a feeling they might need to start resting those muscles in between too - can’t walk up the stage sore, can they?

On Sunday, Kyungsoo sneaked out during lunch time for his own project. To make himself more comfortable with the crowd, he decided to do a quick street performance at a nearby park. Unfortunately, he did not notice little Eric was tailing him until it was too late. To make matters worse, Heejin and Suwoong who volunteered to go get the outfits this week, ended up catching the tail end of his performance too. Kyungsoo felt so flustered that he wanted to dig a hole and bury himself, but there was still much of the day left and his embarrassment streak had only begun.

“It’s a gift! You can’t refuse my gift!!” Suwoong waved the pastel yellow top in front of Kyungsoo’s face insistently. Since Sphere’s colour was yellow, they’d agreed to pick an outfit for LUV based on that. Kyungsoo knew he was going to be in something cutesy, but he didn’t expect Suwoong’s attempt in making him into a lemon icing cupcake.

“Uh-uh.” Kyungsoo shook his head as he took a step back from the top, as if somehow it was contaminated and even being in its proximity was dangerous. The top itself was yellow with long, white neck tie. Suwoong had purchased him a matching yellow hat (which reminded Kyungsoo unpleasantly of the hats Japanese elementary school kids wear) and sneakers too, for ‘added cuteness’.

“I am going to look like fucking pikachu,” he wanted to say, but managed to say the sentence without the swear word because he remembered the camera was watching. When Suwoong refused to back down and pressed the shirt closer to his body, Kyungsoo turned around and ran. That was a mistake because what did annoying older cousins do when they see the object of their endless desire to irritate run? They chase, that’s right. Suwoong ended up chasing Kyungsoo around the practice room before tackling him to the ground just outside of the practice room. Distant noises of protest can be heard and someone - probably Heejin - slowly shut the door behind the cousins for the sake of protecting the audience. Fifteen minutes later, Suwoong was the first to return to the studio. He was beaming and the reason was obvious as a very disgruntled Kyungsoo trailed in behind him, in that overly adorable outfit.

He wanted to die.

Monday started out early, much more so than the great su-ritto wanted. Since their argument last week, Kyungsoo had eased up in the mornings and started picking up Suwoong at 7 am instead of 5. Monday morning, however, he appeared at 5 again. While packing the blanket burrito into the back of his car, he explained to Suwoong that it was because he had to leave a bit earlier that night. He had dinner plans with Hyo and the two of them ate over at his place. Hyojin set up everything needed for a delicious bbq dinner and the two of them did a short vlog together singing JJ project. It was a spontaneous vlog that literally involved a laptop balanced precariously on a large salad bowl. Hyojin whipped out his guitar and Kyungsoo sang while carefully cooking the meat to perfection. The two of them took turns singing and eating. Kyungsoo made sure Hyo had lettuce wraps rolled to the shape for optimal human consumption every time he was ready to take a bite.

Their ex-teammate gave him a bag of snacks to bring in on Tuesday morning, including little sticky notes of encouragement for all of them. Kyungsoo laid the snacks out to the side of the practice room, so they could help themselves when they needed an energy boost. This week was less stressful mentally but physically, Kyungsoo was really feeling it. His abs (hidden under a thin (?) layer of fat) hurt and his ass was sore from all the squats. Almost every night, he passed out without listening to an audio book as he had to in the past. There were no dreams, only blissful oblivion.

On Wednesday, a second prank idea was proposed, this one intending not to scare the coaches but to lighten up the mood after these long days of practice. Eric initially protested when he heard there was a second prank coming but after hearing the idea, the other agreed. So, when the coaches showed up for Wednesday, they were greeted by the announcement of a song change idea. Kyungsoo and Heejin stood in the centre of the room and sang, with very serious expression, the soulful melody of the infamous PPAP. Then, Eric and Suwoong joined them and started dancing enthusiastically. Half way through they all started laughing because it was difficult to keep a straight face. The coaches smiled too, Kyungsoo saw them, just before Coach Ella (who was still pretending to be unamused) demanded for them to get back to practice.

On Thursday they were pulled in for a surprise interview and on Friday, the fun atmosphere they worked carefully to build over the week was all but vanished. Everyone seemed quieter, more thoughtful because they knew the performance day was tomorrow. This was going to change their lives, one way or another. Last minute tips were shared, such as how to find the recording cameras and look at them properly. Coach Won had a lot of thoughts on that, having been taught by someone himself and was excited to share. Eric insisted on a group hug after the final practice before bursting into tears because he never expected to make it this far and was so happy to have been chosen to represent Royal. Kyungsoo petted the teenager’s head soothingly, the same way he did to his cat when it was in a fussy mood. “Don’t cry ah,” he chided quietly, cutting in with his cool voice before other people could join in on the waterworks. It was a thing, you see, to start crying once you see someone else doing it.

“Seriously, we are going to perform in front of 3000 people tomorrow, not getting beheaded in front of them. I never understood the tears of joy thing so come on, give me a smile.” He grabbed hold of Eric’s face and squished their youngest teammate’s cheeks until the other whined for him to stop.

And then it was Saturday. The stage was larger, prettier and had better lighting than ever. Kyungsoo sat between Suwoong and Eric, poker face neatly disguising the nervousness he felt with each passing performance. Everyone did quite well, he thought, and came such a long way. He clapped and cheered earnestly for each of them, though he did think some of them were a little too ambitious with their song selections. The Royal team only picked two songs and did not do any sort of mash up, but Kyungsoo still thought they had a decent chance at victory. Flashiness, you see, didn’t always mean better. Often times, it could mean messier.

“Hello everyone, we are Royal Flush!” They declared and introduced themselves according to their card. Kyungsoo was the ace of hearts, Suwoong was the king of hearts, Heejin was their queen of hearts and their baby Eric was the jack. Why hearts? The audience will have to wait and see because that was a hint to their second song.

The stage was beautifully decorated with potted plants sprinkled with iridescent powder. Fresh flower arrangements hung from the ceiling, accompanied by realistic looking tree vines and a sweet floral scent. The screens at the side of the stage were inky blue, some displaying trees and plants as well to complete the picture they were attempting to paint - that enchanting garden, made mysterious by the night and over seen only by the stars and the moon...until you found it.

Blue light gave the stage a calming vibe as music played. One by one, the contestants of Royal laid down, their features softened by the clever angle of the lighting and appearing absolutely angelic in their outfits of white. Suwoong rose as the others fell, his arm graceful as it moved through the air. The music gave them their cue and the light dip of Suwoong’s hand was part of the prompt. The contestants propped themselves into a sitting position with their backs towards the audience.

Kyungsoo was the first to show his face as he spun around onto his knees, opening the song soft and dreamy.

왜 또 쳐다봐 cellular phone 결코 신경 안 쓰는 척 이런 나 참 우스워 너의 전활 기다리는 밤

As he rose and walked towards the right side of the stage, the other contestants stood up one by one as if they’ve been awakened, using that hands free movement they worked their core muscles so hard to achieve. Suwoong took the centre of the stage after him, followed by Heejin. Kyungsoo had the last line before chorus, which he smoothly delivered, glad that they had decided to cut out the jump spin to make things easier for the vocalists.

I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait

Heejin opened the chorus and Suwoong followed behind. Kyungsoo wheeled himself into the centre and dropped on one knee, waiting for his part.

졸린 듯이 나른나른 나른하게 스며 살짝 야릇야릇 야릇하게

He was first centre to do the squat that they’ve been practising all week. It wasn’t the easiest movement in the world considering they had to drop it quite low and get right back up. The key was to look classy and smooth giving that move, even though they were spreading their legs and letting their hand sweep across their crotch region almost immediately after. It was all about the hint with these sort of performances, a vague promise that will keep the audience watching and wanting. Kyungsoo brushed his thumb across his lips before dropping back down to let Suwoong who was behind him sing the next set of lines.

Eric came in with the rap, making small gestures with his hands to show they were attentive to the details. The rap started out slow and built up to a faster rate before Heejin returned to take centre stage with her powerful voice. Suwoong followed her before it was Kyungsoo’s line again.

졸린 듯이 나른나른 나른하게 스며 살짝 야릇야릇 야릇하게 눈 감으면 그려지는 니 모습이 좋아 지금

Their next rap part was shorter, but very charming. The rest of them were on the ground, scooting back as Eric shuffled forward, their movements synchronized just as they had been in Shangri-La, moving as one.

Heejin stood, giving her beautiful high note before she is abruptly pulled into Suwoong’s arms, who, with a rather seductive look, whispered such a good night. Suwoong fangirls, how are we doing?

Kyungsoo’s part came immediately after. He dropped to his knees as he sang, smile unfaltering as he shrugged his jacket off of his left shoulder as if by accident. In the original choreography, the dancer pulled down the jacket with his hand, but Kyungsoo thought it would be more enticing if he made it look like an accident even though everyone should know it wasn’t. He asked Coach Ella to help him practice this move and trust me, even something as simple as shrugging off a jacket took a lot of effort. So Kyungsoo fans, you better be happy because oppa’s really trying here.

내 온 맘이 두근두근 두근 하게 해 놓고 넌 새근새근 새근 하게

Suwoong sang the next part with Heejin’s voice in the background.

Then, all four of them jumped as they sang one last time! White and iridescent confetti shot into the sky, fluttering over them like flower petals.

어서 내게 전화해

Kyungsoo swept his thumb across his lips again, letting confetti flakes fall and linger in between his dark strands of hair.

Let's call in, let's call in Let's call in, let's call in

Suwoong was singing call me all night in the background throughout Kyungsoo’s part and Heejin brought the song to a close. Kyungsoo laid down on the ground for their final pose, his elbow propped and his hand under his chin. Suwoong and Eric sat back-to-back against each other while Heejin was left standing. As the last of the confetti flakes fell to the ground, their first performance of the night ended. It was not yet time for a round of celebratory pats on the back, for they had another battle incoming.

After another round of performances, this time with their second concept, it was once again, team Royal’s turn. When they appeared once again on the stage, they were unrecognizable. Having traded in their princely (or in Heejin’s case, queenly) white attire for pastel cuteness, Kyungsoo thought he actually heard a few cheers of pleasant surprise in the audience. They chose yellow because Sphere’s company colour was that. According to their coaches, Sphere favoured either the energetic/peppy or the youthful/shy vibe and they ended up picking the latter.

“Hello, Royal Flush back again to bring you our second performance.” And then Suwoong did a mini speech on how the song was supposed to represent their love for the audience. The song, LUV, was also why they chose to introduce themselves as the Royal Flush of the suit Hearts earlier because...yeah, you get it. Love, hearts, they go hand-in-hand.

Realistically speaking, there was no way they could learn two challenging choreos in the span of a week. Just because they had to choose something easier dance wise, however, didn’t mean they couldn’t still make it good. This was a lighthearted song to end the night of performances, aimed to bring up the nostalgia factor and make everyone feel warm and fuzzy inside.

The stage dimmed and individual spotlights illuminated their forms as they posed along to the music. The stage brightened and yellow light paused according to the beat as they walked into the centre of the stage, positioning themselves for the beginning of their song.

The song was opened by Heejin, who looked really cute in her yellow skirt and white tennis shoes. Kyungsoo had the line after her:

이제는 가끔 생각나는 그때 L.O.V.E LUV 시간을 되돌릴 수는 없나요

At first he was worried about having to act over the top cute. A closer look at the original dance by She’z revealed, however, that none of them had those exaggerated fake expressions he was expecting. So for this performance, he just thought about things that made him happy. Remember the...you know, two and a half people that he ever loved and all that. If anything, he played into his awkward shy nature a little, trying to be the cute guy everyone kept on telling him he was.

The L.O.V.E part had a very easy but memorable hand movement part, which they fully intended to use later in the performance.

Eric got to sing for this song and the audience, used to Royal team’s little rapper, was in for a treat. Heejin supported Eric with her vocals in the background before handing the next set of lines to Suwoong.

너와 나 두렵지가 않던 그 시간 서로 손을 잡을 때면 Yeah

Ay, this song. Too damn cute. When was the last time Kyungsoo actually tried to hold someone’s hands? Probably never. If one of his exes asked him to recall the most wonderful moments during their relationship, he’d probably end up spewing some nsfw content that would not help the situation.

They were in the chorus again and the same iconic dance was repeated, Kyungsoo searched for the camera using tips coach Won provided before and put on his...erm, cutesy expression.

이제는 가끔 생각나는 그때 L.O.V.E LUV 시간을 되돌릴 수는 없나요

The last time they rolled into the chorus, they did something special. “Do it with us!” They shouted in unison as they danced. This part they actually had to practice because they wanted to sound uniform, not scattered.

이제는 가끔 생각나는 그때 L.O.V.E LUV 시간을 되돌릴 수는 없나요

By this point, even if the audience didn’t know the song from their past, they’ve hopefully been shown it enough times to copy the movement. Kyungsoo turned his eyes towards the ceos as if encouraging them to do it. Come on, his stare intensified on So Jiseob’s face. He knew the man was stoic and all but we are your team, give us some support. Next hopeful look went to Baek Jiyoung because this was a Sphere song so surely she knew it well. This would be a great opportunity to celebrate her senior artists but would she do it?

Whether or not the CEOs actually raised their arms in the end, Kyungsoo didn’t know because he was back to following the choreo and ending their song. All four of the contestants sang the last line together before striking their ending pose, which was forming a heart between the four of them. Suwoong and Kyungsoo were on the ground while Heejin and Eric remained standing because they were the shorter duo. They smiled, arms outstretched, giving the audience the big heart as a sign of their love, just as mentioned earlier.

Now it was truly over. Kyungsoo looked at the stage one last time as everyone was summoned back for the results. He wondered if he’ll ever get to perform like this again. The MGAs, while stressful at times, certainly gave him an experience that he would never forget.

#wc; 4280 #rkmga5 #rkmga5finale #last episode baby thanks for supporting ksoo's mga journey muah #click time for distribution

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