#trying to figure out what kind of cookies they have in soul society | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years ago

Text

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires (Masky X F!Reader)

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires

[Masky/Tim Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: murder, language, angst, mentions of death and actual death. Mostly the angst.]

[AN: Another brilliant request from Eris! This was also a Ko-Fi commission! ALSO ALSO this thing is 13K words! This is my longest fic yet! buckle in.]

When are there not stars in your eyes? It’s hard to dim them even when the sun comes up, which is such an odd thing to even admit due to the mud life has made you trudge through.

You are the product of a proxy father and a human mother. To be the Slender Man’s child is your birthright, and so far, you��ve been living up to that birthright with flying colors. As a young one, she had woven you stories of the culture and society your father was a part of and everything he had been up to.

Visions of murder, deals gone sour, and morally grey acts have been threaded into your soul. You grew up thinking that was normal, and by twelve, you had knowledge on things that no child should have ever opened their ears to.

“And then what happened?” You ask your mother, urging her to continue the story.

She giggles like a butterfly ready to take flight and holds your tiny six year old body closer to her. She smells of honey and vanilla. “That group had messed with the wrong people,” she continues, her voice falling deceptively low. “The tall man in the woods-”

“You mean the faerie?” You ask as your eyes sparkle. “The Slender Man?”

Your mother nods, her index finger reaching up to tap your nose. “Yes, exactly that,” she hums. “He sent another group of proxies to handle the mess.”

“Ooooooo they’re in troubleeeeee,” you giggle, still hooked around your mother.

She laughs. “He initiated what is called a ‘proxy hunt’. It’s something only the bad proxies are subject to,” she explains. “It’s important you don’t make mistakes like that, Reader. Do you understand?” She questions with a warm hum as she secures you in her arms, bringing your tired form to your bedroom.

“Got it,” you say in the most serious tone a six year old can muster. “No making the faerie mad.”

“That’s my girl.” Her lips pull up in a grin that rivals the Cheshire cat.

Your father is a proxy. He is tall, unstable, but loves you like the moon loves the tide and the sun loves the earth. To be a proxy is to be closed off and untouchable, but the sound of you running to greet him on the blue moon he visits you and your mother has always been enough to humanize him, if even for a moment. He loves you, his special little girl, with all the grains of sand there are on the earth.

He comes around sparsely, and as you grow older, rarely. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s busy and the Slender Man enjoys making his favorites suffer. Every time he sees you, he remarks how much bigger you’ve gotten. He’s more than upset that he can’t be there to watch you grow into a fine young lady.

“You’re late,” you say, eyes narrowed as you look up at the tall, bulky man who stands before you. You take your hand off the doorknob and stand tall as you cross your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” the man apologizes, crouching down to your eye level. “I brought you a present.”

You eye your father carefully, arms relaxing for a moment before noticing the wrapped gift in his hands. “Is…”

“It’s something you’ll like,” he answers, holding the gift out to you. “I promise.”

You narrow your eyes again but take the wrapped present from his hands, shaking it slightly. You hear something rattling around. “Can I open it?” You ask as you attempt to hide your smile.

Your father chuckles. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, but yes. Go ahead, open it.”

You relent in the angry front and plop down on the floor, opening the present without any grace as a ‘proper lady’ as your mother would put it. You peel back the brightly colored wrapping paper and then tear into the box. “Oh my gods,” you whisper to yourself in surprise as the stars once again light up in your eyes. It’s an entire art set of fine materials. “Where did you get these?”

Your father shrugs. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he says in a teasing tone.

You push at him before placing the box of expensive art supplies to the side. You can’t help but lunge into your father’s waiting arms.

“I heard you were getting seriously into art from your mother. Doing art for friends? I’m so proud of you!” He laughs and hugs you, his lips pressing to the crown of your head. “Happy twelvth, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you so, so much.”

You can’t help but cry and hug your father tighter.

For a person who was supposed to be brutal, uncaring, uncouth and simply inhuman, your father had the whole dad thing down when he was around. He never raised his voice to you, was kind and thoughtful in his responses, and you adored how he treated your mother with nothing but love and understanding.

You know that if he wasn’t shackled to a life he had no choice of entering, he would have been one hell of a father.

Your mother, a mentally fragile woman who loves a damn near unattainable man, brings you the news one overcast morning. Her eyes are red and puffy and it looks like she hasn’t been able to stop crying for hours. Her posture is broken but her heart even more so. It’s probably irreparable.

You were sitting at your desk, doing your homework. Tomorrow was Monday, starting the final week of school. It was one of the final essays before you were out for summer break, and then you’d be gearing up for your first year of high school once autumn came.

Earbuds in, you didn’t even hear your mother slink into the doorway of your room. When you finally get the inkling that someone is watching you, you take out one of your earbuds and turn your head. “Mom?” You sound genuinely confused, especially after seeing her rough appearance. “What’s wrong?” You slowly push back in your chair, ready to stand and meet her in the doorway.

“Your-your,” her breath hitches as she leans helplessly in the doorway. “It’s your father,” she manages to rasp out as she begins to slink downwards, her knees buckling.

Your eyes go wide, tears welling in them and blurring your vision as you jump out of your seat and collapse on the floor with your mother. You wrap your arms around her, burying your face into her shoulder as she cradles you in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” she wails like a mantra, clutching onto you like she’s afraid to lose you too.

You don’t know how to feel in that direct moment. You loved your father, more a shadow than a real man, but his loss cuts deep and hard. He wanted to show you things “when you’re older” and tell you of the world you were born in. You wanted so badly to learn it all by his hand and his knowledge.

When your mother has finally come to a grounding point where she is no longer choking over her words, she leads you to her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if she’s trying not to remember anything about the man she loved and lost. Her steps are quiet, almost like she’s floating.

You follow her just as quietly. It’s as if you don’t want to disturb the silence that has settled over the two of you. It’s heavy and suffocating, but it’s a blanket shielding you from the reality that someone is gone and never coming back.

Your mother opens her bedroom door and shifts around in her drawers.

Unsure of where you should be and if you’re allowed into the sanctuary that is her room and her space, you wait in the doorway, much like she did when she brought you the bad news. You’re still wiping away tears with the bottoms of your hands and by extension, rubbing your skin raw. Your vision is still bleary, but when your mother finally resurfaces, you don’t even need to be told what it is she’s holding.

In her hands is a mask. It’s dark brown and has a simple face almost reminiscent of a dragon. It’s simple, but elegant. It’s simple, but horrifying. You feel drawn to it.

Your mother weakly smiles and sits down on her bed, patting the open spot for you to sit down.

You do so without question and take your spot next to her, almost on instinct leaning yourself onto her side. You smile softly as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you close.

“It was your father’s,” she says quietly, fingertips gently tracing the mask's face. She then gingerly shifts it onto your lap. “Now it is yours.”

You feel more tears cascade from your eyes as you gaze longingly down at the mask on your lap. “Are you sure?” You shakily question, wondering why she’d want to pass such a beautiful memento down to you so soon.

“It’s your birthright,” she replies, her lips pressing to the side of your head that gives you a love only a devoted mother could.

You didn’t understand what she meant at that moment.

You never saw your first year of high school.

When the summer came, you had bounced back like any child could. Children are plastic. They can bounce back from almost anything, just give them enough time, space, and care. You were no exception.

In truth, after losing your father, you hadn’t found any desire to go to college. Your heart was telling you that a life that was so cookie cutter and parallel to everyone else’s was never in the cards for you. Your blood sung for something different.

Proxies always return to him.

Your mother knew it too. She saw it in your longing gaze as she drove the two of you back home from grocery runs, how your eyes would follow the breeze in the backyard to the woods, how your hands naturally found their way to knives, and how your thoughts transcended what should be humanly possible.

But you’re not human. You never have been. Never will be.

Your mother knew that best. It was only natural that she found contact with the tall man of the woods halfway through the summer of losing your father.

“She’s different, my little girl,” she explained as she gazed up at the imposing, almost immaculate figure. “I don’t think I could ever give her what is expected or needed.” She hates to admit that she’s not good enough for you, but that is the curse of being a born, not turned proxy. Proxies always return to their master, regardless of age, creed, or background.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘What would you have me do?’ He’s only asking as a formality. He knows that you belong to him. Your father had been attempting to gear you up to join. The Slender Man is only finishing what one of his most beloved proxies started.

Your mother shifts uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest as a defensive maneuver. She absentmindedly tucks some strands of her hair behind her ear. “I think she needs to be with you,” she mumbles, still not wanting to admit she’s not good enough because she’s human. “I think she needs to be fully immersed in… Whatever it is my husband says you do.”

The Slender Man chuckles deeply. He knows your mother knows what his beloved proxy does, but he lets her feign her ignorance. ‘That’s rich coming from a woman who loves her child more than the land loves the sea,’ he taunts coldly. In truth, it is nothing against her as an individual, but it is everything against her as a human being.

Your mother scoffs and holds her ground. “Will you take her in or not?”

He raises his hand to convey a truce. ‘My apologies.’ He doesn’t mean it. ‘I will. She is my child, afterall-’

“She is NOT your child,” your mother snarls, fully aware she is in the presence of a very temperamental being who could smite her just for thinking wrong.

The Slender Man, in all his mercy, once again holds his hand up as a sign of truce. ‘I understand the loss is still heavy on your heart,’ he begins, voice heavy and almost exhausted to be dealing with human emotional flare ups. ‘I will take her as soon as you are ready to let her go.’

Your mother’s shoulders drop slightly as she comes to the realization that yes, that was a decision she was making. She feels tears well in her eyes, but refuses to blink them away. “Thank you.” She nods to the tall man, then turns on her heels and heads back home, where you lay asleep waiting for her.

The Slender Man watches her leave with curiosity in his gaze. He already knows where he’s going to be placing you. You are not the youngest to fall under his influence, but you are the first in a while. He tends to pluck young adults, not children. And if he did choose children, consider it target practice.

Nothing more.

When your mother tells you that you are leaving her side, you are once again thrown into a plethora of emotions, a maelstrom .A part of you can’t believe she’d just willingly give up on you like that, but another says this is the direction you’re meant to go.

“This isn’t a decision I make lightly, Reader!” She exclaims in budding frustration, her fingers raking through her hair like a tick. “Really, I have no say in the matter!”

“Yes you do!” You cry back. “You’re my mother! How could you just abandon me?” You fight back. You ball your hands in fists. You’re not backing down from her.

Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I am not prepared for this,” she mumbles. “I do not have the right knowledge to allow you to grow into the person you could be,” she finishes, plopping back onto the wall in the kitchen. She’s exhausted on every facet. Her heart hurts with just how much she loves you.

“What could you not be prepared for?” You seethe. “What on this hunk of rock are you not prepared for?”

Your mother honestly doesn’t know how to answer that. Your father had always been oddly tight lipped about certain aspects of the proxy lifestyle, perhaps out of safety reasons for the two of you. She doesn’t know what you’re going to be thrown into. “I know that it’s rough-”

“Just like that?” You retort, a fire in your eyes that reminds her much too much of her departed husband. “You don’t want me? Is that it?” You finally relent, a crack interrupting your once strong tone.

Your mother falters and comes to your side, holding you in her arms once more. “Of course not,” she murmurs. “Of course not.”

“Then why?” You prod softly with a small sting.

“You are a proxy by blood, that’s all,” she offers as advice, swaying you.

You feel your heart begin to slow from its racing pace. You don’t want to accept that as an answer, but you do just to bring her peace.

You leave your mother’s side near the end of July. Just twelve years old and on the precipice of something no ordinary human could ever even begin to understand.

Your final dinner with her was uncomfortable, but bittersweet at the same time. You and your mother had shared stories, laughs, tears, everything and anything. You know that after this, you probably won’t ever be able to see her again.

Your mother brings you to the woods herself. She holds your hand, a knot in her stomach over seeing you holding your father’s mask followed by a backpack strapped to your still small body as you are about to venture into the unknown. She never thought she’d be losing you so soon.

The Slender Man is never tardy. He pops into your view once you are a safe distance into the forest with splendor - it’s probably to impress you to some degree. He really hasn’t worked with a child in a very long time.

You feel your head go dizzy with static. Your breath hitches and your heart stops. It’s almost intoxicating that you are in the presence of the man who will now have control of your entire life. You look up at him and the stars return to your eyes. Still, as a child-like crutch, you grip onto your mother’s side and hide yourself with her form, terrified of the imposing man that stands tall in front of you.

“It’s okay,” your mother says softly, gently urging you to the man you will now consider your god. “He’s here to help you.”

The Slender Man hums deeply. His voice invades your head like a virus, infecting every thought and feeling until it overtakes you and makes itself home. Curiously, he bends down. He is lit up by the light of the full moon.

You peek out from your mother’s form and gradually find the stones to leave her side - still hesitantly. You take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be brave, and approach the now bent down figure who sits at eye-level with you. “It’s… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” you say quietly, a childlike innocence making the Slender Man mentally smile. You look at him with fear and curiosity in your eyes.

He chuckles deeply - the sound sends chills down your spine - before holding out a flower to you. It’s small, much like you, and pretty. The petals are free of any damage the bugs might have caused, and the color is absolutely spellbinding. It’s your father’s favorite color, red, though it’s not a rose. ��For you, my dear.’

You allow a sheepish smile to spread onto your lips before you take the flower from his waiting hand, and sniff it. It’s so sweet and familiar. You recognize the scent as something your father carried on his person. The thought makes you tear up.

His large, clawed hand comes up to your face before his thumb gently wipes the tears away. ‘It’s time to go. Say goodbye, dear.’ He nods for you to bid a farewell to your mother, who is trying her hardest to not break in front of you.

You don’t hesitate in turning around and running into her open arms, face crashing into her chest as you take in her familiar scent for a final time.

“I love you,” she whispers, peppering your face and crown with kisses. “Never ever forget that.” She holds you tighter, and you hold back just as tight.

When it’s time to go, you leave her warmth to a cold that burns bright.

It wraps around your hand, and takes you to a diner.

“Where are we?” You ask as you take a gander at your surroundings. You see that you’re still largely obscured in darkness, but the artificial lights of a lit up IHOP grant you that soft, almost annoying light that disturbs the night.

He lets go of your hand. ‘Head inside and you will meet your group.’

You look up at the Slender Man curiosity. “My group?” You quizzically ask, still looking up at the tall man.

He nods and then puts his hand on your back, gently nudging you to cross the parking lot, almost as if he’s nonverbally telling you that they are waiting for you. “Like a family. A new family.”

You feel a little nervous, but nod your head and decide to be strong - or whatever you think your father might have done in a similar situation. “Thank you for your time,” you say, remembering your mother and father both stressing how important it was to show reverence to those in higher positions than you.

The Slender Man’s wolfish smile floods your mind’s eye, gently, and warmly before he nods once more for you to go. Like a proud father, he watches you take tentative first steps into an entirely new future. Only when you open the doors of the establishment does he mentally tell his proxies that wait inside of the newest member’s arrival, and then zip out of existence as you know it.

Tim waits at the diner with a small frown on his face. He’s not entirely pleased with the news his boss has given him and it shows. He's drinking far too often from his coffee cup for his group’s liking.

“Ease up,” Brian huffs as he pushes Tim’s coffee cup back to the table and away from his lips. “You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls.”

Tim rolls his eyes and picks up his coffee cup much to his right hand’s chagrin. “I’m handling it how I want to,” he mumbles into the lip of the coffee cup.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world-”

“It’s a child,” Tim cuts him off. “The youngest person we had prior to us was Toby, and he’s-”

“I’m w-what?” Toby hums as he comes back to the table, sliding comfortably back into his seat.

“He’s bitching about the kid we’re getting,” Brian answers as he absentmindedly stirs his drink with his straw.

“Is he n-now?” Toby chuckles. “I’m s-surprised you’re n-not more w-w-w-worried, to b-be completely h-h-honest,” he breathes out in a teasing tone, lightly elbowing Brian who smiles for a moment in response.

“I fought my demons on this issue and won,” Brian smirks. “Masky here clearly hasn’t.”

Tim rolls his chocolate colored eyes once more and leans back into his seat, looking at the fourth and empty chair that will eventually be filled by you. “I honestly don’t think you two are worried enough,” he grumbles under his breath before he crosses his arms over his chest.

Snickers ring out from his two companions. Clearly, they find amusement in his worry. Tim almost hates to admit how worried he is.

You’re not just a runt, you’re a child. A literal child. Something about having you in this life feels morally and ethically wrong, and he knows that. A part of him is scared you’ll just… Fold.

Brian has had his reservations about the situation, but overall, he has made peace with it - for now. He’s not too thrilled over the Slender Man putting a child in his group, but at the same time, he’s nowhere near as frazzled as Tim is.

Toby finds the entire situation amusing. He was the youngest of the group. In some ways, Toby has never quite grown up. That’s not a bad thing though, it just means it’s easier for him to relate to you. And honestly, you aren’t his entire responsibility, so he’s able to be the fun guardian.

That’s what the Slender Man called the three of them, your actual guardians. No questions asked, you were now theirs as much as you are his.

You push through the doors and look around the IHOP, looking for anyone who might have any inkling of what you should be doing. Your eyes dart around and the palace is relatively empty. There’s a few groups interspersed and lost in their own worlds, and you have no idea which one you should be heading towards.

Your thoughts are answered when you hear steps approaching followed by the heavy smell of cigarettes that hang in the air thickly. You look up to see a man in a black t-shirt, with dark and tired eyes. He gives you a faint smile as you look up at him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks suddenly, almost throwing you entirely off guard.

You blink a few times. “Uh, I wouldn’t mind anything else,” you answer a tad awkwardly. You don’t why, but you get the overwhelming feeling to not disrespect him. It’s almost stronger than the feeling to respect your mother and father.

“Come with me then,” he says.

You watch as he begins to walk towards a table and squeak in response before picking up the pace and following him.

Tim weaves you through the sea of tables and sets your sights on a table that has two men sitting across from each other, talking. You look at the two with slight curiosity before the man leading you puts his hands on the back of a brown haired boy’s chair.

There’s a minute pause between the two before the boy silently gets up and joins the blond haired man’s side.

You take a seat next to the man who led you in, a little quiet due to being shy and in the presence of imposing figures (though nowhere near as imposing as the Slender Man) and focus on the table. Remembering to be polite, you keep your eyes trained on the table and open your mouth to greet them. “Hello.”

The blond haired man’s lips curl upwards into a smile. “So she does speak,” he says more as a joke to the other two men rather than directly to you.

The man who led you in kicks his right hand’s shin under the table. “Be nice,” he hisses quietly. “Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes darting to look at you. “Why don’t we uh, go around the table and say our name and a fun thing about ourselves?” He suggests tiredly.

“What are we, five?” The blond haired man chuckles. He winces when Tim kicks his shin again. “Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath before finally turning to you. “Hi, my name is Hoodie. I really like photography,” he states, an amused twinkle coming to his hazel eyes.

You perk up slightly.

“M-Me next?” Toby asks before deciding to go up himself. “Hi, I-I’m Toby. I c-can’t feel pain.”

You raise your eyebrows and look over at the pale, vaguely grey skinned boy. “You can’t feel pain?” You inquire, voice raising slightly to convey your budding curiosity.

“Mhm,” he hums, a smile slowly coming onto his lips. “You c-c-can slap m-me, I won’t f-f-feel it.”

You glance at the other two men who both nod out of unison, sly grins curling the corners of their mouth upwards. Almost shyly, you lean over the table and open your hand. You look at Toby for confirmation and close your eyes, hitting him across the face as hard as a twelve year old can muster. When you open your eyes after your hand made impact, you see that he’s unmoved.

There’s nothing in Toby’s eyes that tells you he’s masking the pain either. He’s genuinely unbothered. “S-See what I m-mean, Princess?” He chuckles as you sit back in your seat, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, Toby is special,” the man who brought you in chuckles tiredly before waving Toby off. “Anyways, my name is Masky and I’m your group leader,” he tells you in passing.

Brian rolls his eyes and lightly kicks Tim’s shin from under the table. “That’s not a fun fact.”

“D-Ditto,” Toby agrees as he crosses his arms over his chest. “T-Tell her a r-r-real fun fact.”

Tim pauses for a moment before he finally sees the stars in your eyes. He finds it hard to not indulge you. “Hoodie and I used to go to the same college together,” he finally states, earning an approving smile from both Brian and Toby.

You want to press the topic when the waitress finally makes her grand appearance.

“Hi, hon! Apologies for not getting here any sooner. Did you want something?” She asks with a warm smile on her dark lips. “I can get you some juice to start off with if you don’t know what you’d like yet?” She continues in a semi-speculative tone.

You think it over for a second before looking up at her. “I would like some apple juice and a small thing of chocolate chip pancakes if that’s okay with you?” You’re both asking her and the men at your table.

“Sure thing,” she hums. “Anything for you boys?”

“We’re fine, just stuff for the little lady,” Tim replies. “Though uh, I would like another pot of coffee,” he trails off.

The waitress takes the empty pot of coffee and then walks back to the kitchen to get what you asked for.

“Alright, what about you?” Brian asks as he rests his elbows on the table, hands under his chin as he turns his attention back to you. “Name and fun fact.”

“I’m Reader,” you begin, not noticing how their expressions shift slightly. “And a fun fact about me?” You take a moment to consider what you’re going to tell them before divulging into one of your hobbies, drawing. You mention the alcohol markers your father gave to you on your last birthday, your twelvth.

The three men listen to you attentively all the while holding a conversation in their heads.

‘Holy shit, you never mentioned that this was the Wraith’s kid-’ Toby’s voice hurriedly exclaims through the mental connection he shares with his teammates.

‘She can’t be right,’ Brian tacks on. ‘This can’t be his kid, the man didn’t have any kids,’ Brian jumbles out. On the inside, he is screaming, but outwardly, he shows he’s happy to be listening to you.

Tim mentally scoffs. ‘Now you know why I’m so horrified,’ he grumbles in a very lightly annoyed tone. He knew the Wraith, your father. He was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed by human ones.

When Tim first received the news from the Slender Man that he was taking in the Wraith’s child, he almost passed out. The responsibility of taking care of not only a child, but a legend’s child? He saw the light and it was NOT as beautiful as people make it out to be. You are his responsibility first and foremost, whether he wants this or not. He watches you with furrowed brows, only to find that during the

The night begins to dwindle on, and it’s clear that you’re getting sleepier. Besides, the table knows that you’ve probably never stayed up until midnight and it’s nearing that odd hour. The IHOP is almost completely empty, but every now and then stragglers come in to have a cup of coffee and hashbrowns. It’s a slow night.

“You’re looking tired,” Brian says softly as he watches your eyes lid.

You fling them open and shake your head. “I’m not tired at all,” you pout. You cross your arms over your chest, but the position proves to be too comfortable and you’re already nodding off again.

“Yeah, we’re calling it a night,” Tim says as he begins to get out of his seat. “Hood, cover the money. I’ll bring her to the car. Toby’s driving.”

“May the gods have mercy on our souls,” Brian wheezes under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to find his wallet and pay.

Toby lightly slaps his teammate’s shoulder before pushing in his seat and stretching slightly.

You watch with weary, tired eyes and slowly begin to drift off in your seat, barely even noticing how Tim carefully scoops you into his arms.

He’s able to pick you up like you weigh nothing, and really, you don’t. At least, not to him. He holds you as gently as he can and begins moving to exit the IHOP as softly as possible, not wanting to wake you. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had a rough time leading up to this paired with the fact your father is dead too.

Toby opens the IHOP’s door for Tim who is still carrying you and then clicks open the car as well. “W-Why don’t you h-hang out with h-her in the backseat? We h-have quite the d-d-drive until we make it t-t-to Alabama,” he suggests as he opens the back doors of the car behind the driver’s side. He then moves to allow Tim to do his work before slipping into the driver’s seat.

Tim hums thoughtfully before nodding. He gingerly sits you into the car before carefully prying your backpack off before dropping it softly to the floor of the car. After that, he puts your seatbelt on and closes the door gently, once again, to not startle you awake.

He then walks around the back of the car and gets into the passenger side’s back seat and puts his own seatbelt on, exhausted and wanting to take a nap himself. He absentmindedly watches the doors of the IHOP to see Brian waving good night to the staff in the building before he heads over to the car where Toby brings it to life.

“She asleep?” Brian asks as he takes his spot in the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Tim replies quietly. “Quiet from here on out and head talk,” he finishes just as softly before Toby begins to drive out of the parking lot.

You stir a bit as the car moves, mostly staying in a sitting up position until Toby finally enters the expressway heading down south to the temp house that the Slender Man wishes for them to essentially ‘raise’ you in. Your body falls as he turns onto the long stretch off road and you remain sleeping, head now resting on Tim’s lap.

Instead of moving you, he chuckles quietly to himself and then reaches in the back, groping around for his jacket until he finally finds it. Once in his hand, he drapes it over your small form. He watches you for a moment or more before relaxing back in the seat himself, quietly succumbing to sleep alongside you.

Toby and Brian watch him from the rear view mirror, ghosts of smiles on their faces.

You wake up late the next day. A groggy glance at the car’s clock shows that it’s almost past 2 in the afternoon. Goodness, you’ve never really slept in like that before! You shoot up, clearly startled.

“Nice to see you’re up,” Tim says in a slightly teasing tone as he stops gazing from out the window. “Really tired, huh?”

You nod slightly and allow your body the time to wake up. “I guess so?” You reply in a slightly embarrassed tone, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Alabama,” Brian answers as he glances at you from the rearview mirror. “Gonna be living there for a little while.”

“Why’s that?”

“The Operator wants us to be closer to him while you grow,” Tim says before he turns his attention back out the window.

When you give him a confused look, Tim relents, drops his shoulders and takes in a deep breath. “Alright, listen up, this is gonna be a lot.”

You look at him with stars in your eyes.

Tim begins to weave to you a story of the culture and society you are now expected to integrate into. He tells you of the Slender Man, or as you are now expected to call him the Operator's origins. He tells you of a similar being named Zalgo, and it is with him that the Operator tirelessly fights against. It’s an eternal battle that he, and everyone else in the car, doubts will be won or lost in your lifetime.

Tim tells you of proxies, those who serve directly under the Operator and what their purpose is. They are the ones who are held dearest and nearest to his heart and have the privilege of being on the top in this society. Proxies are cold, calculated, and tend to not have free will because they are so blinded by the Operator’s light. Still, there are some instances in which proxies retain their humanity - and that is what makes them simultaneously and strongest and weakest lengths in the hierarchy.

Then there’s the independents. Those that are, as the name implies, independent. While they can come and go as they please, but are still considered the Operator’s children because of how often they work with him. They also benefit from the Operator’s presence and protection, so they too are part of the hierarchy, they have not devoted themselves entirely to him and are considered lesser than proxies. In the Operator’s vision, they are more expendable than his direct children, but more than outliers.

Outliers are the beings that have little to no business with the Operator and do not directly benefit from his influence and protection. They are the blacksheep and scapegoats of the culture you are just learning to swim in. A good chunk of outliers are removed from the society all together on account of them not having exact higher thought, feelings and mentality. They are monsters, cryptids, the things who cause harm but do not think. There are some outliers that are exceptions to the common stereotype of what an outlier is, but they retain that status due to being stripped of an independent title. They aren’t even allowed most times in proxy spaces, but independents tend to welcome them with open arms.

Afterall, both independents and outliers know what it is like to be on the losing side of a classist divide.

Tim also tells you what he knew about your father. Known as the Wraith, he moved like a ghost and struck fear in his victims to the point of spellbinding paranoia that could land them under hospitalization. He made them lose their minds, slowly, painfully, until they were but a shell of what they used to be - a mockery of whatever came before. Your father was a damn good proxy, revered and respected. To hear of his loss was mourned across all three classes, as he was surprisingly fair and just in his treatment of those of lower social standing than him, even going so far as to attempt friendlier outlier contact between the other two, more cognitive groups.

Time and time again on the trip to Alabama, you are reminded that your father was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed in the eyes of humans.

And you can’t help but agree even though what you’ve seen from your father thus far has been minimal at most. You love him in the way any child would love their shadow.

“I only ever really saw him for special occasions,” you begin to explain, eyes focused on the passing trees, hand out the window as you guide it like an airplane as Tim drives the car. They’ve been shifting drivers every other hour now. “He was so kind and warm,” you continue, voice soft and fragile, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “I wish I could have known more of him.”

You get the sense that your teammates agree.

“Y’know,” Tim begins. “He would be pleased to see you’re taking up this mantle of his.” He throws you a supportive glance from the rearview mirror. “I remember him being worried he’d thrown you into a life where you’d come out the other end hating him. But, from what I’ve heard, you accepted your blood with relative grace.”

You feel a heat rise to your face as you focus on how the air glides over your hand, lifting it like a bird. “Yeah…” You trail off with a semi-awkward chuckle.

Tim throws you a knowing glance, smiling softly before turning back to the road.

You arrive in Alabama sometime during the night. The car, which was being driven by Toby once again, pulls into a house somewhere off the beaten path and mumbles about the foliage before he turns on his brights. The place looks relatively spooky, but in a very picturesque way. He continues driving on the uneven terrain before finally reaching the front porch of the house.

There, two men are sitting and talking. The one in the white hoodie looks up from his conversation with the blue masked man and waves, stepping down the first two steps to meet your group halfway.

Toby breathes out with a chuckle and turns the car off. “W-Were you g-guys waiting here a-all day for u-us?” He asks as he exits the car, twirling the car keys in his fingers before tossing them over to Tim, who catches them like second nature.

“Anything to see our favorite cannibal and hurricane of a being,” Brian lightly ribs, making the man in the white hoodie grin and the blue masked man chuckle.

Quietly, you get out the car and round it so you’re near Tim, mostly eyeing the two men with adrenaline coursing in your veins. The appearance of the man who is paler than the moon frightens you just a bit.

“Who’s this little sunflower?” He asks as he turns his attention from almost play fighting with Brian and Toby to waltz over to you. He’s just as imposing as everyone else and leans down slightly to match eye level with you.

“She’s W-Wraith’s k-kid,” Toby hums as he crosses his arms over his chest, head turned slightly to gauge how you’re feeling.

You look up at the clad in white man and attempt to smile. “Hi, I’m Reader, who are you?” You ask softly, still not entirely comfortable in his presence.

A grin begins to light up on his face. “Jeff. Jeff the Killer.” He crouches down and holds out his hand to you.

You grip onto Tim’s forearm, hiding behind him like you did with your mother when he nods that it’s okay for you to say hello.

“He won’t bite, not while I’m here,” he says in a reassuring tone. “You can say hi,” he gently encourages.

You shyly hold your hand out to the man you now know as Jeff and shake it, amazed that he feels like a still smouldering fire. “Killer?”

Jeff suppresses a giggle and nods. “That’s right. Your father was a good one too,” he compliments before letting your hand go. He then turns his head over his shoulder. “EJ, stop being a wet blanket and come say hello to the sunflower.”

The man on the porch scoffs before slowly getting up from the stairs. He stretches slightly as he walks over. His mask startles you as he comes up to you. He does not crouch down to meet you like Jeff did. “I’m EJ.” There’s no warmth in his tone, but he holds his hand out regardless.

Jeff rolls his blue eyes and elbows Eyeless Jack’s ribs. “It’s a kid you dickhead, not a patient,” he hisses before elbowing him again. “Try that again.”

Your group laughs slightly in response, but Eyeless Jack obliges his friend.

“Hi, I’m EJ.”

“What does that stand for?” You ask as you take his hand into yours, shaking it. Your other hand remains firmly planted to Tim’s forearm. He’s just really comforting for you in such an uneasy situation.

You notice Eyeless Jack give Tim a slight look, almost asking if he could do so before getting a very reluctant nod.

“Eyeless Jack.”

“You have all the grace of a drunken sloth” Tim sighs.

“What? You said I could be real.”

“No lead up? You just?”

“Masky, you know I respect you more than most proxies, but you’re literally going to train her for this stuff. There’s no use in beating around the bush. Look,” the grey skinned man pauses for a moment and begins to slip his mask off.

You watch in deep curiosity as you look upwards, wondering what he looks like. When you get your answer, your curiosity grows. Though, it shows up as a shocked fear despite that not being what you feel.

“You okay, Reader?” Tim asks softly as he looks down at you.

“You b-b-broke the kid,” Toby says with an eyebrow raised, leaning in the doorway of the temp house before Brian shakes his head with a stupid grin, heading into the house to set things up and properly accommodate everyone’s move in.

“Yeah, because he’s so ugly-”Jeff is barely able to say before you cut him off.

“You are so cool!” You suddenly exclaim, small hands reaching upwards to Eyeless Jack’s face and to signal him to come down so you can see him better.

Eyeless Jack’s stoic face blooms into a smile as he crouches down almost instantly, a heat rising to his cheeks over the compliment.

You immediately leave Tim’s side to look over the grey skinned man’s face, fingers gently brushing over his cheeks. “What is this?” You ask excitedly, clearly referring to the inky black tears that waterfall from his eyes.

“Some goop that comes from my eyes when my body decides I need to eat the food most of you don’t,” he explains, holding back his amused laughter at how gently you touch him with all the wonder a child can. Normally, Eyeless Jack would not let anyone touch him, nor would he let a stranger get remotely this close to him, but he’s admittedly charmed with you.

“Jeeze, Masky, you never told us Wraith’s kid wasn’t a psychopath,” Jeff teases slightly as he rests his forearm on Tim’s shoulder.

“To be fair, I didn’t know either - we really haven’t spent too much time with her,” he chuckles warmly as he watches you brush your fingers through Jack’s hair, amazed that the texture is so soft despite it looking scratchy and a little dry. “Okay, Reader, that’s enough petting EJ,” Tim says as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I think our uh, meat eating friend needs to get some food in his stomach judging by how many tears he’s producing right now.”

“Do I have to?” You ask as you step back from Eyeless Jack, allowing the tall man to stand up and recompose himself.

“Yup,” Tim replies, popping the ‘p’. “Besides, it’s late and I’m not messing your sleep schedule up anymore,” he finishes as he nods for you to head into the house.

“Will we see these two again?”

“Of course you will,” Tim says as he begins leading you into the house, waving goodbye to the two men who are about to head out into the woods. “You have all the time in the world,” he hums, pleased you made a good impression on some of his society's most prominent figures at the moment.

You turn over briefly and smile widely. “Bye! I hope to see you soon!” You bid before finally being ushered into the house by Tim.

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff wave back, smiles on their faces.

“See you soon, sunflower,” Jeff murmurs to himself.

A pregnant pause comes between the two best friends.

“You see what she’s doing to him?” Jeff absentmindedly chuckles as he and Eyeless Jack begin to travel into the darkness of the woods.

“What a softie,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

“Takes one to know one,” Jeff retorts.

The two laugh.

Tim spends most of his time teaching you and that’s only because the Operator keeps sending out his teammates over him. It’s probably just how the tall man wanted it. You soak up information like a sponge. Everyone can see it.

He teaches you everything he can. For instance, the proxy hierarchical role is strict and considered one of the most respected of rules. Group leaders are leaders because the Operator says they are, but it can also be taken by force. That normally doesn’t happen though. Group leaders hold the responsibility of ensuring their proxies are taken care of, and if they are new, properly integrated into the society. That’s what he’s currently doing with you.

Next up comes the right hand. Not every group has a right hand because some group leaders are paranoid or jerks and cannot learn to trust, but it is highly recommended group leaders have a right hand. This group’s right hand is Brian, or as you know him, Hoodie. Right hands provide guidance when group leaders are conflicted, and can step in on behalf of their leader depending on the situation. They are to be just as respected and revered and can be the stand in should a group leader be missing. This role is not given, it is asked.

Then come what Tim lovingly refers to as ‘the middle children’. Those are the proxies that aren’t group leaders, right hands, or runts. They are the ones who just exist as part of the group unit. They have no significant power but are allowed to participate in the hazing process. ‘Middle children’ tend to pop up when runts outgrow their runt status or a new runt takes their place. It is possible to have multiple ‘middle children’.

Runts are the lowest in the unit. They are the newest in their group, but not always the newest or least inexperienced. If you are traded amongst groups, you become a runt, but in such cases as this, the hazing process is nowhere near as brutal as it would be for those who are inexperienced and coming into the proxy life for the first time. Because runts are usually in an initiatory stage and still learning, they must be bent and broken until the group leader says there is no further need. Runts are often the lapdogs of the group and tend to do everything the rest of the group does not want to do. They are considered the most expendable.

The hazing process is something that you are exempt from. Tim told you it was because you are a child, and he is not a child abuser. Still, after learning of the hazing process, you admit that you feel sick to your stomach. The hazing process is brutal in every sense and can sap the life out of the proxies it affects. Everything goes when a runt is in the process, from mental, emotional and physical torture. Depending on the group leader, the process will last anywhere from a few weeks, months, to even years.

You are thankful you are exempt.

Tim teaches you more and more as the months go on, and still, with stars in your eyes, you soak up information like a sponge. Technique is something he’s always testing on you, and it plays like a fun game.

“I’m going to wait upstairs and read,” he says one morning. “Maybe get some other work done. Wait down here for however long you need, and tap my shoulder without me hearing you. Stay silent as possible. If I hear you, you lose.” He then gets up from the kitchen table and heads upstairs, coffee cup in hand before he heads into the study.

You watch Tim leave and furrow your brows, your heart racing. So far, he’s drilled stamina into you, basic self defense, and other things young proxies might need but this is the task that makes your heart palpitate. You hear him open the study door and half way close it before he settles in and begins reading.

You don’t want to rush into this. So, you take your time, just silently moving from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, that task in itself taking until the afternoon. You don’t want to mess this up.

You hold your breath as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Even though it’s carpeted, you don't want any part of you betraying your stealth. You wait at the bottom of the stairs, inching up step by step until you finally reach the top.

The sun has set by the time you wait outside the wall in front of the study door.

You hold your breath as you quietly step into the doorway - and you see it - Tim has flinched. Hopped up on adrenaline, you take your time and slink your way behind him before finally tapping him on the shoulder.

He doesn’t jolt, but he turns around and smiles widely. “Good job!” He compliments, standing up and stretching his limbs. He’s been sitting an entire day, after all. “I’m really proud of you.” He pats the top of your head and you see it in his eyes- he’s actually super proud of you.

But he flinched when you waited in the doorway.

He knew.

Still, you accept this victory with grace, wondering what else he might teach you.

Tim teaches you so much as you grow older under his care. Though one of the most monumental lessons was after you took a life for the first time at fourteen. He had wanted to wait until you were sixteen, but the Operator demanded it.

You’ve learned so much knife skills from him, weaponry in general, but nothing he could have taught you would have prepared you for what it means to take a life.

The two of you had just gotten through interrogating a man who really did not deserve to live. He had been blubbering for the past few hours, and Tim was exhausted from trying to weasel information out from him.

“Ghost,” he addresses, his masked face looking at you with budding amusement. “Finish this for me.”

“What?” You say. You know what he means, you just don’t want to actually admit it.

“Finish him for me,” he shrugs. “It’s about time.”

“I don’t know how?”

“Sure you do,” he hums. “You have your knife and I know your skills are more than good,” he says as he rests his hand on his hips. “You could also shoot him. We’re in an area where no one would even care about a gun going off. Or, you could brutalize him,” he trails off as he lists off the ways you could end a life like items on a grocery list. “I don’t know if you have enough power for actually brutalizing him though,” he jokes slightly, lightly slapping the man’s face to keep him up. “Y’hear that, bud? You got lucky. If it were up to me, I’d break off your limbs one by one and tear open your chest letting you see your beating heart.”

The man’s eyes go wide as he squirms helplessly.

He’s not getting out of this one alive.

You awkwardly look at Tim. “What… What do you suggest?” You ask quietly.

Tim’s eyes dart to your gun. “For your first time? Clean and fast.”

Obliging your group leader’s words, you take out your gun and flick off safety. The hardest part is looking them in the eye. You raise it and point it at the man’s forehead, eyes narrowed from behind your mask.

The man is pleading with you, tears streaming down his face.

“Always pull the trigger..?” You begin, attempting to buy some time.

“On empty lungs,” Tim finishes.

You pull.

It’s almost a little sinful to admit how easy murder has become after that moment. For the next two years, you and your group began going out on more missions as a unit. Your power had grown immensely, and the Operator’s point was beginning to show through.

The younger the proxy, the more efficient they become as they grow. He knows children are plastic, and you are his living proof that success must start young. Still, he watches you grow carefully, and Tim keeps his boss in the loop with every little milestone you hit.

First it was ten confirmed kills, then twenty five, and before you knew it, fifty. Fifty confirmed kills before you were sixteen.

Tim himself has grown rather fond of you in ways that no one else has - though, you are easy to get along with. Besides your group regularly spending time with you and falling deeper and deeper in love with you as their little one, Tim has become what you always envisioned the shadow of your father to be.

He’s the first to greet you in the morning and the last to wish you good night. He spends most of his waking hours with you, and it’s a good memory every single time. He trusts you immensely, and in turn, you trust him. Admittedly, he’s always had a soft spot for you and that much is apparent and always has been.

Tim has always been there for you when it all feels like too much.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble as you curl deeper onto your bed, sheets over your head.

“What happened?” He asks in a serious tone, clearly not wanting to play games.

“I said that I’m fine-”

“Bullshit,” he says as he marches into your room, ready to tear off your blankets. He knows teenagers are prone to giving the adults in their life hell, but you’ve never done this until, well, now.

You’re clawing to keep your blankets on but your strength pales in comparison to Tim’s. You screech as he finally tears the blankets from you, expecting full anger but instead, a look of horror.

“What the-what happened to you?” He asks in shock as he looks at the large red claw marks on your midsection and legs. It looks like you fought off a bear. “How long have you been like this- this is dangerous, you could get infected!” His tone is only loud because he’s scared. He wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms and rushing to the bathroom to tend to your injuries.

You hiss in pain but keep your lips tight, not wanting to admit what happened.

You let Tim work on you and disinfect your wounds as his emotions finally come down to a normal place. You realize it’s because he cares about you, but you’re still worried that he’s going to flare up again.

“Are you ever going to tell me what caused this? Or am I to believe some poltergeist waltzed in here and cut you up?”

You avert your gaze from the only solid father figure you’ve ever had. “I… I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you mumble.

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused, as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you speed out again, face burning with embarrassment.

You see a plethora of emotions pass over Tim’s face as he applies another bandaid to one of the more minor cuts on your leg before he settles on relief. “Holy shit,” he breathes out as he drops the products he had been working with. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathes out as he takes you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can without causing any pain to your body that is still healing.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you hug him back.

Your skill grows so immensely, that your group and the Operator trust you with going on one of the most high stakes missions he’s ever sent modern proxies on. He hasn’t sent you a group on something like this since… Goodness, the 1700s? It’s been a while.

The Operator asked you to hunt down Zalgo’s favored son and kill him. It sounds easy in words, but in practice, near impossible.

“He’s sending us on a death match,” mumbles Brian. “I-What do you guys think? Are we ready?”

You and the other two shrug, not knowing what to say. You just know that you will be following Tim’s lead, as he is your group leader and the man who matters most in your life.

“I’m a-a-apprehensive,” Toby hums. “But, I t-t-think with our collective t-talents, we m-might have a shot.”

Tim looks at you, wanting to know your input when you hesitantly nod. “Guess we’re going.”

Finding Zalgo’s son was easy, but pinning him down was anything but. Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to face off with him, the man of the hour.

Toby and Brian were preoccupied with fending off Zalgo’s proxies who were placed in the house to keep his favored, most beloved son safe, and you and Tim had managed to slip in.

It was just the two of you with Zalgo’s son, and he was beating the two of you close to death.

“I’ll ask again,” his smooth, velvety voice growled. “Who do you consider the most expendable in your group?”

When neither you nor Tim answer, the child of Zalgo screams in frustration and rage before barrelling towards you, grabbing your weakened body and throwing you into the large stained glass windows.

Due to the sheer force of how hard he had thrown you, you tumbled out onto the grassy lawn, air stolen from your lungs. You laid on the ground gasping like a fish out of water before slowly attempting to crawl back in and help Tim.

Your fingers hoisted you up through the broken windows, allowing you to see what was going on inside. And it horrified you.

Zalgo’s son was holding Tim up by his neck, choking the life out of him.

“Who is the most expendable?” He demands again.

“I’m… not..!”

“TELL ME-”

“Fuck you-” he barely manages to wheeze out.

You’re panicking, wondering what you can do to help him when the son leans in exceptionally close.

“Say it.” He tosses Tim’s body to the ground, watching as he weakly attempts to get back up.

“R...Reader,” he admits. “She’s the most… She’s the most expendable,” he coughs out, blood and other things being released from his damaged system. “You already threw her out-”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I ended her now?” The son taunts, eyes shifting to the stained glass windows where he hurled you out.

Tim shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying-” he cuts himself off by coughing more. “I’m just saying she’s not prepared, she’s still weak-”

You feel your heart stop. You listen into his thoughts, he’s emotionally vulnerable, and see that he’s telling the truth. There isn’t any second thought that’s telling you he’s fibbing to buy time.

“You don’t trust her?” He inquires, bending low, ready to choke the life out of Tim again.

“I don’t,” he weakly says. “In fact, she’s due to be transferred from us soon-” he’s cut off by the son laughing and lifting him up again by his throat.

The son looks over his shoulder to see tears streaming down your cheeks. “And you call me a monster,” he cruelly laughs.

It’s cut short by Toby and Brian breaking down the door, shooting the son with his father’s favorite gun.

Tim is once again dropped to the floor, and Brian rushes to help him.

Toby leaves their side and sprints to the window to help you. He sees you're crying. “W-What’s wrong? W-Where does it h-h-hurt?” He asks, worry lacing his expression as he helps you back over.

You shake your head and refuse to say anything.

The car ride back to your temp house is awkward at best and downright uncomfortable at worst. You are sitting in the passenger seat because you refuse to sit next to Tim who had admitted something you weren’t really supposed to find out.

And the other two men, both Toby and Brian know it too.

‘Is it true?’ You ask the right hand, looking emptily out the window. The lights that pass overhead are counted as mental busy work.

‘Reader,’ Brian’s voice sighs. ‘I… I’m really sorry,’ he says. ‘I fought him on this, but… But being a proxy isn’t easy-’

‘So you’re abandoning me?’ You ask, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again. ‘You’re gonna leave me in the hands of some strangers because I’m not good enough?’

Brian sighs deeply and glances at you briefly as he continues to drive. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t accept it.’ You shift in your seat and curl up, not wanting to even look at your group. They’ve basically broken your trust, but hearing it from Tim? The man you viewed as most important in your life? The man would talk to you over cups of coffee on the rooftop before the sun came up? The same man who had once said you were the child he was never allowed to have?

He called you weak. Expendable. He has said you are not worthy of his trust.

The first time your anger boiled over was a few days after downing Zalgo’s son. It was just the two of you in the living room, your other two teammates out on other errands. Every day felt like a ticking time bomb of when you will be released to another group.

“We need to talk,” Tim says.

“About?”

“What… What I said back then.” He still has marks on his neck from the son attempting to choke him to death.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He sighs deeply. You have every right to be mad at him. “It’s not that simple,” he starts. “I never meant for it to come out like that,” he says with a frown, eyes not entirely meeting you. He attempts to explain further, but you don’t want to hear it.

You get up, waving him off. “Shut up.”

“Reader-”

“Shut. Up.” You storm upstairs.

The fights do not get any lighter. They say time heals all wounds, but in your case, it exacerbates them. It becomes a nearly every day affair now.

Words are shot like bullets into the house that used to be built by the loving relationship you had with Tim. But, ever since he uttered those words and dug his heels in deeper over the fact you were actively challenging him, you drifted further and further from him.

Toby and Brian try to stay out of those conversations. They both care about you, but at the same time, they understand that being a proxy really isn’t easy. You get jumbled around, shaken up, and sometimes, traded. While no one is replacing you, the fact Tim agreed to let you go was what hurt the most.

According to Toby, he never even fought for you.

You leave them at the same diner you met them at. Sixteen years old and ready to be in the hands of another group. You sit in the passenger seat of the car, eyes empty, and heart torn.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” Brian asks with a small smile.

You shake your head. “No.”

He sighs and drops his shoulders. “I…” He pauses, and when words fail him, he leans over in the driver’s seat and wraps his arms around you. You hug back, realizing your beef isn’t with the right hand and allow tears to well in your eyes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “It’s going to be quiet without you,” he mumbles. He looks at you with all the adoration an older sibling might as he lets you go.

Toby, has gotten out of the car at this point and walked around the front, opens your door and leans down.

“No, let me,” you say softly as you unbuckle, grabbing your backpack and whatever else you may need before stepping out. Once you’re standing, you find yourself tangled in Toby’s arms.

“I h-hate goodbyes,” he admits as he sways the two of you.

You hug him back and smile softly. “I’ll be seeing you, yeah?” You mumble as he squeezes you tighter.

He nods. “Y-You better!” He laughs, not allowing his thinly veiled choked up tears to enter his voice as he lets you go. Toby checks you over once more, nothing but love in his eyes as he reluctantly takes your place in the passenger seat. You can tell he’s bitter over finally having it back.

Tim is in the back seat, passenger side. He looks at you through the window of the car, eyes red and puffy. He wants to say so much to you and nothing at all.

You share in the sentiment, nod slightly and fight cursing him out again, then head into the same place you met them in. Ready to be a part of a new group. One that hopefully, will not doubt your abilities as a growing proxy.

When you head in and walk out of their lives, Tim’s mask falls, and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating and can’t even think clearly.

“Fucking drive,” he coldly hisses as he takes in deep, labored breaths.

Brian, not wanting to fight his leader and understanding the man hasn’t been this emotionally broken since Jay’s death, obliges him.

Tim watches you greet your new team, and his heart breaks all over again.

You’re now twenty years old. My how the time flies. You are more than an established proxy now, and your new group treats you as such.

There’s four of them, your new family.

A group leader named Wallace, who is fair but kind. A right hand named Theo, who is a nightmare in proxy form. A ‘middle child’ named Ruth, who vaguely reminds you of your mother. And finally, an independent by the name of Nyein.

They’ve been good to you over the years you’ve known them, and you can tell they genuinely love you in their own way. You feel like you can tell them almost anything and everything, but everyone has skeletons in their closet and you are no exception.

It’s Wallace’s job as your group leader to understand his proxies and be able to understand them at all costs. He doesn’t mean to pry while it’s still fresh.

“So, how are you doing this fine evening?” The deep voiced proxy asks as he joins you on the balcony of the hotel the five of you are currently staying in.

“I could always be better,” you answer. When you sigh, he gives a knowing hum. “What?” He shrugs. “Pardon my reach,” he begins. “But, Timothy…”

“Too early,” you cut him off.

“Right, my bad,” he apologizes. “We can always come back to this later.”

You huff.

Ruth inquires about it next. She’s gentle in her approach, and you almost spill it all to her, but the pain of what happened ices you back over.

“I understand that you and your previous group went up against Zalgo��s son?”

“Yeah.”

She gently moves some of your hair behind your ear. “How did that go?” She sees your expression fall, and she frowns. “So that’s what happened,” she hums, not even needing you to say what happened directly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say. “Not like you contributed,” you mumble. “He didn’t want me.”

Her hand rests on your back, silently telling you that you can always find comfort in her.

Theo asks in the most brash manner he can. He doesn’t really care about feelings or making people uncomfortable, but he does respect you.

“So, Masky traded you like pokemon cards huh?”

You throw a decidedly hard punch at him.

“Take that as a yes.”

“Are you fucking with me?” You groan in an exasperated tone.

“If it fires you up so your punches stop feeling like taps, sure,” he grins. “Come on, let it out. What did that bastard do to you?”

You answer him with harder punches.

Theo doesn’t respect Tim, but it’s not like he ever respected him to begin with.

Nyein honesty doesn’t ask. They don’t want to make you uncomfortable and they refuse to push your boundaries. They know something hurtful happened, and they understand that pain is carefully guarded for a reason. The only time they ask anything in regards to what hurt you from before was when you were preparing to meet up with your old group for what was ‘lovingly’ dubbed a collaboration.

‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ They ask, cocking their head to the side.

“I’ll be fine-”

‘I know you’re lying,’ they sign with a frown. ‘I can smell that on you, y’know?’

You chuckle and push lightly at them. “If anything isn’t to my liking, you can always eat Masky.”

Their face lights up.

The news that you and your previous team were going to be working together was hell on the ears. In fact, you heard it, and found yourself panicking over the fact you might need to see Tim again. According to Wallace, yes. Tim was still alive and well.

“He looks older though and more depressing,” the blond haired man chuckled. “Fuckin’ hate Timothy.”

Theo rolls his eyes but turns to you anyway. “He’s right on the old and depressing thing.”

You take that thought in and sigh.

Time to face him again.

You and your group decide to meet Tim’s on the edge of the town you all will be invading. Something about mass recruitment and taking out multiple targets. You all know it’s busy work and the Slender Man likes to make you suffer, but it gives you some time to talk until the sun sets.

Ruth and Nyein immediately overtake some time waiting by swarming around Toby and sharing giggles. Wallace and Theo (who may or may not have been talking to Tim prior to this) have run off with Brian to also just talk.

They’re not always at each other’s throats.

That leaves you with Tim.

You’re currently sitting in a grassy field, plucking flowers from the earth and taking in the sweet scent as the sun slowly makes its way to bed. You’ve spent a good portion of time alone, and when Tim finally makes his appearance, you do not stir. You do not acknowledge him.

It’s uncomfortably silent when he takes a seat near you, but not close to you.

“How have you been?” He asks quietly, almost as if he’s scared you’ll take flight again.

It’s been four years, you can reply without anger overtaking your system.

“Decent, like any proxy,” you answer, eyes still honed in on the flowers and how the remaining golden shafts of light filter through the leaves and change the color to something delicate and pure. “And you?” You’re just asking as a formality, not because you actually care.

“The same as you, I suppose,” he answers back, his voice still soft.

Another silence passes until you finally get the urge to look over at the man you once viewed as a parental figure.

Your eyes almost water when seeing him. He’s older now, much older. Still has that kind of youth that comes with being the Operator’s play thing, but he’s sad. His eyes are dark, devoid of light, and soft as if he’s barely holding it together. He still smells like cigarettes.

Tim is the first to speak, a sorrowful smile on his face as he takes in a deep breath and looks at you with an adoration that never truly left. “You look older,” he notes, taking note of how you grew into your looks. You don’t look like that scrawny little preteen anymore. He knows that you’re a young lady now, and he only wishes he was there to see it. “I like it.”

You bristle on instinct. “I don’t need your approval-”

“I know,” he sighs as he turns his gaze up to the clouds that pass overhead. The skies are the faintest of pink and purple. He thinks it’s pretty.

“You look… Older too,” you finally say, feeling awkward and at home all at once.

Tim chuckles quietly under his breath. “Yeah,” he hums. “I’m in my thirties.”

For some reason, it makes you giggle.

He lights up at the sound of your laugh.

When it dies down, the two of you remain in silence, just letting the world pass by as the sun sinks lower and lower. It’s peaceful, nowhere near as hostile as you were originally expecting it to be, and you find that you enjoy the overall experience.

Still, there is a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that reminds you of everything that has happened, and it still stings. It is the wound that will never heal.

As if he was reading your thoughts, Tim breathes out again and continues looking up at the slowly darkening sky. “I really am sorry for what happened,” he apologizes once more. “I was sorry back then, and I’m still sorry now.”

You frown and knit your brows together in confusion. “You… You just let me go, like I didn’t matter.”

“I know.”

“Tim-”

“I can’t undo that,” he says. “But… But I can try that now-”

“Please no-”

“I have better credit in the Operator’s eyes, maybe we could-”

“No-”

“I could ask for you back-”

“That’s enough.”

Your eyes are dark and you can feel something unpleasant bubbling in your chest and throat. When you had first been placed in Wallace’s group, some part of you had some naive childish dream that Tim would come back, take you in his arms and prove that he wanted you and was truly the right sort of man to have as a role model in your life. That dream never came true, so you stopped having it. You let it die and get returned to the earth. You let it drift away.

But at the same time, you wonder what would be different now - if you could even accept being taken back into his group. Would that even be healthy? It took Wallace and the others months just to get you to stop waking up in tears, nearly on the verge of losing your guts through your mouth and to stop you from panicking when one of them said they had to go out. It took them months to get you to even remotely let down your guard on your abandonment issues.

They’d been so patient with you. They watched you grow.

But here was Tim. Sitting next to you in the world’s most beautiful flower field extending an olive branch, wondering if he could ever atone for his sins by asking for you back and making you a part of his group again.

And that makes you wonder, is he doing this because he misses you, or because he feels bad?

The sun sinks below the horizon, and the moon begins to rise in the sky.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.

You have a job to do, and some things?

Well, they’re better left unsaid.

#masky x reader #masky #marble hornets #tim wright #mh #creepypasta #creepypasta masky #angst #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #hoodie #brian thomas #slender man #the operator #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets x reader

96 notes · View notes

spookykestrel · 3 years ago

Text

Love Kestrel pt 1

It’s Valentine’s Day so I figured now was as good a time as any to post my thoughts on love.

As someone who has started identifying as aromantic, it’s almost ironic to say, but I am so full of love. And I love Valentine’s Day.

When I was young I was such a hopeless romantic; in fact, I still am. When I first started figuring out that I was aro I was a little upset to be honest. I’m not going to have a whirlwind of a romance as any one in my favorite novels. I’ll never get to experience that witty banter of an enamored couple. But it’s actually allowed me to embrace all other kinds of love.

I love my pets with my whole soul. I Love their unique and distinct personalities and falling asleep with purring ball of orange fur at the foot of my bed. I love going for walks in the evening when the weather starts to get cool and how you can take a deep breath and feel so alive. I love how quiet the world feels when I’m watching the sunrise, almost like it’s just me awake. I love my family and trusting them to stand by me through anything, how they’ve known me my whole life and still put up with me through every struggle. I love embroidery and drawing and writing, taking something from the firing neurons in my brain and crafting it into something others can see and understand. I love my friends, how we can spend time together and feel so valued and appreciated. Spending time with them is always the highlight of my day. I want them to feel like they’re important and amazing because they are and I’d do anything for them.

As Hozier said, “I fall in love just a little oh a little bit everyday with someone new” and it’s true I do. I love the people who stop their car to let the mother duck and her ducklings pass safely. I love when someone’s so passionate about their interests and won’t stop talking about them. I love watching people smile about an inside joke with their friends, I love people just being themselves without a care.

And as mitski said, “I’ll love the littler things” because that’s what I’ve been trying to teach myself. To absolutely cherish and live for the little things in life. A warm cup of some amazing tea, singing along at the top of your lungs to your favorite song, wearing your faveoite socks, having someone give you random gift or rock they found because they thought it reminded them of you, or being the one to give that gift!

So while it may not be the romantic love everyone is so obsessed with, it’s still love. It still makes my heart ache and fills my whole soul with passion. I love to love and there’s so much I do love. Just because it’s not romantic doesn’t mean I’m missing anything at all. I’m whole and complete and beautiful and doing just fine without romance.

I love today because it gives me a chance to share this love. Who says Valentine’s Day has to be about romance? No one can stop me from baking heart cookies for my friends and showering them with affection because I’m glad they exist and it’s the perfect occasion to remind them, especially the ones without partners and can’t go on dates tonight and are feeling sad about the pressure from society.

I never cared about valentines, but ever since I started applying it to all types of love I’ve really enjoyed it and looked forward to it :)

Tl;dr being aro is lovely. It’s like your ability to love is heightened because you don’t worry about romance. Love the little things!

#long post #text post #I’m sorry this is so long and I’m rambling #Valentine’s Day #valentines #aromantic #love #aro #greyromantic #arospec #aroace #kestrel calls #I’m literally just rambling #who knows if there is a single coherent thought in there

14 notes · View notes

vegetalass · 4 years ago

Note

If you come back to this, would you consider doing hcs for the rdr2 boys coping with bad breakups? 👀🙈💖👉👈😳

I love your stuff btw! Hope the hiatus is going well and you're having fun being absorbed into new fandom stuff <3

JSKajhdhajfskhjdkajsh AHHHHHHHHHHH YOU ARE TOO SWEET WTF🥺🥺So I just went ahead and wrote this request for you LOOOOOL😎💘��🤠

even tho I would still say I’m on hiatus.... I was just thinking about Mister Arthur Morgan today and how much i want to sit on his lap and hug him and kiss his cheeks and hold his face against my chest.... So I figure this is as good a time as any to write some stuff for rdr2...

Plus... I really am happy about the fact that people like my work enough to still send me asks!!! I miss the rdr2 fandom a lot tbh because as I’m sure you all have been know... The bnha fandom is a little..... wack tbh..... But regardless, I am having as much fun as i possibly can under the circumstances!!! Theres a lot of good content there...

and just in case u like bnha... you can actually find me at @ihatebnha if you want to read any of my current BNHA stuff (tho im sorta taking a break there too temporarily). Either way, even if you don’t, i appreciate u all for sticking with me and I MISS U GUYS so i hope this does u all some justice!

anyway... i hope this is what you were looking for because I LOVE UUUUUU!! ENJOY💚🧡❤️

Arthur

First of all………. If you break up with Arthur I personally will come beat you up

Secondly….

Honestly, he probably just goes completely numb

He doesn’t have the emotional stability or strength to handle unpacking how or why it’s happening

You ask to break up with him and his soul leaves his body and he’s just “Ok.🙂Whatever you think is best, baby.”

And that’s the end of it. Won’t even let you explain.

This means don’t prank him by pretending to break up with him either because you’ll accidentally kill him

Like he genuinely probably thinks that he deserves whatever it is that made you want to break up with him and that there’s really nothing he can do to feel better about it

Even if was just something like, long distance problems or needing a break

This also hurts so badly because I feel like… getting to the point where Arthur even wants to date you takes FOREVER… He really really needs to trust and love the person who he’s with…

And so to see them leave would just break his heart up into pieces and he wouldn’t be able to handle that all over again

He just… becomes a ghost

Anyone from the gang even mentions it or asks how he is and he just tells them he’s fine and doesn’t need to talk about it

Even if he really is aching deep down… He just can’t bring himself to talk about it because it still doesn’t make any sense to him

And honestly, he just doesn’t want things to hurt any more than they already do by acknowledging them or facing them head on

So he just submits to it all being his fault, it was the right thing to do, that you’re happier without him, etc. and permanently shuts himself off

If you left him, that would be the absolute final straw and he would just throw himself into his work and never look back

And honestly wouldn’t even notice if someone else was making moves on you, that’s how out of it he is.

You wouldn’t even notice something was wrong unless you TRULY knew Arthur

He’s a tough cookie

John

John is the guy who acts like he’s fine if anyone sees him but cries 24/7 when he’s alone

If anyone asks him about it he’s like “I don’t care, it’s fine and I respect their decision… I’m a man, not a baby.”

But the truth is…. Sir… You ARE baby

Honestly…. He’s just saying all that so people don’t really know how much he’s hurting or think he’s weak and try to help

And in a modern setting, Abigail, Arthur, Hosea, anyone really, can’t go to his apartment because he’s lost all motivation to take care of himself

Dishes piled up, laundry everywhere, he’s been wearing the same pajamas for a week, his trash is full of microwave meal packages… It’s just so fucking bad

Single Man Shit

Probably goes through bouts of rage too

Was he not good enough? Did you think you weren’t good enough? Was it the fact that he has Abigail and Jack? Is he too ugly for someone pretty like you?

It’s in these moments that he starts throwing stuff around and kicking chairs and whatnot

I imagine it’s all pretty nonviolent but he still just wants to make a mess to release all that pent up frustration

But he always just ends up on the floor or in bed crying again because he really doesn’t understand what went wrong since he was trying so hard to be a good partner

He wanted to be good for you :(

At least to make up for what he did to Abigail

Probably a couple months after the breakup he starts feeling better…

Picks his laundry up and does the dishes and starts to open up to the gang again

He’s definitely still sad when he thinks about it all… But he knows he’ll get over it as long as you seem happy from afar

If any of the other boys from camp try to make a move on you, he does his best to ignore it… Knowing it’s not his place to speak for you anymore, even if seeing you with someone else does make him sad

And he probably takes some extra time to spend with Abigail and Jack, too

There’s really no one like your family (even if they’re chosen) to make you feel better in situations like this

(Especially since they went through the same thing as him BY him)

Karma’s a bitch, lol

Charles

Charles... My love….. My baby…….

He takes a while to fall apart because honestly, he’s just so confused

He definitely does not recover quickly, but of course, appears to function kind of normally

If anything, he just gets more quiet and distant than before, simply because he needs a lot of time and space to think about everything

And because looking at you hurts so badly

When you mention breaking up, he probably just stands up and walks away

And if you chase after him trying to explain, he’ll tell you that you don’t need to justify yourself, and that he just needs to be alone

However, deep down, he’s gutted and really just needs the space to process what you said and then calm down

He doesn’t want to face the gang, and possibly you, again, crying, hence why he doesn’t come back for a while, but he knows that he can’t just run away from everything

He never thought that you’d be capable of hurting him in the way that you did

And he wonders what the final straw that pushed you over the edge was

He definitely saw you staying together for a long time, and had a lot of ideas for your future, so the breakup was especially surprising and devastating for that reason alone

And he would probably never want to speak to you again

Not really because he hated you, but because it would be too emotional for him to be around you knowing you didn’t feel the same as him

And even though he’s okay with emotions, the gang just isn’t exactly the right space for him to deal with them

Though he probably eventually talks about it with Arthur after a couple months, once he finds another normal, and bonds with him over the shared experience

He would never be able to ask you this, but he wonders if the reason you left him was for the same reasons he’s shunned in society

I think that would hurt him the most… if you didn’t want to be seen with him in public

Even though he knows that it’s unlikely, since he didn’t want to hear your reasons for leaving, it’s something that he thinks about

Even if it would hurt him to see you with someone else, he wouldn’t do anything about it

And as always, he’d just stay quiet, watching

Micah

Micah blames you

Everything is your fault. Everything.

Oh, you want to break up with him? When he’s been so nice to you? So good? He’d literally do anything for you, and you’re not happy with that? You’re such an ungrateful bitch! Fuck you! He never even wanted to date you in the first place, so it’s your fault for making him love you. Sorry he tried soooo hard.

Any semblance of sadness he feels about losing you turns to rage so quickly since he just really cannot fathom why you’d leave him

Genuinely thinks he’s the best boyfriend you’ve ever had and ever will

SIR…????

Despite his anger, he probably is sad deep down… He just doesn’t really recognize it as sadness in the first place

His chest aches when he thinks about you? His eyes sting and burn when he looks at you? His stomach hurts at any and every thought of you?

You’re just an ugly witch who wants him dead.

He has never felt any of these things before, and frankly, he hates feeling like this.

And absolutely refuses to admit to himself that maybe… MAYBE… he just misses you and wants you back…

Honestly though, you will never get word nor wind of this, and before long, he really just does start to hate you.

If you weren’t in the gang, and were ever in a situation where you saw him again, he’d try to make your life a hell.

He’d tease you in front of whoever you were with, talking about how he’s probably the best fuck you’d ever have and that “if you still wanted to fuck him,” he “wouldn’t blame you…” and might even think about it going at it on more time

In a modern setting, he’s definitely a hate fucking type of ex

And if he ever saw you with a new boy, he would probably try to lay some hands on them for even thinking about touching you

AND STILL doesn’t realize that this means he still loves you… But whatever

If you break up with him, guaranteed you’re probably never getting back together

Dutch

Dutch is a tough one… I feel like it really depends on how long you’ve been together, the reason why you want to breakup, and how much value he has for the you and relationship itself

I think he’d be more upset about a long term relationship ending than anything and he’d definitely try to argue with you about any of the problems you bring up

He definitely hits you with the, “you should’ve known what you were getting into,” which, honestly, is a pretty fair point

He doesn’t actually want you to leave him, though… He just doesn’t really want to change

Which is why the whole thing ends up being so T O X I C

But if he realizes that you are actually serious about breaking up, he isn’t above saying that he’ll put the work into fixing everything

Though that’s kind of a lie, since he’s mostly just saying it to get you to stay

If the argument gets too intense, he’ll let you walk away

But only because he’s going to brainstorm about how to get you back

I’m sure this is a given, but none of the other boys at camp are allowed to even think about getting close to you

It wasn’t so bad when you and Dutch were still together, but if he wants you back, everyone is a threat

Arthur and John are given direct orders to not even comfort you… And Dutch even tries to get Miss Grimshaw to be mean to you

At least so he can swoop in and save you… Thinking that you’ll run right back into his arms if no one except him is nice to you

Because that’s where you belong

If he doesn’t manage to succeed in winning you back, the moment he realizes that everything is over, he will 100% start ignoring you

And don’t put it past him to try show off the fact that he’s found someone new to fuck

Honestly, since he’s the leader, at this point, he’d probably just be looking for a good way to get rid of you

Nothing violent, just find a little brothel he can pop you in when the gang’s about to leave some random town

Seems like a good idea to him… Since if he’s not special, no one is.

Same reason why, if you cheat on him, you will never see the whites of his eyes again

Much less anyone from the gang

Kieran

To give Kieran some credit... He’s probably the most in touch with his emotions

He doesn’t respond very well to the breakup, just says okay and lets you walk away, but he’s not above accepting the truth and just crying about it for a while

First and foremost, you need to be happy, even if it means without him

Part of him wants to beg for you to stay so badly… Hold onto the bottom of your shirt and cry… But I know that he probably thinks he doesn’t deserve to and would be able to stop himself

Obviously, you know better than him about everything so why would you be wrong about breaking up?

His work definitely lags and he ends up spending more time with the animals than anyone else, but he’s okay at holding himself together

No one would even know he’s still suffering unless they talked to him about it

Which they don’t, really, and honestly he’s sort of glad, because it gives him a lot of time to think about everything

Which is why, even months after the breakup, if he hasn’t found someone new, he still thinks about what it would be like if you stayed

Daydreams about cuddling with you, about dancing with you, about brushing the horses with you, starting a family, everything…

He wishes it were his so badly

And so seeing you with another boy, especially if it were someone else at camp, would absolutely kill him

And yet, he’d still manage to keep it all to himself. Nothing but his greedy eyes left

Self esteem gone forever… He’d take you back in a heartbeat

Doesn’t help that the poor baby definitely gets clowned by Dutch and Micah about not being able to keep “a good fuck” around

It really hurts… But in the end, he knows they’re right

Javier

Javier probably gets over everything the quickest out of all of the boys.

I just see him as having the most romantic experience out of all of them, so he understands how relationships (and breakups) work

His logic is, why would he want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with him?

Which makes getting over you faster than normal

Especially since, regardless of why you wanted to leave, he’s going to respect your wishes

Definitely a little peeved at first though because he thought things were fine between the two of you

He’s just not going to bother trying to get you to stay

Especially since he knows that he can be kind of flirty with people even when he’s with you

That being said, if he sees any of the other boys at camp trying to get with you, he’s going to be BIG MAD

First of all, he was there first, so they should know better than to touch someone else’s things

And second of all, it would just feels like they’re showing off the fact that you left him, rather than the other way around

But honestly, he probably wouldn’t care if you found a stranger to mess with. It’s not like they know your relationship history, and honestly, he knows it wouldn’t be fair if he were ever to find someone else he likes.

So he’s fine watching you run around

It’s only ever late at night, if it’s been a while since you’ve spoken to him, or he’s feeling lonely, that he thinks about what things would be like if you were still with him

He wonders what really made you leave, and if you were honest with him during the relationship

Overall, he’d be okay, but would definitely still be down to fuck if you ever wanted! You may not want to be with each other anymore, but it doesn’t change the fact you guys had some bomb ass sex

Sean

Sean is another boy who’s going to be a bit more angry than sad

That being said, he’s no where near as bad as Micah and knows that the anger comes from the sadness

He’s just extremely frustrated that things didn’t work out, and resents the fact that you didn’t even want to try and fix things with him

It’s not like he really blames you for that… But he wishes that he could

Especially since throughout it all, even now, he doesn’t actually hate you, and still wishes that you would come back

He’s knows his personality can be a little overwhelming, but he would’ve been willing to change if it made you happy!

But honestly, since he doesn’t need to anymore, everything about him just gets a bit… Worse

Constantly making a show of showing off for the other girls at camp, always trying to flirt with the girls at the saloon, talking the boys’ heads off about anything and everything…

Just to distract himself and prove that he’s doing fine… That you didn’t hurt him at all, and he doesn’t need you

But even he’s not all that convinced

If any of the other boys at camp start messing around with you, he’ll definitely start a fight with them, feeling like were just doing it to piss him off

He’d lose, though, and would end up just going to bed and crying.

If he saw you flirting with a stranger, he’d be equally as mad, but he probably wouldn’t do anything other than get super drunk in front of you to ruin the mood

Eventually he starts feeling more like himself, and it definitely helps if you don’t treat him weirdly, but he finds that he does still think of you when he sees cute married girls or children, wondering what he would’ve had if things didn’t go wrong.

Especially since he also gets teased by the gang for not being able to hold it down… Despite his constant talk

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 headcanons #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 headcanons #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U WANTED #ur ask was just so sweet i had to write something for it #and this was fun #anon #ask #Anonymous

76 notes · View notes

chire-senbonimagines · 5 years ago

Note

How would Byakuya, Kisuke, Shuhei, & Ukitake react to finding out that their s/o is being forcefully controlled by a sibling or higher ranking family member? Like they arent allowed to go out with friends, not allowed to have friends. Not allowed to leave the house without escort. Told they are worthless and no one will ever love them. Always blamed for everything. Treated more like an object to be used than a family member. Etc. HC and I narrowed it to my favs ~Cookie🍪

Here you are, Cookie~ Enjoy! ~Admin S

Kuchiki ByakuyaByakuya is piiiiissed. His upbringing wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows either, because of being a noble family rather than in spite of it, but this is far worse. He’s had his own rough spots with Rukia but he would never treat a family member like this (even the one’s he dislikes) and can’t even begin to imagine it.

He wants to be romantic about a proposal but he would honestly sit his s/o down and offer it to get them away from their family. There’s a little ache in his heart that maybe once they gain some sense of self and stability that they might not need him anymore or realise they don’t love him in that way but he’s desperate to offer a way out.

Urahara Kisuke Urahara goes into that rare serious mode of his and is already thinking about all the ways he could make that family members death look like an accident. He may have joked before about them eloping together or running away together but he’s being entirely serious about it now.

If this is back when he was originally in Soul Society, he’s honestly contemplating faking both their deaths so they can disappear off into the sunset together. When the incident takes place he would definitely offer for them to come with.

Hisagi Shuuhei Shuuhei is at a loss as to what he can do. He doesn’t know much about noble families and he’s honestly kind of surprised he’s allowed to be your s/o but he guesses it has something to do with his rank.

Shuuhei will do his best to reassure his s/o that all of that is absolute crap. He’ll show and tell them just how much he loves them, what he loves about them, anything he can think of that might make them believe him.

He won’t rush it but he’s definitely waiting desperately for an appropriate time to propose to get them out from under their family’s thumb.

Ukitake JushiroUkitake is quietly angry. He won’t appear angry but you know he must be when he tells his s/o how appallingly their family treat them. He already showered his s/o with praise and love but he doubles down on it now - understanding better why his s/o always seemed to quietly deflect his praise.

He’s hatching a plan with Shunsui to get you out of the situation, calling in some help from other nobles like Yoruichi and trying to figure out how best to approach this. He wants to get his s/o out and let them breath before proposing marriage if he can, he doesn’t want his s/o to feel trapped.

#Kuchiki Byakuya #Urahara Kisuke #Hisagi Shuuhei #Ukitake Jushiro #bleach headcanons

136 notes · View notes

makeste · 5 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 242: SANTA IS REAL

Previously on BnHA: We said farewell to the League of Pliff and were finally reunited with the kids of U.A., an institution which I would just like to point out is so diametrical to the League that they literally took the polar opposite route when choosing their name, and focused only on the acronym. I’m 100% sure U.A. doesn’t even stand for anything. Anyway, so Bakugou and Todoroki went on whirlwind press tour following their ch 219 antics, and the resulting interviews were so disastrous that Aizawa decided to bring in Mt. Lady to give the whole class a crash course in PR 101. Meanwhile All Might scoured Ancestry.com for info on the past users of OFA, and Rat Principal announced that U.A. was going to resume its internship program. This is great news for Deku, who’s been taking his sweet time mastering Blackwhip. Like, we’re not even talking baby steps here so much as little tiny flea steps. Kid’s going to need all the help he can get.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi targets all of my weak points at once. The My OT3 Academia arc gets off to an incredible, award-winning start with a Christmas party and the announcement of Internships 2: This Time, it’s Compulsory. Highlights include: (1) Kaminari and Mina forcing Bakugou to accept the spirit of Christmas into his heart and soul, (2) Iida rocking a Santa beard, (3) Eri holding a giant sword, (4) Bakugou reminiscing about his internship with Best MIA Jeanist, specifically the part where Jeanist was all “A HERO’S NAME IS REALLY IMPORTANT AND SYMBOLIC AND MEANINGFUL, SO YOU NEED TO THINK VERY CAREFULLY ABOUT IT” and oh my fucking god, and lastly (5) Todoroki inviting Bakugou and Deku to come intern with him at the Endeavor Hero Agency (known for its famous business slogan: “Got Plot?”). It’s like I wished on seventeen different falling stars and they all came true at once. I still can’t even fucking process this. kfkdslgk.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

I just got like three excited-seeming asks (I haven’t actually read them yet) in rapidfire succession less than an hour ago, and my dashboard is now filling up with filtered “bnha spoilers” posts, so I took this as a sign that I should read the new chapter ASAP. oh gosh

(ETA:

(1) SAMEEEEEE, and (2) YEEEEEEEEP. listen I’m not religious you guys, but I said “oh my god” so much while reading this chapter that I wouldn’t be surprised if he or she finally answers and is like, “YES!? WHAT IS IT???”)

what new state-of-the-art tomfoolery will our intrepid heroes engage in this week. what novel hijinks will they commence. what frivolous escapades will they embark on this lovely Friday morn?

HOMGAAAHHHHHH

THE TITLE IS LITERALLY MY FEELINGS RN. MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS TO ME. YES GOD I LOVE IT. I’LL TAKE A DOZEN

okay. so today, September 6th, is officially Christmas. you heard the man and who am I to argue

so we’re opening with a teacher’s meeting! probably about the internships. or the fact that they’re all screwed. I don’t really know what their priorities are nowadays

okay yeah it’s about the internships. also Rat Principal is nested in Aizawa’s scarf for absolutely no reason, and Aizawa is disgruntled about it. heh. tomfoolery already and it’s only the first panel

oh shit, Nezu’s saying it’s now a government requirement. I got so surprised I actually forgot to call him RP

because ain’t nothing safer than hero internships. if the Basement arc taught us nothing else. it’s that

that was sarcasm in case that’s not coming across. this is clearly a baffling decision. but what are government committees for if not for making baffling decisions I guess

and now Midnight is coming to the same conclusion I was starting to wonder at

can someone please tell me what the PSC’s goals actually are, then? is this not the same group that recently changed the rules of the provisional license exam so that an even smaller percentage of people would pass? so do you want more heroes or fewer? which is it?

how do they cope with it? does anyone even have any idea?? it seems to me like they’re just throwing them to the wolves. we have this problem that we have absolutely no idea what to do about, oh I know, let’s toss a bunch of inexperienced kids at it. and hope that none of them gets murdered I guess

anyway so The Sheriff is speculating that the League must have been involved in the Deika situation, and he’s wondering why the PSC is trying so hard to keep it on the dl

oh yeah. friendly reminder that the PSC, thanks to Hawks, probably knows exactly how powerful Tomura and the League have recently become. so they know full well how shark-infested the waters are, and they’re making it mandatory for the kids to all take swimming lessons. nice

lol back when I was brainstorming ideas for future arcs, I seriously thought Horikoshi would have to go out of his way to come up with excuses for the kids to have future encounters with the League, because the school was so concerned with their safety that they wouldn’t allow them to leave the grounds except on rare occasions. well I sure got that one wrong. though to be fair, for once it isn’t U.A. that’s doing the child endangering here

(ETA: and actually, regardless of how insane it is, I do appreciate that when shit inevitably hits the fan again, at least it won’t be U.A.’s fault this time. I’d like to be able to continue rooting for them, and that can be difficult when they keep doing reckless things that needlessly put children in danger. at least this time they’re not the ones driving the Stupid Bus to Bad Decision School.)

a message to who? the League?? “we’re not scared of you”?? did they seriously not think of all the numerous ways this could backfire?

oh shit Aizawa even went and said the d-word

well there you have it. the government is drafting teenagers to risk their lives dealing with a crisis they won’t out-and-out admit they’re actually having. on today’s episode of “Oh Hero Society, You’ve Got Problems”

anyway so RP is making the admittedly good point that “we’re fucked and everyone is in terrible danger” is hardly a new state of affairs for them these days, and so they’re all moving on. okay then. good talk. lol. gonna need my damn Christmas fluff after all of that

and also RP is mentioning some other mysterious new program to Aizawa too. I wonder what that could be

(ETA: oh yeah I almost forgot about this. thoughts??)

and now we’re cutting to “several days later” oh my god. it’s really happening. I need a moment here, I’m not even ready. gotta get all my Christmas headcanons lined up here. Satou baking cookies. Kaminari and Sero running around arm in arm singing “JINGLE BELLS, ALL MIGHT SMELLS” over and over at the top of their lungs until Bakugou screams at them to shut up. Mineta debating anyone who will listen over the merits of the song Baby It’s Cold Outside. the naturally Christmas-themed Todoroki savoring this, his time to shine

oh shit, we’re still with the fucking Rat Principal. for fuck’s sake

-- ooh but are they talking about the traitor??

will this put an end to the “Horikoshi forgot about it” rumors? several people have mentioned this to me here and there (sorry to everyone whose asks I still haven’t answered), but as far as I know, this was part of a fake interview with Horikoshi that was unfortunately circulated around as though it was the real deal. sometimes people are not cool and think it’s fun to take advantage of communities that are enthusiastic and trusting! always fact-check what you read on the internet just to be safe guys

anyway

so there definitely is one, then. got it

so the traitor is definitely a student in the hero class, then. got it

sob. I got an ask about the whole Kaminari traitor theory earlier this week, so I’m in the process of doing up a whole long post about that. but the cliff’s notes version is, it’s not him. it’s Hagakure. but I will actually go into detail in the post. it’s been a while since I’ve discussed the traitor thing in depth anyway

so RP is asking All Might if he’s coming back today, and All Might is immediately all “WHY, DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO MY CHILD, OH GOD IS HE OKAY” which, omg. so much love for this man

and RP is like “geez relax” and OH MY GOD

[slaps on a paperboy cap and screeches at All Might in a bad cockney accent] TODAY, SIR?? WHY, IT’S CHRISTMAS DAY

OH MY GOD

I SPOT A GRINCH UP THERE AT THE TOP. SOMEONE NEEDS TO BE VISITED BY THREE GHOSTS FROM VARIOUS DIFFERENT TIME PERIODS

LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE CHILD (GREMLINS ASIDE) IS WEARING A SANTA CLAUS OUTFIT. DID U.A. JUST GIVE THESE OUT FOR FREE

AND IN THE TOP RIGHT NEXT TO SHOUJI, SATOU’S COOKIES! JUST AS THE PROPHECY FORETOLD

I SEE THEY HAVE THE REQUISITE KFC PLATTERS LIKE GOOD JAPANESE CITIZENS. WE SHOULD ADOPT THIS TRADITION HERE IN THE WEST TOO TBH

and last but not least, there are only nineteen children in this panel. it took me forever to figure out who was missing, but pretty sure it’s Iida. Iida where are you. clearly the traitor. certainly not off visiting his brother and the rest of his family, what kind of gullible fool do you take me for

looool

I love when the characters start to become self-aware that they’re the main characters in a story and that plot things keep happening to them at an unreasonable rate

oh my god they really are wearing the suits. it wasn’t just a title page gimmick like I half-wondered

ANSWER THE QUESTION, JIROU. INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW. do we even know where she did her first internship?? I suddenly desperately want to learn more about this

(ETA: she interned with Death Arms, the traffic cone-looking guy who notably chewed Deku out for trying to save Kacchan’s life in chapter one. Jirou my hope for you is that you find someone better this time around!)

also Tsuyu is observing that Momo doesn’t have a chair, and I honest-to-god was trying to count how much seating there was in the previous page. it seems to me like the common room got a lot bigger. it keeps adjusting to their needs like the room of requirement in Harry Potter

also does anyone else wish that Jirou would move her cup off of the armrest. IT’S GOING TO SPILL ffff :/ this is who I am at parties

oh shit wait, that was Iida with the beard?? I honestly thought that was Satou. well then Satou is the traitor. -- NOBODY TOUCH THOSE COOKIES!!

anyway so he’s all “well Deku not to bring up the elephant in the room but YOUR PREVIOUS MENTOR DIED A HORRIBLE DEATH so what’s your plan huh”

oh sweet god

listen, no offense to Centipeder, he seems like a really nice guy, but if I never see his repulsive face again I will count myself lucky

OH FOR FUCK’S

PLEASE GET RID OF IT IT IS CHRISTMAS!!! here I am trying to have a nice time and!!

god. and like, I feel bad, it’s not his fault he is A GIANT BUG and he has like, fucking mandibles and shit! but I can’t help the fact that my skin is trying to crawl off my body right now, and god but I can barely look at this panel long enough to read the dialogue sob why

(ETA: and now that I’ve forced myself to read it again, this doesn’t even make any sense lol. “we have too much work and not enough help, so we have to pass on you coming back to help us out. ...wait.”)

I want Iida to like. pat his lap and tell Deku in a big booming voice to cheer up and come sit and tell him what he wants for Christmas. not in a weird way you guys, come on. but just, he looks so forlorn. do you want Santa to bring you some cozy All Might socks

or wait, didn’t he want a PS Vita according to that one omake thing. what the fuck Deku. someone get this kid a Switch

anyway so Deku says that participation is mandatory this time, so the school will handle assignments if the kids aren’t able to find someone

meanwhile Kacchan is in the background accusing Mina of stalking him. I think she is trying to get him to wear his Santa outfit. doin’ god’s work

OH SHIT YOU GUYS I CLICKED TO THE NEXT PAGE, AND THIS. THIS IS MY CHRISTMAS OMFG

HORIKOSHI YOU DID GET MY LIST! BAKUGOU BEING TROLLED BY HIS SNEAKY DETERMINED FRIENDS AND MANHANDLED INTO A RIDICULOUS GETUP WHILST ANGSTING ABOUT BEST JEANIST BEING MISSING, YESSSSSS. IT’S SO SPECIFIC, I THOUGHT, “SURELY HE WON’T ACTUALLY DO IT,” BUT SANTA IS REAL, EVERYONE

HFMLSDKMGLKLKL!!!!!LKL:DSF

RED ALERT RED FUCKING ALERT PEOPLE!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHH HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS

“MERRY CHRISTMAS MAKESTE HERE’S A WHOLE FUCKING CHAPTER ABOUT KACCHAN’S FUCKING HERO NAME COMPLETE WITH A BEST JEANIST META ON THE TOPIC” mother fucker I need to start reading these chapters with a goddamn life alert and a defibrillator on standby

“your name represents your wish.” ladies and gentlemen, introducing the new number one hero... Number One Hero!

heh. just kidding. “what do you want to become?” this, though. this right fucking here is why I’ve been dying to know what name he’ll actually choose. because it does reflect exactly what Jeanist is saying. whichever name he chooses will be an insight into who he is, and who he is trying to be

and this meta is making me rethink all my chapter 223 feels, and tbh now I’m back to thinking that it’s not going to be Ground Zero, unless he comes up with a cool reason for why that name ties in to the image of the person he wants to be (because right now, that particular name is tied more to the past than to the future). but oh my god, if he does choose the name Kacchan I am going to spontaneously combust. I will fucking do it. I will fucking die from being a dramatic excited bitch

(ETA: because. listen. there is one person who has always looked up to him in spite of everything and has always seen his potential. “in the end, in my mind, you’re the image of victory.” this, to me, is the meaning that the name “Kacchan” would have if he did choose it. it would symbolize him choosing to be his best self.)

don’t mind me I’m just stanning this child so fucking hard it hurts

(ETA: oh hey, and more feels on the reread because it looks like the reason he’s having this flashback is because he was planning to go back to Jeanist’s agency to do his real internship, and to show him how much he’s grown. but then The Thing happened. Hawks I just want to talk why won’t you answer my calls.)

Mina and Kaminari are the MVPs of this fucking chapter and I owe them my life omggggg. THEY’RE HERE TO SAVE CHRISTMAS

what are you thinking about there, Best Friend?

are you thinking about your daddy angst. penny for your thoughts

(ETA: “how can I cheer up my new best friend? I know, I’ll make him a lucrative job offer.” actually that’s a good way to cheer up just about anyone in this day and age, Shouto.)

okay, is there some sort of perverted context to Christmas that I’m totally missing here?? or is Mineta just really into the holiday spirit?

I feel like I missed something. eh

anyway Mr. Traitor himself is walking out now and HE’S BROUGHT THE CHRISTMAS GOOSE! or turkey! but goose sounded funnier

of all the things to be shocked about?? “SATOU CAN COOK!?!” like um yes hello you’ve been living with this guy for four months already? like the only thing more ridiculous than this would be, “TOKOYAMI IS A BIRD!?!”

(ETA: like I know baking and cooking are two different things, but in a manga they’re the same thing. fact.)

now someone is making a dramatic entrance! IS IT ERI I WILL DIE!!!! BRING IT

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

I HEREBY SWEAR FEALTY TO THIS PANEL OF AN ADORABLY AND FESTIVELY DRESSED ERI MIXING UP HOLIDAYS WHILE DADZAWA PATIENTLY CORRECTS HER. I WILL PROTECT IT WITH MY LIFE. SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS CHAPTER SO THAT I CAN GO DO IT SOME MORE AGAIN, OVER AND OVER AND OVER

Ochako is me

(ETA: DEMONS OUT! DEMONS IN!! THAT’S WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT!! YOU DO THE HOOOOOOOOKEY POKEY.)

and Kiri is out here asking the real questions, but sadly Aizawa says Mirio is spending Christmas with his own class. WELL FINE. I HOPE HE’S EXPERIENCING THE FOMO OF A LIFETIME. HOW DARE HE HAVE OTHER FRIENDS whatever I’m over it

sobbbbb

WELL HOW MANY FUCKING HOLIDAYS ARE THERE!? CAN SOMEONE HELP A GIRL OUT OR WHAT

oh my god I’m just going to reblog every single Dadzawa panel and none of you can stop me go on and try!!

impatiently waiting for fanart of Aizawa tucking Eri in and reading her A Visit from St. Nicholas. get on it, fandom

ohhhhhhhhh my goddddddd

I know it’s not a Christmas song, but I am this close to cranking up “I Gotta Feeling” by the fucking Black Eyed Peas. ya feel

do you guys see him sitting there next to Dadzawa. he finally gave in. Satou is feeding him chicken. his friends will not abandon him to be on the naughty list. motherfucker that’s it. I’m fucking doing it. fill up my cup. mazel tov

lol I don’t even want to click to any more pages because they’re all so happy and it won’t fucking last. :( noooo

good little boys and girls. noshing on that chicken. Kacchan continuing to be stalked by the Ghost of Christmas Friendship. Tokoyami what even is that. lol and is this their weird way of distributing random gifts. did Sero buy Jirou a scarf. did Deku buy Ochako a freaking All Might plush keychain!? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHAT IS THAT THING AND WHY DOES ERI HAVE IT NOW AND WHY IS SHE MAKING THIS FACE

-- holy fuck, IT’S A SWORD. oh my god. THEY GAVE THE SEVEN YEAR OLD A FREAKING BUSTER SWORD AND SHE IS FEELING IT YESSSS THIS CHAPTER TRULY IS ALL MY DREAMS COME TRUE

“dad can I keep it.” Aizawa: [not even opening his eyes, all bundled up in his oogie boogie suit] “sure”

so now we’re cutting to afterwards and everyone’s cleaning up and Deku’s using his freakish super strength to lift heavy things impressively while Bakugou continues to stomp around with his hands shoved into his pockets waiting for someone to finally tell him he can go back upstairs

OH???

motherfucker. are you going to invite them to come intern with you and your dad!!?!?? I know I was all set on Bakugou interning with Miruko just last week, but I TELL YOU WHAT BITCHES, I’M FUCKING FLEXIBLE LIKE THAT

OH SHIT YOU GUYS!!!!

TODOROKI ARE YOU PLAYING THE OT3 SONG BECAUSE HONEY YOU KNOW THAT’S MY JAM, BRO

OH FUCKING SHIT YESSSSS

BAKUGOU DO YOU WANT TO INTERN WITH YOUR TWO BEST FRIENDS, EXCUSE ME, HATED ENEMIES. DEKU DO YOU WANT TO INTERN WITH YOUR TWO BEST FRIENDS. AND THE NUMBER ONE. WHO JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE BEST FRIENDS WITH THE NUMBER TWO. WHO JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE BEST FRIENDS WITH TODOROKI “I DIDN’T HAVE A FLASHBACK IN THE LAST ARC BECAUSE WE WERE SAVING IT FOR THIS ONE!” TOUYA? THAT’S RIGHT, IT’S BEST FRIENDS ALL THE WAY DOWN. OH MY GOD

it’s like Horikoshi made a long and detailed list of all of his regrets about the previous internship arc, and then said, “fuck it. do-over”

you guys. I’m all out of cans. we only have can’ts and cannots. I cannot

Christmas fluff. Dadzawa. Bakugou hero name meta. hints that the traitor plot will soon be relevant again. and the motherfucking OT3 of OT3s, MY SONS, MY THREE RESPLENDENT OFFSPRINGS, interning together at the motherfucking Endeavor Hero Agency because Todoroki is the sweetest most considerate angel, and because KNOCK KNOCK, IT’S ME THE PLOT, I’VE COME FOR YOU AGAIN AT LONG LAST AND I VOW TO NEVER LEAVE YOU ALONE AGAIN FROM THIS MOMENT ON

shit, y’all. I don’t know if it’s possible for an arc to become my favorite motherfucking arc only two chapters in, but damned if this sunnuvabitch ain’t trying

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 242 #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #eri (bnha)#class 1-a #best jeanist #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I gotta feelin'#that tonight's gonna be a good night #let's do it let's do it let's do it let's do it #JUMP OUT THAT SOFA #LET'S KICK IT OFF #lol you guys I am in a *good* freaking mood I tell you what

218 notes · View notes

witchcraft-in-wonderland · 5 years ago

Text

Highschool Au Moceit: Part One

-------------------------

Day One:

Patton wasnt the best with social etiquette, his smile was to wide, his eyes to shiny, people found him weird for being so happy. He wore dresses, to, lots of dresses, and he loved them. It didnt matter to him that none of his clothes quite fit like they should, or that his glasses were almost two sizes to big for his face, he liked it that way. He hoped the kids at his new school would like it to, he wanted to make friends quickly, friends made him even happier.

Patton put on a white long sleeved shirt and a light blue dress over it. He fixed a white bow in his hair and cleaned off his glasses before putting his shoes and backpack on and running out the door. His parents werent there to say goodbye, they were always busy. He didnt mind most days, it wasnt their fault they had to work after all!

He ran up to the bus stop and hopped onto the wall, swinging his legs back and forth as he waited.

"Hey, I dont think I've seen you around before, you new here?" Patton looked up. The person standing in front of him was tall, with short purple hair and a black hoodie.

"Yeah! My names Patton, he/him pronouns, you can call me Pat, nice to meet you!" Patton held his hand out for the kid.

"Virgil, he/him," said the boy, returning the hand shake awkwardly. Patton heard snickering from behind him.

"If you're a boy, why are you wearing a dress? Do your parents hate you or something?" said a snobbish voice. Patton felt his face flush, he shook it off.

"Mind your business Carol," said Virgil, shielding Patton from the view of the small group of people.

"Its ok, I'm used to it," Patton rubbed his arm and looked away slightly, Virgil sat down next to him.

"Being used to something doesnt make it ok, Pat," he said, pulling his hood over his head.

"You dont let people tell you what gender should define you, got that?" said the purple-haired boy. Patton simply nodded and smiled. He waited next to Virgil until the bus showed up, then hopped aboard and sat in the seat closest to the front. He watched the trees pass outside and drew hearts in the dew on the windows until they reached the school.

They reached the school after a few minutes of driving around to other stops. Patton skipped down the steps and was about to walk inside when he bumped into something tall and soft. He looked up to be faced with a pair of menacing eyes, one brown and one yellow.

"S-Sorry- didnt see you there," he said to the figure. They simply growled under their breath and walked in a different direction. Virgil got off the bus and grabbed Patton by the arm.

"That's Deceit, if you know what's good for you you wont talk to him, hes bad news," Virgil said. Patton stole one last glance at Deceit before walking into the school building. He didn't seem like a bad guy, But Patton supposed no one really did at first glance, after all, he'd only just gotten there.

He ran to homeroom and sat down in the seat closest to the teacher's desk. He ignored the snickers and murmurs behind him until the teacher walked into the room.

"Class, we have a new student today, he's going to introduce himself," she said, moving out of the way so Patton could stand up.

He fumbled around a bit trying to stand up on the table, and nearly fell off, which caused a snicker to ripple through the back of the room.

"Hi! My name's Patton Prescott! I use he/him pronouns, my favorite animal is cats, and my favorite food is cookies!" he smiled brightly, swaying from side to side a bit before getting back in his seat.

"Well, welcome to class Patton," said the teacher. Patton grinned, causing his eyes to close slightly. They waited in homeroom until the bell rang. He ran out of the class and upstairs to the science lab. It seemed as though most of the seats were taken in the front, so he decided to sit in the back.

"You're in my spot," said a voice, in what sounded like a low hiss.

Patton froze and turned around, only to come face to face with Deceit. He let out a small squeak before gathering up his own things and running off to another desk. He noticed Deceit watching him from the corner of his eye and buried his head into a book, hoping it could block his face enough.

"Hey girl, are you from Tennessee, because you're the only ten I see," said a voice from in front of Patton. He heard a groan from the other side of the room.

"Noooo- last time I checked I'm a boy from Florida," Patton watched as the expression on the face of the kid in front of him changed from one of smug flirtation, to mortified panic.

"What kind of guy wears bows and a dress! You look stupid!" he said angrily.

"The only stupid one here is you, he can wear what he wants, it's none of your business why," said the menacing voice of Deceit from across the room. The boy stormed back to his seat and Patton buried his face in his arms.

He waited out the rest of the class without speaking or looking at anyone before running through the hallway at top speed to escape the stares. He felt someone grab onto his shoulder and whipped around to face them. It was Deceit, he looked upset.

"I wanted to make sure you were ok, I know that cant be a fun experience for you," he said.

"Its fine, I'm used to it," Patton mumbled, shuffling his feet.

"Society just cant handle people having different tastes can they," Deceit's vibrant eyes seemed to stare into his soul. He shuffled his feet again and ran a hand over the back of his neck.

"Yeah, but they dont mean anything by it! People make bad choices some times," Patton said, his smile faltered slightly.

Deceit smirked slightly "you'll have to change that opinion eventually, optimism like that might get you hurt one of these days," he said. He ruffled Patton's hair slightly and continued down the hall. Patton frowned.

"Patton! Are you ok? What'd he do to you?" Virgil skidded to a halt next to him.

"I'm fine, he was just checking on me, someone mistook me for a girl in class today," Patton said. Virgil's eyes seemed to blaze with fire.

"People sometimes, it's like they think pronouns are a joke," he snarled.

"It really wasnt that big of a deal," Patton said. He was beginning to get tired of the subject. He and Virgil walked to their next class, talking about what they'd learned.

They'd gotten separated somewhere along the way to the gym, but Patton found him again once they reached the actual gymnasium.

"Gods I hate gym class, dodgeball has got to be the worst thing society has ever come up with," Virgil said. He'd gotten benched within the first few minutes of playing, he didnt seem upset about that fact though. Patton couldnt focus completely on him as he was trying to dodge a few blows from a boy with black sunglasses.

He was knocked back by a sudden blow to the chest, and landed with a thud on the gymnasium floor.

"Point Remus! Told you I could beat you!" said a boy with brown hair and a poorly drawn mustache on his face.

"Remus! You could've seriously hurt someone!" another boy who looked like the first, with redder hair and no drawn-on mustache, held his hand out to help Patton up and guided him over to Virgil.

"You did good!" Virgil said, nudging him in the arm.

"Yeah- wasnt expecting that though," Patton giggled.

"Remus is a bit of a wild card on most days, not his fault though, hes related to a class president, gotta make a name for himself somehow," Virgil said, pointing between the twins.

By the end of the day, Patton had solidified himself friendships with Virgil and the Prince twins. He was glad, the three of them were. nice. Even if Remus was a bit off putting at times, but he guessed that wasnt his fault. He felt like he was going to like it here, and he was happy with that.

----------------------------------------------

Tag List:

@oceanart123

@youtuberswithalex

@misunderstoodshadowling

@hayden-going-insane

@imbasicallyshakespear

@spooky-scary-virgil

@id-rather-go-live-in-a-trash-can

@sidesgeek

@the-emo-nightmare-bean

#cori writes #ts patton #ts deceit #ts virgil #ts remus #ts roman #tw misgendering #highschool au #moceit #romantic moceit

27 notes · View notes

fai-marie-521 · 4 years ago

Text

An Unexpected Tagalong (P.2)

An Unexpected Tagalong:

(Hiya! This is my first chapter! I’m super excited for this series! If you have questions, suggestions or constructive criticism I would gladly take it. I want to my writing better! Anyways, I hope you enjoy!)

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. Estella Took loved the comfort of her home. The smell, the sounds. But something was always missing. She was a Took after all. She had the need for adventure in her blood. The stories she has read by her fireplace have twisted her mind and she often daydreamed of adventures of her own. Little did she know that on her 35th birthday, she would get exactly what she always dreamed of.

Main Characters: Estella Took, Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins

TW: None, I don’t think

Chapter 1: Happy Birthday

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Odd. That is a word that most of the halflings in the Shire would call her. Very, very odd. So it could not be helped that Estella Took was a name that rolled off the tongue of every gossiping hobbit. They found her queer. She wasn't like normal hobbits. The young lass would often be caught daydreaming in the middle of conversations. Estella mostly kept to herself in her home, baking or reading stories of her adventurous ancestors. And when she was out she would always give cookies to the children and tell them stories about far away. "Filling their heads with nonsense," Most Sackville-Baggins' would say. "She should just get out of the Shire if she wants to leave so bad." They'd give her sneers and sideways stares as she sold her pastries in the market. But she would just send them a sweet smile and wave. Though Estella kept to herself, she was a gentle soul. Even to the Sackville-Baggins, who in the opinion of Bilbo Baggins, "Weren't worth the effort." Estella would just laugh off her cousin and continued to be kind to them.

Other than good old Bilbo, Estella didn't have any other close relatives. Her father kept her hidden away for most of the first part of her life. No one even knew she was Isengrim Took III's daughter. One day, on her 18th birthday she appeared out of nowhere. Hobbiton was buzzing with gossip for weeks. She was an unexpected surprise and hobbits weren't fond of the unexpected. The only good thing to come out of the gossip was Estella finally meeting some family members such as her Aunt Belladonna's son, Bilbo Baggins. They've been close ever since they first met. Bilbo and Estella loved each other very much. He helped her get more in touch with society and she helped him keep his fun side. But he'd never show that side to anyone else. Just her. Bilbo couldn't have anyone else know that the Took in him also wanted what Estella wants. Adventure. You can often see the two having tea and sharing laughs outside of Bag End, watching the clouds roll by. Estella always baked Honey Nut Cakes for him and he brought good tea. She would never trade anything for the time she spends with her dear cousin.

Today Estella Took would be 35 years old. Bilbo tried to convince her to have a grand party but Estella never wanted that. The hobbits would all talk about her at her own party. She would rather avoid the glares and nasty words. Estella just wanted to have a nice dinner with Bilbo on a nice quiet night, like they always do for her birthday. Bilbo kept insisting that she deserves something grand for her day but Estella laughed every time, with her brunette locks bouncing. She would hold his hand and say, "To me, dinner with my best friend is grand enough." Bilbo would sigh and smile. Giving up, he planned to make her a fantastic supper.

So the day started like any other for Bilbo Baggins. On the nice, warm morning he sat in front of his hobbit hole huffing on his pipe. While the minutes ticked on by, he would glance over at the hobbit hole beside his own. Waiting for his cousin to walk out and water her many flowers. While waiting for the birthday girl, he inhaled and exhaled smoke rings into the air with his eyes closed and a relaxed smile on his face. The smoke ring that left his lip did not stay a ring for long. It shifted and twisted into a butterfly. The butterfly swooped back toward Bilbo and into his face it went. Bilbo choked on the sudden blast of smoke. He coughed, forcing his eyes open to see a tall silhouette blocking the sun. Bilbo squints his eyes to make out a grey-robed figure with a matching pointy hat. The halfling tilts his head as the man looks down at him.

"...Good Morning." Bilbo says hesitantly.

The man looked down at Bilbo with an amusing gleam in his blue eyes. " What do you mean?" He began to speak, his voice low, almost like thunder rolling in from afar. Bilbo did not understand the question but before he could answer the man in grey, he continued. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?"

The halfling could not comprehend anything the man just said to him. What an odd guy. He tilted his head, taking the pipe off his lips. "All of them at once, I suppose," Bilbo concludes with a slight shrug. The man stares at the hobbit. His eyes sparkling with wonder. Bilbo shifts uncomfortably on his bench. With a clear of the throat, he gains the courage and asks: "Can I help you?" Good old hobbit hospitality. The man's eyebrows scrunch together.

"That remains to be seen," He answers, stroking his long grey beard. "I'm looking for someone to share an adventure."

Bilbo's eyes widen. He forces a look of disapproval on his face, but he could not lie that he was a tad bit intrigued. " An adventure?" He scoffs. "No, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree, would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner!" A lie. He knew two hobbits who would love an adventure. One would happily admit it and the other would not. Bilbo stands on his feet. He retrieves his mail and slowly backs away from the gate. Trying not to be rude but hoping this man would give up and leave. When the man did not say anything, Bilbo clears his throat.

"Now, I have many things to do today so... er... Good Morning." He begins to turn and head into his home. The grey-robed man shakes his head.

"To think that I should have lived to be good- morninged by Belladonna Took's son as if I was selling buttons at the door!"

Bilbo spins around in surprise to face him. "I beg your pardon?"

The man shakes his head once more. "You've changed Bilbo Baggins, and not entirely for the better." Bilbo could have felt offended by this comment but his mind was trying to remember if he knew this tall man.

"Do I know you?"

" Well, you know my name, although you don't remember I belong to it," He replies. " I'm Gandalf, and Gandalf means" What does Gandalf mean? "...me!"

Gandalf. Gandalf... "Gandalf?" Bilbo asks aloud. That name does ring a bell in Bilbo's head. Until it hits him. "Not Gandalf, the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks? Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve! Well!" The hobbit scoffs, "I had no idea you were still in business." That came out far too judgemental than he intended it too. Why isn't Estella here to keep him in check, he wondered.

When Gandalf's amusing gaze turned stern, Bilbo shrunk down slightly. "And where else should I be?" Gandalf asked carefully. Bilbo let out a sharp, nervous laugh. He was about to answer until a yell is heard from afar. A sweet, soft yell. "Oh, Bilbo! Good morning!" And there she was, rushing over to Gandalf and Bilbo. He turned his head toward the yell. Estella was all prettied up. She wore a light pink dress with long, white, puffy sleeves. Her hair was braided up, a white ribbon holding it. A basket was on her arm, swaying side to side as she rushed toward her cousin. Gandalf's eyebrow raises at the sudden hobbit. Bilbo was relieved that someone was here to get him out of this mess. "Oh..." Estella squeaks, noticing Gandalf. She looks up at him and then looks to Bilbo. "I am so sorry, did I interrupt something?"

Gandalf gives her a big smile, "Not at all, my lady-" He extends lady, hoping for a name in return. This hobbit was very new to him. She gave him a bright, kind smile. Estella bows her head slightly. "Took. Estella Took."

Gandalf bows his head in return, "Lady Estella." the Grey Wizard announces. Estella heads into the gate to stand by her cousin, who at this point looked very annoyed and confused. In annoyance, he gently grips Estella's wrist with his free hand and drags her toward the front door. Though confused Estella decides to go along with it. Her cousin must have a reason for this behavior. Just before Bilbo opens the door. Gandalf looks at Bilbo and smiles, " I do believe it is decided then. It will be good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others."

"What-" Bilbo gasps, looking back at him. A grip still on Estella, who had a very baffled expression on her soft features. Her chestnut eyes darted back and forth between Gandalf and her cousin. Trying to keep up with the two. Gandalf gives him a mischievous smirk. "Wait! No, no, no! You will not be informing anything to anyone. We do not want adventures here, thank you!" Bilbo tells him. Estella's head perks up at the word and looks at Bilbo with excitement in her eyes but her cousin is too busy trying to get the wizard away for him to notice her expression. " Not today, not... I suggest you try over the hill or...across the water...." He opens his door and quickly rushes Estella inside. He turns back to Gandalf and huffs out one last, "Good morning."

Estella shakes her head. She looks to her cousin. "Bilbo, who was that?" Bilbo throws his pipe and mail onto the nearest surface and pushes Estella against the wall and then proceeds to push himself against the wall beside her. "Bilbo, this is ridico-" Estella begins but is interupted by a hand over her mouth. The girl let out a bothered groan, tapping her feet on the wooden floor beneath her. Both of the halflings grow quiet when a loud scratching noise upon the door is heard. Estella raises a brow. The two glance at each other. Once the scratching stops, Bilbo looks out a small window, praying that Gandalf was gone. His sigh of relief when he doesn't spot the man is premature when his piercing blue eyes stare into the hobbit hole, sending Bilbo backward onto his bottom. Estella raises a hand to her mouth and hurries to help her cousin up. "Ugh," He growls as Estella helps him on his feet.

"If you don't mind me asking, what was that all about?" Estella huffs, setting down the basket of honey nut cakes on the table in the living room.

"I wish I knew," Bilbo admitted. "That Gandalf, wizard.. person just randomly appeared and spouted off about adventures and whatnot."

"Adventures?" Estella grinned. It was a toothy grin. With the added sparkle to her eyes, Bilbo knew what she was thinking.

"So I sent him straight off, no one looking for adventures here." He said. He slightly felt bad when Estella's face fell in disappointment. He knew she always dreamed of such but... it's so dangerous and hobbits do not do danger. Why would they when they have such a safe and comfortable home.

"Well... I suppose you are right... Hobbits don't go on adventures," Estella sighs, mindlessly moving the honey nut cakes in her basket around. "We stay in the Shire."

Bilbo knew she was upset. She at least wanted to know what the adventure was about. A little part of him wished to know too. He decided to take her mind off of it. "Why don't we head down to the market. We have to pick up everything for your birthday supper."

Estella lets out a heartful laugh, "Must we?"

"Of course we must! Tonight is special. You're only 35 once, cousin."

Estella smiles, putting a hand on Bilbo's cheek lovingly. "All too true, my dear." He smiles kindly at her. Her hand falls, "Very well, let us go then. Before I regret it."

"Great!" He says happily. Bilbo extends his arm toward Estella. The girl takes his arm, locking elbows. "We must keep an eye out for that wizard though. I'd rather not run into him again."

"We will," Estella chuckles.

And with that, they were off to the market. Birds were singing all around. The sound of all the hobbits conversing, gossiping, asking for bread, asking about veggies. It was a sweet sound that Estella learned to love. Even if some of the gossip was bad things about her. She loved the Shire. She loved going to the market with Bilbo. But in the back of her brain, she felt the curiosity grow of the adventure Gandalf had mentioned. Goodness, she would kill to know more.

Arms locked, the two-headed to the center of the Market. Estella takes out her arm from Bilbo and smiles, "So, what's the plan?"

"How does fish sound tonight?"

"Mmmmm, with a lemon and fluffy biscuits on the side."

"I'm guessing that's a yes?"

"Yes!"

2 notes · View notes

tunafishprincess · 6 years ago

Text

The Roads We Take Chapter 2

art by @brothebro, writing by @tunafishprincess

First Chapter

She is twenty-six when they move into their new home.

Well, perhaps not home. Not yet.

The shingles are haphazardly thrown around the uncut grass in clumps, whilst the door barely hangs on its hinges. The inside is worse. Dust blankets the living room and kitchen. Even the closed off bedroom (only one bed, she notes), has dust bunnies scattered amongst the mess of clothes and blankets someone left behind.

And left behind they did. Whoever the original owners are, they left most of their valuables. Claire knows why, or at least, she thinks so. Most of the houses, especially this close to Arcadia, are abandoned. Another symbol of her past deeds.

But it would make due. It has to.

They have nowhere else to go.

She suspects Toby pulled several strings to get them such a place. Most humans these days live in a post-war era of poverty and disease, all brought upon by the witch queen herself. Morgana is dead, but her story will live on for centuries, if not millennia. Trolls and humans would not soon forget such a woman, nor will they forget the face she wore.

The first month of cleaning and tidying up the place are a godsend. Every day she awoke to the sound of Jim working on the roof and every night she knocked out, bone-tired from cleaning and fixing up the little cottage. When they finish up the major repairs, she starts her own little garden. Nothing like her father’s, but it is a start.

It is soothing in the beginning. No thoughts, just work. Her and Jim largely ignore each other outside of pleasantries and small talk. She is fine. Everything is fine.

Until it isn’t.

Toby and Darci visited when they could but for the most part it is only her and Jim here, no neighbors for a hundred miles around. She looks forward to them, desperately so, because what else did she have to look forward to these days?

The snippets of information help feed her imagination of the world around them. Her lack of internet made any outside news exciting, even the most dull kind. What she would give to have a newspaper or magazine subscription. But alas.

The Nuñez household came every few months, but even that wasn’t enough. Her family has their own lives, she knows, what, with Enrique’s schooling, her mother’s work—it hurts, but she understands. Even though it feels like it was just yesterday she was a teenager, outwardly she is an adult. Ten years is a long time. They have moved on, changed and grown without her presence.

Enrique sends her letters at least.

Jim is…She isn’t sure what their relationship is these days. One moment they are on the couch together and the next he’s somewhere else, leaving her for hours, sometimes days at a time.

The tension could only go on for so long. Claire is bored. Reading is nice, but it doesn’t fill the void within her.

The days turn to weeks turn to months and she is starving for something, anything.

An itch she cannot scratch, no matter how much work she does around the house or in the garden. It is as though there is a hole inside her chest, expanding with every breath.

Emptiness. Morgana hollowed her out, leaving her scrambling for purchase in this strange new world of familiar and not. No one could ever understand. Not really. She watched every atrocity the sorceress committed, like a figure behind a thick wall of glass. No matter how hard she screamed, no one could hear her.

Ten years is a lot to comb through. She knows she’s screwed up, mentally, emotionally, physically—take your pick. Morgana twisted her soul, shifted her body to accommodate the creature she originally was.

The creature Claire now is.

Humans didn’t levitate in their sleep.

Humans didn’t break glass without touching it.

The magic ebbs and flows, changing at the slightest change in her mood. No wonder Toby put her here. Society is better without her causing anymore havoc than she already does.

Still, the tightness within her builds.

She misses human contact—any contact. Stranded in the woods without much entertainment begins to suffocate her. Unlike the hospital she has nothing to distract her from her thoughts. Jim tries to help, but he isn’t much better. The sweet boy she remembers is a man now, strange and alluring; yet no matter what she does, he is always out of her reach.

It all comes to ahead one night, when Jim comes home much later than normal. She waits at the door for him to return, a bundle of emotions ready to erupt.

And how could they not? Look at me, she thinks. What a dutiful little wife she has become. Her sixteen-year-old self would be horrified at what she is now. No job, no education past tenth grade, no social life—it is a heavy blow to her self-esteem. All her dreams are dashed now, all because she didn’t seek help.

Dios mio, if only she sought out her friends before this entire mess. Even now she can recall the confusion, of how she kept forgetting things, of the endless cold that ate at her being. The cracks that wouldn’t go away. So many signs. And she was too stubborn to see them.

The door creaked open. Jim’s head lowered beneath the frame, horns lightly scrapping the top.

Her breath hitches. It is not so much the size that surprises her, but the power behind it. The thin beanpole boy that barely topped five and a half feet now towers over her, his entire body corded muscle, with impossibly large shoulders that tapered into a trim waist. No, trim didn’t cut it. Even with his shirt on she could see the outline of his abs and chest.

Could probably bounce a quarter of it, she reflects, cheeks growing rosy at the thought.

No. Almost immediately she reins herself in. Her fists clench. She is supposed to be angry. Jim is late. No, more than late, he was missing.

She knows he can sense her in the darkness, if not outright see her. The red of his eyes glow ominously. The scent of pennies is heavy in the room. As he heads for the kitchen, Claire moves in front of him.

“Jim, wait.” She adds, “Please.”

He turns his head slightly, ears lowering. “Can this wait till morning, Claire?”

Absolutely not. By then he would have an excuse and they would be back where they started, skirting around each other like always. Claire pressed on, “Where were you?”

“Work.”

Claire’s lips tug downward. Work. She hates his work. She may be trapped here but he is trapped out there, forced to do the very things Morgana used to impose upon him. He is the government’s dog, all because of her.

“You could have told me,” she says, voice level. They were a team, right?

“There wasn’t enough time.”

“There’s never enough time, is there?” She sighs, leaning against the wall. She rubs her temples, trying to starve off the headache forming. It is one of the symptoms of her magic. As if she needs even more things wrong with her.

His shoulders raise. “What?”

She throws up her hands. “Every time. You disappear without ever telling me anything. I have to get the information from Toby, and even he’s tight lipped about it because of some stupid “security clearance”. Can’t you at least have the courtesy to leave me a message? Even a text would do.”

With every word that passed her lips the frustration builds. They are supposed to be together but if anything they are further apart than ever before.

“Claire—” He whispers.

Magic crackles around her; the furniture around her shakes.

She knows she’s overreacting. Nevertheless, she cannot stop the frustration growing within her. These last few months have left her in a constant state of unease. It is now or never.

“No, I’m not finished,” she snaps. “You can’t keep doing this.”

His eyes flicker away from her steady gaze. He looks extraordinarily uncomfortable, like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “Doing what?”

She groans, rubbing her forehead. Is he serious right now? “Vanishing without a trace. What if something happened here? How would I ever get a hold of you? What if something happened to you?”

“The government has security detail on the grounds,” he answers, scratching the scruff at the base of his neck. “Besides, if something did happen to me, you would be cared for.”

“Cared for?” She bites out. What is she, some sort of puppy? “Are you for real?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Everything!” She yells, louder than she wants to, but the bubble within her has burst. Her hands grow hot in response.

Instantly, a picture frame dislodges from the wall. Claire startles then turns her head at the sound. It is a move that costs her.

When she turns back, the door is open.

Her boyfriend is gone once more.

“Mother—” She bites down the rest of the curse.

Cold grips her chest, spreading out to her extremities. Her teeth chatter. The glass windows sing, alerting her of how bad it has gotten.

Damn it. Every time. Every time she accidentally uses her powers he disappears.

Finally, the window behind her shattered. Shuddering, she begins to do the breathing exercises Darci taught her. Count to ten: one, two, three, four, five…

It takes her longer than she would like to admit.

Still, she does it. The emotions are balled up tightly inside, the freezing chill in her blood warming into an uneasy coolness.

Part of her knows this is her fault. She is to blame for Jim’s reaction.

But another part of her disagrees. Didn’t he say he would stay with her always?

What she wouldn’t give for a break from all of this. This stupid reality where she hurt everyone and everything. Is this how it is going to be for the rest of her life?

Is this her destiny?

God. She hopes not. That is almost as bad as the ten years with Morgana. Having no one to talk to and the only one that does fears her using magic.

Tired hands make quick work of the mess. It gets her mind off the inevitable, though not for long.

An hour later, he returns. This time, Claire doesn’t give him the luxury of an excuse. She bores into him, finger pressing into his broad chest. Her other hand tugs on the braid she made for him this morning. It is almost comical, her, small and fragile and him, large and indestructible.

“You’re a coward,” she remarks coldly. “You can’t talk about it so you just ignore the problem.”

“Claire,” he says, still not looking at her. “Stop.”

“No, I’m not going to stop. You can’t keep pushing me away.” She drags him over across the room, his mane a makeshift leash. He complies, albeit reluctantly.

It is childish, yes, but nothing else appears to get to him.

“I’m not pushing you away,” he reaches out, tucking a stray bang behind her ear. Part of her softens, before remembering the prior conversation. She swats the hand away. “I’m keeping you safe.”

“Bullshit. Keeping me safe? You’re running away,” she accuses. To add salt to the wound, she adds, “No wonder Morgana won.”

Her eyes widen.

It is the wrong insult.

She regrets the words the moment they leave her mouth.

The man wearing Jim’s face steels. Claire drops the braid. The golden pupils, normally rounded, slits, more animal than human.

His hunched back straightens. The muscles in his shoulders stretch against the confines of his shirt.

The Morgana issue is always a sore one between them (and probably will be for a long time). A rush of shame brushes against her heart. Nevertheless, she faces him head on.

She knows she should be afraid. This is someone who fought for her, killed for her, held her—warmth pools between her legs. It is involuntary.

Now, Claire theoretically remembers how and what they did together, but the actual is far different than what she saw through Morgana’s eyes. Her eyes fall to his chest, which appears to be expanding as he stretches out to his full size.

Holy moly he’s big, she realizes.

“What did you say?” He asks, edging her closer to the wall.

Bravery (or foolhardiness, it is hard to tell) grips her. She crosses her arms. “You heard me.”

He leans closer. “You don’t know anything.”

Claire can’t help her cheeks from burning. Did he seriously just say that? Anger flares up once more. She gestures her forefinger at his face. “I was there. I know about everything, Jim. Morgana was me, remember? I remember how she tricked you into drinking that potion. I remember the bathing room. I remember the time you tried to kill her—”

Her words get caught in her throat. Jim growls, his mouth close to her neck. She can feel his breath against her chest, hot and heavy.

“Then you remember how dangerous I am too,” he whispers, voice rumbling. “I am a monster, Claire. You don’t want to be around me…Not when I’m like this.”

She reaches out. “No, you’re not.”

Bad move. Her back smacked against the wall. She gasps. His arms lock her in, strong and unyielding, while his leg runs up against her—

Her chest tightens.

That isn’t his leg.

The heat within her builds. She is terrified and sad and angry and aroused and every other possible emotion. The scent of magic grows thick in the air. Her magic. Jim’s ears twitch in response. The faded marks on his face don’t glow, not like before, but the etchings appear deeper, darker, as if in response to Jim’s mood.

“I could break you. Here and now. Do you understand that?” He asks in a deep voice.

Her breath catches as his hand snaked around, grasping her from behind and lifting her up. His entire palm encompasses her backside.

He draws close, inches from her face. His pupils grow large, nostrils flaring. A soft rumble erupts from his throat. “This isn’t a game. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

She licks her lips. This is a dangerous situation.

But this is the most alive she’s felt in months too.

Finally, she resolves to end it.

“You’re not.” She grasps his shirt. “I need you, Jim. Please.”

The vibration in his chest grows louder. He lowers her to the floor once more (she almost feels a tad disappointed by that).

She can read the swirl of emotions on his face, from the lowering of his ears to his hitched shoulders. A soft smile emerges on her lips; he’s embarrassed.

Despite the changes, Jim is still there. Just as broken as she is.

And that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? Two broken people, looking for the other to make them whole.

“You could do better,” he says.

Seizing the moment, she presses a kiss on his forehead. The tension in his shoulders ease. “You’re not the only monster around here, Jim,” she admits.

She makes a move for his lips but he stops her. There’s a softness in his gaze, but there is hesitancy too.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m not ready.”

“Alright,” she concedes. It hurts, but she understands.

He brings her closer. She wraps her arms around his neck. He is warm and firm and smells of the outside world.

“This is all so new. I’m afraid it’s a dream,” he confesses, voice breaking. “I’m so scared of losing you. You’re everything to me.”

Claire chokes down a sob. Her lip trembles. The angry, frustrated part of her begins to wash away.

“I can relate.” Even she wonders at times whether all this is something she made up, brought upon by the insanity of being with Morgana for so long.

“I missed you. I missed us. I just didn’t want to screw it up like I did with everything else. I want what we had before. It was perfect and real and—”

She presses a finger to his lips. He gives her a familiar lopsided smile.

“We were never perfect, Jim,” she answers truthfully. “We both had our flaws.”

Her arrogance and his self-sacrifice. She lets out a soft giggle. What a pair they are.

“I missed this,” he says.

“Me too.” She pauses, pulling a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. “Can we cuddle? Like we used to—Wah! Dios mio, qué haces? Jim, oh my gosh! Stop, you doofus! Put me down!”

The princess carry is unexpected, to say the least. He spins around, making Claire break out into a fit of laughter. It is the most fun she’s had in months.

“You wanted to cuddle,” he replies cheerfully.

She rolls her eyes, cheeks reddening. “You’re impossible.”

They settle into the couch. It creaks under them, largely because it wasn’t meant for someone of Jim’s size, she suspects. Slowly, she crawls onto his lap. Her hands caress his hair, over and over, hypnotic in its rhythm. The tension in his shoulder ease, melting away. She leans forward; he shifts to accommodate her. She digs her face into his shoulder, taking in his scent, a warm encompassing presence.

“We can’t keep doing this whole ignoring the problem thing anymore. We need to talk. Real talk. About everything,” she says. “I know it’s scary, but I’m going insane over here. You’re the only one around I can really talk to.”

“You’re right,” he mumbles into her hair. His head tilts back, eyes closing. “I guess I’ll start then.”

“Are you sure?” She says.

He nods, pulling her closer. “Sure? Heck no. But you’re right about the talking.”

It’s not much. The conversation only lasts half an hour before Claire nods off.

But it’s a start.

#Trollhunters #Fanart #jlaire #dark jlaire #fallen too far #troll jim #claire nuñez #clairegana #trollhunters au #fanfic #trollhunters fanfic #trollhunters fanart #jim lake jr #tales of arcadia #fanfiction #redemption #fallen too far sequel #rated m

49 notes · View notes

agameofme · 6 years ago

Text

Hiraeth

There’s writing that you have to do--as in, you’re obligated to do it--and then there’s writing that you need to do, as in, it’s just sitting there inside you, weighing you down, gnawing at the inner walls of your mind, needing to be expunged so you can do the writing that you have to do.

This is writing that I need to do so that I can get back to the writing that I have to do.

On a recent afternoon I got off BART at the stop near my home and there were Girl Scouts outside at a little table, selling cookies. In an instant an entire scenario played out in my head. I walked up to them, smiling, expressing enthusiasm about getting to buy some cookies, maybe making a comment about how much we all love Thin Mints, though I bet they hear that all the time. I bought a few boxes, wished them well, and went on my way. But none of this actually happened. Instead I just turned away and started walking toward my apartment. Reason being that I figured if I did, in actuality, approach them with the intent of buying cookies, the fact of my obvious transness might, perchance, have made one of the girls noticeably uncomfortable, or perhaps a parent of one of the girls, and I would pick up on this and then I would feel uncomfortable for having made them uncomfortable, and then the whole exchange would be tinged with awkwardness, and I’d just want to end it as quickly as possible to relieve their discomfort at me and my discomfort at their discomfort, and I’d walk away regretting that I’d put any of us through that. Of course I realize that there’s a chance that these particular young people and their present parents are perfectly comfortable around trans people, that there’d be no fleeting “How do I explain this to my daughter later?” flicker across a mother’s face, no girl hesitating awkwardly, caught in a moment of uncertainty about how to address me. But I can’t know for sure, and so even if I tried to approach the situation with the casual, carefree attitude that I wanted to, the fear of the possibility of things becoming awkward would be rattling around in me so loudly that I couldn’t hide it, and my fear of potential awkwardness would awkwardly poison the whole interaction regardless.

This happens all the time. This is how I live my life.

Last month, Bruno Ganz died. I love Wings of Desire, and his performance in it. Like his angel, Damiel, I sometimes feel like I’m observing life, but not really participating in it. I exist at a remove, wondering what real closeness and connection and participation in life are like. I know they can be wonderful.

“I wish I could see your face, just look into your eyes and tell you how good it is to be here...to smoke, have coffee, and if you do it together, it’s fantastic.”

The film punctures the lie that time heals all wounds. For many of us, the waiting and waiting and waiting is the wound.

Bruno Ganz was only a few years older than I am now when he made Wings of Desire. I don’t know why thoughts like that so often occur to me, but they do. I think maybe it’s because I’m so aware of time slipping away from me, time that I never get back, and I really want to start living before I die.

Today, and yesterday, and the day before that, I woke up starving for touch. Often the first thing I’m aware of when consciousness comes to me is a kind of ache in the body, like my skin is the frozen surface of a lake, and there’s warm water far, far below that could bring such relief, but it needs a warm touch on the surface to bring it floating up through the cold, to infuse my skin with life once again. This is one of the ways I am wounded by time.

Anyway, I want to tell you a story.

(Bionic Commando, NES)

It’s actually not about the person I met when I was young, though I wish it was. I’d have only very kind things to say about them, but to write about them would not be a kindness. And so, like so many stories that purport to be about someone else, this is actually a story about the person telling it, and the effect that the other person had on me.

Was I young many years ago, when this story I’m about to tell you happened? I don’t know. I mean, yes, I was, and I am. I’m very young. Young like Yorkie in San Junipero. Her body may be 60 or so, but she’s not really 60, because she’s experienced so little. In the virtual world of San Junipero, she has the freedom to be herself, a young woman looking to form connections and find love for the first time. Even there, her complete lack of experience surprises the woman she clicks with, but still, with Kelly she finds acceptance. She can let her walls down and be honest about who she is, what she’s missed out on her whole life, and what she needs now.

Now I’m physically 42 but really I’m no older than Yorkie. I go on dating sites like Bumble and I can’t help but be extremely aware that I’m very different from most of the queer women on there, not just because I’m trans, and visibly so (though that certainly significantly limits the pool of people who might want to even meet me for coffee), but because I’m so inexperienced, and so guarded, and so aware that it takes a special kind of person to make me feel safe, and able to be honest and real.

Of course, I have had long, close relationships before, but that was before I transitioned, and despite all my efforts to pretend otherwise, there was always a barrier between me and my partners, because those relationships were all predicated on a fiction, the role I tried so hard to play while gender dysphoria carved up my insides. I was profoundly uncomfortable with my body, and didn’t really inhabit it throughout all those years. It was as if my soul was hiding away, trying to make itself as small and as removed as possible from the anguish of reality, possibly curled up into a tight little ball in my left pinky toe, barely present in the real world, always seeking escape into books and songs and movies and video games.

Now I’m uncomfortable with my body for an entirely different reason: it seems to prevent people from seeing me for who I really am. I’m definitely in less pain having transitioned, and there’s a relief in living with the integrity of being honest with the world about who I am, but still, the world can’t see me clearly. I’m misgendered constantly, and because I know I’m not clearly seen by the world, fear factors into every decision I make. I’m never free of it. Do I dress the way I dress because this is how I want to dress, or do I dress the way I dress because I’m trying to make myself invisible, because I’m afraid of drawing potentially hostile attention to myself? I don’t know, and as long as fear remains present, I can’t know.

Whether or not it’s true, I feel as if I exist entirely outside the marketplace of desire as a queer woman, and that the only times people want me are when they see me as something I’m not. One woman I dated briefly repeatedly misgendered me and even admitted to me once that she fantasized about me being a man. One woman made a pass at me by saying that she saw me not as a woman or a man but just as a person. How can I be present in a relationship if I know that I’m being seen and desired expressly as things I feel like I’m not, and not as who I am?

Loneliness is hallmarked by an intense desire to bring the experience to a close; something which cannot be achieved by sheer willpower, or by simply getting out more, but only by developing intimate connections. This is far easier said than done, especially for people whose loneliness arises from a state of loss or exile or prejudice, who have reason to fear or mistrust as well as long for the society of others.

--Olivia Laing, The Lonely City

So. Let’s talk about Alex.

I’ve written about Alex before. I don’t know if i’ll write about Alex again. Some writers are fond of saying that all of us who write essentially write the same story again and again and again, but I’d like to have a new story to tell. I know Alex wants that for me too.

It was several years ago now that I met them. I was in a weird place at the time, having just gone through an intense defrost cycle on my heart. After focusing on transition and not giving much thought to relationships for many years, I’d had an encounter that made me painfully aware that finding love, closeness, and connection was supremely important to me.

There’s a great deal I can’t tell you about Alex that I wish I could tell you. What I can say is that they just had a particular kind of sincerity about them that put me at ease. Very few people can do that. I didn’t feel the anxiety around them that I feel around so many people. I didn’t mind just existing in silence with them. Time with most people drains my batteries. Time with Alex recharged them.

Alex did and still does things that I admire greatly, and I find them fascinating as a person, and I wanted more than anything to engage in the endless process of getting to know them. In the 1990 Hal Hartley movie Trust, a character asserts that respect, admiration and trust equal love. I don’t know if it’s as simple as that, but I do know that all those ingredients were there.

youtube

I could tell that Alex knew what suffering was in their own way, and that they struggled sometimes, which is essential if I’m going to be able to relate to someone, but Alex wasn’t wounded in the same ways or the same places that I was wounded, which is also essential. If you put me next to someone who’s like me, there’s just a chasm between us. All we can do is spin our wheels. Alex was someone I could relate to and understand, and also learn from.

Anyway, it eventually came to pass that Alex knew how I felt, just as I knew that Alex would never see me the way I wanted them to see me. The circumstances of this dual revelation would make for a more symbolically fraught movie scene about the anguish of a lifetime spent feeling invisible than anything I could concoct in a work of fiction, but I won’t go into the particulars. Suffice it to say that the next night, Alex and I met, I guess in the hopes of clearing the air. We sat on Alex’s couch, and Alex put their arm around me.

I suppose that’s the sort of thing you might do if you grow up in a somewhat healthy family that teaches you that your love has value.

The effect it had on me was the feeling of years and years and years of ice melting away, warm water rushing to the surface, my skin and my soul awakened in a way they never had been before. I simultaneously wanted to kiss Alex and to fall asleep in their arms. I wanted to sit there talking and laughing quietly while letting phrases like “I love you” slip out of my mouth, and I wanted to cry, to let loose all the grief that I’d carried around with me for so long and had never been able to share with anyone. I actually did laugh at the sheer wild luck of it all, of finding myself in that moment, and I laughed, too, at the wonderful surprise of discovering, after spending all my life in moments that I couldn’t fully inhabit, that really being there, right there with Alex, was the easiest thing in the world.

If I died tomorrow, and it turned out that, like in Hirokazu Koreeda’s film After Life, I had to choose just one memory to take with me, that would be it, the time I spent in Alex’s arms that night.

youtube

When I left, it felt as if the whole world was vibrating. That’s not an exaggeration or some kind of metaphor. I mean that it felt to me as if everything was humming, as if all of existence had become charged with life, or perhaps as if all of existence were always charged with life, and for the first time I could see and feel it, because for the first time I was part of it.

Maybe this is what Sam meant in Gone Home when she said she felt like a shook-up can of soda. Maybe almost everyone experiences something like this when they’re young, and they learn that they can be loved. But I still haven’t learned that. I’m still waiting for my first mutual experience of it. I don’t expect love to mean undergoing a massive spiritual experience every time the person I love touches me. Not at all. I want to get to a point where being held by someone I really like doesn’t feel like winning the goddamn lottery. But when you’ve waited for it for as long as I have, it’s powerful, when it finally happens. I don’t expect love to be grandiose. For the most part, my time with Alex wasn’t grandiose. It was low-key friendly get-togethers, conversations over drinks at bars, playing games together, or just working quietly on our own things in the same place at the same time. That was all it had to be.

Of course, I knew even as I was sitting there with Alex, being brought to life by their warmth and their presence and their touch, that they didn’t mean for it to affect me so profoundly. They were just trying to comfort me, their friend, in the hopes that it might be easier for me to let go, to move on, to just be friends. The next day they texted me and asked me if I was feeling better. What could I say? That the night before had changed my life, that it was the most incredible thing I’d ever experienced and that I was, if anything, more full of yearning than ever before, that all I wanted was to hold them and be held by them?

I said that yes, I was feeling better, and left it at that. That was years ago now, and in all the time since, I haven’t met anyone else yet who has felt like a chance to me the way Alex did.

Sometimes some of my friends say that monogamy is bullshit. The people who say this around me, though, are always attractive people for whom love and affection and touch are widely available around the city in or the planet on which they live. When people ask me if I’m poly (as they occasionally do, I suppose because I’m a queer-identified woman living in the San Francisco Bay Area), all I can do is laugh. I can’t even find one person I like and who likes me who I want to know deeply, with whom I feel safe, with whom I can be vulnerable, with whom I can take my time to form a bond of closeness and trust. If my life were completely different, if the world taught me to move with confidence rather than fear, if the world taught me that I was seen rather than invisible, would I be poly then? I can never know the answer to that. We are all shaped by our experiences within the world, the messages the world sends us about ourselves, and if the world sent me different messages about myself, I’d be a different person. But I do resent the attitude among some that polyamory is inherently more enlightened or radical than monogamy. I think that in this world, where people so often use other people and then dispose of them, there’s something radical about ordinary devotion to one person, between two people who know each other deeply, trust each other completely, have seen each other at their worst, and still support and rely on each other.

The other question I get, I guess because of my lack of experience, is whether I might be asexual. But I’m not. When things are firing on all cylinders, I’m definitely sexual. But I really need to feel safe and seen with someone, seen and desired as the woman I am, and the world doesn’t make me feel that way, so it takes time for me to feel that way with an individual. Over and over again on the dance floors of life, I see people seeing each other, desiring each other and being desired, and I feel invisible, and I’m still dancing on my own.

Alex felt like home. I’m still looking for home. Not the exact same kind of home that Alex felt like. Everyone’s love makes a different kind of home. Just a home, one where I feel safe and seen, with someone I trust and respect and admire and can learn from and have fun with and be myself with, a home where I’m inclined to let down the walls that I have spent so long building up. In a world where everything about my life is complicated, feeling the way I did about Alex was the simplest, easiest thing. I know it doesn’t stay that way, but it seems to me like a good place to start.

14 notes · View notes

comicteaparty · 5 years ago

Text

June 15th-June 21st, 2019 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from June 15th, 2019 to June 21st, 2019. The chat focused on the following question:

Describe your comic’s protagonist. Why should we as an audience care about them and their goals?

Nutty (Court of Roses)

Technically I have five protagonists in Court of Roses http://courtofroses.thecomicseries.com/, but I can focus on the main one; Merlow is simply a wandering minstrel who, despite fighting some inner demons, just wants to bring laughter and song everywhere he goes. He is passionate and loves his line of work, and finds the beauty in all expressions in music, and, in turn, in life and in people. His friendly and sincere approach to everyone is what helps bring him and the other four main bards together. Without spoiling too much, once they begin to travel together, he'll be the unofficial leader and the glue between them all.

keii4ii

HoK is about heartbreaks that develop quietly, between people who do genuinely care about each other. The main example of such heartbreaks is feeling abandoned when you need their support more than ever. A lot of us have been through that, myself included. There are countless variations of that experience; the specific variations that I know firsthand, I've mixed them around and given to Ethan and Danbi. That's why their story speaks to my soul, the bruised part of it. And maybe it will speak to yours, too, for the same reasons.

deo101

Millennium's http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/ protagonist, Sage, is a kindhearted, southern farmer who has been thrown into a lot of bad situations he could never understand or prepare for, but always approaches with as much love as he can. I guess we root for him because we, too, want to see the best in things and have that kind of positivity work out.

Respheal

Conan of Galebound http://www.galebound.com/ is a pretty typical farmboy, except he just learned that he's a Hidden Backup Prince, that he has the power to command Magicians, that he's an assassination target, his kidnapper/protector is probably also an assassin, and the literal ocean called him "far worse"--whatever that means. He's had a rough couple of days. I like to think he's relatable and ultimately a good person. At first, his goal was just to get back home, but then he made a terrible mistake with his newly-discovered power. Immediately he takes responsibility for his actions, seeking to learn more about this power so he doesn't hurt anyone else and maybe even help against those using the same power for cruel reasons. Once he feels responsible for something, he tends to through his entire self into taking care of or fixing a problem--sometimes to the point of being a bit self-sacrificial about it. His overall arc, though, is really about following your heart, and recognizing what you really want to do versus what you're doing out of a sense of obligation--or sometimes discovering that your "obligations" and what you want are one and the same.

Desnik

My comic's protagonist (http://ask-a-warlock.tumblr.com/) is actually not the warlock...it's a small bird named Margo who is an animate drawing. She hops out of an illuminated manuscript one day and discovers the real world is very brutal and harsh. Through a series of buddy adventures with a knight, and demonic crime-solving with a cleric, Margo does eventually choose to be part of the real world, because she belongs with her friends...although she secretly desires to be human, as well(edited)

Desnik

argh, I put in the wrong askawarlock...haha, well, updated my urlwith dashes

Mharz

The Angel with Black Wings http://blackwings.mharz.com/ or Big Sis as what me and my readers call her at this point is a sweet and very caring towards people. She's like a motherly figure of some sort. (The one who will tuck you in bed and bake you loads of cookies) However she's heavily plagued by mental illness (feeling extreme guilt and blaming herself on anything bad that happens around her, thinking she doesn't deserve anything good in life, and inner voices that seems to be getting stronger as time passes.) Even tho she thinks she doesn't deserve it, deep down there is a tiny glimmer of hope that one day, she'd be forgiven. Altho her mental issues are amplified, I think most of us can relate to have felt guilt about something we did/didn't do and dwelled and ruminated on it for so long, having uncontrollable thoughts and inner voices that tells us that we are worthless, we are horrible people, everyone hates us and we don't deserve anything. I personally on that boat and slowly working on getting better. So I wrote my comics in the hope whoever reads my comics can make them feel better in some way and find that glimmer of hope. wheeze (edited)

MJ Massey

Emily (http://welcometoblackball.com/) is pretty much a passive doormat. She starts out just doing whatever her parents say and taking the path of least resistence until she feels she can't, that she has to take action to solve her sister's murder. But she has no patience for the shenanigans and games of others, always taking the most direct path she can. Some would say this makes her a concise person, but in her mind she's just doing what's easiest. She ends becoming more assertive and independent over time until she can finally make her own life choices with confidence. A good bit of her insecurities come from being very ill with measles a few years ago, and having to have her hair shaved off. It never grew back quite the same as it was, and her parents are a little more on her case because they want her to marry well in society.

kayotics

I think on paper, Toivo (https://ingress-comic.com/) sounds awful. He’s a wizard professor, single father, serial romantic, and unlucky in his adventures. He’s anxious and a little mean and obnoxious. He’s snarky and kind of an asshole and makes mistakes and doesn’t consider other people’s emotions, so he makes things hard for other people. He orchestrates most of the problems he has to solve. But i think that’s why he’s fun? He’s a good person at heart but he isn’t perfect and that’s the type of character I like to read about.

Desnik

@kayotics He seems like a genuinely fun character to read about. I like characters with flaws that seem to make sense with the story being told

kayotics

@Desnik I like to think he is! One of my favorite comic series is Ranma 1/2, and I think that series fundamentally taught me that you can have characters who are objectively not great people and still likable.

MJ Massey

I've enjoyed reading his misadventures so far. I think that since he usually learns some sort of lesson from his misadventures it makes him really endearing to balance out his flaws

NeilKapit

Lamar Anderson, the current focus of We Are The Wyrecats (http://wyrecats.com/) is a superhero of unyielding principle, to the point of self-destructive fanaticism. He’s a mute genius with cerebral palsy, who has difficulty walking without his hero armor. The Wyrecats were the first and only time he felt like he had friends, and K.A. was his first crush (reciprocated, though neither of them acted on it). When she was put in a coma and the team disbanded, he basically started a one man war against the US government that secretly initiated the plot (long story). Five years later, with K.A. waking up, he’s been questioning his approach, which involved stockpiling weapons and hiring mercenaries to wage guerilla war upon his country’s intelligence agencies. Since K.A.’s hardly in the best mental health at the moment, Lamar’s trying to do his best by her to make a world she’d want to live in.

snuffysam

Mizuki Sato is the protagonist of Super Galaxy Knights Deluxe R (http://sgkdr.thecomicseries.com/). She's a small woman from a small farm town, going on adventures through a strange world. Mizuki's main draw is that she's entertaining to watch. She constantly back-sasses & annoys the people she encounters on her journey (to be fair, some of those people are Taci Ramino) - and when action happens, Mizuki is ahead of the game, out-strategizing her enemies and pushing past her own limits. She may be a bit reckless with her own health, but to her it's worth it if she's helping other people in any way. Mizuki's main goal in life is to find love - someone she could get married to someday, specifically. But... that often doesn't work out for her. Every time Mizuki falls for someone, she loses them to someone else - or worse, she ends up in a short-lived relationship filled with endless put-downs. The people Mizuki encounters in her daily life enjoy the fact that she's around. They like the way she entertains them, the way she helps them out, the way she... makes them happy. But, at least from Mizuki's perspective, nobody she meets actually loves her in any meaningful way. anyway funney muscle lady shoot rainbow lasers woo

AntiBunny

My comic AntiBunny http://antibunny.net/ has multiple protagonists depending on what angle we're seeing the world through, but the original protagonist Pooky Bunny can be best described as a gender ambiguous depressed mess who's trying to become a better person. Why should you care? When you first meet Pooky their depression is clearly in control. As the story unfolds in the past you start to see where that depression comes from, and as it unfolds in the present you'll see Pooky learning to let others in, slowly moving to become a better person. Pooky is not OK, and realizes that, but also sees a way forward. So if you want to see someone who is initially consumed by their flaws and who eventually realizes them and works to overcome them, then maybe you'll care about Pooky. What are their goals? Pooky has both what I'd call external goals, that is things they want to accomplish in the real world, and internal ones, that is how they'd like to change as a person. Externally Pooky is all about unraveling mysteries. Being a reporter Pooky often is chasing a story. Internally Pooky's goals change. Early on it's little more than subsistence. Struggling to get by from one day to the next. Though as the story progresses as Pooky says "I'm trying to be a better person." Pooky goes from being someone who's dead inside to coming alive again. You'll see that trauma in Nailbat that started this, and in The Gritty City Stories you'll see the recovery. It's all about the fall, bottoming out, and climbing back up. Essentially that's Pooky.

Attila Polyák

Anne is the protagonist and mostly the perspective character of Tales of Midgard: The Age of Magic https://talesofmidgard.com/comic/book-1-cover-page/. She's a knight and a mage and more or less she's a well established person with a generally (currently) good life. She's definitely not someone special. Magic is very common and accessible to basically everyone and being a knight in a world full of magic is also not really extraordinary. So why should you care about someone who's not special? That's exactly the point! Most fantasy stories are set in fantastic worlds yet the main cast, and the protagonists especially, are still special. Even compared to the world. Not here. This story is the story of the everyman. The true everyman, not a chosen one, not someone who is surrounded by prophecies left and right, just your regular normal person. Of course we're still in a fantasy world so what's regular to the characters is still fantastic for the readers, and these "everydays" are still adventures compared to the normal lives most of us live in real life. Plus... Just because she not special she and everyone else in the story can still, just like in real life, be swooped up into events that are larger than life and seeing normal people cope with the extraordinary is always more interesting than extraordinary people playing their own game.

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #creator interview #comic creator interview #comic tea party #ctp #creator babble

1 note · View note

ourhappylies · 6 years ago

Text

Gadreel Fluffy Alphabet

Author: Cherry🍒 Requested: Anonymous.

A = Attractive what do they find attractive about the other?

Gadreel finds kindness and acceptingness to be beautiful. After all that he’s been through, and all that he has done, he finds a compassionate soul to be the most beautiful thing in the universe. When he saw how kind and lovely you are, he was drawn to you.

B = Baby do they want a family? why/why not?

Gadreel would love to have his own family. To him, there’s nothing more perfect than settling down and having beautiful children, especially because he can teach them to never make a mistake as grave as Gadreel did. He would be worried about the risk of having children, but he would love to raise a child.

C = Cuddle how do they cuddle?

Gadreel loves to spoon. He holds you tightly to his chest and it makes both of you feel safe and sound.

D = Dates what are dates with them like?

Gadreel is new to dating and he’s unsure of what sort of date would be best so he would take you on every type of date he sees in movies. He would take you on the traditional dinner and a movie dates, picnics, carnivals, walks on the beach, bowling, and every other one you can imagine. Gadreel would want to try every single one out.

E = Everything you are my ____ (e.g my life, my world…)

“You are my salvation. I couldn’t do this without you.”

F = Feelings when did they know they were falling in love?

He knew he was falling in love when he couldn’t bear to part from you, not even for God himself. Gadreel loved humankind, but the love he had for you was like nothing else he had ever experienced.

G = Gentle are they gentle? If so, how?

Gadreel worries about how fragile you are compared to him so he makes sure that he is always incredibly gentle with you. He’s terrified of you being hurt and he would never forgive himself if he even left a mark on you.

H = Hand/Hold how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?

Gadreel likes to pull your hand into his and marvel at how soft and small you are compared to his vessel.

I = Impression first impression/s

When Gadreel first met you, he thought you were the softest and sweetest person he’d ever met. He was used to being met with animosity, but you showed him nothing but kindness and it reached his heart immediately. He felt inside of him a need to protect you, so he became your guardian angel.

J = Joker are they into pulling pranks?

No, Gadreel doesn’t really understand most jokes or pranks. He finds them confusing and a waste of time, mostly.

K = Kisses how do they kiss?

Kisses with Gadreel always feels like it's your first kiss all over again. They’re always breathtaking and magical, it feels like there are sparks when his lips collide with yours.

L = Love who says I love you first?

Gadreel did. It took him some time to understand the emotions he was feeling. He had spent months trying to figure them out and grasp them. But after multiple conversations with Sam, Dean, Cas and Gabriel he realised what the emotions were and he told you.

M = Memory their favourite moment together

Gadreel’s favourite memory is of the time you first kissed him. He had been unsure of whether or not to make the move but you had gone for it and captured his lips in a passionate lock. He thought that the moment could not have been more perfect.

N = Nickel do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?

Gadreel would always get you everything you need. If he knew there was something you want, he would try to get it for you.

O = Orange what colour reminds them of their other half

Gold. When Gadreel first met you, you had been wearing a necklace with a gold-coloured pendant on it. He always thought of the necklace when he thought of you.

P = Petnames what pet names do they use?

“Precious”, “Lovely”, “Dear”, and “Honey”.

Q = Quaint what is their favourite non-modern thing?

Gadreel loves old books. He loves reading through originals and old poem books. Gadreel loves stories and he finds them thrilling and a great method for wasting time.

R = Rainy Day what do they like to do on a rainy day?

Gadreel likes to explore, he likes to travel and find out what Earth is like now. He likes discovering new places he hasn’t been to before and even visiting places he used to go to and taking in how it differs.

S = Sad how do they cheer themselves/each other up

Gadreel believes he deserves the sadness and guilt he feels. He accepts his sadness and tries to move past it. He decides not to burden you with the negative emotions that he has trapped inside.

T = Talking what do they love to talk about?

Gadreel loves to talk about the amazingness that is the Universe and Humans. He likes the complex and interestingness of both of them and he likes to discuss as many aspects of them as he can. Gadreel also likes to talk about you. He’ll ask you numerous questions about your life, childhood, favourite things, and everything else too.

U = Unencumbered What helps them relax?

Doing things with you helps him relax. As long as you’re nearby, he feels at ease and relaxed. Reading a book with you is the act that relaxes him the most.

V = Vaunt what do they like to show off? What are they proud of?

He’s proud of you and everything that you’ve accomplished and everything else that you will accomplish in the future. When others are around, he loves to show off how amazing and perfect you are, especially to him.

W = Wedding when, how, where do they propose?

Gadreel would ask you to marry him on your anniversary. He took you to your favourite restaurant/cafe/diner. He would ask you to marry him almost as soon as you both sat, he was too excited to wait any longer. He had a perfectly sized ring with your favourite jewel in the centre.

X = Xylophone What’s their song?

Kings by Tribe Society.

Y = You the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

“Y/N,” Gadreel whispered as he gazed down into your E/C eyes, “You are the grace to my wings. You’re the whole reason for my existence.”

Z = Zebra if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?

French Bulldog. Gadreel saw one while he was on a date with you and he thought it was the cutest thing he’s ever seen, besides you.

#Gadreel #Supernatural #SPN #Gadreel x reader #Gadreel imagine #Gadreel oneshot #Gadreel fluff #Gadreel headcanons #Gadreel fluffy #x reader #reader insert #fluff #fluffy #imagine #oneshot #headcanons #Fluff Alphabet #Gadreel fluff alphabet

309 notes · View notes

plucky-belmondo · 6 years ago

Text

Contemplation

Summary - Plucky becomes consumed by one of the cruelest aspects of life - beauty.

Ships - Otherworldly Bond, Of Teatime and Summons (friendship)

Trigger warnings - self-harm, blood, depression.

tagging @husband-of-lucoa since he helped me a bit on this! you’re awesome!

Beauty…

One of the goals that humanity strives for, just like perfection. We tell ourselves that we’re always beautiful, no matter what, but...does such a saying even work now…? Today, we currently drown in the ideal that, if you do not make yourself look like a model or a goddess, you are perceived as “ugly” by everyone. So, that makes one become desperate to do whatever it takes to be “beautiful”.

“Because personality matters less!” is what society would say.

Plucky is the kind of person who believed in the opposite: personality over looks. Sure, you could date someone who has a pristine appearance, but the truth is that they turn out to be a completely different person….almost monstrous, to be exact. You could date someone who’s average but turns out to be nice in the end. Plucky was the latter. She was always a kind soul, rarely caring about her own appearance.

...Or, was she?

Honestly, as kind as she is, Plucky actually cared about her self-image...she considered herself average, really.

...That’s when it all happened. After Plucky saw “them”...her inner thoughts slowly clawed away at her psyche. It was like someone scratching a chalkboard with their bare hands -- shattering. The more those thoughts consumed Plucky, the more she was close to becoming increasingly desperate. Plucky could never compete with the royal beauty they presented, it was too much…!! Plucky could feel her worries grow within her, minute by aching minute...at this moment, she became a walking mass of depression.

There were many things she feared greatly -- one of them being the fact that Richter might leave her for one of “them”...she didn’t want that to happen.

Sure, Plucky could use makeup, but...she hated the scents they emitted.

After all, to her...natural beauty is what’s important, right…?

Plucky stared at her reflection within the bathroom mirror. Time moved slowly, the ticking noises filling the empty silence. She kept wondering, wondering….how were “they” all able to maintain their beauty while fighting to the death? “I’m nothing…” Plucky muttered to herself, coarsely. “Why...would Richter love someone like me…? I’m just a walking pile of trash…” she placed her hand on the mirror, and stroked it a bit…

“What if...he does leave me for one of them…?” Plucky could feel herself tearing up after that.

She didn’t have the lovely blue eyes Peach had.

She didn’t have the heavenliness Palutena emanated.

And...she certainly didn’t have the mysterious charm Bayonetta showed off.

The hand that rested on the mirror...clenched itself into a fist. Oh, how Plucky wished she could let out her anger and shatter the mirror. But, she had to restrain herself, she didn’t want anyone to know about her issue. It had been like this for the past few days; Plucky would often stare at her reflection, becoming lost in thought. The life in her deteriorated, to the point where she’d just lay in bed and stare at the ceiling.

The only thing Plucky can do for now...is sink to the floor and scream her heart out.

This was enough to draw the attention of her butler friend Ronove, who had been outside, tending to the plants.

As her cries died out, Plucky curled up into a ball on the bathroom floor, still crying.

The bathroom door swung open. “Milady, is everything alright?!” Ronove called, concerned. Plucky, who was still laying down, answered in a hoarse accent, “...I...I’m fine, Ronove....I’m just wallowing in my own despair.” He approached Plucky and helped her get up. Out of all the people Plucky knew, Ronove was the only one who noticed Plucky’s current problem. Richter, Kirby, and Isabelle were currently away for SSBU.

“Milady, it is not in your behavior to act like this...would you like to tell me all about it?”

Plucky only nodded in silence as she and Ronove left the bathroom.

It was currently noon, and the sun was out, meaning it was perfect for snack time….and venting out your problems. Today was nothing complicated, just some black tea and a plate of cookies. As Plucky sat down on one chairs and Ronove on the other, Plucky grabbed one of the teacups, and gently held it in her hands. She then looked up at Ronove, and began to speak out to him.

Plucky softly clutched the warm cup, “I...I don’t understand it, Ronove…”

Ronove raised an eyebrow, “Hm? What is it you don’t understand?” he asked.

Plucky sighed, “You know how it feels when you’ve become aware of your self image, and you end up comparing yourself to others…? That’s….what I’ve been going through for the past few days. It just ate away at my self-esteem; I mean, the women in SSBU are more beautiful than I am, so why would Richter choose me over them...I just don’t get it at all…I’ve even hurt myself over such a thought.”

Plucky set the teacup on the table and pulled up one of her jacket sleeves, revealing a small scar on her arm.

“Milady…” Ronove started, with a hint of sadness in his expression. “Y...You shouldn’t be treating yourself like this...it is not beneficial to you or your state of mind.”

“I know...but for someone like me, it’s hard…” Plucky said as she took a cookie and bit it.

Still concerned for her, Ronove spoke in a reassuring tone. “...Allow me to offer you some advice. Beauty is within the eye of the beholder. Looks mean nothing, it is the personality that matters more. There is a reason why Master Richter prefers you over those women: it is your personality.” “M...My personality?” Plucky asked, curious. “Indeed. I have noted the difference between you and them. You are much kinder than they are.

“But the SSBU women are kind too! Just look at Peach and Palutena!” Plucky countered.

“...True, But, let me ask you one thing, Milady...do they help their opponent up and offer to heal them? The answer to that...is a clear ‘no’. They just leave their opponent on the ground, sinking in their own pain. Tell me, does that make them kind people? If they were really of royalty, they should’ve known better, instead of outright taunting their opponents. To me, they are nothing but cold-hearted...you, on the other hand, are the opposite.”

“I once served someone who was more vicious than they were….but I still stayed with her, to the very end. She still loved everyone dear to her, even her own opponent.”

“I...I see…” Plucky responded. “So, my kindness is what makes me different from them.”

She beamed a bit at this. “...Thank you, Ronove...I do try my best to be as nice as possible.”

“My pleasure, Milady.” Ronove nodded.

“I’ll be taking a nap if you need me.” Plucky said as she got up.

As she slept, Ronove thought to himself. He was rather skeptical at Plucky’s smile, and he was unsure of whether it was a forced one or a genuine one.

After cleaning up the table, Ronove approached Plucky’s sleeping figure on the couch, and laid a warm towel on her forehead.

“Hm...I feel as if her problems didn’t go away after our conversation...perhaps I should find Master Richter and confront him about it.”

Since there was nothing else to do in the house, that was the number one priority on Ronove’s agenda: warn Richter of Plucky’s state. He waited until Plucky was heavily asleep. Richter was away from the house, therefore, he was never aware of how his lover was doing. The sun was still up, so Ronove had a lot of time to do so. He got up from the couch and stepped outside. “Milady, I will be stepping out for a moment.” he uttered.

And with that, he disappeared in a flutter of gold butterflies.

A few minutes after the butler left, Plucky woke up from her short nap. She removed the towel on her forehead, and got up. Silence filled the entire house. Plucky looked around, and noticed that Ronove had gone out. She assumed that he was getting some groceries, so that should buy her enough time to be alone. Plucky, still in a depressed state, headed to the bathroom once more. She glanced at her reflection again, showing nothing but a disheveled version of herself.

Eyes slightly red, hair all messy...exactly what one would picture.

Suddenly, Plucky’s head started to ring.

“THEY ARE MUCH MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN YOU”

“YOU’RE NOTHING COMPARED TO THEM”

“HE WOULD DEFINITELY LEAVE YOU FOR ONE OF THEM”

...Ah, it’s those thoughts again. Plucky clutched her head in agony, screaming for them to get out.

But all was futile. Her reflection had distorted itself into a shadow of her well-being, grinning eerily at Plucky.

In defense, Plucky punched the mirror with enough force to shatter it into a thousand pieces. She landed another hit. The more she did, the more shards would fall to the floor. Around the fourth punch, Plucky’s hands soon became stained with her own blood. After a few more hits, the mirror was nothing but a sad pile of glass panes. Plucky looked down at her own hands: small scars littered her palms, the pain from it just made it worse.

How sad it must be...for your own thoughts to claw away at you, to the point of injuring yourself.

All the pain, all her anger...caused Plucky to faint on the ground, with her blood slowly trickling on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, Ronove had arrived at where the SSBU fighters were gathered at: a decently sized castle, big enough to hold in everyone. All of a sudden, he felt this sharp pain in his chest. Was it an omen of sorts? Paying no heed to this, he rushed inside to search for Master Richter. He could’ve asked Isabelle and Kirby for help, but he’s a demon butler, he can manage on his own just fine! High and lo he looked, trying to find the blue-clothed vampire hunter. He zoomed past many of the fighters, as if he were a ghost of sorts.

However, this made Ronove grow tired, so he slowed himself down, and walked through the halls instead. As he continued his search, he saw a...certain group glance at him, oh so much. Yes, by “certain group”, I was referring to the ladies of Smash Bros.. Ronove could hear them complimenting his appearance, even questioning if he was connected to Plucky. One of them tried to reach out to him, but Ronove stepped back. He then shot an icy cold glare at them. Perhaps he was angry at them for the pain they had caused Plucky?

“I have no time for your ludicrous comments...if I may, do any of you know where Master Richter is? It is for urgent reasons.” Ronove spoke, with a stern voice.

The sandy-blonde one, Zelda, had replied, “Ah, he is over in the courtyard.” She pointed east, as a means of guiding Ronove. He thanks her, and goes on his way.

When Ronove had arrived at the courtyard, it was just like as he imagined it - an area suitable for honing one’s skills. Some of the fighters were here, preparing themselves for their next big match. It took a while for Ronove to spot Richter, who was resting under a tree, along with a few others. Ronove thought of calling out to him, but that would be a silly idea, so he walked over to him instead.

When Richter noticed Ronove approaching him, he got up and stretched a bit.

“Ah, Ronove? What are you doing here?” Richter asked.

Ronove bowed and replied, with a bit of distress, “Master, I have come to inform you about something terrible… it is about your mistress, Plucky.” Richter tensed up at this. “It seems...she is not in the right state of mind as we speak...I have talked to her about it, but I fear that our conversation may have made things worse…” Worry started to grow within Richter, so he grabbed Ronove by the shoulders and asked, “Wait, what happened?! We need to go back to her, please!”

“As you wish, Master.” Ronove snapped his fingers, and he and Richter were taken instantly to the house.

“Plucky!?” Richter called out, his worries growing.

Where was Plucky, anyway? The first spot to look was the couch, but she wasn’t there.

“Perhaps she is sleeping in your room?” Ronove remarked. Richter took his advice, so he rushed upstairs. A few seconds later, he rushed back down, and shook his head in response.

...It wasn’t until Ronove noticed...something red on the floor, leaking from the bathroom. Ronove’s eyes widened. “Master, she’s in the bathroom!!” he yelled. The bathroom door was locked, so it took all of Ronove and Richter’s strength to break it down. Plucky was smart in locking the door, both from the inside and outside. With one more push, the door had been broken down, so hard that the hinges ended up being bent to a degree.

And,,,there Plucky was, unconscious on the floor, her hands injured.

It was like something you’d see in a crime scene...broken furniture, some blood here and there, and of course...the victim.

...Of course, Plucky wasn’t really dead, and there was no intruder. So, the only culprit is herself.

Richter gasped and his eyes widened in horror, while Ronove turned away from the awful, awful sight. “PLUCKY!!!” Richter yelled.

He kneeled down and cradled Plucky’s body in his arms. Why would Plucky do this to herself? Trembling with fear, tears started to form in Richter’s eyes. Plucky’s blood started to stain his clothes, but he didn’t care. There was a possibility that Plucky is dead, and it’s all his fault…!! He turned to Ronove and asked why Plucky would injure herself.

Facing Richter, Ronove replied, “Master, it is because she feared you would leave her for one of the women back at the castle...this is what we were talking about earlier. She became endlessly consumed by the dark side of her thoughts, causing herself to be distraught. I have been helping her while you were away, however, this injury of hers may have happened after I left…” he kneeled alongside Richter and felt Plucky’s pulse. “She is still alive. Her wounds are nothing too serious.”

Ronove then reached for the bandages on the shelf and tended to Plucky’s wounds, her body still in Richter’s arms. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

“I will repair the broken mirror. Lay Plucky down on the bed.” Ronove commanded as he picked up the mirror shards.

Richter did as he was told, and laid Plucky down on the bed. He glanced at her for a moment. Although Plucky is alive, he could tell that she was hurting from the inside. He gently placed his hand on hers, and whispered, “Plucky...I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I never noticed your problems before...I should’ve stayed with you instead of leaving quickly…” the last bit made Richter cry again. As he grieved, however, he felt Plucky’s hand twitch.

“A-Ah...what happened?” Plucky asked, eyes half-lidded as she got up. “R-Richter…? What are you doi--” before she could even finish her question, Richter pulled her in for a tight hug, never wanting to let go.

“H...Huh?” Plucky muttered, feeling more awake at this action.

“I...I thought I lost you…” Richter said.

Ah, so it seems Ronove had told him everything from the get-go. Had it not been for him, then Plucky would’ve been dead by now. Luckily, that wasn’t the case. Richter released his grip on Plucky, his hands now on her shoulders. Plucky tilted her head in confusion, wondering why Richter was back here and not with the rest of the fighters. They stare at each other for a moment, before Richter spoke again.

“Ronove told me...about the past few days, about how you were worried that I’d leave you for someone else…” Tears welled up in Plucky’s eyes, that was exactly it.

Was...was it actually going to happen? Plucky started to shake. “A...Are you…?”

...Without saying anything, Richter pulled Plucky in for another hug, this time being more gentle. He whispered in her ear in a soothing tone, “Plucky...I would never abandon you for one of them, I promise. My heart belongs to you, and only you, you know that. I love you more than life itself. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve known, more so than them. ...Hell, if I could, I’d marry you in a heartbeat!” ...the last part made both of them blush.

“U...Um…marry me?” Plucky asked, awkwardly.

“I-Ignore that last bit.” Richter said sheepishly.

...Their reactions were enough to earn a chuckle from Ronove, who had just finished repairing the mirror. It was as if the mirror never broke.

Later on, Richter left Plucky alone so that she could sleep. Sure, he could go back to the castle, but because of Plucky’s well-being, he chose to stay home. He was resting in the living room, reading a book of sorts. He often got up to check up on his beloved, and, as usual, she snoozed the day away. Other than that, Richter just read away, when Ronove joined him in the living room, setting down a teapot and a teacup on the small table.

“It seems Miss Plucky is feeling better after your moment with her.” Ronove said, as he poured some tea.

Richter looked up from the book he was reading, and smiled. “Yeah, she is. I reassured her that my love for her is eternal, and nothing will change it.”

“But why say that last part? The one about marrying her?” Ronove pointed out.

Richter grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head, “...I...might’ve slipped a bit, but at least she doesn’t suspect a thing.”

Richter pulled out a small, black box and held it up.

“I’d love for her to become my wife...she makes me the happiest man alive. There’s no one else I’d spend my life with but her.”

“So...when are you proposing to her?”

“Hmm...on her birthday, since it’s next week.”

#self insert #self ship #ship - Otherworldly Bond #friendship - Of Teatime and Summons #things plucky writes

10 notes · View notes